by Amelia Grey
Her eyes were bright with wonder, acceptance. She was willing. He had no doubt of that. Her lips were red and full, her hair an attractively wet, tangled mass. The pale skin of her neck and chest were flushed from the rub of his faint beard. If anyone saw her right now, they would not doubt that she had just been thoroughly kissed and plundered.
He swallowed a cold lump of desire that had frozen in his throat. He was a gentleman, not a ravager of innocents.
He lifted his head. “Much as I want to continue, we cannot go any further. We’re trying to salvage your reputation, not vandalize it.”
Mirabella pushed away from him and pulled her clothing back over her shoulder. The rain had slowed to a heavy mist, but the chill of the dampness lingered in the air.
Almost gasping for breath she managed to say, “You are right, Camden.” Her gaze dropped to the bulge in his lap.
The heat of her gaze on his arousal only served to make him harder. He moved his hand to cover himself.
“I don’t know what came over us,” she continued. “We were about to sabotage ourselves.”
Most young ladies would have been furious that he’d almost ravished them. “I know, but you test my willpower, Mirabella, and I’m afraid it comes up lacking. I still want you.”
She stopped adjusting her dress. “But you don’t want to marry me.”
How could he tell her that after what his first fiancée had done to him, he wanted a wife he could trust to be faithful. It sounded so pompous, even to himself, that he only said, “You know that I can’t.”
She stared up at him and said, “Is this the reason women become mistresses?”
“What?”
“Maybe I am supposed to be a mistress.”
“What the devil did you say?”
“Maybe I’m supposed to b—”
“Damnation, Mirabella, you don’t have to say it again. I heard you. I just can’t believe you said it.” He reached over and pulled up the neckline of her bodice, in an attempt to cover more of her breasts than she had when repairing her clothing.
“I am sorry, my lord.”
“I should think so.”
“Did I make you angry?”
“No. Yes. What would make you think about being a mistress? You are a lady of quality and breeding.”
“You are a true gentleman to say that when you know I have been less than circumspect in my behavior with certain gentlemen—and with you, my lord.”
“What you do with me is different. We are engaged.” He straightened. “And a few stolen kisses in a quiet garden don’t qualify you to be a mistress.”
“But they do keep me from being a bride.”
“Not a bride, Mirabella. They keep you from being my bride.”
He realized how harsh his words had sounded when the sparkle went out of her eyes and a heart-wrenched gasp escaped her lips. She looked out into the gray mist. This was not the kind of conversation he wanted to have with her. Especially after the passion they had shared.
“Is it wrong for a man to want a wife he can trust? A lady who has been true to him?”
“Not at all. I understand perfectly.”
He knew she wasn’t telling the truth. His voice softened, though he knew he could not take the sting out of the words he’d just said to her. “Such thoughts of being a mistress should never enter your mind. And if they do, you shouldn’t ever say them out loud to anyone.”
She turned to stare into his eyes. “It’s just that after the pleasures you have shown me today, I know that I would not want to live the rest of my life and never experience again the way you made me feel just now.”
Her words sucked the breath out of him. Heat fused him, and his wet clothes suddenly felt damned uncomfortable.
He reached down for the ribbons and released the brake handle. “You honor me by complimenting my—skills, Mirabella. However, you deserve to be a wife who is loved and cared for by a husband who will give you children. You should not simply be a man’s indulgence.”
“Camden, would you want me for a mistress?”
He jerked back toward her. She was driving him crazy with her innocent remarks. “Mirabella, I’m not going to answer that question and there will be no more talk of mistresses.”
He laid down the leather on the horses’ rumps and headed back toward the road at a jaunty clip. Mirabella had his mind whirling in so many directions he couldn’t talk straight. He couldn’t even think straight. Mistress indeed! As if he or her father would allow such a thing!
Camden maneuvered the bays back onto the road and started the journey back into Town. The graying mist spread over the land before them like a wet blanket. He was afraid to even steal a glimpse of Mirabella. But he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of her outrageous question.
Suddenly there was a large jolt and crack, then the carriage rumbled to a halt.
“Oh, hell!”
“What happened?”
Camden pushed his wet hair away from his face. He felt like swearing long and loud but calmly said, “I don’t know. I think we hit a hole. We might have damaged a wheel. Sit here while I have a look.”
He set the brake again and jumped down. The left wheel was in a deep hole and hopelessly broken. He looked all around him but saw only gray mist. Night was falling fast. He had to get Mirabella home.
“I can help you push the carriage out of the mud,” Mirabella said from her perch on the seat.
Through clinched teeth he said, “We’re not stuck in the mud. This wheel is broken, and we are not going anywhere in this carriage.”
“What are we going to do? How far are we from Town?”
“Too far to walk.”
“Camden, we can’t be out after dark. It will give my father cause to apply for a special license and force us to marry. You must do something immediately.”
He didn’t know if he was relieved or upset that she was as eager not to marry him as he was not to marry her. No way in hell did he want to be forced into marrying Mirabella, no matter how much he desired her.
