Читать книгу A Regency Courtesan's Pride: More Than a Mistress / The Rake's Inherited Courtesan - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 13

Years of dodging matchmaking mamas sent Charlie’s hackles rising. He hadn’t expected such a trick from a woman who seemed so straightforward in all her dealings. Inwardly, he cursed. He had held her to comfort her obvious distress. And let their mutual attraction flame out of control. Idiot.

She must have guessed at his thoughts because the smile on her lovely lips died.

Outwardly, he smiled calmly, as he had on so many other occasions when a female tried to net the heir of a dukedom. ‘You flatter me.’

She rearranged her expression into one of polite dismissal and shrugged. ‘I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.’

He urged the horses on with a click of his tongue. ‘Then what did you mean?’ He shouldn’t ask. He should let it go. This ground was as dangerous as the quicksand in the Wash, but knowing her life was in danger, he could not walk away. Not until he knew she was safe. Once he knew who was behind this cowardly attack, he would bring all the power of a dukedom to bear on the blackguard.

The vehemence of his reaction took him by surprise.

‘I meant we could pretend an engagement,’ she said carelessly, but there was an undercurrent of something in her voice he didn’t quite understand.

Oh, Father would really like that. And Robert, poor Robert, would continue to be left out in the cold. ‘How would that help?’

‘I think some of the other mill owners are angry at me,’ she said quietly. ‘They are opposed to my idea of providing an asylum for women who have led less than respectable lives.’

‘You mean the ladybirds I met this morning,’ he said, smiling at the memory.

‘Yes. They need a place from which they can find suitable work.’ She winced. ‘Perhaps meet husbands. I asked the local mill owners to give them employment.’

‘And because they are not in favour of the idea, they decided to damage your carriage?’ He couldn’t quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.

‘Caro and I opened a house in Skepton. They called it a bawdy house. Men came one night and attacked the girls and set fire to the house.’

‘Which is why they are living with you.’

‘Only two of them. The rest disappeared. We need to find them. Give them a home.’

‘I still don’t see how a pretend engagement resolves the problem.’

She turned in her seat, a furrow in her brow, her eyes focused somewhere in the distance, as if she could see the future playing out before her.

He wanted to kiss her.

God, he ached for far more than that. If he hadn’t broken free of her a few minutes ago, he might have laid the blankets down in the snow and made love to her right there in the open. And he would have been forced to accept her proposal of marriage.

Such an error of judgement would be the final straw for the duke. The disgrace at Waterloo and then Robert’s scandal had been bad enough, but for his heir to marry beneath him might well kill the old man. His father had looked ill for weeks after Robert’s scandal broke. Another such event would likely cause him an apoplexy, not to mention it would certainly end all possibility of Robert’s return to the family fold.

‘Because I am a woman, the other mill owners will not admit me to their meetings at the guild hall,’ she said stiffly, as if the admission stirred more anger than she wanted to admit. ‘They would listen to you, if they thought you were my future husband.’

The slight bitter edge to her words gave him pause. How would it feel to be successful, as she so clearly was, and yet ignored by one’s peers?

‘If you pretended to be my fiancé for a few days,’ she continued. ‘If you put your name behind my plan, they would be forced to give in. Then you would cry off.’

‘A business arrangement,’ he said. Irrationally he felt a sense of disgruntlement. An odd reaction, when he’d been ready to flee at the word marriage. He shook his head to clear it of such stupid thoughts.

It had taken weeks of argument to convince the duke to accept Charlie’s promise to make a suitable marriage in exchange for Robert’s forgiveness. To go back on his word would be cruel to his mother as well as dishonourable. He had to be practical.

Guilt weighed him down. No matter how much he wanted to help Merry, this was not the way.

Not because he couldn’t see himself married to Merry, he acknowledged with surprise, but because of what it would mean for his family if he broke his agreement with the duke.

She nibbled her bottom lip and then let go a long breath with a shake of her head. ‘It would never work anyway.’

‘Why not?’

