Once and Forever

by Mary Blayney

  “Until it comes to matrimony,” he replied. “Then everyone seems to remember that they are little better than servants, servants who are stealing undeserved prizes.”

  That helped the refreeze. Think of the agency. Think of what would happen if she became known for supplying bachelor thieves. That helped to settle her. “I would assure you that my ladies are most deserving.”

  “But still servants.”

  “I do not think of them as such. And most of them have more than acceptable bloodlines. It is only that there are so few opportunities for women.”

  “And so they seek marriage.”

  “I did not say that, nor do I believe it. My ladies seek only to fulfill the tasks that are asked of them. It is not their fault or mine if — if love finds them sometimes.”

  “Ahh love, is that what happened?”

  “I can think of no other explanation. And you have changed the subject. I still do not understand why you came instead of sending someone else, or even handling the matter by correspondence.”

  “I do believe that we have actually circled back to that point. Why would a man choose to marry a not quite suitable woman? Why would he willingly walk into such a trap? You say love. I wondered if there might be something else involved — if there might be some skill your women know, are taught, that renders a man insensible. I wanted to find out for myself.”

  She had not thought it was possible for him to move closer, but now he did. Their bodies did not touch, but she doubted it would be possible to move a sheet of tissue between them. “I do not understand.”

  “I spoke of seduction. I will be more frank. I wanted to find out if you — and your ladies — had knowledge of some sexual secret that would drive men from sanity. What man would not be curious? You do look as if you’ve been up all night. It does make a man wonder. Perhaps I should make you my mistress.”

  Her mind went blank. It could not comprehend what he was saying. His words made no sense. Sexual? She knew the meaning of the word, but could not remember ever hearing it spoken. Secrets? Mistress?

  She was still trying to find the words to answer, even a single word, when she felt the air shift, felt him close that breath of space between them, felt his lips settle on to hers.

  Chapter Three

  Her lips were soft and dry, not the lips of any seductress he’d ever known, but all the more desirable for that. He moved against them gently, not forcing the issue, but not withdrawing. She didn’t pull back, not that she could have with the wall behind them, but neither did she respond.

  She stood there stiff and unmoving.

  He puckered and withdrew, nibbled slightly at her lower lip, let his tongue slip out to taste her, the slightest reminder of sweet tea with lemon. Still she held quiet, her body stiff.

  He’d never had this happen before. He’d had his share of slaps and sharp rejoinders — and on one occasion a knee in a place he’d rather not remember — but he’d never before experienced a complete lack of response.

  He opened his eyes and found her staring at him, her dark eyes cool and questioning. He’d expected anger, not confusion.

  He pulled back. “You’ve never been kissed before.”

  “I certainly have. Not that it’s any business of yours.” Now there was fire in her glare.

  “You don’t act like it.”

  “And how should I act? Do you really expect me to kiss like some practiced courtesan? I would think you would know how little truth rumor often holds. I am a respectable lady who helps other respectable women find positions. And if I look tired it is because I filled in for one of my ladies who did not arrive at her place of employment. I spent the night caring for an elderly lady who tends to wander. It truly is that simple.”

  Had she grown an inch in height? He would not have thought it was possible for her to stretch any straighter, but somehow she managed the feat. He debated his answer and decided to stick to the original point. “You don’t kiss like you’ve done it before. And I have kissed many a respectable woman so I don’t take that as an excuse.”

  “I believe, your grace, that you are under the misunderstanding that I was kissing you. I was merely waiting for you to finish kissing me. And now, I would appreciate it if you would step back. I would like to breathe without worry of touching your person.”

  He took the step back, resisting the urge to press forward, to take her lips again and force her to respond. He knew that he could. He could feel it in the quiver of her breast, in the quick gasps of air she took as she spoke. She was not as calm as she wished to appear. “As you wish, Miss Watson.”

  “Are we done?” Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke.

  He half–smiled, letting his lips curl, knowing fully the sardonic attitude that he presented. “Not by a long shot, but I’ll leave you be for the moment.” He stared deep into her eyes one more time, then let his gaze drop to her lips, waited a second, and then returned to her eyes. “No, we are definitely not done.”

  He turned and walked to the door, stopping just before exiting. He did not turn to look back at her as he spoke. “I will expect my mother’s new companion in the morning — the pretty blonde. And do be sure she reads up on the peerage — and perhaps glances through the scandal sheets. I do not wish another mistake.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath as he left.

  She hated him. It was as simple as that. She didn’t care who he was, didn’t care that he could ruin her agency with little more than a word. The Duke of Radford was an evil, evil man. Well perhaps that was overstating it a bit, she was very tired. He might not be actually evil. She doubted that he starved children and kicked puppies, but she wouldn’t put much else past him. The man was a scoundrel, a rake, a rogue …a …She didn’t have the words to describe him — or at least not words that a respectable woman would know, much less use. If she were to borrow her father’s vocabulary she might come close.

  Molly stomped across the room and slammed close the door that he’d left open. She regretted it instantly. He’d probably heard and the last thing she wanted was for him to realize how much he’d bothered her. He clearly enjoyed picking and poking at her and she wished to give him no satisfaction.

