Lady Beresford's Lover by Ella Quinn (31)

Lady Grace Carpenter is ready to seize the day--or rather, the night--with the most compelling man she's ever known. Marriage would mean losing guardianship of her beloved siblings, and surely no sane gentleman will take on seven children not his own. But if she can have one anonymous tryst with Mattheus, Earl of Worthington, Grace will be content to live out the rest of her life as a spinster.

Matt had almost given up hope of finding a wife who could engage his mind as well as his body. And now this sensual, intelligent woman is offering herself to him. What could be more perfect? Except that after one wanton night, the mysterious Grace refuses to have anything to do with him. Amid the distractions of the Season he must convince her, one delicious encounter at a time, that no obstacle--or family--is too much for a man who's discovered his heart's desire…

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

Ella Quinn’s

THREE WEEKS TO WED

on sale April 2016 wherever print and e-books are sold!

Chapter One

The sky had darkened and wind rocked the carriage, causing at least one wheel to leave the road. Hail mixed with freezing rain battered the windows. Lady Grace Carpenter pounded on the roof of her coach, trying to make herself heard over the storm. “How close are we to the Crow and Hound?”

“Not far, my lady,” her coachman bellowed over the wind. “I’m think’n’ we should stop.”

“Yes, indeed. Make it so.” She huddled deeper into her warm sable cloak. When they’d started out this morning, the weather had been dry and sunny, giving no indication a storm of this magnitude would come on.

She was only an hour or so from her home, Stanwood Hall, but they wouldn’t make it. It was better to trust in the Crow and Hound’s innkeeper’s discretion than risk her servants and cattle to this weather.

A few minutes later, they turned off the road, and her coachman bellowed for an ostler. Moments later, her coach’s door was quickly opened and the steps let down. Her groom, Neep, hustled her from the carriage to the open entrance of the inn.

The innkeeper, Mr. Brown, was there to greet her. Saxon blond, with blue eyes and of middling height and age, he shut the heavy wooden door against the weather. “My lady,” he said in a surprised tone, “we didn’t expect to see you this evenin’.”

“For good reason.” Grace whipped off her damp cloak and shook it. “I didn’t expect to be here. I was visiting an elderly cousin, and the storm blew up on our way back.”

“It’s as they say, my lady,” he said, nodding, “no good deed goes unpunished.”

“Well,” she blew out an exasperated huff, “it certainly seems like that at times. Thank God, we were close to you. I have my coachman, groom, and two outriders”—Grace grimaced—“but not my maid.” She prayed no one would discover she was there without her lady’s maid, Bolton, who was sure to give Grace her I told you so look when she finally made it home. “I shall require the use of one of your girls. It should go without saying you have not seen me here.”

“Yes, my lady.” He nodded, tapping the side of his nose. “You were never here. Don’t expect to see anyone else in this weather. You and your servants will sleep warm and dry tonight.” He pointed to the door next to the stairs and within easy reach of the common room. “I’ll put you in this parlor for dinner.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. That will be perfect.”

Susan, one of Brown’s daughters, showed Grace to the large chamber at the back of the inn on the first floor. She handed the girl her cloak to dry, then shook out her skirts. “I’ll call for you when I am ready to retire.”

“Yes, my lady. Anything you need, just pull the bell.” Susan bobbed a curtsey and left.

Grace glanced around. Although she had stopped here any number of times on family outings, she’d never spent the night. The inn had been in the Brown family for several generations. The building was old, but it was clean and well maintained.

She took a book and Norwich shawl from her large muff before descending the stairs to the parlor. Although it was early, not much past two o’clock, Mr. Brown had closed the shutters, and a fire was lit, as well as sufficient candles to brighten the room.

An hour later, warm and dry, she was engrossed in Madelina, the latest romance from the Minerva Press. Over the storm, sounds of another carriage arriving could be heard. Grace lowered the book, wondering who the newcomer could be.

The inn door slammed opened. Moments later, Mr. Brown’s agitated tone and that of another man, a gentleman by his speech, reached her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Worthington? Could it really be him? She hadn’t heard his voice for four years, but she’d never forget it.

Opening the door slightly, she peeked out. It was him. The man she’d wanted to marry her whole first Season and had never seen again. His dark brown, almost black, hair was wet at the ends where his tall beaver hat had failed to keep it dry. If he turned, she knew she would see his startling lapis eyes and long lashes.

“Could you not just ask the traveler in the parlor if I might share it with him?” Worthington asked the landlord, his tone strained, but still polite. He was probably already cold and wet, and the common room would be chilly at best.

The kernel of an idea began to form. Swallowing her trepidation, Grace stepped boldly into the hall. “Mr. Brown, his lordship is welcome to dine with me.”

“If you’re sure, my . . .”

She flashed him a quelling glance. If he said “my lady,” there’d be too many questions from Worthington. Whatever happened, he could not know her identity.

“Ma’am.”

She tried not to show her relief. “Yes. You may serve us after his lordship has had time to change.” Grace dipped a slight curtsey to Worthington and returned to the parlor.

