Wedded in Scandal bf-1
Page 17
“Do you ever drink to excess?” she asked as she looked at his hand.
“Depends on what you mean by excess. There were a few times when I was a stumbling drunk,” he said, “but that was many years ago now. Mostly it has been my sad task to call the carriages for my friends and to hold their heads while they…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you understand.”
She giggled. “Yes, I certainly understand. My father’s valet had that terrible task until he quit. My mother after that. Then no one at all.”
“Because he left?”
She nodded. “Because he left. But he was forever leaving, then turning up at the oddest times. I sometimes think I shall walk upstairs and find him sitting there, easy as you please, with a glass of brandy in his hand.”
“He sounds like an unsteady fellow.”
She snorted. “He was that and more. But he was charming, too, and he could always make me laugh.”
He smiled as if he understood. Too late, she realized that she was speaking too much, too freely. What dressmaker’s father had a valet? But then he was speaking and she became caught up in his words again.
“It’s easy to make little girls laugh,” he said. “When I came home from school, I used to spin my sister around such that her legs went flying. Or sometimes I’d wrap her in a bear hug of a greeting. She used to try to wriggle free, but I held on tight until she complained that she couldn’t breathe. But in truth, it was I who was breathless. Gwen doesn’t look it, but she has strength in her arms. I used to tell her she had muscles like a sailor.”
“You did not!”
“I most certainly did. I think that is why she has picked that baron of hers. He’s tall, but still scrawny. I think she could best him in a fight.”
Helaine recoiled in mock horror. “That’s terrible! To say such a thing of your sister.”
“Oh, but she’ll say it herself, you know. My sister is no shrinking violet, and caring for my mother is no easy task.”
“Is she bedridden, then?”
He nodded. “Sometimes. When the headaches are bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It has been this way since I was a child. My mother is frail; my sister is not.”
“Your father is a charming rogue, but you are not.”
He arched his brows. “Are you saying I am not charming?”
“I am saying you are not a rogue.” When he didn’t respond, she answered his unspoken question. “Yes, I have learned a little about your father, the Earl of Willington. A jolly good fellow, by all accounts. Has the devil’s own luck turning investments around. Which means, I believe, that he buys terribly stupid things and yet you manage to make them profitable.”
He looked at her a long moment. “You are very well informed.”
“You told me as much when we first met. Plus, I am very good at listening to your sister. She is very fond of you.”
“Even if she calls me harsh and dictatorial.”
“Even so.”
“Humph,” he returned. And then there was no more talk as the innkeeper brought them their dinner. He laid it out: quail with a sweet glaze, potatoes split and swimming in butter, and winter apples cooked with a covering of sugar. It was a feast the likes of which she had only heard about but never seen, much less tasted. And when she looked back at Lord Redhill, he merely smiled as if he knew how much of a treat this meal would be for her.
“You said simple stew.”
He gestured to another bowl as the innkeeper set it on the table. He lifted the lid and the scent of a savory beef stew filled the room.
“Of course,” she laughed. “I should not have doubted you.”
The innkeeper ducked away while Lord Redhill took her hand and escorted her the two steps to the table. He held out her chair for her, poured her more wine, and then seated himself across from her.
“But where are the almonds?” she asked. Truly she didn’t really care. There was more than enough here to delight her for years to come. But she had to say something, and that was what came to mind.
“That is for after dinner,” he said. “For a snack if you are still hungry. If we talk for a very long time.”
“Ah,” she said, her gaze going to the fire. There was a very large space set out before the fireplace. Easy enough to set the pillows on the floor and lounge there. She had seen her father do so once. With a woman who should not have been in their home. Her gaze returned to Lord Redhill.
Could she do that with him? Lie in front of the fire and speak in low murmurs? Would he kiss her then? Would he caress her face? Would he touch something more?
“You have it all planned,” she said.
“I’m told that’s what I do best.”
“Yes,” she said, knowing that fear was not what was making her body flush with heat. “I’m sure it’s one of the very many things you do well.”
He opened his mouth as if to answer, but no words came out. A moment later he addressed himself to serving her food, dishing out one delicacy after another. He chatted companionably about this and that. He spoke of how he liked this dish prepared, he told her an amusing story of Gwen’s first introduction to quail, and he even delighted her with horrible tales of his food at school. In truth, she spent as much time laughing as she did eating.
Then the meal was done, the dishes removed, and Lord Redhill was taking her hand as he led her from the table. But they did not return to the couch. No, instead, he grabbed hold of two of the very large pillows and tossed them on the floor right in front of the fire.
“Do you mind?” he asked. “I find this much more comfortable. Lets me stretch out my legs after a large meal.”
“Of course not,” she said because that was what she ought to say. She did not want him to be uncomfortable.
