by Lauren Smith
“It was my choice to go with you. You will not speak of my father like that ever again. You are the coward, blackmailing him like that.”
Banks touched his cheek, glaring at her. “Your father drove my mother to her death. I will say what I damn well please about him.”
His mother was dead? She bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to accept that her father had done something like that.
They were both silent for a long moment before he spoke, more softly this time.
“While you’re with me, we shall not speak of him.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t feel as though she had won a battle, but it made her brave enough to try to negotiate their situation further.
“I came with you by my own free will, and I wish to settle the terms of our arrangement.”
Mr. Banks leaned forward slightly. “The terms have been settled, but I will hear what you have to say.”
“You shall not tell anyone that I am staying with you. I need to save what little face I can if I am to make a marriage after this…interlude is over.” She paused, and when he did not interrupt she continued. “I know it is impossible not to be seen out in society, but I would ask that you do not parade me about like a prized pony. And if we are to go out in society, I will need some decent clothes. What I have brought with me will not suffice. I do not require anything expensive, merely serviceable, and only a few at that.” Her threadbare garments would draw far more attention than the man she would be accompanying. In some ways, an impoverished woman was worse than a fallen one. Men saw two very different kinds of desperation within those women. One could be preyed upon to mutual benefit, the other not as much.
“Anything else?” Mr. Banks asked.
“I ask that you not imprison me each day in the townhouse. I should like the freedom to go out, have fresh air, and not be trapped in a bedchamber all day.” She would not be treated like a bed toy for his pleasure. She needed to have some small measure of freedom or she would go mad.
“That isn’t unreasonable.”
“And my last request, after we part ways, we shall never seek each other out again. I want no reminders of our days together. Nor, should I think, will you.”
Martin held out his held to her. “Easy enough terms to live with. I accept.”
She shook his hand, relieved. The situation was more tolerable now that she had regained some measure of control of her life. He didn’t immediately release her hand and she was disturbed about how warm his hand was and how well their palms fit together. Finally, she pulled her hand away first and he let go.
“I will see you settled tonight. Tomorrow I will buy you some clothes that are more appropriate to your new position.”
As his mistress… Livvy closed her eyes, her heart racing. When she opened them, he was watching her again. She shifted restlessly.
“You should know that I have no plans to force you to share my bed.”
This took her by surprise. “But I thought…?”
“Yes, you are to be my mistress, but there is more to such a relationship than the bedchamber. And quite frankly, I have no interest in an unwilling partner. I find the notion…unpalatable.”
Livvy didn’t know what to say, but before she could get too comfortable, he grinned at her wolfishly.
“But…” His eyes fixed on her mouth. “I’m quite certain you will succumb to my charms in time. I have never left a lover unsatisfied.” The smug way he said this made her bite her tongue to avoid saying what she really felt. There was nothing he could do that would convince her to like him, let alone bed him, no matter how attractive he was. This was a business transaction. If he chose to take the high road and not force himself upon her, then she would think better of him when this nightmare was over. Nothing more.
The coach stopped at a townhouse on Park Lane. Mr. Banks exited the coach first and held out a hand for her. She raised her chin in defiance and braced herself on the door of the coach.
He huffed in open displeasure. “Don’t be silly.” He gripped her by the waist and pulled her out. She gasped as he easily lifted her up and set her back on the ground. She trembled as their bodies pressed flush against one another. She’d never been this close to a strange man before. It was thrilling and exciting, yet she didn’t want to be close to him. He was a wretched man, albeit a handsome one.
She inwardly chided herself for letting his looks distract her. There were no excuses for his behavior. Still, she couldn’t forget what he’d said her father had done. She loved her father, despite knowing he’d tossed this man into the streets and led his mother to an early death.
If I can forgive my father, perhaps I can learn to at least tolerate this man. Her body was more than willing to tolerate him. She felt like a silly girl barely out of the schoolroom, ready to swoon over his handsome looks, and she despised that part of herself that was so inexplicably drawn to him.
“Please, let me go.” She only added the word please to appear more complacent. He might have gotten her to agree to be his mistress, but she would not be fearful.
Banks held her a few long seconds more and then released her. He turned to face the house and walked up the steps. A butler opened the door for him, and the two men talked briefly, the butler casting a look her way before Martin went inside without so much as a backward glance toward her. A footman came down the steps and took her valise, then rushed back inside.
Livvy stared up at the fine Palladian façade of the place she would be staying for however long Banks wanted her.
I hope he tires of me sooner rather than later. If he did, she could go home. Home to her own life, even though it would be tarnished by scandal once London learned she’d gone from innocent debutante to a fallen woman. She didn’t want to think about the scandal that would come if anyone learned she lived with him at his residence rather than be tucked away in a love nest in another part of London.
She lifted her skirts and walked up the steps into her new home. Her throat tightened, and she tried not to cry. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing any weakness. As she entered the house, she came face-to-face with a genial-looking man named Mr. Harris, who introduced himself as the butler.
“If you need anything, you need only notify me or Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper,” he said. “The master has informed me that you will require a lady’s maid. Mellie, one of our best upstairs maids, will attend you.”
