The silence hung between them and Teresa realized with a start that the music for the waltz had stopped. Several heads had turned in their direction, curious why they hadn’t stepped apart, and she flushed under the scrutiny.
Pushing back from his chest, she stepped backwards and offered a curtsy, every movement exaggerated by her anger. “My lord.”
Turning, she stalked off down the terrace stairs. There was no way she could return to the ballroom in her current mood — her control over her tongue was tenuous at best, and outcast though she might be, there were too many ways she could still bring disaster down upon her head. She needed space, somewhere away from the eyes and the ears of the ton.
His footsteps followed her.
Spinning around, she glared back at him. From this angle, she couldn’t see his face, only his shape silhouetted by the lights streaming from the ballroom. They were fainter here, as if the cool air encouraged the light to cling to the warmth inside. “I believe you and I have very little left to say to each other right now, my lord.”
“If you wish, but I had thought you pragmatic enough to face reality, not run from it.” His voice was calm, as if he was discussing the weather or some other equally boring topic of small talk.
Teresa gritted her teeth instead of screaming. She didn’t need the attention the latter would draw. “What reality? That if a gentleman doesn’t want to push the boundaries of what Society allows when courting, I should expect him to have a mistress on the side? My father didn’t, so I don’t believe that to be the only possibility, no.”
“Maybe your father was the exception to the rule. But if you’ve watched the ton, you know it’s true. Most gentlemen in our circles rely on a woman other than their wife to satisfy their physical needs.” He shrugged slightly. “Of course, it’s possible that wouldn’t bother you, in which case you have no reason to worry about whether your potential husband feels a physical connection to you.”
“Whether or not it bothers me is none of your business!” She snapped back.
To be honest with herself, the very thought of her future husband with a mistress made her sick to her stomach. Even as a child she had known that there was no woman in the world for her father other than her mother. Growing up, she’d taken it for granted that someday she would find a husband to treat her like her father had treated her mother. Even now, when she had little hope of finding a love like they’d shared, she’d told herself that it would be acceptable as long as they both made a mutual commitment to honor and respect the other.
It was all simply too much to bite back any longer, the anger and frustration past the point of needing to lash out at a target despite her efforts at self-control. “I suppose you plan on having this conversation with whatever woman you choose as your future wife as well?”
Martin stilled. “When I marry, my wife will have my fidelity, I assure you.”
“Then why do you think it would be any different for another gentleman?” His arrogance was infuriating.
“Because, Miss Selkirk, that kind of fidelity requires a certain amount of physical compatibility between a man and his wife.” His voice was no longer calm but instead hummed with an intensity Teresa hadn’t expected. Something low in her stomach throbbed in response. “And I find it hard to believe that any gentleman who was considering marriage and felt that wouldn’t push you to explore that connection, even if he expected you to say no.”
“That’s absurd. The entire idea is absurd. It makes no sense that a woman would need to allow a gentleman any liberties before the marriage in order to expect fidelity from him in return.”
“You misunderstand.” Martin took a step closer to her. “I’m not saying this is a conscious decision. It’s just what happens when it’s no longer possible to withstand the need to touch, to share a physical connection that refuses to be denied. We are, after all, only human.”
Teresa sucked in a breath, doing her best to deny the very awareness that had surged back to the surface with his movement toward her. She’d been able to ignore it in the initial flush of anger and frustration but it hadn’t dissipated despite her irritation with him. He took another step forward, moving even closer.
“But we are humans, not animals. We should have more self-control than that.” She was desperately grasping for something, anything to remind herself of that. He was close enough now that she could feel the heat of his body, just beyond the reach of hers. He smelled of soap and a subtle, herbal scent that reminded her of walking along the coast in the summer. Despite her best efforts, she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
“Should we?” She could feel his eyes on her even though she couldn’t see them, his face in shadow. “How would you know?”
“I…” Her voice shook and she sucked in another breath, trying to find her balance. “I don’t. That’s just what I think I would do, if faced with those decisions.”
“No?” Another step. “I think you do know what it’s like to crave someone’s touch.”
Teresa shivered and tried to convince herself it was just a breeze and not a reaction to his words. He was guessing. He had no way of knowing that in all the time she’d spent in Society, she’d never been as aware of being a physical being as she was right now — or that this awareness stretched to him. The simple act of breathing drew her attention to how the fabric of her chemise felt as it moved over her skin.
Martin leaned closer. “Could you really give that up for a lifetime? Never to know what it could be like to kiss someone you ache to touch?”
She forced herself to swallow despite the fact that her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “I’m sure it couldn’t be that great a loss.”
“Then you have no idea what you’re missing.” He bent his head and Teresa had one moment to realize his intention before his lips were on hers and all conscious thought fled.
His lips were warm and firm, brushing hers before settling into the kiss, gentle and yet insistent. Her eyelids fluttered closed as all her nerve endings sprang to life. The heat that had uncoiled deep in her belly flared and she could feel her nipples tightening.
