Rescued by the Earl's Vows

by Ann Lethbridge

He was ashamed of her? Mortification filled her. While there was clearly never any intention on his part to make her an offer and nor did she want him to, the thought that he held her in such low esteem hurt.

  She had a very real urge to drop her hand from his arm and flee the ballroom. But that would only make things worse. She stiffened her spine. The sooner they found Grey, the sooner she could rid Sandford of her embarrassing presence.

  ‘Was it your cousin to whom you were talking a few minutes ago?’

  ‘It was.’

  Jaimie had been warning them about her. She wanted the floor to open.

  ‘They are dancing. Perhaps I should meet them some other time.’ Or never.

  ‘No. I told them I would bring you to meet them. It would look strange if I did not.’

  Sandford strolled towards the couple the moment the music finished. The woman had lively hazel eyes and a smile that lit her face to the point of loveliness. Her husband, on the other hand, a handsome broad-shouldered fellow with hard blue eyes, stared at Tess as if she had crawled out from under a rock.

  ‘Lady Hawkhurst, Hawkhurst, I don’t believe you have met Lady Theresa Ingram.’

  ‘Lady Theresa,’ Lady Hawkhurst said. ‘Such a pleasure.’

  Both of them were studying her intently. What on earth had Jaimie told them?

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ Tess said, refusing to be intimidated. ‘Please, call me Tess. Everyone does.’ She grimaced. ‘Except my cousins. But I hope you will not follow their example.’ Dash it, she sounded like a featherhead. How could she be so nervous at a mere introduction? It wasn’t as if she would ever see them again, once Grey had been located.

  ‘And you must call me Alice,’ Lady Hawkhurst said.

  Lord Hawkhurst bowed, but his expression did not invite informality. ‘Lady Tess.’

  ‘What is your home county?’ Alice asked. ‘We reside in Derbyshire when we are not in town, not far from Sandford’s estate.’

  ‘I come from Kent, a small place near Sevenoaks.’

  ‘I love the southern part of the country. My family’s home is in Oxfordshire.’

  Her husband made a sound like a growl.

  Tess jumped.

  Alice shook her head at him. ‘It was a bone of contention for a time, but we overcame it, did we not, Michael?’

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips for a brief kiss on her knuckles, but his eyes held a possessive glint. ‘Thanks to you, my love.’

  Alice laughed and tapped his hand with her fan when he seemed inclined to keep it. She turned back to Tess. ‘Perhaps you and your cousins would do us the honour of dining with us next week? What do you think, Jaimie?’

  Jaimie looked nonplussed and then irritated.

  ‘It is very kind of you,’ Tess hastened to say, ‘but I cannot speak for my cousins.’

  ‘I will send round a note,’ Lady Hawkhurst said brightly.

  ‘There is no need, Alice,’ Jaimie said repressively. Well, he would. He knew that by next week all pretence of a possible alliance would be over.

  A pang stole into Tess’s heart. She would miss him...

  Oh, yes, she would miss his arrogance all right. The same as she might miss a stone in her shoe. With relief.

  Lord Hawkhurst narrowed his eyes. ‘Why don’t I speak to Rowan? He belongs to my club.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ Jaimie and Tess spoke in harmony.

  A grim smile flickered on Hawkhurst’s lips. Dash it. The man was bedevilling them. His wife, on the other hand, seemed genuinely disappointed.

  ‘I will speak with them,’ Jaimie said calmly. ‘Unfortunately it might be a week or so before I am free of my current engagements and I believe you plan to return to the country long before then.’

  Lady Hawkhurst’s lips tightened and she looked as if she would like to say something, but after a glance at her husband’s face, she remained silent.

  How interesting, the way they communicated without words. Tess had never seen that before.

  ‘We will look forward to hearing from you, Jaimie.’ There was a great deal of dryness in Hawkhurst’s tone. He turned to his wife and smiled. ‘Won’t we, my dear?’

