She had dressed in another of her plain, practical gowns and was sitting impatiently while Lil tended to her hair, when one of her aunt’s maids came tapping upon her door.
“Miss, there is a gentleman to see you downstairs in the sitting room. Lord”—and she glanced at the card in her hand—“Oliver Montegomery.”
Vivianna felt herself go cold, and then hot. With a brilliance that had only previously been reserved for dreams, she recalled last night in the room at Aphrodite’s, and the feel of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath on her face, the brush of his mouth against her lips. I have an urge to lick you all over. Her breath caught and then resumed with a soft gasp.
Lil was staring at her accusingly.
“I…very well, thank you. I will be down in a moment.”
The girl bobbed a curtsy and retreated. For a moment Vivianna refused to meet Lil’s eyes, but Lil was better at this than she. “You told me nothing ’appened,” she said, and pinned the final piece of Vivianna’s hair in place. “I can see that’s not true, miss. You’re on fire, you are. What did that beast do to you?”
“He’s not a beast,” Vivianna retorted primly. “At least, not the ravening kind of beast. More a smiling, charming, very handsome kind of beast. He kissed me, that’s all. I didn’t struggle. It was nice, and I had never been kissed before, at least not by someone like Lord Montegomery.”
Lil shook her head. “You’re going to get hurt.”
“No, I’m not. I know what I’m doing, Lil. Believe me, if for one moment I thought I was going to fall in love with the man, then I would have a long look at Uncle Toby and Aunt Helen—that would cool my passion.”
Lil’s wry smile was agreement enough. “Do you want me to come down with you, just for company?”
“No, I will be perfectly all right. He can hardly ravish me in my aunt’s sitting room, can he?”
Lil’s look was ambivalent, but Vivianna laughed and, checking her appearance once more, made her way downstairs. Her steps slowed. She began to wonder what he wanted. They had parted as enemies last night. Had he come to apologize? To beg her pardon and tell her he would be only too pleased to cede to her request?
Somehow she did not think so. There had been nothing of capitulation in his face when she closed the door behind her last night, only that irritating and victorious smile.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Vivianna smoothed her skirts, took a breath, and went into the sitting room.
He was standing with his back to her, peering out of the window. The second time she had come upon him in that stance—evidently it was habitual for him.
“My lord?”
He turned, a smile on his lips, and bowed in a negligent and yet elegant manner that Vivianna was certain could only be achieved if you were from one of the oldest aristocratic families in England.
She had thought that she must have imagined the effect he had had upon her, but now, seeing him again, she knew that she had exaggerated nothing. It was the strangest thing, but she could feel her blood slowing, like a warm, languid river, gliding through her body and under her skin. And yet her heart was racing like a railway carriage down a long, straight track. Most peculiar. Oliver Montegomery might be the type of man she had always sworn to stay clear of, but her body had plans of its own.
“I came to make certain you had reached your home safely—” Oliver began.
“How…how kind of you,” she said.
“—and to wish you safe journey back to Yorkshire.”
Vivianna’s eyes narrowed. “I am not returning to Yorkshire just yet.”
“Pity,” he retorted.
“In fact, I am planning on an extended stay.”
“Best stay away from me, then,” he said, his eyes fixed meaningfully on hers, “or you’ll spend it in places a lady usually avoids—for instance, on your back.”
Vivianna straightened her already straight spine. “I know you think to intimidate me by speaking in this caddish manner, my lord, but you can’t, so you may as well desist. Besides, I believe that lying upon one’s back is only one of the ways in which…Well, I am sure you don’t need instruction from me.”
No hysterics, no fainting, no cries of maidenly distress, and certainly no promises to leave London and never return. Vivianna Greentree simply reminded him that there were other ways of making love than on one’s back. Oliver laughed—he couldn’t help it.
He must have been insane, coming here. There she was, staring him down with those brilliant hazel eyes, shining a light into his soul. He felt like he should shield himself from her, protect himself with bell, book, and candle, and at the same time he recklessly didn’t want to.
