“I want more. You agreed to more.”
While some people might have retreated to give the couple the privacy they obviously needed Gerald was not inclined to do so. His protective instincts rose, even though he had no right to interfere and Annie would probably not thank him for doing so. Was she truly considering throwing herself away on such a man? He could scarcely believe it. She was far too good for that. To bury herself under the shield of someone like Stephenson would be to immure herself alive.
“Madam, my offer stands,” he said. “The offer to show you around the other property. I fear it won’t be adequate to your needs, but it may offer other benefits.” Like freedom from the landlord. He would educate himself about this man. He had never heard of him before, but City and County rarely mingled. Even when he’d lived locally, he didn’t have the acquaintance of many people hereabouts. What would be the point, when his sisters and himself were perfectly happy as they were?
“Thank you, my lord.” Her voice trembled, but not, he suspected, in fear. She was furious, her eyes blazing. “I will speak frankly, Mr. Stephenson, if I may. While I am of course appreciative of your generous offer, I wish to take every aspect of the proposal into consideration. I have no husband to look at these matters, nor am I in need of one, but I do have a duty to ensure that my late husband’s wishes are fulfilled. I am anxious to do that. Sir, if I were married to you, and distressingly widowed, you would wish me to do the same, would you not?”
Now that was clever. Gerald appreciated the way she’d turned her refusal and mollified Stephenson. Already his color was subsiding and reason returned to his eyes. Regarding her steadily, he nodded. “I understand, ma’am, but I cannot give you long. Already I have an excellent offer for this property, and I must consider it. I have to make the proposition you have made me dependent on the one I offered you. Otherwise, I fear the decision is already made.”
Gerald could have hit the man. That meant, unless she married him, Stephenson was throwing her out. Such an unconscionable thing to do Gerald considered donating his property to her for free.
Not that she would have taken it. Already he knew her that well. Now he cared about her. He was involved, damn it.
Her shoulders tensed. He could have told Stephenson the worst way to get Annie to do what one wished was to force her into a corner. How come he, who had met her so briefly, knew more than a man who’d known her for years? Stephenson didn’t deserve her, that was for sure.
Perhaps he, Gerald, did.
The thought came from nowhere, to be instantly dismissed. Then he recalled their bargain. “I fear I too, must leave. I am fully engaged tomorrow until after dinner.” With Elizabeth and her mother, but he would skip the musicale. “May I suggest you view the property tomorrow, at six?”
“Could we make it seven o’clock? Then I can see the boys to bed.”
He liked that she gave her children the priority. Even more he liked the later hour. She had promised him a night in return for the house. Under the circumstances, he’d waive that condition, but he wouldn’t say so. Not yet.
If she asked him to waive it again, he’d say yes. He must be getting soft in his old age.
***
As soon as the earl left, Joseph turned on Annie. “You will not go, of course.”
“What makes you think that?” She kept her distance. His proprietary claim on her had infuriated her so much that she didn’t know how she kept hold of her temper. He assumed far too much. If she married him, he would have to learn that. “I may not have the influence or the wealth that you possess, sir, but I do retain the right to make my own decisions about my business.”
“Actually, it is your sons’ business.”
That was where he was wrong. She put up her chin. “The business is mine, sir. My husband left it to me. Because my sons are so small, he said, we could not know what would happen in the next ten to fifteen years. He trusted me to make the right decisions. Naturally he planned to change his will as our sons grew, but unfortunately he never achieved that ambition.”
She would not mention that she’d obtained power of attorney before her husband’s death. Despite his moodiness she would do anything for John to be alive and back with her. Then she would not have to face this dilemma. She had trusted and respected John, and now she felt all at sea. She only had herself to rely on these days
Joseph’s thick brows went up. “Then when you marry, your husband will inherit your property.”
Oh no, she would not have him thinking that. “I would, of course, have the business put in trust for my sons. It is their inheritance, sir, and nobody else’s. If we marry, then our sons would inherit your business, if you wished it. Surely you would not deny that to my late husband?”
His expression sharpened. Gazing at her, he shook his head. “No, madam, I would not. I can undertake to ensure your sons receive their inheritance, and I will help with drawing up the trust if that helps to ease your mind.”
At least his offer was fair. But his next words were not. “If you do not agree to our contract,” he murmured, leaning so close she smelled the onions on his breath, “I will eject you from this place. Merely business, dear lady. You may meet the man tomorrow night, but be sure to tell him you are not interested. Otherwise I swear I will ruin you both.”
Could he do that? She had no idea. He could certainly ruin her. Or he could try, she thought with slow growing anger.
She would most definitely meet the earl now, if only to warn him.
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN ANNIE ARRIVED AT THE HOUSE in Bunhill Row, night was falling. She wore her green silk, since he’d already seen the blue, and even while she was dressing, she was aware she’d done it for someone else. It had been a long time since she had dressed for any other reason than suitability for the event. She had even loosened her hairstyle a little, letting a curl fall to her shoulder in fashionable disarray. She did not go so far as to powder. Although some Cit’s wives had taken to hair powder, Annie found the process messy, and what was worse, time-consuming.
