The war between love and hate had become an epic expressed in passion. God how she had craved this! Her pride had yielded to the demands of her body although Serena eyed her reflection with a wary study as she sat at her vanity.
Could she enjoy him without risking her heart? Could she hold herself away from the tangle of her emotions and simply take what pleasure he offered her?
Was that a kind of revenge in and of itself? To prove to him that he was nothing more than a passing distraction to wile away the quiet of the country?
She narrowed her eyes and leaned into the mirror.
You’re playing with fire, Raven Wells.
She pushed back with a wicked defiant smile. It had been seven years since she’d felt the blaze of his touch and the subject did not bear up under mental study. She picked up a hair brush to smooth out her curls.
What difference does it make? Am I not a free woman to take what pleasures I can? And if Phillip Warrick is tamed and brought to heel in the process, then who am I to complain?
Pepper sat at the long table downstairs in the servants dining hall. As with many houses, this room was the hub of all gossip and news for the family above. The servants were the engine that was never seen but without their labors, life above stairs would grind to a miserable halt. Pepper liked the pride in their eyes for the beauty of the house, and listened carefully as their conversations skirted around Mr. Osborne in all things. The housekeeper reminded them of Mrs. Osborne’s flower club meetings in the village or chided the cook to be sure to include Mrs. Osborne’s favorite dessert after Dell revealed that her lady was melancholy.
“I’m to trouble you for small snippets of fabric from Lady Wellcott’s gowns,” Dell said softly. “My mistress desires to copy her fashions as closely as possible.”
Pepper smiled. “Lady Wellcott has asked me to do one better. I am to sketch out the patterns, if you wish.”
“Oh! How generous!”
“Easy enough,” Pepper said. “I am no great seamstress but I can lay out a pattern from one viewing of a gown.”
“It is a talent I envy,” Dell sighed.
“I made some butter cakes,” Mrs. Byrd, the cook, interrupted as she set a large platter of warm cakes onto the table. “Megan set them too far back in the oven and so the edges are too dark to take upstairs but still tasty.”
Megan was a kitchen maid and her cheeks blazed pink. “Sorry, Mrs. Byrd.”
“There, there! We all have a day.” Mrs. Byrd sighed.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Watson, joined them. “Be sure to leave one or two for Mr. Clayborne or there’ll be hell to pay! I’ve never known a man to favor butter cakes like our Mr. Clayborne.”
The butler was the general they respected but also the man they fondly watched over. The under butler was a man named Baker who clearly carried the weight that an aging Mr. Clayborne no longer could. The transition would inevitably come but from what Pepper could see, Mr. Baker was not pushing to seize the helm. They were a rare coalition marred only by the actions of their master.
Dell shyly took a butter cake and Pepper followed suit. The cakes were delicious and Pepper wondered if the cook hadn’t used some flimsy excuse to share with the hardworking staff. None of the little bites looked burnt to her eyes and the smiles across the table over the treat confirmed it.
“What do you have there, Miss Pepper?” one of the maid’s asked.
Pepper held up one of the pretty heeled shoes from her lap. “I’m sewing new bows on my lady’s shoes. One was lost and I am taking this chance while she bathes to ensure that they match her newest gown for tonight.”
“Shall I send up maids with more hot water, Miss Wellcott?” the housekeeper asked addressing her by her mistress’ name as was the custom.
Pepper shook her head. “There’s no need. It was scalding to start and I know better. My mistress prefers her privacy and will not thank me for the attention.”
The housekeeper nodded her approval. “A good lady’s maid is always attuned to her mistress. The best never need to hear the bell before they are on their feet.”
The cook laughed. “You say these things so solemnly I almost believe them, Mrs. Watson!”
The banter came in easy rounds until the bows were fixed and Pepper started to rise to take the shoes back up.
“Oh, please wait!” Dell urged her.
“Yes, pardon Miss Wellcott. But…wait until your mistress rings for you or let one of us walk up with you.” Sally chimed in.
