Together, their footsteps slowed as their gazes collided…and held. Although kissing her the first time had been a mistake, kissing her twice would be a death wish. It wasn’t right; propriety tried to reason with him in his head, yet the quick beat of his heart argued.
Her chest moved just as quickly as his did; her ragged breaths fanned his face. It wasn’t until the front of her body touched his when he realized he’d pulled her that close. Miraculously, though, their feet had stopped.
All he could think about was the sweet, tender kiss they’d shared at the pond. In his ears, the only sound he heard was her fast breaths and the crashing of his own heart. He should say something to break this incredible spell, but a part of him didn’t want it broken…and that part of him was the one in control right now.
He dropped his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. Her fingers dug into his shirt, clinging to him as if she was afraid to let him go. Her lips met his demanding ones and responded as if she couldn’t get enough. He knew he couldn’t.
Pressing her against him harder, his hands wandered over her back, threading through her silky hair, and sliding down all over her gown that clung to her where her hair had dampened. Beneath his fingertips, the welts on her back were pronounced because now she had nothing to hide them but her thin, damp gown.
She’s been whipped! The thought jerked him back to reality. Why would a gentle-bred woman have been whipped like a common thief?
He broke the kiss and slowly pulled away, not wanting to make her aware of why he’d stopped. When her eyes fluttered open a blush stole across her cheeks.
“Forgive me, Trevor,” she whispered. “Once again, I have lost all my senses when in your arms.”
His heart flipped upon hearing his name on her lips—just like what had happened at the pond. “No, it’s my fault, dear Louisa. I can’t seem to…” He shook his head, stopping himself from admitting his weakness. “I should not have taken advantage—”
“No, don’t say that.” She brought her fingers to his lips. “I participated fully. You did not take advantage of me at all.”
“I see it differently, my dear. I’m probably a good ten years older than you. I should know better.”
“You forget, I have my own mind.” She shrugged and chuckled. “What I know about it, anyway. But I could have stopped you at any time.”
“So you are correct.”
“However—” she cleared her throat and stepped back— “I fear I have made you late for your dinner party.”
He nodded. “If I hurry, I will not be late, I assure you. Have a pleasant evening.” He nearly tripped on his way to the door, hurrying to leave. Cursing his weakness, he silently promised himself he would never do that again. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew he would kiss her if given another chance.
* * * *
Trevor stood amongst a group of men who partook of their brandy and cheroots after leaving the dining room. He smiled and nodded to those around him, but his ears didn’t register to what conversation was abuzz at the moment. Instead, he replayed the moments with Louisa. How could he keep himself from thinking of her right now? Not only did he enjoy their kiss, he discovered a little more about the mystery woman.
Indeed, she must have been raised with parents of Quality. How else would she have known those dance steps—and react the way she did to the waltz? Hopefully, she would remember more soon and relieve this burden of doubt he had in his mind before he went insane. Men from Trevor’s upbringing did not consort with servants in such a way. True, his father may have caused a lot of scandal and brought shame upon the family, but Trevor was not that kind of man—and he was never going to be.
“Your Grace, why are you standing by yourself?” Lord Hawthorne sidled up next to him and faced the glass door overlooking the flower garden in the backyard. “You must be lost in your thoughts, because I cannot see anything outside that could hold your interest for so long.”
Trevor smiled at Dominic and lowered his voice. “My good man, you should know me well enough to realize dinner socials like this bore me after a few minutes.”
“Indeed, they do.” Dominic lifted his goblet of brandy in a salute before swallowing the remainder in the glass.
“How are you faring this evening?” Trevor asked. “I’m surprised to see Trey is not with you.”
“Not tonight, no. Trey called off because he wanted to spend some time with his darling wife.”
Trevor smiled. “As it should be.”
“Indeed, Trey is one fortunate man.”
“Agreed.” Trevor lifted his glass in a salute and took a quick swallow.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but—” Dominic leaned closer to make the conversation more private— “How is that lovely servant of yours? I have thought of nothing else since I met Louisa. She had the most enchanting eyes, does she not?”
Trevor rolled his eyes, wishing Nic wasn’t such a rake. “Hawthorne, I’m quite certain other things have been on your mind, but Louisa is doing fine. I thank you for asking.”
“Has she settled into any position yet?”
“None as of yet, but we will not give up hope.”
Hawthorne chuckled and rubbed his chin. “I still believe I have seen her before—or at least someone who resembles her. In fact, let me see if he’s still here.” Nic stretched his neck as he looked across the crowd of men. “There he is.” He waved his hand. “Wellesley, over here, if you please.”
Trevor gritted his teeth. He bunched his hands into fists and quickly rested them behind his back to keep from using Nic’s face as a punching bag. Trevor had warned Nic not to stick his nose into Louisa’s business. But as Trevor watched the other gentleman hurry to Nic’s side, unease washed over Trevor. Although Wellesley and the Danver’s deceased daughter were nothing but cousins, the resemblance between this man and Louisa was unsettling.
“Wellesley, my good man, have you been introduced to Trevor Worthington, Fourth Duke of Kensington?”