She felt his hands move and then one was behind her head, pulling her closer to him, deeper into the moment. His lips opened slightly, coaxing her, and she found her lips opening with his. Her body was operating on instinct now, one older than the rules of the ton and outside of conscious control. His tongue slipped into her mouth, inviting hers to dance and she melted into it.
The world ceased to exist outside of her lips touching his. She no longer felt the cold, only the warmth of his body pressed up against hers. The sounds of the orchestra and other couples faded away, until all she could hear was his breathing and her heart pounding. Time hung, frozen, as she turned into a creature of pure physical sensation.
Finally, he drew back slightly, enough so that their lips parted but not relinquishing his hold on her. The kiss felt like it had lasted forever and not long enough. Opening her eyes, she drew in a shaky breath and looked up at him. “…oh.”
For a moment, Teresa thought she could see a real smile starting to spread over his face. Then he stiffened, straightening up and turning to face down the garden path she had walked, back towards the ballroom.
“Teresa!” Charlotte’s voice rang out. Looking back towards the terrace, Teresa saw her aunt standing at the terrace balcony, accompanied by Lord Radcliff. Charlotte’s hand was at her mouth, clearly shocked by what she had seen.
Teresa could feel her stomach plummeting even as her heart skipped a beat. Charlotte would never overlook this. Never.
Chapter 10
Martin kept his face carefully neutral as he stared at the two figures standing at the edge of the balcony, even as his gut churned. With the years of practice he’d had, it was relatively simple to merely raise one eyebrow and pretend he hadn’t just been caught kissing a unmarried young woman in the gardens by her aunt and Lord Radcliff. Backlit as they were by the light from the ballroom, he couldn’t make out t
heir expressions but he had enough experience with the ton to know it wouldn’t be anything good for either of them.
“Teresa!” Charlotte’s voice was shrill, sputtering her name out. “You ungrateful child! After everything we have done for you, this is how-”
“Ma’am.” Shadows moved in the light behind the pair as others in the ballroom drifted over to the open doorway, attracted by the commotion. Next to him, Teresa stood trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or rage or embarrassment.
Quite possibly a combination of all three.
Adrenaline cut through the fog in his mind, amplifying the quiet voice until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. The reality of what he had to do settled like a weight across his shoulders and he wondered for a moment what she was going to think of it. Of what he thought of it. All his careful planning gone, undone in one moment of weakness. He wanted to rage at himself.
None of it mattered right now. He knew his responsibilities, and his first priority had to be to calm the scandal brewing in front of him. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “It pleases me that you are the first to know the good news that Miss Selkirk has agreed to be my wife.”
The only sound to break the shocked silence that greeted that statement was Teresa’s sharp intake of breath. Wisely, she said nothing to contradict him. His estimation of her intelligence rose another notch; he could appreciate a woman who could think on her feet.
Charlotte finally found her voice. “I had not realized that you were looking for a wife — or that you could form such an attachment with my niece after two dances and one carriage ride, my lord.”
Unspoken but clearly understood was the implication that it was a surprise Teresa had caught his interest at all. Martin could feel her stiffen beside him and felt a surge of anger at Charlotte’s callous words. He might not have intended to marry her but her wit alone made her worth five of any other debutantes swarming the ballroom.
“My plan to settle down was a relatively recent development and I had chosen not to make it public knowledge.” He reached down and grasped Teresa’s hand, which she had pulled out of his grip when she had realized they had watchers, placing it on his arm. “I did not expect to find a suitable wife so quickly. I’ll call upon Mr. Beresford tomorrow to discuss the arrangements.”
Teresa’s fingers twitched on his arm but she remained quiet. A small mercy, he suspected, given the tenor of their interactions thus far.
Charlotte merely sniffed at his comment. “I will inform her uncle to expect you.” Her gaze shifted to her niece, her lips thinning. “Teresa, come here. We’re leaving now, before you disgrace us any further.” Her voice was a cold whip, holding no warmth or compassion for Teresa.
Teresa slowly began to pull her hand back, but Martin held it for a moment. Leaning down, he pitched his voice for her ears alone. “We’ll talk tomorrow, after I’ve met with your uncle.”
Her eyes sparked back at him. “Indeed.” She straightened and moved toward the stairs that led back to the terrace. Gone were all traces of the woman who had sparred verbally with him — or had trembled in his grasp moments before. Her head held high, she gracefully climbed the stairs to lead her aunt back into the ballroom.
Martin didn’t miss how Radcliff turned to watch her exit and he moved to stand next to him. “It goes without saying, my lord, that I would appreciate it if you left my betrothed alone.”
Radcliff turned back to meet his gaze, eyes narrowed. Martin could swear he could see the man’s teeth grinding together. “The lady’s aunt and I had an understanding-”
“I believe the lady has a different opinion than her aunt. One that she’s made unmistakably clear.”
