A Gentleman Never Surrenders

by Lauren Smith

  During their time together in the last three weeks leading up to the wedding, he had spoken of his home fondly, the soft smile on his full lips lighting up his eyes. She’d felt melancholy to think she would leave Pepperwirth Vale because she felt the same way about her own home as he did his. But she had to go with him now; as his wife, she could not stay here with her parents and hide away any longer. New fears had replaced her old ones. What was to come? Would he abandon her at the estate and return to London to conduct affairs with mistresses?

  Milly flinched, trying not to think of that. First, she had to survive her wedding night. Owen had mentioned the day before they would take a coach to an inn halfway to his estate. Milly knew she couldn’t protest any of his plans, but a tiny part of her was frightened at leaving Pepperwirth Vale permanently. It was one thing to travel and come back, but Pepperwirth Vale would no longer be her home after tonight. Perhaps it was usual for some women to be fine with abandoning their homes when they married, but she was a woman who grew roots where she lived and felt connected to the place where she made a life for herself. Wesden Heath would have to be her new home and she would have to learn to grow comfortable there.

  “Milly, what’s the matter?” Owen had stopped them in front of their coach, which would take them back to her parents’ home for them to dine and change.

  “Hmm?” she replied, glancing about at the wedding attendees who were filing out of their church after them, laughing and smiling. A few already threw rice at them.

  “You have a viselike grip on my arm,” Owen said, looking more than a little concerned, given the way his brows drew together.

  Forcing herself to unfist her fingers, she dropped her hand from his arm and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Milly. No need to apologize.” He helped Ivy and Rowena gather her skirts and then caught her by the waist and lifted her into the carriage.

  When they were both seated, alone except for the driver in the front, she turned to Owen.

  “You can stop that, you know.” She set her bouquet on the seat across from them and glowered. Between the kiss he’d given her on the night they were discovered and the gentle, caring façade he was showing now, she wanted to scream. No woman liked knowing a man was placating her. If she was to be trapped, he shouldn’t condescend to treat her like a skittish horse.

  “Stop what?” Owen tugged on the edges of his gloves and curled his fingers to better the fit of the gloves.

  “Treating me so nicely. You don’t have to pretend. Our situation is bad enough. We ought not to add lies or false behavior to this farce.”

  The horrid man laughed. “You have a sharp tongue, wife. I had hoped marriage would tame that shrewish temper.” He leaned back in the open carriage, striking a pose of a man so at ease that Milly snapped.

  “You cad!” She retrieved her bouquet from the opposite seat and leaned over to smack him in the chest with the flowers. Petals exploded in a floral burst and the light breeze from the carriage’s forward movement caught the petals and scattered them all over the interior of the coach and on their clothes. The people standing on the church steps burst into laughter at the sight of the wind and the flowers dancing around them.

  “What the devil?” Owen bolted upright, trying to brush the flowers off his lap, and he fixed Milly with a narrowed gaze. “I’m not opposed to putting you over my knee!” The sharpness of his eyes lit with a heat that startled her. The threat seemed more sensual, as though he didn’t plan to harm her. For some reason that infuriated her all the more.

  “Put me over your knee?” Her voice was shrill, even to her own ears. “How like a man! And you wondered why I never wanted to marry?” She slapped a palm to his chest, attempting to shove him away, but he curled an arm around her waist and dragged her across his lap. She was still sputtering in outrage when he slanted his mouth over hers. This was no sweet, lingering brush of lips like that night in her room. It was hot, wet, delicious, and wicked. Her lower belly quivered and her hands flattened on his chest before curling into fists as she relaxed. It was impossible not to enjoy this.

  His hand cupped her cheek and he whispered against her lips, “Open your mouth.”

  “Open my—” Her confusion was replaced with shock when he took advantage of her parted lips and slid his tongue inside. The odd sensation, the eroticism of it, was too much. Milly squirmed as part of her lower body throbbed to life, almost hurting with an intense ache. How could Owen of all men affect her like this? She didn’t like him.