  Sucking in a great breath, she walked to her desk and sat down, trying to find the peace she’d felt before Radford’s entrance. The worst of it was she probably would send Miss Amethyst to his mother. If even a fraction of what Radford said was true, it probably was the perfect position for her. Oh, Molly would warn her first, tell her to avoid the duke as if he carried the plague, but she would not allow her own feelings to hinder Miss Amethyst finding a position.

  Quickly she jotted a note to Miss Amethyst and then called for the boy to deliver it — and the one to her aunt. Miss Amethyst would undoubtedly be pleased to have the chance for a position so quickly.

  And if he dared …Molly let the thought trail off. In truth she didn’t see him trying to seduce his servants. He could have anybody he wanted, he had no need to chase his mother’s companion, no matter how pretty she was. So why had Radford kissed her? He could choose from the finest of ladies or the most seductive of courtesans. He didn’t need to kiss plain Miss Watson.

  Oh, Molly knew she wasn’t exactly plain. She had a more than decent, if well–padded, figure and her face was not bad. It simply wasn’t special. And if she knew anything about men like Radford it was that they were used to special, to extraordinary.

  Well he’d certainly realized that their kiss was nothing special. But to imply that she’d never been kissed — that was much crueler than he’d needed to be. She’d known she wasn’t an experienced kisser. She certainly didn’t know this special trick he’d implied she’d taught her ladies.

  It might have been years since she’d actually been kissed — and that hadn’t been a kiss for the ages, but there had been certainly been nothing wrong with it. She thought of it quite fondly.

  She did know how to kiss — she had just chosen not to. Well, she hadn�
�t really chosen, she’d been far too surprised to react, but if she’d had time to think she would have chosen not to kiss him.

  Radford was not a man she’d ever choose to kiss.

  It didn’t matter that he was a duke, as rich and handsome a man as she’d ever seen. Didn’t matter that he had thighs meant for climbing mountains and eyes so deep and clear she thought she could drown.

  In fact, she rather thought she held those things against him. If he hadn’t been so perfect he wouldn’t have been so insufferable — and he certainly was insufferable. How dare he kiss her without her permission? And how dare he imply that her ladies were not up to par, that they knew this sexual secret they were using to enslave men into matrimony.

  She should have told him that the last thing she wanted was her ladies marrying their employers. That might be worse for her business than if she had been teaching sexual secrets. At least a portion of society’s ladies would forgive their husbands and sons indiscretions, would turn the other cheek and look away. Molly had even heard of some women who welcomed their husbands’ attentions being drawn else where — although she’d always had a hard time believing that. But marriage was another story. No one hired a nanny or companion hoping that she’d marry the heir.

  Well, at least, she didn’t have that worry with Miss Amethyst. If even part of what she knew about the young woman’s past was true she was certainly not looking for marriage — and despite the kiss, Molly didn’t actually think that Radford would force himself upon a lady — or a servant. He might be a despicable louse but she imagined he did have some honor.

  Her mind began to drift back to Radford’s physique and with a determined shake of her head Molly pulled out her ledgers and began to review her entries. She needed to find another lady to fill in for Miss DePere if she did not appear again tonight — and if that were the case then she’d need to take Miss DePere off her lists. Reliability was very important.

  Radford was certainly not reliable.

  No. She would not think of him. She would concentrate on Miss DePere.

  Molly was not one to look for trouble — and Radford was trouble.

  Dressed in full armor, a discreet evening gown and pearls that she saved for just such occasions as this dinner with aunt, Molly smiled guiltily. “It is good to see you, Lady Margaret.”

  “Then why don’t I see you more, Lady Mary?” her aunt replied.

  “Please call me Molly.”

  Her aunt gave her a single look that said what she thought of that idea. “Your name is Mary, Lady Mary, and I will call you as such. I do not know why your father started with that ridiculous pet name. Mary is a fine name. It was my mother’s name and you were named for her, a truly great lady.”

  Molly fought the urge to roll her eyes. She loved her aunt, truly she did, but there was something about Lady Margaret that made her feel like a child instead of a businesswoman of some success. And, as for her grandmother, Molly had heard plenty of stories about the woman and, while she might not argue the great, she had never heard the words kind or gracious applied to her.

  She smiled at her aunt, trying to avoid further discussion of the issue. She would never feel like Lady Mary, but there were some arguments that could not be won. “I am sorry it has been so long.”

  “Then why do you always make excuses?” her aunt replied. Apparently, if they were not going to have one argument they were going to have another.

  “You know I am not comfortable in society. It has never been where I belonged. I am always happy to meet with you privately, to share a drive or a quiet dinner such as this one.” It would be impossible to explain to her aunt how being in society always made her aware just how low her position was. They might accept her, but they would still look down at her.

  “But you belong in society and it is high time you realized it. Being the daughter of an earl is a responsibility. You must begin to live up to that responsibility.”

