A Singular Lady

by Megan Frampton

  The other man walked toward him, holding his hand out in greeting. “I am Landon. You must be Worthy. Well,” he said after shaking Edwin’s hand, “I believe you two are acquainted? I will leave you to it, then, and Worthington, please give me the specifics as soon as you can.”

  The duke left, leaving Edwin and his father to regard each other in silence. After a moment, his father spoke in a soft, hesitant voice unlike what Edwin had ever heard from him before.

  “My son, I asked you here for two reasons. The first is to ask if you can forgive me. I know you can never forget. I have spent every day of the past five years regretting my actions, but also being too stubborn to admit it. Circumstances have changed, and I am just glad that it is not too late. It is not too late, is it, Edwin?” he queried.

  “No, Father, it is not too late.” Edwin moved toward the older man, enveloping him in a deep embrace.

  After several heartbeats, Edwin stepped away, regarding his father with curious eyes. The wings of gray that had graced his father’s temples had overtaken the dark brown, and his face was lined and worn. He had always been tall, but before, his height had been balanced by his width, a barrel-chested man with long, strong legs. Now he was substantially thinner, his clothes even hanging slightly away from his frame.

  “You mentioned two things; what is the second?”

  His father turned away from him briefly, resting a finger on the globe and spinning it with an abstracted air. “You would not know that I have been working with the War Office advising on strategy, current campaigns, negotiations—although I am not particularly skilled at those, am I?” he said with a rueful glance at his son. “Basically, anything that comes up in the course of this terrible war. The War Office is scrambling to anticipate all potential maneuvers, and we need some expertise in the field. That is where we need your help.”

  “But I, as you know better than anyone, never served in the army. My time spent in the Americas has meant I did not keep up as much as I would have if I had been here.”

  “No, we do not wish you to go on a campaign. Having just found you, I cannot even bear the thought of you leaving again. We need some strategic insight on what battle tactics the Corsican might have planned. You already do such analysis for your scholarly journals—we are merely asking you to apply your knowledge to this war.”

  “Is maintaining your position in the government what inspired you to find me? Because if this is just your pride speaking again, I would prefer not to have had this conversation.”

  “You are my only son, Edwin, and my heir.”

  “Yes, and I will be the next marquess, no matter what you or I think of the matter.”

  His father chuckled dryly at his angry tone. “Worthy, I have missed you, and your temper, no matter how much you always tried to hide it. No, this is not about my position, or the potential embarrassment of having an estranged son walking around London rather than Halifax. I sent letters asking you to return but just—well, just never sent them.” Lord Worthington walked slowly around the room, then turned to look at Edwin.

  “The government needs your expertise, and I need my son.” Edwin’s heart softened, but rather than open his heart to let the words fall, he turned his attention toward what his father had asked him. It was easier to do things, he had found, than to say them.

  “For this project, you mean I will just do analysis? I am not cut out to be a spy, Father. I can seldom keep my emotions in check, as you well know.”

  The two men chuckled together, almost comfortable with their altered relationship. They had never shared this kind of rapport before. His father had always been so unapproachable, and Edwin had such a shy and scholarly nature, at least until his passions were inflamed, that he had never dared to overstep his bounds.

  “There will be no spying, I assure you; so, I can tell the duke you will assist us?”

  “Yes, I will help however I can, Father.”

  “Good, good.” His father rubbed his hands together and began to pace quickly around the room.

  “I must go, but perhaps you would come to the house—our house—tomorrow, my boy? I have someone I want you to meet.” He cleared his throat. “You will also want to refamiliarize yourself with our holdings and, of course, reacquaint yourself with the staff.”

  “Yes, tomorrow would be fine. Can you not stay?”

  “No, mmm, must get home, Let—must get home. Well, I will see you tomorrow. Come in the morning, as soon as you have recovered from your evening, and Edwin?”

  “Yes, Father?”

