Secrets of a Proper Lady

by Victoria Alexander

  “Well what?”

  “Well, it’s your turn, for a quote. Don’t you have one?”

  “Nothing comes to mind,” Daniel muttered.

  “I thought you liked Shakespeare?” She wandered around the room idly glancing at the framed engravings on the wall. “And you did start this.”

  “I do like Shakespeare and I didn’t realize I was starting something.” A defensive note sounded in his voice. “I just can’t think of anything appropriately Shakespearean at the moment.” How could she possibly expect him to think about Shakespeare when all he could think about was why she was here. What she wanted. How to get rid of her. And what would surely happen if he didn’t. He furrowed his brow and tried to think of something intelligent to say. “I have it. ‘Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well.’”

  “Not that well, Yorick,” she murmured absently, her gaze drifting over Warren’s desk. “The quote is actually ‘Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio.’”

  “I knew that.” He scoffed. “It just slipped my mind for a minute. It’s from Hamlet.”

  “Very good, Warren, indeed it is. As is ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.’” She glanced at him and smiled. “How very lucky we are then not to be in Denmark.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Although I do like Denmark. I’ve only been there once and I didn’t think there was anything rotten at all.”

  “I’ve never—”

  “Is this your desk?” She waved at Warren’s desk.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “Weren’t you at the other desk when I came in? Isn’t that desk Mr. Sinclair’s?”

  “I use both desks,” he said quickly. “I move from desk to desk depending on what needs to be accomplished.”

  “I know nothing about business of course, but that doesn’t sound very efficient to me.” She continued her casual meander around the room.

  “Oh, it’s extremely efficient. It cuts down on the loss of important documents because they stay in one place.” He nodded firmly and felt every bit as idiotic as he sounded.

  “Who ever would have imagined.”

  “Sarah.” He drew a steadying breath. “Why are you here?”

  “Why?” She trailed her fingers along the edge of his desk.

  “Why?”

  “I missed you, Warren.”

  “We were together only this morning.

  She tilted her head and glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. “And yet, it seems a lifetime ago.”

  “And yet, it was only this morning,” he said, his voice sharper than he had intended.

  She shrugged off his comment. “It wasn’t enough. It simply,” she paused, “whet my appetite.”

  “It did what?”

  “For goodness sakes, you needn’t look so shocked.” She smiled in a pleasant manner as if she were discussing something far less…well, far less. “One would think you’ve never had a woman tell you she’s missed you before.”

  “It isn’t the missing that concerns me. It’s the appetite.”

  “And isn’t that interesting?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. “I never dreamed I’d have an appetite for whatever it is I have an appetite for.” She met his gaze. “I’m actually quite pleased about it.”

  His brows drew together and he stared. “What?”

  “Your face will freeze that way, Warren, if you’re not careful.”

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s not an attractive look and it would be quite a shame if your very handsome face were to stay—”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “For someone who is so astute when it comes to business, you do appear to have a difficult time understanding something really quite simple. It must be the element of surprise. You did not expect me and I’ve taken you unawares.” Her brows drew together thoughtfully. “We shall have to proceed at a slower pace then.”

  “Proceed to what?”

  She ignored him. “But first, I find I am rather parched.”

  He nodded. “I’ll ring for tea.”

  “Honestly, Warren, tea is not appropriate for an evening like this. I should think brandy would be much better.” She glanced around the room. “Nor is an office. Surely you don’t spend all your time in here. You must have a parlor? Someplace less of business and more of…relaxation. Pleasure if you will. We would be much more comfortable in a parlor, I think.”

  “I have a suite of rooms on the next floor,” he said without thinking.

  The woman didn’t hesitate for so much as a second. “Excellent. We have a great deal to discuss, and as it is not of a business nature, I would much prefer not to be surrounded by business. Do you mind?”

  “I suppose not.” Although he probably should mind. He should mind very much. But he wanted to know what she was up to. While he was intrigued and cautious, he wasn’t especially worried at the moment. After all, she was a properly bred young lady from a respectable family.

  She started toward the door then glanced back at him over her shoulder, her voice lowered in a most seductive manner. “Shall we then?”

  “Probably not,” he muttered and trailed after her.

  A properly bred young lady with an independent streak and a history of getting what she wanted. What she wanted now was the question. He could end this by confronting her with the truth about her deception and his but that might well lead to disaster. He had very nearly confessed all at the museum. But he had agreed with her brother’s proposal to leave what happened next up to her. He had agreed as well with the argument that as she had begun their charade, it should be up to her to end it. That it would teach her a well-deserved lesson. Even so, Daniel was fairly confident her brother had not anticipated this. Still, the argument for not telling her the truth was as valid now as it was when he and Creswell and the real Miss Palmer had discussed it yesterday. Daniel really had no choice at the moment but to wait and see what Cordelia was up to.

