“Do you suppose your friend had the forethought to leave tea in one of her cupboards?”
Eliza looked up, alertness brimming in her eyes. She stood. “Allow me to look. It shall occupy my mind until the storm passes and we can return to London.”
Nicholas watched her examine shelves and compartments then heard her delighted exclamation as she turned clutching a bottle of brandy. “Tis perfect. Not tea but this should warm us. Shall we?”
He smiled, happy to see her at ease. Standing he took the unopened bottle while she fetched two glasses. When finally filled them and pressed one into her hand, he watched her examine the contents and then sniff gingerly. The smile she gave him was sunshine bright. Without hesitation, she tossed back the contents. Instantly her eyes filled and she struggled for breath. “Oh my,” she finally managed as tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. “That was delicious.”
You, my dear, are delicious!
He dared not speak the words that blasted through his brain.
What a fascinating woman. Eliza was prickly on the outside and soft within, every nuance encased in a beautiful package that practically begged to be opened. How fortunate that he’d be gifted soon. He could barely contain the pleasure he felt at nearing his goal. She was about more than winning a ridiculous bet or gaining an inheritance. So much more. Eliza was the sort who would never bore him and always enchant.
Following her lead, he tossed the fiery drink down his throat, set the glass aside and moved close. He took her glass as her gaze turned wary, confused. She was a woman who thought entirely too much, examined each little thing with the precision of a surgeon and Nicholas didn’t want that from her. Not now. He wanted what every man wanted. He wanted to taste his bride.
“And I suspect you taste as sweet as the brandy.” He raised his hand, cupped her cheek and heard the intake of her breath as he leaned close. “I must know. Forgive me but I must kiss you,” he whispered before brushing his lips over hers in a touch as soft as butterfly wings. Again and again, he teased her until that simple teasing was not enough. Eliza gasped in his mouth as he pulled her close and tasted her with a hunger he’d never know before. He’d had women aplenty in his wild and frivolous youth but nothing compared with the feel of this woman in his arms. The thin barrier of cotton barely contained the hard peaks of her nipples and he felt them like a brand against his chest. He skin was soft…so soft. It felt like down beneath his fingers as he stroked her throat, her shoulders, and down the length of her arm. Her fingers entwined with his as the kiss carried them into the realm of an uncontainable passion.
This was completely inappropriate but he could not stop. It seemed he’d waited forever for this particular woman and now he had her in his arms.
Plunging his tongue deep, increasing the strength of his hold on her lush body, Nicholas drank her down, inhaled her, as the craving for her grew. He changed the angle of the kiss and if he’d been the begging sort of man, would have gone to his knees before her.
“Nicholas, I─”
“Tell me to stop and I will though I vow it shall kill me to do so. You are the sweetest treasure,” he whispered, stunned by the rusty quality of his voice.
“I should. I should but find I am weak in your arms. What in heaven’s name have you done to me? I have vowed to need no man but just a kiss, just a touch makes me someone I have never met before.”
Nicholas filled his hands with her breasts and had the pleasure of watching her eyes close. A look of rapture, of bliss settled upon her fine features as he plied her flesh. The sheet loosened exposing her further to his touch, his gaze. A shiver shook her but he suspected it was not the chill in the air that made her tremble so. He bent to take one pink-tipped nipple into his mouth. Sucking gently at first, then stronger, he reveled in the sound of Eliza’s broken breathing, the gasping little sounds she made. Moving to the other breast, loving the temptation of her naked body pressed against him, he drew his tongue over the hardened tip, sucking the morsel with bursts of suction that made Eliza cry out.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against her damp nipple. “Tell me now or, by God, there will be no turning back.”
“You shall hear no refusal from my lips. What have you done to me?”
He lifted her into his arms and turned toward the open bedroom door. She was soft and pliant against his chest and willing to let him take her. This wasn’t how he wished their first time to be…here in a stranger’s house but it would have to do. At this moment, he had no choice. The demands of his body overrode what good sense he yet possessed.