“No, I have not.” Wellesley bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”
Trevor bowed. “Likewise, I’m sure. I do believe I’m acquainted with your uncle and aunt, however I have not spoken with them for quite some time. How are they faring?”
“They are very well, thank you.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Nic began, “but I cannot recall if you have any cousins, Wellesley.”
“Not with the Danvers, I’m afraid.”
Trevor released a relieved sigh. Yet, at the same time, he almost wished Louisa had been part of this man’s family, just so they’d know who she was.
“They had no children?” Nic inquired again.
“Actually,” Wellesley added, “they did have a daughter at one time, but she drowned when she was twelve years of age.”
“Indeed?” Trevor asked quickly. “What was her name?”
As much as he didn’t want Dominic to keep prodding into this man’s life, Trevor did want some answers to the mysterious woman he couldn’t keep from wanting to kiss and hold. He must know why this woman confused him so.
Chapter Nine
Trevor waited, holding his breath for Wellesley’s answer.
“My cousin’s name was Bessie. That was the nickname I called her, anyway.”
“Her name was Elizabeth?” Hawthorne asked.
“Yes.”
Sadness crept upon Trevor as his whole body relaxed. He hadn’t realized until now how tense he’d been. “I’m very sorry to hear this, Wellesley. I thought one of my brothers had died a few years back, but thankfully he was found alive.” Trevor clapped his hand on Wellesley’s shoulder. “I do understand your loss.”
“I thank you, Your Grace. I must admit, when I heard about Tristan being alive, a part of me wanted something like that for Bessie. Not only was she my cousin, but we were betrothed at a young age. I had prayed that somewhere—someone would find her alive and bring her back home. However, after six years, I know that can never h
appen.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Nic interrupted, “but am I to presume your cousin’s body was never found? Is that why you had hoped she would still be alive?”
Wellesley nodded. “You assume correctly, Hawthorne. She was at school when it happened. Her body was never found.”
“Perhaps there is still hope—”
“Hawthorne,” Trevor barked. “Do not give the man false hopes. I do know how that feels, as well.”
“Quite right, Your Grace.” Nic looked at Wellesley. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
“Not to worry, my good man.” Wellesley smiled. “As I mentioned before, we are all past the stage of hoping. We have come to accept her death.”
Before long, Nic and Wellesley started a new topic. However, Trevor couldn’t stop thinking about Louisa. A part of him had hoped she would be Wellesley’s cousin. That would explain so much. If the girl had been raised by noble parents, Trevor would definitely consider courting her. He already adored her unpredictable sense of humor, and she made him laugh too many times to count. He thoroughly enjoyed being with her and talking…and dancing.
He smiled wide. How could he not after what they’d shared in her bedroom? It had been so long since he’d been that comfortable in a woman’s presence. He couldn’t even remember being that way with his wife. Yet being with Louisa seemed so natural.
So perfect.
Unfortunately, everything was not perfect. He was a duke, for goodness sake, and there were certain rules he had to follow when courting a woman. Servants were not included in those rules.
Dominic’s belt of laughter brought Trevor out of his thoughts. Nic and Wellesley were still talking about something mundane, and Trevor needed to be alone with his thoughts.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me.” Trevor bowed before turning and leaving, heading straight out of the room to find the butler. Leaving posthaste was necessary, since he couldn’t possibly be good company with his turbulent thoughts.
Before making his departure, he apologized to the hosts, then hurried out to his awaiting buggy. Just as he reached his vehicle, two gentlemen standing by the stairs, broke away and came toward him. Trevor didn’t know them personally, but had been introduced years ago—and of course knew them by reputation.
“Hold up there, Kensington,” the Earl of Langston called out.
Out of politeness, Trevor stopped and waited for Langston and Sir Johnstone to join him on the bottom step. “Good evening,” Trevor said and bowed. The other two men returned the gesture.
“I’m glad to have caught you before you left,” Langston said. “Johnstone and I were just discussing the sudden and tragic death of Lord Hollingsworth.”
Confusion washed over Trevor. “And why did you need to talk to me about it?”
“Because of the rumors.”
“What rumors?” Trevor shrugged. “I fear I have not heard anything besides his servant found him dead in the stables.”
The other two men traded nervous glances. Sir Johnstone rubbed his chin. “You have not heard about your brother?”
Fear crawled up Trevor’s spine. “Which one?” he asked, but pretty much knew the answer already.
“Tristan, of course.”
Trevor knew what the men were trying to get out, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of gossiping. “What about him?”
“I have heard rumors that the police are suspecting your brother.”
“Suspecting my brother? Of what, may I ask?”
Once again, the other two men exchanged glances, but this time their expressions were almost perplexed—as if they thought Trevor was the one who’d gone daft.
“Killing Hollingsworth, of course,” Johnstone replied.
Trevor rolled his eyes. “You cannot be serious. Have the police nothing better to do than suspect Tristan of murder?”
“Well, he does have a good motive,” Langston said matter-of-factly. “After all, he was in love with Hollingsworth’s wife.”
