Heart's Desire (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 2)

by Cheryl Holt

  He was charming and courteous, but she’d hardly spoken a dozen words to him. He was always riding or hunting, being a typical twenty-two-year-old who was used to activity and rarely loafed about the house. Edwina claimed Rafe was rich, that he had wild tendencies, but Matthew kept him on a short leash so he was never in actual danger of mischief that couldn’t be fixed.

  It was horrid to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t force herself away. She lingered outside the door.

  “No, I never miss him,” Matthew replied to Rafe’s query, “not for a second. Have you ever wished we hadn’t proceeded?”

  “If you’ve forgotten my answer to that question, I can show you the scars on my back.”

  Clarissa scowled, wondering what Rafe meant, as Matthew said, “We should visit Yorkshire before we head to Spain.”

  “Yorkshire! Why?”

  “You should meet your cousins. You should be friends with them.”

  “They’ve never been interested.”

  “Yes, but wouldn’t it be nice to be closer to your family?”

  “I have you. How much more family do I need?”

  “Aren’t you sick of it being just me?”

  “Not yet.”

  They chuckled, and it sounded as if they were drinking. The afternoon was waning, and she’d been hunting for Matthew, the great oaf being furtively clever at hiding when he didn’t care to be found. He’d called on Lady Run, and Clarissa was dying to discover what they discussed.

  “Clarissa and I are traveling to London tomorrow,” Matthew said.

  “For the awards ceremony?”

  “Yes. Will you come?”

  There was a pause, then Rafe said, “I’ll stay here. I’m weary of the celebrations. I can’t abide those pretentious snobs fawning over you. It’s nauseating.”

  “It certainly is.”

  “If they knew you as well as I know you, they wouldn’t waste their time.”

  “Perhaps you could publish a letter in the newspapers to tell them I’m not worth the bother.”

  “Would it help?”

  “Probably not.”

  “How was your wedding night?” Rafe inquired. “I haven’t had a chance to ask you about it.”

  Clarissa bit down a gasp, recollecting the old adage: An eavesdropper never hears anything good about herself. She couldn’t bear to learn what her husband might say. How could she tiptoe away without alerting them to her presence?

  “You’re not going to ask me about it either,” Matthew scolded, and he called, “Clarissa, would you join us please?”

  “How did you know I was listening?” Her cheeks flaming with embarrassment, she peeked around the doorframe. They were seated in the chairs over by the fire, dressed casually, and drinking liquor as she’d predicted they would be.

  Matthew grinned. “Can you actually imagine you could sneak up on me and I wouldn’t realize you were there?”

  “I was trying to be stealthy.”

  “Where you’re concerned, I’m like a dog scenting the fox. I could detect you at a hundred paces.”

  He waved her over, and she entered hesitantly, feeling awkward and humiliated.

  “My brother can be an immature dunce,” Matthew stated, and he nodded at Rafe. “Apologize to the lady, Rafe.”

  Rafe was even more embarrassed than Clarissa—if that was possible.

  “I’m sorry, Clarissa,” Rafe said. “I should never have posed such an indiscreet question, and Matthew wouldn’t have told me anyway. I was needling him.”

  “It’s all right,” Clarissa replied.

  “I just can’t get used to him being married,” Rafe said. “I never thought he’d wed, so I enjoy teasing him.”

  “I’ve had enough of you for one afternoon,” Matthew said to Rafe. “Leave us alone, would you?”

  Appearing sufficiently chastened, Rafe started out, and Matthew added, “We’re departing early. I need to speak to you before I go.”

  Rafe glanced over his shoulder. “About what?”

  “While I’m away, you have to keep an eye on Roland Merrick.”

  “He’s still lurking?” Rafe said.

  “Yes,” Matthew responded, “he has a few days remaining until he has to be out. You and I have to discuss some other issues too.”

  Matthew put a particular emphasis on the word issues, and Rafe blushed and gave a mocking salute. “Yes, sir.”

  He hurried out, and once his footsteps faded, Matthew linked their fingers and drew her down onto his lap.

  “What issues will you discuss with him?” she asked.

  “He’s a little too interested in Miss Edwards.”

  “Edwina? Seriously? How can you tell?”

  “I’ve known him much longer than you. He can’t hide his nonsense from me. What about Miss Edwards? Would she be amenable to a flirtation?”

  Clarissa nearly said no, that Eddie was much too level-headed, but that wasn’t true. Eddie hoped every handsome man might end up as her knight in shining armor.

  “Edwina would be extremely amenable,” Clarissa confessed. “He’s exactly the type who would tickle her fancy.”

  “Maybe we should have her come to London with us.”

  Clarissa was torn over the prospect. She viewed their trip as a honeymoon, probably the only one they’d ever have. If Eddie joined them, it wouldn’t be horrid, but it would be different from what Clarissa was planning.

  “I can ask her,” she ultimately said.

  “We’ll be meeting hoards of people, so we’ll be able to introduce her to many eligible gentlemen.”

  “But if there’s romance blooming between her and your brother—”

  “I wouldn’t describe it as a romance, Clarissa.”