Closing the door, she leaned back against it. This was her opportunity, maybe her only one, and she was going to take it.

“What are you doing, my girl? Are you out of your mind?”her conscience berated her.

No one will know. Brown will deny I was here.

“Oh, do be quiet,” Grace muttered. “When will I have another chance? Answer me that. All I want is to spend some time with him. What is the harm in that?”

Water dripped off the greatcoat of Mattheus, Earl of Worthington, as it had dripped off his hat earlier. A puddle had to be forming at his feet. He was not particularly impressed with the small inn. Although he’d passed it every time he made the trip to Town, he’d never stopped here before. If it weren’t for the weather, he wouldn’t have done so now.

“I can add more wood to the fire in the common room, my lord,” the landlord said. “But me parlor’s already got a guest.”

He glanced over at the fairly large space. Even with the shutters closed, the windows rattled. Cold and drafty. “Would you please ask your guest if he will share the parlor for a short time?”

“Couldn’t do that, my lord.” The older man shook his head. “I could send the meal to your room, but I ain’t got an extra table. Once it warms up, you’ll be right comfortable in the common room.”

He sincerely doubted that would be the case.

“Mr. Brown . . .”

Matt turned at the sound of the low, well-bred, no-nonsense female voice. He suspected it would belong to an older lady, perhaps a governess, most definitely not the vision of loveliness standing before him. Before he could even thank her, she gave a curt nod and closed the door.

“I’ll show ye to yer room, my lord.” The landlord grumbled as he picked up Matt’s bag.

“Thank you. It will be nice to be dry again.” Halfway up the stairs, he stopped as a memory played hide-and-seek with him. He knew her, but from where? London. During the Season. He shook his head trying to knock the memory loose, but nothing more came to him.

“This way, my lord.”

“Coming.” It was her hair that stuck in his mind. It shone like a new guinea coin.

The landlord held a door at the end of the corridor open. “Thank you.”

“I’ll send one of my boys up with warm water.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Brown set about lighting the fire.

Matt didn’t know many ladies who would offer to share their parlor with a complete stranger. The feeling that they had met before grew stronger. Who the hell was she?

“There ye be, my lord.”

Once the door closed behind the landlord, Matt began shedding his damp clothing. The sooner he got back downstairs, the sooner he’d know who his mystery woman was.

* * *

Less than a half hour later, Matt made his way downstairs and knocked on the parlor door before entering. He bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to share your parlor and your meal. Permit me to introduce myself. Worthington, at your service.”

He was almost surprised when she smiled and rose instead of turning her pretty nose up at him. “How could I refuse to assist a fellow traveler and in such dreadful weather as we are having?”

Graceful.

That was the first word that sprang to mind as Matt watched her glide to the bell-pull. When he had entered the parlor, the table had already been set up for tea. She took a seat, motioning him to the chair opposite her. “Please. There is no need to stand on formality.”

She handed him a plate, and in a few moments a young girl brought in a pot covered in a brightly colored cloth, set it down, then left.

“Do you take sugar?” the lady asked, glancing from beneath her long gold-tipped lashes.

It was clear the lady, for she was certainly gently bred, had no intention of telling Matt her name. “I do, Miss—”

“Milk or cream?” she responded hastily.

“Two lumps of sugar and a splash of milk if you would.”

The corners of her lush lips tilted up slightly.

He made a point of looking around the room as if searching for something. “Are you traveling alone?”

A deep rose crept up into her face. Though, under the circumstances, that wasn’t surprising.

“Sometimes one cannot order the weather to suit one’s convenience.” Her voice was tight as if she did not approve of either his question or the weather.

Her long, slender fingers showed no indication of a wedding ring. A fleeting memory of seeing her before niggled at him once more. How could any red-blooded man forget that glorious hair, gold glinting with burnished copper in the candlelight? On the other hand, the hair he remembered. It was her name he’d forgot. Her brows, a little darker than her golden curls, arched perfectly over eyes that tilted slightly upward at the corners. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

He wished he could make out the exact color of her expressive eyes, but the light was too dim.

Blue. That was encouraging. Now if he could only remember the rest. Damn the devil. He had seen her before, but where and when, and why couldn’t he remember? His gaze was drawn to her mouth, deep rose and a little wider than what was considered fashionable. What would it be like to taste her, to feel her soft lips on his and where had that desire sprung from?

Grace’s heart was in her throat by the time Worthington joined her. In the short time he had been gone she’d changed her mind a dozen times at least about inviting him to join her.

Grace allowed her eyes to trail over his perfect form, adding to her still-clear memories of him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his jacket was cut to perfection. His cravat perfectly tied. He had always been so well dressed. She never thought she’d see him again, or if she did, he probably would be married with several children. Come to think of it, even though he wasn’t wearing a ring, he could still be married . . . Oh, he was speaking.

“Miss . . . ?”

When she did not give him her name, he looked at her curiously. Grace walked over to the bell-pull, giving a sigh of relief when a few moments later Mr. Brown’s daughter entered the room.

