by Robyn DeHart
“That I cannot do.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Does it matter?” How was it possible she could simultaneously be charming and annoying?
“Yes, it does. One implies that you do not wish to share the information with me. The other implies that you cannot tell anyone.”
“If you recall, I work for the Crown,” he said. “That is all I can say.”
“So this is business with the war department,” she said. “Interesting.” She was quiet for several moments. “Though I’ve been through all of Reggie’s maps and I can assure you he was harboring no secrets that would benefit England. In fact, the majority of his maps were commissioned by King George himself.”
“I believe I shall be the judge of what is and isn’t beneficial.” He stepped closer to her, and she backed up until her body was pressed against the wood paneling lining the wall behind her. This close, he could smell the lemon oil the servants used to polish the wood, but even that could not cover Winifred’s scent of spices and cloves. He inhaled.
Her eyes narrowed at him. “So I’m supposed to simply allow you access to my personal belongings simply because you work for the Crown?” she asked.
“Precisely.” When she still had not budged, he added, “These are maps. It is not as if I am asking to rifle through your corsets and chemises.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pink stained her cheeks. “Be that as it may, I shall need more persuading than that.”
He once again fingered the curl by her ear. “It shall be my pleasure.” He braced his hands on either side of her and leaned in close. “I’ve never forgotten you, you know. Those few nights you spent in my bed. Men do not forget women with such passion, such eagerness.”
Her breath hitched. “I’ve changed.”
“Pity.” He leaned in closer and nuzzled her ear. “Do you remember how you would cry out my name? Again and again.” He kissed the pulse that flickered in her neck.
She said nothing.
“I remember this smell, the way you rinse your hair with cloves. You smell exotic, do you know that? Like some goddess from the pages of Homer’s Iliad.” He kissed her throat again. “I still remember how to touch you to make you cry out, to make you beg me to make love to you.”
“I told you, I’ve changed. I’m a widow.” Her words were strong, but her tone weak and unconvincing.
“Am I to believe that Reginald Mirren, the old mapmaker”—he traced a finger across her collarbone—“was such a good lover that you will not respond to my touch anymore?”
She shivered in spite of herself. “I shall not discuss my marriage with you.”
He took her earlobe in his teeth and nibbled. Licked the outer edge of her ear.
She sucked in a breath and he would have sworn she leaned into him.
He had not come here to seduce her, but damned if Winifred wasn’t tempting. He didn’t crave contact with other people, but he was still a man, and certainly still had urges, though normally he could keep them in check. Had she not come into the room with mussed hair and flushed cheeks, he might not have remembered how it had felt to lose himself inside of her willing body. No, that was a lie. He’d never forget her willing body.
He was hard, and he wanted her, right here up against this wall. He moved his lips to her mouth and kissed her, gently, sweetly, as if only to remind himself of her taste. But it wasn’t enough. He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue, and it took little persuasion on his part before she was kissing him back. Her hands thread through his hair, pulling him down to her.
Damnation, but he’d missed her.
With her body pressed so close to his, she couldn’t possibly miss his arousal, so he pressed it against her.
She clung to him, kissed him, as if she, too, needed him for survival. He brought his hand up and cupped her breast. She arched against him and he knew that he could have her, right in the grand foyer of her late husband’s townhome. But he hadn’t come for her. And she’d never agree to give him access to those maps if he seduced her right now.
So with more strength than he realized he had, he ended the kiss and stepped away from her.
“I shall return tomorrow to see if you’ve made your decision about the maps. Good day to you.” And with that he walked away.
…
What the devil had that been? Her breaths were still shaky. She shook her hands out and concentrated on her inhalations and exhalations.
She’d been nearly ready to pull up her dress and wrap her legs around his body. She had to find some control or at least enough strength to pretend she had control. Though it seemed as if she had virtually none when it came to Alistair Devlin. If he weren’t so ridiculously handsome and such a scandalously good kisser… She sighed and sagged against the wall.
“Never thought we’d see the likes of him again,” Polly said.
Winifred jumped. “Polly! I’ve told you a million times not to sneak up on me.”
“Lost in your thoughts or merely thinking about that kiss?”
“That”—she pointed at her maid—“is none of your concern. How long were you standing there watching?”
Polly shrugged. “Long enough.”
Winifred merely released a low breath. It would do no good to chastise Polly. Although she was technically an employee, they were more like family. “Have I sacked you yet this week?”
“Not yet,” she said with a mocking grin. “Are you going to give him what he wants?”
“I—”
Polly held up one hand. “The maps. I don’t want to know about anything else.”
“I’m not certain I have a choice. It seems as if he will merely continue stopping by until I give in.”
“If you’ll have to give in no matter what, you might as well get something out of it in exchange.”
“I don’t need anything. Our finances are secure.”
“All I’m saying is a man with his name could be useful.”
