An Affair with a Notorious Heiress

by Lorraine Heath

  “With?” the woman prodded.

  “My sister. I’ve simply been serving as chaperone.”

  “Would you like my sister to mend your frock?” the one sitting beside her offered. “She always carries around her sewing kit for emergencies.”

  “Indeed I do,” she said as she began riffling through her reticule.

  “I couldn’t trouble you.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble.” She held up a small leather case. “I’m very skilled. Move aside, Scout.” As she replaced her sister, she said, “I’m Skye, by the way.”

  “You have correctly discerned who I am, but you must call me Tillie.” She didn’t know why at that moment she didn’t want to be associated with Downie at all.

  “It’s a very lovely gown,” Skye said. “When I’m done here, you’ll be able to wear it again as no one will be able to tell that anything was ever amiss.”

  She couldn’t see herself wearing it. Too many memories associated with it. All the inappropriate thoughts she’d had regarding Rexton. How she’d begun to think he was a different sort of man, one worthy of Gina—one worthy of herself. She’d started to like him, to have hope that he could prove not all men were beasts.

  A shiver went through her as she remembered Evanston grabbing her, clawing at her.

  “Don’t think about what happened,” Skye said kindly, and Tillie realized she probably felt the shudder go through her.

  “However, if you’d care to give us the name,” Scout said, “our brother is a constable. He likes nothing better than bashing heads.”

  “Not while he’s on duty, naturally,” Skye added. “But on occasion, he and Rexton make the rounds through Whitechapel, warding off ne’er-do-wells.”

  That explained the speed and ferocity with which his fist had made contact with Evanston’s face. “They roam the streets, looking for trouble?”

  “Not looking so much as not running off when it crosses their path.”

  “They’ve a bit of the uncivilized in them,” Scout said.

  Rexton certainly seemed uncivilized when he let his fist fly—and when he’d taken her mouth. She did wish she wouldn’t grow warm with the reminder of how soft but talented his lips had seemed during the short time they were upon hers.

  “Well, if it’s not the Swindler twins.”

  Tillie jerked her attention to the door, not at all pleased with the momentary gladness that swept through her at the sight of Rexton. She was angry with him, and yet his presence was a welcomed relief.

  “Oh, Tillie!” Gina rushed past him and fell at her feet, with a swath of skirts circling her, and took Tillie’s hand. “I heard what happened. Are you all right?”

  “No worse for wear.”

  “Hello, Rex,” Scout and Skye said in unison. Obviously their relationship with Rexton was more intimate than she’d realized if they addressed him so informally. She didn’t like that she wondered exactly how intimate they might have been.

  “What sort of mischief are you getting into now?” he asked.

  “Just mending a frock,” Skye said, patting Tillie’s shoulder before moving away. Gina immediately replaced her, squeezing Tillie’s hand in reassurance.

  “It was our pleasure to meet you,” Scout said.

  “I appreciate your assistance,” Tillie told them.

  “We’re sorry the assistance was needed,” Skye said. “Rest assured Drake Darling will not be at all happy there was an incident. Are you sure you don’t want to tell us who the fellow was?”

  “I’m taking care of the matter,” Rexton said.

  “I rather thought so,” Scout said. “I just wanted confirmation.”

  “You could have asked me.”

  “But it’s so much more fun to vex you.”

  Yes, they certainly were more familiar with him than Tillie had thought. As they were leaving, they stopped and said something to Rexton which made him laugh easily. She wondered at the exact nature of their relationship, diligently fought back the envy that wanted to raise its ugly head. The two ladies quit the room, and Tillie took some unwanted and unwarranted consolation in the fact he didn’t watch them go, but rather returned his focus to her with an intensity that implied she’d never not been the object of his attention.

  “Shall we be away from this place?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes, let’s,” Gina said, jumping to her feet before plopping back onto the lounge. “If you’re up to it. We can wait a bit longer so you can recover.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” To prove her point, she rose to her feet. He stepped nearer as though to assist, and she held up a hand. “I don’t require your support.”