Nobody waited for her outside. Annie was about to take a turn up the street and back down again, being reluctant to be seen hanging around on the street like a streetwalker, when she noticed the door was slightly ajar. Had he arrived already, or were ruffians at work inside?
She would not go in, in case danger lurked inside, but she touched the door. Silently, it swung open. A movement from the hallway made her jerk back, but it was the earl.
He wore green, too, but his coat was laced with gold and his waistcoat embroidered heavily in what she was sure was real gold thread. He bowed and extended his arm. “Won’t you come inside, ma’am?”
His hat rested jauntily on the newel-post of the staircase. As Annie took a cautious step into the hall, her shoes rapping on the bare boards, he reached past her and closed the door. That brought him close to her, close enough for him to put his arms around her waist and gaze down into her eyes. “I have been longing to do this. You’re a witch, Annie Cathcart.”
Before she could move, before she could object, he kissed her.
Reaching up, she curled a hand around the back of his neck, holding him firmly so he couldn’t get away. This time she opened her mouth and let him roam, but she gave as good as she got. She stroked her tongue against his, and tasted him, the faint tang of brandy mingling with the rich, exquisite flavor of a man in his prime. He grunted, an essentially masculine sound that vibrated through her, arousing her to reach for him with her other hand, spreading her palm over his chest. Even through the layers of waistcoat and shirt, she felt his muscles flex as he drew her flat against him. His erection stood proudly, hard against her belly, making her moan with need.
He drew away, his breath heavy on her sensitized lips. “Do you want to see where I sleep, or do you want to see the house?”
“Are they mutually exclusive?” That was not what she meant to say at all, but perhaps it was what she meant.
“No.” With a sh
ort laugh, he pulled away, but caught her hand in his. “Come on. Ask all the questions you want to.”
Rapidly, he took her from room to room. The house was undoubtedly bigger than the one she had now, and the windows larger, which could make for a good shop later. When he took her into the back room, she moved closer to the window, eager to see how much space he had outside. “Plenty of space,” he said, “although my sister will not be pleased with your plans. She is a keen gardener and she will probably wish to remove the plants she is particularly fond of.”
“Dorcas?” Belatedly, she recalled her manners. “Lady Dorcas.”
“Dorcas is the name she is used to,” he said. He still had her hand tucked warmly in his. “You can’t see much in the darkness, but you said you’d taken a look around the outside, so you know the garden is a reasonable size. Would you build workshops there?”
She swallowed. “Yes, I suppose I would.”
He turned her to face him, a smile curving his mouth. “You suppose?”
“Yes. I have to think of the business first. I always wanted a house like this. Gracious and for the family alone. If I had the money I’d keep both properties, and use this for my family, traveling between this and the other. But that is not possible.”
“Is it not?”
Without hesitation she shook her head. “One day, perhaps I may do that.” Or not, since she was all but betrothed to Joseph.
He touched her chin. “What is it? The life left your eyes just now. I hate to see that.”
How was this virtual stranger so observant? Nobody else noticed her moods like he did. She would not get away with any half truths with this man, especially when he was so close. “I will move to Joseph Stephenson’s house once we are married.”
A line appeared between his brows. “You really intend to marry him?”
Despair filled her heart. “I have little choice. He won’t let me stay in his house if I do not. He’s promised to safeguard my sons’ futures, and that is all I can ask for.”
In a quick movement he took a stride to the door, snatching her hand in his once more. “Come and see upstairs.”
The house still contained some furniture, enough to give the place a comfortable, lived-in air. “You moved to Mayfair when you inherited?”
He sighed heavily, and took her up the stairs. They entered a drawing room. The few pieces of elegant furniture looked forlorn against the bare boards, now dusty with disuse. He wandered into the room. “I wish we still lived here.”
“But you’re an earl!” She bit her tongue on her inappropriate remark. “Of course you miss it. Why did you move here? You were always well-connected, even before you inherited the title. This is a stronghold of Cits.”
“I like it here.” He smiled, and ran his fingers along the polished arm of a nearby sofa. “We moved here because we did not wish society to visit us. We could still attend balls and suchlike if we wished, but they would have to travel across town. We were happy here. Now I have responsibilities I cannot shirk. Too many people depend on me, and I can’t run away from them. When I first inherited the title, I had ideas of appointing suitable managers and returning to my life here.”
Unlike people who did not live in London, she had an idea of what he meant. Society postured, clung together and watched. The watching would drive her mad. He glanced at her and she smiled and nodded. “But you can’t. The country may be better for you.”
“When I have settled my sisters.” He grimaced. “We’re wealthy, and their fortunes are large. If only to protect them from fortune-hunters, we should make a push to find husbands. We’ve agreed to see how this season goes. They have other interests, but I don’t want to see them dwindle into old maids.”
“What about you?”
Sighing, he towed her from the room and without showing her the other rooms on this floor, took her up the next flight of stairs. Outside the door of the back bedroom on the right side, he stopped, and slid his hands around her waist. “I’m shortly to sign a marriage contract with Lady Elizabeth Askew. She’s the daughter of the Duke of Illington, related to almost everyone in society.”
