by Wendy Vella
He thought of Abberley and conceded she was right. He did not like the man, but he had sound business sense and wouldn’t do something so foolish, surely? But who else could it be? Who would benefit from the closing of the mill?
“Get some rest, Lucian, and let me look at the books tomorrow. Perhaps I shall have some answers for you.”
He didn’t argue. How could he when she coaxed his weary body down and repositioned the pillow under his head? When she drew up the blankets and pushed her lithe body against his? Or when she ran soothing fingers through his hair?
Lucian did not wish to fall asleep. He longed to stay awake and enjoy every moment of her attentions. When had anyone treated him in such a way since his mother? And she had long since given up trying to take care of him.
So sleep claimed him and the worries of the mill seemed to drift away with each touch of her fingers. He felt a smile on his face as he drifted into the darkness and heard her sweet voice.
“Rest well, my love.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Never Keep a Rake Waiting
The words and numbers had all begun to blur together by midday. Eleanor rested her elbows on Lucian’s desk and rubbed her eyes. She pressed fingers to her temples to release some of the pressure on her head. A fine headache was coming on. She had lain awake for too long last night, watching Lucian sleep, but watching him in repose, all relaxed and almost childlike was too fascinating. It brought her great joy to see him so tranquil and free from worry.
Not that it had lasted. He had awoken early and left her, and she saw the tension back in his posture as he slipped out of the door. Hopefully some more lovemaking now he had rested would help him, but first they needed to find out who this unknown saboteur was.
She peered at the numbers and wished she had brought the entire collection of records with her, though she would have to have them sent over by carriage. When she saw Lucian, she would have him send a message to his staff to have the books sent over.
There were discrepancies in the costing of cotton she noticed, but that was not unusual, not with the rapid changing nature of the industry, but it read as though they were being charged more than the quoted cost. She did not know for sure but the records from the previous years had shown no such discrepancies. Eleanor would have to ask if there was a reason for the different numbers.
“Will you come and eat?”
Lifting her head, she could not help but smile at the handsome sight he presented. He had discarded his jacket and it hung from one arm. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and not even the scars on one arm could prevent her from admiring the way his muscles pulled as he leant against the doorframe. His waistcoat was a simple, pure black one, and the gold chain of his pocket watch stood out against it. She sighed. To think he was her lover. It was so very wicked and so very exciting.
“Well?”
Eleanor nodded hastily and stood. “Yes, I did not even realize I’m hungry.” She placed a hand to her stomach. “But apparently I am.”
She put on her bonnet and snatched her shawl. Lucian stepped forwards to help place it around her shoulders. He grabbed both ends and used it to draw her to him. She peered around his shoulder at the open door.
“Someone shall see,” she hissed.
“And you think that bothers me?”
“Considering you sneak out of my room in the early hours, yes.”
“That is merely to cater to your sensibilities, Ellie. My reputation cannot get any worse than it already is.” He glanced over his shoulder, his hold still firm on the shawl and pushed the door shut with his foot. “But I would not wish to shame you.”
Then he lowered his lips to hers. Excitement darted through her, twisting into her stomach and making her body tingle from head to toe. How, after sharing so much with him, a mere kiss created such sensations, she did not know.
She savored every second, however. Feeling desired and wanted brought her more happiness than she thought possible. Even notions of the future and them having to part did not bother her when he kissed her.
He flicked his tongue over hers, then drew back to brush his lips briefly across her mouth. Smiling with a look of satisfaction, Lucian settled the shawl properly over her shoulders and readjusted her bonnet.
“Perfect.”
Hardly, but she wouldn’t argue.
Lucian put on his jacket and she slid her arm through his. The clank of the machines rang out from the building in the most oddly soothing manner. The sounds of activity and industry thrilled her almost more than the quiet peace that surrounded Broadstone Hall.
As they strode along the street towards the busy town center, Eleanor found herself not concentrating on walking carefully or how she was carrying herself as usual, but instead on her surroundings and most of all on the tall, handsome man at her side. Such a sense of peace and satisfaction washed over her that she had to bite back a contented sigh and force herself out of her dream world where happy endings existed and devastatingly attractive rakes gave girls like her their hearts.
It will not last, Eleanor, she told herself. Just remember that.
***
Lucian tapped his feet as he waited for Ellie to open the hotel room. He’d spent far too long staring at this damned door already. What in the devil was she doing? He had not seen her all day. Normally she could be counted on to pull the door open so fast he feared it would fall from its hinges, but she really was taking her time.
“Ellie?” he tapped again.
Was she annoyed at him for not coming to see her again as she poured over the books? He had meant to but there had been some trouble with one of the machines and then a meeting with his banker had fairly drained him. He did, however, look forward to dinner with her. It meant leaving her bed but Ellie deserved to be treated better. All he had done since she had come to town was keep her in bed or in his office. And what woman did not like dressing up and going out to dinner?
