“Why didn’t you return to America?” he asked.
She hated the inquisition. He should be talking with Gina, not her. Yet she felt compelled to respond. “Gina adores England. I couldn’t very well leave her here alone.”
But she would leave . . . once Gina was married. Her sister didn’t understand how much she despised it here, how difficult it was to live with the constant shunning and isolation. Another reason she needed to ensure the man who married Gina would be protective of her sister. Even as she had that thought, she couldn’t imagine Rexton not safeguarding what he viewed as his. Perhaps he would make an excellent choice for Gina, after all.
“When I marry a man of position,” Gina said, “everyone will have to welcome you back into Society, Tillie. Then we can attend balls together.”
Reassuringly she patted her sister’s hand. “I’m sure you’re quite right.”
But she saw the truth reflected in Rexton’s blue eyes. Society would never welcome her back. She had moved into their circles only to bring mortification to one of their own. The divorce was bad enough but an affair with a footman . . .
Although, if she hadn’t been seen kissing a footman, she wouldn’t be divorced. Landsdowne had viewed her as property and the law had given him the right to do so. Her father had been too ill to help her get out of the unconscionable situation in which she’d found herself. Miserable didn’t begin to describe it. So she’d taken care of the matter herself.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been one for keeping up with Society gossip. How long were you married?” he asked.
She gave him a pointed look. “I’m the chaperone. You really should be directing your questions toward the lady you’re courting.”
That wicked grin again, the one that said he knew what she was about, striving to deflect his attention away from her. “How long was your sister married?” he asked Gina.
Gina opened her mouth—
“That’s not what I meant,” Tillie responded quickly, with acerbity, not bothering to hide her irritation. “You should be asking Gina questions about herself. Or perhaps you’re not truly interested in her, but in her money. In spite of what you say about not needing it.”
He angled his head down slightly in acquiescence although she couldn’t see this man bowing down before anyone. Even if he gave the appearance of giving in, she suspected he’d be working out how to get even, how to regain the upper hand. “You’re quite right. Miss Hammersley—”
“Please, you must call me Gina. I hate formality.”
“It can be rather tedious,” he admitted.
“But necessary,” Tillie said insistently. “Gina, you do not give a gentleman leave to call you by your Christian name until you have an understanding between you.”
“The understanding is that he need not be so formal.”
“It sends an improper message.”
“And you would know all about improper messages, would you not, my lady?” Rexton asked pointedly.
“I would take care, Lord Rexton, if you wish to impress upon me your favorable merits when it comes to courting Gina.”
He studied her for three full heartbeats during which time she suspected he was striving to determine if what he gained by pushing her was worth the price he would pay for doing so. Finally, he turned away from her. “So, Miss Hammersley, tell me what you value in a husband.”
She’d won. She wondered why she took so little satisfaction in it.
“Someone who is kind, generous. Someone who makes me happy.”
“What makes you happy?”
It was a good question, one Landsdowne had never asked Tillie. Although if he had, she doubted she would have said, “A man who is faithful.” She’d thought it a given. She’d thought a lot of things a given. Devotion, attending affairs together, carrying on conversations during meals, always living in the same residence—not only during the Season when they were in London but throughout the year.
Gina gave a joyful sigh. “Pretty frocks. A generous allowance. Chocolates.”
Tillie wanted to shake her sister. None of those things created happiness. Oh, they might lighten her mood for a few minutes but they didn’t leave one happy for long. Chocolates disappeared, allowance dwindled, and frocks faded. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Rexton gave very little reaction, but he seemed equally unimpressed by her sister’s musings.
“Surely you require more than that,” he said flatly, without judgment or censure.
“I’m relatively easy to please.”
“A woman shouldn’t be.”
His words surprised Tillie. Did he truly believe that? Did he not want a biddable female? What was the game he played? She gave up trying to appear as though she wasn’t looking at him and stared at him directly. “Why would you seek to make your courtship more difficult?” she blurted, truly curious.
He shifted his attention to her. “Not more difficult. More challenging. There is a difference.”
“She’s offering an easy road. Why not take it?”
“Because it would bring me no pleasure.”
That was when she knew the Marquess of Rexton was a man who liked to win, who thrived on competition. And who sought pleasure in all aspects of his life. Pleasure, and danger, and gratification. If he hadn’t been born into the aristocracy, if he hadn’t been born into wealth, influence, and privilege, if he’d been born into a hardscrabble life in America, he’d have been the sort to forge an empire, to carry others on his back, to stand his ground, to never back down. She was not at all pleased at the way that knowledge made it difficult for her to draw in breath, made her consider how fortunate any woman would be to stand beside him.
“What should I require, my lord?” Gina asked, obviously oblivious to all the messages the man across from her was sending, to the turmoil wreaking havoc within Tillie.
“Love.”
He said it so simply as though it was easily given, easily received.
“Most men avoid love like the plague,” Tillie felt obligated to point out, hating the resentment lacing through her voice. Liking even less his slow perusal, as though he could see the tiny fissures where her heart had cracked day after day, night after night until she’d feared it would shatter into nothing. If he asked her about Landsdowne, about their marriage, about her relationship with him, she was going to leap from the carriage and march home. Why had she even intruded on the conversation? Her role was one of silence and observation.
