He was pleased she could converse with him in spite of her breathlessness. He was uncomfortably aroused and aware that in the skin-tight britches he was wearing his state would be obvious to any who cared to look. They continued to whirl. Effortlessly he avoided the other less skilful dancers, and by the end of the set she was flushed and exhilarated. Very correctly, he escorted her back to her aunt, where his brothers waited. He expected them to ask her to dance, and he was not disappointed. When they had all three danced with her they took their leave and left the ballroom. Thankfully, Lady Gwendoline’s daughters had had full dance cards, so they were not
Once at home in their town house, they obliged to stand up with them. compared impressions of the lovely widow.
“She is a beautiful woman,” Rafael said, and his brothers agreed. Angel offered to find out all he could about her and set off for White’s, the famous gentlemen’s club, to extract information from his cronies. Antonio sat in an armchair, a glass of his father’s Spanish brandy in his hands, and Rafael watched as he swirled it slowly around and around. He knew something was on Antonio’s mind but knew better than to rush him. He would speak in his own time.
“There is something odd about the whole incident in the garden,” he said at last, and Rafael had to agree.
“Why did they want her? She is not an heiress.If she were, we would have heard of her. She is not a young girl to be kidnapped for ransom or worse. What did they want of her?”
“What worries me more is when they will be back,” Rafael said.
“Indeed, they did not appear to be your run-of-the-mill ruffians.”
“No, I agree they were not. So what are we going to do about it?” Rafael asked. He had already made up his mind but wanted to know if his brothers were in total agreement with him.
“Unless we get to know her better, we cannot do a great deal. The next step therefore is to pursue our acquaintance with the widow. Am I correct in thinking you are more than interested, brother?” Antonio asked.
“Indeed I am, and you?”
“Oh, I can safely say that both Angel and I would be more than delighted to further our acquaintance with the lovely lady Alicia.”
When Angel returned home his brothers were still sitting by the fire, brandy glasses in hand, awaiting his information with interest.
“She is the widow of Lord John Fitzroy, who died over a year ago. His estate was entailed, and he left her a competence only so she is no great heiress. Her grandmother was Eleanor Champney. That was the Lady Eleanor who resided ten miles from Rotherham Place and knew mama.”
“Time to call on Lady Alicia, then.” They all smiled and went off to bed, secure in the knowledge that Lady Alicia was worth the pursuing.
Chapter Two
The following day three nattily attired gentlemen, complete to a shade in grey pantaloons, darker grey coat, and silver brocade waistcoats and devoid of anything but a single fob watch went to call on Lady Alicia. Again, the only difference to be seen in their appearance was that of the jewels in the cravat pin and signet ring. They had no need to dress alike but enjoyed doing it to confound others and amuse themselves. Many had thought to tell them apart by looking at their signet rings, but unbeknownst to others it pleased the three of them to exchange rings and cravat pins to confuse the unwary and add spice to their lives.
Today they were on their best behaviour and had a plan they intended to carry out. It had been decided that Rafael would pursue the widow. She was the most suitable candidate they had encountered, and Rafael wanted her. He had wanted her ever since he had seen her the night before, and he intended to have her. First they had to clear up the little matter of the attack upon her, but that would surely not take long. He was uncomfortably aroused all the time. His cock throbbed, and he had slept little. Consequently, he was in no mood to tolerate the silly daughters of Lady Gwendoline. Antonio and Angel had offered themselves up on the altar of brotherly sacrifice and said they’d draw the girls off while he concentrated on Lady Alicia.
They chatted for the requisite half an hour then left, having found out what entertainments the ladies would grace with their presence that evening.
Chapter Three
Lady Gwendoline had decided that if the de la Torre brothers were going to pay court, as she thought, to her daughters, said daughters needed new clothes. Consequently she took them to her favourite modiste’s establishment in Brooke Street. Lady Alicia was ready to sink at her aunt’s behaviour as Lady Gwendoline announced to the startled owner that her daughters would shortly be engaged to two of the de la Torre triplets, and if Lucette put forth her best efforts now she would assure herself of their future patronage.
