“I just can’t believe that I should be so lucky in my life.”
“Lucky is not how I would describe your life.”
“Whatever I have endured has been rewarded by your love,” he murmured as he bent his head to kiss her once more, intending it to be as tender and gentle as before.
Yet how could it be, after hearing her determined, confident, heartfelt words? This time, as the passion flared within him, he could not subdue it.
With a low moan of surrender, he pressed her closer, reveling in the sensation of her curvaceous body against his. He slid his hand beneath her soft velvet cloak to the even softer silk of her bodice beneath. She relaxed against him, and he could feel her giving herself up to her desire, just as he was. His kiss deepened, and his tongue slipped easily through her parted lips to intertwine and taste.
Panting, he broke the kiss to trail his hungry lips along her throat as she arched back, as supple as a willow bending in the breeze.
He wanted her so much! He wanted to make love with her, possess her body as she possessed his heart and mind, take her at once, here …
In a back alley as if she were a Bankside whore?
Breathing heavily, fighting the powerful, natural urge singing in his veins, he forced himself to stop.
Her lips swollen, her eyes dark with desire, Vivienne looked at him with confusion.
“This isn’t what I want,” he said hoarsely. “Not like this.”
Understanding dawned, and Vivienne softly said, “Then come to me tonight, in my bedchamber, as you did before.”
He shook his head. “No, Vivienne. As tempting as that is, I don’t want to sneak about as if I am still some kind of thief, stealing your virtue dishonorably.
“I think we must not see one another alone again until Sir Philip’s suit is dispensed with. Then I will be able to court you honorably. And then, whatever happens, we know we tried to conduct ourselves as an honest man and woman who are unashamed of their feelings should.”
“When you put it in such terms, how can I disagree?” she replied. “But,” she continued, toying with the button of his jacket, “I will not like it.”
He covered her hand with his. “Nor will I. Indeed, I think it will be torture. Nevertheless, I believe it must be so. There must be no cause for scandal or shame, beyond that which we cannot avoid because of who I am.”
“Then I hope Sir Philip gives up very soon.” She smiled. “I do think my uncle is much less keen on him than before, thanks to Lord Cheddersby. And the king.”
“The king?” Robert said, his eyes widening.
“Yes. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? One meeting, and my uncle already has me ensconced in a house of the king’s providing, with servants and jewels and who knows what else.” She laughed softly. “There is no need to look so grave. I promise you, this is my uncle’s wishful thinking, and nothing more.”
She was so certain, he had to believe her, even though a part of him could easily accept that any man who set eyes on her would want her.
She slipped her arm through his and gave him a disarming smile. “As loath as I am to part with you, I fear we have lingered here long enough, especially if we do not want to give my uncle any hint about our feelings.”
“Good God, yes,” Rob cried, aghast that he had not thought of this himself. He started to walk quickly, Vivienne at his side.
“And it is not as if we will never see one another,” Vivienne remarked, slightly out of breath as she tried to keep up with him. “You will still come to my uncle’s house occasionally, I trust. And you will go to Lord Cheddersby’s fete, won’t you?”
She halted and forced him to stop, too. “Robert, I am not a racehorse. I cannot keep up with you if you go so quickly.”
“Forgive me.”
They started walking again, this time at a more reasonable pace as they entered another lane.
“You will come to Lord Cheddersby’s fete?” she asked.
He smiled down at her. “Yes, I’ll be there, torturing myself because I cannot touch you, but feasting on the sight of my love’s sweet face.”
“Speak to me in that manner any more today, Mr. Harding,” she warned him in a manner that was both teasing and serious, “and I will drag you to my bedchamber regardless of who might see us.”
“Here you are at last,” Uncle Elias declared as Vivienne entered the withdrawing room the evening of Lord Cheddersby’s fete. As usual, his first act was to survey her gown, in this case a truly delightful creation of pale blue damask silk, the outer skirt drawn back and held with satin ribbons to reveal an ornately embroidered silk petticoat. It was, Vivienne thought, one of the prettiest dresses he had ever had made for her. Her only concern was the scooped neckline, which was too low. Surely some of the fabric used for the full, puffed sleeves could have been spared for the bodice.
