“Shall I escort you back to the house?”
“No, I should like it to be a private word.”
He glanced around and nodded, motioning to the stone bench at one side of the fountain. Tucked behind the trees, even the nosiest of people would not be able to see them. Lilly twined her fingers together and tried to ignore how close he was to her as they sat. One slight movement and their legs would brush. In his evening wear, he cut a fine figure. The perfect fit enhanced his broad shoulders and, with his necktie slightly loose, she could not help recall a time when she had seen it discarded. Lilly clenched her legs together.
“Well then, Miss Claremont, whatever can I do for you?”
Gaze ahead, she studied the line of trees—anything to keep her from actually looking at him. The tumult of emotions racing through her mind prevented her from saying anything for several moments.
“Lord Hawksley,” she began and clamped her mouth shut. She tightened the grip of one hand on the other until her fingers ached. “Lord Hawksley, you know my cousin, Mr. Henry Claremont?” Lilly turned her face and met his gaze head on, regret instantly jabbing her insides at giving into temptation.
“I do.” His dark gaze remained indifferent. How hard the man was to read.
“He… he has written to me of his plight—”
“And what plight is that?”
Lilly licked her lips. Why was she even attempting this? The marquess would never listen to reasoning or… or begging. She suppressed a shudder and prayed it didn’t come to that. “He tells me the estate owes you much money.”
“Does he indeed? How unusual for a distant relation to be sharing his money woes with—”
“A woman like me?” she asked, wincing at her defensive tone. Why did he always bring out the bitter side of her? Did she sound bitter to him too?
Perhaps she was bitter. Her father had been beaten to death after all. The pain he must have endured made her eyes burn. Could it really have been ordered by this man though?
“I meant no insult.”
She lifted her gaze to his again and saw, for the briefest moment, a flicker of concern. “You seldom do, my lord, yet you are quite practiced at insulting me.”
“You are quite practiced at provoking me,” he shot back.
Back straight, Lilly kept her gaze on him though the urge to run away and hide under a bush made her fidget on the cold stone bench. “My lord, I have sought you out to ask you to maybe consider… that is, my father’s estate cannot cover such a debt. I was hoping you might—”
“Write off the debt?” Two dark eyebrows arched high. His cold, impervious expression fired her anger at the same time as making her shudder, as if stoking a fire then drenching it with ice water.
“Yes,” she responded weakly.
“Do you suppose your father didn’t intend to pay back the debt?”
“No, of course not. My father honored all of his agreements!”
“Am I to forget all debts owed to me perhaps?”
“I am not saying that…”
“I am surprised Mr. Claremont would send you to do his bidding. Was that your original intention of coming here, perhaps? To persuade me to release him from this debt? You must be fond of this cousin indeed. Does he offer you some riches or something else in return for your service?”
Bitterness tinged his tone, and she frowned. Her first indignant reaction fizzled away as the mask of indifference slipped. For the briefest moment, desperation seared that mask, hunger clawed to be free.
She drew in a long breath, felt the night air steel her resolve. “You may be used to dealing with people with ulterior motives but Henry has offered me nothing. I do this of my own free will. You knew the money was tied up, did you not?”
“I did and I did not pressure you father to repay, but how good a man can this cousin be if he is sending a lady to do his begging?”
“I-I…” Could she share the shame of being about to be made homeless to this man? The words would not come. How could she tell him of her woeful situation and bear his censure?
Lord Hawksley narrowed his eyes and his lips tightened. Why did he always make her feel as if she had done wrong?
“Did you intend to use your feminine charms on me perhaps?”
“I intended nothing of the sort. It is quite clear, my lord, that you have me marked as a woman of ill repute, but I can assure you I’m nothing of the sort.”
“A pity.” He shifted marginally closer. With the sun setting behind him, his large silhouette dwarfed her vision as she twisted to eye him. “That would have been one way to persuade me.”
Lilly gasped. Was he serious? The tiny curl of his lip told her he was teasing but his gaze remained stern, his brows knitted tightly.
“You expect me to pay off his debt with my… my body?” she hissed the last part.
“Well, now that you suggest it…” Those sensuous lips quirked.
Deep inside, a twinge of need made itself known. Lord, what was wrong with her?
“My offer still stands,” the marquess prompted.
Lilly studied him. If only there was some hint as to what he was thinking. After the way she had turned him down, she had thought it likely he would never speak to her again. And now he had declared he wanted her in his bed. To repay a debt! Would that make her no better than a whore?
Yes, her mind whispered. But in the eyes of society she had already sunk that low. Before she was born, her fate had been decided. Had her father been richer and titled, society might have overlooked her illegitimacy but because his wealth had been earned—because he had worked hard to accumulate it—she would never be accepted. The unfairness of it all made her throat sting. She might not want a place amongst them, but to not even be allowed a chance frustrated her to no end. How much good could she do for the world if she had not been snubbed?
“You would write off the debt?” she asked quietly. The flash of his eyes made her heart jolt.
“Yes.”
“And… and provide for me financially?”
“Of course.”
