“I don’t think I like Lord Hadderly or his East India Company very much.” She ran a palm down his back, her touch both soothing and arousing at the same time. He tried not to flinch when her fingers paused at the jagged scar left by the dagger they’d driven in just below his ribs, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “You’re alive for a reason, Tolly. Tell me you believe that.”
He shrugged again, pulling his shirt on over his head and straightening from his slouch. “I suppose I should have known I could rely on the Company’s greed to give me a purpose, but it doesn’t sound all that noble.”
“It doesn’t have to be noble. It just has to be done.”
If she’d said anything more comforting, he wouldn’t have tolerated it. In all likelihood, though, she knew that. She did seem to have a knack for cutting to the heart of the matter. Arousal spiraled through him again. Bartholomew caught hold of her hand and drew her around to face him.
“You are an unusual woman,” he murmured, taking her face in his hands and kissing her again. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. “And once you realize what a fix I’m likely to be in, you’d do well to run the other way.”
“I already know what a fix you’re in.” She brushed hair out of his eyes. “If you hadn’t…if you hadn’t survived that attack and returned to London, do you think I would be marrying Montrose?”
“You’re not marrying him. He’s too pretty.”
She squinted one eye at him. “I’m being serious.”
“Ah. Then I don’t know if you would be marrying him.”
“He’s asked me three times in two years, and mentioned it at least a half dozen times more. Alexander is—well, he’s perfect. I am not perfect. And so no, I would not be marrying him under any circumstances. Or anyone else, I imagine. Why do you think I made Michael promise to settle an income on me regardless of my marital state?”
Her skin was so soft and so warm. Sliding the arm of her shift down her shoulder, he followed the trail with his mouth.
“Tolly, are you listening to me?”
“Yes.” He pulled her arm free of the shift, turning his attention to her bared right breast. “You’re not marrying Montrose.” He flicked his tongue across the nipple, then took her breast into his mouth.
Theresa sank against him. “That’s not…oh, heavens…that’s not the…the point of what I was saying.”
He pulled her other arm free. “Is it not?”
Arching her back, she presented him with a lovely view of her breasts as he dipped down for the other one. His cock twitched in response, more than ready for a deeper acquaintance with her however much his leg ached. In part he was surprised that she hadn’t hit him or pushed him away. But even after hearing his tale, she still wanted him. And that was the headiest thought he’d ever had.
“Tolly, how do we—how do I—You make me happy. And I’m not certain I de—”
“You’re not certain you deserve to be happy,” he finished. “The feeling is very, very mutual.” He wanted to remind her that her guilt was her own invention, but then she would say something about how he couldn’t have known what would happen to his men, and she was wrong. And then he wouldn’t be able to bury himself in her again, and at the moment he thought he might go mad if he didn’t.
Holding her against him with one hand, he swiftly unfastened his trousers and freed himself with the other. Taking her down with him, he half fell into the comfortable, overstuffed chair. “Theresa,” he whispered against her mouth, lifting the hem of her shift up around her waist.
Pulling her back against his chest, he stroked between her thighs, parting her folds with his fingers. She was damp for him. With a gasping moan that nearly did him in, Theresa lifted up and then sank down on him, around him.
Bartholomew held his breath at the tight, heated sensation as he filled her. This was where he wanted to be. No bloody past, no uncertain future. Here. Now. With Theresa. Splaying his hands over her breasts, he sat there with her until he couldn’t stand the growing anticipation and her wriggling any longer and began lifting his hips hard and fast against her.
Her breathing grew faster and shallower, and then she clenched her hands over his as she came around him. Perfect. Only when she began to relax again did he allow himself to find his own release deep inside her.
As his breathing slowed to normal again, he kissed her ear. “I think I owe Lackaby a raise for finally doing as he was asked.”
Theresa leaned back against his chest. “If all proper chits knew about this, London would fall into anarchy.”
He chuckled. “That would be a sight.”
