‘In the short time we have known each other, haven’t you learned anything about me?’
‘I have learned some things. I have learned that you are not the prim and proper miss you purport to be, and that you like making love to inebriated gentlemen when you are the one who can dictate the action, and that—’
‘Grant, please!’ Resting back on her heels, Adeline was aghast. ‘Stop it now,’ she retorted, her face heating. ‘It wasn’t like that, and you know it.’
‘No? Are you saying that you didn’t enjoy making love to me?’ He reached into the basket for a sandwich and slowly began to eat.
‘No—yes…Oh, behave yourself. You promised me you would.’
Grant was by no means done with her yet. ‘Have you done anything like that with anyone else?’
Adeline’s cheeks flamed with indignation. ‘No—and I have told you so.’
He grinned. ‘You have? Forgive me if I don’t recall.’
‘Will you please stop tormenting me about my—slip of propriety?’
His grin widened at her embarrassment, and then he gave a shout of laughter. ‘I like reminding you. I like seeing you get all flushed and flustered and hot under the collar.’
She glowered down at him. ‘Now you’re making fun of me.’
‘I know.’
Unable to stay cross with him—knowing he was teasing anyway—Adeline laughed.
Grant lay back beside her, linking his hands behind his head and staring up at the trees. ‘You should laugh more often. You have a beautiful laugh.’
Hearing the sensuous huskiness that deepened his voice, Adeline shivered inwardly. ‘Thank you—but you are only saying that to placate me.’
‘Do you need placating?’
She sighed, tucking her legs beneath her. ‘No. I’m having too nice a time to be cross.’
‘Good.’
When he closed his eyes, Adeline let her gaze wander over the smooth, thick lock of hair that dipped over his brow, and the authority and arrogance of every line of his darkly handsome face. She let her gaze travel down the full length of the superbly fit, muscled body stretched out beside her. How well she remembered him lying beside her like this once before when, even sleeping, he had exuded a raw, potent virility that had held her in thrall.
As if he could feel her eyes studying him, without opening his eyes, he quirked the mobile line of his mouth in a half-smile. ‘I hope you like what you see.’ He sighed. ‘You can kiss me if you want to, Adeline.’
Adeline’s eyes opened wide in astonishment, and then she laughed. Why, the sheer arrogance of the man. ‘I most certainly will not,’ she objected, slapping him playfully on the chest with her napkin.
Like lightning, he reared up. His hands shot out and gripped her upper arms, and he pulled her down onto her back, leaning over her. ‘If you won’t kiss me, do you mind if I kiss you?’ His voice was low-pitched and sensual. ‘Are you not curious to find out if it will be as good as when I kissed you at Oaklands? When I found you wandering about my house like a beautiful ghost in your nightdress.’ A slight smile touched his mouth, but his heavy-lidded gaze dropped to the inviting fullness of her lips, lingering there.
Hypnotised by that velvet voice and those mesmerising silver eyes, Adeline gazed up at him with a combination of fear and excitement. She tried to relax, but in the charged silence between them it was impossible. And then, as quick as he had been to pull her down onto the rug, so she rolled away from him and got to her knees.
Startled, Grant stared at her, annoyed that he was to be deprived of his kiss. ‘Now what?’
‘I think it’s time to go.’
‘If there’s anything I can’t abide it’s an obstinate woman.’
‘I’m sure you have most women jumping up to do your bidding.’
‘As a matter of fact, some of them do. My fatal charm doesn’t seem to work with you. I’ve no idea why.’
‘I’m immune.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘No, you’re not. Do you really think you will escape me so easily?’
‘Escape? What a strange term to use, Mr Leighton. Am I your prisoner?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It is I who am yours.’
She laughed, beginning to put things into the basket. ‘How I wish.’
‘You are a cruel woman, Miss Osborne,’ Grant accused, getting to his feet and brushing down his trousers.
‘I am beginning to understand you and your motives.’
‘Which are?’
‘You are wasting your time if you are looking for an easy conquest. There must be any number of easier prospects.’