She’d have to do better than that if she wanted him to . . . well . . . She fought the blush rising in her cheeks. “Please take a seat. I shall enjoy the company.”

This was not going to be as easy as Grace had thought it would be.

Worthington took a sip and his almost-black brows drew together. “This is extraordinarily good tea for an inn.”

“It is my blend. I travel with it.” She only had it this time as a treat for her elderly cousin who professed to love Grace’s tea, but would never allow her to leave the canister.

Now what was she to say? With the exception of her vicar, it had been so long since she had spoken with any non-family-member male and those had not been pleasant discussions. “Have you family that will worry about you?”

“Only my sisters and stepmother and they do not know when I plan to return home.” He took another sip of tea. “I imagine your family will be anxious.”

They would be frightened to death. She should have been home long before now, but her cousin was lonely and had needed the company. “A bit.”

“Do you have far to travel?”

Grace studied him over the rim of her cup. She had thought there’d been a spark of recognition in his eyes, but it was clear he did not remember her. That was not surprising. It had been several years since they had seen each other. He had probably danced with thousands of ladies since her one dance with him. In any event, she did not want him to know who she was. It would only complicate her already overly complicated life.

“Within a day,” she finally answered. True, but misleading. She had to turn the course of this conversation to a safer subject. “What do you think about the progress of the peace treaty?”

A small smile formed on his well-molded lips. “That the process has gone on far too long and that the new French government is not as strong as it needs to be.”

Mr. Brown tapped on the door, then entered with another of his many daughters. “Come to clear the tea away, if you’re ready.”

Grace tore her gaze from Worthington’s mouth. Oh, my. If she’d thought he was mesmerizing before, it was nothing to what he was doing to her insides now. She had to pull herself together. “Yes, please. We shall dine at six.”

Mr. Brown bowed. “That’s perfect, my—”

She gave the man a sharp look.

“Ma’am.”

Enough was enough. Just being around Worthington was turning her mind into a bowl of jelly. The landlord and his daughter left, leaving the door slightly open. She met Worthington’s steady gaze. She would probably never see him again and might as well talk about what she wanted to. “I do not mind discussing politics, though you should know that I’m a Whig.”

Chapter Two

That was certainly throwing down the gauntlet. Matt had a feeling this was going to become an interesting conversation. If only he could either remember or discover who she was. It would be even better. “My party as well. On the left side.”

The lady’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Then we should have much to discuss . . .”

During the meal and afterward, their conversation ranged over politics, philosophy, and estate management. In fact, any topic that came into their heads, except the weather. Hours later they had not even had to search for subject matter to discuss. He had not had such an interesting conversation in months, maybe years, and never with a woman. She was as well or better informed than any man he had ever met. He’d never been so taken by a lady. Suddenly Matt wanted to know everything about her.

“Are you an adherent of Wollstonecraft?” she asked.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Completely. I find her views on the rights of women interesting in the extreme, and I am pleased to see that the numbers of Wollstonecraft and Bentham followers have grown in political circles.”

A far-off expression crossed the lady’s face. “I’ve not been in London much of late, though I do keep up a lively correspondence with my friends.”

Perhaps this was his opportunity. “Do your friends hold the same ideas as you do?”

“Most of them.” A note of caution entered her tone.

“We might know some of the same people.”

“Have you joined the group attempting to help the war veterans?”

Drat it all. That hadn’t worked. “I have.”

They discussed some of the proposals being batted around. She was certainly knowledgeable. He peered at the large armchair near the fireplace. A book with a marbled cloth cover lay on the seat. “Is that one of the Minerva romances you have there?”

“Yes, it is.” She lifted her chin a little. “I find them excessively diverting.”

Based on their conversation, no one could accuse her of muddling her mind with romances. She was as well informed as any bluestocking, but she didn’t have the acerbic tone of one. “My stepmother reads them. Although, she tries to hide them from my sisters.” Matt grinned. “I’m not sure she always succeeds.”

A smile played around her lips, and she tilted her head a little to the side. Much like an inquisitive bird. “And you, my lord?”

He wondered, not for the first time this evening, what it would be like to kiss those lips. To tug lightly with his teeth on her full lower lip. She was beautiful, intelligent, and he had to answer her question. Damn, now he wished he had read the books. “Not yet.”

“You might enjoy them, some gentlemen do.”

“On your recommendation, I shall most definitely read at least one.”

She colored prettily, as if pleased that she had made a potential convert.

Before he knew it, the clock struck half-six.

He came to his feet as she rose. “I must tidy up for dinner.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you here shortly.”

She left the room, and he poured a brandy from the decanter on the sideboard. Never in all his years had he been as drawn to a woman like he was to his mystery lady. They agreed on almost everything, and when they disagreed, she stated her opinions clearly and intelligently.

Yet, how the devil was he to discover her name and direction? The only idea he could come up with was to offer to escort her to her home to-morrow, provided the weather cleared. But what if she refused? He could follow her. He tossed off the brandy. Somehow, some way, Matt was determined to court her.

