“Yes. It was a good idea. I still think so.”
He raised her chin and waited until she looked at him. “Should I give you some of the questions I think a man might ask? Just as practice?”
“Yes.” Fleur let out a shaky breath. “Yes, please.”
“Would you marry a man who didn’t always show his love for you?”
Surely there shouldn’t be so many ways for love to hurt. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Would you know your place and not question your husband’s decisions?”
“No.”
“Would you be happy to raise children with little interest from your husband?”
“No.”
“Would you love, honor and obey your husband?”
“Love and honor, always,” she said. “Obey, rarely.”
“Would you share your bed with a man who sometimes ignored you?”
This was Dominic’s way of crushing any affection she held for him. “No.”
He pushed his fingers into her hair and looked straight into her eyes. “If you knew a man loved you but he couldn’t share all of himself with you, would you marry him?”
“You torture me,” she whispered.
“Do I? Tell me to stop touching you, then.”
Fleur shook her head.
“Then I won’t stop.” He loosened her pelisse, undid the buttons that closed the front of her dress, and slipped his hands over her breasts. He held them, inciting her nipples with the very tips of his thumbnails, while he teased her lips apart with his tongue, then kissed her deeply and drew greedily on her lips.
Fleur held him then. She clutched him and hung on for fear she would fall if she didn’t. Her breasts felt hot and swollen and his thumbs made her burn deep inside. With each flick across her nipples, she strained to get closer to him, and he drew on her mouth as if to take her inside him. The sounds she heard could not come from her. Dominic groaned. He groaned and buried his face in her breasts. She did cry out. Soft, broken moans. And she looked down at his dark hair blowing across her white skin.
Dominic made circles on her aching flesh, smaller and smaller circles and when she thought she would die with wanting something for which she knew no name, he suckled a breast, nibbled at its tip until she called out his name again and again. He moved to the other breast and Fleur’s knees dipped. With her hands beneath his jacket, she clawed at his sides. Without warning, he jutted his hips against her and through the fine stuff of her dress she felt the hardness of him, the possessive pulsing. She had never seen a man’s private parts, other than on statuary or in paintings but Fleur knew what was happening.
Straightening, he embraced her, held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. “I want you,” he said. “I want you for myself.” He pulled up her skirts and slipped his hands over her bottom, driving her ever more tightly against him.
But he had posed his questions and she had answered. What she felt was love and lust. What he felt was lust and he’d already let her know how empty a life with him would be.
“Please stop,” Fleur said. They were the most difficult words she had ever spoken.
He closed his teeth on the side of her neck and she felt him struggle to collect himself. She didn’t move except to take her hands away. Dominic let her go and stood back. He leaned forward to help straighten her skirts, and went to button her bodice again but she pushed him away.
“Forgive me,” he said, breathing hard. “That wasn’t fair.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” If only her voice held conviction. Trembling and weak, she fumbled with buttons, pulled on her bonnet and tucked up stray locks. “I…I am sad. Perhaps my heart is broken at this moment. But you can’t change who you are and I shall recover.” No, she wouldn’t. Not ever.
“I was carried away,” he told her. “You’re a very desirable woman.”
She struggled against tears.
“You answered the questions I asked with honesty,” Dominic said. “You are prepared to give all of yourself to a man you love and you ask the same in return. That is fair.”
20
“Where is Fleur?” Dominic demanded.
Hattie and his mother sat in Fleur’s two blue chairs. They looked startled when they saw him in the open doorway.
“She’s not here,” the Dowager said. “Her fitting is over but we’re too comfortable to move.”
After delivering Fleur home he had retraced their steps through the fields. He’d stood again where he’d been with her at the top of the hill. Surely he had not stayed there so long that the fitting could be over.
“Is there something wrong?” Hattie asked him quietly.
A maid slipped past him to deliver a tray of tea things. She set the tray on the table between the ladies and quickly retreated.
“There’s nothing wrong.” Dominic took a step into the room and looked around. “Where is she?”
“Riding,” his mother said.
