by Jade Lee
She grimaced. His tone, his touch, even the tight grip to her fingers told her he’d lost patience. He’d forgotten about her entirely and the thought made her infinitely sad. Furious, too, but sad as well. For a while there, she had thought they could be friends.
“You have forgotten yourself, Robert,” she said slowly. Gently. As one would talk to a rabid dog because, in her mind, that was exactly what he had become. “I am sorry for what has happened, but you need to release me.” She straightened up, all too conscious that she was virtually naked. “Let go of my ankle or I shall scream.”
He reared back. “The devil you say!”
“And if you hit me, I shall have bruises that your sister will see. I might even now have them on my ankle.”
That hit him far more than anything else. His hand jerked back as if she burned him, and then he gazed hard at where his fingers had wrapped around her body. There were no marks, except perhaps a reddened imprint. She was sturdier than that. But it gave her enough freedom to scoot backward and grab her shift. The dress was behind him and out of her reach.
“Helaine,” he said, the word half plea, half apology, but she knew better than to believe him now.
She lifted her shift, damning her hands for how they shook. It took her a moment to sort through the fabric, and then she nearly cried. The shift was ripped and would never be worn again. It was old and meant for the rag bin anyway, but she had precious few of them and mourned the loss of even this.
How had she allowed herself to be so seduced? He had ripped her clothing and tossed aside her dress, and he hadn’t done anything more than pull off his cravat. That alone showed her how far outside of her depth she had gone. What had she been thinking to come to him like this? To lie with him even a little?
“God, I am such a fool,” she said. She balled up her shift into one hand, then gestured to her gown. She had learned from experience with her father that a firm, calm hand was needed when he was deeply in his cups. “Hand me my gown, please, Robert.”
He complied, passing over her clothing with a slow hand. His expression was serious, though, and he appeared to be thinking furiously.
“I don’t understand what just happened,” he said.
She was on her feet already, quickly pulling the gown over her head. The buttons down the back were another problem altogether, but she could manage a few of them. The rest would have to be covered beneath her wrap.
“Turn around. I can do them for you.” His words were simple, his expression calm. He was back in control of himself. She saw that now, but she didn’t trust that it would last.
He must have seen that hesitation because he sighed and shook his head even as he pushed to his feet.
“I assure you, I can restrain myself from ravishing you for the time it takes to fasten a few buttons.”
Yes, he could, but she was not at all sure she wanted to get that close to him. After all, her skin still shimmered with an awareness of him that was wholly unwelcome at the moment. But neither did she want to leave with her gown half done. So she slowly approached him and turned around.
Her back muscles twitched when he put his fingers to her skin. He didn’t work the buttons at all, just set the pads of three fingers against her spine.
“Passion demands some loss of control. Indeed, I believe that is the point. To be swept away.”
“You promised to sweep me away, my lord,” she returned. “One of us had to remain in control. You lost yours, therefore—”
“That is not how passion works.”
She thought about it a moment and had to admit he was probably right. Meanwhile, he lifted his fingers from her skin and made quick work of her buttons. And when he was done, she stepped away to look at him. She fought with her words, but finally expressed them in an awkward way.
“I do not trust men who are not in control of themselves.”
His expression darkened. “So you have been hurt before.”
“No, not like you mean. But even a child knows there is nothing more frightening than someone who is larger, stronger, and more powerful who has lost control. Who gets hurt in that situation, my lord? The powerful aristocrat? Or the weak woman?”
“You are many things, Helaine, but weak is not one of them.”
Oh, how she wished that were true. She was vulnerable in so many ways. Financially, she risked everything, and he had no understanding of what it was like to teeter on the edge of poverty. Personally, she felt more and more vulnerable to Robert, even after this debacle. He was charming, smart, and titled. Everything she had once wanted in a husband.
“Then call me a coward, my lord, because you frighten me.”
He leaned back against the mantel, his expression hooded, his arms crossed over his chest. “You are no coward, either.”
She shrugged. She had no answer to that. She felt like the smallest thing next to him. An egg, perhaps, or a tiny seedling about to be crushed beneath his boot heel. Not because he was cruel, but simply because he wouldn’t notice what he was doing.
“I should stick to my own kind, I think,” she said softly. “There should be a man among the merchants of this world. Someone who will understand what it takes to survive the whims of the aristocracy.”
He snorted. “You have hidden your birth, but not your breeding. Even your own kind, as you put it, knows that you were born the daughter of an earl.”
She gasped, needing to run his words over again in her mind. They didn’t change, and neither did the truth.
“You know who I am,” she whispered. He knew what her father had done. Now she really was at his mercy. He could destroy her at any moment. All it would take would be a word, a comment to his sister or mother. He might not even do it intentionally, but what about one day in his cups? What about—
“I will be your mistress,” she suddenly said. “I will spread myself before you, do whatever you want. I will—”
His arms dropped to his sides in shock. “Good God, Helaine, I do not mean to blackmail you! What kind of monster do you think I am?”