Dell lowered her voice. “Daws is up to help Mr. Osborne change. Wait until the master’s come down, then you can go.”
Pepper kept her seat. “As you say.”
“The footmen are nearly done setting out the dinner service and one of them can walk you up as well,” Megan said.
“Seems a lot of trouble just to carry up a pair of shoes,” Pepper said, aware of all the subtle looks around the room. “May I have a word with you privately, Mrs. Watson?”
“Of course.” She guided Pepper to her small office next to the storage room and Pepper passed her the small elegant note that Lady Wellcott had prepared. “This. My lady asks you to read it and do what you can. It would serve Mrs. Osborne but also every woman in this house, Mrs. Watson. You need not answer today, but if you agree, please let me know by some word.”
Mrs. Watson took the folded paper, openly curious and intrigued. “I shall read it eagerly to see what it says.”
Pepper curtsied and began to retreat as the bell in Lady Wellcott’s bedroom jangled on the board. “I should attend my lady. If you’ll excuse me.”
Mrs. Watson nodded her assent and Pepper hurried up the stairs, confident that everyone below stairs would gladly play their part in whatever the game required in the days ahead.
She reached the safety of Serena’s bedroom with relief and quickly set about her duties. But something in the way her lady was already sitting at the vanity and brushing out her hair, the ruin of the bedding and signs that when she’d exited the bath, Serena had made no effort to spare the floors—all of it caught Pepper’s attention. Water had sloshed everywhere and Pepper knelt to recover the carpets and wooden polished planks then leaned back on her ankles to study her mistress.
“What?”
Pepper’s gaze narrowed. “You look rather prim over there, Lady Wellcott.”
“Do I?” Serena answered without looking at her. “The bath was very…refreshing.”
Pepper stood with a smile, all the pieces falling into place. “Oh, yes! Nothing restores a woman like a long, hot, delicious…soak.”
Serena turned on her chair quickly, her eyes sparkling. “Pepper!”
“I’ve got the gold all pressed and I’ll hang it here, on the screen, my lady.” Pepper was all business, merrily preparing for the next change. It was her secret belief that no matter what her friend said, she had never let go of her affection for Sir Warrick. “My goodness! I’d better see to this. We wouldn’t want anyone to think you’d been wrestling alligators this afternoon.”
“Pepper.”
Pepper finished drying the floor and then danced to press her weight against the towel to tamp up what moisture she could from the carpets, then risked a playful glance at Serena. “Oh, did you wish to take a nap? Perhaps to rest after the rigors of washing?”
“Oh, stop it, Prudence!” Serena blushed. “You are not nearly as clever as you think you are.”
Pepper said little but began to help her dress, making note of the subtle marks on Serena’s body that betrayed all. Serena’s entire visage was calmer and even younger, as if she’d tasted an elixir that had lightened her spirit.
Pepper took the brush from the table and began to braid and tame Serena’s black tresses, adding the gold combs with a skilled hand.
I’m clever enough to know when you’re happy, Raven Wells.
Chapter Ten
The gold dress was one of her favorites because of the way it shimmered in the candlelight. Its daring cut was more suited to
a grand ball than a quiet country dinner but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel her power, to draw on that well of confidence within her like a shield. She felt more vulnerable than she had in a long time but also more alive. As Phillip sat across from her, her body was still tingling from their lovemaking, Serena prayed that he couldn’t read her.
“Did you have a good ride, cousin?” Delilah asked him innocently.
“What?” Phillip stiffened in his seat, his cheeks reddening before he realized his mistake. “Oh, yes…I went out for a ride. It was very brisk.”
“Good exercise, I’m sure,” James added as he helped himself to a fish fillet from the platter that Mr. Clayborne held out for him. “Wish I’d gotten out to join you. God, I am confined like a monk!”
Delilah’s eyes dropped to her plate and Serena did her best to intervene. “The demands of your business kept you indoors, did they? How taxing! I always imagine it is hard for men to be restricted so! Your energies must demand action, do they not?”