“She can’t ride.”
Hattie got up but remained by the chair. She cast disturbed glances at Dominic.
The Dowager said, “Did you ask if she can ride?”
“No.”
“Well, she can. And I gave my permission for her to go riding in Hyde Park.”
“Hattie, will you explain this to me?” he asked.
“Mr. Mergatroyd called,” Hattie said. “Fleur agreed to receive him, and he was given permission to take her riding. Neville had already made her two habits.”
“Mergatroyd?”
“Mr. Mergatroyd,” Hattie agreed.
“The fellow with the laugh?”
His mother waved Hattie back into the chair. “That would be the one,” she said. “And very polite he is, too.”
Dominic crossed his arms. He had to do something with them. “He sweats.”
“Most people do,” Hattie murmured.
He stared at her. “Profusely.”
“You introduced Mr. Mergatroyd to Fleur at the Herberts’, or so I understood,” his mother said.
“No, he didn’t,” Hattie said at once. “He asked me if he could dance with her and I agreed.”
“Blast.” Dominic threw his head back and spread his arms. “Forgive me, ladies. But surely if Fleur meets a variety of men she should learn which ones to avoid. Don’t you think that a lame example or two might help her pick out the real, er, gem?”
“Only you would think of a thing like that, my son.”
“Mergatroyd is no gem,” Dominic said.
“Neither is he a monster,” Hattie told him.
“What if he’s The Cat?” He met Hattie’s eyes and she frowned. He had never mentioned the name to his mother before but he noted she showed no surprise at hearing his name now. So be it. There was no reason for her to tie the gossip to Jane Weller and that would be the only reason to keep the story from the Dowager.
“Calm yourself,” she said, making him even more inflamed. “You aren’t thinking. If Mr. Mergatroyd made off with Fleur then demanded a ransom, we should all know the identity of this Cat person, shouldn’t we?”
“Which horse did she take?”
“The gentleman brought one for her just in case she could accompany him.”
“I can’t believe it.” He absolutely could not. “You let her go with a strange man and his strange horse? At the very least you should have insisted she use a horse from our own stables, a horse we know. And an escort should have been sent.”
“Albert Parker is keeping them in sight. And you, Dominic, sound…well, you don’t sound yourself,” Hattie said.
“You mean he sounds insane,” the Dowager added.
The dapple-gray mare had difficulty keeping up with Mr. Mergatroyd’s considerably larger horse. “Good girl,” Fleur said and stroked Lolly’s neck. “Could you try to go a little faster?” She hadn’t the heart to press the animal too hard when she was doing her best.
This was Fleur’s first time on Rotten Row although she had heard a great deal about it. People dres
sed in the height of fashion rode and drove all around her. She would rather sit on the grass and watch the scene than deal with an unresponsive animal and feel like a spectacle. Her escort’s horse pranced ahead and Fleur might have well been alone.
Mr. Mergatroyd laughed, and Lolly stopped altogether. She tossed her head and whinnied. Fleur could scarcely stop herself from laughing. Evidently the mare thought Mr. Mergatroyd intended to communicate with her.
He had realized his companion had fallen behind and wheeled around. His wave reminded her of a flagpole against a clear blue sky. The man was pleasant enough but had almost nothing interesting to say and he was even taller than she remembered from the Herberts’. All arms, legs and neck. Even his face seemed unreasonably long, not that she was in the habit of holding a person’s appearance against him. It was the laugh and the way he ignored her as they rode that irritated her.
“Miss Toogood? What can be holding you back?” he called, trotting toward her.
At least he was talking. Fleur caught up with him. “I’m afraid dear Lolly is no match for your Thoroughbred.”
“Park hack,” Mr. Mergatroyd said. “The finest in Town.”
“He is very fine indeed.” She had only agreed to come because she wanted to please the Dowager—and show Dominic how quickly she could recover from their shattering encounter.
“You haven’t ridden a great deal, Miss Toogood,” Mr. Mergatroyd said, pulling on his mount’s reins.
