“I appreciate it, but it will not be a secret much longer. I’ll be informing my family of everything when I travel to the manor tomorrow. There will be changes coming. But never fear, where I go, the staff of this house goes with me. Whether it is another residence in London or my estate at Eastbourne. You have my word.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Youngston said.
“Dr. Kenward will be staying here while I’m gone. Afford him all comforts.”
“Absolutely, my lord. We shall see him well taken care of. After all, he has been your good friend and assistant these last years,” Youngston replied, bowing in Sam’s direction.
“Youngston, we will speak later on Miss Chesterton, who you’ve known as Miss Best, and her precarious situation. Gillis, return in fifteen minutes.”
They both bowed and departed, closing the door behind them.
“Well, that was interesting,” Sam mused.
“I’ve always trusted them. Otherwise I would not have arrived home in my medical garments most nights. Nor would they have been working here at the onset if I didn’t trust them with my very life.”
“They think of you as a champion,” Sam stated.
“Bah,” Harrison replied dismissively. But the thought warmed him, and gave him confidence for the task ahead. He honestly could not deduce at his family’s reaction, it could go either way. Guess he would soon find out.
* * *
The small trunk she’d been given was more than half empty. All she owned were her few possessions and the second-hand clothing Harrison had provided. He claimed a delivery would be coming from a dressmaker he contacted. A maid had taken her measurements and they were sent along to the shop. But it was seven o’clock in the evening, and they were departing in the morning. No clothing as yet.
Glancing at her meager belongings, her mind drifted to the viscount’s visit yesterday afternoon.
“She is everything,” Harrison had said. The look on his face and the emotion in his voice told Lydia that his feelings for her were far deeper than he expressed verbally. Yes, he stated he was falling for her, but Lydia knew it had gone beyond infatuation.
Her emotions tunneled deep as well. But she would not rush into anything. Lydia needed time alone, and this residential home may be the answer. How much time would she ask for? Six months? A year? More? Why was she even entertaining the possibility that they could have a future? He was a marquess, heir to a duke! How often had that refrain tolled like a clanging bell in her mind?
“You are not under my thumb,” he said. True, not once since meeting Harrison had he ever treated her as Huntsford did. Huntsford made her feel powerless. Afraid. Frozen into inaction. She would never be that woman ever again. Lydia did not harbor the hope of marriage. It was a long shot at best considering his status. But if Harrison wished an affair, she would not say no—not completely. A quiet period was needed before she entered into another relationship, no matter how wonderful the man or no matter how brief.
Heavens, she was attracted to him, had been from the start. As for love? The beginnings of it were there, though it needed nurturing. Or was she merely denying her true feeling for fear of being hurt? A knock sounded on the door and Youngston entered carrying five flat boxes, with Harrison carrying three smaller ones directly behind him.
“Your wardrobe has been delivered, Miss Chesterton,” Youngston announced.
Lydia moved aside the small trunk to the opposite side of the bed. “Lay them there, thank you.”
With a slight bow, Youngston exited the room.
“I have informed the servants of your real name, I hope you don’t mind. I’ve also informed them of my secret life as Dr. Damian. They already knew of it. And they approve.”
“We had a housekeeper-cook growing up, and she was well aware of every aspect of our lives.”
“Were you close to her?”
“Yes. I let Mrs. Little go when I moved in with Huntsford, and was too ashamed to seek her out once my circumstances changed. Not that she would be at the same place for she had mentioned moving to Manchester to live with her sister.” The memory was painful to recall for their parting had not been pleasant. Mrs. Little begged her to reconsider becoming involved with Huntsford and they argued. If only she’d listened.
Regrets. She accepted and acknowledged them. Turning her attention to the boxes, she gave Harrison a warm smile. “What is all this?”
“Various gowns and accessories, altered to fit.”
“This usually takes weeks—”
“As I said, you have to know which dressmakers have ready-made garments on hand. And being a marquess can hurry an order along. Have a look.”