“That was about four years ago.” Trevor scowled. “Tristan has since recovered from the ordeal. I do understand why my brother would think badly of Hollingsworth—the very man who nearly killed Tristan, mind you—but time heals all wounds, and I assure you, Tristan wants nothing to do with Hollingsworth or his wife.” He took a deep breath to try and calm his ire. “I can also assure you my brother had nothing to do with the lord’s death. I sincerely hope the police find the culprit soon and put all rumors involving my brother to rest. Has Tristan not been through enough already?”
Before either of the other two men spoke, Trevor gave them a quick bow. “Now if you will excuse me, I was on my way home. Good night.”
When he was in the buggy and the door closed, he blew out a frustrated breath. He prayed the police would indeed find the murderer and leave his brother alone! Trevor feared what might happen if the police arrested a Worthington. He was certain his life—and that of his family—would never be the same again.
* * * *
Louisa hummed as she worked beside Mrs. Smythe going from room to room dusting and straightening—and anything else the housekeeper deemed important. Although Louisa should be paying attention, her thoughts were filled with memories of last evening. Of dancing with Trevor. Of kissing him to distraction. And especially, enjoying every second.
He didn’t apologize for kissing her and holding her so close. And she hoped he had the same kinds of stirring feelings in his chest that she had in hers. She wished he was falling in love with her as she knew she was with him.
Her chipper mood was also due to the fact that she remembered those dances. While he walked through the dance steps, she pictured in her mind when she’d been dancing as a young girl. She couldn’t have been more than ten years of age. A boy just a few years older shared the dance, and off in the distance the faint voice of an instructor echoed through the ballroom. Louisa couldn’t remember anything about the instructor or the boy who’d been with her, but she did remember learning how to dance. Best of all, she remembered wearing a pretty frock with matching colored bows in her ringlets. She had not been a servant.
Until now.
The unanswered question swimming in her head since she realized she couldn’t remember, returned. What circumstances brought her to this point in her life? The more she pondered this question, the more she realized her troubled life may be the very reason she couldn’t recall now. Perhaps her past had been so horrid she didn’t want to remember.
“Louisa, I do believe you have accomplished something this morning without it turning disastrous.” Mrs. Smythe beamed.
Louisa chuckled. “It’s hard to believe, is it not? But the day is still young, and I do not dare feel confident yet.”
The housekeeper patted Louisa’s shoulder. “If you tell yourself you will fail, it will happen. But if you switch your thinking around, I’m quite certain positive things will come out of it.”
Louisa nodded, not wanting to give the housekeeper any false hope—even though Louisa still wondered if something bad would happen today.
“I would like you to work in the kitchen this afternoon. His Lordship is having a small social this evening, and we need all hands in the kitchen to help.”
Louisa gulped down the dread crawling up her throat. “Are you certain? Remember what happened last time I helped the chef?”
Mrs. Smythe shook her head. “You will not be working with the food this time. I have already discussed this with the kitchen staff.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Smythe. I will do my best today.”
And Louisa meant it, even when she walked into the kitchen and noticed the distrustful glances from the staff. She raised her chin defiantly. But although she might not have a skill, she could definitely be a good helper.
After an hour passed and she hadn’t broken a dish or had anyone yell at her, Louisa felt more at ease. By everyone’s tone of voice when they spoke to her, they were feeling relieved as well. This gave her more courage and d
etermination to make them like her.
Soon she had completed the tasks assigned to her and was given permission to leave—as long as she returned in two hours to help prepare the actual meal. She agreed and left out the kitchen’s back door. Earlier today, the spring weather had been slightly chilly, but now the heat in the kitchen nearly suffocated her, so she welcomed the cooler air as she walked toward the stables.
From the hillside near the stable, she spotted the old biddy, Mrs. Jacobs who stood talking to Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Louisa stopped and scanned the hillside again, but did not see the children. Fear crept over her as panic settled in her stomach. Why weren’t the children by their nurse? A movement down the hill caught her attention. Adam and Amanda were skipping in merriment toward the gurgling stream.
Louisa snapped her gaze back to Mrs. Jacobs who was thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with the other servant. Would the children’s nurse notice they were so far away?
Louisa feared the worst. If the children moved any closer to the stream they could slip and fall in the water. Their nursemaid was too far away to help.
A memory invaded her mind. She was in her twelfth year, and with another girl a few years older. Louisa had been distraught and ran toward a large body of water. She slipped, and fell in, her heavy cloak, taking her under…until her friend pulled her out.
Louisa’s heart twisted. The twins had nobody close by to save them as Louisa had when she was young.
The clip-clop of horse’s hooves thudded on the ground, pulling her focus to the animal. One of the stable hands led the large animal out of the stable. Immediately, she knew what she had to do. She ran to the boy and yanked the reins out of his hands.
“I need to borrow the horse. I will return him soon, I assure you.”
The lad opened his mouth to reply while shaking his head in denial, but she didn’t care. She ripped the reins out of his hands and jumped on the saddled horse astride. Kicking her heels into the animal’s belly, she hollered a command, and the horse took off toward the stream.
The Sweetest Touch Page 11