It had been certain torture to stop at a kiss, to know he could not reach out and claim her in his own house, the one place where he was supposed to reign supreme. What would a man like him do with a prize like her? He would ruin her, sully all that purity and goodness with his fallen ways. That was exactly what he’d done. He had spoken filthy words to her and slandered a decent fellow. For what? To prove to her that she should want his poor self instead and his indecent offer? He was lucky she hadn’t gone already. Which did pose a question of its own —why was she still here? She must like him at least a little?
It had been a long time since he’d wondered if a female liked him and even longer since he’d cared. Liking was good, but not essential for bed sport. His women had liked what he could do for them, but had they liked him? Had he liked them beyond their bodies and the pleasure? It was Maura’s fault he was even thinking about such mundane things.
Fielding came in with a note from Miss Sussington, just two streets over.
Riordan read it quickly. She’d be glad to accompany him this afternoon. ‘Fielding, tell Miss Caulfield to have herself and the children ready at one o’clock today.
We’re going to the zoo.’
*
Maura was not looking forward to the outing. She’d played the coward this morning and done everything possible to avoid Riordan after last night. Not because she was afraid of him but because she was afraid of that kiss. Last night’s kiss had been far different from their earlier kisses. This time there were no brandy-laced excuses to hide behind. It had meant something with its sweet, slow intensity and she was far too afraid to take that meaning out and look at it for fear of what might be revealed: impossibility upon impossibility.
Now she’d have to face his company all afternoon. There’d be others present, certainly—the children and Miss Sussington. She wasn’t worried anything untoward would occur in such a group. With Miss Sussington along, Riordan, Lord Chatham, would have his attentions trained elsewhere, a thought that provoked a profound sense of disappointment, especially when she thought of him kissing Miss Sussington as he’d kissed her. Really, she had to start thinking of him again in more formal terms. She’d known this would happen. Informality bred familiarity and familiarity bred the illusion of friendship or the illusion of something more when apparently there was neither.
What sort of man kissed a woman like that while he was courting another?
Lord Chatham was a rake. Mrs Pendergast had told her as much from the start and he’d proved it over the month she’d been here. Last night had just been another example. It had also been an example of how far she’d been taken into his web of debauchery, of what a consummate master of his art he was to have led her down such a well-manicured path of depravity without her knowing, without her truly seeing all the little incidents for what they were—the proverbial forest through the trees.
What had started out as a little flirting at the dinner table that first night had led to a stolen kiss at midnight, to drinking brandy, to the introduction of unspeakable, wicked pleasure between them, and to a dance on the landing and a soft kiss full of fairy-tale promises neither of them should make or keep but from which she’d none the less drawn conclusions that had kept her up half the night, wrapped in the fairy-tale aspect of the illusion, only to have it shatter at dawn.
Reality was strict and brutal in its reminders. Lord Chatham had no intention of keeping those unspoken promises. He might be jealous of Baron Hesperly’s attentions, but only in the way a boy covets another boy’s toy boat. Lord Chatham was most assuredly a rake, nothing more. She could no longer allow herself the luxury of questioning that. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt for too long now and it had led nowhere appropriate.
She should hate him for this: for using her, for showing her the possibilities of a passion that could not be fulfilled. Maybe after today she would. An afternoon of watching him court Ann Sussington was precisely the antidote she needed to really drive home his true nature. It would be no less than she deserved. This was what came of working in a bachelor household without other women present to act as buffers—too much contact, too much intimacy from daily interactions with a man who was already too informal. But she knew, before they even set out for the zoo, it would be easier said than done.
Maura gathered up the children, dressed in spring jackets and sturdy shoes for the outing. She tried to keep her mind on the practicalities of the outing. It had rained in the night and even though the skies were clear now, there was no telling what kind of muddy conditions they would find at the zoo.
‘Uncle Ree says there’s a new chimpanzee at the zoo,’ William said excitedly as they went downstairs. ‘He’s come all the way from Africa. His name is Tommy.