Blast, if she was angry with him, he would rather know about it. He pressed his ear to the door and heard low voices. She was in there with her maid. Was she concerned about her maid seeing him? Ellie had already admitted the maid knew all and fully supported her mistress enjoying some time with him. Perhaps the maid felt Edward had been as stuffy and neglectful as Lucian thought him to be, and Ellie deserved some fun for a while.
He snorted. Some fun he turned out to be. He had her buried under books at the mill, hardly the sort of treatment a countess expected. Still, tonight he would show her an enjoyable evening and remind her exactly why she had decided to come to town. If she was not screaming to the rafters by the end of the evening, he would consider the night a failure.
Right, he wasn’t going to stand here any longer. If anyone came along, he would appear a damn fool. He twisted the doorknob and eased open the door to step inside.
Ellie squeaked his name and he spotted her sitting in front of the dressing table, having her hair tweaked by the maid.
Maggie, he recalled, dipped. “My lord.”
“Lucian, could you not have given me a couple of moments? As you can see I am not dressed.”
He peered over her shoulder and saw she still sat in her corset and drawers. A grin split his face. “I can see very well.”
“Well?”
He met her gaze in the mirror. “Pardon?”
“Wait outside. I shall only be a moment.”
“Not likely. What shall it look like if I am found loitering around outside your room? I shall be lucky if the hotel staff do not carry me away and I am certain any gossip about us will be confirmed.”
“People are gossiping?”
“We have been careful, my love, but there is always gossip.”
The maid flushed. “Your hair is done, my lady. Shall I help you choose your gown or...” She indicated to the door, clearly not wishing to be privy to their private conversations.
“Yes, leave us, Maggie. Thank you. Lord Rushbourne can always help.”
“As you will,
my lady. Will you need me tonight?”
Ellie shook her head. “I think not.”
Lucian waited until the maid had left before sinking down onto the bed. “Come on, Ellie, it’s not like you to be late. We shall miss our reservation.”
“I am trying to hurry,” she said, her voice tinged with annoyance, “but it is not easy when you have...have blasted straw for hair.” She motioned to her perfectly coiffed hairstyle.
“Looks fine to me.” He picked a bit of lint off his sleeve.
She humphed and proceeded to pat some cream or some such on her cheeks. He had never realized ladies went to quite so much trouble. He eyed the clock and tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. Viscount or not, a reservation at Petit Paris was not easy to come by.
Ellie stood and eyed the several gowns laid out on the chaise. He tapped his feet and waited for the final decision. It was a dress—how hard could the decision be?
“Ellie...”
“Yes, I know, Lucian, we are late, but I cannot go out in just anything.” She lifted her hands in annoyance.
He stood and strode over to the gowns to pick one up and thrust it at her. “Wear this.”
She shook her head. “No, the fit is not quite right and I shall look pale under the street lights.”
Lucian dropped the gown and pressed his fingers to his temples before picking up the dark blue gown. “This then. You look fine in blue.”
“Pale blue, but that is being cleaned.”
“Ellie, devil take it, it is just a gown. No one shall care.”
“I shall care. And everyone will care. I am a countess, I have to look as well as I can. It’s all very well for you. You do not even have to work at being handsome, but I—” Her voice cracked and she turned away from him.
“Handsome? With my scarred face, hardly?”
Rounding on him, hands on her hips, she narrowed her gaze at him. “A little scarring is nothing, Lucian.”
“It is not nothing to me.” His skin prickled as heat flushed through him, driven by annoyance. What was wrong with the woman? And did she really think being burned was nothing to him? Did she know him so little that she had no idea of the pain and anguish it had caused him?
“No, of course it isn’t,” she said softly. “But you cannot understand what it is like to be forever ugly. To have people look at you and consider how beastly you are.” Ellie spun away again, her shoulders dropping. “Hardly worthy of being a countess.”
“Ugly? What nonsense is this?” He strode over and grasped her shoulders. He tried to turn her gently but she would not move. Those shoulders began to shake. “Is this because of my careless words when we were younger?”
“No. Yes.” She sniffled. “But you were only saying what others thought. I know that.”
“I was a blasted fool.” This time he managed to coax her around and tilt her chin up to view her glossy eyes. “You are beautiful.”
“I am not and you don’t need to lie to me. Not even Edward thought me beautiful.”
“You are not like other women, I shall give you that, but that is what I love about you.”
That word kept coming out during their conversations, did she notice it? What did it mean? But it seemed she was too upset to notice the slip.
“He could not even find me attractive enough to bed me, you know? Oh, he liked me and was kind to me, but he saw me as nothing more than an awkward girl whom he had to take care of.”
“Ellie, if he did not bed you, then he was a damn fool.”
“Edward was an intelligent man and never a fool. He did try...but he could not... could not...” She covered her face with her hands.
“Could not bed you?”
“I’m too ugly you see?”
Realization dawned at just how she saw herself. He had seen hints of it, of course. Her embarrassment when he had first taken her, her uncertainty as to how attractive he would find her that night.
“Edward could not bed you, or would not?”
“He could not get...hard.” She whispered the last bit.
