A Lady Compromised (The Ladies)

by Pennington, Ava

  “My dear Lady Delia, you mistake me. It was not me who spread the vile rumor. I had no intention to so abuse and expose you. The one who is responsible for the rumor is your guardian, Christopher Rosewood. The story circling society is that it was he who told your guest, Mrs. Smythe-Dunston, the gossiping harridan, that you had spent the evening in my chamber. Not only is it untrue, I am uncertain how he could know that you were there at all? And why he would tell this woman is beyond me. I only know that I am eager to repair your reputation in any way that I can and that I do—sincerely and deeply—apologize for my behavior that evening. It is very clear I reached the wrong conclusion upon discovering you that night.”

  Delia’s mind turned furiously over his words and she could hardly speak. It was impossible that he should apologize in this fashion. Impossible. She continued speaking to clarify her swirling thoughts.

  “But why would he do that?” she countered, trying to make sense of both Mr. Rosewood and the Marquess’ incomprehensible behavior, “My guardian had been increasingly forcing his attentions on me, culminating in the day you arrived. I believe he wishes to marry me and, I presume, gain my inheritance. Though, he does not even seem to like me.” Her only vaguely coherent thoughts tumbled out, continuing in particular order. “Not the Earldom—that will go to my cousin Augustine, of course, who is traveling back from the Indies, but my own fortune, a legacy from my mother. His attentions were most unwanted!”

  Delia forced the memories of his assault in the garden from her mind and as Mason’s hands tightened on hers. She was surprised to realize that she felt no revulsion but only a delightful warmth in his grasp. “That evening, I heard footsteps and it was too late to bar my door. I was only able to dash into my sitting room and then into the corridor to escape. I swear to you, my lord, that I had no idea yours was the room I fled to! I only wanted to escape. He must have seen me!”

  Delia could see the extreme displeasure that was marring the Marquess’ generally attractive and indifferent face. “I am certain that if he was in your room, he observed the room you ran into and if he did not yet know that it was mine, he certainly would have determined so from the housekeeper. I collect he then told Mrs. Smythe-Dunston, whom he knew would tell anyone who would listen in society, that you had joined me in my chamber for the night! It seems clear then that he would be able to persuade you to marry him when your name was shockingly blackened. I would kill him myself,” said the Marquess, gazing at Lady Delia.

  “No! No, you mustn’t!” the lady replied, squeezing his hands in spite of herself. “I confess I would not see you hang for killing such a worm,” she said with a bit of a smile.

  “You are right of course,” replied the Marquess. “But he will be punished.”

  “I am less concerned with punishment than of clearing my name! It will be impossible for me to ever return to a normal life if the entirety of civilized society believes me to be ruined by the notorious Marquess of Durham! And I must think of a way to put myself forever beyond the reach of the ghastly Mr. Rosewood! He is to be my guardian until I reach five and twenty and I am sure I cannot wait that long to return to Washburn Court! It’s too much. Though, I am happy here, in London. In my little house,” she looked around. “Indeed, I am happy writing novels. But I am afraid I cannot hide forever, as he is my legal guardian. It is too much to hope that he might not find me for years to come.”

  “I can assure you that hiding for that period of time is not likely to be a success. However, we will simply have to find a way to unravel the guardianship provisions,” the Marquess began. “My solicitor is rather a clever man and has not yet disappointed me. I should put him on it directly. Though I am certain that there must be ways to remove a guardianship. It seems a breach of fiduciary duty might do the trick and an attempted forced marriage would certainly qualify.”

  “I had hoped to do something of that nature myself!” responded Lady Delia, “but I am afraid that in my grief I was ill-equipped. I know who my father’s solicitor was, but I have no idea that he would even speak to me or if I had any rights. And it’s not as if I could do anything at Washburn Court without Mr. Rosewood immediately discovering it.”