“Few men have grown up around the exemplary example I did,” he said quietly.
The breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding eased out of her when he didn’t take the conversation in the direction she’d been dreading.
“Do your parents love each other?” Gina asked.
“Immensely. They taught me to never take it for granted, that if you are fortunate to possess it, you nurture it. I daresay, my father goes to sleep each night pondering what he can do upon awakening to ensure my mother is grateful he shares her life.”
“Does your mother do the same?”
“Love comes more easily to women, I think. It’s more natural. Men have to work a bit harder at it, especially as we’re not very demonstrative as a whole. So if you can snag a man’s heart, Miss Hammersley, the frocks, chocolates, and allowance will surely follow. You need not insist upon them.”
“Have you any advice for snagging a man’s heart?” Gina asked.
“Be yourself.”
“But beware, sweeting,” Tillie added. “For men seldom are.”
“You haven’t a very favorable opinion of our gender,” Rexton said, his smile rueful.
“Prove me wrong, my lord.”
“I may just do that, Lady Landsdowne.”
She did wish she’d kept her mouth shut as she’d never before had the sense she’d just issued an irrefutable challenge which he had accepted with a challenge of his own—and if she wasn’t careful, she could find herself losing not only her pride but discovering her
heart, too, had been part of the wager.
He had to quit engaging Lady Landsdowne, but he found her so much more fetching than her sister. She wasn’t timid or shy, and she didn’t retreat. But her eyes never sparkled and her lips never curved up into a genuine smile of joy; he had an irrational need to see both. Had she been as without guile as her sister when she’d married Downie?
As they entered the park, he became aware of her slight stiffening as though she were bracing herself for a blow to her midsection. Surely she hadn’t avoided the park since her scandal. While Miss Hammersley fairly sat on the edge of her seat, glancing around eagerly, striving to determine who might be in the vicinity, Lady Landsdowne seemed to take great interest in the knot of his neck cloth.
He wanted her at ease again, wanted her comfortable enough to challenge him. Which was ridiculous. She was not the one to whom he should direct his interest. If he wasn’t careful, she was going to advise her sister to cast him aside immediately. That would prove disastrous for Miss Hammersley. If the bachelors thought Rexton would dismiss the girl so easily after only one outing they weren’t likely to give her much credence as a possible wife. He needed someone to take interest in her so he could pack up his courting manners.
He forced himself to focus solely on her and to keep the conversation relatively neutral so the sister wasn’t interfering. They spoke of flowers and fauna and whenever he could work in a laugh he made sure it carried on the wind to gents trotting by on fine horses or in speedy carriages. He kept his features relaxed, and a pleasant smile on his face, portraying a man on the verge of being forever smitten. He was grateful Miss Hammersley was occupied with taking in their surroundings and didn’t seem particularly affected by his feigned interest. He might have been insulted by her lack of attention, except vanity had never been one of his shortcomings. He was actually glad she wasn’t likely to mistake his performance as true devotion.
He was rather certain, however, Lady Landsdowne could read straight through his efforts and decipher them for what they were. If her eyes narrowed any further, they’d be as sharp as a finely honed blade and might slice into him.
God, but she was protective, and he couldn’t help but admire her for it. Those in his family had a penchant for caring for the less fortunate, for seeking justice, for striving to better living conditions. He could certainly see Lady Landsdowne carrying on the tradition with a fierce determination. He suspected if she discovered his true purpose, she’d flatten him with one solid punch. Or she’d try. He envisioned closing his hand around her fist before it met flesh, drawing her in, and claiming her mouth until he’d worked them both into a fevered tempest.
They’d been driving through the park for nearly half an hour before it dawned on him no one had stopped to speak with him. He became aware of gawks, glares, and frowns. They were garnering attention, but not the sort that served any good. He considered suggesting they stop and stroll through the green, but Miss Hammersley had begun to fidget as though taking note of the occasional glower. Unlike her sister, who held her head high and occasionally stared someone down.
“It’s rather warm today,” Rexton said casually. “I believe I’ve had enough of the park. What of you, Miss Hammersley?”
“It does seem a bit unwelcoming.”
He leaned toward her. “People are jealous of my horses.”
Her green eyes grew as round as saucers. “Truly?”
No, but still he nodded. “A few of the gents and I have on occasion raced. I always win. Not everyone is a good sport about it.”
“Would you be a good sport if you lost?”
He grinned. “Probably not. I have a very competitive nature. I prefer to win.”
“To be quite honest, I can’t imagine you losing.”
“On occasion I have. It keeps me humble and inspires me to work all the harder.”
“This is you humble?” Lady Landsdowne asked.
He grinned at her because it seemed to irritate her when he did. “Decidedly so.”
With a roll of her eyes, she directed her attention back to the greenery. He’d love to engage her in a match of wits.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever competed in anything,” Miss Hammersley lamented.
“You don’t see seeking a husband as a competition?” he asked.