Of course she knew. The gossip sheets had been full of the news. But hearing it from his own lips made something inside her die. “Do you love her?”
He shook his head. “I would not be here if I did. Neither would I be here if we were formally betrothed. I have sworn to be faithful to the woman I marry, and I will not budge from that, whatever the temptation.”
“So tonight must be a one and only event.”
“We may see one another again, but yes. If you come into this room, it will be the only time you do so with me.” He didn’t sound happy about that, but she understood him perfectly.
Once she said she would marry Joseph, he’d snatch her up before she could change her mind. By this time next month she’d be a wife. He would be a husband. “You’re right,” she said. “Tonight and only tonight.”
“You agree?”
She jerked a nod.
He stayed where he was. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes. I want this. I want you.” She needed him too much to walk away.
He remained gazing at her for a moment before he extended one hand and pushed open the door. “Welcome, my lady.”
He strode into the room, leaving her the choice. Now she had made her decision, Annie had no hesitation in taking a step over the threshold. She never looked back, once she’d made up her mind.
He seized her and planted a smacking kiss on her lips. He did not linger, but stripped off his coat and tossed it over a nearby wing chair without taking his attention from her. He must know this room very well, since the chair was a couple of feet away. “Come here,” he said softly.
Annie stepped forward and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Why are we doing this?”
“We’re allowing ourselves one last moment of madness before we set on our new paths.” He smiled down at her. “We’re stepping into a place we would not willingly go, given the choice. Both of us are determined to make the most of the situation. But we have tonight. I have told my sisters that I’m setting my last mistress free before I marry, so they do not expect to see me until morning.”
“You tell them about your mistresses?”
He huffed a laugh. “They guessed I wasn’t a monk some time ago. I gave my last mistress her congé when I inherited the title. I have been too busy since to think of my personal needs.”
“Until now.”
He nodded. “A respite. Can you stay all night or do you have to be back later?”
She shook her head. “I told them I was visiting my parents. They live close to Hampstead Heath now they have retired. I usually spend the night there when I visit them.”
He laughed. “What a pair of liars we are! I thought I still had to persuade you.”
“You did. I could have gone back and said I’d changed my mind.” Her heart sank when she considered that possibility. She’d have come up with some excuse, but she’d have hated herself for not taking the chance.
She’d be wondering and regretting for a very long time if she didn’t do this.
He tugged her fichu free of her bodice. The filmy fabric fell away and he gazed unabashedly at the plump swell of her breasts. Her breath quickened, which made the flesh quiver. With a groan he closed his eyes and reached for her. She went to him without hesitation, starting on the buttons of his waistcoat. The metallic thread abraded her fingers, but she continued deftly unfastening the long line of gold buttons. Finally she had them all undone. Only a veil of lawn separated her fingers from his flesh now. He wore a neckcloth, which she set to undoing, cursing when she found the pearl pin that impeded her progress. Casting it away as if it was worthless, she undid the elaborate knot that made the lace-edged piece of cloth into a work of art, and dragged it from around his neck, heedless of where it fell.
Stepping back, he pulled the fashionable white wig from his head and tossed it to the dressing-tabl
e where it landed in a cloud of white powder. Beneath, his hair was dark, cut short, but not too short for her to clutch if she needed to. He watched her while he dealt with the buttons at his cuffs. The shirt ended in double ruffles of Brussels lace, but on him their delicacy seemed a mockery, especially when he dragged the shirt over his head and revealed what was underneath.
The sound of her gasp was loud in the quiet room. The fire crackled, attracting his attention. With a glance at her, he went to the fireplace and picked up a taper. Transfixed, she watched him move around the room, lighting candles. First he lit the ones in the double sconces above the fireplace and the ones by the bed, then the branch of candles set on a side table.
She cleared her throat. “Do we need all those?”
“Every one,” he said softly as he strolled to the window and closed the drapes. “I want to see all of you, sweetheart.”
Annie caught her breath. Nobody had used an endearment more fond than “My dear” to her before. She hadn’t considered the power of a simple word until it was used on her.
Every step he took toward her sealed her fate. She opened her arms, and he moved into them, taking another kiss as he deftly unhooked her bodice. She went on tiptoe, pressing her lips against his, stroking his shoulders, the heavy muscle moving under the satin skin as he worked on her.
Drawing away, he urged her to turn around, pressing one side of her waist in an unspoken request. He slid the gown off her shoulders, and slipped it away, returning immediately to begin on her stays.
She’d worn her best pair. They were of blue satin, the whalebones firm and secure. Her body relaxed as he loosened the cords, pausing to drop a kiss at the nape of her neck, then another, a little below it. He gave her shoulder blades the same treatment, tracing their shape with his tongue until she shuddered.
Finding the drawstrings to her petticoats, he loosened them, too. She let them drop. He came around to her front and held out his hand, helping her step out of the ring of silk and wool as if they were performing a minuet. Her hoops had gone with her petticoats, so she was left in her shoes, stockings and shift. Nothing else. And since she preferred to have shifts of the finest, softest lawn, she was veiled, but not hidden from his gaze.
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 21