Maybe when I grow up, I’ll be an explorer and bring back animals for everyone to see.’ William’s chatter eased the transition into the barouche. William rode up front with the driver, much to his great pleasure, while she and Cecilia sat with Miss Sussington and Chatham.
Miss Sussington was well turned out in a walking dress of pink-sprigged muslin and a matching pelisse that set off her dark hair and grey eyes, a fashionable mannequin of perfect style. She would look lovely gracing any man’s arm. If she’d been surprised by the inclusion of the children and their governess in the outing, she didn’t show it. Neither, though, did she show delight over their presence.
Maura was beginning to wonder what emotions Miss Sussington did show. Some might call her demeanour unflappable. Maura thought it haughty.
‘The children are adorable,’ Miss Sussington commented as they drove.
‘However did you come by them?’ There was a slight chill to her tone, or did Maura imagine it? She certainly didn’t imagine the stiffening of William’s back at the impersonal reference.
‘They were my brother’s wards,’ Lord Chatham said in reserved tones that matched Miss Sussington’s. ‘They came to me upon his death.’ His voice suggested he would not be more forthcoming on the subject. Maura tried not to look at him more than courtesy allowed. If he’d spent the morning suffering misgivings over last night, there was no sign of them. In fact, there was no sign of any feeling on his usually expressive face. He was, well, in a word, stoic.
Miss Sussington offered Chatham a coy smile and dimpled delightfully, a look she must have practised for hours in the mirror to perfect. ‘You must be the kindest of men to take on such a burden when there are likely other relatives who could have stepped in if you’d asked.’
‘I am afraid you’re wrong on all accounts.’ Chatham’s response bordered on harsh. ‘I’m not kind and the children are not burdens in the least. I would have them with no other.’ Miss Sussington had the grace to understand she’d been rebuked and tactfully changed the subject to something less personal.
*
At the zoo, Maura kept the children with her, one on each side, while their uncle walked ahead with Miss Sussington on his arm. Occasionally, he’d stop and turn back to talk to them about an exhibit. Beside her, Maura could feel William’s anger rising along with Cecilia’s tears. She did her best to keep up a steady conversation with them, as much for her sake as for theirs. Talking kept her mind off what was playing out in front of her.
‘What do you think lions eat, William?’ she asked as they paused by the newly relocated lion exhibit.
‘Their keepers.’ William smiled up at her naughtily with boyish good humour. ‘I heard the lion bit someone last winter and that’s why they had to be moved.’
‘I wish the lion would eat Miss Sussington,’ Cecilia said.
‘Cecilia!’ Maura scolded, but she couldn’t quite repress the smile Cecilia’s comment evoked.
‘Well?’ Cecilia challenged. ‘She’s not particularly nice. She talked about us like we weren’t even sitting in the carriage with her. She acts like we’re stray pets Uncle Ree took in.’
‘If Uncle Ree marries her, she’ll probably send us away,’ William said darkly.
�
��She’ll send me away first because I’m the oldest.’
Now Cecilia’s tears did spill over and she threw her arms around her brother.
‘You can’t leave me, you can’t leave me, Will. You promised.’
Maura knelt swiftly by the children, sweeping them both into her arms. ‘Hush, William, you’re making your sister cry. No one is sending anyone away. Cecilia, it’s all right.’ She sat down on the ground, heedless of what damage the dirt would do to her dress and gathered
Cecilia to her, rubbing the little girl’s back.
‘Everybody goes away and leaves us.’ Cecilia was sobbing loudly with big gasping hiccups.
Chatham and Miss Sussington approached, the latter looking annoyed at the interruption. ‘Can’t you make her stop crying?’ She stared directly at Maura.
‘What kind of governess can’t make a child stop crying?’
Maura looked over Cecilia’s head and met Miss Sussington’s gaze coolly. ‘One who knows sometimes children need to cry. We can’t always pick the time or place.’