Suddenly a loud series of raps sounded upon the front door and he halted mid-stride. Eliza stiffened in his arms and without hesitation he allowed her to regain her footing. Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for her to go inside the bedroom. When she obeyed, a frantic look in her eyes, Nicholas went to the front door, opened it, and peered out into the gloomy late-afternoon. The storm had abated and he’d not noticed. Little wonder that.
A small woman stood framed in the entrance a look of surprise stamped upon her face as she lowered her fist. He instantly recognized Eliza’s maid. “’Tis sorry I am, Your Grace, to disturb you, but is Lady Eliza Grayson here? I am her maid, Pandora, and I must speak with her immediately.”
“As luck would have it, she is. Do come in. We retreated from the storm on our way back to London. Have you come from there?”
“No, I have come from up the road.” Gravitating to the fire’s warmth, she held out her hands and stared toward the bedroom door, suspicion bright in her eyes. It wasn’t difficult to see the little maid harbored secrets she was reluctant to reveal. Finally, she relented. “I have been with her since we set out this morning. She visited friends near here.” She turned to face him. “When I noticed foul weather approaching, I asked her not to go but she is stubborn.”
Nicholas smiled. “I have learned that sad truth lately, much to my dismay. Go now and tend your mistress.”
“Aye, Your Grace.” The maid bobbed a curtsey and disappeared into the bedroom.
Making use of the time, he donned his barely damp shirt and tugged his boots on before gathering up his remaining garments. Aside from the distinct crackling of the fireplace, the cottage was silent as the grave. He knew not what excuses Eliza might provide her maid as to the state of her undress but he couldn’t concern himself with that now. Now, it was imperative he see the women back to London to prevent the further worry of Eliza’s frantic parents.
Nicholas stilled when he heard a small sound from behind the closed bedroom door and approached it just at the portal opened. Eliza, fully dressed, though still disheveled gazed at him with tear filled eyes.
“My dear,” he said as he settled his hands upon her arms. “Tell me.”
She wiped away freely falling tears with the backs of her hands. “A friend I saw earlier today has died. I must return to help deal with the situation.” Eliza choked on the words. “I was too late to help.”
At sea, he pulled her close to offer what comfort he could. “Then we must go, dearling. Let me help.”
She drew away to eye him steadily then nodded. “Very well. You will learn a great secret today and I must know I can trust you.” She exchanged a look with her maid who turned and walked from the cottage, leaving them alone. “There are few people on this Earth whom I trust. Can you be one of them?”
“How little you know me but I assure you, I am trustworthy. I am a man of honor.”
Eliza nodded assent, then surprising him, she rose up on her toes to place a tender kiss to his lips. It was then that he caught his breath in true amazement and wonder. Cool, remote, unmovable Eliza stared up at him and at that moment, forever changed his perceptions of her.
Pure emotion, raw and untamed, came alive in her eyes. Tears washed them with a remorse so great Nicholas forgot to breathe.
Stepping back, Eliza clutched her chest for a moment before blinking away the remaining tears. She dragged a heavy breath into her lungs.
“Trust is difficult for me. Sometimes I do not understand the people who inhabit this world.”
Though he had no idea of what she spoke, her cryptic words touched him deeply.
“Neither do I, my dear. Come, let us go.”
Nicholas’ mind swam with curiosity as the three of them rode up the circle drive of a modest Manor house. A tall, blonde woman of obvious breeding stood directing servants in the hanging of black bunting over the door. The wide front windows already bore the proper sign of grief. She must have begun the task immediately following the unfortunate woman’s death.
“Welcome to Charlotte House.”
“Charlotte House? I do not understand.”
“And why should you,” she said. “All will become clear soon, I promise.” As Pandora dismounted with the help of a young groom, Eliza smiled a bit sadly. “The lady directing the hanging of the bunting is Caroline and yes, she is a lady. Of the occupants of Charlotte House, she is the oldest and, no doubt, the wisest. Intelligent and possessed of a sharp wit, she is also practical to a fault. It is not in the least surprising that she has undertaken the business of mourning. I find it quite odd, indeed, that her husband managed to convince authorities she was insane. He is a man of great wealth,” she continued. “No doubt he bribed someone to carry out the nefarious deed of having her committed to an asylum.”
