A Singular Lady

by Megan Frampton

  “You must know I respect, admire, and trust you. You can depend on me if you need help.”

  “Any help except agreeing to be my bride, correct?” Alistair said with a sly grin. She laughed again, removing her hand from his arm to cover her mouth.

  “Yes, anything but that. Is it a bargain, then?”

  “Indeed it is, Miss Stanhope, indeed it is.”

  And without warning, with barely a second to register what was happening, he swept her up into a huge embrace, nearly enveloping her with his long arms. She stayed there for a moment, shocked, while he breathed deeply into her hair.

  “Excuse me,” a clipped voice said. Drawing back, Titania saw that Edwin was on the balcony, regarding the two of them—his best friend and the woman he’d been indecently caressing not twenty-four hours before—with undisguised disdain.

  “It appears I am interrupting. I had hoped Miss Stanhope would oblige me with a few moments of her time, but I believe that will now be unnecessary.

  “Excuse me,” he repeated, striding quickly back into the ballroom. Titania felt as if she had been punched in the stomach.

  Alistair continued looking at Edwin’s retreating form, then gave a heavy sigh and twisted his neck to regard Titania with a piercing gaze.

  “Miss Stanhope, you are terribly pale again. Judging by your face, it appears you have just informed me of the object of your affections. As if I did not already know. If you want me to speak with him, to explain the situation...”

  “No!” Titania burst out. “No, thank you,” she said in a milder tone, “I will do whatever explaining is to be done.”

  He must think she was the loosest woman of his acquaintance, going from man to man in some sort of mad rush. And how wrong was he? In the course of one day, she had received proposals from no fewer than three men, and turned them all down.

  She rose stiffly, feeling as if she were one hundred and twenty-three instead of just twenty-three. “Thank you, Mr. Farrell, I believe I would like to be alone for a little while, if you do not mind.”

  Alistair bowed. “Of course. Please, Miss Stanhope, if I may repeat what you just said—please, call on me if you need any help.” Titania gave him a slight nod of her head, then took several weary steps back into the ballroom. As she passed through the doorway, she squared her shoulders and threw her head back. A good bluff, her father used to say, is better than a good hand.

  The problem, she realized a few hours later, was that you needed someone to play with, and her chosen partner was proving maddeningly elusive.

  Titania watched in frustration as Edwin danced and flirted with any number of ladies, all of whom who were either married or otherwise unattainable. He danced a languorous waltz with Lady Carteret, a woman whose passions were only slightly less discreet than her cleavage, a quadrille with Mrs. Jennings, a widow who had just come out of mourning with an ample fortune and no desire ever to let it out of her control again, and the young Miss Jane Ellingsworth, who was in the unfortunate position of being the younger sister of a girl who could not seem to enter a conversation with anyone without disagreeing with them.

  “Titania, my love, you should stop staring.” Miss Tynte’s voice interrupted just as Titania was willing herself not to march over and remove Edwin from the woman who seemed to be gripping him as tightly as Lord George with a sugary tidbit. She tilted her head to stare at the ceiling, thus avoiding Miss Tynte’s eyes.

  “No, I was just admiring the chandeliers. Have you ever seen such a lovely fixture?”

  Her friend’s tone was as dry as Plutarch. “No, I have not. I do admire a good fixture.”

  “Well, I see my next partner arriving. Mr. Ramer, I believe this is your dance?” Titania smiled brightly at Miss Tynte as her partner whisked her away with a brisk twirl. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be discussing the last person she wanted to talk about.

  “The Earl of Oakley, he is a bit of a dark horse,” Mr. Ramer said with an admiring nod. “First he returns to town, no one knows he’s got anything—fact is, most everyone thinks he’s still the dog in the manger—then he shows up dressed like a prize rooster on the strut! Turns out he’s got gobs of money.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Ramer,” Titania asked, “does your family estate feature a wide assortment of livestock?”

  “Yes, Miss Stanhope, it does; why do you ask?”

  “No reason, Mr. Ramer. No reason.”

