A Convenient Engagement

by Kimberly Bell

  It was nothing like their first kiss. That had been a surge of passion that had overwhelmed her senses. This time, Rhone kissed her playfully. He teased her with brief, nibbling kisses that left her leaning forward to try to recapture them when they were gone. Where before, his body had pinned hers to the wall, she now pressed him into the ground beneath the trees. She learned his mouth from every angle. She learned every detail of his lips. She cursed him soundlessly as he deftly broke each kiss she tried to take deeper.

  “Rhone.” She growled, as he pulled away again just short of the contact she craved. When she writhed her body against him in a wordless request, he rolled sideways, leaving a space between them.

  “I know,” he said, with irritating calm.

  “Kiss me like you kissed me before,” she demanded.

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “Why not?” She closed her eyes in frustration.

  “Last time,” he said as he reached out and stroked his fingers down her neck, and across the gentle slope of her bosom, “I nearly took you up against that wall in your hallway.”

  His voice was rough with desire, but the play of his fingers across her skin stayed featherlight and gentle. She longed for him to close the distance between their bodies.

  “You didn’t, though. You stopped.” Her breath caught as his fingers dipped beneath the edge of her bodice. Her exhale came out as a whimper when they found the erect bud of her nipple. He leaned forward slightly, and his mouth went to work on the delicate skin behind her ear.

  “And it may well be the last honorable thing I’ll ever accomplish.” His questing fingers pinched her nipple at the same time his teeth tugged on her earlobe, and she cried out. She reached for him, but the hand he wasn’t using to torture her trapped her arms between them.

  “How is this any less dangerous than that?” Logically, she knew he was right. They were playing with fire—she could feel its heat every time he touched her—but logic faded underneath the unnamed feeling she could sense was waiting, if he would just touch her a little more.

  “The other is a promise. The sort we shouldn’t keep,” he said. He returned to teasing her with shallow kisses, her hands still trapped in the space between them. “This is safe.”

  “It doesn’t feel safe.” She gave herself over to his myriad of tiny pleasures. He was weaving some kind of spell around her, and she felt delirious from it.

  “That’s because I am very good at it,” he whispered confidently before he pinched her nipple again and swallowed her cry with his mouth.

  The sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the trees froze them both in place. She opened her eyes to Rhone’s contemplative expression. He gave her a half smile, raised her trapped hand to his lips, and then stood and walked toward the sound.

  Hannah took a deep breath and sat up to take stock. At some point during Rhone’s sensual assault on her body, the rain had stopped. A ray of sunshine had the audacity to peek out and illuminate the ruin that was her riding habit. On the bright side, she sincerely doubted their tryst had disheveled her any more than the fall from the carriage and subsequent mud fight. She pondered indulging in some well-timed cowardice but decided against it. She could use the practice. In town, she would be facing down more than her fair share of uncomfortable scrutiny. She might as well get used to it.

  * * *

  Gavan exited the trees to find a red-faced boy on the verge of manhood holding Hannah’s muddy hat and gloves. Behind him, the traitorous horses and their attached carriage stood in perfect repair.

  “Good morning,” Gavan said pleasantly.

  The boy tipped his hat, or pulled it down to cover his flush. Gavan couldn’t be certain.

  “I am the Earl of Rhone.”

  The boy didn’t seem to know what to do with that information.

  “Who might you be?” Gavan added helpfully.

  “Kenneth, m’lord. M’name’s Kenneth.” Kenneth was looking in every direction except Gavan’s. Good Lord, how long had he been standing out here?

  “How fortuitous that you have found our cattle, Kenneth!” Gavan said with aplomb.

  “They. Erm. They took up in our barn, m’lord.” Apparently Kenneth considered the horses a safe focal point. He became more loquacious after he fixed his gaze on them. “Drove right in, like they ownt the place. I never seen anything like it.”

  “Hopefully they didn’t put you out.” Hopefully young Kenneth had cursed them to hell and back, tarnishing their horsey egos.

