by Amelia Grey
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About the Author
Copyright Page
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Chapter 1
As misunderstandings go, the one that led to the Dowager Countess of Wake being mistaken for a lady of the night would qualify as rather large, unfortunate, and beyond insulting. That it was made by a man who caused the very proper Adeline to imagine just the sort of things that might go on in a house of ill repute only served to make her even more furious than perhaps the misunderstanding warranted.
In her defense, she’d just had a somewhat startling shock after pulling a crimson corset from a stack of neatly folded fabrics when the forceful clank of the door knocker sounded throughout the house. She was working her way through the swatches in the drawing room, trying to make decisions on the gowns she would have made for her first Season since becoming a widow. That the modiste had included the under apparel must have been a mistake. The red was Adeline’s favorite color, a flaming decadent shade that no lady would ever wear—even under her clothing.
Especially not a widow.
No doubt it was the “especially not a widow” thought that got to her. When Adeline realized she’d never have another opportunity to put on something so utterly unacceptable, she did, well, the unacceptable. Before she could think better of it, she loosened the front laces and slipped the corset over her head, letting the extraordinary garment settle over her dark widow’s dress. The knock at the door was all but forgotten as she inhaled deeply and tightened the crimson ribbons under her breasts before tying the ends together.
It was magnificent. Naughty. But she didn’t care. It made her feel, of all things, feminine.
She spied a length of luxurious fabric that surely confirmed this box had been delivered to the wrong address and was intended for someone else. Someone so very unlike her. Not that it stopped Adeline from pulling the gold swath of tulle from the stack and wrapping it twice around her waist. In no time at all she had fluffed the gossamer cloth and fashioned the sash into a big, perfect bow.
It was completely out of character for her to indulge in such unfitting behavior, but why stop now that she’d started? Feeling deliciously wicked to be so brazen, she pulled the sleeves of her dress low on her shoulders and twirled a couple of times. She admired the forbidden elegance enhancing her shape, which was always hidden behind the straight, waist-less fall of her skirt.
What would the ton think if she, a dowager countess, showed up for the first ball wearing such a brilliant shade of red? Or her stays outside her gown? She smiled just thinking about all the horrified expressions she’d see on the faces of Society’s elite ladies of the ton. And then Adeline wondered what the handsome gentlemen would think of her. Widow or not, twenty-two was much too young not to ever look at or think about a man again. To want his eager kisses and the soft stroke of his masculine hand against her skin.
So caught up in the freedom of her improper thoughts, the richness of the fabrics, and the childlike innocence of spinning around as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she didn’t hear the footsteps down the corridor. Somewhat belatedly, she did hear her housekeeper’s gasp.
But it wasn’t Mrs. Lawton she noticed standing in the doorway when she stopped whirling.
Adeline took in the tall, black-cloaked figure whose gaze was staring straight at her as her skirts settled around her legs and she regained her balance. The housekeeper was trying her best to keep the stranger at bay, but her petite form was no match for the powerful-looking man whose brows suddenly knitted together in a frustrated frown of resolve.
Adeline’s first thought was to hurriedly rip off the stays and restore her clothing to suitable order. Knowing that was impossible without making matters worse, she pulled her bare shoulders back and stood fast. After two years of marriage to Wake, she was good at handling embarrassing situations and concealing her true emotions. She would remain seemingly unruffled by the unexpected invasion and deprive the man the entertainment of seeing her flustered or trying to remove the corset.
“I tried to stop him, but he brushed right by me as if I wasn’t there,” her housekeeper informed her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lawton,” Adeline said. “There’s no reason to fret. I’ll take care of this.”
The woman hesitated before nodding and disappearing into the corridor.
The stranger regarded Adeline so closely she wondered if he could see inside her and know exactly what she’d been thinking and feeling when she’d donned the stays and lowered the sleeves of her dress. She was looking him over, too, and realized there was something familiar about the man’s thick, dark, sand-colored hair and how it waved naturally across his forehead and fell to the top of the collar at his nape. Faint curiosity wove through her. They had met, but she couldn’t put a name to his face.
This was no surprise considering the fact her husband had never wanted her to look another man in the eyes on the few occasions he’d allowed her to attend parties with him. It wasn’t long after their marriage that he’d started insisting she spend her days at his country estate whenever he visited London. There had been no convincing him otherwise, though she’d tried on many occasions. Wake had been gone two years now, and thinking of him and that time of her life had become less and less frequent.
Whether or not she’d ever met the gentleman before her now, this wasn’t the way to start a new neighbor visit. Well, no matter now. The deed was done. Adeline expected him to realize his mistake, explain the reason for his action and apologize for barging into her house unannounced, and then hurry penitently away.
“Who are you, sir,” she asked, “and what do you want?”
