Kiss the Wallflower: Books 4-6

by Gill, Tamara

  And yet, that is exactly what he had done. He had cast her aside in Kent and had made no pains to hide his affections for her friend.

  "I shall enter society and finish the Season, but I think next year I shall return to Fox Hill. I feel at my age I'm no longer obligated to attend every year. And Fox Hill is my home, the estate my papa left me. I do not need a husband if I do not find one to my liking. I can become an old, unmarried maid and do well enough on my own."

  Of course, she would seek out Hamlyn now that they were all returned and see if he would continue to help her. Oglemoore had been everything she'd wanted in a husband, but now he would rue the day he treated a duke's granddaughter with no respect.

  The image of Hamlyn's handsome features fluttered in her mind and erased all thoughts of Oglemoore. If only the duke were more marriageable material. He was not. He had a longtime mistress for starters and one whom she doubted he was ready to part with. The idea of his lordship taking his pleasure with a nameless woman made her want to snarl. Not that it surprised her his lordship would seek a woman away from the ton for his pleasure. He showed no interest in marriage or searching for a wife when she'd crossed paths with him last year, and never had she heard a rumor he was courting anyone in particular.

  The memory of his kiss before her room at Chidding Hall made her stomach flutter. What a shame he was off the market, and his kisses were all for show and nothing more.

  Olivia frowned as a light knock sounded on the door, a footman entering with a tray laden with food.

  "Ah, your dinner is here," Anna said, taking it from the servant.

  Olivia picked at her meal, thinking on her musings of Oglemoore and Hamlyn. She had marked Oglemoore simply because he'd taken a keen interest in her. The idea that she had thrown herself before an uninterested gentleman was humiliating.

  Olivia shook the disturbing thoughts aside. She would finish off the Season with the help of Hamlyn and have retribution. No longer would she seek out Oglemoore, or try to keep the friendship she thought they had.

  One day she would like to marry, have children, a family to call her own. The man she married would be loving and loyal, not fickle and false.

  "The Davenport ball is tomorrow evening, Olivia. Do you wish for me to send a note to her ladyship to tell her you will be attending now that you're back in town?"

  "Yes, please, Anna. That would be best, I think." Olivia finished her meal and wished her companion goodnight. The Davenport ball was as good a place as any to start her next phase in her plan, and there was little doubt Hamlyn would be there.

  A smile quirked her lips at the thought of seeing him again. It was pleasant having a friend who knew her secrets, her wishes. That he had not denied to help her or teased her mercilessly over her plan helped her estimation of him.

  With Hamlyn on her arm, one never knew. Other gentlemen may show awareness, and Oglemoore would be nothing but a passing phase, an apparition of her past before she stepped into her future. A mistake one was wont to forget.

  Chapter 8

  The Davenport ball was a crush. The multitude of scents, perfumes, powder, and sweat that mingled in the air not always pleasant. Laughter and chatter overrode the possibility of quiet conversation. The only lovely feature of the ball was the music and the skill of the orchestra hired for the evening.

  Olivia stood alone at the side of the room, content to watch the ton at play, Anna not far from her side. Couples danced, people drank champagne in abundance—a ball resembling the madness and gaiety of a night at Covent Garden more than a Mayfair dance.

  She had not seen Athol here this evening, and she could only assume she had not returned to town in time to attend.

  A tall gentleman who towered half a head over most present started her way, his golden, wavy locks giving her a clue as to who he was. She bit back a smile, unable to stem the hope that swelled within her that Hamlyn was here and had not forgotten their plan. Had not forgotten her.

  He came before her, his eyes twinkling in mirth and pleasure. He bowed. "Miss Quinton. How pleased I am to see you here this evening."

  She smiled up at him, giving him her hand. His lips brushed her silk glove, and the pit of her stomach fluttered. He was so handsome, and on seeing him yet again, she had to admit that perhaps he was even more handsome than Oglemoore. How had she not noticed him at a ball before now?

