by Speer, Flora
“You have never made any demands of me until this past hour.”
“Perhaps I should have done so long ago. A demand made upon you every now and then might be good for your soul.” Carol watched the corners of his mouth twitch in the beginning of a smile. The humor was quickly suppressed and he spoke with great severity.
“It was my understanding that I would find in you the biddable wife I want, who would give me the heir I need, and who would not interfere in my life.”
You miserable male chauvinist pig. She almost said it aloud, but stopped herself just in time. Of course he was a male chauvinist pig; all men were in the early nineteenth century, and especially aristocratic Englishmen, who believed the world belonged to them. He probably had a couple of mistresses set up in nice little flats right there in London, and he would think nothing of leaving his wife’s bed to visit them. Carol decided to strike a blow for Lady Caroline.
“Good heavens, sir,” she said in a mocking voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she spoke. “What is a wife for, if not to interfere with a man’s pleasures?”
“I expect you to keep to the terms of our agreement,” he responded.
“And if I do not?” Carol stopped dancing, leaving Montfort poised on one foot in the middle of a step. For a split second his face was like a thundercloud and she almost expected him to hurl a destructive bolt of lightning at her. Then, inexplicably, he smiled at her. Catching both of her hands in his, he raised her fingers to his lips. The onlookers must have thought he was greatly amused by something she had just said and was saluting her wit. But when he spoke it was through clenched teeth and in a voice so low that Carol could just barely hear his words.
“I do not know what game you think you are playing, Caroline, but I will not allow you to create a spectacle to feed the gossips.”
“If you don’t like the way I am behaving, then cancel the engagement,” Carol retorted.
“I will not cry off,” he said, still smiling that beautiful, blazing, false smile and speaking in a way that would suggest to those watching them that he was now whispering words of tender love. “Nor will I allow you to cry off. We made a bargain, Caroline, and you will keep it. All of it”
Of course she could not break off someone else’s engagement. What she was doing could put Lady Caroline into an unhappy situation after Carol departed to her own time and after Lady Caroline was married to this man. Carol did not know much about the marriage laws of that period of history, but she suspected that a husband would have control of his wife’s person and her fortune—and he could probably control every minute of her daily activities, too. For Lady Caroline’s sake, Carol would have to be more careful. But she wasn’t going to knuckle under completely.
“I find I am a bit faint from all the excitement,” Carol said. “If I could just have a few minutes alone to collect my thoughts, I am sure I will feel much more like myself. I think I will go to the library.”
“Make your curtsy, madam, and I will take you there.” Montfort bowed gracefully and Carol, in response to his action, made a dancing-school curtsy.
As he led her off the ballroom floor the musicians struck up a new tune. There were other men who crowded around Carol to beg for dances with her, but Montfort made her excuses before Carol could say anything for herself. Their progress out or the ballroom was followed by the knowing looks of the guests. A few elderly ladies whispered behind their fans.
“Is it quite proper for you to close the door?” Carol asked when she and Montfort were alone in the library. “Shouldn’t I have a chaperone? Aunt Augusta, perhaps?” she added hopefully.
“I shall claim the right of a betrothed husband and say I want to have you to myself for a short time,” Montfort responded. With the door closed, he approached her with the tread of a man determined to dominate their meeting. “Now, Caroline, I want you to understand that I will not allow you to go back on your word to me.”
“I have never in my life gone back on my word, any more than my father ever did,” Carol told him. “I am insulted that you might think I would.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” Montfort told her. “There are some men who believe a woman has no sense of honor. I am not among them, and I will expect honorable behavior from my wife.”
“Montfort, are you marrying Lady Caro—I mean, are you marrying me for my money?”
“Hardly, since my fortune is so much greater than yours.” He looked at her as if he was trying to decipher all her secrets. “You have known about my fortune for most of your life. Why do you ask about it now? Caroline, you are not at all like yourself tonight.”
