The Footman (The Masqueraders Book 1)

by S. M. LaViolette

  Stephen sighed, but kept his mouth shut. How could he tell the older man that Jeremiah was the one who made Stephen remove James Powell from any position of authority at the bank? He couldn’t, not without destroying him. “Look, James, I’m working on a new storefront on Newbury Street. Why don’t we—”

  “Go to hell. Go straight to hell.” James’s face was a chalky white and his body trembled with rage. He pointed a finger at Stephen, his voice pure venom. “You don’t offer me scraps. Ever. You might think you’re the boss here, but you’re not. And one of these days you’re going to make a mistake. When you do, I’ll be waiting.” He slammed the door behind him so hard the glass shook.

  Stephen took off his spectacles and dropped his head into his hands. What a bloody mess. He would need to talk to Jeremiah about James. This was the third confrontation in two weeks. This could not go on.

  He heard the door open. “Go away, James,” he said wearily, not bothering to look up.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir.”

  Stephen’s head jerked up. “What is it, Bates?” he demanded when he saw the man’s pale, rigid face.

  “It’s Mr. Siddons, sir. I’m afraid he’s had an accident.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  London

  1817

  It was wicked, but all Elinor wanted was to spend her last evening alone with Stephen. Alone in bed. Elinor shook her head, causing Molly to make a startled sound.

  “I’m sorry, Molly.”

  “I’m almost finished, my lady. These buttons are quite the smallest I’ve ever seen.”

  Elinor looked at her reflection in the mirror, no longer surprised at the creature that looked back. Every garment he gave her made her look prettier than the last. In another week she might actually look beautiful.

  But you don’t have another week. You only have tonight.

  She felt ill at the thought and pushed it away.

  You were already in love with him before you came. Now you can barely imagine life without him.

  That realization was like an old enemy that had lost the power to upset her. Besides, maybe it wasn’t love? How would she know the difference between love and lust, never having felt either before? Not that it mattered what she called it—love, obsession, lust—it would not be easy to forget.

  “There, all done.” Molly stepped back and surveyed her from a distance, shaking her head slowly. “Oh, you do look beautiful, my lady.”

  “The gown certainly does.” Elinor held out the gauzy skirts, clouds of cobalt blue silk so vibrant it made her look a decade younger.

  Molly picked up a black velvet case from the dresser. “This was inside the dress box, my lady.” Her eyes sparkled, as though she, and not Elinor, was the recipient of the gift.

  Elinor’s hands shook as she took the box. She’d never received jewels from a man before. She opened the box and found a note inside.

  Even these are a pale imitation of your eyes. S.

  Elinor lifted the card and gasped. “Oh my goodness.”

  “May I see?” Molly was bouncing up and down like a little girl. Elinor wordlessly handed her the box.

  “Crickey!” She looked from the jewels to Elinor. “But what are they, my lady? I’ve never seen the like.”

  “They are star sapphires.”

  “I’ve heard of ‘em, but not seen any. Why, they’re the most beautiful stones I’ve ever seen.”

  “They are.” And likely monstrously expensive. And he’d given them to her.

  Molly lifted the delicate silver necklace from the box as though it was a religious icon.

  “Oh, it will look lovely with that dress.” She put the necklace around Elinor’s throat and stood behind her, her eyes wide in the mirror. “I can see why Mr. Worth chose it, Lady Trentham, it makes your eyes a silvery-blue. There are earbobs in the case, as well.”

  Elinor merely stared. Who was this man and what did he want from her? Was this it? These three nights?

  Never before had Elinor felt the lack of her life experience so severely. She had nobody to ask—except Beth, who would be horrified to learn Elinor had turned down a proposal of marriage only to become his mistress.

  “My lady?” Molly asked.

  “I’m sorry, Molly.” She smiled into the maid’s curious, yet kind, eyes. “Thank you, that will be all for tonight. If you could pack for me, that would be lovely. I shall be leaving first thing in the morning.”

  Elinor stared at the door into the other room. He was waiting for her. He’d asked her what she wanted to do tonight and she’d told him she wished to spend it here, with him, dinner and a quiet evening in. Their last evening.

  The sitting room was empty.

  “I’m in here,” Stephen called from the study, where he was leaning over something on the desk. “I want to show you something.”

  He looked up and his lips parted.

  “My God,” he breathed, the reverence in his tone causing a bolt of pure lust to shoot through her body. His pupils dilated as they skimmed over the jewelry and settled on her face. “You are magnificent.” His reaction was more than any woman could ask for. It was certainly more flattering than any admiration Elinor had ever received.

  “I imagine I’m a very interesting color right about now.”

  “Don’t try and dismiss my compliment, Elinor. Come here.” He took her hand and led her to the big mirror beside the front door. He stood behind her, his hands huge on her shoulders.

  “Look at you. No.” He shook his head when she looked at him instead. “Not me, you.” He framed her face with his hands. “Really look at yourself.”

  Of course she saw the lovely clothes and jewels, but the real difference was inside her. She was in love, and it shone from her like a beacon. Did he see it? She looked at him. His brow was wrinkled and his eyes bright with—before Elinor could identify the emotion a curtain dropped and his face relaxed into its smooth, handsome façade. He kissed her neck, watching her in the mirror.

