by Laura Landon
“We will?” Liam asked.
“Yes, we will. Georgette brought me some designs from her genius designer. I expect them to be extremely popular.”
Blake turned his attention to Madeline. “Gather your workers and inform them of the increase in orders. Ask if any of them want to work an extra three hours a day. Tell them they will get paid extra for working longer. Half again their hourly wage.”
“Yes, Mr. Edison,” Madeline answered, then rose to do what she’d been instructed. Liam and Polly followed Madeline from the room.
Madame Boulereau reached for Willow’s hand. “Do you mind if I leave you here, my lady, while I start my search for more workers? I’ll return shortly with as many seamstresses as I can spare.”
“Of course,” Willow answered. “It will take me all that time to match materials with designs. I’ll also have to return to Mr. Edison’s warehouse and see what fabrics remain that can be used.”
Madame Boulereau rose and walked to the door. Willow followed her. She needed to leave before she found herself alone with Blake. She didn’t trust herself to keep her distance from him. She didn’t trust herself to keep her emotions under control. And, she needed to inform him that she had accepted the Marquess of Kendrick’s offer of marriage. And that she wouldn’t be able to come as often in the future.
“Allow me to walk you to your carriage,” Blake said to Madame Boulereau, then took the woman’s arm and escorted her from the building. Willow took the opportunity his absence afforded her to go to the storeroom where the bolts of material for the sewing shop were stored. Hopefully Blake would have enough work to do that Willow could be by herself for a while. She needed time to gather her thoughts and her courage.
Thankfully, Willow had several hours to herself. She used the time to select bolts of material that would be made into each garment. When she immersed herself in her work with fabrics, she could escape thoughts of anything else. But slowly, a tingling sensation crept around her and Willow stopped her work. Blake was near. She sensed it.
She lifted her head and saw him. He stood just outside the door, speaking with Madeline. Willow knew that when they finished, he’d approach her.
She finished the project she was working on and left the room. She walked through the sewing room, then exited the door close to the storeroom where the huge rolls of unsold fabric were stored.
She worked for several moments, almost believing that she’d avoided Blake, but when she looked up, he was there.
“May I speak with you?” he asked when he was near her.
“Of course.”
He leaned against a bolt of wintry gray tweed and crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze focused on her and Willow felt as though his penetrating stare had the power to hold her captive. “When you were absent for as long as you were, I was afraid you wouldn’t return. I was afraid I’d frightened you away.”
Willow turned to hook a pin on a rust-and-gold-and-green plaid cotton that would suit some of the fall gowns. “You almost did.”
He pushed himself away from the material and stepped closer to her. “I know you don’t understand what’s happening between us. If it will make you feel better, I don’t understand it either.”
Willow turned from him and pinned another bolt of material. She looked at him over her shoulder. “There’s nothing happening between us. There never can be.”
A slow, lazy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Willow felt her nerves stretch tight and she clutched her hands together at her waist. “The kiss we shared was just an… an experiment,” she said, trying to sound as if what they’d shared had meant nothing.
“An experiment?”
“Yes. To give me experience. For… comparison.”
“Comparison to whom?”
Willow paced a few steps in front of him to the other side of the aisle. “No one. Just in case I ever need it.”
Willow thought he was going to laugh at her, but he didn’t. What she saw in his eyes caused her heart to skip a beat. The near anger that stared back at her startled her.
“As long as you’re not comparing my kisses to the Marquess of Kendrick’s.”
Willow’s breath hitched in her breast. “What do you know about Lord Kendrick?”
He took a menacing step toward her. “I know he’s sniffing around you like a dog in heat. I know he’s desperate for the dowry that’s rumored to go with you. And I know he’s the spawn of the devil himself.” He took another step toward her. When he reached her he clamped his fingers around her arms. “I’m warning you to stay as far away from him and his murdering father as possible.”
“What are you talking about? Who has His Grace murdered?”
As if Blake realized what he’d said, he pulled into himself. Instead of clasping his fingers around her, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Never mind. Just heed my words, Willow. Stay as far away from the Duke of Somerset and his son as possible.”
Willow lifted her chin and looked at Blake. The inky blackness of his eyes held a dire warning. The muscles in his face were taut and firmly set. He was serious. He was issuing her a warning he intended for her to heed.
“Blake?”
He looked down on her for several intense seconds, then lowered his head.
Willow knew he was going to kiss her. Just as she knew she should stop him. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. There was nothing she wanted more than to feel his lips on hers. To answer his needs with needs of her own.
His mouth covered hers with ravishing intensity. Willow answered the hunger of his kiss with a hunger of her own. Currents of passion and desire coursed through her and she gave in to every demand he made.
His tongue skimmed her lips, enticing them to open. She willingly gave in to his command. His tongue explored and found the center of her longing, but he didn’t give up. One kiss didn’t satisfy him. He kissed her again and again, until she felt her knees weaken beneath her and her emotions churn with increasing vibrancy. Intense passion swirled inside her.