‘No one would believe a man of your station would stoop to wed me. Not unless you were in desperate financial straits.’

He raised a brow, considering her words.

‘Well, they wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘Look at the way you reacted.’

He felt insulted by her quick dismissal. But she was right. He’d instantly hunkered down behind his defensive walls. Yet he could not leave any woman defenceless, especially not this one, not now when his suspicions of foul play were confirmed.

He turned the sleigh in through the gates of Draycott House—the carved words on the pillar announced the name. Beneath the name was a coat of arms. A kingly red deer surrounded by ivy. It looked vaguely familiar.

‘I will speak to these mill owners on your behalf.’

She gave a small shake of her head, a wry smile twisting her lips. ‘As my friend, or even as the son of a duke, you would have no real influence. They will meet you individually, agree with everything you say, but behind closed doors, they will do as they please.’

How she must hate the exclusion. ‘Then I will speak to the constable. And the magistrate.’

‘You are most kind.’

She couldn’t have sounded more unconvinced. He wanted to throttle her pretty little neck. Or kiss her pursed lips. Neither one of which would help matters.

‘Don’t underestimate the force of the Mountford name.’

‘Oh, I won’t.’

The dryness in her voice grated. He had the feeling she felt let down, but she really didn’t know the power he wielded as heir to a dukedom.

‘Oh, my word!’ she exclaimed, sounding shocked and amused.

Charlie followed the direction of her gaze. In front of the house, on an expanse of snow-covered lawn interrupted only by the odd ancient elm and cypress, several figures darted about with cloaks flying. Snowballs flew through the air. The sound of laughter and shrieks of joy pierced the quiet. There was a smaller figure, too. A child?

‘Your ladies are out on a spree,’ he said.

‘I suppose Caro decided they needed some exercise in the fresh air.’

‘They look like any other young women when faced with sunshine and an unexpected fall of snow.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Hard to imagine how awful their lives must have been before.’

For a moment, Charlie tried to imagine what it must be like, selling your body to live. Hell, wasn’t that what his father wanted him to do when he married Lady Allison in order to expand the Mountford influence? The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

One of the women collapsed in a heap of giggles on a snow bank. Another dropped a snowball on her face. Mrs Falkner—Charlie could make her out quite clearly now dressed in dark grey—called to the small boy.

All the women were laughing and giggling. He guessed there were few times in their lives when they’d been as happy as they appeared this afternoon. Something about it felt right and good. One of them picked up the boy and whirled him around.

‘Do you think they would like a sleigh ride? Around the lawn?’

Merry’s face broke into a smile. ‘They would love it. And it would be a terrible shame to waste all the work of harnessing the team.’

Her obvious pleasure put warmth back in a day that had grown cool after their kiss. He walked the horses across towards the small group. One girl came running when she saw the horses approach. The thin sallow-faced one hung back.

He doffed his hat and bowed. ‘Ladies.’

The round-faced one giggled as she had this morning. She covered her mouth with her hand when she saw him looking at her.

He grinned.

Merry threw off the blanket and jumped down. No waiting for help for Miss Draycott; it didn’t surprise him in the least.

‘Clydesdales,’ the giggly girl said, stroking the offside horse’s nose. ‘They are beauties.’

The horse nuzzled at her hip. ‘I don’t have anything for you,’ she said with obvious dismay.

‘I do,’ Merry said and pulled a lump of sugar from her pocket.

The girl’s face lit up, making her look terribly young. No more than eighteen, Charlie was sure. Too fresh-faced for the kind of life she’d fallen into. The freshness would fade all too quickly in her line of work.

The other woman stayed well clear, obviously unused to such large animals.

‘Lord Tonbridge offered to take the girls for a drive,’ Merry said to Mrs Falkner.

Mrs Falkner eyed him a little askance.

‘I won’t take them out of sight of the house,’ Charlie hastened to assure her. ‘A couple of spins around the lawn.’

The girl petting the horse turned a hopeful expression in Mrs Falkner’s direction.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Lord Tonbridge.’

