Anything but Innocent

by Dayna Quince

  “Are you enjoying yourself? Didn’t I tell you how diverting this masquerade would be? If only ton parties held as much entertainment.”

  Lucy disagreed. “I’m not…so sure, Mr. Jeffrey. I think I should go.”

  “I’d be happy to escort you.” Mr. Farris leapt up and presented his hand.

  Lucy could have cried for joy. “Tha—”

  “No. I went to great expense to bring you here tonight. You must stay.” Mr. Jeffrey held her in place. “Fetch her more champagne, Farris and then be off with you.”

  Mr. Farris looked at Lucy apologetically. Lucy looked to him beseechingly, but he turned and left them. He deserted her.

  “I’m happy to repay you for the cost of the carriage.”

  He turned his head and nuzzled her neck. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

  Lucy cringed and leaned away. “I meant with money.”

  He chuckled. “I would never accept money from you. I’ve no need of money, but I have great need of you.”

  Lucy pulled her hand from his. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”

  He spread his fingers over the bare skin of her stomach. “I’ve got you now, and I’m not about to let you go.”

  “My brother is here. He will have a different opinion on the matter.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “No doubt so will the gossip mongers. How devastating it would be if word of your presence here reached their ears.”

  “Who would spread such unfounded lies?”

  Lucy looked up with a mixture of joy and relief.

  “Winchester,” Jeffrey growled.

  “Jeffrey. Unhand the lady so that I may escort her home.”

  “You?” Jeffrey sneered. “You only want her for yourself. Find your own bit of fluff, old boy.”

  “I am not a bit of fluff,” Lucy said tersely. “Unhand me.”

  Jeffrey glared at her and did so. Lucy stood. She took Lord Winchester’s offered arm.

  “It’s a pity how those pesky rumors begin. How much damage they can do,” Jeffrey murmured as he stood.

  “As much damage as a bullet through the heart,” Dean said. “Wouldn’t you say so?” He turned to Lucy.

  “Hmm, yes. Bullets hurt no matter where you put them.”

  “Just ask Lord Harris.” Dean smirked at Jeffrey. He ignored Lucy’s sharp look of surprise.

  He turned them away, shouldering their way into the crowd.

  “Where is my brother?” Lucy asked as his clung tightly to his arm.

  “I haven’t any idea. He’ll find his own way home.”

  Lucy nodded. She didn’t care what happened now as long as she was leaving this awful masquerade. She caught sight of a man wearing nothing but a mask on his face and the same mask covered his groin. It was a bird’s face with a long beak and feathers protruding from the crown. She averted her eyes and leaned into Dean. He put his arm around her and held her close.

  Gathering her cloak, they waited in the torch light of the drive for a hack.

  Lucy didn’t say anything. She was shivering, but she wasn’t cold. Her stomach felt restless from emptiness and her jumbled emotions. She wanted nothing more than to be home and in her bed. She looked up at his profile, his arm still holding tightly around her. She bit her lip. Perhaps where she stood right now was better than her bed. She kicked herself for allowing herself to feel these things for him. What would it take for him to leave her system?

  He handed her into the carriage and sat across from her. She wished she still had his warmth beside her. She supposed, now that she was safe from the masquerade, he wouldn’t feel the need to keep her protectively under his arm.

  They rumbled down the drive leaving the pool of light as darkness enveloped them. He didn’t speak, and Lucy didn’t have anything sensible to say. Nothing that came to mind sounded clever or an intelligent defense for her antics tonight. She knew it was over, this life she took for granted, the bubble of innocence she moved in. It was over.

  She knew things now. She knew what it was to feel desire and want. She knew what her body could feel at the hands of a man, and she knew the endless pain of being rejected by that man. She was not of the demi monde. She was not a merry widow of independent means. It wasn’t in her ability to become the woman he wanted. And why should she? She didn’t want to be those things any more than he wanted to be a husband.

  That was clear now.

  Sadness enveloped her as she accepted that simple truth in the darkness across from him. For the rest of her life, she would wish differently, but it was time she accepted what was. He would never be hers.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be his.

  Chapter 23

  The hackney stopped at the end of the drive, across from where she’d started this disastrous evening. They’d been traveling for an hour, and he hadn’t said a word to her. She hadn’t said anything to him, either. Now her thoughts wanted to burst forth, but she feared his moody silence. He handed her down and they both looked down the shadowed drive to the house as if neither wanted to breach the barrier that would lead to the inevitable consequences of the evening.

  “We can go this way.” Lucy led him to the break in the shrubbery she had ducked through before. Without a word, he followed her, and they walked along the shrubbery and shadows to the rear of the house.

  “How many times have you done this?”

  “None. This was my first and last time.” She could feel his gaze as they walked. They were about to enter the main garden where they would be in view of the house. Lucy paused. She removed her mask.

  He waited beside her.

  “What are you going to say to my brother?”

