She possessed no control over that reaction. None at all. That frightened her. The part of her that forgot to hate him existed independently of good sense. The responses stirred so deeply she could not name their source. They emerged from a primitive essence that her rational mind could not subjugate.
Only absence from him would free her completely. Fortunately, she would arrange that soon. For now she sought refuge in the one place she knew she could find it.
“I have enjoyed our conversation about Benjamin. Your description of his melancholy surprises me, however. I never knew him to be like that.” It did surprise her. A slight ill ease simmered, as if a question mark had joined all of her exclamation points about Benjamin.
“After the excitement in Greece, perhaps he mourned the loss of drama once he came home.”
She did not care for that explanation. After all, he came home to her.
“Forgive me for being forward, Miss Welbourne, but…did Benjamin propose to you, either before he left or in a letter?”
She might never forgive him for being that forward. His question resurrected one of her own. It whispered sometimes late at night when she gave herself over to memories. Did I misunderstand?
“He spoke of our being together forever.”
“Then you had a fair understanding. Perhaps he worried that you would reject him when he formally proposed, however. That may have been the reason for his mood.”
No, it had not been that. He had the advantage in their love. She was the one who had to worry about rejection.
That thought just sprang into her mind. She resented its honesty and the way this man had forced it on her.
“It is perhaps just as well that he is gone,” she said. “If you were a friend, what you did to the Longworths—your duty, as you called it—would have been more difficult.”
She searched for some signs of guilt in him at the reference. She saw none.
“I expect that you write to them,” he said.
“Of course. And my cousin Roselyn writes to me. Timothy is a broken man. His health has been badly affected.”
“Brandy does have a way of taking a physical toll.”
“How dare—”
His full severity flashed as soon as she began the scold. Her instincts shouted a silent warning to hold her tongue. Their last heated argument had produced drastic results.
She swallowed her ire. “Roselyn writes that they barely have enough to eat, so I doubt he can afford brandy.”
“Cheap gin will do the job just as well. I am sorry to hear of the ladies’ distress, however. I will send Miss Longworth some money. If it goes to her, can we trust that it will remain in her hands and not be used for her brother’s illness?”
“She will never accept it from you. Her pride will never permit it, nor will her anger. She will starve first.”
“Then I will give it to you to give her. She need never learn its true source. Say, fifty pounds for now?”
The offer surprised her. She should grab it, she knew. However…she eyed him suspiciously. Would this be like that new wardrobe? Would it put her in his debt?
His slow smile showed that he read her thoughts. “Miss Welbourne, if I sought to make you my mistress, I would never be so subtle and indirect. You would know it, and I would never insult you with such a small sum.”
The carriage arrived on Hill Street then, not a minute too soon. A footman hurried out and helped her step down. She walked away quickly while Rothwell stacked the packages into the servant’s hands. She was halfway to the door before she made up her mind about the money. She turned and addressed him as he stepped out of the carriage.
“My pride should not interfere with my dear cousins having some relief. I will give it to her. Only ten, however, since I cannot explain having more. She will never know it came from you.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Alexia dragged Caroline through a stilted conversation in French. Her pupil’s mastery of this graceful accomplishment still left much to be desired. Her own lack of attention to the finer points of grammar was not helping their progress.
Half of her mind remained occupied by her meeting with Lord Hayden three days ago. With distance from the man’s unsettling presence, their conversation took center stage in her memories. Her confused reactions to him only formed a backdrop now to some serious speculations regarding what he had said about Benjamin. The new question mark kept getting bigger and bigger.
A footman found them in the schoolroom and deposited a package on the table. He announced that it had just arrived for Miss Welbourne.
“Did you buy a pillow while you were at the shops?” Caroline asked.
She had not, but this package looked to contain one. She broke the seal on the fine patterned paper. The wrappings dropped to reveal an ermine muff.
“Oh, my,” Caroline cried. “It is beautiful.”
The muff was made of the softest white fur. Ivory satin lined the little tunnel for her hands. Tiny pearls trimmed the seams on either side.
Alexia read the note that accompanied it.
I am told that you attend the theater tonight with my aunt. The nights are still too cold for a lady to be lacking suitable comforts. Please accept this with my gratitude for the aid you provide the family.——Easterbrook
Caroline’s fingertip drew a little pattern in the fur’s nap. “Mother thinks Easterbrook should have invited us to live at his house. She is also hurt that he has never visited us here, but I believe his heart is very good.”
Alexia had no idea if Easterbrook’s heart was good or not. She was fairly certain he knew nothing about the gifts showering down in his name, however.
The muff’s luxury entranced her. Her hands ached to snuggle into its warmth. She remembered Rothwell wrapping the blanket, creating a crude version of this gift.
“What is that other note?” Caroline gestured to Alexia’s lap. A second sealed page had fallen out when she opened the first.
She touched it and realized this should not be shown to Caroline. Her fingers sensed the size and shape of the paper enclosed within it. Evidently “Easterbrook” would be donating the ten pounds that were going to the Longworths.