Her knees went out from beneath her and she sank to the couch in terror. “What do you want?” she said. “There are so many lives dependent upon me. I pray you remember that. Not only my mother, but now Penny and the boy. Wendy would survive. Dressmakers always need a talented seamstress. But the rest of us…” Her voice trailed away. What would she do if he turned against her? He touched her shoulder then. She had seen him move forward, had steeled herself for his caress. What demands would he make?
He stroked her cheek just once, and then let his hand fall away. “I shall call for my coach. I will stay here, Helaine, and he will return you to your home.”
She looked up at him, feared that he was merely delaying the inevitable. Eventually he would call on her and demand something. Men always did. How many times had her father done something nice for her? Out of guilt or charity or simply because he had won at the gaming tables that night. He would gift her with something, say it was because he loved her, but then weeks or months later he would turn it on her. He would point to his gift, whether it be a necklace or the food on the table. He would rail that he had done that for them, and he’d demand that they repay him in some way.
“I am not a monster,” Robert repeated, though it was clear he didn’t expect her to believe him. “I will never tell.”
“And will you never lose control? Never become angry with me and wish revenge? Never—”
“Helaine!” he snapped, clearly offended. “You have no reason to fear me!” Then he huffed, his gaze going to the ceiling. “How can I convince you? I have already sworn that I will do nothing to interfere with your business. My sister has decided to make your shop fashionable. I stand here like a monk, though God knows that’s not what I want. I still find you beyond beautiful. What else can I do?”
She had no answer. He could promise her the moon right now, but she wouldn’t believe him. “There is nothing,” she whispered, wondering how it had all change
d so fast. “I have no faith in men’s promises. I should have remembered that before I began this night.”
“So we are all villains merely because of our biology?”
She lifted her hand in a gesture of futility. “Biology, rearing, education, I don’t know. But no man has ever proved himself true to me. None have looked to my thoughts before theirs, to their family before their lusts.”
He frowned and shook his head. “I have never betrayed you like that.”
“You were about to.”
“You cannot know that. You damn me without ever giving me a chance.”
She bit her lip. Was that what she had done? She didn’t know, and she hadn’t the focus now to figure it out. So she straightened to her feet. “Thank you, my lord,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “I can honestly say that I will never forget this night.”
He nodded, his gaze still searching her face. “Nor I.” Then he crossed to the door, opened it, and called for the innkeeper, instructing the man to have his carriage readied immediately. When that was done, he turned back to her, gently holding up her wrap and gloves.
“You will wish these,” he said neutrally.
She nodded and forced herself to step up to him. It wasn’t that hard. Indeed, now that she was leaving, she found herself wanting to go back to the moment before. What if she’d closed her eyes when he stripped her of her gown? What if she’d clung to the oblivion of passion? Would she even now be experiencing pleasure the likes of which she could only imagine? She doubted the end would be any different, but the memory would be. The knowledge would change as well. She would finally know what women experienced in their marriage bed.
“I am sorry that I couldn’t be different,” she said as much to herself as to him. “I am sorry that I cannot find a way to give us both what we want.”
The side of his mouth quirked up in a rueful smile. “Your fears are natural, Helaine. I have handled this badly.”
She shook her head. “You are a man used to getting what he wants when he wants. I should never have thought otherwise.”
He had been putting her wrap on her shoulders when she spoke, but at her words, she felt him shift. He laid his hands flat on her shoulders and gently turned her around. “So that is my excuse, you think? I am a man and an aristocrat, so I must by definition hurt you? I have no control of it at all?”
“You didn’t tonight,” she said, her chin lifting as she challenged him. “Your every intention was to charm me, to pleasure me, to make this a night when everything was perfect. And yet I will leave here more unsettled, more afraid, and more uncertain than ever before.”
He grimaced. “I will not reveal your identity, Helaine. To anyone. I swear it!”
“And what is my forfeit when you do?”
He threw up his hands. “What do you want?”
“A livelihood, my lord. Promise that if you ruin me, then you will give me the means to start anew.”
He nodded. “Done.”
She searched his eyes, reading his intention in every line of his body. He meant what he said, and he was generally believed to be a man who honored his debts. She felt her breath ease out in relief. She no longer feared total disaster. If he destroyed her, he would do what he could to make amends. It wasn’t much, she reminded herself. A dozen things could change between now and then. A passionate promise today could mean nothing at all tomorrow. But it was the most reassurance she could have right at the moment.
“Thank you,” she said. Then there was no more time. The innkeeper returned to say the carriage was ready.
She left then, her gaze lingering as long as possible on his face. She wanted to memorize the texture and the colors to hold close to her at night. Perhaps she would damn him someday, but for tonight, she simply felt a longing for what could have been. If only things were very different, they could have had something wonderful together.
If only…
“Good-bye, my lord.”
“Good-bye, Mrs. Mortimer.”
Then she walked away.
