by Cheryl Holt
She pulled the blankets over them, covering them with a heavy quilt. They dawdled for a bit, then she inquired, “Is that better? You’re warmer already.”
“Yes, I’m warming up very fast—with you right next to me. I guess you can’t move or I’ll be shivering again.”
“You’re a rat. You’re using your personal discomfort—and my concerns about your health—as an excuse to coerce me.”
“I might be.” He grinned, shameless and unrepentant. “Daisy mentioned you saw your sister when you were out shopping.”
She stiffened. “We bumped into her by accident.”
“It must have been upsetting.”
“It was, but I’ve had all day to calm down. I’m fine now.”
“Is she missing you? Is she regretting that she tossed you out? Did she beg you to come home?”
He was on tenterhooks, nervous about her response. If she had somewhere to go, she’d leave him, and he wasn’t prepared for that moment to arrive. In fact, he suspected he might manipulate her affairs so no opportunity for departure could arise.
“She didn’t invite me back,” she said, “and I can’t predict what she’s thinking. She’s probably glad to be shed of me, but lamenting it too. Without me in the house, she only has the servants to yell at, and they can quit if she becomes too obnoxious. I could never quit being her sister. It’s the disadvantage of being a relative.”
“Daisy told me she left a jar of coins there.”
“Yes. Your brother always slipped her a penny when he visited her. She kept all of them.” Jo scowled with consternation. “But it’s a pathetic pile—indicative of his lack of attention. I doubt there are a dozen coins in it.”
“She’d like to have them.”
“Of course she would. They’re all she has from him.”
“And what about you? She said your clothes are still there. Would you like me to retrieve them for you?”
She popped up again, and it was clear she yearned to say yes, please, but she didn’t. Instead, she shook her head. “No, I don’t need you fussing about it. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re not a bother.”
“Not yet anyway.”
Then and there, he decided he would learn where her sister lived, and he’d get Jo’s things from her. He wouldn’t inform Jo first. He’d simply show up in London with them. He could just picture how grateful she’d be.
“I’m worried about Maud,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t be—not after how she treated me—but I can’t help it.”
“Why are you worried?”
“She’s marrying in September, but I don’t like her fiancé.”
“What’s his name?”
“Thompson Townsend. Do you know the family? His oldest brother, Charles, is her lawyer.”
He pondered, then nodded. “I do know them. Isn’t there a hoard of Townsend brothers?”
“Yes, five of them.”
“One of them went to school with me for a year or two, and if I remember correctly, they’re a dodgy bunch. The parents had too many sons and not enough money to go around. They were always scrounging for funds.”
“You’ve described them exactly. Maud—for all her flaws—is a matrimonial prize. She inherited her house and receives a small stipend from her maternal grandmother, and her dowry hasn’t been stolen by anybody.”
Peyton laughed. “Hopefully, it won’t be.”
“Charles introduced his brother to Maud, and Thompson proposed on the spot.”
“Considering the fiscal condition of those boys, I can certainly understand why he would.”
“He doesn’t have her best interests at heart though,” she said. “He seems to have a mistress of whom he’s very fond.”
“Why would you assume so?”
“When I initially came to London, I observed them brazenly kissing out on the street.”
“My goodness. That is brazen.”
“Then they drove by us today, and they were snuggled together in a carriage.”
“Did your sister see them?”
“She pretended not to, but she’s adept at ignoring what she doesn’t wish to see.”
“Like an unwanted, bastard daughter?”
“Yes, just like that,” Jo said.
“Who was your fiancé again?”
“Holden Cartwright.”
“If he hadn’t jilted you, and you still had your dowry, would you like to marry?”
He suffered a peculiar rush a jealousy when she replied with, “Wouldn’t every woman? What other option is there for a female?”
“Not all women share that view. I’ve spent my life around doxies in port towns. They’re incredibly happy to carry on without husbands.”
“How shockingly modern.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“But let’s not talk about marriage or Mr. Cartwright or my being jilted. It’s embarrassing and depressing.”
“I’ll agree that it’s depressing, but why would you be embarrassed? It wasn’t your fault he was a cad.”
“When I recall that terrible episode, I’m reminded that I have no common sense. Why didn’t I recognize him for the scoundrel he was?”
“Some men are simply criminals, and they prey on the unsuspecting.”
“Well, he definitely knew how to prey on me, and I only had Maud to advise me. He tricked her into thinking he was wonderful, and she signed over my dowry without hesitating. Neither of us realized I should have had a ring on my finger first. We had no idea a man could be so unscrupulous.”
He snorted with disgust. In his opinion, men were capable of any wicked conduct, but a female—especially one as young and naïve as Jo—wouldn’t necessarily comprehend that fact.
He made a mental note to reflect on her vanished fiancé, Mr. Cartwright. How difficult would it be to track him down?
Peyton concurred with her assessment that her money would be gone, but he’d love to inflict a bit of physical punishment. An arrest would be satisfying too. Could he arrange that conclusion for her? He’d certainly like to try.
