A Lady for Lord Randall

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘What has this to do with my work?’

  He was gazing down at her and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes, fierce desire that sent the hot blood racing through her limbs and made her aware of the ache pooling deep in her body, at the hinge of her thighs. If she had not been clutching at his coat she thought her legs might well have given way as that beautiful deep voice caressed her.

  ‘Everything. Let us understand this from the outset; it has always been my objective never to raise false hopes in any woman’s breast. I take my pleasures and I pay for them—and give pleasure in return, I hope.’

  Those smooth, measured tones stroked her skin like velvet. She was in his arms, her lips were still burning with the memory of his mouth upon hers and at first she did not comprehend his words. But as their meaning filtered through the haze of well-being that his kiss had engendered, her euphoria began to ebb away.

  ‘You, you wish us to be...’ She swallowed. ‘To be lovers?’

  Could she do it? Suddenly elation was replaced by uncertainty. She had discussed the possibility with her radical friends, but only as a concept, a brave and radical step that would fly in the face of convention. And in all her thoughts and discussions, her ideal man was one she had known for a long time, a trusted friend and companion, not a soldier whom she had met only days ago.

  ‘If that is the word you wish to put to it, yes,’ said Randall. ‘It will be business for you, but very lucrative, for I intend to be generous.’

  Mary blinked. No endearments, no promises. The earl talked of business and suddenly his meaning became all too clear. She freed herself from his arms.

  ‘You...you think I am a—that I—’ Her hands went to her cheeks. ‘You think I would sell myself for money?’

  There was no mistaking the bewilderment in his eyes. It was clear that was exactly what he thought. Disappointment, bitter as gall, swept through her.

  ‘Is that not the case?’ he said. ‘You told me you were in trade, spoke of your ladies, but perhaps since you are so successful you yourself no longer partake—’

  ‘P-partake?’ she stuttered. ‘Oh, good heavens, this is dreadful!’

  She turned away, taking a few agitated steps along the path before wheeling around again. ‘I am an educationalist, Lord Randall. I run a school for young ladies!’

  ‘What?’

  If she had not been so overwrought, Lord Randall’s surprise and consternation would have amused her, but she had never felt less like laughing in her life. In fact, she felt very much like weeping. Her hands crept to her cheeks again.

  ‘I see how it came about,’ she went on, almost to herself. ‘The radical talk, the company Mr and Mrs Bentinck had invited to their house—’

  ‘Not to mention your own teasing ways, madam,’ he added in a tight voice. ‘You said yourself you were trying to be outrageous.’

  ‘Yes, I know I set out to tease you, but when I spoke of earning my living I never thought that you would assume—’ She gasped. ‘Good heavens, that is disgraceful! Did you suppose that the Bentincks, that your own sister, would continue to acknowledge me if that were the case?’

  A dull colour had crept into his lean cheek, but whether it was anger or embarrassment she did not know.

  He said, his tone harsh, his words clipped, ‘Harriett warned me I would be shocked by the company. You yourself told me you did not believe in marriage.’

  ‘And in an effort to prove yourself unshockable you thought the very worst of me. You are correct, I do not believe in marriage. I was brought up to believe in a free union of minds, of hearts. A union of love, my lord, not prostitution!’

  He said stiffly. ‘It was an error, but a reasonable one, given the circumstances.’

  ‘The circumstances?’

  ‘Of course,’ he retorted. ‘Your whole demeanour when you told me of your business, as if it were something quite shocking, and you made a point of informing me that you had no reputation. What else was I to think? Yes, quite reasonable, I would say.’

  Mary gasped in outrage.

  ‘Quite unreasonable, my lord.’ Her lip curled. ‘But you are an earl. Perhaps you are in the habit of propositioning any lady who takes your fancy?’