  “Oh.” Was he claiming Rafe would seduce Eddie with wicked intent? “Would Rafe ever consider her in a more permanent capacity?”

  “No.”

  “She a very nice girl, Matthew, and she has a fine dowry that Roland hasn’t squandered. Why couldn’t Rafe consider her?”

  “Rafe is very rich, Clarissa. He could likely wed into the aristocracy if he wished.”

  “Eddie mentioned that he’s wealthy.”

  “Which means they’ve spent enough time together for her to have learned that much about him. I imagine some land-poor earl would just love to have Rafe for a son-in-law someday. Especially an earl who has several daughters to marry off. Rafe’s fortune will open a lot of doors for him.”

  “He realizes that, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, and we have to be sure Miss Edwards realizes it too.”

  So much for my thoughts of a honeymoon.

  “She’d be delighted to travel to London with us.”

  “It’s a good idea to get her away from Rafe. Tell her I’ll buy her some new clothes. That should entice her to make the journey.”

  “If you’re not careful with all this generosity, you’ll beggar yourself.”

  “I can afford a few gowns.”

  “What did you do to Rafe’s father?”

  Matthew blinked, stared, then said, “He was my father too. Why would you think I did something to him?”

  “When I first walked up, you and Rafe were talking about scars on his back.”

  “His father was a drunken brute.”

  Matthew’s expression was unreadable, silently informing her he’d add no more. She was eager to pry, to demand details he obviously wasn’t inclined to share, but she was rapidly figuring him out. If he didn’t want her to know, she couldn’t dig the truth out of him with a shovel.

  “How was your visit to Lady Run?”

  “She’s very charming.”

  “Yes, she is, but I didn’t send you over there so you could extol her stellar qualities. What has she revealed about your relatives?”

  “About mine? Nothing.”

  His expression was cool and bland again, providing no hint of what he’d discovered.

  “Don’t tease me,” she said. “I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to hear
about it.”

  “I didn’t find out much about myself. She is searching for a lost sibling. There was some family difficulty when she was little, and she was separated from her brothers.”

  “How many did she have?”

  “Three, and one of them has never been located.”

  “Is she suspecting you might be her brother?”

  “She was just wondering because her lost brother’s name is Matthew, and she has another brother—his name is Michael—and I guess I look like him. Michael and Matthew were…twins.” He stumbled on the word twins, the only point when there was a chink in his façade.

  “That day she was here, she was so excited. Don’t tell me it was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing. This brother of hers, Michael, is coming to Fox Run, and she wants me to meet him.”

  “Will you? Please say yes.”

  “I will, but I wish you wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? What if they’re your siblings or your cousins?”

  He frowned in a way that almost seemed pained. “I’ve always had Rafe and the Harlows as my family. And now I have you. I hardly need strangers filling my head with nonsense.”

  “It might not be nonsense.”

  There was an awkward pause where an old wound flickered in his eyes. She caught a glimpse of the boy he’d been, the boy whose past was buried and couldn’t be recalled, the boy who’d vanished during a fire and no one had ever searched for him—as if no one in the whole world had cared.

  She thought he yearned to confide in her, that he might confess a secret, but as quickly as she noted the odd gleam it disappeared, as if he’d deliberately tucked it away out of sight.

  He grinned a grin that was a tad forced. “I saw a ghost while I was there.”

  “A ghost!”

  “Yes. It was sitting on the stool at Lady Run’s harpsichord.”

  “Are you pulling my leg?”

  “No, and I’m not too manly to admit that it scared the willies out of me.”

  “Did Lady Run see it too?”

  “No, but I asked her if she had, and she blithely said, Oh, you must have seen my mother. Calm as all get out, as if her mother’s ghost pops by regularly.”

  The grin he’d forced had turned genuine, and she scolded, “I can’t ever decide if you’re being serious or if you’re funning me.”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “You could be right, but I’d only lie if it was for your own good.”

  “Why am I supposing your notion of good and my notion are very different?”

  “Well, I’m a man, and you’re a woman. That clarifies everything.”

  “You’re a man, so you know best?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He stood her on her feet, and he stood too.

  “Have you packed for our trip tomorrow?” he inquired.

  “Yes.” She didn’t have many clothes, so it hadn’t taken long.

  “I’ve packed too, so at the moment I’m not busy.”

  “I’m not busy either.”

  “If we lock ourselves in for a bit, we won’t be missed.”

  He gestured toward their bedchamber, and it took her a minute to realize he was making a risqué suggestion. She was new to being a bride, so she wasn’t always aware of his intentions, and his comments often caught her off guard.

  “It’s still afternoon. It’s not dark yet.” She was slightly scandalized by the idea.

  “We can do it in the daylight. There’s no law that says we can’t.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  She gazed at him, at the bed, at him again. He was smiling, but disconcerted too in a way he never was. If she had to describe his demeanor, she’d say he was sad and lonely and desperately needed a hug.

  It left her curious as to what had actually happened with Lady Run. He was behaving peculiarly, as if he’d been overly affected by the visit, and Clarissa would sneak over and speak with Lady Run the instant they returned from London.

