by Alyssa Drake
“Lord Westwood convinced me to finish the season.” Sam shrugged.
“Did he?” Wilhelmina arched her eyebrow. “That must have been some argument. I will have to thank him for his interference.”
“You may change your mind,” Sam muttered under her breath as Wilhelmina rose.
Crossing the room to perch on the edge of the bed, Wilhelmina folded her hands in her lap. “Samantha, I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” Sam’s muffled voice came from the recesses of the chest.
“Married and happy.”
“I am not sure those two words belong in the same sentence,” mumbled Sam.
Wilhelmina sighed. “You could be as happy as Edward and me. You could have children. You could host parties.”
“Ugh, parties.” Sam shuddered, continuing her search. Why was everything creased? Did she have nothing suitable in which to meet her–Sam gulped–fiancé?
“All right, no parties,” conceded Wilhelmina. “However, I know how much you love your nieces.”
“Of course, I do,” Sam replied, lifting her head and tilting it in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Samantha, will you at least consider your suitors?”
“Is that where this discussion is going?”
Wilhelmina pursed her lips and peered over the edge of the trunk lid. “Wear the blue one, it will bring out your eyes.”
She helped pull the dress over Sam’s head, tugging it down with a sharp yank. While Wilhelmina fastened the back, Sam stood quietly, pondering if she should tell Wilhelmina about Lord Westwood’s proposal. Eventually, Edward would tell his wife the news; however, Sam wanted to wait until Edward’s initial reaction passed.
Would Edward even consider accepting Lord Westwood as a suitor? No, she corrected, a fiancé. The word caused her to shudder again. Edward knew far more intimate details of Lord Westwood’s less than gentlemanly exploits. That information itself might cause him to reject him unless she was in far more danger than even Lord Westwood led her to believe.
What kind of peril was Lord Westwood trying to shield her from? She knew next to nothing of her father’s death, aside from the snippet overheard earlier that morning and what he had divulged. She knew a little about Edward’s business dealings, having taken over during Edward’s absence, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Chewing on her lower lip, she allowed Wilhelmina to brush the tangles in her chestnut hair, too preoccupied to complain about the brush ripping through her tresses. Humming softly, Wilhelmina ignored Sam’s reverie and began pulling strands into an upswept fashion.
Did this danger affect Wilhelmina and the girls too? Perhaps they would all be safer in the country, mused Sam. Then again, no one knew who the unidentified murderer was; what if it was someone close to the family? She caught Wilhelmina staring at her in the mirror, a concerned look flitting across Wilhelmina’s face.
“If I told you I agreed to marry someone, would that put your mind at ease?”
“Have you decided to accept a proposal?” Wilhelmina’s eyes lit up with delight.
“I have,” answered Sam.
“Who?”
“Samantha,” Edward’s voice bellowed up the stairs. His anger seeped under the door.
Wilhelmina spun Sam around to face her. “What did you do?”
Sam shook her head. “I did nothing.”
Wilhelmina, fingernails biting into Sam’s shoulders, stared deep into her eyes. “Who proposed to you?”
Sam tried to wriggle away. “Edward is waiting for me.”
“Edward can wait,” Wilhelmina replied severely.
“Samantha Hastings,” Edward’s voice roared again.
Sam glanced anxiously at the door. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”
“Yes.” Wilhelmina released Sam’s shoulders.
“Lord Westwood.”
Sam dashed for the door, leaving Wilhelmina standing, frozen with shock, in her bedroom. Descending the stairs as slowly as she dared, Sam wondered if Lord Westwood was still alive. Each new step brought visions of his death, the twinkle in his emerald eyes faded into permanent dullness. The empty hallway brought no comfort. Raising her hand, she tapped lightly on the door.
The study door swung open to reveal Lord Westwood holding a glass to the purpling bruise growing around his eye. Sam giggled, the hysterical laughter threatening to bubble its way to the surface. He shook his head imperceptibly and ushered her into the room. Pressing her lips together firmly, Sam walked toward her brother.
