The Lady and the Rake: A Scandalous Arrangement (The Eardleys of Gostwicke Hall Book 1)

by Penelope Redmont

  After dinner, her mother and sisters played cards. Melly sat through a game of whist, then made her excuses.

  Where was Linton?

  Countess

  In her role as the future Countess of Linton, Lady Linton ensured that Melly had the largest suite of rooms at Durham Ward Lodge. "These are the countess's rooms. It would be thought strange indeed, if I did not give them to you," she had assured Melly.

  Bessie helped Melly to change into her night attire. She brushed out Melly's waist-length gold curls. Usually that soothed Melly. Tonight it merely irritated her. "Just plait my hair please… then leave me."

  Finally Bessie said her good nights and left but Melly was too agitated to sleep.

  She couldn't get Linton out of her mind. Should she cry off?

  When she'd attempted to ask her mother, before they left London for Newmarket, Mrs. Eardley had brushed off the suggestion. "Indeed you must not. You cannot, my dear — and if you're having doubts, you should have considered it more carefully. Cry off now? No, indeed. It would ruin you — and your sisters."

  Her mother was so agitated that Melly retreated, realizing that her mother was right. She couldn't cry off so soon, she had to wait, until after her season at the very least. However uncomfortable she found her situation, to the world she was the betrothed of the earl.

  Melly forced herself to stop pacing around the sitting room of her suite. She hadn't considered what her faux betrothal would mean, but it was done. She wasn't tired, so she would read she decided, until she dozed off.

  A stack of new novels sat on a side table. A basket contained fruit. She took an apple, chose the top novel on the stack, then turned down the lamps. In her enormous bedroom, she needed a set of steps to climb into the vast bed.

  The bed was easily three times the size of any bed she'd ever seen. With determination, she adjusted four pillows at the head of the bed, climbed underneath the covers, and settled down to read.

  The book was nonsense. Melly hated the insipid heroine, a servant girl who was a duchess in disguise. She tossed the book to the bottom of the bed, then sent two pillows flying in the same direction. With her hands underneath her head, she studied the stitching of the top of the bed's canopy.

  A sound startled her. She heard the door to her sitting room creak open.

  Bessie had long retired. Perhaps it was her mother, or one of her sisters. Was someone ill? She tossed aside the covers, hitched herself to the side of the bed, and slid off it. Her bare feet sank into the thick, soft carpet.

  "Yes?" She called, shrugging on her robe. "Come in — I'm awake," she said, although she yawned.

  When she looked up, she couldn't believe it — Linton.

  Melly stared. Suddenly energy pulsed through her body, and all thoughts of weariness vanished. She was wide awake.

  Finally, she realized that her mouth was open. She closed it, but she couldn't suppress her happy smile — she'd missed him.

  He wore riding breeches, and his riding coat. He answered her smile. "How are you, my dear? You look well — and most enticing." His glance wandered over her robe, to her bare feet, then back up to her face.

  "I am well thank you, and thank you, my lord, for your gifts," she said. Her heart beat faster. She swallowed hard.

  When they arrived at Durham Ward Lodge, three gifts had been waiting in Melly's room. Five pairs of fine Italian leather gloves, in green, lavender, black, red, and maroon; a small emerald and diamond clip, which could be worn in her hair, or pinned to a pelisse; and a delicate ivory brise fan.

  Bessie had opened the packages with excitement. “Look, ma'am, they're all from Lord Linton!"

  At the time, Melly had thought that she would have enjoyed the gifts more if Linton had given them to her directly. Without his presence they just made her sad.

  "They're trifles for your enjoyment. I like thinking of things which might amuse you."

  She was suddenly aware that his gaze continued wandering up and down her body; tingles resulted wherever that gaze alighted. He shouldn't be in her bedroom, it was most improper. Nor should she be in déshabillé while she was in his company.

  Unable to control the flush and heat which engulfed her, she hurried past him, into the sitting room, and lit a lamp. Her hands were shaking. Turning, she frowned at him. "You shouldn't be here," she said. She tightened the tie belt of her robe, then folded her arms. "It's most — most improper. I'm not dressed."