  ‘Certainly not, but with your radical views you should appreciate my honesty. I would rather take my pleasures with a woman who understands there can be no possibility of marriage. I am no saint, Miss Endacott. There are many ladies of my own set, married ladies whose husbands go their own way and leave their wives to find pleasure elsewhere. I have enjoyed several liaisons of that sort in the past, but I make no secret of the fact that I consort with women of a more dubious reputation occasionally.’

  ‘And you pay them well for the privilege. Contemptible.’

  ‘Is it contemptible for two adults to enter into an agreement that gives them both satisfaction?’ His eyes narrowed and for an instant she saw a glint of something dangerous in their depths. ‘And I assure you the ladies are always satisfied, Miss Endacott.’

  Confusion fluttered in Mary’s breast. Instead of begging her pardon he was boasting of his prowess and the worst thing was the way her body responded to his words, to that wicked light in his eyes. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to beg him to kiss her again and show her just how satisfying his lovemaking could be.

  She felt the rage boiling up inside her. How dared he do this to her? She was furious with him and with herself for allowing him to engender such emotional turmoil in her. Mary took a step away from him, saying in a voice that was not quite steady, ‘Excuse me; we can have nothing more to say to one another.’

  Fighting back angry tears, she hurried out of the shrubbery. The scrunch of footsteps behind her told her that the earl was following and she quickened her pace until she was almost running.

  ‘Wait—Mary—Miss Endacott. Please!’ He caught her arm, forcing her to stop. ‘If you return to the house in such distress it will not go unnoticed. My sister would not rest until she had the truth from you.’

  ‘I am not distressed,’ she flung at him. ‘I am furious!’

  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out.

  She looked at it for a moment, wanting to consign it and its owner to Hades, but her eyes were wet and it would be difficult to remain dignified with a streaming nose. She took the proffered handkerchief and proceeded to dry her face.

  The fine linen was freshly laundered, but mixed in with the clean smell of soap was a hint of spices, the same that had filled her senses while he was kissing her. Even now the memory of it made her ache with longing to be in his arms again. To repeat the experience. Heavens, how could she feel this way when he had treated her in such a fashion? Yet a tiny whisper of conscience could not be silenced. She had tried to shock him, but she had wanted him to think her a radical, not a, a...

  ‘You have good reason to be angry,’ he said quietly. ‘I have offered you a gross insult and I would not blame you for wishing to make my abominable behaviour known to the world. It is no more than I deserve, but to do so would reflect badly upon others. Upon my sister and your cousin, and I do not think you would want that.’

  ‘It was not only your behaviour that was at fault,’ she muttered, incurably truthful. ‘I have not acted with proper decorum and constraint, where you are concerned.’

  She remembered when he had come upon her by the stream, her skirts pulled up around her knees. The image filled her mind, clear as a painting. Might he not think she had been deliberately leading him on?

  ‘What did you do, apart from take pity on a stranger and introduce yourself to me at the Bentincks?’

  So he had not misinterpreted their meeting by the stream. Alongside her relief another emotion bubbled up. Her legs from knee to toe had been on plain view. A young man had once praised her neat ankles and now she felt a tinge of
disappointment that the earl had not even noticed them.

  ‘No...’ he shook his head ‘...I have repaid your kindness very ill, but I do not want to make a bad situation any worse by subjecting you to questions you would rather not answer and possibly causing a rift between Hattie and her friends.’

  ‘Much as it pains me to admit it, you are right,’ she said bitterly, ‘I would not want anyone else to know of this.’ She took a few deep breaths and said coldly, ‘I am better now. Let us return to the house. We will forget this conversation ever took place, if you please.’

  ‘As you wish.’ He stepped aside. ‘Shall we go?’

  They set off, keeping a space between them, as befitted distant acquaintances.

  I might have been his mistress. I might have shared his bed.

  Mary buried the thought. A free union, without marriage, to a man she truly loved and respected, that was something she might one day contemplate, but not a brief coupling with someone who was almost a stranger. She had not been prepared for how strong a lustful attraction could be. Her response to the feel of his lips on hers, the instinct to return his kiss, to mould herself to his body, that had shocked and surprised her, but Mary told herself now to put aside her distress and embarrassment. Such an experience would help her to be a better mentor to her pupils.