She didn’t need extra money to survive once she had her inheritance but think what she would do with it. Her dreams of pursuing education for women could be achieved—perhaps she could even set up her own college. Not to mention an insight into her father’s business dealings would help her track down her father’s killer. If it was not Lord Hawksley, it was someone else, and the marquess had far more connections in London than she did. Lilly thought it likely she could find out much from him and clear up any doubts about his innocence. She curled a fist. Justice for her father, helping her family and funds to pursue her dreams. There had to be a downside to this deal.
Lilly smirked as Lord Hawksley eyed her. She would have to give up her body to him. Her skin pimpled underneath the taffeta of her gown. Her innocence seemed a small sacrifice—she never intended to marry—and the twisting excitement inside her pushed her to say yes. Why this disagreeable, arrogant man excited her, she did not know.
“You shall want for nothing, Miss Claremont,” he pressed, closing the gap between them so his leg brushed hers through her gown. He removed his hat, ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, making it delightfully disheveled. Her fingers twitched with the urge to thrust them into that hair and feel its smoothness. Hat placed on the bench, he brought a finger to her chin and used it to tilt her face. “I shall look after your every need.”
“And I suppose I shall look after yours?” Her voice escaped as a harsh whisper, as though he had captured it and already claimed it as his own.
“Yes.”
His blunt honesty didn’t surprise her. It further solidified her belief in his innocence—that he was just a victim of gossip. Was she fooling herself that he might be innocent to give her an excuse to say yes? To give into a desire so strong it pulled her along like a strong tide?
Perhaps.
“Perhaps?” he queried.
She realized she had spoken the word aloud.
Gaze firm, she nodded against the support of his finger under her chin. “Yes.”
“Yes, perhaps?”
“Yes, I shall be your mistress.”
Warmth entered his gaze, those straight lips curved. It was not the smug smile she had expected but one of genuine pleasure. Lilly’s hands shook, her mind whirled. What had she done?
“You shall not regret it.” His soft gaze caressed her face, taking in her jaw line and lingering on her lips. “Shall we seal our deal with a kiss?”
Lilly nodded, her voice stolen by his proximity. More than anything she wanted his kiss. Was she so weak that she would do anything to experience that? It was pure madness!
But a madness of the most delicious kind it seemed, for it tangled deep inside her, made her belly swoop, her heart gallop like wild horses. That one warm finger on her skin made her feel more alive than anything she had previously experienced. None of her prior, albeit brief, encounters with the other sex could compare and he had not even laid his lips on hers yet.
He stared at her for a long moment—so long she feared he might have changed his mind. Now she was set on this course, she was determined to see it through. A short while as his mistress and she could continue on with her life with the knowledge of the truth about her father’s death, a nice amount of money and having saved her home.
That finger slid along her chin and eased into a stroke before circling her neck gently. The briefest flash of horror made her heart jar against her chest but he spoke softly, “Your neck is exquisite, Miss Claremont. I have long dreamed of kissing it.” A thumb came to rest upon the fluttering pulse point while his fingers skimmed her lips.
“Are you to kiss me or not?” she demanded but there was no strength to the words. He’d taken it all—perhaps he owned that too now.
“Patience, Miss Claremont,” he scolded lightly.
She let out a huff and watched him rise. He offered a hand and she took it. The marquess helped her to stand and brought her close to him with the simple pressure of his hand on hers. Lilly tilted her head to view him. Amber streaks lit the sky, darkness promised to swallow them soon enough. The illicit thrill that thundered through her made her toes curl into her shoes.
His gaze remained on her as his hand found her neck once more and slid around to cup the back of it. Lilly tentatively flattened her palms against the lapels of his jacket and nearly wrenched her hands away again at the feel of a hard body beneath them. He coaxed her closer, still commanding her with a mere hand. Their bodies didn’t touch—her hands upon him prevented it—but heat spilled into the gap between them, leaving her breathless.
Lord Hawksley lowered his head and she went on tiptoes to close the gap. “What sorcery have you cast upon me?” he said, the words skimming her face.
Before she responded, warm lips covered hers—soft with a hint of urgency. A tiny sound bubbled up inside her and she gripped his dinner jacket tighter. The evening breeze ruffled her skirts and curls, the sensation amplified as her skin pricked with the gentle movements of his mouth. The grip on her neck remained firm, leaving her no room to escape. Not that she even considered such an idea. A deep agonizing ache opened up inside her and her need to quench it had her moving her lips in sync with his.
The kiss ended all too soon. Her breaths came in faltering gasps and she pressed an unsteady hand to her chest to control them. Lord Hawksley dropped his hand from her neck and took a decisive step back.
“I shall begin to make arrangements,” he informed her. His sudden aloofness made her frown. One minute he was speaking of her bewitching him and the next, it was as though he were dealing with a business matter. She supposed, in a way, keeping a mistress was close to running a business. Contracts were often made, negotiations took place. “At the end of the week, you shall come with me as my mistress.”
“Not to Hawksley Manor, surely?” She ignored his cold tone and the way it twisted her heart.
“No, I have a modest home in Oxfordshire. You will be very comfortable there.”