  What’s wrong with me? Was a woman supposed to feel such things for a man? She’d heard the occasional rumor, but that’s what she believed it was. Rumor and nothing more…but this…this was not fantasy. This was hard, sharp, wonderfully confusing, pleasurable reality.

  “There now.” Owen stroked a fingertip across her bottom lip. “Feeling less shrewish?” The devilish glint in his eye said he was teasing, but it still upset her. She didn’t want a man to call her a shrew, especially not her husband. It hurt. She wasn’t shrewish; she just hated being forced to marry a man she was quite certain would never see her as more than a bank account.

  “You used my body against me!” she accused, fully aware she was still in his lap, clinging to his coat like a startled kitten, but she couldn’t seem to let go of him.

  “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ll wager that if you stopped fighting yourself, you might be happier with our situation.”

  “Happy being married to you? Not until pigs have wings!” She finally had the good sense to scramble off his lap, and he let her. A tiny part of her, just a sliver, was disappointed he didn’t fight to keep her close.

  I should be grateful, not disappointed. But there was no denying the presence of that traitorous emotion. She buried it deep inside her and focused on the light meal they would have at her home and the long travel ahead with her husband.

  What am I going to do? Alone with him for the rest of my life…He will never want me, never see me as an equal in our marriage. He wasn’t like her papa and wouldn’t value her the way her father did her mother. She’d be alone, just as she’d vowed she’d always wanted, even if it felt like such an awful lie. Why did it now seem such an unbearable fate?

  * * *

  Owen took a strange pleasure in lifting Milly down from the carriage. Her cheeks were still a pretty pink, like alabaster touched with rose. He had enjoyed silencing her with a kiss and relished her startled response. And she had responded, quite well. His shrewish wife had a soft, sensual side that, he had to admit, fascinated him.

  The previous evening he had listened to her converse with the other guests during a dinner party prior to the wedding day and found she had a sharp mind. There was more to her than he’d expected. Most daughters of the peerage went away for school and came back educated, but they often reminded him of the parrots he’d seen while fighting in the war in Africa. They could repeat fancy phrases that had been told to them but had no original thoughts.

  That wasn’t the case with Milly. She had opinions, well-formed ones, and he rather liked knowing that his wife wouldn’t be some foolish creature obsessed with gossip and the latest Parisian fashions. Not that Milly didn’t look exceedingly fine and had excellent taste in clothes. He’d be the first to admit she was stunning. When she’d entered the church that morning, he’d forgotten to breathe, and only when she’d gotten closer to him, he’d realized his lungs were burning and he’d sucked in a breath. He wanted to laugh at himself, and at this entire situation. He’d ended up with the most beautiful wife a man could hope for, one with a quick wit and intelligence and lips made for kissing, and yet she despised him. That bothered him more than it should have; even though he was seeking a bride for monetary gain, he had hoped whoever he ended up marrying would in fact enjoy being with him, both in bed and out.

  Owen glanced at her as their carriage rolled up in front of Pepperwirth Vale. Her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss, even though it had been a quart
er of an hour since they’d left the church. Yes, she despised him, but when they’d been locked in that embrace, he’d tasted her passion, her longing, her desire. The question was, could he turn that into something more?

  I bloody well hope so…

  When he set her down on the gravel drive just a few feet from the door, a row of servants watched them placidly as they waited to assist. Two upstairs maids rushed over to catch the expensive silk train of the gown and carry it inside behind Milly as she walked.

  She looked brilliant, parading regally through the door of her ancestral home, her chin in the air. Her beautiful chestnut hair was caught in a loose coiling of curls and knots, with diamond star hairpins holding the folded veil in place. When she paused at the bottom stair of the main staircase, one elegant gloved hand on the rail, her figure with perfect curves, meant for a man’s hands, was presented in a queenly pose. Again, Owen had to remind himself to breathe. She was a picture of radiance and she was his.

  “I’m sure, Mr. Aslet, our butler, has a room prepared for you to change into your traveling clothes.”