  “Lawks, no. They’re the finest horses I ever seen. Woulda kept ’em, but da said it’d be trouble cause, what with the rig, they gotta belong to some fancy piece.” If possible, Kenneth turned an even brighter shade of red when he realized he had just confessed intent to steal the horses.

  The fancy piece in question chose that moment to reveal herself. Hannah strode from the grove like an earthen queen. His diminutive fiancée was caked in layers of mud that had started drying, cracking and oozing as she moved. Her hair was similarly coated and plastered to the side of her head in clumps. Only her mouth, neck, and chest were free of dirt. Gavan ached at the evidence of his earlier endeavors.

  “Kenneth, may I introduce you to my fiancée, Miss Hannah Howard.” Gavan stepped forward to claim her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. His arm brushed against her breast, a reminder of her initial curiosity and his corresponding exploration. He considered strangling young Kenneth and hauling Hannah back into the trees like a caveman. “Hannah, this intrepid young man is Kenneth. He has retrieved your carriage for you.”

  “How wonderful!” she exclaimed, adopting his outward insouciance. “How do you do, Kenneth?”

  Hannah sketched a perfect curtsy at the boy, causing clumps of mud to rain from her skirt. Gavan felt a stab of pity. Kenneth’s manners clearly lacked under the most usual of circumstances. Having this construct of a lady treat him to court manners was well outside the purview of the usual. He felt a stab of something else when he caught Hannah’s sideways glance twinkling with mirth. It was time to end this adventure before he really did throw her over his shoulder and finish what they’d started.

  He steered his frightful mud goddess in the direction of the carriage. The horses balked at the sight of her but had the good sense not to bolt again. Gavan retrieved his waistcoat from the bench of the chaise, pulling a stack of pound notes from the pocket.

  “For your trouble,” he said, handing them to the stunned boy. “We truly do appreciate you returning them.”

  He returned the waistcoat to the seat and assisted Hannah into his jacket. It covered from her shoulders to knees and would keep most of the mud off the velvet interior.

  “If you would kindly return my lady’s hat and gloves, we’ll be off.”

  Kenneth realized he was still holding Hannah’s abandoned items and quickly handed them over. He was treated to her beaming smile and immediately turned beet red again.

  “Up you go, woman.” Gavan boosted her unceremoniously into the carriage, not trusting himself to let his hands linger. “Good day, Kenneth.”

  He hauled himself up and arranged his waistcoat on the seat to negate most of the sludge his trousers tried to transfer to it.

  “Would you mind terribly if I drove?” he asked his fiancée.

  “Not at all,” she said graciously, settling herself comfortably under the hood of the carriage.

  With a parting nod to the still dumbfounded Kenneth, he set the horses off at a brisk clip. The red-faced farmer’s son quickly faded from view as the team ate up the distance back to town.

  * * *

  Their return to St. James’s Square caused a notable stir. Rhone had navigated back through the streets with the lowest traffic, but there was no avoiding the square. The loiterers waiting to catch a glimpse of the chaise on its return received far more than they bargained for. Hannah cou
ld practically see the gossip spreading like wildfire out into the rest of the city.

  She was proud of her staff. They behaved calmly—with far more decorum than Hannah could claim for the day—and jumped into immediate action. After bidding Rhone a pleasant morning, she had been efficiently whisked upstairs to a waiting bath. She was finally free of mud and soaking in her second round of clean water when Betsy began her assessment of the riding habit.

  “You did say it would be the devil to keep clean,” Betsy mused.

  “Oh, Betsy. I don’t expect you to be able to save it. It’s ruined. Just burn it.” Hannah hadn’t been thinking of the maid at all when she started the mud fight with Rhone, and she was mortified at her lack of consideration.

  “I won’t hear it, miss. I said I’d get it clean, and I will. You just wait and see.” She scooped up the pile of muddy clothing with determination and left Hannah to soak in solitude.

