A Rogue's Surrender: Regency Novellas
Page 12
After a half hour had passed, she closed the book. “Barrett says we’ll be docking soon.” Her voice bubbled with excitement.
He’d been so focused on leaving England, he hadn’t even asked where in America they were going. “What city?”
“New York,” she giggled.
His eyes were still closed but he could feel her bouncing. “Excited?”
“I can’t wait to see it.” He felt her still beside him. “Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.
He opened his eyes and looked over at her. Her chocolate brown eyes danced with merriment as her adorable little nose crinkled with excitement. Her brown curls bobbed as she resumed bouncing and he laughed, her joy filling him with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You can tell me anything.”
“Someday I want to live in America.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “England is too stuffy.”
Live in America? Leave England and the past behind? May was definitely on to something.
Chapter One
New York City, 1866
Loudoun sat at a gaming table, careful to keep his face schooled in a mask of unconcerned boredom. It was an act, of course.
His every muscle tensed in concentration, not that he needed to focus on the game. The other players were so far into their cups, winning was easy.
But even after six years without a drop of liquor, it still called to him. The sweet oblivion that came with imbibing was like a ghost haunting him. Always there, but never to be touched.
Which was why he rarely gambled or attended parties. Instead he filled his days with mind-numbing work. Once a layabout earl whose greatest accomplishment was receiving the best invitations for parties, he now prided himself on being one of the hardest-working men on the East Coast of the United States. After he’d proved he could remain sober, Barrett Maddox, Duke of Manchester, had put him in charge of the American branch of his shipping company.
It was a demanding job, but it suited him just fine. It left him very little time for anything else, and that was how he wanted it. No drinking, no gambling, and most importantly, no committed relationships. He’d never been good at any of those anyway, and so he focused on managing and expanding Barrett’s business.
A woman, tall, blonde, and willowy sauntered by, her eyes devouring Loudoun. He preferred more curves, but she was a beauty to most and she suited his needs. Once done at the tables, he’d seek her out and most likely take her home. That was the only other skill he’d ever mastered. Getting beautiful women in his bed.
Of course, it didn’t take much effort with his looks. There was never a shortage of women willing to meet his appetite.
The next round of cards was dealt, and he lifted the corners, just barely high enough to see what he had. A pair of aces. This hand was already his. He longed to retire, head home to his New York mansion, and kick off his boots. Devour a willing woman.
But he was here for a reason. The local railroad was looking for a shipping company to exclusively do business with. Goods would be loaded from upstate and unloaded directly onto boats to be shipped to Europe.
He wanted that contract for Maddox Shipping. He wanted it for himself. It was a point of pride that he keep expanding, always expanding.
The initial round of betting done, it was time to tighten up his hand. William Wurts, owner of the Jefferson Railroad sat to his right, its chief engineer, Mason Lancaster, was to his left.
“Two,” his nonchalant tone called out as the dealer looked up to see how many cards he wanted replaced from his hand.
A third ace landed in his hand and now he knew he’d won this round. He raised the bet and sat back in his chair.
“Don’t know what’s happened to me tonight.” Wurts coughed and then puffed out his chest. “Did I tell you about the time I travelled out west and beat a table full of professional gamblers? Confederate soldiers, meaner than mean and aces at cards. But I won.” He hooked his thumb towards his breastbone.
Mason whispered quietly next to Loudoun. “Poor sods only wanted a job. And the boss doesn’t like to lose.”
Loudoun kept his face still but he now understood. Not only did he need to gamble with Wurts to secure the contract, but he needed to lose. Which was fine with him. His self-worth didn’t come from the gaming table, it came with the contract that only Wurts could provide.
“I fold,” he called out suddenly.
Wurts smiled, slapping Loudoun on the back. “Now let’s talk business.”
“I agree,” a deep voice growled behind him. He stilled for just a moment. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Barrett,” he mumbled. His boss, the Duke of Manchester, had made an unexpected visit to New York. What might this be about?
Barrett picked up Loudoun’s glass and gave it a sniff, then set it back down on the table, giving Loudoun a genuine smile. “Lucius. Glad to see you in such fine health.”
“William, Mason, may I introduce you to the owner of Maddox Shipping, His Grace, the Duke of Manchester?”
“Well, I’ll be.” Wurts grinned like an idiot. “I didn’t think I’d get to meet a real live duke.”
“That’s how important your business is to us.” Loudoun gave the man a grin. Now that he knew Wurts’ weak point was his pride, he’d exploit it without mercy.
“I’d like to introduce my niece,” Barrett began.
Loudoun lifted his eyebrows because Barrett’s only brother had children younger than Barrett’s. The oldest was perhaps eight. It seemed odd that he would have brought one of them to this party.
Barrett stepped to the side and turned to pull a delicate gloved hand forward. The rustle of silk was the only sound Loudoun could hear as he stood to properly greet Barrett’s guest.
