Tamed By A Dangerous Lady (Scandalous Liaisons Book 3)

by Ella Edon

The sun shone warmly through the windows of the parlor and she thought that she had never thought it was possible to be this happy.

  When Miss Seaforth came to clear away the tea things, they moved into the breakfast room, which was unoccupied. It was quieter up at that end of the house, and they had no risk of Hanford listening to their talk.

  “I still don’t know if I trust him,” Cutler admitted. “It feels so silly to say that, since he raised me, and I should consider him in a good light. I just don’t.”

  Raymonde nodded. “I understand. It seems too strange that your uncle has been visiting here, and he said nothing.”

  “It all seems too strange,” Cutler agreed. His face was tense, and Raymonde knew that he was thinking about the past. She still felt – and she could see he did – that his uncle must have in some way been involved in the deaths of his father and Lady Edmore.

  She reached over and rested a hand on his. “We will find out what happened then,” she said softly. “I know we will.”

  Cutler smiled at her, though she could still see tension at the corners of his eyes. He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re with me,” he said softly.

  Raymonde felt her heart twist with a mix of happiness and sorrow. “And I am so glad you are with me,” she murmured. “So very glad.”

  Cutler leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. She felt her mouth open to his tongue and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling that she could, at last, touch him freely. They were still kissing as they stood, and arms entwined, went upstairs together.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A Summons of Sorts

  Cutler looked out of the window, his heart so full of emotions that he could barely make sense of them. He had never felt this mix of joy and wonder in his life before. He smiled, even as his mind struggled to make sense of it all.

  I have never imagined feeling this.

  He let his awareness return to the room around them. He could hear Raymonde in the small wardrobe-room, rummaging through her suitcase. The sound of her annoyed out-breath as she hauled something out of it made his heart fill with warmth. In every way, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He loved her well-concealed short temper as much as he loved her sunny smiles. She was remarkable in every way.

  He felt a twist of worry as he considered their plan for the next weeks. They would do their best to inform the Watch of the actions of the steward – some of which, such as striking innocent people – he was sure were unlawful. They would plan an uprising with Mr. Simmons and organize it to be on the day the steward was there to collect the rents. If they overpowered him and took him into custody, it would force his uncle to either stop, or own up to what he had done. The plan was sound.

  He couldn’t help that he was worried about it.

  “Do you think this dress is too warm for today?” a voice behind him said.

  “Not at all.” He smiled, turning around. Just seeing Raymonde made his heart soar. She was wearing a red velvet dress, the bodice tight around her full bust, the skirt falling from a high waist. She looked beautiful and he ached to push her onto the bed and undo all the work of dressing she’d done.

  She must have seen the look in his eyes, because she blushed, two points of color appearing on her cheeks. She looked into his eyes firmly, their dark depths teasing.

  “We should go and have breakfast,” she said firmly. “We have to ride to Wycliffe soon.”

  Cutler nodded, pretending to look chastened. “Yes, My Lady.”

  She giggled, and still giggling, they went down to breakfast, arm-in-arm together.

  “It’s a sunny day,” Cutler commented, pouring her a cup of tea. He breathed in the scents of butter, toast and tea, typical scents of the morning which seemed extra-special now that he was sharing them with her.

  She nodded. “It’s a good thing,” she agreed, delicately dabbing her lips with a napkin. “We need to have time to walk around in Wycliffe village, to collect our supplies.”

  “Yes.”

  Their plan included buying provisions for the cottagers who were too poverty-stricken to afford them. They would also buy rope and torches, but no actual weapons – the idea was not to incite the cottagers to violence, but to peacefully arrest the steward.

  They were just clearing the breakfast things away when Lewis came in. He looked distressed.

  “Sir?” he said respectfully to Cutler, who frowned.

  “What is it, Lewis?” His heart jolted in his chest. Whatever it was, Lewis looked uncomfortable about it, which was a good sign that it was something worrying. Had his uncle found out about their plans? Had Mr. Hanford overheard them and carried word to him?

  Lewis reached into his pocket. “Letter for you, sir.”

  Cutler took it, swallowing hard. He looked over at Raymonde, who had gone pale. She sat still and let him read, though he could see that she was concerned for him. He made himself focus on the words on the page.

  Dear Lieutenant Wingate, he read. I am writing to inform you of a worrying development of which we became informed through your agent in London. It requires your urgent attention. I have not sent the letter we received from him, since I determine you have only one course of action – to return here post-haste and address the matter. I am aware of your having left accompanied by Lady Raymonde. For her safety, and for the sake of propriety, I suggest she remain at your house while you return unaccompanied to address this. Yours faithfully, L. Westmore.