  “Do try to find some clothing by tomorrow. I would not want you to shock the servants.” He smiled, giving a pointed nod toward Edwin’s exposed chest as he walked out of the room.

  Edwin’s head was spinning. That he and his father had reconciled so quickly was astonishing. He recognized he no longer felt resentment toward his father.

  It was as if a burden he had not known he was carrying had been lifted, and the pent-up emotion cast over him like a wave, causing him to blink his eyes. He moved to the window, looking out of it without seeing anything. He would have to go back to the ballroom eventually, if only to share his news with Titania.

  His eyes were bright with tears as he looked out on the street below, which was still filled with carriages discharging Society’s most famous and infamous denizens.

  “Lord Worthington?” He heard the soft voice, and turned to see the woman uppermost in his thoughts standing at the threshold. She looked at him for a moment, then moved to him, concern on her face as she saw his tears.

  He walked swiftly to meet her, and before she could say a word, gathered her in his arms and lowered his face down to hers, capturing her mouth in a kiss that spoke of his emotional intensity as no words possibly could.

  He explored her mouth with his tongue, and she responded with alacrity, showing him all she had learned from their previous encounters. She touched his teeth gently with her tongue, running it along his lips and nibbling gently on them, then more roughly as he groaned in response. The only sound in the room was their breath.

  He drew his head back for a moment to stare deep into her eyes, holding her face between his hands, then reached his hands behind her back to lock the heavy wooden door behind them.

  “My father just left. I was hoping you would come. I could not return to the ballroom just yet.”

  He gazed at her for a moment more as she looked at him in quiet sympathy, then swooped down again for another, even more passionate kiss.

  This time, he partially lifted the restraints he had held on himself the previous times he had kissed her. He placed his strong, work-roughened hand on her neck, pulling her close so she could feel him along the length of her body. He put the other hand at her waist, slowly trailing his fingers down her hip and up her abdomen in lazy circles as he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

  She found her body responding to the cadence of his fingers, and she was swaying in a slow circle, gradually moving her leg so it was between his. She wanted only to reach the conclusion of what they had started.

  What that conclusion was, and what it would mean—or not mean—for the two of them in the long run she resolutely pushed to another place in her head.

  What Edwin was doing with his tongue, his teeth, and oh, my goodness, his hands was far too intoxicating to give her any time for a sobering thought. She took her own hand and placed it hesitantly on his chest between the open folds of his shirt. His chest was even more magnificent than she had remembered, and being able to see it as well as feel it, even just once, was an experience she would gladly trade any of her cherished books—even Ovid—for. His chest felt smooth and hard under her hand, and she grew more bold as she caressed him, running her hand along the wide, golden expanse, feeling the cut and curve of his muscles. He gasped as her fingers stilled by his nipple, lazily circling it as he had done to hers the last time they had kissed. She spoke to him in a deliberately wicked tone.

  “All’s fair in love an
d war.” She took her hand away for a moment, causing Edwin to sigh in disappointment, but his sigh changed to an approving rumble as she licked her fingers and placed the now moistened finger pads back onto his nipple. He sighed in luxurious contentment and started to move her back toward the enormous desk in the corner.

  Her panniers proved some impediment to their progress, so she reached behind her and untied the fastening with impatient hands, allowing the garments to fall to the floor. His eyes widened in amazement as he drank in the sight of her, her lower garments flung to the floor, leaving only a scanty petticoat, and her upper garments hanging on by a thread or two. Her lush ivory-white breasts were rising and falling in a mesmeric rhythm, and for a moment, all Edwin could do was follow their tempo with his eyes. He trailed his eyes down to her hips, which flared out confidently from her tiny waist, her womanly curves as perfect as he had imagined.

  He might possibly die if he could not fully possess her now, even though it meant finding a special license tomorrow, a conundrum he was sure he could solve, once his brain—which had turned to mush—had returned to working normally.