Edward’s face, stretched tightly, showed no emotion. His calm nature unnerved Sam, and an errant giggle escaped, her hand flying to her mouth immediately. She felt Lord Westwood approach her from behind and take a seat across from Edward, without making a sound. Sam stood between the two men, her hand pressed forcefully against her lips, staring at Edward.
Edward spoke softly. “Benjamin tells me he has found you a suitable fiancé.”
Sam nodded, her eyes never leaving Edward’s face.
“He also tells me that you have accepted this suitor’s proposal.”
Sam nodded again.
“Why?”
Sam paused; the question took her by surprise. She opened her mouth, acutely aware that both men stared unflinchingly at her.
“We reached a mutual agreement.”
“An agreement,” Edward raised his eyebrows at Lord Westwood, who cocked his head and offered a small smile.
“Edward, I know what I am doing,” stated Sam with more conviction than she felt.
“It is a smart match,” allowed Edward.
“My mother would approve,” interjected Lord Westwood with a smile, falling silent again when Edward shot a glare at him.
“I wonder,” hedged Edward, “if you know what kind of man you have agreed to marry?”
Sam stared hard at her brother. “What are you insinuating?”
Edward shrugged, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “He has a colorful reputation.”
“You did as well,” retorted Sam, her hands on her hips, indignation flashing across her face.
Edward’s jaw dropped. Lord Westwood chuckled softly behind her, earning a withering look from Edward. The sound reverberated through her skin, causing an involuntary shiver. She refused to turn and look at Lord Westwood, knowing one glance would disarm her ability to argue logically with Edward.
“Who told you?” Edward’s accusing eyes focused on Lord Westwood.
His velvet voice crawled over her shoulders. “I did not say one word.”
“Lady Westwood told me,” replied Sam haughtily, “and it was confirmed by your wife.”
Lord Westwood snorted his amusement at the course of the conversation. Sam stole a brief peek at him; he winked. She flushed and turned back toward Edward, aware the telltale blush traveled down her neck.
“My reputation is not what we are discussing,” bristled Edward.
“Why?” questioned Sam. “If your only argument is he shares your sordid past, then you are a hypocrite.”
Edward craned his head around Sam to glare at Lord Westwood. “Perhaps I should be asking you if you know what kind of woman you agreed to marry.”
“I am well aware,” he replied, a quiet fierceness underlying his tone.
Edward’s eyes flicked back toward Sam. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes,” Sam answered without hesitation. She felt Lord Westwood exhale behind her, relief coloring the barely audible sound.
“I suppose Wilhelmina will enjoy planning an engagement party.” Edward sighed, indicating the conclusion of his opposition. He grimaced. “Another party.”
Sam smiled inwardly. Edward disliked society functions as much as she did. He attended them as an appeasement to his wife and spent most of his time hiding in the salon with the rest of the husbands. Wilhelmina once complained, just like her brother, it seemed Sam would rather join the men in the salon than the women in the ballroom.
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��Do not forget the Leveret’s ball is in two days’ time,” added Lord Westwood with a trace of humor in his voice.
“Hell.” Edward rubbed his hand across his forehead.
Alarm swept Sam’s face. Edward, just returned, already planned on placing himself in jeopardy. This time the murderer might succeed; she could not bear to suffer through his death a second time. She wanted to lock him away at Hastings Manor. She noticed Edward staring at her distressed expression.
“That might be a bit of a shock for people,” she stated guardedly, avoiding his eyes.
“I warned you she already knew,” murmured Lord Westwood from behind her, the clink of ice accompanied his statement.
“Sammie,” Edward sighed. “Benjamin and I discussed this thoroughly. We think it would be best to catch everyone unaware.”
“We will not be able to keep this a secret for long. The household staff already knows Edward is alive. We will lose the element of surprise if we wait too long,” added Lord Westwood, rising from his chair and moving to stand beside her.
She looked up at him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “He’s just returned.”
“I know,” he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and drew her tightly against him.
Sam paused a moment and pushed back against Lord Westwood, searching his eyes in earnest. “Is there something else you are not telling me?”
