by Diana Quincy
When Dolly hesitated, Hart dropped another coin into her hand. “Speak.”
The wench lowered her eyes. “She came a maiden, but that is not how she left.”
“How do you know that?” A sharp pain stabbed his gut. “It is a ruinous accusation you make.”
“Nay, not I. The sheets tell the story. Proof that her virtue was no longer intact was left behind.”
“Explain.”
“She left her maidenhead on the sheets, she did. Marked with her innocence, they was. It wasn’t a large stain but it were stubborn. It took the laundress a time to clean it.”
His head swam. So there it was. The truth. In this very chamber Gus had stripped Willa naked and pushed himself inside of her. It explained why the whoreson acted as though Willa belonged to him. Turning to the bed, he pictured her lying there, smiling as she spread her legs, beckoning Bellingham into her.
Painful awareness of what had happened on this bed clogged his lungs and tore through his belly with such force he was at a loss of what to do with the enormity of it. Looking blindly around, he caught sight of Dolly standing in the doorway. She gave him an uncertain smile. Hart took in her modest curves and sweet countenance.
He dropped two coins on the bed and began to untie his cravat.
Chapter Eleven
Dolly closed the door and went to him, pulling off her simple dress before climbing into the bed. He dropped down beside her and pawed clumsily at her, burying his face in the warmth of her soft flesh, desperate to forget the woman who had bedded another man in this very place.
Willa had been here, taking another man’s strokes just as Dolly prepared to accept his now. His heart boomed painfully against his ribs. Had she enjoyed it? Had she cried out in pleasure?
He stilled, realizing he did not have the heart for this mindless coupling with a stranger. What he truly craved, he could not have because there would be no release from the truth. Rolling onto his back with a heavy sigh, he stared at the ceiling. Willa’s essence permeated everything for him now, ruining the pleasure of any other woman’s body.
Misunderstanding his reluctance, Dolly murmured words of encouragement and moved her hand to the place between his legs. He flinched, self-disgust and regret filling him. Why was he here? Had he lost all honor? In a gentle motion, he set her hand away from him. “My thanks, love, but it seems I will find no satisfaction this evening.”
“Is she your lady then?”
He felt strangely at ease with the sweet chambermaid. “I am not certain.”
“There weren’t no happiness in her when she left. Looked sorry, she did, after it was done.”
Alarm shot through him. Propping himself up on his elbow, he turned to look at her. “How do you mean?”
“She ran away quick, she did, when it was done. There was tears.”
“Did he force her?”
Dolly shook her head, rising from the bed. She pulled on her dress. “I cannot say. But the earl has a certain reputation.”
“Meaning?”
“Hurting girls, humiliating them, it is the way he derives pleasure from the act. The village maids who bedded him say it is the only way he can…perform.”
Nausea swirled low in his belly. “You think he hurt her?”
“Maybe not. She is a lady, after all. There weren’t no screaming. No signs of trouble inside the room once the earl took his leave. Except.” she paused.
“Yes?”
“There was broken glass when I came to clean up. The earl paid for the damage. But the rest of the chamber ‘twas fine.”
He watched Dolly dress, taking in the sight of her slender, petite form, inadvertently comparing it to the elegant, luscious woman he truly hungered for. Hart rose and righted his clothes, anxious to be as far away from this bed and its thwarted dreams as he could manage.
He dropped a light kiss on Dolly’s warm soft cheek and closed another coin into her hand. “Thank you, love. I bid you good night.”
…
Willa wasn’t sure what woke her. Perhaps he shifted or made a noise. Whatever it was, she became aware of Hart’s presence the moment she opened her eyes. Sitting up in bed, she peered around the curtain her maid hadn’t bothered to draw.
He sat sprawled in a chair by the escritoire, his hips pushed forward, legs splayed apart. His white shirt was wrinkled as though he’d just come from his bed. Firelight flickered over his sharp-edged features, revealing the deep, black hollows of his eyes. His hair, usually so controlled and immaculate, hung loose, the inky strands strewn about his shoulders in a way that gave him a savage kind of grace.