  ‘I most certainly will,’ she said firmly.

  Dash it all, Sandford should never have introduced them. Clearly they did not approve of what they were doing.

  The orchestra struck up another waltz. ‘May I have this dance, Lady Tess?’ Jaimie asked with an elegant bow, clearly deciding to extract them from the awkward interview.

  ‘I would be delighted.’

  He escorted her on to the dance floor with calm reserve.

  She, on the other hand, was thrilled. Though she would never admit it to Jaimie, she loved the feel of his hands on her body, no matter how lightly they rested and how polite the distance he maintained.

  He, on the other hand, clearly felt none of the thrills that were skittering down her back. As he whirled her around the floor, a strange lump formed in her throat. She could scarcely believe her reactions to this handsome, elegantly masculine man. Each time her gaze wandered over his person her breath caught in wonder.

  What would it be like to have such a man for a husband? She could almost imagine... How foolish to even think of putting her trust in a man who she knew had no tender feeling towards her. A man like Sandford was not the sort to consider the opinions of a woman. Not when it came to matters of importance. He thought he knew best on every count. And if he took it upon himself to gamble away his fortune or drink himself into a stupor there was nothing a wife could say about it. He would expect her to be silent. Accepting. Obedient.

  As she had been with her papa. She could not go through that again. She had loved her papa and his betrayal had hurt her badly. It would be far better to marry a man for whom she had no feelings than a man she cared for and who would betray her on a whim. A hollow sensation filled the space behind her ribs. To trust Jaimie would be foolish in the extreme.

  ‘What unpleasant thoughts are going through your mind, my dear Tess?’ His voice was cool and distant, but the words were a shock.

  How had he known her thoughts were unhappy ones? Was she so transparent? If so, she must be more careful with her thoughts when around him. And perhaps it was time to give him some of his own back.

  ‘I was thinking about how much I dislike this pretence of ours.’

  He looked startled. ‘Now you think this? You have been keeping secrets from your family since the moment I met you.’

  ‘That was different. That concerned none but myself. But this pretending that things between us are something they are not and knowing that the Hawkhursts know it, too? Well, it just feels horrible, that is all.’

  ‘I see.’ The fluidity of his movements as they waltzed to the music did not change, nor did his expression, but something in the air around them changed. Little prickles raced across her shoulders. Had she somehow insulted his honour? Men were so sensitive about some things that never made much sense to her at all. Papa had been just the same. Let the roof fall down around their ears so long as he paid a debt to a man with whom he had wagered the outcome of a race between a couple of stag beetles.

  Not that she thought Sandford quite as foolish as Papa, but the principle was the same. You could not trust men to be sensible about important matters.

  ‘Lady Tess, it might be a pretence, but it is one we agreed upon. And with every eye in the room focused upon us right now, it might behoove you to attempt a little friendliness in your expression,’ he said. ‘A smidgeon of a smile would not go amiss or there will be rumours of a rift reaching your cousin’s ears before morning.’

  And then Mr Stedman would be back in the running. Or Tante Marie. She forced a smile that felt more like a grimace.

  His brows drew together, a frown quickly smoothed away. ‘I believe we need to tal
k.’

  ‘I thought we were talking.’

  He turned her under his arm, guiding her without the least appearance of doing so. ‘Talk about Friday.’

  About visiting Covent Garden. She had almost forgotten, she’d been so caught up in her worries about their charade. ‘Oh, that.’

  He glanced around the room. ‘Yes, that, and there is not a scrap of privacy to be had here. Meet me in the library in twenty minutes.’

  The music drew to a close and he walked her back to her cousin.

  * * *

  Jaimie lounged in the library and sipped at his whisky. He’d taken the liberty of pouring himself a glass from a decanter on the console by the window. He wasn’t even sure Tess would turn up. She had looked so dismayed at the suggestion. Indeed, she had been looking unhappy all evening.

