by Alice Gaines
Derrington whistled softly through his teeth. “That must be a tremendous amount of money.”
James picked up the shirt from the bed. “If my connection is right, they could probably buy a shire or two.”
Derrington removed his shoes and socks. “Did she mention how much of that the youngest daughter controls?”
“Oh yes, sir. That’s the hottest talk among the staff. Her father left a curious will.”
Derrington stopped undressing and stared up at his valet. “Go on.”
“Well, it seems he left no money to his son but just control of his companies.”
“That’s not so unusual.”
“There’s more,” James said. “The elder daughter only inherited two of his estates and her mother’s jewels.”
“That’s worth a lot of money.”
“True, sir. And they’re all rich from their late mother’s trust and the older two married within their class.”
“And, so…”
“The rest went to the younger daughter, Miss Juliet.” James paused for emphasis. “All of it.”
It took a few seconds for the significance of James’s information to hit home. “Good Lord, she’s as rich as Croesus.”
“Nearly so, my lord.”
“Well, that certainly takes care of the third requirement. She’d never have to marry me for my money.” And she didn’t act as if his station in society mattered to her. In fact, if anything, she didn’t even seem to approve of him. He hadn’t had a chance to assess her mind in that brief encounter, but she’d managed a few jabs in a limited amount of time. Her eyes had a light of intelligence to them. He’d have to assess her tricks once he figured out what that meant.
She’d managed his loins well enough. No more than the purse of her lips got his cock’s attention. She’d flushed so prettily when he’d pointed out the disarray of her dress. If he pursued her, he could witness her chest turning that lovely pink over and over and over.
Marriage, for certain. The whole enterprise would provide one pleasure after another. Yes, she could prove perfect in every possible way.
“My lord?”
He glanced up again to find James staring at him. “I was lost in thought.”
“Again,” James replied. “About Miss Foster?”
“What man wouldn’t be?” He rose and removed his trousers and small clothes. If he waited much longer, thinking of the woman’s mouth and the way her breasts had risen and fallen under her dress, he might embarrass himself with an erect member. Now naked, he lifted the covers and scrambled under them.
Unfortunately, seduction took time, and more so if she was a virgin. In fact, he’d never enticed an innocent before. He could manage, no doubt, and manage quite well, but that might take even longer.
“How I envy you, James.”
His valet’s eyebrow went up. “What for, sir?”
“Your freedom. I imagine you’ll find your way into some other woman’s bed tomorrow.”
“I do well enough.”
“I wish I could come with you.” Lord, he hadn’t known a woman for weeks. Soon, he’d have to take matters into his own hands or go quite mad. Now, he faced the prospect of a lingering courtship before he could tumble the divine Miss Foster.
“You’re welcome to join me, my lord. I’m sure many of the ladies would feel honored.”
“Impossible.” He sighed. “Someone would find out. Gossip travels faster here than in London.”
“Especially when they have a Peer of the Realm to talk about.”
“Exactly,” he said. “It would hurt my chances with Miss Foster.”
“So you’ve settled on her.”
“I’ll make her Mrs. David Winslow, Marchioness of Derrington, before the season’s out.”
“I have no doubt, sir,” James said.
“I’ll need your help, though,” Derrington said. “Keep in touch with your talkative friend.”
“If it will help you, sir.”
“Find out as much as you can about Miss Juliet Foster. Her likes and dislikes. Her weaknesses and passions.”
“I see.”
“Anything that might help me work my way into her good graces.”
“Certainly, my lord,” James said. “Will there be anything else?”
“I’m fine. Go to bed.”
Derrington pulled the covers up and over his chest. James scooped up his clothes and went to the door. “Sleep well, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
When James left, Derrington lay for a while, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he blew out the candle. Then, with everything dark, he imagined Juliet Foster lying next to him naked, as he covered her body with kisses.
Chapter Three
So a corset did have a use, after all. Juliet stared at her chest. She’d never had a gown that showed so much of her bosom. With the stays pushing her breasts upward, she filled out the bodice quite nicely. In fact, she had quite a decent hourglass figure. Imagine that.
Millie sat across the fitting room, staring at her with alarm. “Are you really going to wear something that revealing?”
“Not here in New York.” That wasn’t exactly true, but only one person here would see her in it. “Maybe not in London, either. But definitely in Paris.”
“Madam looks quite right in this gown,” the seamstress said. “It’s the style.”
“Not for a woman in mourning,” Millie said.
“I won’t be in mourning in France.” She turned sideways and stared at herself in the huge mirror. What a surprise after all these years, that she could look so good, so sophisticated, with no more than the help of some whalebone. The fabric was a crimson silk that made her skin fairly glow. The ruffles at the bodice emphasized the curves of her breasts. The corset narrowed her midriff and pinched her waist into a tiny span. Then the skirts billowed out from there and cascaded over the bustle to just above the floor.
“Well, you’re very beautiful, I must admit,” Millie said. “But that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You should try one of the dresses on,” Juliet suggested. “You’d look magnificent.”