The modiste, Madame Lucette, was a wily bird. She did not really believe the story, Alicia could see, but there was just enough doubt in her mind to ensure that Lady Gwendoline would get the dresses she wanted when she wanted them. Alicia ordered herself just one dress. It was all she could afford, and the ones she had could be refurbished at the clever hands of her maid. It would have to do. Until her grandmother’s will was found and read, she had enough to afford the necessities of life but not any extravagances. She sighed. Her grandmama had promised she would leave her independent. She would not have to marry again unless she wished to. But it was hard to contain herself in patience while the lawyers, who worked slowly when they had the documents but even more slowly when the documents were yet to be found, tried to sort it all out.
Her aunt was forever putting eligible men in her way. She had not yet said she was tired of having Lady Alicia with her, but that would come soon, of that she was sure. Her aunt was of uncertain temper and prone to sudden enthusiasms, but unfortunately they tended not to last long.
When she had made her modest request known and been measured and the gown promised for the following day, she excused herself and went out into the street for a breath of air and to escape her aunt’s transports over the putative triumph of her daughters.
In the street she was strolling up and down with her aunt’s footman in close attendance when a young lady hurrying out of another modiste’s bumped into her.
“Oh, I am so very sorry. I do hope I have not hurt you?”
Lady Alicia assured her she had not.
“I am so distressed. I was being pursued even in there by the dreadful man. He will not leave me alone and presses his unwanted attentions on me all the time.”
Lady Alicia looked at the girl. She was a petite blonde with wide blue eyes, innocent expression, and the complexion of a china doll. Her figure was neat, and she was dressed well in the latest fashion.
Her pelisse was cherry red with black frogging, and the walking dress under it was pale green twill. Her poke bonnet with the knots of cherry ribbons perfectly framed her heart-shaped face
“What is your name?
“Clarice Mountjoy.” She dipped a curtsey and clung to the hand that Lady Alicia held out to her. Her little hand, in the black leather gloves to match her half boots, trembled.
“Come, we will stroll a while, and you can calm yourself and tell me all.”
They strolled, and Lady Alicia discovered the man was a rich merchant with whom Clarice’s papa had dealings, so it would not be politic to offend him. Lady Alicia calmed her, and when Lady Gwendoline arrived, introduced her. Clarice’s mama was known to Lady Gwendoline, so they strolled on together until they reached Hatchards where Clarice said she had left her mama. Bidding her farewell, they got into their carriage and returned home.
Chapter Four
At the Clifton’s ball, clad in her ruby red silk dress artfully refurbished by her maid, Lady Alicia thought not that there would be many more refurbishments possible. She stood by the sofa on which her aunt continued to puff off the imminent engagements. Lady Alicia was ready to sink. It was all so embarrassing, and she could see several ladies smiling behind their fans at her aunt’s expense. Suddenly her senses were aware that he was there. She turned and he bowed to her.
“M
ay I solicit your hand for the first waltz, Lady Alicia?”
“And I the second,” said Antonio.
“Leaving me the third.” Angel smiled. She accepted all their offers, blushing as she did so. She was attracted to Rafael but also to Antonio and Angel and did not know what to make of the turbulence of her feelings. When they had gained what they wanted, the triplets withdrew and propped up the wall. No amount of smiling and bowing by Lady Gwendoline brought them back to her side, and Lady Alicia feared she would bear the brunt of her ladyship’s displeasure.
When the musicians struck up the first waltz, Rafael was at her side and whirled her into the dance. Breathlessly she allowed him to hold her just a little closer than was customary and tried not to tremble in his arms. He danced superbly, and masterfully. She realised he exerted himself to put her at her ease. She replied to all his remarks but never initiated a topic herself. Truth to tell, she did not know what they talked about. She was only conscious of his breath near her ear, ruffling her curls. His hand was at her back, burning hot through the thin layers of silk that separated it from her skin. His other hand held hers tightly but not uncomfortably. He was in total control of himself and her. When the dance ended, he asked, “Shall we stroll a while on the terrace? It is over-powering in here tonight.”