  "Forgive me, I was in a rush to see my betrothed — I haven't seen you for almost two weeks."

  Melly compressed her lips. Whose fault was that, she thought. She'd been waiting and waiting for him.

  "Cross, my sweet? Why?"

  She sat on the sofa, and pulled a knitted throw around her. His sharp attention to her person made her wretchedly nervous, although she tried to hide it. "Of course I'm cross," she said. "Shouldn't you call on me now we are betrothed? I see more of Hexham than I see of you." She realized that that was impolite. Of course he was busy, with many duties. "Forgive me."

  He sat beside her.

  Although she was intensely aware of him, she refused to look at him.

  "You missed me?"

  "You needn't sound so surprised, and besides, I did not miss you, not at all, it's just that I'm surprised that you never call on me."

  "I shall do better," he said solemnly. "I've no idea how betrothed couples go on, you see, since I haven't been betrothed before."

  "You're mocking me, Randall, and that's unkind."

  He moved closer, until his thigh touched hers. Then he put an arm along the back of the sofa, and rested his other hand on hers, where she clutched the wool of the throw. She inhaled deeply of leather, cedarwood, and his own scent.

  His fingertips touched her cheek, so that she was forced to look at him. She knew that he was about to kiss her, but all she was aware of was his warmth, the intense grey-green of his gaze — and his lips.

  She licked her lips. He groaned, set his lips on hers, and gently pulled her into his arms.

  Soft, she thought, his lips were so soft… As soon as she thought that, they firmed.

  "Open," he said. "Open your lips, Mel…"

  She had no idea what he meant, but opened her mouth, and was shocked when his tongue touched hers. She shivered and lifted her arms so that she could touch him.

  His arms tightened around her.

  Intense sensations engulfed her body. She'd never felt anything like this, and she wanted to get even closer to him. She heard a whimper, and realized that she'd made it.

  The sensations she was feeling crowded out thought. When she wriggled to get even closer to him, he released her abruptly, and stood.

  "Sleep well," he said softly. He touched her head for a moment, and then he was gone.

  Melly sat still. She couldn't move, her thoughts wildly scattered as she tried to make sense of what she had experienced. When he'd kissed her so deeply, an intense yearning had arisen in her. She wanted to get closer to him.

  Finally, she rose and turned out the lamp.

  In bed, she lay awake, realizing that she had made a mistake in agreeing to the betrothal — she'd had no idea of what that truly meant.

  10. Feelings

  Next morning, only Catherine was in the breakfast room when Melly came downstairs. She looked up from the newspaper she was reading. "There you are. We seem to be the only early risers, except for Linton. He's gone to Newmarket — he said that he would see you later in the day. We can ride out in time for the races this afternoon, if you like. Mother and Anne will take a carriage, but I prefer to be on horseback."

  Melly accepted hot chocolate, and took a piece of toast from the tray which a footman set in front of her.

  "What's the matter?" Catherine asked.

  Melly shook her head, and slanted her gaze at the footmen. She wanted to ask Catherine about the kiss, but now wasn't the time. Not only were two footman in the room, a maid hurried in, with two covered serving dishes, which she set on the si
deboard. "I need to speak with you," she whispered. "It's important."

  Catherine's eyebrows lifted, and she rose, tossing her napkin onto the table. "Certainly. You can come to my sitting room when you've finished. Try the rolls, they're still warm. And that rose petal jam is delicious. I must get the recipe from the cook."

  Half an hour later, Melly was in Catherine's rooms. They were almost as spacious as her own, and the dressing room, where Catherine's maid was adjusting her hair, was larger.

  Catherine met Melly's gaze in her mirror, and dismissed her maid. "Well then — here we are… Tell me what's troubling you."

  "Linton came to my rooms late last night."

  Catherine sat up, and slammed the comb she held onto the lacquered top of the dressing table. "What? What did he do?"

  "He kissed me."

  Catherine had half-risen from the stool, but sat down again. She inhaled deeply, and visibly collected herself for a moment. "That was badly done of him," she said mildly.