She had already told him that her father wanted them to marry sooner than next spring. No doubt the old man was looking for a reason just like this to press his advantage.
Camden looked around to see if he could spot a light in the distance. There was nothing to show signs of a house where he might leave one of the bays and borrow a rig.
He looked at the two horses, then up to Mirabella. “Can you ride?” he asked.
“A horse?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I haven’t ridden often and certainly not without benefit of proper clothing, a saddle and a gentle, well-schooled mare.”
Camden strode over to the harness and started unfastening it. “Something tells me you learn quickly. We could make better time if we rode together, but I really can’t leave one of the bays here. You’ll have to ride one of the horses.”
Mirabella stood up in the carriage. “You plan for us to ride through the streets of London and up to my father’s house astride a horse? That will not make my father happy, my lord.”
“Of course not. We’ll stop at the first livery we come to, and I’ll hire a carriage and take you home properly. We must hurry. After all I’ve been through with Stephenson and Farthingdale, I’m determined this outing will not end in marriage or be the death of your reputation.”
She gasped. “What do you know about Sir Patrick Stephenson?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, realizing his error.
“That you mention his name indicates you know something.”
“Forget I said it. I haven’t time for long explanations, Mirabella. With the mist, darkness will fall fast.”
As it was, he feared there was no way they would make it back before dark. How had he become so caught up with Mirabella that he forgot about time? But he knew. Mirabella made him forget everything but her. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. He must get her home on time.
He was aware of everywhere he touched Mirabella. Her waist when he helped her down from the carriage. Her buttocks as he shoved her up and onto the back of the horse. Her thigh as he helped pull her undergarments, dress and pelisse down her legs as far as they would go. But he had no time to linger over any of the feelings she stirred inside him.
Within a couple of minutes he mounted the other horse and they took off down the road. There was a rush of excitement in the way they raced side by side. It pleased him that Mirabella had no trouble keeping pace with him.
On the edge of Town they came to a livery where Camden quickly made arrangements with the tradesman to hire a carriage. The stable owner was happy to receive an extra shilling to forget he ever saw the young lady riding with Camden.
Camden kept the horses at a mad dash through the streets while Mirabella tried to hold on and re-pin her hair up on top of her head with the one comb that hadn’t been lost during the strong winds and their passionate lovemaking. In his haste, Camden overtook and passed several carriages along the way, but never slowed his pace. He was racing the darkness, and for a time, it looked like his opponent was going to win.
There were no seconds to spare when he pulled the hired rig to a jerky halt outside her town house. It was such a black shade of gray anyone could have said it was night and no one would have argued—except Camden. He would swear on the Holy Book it was merely dusk.
Camden jumped down and ran around to Mirabella. She flew into his arms. He set her on her feet, grabbed her hand and they raced up the steps together. Camden’s heart beat frantically in his chest as he opened the door. They stepped inside the small foyer where a lamp had been lit.
He took a deep, drawing breath and combed through his damp hair with his fingers. The house was too quiet.
“I half expected my father to be standing here waiting for a chance to demand we marry.”
“We’re not out of the woods on that yet, Mirabella,” Camden cautioned.
There was the sound of voices and Newton and Lily came walking down the hallway from the back of the house.
“There you are, Miss Bella,” the maid said. “We’ve been worried about you.”
“Yes, Lily, I’m sure you were. As you can see, I’m fine.”
Mirabella’s maid was clearly shocked at her employer’s appearance, and the butler was giving Camden the evil eye. And no wonder, Mirabella looked like she had been dragged through a horrific storm.
“You don’t look fine. What happened to you?”
“We were caught in the rain is all. The wind was so fierce I lost my parasol and my bonnet.”
Lily looked from Mirabella to Camden. “We were just talking about you and wondering why you didn’t come home the minute the rain started. We were on our way up to tell your papa you hadn’t returned from your afternoon ride.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. We tried to wait out the worst of the rain under a tree. Then we had a little carriage trouble—”
“That turned into big trouble,” Camden said, interrupting Mirabella. The least said the better. “A broken wheel delayed us, but thank God, I found a livery and was able to deliver Miss Whittingham back safe, sound and on time.”
“That’s right,” Mirabella added. “Thank goodness we returned before you disturbed my father. Newton, we’re chilled, please have Cook make us some hot tea, and Lily, please get a towel for Lord Stonehurst.”
“I was sure you would be damp when you came in, Miss Bella. I had a fire lit in the drawing room for you a little bit ago.”
“Bless you, Newton. We’ll go there now.”
The butler and maid hurried away, and Camden followed Mirabella into the drawing room. Camden took a deep breath and relaxed. It looked as if no one was going to challenge their lateness. They walked over to the fireplace and stood before it. The warmth was inviting. The lamps had been lit and the glow from the fire made the room seem cozy, but Camden knew he could not get comfortable.
Mirabella looked up at him and smiled.