She twisted to look at his face. “What are you going to do?”
“First, we need to dress. I have no idea how long that damned valet will stay away.”
“You’re the one who undressed me again,” she said, standing and wiggling her hips until the skirt of her shift fell back around her ankles. “And don’t attempt to change the subject.”
Reluctantly he buttoned his trousers again, then caught his waistcoat when she tossed it over her shoulder to him. “I went to Wellington this morning. Originally I was going to break into the Horse Guards to find the names of any other soldiers who have survived attacks in India, and then demand a trial to settle the issue of my supposed cowardice and incompetence. I would likely lose, but I would be very vocal about it.”
He saw her shiver. “Tolly, if they convicted you of cowardice, you could hang.”
“Yes, I know. But at the least everyone would be discussing the Thuggee instead of dismissing them as a rumor.”
“You can’t do that. You have to find another way.”
For a long moment he sat, watching her pull on her dress. Almost magically she seemed once more to become the proper chit he’d first encountered—except that the buttons going down her back were undone and her skirt a bit wrinkled. “You came to see me this morning,” he finally said. “That has instigated a change of my plans.”
“Please tell me that you still mean to do something.”
“Doing nothing would make the least bit of a stir,” he returned. And it would certainly be easiest on her. He motioned her closer, then stood to button the back of her pretty green and yellow muslin walking dress. “But I have a duty to several dead men.” Tolly took a deep breath. “I also now have a duty to you.”
“I am not a du…” She stopped, opening and closing her mouth again. “I won’t lie, Tolly. The idea of being looked at sideways makes me uneasy. But I wasn’t jesting when I said I meant to take a new path. And if anyone has a legitimate reason for making a stir, it’s you.”
He kissed the nape of her neck. “I will be as cautious as I can. Wellington’s sending over some notes. I’ll see what he has to say before I plan my next move.” Bartholomew stepped back into his boots, wincing again as he jarred his left knee. “What shall we say we’ve been up to with Lackaby as our witness?”
“Leave off your coat,” she said. “We won’t have to conjure any lie, because I’m going to cut your hair.”
A shiver of uneasiness ran down his spine, but he pushed it away. She’d more than proven that she trusted him, and he certainly knew now that he could trust her. “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
She grinned. “Yes. I seduced you so that you would let me tame that lion’s mane of yours.”
“Very devious.” As she turned away for her shoes, he grabbed hold of her wrist. “I want to make certain one thing is clear.”
Theresa lifted her chin. “What is that?”
“You are with me. You are not marrying Montrose or anyone else. Call it a seduction or a courtship or whatever pleases you, but we are together.”
Swiftly she lifted on her toes to kiss his mouth. “Yes. We are together. You and me.”
“Then cut my damned hair. And make me look handsome; apparently I have a great many opinions to sway in my favor.”
“Well, I’ll do my best, but handsome? It might be a bit much to hope for.�
�
He laughed. Whatever was coming for him, after today it would find him a changed man. And not simply because he was getting a haircut.
“Tell me you’ll come to Essings this year for the pheasant hunting.”
Chuckling, Adam, Lord Hadderly nodded. “I’d been hoping you would invite me, Crowley. I would be delighted.”
As they left the House of Lords for their luncheon recess, Hadderly continued his rather dull conversation with the Earl of Crowley. Hadderly always did that, found one fairly undemanding fellow to serve as a barrier between him and the members of the peerage who had second or third sons or nephews who wanted administrative positions with the East India Company.
It was a damned nuisance, though on occasion acquiescing to the right request from the right lord had managed to sway a vote or two in his favor. And then there were lords like Crowley who wanted to move closer to the center of Society’s most prestigious inner circle. And the pheasant hunting at Essings was rumored to be excellent.
At the bottom of the steps he caught sight of one of his clerks. The man waved furtively, clearly trying to gain his attention but not attract anyone else’s. Keeping his expression unchanged, he excused himself from Crowley.
