‘Prudence,’ she said, hating the word.
‘I wrote to her as soon as I received her letter and promised her that it would not be long until I returned.’ He shook his head. ‘She was fine when I left. But that was nearly four months ago. She is running out of time. And since we cannot find the diamonds...’
There was no reason for him to stay. They both knew it was true, but she did not want to hear him say so. ‘There might still be hope. There are a few journals I have not read.’
‘We know where they are. But short of tearing down a wall of the ballroom, I don’t know what good the knowledge will do us,’ he said. ‘I will write to Comstock and make certain recommendations that will provide for your future. But as for mine?’ He gave her a sad smile. ‘It would be best if I fill my valise with the second-best silver and be on my way.’
‘You cannot...’ But she had no idea how to end the sentence. She could not tell him that she would die without him. She had never believed in such melodramatic displays. She had promised that she would let him go without argument when the time came. She had been sure that she had no heart to break.
‘We are not finished,’ she said, at last. ‘We have not...’
He touched a finger to her lips to stop her from speaking. ‘I am afraid we are,’ he said. ‘I am ashamed that I had to be reminded of the fact by Chilson. But what I said yesterday evening is still true. I cannot do more than I have done already because I am not the sort of man who would lie down with a virgin who has only the most superficial interest in me, to satisfy her curiosity and my personal desires.’
‘But you want to,’ she said, remembering how he had been in the billiard room. ‘And so do I.’
‘And we both know that it is dangerous in more ways than one to be governed by fleeting desires,’ he said. ‘We have but to look at the trouble caused by Prudence and a long string of Comstocks to see that.’ Then, he leaned forward and kissed her, quickly and with lips firmly closed so she would not take the wrong meaning from it. ‘And now, if you will excuse me? I need to find myself a sideboard to pillage.’
* * *
Charity sat silent, as Dill combed out her hair and prepared her for bed, ignoring the maid’s attempts to chat. If she had not managed to speak today, when the words might have made a difference to Potts, she did not want to begin talking now that he had gone to his room. After he had left, she had pored over house plans and journals for the better part of the day, not bothering to change for dinner and asking for a tray to be brought to the library. Chilson was probably disappointed to find that there was no need at all for a chaperon. The man he’d feared had decided she was not worth the effort.
She had hoped to find some scrap of information that might change his mind and convince him to search a little longer, but in the end, it had come to naught. The house as she remembered it had little to do with what it had been when any of the parts had been built. The combined plans showed a tangle of rooms that had been demolished and built over, or repurposed, or sealed. Doorways and stairs had been added or removed on the whim of the current occupants. Very few of them had kept proper records of what they’d done and when they’d done it.
At any time in those long disappointing hours, she could have given up and found him so that she might tell him the truth. What had started as physical desire on her part was growing into something far more complicated. It did not matter that what she felt for him could have no future. The thought of him disappearing from her life tomorrow was almost too much to bear.
If she had given him some indication of a deeper attraction than physical desire, then he might have been more receptive to her overtures. Instead, she had let him continue to think that what she wanted was nothing more than lust. He had rejected her not because he did not like or want her. He had rejected her because he thought she was as shallow and easily seduced as the woman he meant to marry.
Now Dill had left her and Pepper was sound asleep on the end of her bed, unaware that she had not joined him. The house was quiet. But Charity felt as if she would never sleep again, unless the gulf she had created between herself and Potts had been breached. It might not change the way he felt about her, but she doubted it would make things any worse.
She rose from the dressing table and left her room, creeping nightgowned and barefooted down the length of the family wing and then down the even longer guest wing, until she arrived at the door of the Tudor Room.
Then she paused, realising how foolish and impulsive her plan was. She could see no light coming from the crack under the door. He might already be asleep. Even if he was awake, he might feign sleep and refuse to answer the door when she knocked. Since he had not even bothered to wish her goodnight, she had no reason to think he would welcome her company, once the lights were out.
But if he was taken unawares, he could not refuse her. She had but to open the door. If he was asleep, she would sneak away again. And if not?
She knocked once, then opened before her nerve failed her.
Though the room was lit only by moonlight and the banked fire, he was not asleep. He stood at the window, his back towards her, staring out into the garden. And he was naked. She had wanted to tell him that it was not just his appearance that she admired. But good Lord above, he looked like Michelangelo’s David must look from the rear.
But much angrier. For when he turned to see who had interrupted his privacy, his face turned from pensive to irate. ‘Miss Strickland, avert your eyes!’
She did as she was ordered, but not before she caught a glimpse of him grabbing for the shirt that hung on the back of a chair and throwing it over his head. Then he was stalking across the room, hand already outstretched to grab her and put her out.
She dodged to the side before he could reach her, closing the door as she did so. ‘Please. Wait. I need to talk to you.’
‘Whatever it is can wait until morning,’ he snapped, reaching for the door handle.
She moved in front of him, pressing her shoulders into the closed door and hiding the handle behind her body. ‘What point is there in waiting? You are an early riser and I will no doubt wake to find that you have already gone.’