“Do I have any say in the matter?” One arched brow told her no. She folded her arms across her chest. “You may now own me, Lord Hawksley, but if you expect me to meekly do as I am told at every moment, I fear you shall be sorely disappointed.”
“I’m often disappointed with people, my dear Miss Claremont. You, however, could not, for I am predisposed to expect an argument at every turn from you.”
“Oh.”
Was she really that disagreeable? No, not normally. Something about the marquess brought out that side of her. In a strange way, it pleased her she would not have to hold her tongue. Even her mother had never let her run rampant with words.
“Have you changed your mind? You have not signed anything yet.”
“But we sealed our deal with a kiss remember?” She bit down on the inside of her cheek to prevent any more flippant words.
“I remember.” He smiled smugly. Lilly fought the urge to bring a hand across his face and remove that smile permanently.
Chapter Nine
Gaze fixed on the delicate bouquet of flowers hanging from the opposite wall of the carriage, Evan gritted his teeth as Miss Claremont’s bottom jostled against him with the rocking movement. The maid opposite had kept her gaze averted for the entire journey so far. He cursed that he could not have this time alone with Miss Claremont but appearances had to be maintained for Lady Stanley’s sake at the very least.
He stole a glance at the woman at his side. Hand curled tightly around the open window, shoulders stiff, she did not look one bit happy with her decision. She too barely looked at him. He supposed it would not be long until news of her status as his mistress spread, and she no doubt dreaded as much. How Lady Stanley would take to it, he didn’t know. As it was, he did not like pandering to the gossips.
They had agreed to feign some kind of an emergency that required Evan to return to Hawksley Manor at once. As it was on his way, he naturally offered to take Miss Claremont home. No one questioned the arrangement so he sent for one of his maids to accompany them and thus none suspected that their plans were to go instead to Oxfordshire where they would complete their agreement.
Whisky-like warmth coursed through his veins as he considered how they would complete it. He only hoped he found her more than willing once he had her in his bed. He didn’t doubt she suffered the same maddening attraction—her responses to him led him to believe as much—but with her rigid back and pinched expression, he feared the only response he might expect tonight would be indifference and annoyance.
“I have a contract ready for you to sign when we get there,” he murmured to her. “I had my lawyer in London draw it up and send it on.”
Miss Claremont peeked at the maid, who did a fine job of pretending they didn’t exist. If the young girl had not figured out their intention in going to the house in Oxfordshire, she would soon enough.
“How efficient of you.”
They had agreed on one year. One year of Miss Claremont as his. If that did not prove long enough to flush her from his system, nothing would. In return, he planned to provide amply for her and ensure she had enough money to live well for many years. It was, in his opinion, an extremely generous settlement.
The carriage drove through a quiet village signaling that they were only minutes away from the house. The stone cottages sat close together, leaving little room for more than one cart so he was thankful they did not come across any other vehicles and be further delayed.
“Not far now,” he commented. “You shall like the house, I believe.”
For some strange reason, it was important that she did. It was to be her home for the next year after all, but Rushbourne held a deep affection in his heart. Evan favored spending time there over anywhere else.
When the sandy colored building came in sight, Miss Claremont craned her neck to peer out at it, lending him the most delicious sight of an expanse of skin and delicate curls. His mouth grew dry when he realized he might be pressing his lips
to that neck before long.
“It’s very beautiful,” she observed.
“It is,” he replied, voice gruff. It took him a moment to realize she meant the house.
Rushbourne House was a sizeable house with columns framing the door and large windows. While small compared to Hawksley Manor, it boasted two drawing rooms and six bedrooms. Hardly comparable to the nearly one hundred rooms of the manor but Evan preferred the more intimate feel of this house.
Entering through the open iron gates, the carriage took them up the private road to the house. Stone crunched under the wheels and with that, his apprehension grew. If he took a moment to consider his decision to take on a mistress, would he regret it?
When they came to a stop, Evan climbed out first and Miss Claremont slipped a gloved hand into his. At the touch of her slender fingertips, he could only conclude he wouldn’t regret it one jot. Images of those fingers touching other parts of his body rocked him.
He greeted John, the stable hand, curtly, anxious to get Miss Claremont into the house and officially his before she changed her mind. Mrs. Hargreaves, the house keeper, and the few maids lined up at the door, waiting for him. The ancient housekeeper would never approve of Miss Claremont, but he was confident Mrs. Hargreaves had the ability to remain civil.
Leading Miss Claremont to the door, he felt her fingers tremble and gave them what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze as he introduced her to the staff. He paused in front of the elderly housekeeper, whose dark eyes betrayed very little.
“Have Miss Claremont’s personal effects been delivered?”
“Yes, my lord. On Tuesday. I have seen that they are packed away.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hargreaves.”
He had also made arrangements to have her belongings brought to the house while they finished up their visit at Oakholm. Not only would it provide Miss Claremont some comfort but it ensured the safety of her personal effects. Evan allowed himself a smug smile. He had thought of everything, he suspected.
Once inside the small entrance hall, he released her hand and turned to one of the maids. “Please take Miss Claremont to her room to freshen up, then show her to the east drawing room for refreshments.”
Love Regency Style Page 8