Grace shut the door of her chamber behind her and leaned against it. For years Matt Worthington had been nothing more than an infatuation, but now, he was rapidly becoming so much more. It had been years since she had allowed herself to feel angry at the hand fate had dealt her. Yet, now, now she could do something just for herself. She would not leave here, leave him without knowing what it would be like to know joy with a man.

“What if someone finds out? Everything you’ve worked for will be for naught?” Her conscience popped up, just when Grace had thought it had given up.

Even with her family around, there were still times when she was so lonely she thought she’d die of it. Not being able to marry was the one thing she had never got over. “Am I to have no joy of my own? I just want one night. One night to last me the rest of my life, that’s all I’m asking.”

“So be it.” Her hands trembled and her stomach lurched. If only she wasn’t so ignorant.

“So much for your grand plans,” her conscience sneered.“You don’t have any idea how to go about this.”

“I am sure he’ll help. How hard can it be, after all?”

“He won’t. Other than that one dance, when Lady Bellamny made him ask me, I am sure he never took a second look at me. I was just one of many girls who came out that year.” He certainly did not remember her now.

“Would you cease! It must be fate. After all, what were the odds that we would both be here at the very same time with no one else in the inn?”

Wishing she had something nicer to wear, Grace gave up arguing with herself and washed her hands. When she had returned to the parlor, she called for wine. By the time Worthington arrived, she’d calmed her jangled nerves, and her conscience had decided to leave her to go to perdition in her own way.

He had changed his linen, but not his suit. “I apologize for dining in boots.”

“I do not mind at all.” She handed him a glass of claret. “As you see, I have no other clothes with me. This was only supposed to be a day trip.”

“I expected to be home as well and sent my valet ahead with the rest of my kit.” He gave a rueful grin. “A lesson to me to keep a bag with me.” He took a sip. “This claret is excellent.”

“Yes, Mr. Brown keeps a well-stocked cellar.”

She had wanted to confide in Worthington. Tell him that her father used to bring them all here because of the quality of the wine. Confide the difficulties she was experiencing now. Fortunately, before she revealed too much, the door opened and Mr. Brown entered followed by one of his sons, both carrying covered trays.

The savory aroma made Matt’s stomach rumble.

“My misses thought you might like a nice cream of mushroom soup to begin. Then we have a haunch of venison, with Frenched beans . . .” By the time the man finished the dishes covered the table and sideboard. “And here is a trifle for desert.”

Matt offered the lady selections from the offerings before filling his plate. They were silent for a few minutes as they ate. He, because he was ravenous. She simply appeared a bit shy. That was no wonder. She most likely never dined alone with a man before.

“I must tell you that at first I was not impressed by this inn, but the food and wine make up for it being a bit shabby.”

“I have always found the place to be cozy.”

He gazed at her, mesmerized by the dainty way she licked the cream from the trifle from her spoon. “I think I agree.”

He asked her what she thought of the experimental farm in Norfolk and was surprised to find she knew as much as he did. The hours flew by as they had earlier. Soon the clock chimed ten, and she rose.

Matt stood as well, expecting her to make a hasty retreat. Yet rather than curtseying and heading for the door, she stood before him searching his face, waiting. That was all the invitation he needed.

Tentatively, he reached out and with the back of his hand slowly caressed her cheek. He had never wanted a lady as much as he did her. What would she do if he kissed her? Suddenly, where she was from or who she was didn’t matter any longer. She was his. He knew it in his bones. Fate had created a storm and placed her here for him to find and claim.

She took a small step toward him as with one finger he traced her jaw. She closed the distance between them again.

Worthington had proven to be everything Grace thought he would be, and now . . . now even if she wished to resist him, she could not. She shoved down her rising anxiety. Her plan was coming to fruition, and now was not the time to be frightened. After all, what good would her virginity do her in her spinsterhood?

His eyes mesmerized her, and she wanted him. To feel his mouth on hers, his arms around her. How much else there was, she wasn’t sure, but she wanted him to show her. Then he wrapped one arm around her waist, drawing her the few inches to him. He placed his hand on her cheek and brushed his slightly callused thumb over her lips. This was going just as she’d wanted it to. It would be the most perfect night of her life.

“You are exquisite.” His voice was low and sultry.

A pleasurable shiver ran down her spine. She’d never thought to hear a man say that to her. She or fate had chosen well.

He bent his head and moved his lips softly against hers.

She rested one hand lightly on his shoulders. He took the other, encouraging her to wrap her arms around his neck. When he trailed his tongue over the seam of her mouth, she did not know what to do so she puckered them a little. He smiled against her lips. Had she done something wrong? She could not allow him to stop.

As bold as the lady had been when she had invited Matt to join her in the parlor and in their conversation, he had expected her to be experienced. She was not, and, for no reason he could understand, he wanted to crow. It was as if she had been waiting just for him.

Matt lifted his head and gazed down at her. “You’ve never been kissed before?”