“Thank you.” She glanced around the entryway, but Mr. Banks was already gone. She relaxed a little. Perhaps he would leave her alone tonight. She could only hope so. She had no interest in seeing his “charms” tonight.
“May I escort you to your chambers, Miss Hartwell?”
“Yes, thank you.” She followed the butler to the second floor. He opened the door to the first room at the top of the stairs. Livvy’s breath caught in her throat. The room was decorated in an Egyptian style. The bed frame had hieroglyphics carved into the mahogany wood, and hand-painted motifs of water lilies and lotus flowers covered the walls. The vanity table had sphinxes for legs and sat close to a large bay window. Rich blue muslin curtains hung over the bed from the canopy, and a matching coverlet was embroidered with lions, serpents, sphinxes, and crocodiles.
“Oh my…” She breathed out the words, stunned by the exquisite furnishings and the extravagant decorations. Anyone who slept in this room would dream she was Cleopatra awaiting a visit from her lover Julius Caesar. For a brief instant, her mind was filled with images of her lying upon the bed in scandalous Egyptian dress and a man standing above her, removing a bronze chest plate to reveal an equally chiseled chest—a man who looked like Banks. Flushing with heat from the burst of erotic imagination, she turned away from Mr. Harris.
“Is the room suitable?” he asked.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Quite sufficient.”
“There’s a bell cord by the bed. Please ring if you need anything.” Harris’s eyes were warm and kind, and a hint of pity lingered
there as though he knew she was not there because she wished to be. She couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t the first woman he’d blackmailed to stay here.
“Thank you, Mr. Harris. Would it be too much trouble to ask for some tea and biscuits? I’m famished.”
“Of course.” He bowed and waited for the footman to enter before he departed. The young man set her valise on the bed.
“Shall I unpack for you, miss or do you wish to wait for a maid?” he offered politely.
“Oh no, I can see to it. But thank you.” She didn’t want him to see her torn and mended stockings or the faded fabrics of her dresses. Shame squeezed her throat. If she had to wear her modest clothes, he and the rest of the house would see how unfit she was to be in a house such as this, but she wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.
“Very well. Good night, miss.” The footman left her alone, and she opened her traveling case. The sight of her book was welcome.
She picked it up and clutched it to her chest. “My only friend.”
“Your only friend?” She whirled to face Mr. Banks, who now stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. The lamps from the hall outside her room silhouetted him. It intensified his dominating air, and she shivered, stepping backward. She bumped into the bed behind her and froze when she realized she could not retreat without climbing onto the bed.
“You say your only friend is a book? How dreadful.” He pushed away from the door. He could not have been watching her for long, but he had overheard her whisper to herself. “It must be some book to be clutched so protectively against your bosom. Let me see it.”
He held out his hand. For a moment Livvy feared he would rip it from her and cast it into the fireplace.
“I won’t take it from you. You deserve some comforts while you are here. I have an extensive library down the hall at your disposal.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
With a shaky breath, Livvy handed him the novel. He examined the spine and gave a low chuckle.
“A Gothic novel? You know, I’ve never read one of these. I always thought them to be rather silly.”
“They aren’t silly,” Livvy argued, then stopped herself.
I shouldn’t speak back to him. The last thing I need is to anger him. She could see from his build that he could easily hurt her if he grew angry, yet she sensed he wouldn’t use his body against hers, but rather this words.
Eyes fixed on her, his lips formed a firm line before he spoke. “I won’t hurt you, Miss Hartwell, if that is what you fear. Feel free to speak your mind. I have never liked quiet church mice for my mistresses.”
Livvy was many things, and while she was not a chattery creature, she was not a church mouse either. “Perhaps you should read it, Mr. Banks. A Gothic novel can be thrilling, and this author is excellent.”
He flipped the book open and read a paragraph before closing it. “Ah, but if I take this and read it, you will lose your only friend. Why don’t I show you to the library? You may choose another book to keep you company while I borrow this one.”
Livvy’s throat tightened as she followed him. The library, which was actually a bedchamber converted to a world of stories, was only three doors down from her chamber and far bigger than she expected. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled the walls, each one stuffed with books. A pair of chairs and a reading table sat close to a fireplace. It was a cozy and inviting room. She moved immediately to the shelves and searched the titles until she found a book that she had read once before: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. It was a satire on Gothic novels, but tonight she found herself very much in need of the comfort of the young heroine, Catherine Moreland.
Banks joined her at the shelf, the heat of his body close to hers. “What have you chosen?” he asked.
She tensed, expecting him to touch her. When didn’t she turned around and faced him.
Why did he have to be so handsome?
“Well?” he asked more softly. His eyes lowered to her lips, and she hastily raised the book between them like a shield. He took it from her, examining it.
“Austen? Not a bad choice.” He gave the book back to her.
“Austen is a wonderful writer,” she argued, finding his praise of her far too faint.
He leaned one shoulder against the shelf beside her, his smile widening. “I agree.”
Livvy slipped away, not at all liking that her body flushed with heat whenever she was so close to him.
“May I retire for the night?” she asked, not looking at him.