  "I'm happy to see you too, Your Grace."

  He pulled her toward the floor as the first strains of a waltz sounded. "Dance with me, Miss Quinton."

  She chuckled, unable to refuse him and not wanting to if she were honest with herself. They made their way onto the floor, taking their places. Other couples stood about them, and with the crush of the night, it placed them closer than they ought to be.

  The hem of her golden, silk gown touched his boots, and she was certain he could feel her heart pumping hard in her chest. His eyes raked her, taking in her dress, warming in appreciation. He swung them into the dance, and Olivia laughed, feeling as light as a feather in his arms.

  "You look beautiful this evening, Miss Quinton. That gown is quite fetching."

  She could not look away from his stormy, blue orbs. "You're very good at this game I have asked you to play, Your Grace. One would even think that sometimes you mean what you say, so proficient that you are."

  He cocked his head to the side, pulling her close as he spun them at the end of the room. "What would you say if I were to admit to not playing your game? That what I say is heartfelt?"

  "I would say you're lying, but I would enjoy the compliment in any case. A woman is never unhappy to be told she looks beautiful or fetching or something thereof."

  His hand slipped lower on her back and pulled her ever so slightly closer to him. The breath in her lungs hitched, and her body liquified. Hamlyn made her feel things she'd never felt before. A simple touch, like the one on her back, should not be enough to discombobulate her, but it did.

  She had not reacted so with Oglemoore, and the knowledge gave her pause. She had liked Oglemoore, they had got along well enough, but she'd never wanted to kiss his lordship as much as she longed to kiss Hamlyn right now.

  Olivia tore her gaze away from his lips, which were slightly tilted in a knowing grin. She met his eyes, and the hunger she read in his blue orbs sent her pulse racing. "You know it as much as I do you're the most handsome woman here this evening. Are you so blind that you cannot see every married and unmarried gentleman ogling you, wanting you? Men, no matter what they may say to disavow my opinion, are tonight jealous that you're in my arms and not theirs."

  Hamlyn gestured to a place somewhere over her shoulder, and he spun her, giving her the ability to see what he had. "Look, Oglemoore is no different. He has been glaring at us both these past few minutes. I think you may safely say that his lordship is jealous of our association."

  Oglemoore who? Olivia no longer cared about what Hamlyn's friend thought or decided. All she could think of was being in this man’s arms—his secure hold, his height, and devilishly handsome face that was hers to enjoy. Savor.

  "My plan would not have worked had I not too had one of England's most fetching rogues on my arm, making everyone envious. Do you not see the young women who flutter their fans when you pass, their mothers discussing your assets and worthiness for their daughters? If I am making men jealous, you too are making women equally so."

  His eyes narrowed. He closed the space farther between them, and the breath in her lungs hitched. He would not dare kiss her here. Hamlyn may be a rogue, but he was no fool.

  "It is fortunate then for you that I have you in my arms and not anyone else." He threw her a wicked grin, his thumb making tiny circular motions against her back. "How do you wish to play this game now that we're back in London? I cannot steal you away here and kiss you. Oglemoore will not be able to see."

  The idea of Hamlyn kissing her made her yearn for him to do precisely that. It had been several days since she'd tasted those delicious lips tha
t smiled down at her. Felt his hunger for her, to have more of what he could make her feel.

  Her heart quickened, and she flexed her hand on his shoulder, reveling in the feel of his superfine coat beneath her palm. "You do not wish to kiss me in any case, Your Grace. You are a veritable tease, and you know it."

  His chuckle was deep and laden with promise. "Would you care to walk with me and see if that is the case?" he whispered against her ear.

  She shivered. What was this that he was doing to her? It was any wonder women fell at his feet, and he had kept his mistress so long. No sensible woman would want to lose a man as seductive and charming as Hamlyn.

  "You would not dare. There is no point to us stealing away. It would serve no useful purpose with our plan."