  “I’ve thought about that on the way back, and I’ve decided not to say anything. I will let you decide if and when to tell your family. I presume you have your own reason for what you did tonight. I can’t begin to try to explain them.”

  Lucy blushed shamefully. She nodded. She turned to walk forward.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her hand. He was suddenly furious. “Why don’t you try explaining it to me first?”

  “Here?”

  “Have you a better place in mind?”

  She shook her head.

  “Have you always been a walking disaster?”

  “I am not a disaster.” She poked his chest. “Yes, I’ve done some stupid things, tonight tops the cake, but in the past, I’ve only dared to dance around the edge of propriety because…”

  “Because why?”

  “Because I’m bored.”

  “You’re bored?” He scoffed and laughed at her.

  “Yes. Let me tell you why.” She put her hands on her hips. “I can sing, I can dance, I speak French, my needlework is passable, and can you guess what else?”

  “What?” He looked like he was enjoying himself now.

  “My curtsy is perfect.”

  He applauded her.

  “Exactly. Your mocking applause sums up the importance of all those things. I’m supposed to do all that so I can enter society and select a husband with the same enthusiasm with which I choose a new bonnet.”

  He folded his arm and grinned at her.

  “I’ve seen love.”

  He sobered.

  “I see what my parents have. I’ve watched my friends succumb to it one by one, and it tears them apart and leaves them as shiny new people with something that means so much more than all my paltry talents. I want the same, but from the start, I knew not just any man would do. So yes, I’m bored. Sometimes I wish I had been born a man so I could do the things that inspire me to be better than who I am. I don’t want to be told how to live. I just want to live.”

  “Sometimes, even men don’t get to do exactly as they wish. Not without consequence.”

  “Such as?”

  “It’s too late to drag up my past tonight.”

  Lucy perked up. Was he finally going to reveal more of himself? She hesitated to go back to the house now. Once they rea
ched it, he would leave her, and she would never get another chance like this. She turned and faced the house. It was highlighted by the moon, the white stone glowing softly.

  “I’m afraid to go back there,” she admitted.

  “Whatever happens, your family will love you through it.” She felt the press of his hand on her back, urging her forward. She couldn’t do it. If she took a step forward, it would be one step further from him, from this moment where his attention was completely hers.

  She swallowed.

  “What of Mr. Jeffrey. Do you think he will tell?”

  She could feel his anger. It shimmered around him like the vapors of heat. “Not if he values his life.”

  She turned to him pressing her hands to his chest. He still kept his hand on her back and it almost felt like he was embracing her again.

  “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

  “For what?”

  “For rescuing me. For being the voice of reason.”

  He snorted, but he didn’t take his arm from her, and he didn’t immediately back away. He only looked down at her with a hint of a smile.

  “That might be the first time I’ve ever been anyone’s voice of reason.”

  “You’re good at it. I didn’t want to listen, but I should have. You were right about everything, especially Mr. Jeffrey.

  He tensed. She could feel it under her hands and in the way his lips tightened. She waited, watching the subtle changes in his face. He still held her and it gave her such hope.

  “Why did you want him?” He said it so quietly she wasn’t sure if she hadn’t imagined it.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then why would you do something like this? Why risk everything to see him?”

  There was so much she could say, most of it, she knew he didn’t want to hear. But how could she hide her feelings? After all they’d been through? He had to know how she felt and that she understood.

  Her chest hurt with all the words that she wanted to say. “I…I just wanted to feel something—anything, other than the ache you left me with.”

  She saw him swallow.

  “What is it you want of me, Lucy?”

  He said it with such graveness like she was asking the world of him.

  She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his chest. “I just want you to love me.”

  She almost moaned when he rested his head on hers. It was such a relief that he hadn’t pushed her away. It was enough to make her weep with joy.

  “Stop it. Do not speak with such desperation. I am not worthy of it. I am not worthy of you.”

  She smiled as she wiped a tear away. “You say that, but the only one who believes it is you.”

  “I can’t give you what you want.” He sounded pained.

  “I know.” Lucy looked up at him. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

  “Then what is it you want from me.”

  “Whatever you will give me. We’ve come this far, can’t we go a little further?”

  He stared down at her silently, his eyes shadowed and his lips a hard line. He took her hand and led her back to the house. “Where is your room?”

  Lucy led him to her room, her heart fluttering in anticipated happiness the whole way. She opened her door and saw Marigold there asleep in the chair by the fire.

  “Wait here. My maid is in there sleeping.”

  He nodded and slipped into a shadowed alcove. Lucy shook Marigold awake.

  “I’m back.”

  Marigold awoke. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes. Go to bed,” Lucy urged. Marigold slipped out into the hall and down the servant stairs.

  Dean emerged from the shadows and closed the door softly behind him, locking it. Lucy stood waiting in the middle of the room. He approached her slowly.