‘There must?’
‘Mmm. I can think of one in particular who is always most willing. Diana Waverley has a habit of collecting men like other people might collect butterflies.’
‘She does?’
‘You must have noticed. You seem to spend a great deal of time together.’
‘I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. We don’t. I think you misunderstand me.’
‘Oh, no.’ She laughed. ‘I understand you very well. I have enjoyed our picnic, but I don’t attach any significance to it.’
Grant sighed with mock gravity. ‘I can see how difficult it will be to convince you that I am attracted to you.’
‘Not difficult at all. I told you—I understand perfectly. Now, fold up that rug and we’ll get back before it comes on to rain.’
‘We can always wait it out under this tree.’
‘No.’
He shrugged, reaching for the rug. ‘You win.’
‘I always do.’
He slanted her a dubious glance. ‘This time.’
When they reached Eaton Place, Grant got out of the cab to carry the picnic basket up the steps. He was about to take his leave when a sudden thought occurred to him. ‘Do you ride when you’re in town?’
‘Yes. Often.’
‘Early in the morning?’
‘It’s the best time.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. I shall be in Hyde Park at six.’ Raising a superior brow he met her gaze. ‘Will you meet me?’
Despite knowing there would be whispers and raised brows aplenty if she were seen riding alone with him at such an early hour, she nodded, her gaze open and direct. ‘Where?’
‘At the corner of Park Lane.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
When he’d gone Adeline was so confused by what was happening to her that she scarcely noticed she was going into the drawing room. The whole day had been one of shared pleasures—but she told herself that her attraction to Grant Leighton was dangerous, that because of all that had happened between them, and his close association with Diana Waverley, nothing could come of it. It would have to stop. But when she thought of the way he had looked at her with his mesmerising silver-grey eyes, and her traitorous heart reminded her of how it had felt when he had made love to her, she forgot the danger. She told herself it was nothing—that they had been brought together by their mutual concern over Lettie’s liaison with Jack Cunningham, and that he probably didn’t realise what he was doing.
Chapter Eight
Grant knew exactly what he was doing—and he was already thinking of doing much more. In fact if Jack Cunningham weren’t such a swine, he would bless Lettie’s liaison with him, since it provided him with an excuse to see Adeline.
After reaching Stanfield House and being informed that Lettie wasn’t expected back until much later, he returned to the hotel to change, then went to Boodles to meet with friends and relax and converse over drinks. Two hours later he got up to leave. In the foyer one of the stewards stepped forward with his topper, brushing its brim before handing it to him.
‘Thank you, George.’
‘You’re leaving early tonight, Mr Leighton.’
‘I have an appointment.’ Grant intended calling at Stanfield House once more, in the hope that Lettie was home.
A man who had just entered paused and looked at him. He had recognised the name
immediately. ‘Leighton?’
Grant looked at him coolly. ‘That’s correct. And you are?’
‘Cunningham. Jack Cunningham,’ he said, puffing on an expensive cigar and sending smoke swirling into the air. ‘We have a mutual acquaintance, I believe. Lady Diana Waverley.’
‘Yes,’ Grant replied without feeling, as if he were addressing a much lesser man. Taller than the other man, Grant neither smiled nor offered his hand. ‘Lady Waverley and I are acquainted. I believe you are also acquainted with my sister, Lettie?’
‘I do have that pleasure. Lettie and I have become—close.’
Grant’s face hardened into an expressionless mask. ‘So I gather.’
‘Look, I don’t know how much Lettie’s told you,’ Jack said with amazing calm, ‘but my intentions towards her are perfectly honourable.’
‘I’d like to believe that.’ His tone expressed doubt.
The eyes Grant Leighton fixed on Jack with barely concealed dislike were steady, clever, unreflecting, stirring Jack’s resentment and an acute discomfort. Holding his cigar in the corner of his mouth, he tapped his cane against the palm of his hand.