  The Marquess had been looking at her for some minutes. His enormous shoulders blocked the lamplight from the street and no one had lit the lamp in her drawing room, as he had unceremoniously dismissed her servants. It was getting very dark and she realized suddenly the enormous impropriety of their situation.

  “You shouldn’t be here! It is past dark and we are unchaperoned,” she said.

  “After what has already happened between us, I should hardly think you would be concerned about a bit of darkness.”

  “Which is precisely why I am this disgraceful situation in the first place!” she reminded him. “Because I was discovered by some person, in a compromising situation with you!”

  “It was certainly not any of my actions that drew you to my bedchamber, so I must protest that this improper encounter is my first.”

  A dark flush crept up her cheeks and she looked down. She remembered the feel of Mason’s body against hers that night. His lips, hot and damp on her body, and she closed her eyes.

  “Hardly! You kissed me that night!”

  “What else was I supposed to do when I discovered a beautiful lady in my bed?”

  “You would remind me of that!” she managed to say with a quavering voice.

  “Though I would greatly hate to remind you of my words, which were inexcusable,” Durham replied, moving a hand from cheek, gently, down her neck, tracing over her ear. His hand swept up behind her head, delicately entwining his fingers in her soft hair to find and remove the pins. “But I cannot forget the vision of you that night,” he whispered against her ear as his hand found a pin in her hair and one curl fell, loosened, to her shoulder. “It is burned in my memory and returns to me at night, at breakfast, every hour, unbidden.” He kissed her eyebrow and found another pin to pull free. “You have tormented me and I can think of nothing else.” She drew in a ragged breath.

  “You must be mad,” she whispered. “You hate me.” But one delicate arm had crept around his waist and the other hand, still in his, grew warmer by the second.

  “Never say that again,” said Durham roughly. “You are quite one of the bravest women of my acquaintance and I cannot say how much I cursed myself last evening when you fled the opera. When I saw you again, in that gown, your hair dressed and looking so achingly beautiful, there with Freddy, I thought the worst and went a bit mad.” Her hair was entirely loose and free now. His fingers separated the curls and one hand crept to the buttons at the front of her spencer. He unbuttoned the first button of the jacket as his lips finally met her eager and willing mouth in a kiss that declared the unspent passion of the past months. Unable to stop, his arms dropped from her hair and pulled her onto his lap, crushing her against him as his mouth took hers with the ferocity of a lifetime of deprivation. He groaned and pressed her closer, though they could hardly be any nearer each other if they had been one person.

  Delia pulled back to catch her breath and looked up at him, her eyes liquid pools of violet. Her dark lips were plump and bruised from his kisses but he could think of nothing else but taking them again. He kissed the corner of her mouth and her jawline, and, with slightly shaking fingers, undid the rest of the buttons of her spencer. Still kissing her, he pulled off the jacket and tugged the sleeves from her arms. Her modest walking dress was pale gray but Durham wanted nothing between his eyes and her body. With tremendous effort, he kept his fingers from the buttons behind her neck and instead tried to sate himself with running his hands down her back, enjoying the feel of her body beneath his hands, clothed in the soft muslin.

  “Where is Amelia?” Lady Delia asked, half wishing to be disturbed by her maid but also desiring nothing but to stay alone with the Marquess forever.

  “When I told her who I was, she was a great deal more accommodating than your other servants, who kept telling
me you were not at home today,” Mason began.

  “But I wasn’t at home today!” Delia protested.

  “Where on earth were you for the entire afternoon? A little girl named Sissy kept looking upstairs while telling me you were out!”

  “I was with my editor and publisher, going over my next novel! It took ages and ages. And Sissy’s not supposed to answer the door at all. That’s probably why she was so nervous.”

  “Well I assumed you were avoiding me, which is why I told Amelia that Mr. Rosewood was looking for you and that I was concerned and had her take the other servants to my townhouse. I told her I would follow later, with you.”

  “What!” Lady Delia said, stilled with shock.