  He pulled her back to his chest, tearing at his shirt with irritation, anxious to feel his bare skin on hers. When his shirt was removed to his satisfaction—and hers, too, apparently—he slid both his hands behind her and lifted her onto the hard, wooden desk, mercifully cleared of papers.

  She was suddenly aware of just how powerful he was, his hands holding her tightly as he ravaged her mouth with his lips and tongue.

  He chuckled softly against her lips, then slid one hand up her waist to capture her breast, sliding it out of its flimsy covering easily. He cupped it in his hand, then began to brush her nipple lightly with his finger, feeling it start to harden under his attention. He took his other hand and extricated the other breast from its covering so she was bare to the waist. Still kissing her, he began to caress both her breasts, moving his warm, slow hands so they almost completely covered her full curves, her nipples erect as they reacted to the attention being lavished on them. He pulled his mouth away from hers, and before the soft “oh!” of disappointment could come from her lips he bent his head down to her chest and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking it as if it were the most delicious treat he’d ever tasted.

  Titania couldn’t believe how the simple placement of his mouth on her breast could cause such a sensation of feeling all over her body, a languorous warmth stealing over her, her entire body begging to be touched and licked as her breasts were. She could only hold onto his short, golden-brown hair as he continued to suckle her breasts, taking one, then the other, as much into his mouth as he could, tracing his tongue on the sensitive underside where it began its curve out from her body, licking her lightly, delicately, then sucking on her with an intensity that made her gasp.

  She released her death grip on his hair, sliding her hands back onto his shoulders, feeling the bone and muscles underneath the warm, golden skin. She feasted her eyes on his body, drinking in the sight of the muscles shifting as he held her tighter, his large hands grasping her as if he would never let her go. She slid her hands down as far as she could reach, past the shoulder blades to the middle of his back, stroking her hands on his skin in frustration that she could not touch more of him.

  Just as she was certain she couldn’t take anymore, he was suddenly still, his eyes closed as he caught her wrist with her hand.

  “Titania, you understand what we are doing, if you wish to stop this, now is the time?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. “Because I will not be able to stop in a moment, and we will have to have the banns read right away, which is sure to cause all kinds of scandalous talk, since I will not be able to keep my hands off you once I’ve tasted you.”

  Titania drew back. “Banns read,” she repeated dully. “I cannot marry you, Edwin. You cannot afford me. I was hoping—that is, I assumed that we, that neither of us was free to do what we truly wanted for the rest of our lives, that is, that perhaps just for now we could enjoy ourselves without thinking too much of the future.”

  Edwin’s face froze for a moment, and his next words were like ice water thrown on Titania’s warm heart. “You wish to make love to me but you will not marry me? You thought this”—he gestured between them—“was what, exactly? What kind of man do you take me for? I have been used by a woman once before. I will not be used again. Is it possible you are as ugly in your heart as Leticia was?”

  Titania shook as he spoke. He wanted to marry her, even though she knew he was destitute, had seen the shabby clothing he wore, the dilapidated carriage and old nags he drove, even heard how he was on the hunt for a woman who would restore the luster of his title.

  She had just delivered him a facer from which he might never recover—at least not enough to forgive her.

  She turned away from him, unconsciously adjusting her garments so she wasn’t as naked on the outside as she felt on the inside. Having made herself somewhat presentable, she turned again to face him, her hand balled into a fist at her side, her other hand holding her throat as if she were struggling for air.

  “Edwin, I am sorry to have so disappointed you. I thought you understood me when we spoke at my house the other day; it appears you did not. I must beg your forgiveness, my lord. If you will excuse me...”

  “Excuse you!” Edwin thundered, moving toward her as menacingly as he had lovingly just a few minutes ago. “Excuse you for assuming I would fall in with your plans for me, as if I were a stallion to service you? And did you even think about the consequences, Miss Stanhope? What if there was a child? Would you allow some other man, some dupe, to believe that he had sired it? What of me?”