His eyes flicked over Lettie’s brother. Attired in princely manner—claret tail coat with velvet collar, crisp white shirt, stock and dove-grey trousers—his was an elegance that could neither be bought nor cut into shape by a tailor. Grant Leighton was one of those individuals whose breeding was so obvious it would show itself even if he were clothed in rags.
Jack was overpoweringly aware of the difference between them. He lived by his wits and, in the eyes of the law, on immoral earnings. Whereas Leighton owned land and property on a massive scale, fine carriages, and a house in the country where he would have servants and ride on his land on one of the splendid mounts from the Leighton stable. In fact he had as certain a future as was possible in life.
‘In case you have not heard, we are to be neighbours,’ Jack said, undaunted by the other man’s reserved manner and slightly veiled contempt.
Grant raised an uninterested brow. ‘We are?’
‘Yes. I am in the process of buying a house very close to Oaklands—Westwood Hall.’
Now Grant was all attention, but he remained guarded. ‘Diana is selling Westwood Hall?’
Cunningham nodded, unable to conceal the triumphant gleam from his eyes behind half-lowered lids. When Diana had approached him for a loan he had seen the extent of her debts, and that she would be unable to pay back the money. With Westwood Hall within his sights he had generously given her what she asked for, intending to turn that generosity to his advantage. It was time to call in the debt.
Ever since he had dragged himself out of the East End he had hungered for great wealth and prestige, and he was determined to achieve them by whatever means necessary. A large country house was part of his agenda, along with a compatible lifestyle, and with Lettie—a refined and respected young woman—as his wife, and however many children came their way, his position in society would be established.
‘Between you and me, Leighton, Diana’s affairs have reached the point of crisis. The bank has foreclosed on her loans—along with an army of money-lenders. With no means of clearing her debts she has no choice but to let the house go. I’m looking forward to living in the country. When I am in residence you must visit.’
‘It’s finalised?’
‘Not quite—but almost. The necessary papers are drawn up. She will sign in the next few days.’
‘I see. If you will excuse me, I have an appointment—but there is just one thing you must understand, Cunningham,’ Grant said, meeting his gaze directly. ‘Your association with my sister is over. You will not attempt to see her again.’
‘Or?’
‘You will regret it.’
‘Me? Oh, no, Leighton. It is you who will regret interfering.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Anyone who crosses me is either very brave or very stupid.’
‘I have friends in high places and a great deal of power—enough not to be afraid of anything you can do to me.’ There was a rough, dangerous edge to Grant’s voice, and his eyes were cold.
‘Really? I know a great deal more about you than you know about me,’ Jack said, smiling with a touch of arrogance.
Grant smiled back, his look hard, as if he also had secret knowledge that amused him.
Jack saw something, and there was a subtle change in his eyes. Leighton was staring at him, and his eyes read far too much. Suddenly he was uncertain. ‘I’m curious. What do you know about me?’
‘Enough. Your association with Lettie has prompted me to find out all about you, and I don’t like who you are or what you are. As to your intentions—or should I say pretensions—if it is your intention to offer marriage to my sister, forget it. It won’t happen.’
On those words Grant left the club. He was deeply troubled. He’d disliked Jack Cunningham on sight—the man was as appalling as he’d imagined he would be—and the sooner he saw Lettie and told her to end the affair the better he would feel. But first he must see Diana, and find out what the hell she was playing at.
‘I want your advice about something,’ Lettie said, when she called on Adeline that same evening.
When Adeline had met Lettie in the hall she’d seemed agitated and troubled in spirit, and this was confirmed now Adeline saw her in the gaslight of the drawing room. She looked wan and tired, and all manner of forebodings began to trouble Adeline. Perhaps Lettie needed someone to talk to? The thought expelled her practicality and provoked her at once to force the issue.
‘Lettie,’ she said, drawing her down beside her on the sofa and facing her, ‘you want more than advice. You want help. Please tell me what I can do. Anything. I cannot bear to see you like this.’