  “I instructed her to take the two other servants to Durham House in Grosvenor Square. It is not safe for a household of nothing but women to remain alone and unprotected in the city like this with that maniac out to find you. You will all live at Durham House until the matter with Rosewood is settled.”

  “Why of all the heavy-handed—“ Lady Delia began.

  “Lady Delia,” Durham began, “Surely you can see the wisdom of relocating? You know what Rosewood is capable of as he has already demonstrated quite clearly. Do you want to risk anything happening to Amelia or Sissy or Martha?” Lady Delia frowned at him.

  “Don’t try to pretend this—this--abduction is about protecting my staff. You are trying to bully me into your house!”

  The Marquess grinned and put his hand to his heart.

  “I confess I am guilty as charged! But would not you prefer to be safely ensconced in Durham House until this whole disagreeable episode has been put to rights? Under my protection, Mr. Rosewood is unlikely to discover you, and can be said to be quite incapable of harming you or forcing you to marry him and you need not worry about any violence that might happen upon your staff.”

  “But how can I? I can’t be known to be living with a notorious rake! Not that I have much of a reputation left, but I do wish to marry someday. And I cannot think even you could be forgiven such a gross transgression.”

  “No one need know for some weeks, Lady Delia,” the Marquess answered with attempted reasonableness. “It’s not as if you are able to go about town anyway, or Mr. Rosewood would surely immediately find you, and we cannot have that until we know how to disengage the guardianship. It is a safe place for you to stay for a few weeks until this business is all settled. And I feel I owe it to you, as it was my name that was used to ruin your reputation in the first place. I will find a way to repair the damage and ensure that Rosewood does not have the opportunity to get to you again. Please accept my offer. It is the least I can do.”

  The Marquess had pled his case using all the reasonable arguments he could marshal and though Lady Delia could not help feeling that it was still quite improper to actually live in Durham House, she could at least acknowledge that the increased safety for herself and her maids was a not insignificant boon. She smiled a bit ruefully.

  “It’s not an offer if you already behave as if I had accepted it!”

  “I knew you would say yes.”

  “You couldn't have.”

  “I’m very persuasive.”

  “That I cannot deny.”

  “I told Amelia that my staff would return for your things tomorrow. Can I take it you have agreed to my suggestion?”

  “You may take it that I have been persuaded by your ‘arguments’, namely; that I have no choice.”

  “My dear Lady Delia, you have no choice because this is the only choice that ensures you and your staff’s safety. It cannot be long before Rosewood hears of your book and deduces that you are its author. And D.E. Mannering will be easy to find.” Delia sighed.

  “I suppose you are right. I should have taken this house in a different name, I suppose. But how many pseudonyms must I have?”

  “Which is why when you are safely at Durham House you will need none. My servants can be trusted with the utmost discretion.”

  “Only Amelia knows who I really am.”

  “Amelia can inform the others.”

  “I suppose, but—“

  “And now,” Durham said, standing up and gathering her into her arms, “it’s time for you to go to bed. You will likely have a rather longish day tomorrow.”

  “And what on earth do you propose to do about that?”

  “I will be spending the night here to ensure your well-being and to bring you back to Durham House in the morning.”

  To own the truth, Durham had not planned to sleep at Lady Delia’s charming little house. But the thought of being completely alone with her, which he would not be at Durham House, twisted his stomach in a way he could not ignore. And he could not leave her alone.

  “You will absolutely not stay in this house!” Lady Delia said as she squirmed in his arms while he climbed the stairs.

  “I will sleep on the settee. Your virtue is safe with me.” Lady Delia gave an unladylike snort.

  “That’s the most absurd thing you’ve said all evening.”

  “Hush. I will prove it.”

  It amazed Durham that this woman could stir up such feelings of protectiveness and desire in him while at the same time making him laugh. He toed open the door to her room and looked about before setting her down.

  “I will light the lamp. Where are your nightclothes?”