A bland smile on his face, he extended his hand in greeting, expecting to see a child. But the pale pink skirts caught his notice first because they hung off the most delicious set of hips he’d seen in quite some time. Full and round, they were perfect for a man’s hands, especially the way they tapered into the tiniest waist he’d ever seen and then flared into a delightfully full bosom that near left him panting.
His eyes travelled up the delicate, creamy column of her neck to the full pale pink lips, puckered into a soft, come hither smile. High cheekbones and a pert little nose met his gaze. Finally, he let his eyes wander to hers and he froze. A lump forming in his stomach.
Sparkling brown eyes, dancing with amusement, met his. Every thought of Wurts, railroads, ships, and dukes left his head. It couldn’t be her…
“Lucius, you remember Miss May Stanly. She was with us on your first passing.”
He gave a nod but the rest of him was still as a statue as he assessed the girl he’d once known. Girl. The term was almost laughable.
“Loudoun,” her sweet bright voice bounced along his senses, raising goose pimples along his flesh. Panic was setting in now and the desire to run, to be anywhere but here.
Dimly he was aware that introductions had continued without him. But his attention snapped into sharp focus when Mason stepped in front of him. “Miss May, it is a real pleasure to meet you.”
Loudoun pushed Mason to the side and stepped closer to May. Mason, having imbibed several glasses of whisky, was not so subtly letting his eyes rove up and down her petite frame.
Wurts gave her a salacious grin. “I should introduce you to my son, William Junior. Though if you get to know him, you’ll learn we call him Willy.”
A most ridiculous name. A rumble was building low in his chest and working its way up his throat. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t give a damn about that contract, or anything else. If that man laid a single finger on her he’d break it off.
He gave himself a shake, wondering what the bloody hell was wrong with him. He hadn’t seen May in more than six years, and though she had helped him tremendously, it was odd he would be so protective.
“Mind if I play for a few minutes?” Barrett gave him a wicked grin.
He stepped back far enough to give the players privacy, Mason and Wurts having returned to their seats. A hand slid into the crook of his elbow. His teeth snapped together.
May was one of the few people who had seen him at his worst. Hell, she’d helped him put his life back together with her kindness. But it made him vulnerable in ways he hated. And her smell. It was floral with a hint of a deeper musk that was making it difficult to think clearly.
Whatever the reason, he’d be better off far away from her.
“How have you been?” She had moved even closer. Her whisper was almost conspiratorial.
“Fine,” he answered through clenched teeth, barely keeping himself still.
She paused and he could feel her gaze assessing him. He couldn’t bring himself to look into those eyes again. “You probably don’t remember me. I was the girl who—”
“I know who you are, May.” His tone was clipped.
Another pause. “I see.” She turned into him and sweet Jesus, her breast brushed his arm. It took every ounce of control not to jump away. “I thought you might not because you don’t seem particularly glad to see me again. I must confess, I don’t understand why. I thought we’d become friends, though it was long ago.”
And that was May. Exactly like he remembered her. Open, warm, caring, she was everything he had never been. Which was the exact reason he had to stay far away from her now. “We were never friends. Will never be friends.”
“Oh,” she answered so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
Her skirts rustled again and she stood on tiptoe, her entire glorious chest pressed against his arm, the flat of her stomach grazing his hip. Everything in him clenched. If he could have done so, he would have backed away, but it would have been terribly obvious and so he was trapped.
And then her breath was whispering across his ear. “You’ll grow to love me, I just know it.”
His head snapped toward her then, which might have been one of the biggest mistakes of his life. And he had a great many mistakes.
Because her face was only a few inches from his. Her skin glowed in the candlelight, her soft full lips set in a welcoming grin. His breath hissed out and he snapped his head back, putting some distance between them. “What the hell does that mean?”
The smile never wavered but her eyes held a touch of uncertainty now and he hated it. May should always look innocent and trusting, lovely and warm. He disliked even more that he had put that look there.
“We’re staying in New York for the season.”
“No.” He did take a half step away then. He needed some distance between him and May. An entire ocean would suffice.
Chapter Two
He hated her. It was completely obvious. What May couldn’t figure out was why. They’d parted on good terms, granted she’d been thirteen and he’d been just this side of death. But she’d thought they’d shared a friendship. A blush crept into her cheeks. Deep down she’d always wanted it to be more.
He was even more handsome now, his chiseled features and piercing blue eyes so much sharper. More muscular and somehow that made him look even taller and broader than she’d remembered. And his lips were kissable perfection; that is, when they weren’t twisted in a sneer. Like they were now, looking at her.
He took a few deep breaths and the muscles in his face seemed to relax into a more neutral expression. But his body was as far away as her hand tucked into his arm would allow. “Why are you staying in America? Surely, you would prefer a season in London to New York. It isn’t nearly as cultured here.”
His eyes were scanning her face, searching for answers, she was sure. Her eyebrows floated up as she masked her stinging pride with a quick answer. “You’ll have to ask Barrett. It’s not my decision.” In fact it was her decision, at least partially. Though her adopted family in England loved her, she didn’t belong, not really.