Lord Chatham knelt beside her, taking Cecilia in his arms. He lifted the little girl up. ‘What is this, Cee-Cee?’ he asked gently. ‘Did the lion scare you? You know nothing will ever happen to you as long as I am here.’ He gave Cecilia a wink. ‘You know what else? Six looks rather capable to me. I doubt she’d let anything get you.’
‘Me, too!’ William spoke up. ‘I’ll protect you, Cee-Cee.’
Chatham held out his free hand to William. ‘You’re a good man, Will, to look after your sister,’ he said with great seriousness. ‘And I’m here to look after both of you. I want you to know that.’
Maura had never seen Lord Chatham look so serious before or so sincere and it touched her most unexpectedly. How was she to reconcile this man with the rake that kissed her in the dark and danced her down hallways full of false promises or at best indecent ones? Just when she thought she could succeed in hardening her heart, he went and melted it. Again. He was a man impossible to hate, but she would settle for the ability to ignore him.
Her own gaze was misty at his declaration. But Miss Sussington’s was sharp and calculating. In the midst of the little scene, she’d been edged to the periphery of their group. She stood there now, studying them, looking from Maura to Lord Chatham and back.
Maura stood up and brushed at her skirts, getting most but not all the dirt off.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Caulfield. Your dress is ruined,’ Miss Sussington said with false concern, calling attention to the remaining spots.
‘It is a small sacrifice.’ Maura took up William’s hand, hoping to forgo further conversation.
Miss Sussington smiled thinly, her voice low for Maura alone. ‘I’m sure it is when the real prize is so much bigger. Be careful you don’t overreach yourself, or you’ll find yourself out of more than a dress.’ She returned to Lord Chatham’s side, no doubt discouraged to find his arms were no longer available. He’d lifted Cecilia on to his shoulders. Maura smiled. He seemed perfectly content to leave the child there, safely balanced by both his hands. Miss Sussington would have to walk on her own.
Chapter Fourteen
He’d made a splendid muck of it, Riordan thought, sorting through his brushes in the studio. It was too late in the day and the light was gone for any decent painting, but the activity gave him something to do, something to absorb his restlessness. Two perfectly decent wifely candidates alienated in two days. First Lady Helena and now Miss Sussington—it had to be a record. Riordan couldn’t recall a time when he’d had this much trouble obtaining a woman. That left Lady Marianne and one other whose name he couldn’t remember, only that she had seemed far too young to truly be a mother figure for Cecilia and William.
He could only remember Maura—Maura kneeling with the children in her arms, comforting them. He’d felt like a family in those moments at the zoo. He could see Maura in his sitting room with her face full of wonderment as he brought her pleasure and, later, as she brought his. He rather doubted Miss Sussington would ever let herself writhe against his hand in complete abandon.
But Maura had looked at him with awe. He didn’t think he’d ever inspired such a reaction in a woman before. He didn’t deserve it because he was going to have to tell her about the article.
Riordan spread out his brushes, laying them on a cloth and then rearranging them again. The action was nothing more than busy work, something to do to keep his hands and thoughts occupied while he waited for her. His behaviour, as unintentional as it was, had embroiled her in scandal and she had a right to know.
The dinner party had landed Maura in the rumour-ridden society pages. The trip to the zoo had been an attempt to mitigate that scandal, but had done just the opposite instead. News of that outing would be through the ballrooms by tonight.
Maura would thank him for neither.
‘You wanted to see me?’ The object of his thoughts stood warily in the doorway with an expression on her face that said she’d hoped he’d forgotten about the desire to paint her.
‘Come in, sit down.’ Riordan gestured to the curved sofa. ‘We have things to discuss and Cook is happy to tuck the children in.’ He picked up a pad of paper and balanced it on one knee, starting to sketch, his fingers remembering the sweep of charcoal on paper as it formed image and shape.
Maura remained skeptical. ‘What are you doing?’
He looked up and smiled. ‘Sketching.’ Giving my hands something to keep them busy without touching you.
‘I thought I had objected to being painted,’ Maura corrected.
