by Heather Boyd
They arrived fairly quickly. Alexander stepped out before the little townhouse, and with a heavy sigh, climbed the steps and knocked on the front door. Sylvia would most likely put up a fight over his plans, but he could be just as stubborn.
An older man opened the door and Alexander gave his card, asking to speak with Miss Sylvia Hillcrest.
The poor man nearly genuflected all the way to the floor. Clearly he was not used to receiving anyone of Alexander’s rank, or very rarely. “I’m sorry, my lord, but she is not at home just now.”
“She will be soon enough. I’ll wait.” Alexander gave his hat and gloves over and pushed past the man. To the right of the entrance hall was a library. Unoccupied. He’d heard about what went on in that library. It was where clients of the Hillcrest Academy came for help with their marital woes.
Alexander didn’t need that kind of assistance from Sylvia.
He turned for the drawing room instead and made himself comfortable on the settee.
Sylvia walked into the house a few moments later using her own key. A blush formed on her cheeks as she caught sight of him watching her from the drawing room through the still-open doorway. The butler hastily explained that he’d come to see her and insisted on waiting.
He stood, anticipation nearly making him sigh out loud.
Sylvia seemed disinclined to greet him at first.
But then her cousin appeared, and though he wished her away so he could talk freely, he couldn’t insist the other woman leave. Still, he felt it was important to come today so Sylvia did not think she’d completely bested him, and could again tomorrow.
“Good evening, ladies.”
“It’s still afternoon, my lord,” Eugenia, an obviously older woman, murmured, and then dipped a curtsy.
So all of the Hillcrest women are bold, opinionated creatures incapable of not correcting a man. “Good to know.”
“How might we help you, my lord?” Eugenia asked, taking charge when Sylvia remained silent.
For years, Alexander had done as he’d pleased, spoken as he wished, when he wished, but he could not do that around the family of his lover. He had to tread a little lightly until he’d talked to Sylvia alone. He turned his attention to Eugenia and shook his head. “There is a personal matter I wish to discuss with your cousin,” he murmured.
“Ah,” Eugenia murmured, glancing at Sylvia in wait for her to say something next.
Sylvia worried her lip, and then whispered to her cousin, “Would you mind arranging tea for the marquess, Eugenia?”
Eugenia seemed disinclined to go at first, but one soft please from Sylvia and she excused herself with a warning she’d return soon with the tea tray.
Sylvia sat stiffly across from him. “How is your mother today?”
“As if you don’t already know. You and your network of spies rival anything English forces set to work against the French. You, woman, are a devilishly wily adversary.”
A tiny smile twitched her lips. “I haven’t broken your rules.”
“Only rendered them completely moot,” he complained. He sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Now, let’s talk about why I’ve come.”
“I think we both know.” A blush began to color her cheeks. “You want to again stress my unsuitability for being friends with your mother.”
He smiled. “Imagine you’re very wrong. I want to speak with you, but not here with your cousin soon to come back. Tomorrow, I want you to visit that modiste you went to today. I’ll meet you there at ten to thrash things out.”
Sylvia’s mouth fell open. “How do you know where my modiste is?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, are you spying on me now.”
“Seemed prudent since you neglected to take a maid. Mother would be appalled at your lack of common sense.” He raised a brow. “Not that I plan to tell her. She’d only become upset, and I’m sure you don’t want that any more than I do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t think it a good idea for us to meet in private again.”
“I don’t either, but I’d rather not share my plan for managing Mother with you in front of your relative.”
Sylvia burst into a huge smile. “You changed your mind about me?”
“I have to a degree, and I like to plan for every eventuality,” he said.
“That is wonderful news.”
“Well?”
She nodded. “All right. I’ll meet you tomorrow, but I warn you, I have a few thoughts of my own on your mother’s care.”
“Excellent.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, looking up at him shyly.
Eugenia Hillcrest sailed into the room with a footman trailing after carrying a heavy tea tray. “How is the discussion going?”
“Quite well,” he told Eugenia, with a half smile for Sylvia. “I have everything I need for today.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Eugenia, completely unaware of the real nature of his visit, sat herself down with them.
Alexander stood. “Forgive me, but I must return home.”
“Please give my love to your mother.”
“Yes, of course,” he promised, though he’d do no such thing. This visit with Sylvia would remain as private as their last encounter.
The Hillcrest ladies stood to see him out to the hall. He bowed to them both. “Until we meet again.”
“I look forward to it,” Sylvia promised, and her eyes flashed a hint of anticipation.
Alexander found he was anticipating tomorrow’s meeting, too.
Chapter 21
Although Sylvia had debated the wisdom of her decision to comply with the marquess’ wishes to meet with him the whole night, she had to admit, too, that she was curious to know what more he wanted to say. He had not behaved like a gentleman recently, especially not when it came to his mother’s situation. It had been clear yesterday he’d had a change of heart, and she wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.