Where had he been? Why had he come? She’d been so anxious to share the wondrous discovery that she loved him. For her, the library had been about love and complete trust in each other. But earlier today in the solarium, Hart had made it something less pure and honest. Tomorrow evening they were to become betrothed. Dread clutched her stomach. Perhaps he’d come to tell her he’d changed his mind.
“It is no use.”
“What is?” Reaching for her dressing gown, she stood and pulled it on. “What are you doing in my chamber?”
“It is of no use.” He repeated as though he hadn’t heard her.
Alarmed at the desolation she heard in his voice, she went to him and knelt between his spread legs, placing her hand just above his knee. He stiffened at her touch. “What is it, Hart?”
“It doesn’t matter what happened in the past because I find I can’t let you go.” He fingered a strand of her hair, the action making her scalp tingle with lazy pleasure. “I know that for certain now.”
She knew who he meant. “I don’t want him.” She rested her chin on the hand on Hart’s thigh, a familiar rush of desire coursed through her. He smelled of drink and cheroots and the sweaty, earthy essence of something else she couldn’t identify.
“I will kill him if I ever learn he harmed you against your wishes.” His black gaze held hers. “Or if he ever touches you again. You belong to me now.”
It felt like a rock clogged her throat. “If you have so little faith in my honor, why do you take me to wife?”
“It is myself that I have so little faith in.” He put her away from him almost as though she were fragile and could break. Rising, he went to stand before the fire and spread his arms wide, as if to usher heat into his body. “Perhaps I judge too harshly, hunger too deeply, and love too strongly.”
She stood, feeling a glimmer of joy. Love too strongly. He loved her? If so, it didn’t seem to be as joyful a revelation to him as it had been for her. “I don’t understand.”
He turned and smiled but it was wistful. “I think you do, Willa.”
He spoke of love. But she could discern the lack of trust in his eyes. She stiffened, the heavy ache of disappointment bearing down on her chest. “Let us just end it here. If you think me a strumpet who would give favors anywhere she sees fit—”
“You are not a strumpet, but I was with a whore earlier this evening. I bought and paid for her and I was going to take her to bed and try to forget you.”
She recoiled at the thought of him coming to her from another woman’s bed. Comprehension sickened her when she realized it was likely the whore’s scent that still clung to him. “If you seek to disgust me with your lewd behavior, you’ve succeeded admirably well. Please leave me.”
“I will never let you go just as surely as there will never be another woman for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as though resigned to the bond between them. He came to stand before her and traced his finger along the planes of her face. “Don’t you see? It’s not you I don’t trust. It is myself and these passions that render me blind with jealousy and mad beyond all reason.”
He went down on both knees before her in a stunning gesture of supplication. Dukes knelt before no one but royalty. He wrapped his hands around her waist and buried his face in the soft plane of her belly. Despite her fog of jealousy, anger, and confusion, Willa couldn’t stop her hand from coming up to com
b her fingers through Hart’s long, loose hair. Even now, she still found it impossible to keep her hands off of him. But his strange mood confused her. It did not seem possible their argument in the solarium would have this effect.
He laid a cheek against her stomach. “If this is love, it is a confounding thing, Willa. Whatever it is, I would have you to wife. Even if you do not feel the same way.”
Her heart expanding, she sank down to face him before the rational part of her mind could stop her. She cradled Hart’s face in her hands, taking in the sharp lines she’d come to covet. He brought his lips to hers, intense and probing. Willa opened her mouth to him, inviting whatever emotion uncoiled from deep within him. He clasped her to him and she lost herself against the hardness of his body and the soulfulness of his mouth on hers. They clung to each other, trying to drown out the emotional chaos engulfing them both.