“That is certainly true,” Carol said. Relieved by his claim to wealth, she continued in a more agreeable way. “I am sorry. I spoke without thinking.”
“Tell me what is wrong and I will try to help.”
“If I did, you really would think I’m mad.” Responding to the slight softening she detected in his probing gaze, Carol seriously considered revealing her true situation. She quickly decided against the idea. She did not think Montfort would believe her outlandish story. Furthermore, if Carol were to be returned to the twentieth century in the next few hours, poor Lady Caroline would be left to make explanations for incredible events that she could not possibly comprehend. People might think Lady Caroline was the mad one.
This business of thinking for two people at once—and of voluntarily and without expectation of any payment considering another person’s welfare before her own—was a completely new experience for Carol. It was also tiring. She raised one hand to rub her forehead. Montfort responded to the weary gesture by moving closer to her, as if he wanted to protect her in some way.
“Surely you know by now that you can trust me?” he urged.
“Can I? How I wish I could be sure of that.”
“Why this sudden uncertainty now, when you expressed no qualms at all on the day when you agreed to our bargain?”
“Refresh my memory, Montfort. Explain to me exactly what this bargain is, and why I consented to it.”
“You cannot have forgotten details so important to your future,” he objected. “Or to your sister’s future.”
“Perhaps I want to hear you tell me in order to be certain that you have not forgotten.” Carol waited, hoping he would reveal at least a few facts that would help to keep her from making any mistakes for which the real Lady Caroline would later have to pay. She looked deep into his eyes and smiled. “Indulge my foolishness, Montfort. Please.”
“Are you flirting with me? This is most unlike you, Caroline.” He looked puzzled. Then: “Very well, if you are determined to hear the facts once again, here they are. Your father and mine were lifelong friends. After your parents’ death my father did his best to see that you and Penelope were well settled in life. It was my father who suggested to Lady Augusta that she allow you and your sister to live with her and that she should sponsor you in society. She was unwilling at first, believing such an arrangement would cause her too much trouble and would also be expensive. I do not need to tell you that Lady Augusta can be foolishly miserly at times. However, I do not think she has ever regretted taking you in, and she has done her best to launch you into the world in proper style and to find husbands for both you and Penelope.
“When my father died and I became Earl of Montfort in his place, his obligations fell upon me.” Montfort paused.
“Are you saying that you are marrying me out of pity?” There was a challenge in Carol’s voice that made him look at her sharply.
“Not at all,” he said. “Save for the lack of a large fortune, you are an eminently suitable choice as a wife, and one my own father would have approved. You and I have always been on cordial terms. Since I am now in need of an heir to my title, our marriage seemed the sensible solution to several problems.”
“I am to provide an heir,” she prodded when he fell silent.
“And one or two other children,” he added, “since babies do not always outliv
e their first few years. It is best to be certain there will be at least one adult heir to survive me. In return I have arranged a handsome settlement for you, so that even if I should die at a young age, you will never want for any material thing. While we both live I have agreed to keep you in a style befitting the Countess of Montfort.”
“I see,” Carol murmured. “Financial security for me in exchange for the use of my body to create your heirs. It does make practical sense, but it is an awfully cold-blooded way to arrange a marriage.”
“You agreed to it as cold-bloodedly as I proposed it,” he said. “In fact, you left me with the impression that you were, in your own dispassionate way, pleased by my proposal. And then, there is the matter of your sister.”
“What about Penelope?” She sounded defensive, but she didn’t care. That sweet girl deserved a big sister who would defend her if need be. Carol did not pause to question why she felt that way; she simply accepted the unfamiliar emotion while she listened carefully to what Montfort was saying.
“On the day we are married,” he told her, “I will settle a substantial dowry on Penelope, so she can make a good match. I would not be at all surprised if Lord Simmons makes an offer for her.”
“So I am marrying you for my sister’s sake?”
