But if she were not accepted by Society, they would only be able to visit places on the fringes of it. While he enjoyed it on occasion, it wasn’t his world and it shouldn’t be hers. He didn’t want it to be theirs.
When the devil had he begun thinking of never letting her go, of never being without her? He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. She’d simply become part of his plans, his thoughts. He couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing her, having a night without her in his bed. Hence the request of his mother.
Half an hour later, he began to think the request of his mother was the reason he still stood alone near the hedges. She had told him the invitation had been delivered today. Perhaps he should have warned Tillie it would be arriving, but he’d thought she’d appreciate the surprise.
An hour later, he was fairly certain she had not.
Unfortunately for her, he was not one to be so easily or quickly dismissed. He bounded up the front steps and used the knocker for all it was worth. Waited. Pounded his fist on the door. Waited. Pounded with a bit more ferocity.
The butler, Griggs, opened the door. Before he could say a word, Rexton shoved past him. “Where is she?”
“Her Ladyship has retired for the night and left orders not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”
So she’d expected a disturbance, had she? He headed for the stairs.
“Sir, I must insist you leave.”
He swung around. “Try and stop me. Give me an excuse to introduce my fist to your teeth.” The man might not have bedded her, but he’d bloody well kissed her, had moved his mouth over hers, knew her taste, her—
“Rexton.”
The word sliced through the thickness of the air, through his temper. She stood on the landing in black, buttons up to her chin, past her wrists. Every aspect of her spoke of her displeasure with him.
She started down. He waited. Perhaps he’d misjudged, perhaps another reason had delayed her joining him, but the fact that she didn’t smile, her eyes didn’t sparkle told him that he wasn’t wrong in his assumptions.
“You may retire now, Griggs,” she said as she swept past Rexton and carried on into the parlor.
The butler hesitated. Rexton took pity on him. “She’s safe with me.”
“My concern, sir, is you might not be safe with her. She has quite the temper on her.”
Rexton wasn’t pleased the servant knew her so well, but then he had been in her company for years. He wasn’t certain what his face might have revealed, but the man offered a distinguished bow before leaving. Spoiling for a fight, Rexton strode into the parlor.
No whisky had been poured. Apparently she was spoiling for a fight as well.
“Were you intending to leave me waiting out there all night?” he asked.
She angled her chin, a bit higher than he’d ever seen. “I assumed you’d leave after a while.”
“Why would I when I’d been given no hint anything was amiss?”
“You had your mother invite me to her ball!” she blurted, clearly agitated, her hands clasped so tightly in front of her that he could see her knuckles turning white.
“I did more than that. I implored her to have the damned ball to begin with.”
She swung away from him, marched to the sideboard, poured whisky into a glass, and downed it like a seaman who’d just come into port after years at sea. She spun back around and glared at him. “We should have discussed this before you took any action.”
“I told you I wanted to waltz with you.”
“This is about more than a waltz. I declined your mother’s invite.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be part of that world again. It’s haughty and cruel and pitiless. Intolerant of those who don’t adhere to the strict rules that are as ancient as this country. I abhor it. I’m glad not to be part of it.”
“It is my world.”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “I cannot—will not—make it mine again.”
He considered walking over and pouring his own whisky. He was in need of it. “I know it won’t be easy, but you won’t be alone. I’ll be there. My family, my friends—”
She moved her head from side to side with more force, more speed. “They spit on me, you know. Ladies of quality. When I passed them on the street or crossed paths with them at the dressmaker. They hug their children close as though I am a leper. Do you know why I wrested this house from Landsdowne, why I made him an offer so generous he would be forced to take it? So I could lord it over them that they may be petty and small but I have the means to live like a queen.”
“But is it not lonely in your castle?”
She turned her back on him, and he suspected at that moment she hated him with every breath she drew. He walked over to the table of decanters, poured two glasses of whisky, strode to where she stood so stiffly he feared she’d shatter.
When he held a glass out to her, he wished she hadn’t looked at him, that he hadn’t seen the deep pain and hurt reflected in her eyes. Still, she accepted his offering and took a long swallow.
“I know what it is to bear the brunt of unkindness, Tillie.”
She scoffed, following that ugly sound with an even more hideous laugh. He didn’t blame her for lashing out at him.
“I was only twelve, new to being away from home, new to Eton. Perhaps if I’d been older, I’d have not felt the pain of not being accepted so sharply. Certainly now I could care less what a man thinks of me. But then it meant everything. They thought me unworthy of being in their presence because my mother came from the streets. I suffered at their hands. I hid from them—in attics and bell towers and among the foliage. But the escape was only temporary because one must get on with life. It was only when I stood up to them that I showed myself worthy. And I developed a good right jab.”
Her mouth gave the tiniest of twitches but it was enough to offer him hope. “I am not saying that a boy’s hurts cannot run deep, but they can’t compare to a woman’s when she is cast out and cast aside,” she said softly.
