Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 2 - Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 17

‘Would you make me your mistress?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you not want to think about it for a moment?’ Helen offered quietly.

‘No. Do you?’

‘No,’ Helen murmured, barely faltering.

‘Are you sure about that, Helen?’

‘Yes …’

She had been a schoolgirl when last he had used her given name. She had always liked the way it sounded spoken in his gruff, cultured voice. Far back in her mind stirred a memory of how he would smile at her and make her feel at the same time awkward and elated and intuitive of a promise of excitement hovering between them.

But he was no longer her brother’s friend, welcome in their home, and she was no longer a fanciful maid of fifteen.

She might be unpractised in such negotiations, but she knew that a gentleman was encumbered financially when he took a woman under his protection. She had anticipated that such an arrangement would necessitate a conversation between them lasting longer than a few minutes. But he seemed to have settled into staring moodily into space.

Helen was obliquely aware of his detachment whilst reasoning on what must come next flitted through her mind. Unless he intended keeping her in the background, a mistress was usually a social companion, too. Once it became common knowledge that they were lovers she would be barred from some areas of his life, but accompanying him to the theatre or a shopping trip and so on would be in her scope. Her clothes were dated and shabby. She would need an allowance for new garments in order to look acceptably stylish when partnering him. And, of course, they would need a discreet place to meet. Although he now owned the property, visiting her at Westlea House would be out of the question. Her teeth settled painfully into her lower lip as she came to shameful awareness of how naturally mercenary thoughts had occupied her. But, of course, such practicalities kept at bay the apprehensiveness that was making moist her palms and parching her mouth.

Sir Jason Hunter was to be her lover, to know her body as intimately as would a husband. Goose bumps rippled fierily over her limbs in response to the wild images that ran amok in her mind. Although they were not touching she felt intensely conscious of his muscular physique and the clean fresh scent that emanated from him.

She took a glimpse at his profile, acutely conscious of his silence. Perhaps his odd humour sprung from the fact that he had been the quarry. He had a reputation as a womaniser. Was he a Hunter by name and by nature—a man who liked being a predator? She might have pricked his male pride by audaciously approaching him. That train of thought lead to something else. Perhaps a woman brazen enough to start the chase was expected to bestow an appropriate token of gratitude for her victory. She glanced swiftly about; there was certainly nobody in the vicinity to witness a little wanton behaviour. ‘Would you like me to kiss you?’ she softly volunteered.

Jason tipped up his head and barked a hoarse laugh at a canopy of dancing branches. ‘Of course … though perhaps not here …’

But Helen had already slid dutifully towards him to comply.

She had pressed her body close to his, so close that his thigh felt like immovable rock against her soft yielding flesh. She heard a muttered oath and was lifting her face to investigate what now had vexed him when her jaw was cradled between his palms. That first softly sensual caress caught her breath in her throat. For a lengthy moment their eyes met, then Helen’s lashes dropped and she felt his mouth cover hers.

It was so long since a man had touched her in passion that his virility overwhelmed her. His kiss was confident and clever; her mouth was parted and his tongue stroking its silky warmth before she had fully accepted their intimacy. But she participated when he led her to do so. A hand deftly infiltrated her cloak, caressing her midriff through her dress and she curved closer. She felt his thumb sweep the underside of her breast, then extend upwards until it brushed against her nipple. A surge of warmth enveloped her as his hands and mouth worked their devious magic. She felt her head eased back against his arm by the increasing pressure of his kiss. Her lips clung, widened when he urged them to do so and a throb low in her pelvis instinctively made tight her abdomen whilst relaxing her thighs. The core of her femininity felt hot and dewy and a rasping breath was welling in her throat. But within a moment the exquisite tension was ebbing. He had taken up the reins and set the vehicle in motion.

Inwardly Jason cursed Peter Wenham to damnation even as he wryly acknowledged that his friend’s inopportune arrival was probably a godsend. He had been on the point of losing control and Hyde Park was certainly not the best place for an al fresco romp with a respectable woman. Helen wasn’t a seasoned harlot, she wasn’t even right as a mistress, but her sweet seduction had swept from his mind any noble thoughts he’d had of saving her from herself. He wanted her. His loins were afire and, no matter how he strived to be rational, what dominated his mind was finding another quiet place to take her … so he could finish what she’d started….

When Helen observed the smart curricle approaching she was still dazed with heady languor. Slowly she came to vague awareness of the occupants who looked to be a modish young couple. She blinked as Jason and the gentleman acknowledged each other with a word and a nod as the vehicles passed. Then they were out of the park and Jason calmly tooled the horses to a trot on a busy street.