  Now that she was back in civilized surroundings, Hannah could not believe her behavior. She had started a mud fight. She had willfully molested a known rake. She had deliberately teased that poor farmer’s lad. She had loved every second of it. Never in her life had she done something so outrageous. Rhone inspired ridiculousness wherever he went, and being near him was as far from boring as she could imagine.

  His touch was far from boring as well. Her body still hummed with unspent passion, even hours after they had left the grove. What had he said about the deeper kisses being a promise? Her train of thought was interrupted by Betsy’s return. Hannah hoped the maid would attribute her flushed skin to the steamy water.

  “If you stay in there any longer, miss, you’ll be wrinkly as a prune.” Betsy approached the tub with a raised towel. Hannah let herself be wrapped in the fluffy fabric and led to the chair in front of the fire.

  “You received another message, just now.” Hannah’s pulse raced at the thought of another adventure with Rhone. The maid handed it over and started brushing out her hair.

  To the Intriguing Miss Howard,

  As we will soon be celebrating our long-standing friendship with half the ton, I thought it might be apropos if we were to meet beforehand. Would you be amenable to afternoon tea tomorrow? I have included my direction.

  With Admiration,

  Mrs. Conduitt

  Not from Rhone at all, then. If possible, this was even more exciting. It was her first official invitation. Admittedly, she was being invited by a co-conspirator in her plot to mislead the ton, but Hannah would take her successes where she could find them. When Betsy finished with her hair, she penned a response accepting the invitation and had it sent off.

  “Betsy, will you go down to Madame Baudette’s and see if she has anything suitable for tea that can be ready by tomorrow afternoon?” She dreaded the thought of wearing one of her plain, serviceable gowns to meet the woman Rhone had spoken so highly of. The maid hurried off, excited by the prospect of new garments. Hannah finished dressing on her own and went to find Jane to share the news.

  Chapter 9

  Hannah fidgeted her hands.

  Jane was seated next to her in the carriage and reached over to squeeze one. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,” she said calmly.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Hannah agreed, continuing to fidget. She had no reason to be nervous. This was a perfectly normal social call. Four women meeting for tea was not reason to go into a panic.

  Thanks to the Madame’s efficiency, Betsy had been able to secure a piece from the new wardrobe, so Hannah couldn’t even blame her baseless fears on being unfashionable. The dove gray walking dress was surprisingly cheerful, with its jubilant pattern of white flowers bursting in sprays around the bodice and simple round skirt. Hints of silver peeked out from surprising places, adding to the subtle brightness of what should have been a staid palette. The white lace cap matched the lace on the three-quarter-length sleeves and finished off her appearance respectably. No, her concern had nothing to do with how she looked.

  “I just wish I knew something about her,” Hannah worried. “All I know is what Rhone told me, and that was mysterious at best.”

  “What did your fiancé say about her?” Mathilda asked from the opposite bench.

  “He said she was kind and intelligent, but he also said she was ‘not a stranger to controversy and public speculation,’ whatever that means. What if she’s some sort of undesirable? Would Rhone even notice?” She cursed herself for not extracting more information from him when she had the chance.

  Mathilda waved off Hannah’s distress. “She’s perfectly respectable. He just means the Halifax scandal. About ten years back, the Earl of Halifax died and left her a decently sized fortune. The will claimed it was recompense for her lovely conversation, but the common assumption is that they were lovers.”

  “Aunt Mattie!” Jane said in a shushing tone.

  “What’s wrong with saying ‘lovers’?” Mathilda asked.

  “It’s an unseemly subject,” Hannah’s friend said firmly.

  “What would be unseemly is if I said they were f—”

  “Aunt Mattie!” Jane cut her aunt off sharply.

  Mathilda’s eyes twinkled with mischief when she continued. “She’s extremely beautiful, and she’d been living as his housekeeper for years.”

  “Do you think it’s true?” Hannah’s innate curiosity was piqued.

  “He left her all of his jewels, a manor in Surrey, and eight thousand pounds. I would love to be a fly on the wall for a conversation worth all that.” Mathilda’s arched eyebrow was full of implication.