A blush infused her cheeks. “Is it—is it that obvious?”

“No.” Yes, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

She lowered her long, thick lashes, and her unexpected shyness captivated him. “You are perfect.”

Once again she raised her face to him. He leaned forward, breathing in her light, spicy scent. So different from the flowery perfumes other women used. Cupping both her cheeks with his hands, he kissed her again, nibbling her lush bottom lip, teaching her, urging her to open her mouth to him.

Her tentativeness gave way, and she held on to him tightly, returning his kisses with more vigor. As he stroked her back, he itched to untie the laces his fingers traveled over, and he paused for a moment. Too much too soon. This lady was the most remarkable woman he had ever known, and he needed to ensure he did not scare her away.

She sighed, sinking boneless against him.

Two of his good friends had recently married, and it was time he did so as well. He hadn’t believed his friend Marcus all those years ago when he’d claimed to have fallen in love with Phoebe at first sight. Matt did now.

He had no brothers, and it was past time he wed. The idea to look seriously for a wife had been pestering him more and more over the past few months. Matt wanted to laugh. It never occurred to him that he would meet his future wife when they were stranded together in a small inn. He held her closer. Whoever she was, she was his. If only she would tell him her name. He considered ignoring all the manners he had learned and asking her for it. But he was afraid she’d flee. What did it matter, though, when he would spend the rest of his life getting to know her.

He supposed he’d have to wait until tomorrow to propose or to ask whom he should go to for permission to address her. Yet her countenance, conversation, and the mature curves of her body told him she was not a young lady. So much the better if she could answer for herself.

A knock sounded on the door. He broke the kiss and set her away from him. “Yes?”

Brown opened the door and poked his head in. “My lord, my—um, I mean ma’am. Your chambers are ready. I had one of my girls run a heating pan between the sheets and put hot bricks in them.”

When Matt had released her, his lady had turned from the door to face the fireplace, leaving him to deal with the innkeeper. “Thank you, Brown.”

“Ring if you need anything, and someone will answer straightaway.”

“Thank you, again.” Matt closed the door.

In two steps he was with her again. He placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. “I’ll escort you to your room.”

She nodded. Even in the candlelight, he could see the desire lurking in her eyes. He wished he could take her to his chamber, but there was time enough for that after they were betrothed.

Leaving her at her bedroom door, he went to the chamber he’d been given at the opposite end of the hall.

Matt was pleased to find a decanter of brandy on the bedside table. He stripped off his clothes and donned a serviceable dark green wool dressing gown the landlord had left for him. He stood staring into the fire, twirling the glass and trying to decide what he would say when he proposed. Finding out her name might be a good idea as well.

* * *

Grace could not believe he had kissed her like that and then left her at her chamber door. Good Lord, she had practically thrown herself at him.

“You see, he didn’t want you,” her conscience mocked.

“He did, I—I could tell by his—by his kiss.”

Why did Worthington have to be such a gentleman? It was not the most helpful thing he could have done at the moment. He could have made it easier for her. After what he had said and the way he had kissed her, how could he have just left her here? Obviously if she was going to have her night, she would have to do something. There was nothing for it. She would have to go to him.

She called the maid and undressed. It had taken another glass of wine and several minutes to gather her courage. Then she threw the blanket around her shoulders and stepped out into the corridor to find him.

Fortunately, a light shone under the door at the other end of the corridor. It must be him. Except for her servants, sleeping on the floor above and in the stable, she and Worthington were the only two guests in the inn.

The old, worn floorboards were cold under her feet as she walked the short distance to his chamber. Taking a breath, Grace fought down the fear threatening to overtake her. Surely he would not turn her away. She knocked on the door and entered.

The pleased expression on his face told her she had not been mistaken. He did want her. Every bit as much as she had prayed he would.

Chapter Three

A cold draft heralded Matt’s door opening. He turned and his heart swelled with joy, as he gave thanks to the deity.

The pristine white of his lady’s chemise peeked out from beneath the wool blanket she had wrapped around her body. Her long hair hung loose, curling over her shoulders to her waist. There was a small, timorous smile on her lips. Even though she was clearly nervous, she had come to him.

He thought briefly about what his friends had gone through to wed and smiled. This had to be the easiest courtship in history. All he’d had to do was take refuge from a storm.

She blushed. “May I—may I come in?”

Three long steps brought him to her. “Yes.” Into my life, my home, my heart. Part of him couldn’t believe she was actually here. “Yes, you may come in.”

As he picked her up, the blanket fell to the floor. Matt kissed her and stared into her eyes before he walked to the large bed and gently lowered her feet to the floor. His fingers hovered over the ribbons of her chemise, tingling in anticipation. “May I?”

His lady glanced up at him. “Yes.”

He pulled the bows free, and the finely woven muslin fell to her hips. Matt lost his breath. Her hair screened all but the light pink tips of her generous ivory breasts. They called to him, begging to be tasted and worshipped. Was there ever a more perfect woman? He captured her lips with his, as he pushed the garment down to her waist. He stepped back, her hips swelled gently out and a triangle of gold covered her mons.