Even in the dim light, he could see Radcliff flushing. “I hope you choke on that damn honor of yours, Carlington. Always lording it over the rest of us mere mortals like you’re somehow better, as if you didn’t have your father’s eyes or his blood in your veins. And yet here you are, kissing an unmarried chit within sight of the terrace. Pity I hadn’t thought to do that myself.”
Rage surged and threatened to overwhelm Martin for a moment before he choked it down. Losing control here would net him nothing. Still, he couldn’t keep from moving in close and lowering his voice. “If I’m like my father in any way, then let me make myself even clearer, my lord. If I find out you are spreading tales of what happened here tonight, you will regret it — and if I find you anywhere near Teresa, I’ll meet you out on the field.”
Even in the low light, he could see Radcliff’s face blanch. For a moment, he wondered if he’d gone too far — but the deed was done, and if it could forestall even some of the gossip, he wouldn’t regret it. Not for either of them.
“Out of respect for your father, boy, I’ll let that insult slide.” He leaned in closer to Martin. “She’s pretty but I suspect you’ll find marriage to her is lesson enough beyond anything I could do. Enjoy the fruits of your honor, Carlington.”
He turned and stalked off, leaving Martin looking after him. Martin was alone on the terrace now, the few that had spilled out of the ballroom having disappeared when Charlotte and Teresa had left. Off to spread the gossip, he supposed. Even with his threat to Radcliff, there would be little chance of stopping it. Charlotte was a fool to rush to leave. It would only fan the flames. The only protection he could offer Teresa now lay in the course of action before him — one that would have seemed unthinkable just hours before.
But that had been before he’d seen her tonight. Before they had stepped out onto the terrace and he had found it impossible to leash his awareness of her body. The attraction he’d felt had merely crystallized into full blown desire, leaving him fighting a losing battle for self-control. He’d never felt anything like it.
When she’d insisted that it wouldn’t have been a great loss to be missing that desire in a marriage, he’d found he was unable to stop himself from giving her a taste of what she would be losing. He was sure she’d felt the same desire, even as the little voice in the back of his head tried to warn him that this was a mistake and he was pushing her too far.
Then her lips opened under his and his hands moved of their own accord to deepen the kiss. He’d completely lost himself until the promptings of his conscience had brought him back, reminding him that she was an innocent and had no idea where this would lead. Even with that, it had still taken a supreme act of self-control to pull back and end the kiss when all he had wanted to do was continue it.
Her expression after the kiss had been a mix of outraged innocence, awed wonder, and awakening desire. It had sent another bolt of need straight to his groin, even as he’d found it impossible to keep a smile of pure male satisfaction from spreading over his face.
That was before he’d heard a throat being cleared behind him. It hadn’t taken long for the realization of what had just happened — and what the consequences of it would be — to sink in. With that equivalent of a bucket of cold water washing over him, it had been simple to see what he had to do.
Simple words to say, and yet they had upset everything.
Striding confidently back into the ballroom, Martin sent a cold look at anyone who raised an eyebrow in his direction. Years of dealing with the fallout from his father had taught him that one of the few things the ton respected was arrogance. Act as though you were in the right and people reacted accordingly.
James found him in the hallway. “Carlington! I just heard-”
“It’s true.” News of the engagement was already spreading like wildfire, it appeared. He wondered, idly, if Charlotte had set the spark herself. No matter. There was very little reason for him to remain and a lot of reasons to leave.
He motioned to the door. “The party here will continue on well enough without me, I think. Hell, they’ll likely find it easier to gossip if I leave.”
James grimaced but didn’t contradict him. “I’ve heard three different versions of what happened so far.”
Martin shrugged. “One of them might
even be close to the truth. No matter. They’re going to say and believe what they’d like regardless of what I do. Nothing I could say would make a difference one way or another.” He turned to leave before swinging back to face James again. “Will you be at the club tomorrow? Your connections might be useful to get a special license.”
James spread his hands. “I am at your disposal.”
“Thank you.” He turned to head back down the hall. “Please give my regards to the Duchess of Rossborough for such an entertaining evening.”
*
Given how little time he spent in London, Martin’s preference would have been to sell the townhouse and merely rent a house when his presence in London was required for the Season. His grandfather had insisted, however, that a lord had to maintain a house in town. Rather than argue with the old man, he had sold the sprawling residence his father had chosen and opted for a smaller townhouse with a minimum of servants — adequate for his needs, but nothing ostentatious.
It was certainly nothing like the homes of the ton who entertained while in London. His grandfather had grumbled that he wasn’t keeping up the appearance required of his rank, but Martin had pointed out the funds that would have involved and the old man had given up with a few more token protests. His grandfather might have cared about appearances, but only after the estate was in working order.
However, he had to admit that after an evening like tonight, he could appreciate returning to his own library and pouring himself a healthy glass of whiskey. The quiet was a balm to his senses after the crowds and noise of the masquerade, the air much less stifling.
He swirled the whiskey in its glass and stared into the fire without really seeing it as he considered what he knew about the woman who was now his betrothed. That they had a physical connection was clear enough, and he had no doubts of their ability to get along in that arena.
Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1) Page 9