Helen touched two vibrating fingers to her pulsing lips. For her, their first kiss had been unexpectedly shattering, the memory of it consumed her mind. Jason seemed undisturbed by their intimacy and that stirred a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The phaeton soon got up quite a speed and Helen pulled her cloak closer about her to ward off the chill of fast-flowing air. Her gloved fingers tweaked her small hat forward to shield her face.

‘Are you cold?’

‘A little.’

‘Grosvenor Square is not far.’ A ghost of a smile touched Jason’s mouth as he realised that lust had, after all, surrendered to decency. He’d settle for conversation this afternoon. ‘We can go there and resume—’

‘No.’ Her sharp interruption made him arrow a look at her. Her apology was limited to a wavering smile. ‘I fear I might be colder still if your butler again shuts me in that cupboard,’ she weakly joked.

‘That was very bad of Cedric,’ Jason said, matching her levity, but his eyes were delving deeper into her brusque refusal.

Helen quelled her misgivings. In fact, she inwardly mocked herself. Had she expected a notorious rake to go into raptures over a quick kiss in the park? Suddenly she felt rather silly to have instigated it at all. He had told her he had done with flirting years ago; clandestine embraces in public places probably provoked in him similar ennui. Inwardly she squirmed for she was never more aware of her lack of womanly sophistication. ‘I ought return home immediately. I expect Charlotte will wonder where I am.’ Her defensiveness made her sound rather haughty.

‘I shan’t keep you long at my house.’ His tone was adamant and her tawny eyes widened in alarm.

Abruptly he reined back the horses to a slower pace. ‘I make it a rule never to ask a mistress to entertain me in my own home, especially not when my sister is in residence. Yesterday she came up from Surrey with her husband.’

‘I didn’t mean … that is, I know you would not expect …’ Helen frowned as she vainly scrabbled to find words to smooth the situation.

‘You don’t know what I expect, Helen,’ Jason softly emphasised. ‘And that is one reason why we need to resume our conversation. Had you not distracted me …'he shot her a lightly amused look ‘… we might have concluded our talk in the park. Another thing we need to speak about is your ulterior motive in all this.’

Helen blushed to the roots of her silky black hair. He sounded as though he was about to accuse her of being a crafty harlot. ‘I know you must think me shockingly brazen to proposition you … but I have my reasons.’

‘I’m not that easily shocked, sweetheart,’ he said on a dry laugh. ‘Nevertheless, I’d like to hear your reasons.’

Her wind-parched lips were moistened with a flick of her small tongue. She had not been expecting an inquisition. He knew her husband was dead and that she lived frugally. Surely he could use his imagination as to her motives? She had assumed that, if he desired her, little else about her circumstances would bother him. Perhaps he was used to women hinting at having an uncontrollable tendresse for him or flattering him over his handsome looks and social position.

‘I have no objection to explaining myself, but I would rather not go home with you and meet your sister. It would be unseemly, when soon we will …’ Her explanation faded away.

‘Beatrice would remember you as an old friend she has not seen in a long while. As of yet there is nothing unseemly to fret over.’

Helen sank back against the seat. Humiliation stung colour again into her cheeks—suddenly it occurred to her that he might have changed his mind. Perhaps he had been little impressed by her seduction and was trying to wriggle free of his agreement to care for her. A penetrative glance at his profile was not enlightening, but she felt her pride rally. ‘If you think you made too hasty a decision and want to reconsider, I would understand and never again mention the matter.’

His muttered oath was inaudible to Helen for her gasp of alarm had filled her ears. Without warning, but with expert skill, Jason had turned the phaeton in the road. Helen found herself clinging to the side of the spinning vehicle that was soon hurtling back towards Hyde Park.

A few minutes later Helen was glancing about to see that the phaeton was stationed in the same quiet spot as previously. The avenue was once more deserted.

He turned to look at her with stormy eyes. ‘If we can’t go to your house or to mine, we shall need to stop here a while longer. What have I said to make you think I no longer want to sleep with you?’

Helen blanched and slid him a glance that appealed for a little more delicacy.

‘Don’t be coy about it, Helen,’ he said quietly. ‘We both know what this entails. I shall provide you with carte blanche in return for the privilege of sharing a bed with you whenever I so desire. Or is it that you are only now giving serious thought to the consequences of being my paramour?’

‘Of course I have given it serious thought!’ Helen cried with stifled indignation. ‘If you think I would have lightly humbled myself to proposition you, sir, then you are wrong!’

‘Jason.’

Helen glanced at him in confusion.

‘My name is Jason. We’re now on familiar terms, aren’t we?’

‘Yes,’ Helen breathed. ‘Jason.’