  The door swung open and Tess strode in, looking about her, seeking him out. For a brief moment her face lit up and he basked in the warmth of her gladness. It disappeared so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it.

  Once more she looked worried.

  He rose to his feet. ‘You had no trouble leaving your cousin?’

  ‘Heavens, no,’ she said, sitting down on the sofa opposite the chair he’d been using and sinking back against the cushions with a sigh. ‘I told her I was going to the withdrawing room. You wanted to discuss going to Covent Garden on Friday?’

  ‘That, too. But, Tess, are you truly so unhappy with our arrangement?’

  She sat up, her face suddenly alert. ‘It is not our arrangement. I knew nothing of your plan until I was faced with a fait accompli. The longer it continues the more uncomfortable I feel. I suppose I should be grateful you told your cousins the truth, but honestly, I think they do not approve of it in the least.’

  Dammit all. ‘Did you have a better idea, then?’ He knew he sounded annoyed, when he really had intended to set her mind at rest. Usually he was able to keep his emotions buried. With Tess she always brought out the worst in him.

  She clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Isn’t it somewhat too late to ask?’

  ‘Not at all. If you have a better idea of a way a single gentleman can escort an unmarried lady all over London, I would really like to hear it.’

  ‘Why, so you can use it another time?’

  ‘I cannot imagine there would ever be another occasion where it would be required.’

  ‘Oh, you are impossible.’

  He was impossible? He sat down beside her. She moved as far along the sofa as space would permit and turned her face away.

  God help him! Do not say she was going to cry.

  He forced himself to speak quietly. ‘I am sorry, Tess. I honestly thought you would be pleased that I found a way for us to work together to find your brother.’ And escape the looming betrothal to Stedman—something he did not think he should mention. Because once they found this brother of hers, they would go their separate ways and her cousin was just as likely to insist on the match. The thought of her marrying Stedman made him feel ill.

  Damn her cousin for laying those debts on such slender shoulders. A man inherited and then he dealt with the outcome; he didn’t push the problem on to someone else to solve.

  ‘Tess.’ He put her arm around her shoulders. ‘I can understand why you feel uncomfortable about this, but it really was the only way.’

  Apart from actually offering for her hand. Would that really have been so bad?

  The thought hit him like a bolt of lightning out of a cloudless sky. He tried to push it away. To pretend it had never occurred to him, but it simply sat there, like a recalcitrant child, refusing to be dismissed.

  Oh, hell. He’d had one bad marriage, he certainly didn’t want another just because he felt sorry for the woman.

  If only that was all it was. He liked her. He liked her loyalty to her brother. He liked her determination to find him, even if he didn’t quite like the way she set about the search. He certainly found her alluring. Irresistibly so. But was passion a firm enough ground on which to build a future? She certainly was not the sort of woman he had envisaged taking as a second wife.

  Nor did she seem particularly keen on the idea of marriage, so far as he could tell.

  When she finally turned and gazed at him, her eyes were clear and dry, but sad. ‘I should never have embroiled you in my affairs.’

  ‘Well, you certainly know how to make a man feel like a knight in shining armour, my lady.’

  Her eyes widened and then she laughed.

  He gave a sigh of relief.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no wish to sound ungrateful. But you know, despite your best efforts, Rowan is quite likely try to force us into marriage if this arrangement continues.’

  ‘Is that what is troubling you?’

  ‘In part, I suppose.’

  He took and deep breath. ‘And if it came to pass, would it be so very awful?’

  She stared at him and an emotion he could not read flickered in her eyes. ‘Are you mad? You do not want this marriage any more than I do.’

  He hid his wince. He hadn’t realised the notion would be so distasteful to her. ‘I cannot imagine you would prefer the alternative.’ He hoped he sounded logical, not hurt. Of course he wasn’t hurt. Not exactly. Not when she echoed his own thoughts on the subject of matrimony.

  ‘Stedman, you mean? Of course you are better than him! But the whole reason for looking for Grey was to find a way not to get married.’

