If a man took advantage of his sister in a similar situation, he’d gut the bastard from stem to stern.
That didn’t mean he was perfect. His hands framed her face, his thumbs rubbing over and over that tender skin. Delicate insanity.
He took her mouth one more time. Sugar and velvet. Her lips pressed against his. He traced the inside tenderness of her bottom lip, then the hard edge of her teeth. His body curved over hers, offering shelter from the storm that no one would be able to keep away on her behalf.
She made a quiet noise that spilled into his mouth. Her fingers dug into his muscles, making the tendons across his neck shiver and pull tight. He had to put her back again. Move her away from his reach. She wasn’t the only one traipsing down routes best left forgotten.
He turned his hand and rubbed her jawline with his knuckles. She tilted her chin into the touch. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I think it’s a little late for that sort of protest. Neither of us are spinster maidens.”
“Let me put it this way, then. I thank you for what you’re offering. But I have to decline.”
She sat back on her heels, her mouth bending into a displeased frown. “You’ll regret that. I’m sure of it.”
Bugger yes, he was going to regret that. He already was. His cock all but reared up in protest. But he only shook his head. “Then that will be my regret to live with. Not yours.”
Chapter Seven
By four days later, Lottie knew that Ian had been wrong. The regret was all hers. In the second best parlor of her school, she stood with her hands folded at her waist as she blindly watched three rows of girls practice curtsying. Mrs. Sera Thomas stood at the front of the room leading the class and occasionally shooting Lottie questioning looks.
It wasn’t often that Lottie felt it necessary to watch a class. But she’d needed to reassure herself that she was on the right path. She hadn’t lost her mind.
The whole last week had been a tumble of too many emotions at once. She didn’t like feeling so...at sea. Flipped around. She wanted to be happy, wanted to be pleased. More than that, she wanted to be calm inside her own skin. The calmer she was, the happier an aspect she could present to the world, the less likely her mother’s difficulties were to take hold of Lottie.
Kissing Ian had been the very opposite of that. In memory, her lips tingled and her heartbeat rushed to fill her head and senses. She pressed her hands together hard enough that knuckles bit into bone. The pain grounded her. Drew her back into herself and the moment.
She wanted more of that. That kiss had been a different kind of confusion, one she almost thought she could handle. If she’d been able to direct how things had gone.
Instead, he’d turned her down.
Denied her.
Lottie chewed on the inside of her lip until she tasted copper. Her tongue probed the tiny sting as she watched Sera dismiss the class. She gave a single clap and gracefully beckoned. “Please continue to the workroom. Lady Victoria is waiting on you.”
“Will we get to pick fabric today?” asked one hopeful voice from the second row.
“I’m not privy to the schedule that Lady Victoria keeps,” Sera said with a twinkling smile. “But I will say that I saw a rather laden cart in the back alley this afternoon.”
The girls split around her in ranks as they scrambled for the door—though no one ran. They wouldn’t dare under Sera’s proper, chastising gaze. Many waved and bobbed small curtsies. Lottie smiled back at them. Her heart reveled in their safety.
A soft knock on the door behind them heralded a towheaded maid. “Miss Vale, there is a Sir Ian here to see you. He’s waiting in your study.”
“Thank you, Melissa.” She didn’t like the way her entire body sparked. Tingling tension nestled at the base of her spine. Her skin woke, and her bones threatened to melt with anticipation.
He sat in her chair, behind her desk. Such arrogance. But he was so handsome that she wanted to forgive him for such effrontery. Almost. “Get up.”
He grinned at her, all cheeky insolence. “Did you order me about?”
“Did you seat yourself in my chair?”
“I did.” He leant an elbow on the chair arm and propped his chin on his loose fist. “I’ve no reason to obey you, you know.”
Was he doing this intentionally? Teasing her and allowing her a moment of ease to get away from the clutching memory of her mother’s near drowning? From the weight of the kiss she had enticed him into? If so, she appreciated it more than words could say. She grinned. “No reason, but every want.”
“Why do you think so?”
She came closer. Once again she was leaning over him while he sat in a chair. She rather liked the disparity and the possibilities inherent in such positions. “Because if you don’t, I’ll likely be tempted to kiss you again.”
His eyes turned clear and shining blue, like the sky after a summer rain. The noise that swirled out of his throat was a growl. No two ways about it. Lottie’s entire body clenched and then bloomed open. Ready.
“For the life of me, I cannot remember at the moment why that would be a bad idea.” His voice was all roughness and promise.
“Then by all means.” She placed each hand on the tall chair back. With her arms, she framed him in. His dark hair shone against the green velvet upholstery. “Don’t move. But...” She drew the last word out into a tease.
“But?”
“I think you should kiss me this time.”
His smile tweaked up on the left side only. He had stupidly thick lashes that women would envy. She wanted to feel them in the soft spot beneath her ear.
Those long, graceful fingers rose and traced down the front of her throat. A delicate touch that probably said more than he wanted to. “You think so, do you?”