“You’re right, of course. I don’t mean to imply my experience in any way equals what you have suffered, but I do have an inkling regarding what you are going through,” he offered quietly. “I always had my family and my friends to lend me their strength and support, to be there when I was in need. I don’t believe you had that—not family or friends who stood beside you—except for Gina, and she would have been too young to carry any sort of weight. How could you lean on her? Even now that she’s grown, you don’t. For all intents and purposes you’ve been on your own, alone, to face the dragons. You no longer have to be. I will stand beside you and so will my family and friends.”
“Because their loyalty is to you. How easily they can remove their support if they are not pleased with me or you ask them to cast me aside.”
“Once they get to know you, you will have their loyalty.”
“I don’t need them. I don’t want them.”
“But perhaps they need you. How better their world would be if you were in it. You’ve been strong for so long. Lean on me, trust me to take care of you.”
Staring into those imploring blue eyes, she couldn’t help but believe he was saying he needed her, that his world would be better if she were in it. But she had loved before and been betrayed. If her sister suffered because of her misdeeds, how could her children not?
Life had taught her to trust only herself. She turned away from him before she fell into those blue depths, before she promised her heart and soul to him, before he made her forget how humiliation at the hands of those she’d once considered friends could be.
She walked to the window, gazed out but she could see his faint reflection in the pane, watching her, waiting. “I’ve had others promise to take care of me. Promises can be broken.”
“Mine won’t be. I love you, Tillie. With every beat of my heart, every breath that I draw.”
She slammed her eyes closed. Not fair, not fair, not fair. Not when sh
e knew her past actions had the power to bring him to ruin. “You can’t.”
“But I do.”
She shook her head. “I will not move back into Society, regardless of your words or promises.”
“To hell with Society then,” he said. “We’ll live at Kingsbrook Park. Avoid the social scene altogether. Raise horses and children.”
Children? The word was like a blow to her midsection. Was he implying marriage? She wanted nothing more than to give him children—but how might they suffer because of her scandals? She couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for any unkindness they might endure.
Opening her eyes, she forced herself to stare at his wavering reflection. If she turned to face him, saw him with clarity, she might fall into his arms. “The terms of our arrangement were for an affair. While it has been a glorious undertaking, I have no wish to extend our relationship beyond that.”
A lie, but he didn’t need the likes of her in his life. His birth gave him responsibilities and obligations. She couldn’t imagine him casting them aside in favor of her. He might believe he could do it, but he was a product of his upbringing—and she wouldn’t ask him to be less than he was.
“It seems I misjudged your affection,” he said quietly.
To see him happy, she had no choice but to rebuff him, to free him of her scandal, her past. “It is an easy thing to do, my lord.”
“Goodbye, Lady Landsdowne.”
His reflection in the window was no more, but she didn’t look away. She tormented herself by listening to his retreating footsteps, the closing of the door. She watched his solitary figure walk down her drive, his head held high.
Then she sank to the floor and wept for all the dreams—hers and his—she’d just shattered, for the loneliness she knew she would experience without him, for the sorrow she’d brought him, for how desperately she wanted to rush out after him and beg him not to leave her.
Chapter 20
The next morning, she awoke with eyes gritty and swollen. If she could bring herself to look in the mirror, she’d no doubt see they were red as well. In between bouts of restless sleep, she’d wept.
She couldn’t recall her heart ever hurting this much. And she’d brought it all on herself. She’d thought he understood the terms of their relationship, that it would never be more than an affair.
Although she probably should have made certain her heart understood the terms as well, because damn it all to hell, she’d fallen in love with him. How could she not when he made her smile, made her laugh. When he gave her sprites for her garden. When he kissed her on a roundabout.
She rang for her maid and then took great pains to avoid her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t want to see the sad and wretched creature she was. Sometime before the day was done, she was going to have to explain to Gina that she was on her own when it came to finding a husband. Tillie could no longer help her. She was going to return to New York.
When she was dressed, she made her way downstairs. Feeling as though she were slogging through mire, she headed to the dining room for breakfast. Griggs stopped her in the hallway.
“My lady, the coachman sent word up that a horse has been delivered to the stables. The lad who delivered it told him you are now its owner.”
“No.” The word escaped as a horrified whisper.
Before Griggs could respond, she hiked up her skirts and ran, through the residence, out a rear door into the gardens, past the pixie and roses and trellises until she reached the stables near the mews.
The coachman, a groom, and the stable boy were standing about admiring the proud and beautiful mare. Tillie staggered to a stop, gasping for breath, her heart feeling as though it were being rent in two.
The coachman turned to her, his face splitting into a wide grin. “She’s a beaut, m’lady. The lad what brung her said she’s to be called Fair Vixen.” The mare whinnied and tossed her head. “Seems to know her name, she does. I thought to have one of the lads here ride her, see if she’s as gentle as she seems.”