She knew the truth. She incurred no debts yet, however. The ruse of Easterbrook’s largesse protected her pride. So did the odd reassurance given in the carriage. If I sought to make you my mistress, I would never be so subtle and indirect.
She set the muff and notes aside. All through the afternoon’s lessons, the two gifts sat there, waiting to enclose her in illusions of security, seducing her to think kindly of the man who sent them.
Her dress was old but presentable and her long mantle elegant in its simplicity. Neither garment was fashionable, however, and Hayden assumed they had seen many years. Alexia had probably purchased them when Ben was head of the family. It was lack of use that left them free of the signs of wear.
She arrived at the box with Henrietta, content in her role of the subdued companion who formed a shadow to his aunt’s flamboyance. A discreetly plumed turban announced her station as a lady no matter what her situation. Her fur muff rang a note of luxury in a quiet melody of outmoded restraint.
She kept the muff on her lap during the performance. The theater held a chill, and her hands remained hidden in its silken tunnel. Sitting on the other side of Henrietta, Hayden could easily see Alexia’s gloved arm gently curve toward that hidden cave where her elegant hands dwelled. He imagined her tapered fingers, warm from their home in fur and satin, sliding down his naked chest in five velvety paths, glossing to the line of his hip and around his loins—
He rose and slipped to the rear wall of the box. He could see only the back of Alexia’s hat from here. And the nape of her neck. And the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her dress bared enough to send his imagination flying again, speculating about the taste as he kissed along that skin.
He laughed at himself, despite his clenched teeth. He was not a man to set his sights on women
he could not have. His private life progressed as efficiently as his public one. This desire for Miss Welbourne made no sense and was proving damned inconvenient. And it was desire, plain and simple, the kind of hunger that had rarely focused so specifically on one woman, let alone one to be desired in vain.
The problem was that he did not really believe it was in vain. He should not have her, but the part of his mind that instinctively calculated odds said he could have her if he wanted to. She did not like him, she blamed him for great sins, but desire existed in a world apart from what should be.
The object of his attention moved. Her shoulders tilted toward the stage and the hat slowly rose. Turning, she set down the muff and walked in silent grace toward him.
He expected her to pass out of the box. Instead, she approached him, her eyes seeking him in the shadows along the back wall.
He battled the urge to grab her. “Are you enjoying the play, Miss Welbourne?”
“Yes. It was kind of your aunt to include me.”
He had arranged that by being vague about his own plans. He had suggested Henrietta bring Miss Welbourne so there would be no chance she might sit in Easterbrook’s box alone. He scorned his impulse to subterfuge even as he surrendered to it.
“I wonder if I might have some conversation with you, Lord Hayden. It regards a matter that has weighed on my mind the last few days. It requires some privacy.”
Not now, little wren. Stay close to Mother if you are wise.
“Certainly, Miss Welbourne.” He guided her to the door.
The corridor was dimly lit, with mere pockets of deep yellow piercing the dark. Her skin appeared ethereal and her eyes very dark and expressive. They regrouped against the box’s door.
“I have been thinking about what you said in the park, regarding Benjamin.” Her brow puckered with concern. He wanted to kiss the frown away. “You spoke of his melancholy during his last days. I have been thinking how unlike him that was.”
“We all have our moments. No doubt he did as well but at times the world did not see him.”
“Possibly. Yet…may I ask, was he drinking that evening? When it happened?”
“A goodly amount.” He rather wished they had not left the box now. She broached specifics he’d rather not give. He avoided dwelling on them.
“That was not like him either,” she said. “Unlike his brother, Ben was not fond of spirits. I think, from what you described, that he was not merely melancholy but despondent.”
“That may be too strong a word.”
“Did you see him there, on the deck, before he fell?”
Now they were wading into bad waters. The urge to grab her and kiss her had less to do with desire and more to do with an impulse to silence these questions.
“I saw him briefly.”
Look at the stars, Hayden. They fill the entire sky all the way down to the sea. I feel as if I could walk across the water and touch them.
Those are not stars over there, but the lighthouse on Corsica. The drink has addled your senses. Come below with the others. The night carries a chill.
I will not be good company. I am better alone tonight.
You can be alone down below too.
Leave me in peace, will you? Don’t you ever get in a mood, Hayden? Does that remote, calculating soul of yours never experience sadness or dread? The night sky can be soothing at such times.
You would be less sad if you were less drunk.
Now you sound like your father. All judgment and logical superiority. Will you lecture me now? Exhort me to moral correctness and honorable behavior? Hell, in twenty years you will even look like him. A damned good thing you don’t have the sentiment to marry, because you would end up the ruthless hypocrite he was and—
Another word and I will thrash you, drunken bastard though you are tonight.
Leave me in peace and you will not hear any more words from this bastard.
I’ll leave you in peace. Hell, I’ll leave you to the devil if that is what you want.
“We had some brief conversation, but he did not want to come below.” He shrugged.