Millie blushed. “I’d feel foolish.”
Foolish. Heaven knew Juliet ought to feel that way, but somehow, the person in the mirror seemed like a stranger. She had the same auburn curls and the same face Juliet had encountered every morning. The same angled jaw and slightly too-broad nose. She’d never been pretty like Millie or the other girls at Sedgewick. And she’d always felt big and coarse because of her size. The others appeared so dainty and small by comparison, dancing through life while she galumphed.
Now…well, now she looked beautiful or something close to it. Derrington had told her she was. Could he have seen something she never had?
“Would you like to try the green?” the seamstress asked.
“Yes, very much.”
The woman pulled the crimson dress over her head and carefully put it on a hanger. Then, she approached with a pile of green taffeta. She slid that onto Juliet, helped her with the sleeves, and then went behind her to fasten the gown. This one created the same effect with her figure. She could hardly believe her eyes.
“Now you must try this one, Millie.”
“With my hair?” Millie said. “You have to be kidding.”
“The burnished copper of your hair and the color of this dress would be stunning.”
“I’d look like a Christmas tree.”
“Don’t be silly. We’d take any party by storm.” Juliet turned toward her friend. “Try to be happy for me, please.”
Millie rose and went to her, taking her hands. “Of course, I am. I just worry.”
“Well, don’t. We’ll have a wonderful time in Europe. We’ll both find what we want. I promise.”
“And the gowns are lovely. How many did you order?”
“A dozen for now. I’ll get more in Paris.”
Millie smiled. “And I’ll wear one or two if you want. Just not the green.”
> “There’s the spirit.” Juliet squeezed Millie’s fingers.
“Are we done now, madam?” the seamstress asked.
“You’ve done a wonderful job. Have everything sent to my house.”
“Immediately.” The woman helped Juliet out of the gown, gathered up the rest of them and left the room.
Juliet removed the corset cover and then reached behind herself to unlace the corset itself. She hesitated and glanced at herself in the mirror. She might as well get used to her new figure, and besides, the easiest way to get the thing home was to wear it. So, she put the cover back on and went to her dress where it hung from a hook on the wall.
“You’re going to wear a corset?” Millie asked. “After railing against them for so long?”
“It seems I’m going to be a female, after all.”
“You always have been, and a beautiful one,” Millie said.
Juliet slipped her dress on. “Help me with the hooks, will you?”
Millie went to her back and did up the dress. It hung more loosely now with her ribs and waist constricted. Still, she stood straighter in it, and the swell of her breasts under the fabric had a sensuality to it. Maybe she should have tried the trappings of femininity before.
She picked up her handbag and turned. “Should we walk home, or take a cab?”
“Walk,” Millie answered. “I’d like to see the crocuses again.”
“Crocuses it is.”
***
They’d hardly set foot on the path when a large figure greeted them. The Marquis of Derrington, of all people. He removed his hat to greet them but still stood several inches taller than Juliet. She could intimidate most men with her height, but not this one. She instinctively took a step backward.
“Miss Foster, what a pleasure to see you again,” he said. He turned toward Millie. “May I have the honor of an introduction?”
“Miss Millicent Rhodes.” Juliet gestured toward the man. “Lord Derrington.”
Derrington made a small but neat bow. “At your service, ma’am.”
Millie dropped a curtsey. Where had she learned that?
Derrington glanced at Juliet and raised a brow. Millie could show him deference if she wanted. Juliet straightened her back, achieving her full height, and stared back at him evenly. That wicked light entered his eye—a flash of heat that settled around her heart and made it beat the tiniest bit faster. He knew the effect he had, the scoundrel. Derrington focused on her even as he still held Millie’s hand. Juliet wasn’t used to that kind of attention from men, especially men who looked like this one. The whole thing felt unsettling.
A throat cleared. Millie’s. Derrington extended an arm to each of them. They made quite a trio walking along. The wool of his coat felt warm under Juliet’s palm, even through the cotton of her glove. The man seemed to give off heat of his own.
“So, Lord Derrington,” she said. “Are you out serving women again today?”
“Juliet!” Millie said.
“That’s how I met him the other night at the party. His companion seemed so well served, she’d swooned from all the service.”
“I was an innocent in that encounter,” he said.
“An innocent?” she said. “Somehow, that’s hard to picture.”
“We’re all having a perfectly innocent stroll through this park,” he said.
“Maybe you’re only a predator in libraries,” she said. “Every prominent house in Manhattan has one. If you continue in New York society, you’ll never run out of young girls to serve.”
Millie jerked them all to a stop. “Juliet, I don’t believe you. Why are you being so rude?”
“Not at all, Miss Rhodes,” Derrington said. “I admire a woman with a quick wit.”
“Still, my lord…” Millie said.
“A talented tongue can be a woman’s greatest asset,” he said.
Juliet couldn’t help herself. She tipped her head back and laughed at the clear innuendo. She hadn’t had direct experience with men and sex, but she’d read enough to know what he was talking about.
“Well done, Derrington,” she said. “You’re a worthy opponent.”
