An Affair with a Notorious Heiress

by Lorraine Heath

  “My presence wouldn’t serve Gina well.”

  He studied her, studied her flowers, the bee that was buzzing around, pollenating. And she found herself wondering if he’d ever pollenated anyone. She’d certainly not heard of him having any bastards. She’d wager her fortune he wasn’t a virgin, but she was unaware of any rumors associating him with anyone. Which meant he was very discreet, that his lovers would never be found out. Why the hell did her mind keep traveling toward sex?

  “You love your sister very much,” he finally said.

  “Of course I do. I’d do anything to see her happy.” Even steer clear of you. “Wouldn’t you do the same for your sister?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t have to. That’s Lovingdon’s job, and he apparently excels at it.”

  “And if he didn’t?”

  He grew somber. She didn’t like the way his gaze roamed over her face as though he could read every unhappy moment in her life in the lines and creases that hadn’t been there on the day she wed. “I’d beat him to within an inch of his life.”

  “She’s very fortunate, then, your sister.” She’d not meant to travel this road or to have this conversation. “If you’ll give me your message for Gina, I’ll see that she gets it.”

  “A question first. Do you know if she’s ever been to the Twin Dragons?”

  “She hasn’t, no. I hear it’s a rather fascinating place.”

  “It is. I thought to take her there for dinner tonight. I’ll stop by at seven. If she’s not interested, no harm done. I’ll simply go on without her.”

  “I’m rather certain she’ll be joining you. She enjoys new experiences.”

  “And do you . . . enjoy new experiences?”

  The question was laced with innuendo. She shook it off. The intimation was only in her mind. He wouldn’t risk insulting her when his interest was Gina. So why did he continually ask about her preferences? He should state his business and move on. She should answer his question and not read more into it than existed. “Obviously, when I was younger that could be said of me. I kissed a footman after all.” She didn’t know why she’d said it, why she felt a need to remind him of her reputation.

  “Curiosity prompted your actions, then?”

  “Among other things.”

  Reaching out, he closed his hand over hers where it clutched the digging implement. They both wore gloves and yet it felt like there was no leather serving as a barrier to their skin.

  “You’re strangling this poor little spade.”

  She meant to merely scoff, but the sound came out rather mocking. “It’s a trowel. I take it you don’t garden.”

  “Creating beauty is not my forte.”

  Was he implying that he found her little patch of ground beautiful? What she created brought her pleasure but she’d never known anyone else to give it much notice. She stared at him for the longest time, marveling that he still held her hand as though reluctant to give it up. Would he hold Gina’s with the same care, offering her comfort and strength while doing so? Would he gaze into her eyes for long moments as though lost within their depths?

  Would Gina notice his long, spiky eyelashes and their burnished shade? Would she see the darker blue circling the pale blue of his iris? Would she yearn to reach up to brush back the curling locks that fell over his brow? Would all the sounds surrounding her fade away until all she heard was his breathing as she waited for the rough timbre of his voice to soothe her?

  She loved her sister dearly but there were times when she was a bit flighty, when she didn’t seem to appreciate all she held, all she possessed. Would she appreciate this man?

  “You should loosen your fingers a bit,” he said quietly, “before you cause your hand to ache.”

  She didn’t like being ordered about, but his words were delivered as more of an entreaty than a command, as though he held true concern for any discomfort she might suffer. She didn’t want to deem him worthy of her sister, but he was making it difficult not to acknowledge that he might indeed be a fine catch. “Will you put her wants ahead of your own?” she heard herself asking in a voice that didn’t quite sound like her own, that rang hollow as though it had traveled from a great distance, down a long tunnel.

  Slowly his fingers unfurled and her hand did indeed ache, but only from the loss of his touch.

  “I shall do all in my power to ensure she is happy.”

  “She requires more than chocolates and theater and waltzes.”

  “Hence the invitation to dinner.” He unfolded that tall, lean marvelous body that kept invading her dreams. For a moment she’d almost allowed herself to be lured into believing she should encourage Gina to accept his suit, but still something nagged at her. Perhaps it was merely her own wants and desires.

