“Are you enjoying your evening?” Tessa asked as they minced around the perimeter of the drawing room.
“Enormously,” Elizabeth said. “The duke is witty and handsome. I declare, my heart fluttered the entire time he spoke to me.” She glanced at Tessa. “I am so glad you included me in the courtship.”
Tessa wished she’d known the girl’s hateful character beforehand. “Is it not difficult competing with so many girls?”
“Not at all. All the girls are so sweet. We are all the best of friends now.”
Tessa lifted her brows. “You are friends with all of them?”
“Of course I like some girls above the others, but even if I disliked someone, I would never speak of it.”
Tessa decided to make her squirm. “You look particularly lovely in that shade of green. And the gown is a perfect fit.”
“I do wish the maids had found a better one for you. You are such a dear,” Elizabeth said, her voice dripping with insincere sympathy.
Tessa wondered what the lying witch would say if she told her what she’d overheard, but she had a better plan and led Elizabeth over to an alcove featuring a statue of Diana. “It was particularly kind of you to ask Henrietta to sing this evening.”
“Her voice is not the best, but she does enjoy singing,” Elizabeth said.
“So you asked her to sing out of kindness?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know Henrietta cannot carry a tune,” Tessa said. “Yet you encouraged her to sing in front of everyone.”
She pouted. “Oh, I understand why you would think it cruel of me. You have not attended any of the musicals in my circle, so you would not know everyone indulges Henrietta. It would be unkind to tell her the truth when she is so proud of her accomplishment.”
Elizabeth’s patronizing words irritated Tessa. “Perhaps I have misjudged you. Then again, I was surprised by your behavior when Georgette grew ill on the barge.”
“Oh, that.” She laughed nervously. “I felt a bit sick myself when she became violently ill. I did not know the others would laugh.”
Tessa thought Elizabeth’s excuse for ridiculing Georgette sorry indeed.
Elizabeth sighed. “I confess I was not sympathetic to her plight. Nor were the other girls, but if you knew the way she treats us, you would understand.”
“I’ve yet to see her belittle anyone,” Tessa said.
“Do not let her fool you. In front of the duke and his mother, Georgette pretends to be sweet, but she will not condescend to speak to any of us.” Elizabeth’s mouth thinned. “She thinks she’s above all of us. No one likes her.”
“So you admit you spoke to the other girls about her,” Tessa said.
“The other girls came to me and professed their dislike of Georgette,” Elizabeth said. “I could not encourage them to pursue a closer acquaintance with her.”
Tessa regarded her with an icy stare. “I understand now how you gained your popularity.”
Elizabeth withdrew her arm. “I beg your pardon?”
“The ploy worked well for you. You shredded one girl’s character, knowing the others would agree because they fear becoming your next victim.”
“I cannot believe you would think me capable of such a scheme.” Elizabeth averted her face and wiped her fingers under her dry eyes.
Tessa huffed. “Your tactics may have worked on your friends, but I am far more worldly than they are and recognize cruelty when I see it. You would do well to remember the duke relies on my opinion.”
When Elizabeth faced her again, her green cat’s eyes held a cold, flat expression. “You have no proof.”
Tessa walked away, digging her nails into her palms. She did have proof, but she would not give Elizabeth the satisfaction of admitting she’d overheard her insults. Soon, however, a new realization brought a triumphant smile to her lips. Shelbourne had spent a great deal of time with Elizabeth this evening. He was a shrewd man and must have noticed her malicious tendencies. Perhaps he meant to discuss eliminating her when Tessa met him in the library. She couldn’t wait to see the shock on Elizabeth’s face when he cut her from the competition.
When Shelbourne shut the library door, the draft doused Tessa’s candle. The only light in the room came from a single flickering taper upon the mantel.
He took her candle. “I trust you met with no one,” he said in an undertone.
The rumble of his low voice sounded seductive in the dimly lit room. She wet her dry lips. “I waited until everyone else retired.”
Thunder boomed, startling a squeak out of her.
“Shhh,” he murmured. “Take my arm.”
As she wrapped her hand round his sleeve, her breath caught at the feel of his hard muscles beneath the woolen cloth. She was much too aware of the warmth emanating from his body. Her heart thudded, but she told herself it was only because of the gloomy room and the storm outside.
He led her to a small sofa. Then he walked to the hearth and used the taper to light her candle. When he returned, he set the candle on a nearby side table. “I didn’t light the fire to avoid attracting the attention of a curious servant,” he said quietly.
She shook off her silly misgivings until he sat beside her. Only a foot of cushion separated their bodies. She breathed in the faint scent of sandalwood, a fragrance that clouded her head.
He shifted his long legs, turning toward her. Then he rested his arm along the back of the sofa, his hand only a few inches from her shoulder. His casual pose and the flickering candlelight lent a forbidden intimacy to this secret meeting. She wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming here, but they needed to talk about the girls.
“I worried when all of you were late today,” he murmured.
“I saw your concern when we arrived,” she whispered.
“I told you not to interfere with the girls’ plans. It never occurred to me they would take a barge here.”
She knew he blamed himself. “If there had been any danger, your mother and I would have made alternative plans.”