  “Beautiful.” He murmured the word against her skin.

  She pulled herself away from the distracting reflection. “These jewels . . .” She fingered the stones at her throat, just in case there was any confusion. “I cannot accept them.”

  He smiled and ran a finger lightly across her jaw. “Oh?”

  “They are too valuable a gift.”

  “I’m sorry. Is there some unwritten rule that says how valuable a gift should be?”

  She pulled away from his diverting touch. “Don’t fence with me, Stephen.”

  He was still smiling, but it was now fixed. She’d seen the expression before, whenever he did not get his way. He shrugged. “Do what you like with them—except give them back to me. Donate them to a workhouse, gift them to the hotel maid, leave them to Beth in your will, I don’t care.” He turned on his heel.

  “Stephen?”

  “Yes?” He threw the word over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. What I should have said was thank you.”

  He stopped and turned, his lips no longer tight and flat. “You’re welcome. Now, come into the study and look at what I brought to show you.”

  Spread across the huge desk were dozens of miniatures. Elinor looked from the tiny portraits to his expectant face. “This is quite an impressive collection.”

  “It is not the entirety. I have some on loan to a few museums, one in Boston and one in New York.”

  Elinor smiled at the pride she heard in his voice. It was rare that he allowed any emotions to show. “Which is your favorite?”

  “Ah, that’s easy.” He picked up a miniature with a spectacular emerald-and-diamond frame and handed it to her.

  “It’s a Hilliard,” she said, recognizing the style immediately. Her lips parted and she cut him a quick glance. “Is this Sir Walter Raleigh?”

  He nodded, his eyes glinting with some intense emotion.

  Elinor gave a small grunt of surprise. “This is quite a treasure. How did you ever get it, Stephen?�
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  “You would have all my secrets from me, my lady?”

  Elinor stared at the near-priceless miniature. Her father could only dream of owning such a work of art. How much would such a thing cost? How much did the jewelry around her neck and in her ears cost? The answer to those questions was too disturbing to contemplate; he must be very, very wealthy. She replaced the portrait on the desk and another caught her eye. She picked it up. “My father has a Cosway that is similar to this one.”

  “Not anymore.” He was watching her with the raptor-like expression she’d seen more than once. It was avid and it made her uncomfortable.

  “He sold it to you?”

  He nodded, his sly smile verging on unpleasant.

  “Why? He loves his collection more than he loves anything—even life, probably.”

  “He needed money. Apparently, he loves something more than his miniatures.”

  Elinor studied his face, as if she might find answers if she looked long enough. There were none—at least none she understood.

  “Here, make yourself comfortable.” He pulled a chair to the desk and Elinor sat and looked at his collection. She recognized five more miniatures that had once belonged to her father but didn’t mention them. What her father did no longer mattered to her and hadn’t for years. If he was in financial difficulties she would not be surprised. He’d always lived a lavish lifestyle and speculated rashly on business matters, without ever bothering to learn what he was investing in. He would consider such advance research demeaning and too close to actual work.

  “You have an impressive collection.” She sat back in her chair and looked up at Stephen.

  “Thank you.” He seemed to be waiting for her to say more. When she did not, he continued. “I took the liberty of ordering dinner for us. It will arrive at nine. I hope that is not too late.”

  “No, I am still replete from the two lunches and teas we shared aboard the boat today. Why do I feel as though you are trying to fatten me up?”

  “Because I am. I would guess you don’t take adequate care when it comes to feeding yourself. Not that I do not think you are perfection already.”

  Elinor laughed. “Flatterer.”

  “It is not flattery.” His eyes roamed over her with a hunger that made her believe him. “You look so lovely. Are you sure you wouldn’t care to go out so that I might show you off? It is not too late to take you out to a play or perhaps dinner.”

  “Not unless you wish to. Is that what you generally do when you are in London? Go to plays and such?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly I attend business dinners with other men.”

  “Is that all you do, Stephen? Business?”

  “I’ve been doing something else these past few days.”

  She flushed. “I meant, do you not have any hobbies or pastimes?”

  “Hobbies like the male members of your class, you mean?” He smiled but she nonetheless sensed a hint of hostility behind the question. “Horse races, pugilism, cock-fights, gaming, riding to hounds, and the like?”

  Elinor laughed. “They do sound rather vapid when listed that way. But surely there must be other leisure activities. What do men do in America for entertainment?”

  “I don’t really know. I’ve always worked. I ride, of course, and I’ve done my share of boxing and gambling, but mostly I work.” He took a drink of wine, his green eyes amused. “What a boring fellow you have before you.”

  Elinor cast her eyes ceilingward. “Ah, I see you enjoy fishing, too.”

  “Touché, my lady. What about you? What do you do for enjoyment?”

  “I read, garden, stitch—and other traditionally female pursuits.”

  “You left out studying medicine.” He propped his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into his hand. “Won’t you tell me about that?”

  Elinor glanced down at her hands. She’d only been away from Doctor Venable’s surgery for a few days and already they were less calloused and chapped. “What do you want to know?”