Then, with a heart-stopping moan, he ended their kiss. He pulled his mouth from hers. “Stay away from Somerset and his son,” he warned in a taut, harsh voice.
But, how could she? She was going to marry the Marquess of Kendrick. For her brothers’ sakes, she had to marry him.
. . . .
“What did you find out?” the Duke of Somerset asked the man his butler had shown into his study.
“Nothing you’re going to like,” he said.
“Get to the point,” Somerset demanded. “What did you discover?”
“Several times a week, the Lady Willow travels with her maid to a dress shop owned by a Madame Boulereau. From there, she travels in an unmarked carriage with the dressmaker to a warehouse on Fleet Street.”
“Does she take her maid with her?”
“No, Your Grace. Not always. Most of the time Lady Willow travels alone, without her maid.”
“Bloody hell!” Somerset bellowed, slamming his fist on his desk. “What then?”
“The lady spends a large part of the day at the warehouse, then returns to Madame Boulereau’s where her carriage arrives to take her home.”
“What’s at this warehouse?”
“They sew ready-made dresses and gowns there.”
“It’s a factory?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Who owns this warehouse?”
“A man by the name of Blake Edison. He’s—”
Before the investigator could finish his sentence, the Duke of Somerset bolted from his chair with such force that his chair flew several feet from his desk. “Who did you say owned the warehouse?”
“Mr. Blake Edison.”
“Damn him. How dare he!”
“Are you acquainted with this Mr. Edison, Your Grace?”
“Not personally. We’ve never met. But whenever I ask about debts I owe, I am told he has acquired them.”
“Why do you think he’s doing that?”
&nbs
p; “I’m not sure,” His Grace said swiping his hand through the air. “But the reason cannot be good.”
“No, Your Grace. It can’t be good.”
The Duke of Somerset leaned forward and braced his hands on his desk. “I want you to teach him a lesson,” the Duke of Somerset growled through clenched teeth. “A lesson from which he’ll never recover. And the dressmaker, too.”
“Do you want them both dead?”
“Not the dressmaker.”
“Only Mr. Edison?”
“Not the dressmaker,” he repeated.
Chapter 12
Willow stood on the side of Lady March’s ballroom and watched her brother Phin dance with Jane. The attraction between them was obvious even though Phin struggled to admit it. And Willow knew why. It was because he thought he had nothing to offer Jane. But if… no, when Willow married the Marquess of Kendrick, that would change.
Watching the looks that passed between Phin and Jane, it was apparent to Willow that she couldn’t put off announcing her engagement to Lord Kendrick any longer. They deserved to have a life together. And that wouldn’t happen until Phin could provide a home for his bride. But whenever she thought of marrying Lord Kendrick, her thoughts automatically turned to Blake Edison and the effect he had on her. An effect so different from the way she felt when Lord Kendrick had kissed her.
The mere thought of the kiss she’d shared with Blake made her blood heat as it raced through her body. If only she hadn’t kissed him that first time. Then she would never know the meaning of bliss. She could live her whole life believing that all kisses were mere sweet, pleasant exchanges, as bland as Quinton’s kisses. She’d never have known that at the touch of a man’s lips a woman’s heart could expand into infinite shades of desire.
A pang of loss and regret sank like a heavy weight in her breast. Willow needed some fresh air. She needed to go where she could be alone for a moment.
Lord Kendrick had stepped away to fetch her a glass of punch, but she was certain if she stood on the terrace where he could see her, he’d find her when he returned.
She moved onto the terrace and leaned against the cement railing. She hurt. Deep inside. It was a pain that clenched her heart. She didn’t know if the cause of the ache she felt was because she was afraid she was falling in love with Blake Edison, or if it was because she knew she could never fall in love with the Marquess of Kendrick.
A wetness filled her eyes but she quickly brushed the tears away when she heard footsteps approach.
“Lady Willow, don’t tell me my son has abandoned you?”
Willow turned to find herself face to face with the Duke of Somerset. “No, Your Grace. Your son has gallantly offered to get me a glass of punch before I expire from thirst.”
The Duke of Somerset tilted his head and his mouth broadened into a captivating smile. For the first time, Willow recognized what a remarkably handsome man His Grace was.
She thought he was not much older than his fiftieth year, and he was a very distinguished-looking man. He was tall and carried himself with a certain confidence that couldn’t be denied. Although he wasn’t known to be a wise businessman, he did hold his own in the House, and his counsel was often asked. What he lacked in business acumen, he made up for in his formidable air of command.
“I’ve been wanting to speak with you for several days, my lady. It concerns my son, and yourself. Or rather, your intentions toward my son.”
Willow clasped her hands at her waist and prepared herself to have to answer for her lack of response to his son’s marriage proposal.
“Kendrick tells me you have asked for time to consider his suit, but I shall say to you as I said to him, I think he’s been more than generous to give you the amount of time he has. I think it’s high time you stopped playing with his emotions and accepted his proposal.”