Lydia opened the top box and was greeted by a confection of white silk and lace. So delicate and lovely. Her fingers traced across the lace low-cut neckline.
Harrison opened a smaller box. “It comes with these silk gloves and lace neckerchief or as the dressmaker called it, a choker.”
“White? Isn’t that the color for a bride to wear, not a guest?”
“Not necessarily,” Harrison demurred. “Not that I’m an expert on London fashion. The queen wore white on her wedding day, and there are some who have copied it, but in the four society weddings I have attended the past ten years, no bride wore white. Besides, Mrs. Desfrene thought this gown would be appropriate for the dinner the night before.”
She met Harrison’s gaze. “There is to be a dinner?”
“Somewhat formal, I imagine, knowing my mother.” He moved the box aside and opened another. “This one is for the wedding.”
Lydia gasped. She had never seen anything so beautiful. There was light purple velvet on the bodice while the rest was a silk pattern of pink and cream roses.
Harrison pulled the gown from the box and held it up for her inspection. Oh, my. There was a purple velvet overlay on the rear of the gown, with puffed layers to accommodate a bustle. Which she never owned. Nor had she owned anything as lovely as these gowns.
Without thinking she threw herself against Harrison, curling her arms about his neck. “Thank you, for everything.”
Surprised, he laid the gown on the bed and slipped his arms about her waist. The warmth and strength of him made Lydia weak in the knees. His enticing scent, and—there. No hiding his arousal as he rolled his hips, allowing her to feel the hardness.
“All you have to do is put your arms around me and I am lost. An immediate and robust reaction. Only you, Lydia. No other women. Ever. Only—you.”
She gazed up at him, completely lost at the emotions reflecting in his lovely eyes. “What have I done to deserve you?”
“You are real. You own up to your mistakes, which has given me the courage to own up to my own. You’re beautiful, but beyond that, you speak to my heart. We’re a perfect fit, in all ways. And more.”
More? She blinked, almost afraid to ask what he meant, but before she could, he captured her lips with his. Lydia met his kiss, their tongues tangling, and Harrison’s hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing her hard nipple. She gasped, then moaned softly at the rush of passion moving through her. Huntsford had not killed such feelings in her. She could have a future, whatever it may be, with this glorious man.
Harrison growled, sending a thrill along her spine. Turning her about, he walked her to the wall, then reached under her skirt, laying her leg against his hip. Yes. There. His erection lay at her feminine core. Hot kisses trailed across her cheek and down her neck as he ground against her.
“I yearn to touch you. To have you come apart in my arms,” he whispered fiercely. “Slip my fingers through your folds, bring you to completion.”
Would it assist in erasing the stain of Huntsford? What if they did only this, and nothing else, would he think her a wanton? This wonderful man did so much already to obliterate some of the damage wrought by Huntsford. But more importantly, above all doubts, she yearned to have Harrison touch her. It had been so long. Was she truly ready to move forward?
Taking his
hand, she plunged it under her skirt. “Yes. Touch me.”
Chapter 17
Harrison caught her gaze. “I will only do this is if you’re absolutely certain. As I said, it is up to you. So again, I ask: do you want me to touch you? Make you come? I will do this and nothing more, until you say different.”
Lydia’s eyes were bright; the desire was plainly visible in their depths. Regardless, he would not proceed unless she was sure. Until she verbalized her wishes.
“This and nothing more. For now,” she whispered.
That was all that he needed to hear. Tunneling under her loose undergarments, he plunged two fingers inside her, and finding her wet, he groaned with satisfaction. Capturing her mouth with his, Harrison kissed her fiercely, his tongue tangling about hers, moving in unison with the thrust of his fingers. Finding her nub, he rubbed vigorously, causing her back to arch and her breath to catch. He kept kissing, touching, bringing them both to the brink in no time at all.