  “What made you decide to do it?”

  Elinor could hardly tell him the truth, that she’d often needed to treat her own injuries.

  “As you know, the Earl of Trentham’s demesne is quite large.”

  “Yes, approximately 54,000 acres.”

  Elinor raised her eyebrows and he smiled.

  “You forget I have investigated Blackfriars as a potential investment.”

  “No, I have not forgotten.” But she didn’t want to talk about his plans for Blackfriars—at least not tonight. “When my husband was still alive there were more tenants than there are now. Our doctor at the time was rather old and couldn’t see to all the people who needed him. I found myself in a position to help people, but without the requisite knowledge. I did what I could and learned many folk remedies from the people themselves, but I did not have a chance to do more until Doctor Venable arrived.”

  “And then your husband died. Did he approve of such activities for his countess?”

  “No, he would not have allowed such a thing.”

  “I’ve never asked about your marriage.” He stopped, hesitant for the first time Elinor could remember.

  “I wish you would keep it that way.” Elinor knew she’d spoken rather sharply, but the last thing she wanted on this final night of magic was to allow thoughts of Edward to spoil it. “It is a subject I do not care to talk about,” she said in a softer tone.

  “Then I shall not press you. But tell me, what is your goal with your study of medicine? Do you hope to become England’s first lady doctor?”

  “No, I merely wish to be of use.”

  He raised his brows quizzically.

  “I can see you find that notion amusing.”

  “Not amusing, merely interesting. I have not met many women of your class with such aspirations.”

  “Perhaps they simply have not shared their thoughts with you.”

  He straightened in his chair and took another sip of wine. “No doubt you are correct. An American businessman is an unlikely confidant for a female aristocrat.”

  “It is not your status as an American businessman that prevents such disclosures, but the fact that women with unordinary aspirations are viewed with disapprobation by our class. At least by the male members.”

  “Ah, so any kind of ambition is viewed as a dirty little secret?”

  Elinor felt her face darken at the innuendo in his tone. “That is not strictly true. Marriage is an acceptable ambition for women.”

  “But not for you?” His tone was no longer teasing.

  “It is an ambition I realized long ago.”

  “And one you no longer aspire to.” It was not a question. He turned his glass slowly in his hands, his eyes never leaving her face. How she wished she had the courage to ask him what he was thinking. Or to tell him why she’d refused his offer. Or to beg him to ask her again.

  But then she imagined the disgust on his face when he saw her naked body for the first time.

  “No, I no longer aspire to marriage.” Elinor turned back to the miniatures and picked up the first that came to hand. “Tell me about this one.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Shall I leave you alone with your port?” Elinor asked after they’d finished their meal.

  Stephen smiled, genuinely amused by her offer. “I wish you wouldn’t. I will gladly forgo a glass of port for the pleasure of your company.”

  Her cheeks stained a rosy pink at his words, making her look even more desirable.

  “I propose you don’t do without either.”

  “Drink port in front of a lady? What rebels we are.” He poured a glass and offered it to her. “Care to join me?” She shook her head but her eyes lingered on the glass. “Come, Elinor—it’s a night to break taboos.”

  She grinned and took the glass, for the first time forgetting to cover her mouth. The great flaw she’d always covered was nothing more than a small chip in one of her front teeth. It gave her smile a piquancy that complemented h
er serious features.

  “It’s charming, Elinor.”

  Her smooth brow wrinkled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your tooth. The slight imperfection is charming. You should never hide it.” Her hand rose to her mouth even as the words left his. “Please, Elinor. For me?”

  She dropped her hand and took a deep breath, the action drawing his eyes to her décolletage. The tops of her small white breasts were pushed into gentle swells and he knew she would be wearing the silk undergarments he’d chosen for her.

  In fact, everything on her body had been chosen by him, for his pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to tear off the gown and tongue her until she screamed his name and begged for more.

  Her chest expanded and then froze, two hard points pushing through the thin blue silk. Stephen looked up. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, and two bright spots of color appeared on her sharp cheekbones. Stephen threw back the contents of his glass and placed it on the table with a shaking hand. He stood and closed the distance between them.

  “I want you, Elinor.” His voice was so hoarse he hardly recognized it.

  She stared up at him, her eyes dark and enormous. “I want you, Stephen.”

  Her low, husky response drove the last clear thoughts from his mind and he swooped down on her, lifting her by her slim waist and placing her on the table. He took her face and held her still while he explored the hot, sweet depths of her mouth. Her kisses were those of a woman who’d quickly learned what she wanted.

  Small, strong hands burrowed between their bodies and deftly unbuttoned his coat. He groaned with almost unbearable pleasure when she pulled his shirt from his trousers and ran her cool hands up his stomach to his chest.

  He pushed his fingers beneath the taut silk of her bodice and slid a finger beneath each breast, lifting them over the top of the fabric until two hard, rosy nipples were within reach. He sucked one into his mouth. Her body shuddered and shook beneath his mouth and he moved to her other breast, suckling the small peak until it was a hard little pebble.

  Her hands wove tightly into his hair and pulled him down. He grinned against her wet nipple and gently pushed her back until she lay on the table.