Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718)

by Merrill, Christine; Burrows, Annie; Justiss, Julia

‘For Sophie’s sake,’ Ellie said evenly.

  ‘Naturally. Miss—Parmenter, Mr Lattimar.’ According them a brief curtsy, Ellie’s mother turned and, ramrod straight, walked out.

  She wasn’t aware she was trembling until Christopher stepped over to seize her arm. ‘You’re shaking like a thistle in a windstorm. Are you all right? Let me help you to a seat.’

  She did feel unsteady—not surprising, after her mother’s revelations and demands had stirred up ten years’ worth of anguish, anger, grief and resentment. ‘Thank you,’ she said after he’d helped her to a chair. ‘Tarleton was supposed to have brought tea. I can’t imagine where that got to.’

  ‘Let me ring.’

  Before he could reach the bell pull, Tarleton poked his head in the door. ‘Are you all right, miss? Sorry about the tea, but that woman looked so fearsome, I was afraid to go off and leave you alone with her, so I loitered in the hall.’

  Touched by his solicitude, Ellie said, ‘Thank you for your concern. But as you can see, I’m in good hands now. And I would like that tea.’

  ‘At once, miss.’ With a nod, the butler bowed himself out.

  ‘What was that visit about—if you don’t mind my asking?’ Christopher said, careful, she noted, to take the chair adjacent, rather than a spot on the sofa beside her.

  Ellie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘It seems the black sheep is to be brought back into the fold—though the “fold” will remain well outside the drawing room! I must have made more of an impression on various modistes of the ton than I thought, for apparently several, upon seeing my sister, were struck by the impression they’d seen her before, and said as much to my mother.’

  ‘I’d bet they knew exactly who the girl reminded them of,’ Christopher said. ‘The question is, what will they do about it?’

  ‘Gossip, eventually. I suspect my mother also fears they know, or will soon figure it out. Wanting to head off an “unfortunate revelation” down the line that might scare off Sophie’s suitors, she consulted my great-aunt who, apparently, is a bosom friend of Lady Maggie’s Great-Aunt Lilly. The upshot is, the “Grande Dames” recommended that the family quietly recognise me.’ She laughed again. ‘I’m to make myself available to accompany Aunt Marion to meet Lady Sayleford.’

  Christopher frowned. ‘Curious that Maggie’s aunt didn’t inform her you are already acquainted. Although Maggie does say her aunt likes to know more than she reveals, especially to people outside the family. Did you tell your mother?’

  ‘No. At least I’ll have the satisfaction of watching her surprise when Lady Sayleford acknowledges we’ve already met.’

  ‘Not just met, but dined together.’

  ‘Only because Lady Maggie included her when she and the other Hellion ladies invited me in thanks for my assistance to Ben Tawny. It’s not as though I dine with her frequently!’

  ‘You might,’ Christopher pointed out. ‘She often attends Lord Witlow’s political “discussion evenings”, which include a great range of personalities from all walks of life. You know Maggie has urged you to attend, and I’d be happy to escort you.’

  Ignoring that—for she’d known even before their almost-kiss that it would not be prudent to become too used to Christopher’s company—she said, ‘Mean-spirited though it may be, I might not have told her even if I’d had the opportunity. Were it not for the harm it could do Sophie, I might refuse to co-operate at all. She doesn’t really want to recognise me as her daughter, merely head off any potential problems my existence might cause.’ She ought to leave it at that, but with the hurt of it still making her heart bleed, she couldn’t keep herself from adding, ‘She said as far as she is concerned, I am still d-dead to her.’

  ‘She said that? Wretched woman!’ With a muttered curse, Christopher reached over and seized her hand, compassion—and understanding—in his gaze.

  For once, she welcomed the zing of connection that flowed from his hand to hers, that little shock enough to check the tears stinging her eyes. ‘She vowed she had no idea my father intended to turn me over to Summerville until after I was gone. Though it is also true, as she claimed, there wasn’t much she could have done to stop him, even had she known.’ She sighed, trying to knit her ravelled emotions back together. ‘At least I won’t have to brace myself to encounter my father. He died five years ago.’