By the stricken look he gave her, it was clear that she had guessed the truth.
‘Before you go, I must speak. I was not totally honest with you. And I cannot let another minute pass without correcting the mistake I have made.’
Now that the moment had come, she was afraid to meet his gaze, lest it show that her feelings were not reciprocated. But it did not help to look down, either. That only made her aware of the bare feet and legs beneath his shirt and the curious way the front of the hem seemed to jut out, away from his body.
‘Speak, then.’ The words came in a low growl, as if he was more animal than gentleman.
‘This afternoon, you seemed to think that my reasons for wanting you as I do were trivial. You seemed to think that it was nothing more than your good looks that attracted me. You thought my desire was some passing fancy and I did nothing to correct you. But that is not the truth.’
‘Then what is?’ he snapped. ‘Are you attracted to my fortune? My good name?’
‘You are the most brilliant man I have ever met.’
When he did not respond, she gathered her courage and looked up. He was frowning, but from confusion rather than anger.
‘The way you outsmarted me at the dower house. The way you beat me at chess. The puzzle box. Everything,’ she said, holding her hands out to him in a gesture of defeat. ‘I have never met anyone who could do those things. And when you did...’ She dropped her hands to her side. ‘I do not know how to talk to men. And your looking the way you do should make it impossible to speak to you at all. But somehow, when I am with you, everything seems easier.’
‘Everything?’ he said and she saw the beginning of a smile.
‘Almost everything,’ she corrected,
suddenly very conscious of the lateness of the hour and the thinness of her nightclothes.
‘I wish I could say the same of you,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You have the quickest mind that I have encountered, male or female, though you are only a slip of a girl. And you are excellent company.’ He took a step closer. ‘But when I am with you, nothing is easy. I cannot seem to think straight and my common sense all but disappears.’
‘Is that bad?’ she whispered.
‘We will decide tomorrow, when I have to leave,’ he whispered back. ‘But I would like to spend tonight with you.’ Then he leaned forward and kissed her. His lips moved to her cheeks, her eyes and her hair, before returning to her mouth, settling there, coming home.
It was even better than it had been in the billiard room, for there were not so many troublesome clothes in the way as he held her. His bare legs were touching hers, the hairs on them tickling her. She could feel each muscle in the arms that held her. And it took only a tug of his fingers to open her nightgown and push it down her shoulders. She gasped as the cloth slid away, leaving her breasts uncovered.
At any moment, he would explain why what she wanted more than anything in the world could not possibly happen. Then he would send her back to her room. She had prepared an argument to counter his rejection, but it did not come. Instead, he was staring down at her breasts in silence. Then his hand reached to touch them, a featherlight brush of his fingers that made her gasp. He smiled at her response and covered one of them, then nodded with satisfaction at the way it seemed to fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.
He was not stopping. Perhaps it was her imagination, but when she stared down, the prominence beneath his shirt seemed to be increasing. And he did not seem to mind her curiosity, nor order her to look away as he had a few moments ago. She forced herself to look up, into his eyes. ‘Does this mean...?’
Potts was smiling at her now. ‘Having second thoughts? It is not too late to turn coward, you know.’
No,’ she said hurriedly. ‘But thus far, you have been adamant that we must not do what I think we are about to.’
He sighed. ‘That was before you flattered my intelligence. You are the first woman to do so and I find it difficult to resist.’
‘Only difficult?’ she said in a voice made breathless by his touch.
His hand rubbed her nipple as he shrugged. ‘There is also the fact that you have surprised me at bedtime and we have very little clothing between us.’ He kissed the side of her throat before continuing. ‘It has left me fully aroused and incapable of begging you to think of your future.’
‘And after last night, there is probably not much of my innocence left to preserve.’
‘You would be surprised,’ he said. Then his mouth took her breast and she decided she had been wrong. He drew her nipple into his mouth and as he suckled, one of his hands lifted her skirt and touched her, entered her and thrust in time with his pulls. The climax that resulted was sudden and short, and she had to cling to his shoulders to keep from collapsing to the floor.
He raised his head and kissed her mouth again. ‘No scream tonight? I must try harder.’
‘You have not yet given me what I asked for,’ she said, trying to be glib.
‘And what is that?’ he said. His finger moved inside her again.
‘More,’ she said, at last, still unable to say the necessary words, though she knew them well enough.
He took her hand from his shoulder and dragged it down his body, wrapping it around his erect manhood through the linen of his shirt.
She nodded. ‘Inside me.’ Then she released him and reached under his shirt to hold him properly.
He sucked a breath in through his teeth and released her to yank the shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. Then he put a hand over hers, guiding her exploration. She stroked, amazed. He was not as hard as the thing that he had used on her in the billiard room. But he was warm and alive, large and still growing in her hand as she touched him.
She had said that how he looked did not matter. But that was not totally true. ‘May I look at you?’ she whispered.