She alighted from a hack the next day outside the modiste’s charming little shop and paid the coachman his fare. She had left her maid at home for this outing again, too, deciding there should be few witnesses to the coming meeting between her and the marquess.
The driver moved off, and Sylvia paused at the doorway to Madam du Clair’s shop a moment before going inside. If he was going to try to lay down the law again, she was more than ready to speak up and give some back, too.
The sound of the bell was still ringing in the air when the assistant rushed out to meet her. “Miss Hillcrest, you are right on time.”
Sylvia smiled and moved to the back chamber.
Madam du Clair regarded her but then turned to the corner screen. “Monsieur?”
Wharton emerged, a too-pleased-with-himself smile on his lips. He turned to her. “I’ll pay you ten pounds to close your shop for the rest of the day and leave us.”
The woman frowned and turned to Sylvia. “Only if mademoiselle agrees.”
Sylvia shook her head. If the marquess was going to banish the modiste from her place of business, she should be given more than a mere token. “Higher,” she countered.
A flicker of amusement crossed Wharton’s lips, and a handful of notes appeared between his quickly raised fingers.
Madam smiled graciously as she took his money and rushed from the room. Wharton remained silent until they heard the front door lock behind her and the assistant.
Then he sighed and leaned against the worktable, staring at her. His smile was gone, and Sylvia wasn’t sure what to do. He had something serious on his mind.
“Now, first things first,” he began. “I trust you are on a warmer footing with society of late.”
She nodded quickly. It had felt awkward to be invited to those luncheons simply because Wharton had arranged an invitation. But those friends of his were eager to know how Lady Wharton was faring, and Sylvia had the opportunity to suggest she was well enough for a few ladies to visit to lift her spir
its, if they didn’t stay too long. “I seem to be accepted again. Thank you very much for arranging those introductions. I found your friends had a great many interesting things to say. You did not need to trouble yourself on my account.”
“Of course I did. My actions harmed you. That was never my intention,” he promised.
“You were upset.”
“To put it mildly,” he said, and then shook his head. “Now, we need to talk about Mother.”
“Indeed we do.” She laced her fingers together at her waist. “I want you to engage Mr. Prendegast to care for your mother again.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you now?”
“Yes. Of all the men attending her, he was the calmest, and he protested that further blood-letting after the surgery was unnecessary, if not downright dangerous.”
“That was mentioned as a treatment for her listlessness just today.”
Alarmed that he might have given consent, she moved closer to him and set her fingers on his folded arms. “Please, Alexander, don’t let them bleed her! She’s so weak. It won’t help her recover.”
Alexander nodded. “I had already refused them.”
Sylvia lowered her head in relief, pressing her brow upon his folded arms. “If Mr. Prendegast was still overseeing Lizzy’s care, they’d never have bothered you about it in the first place.”
“I don’t care much for the practice of blood-letting myself.” His hand rose to cup the back of her head. “Very well, Prendegast may return if it makes you happy.”
“Thank you,” Sylvia said, beaming up at him. “He’ll make sure your mother is well looked after.”
His fingers were warm as they settled on the back of her neck, and he looked down upon her with a soft smile. “Now, given our recent brush with scandal…” he began.
“When you turned all beastly and threw me out,” she added.
“Yes, well. Hmm, I have already apologized for that ungentlemanly conduct, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you did, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure we are speaking of the same brush with scandal,” she murmured, patting his arm before stepping back to a proper distance. “Please do continue.”
He frowned. “It occurs to me that we must be very careful in how we go about this business of caring for Mother together. Society could easily presume, quite wrongly, that something more exists between us.”
“And nothing does,” she promised. “What do you propose we do?”
“I think we had best set a schedule for when we will be in Mother’s house together. I have a number of business meetings and engagements that I have put off until now, and you, of course, have your business concerns to attend to as well. We cannot both neglect our other responsibilities.”
Sylvia had no other business at the moment. Society might have grudgingly welcomed her back, upon Wharton’s insistence, but the Hillcrest Academy was still without clients. “A schedule like yours must be complicated to manage.”
“Not if we write our commitments in an appointment book, kept at Mother’s house, and we consult it each day. When overlaps occur, and I’m sure there will be some, we would negotiate a mutually acceptable adjustment.”
She nodded, seeing the sense in cooperation. “You have your sisters to escort about society, too.”
“Too much of them in the sickroom tires Mother,” he murmured. “I have had no choice but to curtail their excursions until now, but I fear any prolonged decline in their social engagements might prove disastrous.”
“If I might speak candidly, my lord.” She smiled quickly. “If their suitors love them, they will understand.”
He chuckled. “You have more optimism about them making a match than I do, but then again, you are well-versed in understanding the minds of gentlemen seeking a bride. But have you heard my sisters squabble yet?”
She nodded quickly. “Lady Amelia and Lady Jocelyn are just like all other ladies on the marriage mart. A little silly, completive and eager to make a good marriage. I know that while perhaps not as smart as you and your mother might like, they still deserve to make a good marriage. Sir Fredrick is especially patient with Amelia’s quirks. I’m quite sure by now he’s acquainted with your sister’s nature.”