  “Give me a second.” She went to the door to spin the key in the lock, then she whirled around. “We have several hours until supper. I’m wondering how much fun we can have until then.”

  “I expect we can have quite a lot.”

  She pointed to the bedchamber. “Last one onto the mattress is a rotten egg.”

  She ran by him, making him laugh, making him reach for her, but she was too fast. By the time he entered the room, she was already lying down, and she had her arms held out in welcome. She pulled him to her, cradling him close, letting him know that she would always be there for him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Did you enjoy yourself, Mrs. Harlow?”

  “I had a wonderful evening, the best of my life!”

  Clarissa clasped Matthew’s hands and twirled herself in a circle, but she’d had a bit too much champagne, so she was giddy and off balance. She teetered over to a chair and plopped down.

  “The best evening?” he teased. “How could that be? The best evening has to be the night you met me.”

  “I met you in the afternoon.”

  “Aren’t you glad I came to Greystone? Admit it. You are.”

  “Yes, you arrogant bounder. I’m ecstatic.”

  “I told you you would be,” he pompously claimed.

  “Don’t gloat. It’s aggravating.” She held out her foot. “Take off my shoes, will you? If I wear these heels another second, I’ll fall flat on my face.”

  “At your service, madam.”

  He clasped her ankle, yanking off one shoe, then the other. He pitched them over his shoulder, and they landed on the floor with a muted thud.

  They were in London, staying in the home of an army friend who was at his post in Europe and paying a hoard of servants to run the place while he was away. It was a grand residence, with bright, spacious rooms, comfortable furniture, and a competent staff.

  He’d thought he was eager to get back to the army, but now he wasn’t so sure. As he gazed down at Clarissa, he couldn’t imagine trotting off and leaving her behind.

  Was it time to resign his commission? Should he retire to the doldrums of farming and domestic bliss? He didn’t think he should, and the fact that he was even considering such a huge change was downright alarming.

  “Is that better?” he asked, as he massaged her feet.

  “Much.”

  “Your skin is icy.”

  “It’s cold outside.”

  “You should have said something, you silly goose.”

  “Would you have warmed me?”

  “You know I would have.”

  She grinned at him, looking sly and pretty and a tad intoxicated. He’d never seen her foxed before. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the champagne had been very good, and the night had seemed to call for it.

  They’d gone to Vauxhall Gardens, where they’d had a late supper, had watched the crowds strolling by, had watched the fireworks. Clarissa had been to the city in the past, but it had been when she was a girl, when she was with her mother and very poor, so there had been no money for frivolities.

  He was treating her like a queen, inordinately charmed as she’d reveled in the sights. She was curious and interested and intent on having fun, so it was easy to spoil her, to make her happy.

  “Come, you.” He pulled her up. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

  “Shall I ring for my maid?”

  “No. I shall serve as your maid, and I plan to be exceptionally obedient, so I promise to obey your ever command.”

  “You will not.”

  He smirked. “Well, maybe not, but I promise to try.”

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the dressing room. He sat her on the stool at the dressing table, and he stood behind her and plucked the combs from her hair. The blond locks tumbled down her back in a curly wave.

  Though he grabbed her brush and started brushing, he didn’t continue for long. After onl
y a minute or two, he tossed the brush away.

  “I can’t do this,” he protested.

  “Why not?”

  “Your hair drives me wild. I can’t control myself when it’s flowing across your shoulders like that.”

  “You’re the worst maid I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re correct. I’m the worst.”

  He tugged her up so he could unbutton her gown, and he managed to get her out of it, although the buttons were very small, and his thumbs big and clumsy. Still though, he rapidly had her stripped to corset and drawers, and he untied her laces so he could remove the stiff, ungainly garment.

  “I can’t believe how swiftly I’ve become dissolute,” she said.

  “The moment we met, I figured I could corrupt you.”

  “You seemed to have pegged my true character with no trouble at all.”

  “You’re loose and debauched. I could tell immediately. You were simply waiting for the man of your dreams to lure all that carnal sass to the fore.”

  She put her foot on the stool. “My stockings next, you knave, and be quick about it.”

  “I live to serve.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t lie. Just take off my stockings.”

  He knelt in front of her, so he was eye to eye with his favorite part of her anatomy. He grinned, thinking about the naughty things he still had to teach her. She was such a sensual creature, and she went out of her way to satisfy him.

  He had to remember that fact, had to remember she never refused, despite what he asked. He had to be careful lest he push her into behaviors she wasn’t ready to attempt.

  The effects of the champagne hadn’t waned, so she was having some difficulty standing on one leg. She was swaying, gripping his shoulder for balance.

  “I’m a mess, Matthew.”

  “You certainly are.”

  “Why did you let me have that last glass of champagne?”

  “I warned you, but you told me to stop being so bossy.”

  She scowled. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “I like that you’re inebriated. It will make it easy to take advantage of you.”

  “You don’t have to get me drunk to take advantage of me.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he muttered.

  They’d only been married a few days, and they’d been fornicating with a reckless abandon. Each encounter grew in passion and intensity until he’d begun to worry over what was happening. He didn’t understand it.