“Why did you travel to Benton?” she asked.
“I had to scold Richard Slater for evicting Daisy.”
She batted her lashes. “My hero! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. He and his sister need to leave Benton, but they won’t depart without a fight. I’ll probably have to bring an army with me to drag them away. They’re that opposed to my implementing any changes.”
“I can imagine. Benton has been their home for ages. They wouldn’t deem it fair for you to force them out.”
“Precisely. They believe I’m an ogre.”
“You’re not an ogre,” she loyally stated. “I’ve been acquainted with some ogres. You’re not one.”
He sighed with contentment. She understood him so well which was refreshing and intriguing. Her insights seemed to bind them tightly, as if Fate had decided they should be connected.
“Is there any news from Miss Watson?” he asked.
“Not yet, but it hasn’t been that long. I have her cousin’s address, and I wrote to her. I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Does Daisy miss Bobby and Jane?”
“Why would you have to inquire? Yes, she misses them. They’re her siblings, and she grew up with them. She doesn’t talk about their separation much—she’s determined to never be a burden—but I can read between the lines.”
“Perhaps—after we find out their circumstances—we could have them visit her.”
She stared at him for an eternity, then she murmured, “Would you really invite them to London for a reunion?”
Would he?
He’d tossed out the remark without assessing the ramifications, but why shouldn’t he proceed? He was rich, and he owned a very large town house. He could host a few guests, and after he rid himself of the Slaters once and for all, why couldn’t he return the three children to Benton? Why not?
If Barbara left the estate, there was no reason to keep them away. They could live in the cottage where they’d been raised. What was to stop him from pursuing that ending?
It occurred to him that he was falling asleep, so his thoughts were muddled. It sounded as if he responded with, “Yes, we could have a reunion.”
“Can I tell Daisy about it?”
Again, it sounded as if he mumbled, “Sure.”
“I won’t get her hopes up unless you’re positive.”
“I’m positive.”
At least, he assumed he was, but in his weary condition, he wasn’t clear on what he’d agreed to do.
After that, he drifted off, and he could feel her shaking him, frantically saying, “Peyton Prescott! Don’t you dare doze off in here!” She went on and on, muttering comments such as, “Wake up, you idiot! Wake up!”
But he was dreaming of a beach in the Caribbean that he’d always judged to be the most beautiful spot in the world. He was loafing on the white sand. The sun was hot, a tropical breeze blowing. He stripped off his shirt, and as he waded into the balmy turquoise water, he grinned.
Life was very, very good.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jo was seated in a chair by the hearth. The flames were out, and it was dark and cold. She was still dressed in her nightgown and robe, wool socks on her feet, and she’d wrapped herself in a blanket to ward off the chill.
Peyton was asleep on her bed.
She’d tried to wake him, to make him leave, but he was exhausted from his ride to Benton in the rain. She couldn’t guess how long he’d been out, but she was starting to panic.
What if—once he roused—the servants were up and stoking the fires? What if he was observed sneaking out? Or what if a housemaid knocked on her door?
She didn’t have a sitting room. Her bedroom opened directly into the hall, so there could be no hiding the reality that her bed wasn’t empty. There was a man in it.
She wanted to be furious with him for placing her in such a predicament, but she couldn’t muster any outrage. With each passing minute, she liked him more and more, and thus, was content to forgive him many sins. How could she not?
In light of her debacle with Mr. Cartwright, she knew not to be fond of any man, but Peyton was rich, handsome, and generous. It was skewing her view of their relationship.
Where she was concerned, he couldn’t have honorable intentions. Marriage was the only honorable intention for a female of her station, but it wasn’t a remedy he could offer or supply. So what was her plan?
If she’d had any sense, she’d pack her bag in the morning, pack Daisy’s too, and they’d depart. Continued fraternization was insane, but if she left, she’d imperil Daisy, and she wouldn’t endanger her niece merely because she couldn’t force herself to behave as she ought.
He finally stirred, and he frowned up at the ceiling, perplexed about where he was. Then he saw her over in her chair.
“Aren’t you freezing?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“Come here.”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s lonely without you by my side.”
He smiled and extended his hand to her. He had such a commanding personality, and she had no defense against it. They were secluded in the quiet house, and it seemed as if the rules of propriety had ceased to apply.
This type of decadent situation was how a girl got herself into trouble, so catastrophe beckoned. Though she’d been reared in a moral home, when he grinned at her, when he was so eager for her to join him, none of it mattered. She didn’t care about any rules. She didn’t care about propriety. She was anxious to make him happy, and she was terrified she might engage in any act he suggested.
She went over and clasped hold. He yanked hard, and she tumbled onto the mattress.
“What time is it?” he inquired.
“I have no idea, but morning has to be quickly approaching.”
He glanced out the window where it was still storming. “Well, it’s not morning yet. Let’s pretend it will never arrive.”