“No,” she said, “no one is to ride her. We won’t be keeping her.”
“That’s a shame. I ’spect she runs right fast.”
She runs like the wind. “Someone will be picking her up this afternoon,” she told him. “Give her great care and keep her comfortable until then.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
She’d intended to walk away then, but she seemed unable to stop her legs from moving forward. The horse lowered her head as she approached, and Tillie found herself stroking the muzzle before pressing her forehead to it. “He values you. Why did he send you here?”
Because their arrangement was at an end. Gina was not betrothed. He was paying the forfeit for his failure.
“I’m not taking your horse. You can send someone to pick her up.”
It seemed the problem with having an affair with a lady in his own residence was that she learned her away around it and apparently didn’t think she needed the butler to announce her but was perfectly comfortable storming into his library in the late morning hours, with no regard for what a man might be doing.
Behind his desk, Rexton shoved back his chair and stood. The three men gathered in front of him also came to their feet, obviously perplexed by the intrusion to their weekly meeting. “Gentlemen, we’ll leave matters there and take it up again when next we gather.”
They mumbled their goodbyes to him, tipped their heads to Tillie as they passed her. He forced himself not to be gladdened by her arrival, to remain where he was rather than rushing forward, drawing her in, and begging her to reconsider a future with him.
Somewhat abashedly, she walked forward. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt your discussion.”
“Why are you here?” He was rather proud of the fact he had kept his tone flat, uncaring.
“You don’t owe me Fair Vixen.”
“Of course I do. Those were the terms of our agreement. If I abandoned the quest before the end of the Season, my prize mare was forfeit. I have abandoned the quest ahead of time, completely and absolutely. With no regret or remorse. Fair Vixen is yours.”
“But you didn’t abandon it after taking me to your bed. The arrangement has ended because of my actions. You are not at fault.”
He came around the desk, because he needed to ensure she heard and understood what he said. She took two steps back. He advanced. She took three steps back, then held her ground, chin coming up. He stopped when they were toe to toe.
“Our arrangement, madam, was that I would forfeit the horse if I did not see things through to a satisfactory conclusion. The terms of forfeiture have been met. The damned mare is yours.”
“You’re angry.”
“I’m bloody furious. That you would come here and presume to tell me what I do or do not owe you? I am a man of my word. I honor my vows and my promises. I could marry a woman I despised and if I swore before man and God I would forsake all others then I would be true to her and never stray. I do not take words given lightly. I am not Landsdowne.”
She blanched. “I am well aware of that.” She lifted her hand as though to touch his cheek. If she touched him, he would go to his knees and agree to have her in his life on her terms. He didn’t know what was reflected in his eyes, but she dropped her hand. “You come from a respected and noble family. You are a marquess. One day you will be a duke. You cannot be associated with a woman of scandal.”
“You have told me Americans are not favored here. I will admit I have found many of them to be rather crass, boasting about their wealth. And yes, madam, you judge the English just as harshly. Lord knows you’ve been ill treated by an Englishman.” He gave his head an impatient jerk. “By several, by all accounts. But by all? My brother did not turn on his heel and leave my box when he saw you sitting there. He was a gentleman, kissed your hand. My sister approached you at the park. Did you think her insincere? My mother who has not hosted a ball in years, whose husband is nearly blind, is hosting an affair that wi
ll no doubt be well attended so she can show all of London you are welcomed in her house. I would hold your hand in public, yet you want to limit what we share to the shadows. I am even willing to live away from Society, but that seems not to suit you either. Yes, madam, I am rather put out.”
He spun on his heel and headed for the double doors that led into the gardens because he feared he was very close to howling out his frustration. “The horse is yours, Lady Landsdowne. Mate her with Black Diamond. Get yourself a winner.”
She was sitting on the settee in the parlor sipping her third glass of whisky when Gina walked in.
“Oh my God, whatever is wrong? It’s early afternoon and you’re drinking.”
“I made him angry,” she said, her tone devoid of emotion.
“That’s wonderful! That’s what you’re supposed to do.” Gina sat on the settee beside her, smiling joyfully.
Tillie stared at her; her sister had gone mad. “I beg your pardon?”
“When you were giving me advice, you told me at some point I needed to make the gentleman courting me angry so I could see what he was truly like.”
Had she said that? She had a vague recollection of it. “I am not one whose courting advice you should follow.”
“So what is he like when he’s angry?”
“Cutting.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not quite accurate. His words are clipped but there is a vibration in his voice, like the lingering thrum of a chord struck on a piano. It sounds like hurt. And his eyes were those of someone wounded who was trying to pretend he wasn’t hurt.” She knew that look. She’d seen it often enough in her own reflection while she was married to Downie.
An Affair with a Notorious Heiress Page 27