The Maddening Lord Montwood: The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series

by Vivienne Lorret

  “I’ve decided to abduct you again.” Before he lost the battle within himself, he settled his hands at her waist and lifted her off the ground and up onto the saddle in one motion. With her legs draped over one side, she took hold of the pommel for support. Then, he slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted behind her.

  Through all this, she gave no argument. She never once ordered him to release her. Not even when he pulled her against the cradle of his thighs. The elicit pleasure he gained from having her close made him wish she’d issue a razor-tongued set-down. Then again, he rather enjoyed those from her as well.

  With the reins in one hand and the other locked around her waist, he turned Quicksilver around and headed back toward Fallow Hall. “Are you comfortable?”

  She’d been looking everywhere but at him since he first sat behind her. Now, she glanced at him from over the rims of her spectacles. A blush tinted her cheek. “Not at all, but I believe that is for the best.”

  He grinned at her sound judgment. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  As they rode, her body moved in the rhythm of Quicksilver’s canter, her hip pressing against Lucan’s groin intimately. All he could think about was what it would feel like to have her moving against him like this, only straddling him. No doubt Frances Thorne would enjoy and excel in a position of power. The thought quickly began to drive him insane.

  After a short distance, she murmured a sound of frustration. “I don’t quite know what to do with my hands.”

  “Pray, do not ask me,” he groaned. Right now he could be very explicit in his instruction.

  His grip around her waist was firm enough that she needn’t hold on to anything. In the end, however, she kept her grip on the pommel, one hand folded over the other. Gradually, she relaxed, leaning into the security of that arm, her shoulder nestled into his.

  “When I first saw you riding around the corner,” she began, “you looked equally as troubled. Might I ask the reason . . . or are we not quite beyond such familiarity?”

  For him, they were. He shared with her more than he did with anyone else. More peculiar was that he wanted her to know about his life, even at the risk of telling her how he’d come to have such a dark soul. Perhaps he wanted to warn her away. Or perhaps the reason was more complicated than he wanted to think about at present.

  One thing was for certain, if he wanted to continue to keep her trust, then he needed to share more with her. Not only that, but what he’d learned today might help her stay on her guard around Whitelock. “Conversation is a good distraction,” he said, knowing it was best option. “When you saw me approach, I was concerned about recent news. You see, there is a tiger in Whitelock’s employ. The lad’s sister was companion to Lady Whitelock until recently.”

  Frances scrutinized him, her brow furrowed. “If you are speaking of Miss Momper, I have heard of her. She left the position to take another.”

  “She is the only family Arthur has left. Yet . . . she hasn’t written to him in all her time away. He is worried. On his behalf, I sent a missive to Wales to check on Miss Momper’s arrival at Whitelock’s hunting box but learned that she never arrived. In fact, she wasn’t expected to report for another two months.”

  Frances’s expression altered from confusion to surprise and then to pleasure. “You are actually telling me your suspicions?”

  One of them. He nodded. “I would not forgive myself if I allowed anything more to happen to you.”

  “Lucan, you are not at the root of my worries.”

  Just when he had a firm hand on his control, her use of his given name weakened his resolve. He closed his eyes, hearing the echo of it inside his head. Unconsciously, his grip around her waist tightened, fingers splayed. Her supple breast pressed invitingly against him. It was not until he felt her quick puff of breath against his jaw that he realized he’d drawn her closer. Desire filled every inch of his flesh. The satisfaction he craved was within reach. But now was not the time. Inwardly, he shook himself and repositioned her.

  “Yet if I had made an effort to earn your trust in the beginning, you might have heeded my warning, and then I would not have felt compelled to abduct you . . . the first time.” He added the last in order to keep to the truth because as for abducting her this time, nothing could have stopped him.

  “I can see why your young friend would be alarmed.” She hesitated, her gaze drifting as if she were lost in thought. “There could be a simple explanation, however. One does not advance to an important position of housekeeper without having had the proper training, after all. Likely, Miss Momper is in another of Lord Whitelock’s houses as an apprentice.”

