by Tamara Gill
His initial reaction to being told what to do had been rebellion, and he’d done everything he could not to look for a wife. But of late he’d felt restless, disillusioned with the games and intrigues within the ton. He’d decided that Miss Edwina Fox, an untitled gentleman’s daughter with a fortune that would suit the terms of his father’s will, would suit his pocket very well. She was honest, not a silly young woman, maybe a little cold and aloof, but marriage to her might be tolerable enough. He did not love her, but he certainly liked her very much. And with the time constraints he was now under, she would have to do. There was little time left to look for another suitable bride.
The parlor door opened, and he wrenched himself upright, almost spilling his whisky as he did so. What the devil was Lizzie Doherty doing here?
His gaze devoured her like a man starved of food. Her dark emerald gown brought out her perfect cream skin and made her fiery auburn hair positively shine. Not to mention her breasts were amply advertised. He shut his mouth with snap. Never had he seen her dressed so provocatively, presenting herself for the taking. She didn’t move, simply took in the room, and the breath in his lungs froze while his blood pumped hot in his veins.
She was magnificent. A small smile tweaked his lips. How could he not admire her being so bold, so brave, when she had one of the strictest mothers in all England?
Hugo took in the room’s reaction and frowned, not liking the fact that all the gentleman present were admiring her, some with a hunger that matched his own.
He’d not let any of them touch one hair on her body. She was his, and his alone. If anyone was going to pluck her innocence it would be him.
He took a calming breath, reeling himself back to reality. What was he thinking? He could not touch her either. To even imagine taking her to bed was such a breach of trust that he’d never be able to re-establish the friendship between himself and Lord Leighton. He fisted his hands, fighting his body that had hardened at the sight of her, even knowing who she was.
Thank the lord for the masks they wore, well-made ones that ensured no one’s identity was absolutely obvious. Even if most of the guests knew by now who everyone was, it was not always the case, as it seemed right now with Lizzie. Yes, he’d picked her out, but one was wont to do such a thing when one often appreciated the lithe, delicate, and yet bountifully gifted Lizzie in person.
With a strength Hugo had always known she possessed, Lizzie steeled her back, raised her chin, and met the ogling guests head on.
Lord Finley sauntered up to her, and Hugo ground his teeth. The gentleman had hands as slimy as an eel’s skin and was a regular at these parties. Always willing to shove his cock into anything agreeable.
“Friend of yours, sir?”
Hugo turned to his hostess and shook his head. The last person he would tell was Lady X. She was as meddling as his father at times, and he didn’t need any more people interfering in his life.
Lady X chuckled as she continued to play. “Miss Lizzie Doherty, I believe. Not that I’m going to tell anyone here, mind you. But I greeted her late this afternoon when she arrived. I’ve had it from my steward that her carriage was turned about in this afternoon’s storm and they arrived here instead of Lady Remmnick’s house party three miles away. If she keeps her identify a secret, no harm shall come of her.”
So that was how she came to be here. He didn’t think Lizzie was into the kind of lifestyle most of the people present enjoyed. Not unless she was living in a world he knew nothing of. “You should’ve told her to stay in her room and not come out. You know what goes on at these types of parties. Hell, she’s a lovely sweetmeat just ripe for the eating.”
“And would you like to eat her, my lord?” His hostess grinned up at him, devilment in her gaze. “Something tells me you would.”
Hugo wouldn’t deny the charge, nor would he answer such a question. Did he wish to eat the delectable little Lizzie? Hell yes, he did…had for a very long time. Over the months that they had been thrown together due to their mutual friendships, and her relationship to the Earl and Countess of Leighton, he’d become quite fond of her. Had she not been a poor relative of the Earl, Hugo would’ve courted her instead of Miss Fox. He certainly liked her more than anyone he’d ever previously met, and found she brought forth in him a hunger he’d not known before with any other woman.
Certainly, he was too fond to allow her to lose herself to the pretty talk and false promises that the current Lord Finley was no doubt whispering in her ear.