  He instructed Gilliam to bring up a decanter of brandy then escorted Cordelia up the stairs, to what the English called the first floor, and into his parlor. It was large and well furnished with sofa, chairs, and a small desk. It struck him, not for the first time, how very impersonal the room was. There was nothing of himself here. Usually he was too busy to pay attention to such things, but on those few occasions he had noticed, it had reminded him that Warren wasn’t the only one who missed home. Still, at the moment, he was grateful for the lack of personal effects.

  Cordelia glanced around the room. “Are Mr. Sinclair’s rooms on this floor?”

  “No, they’re upstairs.”

  “Really? How unique. Usually the rooms of the head of the house are on the lower floors. Servants or employees are higher up in the house.”

  “Mr. Sinclair likes the view from the upper floors,” Daniel said quickly. “As an American in a foreign city, a good view is preferable to acquiescing to the restrictions of social class, although I should point out Daniel Sinclair considers me very much his equal in all things with the possible exception of net wealth.”

  “How very democratic of him.” She smiled.

  Gilliam entered the parlor, deposited a tray with decanter and glasses on the desk, then took his leave, pointedly leaving the door open behind him. Daniel made a mental note to give the butler a bonus for that.

  “However.” Daniel stepped to the desk and filled the glasses. “I should add, the disparity in the sizes of our relative fortunes will narrow in the coming years with the success of our railroads.”

  “Your relative fortunes?” Cordelia moved to him and accepted a glass. “I thought you had no fortune, Warren.” She took a sip and gazed at him over the rim of her glass. “Only prospects.”

  “Excellent prospects,” he said firmly.

  “Of course,” she murmured. “And what of your future, Warren, aside from your prospects that is.”

  “My futu
re,” he said slowly. “One cannot foretell the future.

  “But surely you have expectations?” She wandered away from him in an aimless manner. “In addition to prospects.”

  “Expectations?”

  “Yes, expectations. What do you hope to get out of your life beyond being a railroad king?” She reached the door and nudged it closed with her foot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” She leaned back against the door and sipped her brandy. “Not a thing.”

  “If you’re not concerned about your reputation—”

  “I’m not.” She smiled slowly. “Are you?”

  “Yes, of course. There could be talk.”

  “About Mr. Sinclair’s secretary and Lady Cordelia’s companion?” She shrugged. “I daresay, such talk would be of no particular concern to anyone.”

  “Nonetheless, I think—”

  “You’re just trying to change the subject.” She aimed her glass at him. “It won’t work.” There was a gleam in her eye he couldn’t quite recognize. Of determination perhaps. Or resolve. Or desire. His stomach tightened and he downed his brandy.

  She sauntered toward him. “What do you want, Warren? What are your hopes, your wishes?”

  I wish for you to stop calling me Warren! He refilled his glass.

  “Your dreams?” She stopped in front of him. Her voice was low and sultry. “Your desires?”

  “My desires?” His voice cracked with the word.

  She reached around him and set her glass on the desk. “What do you want, Warren?”

  “You asked that once.”

  “It bears repeating.” She plucked his glass from his hand, took a sip and then brushed her lips over his. The fire of the liquor and the heat of the woman meshed and melded and swept through him.

  He braced his hands against the desk behind him, as much to support himself as to keep from reaching for her. In a moment, it would be quite apparent even to the inexperienced Lady Cordelia exactly what he wanted. “Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Palmer?”

  “That wasn’t my original plan.” Surprise shaded her green eyes as if she hadn’t been planning seduction at all. Nonetheless, seduction hovered in the room. “Although, perhaps it was, in the back of my head.” She stared at him for a long moment then smiled wickedly. “I think it’s a smashingly good idea.”

  He pulled a deep, shuddering breath. “You haven’t thought this through.”

  “Frankly, Warren, all I ever do is think and I’m quite tired of it. I think about where I’m traveling next. I write—I assist Lady Cordelia in thinking about where we’ve been. Do you want to know what I’m thinking now?”

  He stared down at her. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m thinking that for the first time in my nearly twenty-six years I am alone in a room with a gentlemen I am not related to.” She took a long sip of his brandy. “With his glass of quite tasty and probably highly potent brandy in my hand and little possibility of interruption.”

  “We should probably do something about that.” What he should do was open the door. Or send her on her way. At the very least, he should put more than a few inches between them. But Cordelia’s green eyes held a promise he didn’t think he could resist and, with every passing moment, didn’t want to. He reclaimed his glass, tossed back the rest of the drink, then set the empty glass on the desk behind him.

  Regardless of what she had planned, seduction was definitely in the air. So thick he could almost touch it, taste it, feel it.

  She slid her arms around his neck and again brushed her lips across his. “What should we do about that?”

  “We should open the door. We should take you home.” His arms wrapped around her. “We should come to our senses.”

  “Why?” Her lips sighed against his.

  “Why indeed?” he murmured and pressed his lips harder to hers. For a long moment he savored the feel of her mouth against his. The heavy taste of brandy, the faint scent of roses. For a moment it was enough just to take pleasure in taste and scent and feel. Her mouth opened to his and his tongue met hers and sensation coursed through him. His body tightened with desire.