Before Winifred could disagree, she knew precisely what Alistair could do for her. “You’re brilliant, Polly.” She kissed her maid on the cheek and ran out of the corridor. She had to carefully plan how she would strike such a bargain with Alistair. If she wasn’t careful, he’d be wagering how long it would take him to get her back into his bed.
It had been too long since her body had felt such things.
She and Reggie had never consummated their marriage. Not because she hadn’t been willing—she’d taken her marital responsibilities to heart. They’d tried, but Reggie had problems with impotency. She’d wondered if it was her fault, if there had been something wrong with her that she couldn’t please her husband, but Reggie had assured her that it had far more to do with his advancing years.
Bless his sweet heart, he’d loved her. Loved her in a way she’d never loved him. And he’d loved her son. Reggie had been a wonderful man and she’d been blessed to have spent time as his wife. Not many of her friends could say the same about their husbands. Nor could they say they’d had illicit affairs and a bastard son with the Marquess of Coventry. Her body still hummed with desire and she knew she’d have to be strong when she saw him again.
Having a bargain of her own would prevent him from trying to seduce her into granting him access to the maps. Which was perfect because the more he kissed her, the more she wanted things she knew she could not have. Because no matter what, there was no future for her with Alistair.
Chapter Three
Winifred pulled Oliver closer to her and turned the page. It was his favorite story and he asked her to read it to him at least once a week, which she cheerfully indulged. Well, he asked in his way, by crawling up beside her on the settee while holding the book. He was five years old and she had yet to hear him utter a single word. She tried to not let that concern her overly much, but the truth was, it was rather distressing that Oliver remained so wordless.
She knew he wasn’t a simpleton. He was quite intelligent, actually. He’d proven that rec
ently when she’d left a ledger out where she’d been working on calculations. She’d gone to retrieve something and when she’d returned, Oliver had completed the mathematics. Perfectly.
He giggled at a particular part where she used a funny voice to characterize a character. She wiggled her fingers into his side and he giggled all the more. Oh, how she loved him.
A slight rap came at the door, then Polly entered. “He’s here again.”
Winifred’s heart pounded. “Lord Coventry? He was only here a few hours ago.” So far his visits had occurred while Oliver had been out of the house or otherwise occupied, which worked perfectly because one look at the boy and he would know who the father was.
“No, ma’am, it’s the Virgil man.”
“Ah yes,” She had forgotten it was about time for Reggie’s cousin’s weekly visit.
“He wishes to see you first before he sees the boy,” Polly said.
“We shall have to finish this later, my love.” She kissed Oliver’s head and ruffled his brown hair. “Polly, bring him down in ten minutes. No longer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Winifred straightened her dress and made her way down the stairs to the study where she knew she’d find Virgil. He was officially the legal guardian for Oliver, though he allowed the boy to stay with his mother. She was thankful for that, but not much else when it came to Virgil. She didn’t trust him, but she knew that Reggie had had no other choice when deciding upon a will. He’d had to name a male relative as Oliver’s guardian. Virgil could legally make most of the decisions for Oliver, and she hated that.
She entered the study and found him standing behind the desk as if he belonged there. He wore a ridiculously offensive blue velvet coat and striped breeches and his reddish hair was oiled back flat on his head. He was woefully thin and his sartorial choices gave him an awkward, bird-like appearance. She’d often thought he looked quite like a turkey. “My dear Winnie,” he said as she approached.
She winced at the nickname. “Virgil.” She inclined her head. “You wished to speak to me privately?”
“Yes, I’ve been considering your situation and I believe I have struck on a solution.”
“My situation?” She wasn’t aware they’d discussed anything of the sort before, so the fact that he’d found a solution for her was surprising.
He waved his hand as if the motion would explain his words. “Yes, yes, being a widow. And having the young boy, Arthur.”
“Oliver,” she corrected.
“Yes, yes, that’s right.” He moved from behind the desk, trailed his hand along the books on the shelf. “You need to find yourself a new husband.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that is necessary. Though I am not against marrying again, I’m not in any hurry to do so. I’m only just out of mourning.” She moved behind one of the chairs, somehow feeling better with furniture placed between them.
“But there could be a hurry. You see all of those funds that Arthur earns each month from the investments Reggie made for him.”
“Oliver,” she repeated. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes heavenward. How difficult was it, really, to remember one child’s name?
“Right, well, they go into my coffers, but the will states that should you remarry, your new husband would receive them.”
What was he suggesting? He had always been peculiar, but he was acting even more strangely than usual. “You are so eager to rid yourself of the extra coin?”
“On the contrary, I was suggesting a union between the two of us.” He came to stand near her. She tried, in vain, not to stare at his beak-like nose. “I shall keep the earnings, but it would be official and therefore you could retain some of the funds from the property. I am merely thinking of you, Winnie dear, and what is best for you and the boy.”
“I’m sorry, did you just propose marriage to me?”
He took a few steps even closer and she was struck by how very thin his legs were. Frankly it was astounding he could walk upright. “I did. It’s a perfect solution for both of us.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t see how.” More than likely he knew about her coffers, the money that she’d brought into the marriage that Reggie had allowed her to keep in her name only. And that was what Virgil was truly after, a sum far greater than Reggie’s investments would bring. Perhaps Virgil was not a turkey, but rather a vulture.