…
The day of the ball broke with a chill in the air. The overcast sky did little to dull the anticipation inside Camryn Hall. This evening’s ball would be the highlight of the house party. Servants scurried about, dusting and preparing the ballroom for the evening, laying out flowers and candelabras.
Willa had already dressed for the ball when Clara entered her chamber to deliver a missive from Hart.
Meet me in the Rose Salon now ~ H
He’d chosen a rarely-used room where they were unlikely to be discovered. What was Hart about? She remained perplexed by his mystifying mood last evening, but there was no denying the deep emotion and passion that lay between them. Although much remained unresolved, she now looked forward with great anticipation to becoming his wife.
“The valet of one of the guests delivered it,” Clara told her as she moved about, straightening the clothes strewn across the dressing room floor. “Said you should receive it immediately.”
Willa glanced at herself in the mirror. Her pale blue dress contrasted nicely with her dark hair. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Satisfied with what she saw, Willa slipped out into the hallway and made her way to the Rose Salon.
With final preparations in full swing for the evening, Camryn Hall was a flurry of activity. Bouquets of flowers seemed to cover every available surface, their sweet scent saturating the air. Maids moved about lighting the myriad of extra candelabras which had been set up, while footmen hurried along taking care of other final details before the arrival of the first guests.
Willa left the bustle behind as she drew closer to the Rose Salon. They rarely made use of this part of the house so it was quiet and isolated, and a chill nipped the air. She slipped into the room, relieved to see a fire blazing in the fireplace. Two large high-backed chairs faced the fire. She headed towards one to warm herself while awaiting Hart’s appearance. A chilling voice came from behind her. “Willa, my dear. I’m delighted you’ve come.”
Willa spun around to find Augustus leaning in the door frame. He advanced into the room and closed the door. The move was highly improper and put her reputation at risk.
“Why do you look so surprised, my dear? Were you expecting someone else?”
What did he want? “Did you follow me here?”
Augustus appeared relaxed and confident. Foreboding shot up her spine. She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge Hart was on his way. Yet, an immediate and instinctive urge to escape Augustus propelled her toward the door. He seized her arm as she passed, swinging her around to face him.
“Oh no, Willa sweet,” he crooned, his breath hot and humid on her cheek. “You go nowhere until it’s done.”
“Unhand me.” She struggled to keep her voice cool, despite the anxiety welling up inside of her. “The guests are soon to arrive.”
“I will have you, Willa, right now, right here.” The earl’s silvery eyes were almost feverish in their brightness. “I will compromise you so thoroughly and so publicly this time that no man will have anything to do with you. Not even your duke.”
Bile rose in her mouth and her knees went soft. “Augustus, the Duke of Hartwell is on his way. Release me and we shall both forget this folly of yours.”
He smiled as though genuinely amused. “He is not coming, Willa. It’s just you and me, now and forever more.”
Realization dizzied her. “You sent the note.”
“Always the clever girl.” He ambled over to the door and locked it before slipping the key into his pocket. “My valet will lead a large and varied group to find us. First, they’ll find the door locked. Then imagine their surprise when they discover us in a state of undress when we finally do let them in.”
Horror weighted her limbs. “It won’t work.” But she knew it could. And probably would.
“I’ve made certain the group that finds us will include some of society’s least discreet matrons.”
“Hart won’t believe it. He’ll destroy you.”
“Are you certain of that?” He stalked a circle around her, his eyes riveted on her face. “Have you never wondered why you receive no quality proposals? They all know you are mine. I’ve made certain of that.”
“Yes, you certainly did,” she said bitterly.
“Except for Hartwell. I suppose his time in India placed him beyond the reach of rumors. However, as you’ve already allowed him certain liberties, discovering our little tête-à-tête will confirm his likely suspicions that you routinely share your favors with more than one gentleman.”
Willa’s stomach heaved. This couldn’t be happening, not when a life with Hart lay just within her grasp. She prayed for help, searching her mind for a way out. She must convince Augustus not to want her.