  ‘Good. That saves me the trouble of shooting him. Murder committed by a Member of Parliament is severely frowned upon, you know.’

  Knowing he was trying to cheer her, and grateful to him for trying, she managed a smile.

  Tarleton came in then with the tea tray, and Christopher sat back, releasing her hand. Wistful at the loss of his touch, Ellie couldn’t help feeling regret that she would never have the right to command it.

  That right would belong to his wife. She should pull herself together, put behind her the ugly past stirred up by her mother, and get on with his lesson.

  And at the same time, remind herself he was not here to court her, but to let her equip him to court someone else. At which time, he would transfer his heart, his compassion and his support to his new wife.

  Before that happened, she needed to pry him out her heart, mind and senses.

  CHAPTER SIX

  While Ellie performed the ritual of pouring tea, Christopher tried to submerge his fury and think of something to ease her distress. Which was difficult when what he’d really like to do was find her mother and strangle her for her thoughtless cruelty.

  ‘Shall we begin your lesson?’ Ellie asked as she handed him his cup. ‘Should you be invited to take tea at a young lady’s home—a signal honour, especially early in your acquaintance—the procedure will be much the same as taking it with your mother. The lady of the house, or the young lady upon whom you are calling, will pour. Take a chair opposite—never presume to sit right beside her. As for proper topics of conversation—ʼ

  ‘Before we get started,’ he interrupted, ‘let me say something.’ Driven to try to ease the pain she’d submerged beneath a brittle smile, he continued, ‘The subject is doubtless too personal for a social tea, but I hope it won’t make matters worse.’

  Looking puzzled, Ellie set down her cup. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You are a lovely, gracious, compassionate woman, a lady to your toes, as your friends and everyone who comes into contact with you knows. That your mother refuses to recognise that is her loss, not yours.’

  She blinked rapidly against the sheen of tears glazing her eyes. ‘You’re being kind, as always.’

  ‘Not kindness, just simple truth.’ The smile he attempted became more of a grimace as he continued, ‘Despite those fine words, I know from my own experience with Vraux the power some individuals have to hurt us, even when we tell ourselves they shouldn’t.’

  ‘Lord Vraux…never warmed to you?’

  He hadn’t intended the conversation to veer towards his experiences, but if describing the anguish of his fatherless boyhood distracted her from the sorrow her mother had caused, he’d force himself to relate what he normally avoided remembering.

  ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘Vraux never had any interest in being my father. Though to be fair, he showed little enough interest in Gregory, his heir, even though he acknowledges him as legitimate offspring. Unlike me and my sisters.’

  ‘Do you know Sir Julian Cantrell well?’ Ellie asked curiously.

  Another exploding cannonball of an enquiry he normally sidestepped. But as she’d listened, the tenseness of her body had relaxed, the frown on her forehead less pronounced. Since this conversational diversion seemed to be working, he made himself continue, ‘I’ve met him several times. Mama…never talks of him. Once, when I was especially angry with Vraux, I pressed Aunt Gussie to tell me about him. She said he was the only man my mother had truly loved. Single at the time of their affair, Sir Julian went on to mar
ry and sire a family. Daughters only, though—which is probably why he was willing to grant Mama’s request and sponsor me for Parliament.’

  ‘I always thought there was a great deal of sadness below your mama’s veneer of flirtatious charm. Vraux…never objected to all the attention paid his wife by other men?’

  ‘Apparently not, according to Aunt Gussie. Once Mama had provided him with a son and heir, Vraux was happy to busy himself curating his inanimate treasures, leaving her to amuse herself as she chose. Lonely, and despairing of ever attaining her husband’s interest, she looked for affection in a series of lovers, and in her children. Even when Mama flouted her lovers, Aunt Gussie said, she got no reaction from him. I’ve tried to ignore Vraux as he ignores all of us, and build my life around Mother and my friends.’

  ‘You are right; we shouldn’t hold on to pain we didn’t earn or deserve, but shrug it off and move forward. For my part…wounding as Mama’s words were, I do inhabit a different world, and now always will. In a very real sense, I am dead to her. Were she to become more involved in my life, she would put Sophie’s future in jeopardy. Better to concentrate on making sure her remaining daughter gets respectably settled, and avoid the heartache of being torn between two irreconcilable worlds.’