“Come here first.”
Heart hammering, she returned to stand before him. Banks lifted his hand to cup her chin.
“I shall steal one goodnight kiss from you. If you do not like it, you’re welcome to slap me. I won’t be angry with you, I promise.” He curled his other arm around her waist, pulling her into him so their bodies pressed close together.
She closed her eyes and felt his lips cover hers. His warm, rich scent teased her nose. She’d never been kissed and didn’t know what to expect, but it felt…pleasant. More than pleasant. The light coaxing of his mouth on hers made her chest tighten and her heart flutter with a strange excitement. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she gasped in surprise. He used that to his advantage and slipped his tongue inside her mouth. A shocking flash of heat shot through her, and it felt as though the earth itself trembled with her. Her knees buckled, and he held her.
The book in her hand dropped to the floor, and she clutched his shirt. A feeling she only barely understood pulsed within her. His tender kiss turned harder, just enough that she could feel the power of being trapped in his arms. She didn’t mind it, not even as he kissed her ruthlessly. There was a dreamlike feel to this moment, and she didn’t want to return to reality to face the fact that she’d enjoyed kissing the man who’d blackmailed her into being his mistress right before Christmas.
Their lips broke apart. A shiver rippled through her, but it wasn’t from fear. How could he kiss her like that and make her yearn for more? She wanted to hate him and his touch, but she didn’t.
Banks cupped her face in his palms. “You taste so sweet and innocent. It makes me ache,” he said in a low, silken voice that made her senses stir to life.
“I…” But she didn’t know what to say.
“Yes. We shall do very well together.” He bent, retrieved her book, and placed it in her hands. “Now, off to bed before I change my mind.”
Livvy turned and fled the library, racing back to her room. She jolted at the sight of a maid with a tray by her bed.
“Didn’t mean to startle you, miss,” the maid said in a Scottish accent. She had beautiful red hair with curly tendrils escaping her bun, and merry blue eyes. She had a tray of food that she set on the table close to Livvy.
“It’s quite all right. I simply wasn’t expecting anyone. You took me by surprise.” She set the book on the bed and eyed the tray of food. Her stomach rumbled loud enough that the maid heard it.
She giggled. “I thought you might be hungry, miss. I brought soup, a bit of meat, cheese, and some wine. I’ll just unpack for you.”
“Thank you, um…”
“Mellie.”
“I am Lavinia, but please, call me Livvy.”
The maid blushed. “Well, I can’t, the master would be furious, Miss…”
“Hartwell. I would like you to call me Livvy when it’s just the two of us. I desperately need a friend.” Livvy held out one hand to Mellie. The maid seemed to be close to her in age and would be a welcome ally under the circumstances.
“Only when we are alone, Miss. I don’t want to be dismissed for too much familiarity,” Mellie whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. Then she grasped Livvy’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go.
“Now, let me help you undress. Then you can settle into bed and eat.” Mellie held up the single nightgown that Livvy had packed and brought with her.
Livvy sighed in relief as the maid helped her undress. “Thank yo
u.”
Once she was dressed in her nightgown, she peeled back the sheets and climbed into bed. Mellie handed her the tray and put her book next to her.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Miss…er…Livvy.” Mellie grinned as she corrected herself. She left, closing the door behind her.
Livvy began to nibble on the cheese and cold cuts, then sipped her wine. She’d never eaten in bed before, at least not at night. There was something wonderfully indulgent about it. She reflected on how her father and mother were able to keep their house running, but she knew they were struggling. The year before, her father had invested their money in the silver mines in Cornwall, and the mining had recently been deemed a failure. Their income from the mines had shrunk with each passing month and would stop. Livvy hadn’t blamed her father, but she felt shaken now to be at a palatial home like this, enjoying dinner in bed while her parents could not.
But I am paying the price for it.
The delicious food turned bitter, but she finished it nonetheless and set the tray on the table close to the bed. She wasn’t so silly as to deny herself sustenance as she recalled her true purpose here. She reached for her book, turning to the first page, and settled in to read. It was important she find a way to distract herself from thinking about Banks…and the sinful way he kissed her.
4
Martin sat in a chair in the library, turning the pages of the book Lavinia had brought with her, but his mind was miles away. What on earth had possessed him to bring her home? Yes, he’d kept his other mistresses here, which he knew was unusual, but the daughter of his worst enemy? He should have kept her far away, some little cottage all alone to suffer. But she was lovely, and fiery, and…he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
He’d wanted to destroy Hartwell, throw him out on his ear. But when Lavinia, a daughter he had not known existed, had rushed into the room, his heart had stopped in his chest. When he saw her pale creamy skin, hazel eyes that looked like chocolate coated with honey, and those pale pink lips parted in surprise, he had been lost. Lost in fantasies of kissing those lips, touching her skin and seeing those eyes flash with heat and desire as she lay beneath him in bed. Taking her away from Hartwell had been too bloody easy. And he knew with a cold-blooded delight that he wouldn’t even have to lay a finger on her to hurt Hartwell. The man would be beside himself with fear and worry, and that was enough for Martin.