  “You shouldn’t even know of such things! And I will not be sleeping in this bed with you!”

  “You are absolutely correct,” he said, eying her with undisguised lust. “Maybe you should sleep fully clothed in that gown, just to ensure you are as protected from me as possible. The last time I saw you in a nightgown, I nearly swallowed my tongue.” He ran his hands down her arms and gently cupped her bottom to bring her closer.

  “Your behavior was reprehensible,” Delia choked out, needing to stop his caresses but wanting them desperately. She leaned into his body and he immediately pulled her tight up against him, pushing her belly close against his body and not caring if she felt how much he desired her. Her breasts crushed against his chest and she was unable to break away as he took her mouth again with drugging kisses.

  “Tonight will be my punishment for my abysmal treatment of you at Washburn Court,” Durham said roughly. “I will stay here with you but I will not make you mine. It will be harder than you can know.” He sat on the bench at the foot of her bed, embroidered in pale jade velvet and pulled her to stand between his knees. “I promise you that I will stay tonight with you and that you will remain a virgin.” His pupils were so large that his eyes were blacker than the moonless night. “I swear to you.”

  She swallowed and his gaze dropped to her breasts, which he devoured with his eyes until she turned away, embarrassed.

  “I—I have no reason to believe you are capable of proper behavior,” she tried to keep her tone light but her voice cracked into a low, husky tone that betrayed her desire.

  “Though it will be the hardest thing I ever do, I will do this for you tonight,” the Marquess said. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close, looking into her eyes. “I shall prove to you that I am truly sorry for how I behaved and that I do not think you are anything but a beautiful, virtuous maid and that I should never have accused you of anything dishonorable that night at Washburn Court.”

  She opened her mouth to reply but he said with finality. “I will prove that I can wait for you.” His voice caught at the end and she looked at him, startled, with a question in her eyes before looking down. She could say nothing. She wanted to know what he meant but was too terrified of the answer to ask. He would wait for her for what? To make love to her? Or something else?

  “If you insist on staying with me,” she said with a deep breath, “Then I will take you at your word: you will leave me unmolested and we will consider the past forgotten. I will accept your apology and we will be as we were when I first met you at Washburn Court. With no hard feelings between us.”

  “I remember w
hen I first saw you,” Durham said, standing before her. He turned her away from him and lifted her long auburn curls, sweeping them to the front of her gown as he unbuttoned the first button down the back of her dress.

  “You had come down the stairs at Washburn and I noticed how slim and beautiful your neck was. No tiresome ringlets all about your shoulders but only an elegant knot on your head, above the sweep of your head. I wanted to pull the knot out and see the waves of your hair cascading around the slender whiteness of your neck and shoulders You were wearing a gown that was so low in front it practically begged me to tug it down.”

  “I most certainly was not!”

  “Maybe I only imagined how low it was. You were so beautiful I had to keep myself from staring at you like a callow youth.” His nimble fingers had unbuttoned all of the buttons of her gown and then he was slipping it over her shoulders and it fell from the curve of her hip to pool at her feet. He ran his hands round her waist and then over her hips, molding them to his touch with fingers itching for more. His hands firm on her hips, he turned her around. “I will prove to you that you can trust me this night,” he said in a ragged whisper. “You will never need to fear that I will frighten you like I did that night. I will prove how sorry I am.” He swallowed hard and pushed her hair back to expose her neck and bent to kiss it.

  “I will prove to you that you need never fear me again.” Mason kissed her neck and moved lower to the tops of her breasts, dropping light, hot kisses while holding her hips in his hands. Then he turned her around again to untie her petticoat. The soft silk fell with a swoosh to the floor and she shivered. Then he began to unlace her corset. As his fingers expertly loosened the laces, he continued to drop kisses on the back of her neck and his hair grazed her chin. He pulled the corset off and turned her around to see her clad only in a thin cotton shift.