  “THANK YOU FOR THE DELIGHTFUL dance, my lord. I do not think the marquess minded that much when you stepped on his toes.”

  “Thank you for the exciting dance, Lord Yorksley. I have never performed the cotillion quite that way before.”

  “And thank you, my lord, for asking me. It was wonderful.”

  At last it was over. The evening wore the unmistakable signs of age: portly lords, their corsets creaking, were gathering their winnings from the gaming room while their ladies fanned themselves with some poor unfortunate’s notes of hand. More unfortunates were obsessively going over each hand with one another, certain they could discover the one play that turned their luck bad. Young misses were yawning in fatigue, their white gowns almost as tired, showing the marks of having been whirled around the room at least a dozen times, scraping by the refreshment table, the potted plants, and some slightly inebriated fellow’s wineglass; Miss Tynte was conducting a tête-à-tête with the same shortish fellow she had danced with the other evening.

  Miss Tynte looks so happy, Titania thought as the two ladies waited for their carriage to arrive. It would be selfish of her to burden Miss Tynte with her troubles right now.

  I wonder if even now he is with that widow. I hate her. I hate him. Well, I wish I did. I will work on that tomorrow.

  Miss Tynte paused on the steps, looking with a guilty start into her reticule. “Oh, my dear,” she exclaimed, “I must have left my handkerchief inside. I know I had it when I was waiting for you while you danced with Lord George—perhaps it is still near that chair. Let me just go and check. You go ahead into the carriage, I will follow presently.”

  She scurried inside, and Titania caught just a glimpse of Mr. Short Man (she really should get his name) before turning to enter the carriage. It was dark, and she fumbled for a moment before sitting on something hard and unyielding, not at all the comfortable cushions she was accustomed to.

  Chapter 16

  Edwin was drunk. Not so drunk he could not maneuver through the ballroom without mishap, not so drunk that he felt sick and dizzy, not so drunk that he could not watch Titania so discreetly that he did not think even she noticed.

  No, he was just drunk enough to muddle his thinking.

  Tonight, he had wanted to show the world in general, and Titania in specific, that his heart could be left for dead one night and he would be none the worse for wear the second night. He deliberately allowed Henri to dress him in his most extravagant outfit. He did not have to hide his wealth any longer; now that he had returned, and more importantly, reconciled with his father, it was only a matter of time before he would assume some of his father’s responsibilities.

  As soon as that became common knowledge, the exact information regarding his own personal fortune would become an open secret. The irony of the fact that he was on the path to becoming a lauded member of Society just when he wished Society would pack up its trunks and go away did not escape him. Titania could trade her affection for whatever it was she felt she was in such desperate need for, and he would sit on his estate, counting his money and his sheep. He stood up, wobbling a little, and thought he should probably go before he fell down.

  “Damn you,” he groused to the chair as it almost overturned when he hooked his toe in a rung. The door to the garden was directly opposite him, and he wandered through it in search of his new carriage, purchased just that afternoon to match the splendor of his attire.

  Where was it exactly? And what did it look like?

  The only thing he recalled was that the horses he had bought to pull it were as black as Titan
ia’s hair—or her heart, he thought, feeling his insides twist.

  He ambled slowly to the back of the house, where the guests’ vehicles awaited their owners’ calls, and found his without rousing his coachman. If he could just sleep a little bit he might feel better.

  He woke with a start when a soft, warm, and decidedly feminine form landed right on his lap.

  “OOF!”

  A hand snaked around her waist, and a low, throaty chuckle rang in her ear. Titania could not move for a moment, imprisoned as much by her own emotions as by Edwin’s hand.

  “What are you doing here? Release me!” she squeaked. She could smell the spirits on his breath and about his person, a rich aroma that reminded her of sitting in her father’s library while he reminisced and drank and she compiled the household ledgers.