  Although her sister's tone was calm, Melly knew that look in Catherine's eye. She would confront Linton, and Melly didn't want that. She played with the ends of a ribbon on her morning gown. "I know I'm being missish, and he's kissed me before —"

  "Has he indeed?"

  "Yes. Once. But last night, I had strong feelings…"

  "I see." Catherine cleared her throat. "And they frightened you." She stood up. "Come, let's speak for a moment."

  She led the way into the sitting room, and sat on a sofa. "Did you… enjoy the feelings?"

  "No."

  "Be truthful, Melly."

  "Well, yes, I did — but why? I couldn't think when he held me — what happened to me?"

  "I've told you about what happens on your wedding night," Catherine said gently.

  Melly could feel the heat of discomfort engulfing her.

  "The sensations you felt — how should I put this? They make you feel closer to a man, they bond you to him. Linton is well aware of this. He should not have kissed you, because kisses will make it more difficult for you when you cry off, as you must." Catherine paused in thought, turning a large diamond ring on her left forefinger.

  Then she took Melly's cold hand in her warm one, and squeezed it. "The feelings were strange, Melly, but they're nothing which needs to worry you. Accept them, but do try to keep your wits about you, and don't put yourself into a situation where Linton allows himself to overstep."

  "Please don't speak to Linton," Melly said. "I wanted this faux betrothal, and why should he not kiss me?"

  "Haven't you been listening? I just told you why — you intend crying off." Catherine's tone became acerbic, and she dropped Melly's hand.

  "Promise me that you will not speak with Lord Linton," Melly asked.

  Catherine rolled her eyes. "Very well." She sighed. "It's not a conversation I'd relish, and besides, you're young — it's natural for you to be shocked." Pausing for a moment, she gathered her thoughts.

  "Listen to me." Catherine took Melly's hand again. Her tone was earnest. "Linton is much more experienced than you are, and he's no fool. I'm convinced that he has feelings for you. He's not a man I'd want for you, and I know that you'll tire of him, once you meet other — younger, and more suitable men during your season… Hexham's pursuing you. Others will too. I won't say anything to Linton, but I'll make it plain that he's to treat you with the utmost respect. He doesn't want me for an enemy."

  Linton watched while his trainer and groom readied his horse for the first race.

  His trainer legged up the jockey onto the horse, a rangy chestnut gelding, then tossed the jockey's hat up to him, and handed him the whip.

  "Not the whip," Linton shook his head, and the jockey tossed the whip back to the trainer.

  "Keep him steady," Linton warned the jockey. "No front running — keep him behind. I want to keep him healthy, even if he doesn't win."

  The chestnut, Jane's Folly, was a "could do better" horse, and had constant problems with his legs or his hooves. His trainer advised Linton to sell him, since he couldn't breed him.

  Linton refused. He liked the horse in spite of his problems. Jane's Folly was enthusiastic, and was always interested in what went on around him. In personality, he was a champion. Unfortunately, he hadn't proved himself in competition. He might never win, but Linton hated selling horses on. He'd give Jane's Folly a few more outings. Then he'd retire him to one of his estates, and keep him as a hack.

  He glanced at his pocket watch. Another twenty minutes to first call, when the horses stepped onto the track.

  Where was Mel? He'd greeted Mrs. Eardley and Lady Kingston, who'd arrived in a carriage. Mrs. Grove and Mel had yet to arrive; they were riding out to the racetrack.

  No doubt they had been waylaid by Hexham, who was bound to have a couple of spies in Linton's household. Hexham was determined in his pursuit, he'd give him that, but Linton knew that Mel had no feelings for the man.

  And speaking of feelings… He grinned slightly. He expected that he'd receive another blistering lecture from Mrs. Grove, if he didn't mistake her. She would discover somehow that he'd visited Mel in her rooms, and would not be pleased.

  It had been a mistake. Melly's inexperienced kiss had rattled him severely, and it was lucky that he'd managed to stop himself before he went too far. His feet had taken him to her door without conscious volition.