For a moment, she thought perhaps the man might have recognized her as the once-decorous Countess of Wake and make amends, but then, without reference to who she was, who he was, or even a well-mannered greeting, he stated boldly and with definite impatience, “I want to see the madam of the house.”
His voice, deep and dark as the mantle he wore, washed through her like a warm sip of spiked apple-and-cinnamon cider. There was no demand in it—there didn’t have to be. His determination showed in his countenance. Yet, his demand without benefit of reason or introduction didn’t sit well with Adeline, no matter that he might very well be one of the finest-looking men she’d ever seen.
He strode farther into the drawing room, the tail of his cloak flowing majestically out behind him. His wide shoulders moved just enough to add to his roguish, compelling appeal. Adeline sensed a commanding strength within him that most ladies would find attractive.
But not her, she reminded herself.
One husband controlling her life had been more than enough for her.
She was a widow now and decidedly done with men of all varieties—except the ones in her imagination, of course. Those she could manage.
The man crossed his arms on his wide chest as if he’d done nothing wrong, and looked her over from head to toe. This time, however, his appraisal caused an unaccustomed catch in her breath. He took in every inch of her tha
t was possible to see. An indecent and entirely inappropriate tingle traced a pathway across her breasts and then shivered down to her lower abdomen. That made her feel even more wretched at being caught daydreaming—until indignation struck.
It didn’t matter that he looked so dashing he had her senses heightened when he’d stopped a mere step or two in front of her. He was a stranger with no manners and showing no remorse. Anger started to simmer inside her. This ogre was sorely in need of a lesson in manners.
Difficult as it would be, considering her flagrant abuse of respectable attire, she had every intention of handling this ill-mannered scoundrel and making short work of getting rid of him.
Since he appeared to be a determined man on a mission, Adeline asked again, “Who are you, sir?”
His head cocked back in irritation and his expression had a rakish hint of mystery about what he was really thinking. “It’s not customary to ask a gentleman his name in a place such as this,” he said, seeming to give no weight to answering her simple question.
A twinge of concern pricked her instinct at his comment. She had hoped there would be no problems with opening the small boarding school for unfortunate girls in the building behind the house. Now, he was giving her reason to doubt that. It was perhaps more than a little unusual to put such a charitable establishment in the middle of a valuable street of houses, but she and her two friends and partners, Julia and Brina, had agreed it was simply the perfect place.
They could have never found such an ideal property on their own. Their solicitor had been invaluable in all aspects of starting the school. It was agreed by all that Adeline would live in the main house. She would be completely separated from the school and the girls by the tall yew hedge with an arched trellis for a gate, thereby keeping her at a distance from anything unseemly. Though it had satisfied her wish to be close and available if, for whatever reason, she might be needed after the school commenced. And they’d been purposely quiet while furnishing the school so they wouldn’t be disruptive to the neighborhood.
Moreover, this street was in St. James. Not the center of Society’s crown jewel, the bustling, prestigious Mayfair—where most of the inhabitants had no inclination to know about, much less be near, the everyday people who made up the larger portion of London’s growing population.
Adeline searched the man’s broad brow, angular cheekbones, and square chin and jaw, hoping that his comment had nothing to do with the school, and said, “It’s the polite question to ask. When a man doesn’t offer it no matter where he is,” she said tersely. “I’ll show you out.”
Not waiting for a response, Adeline strode past him without glancing his way. Seconds later she heard his determined footfalls in the corridor behind her, but thankfully not before she’d shimmied her sleeves back up to cover her shoulders, restoring some modicum of respectability to her clothing.
Salvaging her pride might take a little more time.
With his longer stride it took only seconds for him to catch up to her. There was no need to call for Mrs. Lawton to aid her in seeing him out. Adeline would take great pleasure in doing that all by herself. She started to open the front door, but he caught it with his hand and leaned his body forward, stopping her.
Instantly wary, she managed to stifle a flinch and huff, though her heartbeat thumped a little harder. No gentleman should be so blatant toward a lady. Her muscles coiled and tightened in response to his unforeseen action, but for some unfathomable reason she felt no fear for her physical safety.
This, she realized, was a battle of wills between them.
While he was clearly no ordinary gentleman, she no longer was an ordinary woman. Her husband’s death had ensured that she would never be under any man’s hand again. She had gained a level of freedom she’d never dreamed of before and she wasn’t afraid to indulge in it.
“Sir, I bid you good evening.”
Powerless to deny herself an attempt to best him, she threw her weight onto one foot and vigorously pulled on the door.
Her efforts didn’t even rattle the hinges.
The strength of him wasn’t going to be dislodged by her efforts. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t relinquish her hold or be cowered by his uncivil display of superior strength. She was through taking orders from men who felt their title, wealth, or heritage permitted them to have—no, to demand—anything or any person they wanted.