“You needn’t join me,” he said as he leaned back against the table and stretched out his legs. “But I do find it much easier to roast the almonds from here rather than over there.” So saying, he gestured to a bucket of the nuts sitting next to a roasting frame beside the fire.
“But I am so full. I couldn’t possibly eat another thing.”
“Ah,” he said with a laugh. “But we have not yet even begun to talk. Who knows how you will feel in an hour or more?”
“An hour! My goodness, what could we possibly talk about for an hour?”
He shrugged. “Anything you like, Helaine. But do just come sit here beside me. Save me from having to crane my neck.”
What could she say to that? She didn’t want him to hurt his neck. “Of course, my lord.”
“You must call me Robert.”
She nodded. Of course she would use the Christian name of the man who was helping her settle down beside him.
“Say it, Helaine. Please say it.”
She gazed into the warm depths of his chocolate eyes. They were seated hip to hip, the pillows braced behind them, the fire before them. His arm was behind her, gently encouraging her to lean against his chest. And his face was a few inches away, his mouth even less.
“Say what? Your name?”
“Say yes.”
Chapter 12
It nearly killed Robert to wait for her answer. He knew she wanted to say yes. Her body was already straining for him, her sweet perfume making him half crazed with lust. Her gaze held his, and in it, he read desire, excitement, and a sweet regret.
“N—”
He kissed her. Whatever word was on her lips was erased beneath his onslaught, his gentle domination as he moved his mouth across hers. Then he invaded her as a man ought, with steady pressure and thorough command. She was untutored, so he instructed, he teased, and he thrust himself inside.
She gasped and might have pulled back, but there was nowhere for her to go. He had positioned her with her back against a chair. And besides, he had his arm behind her, the bulk of his body to her side, and his other hand slowly wrapping across her front. When she was fully inside his embrace, he would ease her to the floor. There w
as a pillow there, conveniently placed. And once he had her on her back, everything would proceed exactly as it ought.
That was his plan, and he knew it would work. She was already arching into his kiss, her body stretching for him, her arm slowly wrapping around his back. But why was she reaching high? She should be clutching him as he overwhelmed her senses, not stretching up so she could reach…
She grabbed hold of his hair and yanked. His head jerked back with a cry.
“Ow!”
Her expression was the ultimate in innocence. “I’m sorry, my lord. Did your head get caught on something? Perhaps it was my word. I believe I said no.”
She released his hair and folded her hands primly in her lap. Meanwhile, he was feeling to see if she’d left any hair on his head. Clearly she was a woman who took things at her own pace. He would just have to go slower. And while he was thinking this, she was trying to put them on a more equal footing.
“You said you wanted to talk to me about something? About your mine?”
He sighed, his thoughts immediately wandering to the problems he had there. It would be good for him to talk it out. It would clear his mind and fill the time before he tried to kiss her again.
“I received yet another letter from the man I promoted to manager. Charlie is his name. Good man, but young. Maybe that was my mistake. The other men don’t respect him.”
She sniffed. “I find that reasons like youth are just excuses. Men invariably do what they intend and damn the circumstances.”
He frowned. “That’s a hell of a cynical attitude.” Too late he realized he had cursed in front of her, but she merely shrugged.
“Johnny Bono will take advantage of whoever comes along if he can. Male, female, young or old, his intention is to feed his appearance of power and virility.”
“Swear to me that you will never do business with that bastard again.”
She shrugged. “I certainly hope I won’t have to. As for your miners, look to their actions. What are their intentions? Then find some way to either use that intention or fire them. You really have no other choice.”
He frowned, startled by her logical thinking. If he weren’t staring right at her, he would swear the advice came from a man. Meanwhile, he was trying to follow her words to their logical conclusion.
“Charlie writes that the previous manager has been stirring up the men. I understand Hutchins well enough. He wants his job back. But I am making the mine better, safer for these men. Why would they turn on me?”
“They’re not turning on you,” she snorted. “You are a viscount and perforce believe that everything relates to you. You make logical steps toward the improvement of their lives, and you don’t understand why everyone doesn’t fall into line with your ideas.”
He sighed. “It has certainly worked before.”
“Or you have merely had the money and the distance to do what you deemed necessary and didn’t look any closer.” She tilted her head and the firelight caught on the delicate tracery of veins in her neck. Her skin was so fine, it seemed almost transparent. Clean and clear. He vowed he’d never seen so beautiful a neck. “What has changed, my lord? Why are you struggling with this business venture and not the others?”
He was so caught up in the sight of her flawless skin that he didn’t at first catch her words. But she was looking at him so frankly, as if expecting an answer.
“My lord?”
“Robert,” he admonished, though the word was automatic. His mind was caught on the shocking realization that she was figuring out the one thing that he kept carefully hidden.
“Very well, Robert. Tell me the truth. Are you really worried about the mine? Or was this just a ruse to get me alone?”