  ‘By demanding you agree to a limited recognition, she’s asking you to do that,’ he pointed out, his anger over that fact reviving.

  She sighed. ‘Once I accepted that my abrupt departure from life as I’d always known it was permanent and irreversible, I worked hard to block out the past and resist the temptation to discover what was happening to those I’d left behind. I didn’t want to hate them—not even my father. Just not…think of them any more. Seeing Mama shattered that barrier of separation. I may be inviting more heartache, but I…I truly wish to see Sophie. Even on a “limited” basis.’

  Christopher recalled his glimpse of the girl who resembled Ellie so closely. ‘She was devoted to you, you said.’

  Tears glimmering on her lashes again, Ellie nodded. ‘She used to follow me about like a chick after its mother hen, chattering all the way. Seek me out in the library and tease me to put down my book and tell her a story. I helped her sew her first sampler and comforted her when storms woke her in the night.’ She sighed again. ‘But it’s been ten years, and I mustn’t expect she’ll be as interested in seeing me as I am in seeing her. In fact, she may well be appalled that she’s expected to acknowledge her relationship to a harlot.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Christopher said sharply. When she jumped, her eyes widening at the harshness of his tone, he couldn’t restrain himself any more. Moving to sit beside her on the sofa, he took her by the shoulder and tipped her chin up. ‘Don’t ever describe yourself in such terms! What Summerville did to you is not your fault. You still possess all the purity, the integrity, the loveliness you had the day your father sacrificed you on the altar of your family’s advancement.’

  Swallowing hard, she nodded. ‘Thank you for that.’

  He’d meant to release her immediately, but as he stared down into those mesmerising violet eyes, he couldn’t move away. Desire and tenderness swelled in his chest. ‘You are the essence of loveliness, inside and out.’

  ‘Dear Christopher,’ she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. A touch that sizzled and burned against his skin. And then, as he watched her, unable to breathe, she tilted his chin down, angled her face up, and kissed him.

  It was just a simple brush of her closed mouth against his, so sweet, so innocent, one might think her a maid like her sister rather than a practised courtesan.

  All the same, that touch fired his simmering desire into white heat. He had to exercise every bit of self-control to keep his arms at his sides and resist the urge to bind her against his chest and ravage those plum-sweet lips.

  He was trembling and breathless from the effort when she leaned away.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she whispered. ‘Pray forgive me. I really hadn’t intended… But…you cannot imagine how much your good opinion means to me.’

  He rose and took an agitated turn about the room, trying to get a grip on rampaging senses that screamed at him to return and kiss her again. ‘My fault as much as yours,’ he said shortly. ‘I should know better than to touch you. Too much temptation.’

  ‘And that is my fault! I vowed to help you reform and move towards the future you must embrace. Not tempt you to backslide into old habits.’ She gave a strained laugh. ‘Kissing a female after she pours you tea may do for a courtesan, but it’s definitely not permissible behaviour with an innocent young maiden.’

  That maiden could never be as irresistible as you. His senses still urged him to lead her up to her bedchamber, let him demonstrate just how much he cherished her loveliness.

  But upstairs was where her protector had led her. Lamb to the slaughter, trapping her in a life she’d never wanted. If and when he ever made love to her, it wouldn’t be in the bed where Summerville had taken her in lust.

  He blew out a frustrated sigh. ‘No kissing of tea-pouring maidens. Right.’ And no touching of maidens who make you crazy with wanting. ‘I’d have to apologise to that innocent maid for taking such liberties. Though I am not sorry. I’ve wanted to kiss you for years. Still, since I’m trying to reform my behaviour, please accept my apology for overstepping the bounds.’

  She shook her head. ‘No need to apologise. I’ve wondered for years what it would be like to kiss a man who…truly cared about me. But I shall not let it happen again.’