  If she didn’t know better, judging by the sorrow that crossed his features, she’d have thought she lanced his heart. “Let’s be off then,” he said quietly.

  He didn’t offer Gina his arm, and Tillie might have chastised him for it, but she saw no point in making him give her sister more reasons to believe he favored her. Not that Gina was likely to give up her stranglehold on Tillie’s hand. He escorted them to the door, swung it open, and led them onto the street.

  A gentleman decked out in the Dragons’ livery stood there. Rexton spoke to him, and the man dashed off.

  “He’ll fetch our carriage,” Rexton told them, his gaze wandering over her in search of evidence that she’d spoken false regarding her well-being.

  “You seem awfully tense for someone who claims to be unharmed,” Gina said.

  “It’ll be explained when we get home.”

  “Has it anything to do with the fact Rexton isn’t courting me?”

  She jerked her attention to Gina. “You know?”

  She nodded. “He told me before we came for you. I’m all right with it, Tillie. To be honest, I figured out rather early on that his interest is in you.”

  “He has no interest in me.”

  “But he does. Ask him.”

  She was going to do no such thing. “I have no interest in a man who would show such blatant disregard for a young lady’s feelings all for want of a horse.”

  “A horse? Which horse?”

  “Did he not tell you?”

  “I thought to spare her feelings with the particulars,” he said, irritation lacing his voice. Why was he irritated? It was Gina who had been wronged—and Tillie as well for believing him to be better than he was.

  “Black Diamond,” Tillie said curtly, holding Rexton’s gaze.

  “But you love Black Diamond. Why would you part with your favorite horse?”

  “I wouldn’t, but Uncle promised him to the marquess for stud.”

  “Wait.” Rexton stepped forward. “Black Diamond belongs to you?”

  Tossing back her head as her stallion often did, she angled her chin haughtily. “Now you know why you shall never ever have him.”

  As the coach rattled through the late night streets, Rexton was of a mind to pay Garrett Hammersley a visit. Surely the bargain had been made in good faith, and he’d have convinced his niece to honor its terms. Although now it was a moot point, but had he known the truth, he’d have been more honest in his dealings with Lady Landsdowne from the beginning. He’d have at least ensured she understood and agreed with the role he’d assumed in her sister’s life. Instead he’d honored Garrett’s request to keep the arrangement between the gentlemen. He’d assumed Lady Landsdowne would not approve of the plan and would tell Gina—which would have nullified the pact.

  The interior of the coach was thick with silence, interrupted occasionally when Gina patted her sister’s hand in reassurance.

  “I feel fairly certain we should all be able to remain friends,” Gina said quite naïvely, but then she didn’t know about the kiss he’d attempted to steal in the hallway shadows.

  That she’d seen through to his interest in Lady Landsdowne was a bit unsettling. The countess had given no indication she was aware of it. The kiss had seemed to take her by surprise. For the briefest span of time, he’d thought she was going to return his k
iss with equal fervor—but the fervor she’d unleashed had been a fury he couldn’t help but admire. She’d been worried about her sister. Always Gina came first. He wondered if Lady Landsdowne ever put her own wants and desires ahead of anyone else’s. She’d married a titled gentleman because her mother had wished it. When was the last time her own wishes had been fulfilled?

  “Friends are not dishonest with one another,” she said sharply, and he imagined her striding through a classroom with a ruler in hand, ever ready to rap knuckles. Assumed she’d gladly rap his at the moment.

  He’d hold out his hand to her if she asked. He’d thought he’d be able to control the situation, the girl’s emotions, what she felt toward him. No doubt because he’d always been able to control his own emotions. Except where Lady Landsdowne was concerned. From the moment she strode into the parlor, he’d felt like a train that had skidded off the tracks and lost sight of its destination. It had never occurred to him Gina would develop a tender regard for him when he wasn’t developing one for her. He’d known that feelings and their intensity weren’t always reciprocated in kind, but until this evening, he’d never experienced the full measure of the knowledge.