  He shrugged, maneuvering them close to the side of the ballroom floor. "No useful purpose, you are correct, but a pleasurable one when all told. Shall we?" He spun them to a stop, stepping back and holding out his arm for her to take.

  Without thought, Olivia placed her hand on his arm and let him lead her out of the ballroom. They stepped outside onto the large, flagstone terrace. Other couples mingled out-of-doors, groups of guests spoke and drank champagne under the light of the full moon and lanterns that were hung from the wisteria growing on the trellis above.

  After the cloying, overwhelming scent of indoors, the purple flower's sweet perfume was refreshing. They strolled down the terrace, speaking to guests who turned toward them.

  Hamlyn kept his hand atop hers, unfazed if his marked attention was noted. A footman passed them two champagne flutes, and His Grace handed her one, clinking the glass rims together.

  "To the Season. May you gain what you're looking for, my sweet Miss Quinton, and have a happy heart."

  She tipped her glass against his, unable to hold the smile his words brought forth on her lips. "You know, Your Grace, you can be quite the flatterer and a sweet man when you want to be. You speak of me and my unmarried state, but what of yours? You're what, one and thirty from what I hear? Do you not think a wife ought to be in your life sooner rather than later?"

  He shrugged, sipping his drink. "Are you applying for the position, Olivia?"

  Since the day of their kiss, he had not used her name, and to hear it on his lips now sent her wits to spiral. How lovely it sounded coming from him. She would never get sick of hearing it, she was sure.

  "No, of course not, and you should stop your teasing. We're supposed to be tricking other people of our acquaintance, not ourselves."

  "Hmm," he answered noncommittedly. "Very well, you are right. I'm not searching for a bride as yet, but that is not to say I shall never marry. I'm certain there is someone out in the world who will pique my interest, and I shall court her."

  A pang of jealousy, strong and unexpected, tore through Olivia. She did not want to think of Hamlyn courting another woman and one he would promise to love and cherish for all time. It was almost as bad as His Grace having a lover tucked away in town.

  "Ah, yes, but what will your mistress think if you start to court a woman? I should imagine she will be terribly displeased to lose your protection," she said, unable to hold back the words a moment longer. And wanting desperately at the same time for him to deny her claim.

  Chapter 9

  Jasper sucked in his champagne and understandably choked. He coughed, his mind reeling at the knowledge that Miss Quinton, Olivia, knew he had a mistress. How on earth had the woman found out?

  "That, my dear, is a conversation subject decidedly off-limits."

  "What a shame?" She grinned, the gesture not reaching her eyes. She sipped her wine. "I know that if I were your lover, I would be terribly upset to lose you. There is something unique about you, Hamlyn, that I do not even think you're aware of."

  "Really?" he asked, curious, the idea of having her as his lover an image he’d thought of quite a lot these past days. "Do explain, my dear."

  "You're likable. Honest and trustworthy. Both men and women of our social sphere know this of you. It is why I trusted you with my plan to make Oglemoore madly in love with me again just to spite him. I know you will not abuse my trust in you and tell anyone of what we've spoken. I think you're a good person. A good friend to have. Your mistress knows you are not violent and would not mistreat her, so yes, I think she would miss you terribly should you marry and leave her to find a wife."

  Jasper cleared his throat. "We should not be talking about my mistress." He took another long swallow of his champagne. "It isn't appropriate."

  "Neither were our two kisses in Kent, but they still happened." She paused, staring up at him, her eyes narrowing as her gaze flittered over his features. "Would it be so terribly crass of me to admit that I would like to kiss you again?"

  An ardent, uncontrollable need thrummed through him at Olivia's words. He glanced at the many people who surrounded them. He could not kiss her here, even though he longed to. He took her hand, pulling her toward the steps that led down to the lawn.

  As idly and unhurried as he could appear, Jasper led Olivia deeper into the gardens. The Davenport's London estate backed onto a small, wooded area if his memory served him correctly. And he wanted them to be as far away from prying eyes as they could be.

