by Laura Landon
“Where is Miss Warden? Surely you haven’t abandoned her?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “No. The children wanted to play another lawn game, and she decided to join them.”
Hannah gave him a censorious look. “Did you frighten the young lady off?”
“Heavens, no. I don’t frighten women. They terrify me!”
Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Lord Rafe. I’ve never met anyone less terrified of females than you. I’d wager to say that you’re accustomed to having every female you meet fall at your feet.”
“Every female except you, Miss Bartlett.”
Hannah couldn’t hold his gaze. She lifted her glass of lemonade and took a drink.
“Why is that?” he asked after sitting in the chair opposite her.
She couldn’t avoid his gaze, couldn’t help but look at his face.
Hannah hoped she’d see a teasing glint in his eyes, an expression that said his question was a jest. But he was deadly serious. He genuinely expected her to give him an answer. And it would have to be one he would believe.
“I know you have a difficult time believing this,” she said, placing her glass back on the table and looking directly at him, “but I have no intention of ever marrying. I therefore think of it as a kindness to both myself and any man who shows me the slightest amount of attention not to offer any encouragement that our acquaintance could possibly develop into anything substantial.”
“Have you ever considered what you would do if you met someone you wanted as more than a friend?”
“That will not happen, my lord. I will not allow it.”
He arched his eyebrows, then reached for the glass a servant had placed on the table beside him. “How very intriguing,” he said, taking a sip of the lemonade.
“My comment was not meant to intrigue you.”
“I know, Miss Bartlett. That is what makes your attitude even more interesting.”
Hannah knew it was useless to argue with him. She focused instead on Miss Warden, who was entertaining the younger children. “Miss Warden seems like a very pleasant young lady.”
“She is,” he answered.
“But she doesn’t interest you?”
He shook his head, then took another sip from his glass.
“That’s all right, my lord. Lady Wedgewood mentioned she’d invited several other local girls during our stay. Six, if I understood correctly. That means there are five more possibilities.”
“But the second candidate won’t arrive until the day after tomorrow. Which means that tomorrow I will be free. And so will you.”
“I’m sure Lady Wedgewood has something planned for tomorrow in which she expects us to participate.”
“She did, but she changed her mind when I mentioned that you had never visited a brewery and I’d promised to take you. Of course, the fact that everyone else was eager to go helped sway her. We will leave midmorning, stop for lunch at the Spotted Goose on our way, and then tour Bradford Brewery in the afternoon. If we’re fortunate, Lord and Lady Grayson will be there. You’ll enjoy meeting them.”
Hannah knew she needed to discourage him as much as possible. “Who has Lady Wedgewood invited to partner you the day after?”
Lord Rafe rolled his eyes heavenward. “I’m not certain. I’m not overly interested in my sister-in-law’s matchmaking schemes. I’m more concerned with my own efforts.”
Hannah wanted to offer a reply that would douse his intentions, but couldn’t think of anything that would emphasize her point more than what she’d just said. She was glad when Raeborn, Carmody, and Wedgewood joined them on the terrace.
“You abandoned us,” Lord Wedgewood said to his brother.
“Yes, Rafe. We needed you to make the final call,” Raeborn said, accepting a glass of lemonade from a nearby servant. “Baldwin and Adledge claimed Wexley’s ball tapped Wedgewood’s. Anyone could see it didn’t come close.”
The men would have continued their argument, but Lady Caroline and the Duchess of Raeborn joined them.
“What did I tell you, Linny?” Her Grace said, putting her arm around her husband’s waist.
“You were right, Grace,” Lady Caroline said, stepping over to her husband’s chair.
“Right about what?” Wedgewood asked.
Lady Caroline kissed her husband’s cheek. “Grace predicted that there would be a controversy over your game.”
“There’s no controversy,” His Grace said. “Adledge and Baldwin wanted to win so badly they trumped up a foul where there was none.”
“Yes, and their influence has corrupted Wexley. He’s been in the family for less than two years and already they’ve turned him into a coconspirator.”
“I take exception to that,” Lord Baldwin said as he joined them on the terrace. Lord Adledge and Baron Wexley nodded their agreement as they followed him to their table. “We would have trounced you if you hadn’t invented a foul.”
The six men bantered back and forth for several more minutes, each team insisting that it would have been victorious had it not been for the antics of the other team.
“Well, there is one way to prove which team has the superior talent,” the Earl of Baldwin announced.
“Yes,” the Marquess of Wedgewood said, rising to his feet. “A rematch! My superior team challenges your inferior team to a rematch.”
Baldwin stood. “My team accepts. This time, however, we will appoint a judge for any disputed rulings.”
“Who?” Wedgewood asked.
“Your brother, the esteemed Lord Rafe. He will make a fair and honest ruling for every controversy. We’ll make him take an oath of fairness. Do you agree?” he said, scanning the men gathered on the terrace.
Both teams agreed with hearty enthusiasm.
