by Cheryl Holt
“What did you think?” he asked after awhile. “And don’t lie. Tell me your true opinion.”
“It was different from what I was expecting.”
“That’s why I didn’t try to explain it. I couldn’t have.”
“It was quite…marvelous.”
She’d hesitated before she voiced the word marvelous, and he swatted her on the bottom.
“You minx. You had me on pins and needles over what you’d choose.”
“You’re very good at this.”
“I plan that you will get good at it too. I’m a very thorough teacher.”
“Can we do it every day?”
He sputtered out a laugh. “Yes, my little vixen. We can do it whenever and wherever you like. I shall always be at your beck and call.”
He shifted onto his back, so he was staring up at the ceiling. He pulled her over, so she was draped across his chest. In the prior stories about carnal conduct, no one had ever mentioned this perfect interlude afterward. A thrilling intimacy had blossomed, and if she wasn’t careful, she would fall madly in love with him.
She couldn’t let that happen. Where he was concerned, she would guard her heart, so he could never break it.
They were silent, lost in thought, then he said, “I’ve trapped you now, so you can’t escape. You’ll have to marry me.”
She popped up and grinned at him. “I’ve trapped you too. You’ll be mine forever.”
“Aren’t I lucky.”
She sighed with gladness, and swiftly, she was drifting off. The entire episode had been exhausting, and she felt as if she’d been scrubbed raw. She yawned and could barely keep her eyes open.
She was confused over how they were to proceed for the remainder of the night. Was it all right for her to doze off? Was it allowed? What if he dozed off too? What if her maid came in at dawn to light the fire and caught him in her bed? What then? When they were leaving for Scotland on Saturday, how could it matter?
She never answered those questions, but plunged into a deep slumber, and when she awakened, it was full morning or perhaps even afternoon. The sun shining in the windows was that bright.
Without even glancing over, she was certain he’d left. She hadn’t heard him depart, and she could only hope none of the servants had seen him.
She stretched her legs, taking stock of her condition, and she appeared to be fine. She was tender in her feminine areas, but other than that, she’d survived her deflowering. Was that what it had been?
In her mind, she reached out to Hunter. Where was he that very moment? Was he thinking of her? How would they interact when she bumped into him again?
Her pulse raced with a joy that amazed her. She was happy and excited and about to travel to Scotland to become his wife. She couldn’t wait.
“Mrs. Hunter Stone,” she said to the quiet room. “Imagine that.”
She tossed off the blankets and rose to face the day.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hunter slipped in a rear door, intending to head to his bedchamber to wash and change his clothes. He’d been riding for hours, trying to clear his mind and figure out where he was going.
He’d snuck out of Hannah’s bedchamber just as dawn was breaking, and he’d been too rattled to return to his own room. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep.
Because he was such a debauched rogue, he’d never counted how many lovers he’d had. It was the sorry state of his world that it was filled with trollops, and they were mostly fallen angels who couldn’t obey the fussy rules that were supposed to guide them. They craved a different kind of existence than what was generally allowed to females, and they reached out and seized it.
He liked those loose women very much, and he’d dallied with every sort of doxy. To him, sexual congress was a physical act that was pleasurable and exciting, but he never ascribed higher motives to it, so he’d been completely unprepared for how much he’d enjoy fornicating with Hannah.
Oh, he’d suspected it would be entertaining, but he hadn’t anticipated the raucous emotion that would be generated.
She’d dozed off in his arms, and he’d held her for hours as he’d struggled to deduce what had happened to him. Was he in love with her? Could it be? Could he—the great user and abuser of women—have finally been ensnared?
How else could he describe the sentiments pelting him? The episode had stirred such passionate yearning that he was wondering how he could live without her.
If he’d been forced to furnish an opinion, he’d have categorically insisted that love was only present in romantic novels and sonnets. He didn’t believe it was a condition a man could suffer, and he most especially believed Cupid’s arrow could never strike him, yet he felt as if he was dying with affection for her.
He was so befuddled that he’d left the property, had galloped for miles down the country lanes, but the lengthy trek hadn’t improved his situation. He was more confused than ever about what was transpiring.
He walked down the hall, curious if Hannah was up. It had to be noon or even later. How would they interact once they bumped into each other? He thought he might toss her over his shoulder and carry her up the stairs to his bedchamber.
As he neared the foyer, a footman saw him and said, “Lord Marston, you have company.”
Before he could inquire as to who it was, Nate stuck his nose out of the library. He grinned and waved. “There you are. None of the servants could locate you. I was beginning to worry you’d traveled back to town, and we’d crossed paths without realizing it.”
Hunter couldn’t tamp down a wince. Nate was the very last person he wanted to have visit. He was awash with conflicted feelings about his hasty decision to march to the altar, and he couldn’t bear to explain the issue to his friend.
His relationship with Nate had been formed in the army. They’d both been wounded in that same terrible attack, and they’d been sent home to England together, which had meant they’d spent many months in cramped quarters. It had cemented a bond between them that wouldn’t have developed otherwise.