He grunted a laugh at her mutinous expression. ‘Far from not wanting you, my dear, you’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse. But I need to be sure you understand the ramifications of becoming my mistress.’

‘I do understand,’ Helen readily affirmed. That brave statement was not entirely true and her mind pondered on latent messages. The more she pondered, the more she was sure their brief kiss had disappointed him and he was implying she might prove an inadequate lover. ‘I expect you know I was not married for long. But I am not too unpractised in the passion and pleasure to be had between a man and a woman. I recall enough to—’

‘It’s not that,’ Jason brusquely interrupted. Then added in a soft drawl, ‘But thank you for such delightful news.’

‘Don’t mock me!’ Helen’s voice held both a plea and a command.

Jason simply smiled and lazily shifted position on the seat. ‘I was referring to the impact this will have on your present way of life. When it becomes obvious that you’re my mistress, gossip will ensue, although it should not last long. Some of your present neighbours and acquaintances might shun you if feeling fastidious. There will be social events to which it would not be appropriate to take you.’

‘I have thought of all of that.’ Helen said. She squarely met his grey eyes. ‘And in case you are too gallant to mention it so early on in our dealings, I shall say it for you. I know you will tire of me eventually. And even before then I expect you will be reluctant to remain faithful. You need not fear that I will nag or become fretful if you do not devote yourself exclusively to me.’

Jason threaded the reins through his fingers. ‘I’m not sure you are suited to be my mistress, Helen. You sound to me like the perfect wife, my dear.’

‘I would rather you did not make of it a joke, sir. I am simply trying to be fair and practical.’ She had thoughtlessly reverted to using a formal address and it made him quirk an eyebrow at her. ‘If I seem calculating, Jason,’ she deliberately, stiltedly, used his name, ‘I do not mean to appear so. But neither do I want to be accused of being a hypocrite.’

‘And what about love and marriage?’

Startled, Helen glanced at him. She had certainly not expected him to bring up any such emotive subject. Briskly she put his mind at ease. ‘I promise not to embarrass you with any such declarations or demands.’ A private little smile sweetened her solemn demeanour. ‘I feel fortunate to have known the love of a fine gentleman. I was a wife just a short time, but I was very happy and have no wish for another husband. I am content with my memories.’

Jason’s expression remained unreadable a moment longer, then he gave her a slow smile. ‘And what about me? Or perhaps you think love and marriage pass rakes by.’

Helen blushed at that mild sarcasm. ‘Not at all, sir … Jason,’ she glibly corrected herself. ‘I know you have a … lady friend … and I assumed that, if you had a deep affection for her, you would decline to take me in her place.’

‘In her place?’ Jason echoed so quizzically that further words were unnecessary.

Helen twisted together her fingers. He was starting to needle her, quite deliberately, she imagined. On a deep breath she said, ‘I imagined that if you loved Mrs Tucker you would not want to hurt her by giving her a rival.’ She was unsure why his response was so important, but found herself awaiting it with bated breath. But he remained uncommunicative and his ruthless gaze made her seek something else to say to shatter the silence.

‘I also realise you will one day marry a nobleman’s daughter and wish to start your family. I have promised already not to make a fuss when it is finished between us.’

‘You have given it a lot of thought,’ Jason murmured. ‘What makes you think I’ll marry a nobleman’s daughter?’

Helen did not want to reveal that George had told her of Jason’s ambition to marry for pedigree. It might stir more enmity between the two men. She gave a vague shrug. ‘It seems sensible to me to conclude that a rich gentleman would choose to do so.’

‘It seems sensible to me to conclude that a rich gentleman would not need to do so … unless he was in love with the lady.’

‘Are you in love with someone?’ Helen blurted.

‘I’m not sure,’ he answered, seemingly unaffected by her impertinence in asking.

Helen swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. She was not so naïve as to suppose that a wealthy bachelor would not keep a mistress simply because he was in love with a débutante. But she felt a fool for not having anticipated that might indeed be the case. He obviously socialised with the best families. ‘I’m sorry to pry, but if your affections are engaged and you soon will take a wife, I’m not sure that I—’ Helen clamped together her lips for she had been about to blurt that she might not be able to bear it.

‘You’re not sure how philosophical you would still be about it all?’ Jason suggested mildly.

Helen nodded and found she could not look at him.

‘If I decide I am in love, Helen, I promise you’ll be the first to know. Likewise if I decide to marry.’

‘Thank you,’ Helen murmured.

‘As you have concluded I will tire of you, I take it you have a plan for what to do next?’

Inwardly Helen winced at his ironic tone. Outwardly she gave a single nod. When she could no long avoid looking at him she turned, chin up, to face him.

‘And?’