Rafe turned toward Hannah. “Would you care to come along?” he asked as the men readied to leave. “You can keep me from making an error.”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”
“I’ll accompany you,” Caroline said. “I may be of some use. With the exception of my husband, the others are gentlemanly enough not to argue with me.”
“Excellent,” Rafe said, extending his arm to Caroline. “We’ll return shortly,” he said before they left. “Unless the game turns deadly and we’re caught in the cross fire.”
“I have faith you’ll prevent it from going that far,” the duchess said with a laugh. “Hannah and I will wait here for the verdict.”
Hannah watched as the group left.
When they were far enough from them that they couldn’t be overheard, the duchess relaxed back into her chair and breathed a sigh.
Hannah knew Grace was about to say something regarding the attention Lord Rafe was paying her and wanted to be the first to reassure her that she had nothing to worry over. “There’s no need to say anything, Grace. I have no intention of causing trouble.”
“I know you don’t. It’s your heart I’m concerned about.”
Hannah turned to face her friend. “Then there’s nothing to worry about. My heart beats strong and steady enough to keep my body alive and active. To everything else, it is dead. Any capabilities it had to nurture feelings for another human being—especially someone of the opposite sex—died fifteen years ago.”
“Don’t be so sure, Hannah. It’s possible that part of your heart isn’t completely dead. I think it has been dormant thus far. Lord Rafe is a remarkable man. If anyone has the power to revive your emotions, it will be him.”
“Then I will have to be more determined in my efforts to discourage him.”
“Have you considered that his feelings for you could develop into something very genuine?”
Hannah turned to her friend and smiled. “I’m not a novice when it comes to men, Grace. Lord Rafe is intent on pursuing me because I am one of the few females who didn’t fall panting at his feet when we first met. I think he is too accustomed to keeping the fairer sex at arm’s length. He’s attracted to me
because I’ve resisted his charms.”
“You may be correct,” the duchess said.
“But…” Hannah could tell there was more Grace wanted to say.
“It’s just something Caroline said.”
Hannah waited.
“She said she’d never seen such an intense look on Lord Rafe’s face as when he looks at you.”
“Infatuation, Grace. Nothing more.”
“Let’s hope so. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
“We won’t be.” Hannah took another sip of her tepid lemonade. “I realize now I’ve handled this whole situation wrong. I’ve become a challenge to him.” Hannah placed her glass on the table. “I need to change my tactics. I’ll begin tonight.”
Chapter 4
Instead of joining Grace and her sisters in the music room after dinner, Hannah excused herself and walked onto the terrace. It was a perfect summer evening. The moon was full, and there was a gentle breeze from the east that rustled the leaves on the trees. If ever there’d been an ideal romantic setting, this was it.
She’d plotted her actions all through dinner and knew she wouldn’t have long to wait before Lord Rafe joined her. The smiles she’d given him when their gazes met, which had been often during the meal, made her message clear. For the first time since they’d met, she’d encouraged his attention.
A wave of regret washed over her. She felt as if she were deceiving him. But she had no other choice. This afternoon she’d realized that her attempts to discourage him were actually having the opposite effect. He was used to females vying for his attention. When she didn’t encourage him at every opportunity, she became a challenge.
Hannah knew what she had to do, but she was loath to follow through with her plan. She was quite fond of Lord Rafe. He was the most unusual man she’d ever met. He was the first man with whom she could be herself. Perhaps the reason was because he didn’t know who she was. Perhaps it was because he didn’t know what she was.
Hannah thought about how easy it was to talk to him, how often she found herself laughing at something he said. She would miss the friendship that was developing between them. But Grace was right in warning her not to let him become attracted to her.
Allowing him to pursue an association with her wasn’t wise. It was time to do whatever it took to discourage him. And she realized the answer was to pretend she was as attracted to him as every other woman he’d ever met. Only then would he run from her the same as he ran from any who pursued him.
Hannah prepared herself for the role she had to play, then released a soft sigh when she heard footsteps behind her. She knew it was him.
He stopped when he reached her, but she didn’t turn. She wasn’t ready yet.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he said, stepping to her side. “You’ve spent a great deal of time out-of-doors since you arrived. My guess would be that you love the fresh air but are trapped indoors much of the time when you are in London.”
She turned her head. “Yes, I love it outside. There’s a sense of freedom in the country that I don’t experience in the city. Do you visit London often?”
“I did when I was younger. I was the second son of a marquess, you know, and expected to make a showing at a certain number of social events each Season.”
“When did you stop?”
“Going to London? Or attending the social scene?”
“Either. Would I be incorrect in assuming they both happened at the same time?”
He laughed. “No, you would not.”
She kept her gaze focused on his. “When did you stop?” she asked again, keeping her voice soft and low.
He hesitated as if he was thinking. Or as if captivated by the tone of her voice. Which is what she intended.
“When Thomas married Caroline,” he finally said. “I felt as if the pressure to find a bride had been lifted. Then, when the two of them provided an heir to ensure the Wedgewood line continued, I knew it was no longer essential that I marry anytime soon.”
“And during all that time, you didn’t meet one young lady with whom you felt an attachment?”