She seemed to see the weight the gesture bore. He grew uncomfortable under her gaze.
“You blame yourself, don’t you? You feel guilty that you did not make him leave the deck.”
He slowly exhaled the rebellious fury that rose at her words. The accusation created a peculiar intimacy. She had just touched the raw side of his soul.
“I apologize for saying that. You are angry now. Even in this light it is evident. I did not intend—”
“You merely named one more sin in a long list. A man such as myself has many, as you have often indicated.”
“I am sure you did not realize he was so inebriated as to fall overboard.” She peered earnestly at him, trying to see deeply despite the dim light. She looked adorably worried. So much that he suddenly did not care what she saw or what she learned about Ben. He did not give a damn about any of that right now, because her full mouth pouted so sensually that he ceased noticing anything else.
“Lord Hayden, I must ask you—how difficult is it for one to fall overboard? I have been trying to picture it, and with the rails, if there is no storm, it just seems to me that—”
He laid his fingertips on her lips, silencing her. “Not so difficult, if one is careless. It happens too often—a game gone awry, a reckless dare. The rails are aids for the sober and sensible, not prison walls.”
Her expression transformed with his touch. Astonishment eclipsed worry. Fear trembled beneath his light touch, and excitement shimmered in the pools of her soulful eyes.
The silence and shadows of the corridor wrapped them. Not a sound out here. They were alone.
He lowered his mouth to taste the cool satin of her bare shoulder.
Her sharp inhale expressed not shock but pleasure. That alone would have defeated his honorable inclinations, but they had already stopped fighting.
He pressed his lips along that alluring line of skin, feeling her warm to the gentle assault. She did not run away or object. She did not even step back. He slid his hand around her waist and pressed her closer, while his mouth followed a path up her neck. He parted his lips at her pulse and feathered his tongue over the quickly beating sign of arousal.
Desire did not obscure his senses. He still heard the silence and the gentle, frightened sighs that greeted each new kiss.
This was not the time or place, but he did not give a damn. He pulled her closer yet, pressing her against him while he held her face and took possession of her provocative mouth.
Her surprise seduced him further. Her melting capitulation sent flames to his mind. Tiny sounds of confusion lingered in her breathless sighs, as if she did not know what to do with this passion.
He broke the kiss and gazed down on her face. Eyes closed and lips parted, she presented an image of ecstasy. Her body felt slight and weak in his arms.
“Touch me,” he said. “You know that you want to.”
Her lids rose. Tentatively, her gloved hands rose and touched his face, as if she sought proof that he was physically there.
Her hands came to rest on his shoulders with that same curious touch. Despite the layers of garments between them, her fingers seared his skin, sending a new heat blazing through him.
He kissed her harder. He barely reined in the ferocious hunger. His body burned. The persistent awareness of their location encouraged him but also heralded his ultimate frustration. Not everything, but…He would pay dearly, but…
He gently took her lower lip between his teeth. Her mouth parted more. He kissed her again, sweeping his tongue slowly, entering carefully. His embrace felt her new trembles of arousal.
Pleasure conquered the last shreds of his judgment. He turned her against the door and claimed her with kisses and caresses, pressing for her body beneath the dress, seeing her naked through his touch, listening to the melodic breaths and cries that spoke her surprise and helplessness.
Cares
sing down her arm, he slid the high glove low, exposing her skin. Turning his head, he kissed down the same path while his hands moved, cupping her bottom, grasping her hip, circling her waist, rising to the unbearable softness of her breast. He smoothed his palm over its fullness, glossing the hard nipple, urging her to abandon herself to him.
Her fingers dug into his shoulder. Her cries sounded clearly. He found enough sense to silence her with another kiss, but not enough to stop his hand. Soon. Later. Eventually…
The door thudded behind her. She stiffened and blinked, as if the low sound woke her from her sleep.
“Good heavens, is it stuck?” a woman’s voice muttered on the other side of the wood.
Gritting his teeth, cursing his aunt, furious from the hunger, he quickly slid the glove back up and moved away from Alexia. In the dim light he could see her flush as she composed herself. She stayed in place for a five count and checked her garments with a quick, practical glance.
She gazed in his eyes with unfathomable thoughts, then turned and opened the door. Henrietta almost fell into their arms.
“My apologies, Aunt Hen,” he said. “I should know better than to rest against the door of an occupied box.”
“Indeed you should. Lost in thought, were you? Working out one of those theorems, I expect.”
“I was also standing sentry, so Miss Welbourne would find the correct box upon returning.”
“You can continue doing so for me. If I had known Alexia intended to go to the…well, just stand there, Hayden, so I do not get lost either.”
Hen sailed down the corridor. Alexia watched in silence. Desire still howled inaudibly in the air between them.
He burned and his mind knew no sense. I will come to you tonight, after the household is asleep. Open your door to me.
He did not say it, but she heard it anyway. She sensed it in him, and maybe in herself.
She turned away and entered the box, closing the door between them.
* * *
The Rules of Seduction Page 11