To Hell and Back: A Devilish Debutantes Novella

by Anders, Annabelle

  The sensations invoked as their inhibitions disappeared.

  She spoke of some of the dreams she’d had as a girl. She’d wanted security. Children.

  A kind husband.

  She hadn’t expected a loving husband or a handsome husband. Her only requirement had been that he be kind.

  In turn, Niles told her of the land he’d always wanted to purchase along the southern coast. He owned it now and had commissioned the construction of a practical home.

  “Oh, but how wonderful for you!” She’d not been impressed, it seemed, so much as happy for him. “When will you live there? You aren’t going to retire anytime soon, are you?”

  In fact, he already had. He responded noncommittally, remembering to whom he was speaking.

  But then she’d announced that he simply must take her there to inspect it. Her and her girls, she’d corrected.

  Most of his dreams, he realized in that moment, had come true. He’d stopped dreaming extravagantly the day Lady Katherine announced her betrothal to her viscount.

  Eve asked about the landscaping, the furnishings, and deigned to make a few suggestions. He could almost imagine her making his house into a home.

  Both their tongues had been considerably loosened. Every empty silence filled with expectancy.

  By the time they climbed the stairs to their chamber, the energy in the air sparked between them.

  “Goodnight Mrs. Waverly ma’am, sir.” The innkeeper’s wife nodded at them in the corridor. They’d easily passed themselves off as husband and wife. Niles didn’t remember stating such a falsehood, perhaps Eve had.

  He liked that about her. That she was willing to do what she had to for the greater good.

  He held the door wide and watched her walk into their chamber. She wasn’t acting coy. She hadn’t asked him to wait downstairs while she prepared for the night.

  Ah, no. Tonight would be theirs.

  He just may have consumed enough spirits to quiet the pain in his ribs. He could do this.

  He would do this.

  With his back to her, he locked the door and allowed himself a tight wince before quickly replacing it with emotions he’d rather have her see. Appreciation. Desire. Lust.

  All of which coursed through him at an alarming rate.

  She stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her front. She appeared shy and uncertain now that they were alone again.

  He’d not give her a chance to shut him out. “God, you look beautiful.”

  “Are you certain?” Hesitancy laced her voice, but anticipation lit her gaze. “I’m not unaware that you’re in pain today.”

  In three long strides, he held her in his arms. “Does this seem uncertain to you?” He’d have liked to scoop her up and carry her to the bed, but even with the greatest resolve, he didn’t think it possible. Instead, he walked her backwards until they both fell onto the mattress.

  Oh, hell. An unwise move on his part to be certain. He covered his shallow breaths with a few chuckles.

  Because she was laughing now.

  Laughing and lying beneath him.

  Careful to keep most of his weight off her, he reached one hand to untie his cravat. “Are you certain?” He would have her assurance. “You’ve suffered a loss.” At her raised brows, he conceded “Not a great one, but a loss nonetheless.”

  Slim arms wound around his neck, pulling him downward.

  Pain.

  But this was Eve, and he’d make love to her… this once.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He confessed the words against her lips. Perhaps he ought to have kept the sentiments to himself, but—

  “Don’t wait any longer,” she commanded, equally breathless. Her hands finished untying the sloppy knot he’d tied earlier and then worked his shirt out of his breeches and over his head.

  An amazingly efficient woman. Damned if he would complain.

  While his ribs protested, he turned his mind to her mouth, her breasts, her thighs… In a frenzy, they undressed one another with a familiarity as though they’d been doing it for years.

  Except their passion was new. Burning and fresh.

  As was the stabbing pain in his side and chest.

  Niles had managed somehow to remove all her clothing before dropping his face into the curve of her neck. “Eve.” He could not have imagined the combination of nervousness and anticipation he’d feel with her.

  And a level of trepidation. He wasn’t exactly at his best this evening.

  But this was Eve.

