Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin

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by Christine Merrill


  ‘Do not touch it. Bring it to me. I will open it here.’ Perhaps it would be the letter of farewell that she hoped for. For if she was to be guilty of a horrible misalliance, she at least deserved a billet doux to hold against her quaking breast so that she could weep and swoon, cursing her father and the gods.

  Priss had a box full of them, after all. And when she had nothing else to do, on a rainy day, she pored over them, reading choice lines and sighing. It was not too much to ask, was it, if Drusilla could have one such for herself?

  But the package the maid brought to her looked more like forgotten laundry than it did anything else. Dear God, had she left some personal item in John’s room that might indicate what they had been to each other? She was torn between the equally horrible ideas of him keeping a shift or a stocking as a trophy of her downfall, and the idea that it would mean so little to him that he would think she’d want it returned. The least he could have done was pined over the thing, whatever it was, to make her believe that he had trouble parting with it.

  The girl was reaching for the strings to untie the bundle, and Dru said sharply, ‘Leave it.’ When the girl hesitated, hoping to get some glimpse of the contents, Dru dismissed her, then waited the few minutes it took until she was sure that she was alone.

  Then she pulled on the string that held the brown paper in place.

  There was but one item within. A pair of familiar leather breeches, and a single sheet of paper pinned to them.

  Eight o’clock. Tonight. Hyde Park.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She waited at the gate, unsure of what it was that he’d meant her to do. It could not be safe for her to go, unescorted, into the darkness of the park. But it wasn’t all that safe to wait alone on the street.

  Suddenly, arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her into the shade before she could manage so much as a cry.

  She was being kissed, and, Lord help her, handled. And before the fear could overtake the surprise of it, she realised that the taste of the mouth on hers was familiar, as was the way the hands gripped her. And so she relaxed, kissing back, and whispering, when he allowed her breath, ‘Mr Hendricks?’

  ‘Please, darling. After all we have been to each other, you must call me John.’ And then he went back to kissing her, running his hands over her body, under her cloak. ‘You disappoint me, love. You are not wearing the gift that I sent you.’

  ‘Because there was no shirt or coat,’ she said sensibly. ‘I could not very well come to meet you in a public place wearing naught but the breeches under my cloak.’

  The growl he made in response made her think that he would not have minded at all if she had.

  ‘But I am wearing them, although they are hidden under my skirt. Mr Hendricks. Mr Hendricks! John.’ For he had lifted the skirts, plunging his hands beneath to check for himself and was massaging her bottom in way that was most disconcerting.

  ‘Just reassuring myself of the fact, darling,’ he said. ‘And there they are, you naughty little minx.’

  There was certainly nothing little about her, nor did she think of herself as a temptress. ‘If I am naughty,’ she admitted, ‘it is because I am most sorely tried by the company I have been keeping of late. I think you are a bad influence upon my character.’

  ‘I only mean to care for you, my love,’ he answered back. ‘For if you stay in my company, you will be in for quite a bit of riding.’ But the way he was touching her now, with the heel of his hand resting firmly between her legs, she wondered if he meant to be talking about horses, or something else entirely.

  ‘Where might I be going?’ she whispered back. And then gave a shudder, and thought, I will be going over the moon, if you continue with what you are doing, John. And I wonder, do you know?

  ‘Scotland,’ he answered back. ‘The blacksmiths are most obliging, I hear, when met with thwarted lovers.’ Then he proved that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. He was moving his hand over the leather, making firm tight circles with it, and she wrapped her arms about his neck to steady herself against the collapse that she was sure was coming.

  ‘I thought that my father told you that your advances on my person were not welcome.’

  ‘Not by him,’ John agreed, and speeded the movement of his hand. ‘But you have yet to tell me otherwise. And even if you do, I mean to ignore you. Do not think that I will let you choose the sensible course and lead me back to your father for another go round in the study. It is quite plain to me that he will never change his mind on the subject.’ He was kissing her throat now, running his tongue along the place, just at the back of her ear, until she shuddered and clung to him, almost forgetting her objections.

  ‘You took his money to stay away from me.’

  ‘I did nothing of the kind,’ he answered. ‘He wished to pretend that it was a reward for returning you safely. It would have been churlish of me to call it the bribe it was. But neither would it make sense to refuse payment for my services. I am not a gentleman of leisure, you know. I am a simple working man.’ But there was nothing simple about the things he was doing to her now. With a final touch, he brought her easily over the edge, to leave her weak and trembling in his arms. And she clung to him, vulnerable and needy, and felt the old fear of being helpless in the face of another’s plans for her.

  Then his arms came around her, supporting her, but not trapping her. As an experiment, she relaxed her muscles, as though ready to fall into a swoon and drop from his arms. Other than a slight tightening to keep her upright and close, there was no change in him.

  And she knew, for all his forceful words about taking her against her will, that he would release her if she struggled, or carry her if she collapsed. They were in tune with each other, as two parts of the same instrument.