They were all members of the peerage, the elite. And she was just a girl who didn’t really belong. Not that her family made her feel that way. They treated her like a full-fledged member. But the rest of polite society looked down their noses at her. Snubbed her with their subtle actions and their verbal barbs.
So when Barrett decided to do an audit on the business she’d jumped at the chance to spend time in America. A place where no one was a native and everyone an outsider. Because of that, she had a chance to really be part of society. She’d meant what she’d said all those years ago. She wanted to live here. What she didn’t know was how to make that happen with her very protective adopted family.
When her parents had died in a carriage accident, her cousin, Lizzie, had taken her in. When Lizzie married an earl, Lizzie’s husband, Chris, had become her adopted father.
Barrett was Chris’s close friend and May’s uncle by choice. A fact that she was eternally grateful for. But between Chris, Barrett, and their friend Alex, she had the equivalent of three adopted fathers. And all three were in agreement, America was not an option.
And so she’d devised a plan to stay. While here, she’d find a husband. Barrett couldn’t object to her living in America if she were married to an American. She had a dowry in her own right, a rather large one as two dukes and an earl had contributed to the fund.
In this moment, however, she was suffering from one tiny hiccup in the plan. She’d always fancied Loudoun. He’d been her girlhood daydream. She’d expected to come and find that he’d married or he’d aged terribly or that her feelings had simply disappeared. But here he stood, tall, broad, handsome and…English.
“I could ask him, but he’s damn hard to get information out of and so I’d rather ask you.” Loudoun was now staring intently at the poker table, not meeting her eye. It gave her the opportunity to stare at his handsome profile. Just looking at him made an unfamiliar ache pulse deep inside.
This was not going even remotely to plan. She didn’t want a surly English earl. She wanted an American cowboy or railroad man. “Has it been that long since you’ve been to England? You’re not supposed to curse in front of ladies.”
“Strictly speaking, you are not a lady.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and she tried not to grimace. He’d touched her most sensitive nerve. She wasn’t a lady and every member of the peerage, even the ones living in America, had taken note of that fact. Another reason she should forget about her fantasy of Loudoun.
A willowy blonde passed by, her eyes all over Loudoun. Despite having just told herself to forget him, jealousy prickled along May’s skin making her stand up straighter. The other woman’s eyes landed on May and her lip curled into a sneer.
It was instinctual. May slid closer to him, a small sign of possession. She was touching him again, his hard angles and strength making her go soft on the inside. She shouldn’t like it so much but it terribly satisfying to be this close to him.
She heard Loudoun’s intake of breath as he tensed away. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes snapped to his, breaking the moment of bliss. “What are you doing?”
“I’m standing here minding my own business.” He looked at her then and his face tightened, lips pinched. His visceral reaction to the sight of her was the oddest behavior she’d ever encountered. It shouldn’t bother her, she didn’t want him but somehow his physical rejection hurt her more than most.
“I’m standing here minding my own business,” she repeated shrugging again.
His eyes were searching her face again. “You are still a child, after all.”
After all? Had he actually noticed she wasn’t? She almost denied the claim. But that would have sounded childish. So instead she pried her eyes from his and let her gaze sweep the smoke-filled room. “There is nothing to be said in such a ridiculous conversation. I’ve no choice but to st
and next to you while Barrett plays and since you seem determined to convince me to return to Europe when I’ve spent a month crossing the ocean to get here, I really don’t know what else I might possibly say.” She looked at him again, a good long stare. “Other than I am not the one acting childish.” Another question was on the tip of her tongue. Why didn’t he like her?
She dropped her hand from the crook of his elbow. She didn’t even want him. Why did his rejection sting so much? He’d been a childhood fantasy, nothing more. Now she needed to focus on her adult dreams. An American husband who would allow her to stay in America forever.
Silly girl, she chided herself. Maybe he was right to call her childish after all.
“You’re right. I apologize.” He raked his hand through his hair.
Well that was something, she supposed. If they both lived here, they might see each other in the future. She’d like to be friends at least. Turning to him, she tilted her face up to his. “I’ve fond memories of that crossing. I thought you might as well. Perhaps not of the crossing, but of me.”
He didn’t look at her, his eyes were now trained at his feet, his expression dark, pained. “It was the most difficult time of my life.” His face spasmed. “Try to understand, May. Seeing you reminds me of that.”
“Oh,” she whispered again. Because that was awful. And potentially insurmountable. Looking at her reminded him of the worst experience he’d had. “Well it was one of the best for me.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t get emotional. “It was the first time I thought I might have made a difference in someone’s life.”
“You did.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. As though the entire conversation pained him.
It was suddenly hurting her too and this time, she stepped back. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say it.” She waved her hand as if she could brush away his words. Some relationships were best left in the past. Clearly her girlhood fantasies and his past trauma meant they could never be friends.