‘Don’t thank me, it is Miss Draycott’s rig.’

‘Let me introduce you to the girls,’ Merry said. She pointed to the giggly one. ‘Ladies, this is Lord Tonbridge. This is Beth and that is Jane.’

Jane lifted her chin as if daring him to say anything about their earlier meeting.

‘What about the lad?’ Charlie asked. ‘Would he like to go, too?’

‘That is Thomas,’ Merry said. ‘Mrs Falkner’s son.’

Charlie touched his hat. The boy bowed with a grace many men would envy.

An anxious expression crossed Mrs Falkner’s face.

‘Please, Mama,’ the boy said.

‘Tonbridge is a very good driver,’ Merry said. ‘I can assure you, Tommy will be perfectly safe.’

The boy looked pleadingly at his mother.

‘Very well,’ Mrs Falkner said. ‘Stay close to Beth, Thomas.’

Charlie jumped down to help the ladies aboard, handing Beth up first into the back seat. An eager Thomas waited his turn.

‘You can sit next to me,’ Charlie said and lifted the boy up into the front seat, ignoring Mrs Falkner’s frown. The boy’s happy smile clearly prevented her from remonstrating. He pretended to notice nothing amiss and held out a hand for Jane.

She shook her head with an ingratiating smile. ‘Not me, thank you very kindly, my lord. I need a good walk after being shut up in t’house for days, if it’s all right with you, missus?’

Mrs Falkner nodded. ‘When you return, come to the day parlour. I will ask Gribble to send up hot chocolate. I doubt his lordship will be long.’

A warning to Charlie. The woman was a proper mother hen. He hid the urge to grin.

Jane nodded and trudged along the tracks left by the sleigh, heading for the gates. Mrs Falkner watched her go with a frown.

Merry released the horses’ heads and stood back. Not that the team really needed holding—Charlie had never driven more placid obliging beasts.

He flicked his whip over their heads, jingled the bridles and they lumbered forward. He glanced down at the bright-eyed boy beside him. ‘Would you like to hold the reins?’

The boy stared up at him. ‘Will you teach me how to do that thing with the whip?’

‘Get used to guiding these beasts first,’ he said. He turned and looked over his shoulder. ‘Everything all right, Beth?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed, her eyes shining.

The sleigh glided off.

Merry stood beside Caroline and watched the sleigh draw away. ‘How kind of him.’

‘Very,’ Caroline said. ‘What is he after?’

‘Not me, sadly.’ Dash it. Was she speaking the truth?

‘Merry!’ Caroline sounded shocked.

‘He offered to help me with the mill owners, that is all.’

Caro frowned. ‘Won’t that look rather odd?’

Merry stiffened. Another person who viewed her as beneath a marquis’s touch. ‘Do you think so?’

‘Merry, can’t you see? If a man like Tonbridge takes an interest in your affairs, might they not make assumptions about why? Why does he want to help?’

‘Out of friendship. Gratitude.’

Even to Merry’s ears it sounded rather weak. Nothing but the truth would do. ‘He thinks someone tampered with the carriage.’

Caro pulled her gaze from the slowly diminishing sleigh, her wide eyes searching Merry’s face. ‘Oh, no. Surely not?’

‘I think someone wanted to give me a warning, but Tonbridge is taking it more seriously.’

‘This must stop.’ Caroline clasped her gloved hands together. ‘First a fire. And now this. We will set up the house somewhere else. I will not endanger your life.’

‘Do you think it will be different elsewhere?’

‘I won’t have your death, or your injury, on my conscience.’

‘It is not your decision.’

Fists clenched, Caroline spun away. ‘I will have nothing to do with it.’ It was the first time they had ever argued. Merry felt quite adrift, as if she’d lost her friend.

‘Caro, we can’t just give up.’

Caro turned around slowly. ‘Why not?’

‘A Draycott never admits defeat.’

‘Never is a long time. Please, Merry. We will find another way. We certainly don’t need to involve a man like Tonbridge in our affairs.’