  He pulled his lips from hers and trailed kisses along the line of her jaw and nibbled lightly at the lobe of her ear. She gasped and her head fell back and he kissed her neck and her throat. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and he knew she shared the desire that gripped him. He pulled her tighter against him and his mouth again claimed hers. Harder now, insistent and demanding. Her fingers twined through the hair at the nape of his neck and she met his demands with her own.

  She pulled her mouth from his and murmured along his cheek. “I have no intention of opening the door.”

  Daniel hesitated but a man could only fight for so long. “Nor should you.”

  Besides, he had every intention of marrying her. Did it matter if their first time together was tonight or tomorrow or next month? He tasted the curve between neck and shoulder and felt her shudder beneath him.

  “Nor do I plan on returning home at the moment.”

  “Entirely your decision,” he said, his voice as breathless as hers. Indeed, he’d marry her tomorrow if she’d have him. At once he realized that regardless of what happened when she discovered the truth, she would have to marry him now. Why, she’d be ruined and ruined by him. Ruined by a pirate. He certainly felt like a pirate at the moment. His hands roamed over her back.

  “And I have no desire to come to my senses,” she murmured.

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” In some part of his mind not completely obscured by passion and need and desire a small voice noted she might not be thrilled at having no choice about marrying him. Still, she had no real choice at the moment anyway. Her responsibility to her family dictated a marriage to him. That insistent voice added that she thought the man whose bed she was obviously about to share was someone else. He ignored it.

  His mouth returned to hers, to plunder and claim and it was not nearly enough. A frantic edge tinged her response as if her passion finally unleashed could not now be controlled.

  At last she pulled her lips away from his and gasped. “I have entirely too many clothes on, you know. You shall have to help me with these.”

  “It will be my pleasure.” He quickly spun her around and swiftly unhooked the fastenings at the back of her bodice. “I should protest.” Usually he was all thumbs at this. “Defend my honor, that sort of thing.” But tonight, his fingers were deft and sure and quick. “Resist your seduction of me.”

  “My seduction of you?” She laughed, a low, breathless, erotic kind of laugh.

  “Absolutely.” Her dress opened and he pushed it over her shoulders and slid it down past her hips to pool at her feet. “Do you think you should reconsider this?” He untied her petticoats, unbuttoned her drawers and let them fall to join her dress.

  “Seducing you?” she scoffed. “Absolutely not.” She fumbled at the hooks on the front of her corset. “Although it does seem as though you are doing more of the seducing than I. You should know I have no experience at seducing.”

  “You’re doing a fine job.” He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  “No, I’m not.” Frustration rang in her voice. “I take a blasted corset on and off every day of my life and now I can’t seem to get the nasty thing undone!”

  “Allow me.” He knelt before her and finished unfastening the remaining hooks until the corset was fully opened and slid to the floor.

  Her chemise was of a material so fine he could see the dark circles of her nipples and the shadow between her thighs. He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss in the valley between her breasts. His hands skimmed slowly over her bottom to the back of her thighs and down her legs until he reached the hem of her chemise and her naked flesh. She gasped at his touch.

  “You’re very good at this. You must have a great deal of experience.”

  Daniel was smart
enough to know there was no good way to answer that particular question at this particular moment so he ignored it and slid his hands upward over her thighs to her nicely rounded bottom. He marveled at the silken softness of her skin, the creamy smoothness of her flesh beneath his fingers. He ran his hands higher up her body, along her sides until his thumbs lightly touched the undersides of her breasts.

  Her breath came in little gasps but she held herself still, waiting, expectant. He cupped her breasts under her chemise, reveling in the full, ripe weight of them in his hands. There was something intensely exciting about the sight of his hands cupping her breasts beneath the delicate fabric of her undergarment. He circled her nipples with his thumbs and felt them harden with his touch. He slipped one hand to the small of her back then leaned forward and claimed a nipple with his mouth, fabric and all, and sucked in a slow, deliberate manner until she moaned with pleasure and her fingers on his shoulders dug into his flesh. He shifted his attention to the other breast and teased and toyed until it seemed she might collapse against him.

  He straightened and stared down at her. “Have you given any thought to marriage?”

  Her eyes were glazed with passion and she reached out to trail her fingers across his naked chest. “Not in the last few minutes.”

  He unbuttoned his trousers and slipped them off. “Perhaps you—”

  “No. All I’ve done recently is think about marriage. Tonight, I don’t want to think about anything but you and me.” Her hand trailed down his abdomen to his stomach and she studied him in a frankly appraising manner. He resisted the urge to cover himself with his hands. “You’re naked, you know.”

  He braced himself against the feel of her touch on his skin. “I did notice that, yes.”

  With one finger she traced teasing lines and circles and God knew what else on his stomach, just inches above his erection and he resisted the urge to grab her hand. For a woman who had no idea what she was doing, she certainly had a natural talent for it.