  His next actions removed images of her childhood from her head entirely. Tightening his grip, he lightly licked her ear, moving slowly from the sensitive top to the even more sensitive lower part. She did not know ears could be quite so exciting. Her skin got prickly all over, and despite her best intentions, she felt herself relaxing, savoring the feel of his warm, large hands around her, the soft puff of his breath in her hair. When he spoke, his mouth was so close to her neck she felt the rumble of his words.

  “I was attempting to get out of the ballroom, away from your maddening presence, but now it seems that my mistake is to be our gain. We did not finish what we started the other night, greedy one—and unfortunately, I do mean that literally,” he murmured. “I wish I were not such a gentleman. You do know what you will be missing, do you not?” he said, moving his hand upward to lightly graze her breast.

  The gentle touch unnerved her, and she gasped, instinctively arching into his hand.

  “Oh, Titania,” he sighed, pressing a kiss onto her bared shoulder. “I wish you were not like every other woman I have met. But even knowing what you are, I cannot banish your image from my eyes, nor forget how you feel under my hands,” he finished, sweeping his hands down her rib cage to rest on her waist.

  “What...what are you doing?” she asked inanely. As though she couldn’t tell.

  He laughed. “I am taking you up on the offer you made the other night. I want you, Titania, and I know you want me. I wish we could do this the proper way, but you have made it clear that you will not consider love for love’s sake.”

  “Yes, I made a terrible mistake last night, and I was hoping to be able to explain it all to you tonight...”

  “Just after you discovered my wealth? What kind of fool do you take me for? I kept the truth of my fortune quiet to avoid just the sort of trap you are setting for all those unsuspecting lordlings. And I was proven right, was I not, when you thought to entangle me in an unsavory arrangement because I could not afford you? Well, I can afford you, but I think the price is too high. This, on the other hand,” he said, nuzzling her neck as he placed his hand on her breast and began to rub gently, “this is something we can make a fair trade for.

  “I want something you have,” he said, running his hand lightly across her lips, “while you want something I have,” he finished, pulling her other hand onto his leg.

  “But, my lord,” she said, a lot more breathlessly than she would have liked, “it is not at all seemly for us to be here. Miss Tynte will be returning in a moment, while...”

  Abruptly, he rapped on the roof, alerting the driver to move on. The coach lurched a moment, then began a slow walk down the carriage-crowded driveway. The movement caused Edwin’s hands to tighten unconsciously, and Titania was tantalizingly aware of the power resting under her body.

  “But my cousin, that is, Miss Tynte, we cannot just leave her,” she sputtered, trying to focus her mind on anything but what Edwin’s hands were doing to her.

  “My love,” Edwin said with a soft, seductive murmur, “your chaperone’s whereabouts are the least of your problems. She will arrive safely home—she is a capable, trustworthy woman. Unlike the lady in this carriage.”

  “How,” Titania asked frantically, desperate to distract him, not to mention his hands, “could you possibly have mistaken my carriage for yours?”

  “Appearances are deceiving, are they not? And having decided to unmask myself, as it were, I just today purchased a new carriage and allowed those tired nags to go crop grass somewhere. And having had a little bit of an intoxicating beverage tonight...” Titania pulled away from him, a sharp tone in her voice.

  “You mean that widow who was hanging all over you like she was huddling for warmth? Perhaps she was, since her gown certainly did not sufficiently cover her.”

  “You noticed? Yes, she was a bit opulent in her display, but I admire someone who is as they advertise.”

  “Unlike you, my lord.”

  “A hit, Titania, or as you would say, a facer. Yes, I did hide some of what I am, but everything else was true. I happen to have come into some money recently. That does not change the unalterable essence of me, Titania, and that is what I wanted people to know, not that I had so many heads of sheep or so much acreage.”

  He was right, of course. She sat in defeat in the dark until his hands began to move again, caressing her body in an intimately possessive way, increasing the gentle rhythm until she could no longer think who was right, just that this moment was right, even if it meant that she was wrong—and wronged—for the remainder of her life.

  She twisted around on his lap to face him, needing to kiss him. She placed her mouth on his, all gentleness gone as she drew his tongue into her mouth.