He positioned them so she was beneath him, and he was stretched out on top of her. He began kissing her in a frantic, desperate way, and she participated with incredible relish. Her breasts were pressed to his chest, and with her wearing just her nightgown, she seemed to be naked, as if they were touching skin to skin.
Down below, their loins were flexing in a thrilling rhythm her feminine anatomy definitely recognized. In his trousers, there was a firm rod that was evidence of his desire for her. Their housekeeper in Telford had explained it when Jo had been marching toward her wedding.
A man’s private parts were different from a woman’s, and those differences allowed them to mate and create a babe. She wasn’t clear on the specifics, but on realizing how she’d tantalized him, she was inordinately delighted. It had her wishing she was a tad wanton, that past experience had taught her how to entice him.
He broke off the kiss and dipped under her chin to nibble down her neck, to her chest, to her bosom. He nuzzled at her breasts, stroking and massaging them, then he sucked a nipple into his mouth. The sensation was so shocking and so exciting that she arched up, not sure if she was trying to move away from him or move closer.
His hand was roaming up her thigh, gradually raising the hem of her nightgown, circling higher and higher. He caressed her between her legs, then slid his fingers into her woman’s sheath.
From her prior conversation with her housekeeper, she had a vague perception that this kind of contact was common in a romantic encounter and to be permitted. But none of the housekeeper’s comments had prepared her for how raucous and naughty it would be. It had to be a grave sin, and all of it was transpiring much too fast, but she was quite overwhelmed and couldn’t slow it down.
He shifted his fingers in and out, in and out, as he nursed at her breast and, suddenly, the most delicious wave of exhilaration swept over her. She gasped with surprise as she soared to the heavens, as she reached a sort of peak. Then she tumbled down and landed safely in his arms.
He was hovered over her, smirking and looking very proud of himself. On her end, she was embarrassed and drained.
“Was that marital pleasure?” she managed to inquire.
“A bit of it.”
“Am I…I…still a virgin?”
“Yes, Jo, you’re chaste as the day is long.”
“I’m not with child, am I?”
“No. There’s more to it than that.”
Her housekeeper had described the process, but still, Jo was confused by it. She was positive no babe could be planted by a man’s fingers, but she was so unschooled in amour. And with good reason! She wasn’t a doxy, so she wasn’t free to flaunt herself so egregiously. The problem for her though was that she loved what they’d just done and she’d like to do it again—the sooner the better.
He rolled onto his side and rolled her too, so they were nose to nose.
“If we’d kept on,” he asked, “are you aware of how it would have concluded?”
“I have a general understanding, but I’m not certain on all the details.”
He studied her, and he was still smiling, still merry and cocky. “What will become of us, Jo? There’s an amazing connection sparking. Do you feel it?”
“It would be silly to deny it.”
“We should give in to it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think—while you’re living with me—we should engage in an affair.”
“And I think you are mad for suggesting it.”
“Why would you? We’re so compatible, and we like each other so much. We’d both be very happy.”
“You’re a man, so you would believe that.”
“We’ll never be able to fight our attraction. It’s too strong.”
“Maybe you won’t be able to, but I will.”
“But
, Jo, why would you want to fight it?”
She frowned at him, forcing herself to recall that he’d sailed the globe in the navy, and it was widely accepted that sailors had a distorted view of manners and morals. They mingled with foreigners and natives, and they trifled with loose slatterns who weren’t bound by the restrictions placed on females in a civilized country like England.
He’d conveniently forgotten where he was while she had conveniently forgotten to watch herself around him. She was exhibiting such risqué conduct that he thought she’d be amenable to a passionate indiscretion.
“What exactly are you hoping to have occur?” she said.
“We’ll enjoy a torrid fling. We’ll dally and play and amuse ourselves, and when the time comes where we have to part, we’ll move on with fond memories.”
She scoffed with irritation. “What benefit would there be for me to participate? I’d be ruined and disgraced, and in the future, I could never wed.”
“Don’t worry about any of that.”
“We might be found out too.”
He scowled. “Who would find out?”
“Anyone might. How about Mr. Newman? How about the housemaids? They’re not blind, you know.”
“They’re not allowed to have an opinion about how I behave.”
“Well, they could definitely have an opinion about me.”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
“I could wind up with child! There’s been no mention of you putting a ring on my finger. What would I do then? What would you do?”
“In your eyes, everything is so complicated.”
“It is complicated. For me anyway. I’d be destroyed, but you’d suffer no consequences at all.”
She noticed he hadn’t jumped to proclaim that, yes, he’d marry her if the worst happened, so she was deranged to trust him. There were rules and laws against debauchery, and a maiden couldn’t blithely fornicate, couldn’t casually walk down the salacious road he was so eager to travel.
He glanced outside, and the sky appeared to be growing lighter. Dawn was probably about to break.
“I should sneak out,” he said, “while I still have a chance.”