  “My father was earl for hardly more than ten minutes. Surely I have been responsible for at least ten minutes.” Molly wished she could pull the words back even as she said them. Lady Margaret had never responded well to sarcasm and it was not wise to admit even to ten minutes of responsibility. She should have changed the subject immediately.

  “It was more than ten minutes. I believe it was more than ten days and I doubt you’ve acted the lady for that long in your entire life. It is time you began. And besides time does not matter. Once a lady, always a lady. I suggest you learn that.” Her aunt’s voice was cold.

  “But…” Molly wasn’t really sure what else to say. It did not seem likely that her aunt would listen to any of her arguments. Perhaps it was best to smile and agree and to then live her life as wished. She was here out of love and duty. Surely it could not hurt to let her aunt take this small superficial victory.

  Her aunt paused at the closed door to the dining room. “I mean it, Mary. It is time for you to become the lady you were born to be. Our family is old and proud and you should remember that. Your father may have been born a younger son and had greater freedom because of that, but if he had lived to take responsibility for the earldom he would have done his duty. Do you doubt that?”

  Molly swallowed. “No. My father always did what was needed.” And that was true. So true that it hurt. Her father had always done what was required. He’d joined the Navy when his family wished and then flourished there. He’d loved the sea and when he’d given up his commission he’d used his prize monies to purchase a schooner of his own. He’d taught Molly to embrace what must be done and to find a way to enjoy it. It was what she’d tried to do with her agency.

  “I am glad that you realize that. He would want you to take your place in society.” Lady Margaret placed her hand on the handle of the dining room door.

  Molly was less sure of that. Her father had never talked of London and society with any degree of fondness. And if society was so important why had he married a ship builder’s daughter? Her mother had been far from society and her father had not minded at all.

  Still, she was resolved not to argue. “I will accept your wisdom on such matters.”

  Her aunt smiled, a smile that filled her face and lit her eyes. “I am so glad that you said that. It will make this next bit so much easier.” With a smile her aunt opened the door to the dining room.

  All Molly could do was stare. She’d wondered somewhere in the back of her mind why a footman was not silently opening the doors as they moved down the hall and now she knew. Her aunt wanted no witnesses if Molly turned and ran. Her aunt might pretend that servants saw nothing and said nothing, but clearly she didn’t want gossip spreading if Molly fled into the night.

  Seated around the table were the greatest matrons of society, each one titled and powerful — and each one more than capable of making or breaking a reputation. Or destroying a business. Molly knew that whatever came next she must keep that in mind.

  The grand ladies were also her aunt’s closest friends. That might have been reassuring, made her believe that this was simply a dinner among friends, if it had not been for the way each woman sized her up, judging the wear on her slippers, the make of her gown, the cost of the pearls at her throat, the skill with which her maid had swept up her hair. And beyond that they judged her. Molly had thought earlier that Radford could see her soul. These women saw her soul, took it out, measured it, compared it to others, and were now ready to haggle the price.

  She was not simply a lamb to the slaughter, she was a lamb fattened, washed, butchered, cooked, and served — and then expected to dance a spring jig.

  Swallowing hard, Molly tried to conceal her sudden fear.

  She turned her eyes to her aunt, but Lady Margaret’s smile of satisfaction brought no comfort. A single brow rose on that pale face, daring Molly to question.

  “She is more than passible, just as you said,” one gray haired dowager spoke. “If we got her in a decent gown that showed her assets more appropriately she might even be prett
y. And that hair. Something must be done about that hair.”

  Molly was not sure how to take this from a woman whose drawn up, pouffed hair spoke of ages past. Was her hair truly gray or was it powdered? Molly didn’t even know if powder could still be purchased.

  “The color is unfortunate, but the curls could be worked with. I can’t say that she’d ever look refined — it’s clear her mother’s blood runs strong, but I do believe some men like that unkempt look.” Another woman spoke. Molly thought she was Lady Lorton, wife of the Marquess of Lorton and sister to the Duke of Sameson.

  “Why don’t you just spell it out? Men like a woman who looks like she’s had a good tumble. They always have and always will. Doesn’t mean they want to marry them. Well, maybe it does, but it doesn’t mean we let them. But, yes, the girl does have some promise.” The woman who spoke picked up her wine goblet and took a swig.

  Who was that? And did ladies swig? This one evidently did.

  “Ah, Sally, forthright as always,” her aunt said, walking to take her seat at the head of the table.

  Molly almost gasped when her aunt pulled out the chair herself. Where were the footmen? It seemed impossible to imagine this group of women sitting to dinner without servants. And that left Molly standing unsure. If she were at home it would be a simple matter to take a seat, but here, under these eyes it felt like every move she made was being considered.

  And so she stood and waited.

  “Oh come and sit, girl,” the lady her aunt had referred to as Sally spoke. “Take that chair next to your aunt and quit dallying. We’ll ring for dinner when we’re ready — when the important matters have been taken care of.” Sally emptied her wine and reaching for the decanter filled it again. She then passed it to Molly, who had with shaking knees taken the seat indicated. Molly poured a single inch into her goblet, but did not sip. She needed her wits about her.