  ‘Do you truly think ill of me for the money?’ he asked. ‘Although the sum was generous, I did feel that I deserved recompense for enduring the company of your sister. I am sorry, Dru, but I find the girl tiresome in the extreme.’

  She sighed, leaning a little harder against him. Although she did not wish to think ill of her sister, she had never expected to hear words so sweet. ‘She is not so bad, once you get used to her. And much smarter than she first appears.’

  ‘She would have to be. For I doubt that it would be possible…’

  ‘John!’ She was surprised at how easy the name came to her, now that she felt free to speak it.

  ‘Darling.’ He kissed her, smiling. ‘You may scold me all you like, so long as you call me by name.’

  ‘Then I will insist that you admit the truth. You know why my father gave you as much money as he did, John. He wanted you to stay away from me.’

  ‘If he meant to imply that the cheque was contingent on my avoiding your company?’ She could see his wicked smile, and the glint of the moonlight on his glasses as he dipped his head to her throat again. ‘Then I am afraid we are at cross purposes. There is no sum that would keep me from you, now that I have experienced the delight of your body.’

  ‘You vile man. Is that all you want from me?’ she whispered as sternly as she could manage. Although if the answer was affirmative, she doubted she would mind so very much.

  ‘Not at all,’ he snarled. ‘There must be some strange weakness in me that makes me long to feel the lash of your tongue, or the cold razor edge of your intellect.’ He kissed her on the mouth again with such force that when he had finished with her, she could hardly string two thoughts together, much less wield a razor of them. Then he pulled her pliable body close inside the shelter of his heavy topcoat. ‘Or perhaps it just sweetens the moment when I have such a strong woman completely in my power.’

  And it was true. She was in his power, quite deliciously helpless for the first time in ages. She did not have to see to the running of her father’s household, or watch o
ver her scapegrace sister. Or wait for the chance to live her own life and find her own happiness after the futures of all around her were secure. Judging by the path of his fingers on the inside of her thigh, John Hendricks was about to force her to face her happy future right now, in a public park in the middle of London.

  ‘In any case, the money your father gave me is already gone. I have no intention of giving the cheque or his daughter back to him.’

  ‘Spent?’ she gasped, trying to gather those wits that he claimed to find so attractive and push herself away from him.

  ‘Invested,’ he corrected, kissing her again. ‘With a friend. I told him I meant to take a wife. He had suggestions for a man with some capital. When we return from our honeymoon, I will introduce you. The Earl of Folbroke and his lovely wife, Emily. My once and future employer. My ambition has grown beyond the menial tasks he required of me when I was his secretary.

  ‘And fortunately for me, his interests have changed as well. He is in need of a steward for his philanthropic efforts, and was seeking a forward-thinking man who can be trusted to work independently. In the future, I will be more of a partner than a servant. We will be quite welcome in their house, which will give me the opportunity to make contacts…’

  ‘Of what sort?’ she asked, somewhat surprised.

  ‘Political ones, I should think.’ He grinned at her. ‘What with the changes underway in the country right now, there will be a need for men with vision and an interest in reform.’

  ‘Reform?’ Dru smiled wickedly. ‘My father will be horrified.’

  ‘I expect he will be. But you needn’t fear the damage to your reputation that such a poor marriage will likely make. A public servant will be better than a tradesman for you.’

  ‘I am not giving my status in society two thoughts, John Hendricks,’ she snapped. ‘I have had quite enough of being Lady Drusilla if it means I am never to be a wife. And I will live in a haystack with you, if you wish.’

  He laughed. ‘That will not be necessary. Although I will instruct our driver to stop at one, if you wish. I have hired a coach for us, so that we may travel north in comfort.’

  ‘You have thought of everything, haven’t you?’

  ‘I did not wish to marry you, until I was sure that I could provide for you,’ he murmured between the kisses on her throat. ‘I am not worthy of you, after all. And it will not be as you have lived. But if you come with me tonight, you need never doubt my loyalty to you. Or my love.’ He groaned. ‘Or my need. Oh God, Dru, do not deny me this. I swear, I will die without you. Come away with me. Marry me. Let me make you smile.’

  She bit her lip, not wanting to seem too eager, or to admit aloud that the only thing that had really mattered in his last speech was the word marriage, and the thought that, wherever she would be, she would be spending her nights safe in the arms of John Hendricks. She moved against him, feeling her own arousal growing, again. ‘Can we be in Scotland tonight?’ she whispered.

  He answered her in that calm and confident voice that made her believe he could dispense with any difficulties that stood between her and happiness, ‘Gretna Green is over thirty hours away, even if we take the mail coach. But you should know by now, my Lady Drusilla, just how long it takes for me to get you to the border.’

  And then he touched her.

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781459226210

  Copyright © 2011 by Christine Merrill

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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