Countess of Scandal

by Laurel McKee

  "Now, if there is no more business, I must go before I am missed. Good night, gentlemen. And Erin go bragh"

  Will stared down at Eliza as she slept in his arms, her naked body as pale and perfect as marble in the darkness. Their lovemaking that night had a strange edge to it, almost frantic as she grabbed him in her arms as soon as he climbed in her window. He had been gone for a few days on patrol and just returned, not sure of his reception in her house. Not that he minded her haste in the least—making love with Eliza made him feel intoxicated, drunk on her scent and feel, her kiss. But still, he wondered what came over her tonight.

  He leaned over, kissing her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder.

  "Will," she murmured, her breath cool against him in the shadows of their bed. "It's late; we shouldn't—"

  "Shh." He pressed his lips to that soft, sensitive little spot just below her ear, the one that always made her sigh and moan. And wriggle against him, as she did now. His body hardened as her skin slid against his, his pulse thrumming in his veins.

  "We have a little time," he said. He pressed his open palm against her hip, sliding it up, up, over her slender waist and her ribs. At last he brushed the underside of her breast and balanced its weight on his hand, feeling her heart beat frantically.

  "I'm afraid a little time won't be enough," she said, her words fading to a moan as he stroked her nipple.

  She rolled over in his arms, arching up to kiss him. It was a frantic, wild kiss, full of need. A kiss that said all they could not in words. Their tongues touched, wet and hot

  Will pressed her down into the rumpled sheets, covering her with his body. She smelled of roses still, of cold night air, the salt of sweat and sex. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, skin to skin. He felt her hands on his shoulders, the nails digging into his back as if she would hold him her prisoner, would never let him go.

  And he was more than willing to be chained to her. But he was determined to hold on to her in turn, to make her his own forever.

  His kissed her jaw, her neck, sliding his lips along the soft inside of her arm. He reveled in the moaning sigh she made as his teeth grazed her breast Her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him to her. He was happy to oblige. Lightly, he bit down on her erect, rosy nipple, flicking it with his tongue.

  "Will!" she cried. "You make me insane."

  "That's two of us, then." He stared up at her, their eyes meeting for one long moment "Let's never be sane again."

  She laughed hoarsely, tugging at his hair until he slid back up her body. "At least until the morning," she whispered against his lips.

  Until the morning. At the taste of her, he forgot everything that waited outside this room. Ireland, England, duty, family—all gone. There was only Eliza and Will, the way he felt when he held her in his arms.

  He clasped her hands in his, entwining their fingers as he held her to the bed and pressed deep into her body, into the warmth and heat of her. He threw his head back, his jaw clenched with the rush of raw, primal pleasure.

  She tightened her legs around his hips, drawing him even deeper until he couldn't tell where his body ended and hers began. They were like two halves of the same whole, as they always had been.

  Would they be ripped apart in the morning? Even that didn't matter now, not with her wrapped around him, the sound of her voice in his ear.

  "Will, Will," she sobbed as he drew back and plunged forward again, deeper, faster. The pressure built and built until he exploded with it

  "Eliza!" he shouted, feeling her body go taut beneath his with her own release. "Eliza."

  He collapsed to the bed beside her, quivering as he pressed his face into her hair. She whispered soft endearments, holding on to his shoulders as if she, too, feared to tall. And morning was rushing upon them much too quickly.

  Chapter 9

  Will you wear the diamonds, my lady?" "Hmm?" Eliza said, distracted. Diamonds were the furthest thing from her mind. She was far too busy thinking of Will Would he be there tonight at the Castle? Would he discover what she was planning?

  She did a fine enough job concealing her intentions last night. But those eyes of his sometimes seemed as if they could see into her very soul.

  She pushed away those worries. "I'm sorry, Mary," she said, turning to her maid. "I fear I was woolgathering. "What did you say?"

  "I asked if you'll wear the diamonds, my lady. They'll look so well with your new gown."

  Eliza held up her arm, examining the satin sleeve. 4
  "White looks well on you, my lady," Mary said soothingly, putting the final touches on Eliza's coiffure, the 9 upswept dark curls fastened with pearl combs.