She agreed, and he placed her hand upon his sleeve, covering it with his own. She then saw they had finished the dance in the ideal position. The large windows opening onto the terrace were a little way to their left. He led her through the windows, and they strolled the terrace. Several other couples doing the same left when the next dance began and they were left alone. He had taken her to the far end of the terrace just out of sight of the ballroom windows, and he backed her against the wall. He lifted her chin with his hand and said inches from her face,”You are the loveliest woman I have ever met.”
Then he bent his head and kissed her. His mouth was gentle at first. He kissed the corner of her lips, then licked along the seam, nibbling her full bottom lip.
“Open for me,” he said commandingly, and she did.
His tongue delicately explored her mouth in every corner then sucked her tongue into his mouth in invitation. She slipped between his lips and tasted him, their tongues tangled, and he became more urgent, more demanding. He pressed closer to her, and she felt the long, thick erection that pressed against her pussy and her stomach. One rock-hard thigh parted her legs and pushed upwards. She rode on his thigh, grinding her puffy, swollen pussy lips against his muscular leg, and if he had not held her firmly she would have fallen. She was wet, wetter than she had ever been.
“I want you, Lady Alicia. I have wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” he ground out.
His hand closed over her breast as, through the ruby silk, he caressed her, delicately then with ever increasing firmness. As the sensations ovewhelmed her, he flicked one hard, pebbled nipple with his fingers, and she would have shrieked had he not swallowed the sound with a deep kiss. She was on fire. Her blood sang in her veins. and her heart beat so fast she could not breathe.
“Can you get away tonight?”
She heard herself making a promise to meet him later, to let herself out of the house and walk to the end of the street where his carriage would be waiting. This was madness, but for the life of her she could not refuse this masterful man. Then he pulled away from her, allowing her to calm herself. She was dizzy with arousal as, petting and praising her, he strolled back along the terrace. Her hand was on his arm, and his hand held it in place until they reached the ballroom windows. There Antonio was waiting, and he took her hand to lead her into the waltz.
Chapter Five
Waltzing with Antonio was altogether different. He looked exactly like Rafael, but he was not so masterful as his brother. He chatted and entertained her with tales of their lands and the characters who farmed them. She found herself relaxing and smiling, even giggling at some of his anecdotes. His voice was subtly different from his brother’s, and his scent was very different. They all used the same Bay Rum that most gentlemen used, but combined with his own smell of clean linen and soap she could tell him apart from Rafael already. She wondered what his kiss would be like then felt disgusted with herself. She had been kissed witless by one man and had arranged to meet him later. Not satisfied with that, she was imagining herself kissed by his brother. What a wanton. Her dead husband had been right. She was a wanton. When the dance ended, she pleaded a visit to the withdrawing room and left him. She splashed water on her heated cheeks and tucked in a couple of curls that had escaped. A couple of young ladies burst into the room followed by two more, and the chatter overwhelmed her. She left, and walking slowly but purposefully down the side of the room went towards the terrace and cooler, fresher air. She had to get out of the crowd and think.
She gained the terrace and found only a few couples strolling, all self-absorbed. She saw the steps to the lawns and decided to go down to sit on one of the benches placed at the foot of the stairs. Suddenly a soft hand stole into hers, and when she looked down she saw Clarice.
“I was so overheated I simply had to get some air. Then I saw you, dear Lady Alicia, and so ventured to approach you. I do hope I am not incommoding you?”
While Alicia would have preferred to be alone to sort out her whirling senses, when she looked into Clarice’s candid, trusting eyes she could not in all conscience gainsay her. So they strolled down the steps together, and Clarice said, “It is just too cold to sit on one of the stone benches, and we may take a chill.”