Drawing the sheets aside, he lifted her, placing her in the middle of the bed. He removed his dressing gown and crawled in next to her. He’d make this night, her first time making love with him, perfect for his lady.

Matt hesitated. Perhaps he should propose now before they made love. No, best to do it right tomorrow. She must know what he intended, otherwise she would never have come to him.

His lady lay still watching him, her eyes wide and dark as he traced her body with his palms. He had to touch all of her, to make sure she was truly there. With my body I thee worship.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled a little and trembled.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be gentle.” He stretched out next to her, encouraging her to touch him as well before pressing soft kisses on her neck down to the perfect mounds of her breasts. Touching her nipples as they furled into tight buds for him, Matt took one into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and sucking. She quivered and pressed into him. Sighing as he kissed his way down to the light curls between her legs. Triumphant, he found her already hot and wet for him.

A quiet moan escaped her lips, but she didn’t tense.

When his tongue made a long, slow stroke across her center she cried out and arched off the bed. His body shook with desire as he drank in her delicate flavor. He’d never received so much satisfaction in pleasuring a woman. Perhaps it was because this one would be the only lady he’d pleasure for the rest of his life.

Grace took in his muscular chest with its dusting of hair. It was even more impressive without clothes. She fought her embarrassment when he removed her chemise, but there was no room for maidenly modesty. If she were to have only one night of passion she wanted it all, even if she didn’t know what that entailed.

Grace would have to trust him to lead her.

Then he called her exquisite, and her heart melted.

He chuckled and stared down at her. “Touch me if you wish.”

She reached out, laying her hand on his chest, then couldn’t resist playing with the curling, dark hair covering it. And though the hair was soft, his chest was hard, much harder than hers. She’d occasionally seen men in the fields without shirts, but none of them looked like Worthington.

He kissed her tenderly as he stroked her, everywhere. His hands, not soft like hers, but rougher, caused her skin to warm to his caresses. She didn’t know how good another person’s touch could be. A man’s touch. Her breathing hitched as Worthington placed soft kisses where his hands had been.

“My lady,” he whispered. “My love.”

My love? Tears tried to fill her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to allow them. If only that was true, but even if she were to entertain the notion of staying with him, he would not want to take on her responsibilities. She wouldn’t think about that tonight. It was probably just something men said when they were with a woman. And what did it matter, this was what she wanted.

Allowing him to retake her senses, Grace moaned as tension ebbed and flowed and he laid claim to her. Need flowered deep inside. Desire flooded her, overwhelming her senses. Her breasts were heavy, and her nipples were so hard they ached. Worthington touched them, circling lightly with his thumbs. When he lifted his head, Grace tried to stop him from breaking their kiss. Then he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked. The sensation was like nothing she’d experienced before. She’d gone to heaven. He ministered to the other breast then placed featherlight kisses down her body to the sensitive spot between her legs. When he licked her lightly, she cried out, begging for more.

Worthington held her in place when her hips thrust up against him. Her body seemed to have more of an idea what to do than she did.

“Not yet, my sweet. You’ll have your chance.” His voice was deep, intoxicating.

Grace thrashed her head. Her body tightened with tension until she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore then suddenly, wave upon wave of delight flooded her. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it.

He made a groaning sound and, with fluid grace, stretched out beside her again, claiming her lips. He tasted different this time. There was an added layer of musk to his arousing tang.

Worthington reached for a glass and took a sip, and offered it to her. “It’s brandy.”

“Thank you.”

He raised her in his arms, and she took a sip, it burned. Fool’s courage.

Worthington gazed down at her. The place between her legs throbbed. “Are you sure you want to go further, my love?”

How could she not? Some part of her was still empty, and she only had tonight to last for the rest of her life. “Yes, I am positive.”

His deep voice caressed her. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Stop? Never. Not now that she’d gone so far. She nodded. “I will.”

Hard lips teased hers and his tongue grazed her teeth. Moaning, she met his caresses with her own. His hand stroked the apex of her thighs, placing one finger inside her. The fire burned deep in her core and he held her to the kiss as she cried out. Nothing had ever felt so good or so right.

Worthington chuckled lightly, as if he was enjoying this as much as she. Grace was wet where he touched her and wondered why. He shifted his body over hers, slowly entering, filling her. Then he thrust, and a sharp pain spiked through her, and he stopped. Worthington’s lips moved on hers and ravished her mouth, sending her into a whirling inferno that ripped away her wits.

The heat was so great Grace could only try to respond to him, to appease Worthington’s need as well as her own. He kneaded her breasts, and she cried out through the kiss, wanting more.

When his lips left hers, he was fully inside her and gently thrusting.

“How do you feel, are you all right?” he murmured.

“Yes, I feel . . .” Grace couldn’t find the words. The pain had receded and he, his body possessed her fully and she’d never known such joy.

“Well loved, I hope. You’ll feel even more so. I promise. Wrap your legs around me.”