“Lovely, my dear,” Uncle Elias said approvingly. “And I see you’re wearing your hair in the fashion of the ladies of the court. It becomes you.”
Loose ringlets fell about her bare shoulders as current fashion decreed. Such a style was, perhaps, a bit daring, but considering that the ladies of the court had adopted it, and most especially since her hair had been loose that night when Rob had come to her bedchamber, she had decided to try it.
Uncle Elias’s brow furrowed as he continued to regard her. “You look quite flushed. Are you unwell?”
“No,” she blurted. She took a deep, calming breath and thought of an explanation her uncle would like. “I am so pleased to be going to Lord Cheddersby’s house. Lettice has told me it’s quite magnificent.”
“It is,” Uncle Elias confirmed. “As large as a palace, and quite on the edge of the city. Parts of it actually look out onto Hampstead Heath, so he’s spared all the noise and coal smoke.” He cocked his head. “Does this mean you would look favorably on him if he expressed an interest in marrying you?”
She lowered her eyelids as if bashful. “Well, he hasn’t done so yet.”
Uncle Elias smiled broadly as he sat on the sofa. “No, not yet. And with that in mind, I thought it wise to invite Sir Philip to accompany us in our coach tonight.”
“Sir Philip?” she asked, not hiding her surprise. “I didn’t realize Lord Cheddersby had invited him.”
She had been dreading another confrontation between Philip and Lord Cheddersby. Fortunately, she had seen neither one of them the past few days. Lord Cheddersby was no doubt busy with the preparations for his fete. As for her erstwhile suitor, she was beginning to hope he was starting to realize that his chances of securing her hand were fading.
Until, regrettably, this moment.
“He invited him,” Uncle Elias replied.
“And Sir Philip accepted?”
“Obviously. When he told me, I extended an invitation to share our coach, to which he eagerly agreed.”
“You have seen him recently?”
“Yesterday, at the coffeehouse.”
“But Uncle,” Vivienne protested, “if we arrive with Philip, what is Lord Cheddersby to think?”
“I hope he thinks he had better make his intentions more plain, and quickly, too.”
So, even if her uncle didn’t want Philip for a nephew by marriage, he would use him to prod another suitor into action.
Just as he used her as a dressmaker’s form.
“Mr. Burroughs, Sir Philip has arrived,” a footman announced from the door, and in the next moment, the young nobleman marched into the room. He nodded at Uncle Elias, who rose, bowed and returned to his seat.
Then Philip looked at Vivienne. Lust flared in his eyes, and she wished the bodice extended right up to her neck. She gave her uncle a sidelong glance, but apparently he saw nothing amiss in Philip’s behavior.
“You look splendid, Mistress Burroughs,” he declared, bowing low. “I shall be the envy of every man at Lord Cheddersby’s tonight, even the king.”
Uncle Elias sat bolt upright. “The king?”
“Yes. Hav
en’t you heard?” Philip replied, sauntering toward Vivienne. “He will be at Cheddersby’s fete.”
“I had no idea!” Uncle Elias replied, his eyes glowing with delight.
As upset as she was by Philip’s arrival, she was happy to have the king’s attendance confirmed. Charles’s appearance might distract Uncle Elias enough that she could slip away and meet Rob alone for a few too-brief moments.
“Did you know anything of this?” Uncle Elias asked her.
“Lord Cheddersby told me he had invited King Charles, but was not overly hopeful of his attendance, so I thought it wiser to say nothing.”
“Didn’t Lettice Jerningham say anything?”
“I haven’t seen Lettice in several days.”
“What of Lady Castlemaine?” Uncle Elias demanded of Philip. “Will she be there? Or the queen?”
“The queen is still recovering from her illness, so she will not be there, and as for my Lady Castlemaine, who knows? She may accompany the king, or she may be in a temper.”
