“He said he is taking me riding tomorrow,” she added, then relaxed as the tight stays loosened.
“That will be wonderful. He loves to ride, even in the winter. He usually goes alone, mind you, so it will be quite a treat for him to have a lovely lady to escort.”
“He didn’t ride with…his other mistresses?”
“Oh no!” Mellie chuckled. “He only took them in his carriage. Riding is something he enjoys to do alone.”
Well that was something. She didn’t like to think that she was like all those other women who had come before her, and she especially didn’t want to be treated like them.
Once she was in her nightgown, she removed the pearl earrings and necklace and placed them carefully in the hands of the lady’s maid.
Mellie sighed. “So lovely.”
“Aren’t they?” She waited for her to undo the pins in her hair. The two girls giggled as Mellie combed her hair out. Then Livvy climbed into bed, and Mellie added two more logs to the fireplace before she slipped into the corridor and left Livvy to sleep.
Livvy blew out the last candle by her bed. Then she puffed her pillow, nestled into the covers, and closed her eyes. It was no good. She couldn’t stop herself reliving that kiss and how wonderful it felt. The thought of it still plagued her. She was falling too quickly into Martin’s seduction. No self-respecting lady would let that happen. Yet she had.
What if it was all one elaborate deception? What if he wasn’t the man she’d hoped he was, the kind, sweet, seductive man she was starting to care about?
The Gentleman's Seduction
Lauren Smith
Chapter Eight
Hyde Park in the winter was truly magnificent. The ice glittered from the tips of the bare branches like crystals hanging from chandeliers. Livvy marveled at the sight from the back of her new horse, a dappled gray mare that was utter perfection. The mare’s black nose and four dark socks along with the mix of shadowy gray spotted coloring was exquisite and unique. The horse was sturdy like a thoroughbred, yet her legs were more slender and curved like an Arabian.
“Well then? How do you like her?” Martin asked as he maneuvered his own dark-gray gelding close to hers.
“She’s wonderful. Wherever did you find her?” Livvy asked. She kept a careful eye on the other riders in the park, since the ice was still slick upon the ground and she feared their horses might slip and collide with another horse and rider.
“She was bred by an acquaintance of mine, Viscount Sheridan. I mentioned him before. He and the Duchess of Essex have developed a successful breeding arrangement in the last three years, siring three excellent foals. The duchess has excellent thoroughbreds, and Sheridan has Arabians. I met with Sheridan at Tattersall’s and thought she would be perfect for you.”
Livvy patted the horse’s neck and looked at Martin. He seemed every bit the fine gentleman in his tan breeches, green waistcoat, and dark-blue greatcoat. When their gazes met, she flushed with the memory of his kiss last night.
“Thank you,” she said quickly.
A glint of amusement lit his blue eyes. “You are most welcome. How does your riding habit fit?” He assessed her outfit with a critical eye.
“Fine.” She blushed and glanced away. She would never get used to having Martin look at her like that…like he owned her. There was no cruelty in his gaze, but there was possessiveness, just not the way she wanted. She wanted—yes, wanted—him to look at her with the possessiveness of a man passionately in love. In the Gothic novels she cherished, the heroes were always a little callous in the beginning and would later transform into gentlemen in love.
She knew that once Martin sent her home, she would never have that chance again. She would be lost to good society, damaged goods. She would be lucky if she could hide away from the world, but most likely she would have to seek out another protector.
Protector. What a handsome word for a man who would use her for his own pleasure. It would be nothing more than a business transaction.
My body for his money.
Her stomach rolled fitfully, and she raised her chin, staring straight ahead.
“Livvy, what’s wrong?” Martin asked.
“Nothing is wrong.” She sniffed. Damnation. She would not cry, not in front of him.
“Livvy…” Martin reached over and grasped the reins of her horse, pulling them to a stop. She had to look at him now.
“’Tis the cold air making my nose run,” she lied.
For a long moment he stared at her, then sighed heavily and let go of the reins, and they started moving again. They completed a circle of the park, and Livvy suddenly noticed several pieces of paper scattered on the ground. Something was printed on them.
“What are those, Mr. Banks?” She pointed to the ground.
“I’ll have a look.” He slid off his horse and knelt, picking up a pamphlet. Then he read aloud.
“Notice, whereas you J. Frost have by force and violence taken possession of the River Thames, I hereby give you warning to quit immediately. Signed A. Thaw. Printed by S. Warner on the ice.” He turned the paper up toward her, suddenly grinning. “By God, they must be having a frost fair!”
“What’s that?”
Mr. Banks mounted his horse, still grinning. “You must’ve been a child during the last one in 1814. The Thames froze over so completely that the city of London hosted a fair on the ice. Quite the event. I went with my family just a few days before…” His joy faded.
“Before?”
“Before… It is nothing.” Martin gazed at the pamphlet for a long moment, and Livvy feared she knew what he meant to say. Before your father took everything away from me.
“May we go? I would love to see the frost fair.”
“I think perhaps we can,” he said. Part of his smile returned as he tucked the paper in his waistcoat.
They moved their horses forward, exiting Hyde Park. It wasn’t until they were back at Mr. Banks’s house that Livvy spoke again.