She did as he asked, and he took her even more fully. Flames danced and she sizzled. Grace was in the storm raging outside, but somehow hot, waiting for an explosion. Suddenly sparks shot through her.

I’ll pleasure you for the rest of your life, she thought she’d heard him say.

Matt swallowed her scream with a kiss. Her legs squeezed him like a vice, and her sheath tightened around him as he held on, with no hope of withdrawing. Thrusting deeper still, he spilled his seed. His lady had clung to him and was now slowly relaxing. He pressed soft kisses in her hair. This wonderful woman was his.

Before they’d climbed the stairs he’d decided to marry her because he needed a wife and she was everything he’d been looking for. Now he knew she was necessary to his future well-being. He needed to be with her for the rest of his life. They’d wed as soon as he could arrange it and nothing would separate them.

Matt arranged her next to him in the place that would be hers for the rest of their lives “Sleep, my love.”

Tears choked her. Grace wanted to say something to Worthington and couldn’t. He’d done everything perfectly. Better than she could have ever imagined. She was such a fool to have thought she could give herself to him with no consequences. Still, she didn’t know she’d fall in love. What was worse, he called her his love as if he meant it. The pain in her chest grew as her heart ripped in pieces. Even if he did love her, nothing could come of it; she’d given her oath and could not marry.

Hours later, a beam of white light streamed through the window waking Grace. The air was still. Bright stars twinkled in the antelucan sky. The storm had passed, and she was tucked into Worthington’s side, warm and protected. She wanted to stay here for the rest of her life. Yet, she had to leave. Slipping out of the bed was harder than she’d thought it would be. He was so much larger than she, and she had to climb up out of the mattress’s indentation. When he reached for her, she thought he’d woken. Stilling, she waited until he snored softly again.

Quickly donning her chemise, she grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her. She glanced at the bed, memorizing Worthington’s strong features, wishing she could risk kissing or touching him one last time.

Grace moved as silently as she could back to her room. She judged the time to be about four in the morning. Washing, she dressed as best as she could before ringing for the maid.

A soft knock fell on the door and Susan entered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Yes, my lady.”

Grace cast the girl an apologetic look and wished she had worn a gown with buttons in the front. “Please just tie my laces, and you may go back to your bed. I am sorry to disturb you so early, but I must be on my way. Please tell your father we’ll be leaving.”

A few minutes later, Grace reached the ground floor. Mr. Brown handed her a cup of tea. “My lady, we’d be happy if you’d break your fast with us.”

Grace took the cup and smiled, but shook her head. “Thank you, but I must go home. My family will be worried.”

“Wait a bit, and I’ll get you some bread and cheese. You can eat it on the way.”

Considering the amount of food she’d consumed at dinner, she was amazingly hungry. “Thank you.”

Shortly thereafter, Grace walked through the door and out into the frozen landscape to her coach. Heavy frost covered the ground and snow decorated the inn’s windowsills. Thankfully, the moon was bright enough to guide them.

Her groom helped her into her carriage and a few moments later they were on their way. “We’ll be at the Hall well before daylight, my lady.”

Pulling her cloak around her, Grace turned to Neep. “Thank you. Did any of you eat?”

“Some bread and ham. Good enough ’til we get back.”

Grace nodded and snuggled back against the soft, but cold, squabs, grateful for her cloak and the warm bricks under her feet.

As the coach lurched forward, she gazed out to the window of the inn’s first-floor bedchamber where Worthington slept. The only man she’d ever wanted to love her did, and it was too late. Wishing he still held her in his strong arms, she tried to hold back her tears, yet they slid silently down her cheeks as she cried for what might have been and for what could never be.

A little more than an hour later, they turned into the drive of Stanwood Hall. She wiped away all traces of her sorrow and assumed a bright smile that would hide her misery.

Entering the large, airy Georgian hall, Grace was greeted by her concerned butler, Royston, who took her cloak. A moment later, an explosion of noise as six children, ranging in age from eighteen to five, ran to her. Pandemonium reigned as they poured their concern and fear into her ears.

She should have known they’d panic when she was delayed. “What are you all doing up so early? Here, I haven’t had my breakfast yet. Let me eat and, if you will all quiet down, I can tell you what occurred to delay me.”

They escorted her to the breakfast room.

Eighteen-year-old Charlotte handed her a cup of tea while Walter, age fourteen, piled food on a plate and brought it to her. Alice and Eleanor, twins, age twelve, and Philip, eight, sat around the table staring at her, waiting. Mary, the youngest at five years of age, climbed into Grace’s lap. The only one missing was Charlie, now the Earl of Stanwood, who was at Eton.

“I thought you had gone away like Mama did,” Mary said, her bottom lip trembling.

Grace hugged her sister tightly. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I’m here now.”