“What is it, Mr. Peters?” he asked, taking his clerk’s arm and continuing on with him.
“Colonel James called at Apsley House this morning, my lord.”
Hadderly scowled. “Wellington served as Governor-General of India. He is not going to do anything to jeopardize his standing. The man wants to be prime minister.”
“James stood in front of His Grace’s carriage and forced it to stop or run him down. Wellington went out and spoke with him. I couldn’t hear what they discussed, but Colonel James looked…satisfied.”
“Wellington does admire men with spleen.” He took a breath. “Well. We’ll just have to keep a closer eye on our crippled colonel, then. Take what assistance you need, Mr. Peters. I don’t like surprises.”
The clerk inclined his head. “I’ll see to it, my lord.”
Bartholomew James by himself was merely a nuisance on his way to becoming a disgraced, discontented soldier. The more ridiculous he could be made to look, the better. After all, it was James’s damned injuries and his reputation as a competent, level-headed officer that had caused the latest round of Thuggee rumors in the first place.
But if he looked to be gathering allies or evidence, then he would have to be dealt with. Millions of pounds in imports and profit were not to be jeopardized. Not for anything.
Theresa stood back to do a slow circle around her masterpiece. Well, not a masterpiece, perhaps, but Tolly James was hers. Every delicious amber-eyed inch of him.
“Well?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“It’s still a bit long, if ye ask me,” Lackaby commented, moving around them on the small terrace and sweeping the dark, mahogany hair into neat little piles.
“I like it a bit long,” she said, stopping her circuit in front of Tolly. She wanted to kiss him, but settled for brushing her fingers across his temple.
“It’s a damned good thing I have sheet over me,” he murmured, leaning into her caress.
Her cheeks heated, and she dropped her gaze involuntarily to his lap before she could recover herself. Today had been the most extraordinary day of her life. And all she’d had to do to arrive there was set aside thirteen years of guilt and every one of her preconceived ideas about propriety and proper behavior.
And in return she’d declared her resolve to stand with a man who intended on making more of a stir than she ever would have imagined for herself. And of course having the sex, as he called it, with Tolly, which in her opinion compensated for any number of other ills, past or future.
“Well, your brother is coming through the door,” she whispered back, “so…control your urges.”
“You are my urges.”
Lord Gardner stepped onto the small terrace, Amelia and Violet with him. “Tess, you’ve performed a miracle,” the viscount announced, grinning. “Well done.”
“I hope you don’t think my troubles with the East India Company will vanish simply because my hair is combed.”
“What I think is that at least you don’t look like an escapee from Bedlam any longer. I count that in our favor.”
“Very nice, Tess,” Amelia seconded, no sign of suspicion or censure in her gaze.
No one knew, then. No one suspected that she and Tolly had actually been alone and naked in his bedchamber. Well, no one but Lackaby, and she’d already developed an odd affection for the stocky, barrel-chested valet. He seemed to be the only one other than she who could stand up to Tolly.
“Thank you,” she said aloud. “I did what I could.”
“Come shopping with us now, will you?” Leelee pursued. “If we’re to attend the Tomlin-Reese soiree tonight, I would like some new lace. Silver, I think, to match the blue and silver of my gown.”
“You’re going to the party tonight?” She looked at Tolly.
He nodded. “It was suggested to me that being reclusive would not help my cause.”
“Suggested by whom? I would like to thank this person.” And to discover who it was Bartholomew had finally decided to take advice from.
Tolly glanced at her, then threw off the sheet. “A friend.”
Ah. More than likely the same friend with whom he’d stayed when he’d first returned to London. The one he’d claimed was a female. Jealousy stabbed at her. “And is this ‘friend’ planning to stand by you at the Tomlin-Reese soiree, as well?”
This time his gaze stayed on her. “I don’t know. Are you going to attend?”