They didn’t have much in common—except for that dreadful experience. Nate didn’t possess any of Hunter’s better traits. He was always broke too, so Hunter constantly gave him money. Hunter had plenty of his own, so he didn’t necessarily mind helping out, but Nate had started to presume on Hunter’s generosity.
Their main interest, the one that connected them, was their fascination with vice and slatterns. If Hunter abandoned his reckless ways, as he’d promised Hannah he would, what reason would he have to continue socializing with Nate?
“How did you find me?” Hunter asked.
“I ran into your father. He told me where you were.”
Hunter hadn’t ordered his father to keep his whereabouts a secret, so he couldn’t exactly complain that Neville had tattled.
“At first,” Nate said, “I was certain he was jesting. I couldn’t picture you loafing here. You don’t care about this stupid place. How are you surviving all the fresh air and rural living? Has it driven you mad yet?”
It was an awful comment, and the footman was still hovering, waiting to learn if Hunter sought any assistance. He’d heard Nate’s derogatory remark, and he couldn’t conceal his contempt.
Hunter sighed with aggravation. He was working to ingratiate himself to the staff, but with one snide insult from Nate, his efforts had probably been ruined. Gossip would spread that he was a pompous boor who had rude friends.
“I’m having a very enjoyable holiday,” he said to Nate. “I deem Marston to be the finest estate in the kingdom, and I’m lucky it’s mine.” Then to the footman, “I’ll be having a brandy with Mr. Carew, but if anyone needs me, feel free to interrupt.”
He entered the room, vaguely irked that Nate had been deposited there instead of the front parlor. He was a snoop though, so perhaps he’d just been exploring and Hunter had stumbled on him when he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
Nate had found the liquor tray and was holding a full glass of
brandy. Hunter went to the sideboard and poured his own glass, then sat behind the desk. As Nate pulled up a chair across from him, it seemed as if they were about to conduct a hostile employment interview.
“Please tell me you’re not planning to stay the night,” Hunter said. “I’m hoping you’re merely passing through, and you’re actually journeying on to a house party down the road.”
“Of course I’m staying. Why wouldn’t I be welcome?”
“I’m leaving myself in the morning.”
“Are you returning to London? It’s been positively boring without you there.”
“No, I’m not heading to London.” Hunter sipped his liquor, glaring. “Are you about to beg me for a loan? Is that it? Otherwise, I can’t imagine why you’d arrive unannounced.”
Nate scowled. “Since when must I be announced? I assumed you’d be glad to see me. Is this property so grand that an invitation is required? Or have I upset you? If so, I remain unaware of any transgression.”
“No, no, sorry.” Hunter waved away the question. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m distracted by some problems, and I’m having trouble concentrating. It’s making me surly.”
“For your information, I don’t need an infusion of funds. I’m delighted to report that I’m about to receive some money.”
“How?”
“A distressed young lady, who is very angry with her mother, has agreed to marry me. After I’m her husband, her dowry will be mine.”
Hunter scoffed with derision. “No sensible girl would wed you.”
“That shows how much you know about amour. Her mother should have been away from home this week, so we were going to elope, but the accursed woman didn’t depart as we were expecting. We’ve rescheduled my adventure for next Saturday or maybe the one after that. We’ll keep trying until she and I can manage to sneak away.”
“I can’t ever figure out when you’re serious and when you aren’t.”
“It’s true! I’m not joking.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Hunter said. “You have no charm, so why would she have listened to you?”
“Who says I’m not charming? You’re not the only rogue in the kingdom. I wore her down with my devoted wooing.”
Hunter spat out a laugh. “Who is she? Am I acquainted with her?”
Nate huffed with feigned offense. “I’m a gentleman, and I would never besmirch her character. I will introduce her once she’s my bride. I can’t have rumors leaking out before then.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “I will be perched on pins and needles, eager to hear that you’re married.”
“Enough about me. I’ve been dying to ask about you. What’s wrong? We were in the middle of your mistress interviews, but we didn’t finish them, so you haven’t picked who you like. There are several tarts anxious to discover if they were the winning candidate.”
“They’ll survive until I get back.”
Nate launched into a diatribe about the benefits and detriments of the doxies Hunter had met recently, but as he babbled on, Hunter was so detached from the event that he couldn’t envision himself as the cad who’d participated.
His annual search for a paramour was the stuff of legends, the sort of antic that had men toasting him when he walked into a room, but with his being about to ride off to Scotland with Hannah, it simply sounded sordid and disgusting. What was the matter with him? Why couldn’t he behave better?
His sudden disinterest was shocking. Had he already exited the demimonde? Had he already grown halfway respectable? Could a man alter himself that quickly?
A shiver worked down his spine. He couldn’t imagine living quietly in the country with his wife, yet that was the future he was creating for himself. It was all happening too fast.
The mistress interviews were just one dissolute act, in a lengthy list of them, that were being called into question. He wouldn’t mention the dilemma to Nate though because he’d have to talk about Hannah and the fact that he was so smitten he couldn’t think straight.
He had to escort his friend out to his horse and send him on his way. It wasn’t that late. If he left soon, he could travel to London with no difficulty.