  The gardens seemed to go on forever. Had they really walked so far? At last they reached the house. Lord Randall opened the door for Mary to enter. She dared not look up at him, but her eyes strayed to his body as she passed, remembering how she had laid her head against that superbly tailored coat, taken in the detail of each minute stitch, the fine embroidery on his waistcoat, the intricate folds of his neckcloth. The shameful thing was she wanted it all to happen again.

  No, Mary, stop it!

  ‘I am leaving the day after tomorrow,’ he informed her, his steady voice indicating that his thoughts at least had moved on. ‘I shall take my leave of Mr and Mrs Bentinck now, so there will be no need for us to see each other again.’

  ‘None at all,’ she replied. ‘I shall make sure both your handkerchiefs are laundered and returned to you by then.’ She preceded him into the drawing room. She kept her head up, hoping her face showed no signs of the turmoil within. Only a little longer and her ordeal would be over.

  ‘So there you are. I vow I was about to send a search party into the shrubbery!’ Harriett’s knowing glance brought the colour flooding back to Mary’s cheeks.

  She is teasing. She cannot know anything.

  ‘Quite unnecessary,’ Lord Randall responded coolly and Mary felt a sudden urge to laugh. His tone held the merest hint of disapproval for his sister’s levity, as if he was affronted she should even consider he might be dallying in the gardens. ‘We stopped to admire the rhododendron ponticum on the west terrace.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it has taken very well, has it not? I sent to Hackney for it, to Mr Loddiges’s nursery.’ Mr Graveney chattered on, delighted to discover the earl shared his interest in horticulture.

  Mary took her seat beside Harriett, relieved that the conversation had moved on, although her mind was still too disordered for her to take part. She almost jumped when Harriett reached out and took her hand.

  ‘It has been so good to see you again, Mary, are you sure it is necessary for you to leave on Saturday?’

  ‘Imperative, I assure you,’ she responded. ‘My assistants at the school are very good, but they write to tell me there is a great deal of activity in Brussels—’

  Lord Randall cut in. ‘I did not know your school was in Brussels.’

  She managed to look him in the eye, albeit briefly.

  ‘Because I did not mention it, my lord.’

  ‘No.’ The earl turned a frowning look upon his sister. ‘Odd that Harriett should not mention it, either.’

  ‘Oh, well, it slipped my mind, Brother, but it is a most fortuitous circumstance for you, Mary.’

  Mary shook her head. ‘I do not see...’

  ‘While you were in the gardens we came up with the most perfect plan.’ Harriett continued as if she had not spoken. ‘Mrs Bentinck and I agreed that we should feel so much happier to know you were not making that long journey alone, Mary. So Randall shall escort you!’

  Chapter Three

  ‘No!’

  ‘Impossible!’ Randall’s curt exclamation was as instant as Mary’s faint denial. He glowered at his sister. ‘Impossible,’ he said again. ‘I depart on Friday and will be travelling in haste.’

  ‘No, how can that be so when you have two carriages with you?’

  ‘But I shall be riding.’

  ‘I am sure Mary will not object to being alone in your carriage.’

  ‘But I do object,’ put in Mary, her colour considerably heightened. ‘I could not possibly impose upon Lord Randall.’

  ‘Now it is not like you to be missish for the sake of it,’ said Mr Bentinck. ‘What could be better than to have his lordship escort you to Brussels? It means you will have to leave a day earlier, of course, but Mrs Graveney has already told us that the earl has his own private yacht at Folkestone. So much more comfortable than taking the packet from Dover, what?’

  ‘I do not want to give up my last day with you,’ replied Mary firmly.

  Randall glared at his sister, willing her not to continue with this farce. She ignored him.