“He’d better be, because once wed, I’m not taking her back.”
Sylvia laughed. “I know you don’t mean that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She held his stare. “I know because despite your preoccupation with your mother, you know exactly where they are at all times. I heard you checking on them at night, wishing them pleasant dreams.”
His hand rose, and he brushed his fingers across her cheek softly. “From your short-lived deception as a skittish nursemaid?”
She winked at him, and then blushed. “I couldn’t let you see me too closely.”
He grunted, and drew closer still. “Very well. I wouldn’t turn them away if they needed me. Now, I’ve taken the liberty and begun an appointment book for us to share. I have added the engagements I would prefer to attend over the coming two weeks. If you could consider them and mark which engagements are impossible with your current schedule, I’d appreciate knowing as soon as possible, so I can decline those invitations.”
He handed her a small leather-bound volume and she opened it up. She flicked through the pages, noting his appointments were many but not impossible to manage. “This seems very workable. Shall I mark it now and hand it back to you today or leave it somewhere for you to find?”
“Leave it in the dining room, beside the decanters at Mother’s townhouse before you leave her tonight, if you can,” he decided. “If all goes to plan, I suppose we shall probably see very little of each other during the coming weeks.”
“Yes, I expect so,” she agreed, and felt disappointment in that. Sylvia stretched up on her toes to place a kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Alexander.”
He caught her arms to steady her, “For what?”
“For listening to me when you really didn’t have to.”
His arm slid around her waist. “I liked what I heard today. There’s no reason for us to be at odds, is there?”
She met his gaze…and that feeling she always had around him stirred.
She liked him still. She liked that, now the shock his mother had dealt him had worn off, he’d apologized a second time and seemed willing to adapt. “None at all. In fact, I think we have returned to where we were before.”
He smiled, and his hand rose to cup the back of her neck. “Before or after we made love? I just want to be sure we’re talking about the same moment.”
A blush swept over her face. “After,” she whispered.
“What should we do about that?” he asked softly, bending closer.
She wet her lips in anticipation of his own settling upon her. “Why don’t you kiss me again, and we can negotiate that, too.”
“Gladly.”
His arms came around her, his large hands stroked her body, and his lips devoured.
She kissed him back, threaded her fingers in his hair, and delighted when he lifted her up high against him.
Suddenly, her back was against a wall, and Alexander was pressed hard between her thighs, looking up at her. It felt so good to be in his arms again. He was eager, too, which made her heart leap with anticipation. She hurried to rip off her gloves so she could feel his hot skin against her palms.
He grabbed her by one leg and kneaded her thigh. Finally, he drew back and looked into her eyes. He moved in for a soft kiss. Just one kiss that said so much to her soul.
She’d missed this. Missed him kissing her.
The man was exasperating and clever and devious, and she never knew what he’d do next. He was her one great adventure. Of course, she couldn’t tell him that. He’d never wipe the smug smile from his face if she did.
They were good together. Passionate lovers for as long as it lasted.
Sylvia lowered her hands and tried to hitch up her skirts.
A
soft smile formed on his lips. “Temptress,” he whispered, and then kissed her brow.
Sylvia shivered and fought to bring her skirts higher, but failed. They were too close for more than kissing and touching.
Sensing her eagerness, Wharton whirled her away from the wall and deposited her on the edge of the dressmakers high worktable. His large hands landed flat on her thighs and slid upward, taking her skirts with them.
Then he dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to one stocking-clad leg. “I have dreamed of touching you again.”
Sylvia’s breath was churning. “So have I.”
“Lie back,” he commanded, and then began to kiss her knees so gently.
Sylvia crumpled onto the hard table, aware she was being scandalous yet again. However, she could hardly think of the danger when the marquess was rolling down her stockings and kissing her everywhere he shouldn’t. His fingers were hot, his lips loving, and Sylvia was in need of release.
At his urging, she parted her thighs for him.
There was a long pause, and then a tortured groan before the marquess buried his face between her legs.
She moaned when he kissed her sex, and bit her lips as he widened her legs more to deepen her pleasure and his exploration. The necessity for pretending modesty was a distant memory when the marquess loved her.
She brought her feet up onto the table, resting them on the edge, as the marquess’ wicked tongue teased her to the brink of insanity.
Sylvia brought her fingers to her mouth and bit down to silence herself. Dear God, he’d learned what pleased her so easily the last time. A pity she couldn’t have him in her bed for the rest of her life. But they’d be over sooner than later, and he’d find someone else to love.
“Not me,” she whispered.
The marquess suddenly stopped. “What’s wrong?”
Sylvia shook her head quickly. She had spoken aloud by mistake. “Nothing. Don’t stop again.”
When she met his gaze finally, she discovered him standing over her with the strangest smile on his face. He reached out and swept the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “You should see yourself lost to passion. There is no better view to be had in this world.”