He gave her the same smart bow he’d used with Millie. “I’d be happy to serve you in that capacity any time you like.”
“I may take you up on that offer,” she said.
“You shouldn’t encourage Juliet,” Millie said. “Whatever pops into her head comes out of her mouth.”
“And a very lovely mouth it is, too.”
“I’d rather spar with you than have your flattery,” she said.
“Is it flattery if it’s true?” he asked.
“I hope you can convince her she’s beautiful, Lord Derrington,” Millie said. “I’ve tried for years.”
“It would be my great honor to provide that service, too.”
“That’ll be trickier than trading barbs,” Juliet said.
“I love a challenge.” He guided them along the path again. Odd how their strides fit so easily together. How comfortable it felt for Juliet’s shoulder to bump against his arm from time to time. Millie probably fared as well on his other side, but she couldn’t escape the sense that his warmth went more in her direction than her friend’s.
What an actor. What a scoundrel. She’d chosen well.
They left the park and now stood across the street from the Foster mansion. She pointed with her free hand toward it. “Here we are. Thanks for a pleasant walk.”
“I have a confession to make,” he said. “I’ve been haunting this park hoping to encounter you.”
“Everyone knows where I live.”
“After the other evening, I wasn’t sure you’d see me.”
“I might not see you now,” she said.
He turned to Millie. “Prevail on her, Miss Rhodes.”
“I’ll try, but she won’t listen to me.”
“Ah, Miss Foster.” He put his palm on his chest. “What can I do to regain your good opinion?”
“Stop looking silly, for one thing,” she answered.
He dropped his hand from his chest and used it to pick up hers. “Then, tell me straight. What do I have to say to see you again?”
He looked so earnest, as if he really had an interest in her, but the twinkle had returned to his eyes. He was a ne’er-do-well, and a handsome one. She could put him to good use, even if it wasn’t the one he had in mind.
“Come for a visit tomorrow at three,” she said.
He kissed the back of her hand. No more than a brush of his lips on her glove. Warm, just like every other time he’d gotten near to her.
He straightened and gave her the same wicked smile. He did it so easily.
She pulled her hand back. “We can manage from here on our own.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “Until tomorrow.”
This time, she twined her arm with Millie’s and stepped into the street. Halfway through, Millie leaned toward her. “He’s still back there, isn’t he?”
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved since they’d left him. “What do you think he’s doing?”
“Watching to make sure we’re safe?”
“That seems too easy.”
“Maybe he really likes looking at you,” Millie said.
Improbable, but maybe true. If so, that would make things easier.
They climbed onto the sidewalk and then to the bottom of the steps leading up to the house.
She turned and waved at him. What a sight he made. Tall and handsome, with a head of dark curly hair that was a bit longer than strictly decent.
He hesitated, letting her admire him, then touched the brim of his hat again and went back into the park.
“What a remarkable man,” Millie said.
“I suppose you could use that word.”
“He’s quite taken with you.”
“I never planned that, but it’ll come in handy,” Juliet said.
Millie’s jaw dropped. “What a strange thing t
o say.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She turned and went up the stairs.
Millie followed. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Come along and help me pick out something to wear for Lord Derrington’s visit.”
Chapter Four
Derrington found the Foster mansion about what one would expect. There was an efficient butler to answer the door and take his hat; a marble entryway with a lofty ceiling and grand staircase leading to the upper floors; and even a few potted palms that decorators favored these days. So, he could hardly have expected what he’d find when the majordomo guided him to a formal sitting room and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Miss Juliet Foster rose when he entered, but she hardly resembled the Juliet Foster he’d encountered before. Instead of a dress in mourning black, buttoned up nearly to her chin, she wore a ball gown in crimson silk. The bodice dipped low, scarcely covering more than the tips of her breasts. And what magnificent breasts they were. Not overly large as you sometimes saw among women who liked to wear low-cut dresses. Juliet’s were small pillows of flesh and sweetly rounded. Even from across the room, they looked powder soft.
“Do you approve, Lord Derrington?” she said.
He finally managed to move his gaze to her face. She wore an odd expression, more like steely resolve than anything else, with the uplifted chin and the determined set to her jaw.
“‘Approve’ is inadequate to describe how I feel about how you look in that dress.”
“I’m sure you can think of another one, then.”
“I doubt it,” he said. “You’ve rendered me quite speechless, Miss Foster.”
“It’s early yet,” she answered. “Whiskey?”
“Now, I hardly know what to think.”
“A man who has no opinion on spirits?” she said. “You’re not a teetotaler, I hope.”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Let’s have a drink.” She walked to a side table that held a silver tray with tumblers and several decanters. “Irish, Scotch, or American bourbon?”
“Scotch, thank you.”
She poured a generous amount from one of the decanters and then selected a second. From that, she splashed a tiny bit into a glass and drank it in one swallow. The look of determination returned to her features as she served herself a more substantial portion. Then, both glasses in hand, she approached him, and gave him his drink. “Please, sit down.”