  Standing there, he gave a quick tug on his gloves as though they’d somehow fallen out of favor. “By the by, the invitation includes you. She’ll have a better time if you’re there, so don’t disappoint.”

  Before she could let him know she had no interest in going, he was walking away. She almost darted after him to alert him that he couldn’t order her about like that. But she didn’t want to get into an argument that might cause him to rescind the invitation. Even as the thought of going out in public again caused a small measure of panic, she couldn’t deny her curiosity about the private club that catered to London’s elite.

  Jabbing the trowel into the dirt, she cursed soundly for lying to herself because much to her mortification, she was anticipating another evening in his company.

  Will you put her wants ahead of your own?

  Lounging in a chair in his father’s library, Rexton found himself wondering: Had Landsdowne not done that for his wife? Not put her wants first? Every time he was in the company of Lady Landsdowne, he found himself wanting to know more about her: her life before her marriage, during it, after it. Had she always spent time nurturing flowers? What other hobbies did she enjoy?

  “It’s quite a risk,” his father said.

  He nodded. One afternoon a week, he visited to discuss the status of their estates, the profitability of their various income streams, how to diversify, how to ensure profits. More and more, the duke was turning the reins over to him. He enjoyed the challenge of it—

  Enjoyed the challenge of Lady Landsdowne. He hadn’t given her time to decline his invitation and he suspected she’d bristled as he’d walked away. He was halfway surprised she didn’t dash after him and smack him on the head with that little trowel. He’d been a fool to take her hand, hadn’t wanted to release it once he had. If he hadn’t thought she’d object, he’d have removed her glove . . . and his own.

  “Andrew requires a larger allowance,” his father said casually.

  “Without question.” Skin to skin. Hers would be as smooth as silk. He had no doubt. Her long, slender fingers would be on display during dinner. If he could determine a way to accidentally touch them—

  “I was thinking ten thousand a month.”

  “Reasonable.” Perhaps he should tell her the truth, acknowledge he had more interest in her than in Gina, that Lady Landsdowne occupied his thoughts for the greater part of each day and every night.

  “We shall be bankrupt by the end of the year.”

  Nodding, he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. Although with the truth, she might cast him out for his deception and he would lose not only a chance at the stallion but at Lady Landsdowne. Was it worth the risk of losing the horse to gain her? But in what manner could he have a woman of her notoriety? Certainly he couldn’t marry her, but an affair might not be out of the question. She’d engaged in at least one. Why not another—with him?

  “Rex?”

  The tone wasn’t one he’d been the recipient of since he left school. It jerked him out of his reveries, and he snapped his attention to his father. “Sir?”

  “The idea of bankruptcy doesn’t bother you?”

  He glanced around the various sitting areas and the shelves lined with books. �
��Who’s going bankrupt?”

  “I just said we were.”

  Why would his father believe that? “We’re solvent. The estates’ incomes have dwindled a bit but we have other businesses. We’re in remarkably good shape.”

  “What of Andrew’s ten thousand pounds a month allowance?”

  Obviously he hadn’t paid nearly as much attention as he’d thought. Lady Landsdowne was affecting every aspect of his life. “I’d never agree to that amount. It’s ludicrous. Not to mention a reckless dispersal of funds. I hate to say it but Andrew would fritter it away. He isn’t completely irresponsible, but he hasn’t yet found a purpose to his life.” He was a year younger than Rexton, but he’d never been asked to do anything more than live the life of a gentleman—like most spares.

  His father leaned back in his leather chair. “I’ve been tossing out ridiculous statements and you’ve agreed to them all. You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?”

  He was embarrassed to admit, “Not really, no. But I’ve thoroughly studied the ledgers and the reports. I’m confident we’re faring well. My meeting with the estate managers tomorrow gives me no concern.”

  “What does? What causes this unusual distraction when I usually have your full attention?”

  What indeed? He couldn’t tell him the truth when Rexton knew he would find fault with it. He’d worked so blasted hard his entire life to ensure he didn’t disappoint his parents. “Have you ever wanted something so badly that you use questionable means to acquire it?”