“Yes, I am worried,” he said.
“And yes, it was a ruse. That part I already knew. But if you are truly worried about the miners, then perhaps you should be a bit more specific. What exactly are they doing that is so worrisome?”
He sighed. “Someone has vandalized the equipment. I purchased new carts and ponies to pull them, but someone has destroyed the new ones.” Normally he would just buy new carts and post guards for as long as was needed, and thereby enforce his plans for long enough that the people accepted the new status quo. That was what he had done for his father’s other investments. Eventually the people saw that their lives were better off and accepted the changes. But he hadn’t the money to do such a thing right then. And so he was in the awkward position of having to try to appease vandals and worse.
“Have you posted guards?”
“I have instructed Charlie to do so, but what if those that work as guards are the very ones doing the damage?”
“Can Charlie hire from outside the town? Or would that just be seen as outsiders trying to step in where they aren’t wanted?”
He nodded, impressed again. “You understand my dilemma.”
“I understand stepping into a new place, a new business, and trying to learn the rules. Fortunately I had Wendy to teach me, just as you have Charlie. What does he suggest?”
He grimaced. “That we hire the children again. He believes that is why the carts were destroyed, so that I would be forced to hire the children again.”
“Then I think you should listen to him.”
He straightened. “Did you not hear me talk about the horrendous conditions there? Would you send your child into that pit? Never seeing the sun, in constant danger of fire or gas or cave-in? I have a hard enough time allowing the women to work, but to use children is monstrous!”
She didn’t answer. She was looking at him with her head tilted, her hair slipping free to dangle about her shoulder. He saw the beauty of her skin again, and his eyes were drawn to it, as well as to lower down where the soft mounds of her breasts were revealed.
“How tight is your money, Robert? Do you have the funds to force your opinion on these people? To pay the children to go to school?”
He grimaced. Yes, she had figured him out exactly. “No,” he snapped. “No, I do not.”
“Then I am afraid you will have to compromise your ethics in favor of slow change, slow growth. You can work to fire the children, one by one, later. But not just yet.”
He looked at her and knew she had come to the exact crux of the problem. He was not a man who compromised easily, and certainly not on the welfare of children. He couldn’t erase the sight of those bones in the tunnel, the ones placed specifically to frighten the children.
“I hate the idea of a child going down in that hole.” So saying, he flopped onto his back. The place where he had meant to lay her down ended up being the pillow for his own head. He stared up at the ceiling and he tried not to see those bones again.
He didn’t. He saw her face as she leaned over him. She touched his cheek, her hand warm, her expression filled with beauty. “You are an overbearing, pompous, opinionated man, my lord. But you are also a good man.”
He waited a moment, deciding whether he would be insulted by her words or not. In the end, he decided she was too beautiful to be at odds with.
“Will you kiss me now?” he asked. “To make me feel better about stealing the sun from little children?”
She laughed. “Of course.” Then she leaned down and planted a quick kiss to his forehead. He was prepared, though. Once she was close, he slid his hand behind her neck. And when she would have pulled away, he did not release her.
“You know,” he said right next to her ear, “you have offended my lordly sensibilities.”
“Have I?” she asked. Her voice was breathy, but no less clear. “By calling you overbearing?”
“And pompous and opinionated.”
“Do you deny the charge?”
“Of course not. It is part of my aristocratic heritage. I would not be allowed the title were I not.”
She arched her brow. “There is overbearing, and then there is overbearing.”
“Kiss me again.”
“See, there you are, ordering me—”
But in this position, he was forced to please and not take. But it made him crazy with lust. If he allowed it to continue, he would go too fast. He would forget her and take what he wanted. This time, it was he who broke away.
“Helaine,” he gasped. And when he had no more words, he looked back at her, traced her swollen lips with his thumb, and calculated the force he would need to flip her on her back.
She must have read his intention. She must have seen that he was on the edge of his control, because she pulled back, her eyes wide with alarm. It should have cooled his lust, but with distance he could see more of her. He saw how her skin was flushed and her nipples were tightly pressed against her dress. He caught her wrist, holding her beside him when she would have run. “You must know this is why I asked you here today.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“So why do you run?”
She bit her lip, and he found the sight too gamine. She was not a woman who gave in to games. She was clearly torn, her desire at war with her good sense. He wanted her to cease this indecision and choose him. Choose the pleasure they could share.
“I will not hurt you, Helaine,” he said. “Though I have never done it before, I know how to initiate a virgin.”
She blanched at that, her gaze slipping from his face to his chest, but stopping there. At that point, he realized that perhaps she was not acting gamine. Perhaps she really did not know what he was about.
He needed to be more blunt. She was a woman who would be nervous where she did not understand. So he took her hand. She was trembling, resisting his caress, so he simply held her such that her palm pressed against his heart.