  All thoughts of showing his affection, his interest to the ton at large fell away. Jasper wanted Olivia alone, all his for a small piece of the night. The idea of Oglemoore seeing them no longer mattered, nor did her request to make his friend green-eyed.

  Oglemoore could go hang. The thought of Olivia kissing his friend as he was about to kiss her heated his temper. He fisted his hand at his side, forcing the troubling thought aside. Oglemoore would not have her, not now and certainly not after he had discarded her without a second thought.

  Who in their right thinking would not want Olivia in their arms? She was perfection, sweet and playful, not to mention absolutely stunning. He had seen how men devoured her this evening in her red, silk gown with gold beading across the bodice.

  He'd almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of her. So beautiful, alluring, and unattached. Untouched by anyone. Never married or sullied by another man's hand. Simply perfect.

  The need to have her in his arms, to taste her sweet lips once again, was overwhelming. He'd carved a path through the abundance of guests, needing to be by her side. He'd left Oglemoore gaping after him, barely saying good evening in his haste to be beside her.

  His reaction to Olivia did send a small tremor of fear through his mind. He'd never behaved in such a way toward a woman. Not even his past lovers had he singled out as much as he had Olivia.

  Was there more happening between them besides a deal, a prank on his friend to make him covetous? Was this more than his promise to Oglemoore that he'd keep Olivia distracted so he may court Athol and ask her to be his wife.

  They came to the end of the garden, only dappled light from the terrace and the mansion behind them reached them here. He turned, gazing down at her.

  Their eyes met. Held. Time stood still, his body thrummed with expectation and need.

  "We're quite alone now, Hamlyn. It is highly doubtful Oglemoore will see your attention toward me out here in the bushes," she teased, amusement in her eyes.

  He reached out, clasping her side and pulling her against him. She did not fight him, obliged his request. Her hands fluttered against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel his heart beating fast beneath his ribs.

  It felt as though his organ would burst free from his body. The intoxicating scent of jasmine wafted in the air, taunting him further. He leaned forward, kissing her cheek, her jaw, until he found the lobe of her ear.

  Her inhale of breath spurred him further. Her hands slid up his chest to settle and squeeze his shoulders.

  "You smell good enough to eat, Olivia."

  She shivered in his arms, and now all he could think about was eating her in truth, of lifting her siren-red gown to her waist, laying her over the nearby stone bench, and taking his fill. Bri
nging her to climax on his face, reveling in her sighs and begging as he made her come.

  Holy fuck, he was in trouble.

  He kissed her throat and groaned when she clasped his jaw in her hands, bringing his mouth back to hers and kissing him. God damn it, yes. This is what he wanted. Her, in his arms, kissing him with as much desire and need that catapulted through his body.

  Her mouth fused with his, her tongue tangling with his own. The kiss was not sweet. It was hard, frantic, and had an edge of demand to it. It took ownership of him, and he was at a loss as to how to bring his senses back from spiraling.

  He reached down, sliding his hand over one ass cheek that he declared the most perfectly taut piece of backside he'd ever held. He kneaded her thigh, lifting it about his hip, and pushed himself against her.

  She gasped through the kiss, and he felt her undulate, taking what she could of him in this position. His cock, hard, grew to attention when she pressed herself to him.

  Olivia mewled some unintelligible sound, but he understood her completely. He was as mad and as hot for her as she was him. All thoughts of his friend, of his plan to keep Olivia respectively occupied vanished.

  Never in his life had he ever behaved without so much as a care when around an unmarried woman. He'd had many affairs, yes, but the women were widows, unhappy in their marriages, or were from the demimonde. Never the beau monde.

  He did not need this complication in his life, but also he could not, would not, let Olivia go from his clasp. Heat rushed to his groin, and he knew he could spill in his breeches if they continued what they were doing.

  Olivia seemed to have lost all thought too. She rubbed against him like a kitten seeking a pet. Her breath mingled with his, and he knew she wasn't far, could climax here and now in the gardens at a ton ball.