Robert stayed in the inn for hours after she left. He ate roasted almonds, stared into the fire, and thought. First he cataloged his emotions. He felt everything from anger that all his plans had been for naught and elation that he had escaped a viper-tongued, inconsistent harpy. That was a childish fit of pique, but he indulged it for a few moments. It was allowed in the privacy of this little room.
Eventually he admitted that he was to blame. She had told him they would not lie together, that she would not be his mistress. He was merely angry that his plans to circumvent her morals had failed.
Which led him to shame. Deep and penetrating shame. He recalled in detail all those times when he had felt superior to his father, more levelheaded than his younger brother, more morally upright than most of his peers. Did he not care for sick prostitutes? Had he not thrown his father out of the house for accosting a maid? While his peers were drinking and whoring throughout London, he was the one working, trying to salvage his brother’s tuition money from his father’s latest business inspiration. He was a prince among men, the most constant, moral man of character in London.
Until Helaine. The moment she’d stepped into his sights, he’d planned her seduction with the same force of character that he’d applied to managing the family estate, disciplining his father, and raising his younger siblings. In short, the only reason he was accounted a man of good character was because the right temptation had not yet crossed his path. Once Helaine had appeared, all his virtue had flown away and he’d become as depraved as all the rest.
Quite a sobering thought. More sobering was that he was still thinking about her, lusting after her, and if he let his mind wander at all, he was still planning just how he could seduce her. The very idea was appalling, and yet he could not stop himself. He wanted her with a passion bordering on insanity. It wasn’t just simple lust. If that were the problem, he could sate himself with any number of women. But tonight he had enjoyed her company, her humor, and yes, even her good advice.
Never had he thought a woman could be so amazing, and never had he expected that he couldn’t have her. That he couldn’t devise some stratagem to make her his. Or that, even worse, it would be immoral for him to do so.
But it was. Because she had refused him. Completely and utterly this time, despite his careful seduction techniques.
Which led him to one inescapable choice. He could continue down this path to ruin—hers and his own—or he could give in to her wishes and leave her alone. Obviously a good man would choose the latter. It was sobering just how hard it was to make that choice. But eventually ethics won over. Sadly, he had no faith in his own constancy now. He had to leave London or risk going back on his decision. He needed to return to the coal mine anyway. He had clothing for the night, as he’d planned to stay with Helaine. He could leave in the morning without ever driving through London, without risking a change of heart, without finding some excuse to see Helaine again.
So it was decided. He would leave her alone by way of leaving London. Once committed to the choice, he dashed off notes to the relevant people and then sought a cold and lonely bed upstairs.
Chapter 14
A week later, Robert was feeling almost back to normal. He had labored hard at the mine, which was now running more smoothly. Charlie had been a good choice, and together they had stopped most of the grumbling. Yes, he now employed children, much though he hated the idea. But only boys fourteen years or older. There were new ponies and new carts for the other children to tend in the sunshine, and he had toyed with the idea of school if he could hire a teacher.
What he couldn’t do was make money appear out of thin air. It would be a long while yet before he recouped his latest expenditures, but at least everything was on the right track. So he turned his horse toward London and rode steadily home. Sadly, the minute the day no longer held constant work, his mind wandered straight back to Helaine. Their evening together had taken on a rosy hue t
his last week. He was constantly remembering the laughter they’d shared. New things struck him every day that he wanted to share with her. And yes, he nightly tortured himself with the glorious softness of her skin, the sweet gasps she made when he touched her nipples, and the sight of her naked and dazed as he slowly penetrated her exquisite body. That last part hadn’t actually happened, but he had lived it a thousand times in his fantasies.
Fortunately, he was finally home. Soon he could revel in his dreams in the privacy of his own bedroom. He stabled his horse and began trudging up the steps. He could see there were still lights on downstairs, so he knew someone was awake, most likely his sister. He rapidly readjusted his thoughts, picturing the way Gwen would squeal when she saw him and run into his arms. That was a dream he had experienced in reality hundreds of times, but it never got old. So his step was lively as he entered his home, barely giving Dribbs time to take his hat and coat.
“Where’s Gwen?” he asked.
“In the back parlor, my lord, with her fiancé.”
Robert felt his eyebrows raise. “Please tell me that my mother is acting as chaperone.”
“Your mother retired some hours ago.”
“His mother, then. Or sister. Or that aunt.”
“I’m sorry, my lord. But I do believe the door has remained open.”
Robert didn’t wait to hear any more. He was tromping through the house to the back parlor, growing more furious the moment he saw that the back parlor door was not in fact open, but firmly shut. He grasped the doorknob and threw the barrier open, only to wish he had banged loudly on the door. He had not, not, not wanted to see his sister wrapped in Edward’s passionate embrace, her hair askew, her lips swollen, and his hands…damn his hands! They were on her breasts!
They gasped and flew apart, but that didn’t stop him from slamming the door hard enough to shake the rafters. “Out!” he roared at Edward.
Sadly, the boy didn’t leave. He stood slowly, his expression grave even as he adjusted his pants. Good Lord, Robert did not want to see that the man had an erection!