  He’d thought of that as well. But he wondered why she wouldn’t have trained here.

  “Yet why not the manor here?” Frances asked, as if their thoughts were interwoven.

  They both fell silent, each lost in thought. The road beneath them gradually brought Fallow Hall into view, and Lucan felt a pang of remorse. Soon, he would have to release her. Worse, he knew that he couldn’t allow himself the pleasure of her close proximity in the future. Because next time, they might not have the inconvenience of riding on the back of a horse in daylight. Hell only knew what he’d have done by now in the shadows.

  “You care for the boy a great deal.”

  Lucan shrugged. “Anyone who met him would find themselves with a similar regard.”

  Having been spotted or scented by RJ, Fallow Hall’s front door opened as they approached. Valentine stood there as RJ bounded out, yawping excitedly as he tromped around the horse in a circle. A footman rushed out to take hold of Quicksilver, and Lucan dismounted. Taking Frances by the waist, he lowered her to the ground. Not embracing her was a challenge. Thankfully, with their audience, Lucan found the strength to step back to a more appropriate distance.

  RJ stopped near them, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of one side of his mouth in his canine version of a grin. He offered a low woof, his gaze traveling from Lucan to Frances and then back again. They both reached out to pet him at once, their fingers colliding. Lucan drew back. Then, surprising him, Frances reached out and grasped his arm.

  Her expression was troubled again. “I just thought of this, but Lady Whitelock’s nurse mentioned that Miss Momper had taken ill earlier in the year. They were all worried for her health, but I’ve been told that she recovered. You don’t think that her illness has returned and she is lying abed somewhere and unable to write her brother, do you?”

  Lucan absorbed this new information with dread. A dark suspicion filled him. He added this to what he already knew. Henny Momper had been elevated to a position of companion within a year’s time. She’d taken ill, but recovered. And . . . she wasn’t expected to arrive at her new post for another two months.

  He cursed under his breath. “Later, I will speak with the driver to learn where he took her. I should have done that in the beginning,” he said, unable to resist the urge to cover Frances’s hand with his own. Was Whitelock the kind of man who would abuse his position and seduce a young woman in his employ? The question left him unsettled.

  “Are you thinking the worst?” Frances asked.

  “I pray that I am wrong.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Shortly after her arrival, Frances sat with Calliope and Hedley in the cheery parlor of Fallow Hall. There were no bold murals here or a clutter of imposing statues. Instead, silk wallpaper printed with orchids adorned the walls. A lovely shade of mauve dressed the windows and the upholstered chairs. A cream-and-gold striped camelback sofa sat in between a pair of tall windows, overlooking a garden in full bloom.

  “Thank you for receiving me without notice,” she said, ignoring their pointedly eager expressions. She knew what they were thinking. “I was offered the day to myself, and I thought how lovely it would be to see the two of you again.”

  “It was fortunate that Montwood happened by at the same time,” Hedley said, her gaze bright with apparent curiosity.

  “I’d
say it was more of a peculiar coincidence,” Frances amended. The man in question had left her in good company while he went to join his male friends. Obviously, he did not want to give the incorrect impression either.

  Unlike Lucan, RJ seemed to prefer her company. The beast lay his head atop her knee, his eyes lifted in a plea for affection. She obliged him readily and earned the contented thump of his tail rapping against the table leg.

  Seated across from her on the sofa, Calliope offered a knowing smile, as if RJ’s behavior was some sort of mystical sign. “We are more delighted than we can say.”

  “It is true.” Hedley passed her a plate of biscuits. “We missed our chance to see you at the fair, which was my fault entirely—I suffered a dizzy spell on the way, causing my friends to turn back.”

  “I hope you are well.” Frances searched her friend’s face for any sign of distress. Since her own mother had died because of an illness, she’d sometimes found herself worrying excessively over others. Coupling this announcement with her previous conversation about Henny Momper, Frances was quickly alarmed.

  She saw no distress, however. In fact, Hedley appeared ebullient.

