“What in the hell is going on?” he demanded. His tone was cultured with a hint of authority along its edges. This was definitely a member of the ton.
“My lord, allow me to explain,” she said, wetting her lips. His emerald gaze shot to her mouth and she halted the mindless action. “If you would please unhand me, I will explain everything.”
“No,” he said slowly, but firm. “I don’t think I will.”
She made a small huff of annoyance, to cover the fact that his nearness was disturbing her greatly. The heat from his body was seeping into hers and it was warming her in all of the places their bodies touched. Her body wanted nothing more than to mold with his. It was disconcerting to say the least.
“I think you are in the wrong room,” she said, trying to sound as though this was a common occurrence. Her blasé tone sounded phony to her ears. She hoped he didn’t notice.
He stared at her incredulous. “That is your explanation?” His brow wrinkled in concentration and he fell silent. His gaze roved over her and she could almost hear his thoughts attempting to piece themselves together. It was difficult not to cringe.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Gwen Trescott.” As soon as she said her name, she wanted to smack herself. Why didn’t she have the good sense to lie? If they ever ran into one another at a social function, he could place her at this location, which was one no lady was allowed to be.
Ever.
“You may be right,” he said with a shake of his head. “The events of the past few minutes are jumbled, but I am pretty certain Gwen was not the name of the courtesan I was supposed to seek out.”
He released her and winced as he sat up.
“Are you alright?” she asked as soon as she put a foot of distance between them.
The current situation she found herself in was the worst case scenario for an unwed lady of the ton. Her reputation would be ruined if anyone were to find out. Even though she did not value society’s rules, she did not wish to become a social pariah either. She may not have had any luck on the marriage mart, but being involved in a scandal would obliterate any chance she might have in finding a husband.
If that was even an option for her.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, he said, “Yes, I believe so. I came here quite… Well that is to say, I was not quite myself. I could have sworn…” He shook his head once more. “Never mind.”
An awkward silence descended on the room and it was in that moment she realized how little clothing she currently wore. She was grateful for the darkness of the room, but the dying embers in the fireplace still provided enough light for the stranger to see her well enough.
He ran his fingers through his hair and she held her breath as he touched the spot where his former injury had been. “That’s tender,” he muttered to himself. He dropped his arm and looked at her, a quizzical expression on his face.
She avoided his gaze, wishing he would leave. This time she would double check the lock on the stupid door.
“Well Gwen, it seems as though I need to take my leave,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and immediately started to sway.
Scrambling across the bed, she reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm. She held up her other hand, her palm facing the man. Between her physical strength and a small burst of magic, she was able to help him topple back onto the bed.
Onto her.
His large frame crushed her into the mattress and even though he quickly propped himself on his forearm, she was able to feel the strength of his body. She suppressed a shiver, not wanting to alert him of his effect on her. Even though it wasn’t proper for a lady to exhibit passionate behavior, her body was not listening. She pressed her thighs together, hoping to get rid of the sensations he made her feel.
It did not help.
He continued to lean over her with the right side of her body pressed up against his. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move and there was a sinful part of her that wasn’t either. Did the name “Den of the Fallen” apply to females as well? She was certainly acting as though she were a fallen woman.
“I was wrong. Your eyes are not blue.” He leaned down, bringing their noses a mere inch apart. “They are a stunning violet. How uncanny,” he said, staring into her face. “You are quite beautiful Gwen. I’m sure you hear that often, given your line of work, but count me among the many who hold that opinion.”
A righteous anger rose within her chest and she jutted her chin out, pinning him with an indignant stare. “This is not my line of work, anymore than it’s yours,” she snapped.
A look of confusion crossed his handsome face and then his eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
She felt the blood drain from her face. If she had not already been lying down, she might have crumpled to the floor in a faint. Her stupid pride had reared its head at his assumption that she was no more than a harlot. Now she had to rectify the situation, but she had no idea on how to do so.
“That is to say—”
His pressed his finger against her lips, stopping the jumbled words that were sure to have made an appearance. Her lips tingled at his touch and forbidden images rose to her mind. Specifically, what that same finger had done between her legs moments ago. Her lower body clenched and her breathing grew shallow.
“I don’t want to hear any pretty little lies you’ve concocted,” he said. “Tell me the truth or I will make sure to have a personal word with the madam, along with the owners of this establishment about this little interlude of ours.”
His finger lingered for a second more and then he removed it. Gwen licked her lips in preparation for her confession, but it got caught in her throat at the fire that entered his gaze. He stared at her lips, before slowly bringing his eyes to hers. It was the same fire from before, the one that set her body ablaze with need.
“Maybe we don’t need to talk at all,” he whispered. He brought his hand to her cheek, cupping it gently. “It matters not what your name is, so long as you’re willing.”