  Cutler frowned. It sounded most unlike Luke. He had never spoken to him in such a cold, abrupt manner. He felt a little ache of unhappiness.

  He really wasn’t pleased with my conduct over Raymonde.

  In many ways, he could understand that. What he had done was, to put it mildly, shocking. He had compromised Lady Raymonde and risked robbing her of her honor. Luke could not have known of the circumstances, and he also couldn’t know that Cutler had always longed to formalize matters between himself and Raymonde and had only now had the chance to do it.

  “Are you alright?” Raymonde asked softly.

  Cutler looked up to find her looking at him with worry.

  “It’s nothing,” he answered her. “Just some news Luke had from London. He asks that I go back directly to address it.”

  “Is it serious?” Raymonde asked. Her brown eyes grew tense around the edges.

  “No, nothing serious,” he said gently. He knew it would be polite to show her the letter, but he was reluctant to do so. Luke’s tone was so clipped and unfeeling. Raymonde would be upset if she thought Luke disapproved of their actions, and the letter made it clear he did.

  “If you need me to come back with you…?” she asked.

  Cutler shook his head, reaching out to lay a reassuring hand on hers. “My dearest,” he said gently. “I think it would be best if you stay here. I will only be gone for a week. It’s not serious enough to go all that way – besides, if one of us is not here, who will coordinate the rebellion?” He smiled.

  It was a pity, he thought sadly, that this business with Luke just had to happen now. It meant that they had one less week to plan. Every day he was on the road was precious to their cause, and he hated that he had to spend the time elsewhere.

  “Of course, I will stay,” Raymonde said solemnly. “After all, somebody has to make sure this lot don’t strangle the steward.”

  Cutler chuckled. “I should think so,” he agreed. “And there is nobody I would trust more than you.” He felt his heart tense with the fact that she was being so brave about it all.

  Cutler went to her and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, my dearest.”

  She stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Take care, my dearest.”

  “I will.”

  He went up to the bedchamber, still carrying the letter. His suitcase of luggage was in the corner, still not quite unpacked. He lifted it onto the table.

  “I don’t want to do this,” he said softly to himself, shrugging on his travelling-coat. He hated the th
ought of leaving Raymonde here. He hated even more the thought of wasting the time they needed.

  He summoned Lewis. “Prepare the coach, if you please,” he said. “And ask the cook to pack me a luncheon. I am going to need to be away for a few days. Is Hanford about?” he added, tilting his head to one side thoughtfully. It was odd that he had barely seen him the last few days.

  “Yes, sir. He’s in his study.”

  “Thank you.” Cutler nodded. “If you could inform him that I am leaving this afternoon?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cutler finished packing. He felt uneasy. He had to inform Hanford he was leaving – he would wonder where he’d gone. The thought didn’t appeal to Cutler. He didn’t trust the fellow. If he was in league with his uncle…

  Nonsense. Cutler dismissed the thought. Hanford had cared for him all his childhood. He might have been a difficult sort, but he was not untrustworthy.

  “All the same,” he thought aloud. “I don’t want to be gone too long.”

  He went upstairs to the study as Lewis took his luggage to the coach.

  “I am going to Westmore,” he said as he stood at Hanford’s study door. The older man was bent over his work, the top of his head the only visible thing behind the desk. The curtains were drawn, the only light from the taper on the desk. “I will be back next week.”

  “As you will,” Hanford said mildly. “You have no obligation to inform me.”

  Cutler felt the mild rebuke like a slap. He swallowed down his annoyance. It’s odd the accountant didn’t write to you, he wanted to say. He didn’t, though – the less Hanford knew, the better.

  “I inform you only so that you are not alarmed, when I go missing,” he said. He watched Hanford’s face, wondering what went on behind those unreadable blue eyes.

  If I went missing – if one of those shots had hit me – would you notice? Maybe you would know before I did.

  He swallowed down his suspicions, raising a bland gaze to his old tutor’s face. The man looked as expressionless as ever.

  “I trust you are not taking your companion?”

  “No,” Cutler said swiftly, then thought to wonder what he meant by that. “Why?”

  “It’s a long journey,” the older man said with a shrug. “It would seem needless to take her when, as you say, you are only going for a few days.”

  “A week.”

  “It’s a three-day journey to Westmore,” the man said lightly.

  Cutler nodded. His stomach cramped uncomfortably. He didn’t know why, but he felt a prickle of unease down his spine. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Raymonde here.

  “See to it that her needs are met, please,” Cutler said, giving him a sharp glance. “She is my wife, and as such, in charge of this household.”

  Mr. Hanford barely looked up. “Yes, sir.”