  “Most assuredly. In the best possible way.” At present, Hedley cast a glance over to Calliope before settling a hand over her own middle, providing a clue to the source of her joy. Apparently, both Calliope and Hedley were with child.

  Relieved, Frances smiled. “Then Fallow Hall will be graced with two new arrivals. Please accept my greatest congratulations.”

  “Thank you, though I will be happier once my sickness ends. Mr. Hingston, the village doctor, assures me that his own wife, who bore him seven children, rarely suffered from illness beyond the first few months.”

  The conversation sparked a memory within Frances, niggling at the back of her mind. Yet before she could grasp it, Calliope spoke.

  “We understand that Montwood was fortunate enough to exchange a word of greeting with you at the festival,” Calliope said after a sip from her cup. “He mentioned that he’d spotted you preparing to have your fortune read. That is something I’ve always wanted to do. Tell me, was there a crystal ball filled with dark, swirling smoke?”

  Frances laughed, recalling the silliness of the entire episode. “There was little magic, though smoke enough from the burning incense. The gypsy read my palm and suggested I would have a happy union and bless my husband with three sons and one daughter. I then explained that I was not married, not to mention past the age of a providing my fictional husband with such a brood. That was when she closed one eye, peered closer at my palm, and said, ‘A king will decide your fate within a fortnight.’ ”

  “A king—imagine that.” Calliope was equally amused, though there was a trace of disappointment in her countenance, as if she’d hoped for different news. Perhaps regarding a certain gentleman they knew.

  Frances had to admit that she’d been disappointed as well but only for the briefest of moments. Then she reasoned that a fortune-teller had likely assumed that Lucan was her betrothed when she’d walked in on the two of them in a near embrace. Therefore, she hadn’t felt it necessary to offer insight on who her supposed husband would be.

  Hedley offered a cheeky grin. “Are you acquainted with any unmarried kings, Frances?”

  “None whatsoever. Nor am I likely to be. However, I am well acquainted with a Duke,” she said as she scratched RJ’s head. “Perhaps he could introduce me to one.”

  Eager to add his part to the conversation, RJ woofed and licked her hand.

  “There you have it,” Calliope said. “Our matchmaker has divined your tea leaves, and you will soon encounter your future husband. It is all settled.”

  “What is settled, my love?” Everhart asked from the doorway. Strolling in behind him were Danvers and Lucan. They all inclined their heads but then refused to allow Frances to rise and curtsy, stating that she was amongst their group now, and there was no need for formalities.

  “Our new friend’s marriage,” Calliope answered with a wink to Frances. “She could very well become a queen in a fortnight.”

  Both Everhart and Danvers moved into the room, pulling additional chairs from the outer walls to sit beside their wives. Lucan took the vacant chair on the other side of RJ, and instantly began scratching the beast, his hand in close proximity to Frances’s.

  “A queen, hmm?” Lucan mused. “Was this the fortune you were told?”

  She tried not to look at the dimple he flashed, tried not to let her pulse escalate—and failed on both accounts. “Not entirely.”

  “It’s quite romantic, really,” Calliope said. “A king will decide her fate.”

  “Within a fortnight, don’t forget,” Hedley added, passing the plate of biscuits to her husband.

  “Montwood, you aren’t by any chance in direct line to inherit a kingdom, are you?” Danvers asked, taking four biscuits before passing the plate to Everhart.

  Frances did not miss the reference. Lucan’s friends were misconstruing his intentions toward her. Since it was obvious that it was solely for the sake of fun, however, she didn’t mind.

  “I’m too selfish a creature to marry, as you lot know already,” Lucan said with gravity enough to silence further comments. Instead, he received a laugh and a few chuckles.

  “Do not be fooled by that hard tone, Frances,” Hedley offered. “I happen to know his heart is complete porridge.”

  Lucan smirked. “Only if you are referring to Mrs. Swan’s porridge, for it is tough and fibrous with a hard exterior—that could easily describe my heart.”