  “It seems Uncle is more to blame for putting his Lordship up to it,” Gina said in his defense. It didn’t make him feel any better that this sprite of a girl was defending his abhorrent behavior.

  “If a man comes up with a plan to rob someone, and another gent offers to help, they are equally guilty of the crime.”

  “That’s a drastic analogy there. What were we thieving?” he asked.

  “My stallion. Gina’s innocence.”

  “I wasn’t going to take her innocence.”

  “You led her to believe you had an interest in her—”

  “But I never followed him down the path,” Gina said. “No harm was done.”

  “The absence of harm does not make it right. I shall be speaking with Uncle on the morrow.”

  Rex would love to be a fly on that wall, to watch her deliver a set down in all her glorious fury. “Perhaps we should speak with him together since he made an offer that in all likelihood he might not have been able to deliver.”

  “I can promise you it would not have been delivered.”

  “Why the deuce allow everyone to believe he owned the horse?”

  “Because I am so reviled. I feared for the stallion, feared someone might seek to harm him.”

  He heard the truth in her tone. And the pain. The words sliced into him as though she’d delivered them using the finely honed edge of a knife. He’d thought he had an understanding of her life, of what she suffered. He realized he hadn’t a clue. Gazing out the window, he wondered if she might have had an easier time of it if she’d simply poisoned Landsdowne in order to be rid of him.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. The door opened. He leaped out and then reached back for her. She turned her nose up as though he’d offered her offal. With an understanding sigh, he stepped back and allowed the footman to assist the ladies in exiting his carriage.

  Gina gave him a sympathetic smile before rushing to catch up with her sister who was marching up the steps. Rexton took them two at a time.

  “I truly meant no harm.” They both swung around to face him, one smiling, one glowering. “It was my intent to help Miss Hammersley find the most compatible suitor available for her. I’d not have shackled her with some miscreant.”

  “We can do without that sort of help,” Lady Landsdowne said tartly before turning sharply for the door.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, my lord,” Gina said softly.

  “You will find someone worthy of you.”

  “I wish the same for you.”

  “To be honest, Miss Hammersley, I am not searching.”

  “Pity.”

  “Gina!” Lady Landsdowne called from the doorway. “We must abed.”

  Damnation, the last thing he wanted in his head was an image of her preparing for bed, crawling between the sheets. Still, he waited until Gina was safely inside and the door slammed shut.

  He dashed down the steps. When he reached his carriage, he shouted up to the driver, “To Whitechapel!”

  He wasn’t in the mood for civilization this night. He wanted hard drink, debauchery, and decadence.

  He bounded into the carriage and found himself surrounded by lavender and orchids. He cursed soundly. Why hadn’t he been honest with Lady Landsdowne from the beginning, when his first glimpse of her knocked the breath out of him?

  He awoke with his skull threatening to split in two and his body aching. Never before had he slept on such an uncomfortable bed. He smelled coffee. Nectar of the gods. He needed some. Then perhaps the sledgehammers pounding his brain would still.

  Forcing open one eye, he found himself staring at a pair of black boots, well worn, but polished to a sheen. What were they doing standing upright on the bed?

  As he opened his other eye, his view expanded and he realized they weren’t on the bed. They were on the floor.

  And so was he.

  Bloody damned hell.

  With a groan, he slowly pushed himself up. His head protested, his stomach roiled.

  “It awakes,” the wearer of the boots, sitting in a nearby chair, called out.

  Rexton held up a hand. “Don’t yell.”

  Jamie had the audacity to laugh, which only made matters worse. “I didn’t. Shall I whisper?” he asked in a lower voice.

  “Please,” Rexton croaked. Then he curled and uncurled his fingers over and over. “Coffee.”