Merry stared at her friend. Perhaps she was right, but it felt galling to give in to threats.

Caro turned to watch the sleigh in the distance. ‘Oh, good Lord, is that Thomas standing up?’

‘Yes,’ Merry said, nodding. ‘Charlie seems to like children, doesn’t he?’

‘Charlie?’

‘We are friends.’ Dash it, did she sound too defensive? ‘I told him to call me Merry the first day we met.’

The suspicious gleam in Caro’s eyes made her skin itch as if she’d done something wrong.

‘Be careful, Merry,’ Caroline said, shading her eyes with her hand. ‘A man with his kind of charm and wealth is used to getting his own way, and it will be for no one’s benefit but his own.’

Merry’s stomach dipped. Few men did anything out of altruism. He would want something in return. Caro put an arm around her shoulder. It was an unusual display of affection. ‘Tell him you don’t need his help. Like all men, he’ll want to take control. We don’t need a man to solve our problems. We will deal with it.’

Caro was right. Of course she was. What on earth had she been thinking? She’d never needed anyone’s help since Grandfather’s death, despite her mother’s family trying to insert themselves into her business. She would tell him not to bother with the councillors or the magistrate, that she was giving up her plan. She’d wait until he left before she tackled the problem.

She and Caro would manage.

All through the dinner Caro kept looking from Merry to Charlie, acting the chaperon. Looking for signs of misconduct on Tonbridge’s part, no doubt. Merry sighed. With no opportunity to tell Lord Tonbridge her decision since returning from the drive, Merry kept her discourse so carefully light that her head ached.

‘Shall we take tea in the drawing room?’ she said brightly, after Gribble cleared the table of all but a decanter of port. ‘You could bring your port there, Lord Tonbridge, unless you prefer drinking in solitary state. I am sorry we have no other gentlemen visiting to keep you amused.’

‘You do yourself a disservice, Miss Draycott. Your conversation keeps me well entertained.’

‘I am a chatterbox, in other words.’ She almost poked out her tongue at him, but remembered not to just in time. ‘Will you join us, too, my dear Mrs Falkner?’

Caroline looked torn. ‘I really should see Thomas to bed. He likes me to read a story,’ she explained to Lord Tonbridge, ‘before I tuck him in for the night.’

‘You are truly a devoted mother,’ Tonbridge said. ‘Don’t worry about us. I will take Miss Draycott up on her offer of conversation in the drawing room.’

A look of relief crossed Caro’s face. She turned her gaze on Merry, an intent gaze, reminding Merry of her promise. She rose and curtsied. ‘Then I will bid you both goodnight.’

Tonbridge’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as she left the room.

Merry popped to her feet. ‘No time like the present,’ she said, heading for the door.

She hoped they could have their discussion without the tingle of attraction, the incendiary sparks that filled the air.

She strode into the drawing room. The tea tray awaited them, just as she’d arranged with Gribble. She had no wish to end up playing billiards again.

She sat in front of the tray ‘Tea for you, my lord, or will you stick to port? ‘

He looked down into his almost-empty glass. ‘A cup of tea will do very well, Merry.’

He sat on the sofa opposite her. She poured the tea. ‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Yes, please,’ he said. He crossed one ankle over the other.

He looked every inch the dandy tonight. The deep blue coat hugged his form. The high cravat was tied in a complex knot, its creases perfect. How Brian had managed it she didn’t know. And his cream waistcoat embroidered with lily of the valley was a work of art.

She handed him a cup.

‘So, have you thought further about my offer?’ he asked. ‘I feel strongly that the person or persons responsible for this crime should not go unpunished. Who leads these mill owners? I will speak to him.’

She smiled politely. ‘By gum, I’ve been doing some thinking since last we talked.’

A frown furrowed his brow. ‘Why do you speak like a common labourer when I try to offer a suggestion?’

‘Common is what I am. Listen, Charlie, I’ve been talking things over with Mrs Falkner. We do not need your help.’