Her chest heaving, she looked up at him and calmly asked, “Are you threatening me?”
From beneath thick lashes, his silvery-gray eyes stared into hers and seemed to darken to the color of thunderclouds. He slowly took his hand off the door and stepped away. At his movement, she caught the inviting scent of shaving soap, fine wool, and freshly pressed linen. Much to her consternation her body tingled with errant unladylike sensations once again.
“If you really thought I was threatening, you wouldn’t have sent your housekeeper away.”
That was perceptive of him, but she wasn’t going to let the arrogant man know it. His brashness, innuendo, and vigor should have frightened her—and it did—but not in the way she would have presumed or wanted. It awakened a long-dormant sense of unfulfilled desire. That is what she most needed to fear.
She lifted her brows in doubt as an answer.
“I’m simply asking you to summon the owner of the house,” he said in a quiet, but firm voice.
“You weren’t simply asking,” she said. “You were trying to force me to do so.”
In a low voice, he all but whispered, “I would never force a woman to do anything. I only want to speak to the owner and find out what is going on here.”
Adeline’s spine remained rigid. So this was indeed about the school. That was a troublesome matter and would have to be dealt with gently. She and her friends had hoped to keep information about The Seafarer’s School from the ton until the girls moved in, thinking it would be more difficult for the old guard of Society to object to her charitable project if the children were already settled into the residence. There would be a certain amount of gossip about the reasons she, Julia, and Brina were opening the school, but they were prepared for it. Their hope was that everyone would be accepting as long as the three of them kept their distance from the girls and, as all proper ladies should do, leave the business and management of it solely in their solicitor’s hands.
The clock in the drawing room chimed and didn’t stop until it had resounded five times. Her gaze remained locked together with his as if neither wanted to be the first to blink. Adeline had to make a choice. She could continue her battle of wills with him, call for Mrs. Lawton to help her toss the man out on his ear, or, less satisfying, relent to his cocksure resolve and find out exactly what he wanted.
The decision was suddenly easy. She only wanted to be rid of him and the desirous feelings of excitement that stole through her when he looked too closely at her. And she looked at him.
Adeline stiffened her back again with all the aplomb her title required and said, “I am one of the owners. You can talk with me.”
“You’re much younger than I assumed the proprietor of this establishment would be,” he confessed. “And as beautiful as you are in your crimson and gold, and in any other circumstances, or any other location, I would be happy to pay whatever fee you charge to fulfill my needs. However, this is a respectable neighborhood and I cannot and will not sit by and allow a madam to move in and set up her business here.”
A trio of thumps echoed in Adeline’s chest, and then a few more. The pendulum on the clock must have ticked a half-dozen times. Adeline’s brain seemed to freeze before the air swooshed out of her lungs. Shock roared through her. Her whole body stiffened before she felt her eyes narrow in outrage.
“Just where do you think you are, sir?”
“A house of pleasure.”
Outrage quickly morphed to fury, which flowed hot and fast, consuming her. Oh yes, she knew about such disgraceful, secret places. She’d overheard her husband and his small group of gentl
emen friends talk about visiting them.
Adeline was skilled at holding in her emotions, but this man had gone too far. With only one step she stood toe-to-toe with him. Lifting her face, she rose up on the balls of her feet and edged her nose closer to his. “You think this is one of the many private underground brothels hidden from all but Society’s most elite gentlemen?”
“Isn’t it?” he asked huskily.
There was no time to consider what her next move should be. Hardening her resolve and taking a step back, she proclaimed, “I am the Dowager Countess of Wake and you have trespassed too far. How dare you push your way into my house and speak to me the way you have. You, sir, are an abomination to the term gentleman.”
She fought to regain every ounce of her normal calm, her abiding restraint, her guiding sense of decorum in any unpleasant circumstance. But then she accidentally looked at his mouth, felt that long-suppressed surge of yearning. Adeline didn’t want this unusual mix of longing and angry dizziness to control her. She hated the truth of how womanly and desirable it made her feel to see hunger for her in his eyes. Hated the truth of how she was presented.
And then, in a moment of insanity, she thought of the very real possibility of those full lips on hers stirring with passion, and reason was gone.
Unable to do anything else before she lost herself completely, she drew back her hand and struck him soundly across the face. It was that, or kiss him.
Perhaps she chose the wrong one.
Chapter 2
Lyon’s head snapped back.
A jolt of shock whipped through him. He wasn’t an easy man to catch off guard, but he hadn’t seen that coming.
Hell’s horses!
Not a madam, but a countess. And a widow at that. He mentally shook himself and swore quietly again. Flashes of old gossip raced through his mind at hearing her name, but there was no time to plunder his memory for the snippets.