“You want to anyway.”
“That much is for damned sure.”
His mouth was as hot as she’d remembered. He sipped and took, twining with her in a rhythm that did strange things to her body. Strange and lovely, amazing, fabulous things.
He took his mouth from hers, though he left those delicious hands on her face. Touches tickled over her cheekbones, her jaw, the line of her nose. She kept her eyes closed, and he traced over the seam of her lashes. “Wakie wakie in there,” he whispered.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. With them closed, she could pretend everything was all right. She first pretended her father wasn’t writing daily, ignoring all reports of Mama and only talking about Lord Cameron. Then she pretended the school didn’t need another influx of cash. She needed nothing but Ian’s mouth back on hers.
With one gentle fingertip, he drew a line from her eyes to her mouth. “You’re thinking entirely too much.”
She made herself smile. “Maybe that means you’re not doing this right. Perhaps you should put more effort in.”
Before it happened, she knew Ian would respond with humor. She was certainly right. He folded his mouth into a mock-severe frown and gave a nod. “You’re right. Come here.”
He kissed her soundly. His tongue took and kept territory in her mouth, and his fingers delved into the masses of her knotted hair. She shivered in his grasp. How strange to think they’d barely touched.
She felt like he knew her.
Though that was incorrect. He knew what parts she wanted to show him. And when she’d shown him too much, she’d kissed him.
She sighed when he ended the kiss. With his mouth on hers, she didn’t think about much else. Nothing else, to be honest. Only how her body woke up each time they kissed. Maybe he had been right the other day.
Except it seemed that he wasn’t quite so distracted as she was. “Have you heard from Patricia?”
“Finna sent around a note this morning to say she hadn’t yet been to the flat.” She didn’t let her disappointment get the best of her, mostly because he couldn’t seem to let go of her.
He ran the pale yellow material of the swag at her hips between his thumb and forefinger.
“That will be a difficulty for Finna.”
She acted as if she didn’t notice the way he caressed her dress. Truthfully, it made her breath catch as she waited for his next move. “I’ve already asked about to find her a new girl to room with. Maybe two if they need extra help with the payments.”
“And Patricia?” he asked, as businesslike as can be. Ridiculous man. “Do you have any idea where she is?”
“No, unfortunately not. I sent around a note to see if she’d been at work recently, but the foreman said she’d not reported in.”
His trousers brushed against the bottom hem of her dress. The expensive embroidery made the outfit completely unpractical for nearly any occasion, with its fitted bodice and buttons marching all the way up her neck. It was particularly impractical for the city, with its gray, dirty streets.
“I already went by.” His mouth set firmly. “It seems impossible that such a woman is so difficult to find.”
Lottie’s gaze flicked toward the window. The move was so brief most people would have never noticed, not with the way she managed to keep her smile in place.
Ian did. “What is it?”
She grew her smile into a lie. “I wonder that you call her ‘such a woman’. Do you know her, to cast such judgments?”
He scoffed. “I wonder that you so blindly trust her, simply because she’s been to your charity.”
“The women who come here are determined to improve their lives. That in itself denotes a certain upright character.”
“You forget.” He pushed out of the chair. “I’ve known Patricia Wertherby a long time. Longer than you have.”
“Not forget, you nodcock.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a sullen pose. “You haven’t told me. She has something you want. That’s all I know. But do you know something?”
“I know many things. I doubt I know whatever it is you’ve got on your mind.”
“I’ve made a decision.”
“God save us all.”
Her chin lifted. “I’ve decided I’m not going a moment more without you telling me what it is that you’re looking for.”
Ian shifted with discomfort. He’d toyed with the idea of sharing the full story on his ride to the school, but that didn’t make it any easier. No part of his quiet life left him accustomed to sharing confidences. “A document.”
“I know that much.”
Even in annoyance, she seemed...different. His mother or Etta would pout, hoping to wheedle what they wanted. Lottie set her terms and held her head high as she waited for him to catch up.
“It’s not my story.” The words ground out like glass caught between two rocks. Painful. “I would have to ask your discretion.”
She grinned wide enough that her nose wrinkled. “You’re having me on, yes? After everything you witnessed yesterday? I’m the soul of discretion—or at the very least, not a single soul would believe me. They’d chalk it up to more of my teasing and wildness.”
“My sister fell in love.”
“I would say congratulations to her, but I think this story may not have a happy ending.”
“You’d be right.” He leaned against the arm of her chair, propping himself up. “He was a millwright. A step down for our family.”
“I bet that wasn’t well received.”
“No. Plenty of fighting. Father threatened to cut her off. He did as a matter of fact. But Archie was never after Etta’s money, and they ran away to be married. With them, they took Archie’s sister as chaperone for the first half of the journey. The sister was Patricia. Archie died only a year after their marriage. Six months ago, Etta started receiving blackmail notes. We managed to trace them to Patricia, mostly through visiting posting locations, but she disappeared when the noose was drawing tight. The document I seek is the proof she’s holding over Etta’s head. A marriage certificate.”