After taking a bite of toast and a sip of tea, Grace steeled herself to remain calm as she answered their questions. No one could know anything about Worthington or suspect there was anything wrong. “I was on my way home from Cousin Anne’s when a storm hit. Fortunately, I was close to an inn and able to take refuge. Nothing more exciting than that occurred. Quite a dull trip all in all.” Nothing at all except meeting Worthington and spending the most wonderful night of her life in his arms. “Now, we have three weeks before we leave for London. I expect all of you to behave so that we may get off in good time. Royston”—she turned to her butler—“do I have anything in the post?”

“Yes, my lady. I put it in the study.”

Grace glanced around the table. “Charlotte, I shall meet you there in an hour. If you’ve finished eating, please practice either your singing or the piano until I send for you. The rest of you have lessons.”

They left the table as one and the room became suddenly quiet. Only her cousin Jane, who’d acted as Grace’s companion for the last four years, remained.

Jane gave Grace a concerned frown. “Grace, you look tired. Didn’t you sleep well?”

“Well enough, considering the storm. I suspect when I’ve bathed and re-dressed I’ll look more the thing.”

Her cousin smiled softly. “Of course. That must be it. Have you given any consideration to reentering society yourself ? It would be a shame for you to miss all the fun.”

Grace pressed her lips together. She’d not been in London for the Season since her mother died in childbirth along with the baby. “What would be the point? I am not free to marry until Charlie is one and twenty and able to take over the guardianship of the children. That is still five years away. Even then, he will require me to raise them.” She shook her head. “When Mary is ready to come out, if some gentleman is looking for an ape-leader then, I’ll consider it. Until that time, I shall go to teas and entertainments of that sort, but not to balls. You and Aunt Herndon can be gadabouts. She is sponsoring Charlotte and must attend in any event.”

Jane scoffed. “Surely, you will go to Lady Thornhill’s drawing rooms.”

Lady Thornhill had the most interesting gatherings in the ton,drawing from artists, writers, and philosophers for her guests. Grace picked up the pot and poured more tea. “Yes, I may do that and perhaps some of the political parties.”

Her cousin rose. “I shall leave you now. I know you have much to do.”

Jane was as kind as she was undemanding. In her late thirties, her blond hair was beginning to show some silver. She’d lost her love at sea and had never been tempted to marry another. Perhaps she would find someone this Season, though that would leave Grace seeking another companion.

A deep bark came from the hall, and a one-year-old Great Dane, towing a footman, bounded into the breakfast room. Finding her mistress, the dog went to Grace and placed its huge head on her arm.

“Good morning, Daisy, did you miss me?” She glanced up at the footman. “Do I want to know how walking lessons are going?”

He grimaced. “We was doing better, my lady, until she heard you.”

Grace patted the dog, stroking her soft ears. “You’ll have to be left behind if you cannot learn to walk on a lead.”

Daisy gave her a sidelong glance and directed her attention to the beef on Grace’s plate.

Grace grinned. She was probably too lenient with the dog. “No. I will not have you eating from the table.”

Daisy looked back up at her with large, hopeful eyes.

“You are incorrigible.” Grace ate the last of her egg then gave Daisy the small piece of meat. “Go find something to do that won’t get you into trouble. I must change.”

Wagging her tail, Daisy followed her mistress to her room, dragging the footman with her. Grace sighed in resignation. “George, you may leave her with me for a while.”

He bowed. “Thank you, my lady. We’ll try the walking again later.”

She stared down at Daisy and wrinkled her brow. “Very well, you may come with me, but you must behave.”

By the time she’d repeated the story of her absence to her maid, Bolton, the tub was ready.

Sinking into the warm water, Grace found twinges in muscles she didn’t know she’d had until making love with Worthington. Her throat tightened, but she stopped herself from weeping again. She’d gotten what she wanted and more, much more than she expected. She would just have to remember him with happiness and affection. That is the only way she could think of him now.

Worthington was perfect in every way. If she could marry, he would be the one. But if she wed, she would lose the guardianship of the children she’d fought so hard for and they’d be separated from one another. She clinched her teeth remembering her aunts’ and uncles’ scorn in thinking she could raise the children. The court battles that had cost so much in money and emotional pain. Yet, she had made a promise to her mother that she would keep the children together. Even if she had not, she would have fought to keep her family whole. They had already lost so much. They would not have survived being separated from one another. What joy could she have found if she’d left them? Thank God her grandfather had finally taken her side and ended the contretemps in her favor.

By the time Grace entered her study, Daisy was lounging in front of the fire, and Charlotte sat at the other end of the partner’s desk working on accounts. “I thought you were to practice your music?”

Charlotte pressed her lips together. “I wanted to see how much I could get done without your help. After all, once I marry, I’ll have to do it on my own.”

“Humph. Well I suppose you have a point. Do you have selections ready that you can play and sing without your music?”

She started to roll her eyes. Grace glared and Charlotte stopped. “Sorry. Yes, I have a few ready, and Dotty and I have been working on a duet we can play together.”

Grace took her seat and opened the letter on top. For several minutes the only sound was the scratches of Charlotte’s pen. Once Grace had gotten through all the business correspondence, she started on her personal letters. “Charlotte, listen to this. My friend Phoebe, