She had put her faith in him, though he wasn’t sure why, given what she now knew about him. And he meant to prove himself worthy of it. He undressed her with great care, eager to see her body unveiled for him yet again.
And as before, he marveled at her perfection—full breasts, a slim belly that would make a man weep, and hips the right size for a man who liked a bit of flesh on his woman.
She blushed. “Why do you stare at me so?”
“Because I take great pleasure in looking at you.”
Seemingly self-conscious, she averted her gaze from him. “I’m not as pretty as some.”
“You’re a goddess,” he said, and meant it.
“With too prominent a chin and unruly hair and—” When he laughed, she cast him a hurt look. “What?”
“Forgive me, dearest, but surely a woman who entrances every man in her orbit knows that she’s gorgeous.”
She pouted in a way so classically French that he got hard just seeing it. “I still don’t like my chin.”
“Well, I love it.”
When the word love made her shoot him a questioning glance, he cursed himself, not wanting her to put too much stock in what had to be a mere slip of the tongue. Men like him did not fall in love. It was too . . . reckless.
He chucked her under her much-maligned chin. “It’s pert and assertive, just like you. As for your hair, I’ve only seen it covered in wigs, trussed up under hats, and wrapped up into fat chignons. Never down and loose.” He reached for her coiffeur, tugging it free of its pins. “So I mean to remedy that.”
With a satisfaction that sent his cock rousing even more, he watched her honey-brown tresses cascade down over her shoulders to nearly her hips, which was saying something, given how tall she was.
“There,” she said tartly. “Are you happy now? You have finally managed to unleash my hair.”
Unleash was a good word. Because it was messy and thick and glorious. And all his. His.
He filled his hands with it, kissed its “unruly” mass, and then used hanks of it to caress her nipples until she sighed and melted. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he asked.
“A fake princess?”
“Not fake—but no, a princess is not what I see.” He backed her toward the bed, stripping off his clothes as he went. “I see the woman who will be my wife. The woman I will have in my bed for the rest of my days. The woman who will bear my children.”
The words sounded more like vows than he’d meant them to, and the alarm in her face gave him pause. “Oh, Gregory, we can’t marry. It will ruin you!”
“We can. We will. And it won’t.” He tumbled her down onto his bed, relishing the sight of her lying there, exactly where he wanted her. “I shall make it happen, my sweet. You just have to trust me to manage it.”
He had no plan yet, but he would find one somehow. He still had four days to do so.
Parting her legs with his knee, he moved between them and bent to kiss her mouth, but she caught his head in her hands to prevent it. “Are you marrying me solely because you took my innocence?”
He froze. The vulnerable look on her face told him what she wanted—the same words of love she’d given him. Words of love that would lay his heart bare to the knife, that would put the power to destroy him in her hands.
The man who ached to possess her wanted to say them, if only to please her. The cautious spymaster knew better.
The spymaster won out. “To paraphrase a certain fetching actress, ‘I desire you. That is all.’ ”
There was no mistaking the flicker of disappointment in her face. And seeing it made him feel as if he’d just told the first real falsehood of his life, even though he’d lied many times as a spymaster.
But never to himself. Never about something this important. And never to someone he cared about.
Then she smoothed her features into a seductive expression and said, in a coquettish voice just a shade forced, “Well, then, sir. What are you waiting for?”
He seized the reprieve eagerly and set about arousing her in every fashion he knew. He tongued and sucked and fondled her breasts. He kissed every inch of her delectable belly, licked her navel and then her quim, brought her to the brink of satisfaction until she was moaning and begging and clearly needing him as much as he needed her.
Desperately, madly. Now.
Only then did he slide inside her, reveling in the smooth wetness of her . . . in the tight fit of her, like a hot glove . . . in the sweet, luscious smell and taste and essence of her surrounding him as he pounded into her in search of that unnamable thing he wanted and dared not reach for.
Her face grew flushed and her eyes glazed over. “Gregory . . . oh yes, mon coeur . . . yes . . . like that . . . mon amour, mon amour, mon amour!”
And as she reached her release, her delicious quim squeezing and kneading his cock, the words my love, my love, my love chimed in his brain, triggering his own explosive climax, which seemed to go on and on until he fell exhausted atop her.
And as he lay there, pillowed by her softness, with her arms wrapped about him and her legs entangled with his, he thought, My love.
But he was too much of a coward to say it.
Twenty-Two
Monique lay in Gregory’s arms, her heart broken and bleeding. She was foolish to expect love from a man like him. Yet now that she knew how desperately she loved him, she wanted him to love her in return. And he just didn’t. He desired her, but that was all.
It wasn’t enough. After all these years, she finally understood why Grand-maman had gone against her family, why she’d fled with Grandpapa, why she’d never regretted her decision. Because love was a powerful feeling that made one do mad things.
Like give oneself to a man who apparently couldn’t love. Or at least couldn’t love her.
“Gregory?” she murmured.
“Hmm?”
“I must go. My maid will wonder what I’m doing.”
He pulled her close. “It’s early yet. Stay awhile.” He gazed into her face with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re a princess. You can stay out as late as you like.”
“I’m not a princess, and no, I can’t.”
She tried to leave his arms, but he held her fast. “Please, my sweet,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t go just yet.”
Her eyes burned with tears. “All right.”
In truth, she didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay in his arms forever, but that was unwise. And he knew it. He just didn’t want to accept it.
She ought to argue with him about his plans. She ought to point out again the futility of going against Danworth. But she didn’t have the heart for it, and she doubted anything she said would change his mind.
Besides, he looked so peaceful lying next to her, with his arms wrapped about her.
“What will you do?” she asked.
He clearly knew what she meant. “I don’t know. But Danworth has no evidence.”
“What does it matter, as long as he has insinuation on his side? As he said, all he need do is rouse suspicions concerning your father’s death, and you’ll be ruined. He won’t need to prove it in a court of law.”
“True.” His brow furrowed as if something had occurred to him, and he shifted to lie back and stare at the ceiling. “Insinuation is a powerful thing.”
“Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying!”
Glancing over at her, he smiled. “Have you any idea how fetching you are when you’re in a temper?” He slid his hand over her breast. “How desirable?”
She fought the need he roused in her blood. “Mon Dieu, you’re insatiable,” she said, removing his hand. “I must go.”
With a sigh, he fell back against his pillow. “I suppose you must. And I have to speak to Hart tonight, anyway.”
“About what?”
“You’ll see,” he said noncommittally. Then he folded his arms beneath his head as if settling in for the night.
She wanted to laugh. It had been a long day, so
she understood why he might be tired, but he looked so adorable as he fought sleep that she also wanted to snuggle up against him and stay the whole night.
How horrible that she couldn’t. She waited until she heard his breathing even out before she left the bed. For a moment she just stood there, staring at him, memorizing every inch of him.
She knew what she must do, no matter what he seemed to think about it. Perhaps the count would take pity on her and take Grand-maman in nonetheless. Or perhaps Lady Ursula could convince him to do so.
But to persuade them of that, she’d have to tell them Gregory’s dirty little secret, and she just couldn’t. Even the thought of him suffering abuse as a boy at the hands of his father made her throat close up and her heart constrict.
No, she mustn’t tell a soul. It was too dangerous.
She gathered her clothes and dressed as best she could without help. With any luck, she could make it to her bedchamber without being seen. She’d just have to hope that Flora kept her mouth shut. But first . . .
Slipping into the study, she found some paper and a quill pen. Perhaps she was a coward to do it this way, but she couldn’t argue with him anymore. He always overwhelmed her with his assertions that he would take care of matters that she knew he couldn’t change. So this was the only way.
Sitting down at his desk, she began to write.
When Gregory awoke, he was disappointed to find that Monique had left. Though he wasn’t surprised. She was far more conscious of her reputation than he seemed to be these days.
He thought over what had occurred to him earlier: a plan to gain everything he wanted while also thwarting Danworth. Monique had put the idea in his head by speaking of insinuation. It had dawned on him that insinuation could work for him, too. He would need to do research—speak to some people, have Hart speak to some people, lay out everything beforehand—but it just might work.
And if it didn’t?
Fear seized his gut. If it didn’t, he would lose everything. And Monique would, too, if she chose to stay with him. But at least her future—and that of her grandmother—would be secured. And he would have her. Forever. They’d be joined together in scandal, but that was better than letting Danworth succeed in his blackmail. Or get away with his attempts to murder her.
Gregory rose from the bed. It was worth any risk to make sure that didn’t happen. And how strange that the idea of having her as his wife made him almost giddy with excitement. He hadn’t felt giddy since he was a boy and he and John had gone fishing together on one of those rare occasions when Father had gone to London without them.
He pulled on his drawers and went into his study. That’s when he noticed the sheet of paper on his desk. Odd. It was a letter from Monique. And as he read it over, he began to scowl.
Dearest Gregory,
I know that you think you’re doing what is right, and I admire you for it. Truly, I do. But I refuse to be the cause of scandal for you and your mother, especially after all you’ve endured.
So tomorrow morning I shall leave with your friend Lord Hartley and return to Dieppe. Let the count explain the reason for it, if he can.
As for you, you must do what your conscience dictates, but if you are as wise as I know you are, you will act to preserve your future and your family.
And forget about me. It would be one thing if you loved me, but as you said, it is only desire for you. I don’t want to see you toss away everything for desire when you can find that with any pretty woman. You need a wife whom you can love as I love you. Clearly, I am not the one who fits that requirement.
Just know this. I shall never forget you.
With much affection,
Monique
He balled the letter up in his fist and tossed it into the fire. Damn her! Had she no faith in him? She’d fully intended to sneak away without his knowledge. How could she?
It would be one thing if you loved me . . .
Love, hah! Why did she think he despised the very idea of it? Because of things like this—people using the idea of love to get what they wanted.
He scrubbed one hand over his face. No, that wasn’t fair. She wasn’t trying to get anything from him. She was trying to save him. But didn’t she see? That was precisely the problem with loving someone. It made you do mad things, reckless things . . . dangerous things.
Mother’s love for Father had nearly destroyed her, and might very well destroy Gregory, too, if he didn’t make his plan work. Every friend of his at St. George’s who’d fallen in love had ended up in some sort of trouble for it. And he’d had a hand in helping two of them out of their trouble.
Still, they’d also ended up happy after facing that trouble with their wives, together.
Scowling, he went to put on his clothes. That didn’t change the fact that she’d tried to sneak out without saying any of this to his face. Clearly she’d thought he wouldn’t see the letter until morning, until after she’d left with Hart.
Hart! Damn. The man was supposed to leave at dawn. In a moment of panic, Gregory glanced at the clock, then let out a relieved breath. One a.m., thank God. He hadn’t slept that late, at least.
Dressing hurriedly, he headed downstairs in search of Hart. He wasn’t surprised to find the fellow in the drawing room playing cards. He was surprised to find him playing cards with Mother, of all people.
“What are you doing up so late?” Gregory asked his mother.
“Keeping Lord Hartley company,” she said primly. “He said he’s leaving before dawn to go on some fool’s errand for you, and he saw no point in retiring to bed only to have to rise again in the wee hours of the morning.”
“Actually, I need him to go on that fool’s errand now,” Gregory said.
“Good heavens!” she cried. “You and your friends are all quite mad. First, Danworth has to rush off to London, and then—”
A chill swept over him. “Danworth is gone?”
“Yes. He left right after he finished his meeting with you in your study.”
“Bloody coward.” No doubt the arse had feared that Gregory might murder him in his sleep.
But it was just as well the chap had fled to town; it would make things simpler. And quite possibly mean the end of the attempts on Monique’s life. “Did Prince Leopold leave with him?”
Mother blinked. “No. Why would he?”
“No reason.” And that might be one more sign that Leopold wasn’t fully aware of what Danworth was up to. Or that he didn’t want anyone to guess that they were friends, in case Danworth’s machinations didn’t work. “Hart—”
“I know.” He stood. “You want me to go now. I’m packed and ready. I was just waiting for morning.”
“I need you to wait for one more thing. You and I must speak with Lady Ursula before you go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, son,” Mother said. “She retired hours ago.”
“We’ll have to wake her, then. Actually, Mother, it’s a good thing you’re up. You can rouse her while I give Hart a few last-minute instructions.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?” she said.
So Monique could slip away with Hart? Not a chance in hell. “I’m afraid not. It’s more important than you can possibly know.” When his mother just stared at him, he added, “Now, Mother. Please go fetch Lady Ursula right now.”
Mother rolled her eyes, but rose to do his bidding. As she walked away, he thought of something.
“Oh, and Mother? Whatever you do, don’t wake up Mo— The princess. That’s crucial. She needs her sleep.”
His mother sniffed. “So do we all, thanks to you and your schemes.” Then she stalked off up the stairs.
As soon as she was gone, Gregory sat down to tell Hart what was going on. Although it was necessary to reveal his darkest secret to his most trusted ally, it still chafed him that he must do so.
To Gregory’s shock, Hart didn’t condemn him for what he had done in his youth. He only asked questions to clarify the facts. Gregory was grateful for t
hat. Perhaps Hart might see a crack in Danworth’s scheme that Gregory had missed.
“Sounds like an accidental death to me,” Hart mused. “No one would probably even prosecute you for it.”
“They won’t have to. In Danworth’s hands, the tale will still ruin me.”
As he explained what the bastard wanted, Hart’s expression turned deadly. “That devil. I had no idea Danworth was so despicable.”
Gregory nodded grimly. “I always knew he was ambitious, but I never guessed he would do anything for his ambition, even blackmail a man.”
“Or commit murder?”
“That, too, quite possibly.”
“So what do you mean to do about it?”
Gregory laid out the entirety of his plan for Hart. Then he asked, “What do you think? Will it work?”
“I’m not sure. If it does, it could solve everything. But it relies on a number of factors beyond your control.”
“I realize that.” For a moment, terror gripped him at the idea of all the ways this could go wrong, of the possibility that in four days he would be watching his life go up in flames.
He shook off the thought. “But I know you’ll do your part as best you can.”
“Absolutely.” Hart reached over to grip his shoulder. “You gave me a chance years ago, and I’ve never forgotten it. I’ll do everything in my power to give you a chance.”
“Thanks.”
Just then, Gregory’s mother returned with Lady Ursula, who looked rather tired in her nightdress and wrapper.
Gregory rose. “Thank you, Mother. You can go to bed now.”
“The devil I will!” She crossed her arms over her bosom. “I haven’t had this much excitement in years, and you’re not going to pack me off like some child while you plot and scheme.”
He should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep her in the dark forever. “Fine, you can stay.” He pointed to the settee. “But only if you keep quiet until I’m done with Lady Ursula and Hart.” Then he turned to the lady-in-waiting. “Madam, I need you to tell Hart exactly where the count has hidden Princess Aurore in Calais.”
The Secret of Flirting Page 25