No, Fleur thought, she would never recover from realizing she’d met the man of her dreams but that he could never be hers.
“Miss Toogood?”
Ooh, this man was a boor. “I have ridden a great deal, just not sidesaddle very often.”
“Not sidesaddle? Well, after all, you’re a country gel. And a beautiful country gel.” He looked down at her from his considerable vantage point and laughed while he assessed her body. Mrs. Neville fitted every garment perfectly, but too tightly for Fleur’s taste.
Mergatroyd snorted and actually winked at her. “Come on then, Miss Toogood. You look well enough on the mare but I must teach you to be competent. And, for reasons I’m sure you understand, it’s time for you to forget about riding other than sidesaddle.”
The effort hurt but she smiled at him and said nothing.
He flipped Lolly with his crop—hard.
“No!” Fleur hitched her leg more firmly between the pommels. “She is doing her best.”
Mergatroyd used his crop again and this time the mare whinnied and tossed her head. And she took off with an uneven gait.
Fleur gripped the upper pommel tightly with both hands. For all the world it felt as if Lolly intended to throw her!
“Hold on, Miss Toogood,” Mergatroyd said loudly. “Show her who is in charge.”
The saddle slipped. Only the slightest bit but it did slip. Fleur scarcely dared to breathe. She carefully took her hands from the pommel and put more pressure on the reigns.
“That’s the way, Miss Toogood. Spot on.”
What a wretched man.
Fleur heard chuckles from passing riders, and giggles. A yellow phaeton went by in a blur.
She slid another tiny distance closer to the mare’s side. “Lolly,” she said in as soothing a voice as she could manage. “Whoa. Whoa.” The horse bucked, threw herself around and took off in the opposite direction. Fleur’s veiled hat toppled backward.
“You have spirit, Miss Toogood,” Mr. Mergatroyd declared as she passed him. “I like that. Yes, indeed, I like that.”
Fear sickened Fleur. “Help,” she managed to cry. “Oh!” The saddle jolted even lower. If she continued as she was she might actually slide beneath the beast’s belly, but if she jumped there was a good chance of being trampled by another horse or run over by a carriage—or both.
Pounding hoofs came to her through the horror. Why didn’t anyone come to her aid? “Mr. Mergatroyd,” she shouted. “Please, help me.” She abandoned the reins and clung to Lolly’s mane. Slammed against the saddle and the horse, Fleur opened her mouth to scream but another thump winded her.
Someone shouted, “Hold on, Fleur. It’s all right. We’ll get you.”
She heard the voice, knew what it’s owner meant but couldn’t see. Pain drew a haze of moisture over her eyes.
“Got you! Let yourself go limp.”
A strong arm snaked around her, plucked her from the horse, and she landed in front of Dominic who held her tight but glared ahead with fury in his eyes.
“Got the mare, Parker?” he yelled.
“Yes, m’lord. Er, m’lord, the lady’s safe now.”
Dominic glanced at her but his features didn’t soften. “Stay with me,” he called to Albert Parker. “I have business to attend to. I shall need your assistance with Fleur and the horses.”
“Thank you,” Fleur managed to say. “Could we go back to Heatherly now?”
Dominic’s back remained stiff. He didn’t answer her. “Mergatroyd,” he cried. “Hold up.” He sounded calm but deeply, immovably angry.
The man reluctantly pulled up his mount and Dominic stopped beside him. “Get down, man,” he said. “Now.”
“I say.” Mergatroyd gave one of his braying laughs and Fleur could see perspiration running down his face. “You sound threatening, Lord Dominic.”
“Get down,” Dominic told him, his voice filled with menace. “Parker, hold my horse and see to it that Fleur isn’t disturbed further.”
Parker dismounted. He held his own reins and the mare’s while he reached up to take Fleur from Dominic and set her down beside him. “You’ll be safe, miss. Just stand close to me, please.”
Dominic jumped off his horse and Albert Parker made sure it didn’t bolt.
“Albert, I think there could be a fight,” Fleur said.