  When he lifted himself to hover over her again, something thick seemed to lodge itself in his throat. The trust behind her gaze slayed him.

  She was not a young girl in her twenties. She was a woman. A mother. She’d been a longsuffering wife.

  And yet she could somehow trust him.

  “I’m so glad it’s you.” She murmured the words as his mouth covered the pulse at her throat. “Niles.”

  “Eve.” All he could manage was her name. And yet, it was everything. She was everything. Giver of life. Temptress. Her namesake had led to the fall of man. Would she lead to his own demise? He wondered vaguely that his heart might be obliterated completely by the time this, whatever it was, ran its course.

  He didn’t care.

  He pressed against her core. So wet for him. Legs wrapped around his thighs, ready to pull him closer.

  If only each breath he managed to take didn’t make him feel as though his chest was about to crack open.

  His ribs would heal eventually. He focused on the sensations where they joined and continued moving rhythmically.

  Damnit. The pain was becoming impossible to ignore.

  Eve’s hands clutched at his back as she arched upward. He needed to keep going. Just a few more minutes. He was close, so close, as was she.

  He hated that he might be missing any of this.

  And then…

  She was trembling in his arms and pulsing around him. He exercised all the patience he could muster and then withdrew in one jerking motion, found his own release, and then collapsed into a heap of satisfaction and agony.

  “Niles.”

  He couldn’t quite answer her. Hell, he could barely breathe.

  “Niles?” Concern filled her voice this time, and he could feel her leaning over to peer at him. For the second time in as many days, he lay helpless and pathetic, at this woman’s mercy.

  “Ribs,” he finally managed. He’d not want her thinking he was about to expire.

  * * *

  Damn fool-headed man had scared her half to death. Brought her to the height of passion and then collapsed lifeless beside her. She ought not have allowed him…

  Well.

  They shouldn’t have…

  Only.

  The evening truly could not have ended any other way. And he’d insisted he was well. The thought that he’d been willing to make love to her despite the pain in his ribs was somewhat flattering.

  The day had been a most memorable one. She’d never forget it.

  So instead of drowning herself in recriminations and regrets, she cleaned herself up and then located the willow bark powder for Niles.

  And after assisting him to down all of it, climbed back into bed beside him and enjoyed sleeping beside a man.

  It might be the last time she ever had the opportunity.

  Chapter 11

  Harsh Morning Light

  * * *

  “Mrs. Mossant!”

  A woman called out above sharp knocking, no, pounding coming from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded quite similar to that of her maid’s, Lucy’s.

  Eve bolted upright. “Lucy?”

  Oh dear. And here she was in bed with her esteemed man of business.

  With Niles.

  “Aye, Mrs. Mossant! I’ve one of your trunks out here. John explained what happened with the other carriage. You poor missus! If you unlock the door, I’ll bring your belongings inside and have you set to right
s for traveling today.”

  Niles had jumped out of bed and was already pulling his breeches up. Eve located his boots and shoved them into his arms. “Hide while I distract her.”

  She could not have Lucy finding her in bed with Niles. Her maid was known for her lack of discretion.

  “Just a moment!” Eve stalled while Niles shoved his feet into the well-worn boots and stepped into a hiding spot behind the door.

  John, the driver would be downstairs. As would be the outriders.

  Eve opened the door and drew Lucy inside toward the privacy screen easily enough. From the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of Niles slipping out behind them.

  Thank God!

  “I was beside myself when John showed up in town yesterday! Without you and Mr. Waverly. You could have been killed! Or worse! Oh, Missus, that night rail isn’t fit for you to wear at all. You poor thing. John’s changing out the horses and said he’d be ready to leave for Pebble’s Gate as soon as you are.”

  Eve’s head was swimming. With a glance outside, she realized the sun was halfway up the sky. She and Niles had slept away most of the morning.