Uncle Elias glanced at Vivienne again, and she could see that he was torn between his ambitious hopes for her and his own desire to see the king’s beautiful paramour.
It occurred to Vivienne that if Philip and her uncle thought the king Philip’s rival, that would spare Lord Cheddersby from both Philip’s wrath and her uncle’s machinations.
She sank down onto the edge of the chair and gave Philip a seriously questioning look. “Do you know, Sir Philip, if what I have heard about the queen’s illness is true? Was she really so delirious she thought she had borne him a son and asked his forgiveness that the child was so ugly?”
Philip’s eyes narrowed. “So they say.”
“Is it also true that Charles wept and, fearing that she was dying, said that if his son be like her, he would be a fine child?”
“I have heard that, yes. I trust you have also heard that he still spent much of his time with other women while the queen was on her sickbed?” Philip added, obviously annoyed.
Uncle Elias rose and strode to the door before Vivienne could respond. “Where the devil is the coach?” he demanded as he went out into the corridor. “We don’t want to be late to Lord Cheddersby’s.”
“No, we don’t,” Philip murmured as he offered Vivienne his hand to help her rise. “I am very much looking forward to making an entrance with you.”
His expression was so proprietary, she wanted to slap him. Instead, she said, “Perhaps because it may be the last time you do so.”
His smug smile made a shiver of fear run down her back, and his grip on her hand tightened. “Oh, I don’t think so, my dear. You and your uncle are playing a very risky game, but it is one I intend to win.”
She didn’t know what he was implying, but she knew it meant danger. “I thought you must be the one playing games,” she replied warily. “Or should I say, that you had given up the chase.”
Despite the unfavorable opinion she had always had of Philip, she was not prepared for the gleam of both hunger and hatred that suddenly flared in his eyes as he raked her body with his gaze. Or his fierce strength as he tugged her closer. “Do you think you and that fat uncle of yours can make sport of me, Vivienne?” he growled. “Do you think to play me for a fool, with either that dolt Cheddersby or our lascivious sovereign? If I haven’t been to see you, it’s because there was no need.”
“Philip, let go. You’re hurting me,” she said firmly, willing herself not to be afraid of him. “And don’t think you can threaten me, or my uncle.”
“Oh, I won’t—as long as you understand that I will not be dismissed like an unwanted servant. There are things I can do, steps I can take, to ensure that we are married. And I will, my fair, stubborn bride, never doubt but that I will.”
“The coach is ready at last,” Uncle Elias declared from somewhere in the corridor. “Come along, you two.”
Tearing her hand from Philip’s, Vivienne marched from the room, all her pleasure at the thought of seeing Rob again thoroughly doused, replaced by the sudden terrible dread that she had underestimated Sir Philip Martlebury and the extent of his rancor.
Chapter 15
Uncle Elias was so preoccupied by the possibility of seeing the king, he didn’t notice that neither Vivienne nor Philip said a word the whole way to Lord Cheddersby’s enormous house.
Vivienne sat opposite her male companions and stared out the window as the coach rattled over the cobblestone streets toward the west end of London, out of the city into what was nearly the countryside. She wouldn’t look at Philip, didn’t want to meet his gaze or see him regard her as if she were a toothsome morsel to sate his appetite.
Why was he so secure in his determination that they could not refuse him? He couldn’t know about her feelings for Rob or, she didn’t doubt, he would have said so, at least to her. He had had time enough for that—yet he had given no specific reason for his self-assurance.
If her uncle withdrew his support from her marriage to Philip, what could Philip do? What steps could he take to make her marry him?
Perhaps, she mused as they passed out of the city, this was merely a ruse, with nothing substantial to back it up. Maybe this was nothing but an idle threat, the same way he had threatened Lord Cheddersby at the theater, only to back down when the nobleman drew his sword.
She glanced at Philip, silent and scowling, his gaze on the passing buildings.
Yes, she thought, her happiness reasserting itself. He was the kind to make threats, but if it came to a confrontation with her uncle, and her uncle was determined she would not marry him, she was certain Uncle Elias would triumph.