  Cutler walked out of the room, the uneasy feeling still gripping him. He went in search of Raymonde. He found her in the parlor, a book on her knee.

  “I am almost ready to leave,” he said softly.

  “Good,” she said. Her eyes held his. They looked calm as ever. Cutler swallowed hard.

  “I don’t like to leave you like this,” he said. His voice was tight, and his fingers gripped her hand.

  “You know I will be well cared-for,” she replied. “It is only a week, my sweet.”

  Cutler nodded. The lump that had formed in his throat made it hard to speak more. “I know,” he whispered.

  “I will see you soon. I will count down the days until you return.”

  “Me too.” He sniffed. Dash it, but he was in danger of crying. What would she think of him if he started sniveling? He took a deep breath. “Please, take care?”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t let that lot at Alford maraud without me?”

  She grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I promise, no marauding without you.”

  He laughed. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  He looked into her eyes; his heart was too full to speak. He rested a hand on her shoulder, feeling the soft skin under his grip. He didn’t know what to say. The look in her eyes – gentle, calming – spoke so much more loudly than any words he could have summoned.

  “Please, take care,” he whispered. He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers. He shut his eyes as his tongue gently ran along the line between her lips.

  She opened her mouth to his tongue, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He ached for her, the feeling of her softness pressed to his hard chest almost unbearable as he drew her to him.

  When he stepped back, he looked into her eyes. She smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I will take care,” she murmured.

  “Good.”

  He drew her to him again, crushing her against his body, his need for her so urgent that he didn’t think of time and place and words. All he thought of was that he could kiss her forever; he could hold her against him forever.

  “Take care,” she said, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

  “I will.”

  Eyes blurring with tears, he turned and walked to the door. He raised his hand in farewell at the doorway, and then, still blinking back the tears that filled his eyes, he walked downstairs and to the front door.

  “Everything is in order, sir,” Lewis said as he waited at the step. The coach was ready, his luggage perched beside the driver’s seat. He hoped there was some sort of a packed lunch on board, beside the open door.

  “Thank you, Lewis,” he said. “Make sure Mrs. Wingate is well cared-for.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Cutler bit back his tears and swung up into the coach. He was doing well holding them back. Then he saw her standing at the window; a shadow at the window of the parlor, hand raised.

  He waved to her, then turned away and drew the blind across the window, tears pouring down his cheeks. It would only be for a week, he reminded himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A Dangerous Ride

  Raymonde woke the next morning to a dark room. The drapes were drawn, and when she slipped out of bed to open them, the sky was cloudy.

  She looked out over the forest, feeling a bittersweet sorrow. She longed for Cutler, and hoped he was safe. She knew he would be here soon.

  The bedroom was too much of a reminder of him, and she was glad when she had put on her cream day-dress and headed to the breakfast room.

  “I need to get new clothes,” she noted, looking down at the travel-stained skirt of her gown. It would have been all well and good, had she been leaving soon. However, given their plans to stay and address the needs of Alford, she would be here for two more weeks, at least.

  “I should go to the village. The seamstress here is good.”

  She smiled to herself, thinking of the gift Cutler had brought. She missed him so much! The seamstress here did, indeed, seem very skilled. It would be good if she could have at least two gowns made – one day-dress and one a little warmer, but more elegant, for the evenings. She would have the bill sent to the accountant in London.

  Miss Seaforth came in with tea and the newspaper, beaming at her. She chatted away happily as she tidied the room, and Raymonde found herself breathing a sigh of relief as she left. The carefree cheerfulness had worn a little on her nerves.

  “Raymonde, you ought to go out for riding,” she told herself, sipping at her tea. Her nerves were frayed, and she missed Cutler with an ache that felt like a stone in her heart.

  Riding had always cheered her up. That was just what she needed – a jaunt in the countryside.

  She buttered her toast, biting into it and feeling her spirits lift. A long ride over the hills would be a fine way to spend the day.

  “Seaforth?” she called as she rang the bell.

  “Yes, My Lady?”

  “Could you please set out my riding-habit? I will take the road up to the cottages. I should be back by luncheon.”

  “Very good, My Lady.”

  Raymonde
finished breakfast, then went upstairs to dress. When she came down again, she was feeling more peaceful already. She was staring out of the windows as she walked, planning the route she would take over the hills.

  She almost walked into someone coming upstairs at a fast pace. She recognized the steward, Mr. Hanford, and stepped aside in time to avoid a collision.

  “Good day, My Lady.”

  She stiffened. Hanford’s reception of her had been far from pleasant from the first, and she didn’t like him much better, now that he was pretending at politeness.