They walked as far as the ornamental fountain and around it to the side away from the house. Clarice leaned over and trailed her fingers in the water.
“Oh, Lady Alicia, this is so delightful.”
Alicia would have been glad to go back into the ballroom after strolling about for ten minutes. She was clad only in her silk chemise and her dress. She was beginning to feel cold. Clarice urged her to stroll about for a while longer and seemed to be restless and uneasy. When Alicia turned to go back towards the terrace, Clarice said, “Oh, Lady Alicia, do look at those beautiful roses over there by the garden gate. Do let’s go and see if they are perfumed!”
Alicia did not want to go to see the roses, but she could not leave Clarice alone and unchaperoned in the garden, so she was forced to follow her. Clarice’s behaviour was making her nervous. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as if she was being watched, but she could see no-one but Clarice. She shrugged it off. She was probably just feeling the chill of the evening.
Suddenly two large men dressed in frieze overcoats with mufflers wound around the lower half of their face came out of the bushes and ran to seize Lady Alicia. Clarice fainted dead away and lay on the ground unheeded by the men who each seized one of Alicia’s arms and started to drag her away out of the light. She screamed twice before a large hand clamped over her mouth.
“If yer know what’s good fer yer. Shut yer gob.”
She thought she recognised the voice but was too occupied trying to dig her heels in the gravel and struggling to get free, anything to stop them taking her. One of her kicks connected with the shins of the man on her left, and he grunted. Lifting a hand to her throat, he squeezed, but the other man said,
“He wants her alive,” and the pressure eased.
Alicia heard footsteps running along the terrace and down to the gravel walk. Clarice groaned, and Angel stopped to attend to her. Alicia tried to make a noise but could not, and little by little they were getting to the end of the garden. She recognised the voice that said, low and menacing, “Unhand her, you villains.” It was Rafael.
She heard the swish as one sword was pulled out and then a second. The men tried to use her to shield themselves from the approaching swordsmen, and then suddenly they heaved her in the direction of the nearest man, who happened to be Antonio. Then they ran into the bushes and, in spite of Rafael’s pursuit, were lost to sight. He returned, sheathing his sword in the ornamental cane he and his brothers h
ad chosen to carry that night. It struck Alicia as an odd thing to bring to a ball, but she forgot it in the comfort of Antonio’s arms as he clasped her tightly to him and murmured into her hair, “Now you are safe, my dearest.”
Nevertheless, she shook with relief. The words he had said did not at first penetrate her fear and relief, and later when she thought about it she dismissed them, thinking she had misheard.
“What do they want? Did they say anything to give you a clue?”
“Not a thing. They just told me to come along quietly and all would be well. When I kicked one and he squeezed my throat, the other said ‘he’ wanted me alive.” At that, she shuddered, and the brothers decided to question her no more that night. She knew they would not be so forebearing the following day.
With set faces, they returned to the terrace, warning both ladies to say nothing about what had happened. They strolled up and down with them, giving them time to calm themselves, then entered the ballroom. The ladies slipped away to the withdrawing room to mend what they could of their appearance with the aid of the maid stationed outside the door.
As they returned to the ballroom, the strains of a waltz were beginning. Angel came to claim her hand. He took hold of her reverently and led her into the dance. She noticed he held her carefully and guided her away from collision with any other couple, all the while gazing deep into her eyes. He was very different from his brothers. He was not masterful like Rafael, nor was he as light-hearted as Antonio. He was, however, very tactile. He held her hand carefully, and his other hand at her back stroked and patted her gently as they danced. In most men she would have objected to the stroking and patting, but she loved the way he made her feel cherished and cared for. He spoke little with words, but his eyes said all that his words did not. She felt herself heating. Her cheeks were overspread with a deep rose, and she tried to tear her gaze away from his, but he would not let her.
The Locket [The Rotherham Hall Mysteries] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 2