“I did hold out some faint hope that the arrangement might please you for your own sake.” He now looked more puzzled than ever. “With only a small dowry, you were unable to find a husband, and since you are several years past the preferred age for marriage and have no other likely suitors dangling after you—” He left the sentence unfinished, but Carol could imagine what he might have said. This was a time and place in which the only suitable career for a noblewoman was marriage and motherhood. Lady Caroline Hyde did not have many choices. Lord Montfort was handsome, well bred, and rich. It was a perfect match— except that love did not enter into the equation between these two people. Carol felt a twinge of pity for Lady Caroline.
“What a neat little business arrangement,” she mused.
“So I thought, too,” he replied, placing one finger beneath her chin and turning her face toward his. “Until this evening, when you were changed into someone I scarcely recognize.”
“Does the change make you angry?” she whispered, left nearly breathless by his nearness.
“It intrigues me. I know you love your sister enough to do almost anything for her sake, even marrying a man you consider to be something of a rake. I thought I knew you well, Caroline, and knew what to expect of you. I never guessed that beneath your proper demeanor you possessed so lively a spirit.” His mouth was now disturbingly close to hers. Carol knew a moment of panic.
“I have recently learned more than I care to know about lively spirits,” she declared.
“Have you? This change in you grows more interesting by the moment. Perhaps you will allow me to test your newfound spirit.”
“I don’t think it would be wise.” The cautionary words came out as more of a gasp than a firm statement.
“Why not, when I am your promised husband?” His free arm slid around her waist, drawing her closer still. “Who would dare to criticize me for sampling that which will soon be entirely mine?”
Carol was all too aware of his masculine warmth, and of the muscular hardness of his body. This had to stop at once. She was appalled to discover that she was not as immune to the charms of handsome men as she had imagined. And this particular man belonged to another woman. She prepared to voice a vigorous protest.
“My lord, I do not—” It was too late. His mouth touched hers. The fingers that had been holding her chin now wove their way through her short curls to steady her head so she could not pull away. The arm around her waist tightened.
It was more than six years since a man had kissed her, and never had she been kissed with such expert skill. There was no use in fighting him. He was far too strong. The awful thing was that she quickly found she did not want to fight him. With a moan, Carol opened her lips to his thrusting tongue. With a feeling of helpless despair she put her arms around him. And then she let her emotions take control of her actions.
Montfort’s mouth was fierce and hot on hers, and Carol responded to his demands with growing urgency. She was drowning in his desire. They stood pressed together, with Carol drawn up on tiptoe to reach his mouth. His hand slid downward to push her hips against his hardness. Carol did not protest. The kiss went on and on until she lost track of time and knew only the bliss of his embrace. When he finally broke off and lifted his head, his face was taut with desire and his green eyes spoke of needs too primitive for civilized existence.
“My God, Caroline,” he rasped. “How could I have been so mistaken about you? I never guessed that you would be so responsive. Oh, how I want you.”
He buried his face in her bosom, his hands now at the sides of her breasts. Carol’s arms were still around him. She held his head where it was, accepting—no, demanding— the kisses he was placing along the curve of peach fabric where her gown barely covered her breasts. Her own murmured words sounded like an echo of his surprised exclamation.
“I had no idea—I didn’t know—oh, Montfort!”
“Nicholas,” he groaned. “My name is Nicholas. I wish you would use it.”
“Nicholas,” she repeated, her eyes closed to better savor what was happening between them. She felt his hand inside her gown, slipping beneath the chemise, lifting her left breast. And then his mouth was on her nipple, sucking.
“Ah!” Carol could not control herself. Her body jerked in response to his tugging, and her hands were tight in his hair, holding his face against her breast. “Nicholas!”
“Nicholas indeed,” said Lady Augusta’s disapproving voice. “Montfort, what are you doing to my niece?”
Nicholas lifted his head from Carol’s breast, and for an instant she saw the primitive emotion in his eyes again, this time expressed as blazing fury. She knew just how he felt. She, too, was angry at the interruption. She wanted to scream at Lady Augusta to go away and leave them alone.