  Jamie handed over the mug. Rexton put the clay to his lips, grimaced, and gingerly touched his fingers to the swollen and tender corner of his mouth. Lovely. He drank slowly, cautiously. He’d never felt so ill in his life. He would pray for instant death except if delivered, it meant he’d never again set eyes on Lady Landsdowne. Why was he worried about that? He was never going to see her again, and if he did, she would turn her back on him. Give him a well-deserved cut direct.

  “How did I get here?” he asked through a mouth that felt like it was filled with sawdust.

  “You don’t remember?”

  He squinted at Jamie who looked far too happy for whatever god-awful time of day it was. “I went to a couple of pubs.”

  “Our paths crossed at The Ten Bells. You were three sheets to the wind by then, searching for someone to fight. I pretended to accommodate—did have to jab you in the mouth when you started to announce I was a copper.”

  Rexton touched his lip with his tongue. “They don’t know?”

  Jamie shook his head. “Long story, don’t ask. Anyway, once I got you outside, I dragged you here.”

  “And left me on the floor like rubbish?”

  “Do you have any idea how big and heavy you are?”

  Rexton pushed himself back until he was leaning against a chair. He was beginning to feel better. He suspected Jamie had put something in addition to coffee into the mug. “I’m not as big and heavy as you.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind the floor.” Jamie leaned forward, planting his forearms on his thighs. “I know you enjoy a glass of good whisky but I’ve never seen you so wrecked. What happened? Has it anything to do with the lavender and orchid lady?”

  Rexton shook his head, no longer feeling as though the room was spinning. “Don’t think I want to know how you came to that conclusion.”

  “You kept mumbling lavender and orchids.”

  His laughter was harsh, self-mocking. “She isn’t to be.”

  “Why?”

  “She discovered the truth. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Sounds as though you like her.”

  “She’s strong. I always thought my mother and Grace were strong—but I think she has them beat. She’s American. Scandalous. Her past has touched her sister, would touch her children if she stayed here. Children shouldn’t have to suffer because of the sins of their parents.”

  “So you were drinking to forget her. Did it work?”


  “Think it just got me a busted lip.”

  Jamie chuckled. “Be glad that’s all you got. Dressed as finely as you are, I’m surprised I didn’t find you robbed, with a knife in you.”

  “As you said, I’m a big fellow.”

  “You are that. Want something to eat?”

  Rexton shook his head. “No, I should be off. I appreciate you looking after me.”

  “Let’s not make a habit of it.”

  “I won’t.” He forced himself to his feet. He hadn’t been drinking to forget Lady Landsdowne. He’d been drinking because he’d known he’d never forget her.

  Chapter 8

  “You offered Black Diamond to the Marquess of Rexton?”

  Tillie had barged into her uncle’s study with the question more a statement leading the way. While leaping out of his chair from behind his desk, he had the good graces to look abashed.

  “He told you? He was supposed to keep it to himself.”

  “Last night a situation developed which caused it to be known to me. Whatever were you thinking to make such an arrangement? Black Diamond belongs to me.”

  His jacket was draped over a chair. He hitched his backside onto the edge of the desk, the buttons of his waistcoat straining to gain freedom. “I figured you’d indulge my whim. You want your sister to be happy, don’t you?”

  “You should have discussed it with me first. You didn’t because you knew I would find fault with it.” She marched over to the window and gazed out on the townhome’s small garden. As a bachelor, he didn’t require much room. He spent his money on indulgences such as rich foods and fine spirits. Hence the abuse to his buttons. “You demeaned Gina and her value in the process.”

  Coming to stand beside her, he offered a glass of whisky. She took it, sipped.

  “No one was dancing with her,” he said quietly. “I have no wife to introduce her about, no lady friend to take her under her wing. What was I to do? Ignore the longing in her eyes, not notice the overly bright smile she projected whenever a gent walked within a foot of her? We’re Americans, not highly regarded to begin with. Then add to that . . .”