“You’re wasting your time,” he managed, and propped himself against the back of an armchair, as if he were still too intoxicated to stand.
“Well, it is my time to waste.” Her brow wrinkled faintly and she took a step nearer. “How did you know where I was staying?”
He smiled in triumph. “You gave me your address for the hansom cab, remember?”
“Of course!” Her frown cleared. She looked about her as if the room were new to her. “Can I offer you some refreshment, my lord? My aunt is not yet risen, nor my uncle, but as you have been thoughtful enough to call, I am sure they would not object.”
She was offering him refreshment? After what he had just said to her? Oliver shook his head in bewilderment. “No, I will not stay. I am in need of something stronger than tea, Miss Greentree. You have that effect upon me.”
Isn’t it a little early for strong drink? He could see the question in her eyes, but she did not speak it aloud. In a moment she would be lecturing him on the joys to be found in abstinence.
He had hardly slept at all last night, but still the dawn had found him wide-eyed and alert. His mind had been full to overflowing with the unusual, the interesting, the delectable Miss Vivianna Greentree. He had found himself going over their encounter again and again; he had found himself remembering the passion and the determination in her eyes.
This, he had realized, as the street sweepers got to work outside his window, was a woman who felt deeply. Who would not give up her mission without a long and protracted battle. In short, she was going to be a right pain in the arse. Why then did he find that trait so admirable and so fascinating?
And yet he did, and more than that. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss the life out of her. Put his hands all over her and make her moan, make her cry out for more. One moment his thoughts were on a higher, intellectual plain, and the next he had become completely carnal.
God help him, was he going mad?
“Miss Vivianna Greentree,” he drawled, and it was nectar in his mouth. “I do like your name.”
“Oh, do you, my lord?” She looked startled, as well she might, but pleased, too. And suspicious, as if she knew very well he was playing a devious game with her.
“Call me Oliver, I beg of you,” he said, and his irritation was genuine. Having come to the title of “my lord” late in life, after many years spent simply as Mr. Oliver Montegomery, he had never gotten used to it.
“I am sure that for me to call you ‘Oliver’ is most improper,” she replied, and her lips pursed prettily.
“I feel improper,” he murmured, and stepped closer, and was secretly amused by her obvious determination not to step back. “I like your face, too. Particularly your mouth, oh yes, I like your mouth. And I like your—”
“I…have you had second thoughts, my lord…Oliver? About Candlewood? I thought perhaps you had had time to reconsider. Overnight. I am to see the two Miss Beattys today and it would be a great relief if I could offer them some hope.”
He gave up.
“No, Miss Greentree, I have not had second thoughts.”
“If only you would—”
“Damnation, don’t lecture me, woman!”
She stopped, her mouth open, her breath coming fast. He had startled her, he saw, but not
frightened her. He doubted even a charging elephant would frighten Miss Vivianna Greentree.
“I am trying to make you understand that—”
He groaned. “There’s only one way to stop you, isn’t there?”
She blinked. “Is there?”
Her skin was like cream, her pupils were dark, her lips soft and sinful. Oliver took her shoulders firmly in his hands, leaned in, and kissed her. Desire reared up, struggling to break free, but he held it on a firm rein. “This is why I came,” he said, plundering her mouth again. “And this….”
After her initial surprise, Vivianna kissed him back. She even went so far as to wrap her arms about his neck and cling on.
“I don’t trust you,” he ranted. “Not for a minute.”
“Then why—”
“Stop talking.” He sent his tongue exploring the warm depths of her mouth. And damn her if she didn’t return the favor, mimicking him, unashamedly enjoying herself. Just to be sure he wasn’t imagining it, Oliver drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked on it. She did the same with his, turning his body to hot, rigid steel.
He clasped her bottom through the thickness of skirt and petticoats and drew her up on her toes, then pressed her hard against the place that most needed it. He could imagine making love to her and doubted he would survive the experience.