“I really liked that brunette in the last group,” Nate said. “Do you remember her? She had the most gorgeous breasts.”
“She wasn’t that intelligent. I couldn’t carry on a conversation with her.”
“When have you ever chosen a paramour by how adept she is at pithy conversation? I’m certain you choose them for another type of activity entirely.”
Hunter smirked. “You know me well.”
“Will you be able to select from the girls I’ve provided so far? Or should I start from scratch?”
“At the moment, I can’t focus on it. The whole notion is incredibly fatiguing.”
“What is fatiguing about it? Are you ill? Is that why you slunk away to the country without apprising anyone of your plans?”
“I’m not ill. I’m simply pondering a dicey situation.”
He should have blurted out that Hannah was in residence, that they were departing in the morning for Gretna Green. But Nate could be sarcastic and mocking, and if he made disparaging remarks about Hannah or matrimony, they’d fight, and Hunter didn’t want to quarrel.
He just wanted Nate to leave.
“When are you coming back to town?” Nate asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re being extremely furtive, so what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, except that I can’t have a guest right now.”
Nate blew out a heavy breath. “Well, excuse me for being worried and tracking you down. You still haven’t told me how I should proceed. You desperately need a new mistress. Shall I round up another group of trollops for you to interview? You didn’t like the previous ones, but pretty doxies are a penny a dozen. I can drum up more of them for you.”
“I’ll decide about them after I return to London.”
“I hate to point it out, but you’ll have a horrendous time getting rid of Isabella.”
“I realize that.”
“She hasn’t packed a single trunk of her belongings. It doesn’t seem to me that she’s intending to move out of your house, but I can’t see you allowing her to stay. Not when you’re about to pick someone else. During the carriage ride here, I tried to talk some sense into her, but she’s so stubborn. She wouldn’t listen.”
Hunter had been woolgathering as Nate bloviated, so he hadn’t exactly caught the import of his comment. He lurched up in his chair and rather frantically asked, “What was that? Something about riding here with Isabella?”
“Yes, and we’re expecting to tarry for a few days. I had no idea you’d kick us out.”
Hunter rippled with alarm. “Isabella is with you? She’s in the manor?”
“Ah…yes?”
“Where is she this very instant?”
“I assume she’s upstairs in a bedchamber and freshening up so she can stroll down and surprise you.”
Hunter leapt up so violently that his chair tipped over.
“What is it?” Nate asked. “What did I say?”
Before Hunter could clarify the debacle, the library door slammed open with a loud bang, and Hannah was standing there. She looked very, very angry. If her eyes could have shot daggers, he’d have been dead on the floor.
Hunter had never been more embarrassed. From how she was glaring, she must have eavesdropped. His mind raced to recall what he and Nate had been discussing. How much had she heard? How awful had they sounded?
“I just stopped by,” she said, “to inform you that your mistress, Isabella Darling, is on the premises—while I am here too.”
“I…ah…ah…can explain…” he mumbled like an idiot.
“I don’t believe any explanation is necessary, and it appears you and Mr. Carew are very busy—with your search for a new mistress. Don’t let me keep you.”
Then she spun and stomped off.
&nbs
p; “Was that Hannah Graves?” Nate asked.
“Yes, that was Miss Graves, so I demand you find Isabella—at once. The two of you should be in your carriage and on your way to town in the next five minutes. If Isabella refuses to accompany you, haul her out and toss her into your vehicle. Don’t dawdle, and don’t make me tell you twice.”
Hunter hurried out without glancing back. He was determined to locate Hannah and apologize, but his heart was in his boots. He couldn’t imagine how he’d earn any forgiveness, and he doubted he could spew the words to fix what had happened.
What man could?
****
Hannah walked down the hall to the stairs. Even though it was afternoon already, she was famished and praying she could be served some breakfast. She was feeling nervous and even a tad shy. Every second, she was braced to bump into Hunter, and she couldn’t deduce how she ought to greet him.
What would be appropriate?
She’d washed and dressed, and a housemaid had assisted her with her hair and clothes. She’d asked where Hunter was, and the girl had said he’d risen early and had gone riding, but she didn’t know if he’d returned.
Hannah couldn’t figure out what his absence indicated. Why would he have left? Why wasn’t he pacing in a parlor and anxiously waiting for her to join him?
She pondered the questions, then shoved them away. She couldn’t expect him to twiddle his thumbs as she slept the day away. The following morning, they would head to Scotland, and she’d become his wife. She hoped she hadn’t developed a reputation with him as a laggard.
She approached the landing, and a door opened as someone exited a bedchamber. It wasn’t Hunter’s room though, so she couldn’t guess who it might be, but in case a guest had arrived, she halted and smiled.
To her great shock, a woman emerged. She was flamboyantly attired in a bright red gown, the bodice cut very low. Her hair was intricately styled, with braids and curls, as if she’d wasted several hours primping and preening so she’d look stunning.
As she spun toward Hannah, Time stood still. The sight confronting her was so peculiar and so out of place that she couldn’t process what she was witnessing.