His expression darkened. ‘Now you really surprise me.’

‘Full of surprises,’ she said lightly. ‘There is no need for you to speak to anyone. We are giving up on the idea.’

A hard intent gaze searched her face. She tried to look calm, unaffected. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said finally. ‘You are not one to give up, Merry.’

The way he made her name sound like a caress caused her breath to catch in her throat. But worse yet was his correct assessment of her nature. It wasn’t like her to give up. She made a desperate bid to unscramble her thoughts. ‘What I do is nowt of your business, my lord.’

His lips tightened. ‘Because I won’t engage in trickery.’ He curled his lip. ‘I am shocked, Merry. Draycott’s is known for honest dealing, in word and deed. Would you compromise your good name?’

His accusation struck her on the raw. She held on to her rising temper, a hot fizz in her chest. ‘It is precisely because I treasure my good name that I am refusing your offer.’

He blinked. ‘I do not see the connection.’

‘I am sure you do not.’ And she wasn’t going to tell him. ‘Let us be quite clear on your position: while the Draycott name may be known for honest dealing, I certainly understand why it is not good enough to be linked with that of Mountford.’

‘Blast it, Merry, I didn’t mean that.’

But he did. She could see it in his eyes. Rich Merry Draycott. Low class and unacceptable, unless someone wanted her money. She folded her hands together in her lap and tried not to show the ache in her heart. ‘You are leaving tomorrow. None of this is your concern.’

He got up and threw a log on the fire. The scent of burning apple-wood filled the room. ‘So you are refusing my aid?’

‘Yes.’ She put up her hand, when he opened his mouth to speak. ‘The matter is closed.’

He turned to face her, his eyes hard. ‘You expect me to walk away when your life is in danger.’

‘Do you think that words falling from your lips will change that? You faffing in my business will only make things worse. I will speak to the constable and the magistrate myself.’

She didn’t see fit to add that the local magistrate was also a mill owner or that his wife had been among the most vociferous in her objections to the house in town.

He clearly wanted to distance himself from her and she’d offered him the perfect way out. She certainly had no reason to feel hurt by his rejection. He owed her nothing.

Nor did she need his approval. She didn’t need anyone’s approval.

‘Let us not talk about this any more. It is a storm in a teacup. Would you like me to play for you?’

Without waiting for an answer she went to the pianoforte and lifted the lid. She arranged her skirts around her on the seat and began to play.

A look of frustration passed over his face.

Well, it would. He could scarcely interrupt her. It would be very rude indeed. The one benefit of attending a select academy for young women was that she knew all the rules of polite society. Grandfather had been so proud of her accomplishments. If he’d any idea how she had suffered in that place, it would have broken his heart.

As well as teaching her social niceties, to paint and play the pianoforte and the harp, her time there had taught her to survive all the meanness the world could toss her way. She’d also learned something about men.

Charlie wanted to strangle her as she played one piece after another. The moment he began to applaud a piece, she started another. Her playing was excellent. Not a single note did she miss, and she played without music.

The pieces were all about lost love. Positively heart-wrenching, if one had a heart to wrench.

An hour had passed and the punishment continued. Though what he had done, he couldn’t imagine. Unless it was his sensible alternative to her madcap plan.

Clearly the headstrong wench was too used to getting her own way. And while he could see a kind of logic in her devious plan, it put him in a hell of an awkward position, when he was on his way to make overtures to Lady Allison.

Not to mention that the men she planned on duping, if they didn’t want her blood now, would once they realised her trick. If she refused to accept his offer of help, there was little he could do. He’d have to accept her decision, much as it went against the grain.

He leaned back in his chair and let his mind drift. She looked beautiful tonight and completely different from the previous evening. Her modestly cut gown only hinted at the lush figure beneath. Her black hair, pulled back severely from her face, showed off her high cheekbones, vivid blue eyes and unblemished milky skin. It also revealed the faint blue lines at her temple and tracing down her long elegant throat. If anything, she looked more alluring than she had in her seductive attire. Unattainable and therefore utterly desirable.