“He’s touched me everywhere. There is no place on my body that does not belong to him.” She burned a gaze into his face. “I’ll never stop hungering for Hartwell. Even as your wife, I shall invite him to share my bed. He will do as he pleases with me, whenever he chooses. I will cuckold you every chance I get. You will never be certain whether the babes in my belly are yours.”
He gave a quiet laugh, the puff of humid breath sliding over her skin. “How sad that your undeserved reputation would lead many to believe you are capable of such deceit.” He stopped, his lips almost brushing her ear as he spoke. “But you forget that I alone truly know you. Your honor would not let you do such a thing. Once you are my wife, you will not betray me. We both know it.”
“He loves me,” she insisted, sounding more certain of it than she felt. In truth, Willa had a sinking feeling Hartwell would not want her after tonight.
Augustus reddened. “Do you think he’ll desire you once he knows my seed is in you?” he snarled. “Did I mention that your exalted duke will be among the lucky group who discovers us?” Willa felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. She couldn’t draw a breath. “Or I could just make you my mistress after I ruin you here tonight,” he said. “I doubt the great duke will be interested in my whore once I am done with her.”
“Actually, you are wrong,” said a strong masculine voice. “I would want Lady Wilhelmina any way I could get her.”
Chapter Twelve
Hart’s tall, black-clad frame rose from one of the two high-backed chairs that faced the fireplace. Relief swamped her. He’d been here all along, hidden in the large chair facing the flickering flames.
Augustus blanched. “What are you doing here?”
The duke’s menacing grimace made the back of Willa’s neck tingle. “There is nothing I would not do to have her with me. I would cut off my arm.” He took a casual step toward Augustus. “More importantly, I would tear off your arm to have this lady by my side.”
Augustus stepped back. “How did you find us?”
“I was suddenly overwhelmed by an uncontrollable desire to see the Rose Salon.” Hart bared his teeth in a snarl-like smile. “An interesting coincidence, don’t you think?”
Augustus drew himself up. “Shall we settle this as gentleman” —his voice wobbled— “or may I depend upon you to revert to your innate savagery?”
�
�A duel? No. Nor will I give you the basting you so sorely deserve.” Hart leaned into Augustus, cold fury infusing the jagged edges of his face. “You will not escape quite so easily this time. Your reckoning shall come, but at a time and place of my choosing.” He offered his arm to Willa, which she gladly took, her legs shaky with relief. “For tonight, however, my beloved and I shall become betrothed. And her sister and your brother will enjoy this evening despite your best efforts.”
There was a rap on the door followed by a man’s voice. “Hello, hello?” he called out. “Is anyone in there?”
Hart’s dark brows drew together in amusement. “Ah, the big denouement.” He chuckled, placing his hand over Willa’s as it lay in the crook of his arm. “Only it does not quite end as you’d planned. Open the door, Gus.”
…
Hart’s chest flared as Augustus slipped away a few minutes later, eagerly joining the group of guests on a tour of the lesser-known parts of the house. He somehow resisted the urge to tighten his hands around the whoreson’s neck until he’d squeezed the life from him. Then he noticed Willa was shaking.
His heart clenched as he took her hand. “Are you well?” Her skin felt cold beneath his. “Come, sit.” He drew her to the chair in front of the fireplace, kneeling down before her, using his hands to warm the delicate lengths of her fingers.
Willa’s white face looked into the fire. “I just need a moment to collect myself.” She turned her gaze to Hart, her velvety chocolate eyes huge and wondering. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Do you think I would let Bellingham roam Camryn Park unchecked? I’ve had him watched,” Hartwell explained. “So when his little note was delivered, I was among the first to know.”
A shudder coursed through her. “When I think of what could have happened—”
A black cloud of fury engulfed him. “I shall deal with him later.”
“You must know the full truth of it before our betrothal is announced.”
His gut quaked at the thought of hearing the truth from her lips. It somehow made it too real. He’d already battled long and hard to put images of Augustus bedding Willa out of his mind.