  "It makes me look like a silly miss in her first Season. But, yes, the diamonds will do very well."

  As Mary fastened the heavy necklace and earrings, Eliza reached for her pot of rice powder, dusting it over those freckles. Another queen's birthday ball at the Castle. And no plans for the uprising yet, despite the fact that Kilmainham Gaol was filling up with United Irish from the north, and delegates from the counties arrived daily with reports. Surely they were doomed to always live in this limbo, she thought with a sigh. Maybe what she found tonight could change all that

  "How is your family, Mary?" she asked.

  "Well enough, my lady," Mary said. "My mum thanks you for the ham you sent for Boxing Day, and my brother Billy took us out for a sail on his fishing boat It was ever so cold in the bay, but the fresh air did my mum some good, as did seeing Billy. He's been away so much of late."

  As so many young men were. "The British frigates gave you no trouble on your pleasure cruise, then?"

  Mary shook her head. "Mum always acts so stern and respectable; I'm sure they would have let us go at once if they dared board us and listen to her lectures! I daresay it's not so easy for Billy in his work now, my lady, having to get up before dawn and try to get the fish and avoid the patrols, too. They seem to stop everyone not in regimentals now."

  "I can imagine," Eliza murmured, remembering what she had learned at last night's secret meeting. No one was safe any longer.

  "Speaking of regimentals, my lady ..." Mary said, gathering up the feather fan and reticule and tucking a handkerchief in its beaded depths. "I saw Major Denton marching in St. Stephen's Green this morning."

  Eliza felt her cheeks turn foolishly warm at the mention of his name. Anyone would think she was a silly miss in her first Season! "Indeed?" she said, hoping she sounded quite indifferent. She covered her blush by reaching for her scent bottle and dabbing a drop of rose perfume at the base of her throat

  Just at that spot he liked to kiss, to taste with his tongue...

  "Oh yes, my lady. He drew quite a crowd of gawking females. Such a lot of silliness over a handsome face and a red coat! As if they had never seen one before."

  "Do you not care for handsome faces and red coats, Mary?"

  "The coat I can do without, my lady. But if the face looked like the major's..."

  Eliza laughed despite herself. "I would not know. Major Denton has not shown himself at a gathering for some days." He had only shown himself in her bedroom, as soon as he returned to Dublin.

  "I hear tell the Thirteenth was sent out on patrol, my lady. Quiet like."

  "Patrol?" Eliza asked, pretending no knowledge at all.

  "There was some rumor of unrest at Prosperous Town, my lady," Mary said. 'They say there was some thought of reinforcing the barracks there, but it came to nothing. A few pikes found and a hay rick burned, that was all. So, back the Thirteenth came. But I don't think they will be sent north after all. We're going to need them here."

  Prosperous Town—that was not so far from Killinan.

  "I'm sure the young ladies are glad of that There will be no lack of dancing partners tonight"

  "Shall you dance, too, my lady?"

  Eliza laughed. "You and An
na, always trying to get me to dance! I suppose I might, depending on who asks me. If anyone does ask me."

  "I don't think you need worry about that, my lady. You look grand."

  Eliza stood up from her dressing table to face the full-length mirror. Her white gown was trimmed with black velvet and pearl beadwork. Black plumes, fastened by her pearl combs, nodded in her hair.

  "I would not say grand," she said. "But certainly presentable, entirely thanks to you, Mary."

  The maid handed her the fan and reticule along with a pair of gloves. As Eliza drew the thin kid over her hands, she noticed the gold glint of her wedding ring. It had been over a year since Mount Clare died. Why did she still wear it? Sentiment? A sort of armor? Certainly not in memory of some undying flame of love.

  She had the sudden flashing image of Will in her bed, their bodies entwined as they rolled through the sheets, all that heat and need in the darkness. And she slid the ring off her finger, handing it to Mary before pulling on her gloves.

  "Put that in my jewel case, please, Mary," she said. "We probably won't be gone late; Castle events are rarely raucous, dance-until-dawn affairs."

  "No, my lady," Mary said, staring down at the ring with wide eyes.