“Well, Montfort?” Lady Augusta’s voice was sharper than before and from the sound of rustling silk across the room, Carol suspected that she was coming closer to them.
Nicholas straightened slowly, keeping his broad shoulders between Carol and Lady Augusta, thus blocking Lady Augusta’s view. His eyes rested on Carol’s bosom, where one hard little nipple peeked above the neckline of her gown. Nicholas cocked an eyebrow, smiling, while Carol hastily stuffed herself back into the dress. When she was finished, Nicholas turned slowly, still shielding Carol with his body, giving her time to recover her wits sufficiently to enable to her to think and act like a rational person once more.
“Montfort, I spoke to you!”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Augusta. I did not hear you at first because I was kissing my intended wife.”
“I see.” Lady Augusta shot a questioning glance in Carol’s direction. Thanks to Nicholas’s delaying tactics, Carol was able to look back at her with some degree of calmness. “I trust you enjoyed it,” Lady Augusta said to Nicholas. Her sharp eyes were still on Carol.
“I found it a most enlightening experience,” Nicholas replied. “One which I plan to repeat as often as possible.”
“Caroline, I wish to speak with you.” Lady Augusta had not taken her accusing gaze from Carol’s face.
“You must excuse us, ma’am,” said Nicholas. “Caroline has promised another dance to me and I refuse to be disappointed.” Turning to Carol, he held out his hand.
“My dear lady,” he said, his eyes speaking of a conspiracy of desire between them, “I believe the next dance is mine.”
“Yes, my lord.” Carol placed her fingers upon his wrist, allowing him to lead her past an openmouthed, speechless Lady Augusta and thence out of the library.
Chapter 3
During the rest of the evening Nicholas danced three more times with Carol. Since they were affianced, this caused only mild comment from the chap
erones, but all the while she was in Nicholas’s arms for a waltz, or was handed from person to person during a more intricate dance, Carol could feel Lady Augusta’s eyes on her. She knew she would have some explaining to do for that kiss in the library, but she discovered that she did not much care if Lady Augusta did scold her. The kiss that never should have taken place had released in her a spurt of rare joy that lingered for hours afterward, so she was able to smile and laugh and talk as if- she belonged in the ballroom of Marlowe House— as if she were born to dance there.
She quickly discovered that the dances were not as complicated as she had feared. Once, when she was in her mid-teens, the parents of one of her girlfriends had given their daughter a square-dance birthday party, complete with instructors to teach the steps to the young guests. Now Carol found most of the dances being performed in Lady Augusta’s ballroom were similar to those square dances, and the steps she did not know she quickly learned.
“You look so happy tonight,” Penelope remarked during a brief interval between dances. “Caroline, I do not think I have ever seen you so lively.” Those soft blue eyes were a bit too penetrating for Carol’s comfort. She tried to deflect Penelope’s interest.
“Nicholas said much the same thing,” Carol responded, linking her arm through Penelope’s. “I told him it was the excitement of the evening. I hope you are also enjoying yourself. Has Lord Simmons arrived yet?”
“Oh, yes, and Nicholas was right. Lord Simmons told me he came here tonight especially to dance the waltz with me. He even asked Aunt Augusta if he might take me in to supper.” Penelope’s cheeks were bright pink as she glanced over Carol’s shoulder.
Curious, Carol turned to find Nicholas approaching with a man perhaps a year or two older than Penelope. Once again she was expected to know who an unfamiliar person was, but from Penelope’s reaction to him it was easy to deduce that this must be Lord Simmons. Carol studied the young man’s features intently. Despite the fact that he bore her family name, she could detect in him no resemblance to any relatives she could remember. Lord Simmons was tall, fair-haired, and good-looking. Since the two men were obviously on excellent terms, Carol could not help wondering if Montfort had made Lord Simmons aware of the dowry he was planning to bestow on Penelope and if it was that knowledge that made Lord Simmons so attentive to the girl.