  She pulled away from him to kiss his neck, licking the rapidly beating pulse. She stroked and caressed his chest, feeling the muscles underneath her hands tighten in response. The motion of the coach, coupled with the motion from his hands, made her feel as if she were on the brink of a precipice. Just as she had gotten accustomed to the almost excruciating pleasure, the coach hit a bump, and she was jolted into a feeling she had never experienced before.

  It was heaven. It would be hell when she realized she would never experience it again.

  She felt Edwin smile into her mouth as she began to regain conscious thought. She moved her hand and Edwin groaned, then caught her wrist and stilled it, staring into her eyes.

  “You know where this is leading, my love,” he declared in a shaky rasp. “I would have you on your back in this coach in a moment, if I thought there was a chance for us.”

  Stunned, Titania watched in silence as he rapped on the roof again for the coach to stop, then swung himself agilely down the stairs, wrapping his cloak around him in a tight embrace.

  An embrace to which she had no right.

  Facing her, he bowed, saying with a tight smile, “I am on my way, my dear, to find someone who will be true to me, if only for an evening. And no,” he clarified, “it is not another woman, but Madame Alcohol. I want to get so drunk I can forget your face and your body and how you make me feel. I do not think such oblivion exists, but I am willing to discover that truth for myself. Wish me luck.”

  He signaled for the driver to move on, and walked down the street, his slight rolling gait the only indication he was less than completely sober. Titania sank back onto the cushions, still feeling the warmth of his hands on her body as his biting words chased themselves through her head like a pack of wild dogs.

  “TITANIA!” MISS TYNTE pronounced, as stridently as when she used to recall Titania from her daydreams, “where have you been? I waited for you, but Mister...that is, my friend suggested you had taken the carriage yourself. How could you think to leave on your own? Why did you do so a reckless thing? And let me guess; did you happen to get escorted home by an impecunious earl? I told you to follow your heart, not lead yourself to ruin.”

  Her glare softened as she saw Titania’s face. “Oh, my dear,” she said, echoing the same endearment Edwin had used, “my dear, I am so sorry. What happened?”

  Miss Tynte took Titania’s elbow and steered her toward the study, where a warm fire was crackling
in the fireplace.

  “I wonder if I will ever feel warm again,” Titania said as she collapsed onto the sofa. She rubbed her hands on her arms as she stared into the flames.

  “It’s all gone wrong. I love him. He cares for me, too, I even think he loves me. He offered marriage the other evening and I turned him down. I told him it was because he was too poor. As you know, I was trying to find him tonight to tell him what a terrible mistake I had made. And then I discovered he is wealthy. Now he is convinced I only changed my mind because I am a fortune hunter. He is right. I am nothing but an avaricious debutante out to capture the best prize.”

  She jumped up, unable to sit as the storm in her heart raged on. “I have ruined the only chance for true happiness I will ever have. Yes, I am being dramatic,” she conceded, wiping her hand across her brow, “but if I am going to have to act a part—the loving wife—for the remainder of my life, I might as well grow accustomed to living a lie.”

  Titania plopped down again on her seat, feeling all her passions and emotions wrung out of her like a wet rag. Miss Tynte’s eyes filled with tears.

  “My dear,” she inquired with a hesitant voice, “have you tried to explain to the earl why you appear as mercenary as he believes? Perhaps he would understand. After all, I saw you two together in this very room, and at that time I wondered that he did not simply pick you up and throw you over his shoulders.”

  Titania scowled, shaking her head no. “Five years ago, he jilted his betrothed because he discovered she was more interested in his money than she was in him. And since he and his father are known to be estranged, no one thought to wonder if he was in better circumstances than when he left.”

  “Ah. So you cannot explain anything to him, can you?”

  “I could, but even if he were to understand, can you imagine how it would feel, the first time we have a disagreement, or something, for either of us to wonder what my motives were in marrying him? I cannot carry that around with me for the rest of my life, and I would not wish it on him.”