  ‘That will be a wrench, of course, Mary, but I am sure Mr and Mrs Bentinck would be much happier to know you have an escort.’

  ‘I do not need an escort, Harriett, I am an independent woman.’

  ‘Of course you are, but you are also a sensible one, and with Wellington gathering so many troops together you may find it difficult to get a passage from Dover, not to mention the trouble you might experience once you reach the Continent. And it is not as if Randall does not have room for you,’ Harriett continued, breaching her brother’s next line of defence. ‘I saw the two carriages when they arrived; there is plenty of space for you and your baggage. Well, Justin, what do you say?’

  Randall surveyed the assembled company. What could he say? To refuse Mary his escort would be extremely uncivil and against his own code of honour. That she was equally unhappy with the situation was evident. He managed a stiff bow.

  ‘If Miss Endacott would accept a place in my carriage, I would be only too delighted to escort her to Brussels.’

  * * *

  Mary cast a fulminating glance at the earl. She had been hoping he would provide some incontestable excuse why he could not take her up. If she was to refuse his offer now her cousin would be sure to ask why, and Harriett, too, would not rest until she had uncovered the true reason.

  Mr Graveney broke the tense silence with a little laugh.

  ‘Poor Miss Endacott. It goes against the grain, I am sure, to be beholden to any man, does it not? And an earl, at that. I am sure you would much rather make your own way to Brussels.’

  ‘I would indeed.’

  ‘But my wife is quite right, my dear. With the current unrest in Europe you would be much safer travelling under escort and there could be none better than Lord Randall. We would all of us sleep easier in our beds to know you were with him.’

  ‘It is best to give in,’ said Harriett cheerfully. ‘Remember the Laytmor motto, Mary, semper laurifer. We always succeed. You cannot hold out against us.’

  Mary bit her lip. Did she have any choice?

  ‘Miss Endacott,’ Lord Randall addressed her. ‘I appreciate that we have not long been acquainted and I am aware that our opinions are very different. However, they are right. There is danger for any young lady travelling alone. If you would honour me with your company for this journey, you will be treated with every respect and courtesy. You have my word on that.’

  Mary knew he was referring to what had occurred in the gardens
, he was telling her she could trust him. There was sincerity in his eyes, but more than that, there was understanding in their blue depths. She nodded.

  ‘Then I accept your offer, my lord. Thank you.’

  A sudden murmur went about the room, as if everyone had been holding their breath waiting for her answer. Harriett clapped her hands.

  ‘Then it is settled. Randall shall take you with him, Mary. He travels with quite an entourage, you know—two carriages, his valet and groom—I am sure that it will be the most enjoyable journey you have ever undertaken.’

  * * *

  Harriett’s words came back to Mary as she stepped into Lord Randall’s elegant travelling chaise early on Friday morning. The carriage was well sprung, the seat and backrest thickly padded: physically she was assured of every comfort, she had no doubt, but after what had occurred, how could she be in the earl’s company without feeling some constraint? Her only consolation was that Lord Randall was riding, so she was relieved the necessity of conversing with him.

  They set off at a frantic pace, the stops were short with barely time for Mary to drink the proffered coffee and nibble at a biscuit, but when the earl politely asked her if she would like more time she declined.

  ‘I was warned you travel at breakneck speed, my lord,’ she said as he accompanied her back to the carriage. ‘I am prepared for a little discomfort.’

  ‘I need to join my men as soon as possible. I have stayed too long in England.’

  His cold tone vexed her and she retorted sharply, ‘Then pray, sir, do not mind me. I shall not hold you up.’

  ‘No, I do not intend that you shall.’

  ‘I expect no quarter from you,’ she told him bitterly.

  ‘Then you will not be disappointed.’

  Biting her lip, Mary climbed into the carriage without another word and the door was closed behind her. Insufferable man, he seemed determined to annoy her. But as she settled back in his luxurious carriage she realised that she might be angry with him, but at least she was no longer embarrassed in his company.