“Do not tell anyone of her being here. I will make certain she returns to Lady Remmnick’s house party on the morrow.”
Lady X nodded. “I think that would be best.”
Hugo strolled about the room, keeping his attention sporadically fixed on Lizzie. How beautiful she looked tonight in her green, revealing empire cut gown. The dress appeared to be a size too small, and her breasts, which had always been generous, filled the top of the garment more than they should. It fell about her slender frame, her silver slippered shoes peeking out from beneath the hem.
Without being obvious, he made his way to Lizzie’s side, although by the time he arrived his patience had waned, just as his temper had spiked at the attention the little minx was getting from those who ought to know better. What was worse was that Hugo knew that even if some of the gentlemen who courted her now were aware of who she was, it would make not one ounce of difference. They would still wish to seduce her, have and enjoy all that she could give them, and walk away leaving her to fend for herself.
He bowed, taking her gloved hand and kissing it in welcome. “I do not believe we’ve been introduced.” Lord Finlay glared at his interruption, but didn’t comment, simply stood by, silent.
Her eyes widened, and his interest spiked. Did she know who he was? Would she run away or stay if she did? Lizzie dipped into a perfect curtsy, her rouge-covered lips lifting into a grin. Desire rushed through his veins and without doubt Hugo confirmed his suspicions. He wanted her. In his bed. His and only his. Which, he reminded himself, he couldn’t do. He wasn’t able to marry a woman with no dowry. Maybe she’d be open to a stolen kiss before he sent her home… It was worth a thought.
“My lord,” she said, not an ounce of fear in her voice.
“My lady,” he said, although he knew she held no title to speak of. At these parties it had been long agreed that no names should be spoken, and that everyone was a lord and lady in this environment, even if they acted less than the ideal their name would normally be associated with.
“You’re new to our gathering. Are you enjoying the night so far?”
She smiled, and there was no doubt left in his mind as to who stood before him. “I am, yes. It’s been quite pleasant so far.”
Lord Benedict approached and bowed over her hand, placing a lingering kiss on her wrist. “And mayhap the night will end pleasurably for you too, my lady…should you choose me, that is.”
The need to pummel Lord Benedict into dirt on the Aubusson rug was almost too much to resist. But she was new to these events and so every gentleman, and some ladies, would want to experience her mystery. Lizzie’s cheeks flushed bright red and Hugo took her arm, steering her away from the party. “Some wine, perhaps,” he said, turning their backs on the confounded lord.
“Thank you. I fear I’m not used to such…entertainments.”
“So, you’ve never attended one of these parties before? I thought you were new. I would’ve remembered you.” He was flirting, and her coquettish smile made him want to tease her even more, if only to see more of the same.
“No, never.” She took the glass of wine he offered and, to his amusement, downed it almost immediately.
“Refreshing?”
She laughed, placing her glass on the tray of a passing footman before taking another. “In need of fortifying, more like.”
Hugo chuckled and nodded in agreement. If the elixir of drink helped her relax in the environment she now found herself, who was he to naysay her?
He would however remain by her side and ensure that no harm came to her reputation, and no rake that now graced the parlor went within a foot of her person. Unless it was him of course.
It was the least he could do, being a family friend. Or so he kept telling himself.
Some hours later–delightful, exciting hours at that–Lizzie strolled toward her room, her body very aware of the tall, masculine frame walking beside her. Hugo stood back as she came to her door, and Lizzie wished the night wouldn’t end. What would he do if she were to proposition him? Turn her away, or take her in his arms?
She licked her lips at the thought of being held by him as she wished. After all the months that she had lusted after this gentleman, to have him before her, quite alone and without the worry of being caught since this party was for the very purpose of being naughty, was a temptation she wanted to explore.
She reached out and touched the lapels of his coat. Lord Wakely stilled under her palm. Having watched the other ladies tonight waltz a dance of seduction with their chosen gentlemen, Lizzie had picked up on a couple of ideas. She leaned forward, placing her body scandalously close to his, and his eyes darkened in hunger.