“You are a widow now, and it is unsafe for a single woman to be raising a child alone.”
“I am perfectly safe. Thank you for your concern.”
“Marry me, Winnie,” he said.
“I’d really rather not. But I do appreciate the offer.”
“Let me put it in terms you shall understand. Marry me and I won’t send your boy off to boarding school.” His brows rose.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not.” He gave his head a slight shake. “I’m merely giving you a choice.”
She frowned, not bothering to temper her reaction. “It sounds more like an ultimatum.”
“I cannot be certain of the choices that some other man would make for the dear boy and I cannot allow that to happen. My cousin entrusted his well-being to me.”
“So if I do not marry you?”
He grinned and she realized that Virgil was missing more than one tooth. She shuddered. “Then I do believe I have found a perfect school for him,” he said. “Somewhere quite far away.”
Winifred could feel her nostrils flaring and she knew that if she was not careful, she would say something she very much regretted. “I should like some time to think on this.”
“Of course. Not too much time, though.” He glanced at the clock on the mantle. “No time to see the boy today. I’ll be back. Be ready with your answer.”
She watched him leave and realized that Alistair’s reappearance in her life could not only assist with Oliver’s tutor situation, but with Virgil as well. Now it seemed the only thing left in question was how badly Alistair needed those maps.
…
Alistair stood outside the door to his study, listening to the woman’s voice from inside the room.
“Yes, I shall agree to you viewing the maps, but you must do something for me in exchange.” Then, “No, no, that’s not right. Let’s see. I shall grant your petition, but you shall grant one of mine.” There were several low mutterings. “Why are you so addled, you silly girl?”
He’d known she’d eventually agree to his petition. He chose that moment to step inside. “Yes, why are you so addled?”
Her cheeks stained with red and she opened her mouth, then closed it. A frown furrowed her brow and he was struck again by how delightfully expressive she was.
“How much did you hear?” she asked.
“Enough to know you want an exchange of favors, so to speak.” He walked over to the center of the room and took a seat in the large brown leather chair. He motioned to one of the other chairs. “Sit, we can discuss the parameters.”
She exhaled loudly, but nonetheless took a seat.
“What is it that I can do for you, sweet Winifred?”
She fiddled with her gloves, pinching the bits of the fabric that stuck out from her fingertips. “Yes, well, it would seem I’m in need of a tutor. A specific tutor and he will not return any of my letters.”
“A tutor? Precisely what do you need a tutor for? Are you not already educated?”
“Of course I am. This is for my son.” She looked up at him. “Yes, I have a son. And he is in need of some precise tutoring, but as I said, the man will not respond.”
A child. He had not anticipated that, though it stood to reason. She’d been married. Most men wanted an heir to carry on their name. Most men. “And you are set on this particular tutor?”
“Oh yes, he has the very best of reputations, but he is quite difficult to employ. But certainly a man with your title could implore him to accept the position.”
“Do you have the necessary funds?”
Aga
in she fidgeted with her gloves. “Yes, I do. My own personal monies that I received when my parents died.”
“And Mirren’s money?”
“Tied up with my son and his guardian.” She shrugged.
“And this guardian cannot provide the same service you believe I can?”
She exhaled slowly. “No, he can provide nothing for me. In this situation or any other. In fact, he has suggested that I marry him. Threatened me, actually.” Her eyes widened. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. I meant only that he doesn’t provide the same kind of reputation and name that you can when persuading this particular tutor.”
“He is threatening you?”
“That is truly not the point.”
It most certainly seemed the point. His fists clenched. He was not accustomed to feeling the need to protect someone, but the emotion was unmistakable.
“Will you contact this man for me, implore him to accept my son as a student?”
“Do you have other children?” He couldn’t deny that he found the whole idea of her carrying Mirren’s child rather irritating.
“No, only the one.” She smoothed her hands down her skirt.
“Very well. If I do this for you, you shall grant me access to Mirren’s maps?”
“Yes, if you convince this tutor to agree to work with me, the maps are at your disposal.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll need the man’s name and address.” He stood and retrieved a piece of parchment and quill. “Write them down.”
She did as he instructed and then met his gaze.
“You have surprised me today, Winifred. I was not expecting you to be a mother.”
“Why?” she asked, her tone bristled. “Do you not think I am qualified to be a mother?”
“I’m certain I know many things about you, but whether or not you are skilled as a mother, I cannot say.”
“There is one other tiny matter, of which you could be helpful,” she said.
“More favors? What have you been doing for so long without me in your life?”
“Yes, well, perhaps our little reunion is merely good timing.” She smoothed her skirts though there was not a wrinkle in sight. “In any case. The aforementioned guardian who wishes to marry me. I believe it might be a deterrent if he thinks I am connected to another man. A man of your station.”