“No. But I blame that on Thomas.”
Hannah felt a giggle bubble to the surface. “Really? How was that your brother’s fault?”
“Not only had he already laid claim to the only perfect female in London, but I suddenly realized I couldn’t settle for a future that didn’t promise to be equally as blissfully happy as theirs was.”
“Their marriage does set the standards for happiness quite high.”
“Yes, it does. And until recently, I didn’t think it was possible for me to find that same happiness.”
His admission jolted her insides. She’d have to be dim-witted to miss his implication. And she hadn’t survived this long by being naive.
His declaration caused an emotion to consume her that was partly joy, partly elation, and partly terror. Grace had been right. He had become infatuated with her. She should have realized it sooner. And she would have if she hadn’t been so infatuated with him, if she hadn’t been so reluctant to ignore the emotions she never thought she would experience.
She turned her head as he sat on the balustrade next to her. This brought his face even with hers and allowed him to look her in the eyes.
“Has anyone told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?” he asked.
Hannah wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t. The look in his eyes was too intense not to take him seriously.
Her beauty had been proclaimed more times than she could count, but never with the intent Rafe meant with his declaration. He was pursuing her on a human level—as a man pursues a woman he wants to get to know better. A woman he wants to court. The men in her past weren’t interested in courting her. Nor were they interested in getting to know her on any personal level—except one.
His words confirmed her belief that once she gave in to him, she would no longer be a challenge. Although the thought of severing their budding friendship saddened her, she knew it was necessary—no, essential.
Hannah lifted her gaze to meet his. “Not lately. Thank you,” she whispered.
He stood, then reached for her hands.
She was surprised to find that her fingers trembled when she placed them in his. She didn’t anticipate such a reaction.
With a gentle lift, he brought her to her feet. He was going to kiss her.
Hannah realized his intentions with the same surety that she’d learned to read in every man before they acted. And this time she would allow him to kiss her—something she never allowed a man to do.
He stepped closer, then wrapped his arm around her waist. The heat that radiated between them was intense enough to ignite a fire; the vibrancy that exuded from each of them was powerful enough to bring a dead man back to life.
With a slow, familiar ease she found endearing—and startling—he cupped his hand to her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lips. His touch was a gentle caress that brought to life every nerve in her body. With a slight shift of his body, he brought his head closer.
Hannah found herself leaning toward him, reaching to experience the feel of his lips against hers, eager to bring about a completion of what his actions promised.
Then he kissed her.
His touch was soft and gentle, containing a shyness that took her by surprise. And for several long seconds, she reveled in the innocence of their first encounter.
His first kiss lasted but a moment, the briefest of meetings that served as an introduction. Then, with a moan that contained a desire for something more, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her again.
His arms wrapped more securely around her body and brought her closer to him. Hannah skimmed her palms up the front of his jacket and twined her arms around his neck.
Her movement caused a reaction that intensified the slow-burning fire that smoldered within her.
With a yearning that seemed to border on desperation, he deepened his kiss, drinking fro
m her, demanding from her, giving to her.
The passion she thought their kiss would satisfy was having the opposite effect. She found herself wanting more, desiring something beyond a kiss. And she knew only too well what that something was.
He kissed her with more passion, and the fire inside her burned even hotter. A warmth she’d never experienced before consumed her, and she knew, in only a few more seconds, it would be too late to extinguish it.
She breathed a heavy sigh and attempted to loosen her hold on him. Instead, her hold tightened, as if some unknown force controlled her body and the orders she gave it.
She believed there was nothing of the carnal side of life she hadn’t experienced, but never had she faced the upheaval she was experiencing now. Never had she battled an assault so fierce as the war raging inside her because of his kisses. And it was a war she was losing.
He kissed her with more passion, asking more from her, demanding more. And she knew that, whatever he wanted, she would give it to him.
His lips parted atop hers. His tongue skimmed her lips, probing the entrance to her mouth as if requesting admittance.
When it wasn’t immediately granted, his finger pressed ever so gently against her chin and she opened to him.
His tongue breached her entrance, dipping, delving, dredging pure emotion from her. He deepened his kiss even more. And all was lost to her.
All reasoning abandoned her. She couldn’t think, could only accept what was happening to her and demand more. He left her desperate for something he hadn’t given her yet, frantic for more of what he offered, feverish for a place she’d glimpsed he could take her.
Her legs weakened beneath her, and his arms tightened around her when she sagged into him. She was totally dependent on him, needing him to remain upright and requiring his assistance in order to take her next breath. She wanted what she knew only he could give her.
This couldn’t be happening. Feelings like this were dead to her. She’d killed them long ago, destroyed them when she’d arrived starving on the streets of London fifteen years ago without a farthing to her name. With no one to help her. With little chance to survive. She’d abandoned the last shred of respectability that was left her after she’d been raped, obliterated any sense of decency her father had ingrained in her, and stamped down any integrity that hadn’t been beaten out of her. And the man kissing her was resurrecting every emotion she thought she’d buried long ago.