  He'd wanted to see her, that was all. Realizing that she was in his house was satisfying. She was under his roof, finally.

  Not seeing her was the devil, but it was for the best. He was well on his way to making himself a fool over her, as Sir Robert had pointed out.

  "You realize that you're acting like a man in love," his friend had said, looking at him with curiosity.

  Linton had been choosing a fan for Mel at the time. The shop counter was covered with fans, before he found the right one for her.

  In love? That idea startled Linton. He didn't believe in love. He lusted for Mel, yes, but not in the same way that he'd wanted an opera dancer, or a courtesan. He wanted to be close to her, but her happiness was what counted most to him.

  "I want her to be happy," he admitted.

  "Lord save us all from a reformed rake — Linton… be careful."

  He had no idea what Robert meant.

  "Linton — there you are."

  He knew that tinkle of laughter, and winced.

  Lady Ashby. He turned to face her.

  He'd paid her off. She had a new protector, so why was she here? "Go away," he said curtly, when she approached him and reached for his arm.

  He backed away from her.

  She followed, and took his arm anyway. "How unkind you are," she said, glancing up at him from under her eyelashes, while her lips turned down at the corners. "We're friends, are we not?" She reached up, and patted his face with her gloved hand.

  "What are you doing here?"

  He stepped away from her again, but she clung to his arm, and laughed at him. "I'm here for the races, what else? Please show me your horses, Linton — I wish to see them."

  He sighed. This wasn't the time nor the place for an argument with her. "Val, I have no time for this. Leave me be. You know of my betrothal — so keep away from me."

  She glanced to the side. "Oh Linton… how unkind you are…"

  Before he knew what had happened, she stepped closed to him, raised herself until she was on tiptoe, and pulled his head down. She kissed him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth.

  He laughed and twisted his head, then grabbed her arm so that he could free himself. "Stop this foolishness… What are you about?"

  She was a tall woman, just a few inches shorter than he. "It's a kiss," she said breathily, "that's all. Kiss me now, and I'll leave you be, I promise."

  He sighed, and did as she asked. As soon as he lowered his head, she pasted herself against him, and slid both arms around his neck, holding tightly.

  Finally she broke the kiss, and twinkled up at him. "I will see you late
r, my lord."

  When Linton looked up, Mel was standing a few paces away. He realized that Valerie had created the performance deliberately. She'd seen Mel.

  And Mel was beyond furious. Pure temper flared in her gaze.

  A kiss

  Melly had no idea how Captain Lord Hexham had discovered that she and Catherine meant to ride to the races, but he was waiting at the stables when their horses were brought around.

  He bowed to Melly and Catherine from the saddle, and made small talk during their ride to Newmarket.

  Of course Melly had known that Hexham would be at Newmarket, but she hadn't expected that he would find her so quickly. She realized that he must have a spy in Linton's household. She didn't know whether to be pleased, or to be annoyed. However, she knew that when they returned to London she had to find a way of seeing far less of Captain Lord Hexham.

  When they reached Newmarket, the three grooms who had accompanied them took their horses away.

  Hexham bowed, then extended an arm to Catherine, and to Melly. "Ladies? Allow me to escort you through the throng."

  "We'd better hurry if we wish to place bets on the first race," Catherine said. She'd given a couple of coins to a small child who was handing out racing sheets. She gave one of the sheets to Melly.

  Hexham teased Melly into placing bets on three of his horses as well as on Linton's, although she hadn't meant to wager on Hexham's horses.

  Catherine told them that she would go to find Mrs. Eardley. "I'll see if she wants to wager on the races. Anne isn't a gambler, so she won't offer… I'll see you later," she patted Melly's arm, and narrowed a warning gaze on Hexham. "Look after my sister."

  He assured her that he would.

  Where was Linton? "Please take me to see Lord Linton's horses," she asked Hexham.

  He rolled his eyes at her, but grinned. "Very well."

  Finally she saw Linton. He was speaking with someone. She saw only his broad back, covered in dark blue superfine wool. However, he was so tall that she couldn't mistake him. "There he is."