Lettie was distraught as well as feeling wretched. She was also annoyed with herself that her feelings were so clear, and yet she wanted to share them with Adeline. There was a need in her not to be alone in her distress. When she spoke her voice was low, but steady. ‘I want to tell you something that I know will shock you. Something has happened, Adeline, and I need your particular brand of common sense to tell me what to do. Even if it’s to throw myself into the River Thames.’
‘That’s unlikely to solve anything, Lettie,’ Adeline said, trying to keep her manner calm and casual. ‘Tell me what it is.’
Lettie swallowed hard, and was obviously close to tears. ‘It’s quite dreadful. I warn you it may be the last time you will ever want to speak to me.’
Adeline knew, even before Lettie told her, that it had something to do with Jack Cunningham. Lines of dread creased her forehead and she felt wretched. ‘Don’t be silly, Lettie. You do exaggerate. Of course I will. Please tell me what is the matter and let me help you.’
White-lipped, Lettie reached out and gripped Adeline’s hands tight. ‘Oh, Adeline,’ she whispered. ‘I—I am pregnant. I am going to have Jack’s baby.’
Adeline stared at her in blank astonishment. Continuing to hold Lettie’s hands, she sat for a moment, trying to bring order out of the chaos of speculation and shock that choked her mind. She thought for a hysterical instant that she was making some silly joke. Then she saw the truth in her eyes and knew that she meant it.
‘Oh, I see.’ Realising that she must handle this terrible situation with the greatest delicacy, she said, ‘How long have you known?’
‘I—I’ve suspected I might be for several weeks,’ Lettie whispered, the expression of anguish on her face beginning to fade a little now it was out in the open.
‘And you are certain of this?’
She nodded. Tears like fat raindrops began to slide down her cheeks. ‘A—a doctor has confirmed it—this morning. I had to come to you, Adeline. There is no one else I can talk to about this—no one but you.’
Adeline’s heart melted with pity at the sight of Lettie’s desolation. ‘Oh, Lettie, thank goodness you did come to me. But why have you kept this to yourself? If you have known about your condition for some time, then you m
ust have known when we went to the Phoenix.’
‘I did—but things have changed since then.’
‘How?’
‘I can’t tell you that—not now, Adeline.’
‘What—what about Jack? Have you told him?’
Lettie nodded. ‘He—he’s delighted.’
These words were spoken with so much bitterness it bemused Adeline. ‘What man wouldn’t be on being told he’s to become a father? But there’s more to this, isn’t there, Lettie? If there weren’t you wouldn’t be so upset. Has—has Jack hurt you in some way—said something? Has—has he not asked you to marry him?’
Lettie glared at her fiercely. ‘Marry him? Of course he wants to marry me—the bastard,’ she hissed. ‘I wouldn’t marry him, Adeline—not ever. Oh, at first what we had was fun—but I didn’t know him then, what he was really like. Now I do know—I know everything—and I want nothing more to do with him. Now he wants to control me, to bend me to his will—to own me.’
‘But what on earth has he done that has brought about this change in you?’
Lettie gulped on her tears. ‘Enough. His crimes—his appetite for money and his methods of achieving it—I can’t be part of that. But there’s more—much more—and it’s got nothing to do with any of that. It’s far more horrible.’
Suddenly a suspicion occurred to Adeline. ‘Has it anything to do with that woman you spoke to outside the Phoenix Club?’
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible. ‘That woman was Jack’s sister. I’ve seen her again since. She—she’s told me things—things I can’t bring myself to speak about. It’s—it’s too awful—brutal and cruel. I want no part of him. I don’t want Jack Cunningham’s baby.’ She put her hands to her face. Any reserve she had left disappeared, and she began to cry dementedly. ‘Oh, Adeline, I must get rid of it—I have to. I can’t bear the thought of bringing a child of his into the world. I will kill myself first.’
Adeline stared at her in appalled silence. What Lettie said was more shocking than her sheltered mind could imagine. Fiercely she took the wretched woman’s shivering body in her arms and held her until she was all cried out.
Wicked Pleasures Page 16