The entire evening he’d stayed by her side, ensuring her every comfort was met, so would he now ensure her every desire was as well? Surely that meant she was about to be kissed. Her first kiss, and with a man she’d long admired as well as desired. Not that she was willing to throw her maidenhead out the window, but a kiss couldn’t hurt.
“I hope you enjoyed your first night?” he asked, leaning against the door’s threshold, his cravat untied and hanging loose about his neck. She itched to rip it off and slide her hands over his chest, not just his lapels, and feel the muscles respond to her touch.
“I did, thank you. It has been quite entertaining and eye opening as well.” Like when she had seen the Countess of Eden, whose mask had slipped during a passionate kiss with one of the first gentlemen who’d bowed before her upon arrival in the parlor. They had all but bundled each other out of the room and not returned. Lizzie had little doubt as to what the couple were up to at this very moment. Heat bloomed on her cheeks and she bit her lip, thanking providence that his lordship couldn’t read minds.
“That tends to be the case at these parties.” He closed the space even further between them, so that her breasts were brushing his chest and coiling heat to her core. He kissed her cheek and her knees wobbled. Without thought she leaned into the embrace, closing her eyes as the smell of sandalwood intoxicated her senses. Lord Wakely paused a moment, his breath whispering foreign words against her neck.
“Do you attend these parties often, my lord?” The question came out breathless and she cursed knowing he would be aware of what his nearness did to her. Made her want things no respectable woman would dare think of. Made her yearn for a man’s touch over that of respectability or propriety. She fisted his lapels in her hands, holding him close.
“This is my last.” He kissed the lobe of her ear and she shivered.
“Why is that?” He kissed her ear again and she bit back a moan. Golly he made her ache, made her want so much.
Her attention snapped to his lips. His hand clasped her nape, his fingers tangling into her hair. This was it. Right here and now, Lord Wakely was going to kiss her. Show her everything she’d been missing all these years. Her body shook with expectation and she leaned up on tiptoe to better meet his height.
He pulled back, severing their nearness, and she stumbled a little before righting herself. He watched her a moment, a muscle working in his jaw. “That, my dear, is a conversation best had on another day.” He bowed. “I will be across the hall should you need any assistance.”
Lizzie watched his lordship run away from her as if she had the pox, his door closing with more force than was necessary. She slumped against the door frame, frowning. Why had he run away like that? These parties were supposed to end with seduction and pleasure, or at the very least a passionate kiss that would make her toes curl in her slippers. Unless he knew who she was and wouldn’t touch her because of her cousin Lord Leighton, one of his best friends?
If he did suspect who she was, it meant that his attendance on her this evening had been wholly to ensure she remained safe and not assaulted by the other gentlemen present. Disappointment stabbed her. How mortifying if that were true. And she’d thrown herself at his head like a desperate ninny. Her cheeks burned, and tears blurred her vision.
Mary was waiting for her when she came into her room, and with her maid’s help, Lizzie was soon in bed, reliving the feel of his lips on her cheek, and then again on her earlobe. A disturbing little thrum thumped between her legs at the memory and she rolled over, squeezing her thighs together to soothe the need that coursed through her.
How could he bring forth such a reaction within her if she meant nothing to him? Could men have reactions to women in such a way? Did it even matter who warmed their bed, just so long as someone did? If he was never interested in kissing her in the first place, why had he kissed her neck? It made no sense.
Could men be so fickle?
The sound of the pounding rain on the window lulled her for a time, but it did little to soothe her disappointed hopes. When he’d sought her out early in the evening she’d felt such anticipation that the night would end in a kiss. That he would find her interesting and charming. She could only conclude that he knew who she was and was being a gentleman, a good friend to her cousin. The embrace before bidding her goodnight had been a slip in his armor and nothing else. He might even have done it to try to scare her off, tell her without words that this party was not for her and she shouldn’t be here.