She’d meant to aim the barb at James but it was Phillip’s smoldering look that nearly robbed her of speech. God, this is like juggling on a tightrope!
“It is unnatural for a man to be trapped with a room full of ledgers!” James sighed, then glanced at Phillip. “Not that I might not have accepted an invitation to slip away if one had been extended to me.”
Phillip smiled. “The ride wasn’t planned. Perhaps next time I leave the house for exercise, I’ll include you, James.”
“Tomorrow, then!” James announced. “The weather promises to be fine and I am not going to be left behind, sir!”
“Very well,” Phillip conceded smoothly. “Though if you pout like a four year old, I may be tempted to slip out the back door to avoid you, cousin.”
James laughed. “As if you would dare!”
“There is very little I will not dare,” Phillip countered, his gaze shifting to Serena in her gold gown. “Would the ladies care to join us?”
Serena shook her head. “We will leave you to it. I shall keep my dear Mrs. Osborne company tomorrow. I have neglected her too much recently.”
Delilah smiled. “You are very kind.”
“She is very kind. Why is she not married?” James asked without preamble.
“James!” Delilah gasped.
“What? Lady Wellcott is your dear friend and can we not ask a simple question without you huffing and puffing like a hysteric over there, wife!” James tapped his glass for more wine and looked at Serena. “You are too young to play the matron, Lady Wellcott. Don’t you think?”
She took a sip of her own wine before she replied. “I am not married because I do not wish to be.”
James’ brow furrowed in confusion. “What woman doesn’t wish to be married?”
“This woman.” Serena wasn’t in the mood to give the man any quarter. “Did you misunderstand me, Mr. Osborne? I was so proud of myself for speaking plainly.”
James’ confusion didn’t relent. “Phillip! Here is your chance to jump in and make a case for all the lovely delights that marriage can bring!”
Serena laughed. “How amusing that a married man would defer to a bachelor to make his point!”
Phillip shook his head, smiling. “I was about to say the same thing.”
“A woman in your position must surely be seeking to find a good match!” James persisted. “Is it not the natural way of things?”
“Leave off it,” Phillip’s humor faded. “Lady Wellcott is your guest, James, and I’m fairly certain that badgering her about such personal matters is not in good taste.”
“It is in the worst taste, James,” Delilah said with a firm quiet. “What has gotten into you this evening?”
James scowled at her. “God! Since when did a question of practical matters become so unspeakable in decent company?” He stood abruptly and threw down his napkin. “Forgive me then. I’ll be in my study for brandy and cigars.”
He began to leave the room then hesitated at the door. “Phillip?”
Phillip didn’t move except to cut his fish. “I’m still eating.”
“Where is your loyalty?” James demanded.
“With my stomach and the dulcet presence of the ladies over your bellowing about your hurt feelings, cousin. But I will join you in a while if that appeases.”
“You’re a traitor.” James closed the door behind him and they all began to smile, like guilty children who had driven off an irrational tutor.
“I apologize. James is…out of sorts,” Delilah began.
“No need to apologize, Mrs. Osborne.” Serena said graciously.
James’ deteriorating mood was a good sign that he wasn’t faring well during his involuntary celibacy. Just as I’d predicted…
“I—I should—go check on—“ Delilah suddenly stood as well, the color draining from her face. “I don’t feel well.”
Phillip stood reflexively and Serena realized that it was fear on Delilah’s face.
Dell.
She is going to make sure that Dell is out of reach!
“Of course. Sir Warrick and I can entertain ourselves until you return.” Serena assured her before Delilah raced from the room without another word.
“My god! Is she…going to be all right?” Phillip said.
“Undoubtedly.”
He sat down slowly. “This has been a dinner I won’t soon forget.”
“A fitting end for the day?”
“I can think of better ways I would hope to end this day.”