“Yes. I think I will.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Then perhaps you should go shopping with Amelia and Violet.” Tolly looked her up and down.
Warmth spread through her. If she didn’t go, she would more than likely stand about mooning after him for the rest of the day. And then someone would notice. She was actually somewhat surprised they couldn’t tell just by looking at her.
And she was mooning after him right now. Squaring her shoulders, she handed the scissors over to Lackaby. “Let’s go shopping, shall we?”
Since she already had the barouche with her, they elected to take that over to Bond Street to look for lace. She sat facing backward, while Amelia and Violet sat opposite her. Her cousin and cousin-in-law were very chatty, and from what she gathered at least part of their high spirits was because Tolly seemed to be in a good mood.
Theresa studied Amelia’s face as she giggled over something with her sister-in-law. Leelee was married. Lord and Lady Gardner had done what…she and Tolly had done. And yet, she couldn’t detect any outward differences in her cousin and dear friend. Hopefully that meant she was safe from discovery, as well.
Not until they had entered the second shop in a row looking for just the perfect silver lace did Amelia take her arm. “I don’t know Tolly well,” she said quietly, sending a glance at his younger sister ahead of them, “but he seems quite taken with you.”
“Does he?”
“He looks at you all the time. And when he notices someone looking at him, he glances away, like he doesn’t want anyone else to know.”
Oh, my. “He’s very interesting,” she conceded.
“And the uproar that he’s looking to cause? It makes me a bit nervous. I can’t imagine what you—well, I can’t imagine. Will you stand beside him tonight?”
Even a few hours ago that question would have left her uneasy and nervous. Well, it did still. It made no sense to deny that. The difference was in her own heart. She felt…strong inside.
Whether it was because she believed Tolly’s interpretation of her parents’ death or because she found it inspiring that Tolly’s tragedy hadn’t stopped him from fighting, the old fear of being caught doing something wrong wasn’t quite so keen. But then, standing with Tolly felt like something right.
“I intend to, yes,” she said aloud. Theresa forced a smile
. “And you know Grandmama will be thrilled, because she’s never liked Lord Hadderly.”
“‘Hadderly and those blasted big dogs of his,’” Amelia growled, doing a very fair impression of their grandmother. “I do find it interesting that she faults him for his dogs rather than for his politics.”
Theresa laughed. “At this moment I’m feeling quite a fondness for cats, myself.”
“What about Montrose?” Amelia leaned closer to Theresa. “He’ll want to know whether you are standing by Tolly because of his relationship to me, or because you like him.”
“I don’t think any of that is Alexander’s business.”
“He will think so.”
“Well.” Theresa considered her answer for a long moment. “Alexander has been asking me the same question for better than two years. I suppose I owe him an answer, whether he will like what I have to say or not.”
Amelia clutched her closer still. “Has Tolly offered for you, then?” she asked, obvious excitement making her voice shake.
“No, he hasn’t.” Nor was he likely to while plotting a battle with the East India Company. But men had been chasing her since she turned eighteen. There was a reason none of them had caught her. They all knew her as the chit she’d sculpted—the perfect and proper one. They were after a nonexistent woman.
Tolly knew who she really was, and he liked her. Not despite of what had happened, or even because of what had happened, but just…her. She smiled.
“Something has definitely happened to you, Tess.” Amelia squeezed her arm, then released her as they reached the display of dyed lace. “You said it had, but half the time you don’t say what you’re thinking.” She held up a length of silver, eyeing it critically in the light from the window. “This time, all I know is that you seem happy, which makes me happy.”
“Then at this moment,” Theresa returned, “we’re all happy.” Tonight, after the first sideways glances and the scowls from Montrose that all might change. Of course, she’d already changed a bit, herself. It was definitely going to be an interesting evening, and in a way she was even looking forward to it. Her second test of courage—only with the results much less pleasurable than the first one had turned out to be.
A Lady's Guide to Improper Behavior Page 22