  Lucy rifled through the trunk she’d dragged as she continued her rant. “Innkeepers downstairs are crazy as they come. Said you’d checked in as Mrs. Waverly. John’s looking for that man of business of yours. Likely he’s making some deal or another…”

  Niles would smooth matters over, she had no doubt. He was very good at that. It was probably why Thomas Findlay had found him to be so useful.

  They would depart for Pebble’s Gate again. Soon.

  Was it over? This tryst between Niles and herself?

  Eve lifted her hands in the air so Lucy could assist her in changing. Perhaps her own clothing would help her feel more herself again. What would her maid think if she knew what had occurred in that bed last night?

  “We mustn’t forget to return the gown to Mrs. Pinkerton.” The innkeeper’s wife didn’t seem to be a lady of many possessions. She’d been kind to share what she had.

  Lucy added dried lavender to the large washing bowl and poured fresh water into it. A wash cloth. Laundered chemise and stockings. Clean shoes.

  Eve’s gaze settled upon the unmade bed. Thank Heavens her daughters would never know what she’d done.

  She shuddered at the thought and then waves of shame began washing over her.

  Niles must think her a wanton. If he’d respected her before, he certainly couldn’t now.

  She’d acted no better than a common––

  “This gown is ruined.” Lucy studied the frock Eve had hiked across half of England in. “Shall I leave it here? One of the maids will appreciate it.”

  She’d intentionally donned one of her uglier gowns that morning. The muslin day dress made up of gray and lavender had matched her mood — empty, invisible. It ought to have been black, but that would have implied full acquiescence to her new status.

  Perhaps that was why she’d acted so out of character.

  She’d been a woman between roles.

  She hadn’t been a wife, in truth. Could she conduct herself as a widow?

  Widows were old women with silver hair and sagging skin. Eve nearly groaned.

  She’d had intimate relations with her man of business! And this morning, he’d left without a word.

  Not that he’d had any choice in the matter. But even so…

  Lucy dropped Eve’s favorite pelisse onto her shoulders and then handed her a new pair of gloves.

  She was a lady. Not a wife. Not a widow,

  Not a whore.

  She glanced one last time at the bed before closing the door behind her. If she wasn’t a whore, what exactly was it that had transpired in that bed last night?

  Two days later, the coach turned up the drive of Pebble’s Gate, a home her husband had turned into a place where the devil himself would have felt welcome.

  The landscaping had been neglected. This did not surprise her in the least. Jean Luc had spent any funds he controlled on his parties, drink, opium, and whores.

  She was saddened to see her own personal garden overrun with weeds. She’d expected no less, but it had been her solace during those last years. Eve blinked away any sentimental memories. She’d begun a new garden behind her London Townhouse. After sorting everything out here, she’d leave once and for all and never return.

  But she’d given birth to all three of her daughters here. Some happy memories remained.

  The first time she’d entered the house, she’d been filled with innocent dreams.

  Dreams.

  The word reminded her of what she’d told Niles a few nights ago. That she’d only wanted a kind husband. Had that been a lie? Had she hoped for more than that? Affection? Friendship? Passion?

  Had she lowered her expectations of the past in an attempt to squash her disappointment?

  She’d not allowed herself much hope for the future. She’d do her best to ensure security. Comfort. She wished to see her daughters thrive. She’d not discouraged her daughters from dreaming.

  Her own dreams, however, remained forever in the past. Was passion a dream? Affection?

  Eve was a lady of the ton, acquainted with several unmarried older gentlemen, many widowers, who moved within society.

  Niles had convinced her she was not without feminine attractions.

  Niles.

  She’d been unable to dismiss him from her thoughts, despite not having spoken to him since embarking on the remainder of their journey.

  He’d made himself scarce since leaving The Goat and Pig, choosing to ride a mount outside instead of inside the carriage with Lucy and herself. Which was to be expected.

  Except for his injury. Nobody would have questioned him for riding in the carriage in order to protect his broken ribs.

  Perhaps he simply wished to avoid her.