“I’m sorry,” she said as their eyes met.
“Sorry? For what?” He dismounted and then came over to her. He reached both hands up to her. She leaned down and placed her hand on his shoulders as he caught her by the waist. As he carried her down, their bodies slid against one another and her breath hitched.
“I know what you meant to say earlier. I’m sorry my father caused you so much pain.” Those words had weighed on her, and she knew she had to speak them, even if he wasn’t willing or ready to listen. His blue eyes softened, but his expression was hard to read.
“You have nothing to apologize for. The sins of the father should not be passed on to the children.” He brushed a lock of her hair back with one gloved hand. “Now, come inside so you can warm up. If you wish to attend the festival, you’ll need a sturdy dress and your new cloak.”
He led her inside and ordered the footmen to bring them a light luncheon to be served in his study and her bedchamber.
“May I dine with you in your study, Mr. Banks?” Livvy followed him after she’d given her riding gloves and hat to Mellie, who met them at the foot of the stairs.
He seemed genuinely surprised. “You wish to dine in my study?”
“Well, yes, if you would let me. If you don’t want me to intrude—”
“No, that’s quite fine,” he replied, and waited for her to follow him. “And please, call me Martin.”
Livvy had to admit she was quite curious as to what his study would look like. Men did not often allow women in their private sanctums. She’d only been inside her father’s study once or twice.
Martin stopped at a door at the end of the corridor and stepped back after he pushed it open. She entered ahead of him, glancing about. The walls were a soft forest-green, and the light paneled wood at the base of the room gave it a distinguished look. The desk was large, but not overly elaborate. It was functional. He had several shelves with books, packets of documents, and the occasional decorative bit of art. The rest of his home was clearly d
esigned to impress, yet here, in this private space, she caught a glimpse of who Martin really was. A man focused on business. She shivered, wondering if that applied to everything in his life.
Am I nothing more than a business transaction to him?
He took a seat at his desk, focusing on a stack of unopened letters. She hastily plucked a book from the shelves and seated herself on one of the two comfortable armchairs facing his desk. She opened the book, turning a few pages before she peeped up at him.
Whatever he was reading was making him frown. Suddenly overcome with an impish desire, she scooted to the edge of the chair and rested her elbows on the edge of his desk. She stared at him. He still kept his gaze on the letters, using a letter opener to slice a wax seal apart as he worked.
Livvy mimicked his deep frown, exaggerating the expression to the point of comedy. Still he did not notice. What would it take to get him to smile, she wondered, or at the least notice her?
A truly wicked thought struck her. She stuck out her tongue and pulled down her cheeks to widen her eyes a little and then wiggled her nose. The movement finally caught Martin’s attention as he saw her, then dropped the stack of letters he’d been rifling through all over the ground and on his desk, knocking over his quill and ink bottle.
“Bloody hell!” he growled, rushing to grasp the bottle and turn it back upright.
“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I only wanted to make you laugh.”
He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh? Well you ruined the letters. I have half a mind to put you over my knee and spank you.”
She was the one frowning now. “You wouldn’t. I’m a grown woman, not a child.”
“A grown woman does not make such silly faces!”
“Oh, you are impossible.”
Martin was on her instantly, catching her wrist and tugging her around his desk. She squeaked as he bent her over his lap and gave her bottom a hard smack, which didn’t hurt in the slightest because of all her skirts and petticoats, but she didn’t want him to know that.
“How dare you!” He gave her another few smacks, though lighter than the first, despite her kicking protests. Her pride was bruised by the time he let her get up, but he didn’t let her leave He simply pulled her across his lap so that she sat on him, and his hands settled on her waist as she he gazed at her and then suddenly grinned and chuckled.
“Try and make that face again,” he dared her. There was a sensual light in his eyes. She clutched his shoulders then, her eyes dropping to his lips. His hands on her waist tightened as though in silent encouragement.
He wants me to kiss him, to make the first move.
She wanted that too. She had coaxed a grin from him, and he’d even laughed a little. Her skin warmed at the thought. His smile was purely male as she closed the distance between their faces. Livvy knew she had been pulled in by the raw power of her attraction to him, but she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her lips to his. Raw need met pure desire as it grew into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He coiled a hand in her hair at the base of her neck. The lust he drew forth in her would was timeless and potent. She feared he was ruining her for all other men.
But it didn’t matter. Well it did, but she knew it wouldn’t matter once he was done with her. No other man would take her except as a mistress. Her dreams of a marriage and children were gone. Sorrow gripped her heart, and she broke her lips from his. He stared at her, his eyes still glazed with lust.
“I…suddenly don’t feel all that well. I think I will return to my chambers after all.”
She slid off his lap and hastily retreated toward the door.
“Livvy? Livvy, wait, I’m sorry!” Martin rushed after her, but when he caught up to her at the door, sliding one arm around her waist, she put a steadying hand on his chest.
“Did I…? Was I too rough? I was only playing. I didn’t mean to—” He struggled for words, his face pale.
“It isn’t that,” she whispered, her face flushing. “I liked how playful you were, but…” He looked so concerned and inviting, but she had to keep her distance.