The flickering candlelight cast shadows over his face. “The girls’ families entrusted me with the welfare of their daughters. If harm had come to any of you, I would bear the responsibility. As it is, they cannot return home tonight.”
She leaned forward. “We arrived safe, and that is all that matters.”
“Lady Georgette is ill. If she develops a fever, I will never forgive myself.”
Tessa had to reassure him. “It is merely motion sickness, and I suspect a bit of wounded pride.”
Outside, driving rain pelted the windows. He looked in that direction and then turned his attention back to her. “Every day I must make decisions, some that affect hundreds of lives. It is not a duty I take lightly.”
“I know something about responsibility,” she said. “More than once, I’ve made mistakes managing servants. No one is perfect. All any of us can do is make the best decisions we can and learn from our mistakes.”
Tristan took the edge of her silk shawl between his fingers. He swirled the cloth round and round as if he took sensual enjoyment in the silky feeling. Her skin heated as she imagined his fingers sliding over her flesh.
“My mother confronted me about the barge after you left the drawing room,” he said, his voice rumbling. “You took all the blame.”
“I made a promise to you, and I will not break it.”
“You are loyal,” he whispered.
“To those I believe in.” Je crois en toi.
He let go of the shawl. “I thought you had more than a few doubts about me.”
“And you had none about me?”
He chuckled. “Touché.”
In the dark library, the deep notes of his voice made her think of a couple whispering in bed. Desire pooled low in her belly. Once again, she questioned the wisdom of meeting him. She was alone in the dark with an unrepentant rake. But such a simplistic description did not do justice to this complex man. In a few short weeks, she’d learn
ed much about him. He was stubborn sometimes, but had proven himself fair in his dealings with the girls. He liked to shock her with risqué innuendo, but he’d worried about risking her reputation. He resisted all of her romantic suggestions, but he’d spoken of her career respectfully.
These paradoxical qualities should have made him an enigma to her, and yet, she somehow instinctively understood him. Perhaps it was a result of the growing familiarity that had sprung up so quickly between them. They’d spent a great deal of time alone, unfettered by the social strictures that ordinarily governed meetings between a man and a woman. She felt as if they had created their own little world and forged new rules of engagement.
“I saw you speaking to Lady Elizabeth earlier,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “What were you discussing?”
She wanted to hear his opinion first. “What did you think of Elizabeth and her friend Henrietta?”
“They were amusing.”
“You found them agreeable?”
“You’d better keep your voice down,” he murmured. “Elizabeth and Henrietta talked to me. The other girls said very little.”
“They monopolized you.” The knowledge that he liked them made her bitter. She’d been certain he would see through those two cruel girls.
“The others had plenty of opportunity,” he said, “but you obviously disapprove of Elizabeth and Henrietta. Why?”
“Did you not think it strange when Elizabeth asked Henrietta to sing?”
He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
“Elizabeth knew Henrietta cannot sing. Yet she asked her to do so.”
“Are you suggesting Elizabeth meant to embarrass her?”
“It is a possibility.”
“I doubt it. They are friends.”
Tessa huffed. How could he miss what seemed so obvious to her? Did he not realize that Elizabeth had manipulated her own friend? “I must caution you about those two girls. I have reason to believe them capable of mischief.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked.
“The particulars are not important.”
He leaned closer to her. “If they have done something wrong, it is important.”
“I overheard them gossiping. They were unkind.”
“What exactly did they say?”
She had backed herself into a corner, but she had too much pride to tell him they had mocked her. “I prefer not to reveal specific details, but their comments were cruel.”
“Speaking of Miss Hardwick—”
“I did not say they were speaking of Miss Hardwick.”
“You didn’t have to.” When Tessa started to protest, he held up his hand. “Where was Amy Hardwick tonight?”
“She chose to stay and look after Lady Georgette.”
“A pity Lady Georgette is still unwell,” he said. “I would have liked to further our acquaintance.”
Tessa inhaled. “And what of Amy?”
“It is time to let her go,” he said. “Her actions tonight proved she would prefer not to participate.”
“You are punishing her because she cared enough to help Georgette. That’s unfair.” How could he eliminate sweet Amy and keep Georgette, who had done nothing to deserve his favor?
“I know you feel sorry for Amy, but she could have joined us for part of the evening,” he said. “My guess is she was relieved to find an excuse to stay away. She’s been reluctant from the beginning.”
“If Lady Georgette had chosen to stay behind, you wouldn’t even consider cutting her from the competition,” she hissed.
“What are you insinuating?”
“You’re eliminating Amy because she lacks Georgette’s beauty.”
“If beauty was all that mattered to me, I could have picked the belle of the season and been done with it. And you will recall, I never mentioned beauty as a requirement.”
She lifted her brows. “So beauty doesn’t matter to you?”
“A trick question,” he said. “If I say no, you won’t believe me. If I say yes, you will call me on the carpet for being shallow.”
“Then be honest. Which is it?”
He stood and walked a few paces away, his back to her.
“Tell me,” she said, rising.
He whirled around. “Don’t.”
She took a step toward him, ignoring his warning. “Tell me.”