  Eliza hurried down to the foyer, where Anna already waited. She, too, wore white satin, her gown trimmed not with black but with pale pink and glistening silver embroidery. Pink plumes nodded in her blond curls, secured with their mother's diamond tiara.

  "Mama entrusted you with that?” Eliza teased her sister as the footman assisted her with her heavy cloak. "You must have made a concerted effort to be very good indeed before you left Killinan!"

  "I can behave, when I so choose," Anna said airily, touching the delicate floral loops of diamonds and small pearls. "And when there is a reward for it. Mama says it is only on loan for the birthday, though, then back it goes."

  "It suits you very well. Much better than it did me."

  "Is that why you have not worn it since your wedding?"

  "Exactly so. Plus it is so monstrously heavy. I wager you will not be able to dance at all!"

  "Oh, I can always dance, even if I wore leaden boots." Anna swept out the door and down to the carriage with Eliza close behind. Perhaps Anna would marry a duke after all—tiaras and sweeping parades became her so well.

  "And you will have no shortage of eager partners," Eliza said, settling herself on the seat with all her heavy skirts and feathers. "Mary tells me the Thirteenth is back in Dublin."

  "Indeed? That is good news for you, Eliza."

  "For me?"

  "Oh yes. Now you can cease pacing about the house so restlessly and dance all you like with Major Denton."

  Eliza stared out the window at the passing houses. It was a good thing indeed that Anna was going home soon. "I do not pace."

  "Certainly not," Anna said, obviously not at all convinced.

  "And I will not dance tonight, either. Staid Castle minuets are hardly worth the trouble."

  Anna smiled smugly. "If you say so, sister."

  "Major Denton. How very pleasant to see you again," Mrs. Hardwick, General Hardwick's wife, said, holding out her hand to Will as he stepped under the columned portico of the Castle.

  The Hardwicks' pretty blond daughter, Lydia, who had sat next to him at the theater, stood behind her mother. She smiled at him shyly from beneath her white plumes.

  Will bowed over Mrs. Hardwick's hand. "And pleasant to see you as well, Mrs. Hardwick. Miss Hardwick. You are both looking splendid this evening."

  "We were not sure you would return to Dublin in time for the festivities," said Mrs. Hardwick. "My husband told me the Thirteenth was dispatched to keep the peace in some horrid little village."

  Will thought of the town of Prosperous, so near to Moreton Manor and to Eliza's family at Killinan. While Queen's County just to the south was in a state of insurrection, Kildare County had been eerily quiet. The streets of Prosperous had been nearly deserted, suspicious eyes peering from behind shutters. Green streamers fluttering from flagposts had been torn down and trampled by the soldiers.

  "It is quite fearsome that the rebellion draws so close," Lydia whispered. "I have the most frightful nightmares. ..."

  "I should not worry, Miss Hardwick," Will said reassuringly. "We found the town, and all of Kildare, to be quite peaceful. And Dublin is well fortified."

  Mrs. Hardwick gave him an approving smile. "And we have fine men such as Major Denton to protect us, do we not, Lydia dear?"

  Lydia smiled and blushed. "Indeed, Mama. I see we need not fear at all."

  "Though perhaps the major, having been away, has not enjoyed a dance in many days?"

  Will could take a hint. "I have not, Mrs. Hardwick, sadly enough. Perhaps Miss Hardwick will honor me with the first dance, if she is not otherwise engaged?"

  "Thank, you," Lydia breathed. "I am not otherwise engaged."

  "My dears!" General Hardwick boomed, emerging from a door hidden to the left in the dark gray stone wall. He was followed by two other men in brightly decorated regimentals. "Are you importuning the poor young man for dances already? He has scarcely arrived! I vow, Major Denton, facing our fair Dublin ladies is far more hazardous than any pack of rebels."

  They all laughed as Mrs. Hardwick tapped her husband's arm with her folded fan.

  "Papa!" Lydia cried, blushing again. "You will give Major Denton entirely the wrong idea."

  "Indeed, General, Miss Hardwick has given me the honor of a dance," Will said. "I daresay a minuet is preferable to rebels, when it is with such a charming partner."