  “Er…yes, thank you,” he mumbled, still a little distracted as he watched his bride ascend the stairs. The way the light slanted in from the windows on either side made her dress and the large bow above her delectable bottom seem to glow with a heavily light, which only tempted him more.

  “Mr. Hadley, I’ll show you to your room, if you’re ready.” Mr. Aslet was a tall, thin man, his body all sharp angles and precision.

  Owen nodded and followed Aslet up the stairs and down a hall in the opposite direction Milly had gone.

  His travel trunk was sitting on the bed, the items for his upcoming journey laid out. Trousers, a coat, and boots. He’d sent his valet Evans and Milly’s maid, Constance, ahead to Wesden Heath, where he and Milly would meet with the servants on the morrow. Milly had assured him that she could make do one night without a maid. Owen doubted that, but he thought it would be amusing to see her try. He stripped out of his morning clothes and tucked them into his trunk and then dressed in his travel clothes before he came back down the stairs. Two footmen were bringing trays into the dining room. He started toward the room, but before he could reach it, Rowena and Milly’s parents came in through the entrance.

  “Ahh, Mr. Hadley, if you don’t mind, could we have a word in my study?” Lord Pepperwirth waved a hand to show the way.

  “Of course.” He followed Milly’s father, reluctant to know what the man had to say. Lord Pepperwirth had done a fine job raking him over the coals the morning following his discovery in Milly’s bedchamber. But after the harsh dressing down for his behavior, the man had seemed a little amused that he’d finally arranged a match for Milly.

  When they entered Lord Pepperwirth’s study, he beckoned for Owen to sit in one of the plush leather chairs facing the large Chippendale desk. Lord Pepperwirth sat down and stroked one hand over his dark beard that was streaked with silver.

  “Milly is…difficult sometimes,” he began.

  Owen held his breath for a second, wondering where this conversation was going to lead.

  “But she’s incredibly bright, like her mother. She’s the sort of woman that if given half the chance, can be an asset to a man’s life, not a hindrance.” His blue eyes, so much like his two daughters’, pinned Owen to his chair.

  “I consented to this ludicrous wedding because my wife insisted it was the only way to save Milly’s reputation. I know it may be in a man’s interest to have a mistress, but any man who marries my daughter will not. Do you understand? She deserves happiness. If you wish to have an amicable relationship with me and anyone of my acquaintance, you will see that she is happy.” Lord Pepperwirth waited for a reply, his arms folded across his chest.

  Owen chose his words carefully. “She may not be who I would have chosen, but I will honor our vows and do everything in my power to make her happy.” He had no plans of straying from his marriage bed and he wanted to make damned sure she didn’t either by convincing her that being his wife and his lover would be intensely enjoyable. He valued the sanctity of marriage, even if he was a scoundrel in the eyes of polite society.

  He meant it. If a marriage was to work, they both needed to be happy. And the challenge of seducing a fiery, temperamental woman who had a secret sensual side was fascinating.

  “Good. Now”—Lord Pepperwirth stood and Owen rose as well—“Milly will have access to her dowry, as will you. I suggest you let her have charge of her finances as she needs them. My daughter spends wisely, and I desire her to have her freedom monetarily speaking, if she needs it.”

  Owen nodded. “That is fine, so long as she is amenable to helping me use a portion of it to help my estate.”

  Lord Pepperwirth walked halfway around his desk and then paused. “That’s why you needed to marry, eh? My wife suspected money was a motive, but she guessed you had some vices to contend with. I don’t approve if that’s the course, but a man’s land…that’s another matter entirely.”

  There was no reason he had to tell Milly’s father anything, but the man was owed a little bit of an explanation.

  “Wesden Heath has been in my family for two hundred years. After my father passed while I was in South Africa for the war, it fell to my mother, and she couldn’t keep up with it, not with her weak heart. She died a month before I came home. I want it to be a livable place again, a home for both Milly and me.” Owen tugged at his jacket’s sleeves, trying to look preoccupied should Pepperwirth have a negative response, but he didn’t.

  “Sounds like an honorable purpose, Mr. Hadley. Milly might be more useful to you than you know.”