  Ignoring the voice that wanted to ask if she’d liked kissing him, he said instead, ‘No, we shall both guard against a repetition.’ Though he couldn’t make himself believe it, he added, ‘The kiss we both wondered about is over and done. In the past now. We’ll do better in future.’

  Liar, a scornful voice whispered. That touch and kiss only whetted his desire for more, pulling him ever more deeply under her spell. How was he to reconcile that realisation with his determination to marry?

  ‘Yes, we’ll do better,’ she affirmed. ‘However, while we both work on…retraining our instinctive reactions, perhaps we should continue the lesson in a more public place. I’d planned this for another day, but do you have time for an outing now?’

  It would be wise to go out and defuse some of the sensual tension still simmering in the air. ‘An outing? Where?’

  ‘Quite likely, you will meet your young lady first at a ball. If you dance with her, you may signal your interest by sending her flowers the next day. But which flowers do you choose?’

  He shrugged. ‘The most expensive variety available, I suppose. Although I haven’t sent flowers very often. My…ladies preferred a more lasting expression of interest—like jewels.’

  Laughing, she shook her head. ‘Goodness, no! A gentleman never gives jewellery of any sort to a respectable single lady.’

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Very well. No kissing. No touching. No jewellery. Despite its other drawbacks, it appears courting the Virtuous Virgin will be easier on my purse.’

  Ellie smiled, her lovely eyes sparkling. ‘True enough—before the wedding. After it, the bills for jewels, carriages, horses, gowns, bonnets, reticules, slippers, stockings, and undergarments could be extensive!’

  ‘We can dispense with the undergarments,’ he flashed back without thinking—and froze, as her startled gaze whipped to his face. She opened her mouth—probably to reprove him—but managed only a parting of her lips. As she flicked her tongue over them, desire stabbed deeper, the image created by his careless words smoking in his brain.

  The two of them, outer garments tossed away, standing a touch apart, gazing at each other clothed only in a gilding of candlelight.

  She must be feeling it, too, for her gaze explored his face, travelled up and down his body, before returning to his lips. After a time-suspended minute, she gave her head a little shake and l
ooked away, a blush colouring her cheeks as she stood up.

  ‘It goes without saying that such a remark—any remark that touches on a lady’s garments, other than a general compliment on her loveliness—is strictly forbidden—especially given the reputation you are trying to overcome! Say something like that, and your young lady’s mama will have you shown the door before you can finish the sentence.’

  He nodded. ‘Understood. Forgive me again. To the other dictates, I shall add “Edit speech before uttering”.’

  She gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Few of us can control our thoughts. But all of us must learn to manage how, when and whether to express them. Let me fetch my pelisse and I’ll rejoin you in a minute.’

  Were her ‘uncontrolled thoughts’ producing the same visions his were? The image of that candlelit chamber recurred as she walked from the room. If so, heaven help them both.

  Maybe taking lessons from a courtesan was not such good idea.

  Quickly he backed away from that conclusion. Being with her was the best way to learn to control his behaviour—if not his thoughts. Because proximity to a beautiful, desirable woman called up all the comments and instinctive reactions he needed to retrain. Just this short time today had demonstrated how much he had to learn.

  Besides, he knew he couldn’t make himself give up the last encounters he’d have with her before he must move on to court that Virtuous Virgin. There would be no cancelling of lessons unless she requested it.

  * * *

  A short time later, Christopher helped Ellie alight from a hackney in the Covent Garden market. ‘Although the area is known for its theatres,’ Ellie explained, ‘it also houses some of the best flower shops.’ Leading him to one off the main square, the area before it filled with containers of colourful blooms, she continued, ‘Let’s say you danced with an intriguing young lady at a ball last night. What flowers would you send her the next day?’

  Christopher inspected the varieties available—jonquils, tulips, various shades of heather, violets, bluebells, delicate crocuses, sweet pinks, wood irises, lilies of the valley, and sweet peas, with bins of ivy, fern, holly a green foil to their brighter hues. ‘I would choose roses, but they don’t appear to be in season yet. Maybe some jonquils,’ he said, pulling out a stem. ‘With bluebells for contrast?’ he said, choosing that, ‘and a bit of fern or ivy?’