‘You did. I’m not painting. I’m sketching. You never objected to that.’
‘You never asked.’
This was going poorly. She was prickly, not the best of dispositions to approach with bad news. He’d hoped the sketching would keep her distracted enough to not be really angry when he told her the bad news. Maybe he’d do better starting off with the pot sweetened.
‘I owe you,’ he began. He owed her for the dinner party, for the outing today at the zoo, for so many things. The list was quite long. He wasn’t sure where to start.
She shook her head hastily, the light catching the rich highlights of her hair: copper, burnt umber, sienna. ‘No, please don’t apologise.’
Riordan laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t.’ He shaded in the angles of her cheekbones. ‘I was going to say, I owe you a dress to replace the one that was damaged at the zoo.’ He didn’t know a woman yet, rich or poor, who turned down new dresses.
‘It’s not necessary. Dirt washes out.’ Maura stood up. ‘I think I should get back.’
‘I disagree.’ Riordan nodded towards the sofa. ‘Now, if you’d sit back down, we could continue.’
She did sit, but her jaw was tight. There was more to this than a poorly executed outing to the zoo. ‘You’re displeased, Maura, please elaborate.’
‘You and I both know it’s improper for me to accept a gift of clothing from a gentleman. It implies exactly what we’re trying to avoid.’
‘What if the dress is from my aunt? I’ll tell her to send it,’ Riordan pressed, although he knew what
Maura’s response would be.
‘You and I would still know. If there’s nothing else, Lord Chatham?’
He cringed at the use of his title. Riordan set aside the pad of paper. Sweetening hadn’t helped. He’d have to take a straight run at it. ‘There is something else.’ He reached for the folded newspaper on his work table. ‘It seems our dinner party has created a little gossip. Nothing that will last, I assure you. However, I have accidentally placed you in rumour’s wake and I fear I might need your help to rectify the situation.’ He passed Maura the newspaper and waited for the storm to break.
*
Might need help? Accidentally placed her? A little gossip? The pretty phrases were woefully inadequate. Maura stared at the article with growing horror. He was definitely going to need help, far more of it than she was capable of giving. More than that, s
he was going to need help. An obscure dinner party for twelve had suddenly turned lethal to her anonymity. Her presence had been broadcasted to all of London...to all of England, really.
Maura tamped down her growing panic, her rational defences in place. ‘Miss C
—’ could be anyone. Odds were there were multiple governesses in London who could be Miss C. Her uncle would have to know that she’d used the name Caulfield in order for this to help him find her. And how could he possibly know that? She was overreacting.
‘It’s not as bad as all that.’ Riordan smiled and kept drawing. ‘You’re pale as milk. It will vanish the moment another scandal comes along. As scandals go it’s not that bad.’
Maura raised her eyebrows in censure. ‘You’re an expert on such things, I’m sure.’
He grinned. ‘I’m an expert at a great many things, and honestly, this will pass.’
But not before it did her possible harm. The scandal would pass, but the proof wouldn’t, it would go out to every subscriber in the country. Her uncle would read it, and, depending on how hard he was searching for her and how smart he was, he might find reason to connect ‘Miss C.’ with her. Discovery would depend on very few variables now, only three of them actually. Had they uncovered her alias? Had anyone recognised her at the coaching inn and looked beyond the difference in name long enough to follow up on the similarities in physical appearance? If so, had they tracked her yet to Mrs Pendergast’s agency? It all came down to timing. What did they know and when did they know it?
‘All I can say is I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.’
Maura followed him with her eyes, watching him stride about the room, stopping to stand in front of one covered canvas. ‘Didn’t mean for what to happen, Riordan? Didn’t mean to kiss me the first time, or the second time or the third time? Didn’t mean to overstep the boundaries between employer and employee? Didn’t mean to embroil me in a scandal not of my making?’ Didn’t mean to tempt me into developing feelings for you and then to play the rake?
How to Sin Successfully (Rakes Beyond Redemption) Page 13