For if there was one thing she knew for sure about Lord Wakely, it was that he took what he wanted. That he didn’t take her was all she needed to know.
Just like her life in London, here at Lady X’s house party, she was undesirable. A wallflower destined for the spinster shelf. Well, at least she’d have her cats for company, and bucketloads of money. It was better than nothing.
Chapter 4
Lizzie rolled over in her bed and stared at the ceiling of her room. Images of men and women in very compromising positions looked down at her, their smiles and gazes of satisfaction mocking her and her inability to seduce the man she wanted. Had wanted for an age.
Here she was, at the most sought-after party of the Season, and she’d failed to gain a kiss from a man who was famous in the ton for seduction. She looked at the discarded mask she’d worn the night before. No one should’ve recognized her wearing it, but Lord Wakely wasn’t everyone.
Did he know who she was? And if so, even though he hadn’t kissed her, why didn’t he send her packing the moment he realized who graced the scandalous house party? For all his rakehell ways, as a gentleman he would see such a task as only right and honorable.
But he had not. In fact, he’d flirted with her for most of the night. His attentions prior to dinner were telling, as were his hot stares throughout the meal, not to mention that kiss before saying goodnight. Well, a chaste peck against her cheek, her ear, her neck…
She sighed, looking at the curtains still drawn against the morning sun. Getting up, she walked over to them and pulled one back, taking in the landscape before her. This side of the home sported a lawned area that flowed like a green sea into the oak forest a little way away. From here she could just make out the roof of a summer house hidden amongst the woodland. There were many leaves and small sticks lying on the ground from the previous night’s storm, and she watched for a moment as a gardener tried to clear away as much as he could.
Sensing movement on the terrace below, she looked down and watched as the very gentleman who haunted her dreams smoked a cheroot while leaning casually against the terrace balustrade. From here she could make very little out of his features, and yet his height and stature gave him away.
He stood outdoors, covered only by a thin white shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular form, which flexed beneath t
he shirt with the smallest amount of movement. Lizzie sighed, admiring his muscled thighs that today were encased in tan, skin-tight breeches. Not for the first time she was jealous of whoever ended up marrying him.
He walked along the terrace, looking out on the grounds as well, and she realized he wore no boots. She’d never seen a man’s feet before, and seeing Lord Wakely’s only left her eager to see more of him in a similarly naked way.
She ran her finger along the pane of glass. What a shame it was that men like Lord Wakely were never interested in the meek, mild debutantes who graced Almack’s with their parents in hand. Something she was still unfortunately doing, since her mother wasn’t privy to her endowment. She only had two more years and the money her cousin had bestowed upon her would be hers, marriage no longer a necessity. Her mother could be told then, when she no longer had any say in her life. Until then, Lizzie was happy to behave, and do as she was told.
Men like Lord Wakely enjoyed women, married or otherwise, such as the ones at this house party. They only wanted their wives to grace ballrooms with elegance and accomplishment that would do their names proud, but never to love and be besotted by them. Unless they were cut from a different cloth, like her cousin Lord Leighton, the Duke of Athelby, or the Marquess of Aaron, who were the exceptions to that rule.
A longing to know what it was exactly that went on between husband and wife assailed Lizzie, and with it an urge to stomp her foot. Last evening she should have pressed him for more, taken what she wanted and be damned the consequence.
She should’ve shoved her fears aside and kissed him, not concerned herself with what he would say and do. Then, if he had sent her home without touching her, without bestowing her first kiss, well, it wouldn’t have been without trying. In any case his rejection of her hurt, but at least if she had been brave she would’ve had a kiss, chaste as it might be, before she was bade goodnight.
Now, she seemed to have missed her chance. If the rumors were true, he was courting Miss Fox–a woman with ducal titles in her blood, who would bring to marriage numerous estates, and money. Lots of it. Did he care for that woman? Was that why he pulled away? The ton whispered that the union would only be a marriage of convenience, but maybe it wasn’t. The thought depressed her. She didn’t want Lord Wakely to want anyone else.