  Frances knew better. Until recently, she’d seen him as a ne’er-do-well who only supported her belief that mankind was corrupt and undeserving. Now, she saw the goodness in him, an integrity that was the foundation of his actions. He’d helped that young boy at the festival gain a ribbon for his mother but had not showcased his good deeds for all the village to praise him. In fact, he’d been embarrassed at her catching him.

  Even in his first abduction of her, he’d claimed to want a moment to speak with her and to warn her. And soon thereafter, he’d kept his word and delivered her to her new employer.

  Since then, she’d encountered him daily, and his concern for her welfare seemed genuine. He hadn’t used their rendezvous for a more carnal purpose either. This both surprised and frustrated her. She even suspected that his all-important wager with his friends was nothing more than a lark. She could no longer imagine that he would actually gamble against his friends. Yet all in all . . .

  All in all, she was beginning to believe that to restore her faith in men, she’d needed only to have looked a little closer at Lucan from the beginning.

  Lucan’s fingertips grazed hers, pulling her away from her thoughts. The touch was light but intentional. Her gaze met his. As if he noticed the shift in her, he shook his head. “Don’t believe them,” the gesture said. “I’m ruthless. I only take what I want.”

  Frances should heed his warning this time. It was sage advice, after all. Because she knew, if he was so inclined, he could easily take her heart. Or worse, she might simply give it to him.

  At Hedley’s request, their party moved to the music room. Lucan sat at the piano, playing a waltz that Everhart and Calliope favored. This time, he did not add any of his usual teasing trills. He played with honesty, pouring part of himself into each note.

  Over the glossy ebony sheen, he tried not to meet Frances’s gaze but failed. The way the soft afternoon light caressed her face, she appeared enraptured by the melody. If the sound gave her such pleasure, he would play forever. Unfortunately, the score came to an end. With reluctance, he stopped as his friends applauded and rose from their seats.

  “Exquisite.” Calliope pressed a hand to her breast and sighed.

  Hedley had tears in her eyes. “I’ve never heard you play more beautifully.”

  Lucan didn’t understand why she was so moved until he saw her reach out and clutch Frances’s hand. His friend obviously knew him better
than he thought. And he wasn’t fooling anyone other than himself.

  “Have you ever heard Montwood play?” Hedley asked.

  “No. This was my first opportunity, and I am more delighted than I can express.” Frances smiled—a full blast of white teeth and that inadvertently sensuous overbite—aimed directly at him.

  Lucan felt the force of it hit him square in the chest. The breath he was inhaling stopped, arrested inside of him. She did not gift smiles easily. They were hard won. “Do you play?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she answered with a small, captivating laugh. “When I was a girl, my tutor refused to return after it was clear that I lacked any talent at all. I love listening, however.”

  His fingers itched to continue playing for her right this instant, but he feared doing so would reveal more than he already had. Too much.

  “Then you must hear more,” Hedley offered, escorting Frances back to one of the chairs. “Montwood, of course you will play for her.”

  He had the frightening impulse to say ‘Every day for the rest of my life.’ Instead, he found a way to breathe and gain some control. “I would be honored.”

  “Then it’s settled. Montwood will entertain you while Hedley and I meet with Mrs. Merkel,” Calliope said, linking arms with Hedley before they moved toward the door. “I quite forgot about the meeting I’d arranged with the housekeeper. We shouldn’t be detained long, however.”

  Once they were in the hall, Calliope turned around and gave Everhart a pointed look.

  Everhart abruptly turned to Danvers. “Ah yes, that reminds me. I have a new atlas that just arrived. It’s waiting in the map room.”

  “A new atlas. How exciting,” Danvers answered with a complete lack of enthusiasm—until Hedley cleared her throat from the doorway. “Indeed. It’s highly important that I see it immediately.”

  All four of his friends left the room at once. It was comical that they assumed Lucan would somehow lose the wager in their absence. As if he had so little control. They didn’t know that he’d had a dozen chances to make the most of being alone with Frances. And every night he struggled to remain in the shadows and not to close the distance between them.