  “How can she move amongst the ton if everyone thinks she was Halifax’s mistress?” Perhaps the key to Hannah’s own redemption lay in Mrs. Conduitt’s solution.

  “People might think it, but no one has ever proven it. That’s enough when you combine it with the regard the crown has for her uncle and her flawless comportment.”

  “I’m sunk, then. Everyone saw what happened, and I haven’t any relatives, famous or otherwise. As for my comportment . . .” Hannah didn’t bother to finish. Between the doorstep brawl and the return back from their drive yesterday, any claims she could make to good behavior would be outright lies. So much for redemption.

  “Nonsense. You have Rhone. Now that you’re engaged, he’s explanation and powerful relation all wrapped up in one. All manner of sins are forgiven, once they feel you’re properly tied down.”

  “Of course you’re right. I have Rhone.” Hannah didn’t really have Rhone, though, and she didn’t want to. She wanted to be accepted on her own.

  Rhone’s touch was fascinating and wonderful, but it was not enough to give up control of her life. Mind-numbing kisses were inadequate compensation for transmuting her into a piece of property. Hannah could not allow herself to be chained to a man, slave to his whims with no rights of her own. Their engagement could never be anything but a farce.

  * * *

  The Conduitts’ butler announced them as they entered the sitting room, and an elegant older woman stood with a warm smile. It was so inviting that Hannah could not help but respond with her own bright smile, despite her nerves.

  “Miss Howard. It’s so lovely to see you again.” Mrs. Conduitt took Hannah’s hands in her own with a friendly squeeze. She nodded to the butler, and he left the sitting room. When the door closed behind him, she continued. “I thought it might be best if we begin our ruse immediately to save ourselves from potential speculation.”

  “Of course.” Hannah couldn’t imagine how this beatific woman was friends with Rhone, or how he had convinced her to lie for them. “I cannot thank you enough for your help, Mrs. Conduitt. I regret that our first meeting should be to discuss deception.”

  “Think nothing of it. Rhone is very dear to me, and I’m not a complete stranger to subterfuge. I spend a significant amount of time with politicians.” The older woman’s cheeks
dimpled charmingly as she gestured for everyone to sit.

  “Is it a great deal of cloak and dagger, then? I haven’t encountered any politicians yet.” Hannah accepted a cup absently. She was far more interested in their host than the refreshments.

  “Mostly dagger, if a controversial bill is on its way to the floor,” their hostess quipped. “I am optimistic about someday embroiling Rhone in the mix. His powers of persuasion would be very valuable attached to a seat in the House of Lords.”

  “Rhone in government? Isn’t he a bit carefree for a legislator?” Mathilda asked as she stirred liberal quantities of sugar into her own cup.

  “He’s not always as lighthearted as he seems,” Hannah injected carefully. She was uncomfortable alluding to his secrets but felt that she should say something in his defense.

  “Indeed, he is not.” Catherine gazed at Hannah speculatively for a moment. “But let’s leave politics for another time. Between the legislators and my uncle’s scientific colleagues, I rarely get the opportunity to enjoy an afternoon in the company of other women.”

  “It’s quite nice to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around the latest issue of Philosophical Transactions,” Hannah concurred.

  “Tell me about Idyllwild,” Mrs. Conduitt suggested. “Rhone informs me I adored it there.”

  “There’s not much to tell, really. It’s rather bleak. The heath and the shore can be nice, especially in the summer.”

  “Well, then, I certainly visited in the summer, and I was absolutely enthralled with the peaceful solitude of the place.”

  Hannah laughed. “You cannot go wrong complimenting the solitude. It has plenty of that.”

  “John can certainly use some quiet reflection now and then. Perhaps we’ll come visit after you and Rhone are married.”

  Hannah was at a loss, not wanting to mislead anyone more than she had to.

  Jane inadvertently saved her, stepping into the conversational void. “Hannah is no longer leasing Idyllwild. Her landlord was a brigand, and she is well quit of the entire ordeal.”