Willow looked more closely at the Duke of Somerset and for the first time saw through his false veneer of composed courtesy. His eyes had turned icy with an unmistakable warning. He expected her to accept his son’s offer immediately and it was obvious by the rigid set of his shoulders that he wasn’t used to having his commands disobeyed.
“I’ve hardly been playing with your son’s emotions. I simply asked for time.”
“I can’t imagine why you would need time to consider something that’s already been decided. Your father and I have already reached an agreement that will not only benefit me, but which will benefit two of your brothers. Unless your brothers’ welfare doesn’t concern you.”
A flash of anger raced through her. “Nothing is more important to me than my family and their welfare.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I look forward to hearing your happy news in the near future. The very near future.”
The Duke of Somerset gave her a final glare then turned to leave her. The Marquess of Kendrick met his father at the open double French doors. “Father, what a surprise. I didn’t expect to find you out here.”
“I saw your intended out here alone and came to her rescue.”
Lord Kendrick looked from Willow to his father and his shoulders stiffened. “Thank you, Father, but I will entertain the lovely Lady Willow now.”
“Of course, son. I’m sure the Lady Willow would much rather converse with you. Since she will soon be part of our family, it is wise to spend time together so that the two of you will get to know each other better.”
“Well, I’m here now. And I’m sure I overheard some of your friends say they wished to speak with you about some business that’s coming up in the House.”
“Then I’d best see what that all-important House business is.” His Grace excused himself with a bow and returned to the ballroom.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Kendrick said when his father had gone back inside. “I hope Father didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”
“No. He only voiced his concern that it’s taken me so long to give you an answer. And he has a right to be concerned.” Willow took a swallow of the cool punch Kendrick had brought her, then set the glass on the railing that surrounded the terrace. “Would you mind if we walked through Lady March’s garden?”
“Not at all.”
Lord Kendrick extended his arm, and Willow drew her arm though his. When they reached a secluded spot, Willow led the way to a bench and sat. Lord Kendrick joined her.
“Before I give you my answer, I have a confession to make.” She paused and turned on the bench so she could look at him directly.
“Do I need to prepare myself for your refusal?”
She shook her head. “No, but you may want to take your proposal back when you hear what I have to say.”
“I doubt that, my lady. But why don’t you tell me what has you so concerned that you think I may change my mind about marrying you.”
“Very well.” Willow clasped her hands in her lap. “I want you to know that I am not made from the same mold as the other females in Society. I do not enjoy playing the piano, or painting, or embroidering my initials on delicate lace handkerchiefs. Nor am I overly fond of visiting art museums or going for long walks or rides through the countryside.”
“How interesting,” he said with a confused expression on his face. “Then what is it you most enjoy doing?”
“I have a passion for designing clothes. All manner of clothing: dresses and gowns; robes and nightwear; and coats and cloaks and pelisses. I love to create new and different styles and fashions. And I can get lost for hours in warehouses of fabrics in search of the perfect material for my designs.”
“Do your parents know you have this infatuation?”
“My mother knows. Father wouldn’t understand, so it’s best he remains in the dark.”
“And the reason you are telling me this?”
Willow lifted her gaze until her eyes were locked with his. “I’m not sure my fascination with fabrics and designs is something I can give up. Even if you asked me. I’m not sure I would be happy if I can’t satisfy my creative need.”
> “I see.” Lord Kendrick stood, then took three steps away from her. He stood with his back to her for several moments, then slowly turned to face her. “You realize, I trust, that if Society ever learns of your passion they will consider you a bluestocking.”
“I do. And I’m not terribly concerned over their opinion of me.”
Kendrick locked his hands behind his back and rocked toe to heel while he watched her. “And the reason you’re telling me this?”
Willow considered her answer. She needed to have everything out in the open before she agreed to marry him. She could not imagine spending the rest of her life hiding from her husband the one thing she prized.
“I’m telling you this because I don’t want any secrets between us. I cannot imagine a future without being able to create new fashions. It’s a thing in which I am completely engaged and I refuse to stop. I don’t want this to be something I keep from my husband. Nor do I wish to see my designing penchant become a constant source of conflict between us.”
“And if I say that I refuse to allow you to continue in this endeavor?”
“Then I would try to make you understand why this is so important to me. I would remind you that our marriage is quite unique in several respects. We are not marrying because we have found an everlasting love. The cold facts are that we are marrying because you are in need of my dowry, or at least your father is, and my father is in need of the two estates your father has agreed to deed him.”
It was the first time she’d spoken the terms aloud and they suddenly seemed even more brutal than before. That a daughter’s free will could be cast to the four winds at her father’s whim seemed monumentally wrong.
Lord Kendrick returned to the bench and sat. “You are quite direct, aren’t you?” he said.
Willow suspected he might be angry at her outburst, but there was a smile on his face. “I simply see no need for deception. We both know why our fathers found a match between us advantageous. This doesn’t mean that we are doomed to unhappiness, or that we will never grow fond of one another. It’s quite possible we will. But I can’t imagine being content in our marriage if I am forbidden to engage in the one thing I enjoy most.”