Games of Desire for Lady Hellion: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

  “Is that why you do not have a wife yet?” she asked, and then she gasped, a hand flying to her throat. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes were wide. “Goodness me, I did not mean to—”

  “It’s all right, Diana,” he said with a little laugh, although she thought she saw him squirm in his seat. “I know you did not mean anything by it. And yes, I suppose that is the case. Although—” he paused, looking away from her as though there was so much he wanted say and so much he couldn’t.

  “Although what?” she urged.

  “Although perhaps I simply have not met the right lady yet. I would like to take a wife, one day.”

  He looked down at his hands, embarrassed, and Diana felt an inexplicable happiness, as though he had there and then proposed to her, for she knew she could be the right lady.

  Stop it!

  She chided herself, inwardly angry at her childish notions of love. As her father would remind her often, real love simply did not happen as it did in the story books. She could not be that insanely happy when they had met mere hours ago, and when he had said no such thing as wanting her as a wife.

  Besides, who is to say I want him as a husband?

  And yet—

  She looked away again, slowing her breathing.

  “So, do you spend your entire life reading?” he asked. “Or do you have other hobbies?”

  “It’s not so much a hobby,” she said, “but I also have very important work to do.”

  “Really?” he asked, clearly surprised. She smiled at his reaction. Perhaps her work was not employment, as such, but it was equally important, and she knew how it sounded when a member of the fairer sex admitted to their involvement in the world of work.

  “I work very hard with charitable institutions,” she said, eyeing him for his reaction.

  If he didn’t take her work seriously, she knew she could never take him seriously. Where other ladies dallied, Diana was keen to make her presence known in all the institutions she worked with, and she was not too scared to become completely involved.

  “Really?” he asked, and this time it was an intrigued word, something that had no surprise but a desire to know more. “And what sort of charitable institutions do you work with?”

  “We are so lucky to have all that we have. There are institutions to help the unfortunate, those who have less. Father, at first, allowed me only to become a benefactor, but seeing my eagerness to help, he now lets me become involved in the more arduous tasks—letter writing and so forth.”

  “That is very honorable,” he said, and she was pleased at how genuine he sounded.

  They looked at each other for a long moment, and Diana thought for a second that they were going to kiss again. She wouldn’t have complained, because she wanted to feel those soft lips against hers again. But they didn’t kiss, and Diana realized that was better.

  They looked into each other’s eyes, each other’s souls, instead. Diana had the strange feeling that this man was the one and only who could see her for who she was—and he accepted that. She couldn’t pull her eyes from him, couldn’t break that bond that grew stronger by the second. It felt as though she had found the one she fit with, the other with which she connected, and that only he would do.

  If felt, as they gazed at each other, that she was falling deeper and deeper, unable to swim to the surface, unable to escape the waves. And that was all right. She did not want to escape, she searched not for the surface. She wanted to be entirely subsumed by him, taken and used by him. She wanted to be with him, in his company and with his conversation, every moment of every day, for the rest of her life.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head, shaking away the moment and the feeling. It was too intense. The man she barely knew had seemed to capture her so completely, even before they had spent a single evening talking. And while this kind of romance had been what she had dreamed of for so long, and although it was tempting, it felt now too sudden, too frightening. She felt herself pull back, a horse rearing.

  “Where do you live?” she asked all of a sudden, as though it was a question that had just popped into her head. She smiled at him, hoping he hadn’t noticed her rapidly made barrier between them.

  “Here in London. Do you not know Gallonon Hall?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, and it was true. She had, once or twice, heard of the Dukedom but of the manor, she knew nothing. “Although I must be honest, I am not the most active of members of the ton. I tend to keep myself to myself.”

  He snorted.

  “That’s the best way to be, isn’t it?” he asked. “Away from the gossip and the drama? It’s certainly where I would prefer to be. I would not come to these things if it were not expected of me.”

  “I’m glad I’ve met someone who finally agrees,” she said, smiling up at him. It was rare, indeed, to find someone so willing to shun society as she was.

  “Do you also live in London?” he asked. “I do not even know your Father’s title so as to work it out.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I live in London. I’m Lady Diana Allen, eldest daughter of the Earl of Estnell.”

  “Estnell?” he gasped, shocked at her revelation, and she looked up him curiously.

  “That’s right. Is there something the matter?”

  “No, no,” he said, shaking his head urgently. He squirmed in his seat and his eyes darkened. The very word Estnell stirred a hatred within him. How could a wonder such as Lady Diana be from a horror such as Estnell?

  “Are you sure? You’ve gone awfully pale.”

  “No, not at all,” he said, gathering himself. He picked at imaginary dust on his trouser leg and cleared his throat, desperate to get his words in order. “I just…goodness, I…so, you must be Lady Celine’s Sister, then?”