‘I will ask you for a settlement. I believe that is not unusual or avaricious in these cases,’ she said levelly.

‘As we are being very honest and practical, shall we discuss it now?’

The question was equable, almost gentle, but far back in his eyes was laughter and Helen felt her fingernails score her palms. He had the benefit of wealth and security and found her lack of those things amusing. She snapped her head up and gazed into the budding trees. ‘I should like the deeds to Westlea House and a sum that I might invest for income … say, one hundred pounds per annum for three years.’ She slid him a glance. ‘Is that fair?’

‘If you’re satisfied with that, I’m concerned that I’ve been vastly too generous in the past.’

‘It’s enough … all I need,’ Helen said quickly.

She suddenly felt anxious to be home—she craved respite from his latent mockery. ‘I really ought go now. Charlotte has been alone for some time and she is poorly.’

‘You were going to tell me your reasons for instigating all this,’ Jason reminded her. ‘But I dare say it will wait for another day. I’ll start to make the necessary arrangements, shall I?’

Helen vigorously nodded whilst frowning into the distance.

He took up the reins, but hesitated in sending leather undulating over the backs of the beautiful chestnut horses. He addressed her without turning his head. ‘Just tell me this … did you decide to offer yourself to protect your sister from me?’

Helen swiftly looked at his unflinching profile.

‘Tell me the truth. Do you still believe I have nefarious intentions towards Charlotte?’

He was still staring straight ahead and Helen put a light hand on his arm to make him turn to her. ‘I’m very sorry I ever was taken in by such a ridiculous tale. Certainly it has no bearing on my proposition.’ She glanced down at her lap, for his steely gaze was now upon her. ‘You know, of course, that George sowed that seed in my mind. I want to believe his motive was not all bad. I expect he hoped I would persuade Charlotte to quickly marry someone of influence and forget Philip.’ She tipped up her head and an involuntary little sigh escaped her. ‘George is right in one respect: until she is married Charlotte is vulnerable. She does need a husband to provide for her and protect her reputation. George might be her guardian, but he has no shame in letting it be known she cannot rely on his care.’

‘And neither can you.’

‘And neither can I …’ Helen echoed and turned to look over the lake as the phaeton left the park.

Jason watched Helen slide a swift peek over a shoulder at him before disappearing into the sanctuary of Westlea House. A rueful smile touched his mouth as he regarded the front door being rapidly closed. Then he set the phaeton in motion, but instead of heading towards Grosvenor Square he turned again towards Hyde Park. For the third time that afternoon he brought the vehicle to a stop in the same spot. It was fast approaching the fashionable hour for the beau monde to parade within the environs of the park. Although strollers and vehicles were more in evidence, Jason sat gazing out over the greensward oblivious to the company.

His brow furrowed with the intensity of his thoughts. Having decided just a short time ago that he would approach Helen Marlowe and offer her his protection, he was not sure why her timely proposition had unsettled him. Certainly he wanted her. Just a ghost of her scent and warmth remained on his clothes from when they had kissed, yet the pulse in his groin was unabated. The torment was keen and, with a frustrated mutter, he bowed his head towards hands that were clasped close to his knees.

He could have approached her some time ago, but had hesitated without giving proper thought to why he was delaying. Now he understood that he had never fully accepted the decision he had made regarding Helen’s role in his life. At the back of his mind had always been an idea he might ask her to marry him. Now he didn’t know whether he was regretful or thankful that he had kept those thoughts to himself.

Barely an hour ago she had made it perfectly clear that being his mistress was preferable to being his wife. Helen had no wish to remarry, for she was still in love with her dead husband. But she would sleep with him. Not only that, she would not interfere in his life. Nor would she make any demands on him other than he keep her until she had earned the deeds to her home and a sum to scrape by on. And just in case he wasn’t convinced that she was seriously prepared to humble herself in such a way, she had attempted to act the wanton.

And it had worked; despite her nervousness, despite him knowing she was simply behaving in a way she thought was expected, he had been enchanted by her artless seduction.

Jason sighed and abruptly tipped up his head to watch clouds travel over cerulean sky. He imagined his conscience was bothering him. or perhaps it was his pride. He didn’t believe himself egotistical, but he knew there were several young women of good family and fortune who would be elated to have him propose marriage. Yet an impecunious widow would rather have him as her lover than her husband. If he thought she desired him, it would be easier to bear; but he feared she would tolerate making love with him as she would any other duty to be discharged.

To retain pride and dignity and some control over her life, she had come to him rather than await his approach. Yet despite knowing it all he still wanted her, and inner demons taunted him with the knowledge that, in any case, he could seduce her into lust and after that … why care?