“Leave it be,” he said as if gritting his teeth.
Tessa stood her ground. “I am not leaving this room until you do.”
“I want to be physically attracted to my wife.” He made an exasperated sound. “There, you forced me to say it.”
She averted her gaze to the cold ashes in the grate. “So you proved my point. You are rejecting Amy because she isn’t pretty.”
The rapid thud of his footsteps jolted her. She gasped when he took her by the shoulders. “You do not understand,” he said.
“Then explain.”
He towered over her. The feeble light from the candles illuminated his harsh expression. “I want to want my wife.”
Tessa swallowed hard.
“Do you understand?” he said.
She couldn’t breathe, much less answer him.
“I want to want her so much I can’t stop thinking about her.”
She remembered his words. I want an angel in the ballroom, and a temptress in private.
His lashes lowered, thick and dark as the night. “I want to be on fire for her.”
She was melting under the force of his heat.
He closed the scant distance between them. His face was but a dangerous shadow. She was aware of the drumming rain and his harsh breathing. As he drew her closer, a dim warning flashed in her brain, but his male scent lured her into a forbidden, reckless place.
Her eyes drifted closed seconds before his lips claimed hers. She braced her hands on his chest. Beneath the silk waistcoat, his heart pounded. At her touch, he grew bolder, painting her mouth with broad strokes.
Stop him now. This was wrong. So very, very wrong. Though her brain told her to walk away, a lonely place deep inside cried out for more.
Her knees wobbled. Needing support, she reached for his shoulders. Her shawl slipped to the floor. He wrapped her tighter in his arms, the heat of his body scorching her. Unable to resist, she caressed the tendrils of cropped hair brushing his collar. Damn the consequences, she thought. She’d already fallen and wanted to memorize the feel of his silky hair, his sensuous lips, and his strong arms. Because his kiss would be her last.
He parted his lips, kissing her open-mouthed, again and again, until she obeyed his command. A moan escaped her at the sweep of his tongue. He tasted of brandy and sin.
He pulled her up to her toes, arching her spine. His hands slid down to her bottom, urging her closer, closer. He flexed his hips and her belly met with unmistakable male hardness. His tongue thrust inside her mouth, retreated, and thrust again. Over and over. The wild rhythm unleashed a burning flood inside her. She strained against him, wanting, yearning to be closer, and he rocked against her.
Just a little longer, she promised herself. A little longer to feel desirable. A little longer to feel passion. A little longer to hold the world at bay.
His lips left hers, and she nearly cried out in protest, but he kissed a path to her neck. When he found the pulse point, he nipped her with his teeth. She stilled beneath his possession, a primitive acquiescence. He touched her with his tongue, and she could no longer think. All she could do was beg for more. Unable to help herself, she pressed her breasts against him, a silent plea.
As his hand swept round her hip and up the curve of her waist, she held her breath in anticipation. He cupped her breast, his long fingers splaying and teasing. His thumb circled her nipple through the cloth, and she gasped. He covered her mouth, his tongue caressing as his hand delved inside her bodice. When he touched her naked flesh, she gave herself up to the exquisite pleasure.
She was lost to everything but her need for his to
uch. He teased her nipple, making her ache. A wild craving built deep inside where she’d grown slick with need. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate to fill the void. Against her belly, the rigid, long length of him strained against her. She wanted to touch him there. Most of all, she wanted to sink to the floor and take him down with her.
He broke the kiss and jerked his head up. Outside the library, the clip of footsteps echoed on the marble floor and stopped outside the door. In a daze, Tessa stood there, her mind slow to interpret the impending threat. He grasped her shawl from the carpet, wrapped it round her shoulders, and stepped away.
Fear clawed at her belly. Her breath came in short gasps. Go away, go away, go away.
The door handle turned.
Chapter Seven
Tristan’s heart pounded as the library door opened. Fear of discovery made his mouth dry. Unfortunately, the lust coursing through his veins was slow to dissipate. His skintight trousers felt ready to burst. He gritted his teeth, thankful the dark interior hid his predicament.
Relief filled him at the sight of Hawk. The flickering light of Hawk’s candle illuminated his stunned expression. “I beg your pardon,” he said.
“We were discussing the courtship,” Tristan said, his gaze flitting to Miss Mansfield. In the dim light, he couldn’t make out her expression.
“I’ll not interrupt,” Hawk said, starting to close the door.
“Stay,” Miss Mansfield said. “I was on the verge of leaving.” She plucked her candle off the table and headed for the door.
Tristan wanted to stop her. They needed to discuss what had transpired between them, but he could say nothing with Hawk present. And God knew he had no idea what he would say.
After the door clicked shut, Tristan walked over to the hearth and gripped the cold marble mantel. Idiot. What had possessed him? He’d never touched a virtuous lady before.
Damn his sorry hide.
Hearing the clink of glasses, Tristan glanced at the sideboard. Hawk poured two brandies and brought one to him.
Tristan gulped the brandy. The fiery liquor made his eyes water. “The devil, what have I done?”
Hawk sauntered over to a chair and stretched out his legs. “Don’t feel obligated to confess on my account.”
How to Marry a Duke Page 9