  “That’s right,” Diana said, and she could feel her old stiffness return. She was worried, his behavior so at odds with how it was only moments before. His reaction seemed so harsh, so unpleasant, an entirely different person.

  “She…I—”

  Diana stared at him as his mouth hung open, searching for the right word, and she felt in her heart a weight that dragged her down.

  Did that kiss mean nothing?

  And while she didn’t understand her feelings of euphoria, so now she didn’t understand her feelings of despair, of tension, of wariness. She couldn’t stop it though. As soon as Isaac questioned her heritage, she had felt on edge.

  “She looks very beautiful,” Diana said, her lips pursed, almost but not quite in a pout.

  “She does,” Isaac agreed, although Diana was relieved to see he was not overwhelmed by Celine’s presence that evening. He agreed more out of duty than out of awe at this new face in the room.

  “So, who did you think I was?” she asked, relaxing ever-so-slightly. The teasing tone of her voice returned, and she eyed him as she spoke, a half-smile on her lips.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, looking at her blankly. “I just…I wasn’t expecting that.”

  She laughed then, and he laughed too. She could see some of his tension release, but he still held himself straight and taut.

  “Why ever not? Am I so bad as to not be considered even an Earl’s daughter?”

  “Heavens, no,” he declared. “If anything, quite the opposite. You are as the daughter of a Duke…no, a King,” he said, laughing. “You are not a lady, but a princess.”

  “Goodness me,” Diana said, laughing freely. “That is quite the declaration. And I do not doubt my Father would be pleased to be compared to a king.”

  “I didn’t realize Lord Estnell had two daughters,” Isaac said, a darkness shadowing his face. “I suppose…” Isaac looked into the distance, trying to remember, “I suppose I must have known, and now you say it, it feels as though it is something I already knew, and yet it never seemed to be set in my mind. Your Father surely mentioned you both at some point, but I have not seen him for such a long time.”

  She thought she saw him sneer at the mentio
n of her father, but she put it out of her mind, telling herself she imagined it, for there would be no other reason for it. She couldn’t tie that to the Isaac she had known moments ago, and so she chose to ignore it.

  “You know my Father?” she asked, surprised. Her father so rarely went out that it seemed surprising to her he should know any of current society.

  His brow furrowed in anger and he clenched his jaw shut as he thought. Seeing it sent her mind spiraling, her thoughts racing. He seemed not to know whether to be happy or to be sad, and that concerned her.

  “I did, at one time. He was friends with my Father,” he said, not looking at her, “before he died, of course.”

  “Well, that’s pleasant,” she said. She smiled sweetly, hoping to return to their easy conversation of earlier, but in truth she felt a sharpness within her, something so dangerously close to stabbing her that she found herself skirting awkwardly around it.

  “Ha,” he laughed humorlessly, “Pleasant indeed.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She was fearful at his words and irritation prodded at her.

  “Nothing,” he said. Then he shook his head and took a deep breath, seeming to compose himself. He looked at her, a smile returned to his lips. “Ignore me. Feuds of the past need not ruin friendships of the day.”

  “Feuds?” she asked, terrified she had befriended the wrong man.

  “It is nothing,” Isaac said. “Honestly. Please, Lady Diana, trust me on this. It was nothing more than a bickering of men—one of whom is long dead. There is little more to it than that.”

  “All right,” she said. She still felt uneasy, but his happy nature seemed to have returned, and she relaxed back onto the bench, eyeing him carefully.

  “Lady Celine told me she had a Sister, but I had not expected—”

  “Oh, you know my Sister, too?” Diana sat upright, pert in her desire to know, to discover.

  Isaac flushed, and Diana tilted her head in question. He was adorable when he blushed, and she liked to taunt him, make him think he had offended her sensibilities. This time, he had come dangerously close, but she put it out of her mind, wanting to return to the easiness of before.

  “We danced, that is all. I didn’t know her before today. She dances very well indeed, although she talks rather a lot.”

  Diana laughed at that.

  “She does,” she said, “especially when she is nervous.”

  “It is as I expected then,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his hands.

  “And when she said she had a Sister,” Diana asked, endlessly curious but also teasing. “You expected what?” Her tone was harsh, but the corners of her lips curled into a smile. She liked to tease him, so she discovered, and it seemed he liked it when she teased him. And the teasing brought the jollity back to their exchange, the darkness now nowhere to be seen.

  “I don’t know,” he said again, and again he laughed. “An old married crone, perhaps? Or someone so uninteresting as to bore me to death? Perhaps an ugly hag who practices witchcraft in the woods at midnight?”

  “Isaac,” she said, slapping him playfully on the arm. “You thought no such thing!”