  He should have guessed she would be different to any other woman he had ever met. ‘Never?’

  ‘I suppose if I met the right man, I might feel differently. But honestly, I am not sure I want the responsibility.’

  He stared at her. ‘The man of the house is the responsible one.’

  She looked at him askance. ‘That is what they say.’

  The dryness in her voice gave him a little twinge in his gut. He knew a lot of irresponsible men. He hadn’t exactly done a stellar job with Hester, had he? And Michael had not been a saint with Alice in the early days of their marriage. ‘So it is all the more important we find this brother of yours.’

  ‘I suspected when you said you wanted to talk, that you had decided to cry off going on Friday. Or at least to go without me.’

  He ought to. ‘I never go back on my word.’ He had gone back on his word to Hester with disastrous results. He had promised to take her out in his curricle, but had been called away to attend the Prince Regent. He’d never had a chance to keep it.

  And clearly several men had already broken their word to Tess. Not that he trusted Rowan in the slightest. The man was desperate for money, willing to do whatever it took to get it.

  Well, he wasn’t going to let her marry Stedman. She would have to marry him instead. Surprisingly, Jaimie found himself rather pleased with the idea, now he had actually come up to the mark. He had been young and naive when he’d married Hester and spectacularly ill prepared for marriage. Michael had advised him to wait. But ever since he could remember, he’d wanted someone he could call his own and he’d charged ahead.

  He was older now and wiser, and truthfully, Tess wasn’t nearly as madcap as Hester had been. The difficult thing would be convincing Tess that she wanted to marry him...

  There was one sure way to make certain she would come around to his way of thinking. A very pleasurable way for both of them. A pang of guilt assailed him at the thought of using her passionate nature against her, but it was the right solution. The only answer.

  Tess looked doubtful, her lips pouting adorably as she still considered his promise not to go back on his word.

  Those irresistible lips...

  He leaned closer until he could feel her breath against his mouth, see the quickening of her pulse in the hollow of her throat and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was no more immune to him than he was to h
er.

  He brushed his mouth across hers, teasing lightly. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Her small hand came up to rest against his chest, hesitant at first, and then boldly creeping up to settle on his nape, her fingers tangling with his hair.

  He deepened the kiss, stroking her lips with his tongue. Her scent filled his nostrils, her lovely lush form melded into him.

  What had been intended as something sweet flared into something searing. His body hardened. He wanted her closer, but should anyone walk in the door, they would be in full view, a subject of sordid gossip and titillation.

  He lifted his head and her soft moan of protest went straight to his bollocks. Painful pleasure. He scanned the room. There. An alcove sporting a bloody great map table.

  ‘Hold on, sweet,’ he murmured, rising to his feet, lifting her, his hand under her gorgeous bottom. She clung around his neck, her legs hampered by skirts curled around his calves. He staggered the few feet to the table and perched her on its edge.

  She pressed little kisses to his cheek and chin and nose, then nuzzled into his neck as he worked her skirts up her legs and under her bottom to her waist.

  A soft hiss of shock escaped her, when her bared bottom encountered the cool wood tabletop. He had never heard anything quite so erotic.

  She wiggled closer to him, clasping her thighs around his waist, bringing her hot little centre tight up against his groin. He swallowed a growl of pleasure.

  The table was an inch or two higher than he would have liked, but where there was a will... He pulled her closer to the edge, stroking through the soft curls at her core.

  His shaft strained towards that soft damp centre, as if it could thrust its way through his clothing. He rocked his hips against her and let the waves of pleasure wash through his body and numb his mind.

  This was what he had wanted since they had parted in her chamber. He’d been punishing them both by denying the truth. And now that he had decided he wanted her for his wife, he felt a sense of freedom, an anticipation for the future. Provided he could convince her to walk down the aisle.

  Of course he could.

  Her soft pants and sounds of excitement were all the encouragement he needed.