“I see,” she said with a nod. Lottie began to brood over the problem. She did it unlike anyone else he knew. It was almost difficult to spot. She paced a few steps from the desk to the side table and back again, keeping her head up and her features clear. Only her eyes were hazy as she looked into the distance, as if there were something to be seen in the striped wallpaper and wainscoting. Her mouth stayed curved in a hint of smile.
She drew to a halt in the center of the room. “I assume the threat is to ruin Etta’s life with the story that she married far beneath her, yes?”
“Yes. We’d hoped to bring her to town after her mourning. Etta is the kind of woman who really needs to be married. She deserves a family of her own.”
“Then your answer is simple. Incredibly so.” She spread her hands wide, a pleased openness on her face. “You’re going about this all wrong.”
“I suppose you know exactly what I need?”
That smile stopped this side of angelic. “Of course I do, Ian. You’re going to learn to trust me whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but I doubt it’s advisable.”
Her mouth set in a pout that shouldn’t have been adorable. He wanted to take that plump lip between his teeth. “You haven’t given me a chance.”
“By all means. Please have out your idea before I tell you no.”
“What would happen if Patricia made known the facts about this marriage in your village?”
He had to think about that for a moment. A few people had known, though they hadn’t spoken widely of the truth. The household servants chattered when Archie moved into the manor house for the end of his illness. There’d been whispers. Baroness Esterby had failed to invite them for her annual dinner.
“Little, actually.”
“Good,” she said with no small measure of satisfaction.
“What does that matter?”
Her grin was something magical. He wanted it. He wanted to fold it up and tuck it in his pocket, keep that smile for the days of duty stretching out before him. “It means she’s well liked. Which means that she’s a pleasant girl and our task will be easier.”
“What task would that be?”
Initially, she hadn’t seemed steady enough for the office he’d found her in. A certain lack of organization perhaps, but it was an office well used, not for show. Lottie spent little time on the frivolous in this place. She picked around a piled-over basket of fabric samples and reached for the doorknob. “Come along. We’ll have a lot to get done.”
He popped the door shut against her exit. “A lot to get done for what?”
“Hmm?” She blinked at him in a slightly protracted manner, as if he’d disappeared and she magically saw him again. “You’re going to send for your sister to come to Town. We’ll launch her.”
“Launch her?” He didn’t appreciate feeling like an idiot. “You’re mad if you think I’m bringing her to London when there’s so much at stake.”
Her chin jerked back with the same sharpness as if she’d taken a blow. Her eyes went flat and dark. Her mouth curved in an eerie smile the entire time, and her voice stayed spookily airy. “Don’t call me mad. It’s in particularly bad taste, all things considered. Wouldn’t you agree?”
How did she fool the world so well? Did she even? Or perhaps everyone knew how frightened and damaged she was. Maybe she was the only one who thought she hid the truth. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. “My apologies.”
The air thickened and turned heavy. If she didn’t want to forgive him, he’d understand. She must deal with a thousand petty, poorly chosen words. He’d make sure none came from him.
Finally she nodded. Her smile turned into a shining force he wanted to believe.
“But you see? You prove my point for me.”
“How so?”
“My mother really is insane, and yet I’m invited to the Duchess of Marvell’s ball several weekends hence.”
They stood too close together. What a bad habit this was, this giving into impulses to touch. For now, it got his hands folded around her slender upper arm. “And we country bumpkins know duches
ses are all the rage.”
“They can’t help it. That whole second-only-to-royalty thing.”
He laughed. She was so cheekily perfect. “Is that their problem?”
She made a small sound of agreement, and he wanted to curl his fingers around her throat to feel the buzz. “You’ll see. You’re about to meet a duke’s daughter. I assure you Lady Victoria is as high in the instep as any you’ve ever met.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He stepped back from the door then, giving her room to open it. “I may not be quite the country man of leisure you seem to think me, and when I come to town, it’s usually for business.”
“Oh?” She led the way upstairs. “Business? The times are certainly changing, aren’t they?”
“I’m rather thankful, personally,” he said. Taking advantage of the narrow, steep stairs, he set a protective hand at the small of her back. Under his touch would be her shift and corset. Would she be embroidered through there as well? She was the sort. “Otherwise I’d be stuck on a very small piece of land, with hardly any chance of improving my circumstances.”
“How very terrible for you. You sound positively feminine. Most of us are stuck where we are, despite the changing times or not.”
“Hence the reason for your charity?”
“Hence the reason for my school, yes.” They arrived on the second floor, where a small gaggle of women milled about. Lottie clapped her hands sharply, but her smile rang true. “Have you somewhere to be?”
“Not especially, Miss Vale,” chirruped one with a minxish wink. She let her gaze wander head to toe over Ian. “If you’re to be a new instructor, sir, please allow me to be the first to welcome you.”
The small gathering of women giggled and tittered, with a few hiding bright red blushes. One swatted the speaker’s shoulder.
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