Oliver groaned into her mouth and then almost wept as she arched herself against him, a living candle in his arms. That was when Oliver knew he couldn’t hold on to that rein much longer; in another heartbeat the horse would have bolted.
Someone cleared her throat.
Vivianna took a breath, and then another. Every part of her protested, but she pulled away and stood, dazed, looking about her. It was as if she were waking from a dream.
“Miss!”
Lil was standing, shocked, in the doorway. Vivianna realized then how dangerously close she had come once more to allowing Oliver to have his way with her. She could feel the blood in her face, and the beginnings of panic, but she held herself in check. Her voice, when she spoke, was as close to normal as she could manage under the circumstances.
“Lil, Lord Montegomery is just leaving. Can you show him to the door?”
“Yes, miss.” Lil sounded flat and cold.
“My hat and cane.” Oliver was watching her, his eyes full of the wry humor that was pulling at his lips. As if it were all a jest to him. But was it? Was she just another conquest? The idea should have appalled her, but it did not—instead Oliver intrigued her. When he had kissed her so thoroughly, there had been a moment when she could have pulled away and slapped his face, but she hadn’t. Instead she’d kissed him back, because she was curious and because it was what she wanted to do.
“Goodbye, my lord,” she said, and stayed exactly where she was.
Vivianna straightened her shoulders and waited for Lil’s return like a soldier who has been found wanting and is about to face a commanding officer. The comparison made her smile.
“I’m glad you’re amused, miss,” Lil said, and Vivianna could see the anger jumping under her skin, making her eyes water. “I’m glad you think it’s funny. That man…I warned you, I did. He’s after you, miss. He had his hands all over you and I—I could see it in his face. He’s after you, and he’ll not stop. Not until he has what he wants.”
Vivianna let her finish. “Lil, I know you are concerned for me, but really, I can look after myself.”
Lil shook her head back and forth several times. “Oh, miss, you know nothing about men like that. He’ll hurt you, he’ll destroy you. He can make it so that no decent person in England will be in the same room as you! Do you want your name ruined?”
“I don’t see why—”
“Course you do, you just don’t want to admit it. You think you won’t care, but you will. Oh, you will. Miss, please, stay away from him.”
Vivianna walked past her to the door. “I will take care, Lil, I promise, but I will not stay away from Lord Montegomery. He is the key to saving the shelter, and I will not be frightened off just because he kissed me…once or twice.”
Lil groaned.
“Actually”—and Vivianna turned and met her stare defiantly—“I enjoyed it.”
And she marched back upstairs, leaving a muttering Lil to follow.
Chapter 4
Miss Greta and Miss Susan Beatty were like a pair of cage birds, fluffy and petite, with bright eyes and gentle voices—but they had characters of pure steel. When Vivianna had first met them in York, she had been aware of an unconscious urge to smile at their seemingly sweet naïveté—what could two middle-aged, middle-class spinsters know of the world, after all?
She soon realized she had foolishly underestimated them.
The Beattys weren’t birds, they were terriers. Determined and pugnacious little women who, once they had decided upon a course of action, followed it through to the very end.
The idea for a home for abandoned children had long been their goal, as it had been Vivianna’s. If Vivianna had supplied the passion for the project, then the Beatty sisters had supplied the sheer grit and determination to secure a building where the children could be housed.
Greta and Susan Beatty really were an indomitable pair, and Vivianna had never thought to see them defeated by anything or anyone.
Until now.
Seated across from them in their small and shabby parlor—“I hope you don’t mind, Miss Greentree, but it’s easier to heat than the drawing room”—she wondered if she was witness to the unthinkable.