‘If you return the favour,’ he said. He moved out of her grasp and pulled her nightgown over her head, leaving her as naked as he was. Then he took her by the hand and led her to his bed, opening the curtains so the moonlight might stream in and touch their skin. He climbed in, lying on his side and patting the mattress beside him.
He was looking at her. For a moment, she forgot to indulge her own curiosity. He opened his mouth to speak and she put a finger to his lips to stop the words. If he said them, she might not believe. But the look in his eyes right now said that, for tonight at least, she was beautiful and he loved her.
Only then did she allow herself to enjoy him, with her eyes and her hands. His hard, flat nipples were almost hidden in the cloud of dark hair on his chest and a line of it trailed down his stomach to the place she had touched him. Now she traced it with her fingers, wrapping one hand around him, cupping the sack beneath with the other.
He gasped again.
‘I am not hurting you?’ she asked, prepared to withdraw.
‘Please, continue,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘I will tell you if it becomes too much.’
‘Too much,’ she repeated, trying to imagine what it would be like to push him beyond his limits.
‘If you continue touching me, I will lose control.’ He took a shaky breath as her hands moved on him. ‘But it might be for the best. I should not spend inside you.’
‘Because of the risk of making a child,’ she said. She felt a bead of moisture forming at the tip. ‘But I am not afraid.’ She stroked him again, slowly. Then she moved her hips to press against his.
He closed his eyes and touched her breasts, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs as she held him between her legs, letting him feel how wet she was becoming. Then she teased herself with the head of his penis.
As she brought herself near to breaking again, his hands pressed harder on her breasts. Then he gave a sudden buck of his hips and pulled away from her hands, grabbing her by the waist, rolling her on to her back, pushing her legs apart. He was on top of her now, spreading the lips of her body and pushing inside her.
Without him having to urge her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting to be even closer to him as he moved, lifting her head and begging for the kiss that would smother her cries.
He shook his head. ‘I want to watch.’ Then he raised himself on his hands to free his hips as he thrust.
She cried out as she had last night, and again, moaning as he moved faster. Then he slowed. ‘Touch yourself,’ he commanded. ‘You know where.’
She slipped her hands between them, touching the place where they were joined before moving forward and giving herself up to pleasures that only increased at his answering thrusts. Then she reached her peak, tumbling down the other side of it, as his body tightened and then collapsed, limp on top of her.
He lay still for a moment. Then, he whispered, ‘Why did I ever fight this? You are sublime.’
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered back. ‘You are usually so intelligent.’
He laughed and rolled off her. ‘Now that it has been done, I do not think we will make matters any worse by doing it again. After a little rest, of course.’
‘How little?’ she asked.
He laughed again, rolled her on her side and gathered her to him, her back against his chest, grinding his hips against her. ‘You will feel when I am ready, you wicked girl.’ Then he kissed the side of her neck. ‘But there is no reason to rush. We have all night.’
‘Yes.’ She sighed, smiling into the darkness ahead of her.
And the darkness smiled back. As she stared at the bedside table a foot from her face, she saw the outline of the little miniature propped against the candle stand and the perfect white smile of the
lovely Prudence.
She stiffened in his arms.
‘Cold?’ he murmured. ‘Let me keep you warm.’
‘Yes,’ she replied, shivering. Then she turned in his arms until she could see nothing but him.
Chapter Sixteen
A man could get used to this.
Miles stretched his feet to their fullest length, enjoying the way his toes did not poke out from under the covers or extend past the edge of the mattress. Then he threw his arms wide and did the same.
It was likely no bigger than the bed he’d rented at the Clarendon in London. That had been soft and clean, as well.
But here, the bed was exceptional. Not just clean, but pristine, pressed flat as paper and just as white. The hangings were purple velvet, the coverlet silk brocade. He felt like the King that had given the suite its name.
At the movement of his body, the heavy linen of the sheets rubbed his naked skin in a way that was as decadent as the kisses he had received last night. If he had not taken the lady back to her room, she’d be waking beside him and they’d have made love again. Then he’d have called for the servants to bring breakfast on a tray, so they could refresh themselves and make love once more.
Since this was his fantasy, he substituted the shirred eggs, fish, muffins and strong, black tea that they’d been feeding him for johnnycakes with maple syrup, black coffee and Kentucky corn whisky. He could imagine the taste of them, heavy sweetness and the grit of cornmeal. The taste of the liquor, both sharp and smooth. The smell of pine forests and the gulls screaming over the Delaware. There was so much about home that he missed: the newness of it all, the rough edges and the feeling of a world to conquer, just a few miles to the west.
But what use had he for the frontier? He forced himself to get out of the bed, stretching in the chill bedroom air and glancing out the window. The phrase, ‘master of all he surveyed’, popped into his head. Until this week, it had been nothing more than an expression. Suddenly, it was true. He had been reminded by the Prince Regent himself that though, technically, the land belonged to the Crown, he was responsible for the care of every inch of the property he could see, all the way to the horizon.
How Not to Marry an Earl Page 14