One Scandalous Kiss

by Christy Carlyle

  Jess couldn’t hold back her cries. They rang out of her as she clutched at his shoulders, sank her fingers into his hair, and bucked against his mouth. Sensation seized her, drawing her tight, to the sharpest point of pleasure. Just when she thought it too much, thrashing her head side to side against the bed, pushing then pulling at Lucius’s head, a wave of sensation broke over her. She opened her mouth to cry out but heard nothing but the violent pulse of her heartbeat in her ears.

  When she opened her eyes, Lucius was there above her, smiling at her as if she was precious and loved. Then he eased against her again. Yes. She’d never known pleasure like the heat and slide of his body as he molded it to hers.

  She lifted her knees, urging him closer, and felt the length of him lunging inside. Yes. She needed him closer, deeper. He tensed, controlling his movements despite her attempts to draw him near.

  “Easy, love.”

  He kissed her then, and she reached down to stroke his back, his arms, his hair, every part of him she could touch and caress. He stroked her with his tongue and matched the motion with his hips. Jess gasped as he thrust in to the hilt, then deeper, faster, drawing her into pleasure so complete that she forgot the flash of pain.

  As he drove into her, kissing her mouth, her neck, the skin above her breasts, he whispered to her between kisses. “I love you. I need you. Stay with me.”

  “Yes.” It was all she could manage, that and the way she bucked against him, tugging him closer, needing him as she’d never needed anyone before.

  When she drew near the unbearable point of pleasure again, he came too, flooding her with sensation as he groaned into her mouth.

  Afterward, lying sated and tangled together in the firelight, they exchanged more kisses and precious promises.

  “I love you.”

  “I need you.”

  “Nothing will part us now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  JESS WOKE TO find herself in a warm, masculine cocoon, Lucius’s arms wrapped around her, his body spooning hers. The fire in the grate had faded to embers and she could see dark skies through a slit in the drapes. It wasn’t easy to pull away from him, to exchange the delicious heat of his body for the chill in the room, but she could only imagine the apoplexy they’d cause his elderly valet if the man found her in His Lordship’s bed come morning.

  She kissed him gently on the curve of his shoulder, unable to leave without capturing the taste of him on her tongue. Then, after lifting the counterpane to cover him, she dressed and returned to her room, holding her breath as she tiptoed down the hall, afraid to make a sound that might wake Lady Stamford or, heaven forbid, Kitty Adderly.

  Her bedsheets were cold and the bed itself far too large and lonely, but Jess closed her eyes and replayed the happiest moments of her life.

  Then Tilly nudged her shoulder.

  “Good morning, miss. Don’t want to be late for breakfast. Miss Adderly will be taking her leave soon, and I hear Mr. Wellesley will return to Granby, his family’s home nearby. Seems the house party is over almost before it’s begun.”

  Jess washed and dressed quickly, grateful for Tilly’s assistance. Beyond the intense desire to see Lucius, she couldn’t miss the opportunity to speak to Kitty before her departure. Though theirs was a strange and short-lived acquaintance, she suspected a marquess’s daughter might be just the person to advise her on the most challenging undertaking of her life.

  However much she loved Lucius, nothing in her life prepared her for the role of viscountess. Lady Stamford and Marleston’s staff had patiently instructed her in rules of etiquette, but Jess knew there was more, a world of expectations and traditions she’d only read about in books. Her teachers had been Dickens and Austen, who were as likely to satirize the aristocracy as paint them with accuracy.

  When she entered the breakfast room, hoping to find Kitty, her breath wisped between her lips and she beamed like a child on Christmas morning. Lucius sat at the head of the table but stood the moment he glimpsed her. He smiled too and then strode forward, embracing her and lowering his mouth to hers. Before Jess could protest that a maid or footman might see them, Lucius pulled away and led her to the chair next to his.

  “I woke to a very empty bed,” he whispered.

  She leaned toward him, only just resisting the urge to touch him. “As every bachelor should.”

  “We must rectify that as soon as possible. Don’t you agree?”