  “Is this what you want?”

  She nodded.

  He undid the ties of her cloak and domino, tossing them over the chair. Her nerves stretched as he looked over her. He didn’t look pleased, only angry. It dampened her excitement significantly.

  “Try not to look so resigned to seducing me,” she quipped.

  He gave a soft bark of laughter. “What would you have me do?”

  “Anything,” She said boldly.

  He stepped back from her and began to undress. Without preamble, he removed his domino, followed by his jacket, waistcoat and pulled his shirt from his trouser.”

  Lucy watched in dismay.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked as she undid his shirt cuffs. He strolled forward and tipped up her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He pulled the shoulder of her dress over her arm, brushing the exposed skin with his knuckles. His voice softened. “Passion, pleasure, the taste of the forbidden. A temporary easement of your boredom.” He cupped her breasts.

  She pushed his hand away.

  He dropped his hands to his side, moved around her and climbed onto the bed, lounging against the pillows.

  “I’d like you to undress for me.”

  She turned to face him with a look of disgust.

  “What’s the matter? Too dull for you?”

  “Stop it.”

  “This is what happens in affairs, Lucy.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

  She hesitated, but inevitably, she couldn’t resist moving closer. Part of her knew he was baiting her, and the other part just wanted whatever he would give. Nothing he offered was going to be enough. Ever.

  She flinched when he raised his hands to her stomach. Her skin was so sensitive there, so unused to being touched by hands other than her own.

  “You’re skittish.” He laughed softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “You already have.”

  “I warned you, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “Affairs are about sex, Lucy. Carnal needs being met by mutual accord. Is that what you want?”

  She shook her head.

  He ran his hands down the sides of her hips. “This isn’t love, only desire.”

  “How do you know so much about love?” she asked as she watched him watching his hands caress her body. She shouldn’t be letting him touch her this way. He was only doing it to prove his point, but his touch had always felt so right, and watching his face while he did it… His expression said more than his words. He stopped and looked up at her, his hands resting on her hips.

  Lucy took a guess. “You’ve been in love.”

  Bleakness covered his features. “I have.”

  “Please tell me.” She pulled him up and directed him to the chair. She pushed him into it and claimed his lap before he could stop her. He looked down at her with reproach while she draped a blanket over them.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Very.” She smiled impishly. “Now tell me everything, or I shall torture you until you do.”

  Dean grimaced. What could he do? They’d come this far. They were in so deep already. He exhaled and rested his head against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes when she rested her head on his chest, the soft touch of her breath caressing his neck. It felt so good to hold her like this, too good, too comfortable.

  He hadn’t told anyone this story, he didn’t even like to remember it himself, but he supposed it was time to tell her. More than anyone, she deserved to know the truth.

  He swallowed. With the words came the emotions, and he found it hard to begin.

  “A long time ago, I believed in all-consuming love. I was enslaved by it. The earth couldn’t have shaken my love. Until it did that very thing. My father determined that I was to marry the oldest daughter of our neighbor for land entailed in her dowry. But I was in love with her sister.

  “We argued for hours, days even. Upon his honor, he’d given his word and it was done, he’d said. I still refused. No one could make me marry her.” He stopped. In his head echoed his father’s yelling, but all he could see was Rosie’s face, the streaks of her tears.

  “She killed herse
lf because of me. She was sensitive, Rosie had said, prone to melancholy and my rejection of her pushed her too far. It was my fault.”

  Lucy gasped as she absorbed the words. “I’m sorry.”

  “Rosie was her younger sister. I loved her desperately, but after her sister took her own life… she despised me. She couldn’t believe I could be so callous.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Lucy sat up and cupped his cheek.

  “Wasn’t it?” His eyes were haunted. “I refused her, and she took her own life. To punish me, I was banished from my home. Rosie never spoke to me again, and the only communication I received from my father was a letter to tell me of Rosie’s marriage. That was ten years ago.”

  “He banished you?”

  “Only until he became too ill to manage the estate. His solicitor sent for me. My father despises me, Rosie’s family despises me… Eventually, I hurt everyone who cares for me.”

  “That isn’t true.” Lucy held his face to stop him from looking away.

  “I hurt you.”

  “Yes, but I asked for it.”

  He laughed softly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “I know. You warned me, and I didn’t listen. But none of that matters. That girl…what was her name?”

  “Lenora.”

  “Lenora died by her own hand, not yours. Rosie… she’s a fool to blame you for such a thing. If she loved you, she wouldn’t have let you marry her sister. She would have fought for you,” Lucy said vehemently.

  He laughed again. “She wasn’t as obstinate as you.”

  “And look where that got her? Not married to you.” Lucy raised a brow.

  He chuckled. It was more genuine and less desperate. She was glad she could ease his pain just a little, but it was clear he wasn’t ready to let go. She undid the buttons at his neck, slipping her hand inside and over his heart.