  Such a vague promise from the older man! Owen raised his brows, hoping Pepperwirth would expand on his comment, but he was disappointed.

  “Well, it’s time we join the others. I’m famished after that ceremony.”

  Owen followed Milly’s father out of the study and back into the dining room, where the ladies and a few close friends and family had gathered. Ivy and Leo separated themselves from the other guests and came over.

  “Congratulations, Hadley.” Leo’s twinkling eyes held far too much delight at his expense for Owen to be happy.

  “Yes, yes, have a good laugh,” he muttered.

  When Ivy shot a confused look between the two of them, Leo chuckled.

  “Owen has never liked Mildred, and the same goes for her with him. Like a pair of tomcats in a sackcloth, hissing and biting.” Leo’s open mirth soured Owen’s mood.

  “You know full well I had other intentions.”

  At this Ivy scowled. “Yes, Leo mentioned that to me. Mr. Hadley, take my advice. Your taste for scandal has forced you to pay a high price. I suggest you take that lesson to heart.” Her slightly almond-shaped eyes, so warm and dark with their Gypsy look, had once enchanted him. But they didn’t any longer. Now when he pictured eyes, all he saw was blue flashing with fire and rebelliousness.

  “Milly is sweeter than you realize, Mr. Hadley,” Ivy continued, leaning into him as though not wishing to be overheard.

  “Oh? That would surprise me.” His reply was a little too sardonic because Leo harrumphed in disapproval. “What?” he challenged. “You aren’t married to the woman. We’re likely to kill each other before we even get to our honeymoon.” While he was curious about Milly’s behavior as a seductive challenge, he was not entirely ready to deal with the woman as a wife.

  “She’s very independent, Mr. Hadley. Don’t cage her or she’ll snap at you.”

  Cage her? That sounded like an impossible task. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and frowned.

  “I have no intention of doing such a thing. She’ll be perfectly free to do as she likes so long as it does not interfere with my affairs.”

  Leo rolled his eyes. “How romantic of you, Hadley. Come, Ivy dear, let’s eat some cake.” Leo steered her away as her face flushed and her lips parted as though she had something more to say. She’d likely have lectured him further
if not for Leo’s timely intervention.

  Owen attempted to make small talk with the guests, but the niggling sense that he was somehow an outsider made him feel on edge. He wanted to fit into this world, the close community of the Hamptons and the Pepperwirths. Yet not a single person at the wedding aside from Leo had been here as his guest. Since his parents had died, he’d felt more alone than ever. Sure, he had a few distant cousins on the Hadley side, but none so close he could have invited to the wedding. It did not help matters that Milly seemed to be purposely avoiding him.

  She’d come down after she’d changed, wearing a white blouse tucked into a sensible tweed skirt. The back and front panels of her skirt had buttons and trimmed braid along the hem. It displayed her small waist and the flare of her womanly hips in an elegant and all too pleasing style. Milly hadn’t dressed to look risqué, yet he couldn’t help but entertain delightfully wicked thoughts about getting his hands under her skirt. Even if she was flashing those blue eyes at him in anger, he’d do his best to tempt her to passion.

  With a silent curse, Owen had to admit the woman was twisting him in confusing knots. He thought he didn’t like her, but she kept making him change his mind—even when she seemed determined to frustrate him. One moment he wanted to drag her to bed. The next he wanted to go straight back to Brooks in London and avoid her until they learned to live together amicably. Was that even possible with Milly? He chuckled softly, drawing several confused looks from guests nearby. He cleared his throat and focused on the breakfast. All he wanted to do was get this over with and leave so he could sort out how he felt about his wife in private.

  He’d secured a room at the White Rose Inn for a night’s stay and it was going to be difficult enough getting Milly not to throw a fuss. But he was going to insist they share a room and a bed as man and wife, even if they did not consummate their marriage. At this rate that would likely take years. Not that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to convince her that sharing a bed with him would be pleasurable. But no doubt in his first attempt to woo her, she’d want to strangle him. He knew she didn’t want this marriage and she had quite a temper when she was riled.