  He handed her a plate of eggs and toast, and she noticed her teacup was already full, but it was dark. She’d never seen tea so dark.

  “It’s coffee. Aunt Augusta mentioned your fondness for it, and Cook apparently likes it too. She was happy to share.”

  Jess lifted the cup to her lips and sipped the warm brew, wondering how quickly they could reasonably marry.

  “Thank you. And, yes, I agree.” Now that she’d decided, she didn’t wish to wait another moment to be his wife.

  “I checked on my father this morning. He’s settling into his new room remarkably well. I’ll inform him about my detailed plans for the estate after breakfast.”

  When a footman entered the room, Jess pulled her hand from Lucius’s reluctantly.

  “My goodness, aren’t you two up early?”

  Lady Stamford swept in as she spoke and then stopped, tipping forward as if she might fall over. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

  Jess wasn’t certain at all what Lucius’s aunt saw, but it seemed to please her. She broke into a beaming smile and her gaze turned glassy. “I am so happy for you, my dears.”

  “Happy about what?” Mr. Wellesley strode into the room, glanced at each of their faces, and then stopped short, much as Lady Stamford had. “Oh, I see.”

  His grin was more mischievous than usual, and that was a good deal of mischief. What could everyone see? Happiness? Joy? Perhaps lovemaking tinted one’s skin or put a sparkle in one’s eyes. It made sense to Jess that an experience so extraordinary should leave its mark.

  “I hear you’re returning to your family home, Mr. Wellesley,” Jess asked as he seated himself directly across from her and began heaping marmalade on a slice of toast.

  “Yes, without May to flirt with and Annabel to tease, what’s the point in staying?” Chomping down on a bite of toast, and then closing his eyes a moment as if to savor the marmalade, Wellesley reached down to his napkin and leaned toward Jess with a glint in his eye. “I’d stay for you, of course, Jess. But I trust you’ve already been taken.”

  Lady Stamford choked, coughing as little droplets of tea dribbled onto her plate. Jess rushed to pat her back and offer a fresh napkin as Lucius glared at Wellesley.

  “How soon are you leaving?”

  Wellesley rose and moved to Lady Stamford’s side, kneeling by her chair and looking up at her with all the remorse of a naughty puppy. “Forgive me, Augusta. You know my tongue is forever getting me in trouble.”

  Lucius’s voice cut off the absolution Lady Stamford appeared on the verge of offering. “Perhaps you should keep it in your mouth more often.”

  Lifting his hand to his lips, Wellesley pinched his fingers together and twisted, as if turning a key in a lock.

  When Lady Stamford seemed recovered, Jess returned to her chair and relished a few more sips of coffee. Their small group continued in companionable silence. Wellesley’s silence was particularly impressive, and Jess found herself almost missing his irreverent quips. He brought out a teasing, sarcastic side of Lucius that she quite liked.

  It was odd not to hear Lady Stamford’s voice too, though she did glance warily at Wellesley now and then between bites of egg and toast. And once she looked on the verge of commenting when she caught Jess and Lucius gazing at each other too long.

  If nothing else, Jess expected Kitty to sweep in and spark conversation.

  “Miss Adderly hasn’t left yet, has she?”

  “You’re keen to speak with her?” The concern in Lucius’s tone surprised her. Surely he couldn’t doubt her desire to stay
after what they’d shared.

  “Yes, I would like to speak with her before she goes.”

  Lady Stamford directed a footman to refill the teapot as she replied, “She asked for a tray in her room, my dear. She wished to oversee the preparations for her—”

  A sound, a hammering shudder as loud as cracks of thunder, rumbled through the room.

  “What the devil was that?” Wellesley asked around a mouthful of crumpet.

  Lucius stood, not bothering to straighten his waistcoat, and started toward the breakfast room door. A red-faced footman rushed in at the same moment, nearly colliding with his much taller master.

  “Forgive me, my lord. Mrs. Penry’s asked me to come and say we have an unexpected guest.” The lad laid a hand on his chest and sucked in gulps of air, trying to catch his breath.