She shook her head, furrowed her brow. “No. I wouldn’t go after a gent whom another lady wanted.”
“Have you not heard there are no rules in love?”
“They are always rules, my lord. At least in my mind. Things I would not do for gain.”
“Admirable.” He instructed his driver to start back to Landsdowne Court.
Miss Hammersley sighed. “I believe, Tillie, I understand why you go riding in the park in the morning before anyone is about.”
“It’s much cooler, then, Gina. My horse prefers it.”
And he imagined she did as well. Was she always striving to protect her sister from the truth of her dire situation: she was loathed among his peers?
They spoke very little on the journey back. When the driver pulled the carriage to a stop in the drive, Rexton leaped out and extended his gloved hand to Lady Landsdowne. After a hesitation, she placed hers in it with assurance and certainty. Nothing delicate there, nothing that would break easily. He’d noticed it when he handed her up into the carriage, the way her warmth seeped through the kidskin to become part of his flesh. They were in close proximity as she descended the three steps to the ground and yet an immeasurable distance separated them, as though a wall surrounded her, one that could not be climbed over or breeched. She held herself apart, and he wondered if she’d done the same in her husband’s bed.
After releasing her, he assisted Gina. He might as well be handing down a doll for all the effect she had upon him. Nothing vibrated between them. No heat arced. No awareness sparked. He’d think he had one foot in the grave if it weren’t for the fact his reaction to Lady Landsdowne was so strong and unwavering.
She marched ahead toward the door, while Gina lagged behind, smiling up at him, her eyelashes fluttering as though she were striving to dislodge a speck of ash that had settled into the corner of her eye. She truly was too unknowing for him. Her sister had the right of it there, but he wanted access to Black Diamond more than he wanted to breathe.
“May I have a word in private, Miss Hammersley?” he asked quietly, and yet still Lady Landsdowne heard him. Her back went ramrod straight, when he’d thought it could go no straighter, and her slender shoulders stiffened as though someone had just walked over her grave and caused a shudder to course through her. She swung around, her features set in an impermeable mask.
“Keep it short,” she ordered sharply before proceeding into the residence. Not ten seconds later the butler stepped out, standing at attention, his gaze boring into Rexton as though he suspected him of being up to no good. Not too far from the truth there.
Again Rexton found himself wondering what about the man had appealed to the countess. He was tall, trim, dark-haired but his features were so bland he wouldn’t be noticed in a crowd of two. Did he possess a sense of humor? Did he cause her to laugh? Did he recite poetry in a mesmerizing cadence? Did he—
“My lord?”
He looked down to find the lass gazing up at him expectantly. Right. His focus was supposed to be on the younger sister, not the elder.
“I had a lovely time, my lord,” she said with a sweet voice he couldn’t imagine screaming out his name in rapture.
Why was he even considering these thoughts, comparing her to other women he’d known, to her sister whom he didn’t, when he had no plans whatsoever to carry this courtship through to fruition? “As did I. I wondered if you might care to join me in my box tomorrow evening.”
Her smile withered, her brow furrowed. “Your box? You live in a box?”
Was she serious? He hadn’t judged her to be daft, but then neither had he truly conversed with her about anything complicated or of importance. He offered a teasi
ng grin. “I have a box at the theater.”
Her smile grew brighter, her eyes sparkling like jewels caught by the sunlight. “At the theater! I so love the theater! I’d be delighted to attend with you.”
“Do you think your maid’s megrim will have vanished by then?”
“I’m rather certain of it.”
He didn’t know why he was disappointed by the notion. Not having her sister about would make it easier to achieve his goal. “Then I shall be here tomorrow at half past seven.” He took her hand, pressed a kiss to the back of her gloved knuckles. “I look forward to it, Miss Hammersley.”
“In spite of what my sister said, I do wish you’d call me Gina.”
He smiled. “My manners, it seems, are difficult to cast aside which would no doubt please my mother to no end.”
“You are funny, my lord.”
She was far too easy to please. “Until tomorrow, Miss Hammersley.” He gave a brisk nod to the butler before striding to his carriage, leaping into it, and settling onto the leather bench. His driver immediately set the pair of horses to a trot.
Rexton was tempted to glance back to see if Lady Landsdowne was gazing out a window, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was on his mind. He needed to quickly find someone for Miss Hammersley so he was free of her and had met his part of the bargain. Before her older sister drove him to distraction.
Partially hidden by the draperies, Tillie stood at her bedchamber window, gazing out on the retreating carriage. She was glad the man was leaving. He unsettled her in ways she didn’t want to explore. He exuded sexuality in the same manner that the sun exuded heat—naturally, as though it had been created to do nothing else.
The jealousy that speared her when he’d asked for a private moment with Gina was entirely inappropriate. He was courting her sister, and Tillie certainly had no interest in him. She’d been married once and by God that had been a lesson in humility and subservience. Her opinion, her preferences, her desires had mattered not one whit. She much preferred having her independence, being completely in charge of every aspect of her life. Never again was she going to let a man have control over her.
An Affair with a Notorious Heiress Page 3