She could have sworn a protest rose to her lips before his descended on them. Indeed, it’s what any proper lady would have done, except she could not locate her objection anywhere. Her thoughts scattered to the wind as his lips nipped at hers. If she had not already known he was human because of his aura, she would have believed he wielded magic. That was the only plausible explanation for her behavior. It was as thought he’d cast a spell on her, bringing her body to life, while obliterating her good sense.
He groaned low in his throat, the sound making her toes curl. She pressed closer to him, wanting to feel the hard planes of his body once more. When his hand covered her breast, her body arched into his palm even though her mind buzzed with warning.
With great reluctance she pulled back, but his mouth sought out hers and for a second, she was tempted to continue. She placed a hand on his chest and pulled her mouth from his, finally successful. He opened his eyes and looked at her, a lopsided smile on his face. Lord, he was handsome.
“I think we should stop now,” she said.
His hand massaged her breast and she bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud. “I disagree.”
“I am a lady, and this has gone on long enough,” she said, attempting to insert some steel into her tone. She must not have been successful because he leaned towards her and kissed the curve of her neck.
“Mm-hmm. Quite the lady,” he murmured against her skin.
“I am serious.”
He raised his head to look at her. “Is this another one of your games? I must say that I grow weary of the chase.”
“This is not a game, my lord.”
“Gwen, I think you need to work on the art of seduction, which was going quite nicely until you screamed in my face while I touched you last. Or at least I think that’s what happened.”
“I may have,” she admitted. “I’d never been manhandled by someone prior to this night. It came as quite a shock.”
“Are we playing the blushing virgin now? Cease this ridiculousness. Let us finish what we started and then we can sleep.”
Things had gotten out of hand and it was her fault. She shouldn’t have agreed to stay at a brothel in the first place. Then she didn’t check to make sure the lock on her door was secure. And finally, she had not protested one iota when he’d first touched her. Or the second time. She really needed to set things straight, once and for all.
“My name is Gwendolyn Trescott, future Duchess of Fairview and you, my lord, shall remove your hands at once.”
Chapter 4
Hayden blinked once. Twice. Three times. Her words traveled through his muddled brain, percolating for a bit, and then the depth of them finally sunk in. He’d unknowingly comprised a young lady. And she was not just any gentlewoman, but a future duchess. His hands fell away from her and he flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling unseeing.
After all of these years avoiding responsibility and marriage, he’d acted in a manner that now required him to do both. He sucked in a large gulp of air as an imaginary weight settled on his chest. Wouldn’t his father be pleased?
He looked over at Gwen, his eyes wondering over her dark tresses and violet eyes. At least his future bride was pleasant to look at and she held a title that outranked his. Thinking on it further, he knew his father would be very pleased.
“Please tell me you are not engaged or married,” he said. The idea of waking up for a dawn appointment sobered him more than the idea of marriage. Although he was handy with a pistol, there was no guarantee he’d win a duel. He would rather be married than die a senseless death. At least his brother had died a hero’s death, with his honor intact.
“Oh, goodness no,” she said. A half-hearted laugh left her, followed by a weak smile.
He propped himself on his forearms to get a better look at her face. It was hard to tell, but he thought her cheekbones looked tinged with pink.
“Why not?” he asked.
She gave him a pointed look. “That was very rude of you. Besides, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“After what just went on in this bed, I think it is.”
She opened her mouth and promptly shut it.
“What are you doing in a place like this anyway?” he asked.
“I was here to see a… friend,” she said.
He arched a skeptic brow.
“The madam and I share similar interests outside of this place. I did not come here for what you did.” Her face flushed as she grabbed a lock of hair and twisted it around her finger. “I was assured that I would not be disturbed, but we both know that is not the case.”
“Indeed. Well, there is no way to undo the events of the evening, so we might as well move on to the new predicament we now find ourselves.”
“Yes. I will ask the madam for another room and all will be well. We can just pretend this never happened.” She made to stand, but he stilled her with a touch of his hand. She peered at him over her shoulder with a quizzical expression.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“No one has to kn—”
“You are right and they won’t, but I will. My honor demands that I offer for your hand,” he said.
Her eyes went wide as saucers. “But nothing happened! Well nothing that cannot be forgotten.”
That stung his pride a bit. He had rather enjoyed everything that had transpired between them, not considering it forgettable in the least. Even now, he could still envision the weight of her breast in his hand and the heat of her on his fingers.
“Even if you consider what happened between us to be nothing, we still have to acknowledge that you are an unmarried woman who has spent the evening with me behind closed doors,” he said.
She bit her lip and his groin twitched. He mentally sighed at his body’s lack of self discipline.
“But we don’t know each other,” she said.
“I suspect we will have plenty of time to remedy that.”
She stood and walked across the room to retrieve a shawl that lay over the back on a chair. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she marched for the door and that is when he moved. Before she could turn the knob, he had his palm flat against the door.
“We need to discuss this,” he said.
“Kindly remove your hand, my lord.”
“Where are you going?”