“Can you, Sir Warrick?” Serena sighed flirtatiously, savoring the way he was looking at her, the way his gaze warmed her skin.
The rest of the meal transformed into a quiet playful duel as they each purposefully followed the strict rules and polite forms of conduct. With the footmen in the room, they deliberately kept the conversation to general topics; the weather, mutual acquaintances, impressions of Southgate Hall and its views.
They lingered over a final glass of wine and then bid each other a polite, courteous good night.
“Good night, Sir Warrick.” She stood and he immediately did the same.
“Lady Wellcott.”
It was a glorious little game where they climbed the stairs, Serena ten risers ahead of him completely aware of his steps behind her. Not another word was spoken as they each went to their respective bedrooms, readied for bed, dismissed their attendants and counted the seconds before she knocked on his door to gain admittance.
“Lady Wellcott,” he said softly. “What a delightful surprise.”
“Is it?” She rewarded him with a wicked smile that instantly clouded his intellect. “I wonder what you will say at my next effort to shock you.”
“No doubt,” he said as cavalierly as he could as his body began to tighten, “it will be something completely eloquent and—“
She slipped the lace edged robe back from her shoulders to let it fall at her feet, revealing that she wore nothing beneath. Her black hair was a cascade of silk down her back with several long tendrils that lay over her shoulder to draw his eyes down across her body, her breasts and the triangle of dark curls between her hips. She smelled faintly of jasmine scented water, the perfumed oil in her hair and the musk of sexual arousal.
Everything about her was an open invitation to his senses.
“What say you now, Sir Warrick?”
He wasn’t saying anything. He pulled her against him, kissing her in a thorough assault that had nothing to do with polite speeches or a slow, reserved approach to taking what he needed. Because God help him, whatever tame or measured thread of “want” he’d held onto was lost in a blaze of raw need. He needed her, as he needed to breathe. There was no question, no choice, no option left but this woman in his arms.
It made no sense but his life was worthless without the contact of her skin against his. He hated the gnawing realization that if he’d meant to “win her”, he’d been a fool. For there was only surrender to be had and he didn’t care.
She boldly reached out to caress him through the soft cloth of his pants. “What does it feel like, Phillip? To grow hard?”
“It feels…like fine hot sand sliding down my spine. It feels heavy and gloriously tight as if I’m stretching a muscle but without effort. No…no effort at all,” he sighed and shifted his hips forward to fill her hands and prolong her touch against his sensitive shaft.
She lifted her face to beg him for more kisses and any interest in education was abandoned. He bent over to lift her from the floor and carry her to his bed, kissing her all the while and sampling the siren in his arms.
He lay her down in the center of the great feather bed then shed his robe and pants to climb up onto the mattress. Phillip sat back on his heels and took in the beauty of Serena sprawled across his bed. Her breasts were firm and high, the dark points proudly jutting up toward the ceiling; her nipples already pebble hard with desire. Her thighs had fallen apart and she made no effort to hide her silky damp sex from him. She was a confection of wanton display and his eyes lingered to savor every detail.
“Phillip,” she said with a pout. “When a naked woman presents herself, it is not solely for study.”
He smiled. “Truly? Well, then. Let me see if I can remedy my lady’s impatient state.”
“I did not say I was impatient if—“ Serena gasped. “Oh!”
He lifted her foot to plant a kiss on her instep, and then began to work his way upward effectively ending her planned speech. It was a leisurely assault that lingered on the sensitive concave hollows behind her knees and then feasted on the pillow-soft curves of her inner thighs. The scent of her body grew and he watched as clear honey coated her folds and betrayed his success.
He teased her, kissing the curls above her sex until she began to shake and writhe in frustration. He was as eager as she for the moment and finally yielded to his own need to taste her. He dipped his tongue into the red silk of her body and almost cried out in joy at the sweet flavor of her arousal against his mouth. He stilled her with his fingers firmly splayed against her hips to hold her in place and settled in to the quest to drink her release.
Lady Rises (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 2) Page 8