Trailing his lips across her cheek, he licked the pulse point on her neck, biting gently. Lydia’s breathing was uneven, matching his own. God, he was close. Then Lydia gave a strangled cry, her muscles inwardly clamping his fingers tight. The pulsating moved through him, basking him in utter bliss. Lydia laid her head against his shoulder in complete exhaustion.
“W-what about you?”
“This was all about you. Your pleasure.” He was ready to spend right this moment, but he meant what he said. One step at a time. Only at her invitation. He would see to his release later. Alone.
He held her, then kissed her flushed cheek. “Rest. Finish your packing. We leave early in the morning.”
Harrison turned and left the room, aching. But he would respect her wishes.
Always.
* * *
They were mere minutes from arriving at the train station in Hastings, and Lydia’s insides were fluttering nervously. The journey on the train was pleasant enough, the scenery spectacular, and Tremain and Harrison both made her feel at ease. It had been decided the third brother, Spencer, would meet them at the station with some of the duke’s men instead of meeting them at the halfway point. Surely Huntsford hadn’t followed them. Even he couldn’t be that clueless. They were quite the entourage with the brothers, Mr. Robins’ man, Taylor, valets, and two tall, muscled footmen.
She laid her hand across her roiling stomach. The brothers were speaking of parliament doings as she continued to stare out the window. Going to a duke’s estate? Lydia was entirely out of her normal sphere. In days past she would have been able to handle such a daunting social situation, for her father had brought her up to be confident in dealing with people no matter their standing. Huntsford destroyed her self-confidence along with many other aspects of her life. No. She would not allow Huntsford any type of victory. Time to reclaim her life and her former self. If it took small steps so be it, as long as she kept moving forward.
The whistle blew as they branched off onto the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway line.
Harrison laid his hand on hers. “Are you all right?” he asked.
He innately knew when she was distressed. It was no doubt obvious despite how hard she tried to mask her fears. “Yes, thank you.”
Once the train came to a stop, Lydia became caught up in a whirlwind of activity, the men forming a protective barrier around her as they stood on the platform. The footmen and valets saw to the luggage, while a tall, lean man walked toward them. Tremain and Harrison shouted warm greetings, meaning this must be the youngest brother.
Never had she seen brothers who looked so dissimilar. Spencer had black-brown hair comparable to Harrison, but his eyes were an oceanic blue. Startling to say the least. He stood at about the same height as Tremain. Harrison stepped forward and took his youngest brother’s hand, pulling him into a brief, partial embrace. Though Spencer stiffened, he patted his brother on the back before they parted. Tremain joined in the welcoming. They were close, it was plain to see.
“Spencer, may I introduce Miss Lydia Chesterton? Lydia, my brother, Lord-Professor Hornsby.”
He didn’t take her hand, nor did he smile, but gave her a slight bow of greeting. When his eyes locked with hers, she nearly gasped. How hypnotic,—and probing. As if he could see clear to her soul.
“Miss Chesterton. A pleasure.”
Oh, his voice. Slightly deeper than Harrison’s, but appealing nonetheless. “The same, my lord.” Or should she have addressed him as Professor? She would ask Harrison later.
He escorted them to a large brougham carriage, and Harrison and Lydia were assisted in. The servants and the luggage were loaded into the smaller carriage parked behind, while Spencer and Tremain would ride on horses alongside the conveyances.
Once alone, Harrison moved to sit next to her. “Comfortable?”
She gave him a smile. “Yes. Perhaps you should tell me again the plans for the next few days.”
In order for me to prepare for them. Steel my spine.
“I imagine Mother will have a light tea set up for our arrival. There you will meet the rest of the family along with the two brides-to-be. There will be no formal dinner tonight. After tea, you will be shown to your room, a bath drawn if you like, and you will be able to relax the rest of the evening, no doubt a tray brought to your room of whatever you wish.”
“Sounds heavenly,” she sighed.