“Don’t start that again, dear Mirabella. This is not the place, and we are not alone.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“The last time you smiled at me like that you ended up in an alarming state of dishabille.”
She deliberately furrowed her brow into a mock frown. “You are quite right, my lord.”
“No doubt we both look exceptionally haggard.”
“No doubt.”
“You are the most desirable woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It is simply the truth.”
Her expression turned serious. “Camden. Why was our kiss so intense?”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her a curious look. “You are such an innocent to have been kissed so many times.”
“The number of times has nothing to do with it. I felt like I wanted to devour you, to bring you into my body, I couldn’t get enough of—”
He placed his fingertips on her lips and silenced her. “You don’t know what you are saying.” And I pray you don‘t know what your words are doing to me.
“It’s how I felt. I don’t understand it. I have never felt that way before.”
“That, I’m glad to hear.” He looked back at the doorway. If she kept up this kind of talk, he would be embarrassing himself in front of the maid and the butler. “We shouldn’t be discussing this. Especially not here in your home where someone can overhear us.”
She stepped away from him. “I just wanted you to know how I felt.”
He needed to get away from her and cool off. “I’m not going to wait for the towels or the tea.”
“Why?”
“If I stay any longer and listen to your words, I’ll need another wild ride in the cold rain.”
“You are quite wet enough, Lord Stonehurst.”
“Quite. I have important business to conduct with my father tomorrow, so I won’t be free until evening. Shall we meet at the Prestwicks’ at half past ten?”
She slowly nodded. “I’ll be there. But be sure you save a dance for me.”
“As if I wouldn’t.”
“I’m certain Lady Gwyneth will have the Duchess at your ear, and Miss Milhouse will have her handkerchief ready. They both have their caps set to see if they can take you away from me.”
“You jest, Mirabella.”
“You turn a blind eye, Camden. Mark my word. Lady Gwyneth is desperate to get your attention.”
“I’ve no time for her silly games. I’ve told everyone I’m devoted to you.”
“I want you to know I think she is beautiful and proper to a fault.”
“I’m sure she would love to hear you think so, but I won’t be telling her.”
She took in a deep breath and cupped her hands together in front of her. “I think she will be an excellent bride for you.”
Mirabella was full of surprises. “Do you now?”
“Indeed.”
“Let’s see.” He pushed his damp hair away from his face and pretended to ponder her words. “I picked my first fiancée. My father picked my second. And now you feel qualified to pick my third chance at a bride?”
“Oh, yes. I, above all, know what you are looking for in a bride.”
He chuckled. “Thank you, Mirabella, but I think I’ll wait a few years before considering a bride again.”
“Perhaps when you are old and gray, my lord, would be a good time.”
“No truer words have been said this day. I think that is exactly what I’ll do. Good evening, Mirabella.”
Thirteen
Viscount’s Mad Dash Through Hyde Park
Was this writer the only one who heard about Lord Stonehurst’s wild spurt across Hyde Park yesterday afternoon? The newly returned-to-Town viscount nearly ran down three strolling couples, two earls, a countess, and a duchess before he dashed out of sight. Hmm. One wonders if he had just heard the same bit of news this writer was made privy to late yesterday. It seems th
e reports are that the viscount was all but brought to dueling (for the second time!) with two of the Season’s most eligible gentlemen over reports that his fiancée had been seen walking with them in the garden. But, of course, both gentlemen who were said to be in attendance swore the scuffle never happened, and that as far as they knew, Miss Whittingham was a perfect lady. Makes one wonder how gossip gets started if there is no basis in the foundation. Hmm. Or does it?
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
Camden slammed the paper down on his father’s desk in the small office of their town house. He took a deep breath and muttered a few choice words under his breath. Why did he even read the rags? They were nothing but scandal sheets, and he had better use of his time than to read such drivel.
He didn’t come close to running anyone down when he left the park. Well, maybe one or two. And he’d like to know who the talebearer was that had witnessed his scuffle with Stephenson and told about it. Camden would have a private talk with him if he ever found out.
It was no wonder most of the people who wrote the gossip columns kept their true names private. They didn’t want anyone asking them how much money they paid out each year for the unsubstantiated balderdash they printed. Someone had to know who the evildoers were.
There was one good thing about all of this. Apparently his talk with Farthingdale and Stephenson had paid off. According to the gossip pages, the young men were mum about their intimacy with Mirabella. But were there other men he didn’t know about?
Mirabella wouldn’t tell him. By her silence he could only assume there were others. Why wouldn’t she tell him? Were there too many to count? He couldn’t even think about that possibility.
He could understand her not wanting to go through life without a kiss, but did she have to kiss more than one man? More than two? Just how damn many men had she kissed? Camden had to stop thinking about it. It was driving him to distraction.
He laid his head against the tuft of the chair and thought back to yesterday afternoon. She had demonstrated that she was a woman of rare passion, eager to participate in lovemaking. No doubt, any man would have his hands full with a woman such as she.