If I don’t, I’ll do something terribly foolish like fall in love with the man who bought me for a debt.
She would despise herself if she fell that low…and her heart would be shattered.
“What is it?” Martin cupped her chin, and the touch was so warm that she leaned into it a little. She couldn’t tell him the truth. He wouldn’t understand.
“Female troubles,” she said, hoping he would believe her. She placed her palm on her abdomen.
“Oh? Oh! Is there anything I can do?”
“No, I just need to lie down and rest.”
“I see. Very well, I’ll have your food sent up to you.” His fingertips dropped from her chin to her waist, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “I confess I don’t know much about…” He blushed again. “But please, if there is anything… A hot bath, perhaps? Something I may do to help?”
“I promise, I’m well. I need to rest… Alone.”
She thought it was possible that he looked wounded at her response.
“Of course. Do whatever you need to be comfortable.” He let go and stepped back. Livvy felt the distance between them, a chasm that made her heart ache. But she welcomed such pain, if it kept her heart safe.
“Rest well. If you feel well enough, we may try to attend the fair later this afternoon.”
She nodded and left his study. By the time she reached her chamber, she felt numb and cold inside. Mellie helped her into a comfortable dressing down so she could rest on the bed. A footman brought her food a short while later, but she barely ate. Mellie lingered by the armoire, hanging up her riding habit, her worried eyes drifting over to Livvy.
“Miss…are you all right?” she asked.
“I…” Livvy closed her eyes a moment and then met the maid’s gaze. “I’m afraid.”
Mellie the tilted her head slightly. “Afraid of what?”
“Of falling in love with him.” The maid closed the armoire and came over to perch on the edge of the bed.
“Why are you afraid of that?”
“Because…” She plucked the dark-blue fabric of the expensive dressing gown Martin had bought her. It was lovely, like everything in this house, like everything he’d bought for her.
“Because…?” Mellie prompted.
“He won’t care about me, not in the same way. I’m just a dalliance that he will turn out once he tires of me. I don’t want to love someone like that. Love is special. It has meaning. But what he feels for me will never be love.”
Mellie’s blue eyes glinted with amusement. “I think you might be wrong.”
“I’m not. You don’t know him, you don’t know how much he despises my father. That much hatred in his heart will erase any love he might ever have for me. I’m worried this is all temporary, that when he’s done with me he’ll turn cold and callous and—” She choked on the last word as she saw Martin standing in the doorway. From the look on his face, she could tell he’d heard every word.
“Martin—” She started to rise, but he turned and vanished from the doorway. She struggled to get off the bed, nearly tripping in her haste to wrap her dressing gown close, but she could not reach him in time. He slammed the door to his chambers, and she heard the lock bolt slide into place.
“Martin, please, let me explain,” she cried at the door. She heard no sound, no hint of breathing, no shuffle of boots. Simply silence, a sound so thick it threatened to smother her.
Two footmen lingered at the top of the stairs, watching her. She ducked her head and rushed back to her room, flinging herself onto her bed and burying her face in the pillows. Her heart was aching, and she could feel the sobs coming. Mellie patted her back gently before left and Livvy heard the door to her bedroom close.
Livvy blinked away the tears, feeling them soak the pillow. She hadn’t meant for him to hear what she said. She wasn’t even sure if she meant any of it. He hadn’t been cold or callous, excep
t that first night he brought her home. He’d been warm and comforting ever since.
If she’d hurt him, she would be the callous one. She knew that she didn’t have to feel guilty, but it didn’t change the fact that she did. He’d shown her kindness, and he hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t forced her to share his bed. He had let her be in control, and she’d repaid that with cruel words.
She stilled as she came to a realization. I want him. There’s no sense in fighting my own desires.
If she gave herself to him as she longed to do, love may possibly follow. She would have to take a chance. But how?
The Gentleman's Seduction
Lauren Smith
Chapter Nine
Martin waited a quarter of an hour before he slipped out of his bedroom and summoned his butler. Harris met him in the hallway, smiling.
“What are the plans for you and Miss Hartwell this evening? Raphael is most interested to try some new recipes.”
“I’m sorry, Harris, but you will have to tell Raphael I’ll be having my dinner out tonight. I’m going to stay at my club for dinner instead. I may not return this evening.”
Harris’s eyes widened. “Oh? And what of Miss Hartwell?”
“She shall remain here. You may serve her meals in her chamber. She is not to go out, nor to have anyone come to call. Is that understood?”
“Yes, yes of course, sir.” Harris waved a footman over to him. “Shall we have your coach brought round?”
“Yes. I’ll be in my study. Fetch me when it arrives.” He left the hall and entered his study, scowling at the sight of his desk. The ink spill had been cleaned, his letters fixed, and yet he could still feel Livvy in his arms as he kissed her, could still see the impish grin on her face as she teased him. She’d been fiery and warm and adorable, but something had changed.
She called me cold and callous.
The words still clung to him like sharp briars, prickling him sharply. He hadn’t thought he’d been harsh, at least not today or the day before. How was he to know? He left his heart buried so deep that it was entirely possible she was mistaking his need to be distant as being cold and cruel.
Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose Page 63