Edward muttered a few inappropriate words under his breath.
Lord Westwood nodded slowly, holding her gaze. “Yes.”
“Are Wilhelmina and the girls in danger as well?”
He glanced over her head at Edward who watched their exchange silently.
“Yes.”
“Edward has been gone for over two years, and nothing happened to us. Why would something happen now?” Sam’s voice rose hysterically.
“Whoever tried to murder your brother wanted him dead for a specific reason. With Edward’s return, we fear this person will strike at the family any way he can.”
“Benjamin,” warned Edward softly.
Sam turned her full attention to Lord Westwood, ignoring her brother. Her frantic heart felt as though it would explode. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
“By agreeing to this marriage, are you now in danger too?”
“That is enough,” interrupted Edward, physically stepping between them. “You know far more than you should already.”
Sam’s eyes flashed at her brother. “He is willing to sacrifice his life to marry me, I should know what kind of danger we face.”
“Edward,” began Lord Westwood, placing a hand on Edward’s arm.
“No. I will not have you filling her head with scary stories.”
“Uncle Ephraim would tell me,” Sam retorted, placing her hands on her hips and stretching to her full height.
“I am not Uncle Ephraim,” roared Edward in frustration.
A light tapping on the study door interrupted their heated conversation. All three turned toward the door as the tapping came again, a little more insistent than the previous attempt.
“Edward,” Wilhelmina’s muffled voice called.
“Not one word about any of this,” instructed Edward as he crossed the room.
Both Sam and Lord Westwood nodded their agreement. Edward opened the door to find his petite wife vibrating with excitement. Sam rolled her eyes at Wilhelmina’s enthusiasm as she danced into the room. She was a blur of motion, twirling in circles, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands with delight.
“Do I get to throw an engagement party?” Wilhelmina’s voice was breathless with glee.
Edward chuckled, shaking his head at her antics. “Yes, my dear. It seems you have a wedding to arrange.”
Wilhelmina beamed. “That is wonderful news,” she exclaimed. “We have so many things to plan.”
Inwardly, Sam groaned. Lord Westwood caught her eye and winked before turning his attention back to Edward and Wilhelmina.
“I am certain my mother would be delighted to assist you with anything wedding related,” he said, lightly placing his glass back on Edward’s desk.
“An excellent suggestion, Lord Westwood,” curtsied Wilhelmina with a broad smile. Her curious eyes lighted on the bruise decorating his eye, but she did not mention the injury.
“Edward. Mrs. Hastings, if you will excuse me, I regretfully have some pressing matters to take care of.” Lord Westwood acknowledged them both with a slight nod.
“May I walk you out?” asked Sam, noticing her brother giving him a hard look, accompanied by a slight shake of the head.
Wilhelmina misunderstood Edward’s gesture and patted him reassuringly. “I do not believe Lord Westwood will have time to ravish your sister in the hallway.”
Sam grasped Lord Westwood’s offered arm, the intimate proximity causing her to gasp involuntarily—an explosion of heat seared through her hand. They walked the short distance to the front door, and Sam shivered with anticipation. Lord Westwood turned his smoldering gaze toward Sam, bringing her hand to his lips, placing a scorching kiss on the back of her hand.
“When I have the time, I would like to ravish you in the hallway,” he murmured lustily, pulling her close, his hips pressed against her.
Sam’s breath caught in her throat. The heat from his lips traveled through her skin and pooled in her stomach. She stared into his blazing eyes and lifted her face, inhaling his musky scent, melting into him.
“Benjamin,” she begged.
He pressed her against the door, his mouth finding hers. He kissed her with an intensity that stole her reason. His lips moved seductively, tenderly nibbling the skin on her neck before returning to her mouth, plunging his tongue deep inside. Sam moaned softly, her legs buckling beneath her. His arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her as he continued his assault on her senses.
A noise above startled them. Breaking apart reluctantly, Sam glanced up the stairs with a nervous chuckle. Lord Westwood slowly lowered her back to the ground, sliding her body the length of his, sighing loudly.