Lucian shook his head. Poor Ellie. Not only had she suffered his awful treatment of her but she had been lumbered with a husband who was too old to do anything with her. Poor Edward. To have a wife like Ellie and be unable to do anything with her. He pitied them both but he had to admit annoyance with her late husband.
“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.” He drew her into his arms. “Edward was old. Many men struggle at his age, particularly when they are so active in other parts of their lives. All that travelling likely did the poor man in. It would not have been because he did not want you. Bloody man should have explained as much to you.”
“I know I am not pretty. It’s all fake, what you see. Make-up and corsets, and carefully cut gowns. It is not me,” she muttered against his shoulder.
“You are not in one of your gowns now and yet...”
He clasped a hand and pressed it between them. He was not hard yet but it wouldn’t take much. All he had to do was skim a hand down to cup her rear and breathe in her scent. The light touch of her hand was enough.
“You are hard.”
“Yes. And I was when your hair was wild and your make-up was gone. Ellie, you arouse me far too often for it to be comfortable quite frankly. Believe me, there is not a thing wrong with you.” Her throat worked and a flush crept up her face. It made him smile. “The worst you can complain about is too much hair, Ellie. I would gladly swap unruly hair for my scars.”
“Your scars?”
“They are ugly, are they not? You see, I am far uglier than you.”
She reached up to touch his face. “I did not realize it bothered you so much. You are as handsome as ever, Lucian, if not more.”
Did the woman hope to appeal to his ego and make him forget his purpose of assuring her of her beauty? He smirked. “No make-up or corsets will make up for this.” He released her long enough to gesture to his face. “But I understand your need to hide, Ellie, I really do, even if I do not think you need it. In fact”—he drew her close once more so his arousal pressed into her— “I like that I have you to myself. My Ellie, with her messy hair and naturally flushed cheeks. With her unbound breasts and beautiful endless legs.”
“Your Ellie?”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have said as much. After all, he’d made her no promises, but the words had felt so right. Instead of repeating them, he nodded and kissed her. Her mouth opened to him and he resolved to spend the rest of the evening proving to her exactly how beautiful he found her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Bottomless Bag
The faint hint of vanilla told him Ellie had entered his office. He did not look up quite yet. Once he did, he would struggle to persuade himself to finish writing his letter. He hurried to sign it and grimaced at his messy hand. The woman had a lot to answer for, breezing around and distracting him. Though truth be told, it was hardly her fault, it was his. He couldn’t force his mind to ponder anything else, and he was not sure that even if she was a million miles away, he would not think of her.
He set aside the letter and lifted his head. Her brilliant smile jolted his heart as though she had let loose an arrow and struck him directly there. It would not do. And yet he felt his own foolish response—a wide smile—spreading across his face.
She wore a pale purple gown and matching bonnet—a splash of brightness against the dark wood of his office. Against his will, his gaze traced her body and recalled every moment he had spent touching her the previous night. They had eaten eventually but Petit Paris would have to wait. After what he had done to her, they were certainly in no state to eat in public. Really his behavior was quite reprehensible—ravishing her at every turn rather than treating her as a lady.
“Lucian, it is past lunch time and Mr. Fuller tells me you have not eaten yet.”
He spotted the basket under one arm and lifted a brow. “It’s none of Fuller’s business when I eat.”
“No, but it is mine.”
>
Was it? Since when had it become her business to mollycoddle him? Aggravation rose under his skin, making him clamp a hand around the edge of the desk. But Ellie set down the basket and pulled out sandwiches and a selection of pies and cheese.
“Are you planning to feed the whole mill?”
She laughed. “No, just you and I, but I was not sure what you would like, so I had the hotel prepare a little of everything.”
He eyed the endless amounts of food that kept coming out of the basket and now covered his desk. “A little?” He peered into the basket. “Does that basket even have a bottom?”
Ellie paused and made a show of staring into it. “Ah yes, it does. And look.” She withdrew a round object wrapped in brown paper. When she pulled off the paper, she revealed a jam sponge cake that made his stomach grumble.
“Are you trying to expand my waistline, Ellie?”
She came around to the back of his chair and placed her hands to his shoulders. Her clever fingers began working at the knots in his neck and any annoyance seeped away. With a groan, Lucian rolled his head back and closed his eyes briefly.
“I am merely trying to make sure you eat and”—she dipped so her breath tickled his ear— “keep up your energy.”
He spluttered. For a fine lady, she certainly had the naughty lover act down to perfection. He curled a fist again. While every fibre of him came alive at the knowledge he had her to greet him at night, had her long legs to bury himself between, the sordidness of their situation had begun to grate on him.
After all, she could not stay here forever and certainly his workers were gossiping about their friendship and whether or not it was more. But what else could he do? He didn’t want her to leave, so was he to keep her locked away in a hotel forever, waiting for him to come and take his pleasure? Bitterness rose in his throat. He was treating her as no more than a whore and it would not do.
“Do not scowl at the thought of using more energy on me,” she said.
Lucian laid a hand over hers and forced his expression to soften. “Forgive me. It has been a long day already. Come now, will you not partake of this fine meal with me? It is not Petit Paris but I should like to eat with you.”