“We believed the lease would be perfectly secure.” Miss Susan clasped and unclasped her hands. “Lord Montegomery’s man of business explained that the one year was all he could offer us—that the estate had belonged to Lord Montegomery’s brother and there was a delay with the transfer of the property. He assured us that Candlewood was not part of the entail and that after one year the lease could be extended, or we could buy it. We were told that Lord Montegomery wanted nothing more to do with it, and that he certainly had no intention of ever living here. Everything was settled…we thought. And then, as the end of our lease drew near and we went to make arrangements to extend it, we learned…” She shook her head, unable to continue.
Miss Greta took up the story. “How could we know he would change his mind? A gentleman should abide by his word, should he not, Miss Greentree?”
“Perhaps he is not a gentleman,” Vivianna replied.
“But such an old, distinguished family!” Miss Susan exclaimed. “I believe they are very proud, too. Several times the reigning monarch has offered the Montegomery of the day a peerage, only to be turned down. Their family motto states: ‘It is enough to be a Montegomery.’ They finally accepted the title of baron from King George, the lowest grade of peerage, but nothing more.”
Miss Greta was frowning at her. Miss Susan returned to the point.
“We wrote to Lord Montegomery to ask if he would reconsider our lease, but his reply was brusque to say the least. He suggested an alternative place, a former lodging house in Bethnal Green. But how can we accept such an offer? Candlewood is everything we promised we would give our orphans; if we moved them to Bethnal Green it would feel like a betrayal. Of our principles and the children!”
The more practical Miss Greta added, “We planned to repair the roof and the drains, and to expand into the rooms that are presently unoccupied. So much potential, Miss Greentree! We had such hopes!”
“Candlewood is perfect and now it is to be demolished and smaller houses built in its place.” Miss Susan blinked back tears. “He stands to make a lot of money, evidently, and that is all that matters to him. But what about our orphans, Miss Greentree?”
“We have written several times, imploring him to change his mind, but the only reply we had was to tell us we have nine weeks to evacuate Candlewood. It is almost as if, for him, we have ceased to exist.”
“Oh, he knows you exist,” Vivianna assured them with a smug little smile. “At least, he does
now. And don’t worry, my friends, I will do everything in my power to see that he changes his mind.”
The two sisters leaned forward, their bright eyes fastened upon her. “You are very good, Miss Greentree,” Miss Greta said, while Miss Susan nodded wildly. “To come all this way to help us. The orphans do appreciate it. We appreciate it.”
Vivianna responded in what she hoped was a confident manner, but inside her head her thoughts were chaotic. Earlier, when she had arrived at Candlewood, the Beattys had lined the orphans up before her in the hall, and the children had given her three cheers.
The sisters knew all the children’s names and so did Vivianna—she had been kept informed by their many letters. The children were not strangers to her; she felt as if she recognized and loved them all. Perhaps that sense of familiarity was what made the difference in these matters. Perhaps if Oliver were to meet them, if he were to see them, even a man with a heart as hard and uncaring as his would be swayed…
“Miss Greentree?” Miss Greta was watching her expectantly over the fruitcake, and Vivianna realized she had missed part of the conversation.
“More tea?” Miss Susan was holding the teapot aloft in one hand and the milk jug in the other.
“Thank you.”
“I was telling you a little about the history of Candlewood,” Miss Greta said. “It may help you, when you tackle Lord Montegomery, to know the family story.”
“What is the family story?”
Miss Greta settled herself to explain. “Candlewood was built by Lord Montegomery’s grandfather. A folly, in hindsight. It was supposed to be a monument to the family, but instead it ruined him. He squandered most of his wealth on it, and even then he did not have enough to finish it. The Montegomery family has a house in London, as well as an estate in Derbyshire, so they have no use for Candlewood. They have always considered it inconvenient and uncomfortable. However, Anthony Montegomery, the elder brother, was very fond of Candlewood and often stayed here, especially overnight when he was on his way to Derbyshire. The house and grounds were left to him by his grandfather, but unfortunately there was never enough money for the upkeep, it was literally crumbling away. And now Anthony is dead, too, and the house belongs to Oliver Montegomery.”
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