What the bloody hell?
He held his tongue and helped Eliza dismount. Immediately, the lady under discussion rushed up to embrace her. Nicholas stood aside quietly and listened as the women talked.
“We were so worried when the storm broke out,” she said, relief obvious in her voice. She lifted a blonde brow. “Good heavens, dear! You look so damp and bedraggled. Do come inside but first you must introduce me to your companion.”
“Please allow me to present, Duke Weston. Your Grace, this is Lady Caroline. I would tell you her full name, but we do not use them here at Charlotte House. Anonymity is essential.”
Once niceties had been observed, Nicholas noted Eliza’s discomfort and sought quickly to present and explanation for their disheveled appearances. “I came upon Lady Eliza quite unexpectedly during the storm and we sought shelter together.”
The woman eyed him shrewdly. Her brow lifted. “I see.” She smiled at Eliza. “What else could you do?”
Bright flags of color appeared on Eliza’s cheeks. Nicholas knew quite well that their situation was precarious. Word of this leaking into society would mean her ruination. For this reason alone, she must wed him posthaste. He vowed to see to it once they returned to London.
A stable lad rushed up to care for the horses and Nicholas stopped the man. “Once you have dealt with our mounts, I would like you to go to the nearest village and hire a carriage for ou return to London. Can you manage that for me?”
“Yessir,” the man said, grinning as Nicholas tossed him a sovereign. “Right away.”
“The ladies await you,” Caroline said to Eliza. As if by design a group of women appeared on the front steps of the house and he watched as Eliza hurried up to them. Caroline turned her attention to him and gave him a small smile. “Am I to assume the bans will be read soon?”
Nicholas nodded. “Yes, I assure you that will be my first order of business upon our return to London.”
She frowned and spared a glance at Eliza who was, at the moment, surrounded by females in various states of grief. “For many reasons, I am not an advocate of marriage but in the case of Eliza, my greatest wish is for her to find happiness with a wonderful gentleman. It is my fervent hope that you are one.”
Had he been a less confident man, Nicholas might have been offended but he was not. The woman obviously felt protective of Eliza and, since he shared those sentiments, he approved Caroline’s statement. “You need not worry on that account. I assure you, I mean only the best where Lady Eliza is concerned.” He paused to study the house and the occupants gathered there. “So this place is called Charlotte House. I am most curious.”
“Then you must come inside and allow me to introduce you to everyone.”
Once introductions were man, he followed the group of obviously wary women into the house. It was a cheery home despite the air of grief and as he went with the ladies into the front parlor, he took in the space as his curiosity grew.
“Where is Ann?” Eliza asked.
A woman named Harriet Bonnie, who was in an advanced stage of pregnancy, led Eliza to a small settee and spoke softly with a strong Irish accent. “Young Ann has done nothing but cry since the doctor announced the news.”
“Poor child,” Eliza murmured.
Nicholas stood back, taking in the scene. A young girl of no more than sixteen or seventeen curled into the settee’s corner, tears trailing over her pale cheeks. Pretty little thing, he thought. Her hair was dark and caught up in ringlets above each ear. Tiny curls ran the width of her forehead in the popular fashion of the day.
Eliza sat beside her and stroked the young girl’s arm. “Here now, darling. Do not weep so, or you shall become ill.”
Ann sniffled and stared at Eliza through tear-wet lashes. “Oh, my lady. How can someone be so utterly cruel? Even though my father was a tyrant, he was never that monstrous!”
Eliza gathered the sobbing girl into her arms. The breadth of gentleness she displayed showed Nicholas an entirely different side of her than he’d ever seen before.