  “Been cheating at cards when playing your sister again?”

  He chuckled. If only it was that innocent. Was he being unfair to the girl to be giving her attention when his intentions weren’t serious? Perhaps he should simply admit the truth. Yes, Lady Landsdowne would certainly fly into his arms then.

  “What made you decide to court Mother?”

  His father looked somewhat surprised by the notion, as though he’d never given it any thought. “I’m not quite certain I ever really did court her. Not properly anyway. Our paths just seemed to cross on occasion and when they did—” He lifted a shoulder, dropped it, looked away. “I took advantage. Then one day I realized I loved her.”

  He again looked in Rexton’s direction, but he wasn’t certain how much his father could see. For a good portion of his life, he’d been losing his eyesight. It was nearly gone now. “Have you met someone for whom you care?”

  “I don’t know how I feel about her exactly. She vexes me. Intrigues me. But I know we would not suit. She has none of the qualities I would seek in a wife.”

  “Where I was concerned, neither did your mother. But she possessed all the qualities I could love. In the end, that won out.”

  “I don’t love her. I don’t even know if I like her.”

  “What of these questionable means you referred to? Is she behind them?”

  “No, she’s innocent of that.” The problem was there were too many things of which she wasn’t innocent.

  Chapter 6

  Tonight she would be a respectable chaperone. She would fade into the woodwork, observe, and make a mental list regarding Rexton’s suitability. To discourage Gina from falling for the fellow, Tillie needed specific examples. And if she approved of the match—she needed to burn samplings of his exemplary behavior into her mind so she could torment herself with the images of his love for her sister so she, herself, would cease with all these horrendous fantasies of him doing wicked things to her that tormented her throughout the night. She hadn’t slept soundly since the blasted man had come into their lives. She stepped into the hallway—

  The high-pitched shriek had her jumping out of her skin and her heart racing.

  “What have you done to yourself?” Gina squealed. The abject look of horror on her usually joyful face alerted Tillie that she’d accomplished her goal of ensuring no man would find her the least bit enticing. If Rexton ignored her completely, perhaps her stomach would stop its irritating and continual fluttering whenever he was near. “You resemble a ghoul.”

  “Not that bad, surely.” Her black dress buttoned to her chin and her wrists. Her maid had pulled her hair back into a severe, tight bun that caused her skin to feel taut as her high cheekbones hollowed out to dominate her face.

  “At the very least someone in mourning.”

  She gave an ineffectual tug on her black gloves. They were fitted as tightly as possible and not going anywhere. “As any well respected chaperone should be.”

  “This won’t do at all.” Sweeping past her, Gina rushed into Tillie’s bedchamber.

  With a roll of her eyes, she followed. Her sister was at her wardrobe, pulling out one gown after another and stuffing it back into place as though it offended her. “Gina, a chaperone shouldn’t draw attention. It was a mistake I made at the theater. I should have dressed in a less striking manner so as to be overlooked. When people notice me it only serves to reinforce we’re related, which serves you no good.”

  “But we’re going to the Twin Dragons, and while I’ve never been, I have heard people talk about it. One must wear one’s finest.” Holding up a plum gown, she swung around. “Especially if you wish to be extended an invitation for membership.”

  “Why would I want that?”

  “So you have something to do in the evenings, other than haunt this place.”

  “I enjoy haunting this place.” A lie. She’d wanted it because Downie had loved it so. She’d wanted to take something he’d treasured because he’d taken something precious from her. While the manor had been in Downie’s family for a century, it wasn’t included in his entailment, and he’d been willing to part with it for a substantial sum, much to his mother’s horror. At the time, Tillie had taken satisfaction in her reaction. Although in hindsight, she feared she’d been rather petty. “Besides as I mentioned, a chaperone shouldn’t be noticed.”

  “Well, you’re going to be noticed in that. Dreadfully so. If you don’t want to draw attention, then you must blend in.” She tossed the gown onto the bed. “That one will do nicely. Call for your maid and have her do something with your hair while she’s at it. Pulling it back that tightly makes it appear as though you haven’t had a bite to eat in a year.”