  Over the course of the remainder of the trip, he’d ridden ahead of the coach. When they’d catch up, he’d spur his horse and scout the next section of road.

  They jolted to a stop, and the vehicle bounced as the outriders hopped off.

  The time had come to face Jean Luc’s death, in truth.

  But when she stepped out and glanced toward the impressive front door, it was her husband’s face that peered down at her.

  Her knees buckled, and she would have fallen had strong arms not grasped her from behind.

  Niles, of course. Had he known? He would have arrived ahead of her.

  “Jean Luc?” She forced her gaze to focus on the man of her nightmares.

  Only…

  The gentleman dashed toward her, arms extended. “Oh, no! I apologize for upsetting you! It’s been ages since we last met. I’ve changed considerably since then, although I cannot say that you have. Aunt Eve, you are as beautiful as ever. In fact, I cannot address you as my aunt. Cousin Eve.”

  Darius Mossant. Jean Luc’s nephew.

  Good Lord, but of course he was much younger than Jean Luc. Health and vigor glowed from him. My word, but he looks like Jean Luc did when we married.

  Eve shook her head, still relying on Niles’ strength. She had not expected the heir to arrive so quickly. Not that it mattered…

  “Darius,” she finally managed. “You are correct. I believe last I laid eyes on you, you were all of ten years old.” A year after her marriage, at his father’s funeral. Rhoda had just been born. It was then that Jean Luc had begun his campaign for a son in earnest.

  Darius was no longer a boy. Tall, effeminately handsome, and nearly the spitting image of her dead husband.

  “Mr. Mossant.” Niles reached a hand out in greeting.

  Darius did not respond in kind.

  “Darius. Please, this is my man of business, indispensable to me for certain, Mr. Niles Waverly. Mr. Waverly, Mr. Darius Mossant. My husband’s heir.”

  Flicking his gaze suspiciously at the other arm with which Niles still grasped her, Darius reluctantly stretched his hand out.

  “Mr. Waverly.” B
ut then he offered an arm to Eve.

  She had no choice but to step away from Niles and take it. Darius was obviously dismissing Niles in doing so. He’d have ignored him but for Eve’s introduction. Much as he ignored the driver, the outriders, and Lucy.

  A wave of unfamiliar emotions floated through her as Darius escorted her inside.

  Disgust. Fear. Repulsion.

  Guilt.

  She could blame the first three emotions on the similarities between her nephew and Jean Luc’s appearance.

  The last, she’d rather not dwell upon until she could find time alone.

  “Such a tragedy.” Darius demanded her attention. “And although there are a few suspects, not a great deal of evidence.”

  And then a thought struck her.

  “When did you arrive?” She’d thought he resided in the north, practically in Scotland. “It’s been less than a week.” He would have had to have been notified…

  “I was visiting Uncle Jean when it happened. He’d asked me to come. Said he had important business to discuss.”

  But Jean Luc had hated his heir.

  “I was under the impression he was hosting a party at the time.” Jean Luc had always been hosting some sort of party or another.

  Darius opened the door to the front drawing room and escorted her to an unfamiliar loveseat. It ought to be she who invited him inside.

  Was she not the mistress still?

  But no.

  “Has the will been read yet?” Surely Jean Luc’s solicitor would have waited until she arrived. She wished Niles had entered with her.

  Except he’d not been invited. By Darius, nor by her.

  “Not yet.” Darius lowered himself to sit beside her. “My uncle’s solicitors have yet to arrive from London.”

  Eve nodded, still trying to understand what was happening. “The roads are not good.” Which was an understatement, to say the least. “What did Jean Luc wish to speak with you about?”

  Darius’s pale eyes shifted toward one of the few paintings that remained. He took a few uneven breaths before answering. “He was concerned about you. It’s almost as though he sensed his end was near.”

  Eve could have laughed if the man wasn’t so very serious. What would Jean Luc have wanted to discuss with his heir?