By the time their coach rolled into the courtyard of Lord Cheddersby’s magnificent house, as large as any estate in the country, Vivienne was more excited by the possibility of seeing Rob than she was afraid of Philip.
Her uncle disembarked, followed by Philip. Confident in her assessment of the situation, she allowed Philip to help her out of the coach and escort her into the house after her uncle.
Once inside the magnificent double doors, she gasped. The building was astonishing, from the entrance hall with its floor and walls of marble, to the grand staircase leading upward to the principal rooms, presided over by a ceiling painted with a host of allegorical figures. Vivienne had never been to Whitehall or Hampton Court, but she doubted even those royal homes could be so luxurious and fine.
Her uncle stared as if he found himself in far-off Cathay, while Philip seemed momentarily stunned by the obvious wealth of their host.
A footman took their cloaks, and they went up the wide staircase, arriving in a long room which was already filled with a crowd of people, the air heavy with the scents of perfumes and powders.
She couldn’t see Rob among the throng.
Or Lord Cheddersby, or the king, for that matter. And she was acutely aware that Philip was standing too close beside her. On the other hand, he was close enough that she could give him a hard nudge with her elbow—
“Oh, my dear, here you are!” Lettice Jerningham screeched from somewhere close by.
Vivienne momentarily forgot about Philip as she saw Lettice, wearing a sumptuous gown of violet satin and velvet, bearing down on her.
And then, behind the approaching Lettice, Vivienne spotted Rob. He stood near the wall all by himself, beneath a portrait of what must have been one of Lord Cheddersby’s Elizabethan ancestors.
If she felt out of place in the grand house among the mob of courtiers and wealthy people, Rob looked it, with his simple black woolen clothing and stern demeanor. Indeed, he looked like an angry schoolmaster with a class full of mischief-makers.
Her uncle, meanwhile, seemed to be as happy as she had ever seen him. No doubt he was mentally calculating how many bolts of fabric it would take to clothe everybody here, and the profit he would have if they would only see the wisdom of buying their silks from him. In another moment, though, he looked like a hound on the scent as he moved toward the distant sound of music. Apparently h
e had forgotten Vivienne or Sir Philip existed.
“My dear, how delightful!” Lettice said as she finally reached Vivienne. “What a wonderful gown! Sir Philip, I am charmed to see you again. I will not gamble with you again, though, you naughty boy,” she said with a coy simper. “You took my last guinea the last time we did.”
Philip inclined his head, making a very minimal bow. “Your servant, madam.”
“Oh, and there is Mr. Burroughs over there. I see he has discovered that the king and Lady Castlemaine are with Lord Cheddersby in the adjoining room dancing. Sir Philip, I am going to insist that you dance, for I know you are quite excellent at it,” Lettice said, practically dragging Philip away. “Come along, now, Vivienne. He may dance with you next.”
Vivienne could hardly believe her luck. Her uncle had gone off, no doubt in search of Lady Castlemaine, and Lettice had taken Philip away through the crowd, all of whom, having glanced at Vivienne once, now paid her no heed whatsoever.
She might as well be invisible.
Hoping she could stay virtually invisible, she sidled backward, glancing over her shoulder. Rob was standing just where he had been before.
Nearly imperceptibly, he shook his head and frowned. Then he glanced pointedly at the doorway on his left.
He was right to be so cautious. So far, nobody was paying any attention, but that could change.
Determined to be gone before anybody noticed her or her uncle returned, she darted quickly through the door.
Now where?
She went through the rooms that led into one another, each one luxuriously appointed, scarcely noticing exactly how they were decorated. She was more intent on finding somewhere relatively private.
Finally, near the end, there was a room of a type she had heard of. It must be a state bedroom, intended for the lord of the house. It was a large room with an open area for His Lordship to entertain his friends and associates. The huge curtained bed was in an alcove, set apart from the rest of the room by a balustrade. Only the lord’s closest friends would get behind the balustrade, and only his best friends would be allowed into the small room, called a closet, which was beyond that.
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