  “In truth,” he said, a gentle smile now that lit up his eyes with love and friendship, as though he had just realized how profitable their alliance could be. “In truth, I thought nothing when she said she had a Sister. I imagined no one. I only knew that while Lady Celine is indeed beautiful and friendly enough, she was not one to light up my heart. Not like you, Diana.”

  She looked at him, choked by his words and the emotions running through her. They had known each other for less than a day and yet, she was completely caught up by him, by his words and actions. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding.

  Is this the emotion they call love?

  “Diana, I have never met anyone like you.” He spoke eagerly now, full of intent. “You are a beacon in a world of darkness. I know we have only just met, and perhaps I am speaking out of turn—too soon—but I cannot help but feel you are—”

  “I am what?” she asked, hanging on his every word, and as she spoke so she moved almost imperceptibly closer, until she could smell him, rich and earthy.

  “You are wonderful,” he said, his words coming out in a rush of emotion and she caught every single one of them.

  “And you, Isaac, you are—”

  But he didn’t let her speak. Instead, he leaned forward and stole another kiss, a kiss that sent shivers down her spine and left her craving more.

  She pushed herself forward, not holding back this time. She could feel her breasts, so bound within her stays, and she felt restricted for the first time. Isaac made her want to be free, to be her true self, and she knew in that instant she would release her stays for him soon enough.

  Chapter 11

  “I trust you both had a lovely time last night,” Henry said over breakfast the next morning. All three had heavy circles under their eyes, although Henry’s were the result of nightmares rather than dancing, and Diana still worried for him. She felt a twinge of guilt at having had such a wonderful time while her father remained at home, suffering deeply.

  “Yes, Father, it was wonderful,” Celine replied, coy in her manner and flashing Diana a conspiratorial look. Neither wanted to talk of love with their aging father, no matter how kind hearted he was, and neither did they wish to talk to him of dancing. Diana suppressed a grin as she took a slice of toast from the rack and spread it liberally with jam.

  The breakfast room was full of morning light, the large windows draped with heavy gold-and-black brocade curtains. It was small room, although large enough for a breakfast table and four chairs. They sat at the same seats every day from habit and, even after all these years, Diana felt a twist in her gut when she saw the empty chair opposite her.

  Mother’s chair.

  She forced herself to look away, not wanting to be sucked back into memories of despair. Her mother had been the one person to truly understand Diana, to truly accept her, and now that Diana thought she had found another, she dearly wished she could talk to her mother about it.

  “It was an acceptable evening,” Diana said, keeping her words and her tone simple, unenthusiastic, lest her father get excited long before excitement was due. She and Isaac had only just met, after all. She needed to be sure before she announced her desires to her father.

  The newspaper sat folded on the table next to Henry, untouched and likely to remain that way. He had lost interest in the outside world when the world lost interest in him, although Diana knew he kept up the pretense for their sake. It saddened her to know he was in pain, of his desire to hide from everyone and everything. That morning, Diana could truly see how wonderful the world could be, if only you let it.

  “I trust you met plenty of people, Celine?”

  Diana glanced at her sister and saw her embarrassed flush, the way in which she spoke to her breakfast plate rather than looking up and talking to their father. She suppressed a grin. Celine had indeed met plenty of people, but Diana suspected it was only one who made her quite so coy.

  “Yes, Father,” Celine said, not looking up at him. “I met many wonderful ladies and gentlemen, and I danced so much that my feet ache this morning.”

  “Excellent! And you, Diana?” he asked, stirring some sugar into his tea. The spoon clinked against the side of the cup, a percussion to his words, and she watched the brown liquid swirl around and around. She knew what he was going to ask before he even asked it. “Did you meet anyone special?”

  Diana looked down at her toast, as untouched as the newspaper, but not for long. She bit into it, chewing slowly to buy herself time, and then she smiled.

  “I met plenty of people, Father,” she replied. She looked at him directly, enjoying her tease.

  “You know very well that is not what I mean, Diana,” Henry chastised, although not harshly. Diana could hear the love in his words and the concern, but she quickly changed the
subject. She did not want to discuss her finding a suitor. Not again.

  “Lord Crawford was as boring as ever, and the Duke of Renwald took rather too much brandy again. It sometimes feels as though I attend the same ball over and over again.”

  “Renwald’s still up to his old tricks, then,” Henry said with a chuckle. He picked up his tea and took a sip, hissing at the heat as it burned his throat. Diana watched curiously. She suspected he liked the pain, but she couldn’t work out why.

  “Yes,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “He even danced with Celine.”

  “Really?” Henry was so shocked he almost choked on his tea, and he put the cup delicately back on the saucer. “He is too old for you, Celine,” he said, once he had recovered himself. Celine gasped.