Beautiful. Cool and closed off. And brittle. The tension from their earlier kisses vibrated in the air. Whatever was happening, he feared if it went on any longer, she might shatter.

The closing notes of the piece she was playing brought him to his feet. He clapped loudly at the same time as he strode to the piano. He took her hand and kissed the back before she could start again.

‘That was lovely, Miss Draycott; however, I think it is time I retired.’

She glanced at the clock. ‘Eleven already? I had no idea. Still, I am sure that is not all that late for a man such as you.’

Ah, still angry then. He smiled wolfishly. ‘And what sort of man would that be?’

Her lips parted. Her face flushed. ‘A man who spends his time in London, I suppose.’

‘Have you ever been to London?’

The blush deepened. ‘I visited once. As a child.’

‘Perhaps it is time you visited again. And when you do, let me know, and I will be delighted to show you the sights.’ He took her hand again, held it in his and had the urge to bring her to her feet and kiss her again, recapture that moment of blissful mindlessness in the sleigh. The moment before she made her outrageous proposal, which now hung over them like a storm cloud. Kissing her would be a mistake. She would think his resolve was weakening.

He would not be twisted around any woman’s finger.

He raised her hand to his lips one more time and dropped the tiniest of kisses on the back of it, felt the tremor in her fingers in response and his body clenched.

He released her hand. ‘I bid you goodnight.’ He bowed and strode for the door before he changed his mind.

Why did doing the right thing feel so completely wrong?

Merry paced her chamber; her nightdress swirled around her ankles each time she turned and the rug was rough beneath her bare feet. Two hours has passed and she still couldn’t settle. She just wished she could clearly see a path.

Caro was right. She was. They must find a way to accomplish their goals and vanquish their opponents. She certainly didn’t need the help of a husband. Not even a pretend one. A woman with a husband wasn’t a person. She had no rights. No freedom of choice or of decision. Until Caro came, she had never thought of it that way. She’d always thought that one day she would have a husband and children. Men married for money and power. A man would absorb her money, wield her power, without consultation. Grandfather had trusted her enough to leave her his hard-earned business; she would never hand it over in exchange for a ring. Or companionship in bed.

She kicked her gown out of the way and turned. Tonbridge had no place in her life.

The thought left her with a deep sense of loss. Because her body was yearning for the pleasure it knew could be hers? Was that the reason she felt restless? On edge. She kept remembering his beauty as he left the drawing room. Virile, powerful and unbelievably handsome.

And that was the problem. She glared at her empty rumpled bed. The flare of heat in his gaze and the intensity of his kiss this afternoon had called to long-repressed desires and longings.

It had been years since she felt the warmth of a man. And this one knew how to seduce a woman’s senses. When his mouth had plied her lips, her body had been overjoyed.

She missed it.

She clenched her fists until they stung from lack of blood and lifted her gaze to the portrait above the mantel. Her mother. Daughter of an earl, beloved wife of her father—what would she think of the wicked thoughts going through her daughter’s mind, the hot fires of lust burning in her loins?

They burned within him, too.

Merry turned away from the gentle face looking down. No doubt her mother would be ashamed of her along with the rest of the fashionable world.

Tonbridge lay nearby alone in his bed and she would lie alone in hers. This was her future. She and Caro would live together, helping each other while she remained a spinster in name, if not in truth, forever.

Why not take advantage of the chance that brought him into her house? a voice whispered in her mind. Why not? A night of pleasure they would both enjoy. It would only be one night. No ties. No obligations. No tit for tat.

She’d kept him at a distance this evening, despite the way her body hummed each time he came close. Was still humming with the after-effects of his kiss this afternoon. Oh Lord, and the pleasure of his touch last night.

In spite of her coldness toward him tonight, there was no doubt of his desire when he kissed her hand. She rubbed the back of her hand as if she could erase the feel of his lips against her skin.

Lust.

Unrequited passion.

What if he rejected her? But if she didn’t ask, how would she know?