  By this time, he was standing as close to Titania as before, his eyes glittering emerald sparks. She wanted to take a step back, but her pride—her stupid pride, she could admit to herself—would not allow her to back down.

  No, she hadn’t considered the consequences. Nor had she thought much beyond had been about to happen in this room; did that make her irresponsible? Yes, it did.

  She was acting just as hedonistically as her father had, determined to gain her own pleasure at the expense of others. She was using Edwin as if he were no better than...than, she couldn’t even say it to herself. Her insides crumpled.

  It was one thing to sell yourself off to the highest bidder who would presumably know the rules of the game, but to involve an honorable man in a dishonorable action was a much different thing entirely. It was a good thing that whoever would have the honor of marrying her had no use for her heart, because it was lying at the feet of the ferociously angry man now glowering at her.

  “You are right, my lord,” she said softly, her voice so low he had to bend closer to hear her. “I have led you on. I never had any intention of marrying you. You see, I must marry someone who is wealthy. My livelihood depends on it.”

  “Your livelihood?” he said with a scornful grimace. He backed away from her as if repelled. “What could possibly be worth throwing away a passion like this for? You demean yourself and me, Miss Stanhope. I hope your books and jewels and whatever else you spend your husband’s money on keep you warm at night, since there is no possibility, none,” he said, moving so close to her that his breath tickled her eyebrows, “you will find anyone who would love you as I do. Neither as deeply,” he said, putting his mouth next to her ear, “nor as well,” he finished, lightly tracing his tongue down her neck.

  “And, if you will excuse me, I have to return to the masquerade, where people in disguise are less devious than you.” He quickly brushed by her, turned the key in the lock, and was gone.

  Titania stared at the closed door, her breath coming in such short gasps she felt she might suffocate.

  She plopped down on the carpet and held her head in her hands, trying hard not to lose control. Her efforts were in vain, however, and she surrendered to her anguish, crying in great, gulping gasps as she lay on the carpet.

  After a few minutes of relentles
s sobbing, she attempted to sit up and put herself to rights. Her clothing was still all disheveled from Edwin’s attentions, and she was mortified to think someone might have walked into the library when she was wailing on the carpet.

  It was a good thing, she thought with a slight return to her normal frame of mind, that there had not been some sort of library room emergency, like if someone suddenly needed to ascertain whether Brussels was closer to Athens or Constantinople. Thank goodness the party guests were far too engrossed in discovering the locations of the eligible (and ineligible) members of the opposite sex.

  She busied her hands—and her mind—with the rearrangement of her clothes. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought just how close she had come to giving herself completely to Edwin.

  If he had not mentioned marriage. If she had not been honest with him. She would never come that close to such passion again. A man like Edwin came along once in a lifetime, and he had just walked out the door.

  Chapter 13

  “Titania, where have you been?” Miss Tynte gave her a keen-eyed look, her features softening as she met Titania’s eyes.

  “Out ruining my life.” She plopped down on the chair next to her friend and sat her face in her hands.

  “Miss Stanhope, perhaps you forgot our engagement?” Lord Gratwick had sidled up on her other side, and his smooth tones were an unpleasant interruption.

  She inhaled, placed her palms on her knees, and stood up, pasting a cheery smile on her face. “Why, no, my lord, of course not. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” It was hard, but not impossible, to maintain an air of sanguinity when your heart lay broken in some duke’s library.

  “Miss Stanhope, it appears you do not value your secrets as much as I had thought...perhaps when it is time for the unmasking we should unmask the Singular Lady as well?” He tapped his finger against his lips. “I wonder what the other guests would think of a lady in Society who is making such fun of their diversions. I wonder if your suitors would be pleased at being compared to various forms of animal life? And so, Miss Stanhope, if you have no objection—” He moved forward as if to address the crowd. Titania shot her arm out to hold him back. He turned to her with a smug smile on his face.