  Miss Hardwick's blush flared even pinker, and her rather affectionately pinched her cheek. They were the very image of a contented family, and as Will watched them, he felt a pang that felt strangely like... longing.

  His own family was not particularly close, each of them preferring to go their own way—his rather to London and his mother to Moreton Manor. If there was any affection, it was for his older brother Henry, but he was always in sunny Italy with his mistress. Will often wondered what a home, a family, of his own would feel like. A place of warmth, welcome, acceptance, and love.

  He thought of Eliza, of her soft smile as she rested in his arms. Of her fingertips tracing lazy patterns on his skin, the two of them bound in the greatest of intimacy. Once, long ago, he thought his true home could be with her. But these dangerous days were no time for peaceful dreams.

  "Run along now, my dears," General Hardwick said, kissing his wife's cheek. "I want to have a word with Major Denton."

  Mrs. Hardwick whispered something in his ear, and he nodded. As the two ladies hurried toward the doors to the state apartments, the general led Will to a bench near the stone wall.

  "Colonel Brandeis tells us you behaved in an exemplary fashion these last few days," the general said. "You kept your men calm in a very tense situation."

  "I was only doing my duty, sir," Will answered.

  "Indeed, and doing it very well. We are in the midst of strange times, Major. We're threatened with the horrors of civil war, and everyone is on edge, are they not? There have already been some unfortunate actions in the north, I fear. It would only take one foolish movement, one misfired shot, to blow up this whole country. We cannot have things happen in Kildare that we've heard of in Queen's, not so near to Dublin."

  Will's jaw tightened. "Pitchcapping and flogging?"

  "Yes, indeed. Terror is not the way to make people disarm and listen to reason. Instead it only drives them closer to those damned United Irishmen and away from what is good for them. Cool heads are what we need now, Major. Like your own."

  "I hope I can be of service, General. My own family is in Kildare."

  "Ah, yes. At Moreton Manor, is it not? A fine estate, so I hear. You have been commended, and I am sure you will be again. But we must all be very cautious these days. It would be fatal to trust the wrong people, have the wrong friends."

  Will frowned. "What do you mean, General Hardwick?"
<
br />   "Oh, nothing to concern a fine young man such as you, Major Denton. After so long in the West Indies, you surely know how small societies like to gossip. Lady Mount Clare has long been a favorite topic here in Dublin."

  So that was it. He had been seen talking with Eliza and was being warned off. "Lady Mount Clare was a childhood friend. Moreton Manor is very near to Killinan."

  "And Lady Killinan is, of course, above any suspicion. Her daughter, though—she is one to watch. Too clever and independent by half, a most unnatural woman." General Hardwick glanced toward the doors, where the hum of conversation grew louder. "I have been thinking of sending my wife and daughter to England for a time, merely as a precaution."

  "Dublin would certainly miss their presence greatly," Will said absently, still thinking of Eliza.

  "And I fear my Lydia would miss you, Major. She has talked of little else since our theater excursion."

  Will looked at him, startled. He had been so preoccupied with Eliza, with their blossoming affair, that he had not thought of anyone else at all. Of looking to his future, as he must. "General Hardwick?"

  The older man smiled at him. "A word of advice, if I may. The right wife, a lady who knows the ways of Society and the Army, can be of great value to a young man " rising in the world. And a great comfort at home. I have been content with my Hester these twenty years, and it is a blessing I would certainly wish for our dear daughter."

  The general clapped Will on the shoulder before strolling to the doors. The green-liveried footmen leaped forward to open them, and Will was momentarily alone in the cool stone portico.

  He rubbed his hand over his eyes. This was surely not the time to think of marriage! But if it was, Lydia Hardwick would be perfectly suitable. Young, pretty, well connected. Just what would satisfy his family and aid his career.

  And it would erase any suspicions of a dangerous friendship with the democratical Lady Mount Clare. He. could not let his family name down, could not cause a scandal and leave the Army.

  It would be sensible, pragmatic—and entirely out of the question. A moment on the cusp of war was not one for practical betrothals. And he found he could not give up his stolen nights with Eliza. Could not give up the desperate chance to hold her, kiss her, and be near to her, just for a moment longer.