She looked up at him and he realized how tiny she was. The top of her head did not even reach his chin. She reminded him of a porcelain doll, except she did not have a docile look on her face. Actually, it was closer to murder.
“I am going to find Sunny, who will then assign me another room,” she said.
“I am coming with you.”
No sooner had removed his hand, she yanked open the door and stormed into the hallway. With his long strides he caught up to her easily, but she ignored him as they walked to the first floor. When she stopped in front of a closed door, he did the same. Then she knocked and pulled her shawl about her as if to brace herself for what was inside.
“Enter,” came the command.
Hayden opened the door for Gwen and she sailed past him into the room.
The madam looked up from her location behind a large, mahogany desk, a wrinkled brow on her pretty face.
“What is it Gwen?” Sunny asked.
“It seems as though…” Gwen began. Then she turned to him opened mouthed. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Hayden Caldwell, future Earl of Greystone at your service,” he said with a mocking bow.
Gwen sniffed. “Lord Greystone has accidently assumed that my sleeping quarters are his. I need a new room.”
“I see,” Sunny said slowly. She turned to look at him. “Well if that is all, then I will show you to your new room.”
“Actually, that is not all,” he said, earning a warning look from Gwen. “I have compromised Gwen and have been trying to make amends, but she is being quite difficult. Assuming she is who she says.”
His last statement earned him a glare from Gwen, so he turned and winked at her. A blush rose to her face and he couldn’t be sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.
Mayhap, both.
“She is indeed, Lady Trescott,” Sunny said. Her eyes glossed over Gwen and then met his. “Although society doesn’t know this, I am the illegitimate daughter of the Viscount of Kingston. That makes Gwen my distant cousin on my father’s side. She came here to ask me for a favor and it was my suggestion that she stay. I never dreamed this would happen.”
Some of the tightness in his chest eased at Sunny’s words. He knew of the viscount and he could easily see the madam’s resemblance to him. Although he wanted to do right by Gwen, he still needed to confirm her identity and this was a good start. As heartless as it sounded, he would not offer marriage to a common maid or a lying courtesan. However, if she were an imposter, she would have most likely pounced on an offer of marriage from him. Given his new status as an heir, any woman would now.
Why wasn’t she?
“Nothing happened,” Gwen protested. “I still have my… innocence.”
“I am sure Madam Sunny has heard far worse, but I will describe our encounter and she can be the judge. First, I placed my hand on –”
Gwen’s hand slapped over his mouth with a mild sting. The look of murder was lurking in her eyes, there was no doubt in his mind. “If you say another word, I will not be responsible for what happens after.”
“Gwen,” Sunny chided gently, and Gwen lowered her hand away from his mouth. “It is late and everyone is not thinking quite right. Let us retire for the evening and then tomorrow, we can meet at a proper location and discuss what is to be done.”
“A splendid idea, madam,” he said in agreement. “I will see myself out, for there are things I must attend to.” Turning to Gwen he said, “I will call on you tomorrow Lady Fairview, my future bride.”
Her indignant gasp reached his ears right before he shu
t the door on her beautiful face. She brought a genuine smile to his lips, something no other woman had ever done up until this point.
Jack Brocksman, Hayden’s man of affairs, rubbed his face and covered a yawn. He peered over his golden wire spectacles at Hayden, a look of curiosity on his round face.
“What have you discovered Jack?” Hayden asked, eager to hear the information. His outward appearance was impeccable, but turmoil brewed on his insides. What would he discover this morning as he broke his fast?
Jack cleared his throat and Hayden had to stifle the desire to shout at his employee to make haste.
“Miss Gwendolyn Trescott, is the daughter of Meredith and Elias Trescott, Duke of Fairview. The duke is no longer alive, having passed on from an untimely illness. Lady Trescott had a very short debut five years ago when she was eighteen and received two offers of marriage. Both were rejected and she dropped from society when her father passed. Currently, the Duchess of Fairview is involved in a situation concerning witchcraft.” Jack stopped and used his shirt to clean his spectacles.
Hayden inwardly sighed. As soon as he’d returned home after leaving the brothel, he’d summoned Jack. His instructions to the steward were simple: to find out everything possible about Lady Trescott and bring the information to him, no later than noon. Hayden was due to meet Gwen at two o’clock and needed to know if he would be offering her a hand full of coins or his hand in marriage.
Jack had been awake since the wee hours of the morning, doing his master’s bidding, and that was the only reason Hayden was able to reign in his impatience.
Jack cleared his throat once more. “It appears as if Mrs. Trescott has been accused of dabbling in the dark arts. Several statements from her household staff members were given to the magistrate and she has been put in confinement. No one in society seems to know, which indicates she and her daughter have tried to make sure it doesn’t come to light. Her trial before the House of Lords has yet to be scheduled.”
“I trust you were discreet in your inquiries?” Hayden asked, not wanting his father to know of his plans until he himself had come to a decision.
The Masquerade (Den of the Fallen Book 0) Page 3