  “It’s not that severe.”

  “It’s awful.”

  All the better then. She wouldn’t imagine she felt Rexton’s gaze roaming over her because she could reassure herself he wouldn’t even look at her. “Gina, sweeting, what I wear is unimportant. Rexton’s attention will be on you as it should be—”

  “So you’ve noticed he looks at you.”

  She was stunned by the pronouncement. She’d imagined it, but that was her own wantonness rearing its ugly head. “He can’t ignore me completely without being rude.”

  “Perhaps,” Gina said nonchalantly. “However my doubt is all the more reason you should be at your best. If he has a wandering eye, then he’s not someone I want, is he? Play the tart tonight. Let’s test his devotion to me. The gaming hell is perfect, because people don’t really behave there, do they? It’s all wickedness, so you can be subtle and it won’t be obvious what you’re doing. I don’t want you to try to steal him away—as I can’t compete with you.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m no competition for you. You’re pretty, young, enthusiastic. You’re wildly fun while I much prefer quiet and solitude.”

  “Well, you won’t get much of that this evening, I’m sure, not based upon what I’ve heard of the club. Now prepare yourself for an exciting night of adventure.”

  Tillie shook her head. “I haven’t time to change. He’ll be here any minute—”

  “I’ll entertain him in the parlor. It’s not as though we’re on a schedule. We arrive when we arrive.”

  Tillie hated to admit Gina was correct: Rexton needed to be tested. She wouldn’t be blatant about it, but the club would be the perfect place to observe all the nuances to Rexton’s characteristics. How much he drank. How much he gambled. Was he reckless or
disciplined? How much attention would he pay to her if she were as her sister suggested: somewhat tartish?

  “All right, but ensure your maid is in the parlor with you. I don’t trust Rexton not to take advantage.”

  Gina beamed. “Splendid. Although I daresay I wouldn’t object if he took advantage. He’s just so magnificently delicious.”

  The jealousy that speared Tillie with the thought of Rexton kissing her sister took her by surprise, causing a sharp pain in her midsection which nearly caused her to groan. Her reaction was inappropriate, shameful. Gina was obviously infatuated with the marquess. Tillie had to quell her own interest and her own wicked thoughts. “Perhaps the maid and Griggs should be in the parlor with you,” she said pointedly.

  Gina merely laughed. “Not to worry. I won’t let him misbehave. I won’t be forced into a marriage.”

  “Jolly good for you.”

  As soon as Gina had skipped from the room, Tillie called for her maid. How different her life would be now if she’d had someone on hand to point out Downie’s flaws. She glanced over at the plum. It wouldn’t do. If temptation was the goal, she needed to go with the red.

  Rexton didn’t much like the disappointment that hit him when he walked into Landsdowne Court to discover Gina and her maid waiting for him rather than the countess. She’d rebuffed his overture. He should have been relieved, as he needed to focus his attentions on getting the eligible Miss Hammersley aligned with a suitable gentleman.

  He liked even less the relief that hit him when the lady he was supposed to be courting apologized for her sister’s delay and offered to keep him company in the parlor with her maid serving as chaperone while they awaited the tardy one’s arrival. He didn’t like being drawn to Lady Landsdowne, he didn’t like that she haunted his nights, that he thought of her more than was practical or that those thoughts usually involved naughty and lascivious activities occurring on satin sheets within midnight shadows.

  Although Gina had invited him to sit, he was wound up in a way he’d never been before. He needed to pace or ride or box. Instead he took up a post beside the fireplace as though the hearth were in need of defending, might spontaneously ignite at any moment if he weren’t standing guard. It was the deception making him antsy because the young woman peered up at him as though he were the answer to every dream she’d ever possessed. He was a fine catch. He knew that. Titled, wealthy, influential. He was the sort American heiresses flocked to England in search of. He’d lost some friends to their charms. As for himself, he preferred the English rose and when the time came that he was actually on the hunt for a wife, he would go with a woman who understood proper behavior and avoided scandal.