  Lucius waited with admirable patience, and the young man finally rewarded him with the answer they all sought. “It’s Mr. Sedgwick, my lord, and Miss Sedgwick too. Mrs. Penry sent them to the drawing room.”

  Jess twisted her hands together under the table. When she looked up, Lucius was watching her. As he had in the dining room two nights before, he made a slight, tiny movement with his mouth, not quite a grin but a softness meant for her alone. Then he dipped his head in a subtle nod, reassuring her, comforting her, signaling that all would be well.

  He turned to his aunt and Wellesley. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  When he was gone, silence fell in the room and everyone’s appetites seemed to wane. Jess couldn’t rouse herself to take another bite, and Lady Stamford kept turning her gaze in Jess’s direction rather than attending to her breakfast plate.

  Wellesley broke the silence. “Do you know what it’s about, Augusta?”

  “No, my boy, but I should go and find out.” She stood, prompting Jess and Wellesley to do the same. She embraced Jess and then pulled back to pat her cheek. “Wish Lady Katherine a safe journey for me. And try not to fret.”

  JESS MADE HER way to Kitty’s room and tapped lightly on the door. She expected a maid to answer, but Kitty pulled the door open and gasped.

  “Heavens, what’s happened? You’re positively peaky,” Kitty said. She reached for Jess’s hand and pulled her inside. “With all the guests gone, I didn’t think I’d miss any excitement at breakfast.”

  Jess slumped down on a chair, but popped up again when Kitty squealed. Reaching behind her, Jess slid a fur-lined velvet traveling cloak out from under her backside.

  “I’ll just lie that over here.” Kitty placed the garment with care, seated herself opposite Jess, and rested her hands in her lap. “Tell me everything.”

  “May has come back with her father.”

  “Mmm.” Kitty pursed her mouth and reached up to tap her lower lip. “I thought she might. Well, I thought he might insist on it.”

  “Why?”

  “I suspect he’s offended, or simply doesn’t wish to see his plans overturned.” She leaned back and settled her skirt around her. “From what I hear, he is quite like my father. Charming, affable, and utterly ruthless in his business affairs.”

  “Is the marriage of his daughter a business affair?” Jess’s father had been obsessed with money—losing it, winning it—but he’d never been cold. He never would have bartered her. Then again, he’d never expected her to marry at all.

  “Even May said he saw it in that light.”

  Jess breathed in deep, longing for strength, longing as she hadn’t since childhood for her mother’s embrace.

  “Do you remember when we met at your home in Belgrave Square? I asked for us to speak plainly with one another. Will you speak plainly with me now?”

  Kitty tipped her head. “Yes, of course.”

  “You’re a marquess’s daughter. No doubt you’ll marry an aristocrat yourself.”

  Kitty surprised Jess by grinning. “I wouldn’t count on that, but go on.”

  The next words stuck in Jess’s throat, like a miserably tough piece of mutton at the Frog and Whistle that she’d happily spit out if no one was looking.

  “Can you imagine me as a viscountess? Would you accept me among your noble friends?”

  Kitty’s bow-shaped mouth dropped open, and then she snapped it shut, nibbling at her lips, but made no reply.

  Jess took it as a sign of the worst. “It’s impossible, then?”

  “Oh, Jessamin, a viscountess is not imagined or conceived. She simply is. If he marries you and makes you a viscountess, then that’s what you shall be. I would accept you, of course.”

  Kitty grinned again, but there was no pleasure in it. “Most will accept you. Outwardly. It’s how they snipe about you behind your back that will keep you awake at night.”

  Reaching out, Kitty flicked at her skirts, as if she’d just been showered with invisible bits of debris.

  “But to be honest, to speak plainly, as you say, they would snipe about you even if you were born with blue blood in your veins. That’s the nature of an insular, back-biting group.” She titled her chin high. “You simply learn to rise above it, and give them something else to talk about. You’re clever and passionate about your politics. That’s enough to win you a few allies.”