“I look forward to the day when I do not have to stop,” he whispered in her ear, sending a fresh wave of fire coursing down her spine.
“As do I,” replied Sam breathlessly, her heart hammering haphazardly.
Lord Westwood growled in frustration, pressing himself against her again, his mouth millimeters from hers. “I shall see you later this evening. Please, do try to stay out of trouble.”
“I cannot make that promise.”
“I know.” He pressed one final kiss to her lips and wrenched open the door.
Chapter Seventeen
Benjamin burned. The carriage ride to his city lodgings did nothing to distract him from the passion consuming his every thought. Miss Hastings responded so eagerly to his touch, it nearly melted his resolve. A weaker man would not be able to resist. He smiled inwardly, wondering if she knew how close he had come to seducing her in the hallway that morning.
However, as alluring as she was, other pressing concerns demanded his attention, including determining how to protect Miss Hastings from the man who had murdered her father. He shelved his desires reluctantly—there would be plenty of time after the wedding for carnal distractions.
Benjamin reflected on Edward’s risky plan. It would place the entire family in jeopardy although it appeared as though the Hastings family was already in danger. A man desperate enough to kill Mr. Hastings in his own home would not think twice about attacking a woman or child. Benjamin could not bear to lose Samantha, not now when he finally figured out what he actually wanted—her.
Would he and Edward be able to subdue such a dangerous man? Benjamin's head ached with frustration. So preoccupied was his mind, when he emerged from his coach, he nearly bumped into Mr. Lockhearst. The latter man waited on the steps in front of Benjamin’s townhouse, puffing on a cigar.
“Lord Westwood,” Mr. Lockhearst stated, annoyed Benjamin had failed to notice him loitering on the bo
ttom step. Mr. Lockhearst’s pretentious tone grated through the cool morning air, accompanied by the acrid smell of tobacco.
Benjamin blinked for a moment, startled from his internal reverie, greeting the man with a half-hearted nod. “Mr. Lockhearst.”
“I hoped you were at home,” continued Mr. Lockhearst in a clipped tone, blatantly staring at the bruise blossoming around Benjamin's throbbing eye.
“Did you?” mused Benjamin. “What can I do for you at this hour, sir?”
“Shall we retire inside for our discussion?” Mr. Lockhearst gestured toward the door.
“Certainly,” sighed Benjamin. He was in no mood for Mr. Lockhearst nor for anything this boorish man had to say, but society dictated his actions, and a gentleman needed cause to throw another man from his property. Reluctantly, he opened the door and gestured for Mr. Lockhearst to follow. They were instantly met in the entryway by Mr. Davis.
Mr. Davis, Benjamin’s valet for the past ten years, merely nodded once at Benjamin before disappearing into the kitchen. He made no comment regarding his employer’s black eye nor the early morning guest. A particularly efficient man, Mr. Davis possessed the keen ability to aid without instruction.
Leading Mr. Lockhearst into his study, Benjamin left the door open, unsure of the man’s true intentions. A tray of food and drink–laden with enough fare for two men–wafted invitingly from the corner of the desk. Benjamin’s stomach rumbled. However, deciding not to share his meal with Mr. Lockhearst, Benjamin pushed the tray aside and offered Mr. Lockhearst a glass of brandy, which he accepted gratefully and took a large sip, choking on the liquid.
Benjamin studied Mr. Lockhearst with mild interest. Mr. Lockhearst, picked up his glass a second time, contemplated it and replaced it in the exact same spot without taking a sip. He continued in this manner for several minutes as if gathering his thoughts. Benjamin fought the urge to roll his eyes. He half-smiled as the action reminded him of Samantha’s inappropriate social manners.
Debating opening the stack of letters piled up on his desk while he waited for Mr. Lockhearst to formulate his intentions, Benjamin sighed impatiently again, his hand hovering over a missive. Business required his full attention and apparently so did this matter with Mr. Lockhearst. Therefore, he allowed Mr. Lockhearst’s nervous behavior to persist for several minutes more before the annoyance became overwhelming.