She stayed with Ann for several moments, whispering and soothing, before she finally stood and addressed the occupants of the room. “I assume Mrs. Brown is upstairs?”
Members of the group nodded and the woman called Kathleen said, “We shall make the parlor ready, m’lady.”
Several men in workmen’s clothing came through the drawing room and began to move furniture aside for the wake.
Eliza turned to Nicholas, “Shall we?”
He nodded then followed her from the parlor and up a winding set of stairs. A plump older woman was just coming from one of the rooms, a basin of water in her hands. When she saw Eliza, she set the basin on a hall table and embraced her.
“How glad I am that Pandora found you before you reached London,” she said before stepping back to look at Nicholas. She bobbed a curtsy.
Eliza made quick introductions. “Mrs. Brown is the directress here at Charlotte House.”
“I see.” Although confused, he fought to hide it.
“We had to seek shelter in your cottage, Imogen. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” In a hushed voice she said, “Mary’s body is prepared. Harriet, bless her soul, donated one of her nicer gowns, as she can’t wear it now anyway. Mary looks fine, all things considered.”
“Thank you,” Eliza murmured.
As Mrs. Brown walked away, Nicholas and Eliza went inside where he saw the body of a woman lying on the white sheets. Dressed in a blue gown and with her hands folded across her heart, she looked almost delicate in death. He moved closer then stopped as if some unseen force had taken control of his limbs. Impossible! A silent, but heartfelt prayer swept through his mind.
Shock and rage began a slow ripple through his senses.
The woman, probably no older than he, had once been lovely. Her body slight, her hair a dark chestnut, she had pretty features, yet someone or something had burned her cruelly.
He cast a look at Eliza, whose head was bowed. She moved her lips as if speaking to the Almighty.
“What happened?” he asked, when at last she lifted her head.
She looked at him, her features carefully blank, and moved to the bedroom’s open window. Leaning again the frame, she stared outside. “Mary was brought to us last night by a brave servant. She is the wife of Lord Findley. Do you know him?”
“No.”
“We have been told the poor woman suffered many miscarriages over the years. Lord Findley, of course, was desperate for an heir. At last, it seemed possible, but yesterday she was delivered of a stillborn babe. In his rage, and while Mary was still in chi
ldbed, he threw coal oil onto her face and set her afire.”
“My God!”
“God was not there to help her, Nicholas. We were. A doctor was called immediately after she was brought here. He arrived soon after I did. Her fever was raging by then, but still, we had hoped she might pull through this tragedy.”
As Eliza turned to face him, Nicholas saw untold agony on her face.
“I bought this house some time ago and named it Charlotte House, in memory of my twin, who was sorely abused in marriage.” Her voice wavered. Moved to comfort, he went to her, gathered her into his arms and held her until the trembling that beset her ended. Finally, he to a settee near the fireplace and sat with her. She leaned against him as he pulled her close.
Compassion consumed him. “You may confide in me, my dear. Your secrets will be mine.”
“Caroline, whom you met outside, was the first to come. She is a countess who had the respect of all who knew her. Her husband, for whatever reason, wanted Caroline out of the way. He placed her in an asylum.”
“She seems inordinately sane to me.”
“Quite so. Our laws simply do not protect women.” Eliza shifted to press closer.
“Harriet, a maid, was raped by her employer and made pregnant. Kathleen is pregnant as well. She was a well-respected governess until her employer, an earl, attacked her. Both women were tossed out without reference and turned away by family. They had nowhere to go.”
“Tell me of Ann. She is so young.”
Eliza looked at him. “Ann’s father is a wealthy merchant who promised his only daughter in marriage to a man of sixty years. Horrified at the prospect, Ann tried to run away. Her father found her and, wanting to teach her a lesson, bound her in the stables and starved her. She was half dead when brought to us.”
“And so you care for them here in Charlotte House.” Warmth unfurled within his chest. He wanted to pull her deep within him and never let her go. How hard she must have worked over the years to keep hidden her warm and generous heart.
Silk and Scandal Page 11