  Jess took comfort in Kitty’s words, and more so because it was clear Kitty wouldn’t simply tell her what she wished to hear. As Kitty spoke, Jess allowed herself to imagine life as Lucius’s viscountess, managing the staff at Hartwell and interacting with well-bred ladies like Kitty, who’d no doubt wish to speak of fashion, of which Jess knew little, and their ladylike accomplishments, none of which Jess possessed.

  Surely stamping a title on her stationery or having her name inscribed in a great book next to Lucius’s would not make her a success in his world. And what of her world? Would she be able to continue her work with the Women’s Union? Speeches could be written anywhere, but she longed for the camaraderie of the meetings and her discussions with Alice.

  Would Lucius ask her to give up her interests to be his wife? No, she couldn’t imagine it. Yet she could imagine, with absolute clarity, her own faux pas at social gatherings—saying the wrong thing, reaching for the wrong bit of silverware.

  “I would never wish to bring him shame.”

  “We all make mistakes, Jessamin. Just look at my little scheme at the gallery. I thought I’d humble him and have him on his knees. Instead, you have him enthralled.”

  She laughed as she said it, her pitch rising in a soprano titter, and then stood.

  “I must go if I’m to catch my train, but let me do this.” Turning to a satchel on the bed, she reached inside and pulled out two bits of paper.

  “Take this and don’t say no.”

  Jess reached for the offerings.

  “It’s a ten-pound note and my calling card.”

  Jess lifted the money out to her. “Kitty . . .”

  Kitty put her hands up, palms out. “No, I insist. It’s enough to get you back to London if you wish. You can call on me or leave a note with my card and I’ll come to you. My offer to help you find a position still stands.”

  Jess followed Kitty into the main entry hall and waited as a footman and maid bustled about them, assisting Kitty into her traveling coat, hat, and gloves, and tucking her bags into the Dunthorpe carriage for the journey to Newbury station. After a final round of well wishes and watching the carriage roll out of sight, Jess stepped back into the hall, fighting the urge to stop and listen at the drawing room door.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  IF THE MAN hadn’t come to Hartwell to spoil each and every one of Lucius’s plans and force his daughter into a marriage she didn’t desire, Lucius might have found Seymour Sedgwick amusing. He smiled a great deal, a broad toothy expression that he managed to infuse with merriment and charm. And though he was a man of small stature, he seemed to command the room. Like his daughter, he exuded a kind of palpable energy and spoke each word as if he equated communicating with convincing. He would have made a fine actor on any stage.

  “May
is my only child, you see.” He turned toward May, mouth quivering, gaze earnest, but May didn’t return one of her sunny expressions. Her full mouth remained immobile, and Lucius noted faint shadows under her eyes and a few tears still tangled in her lashes. She looked young, and it struck him that the girl was a dozen years his junior and half that number of years younger than Jessamin. Her confidence and charm seemed excessive for one so young, and yet none of it seemed to have any effect on the man she’d clearly inherited it from.

  “Her happiness, the prospect of seeing her settled. Well, nothing is more important to me than that, Lord Grimsby.”

  And nothing is more important to me than getting you out of my home.

  Though Sedgwick had indicated a chair for Lucius to take a seat, seemingly oblivious to the outrageous rudeness of the gesture, Lucius continued to stand, and at a distance from Sedgwick. There was such intensity around the man, it seemed as if he might burst into flames if he moved too quickly or scraped against anything, and Lucius wanted him away from Jessamin and the rest of his family.

  “I hope Miss Sedgwick knows that I wish her all the happiness she can bear.”

  Lucius met May’s gaze when he repeated her words to him. Her quick nod seemed indication that she’d meant what she’d said and this unexpected visit came at her father’s instigation, not hers.

  “I’m glad to hear it, Grimsby. Then perhaps we should discuss dates, May’s dowry, and your future as man and wife.”

  Perhaps it was one of the strategies the man employed in business—the impervious wall, unchanging and immovable, regardless of his adversary’s responses or denials. And it was clear they were adversaries, no matter how wide Sedgwick’s grins.