“I know, miss. Best start saying your prayers—for Mr. Mergatroyd.”
Before Fleur’s horrified eyes, Mr. Mergatroyd attempted to ride on, only to be pulled to the ground in a sprawling heap by Dominic who stood over him, shining black boots braced apart.
“I say,” Mergatroyd said, scrambling to his feet. “Steady on, old man. Looks bad, y’know.”
“I do know,” Dominic said in low, smooth tones. “How dare you bring my charge riding and put her on an unsuitable horse? And what the blazes are you thinking of to allow Miss Toogood to suffer mortal danger and public humiliation while you did nothing to help her.”
“She was quite all right. I was on my way to make sure of it when you rode up making enough fuss to completely unnerve the mare.”
“Parker,” Dominic snapped out, “can you check the mare’s girth and the backstrap on the saddle?”
Immediately Albert said, “The backstrap’s come loose. If it had been properly fastened, the saddle wouldn’t have slipped.”
“I should thrash you,” Dominic ground out through his teeth, standing toe-to-toe with his adversary. “Did you intend to rescue Fleur to ensure she’d think of you as her hero and throw herself into your arms?”
The traffic slowed, and some stopped to allow onlookers a good view of the spectacle.
“Can’t we do anything to stop this?” Fleur whispered to Albert.
“No, miss. I’ve never seen his lordship so angry.”
Mergatroyd made the mistake of breaking into one of his huge laughs and punctuating the racket with snorts. Fleur wanted to close her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look away from Dominic.
“You call her Fleur and she’s been heard to call you Dominic,” Mergatroyd managed to get out. “Do you know you’re being talked about, Elliot? You squire Fleur around and introduce her to eligible men, but you behave like her overprotective father—or lover.”
Fleur gasped.
“That tears it,” Albert muttered.
“You, sir, are a cad.” Dominic threw a dark gray glove to the ground. “Name your second.”
Mergatroyd stared at the glove. He shook visibly. “The deuce, you say,” he murmured unsteadily.
“I’ve got a weak heart,” Mergatroyd stuttered. “I’m a sick man.” And with that his eyelids fluttered and he collapsed.
A great collective gasp hissed from the onlookers. Several men crowded around while Dominic went to a knee and felt Mergatroyd’s neck. “Just a swoon,” he announced. “Someone get him home.”
Fleur broke away from Albert and scurried around the circle until she saw Dominic’s glove, which she snatched up and bore away, but not before meeting Dominic’s steely gaze.
“You shouldn’t have done that, miss,” Albert said when she rejoined him. “It’s not the thing to interfere in such matters.”
“This male posturing nonsense must be stopped by whatever means necessary. Foolish creatures.”
Several men bore Mr. Mergatroyd away to a carriage and tied his horse behind. “You did the right thing, Elliot,” someone in the crowd said while another applauded and told him, “Well done. The man should know better than to tangle with you and insult your lady friend.”
“Oh, no,” Fleur moaned. She turned to Albert and rested her brow on his chest. “Has another fight begun? I just know Dominic didn’t like that comment.”
Albert patted her back but held his tongue.
“Tie the mare beside the hack,” Dominic said from behind her. “I’ll get Fleur home. Make your own way as quickly as you can.”
Albert nodded and went about his business.
Dominic’s hands closed on Fleur’s waist and he lifted her to his saddle before mounting behind her. He clacked at his horse and they rode on at a faster clip than was comfortable for Fleur’s frayed nerves.
The wretched tears sprang along her eyelids again. They stung and she blinked. And the devil take it, she was angry. Who decided that men would rule the world when they were clearly such a silly, arrogant, territorial bunch?
“So,” Dominic said at last. “The ton gossips about us.”
“They have nothing to gossip about,” she told him. “It’s just that they become hungry for a some new on dit and things are a little quiet about The Cat right now. I’m beginning to think he’s grown bored and stopped altogether. I expect he’s collected a great deal of money.”
Testing Miss Toogood Page 19