“Tomorrow, breakfast, then we will venture to the residential home so you may have a good inspection and see if it is to your liking.” He arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t mind me moving ahead with these plans?”
“I’m merely a guest. Please, continue.”
“Tomorrow evening is the pre-wedding dinner. Just family, but formal. The next morning? The double wedding and accompanying breakfast. Again, family and a few close friends. No huge crowds to contend with. A relief for Spence and all of us, I imagine.”
“Yes.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “And then?”
“We make plans. You will tell me what you want to do next. If you do not like the residential home, I can find any number of similar places for you to inspect.” Harrison laced his fingers through hers. Even through their gloves, there was no mistaking the heat passing between them. The awareness. Not only passion, but deeper emotions. Ones she couldn’t acknowledge right now.
“Allow me to thank you once again. You’ve been incredibly patient with me. Kind. Generous.”
“May I kiss you?” Harrison murmured, nuzzling her neck.
So caring of her feelings, her precarious situation, frayed nerves, and damaged self-confidence. “Yes.”
This kiss was everything tender yet searing. Not like the fierce one he’d given her in his room the previous night, but reverent and gentle, packing more emotion than she had experienced before. It no sooner ended then the carriage slowed. After they disembarked, they were swept up into a tornado of action. Lydia barely got to inspect the grounds of the Georgian mansion before she was standing in a room in front of the Duke and Duchess of Gransford. A handsome couple, not hard to see where the brothers got their looks.
Introductions were made, warm greetings exchanged. The duke and duchess were genuinely pleased to see their sons again. Moments later, two women entered, the brides-to-be, Lydia surmised. After more introductions, cloaks and coats were taken, and tea trays brought into the room.
Everyone was seated on the multiple settees, everyone except Harrison. He stood, shoulders back, facing everyone, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I want to tell you all something before we continue with the festivities of this happy event. First, I’ve been a fool. A misguided coward who thought I kept secrets to protect the family. I’ve come to realize that I was doing it more to protect myself. From censure. Scrutiny.”
“What is it, Son?” The duke asked, his tone soft.
“Since graduating from university, I’ve been practicing medicine clandestinely. The past five years, I have been—along with Sam Kenward an
d the nuns of St. Stepney church,—running an underground clinic. Literally underground, in a partially dug and abandoned train tunnel in the East End. I have used my own funds near to depletion. That generous trust you gifted me with is all but gone. I’ve lied to you for more years than I care to count.” Harrison started pacing back and forth.
“I am no more a rake than I am a courageous man. It’s all been lies. Exaggerated by my staff, thinking to protect me. I had no idea they knew of my secret. The rumors were more scandalous than I was aware. Again, I’m sorry as it reflects on you all. What does it say about me that I didn’t mind such talk about my supposed wicked ways, but I didn’t want my medical mission public? Nothing good, that is for certain.”
Harrison paused, turned and faced his family. Lydia looked at them. The brothers and their ladies were shocked, as was the duke. The duchess’s lower lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes.
“How could you?” his mother whispered. “How could you keep this from us, your parents, your family. At least Tremain told us of his plans before he withdrew from us to be a vicar!”
“Mother—” Tremain began.
“No!” she cried, standing, the tears spilling onto her pale cheeks. “All these years you allowed us to think you a wastrel. The lies. The betrayal. Did you not think we would support you? We would have! Censure from whom, society? Hang them all! You are an heir to a duke; you can do anything you blasted well please!”
The duke stood, slipping an arm about his wife’s waist. Leaning in, he whispered, “There Cath, easy.” Then he looked at his son. “As you can imagine, this is a complete shock. Hurt? Yes, we are. We raised you boys to think and act for yourselves, so I cannot fault you for following your own path. But you should have told us, for your mother is correct, we would have supported you in every way possible. I am gravely disappointed.”
The Marquess of Secrets (The Hornsby Brothers Book 3) Page 14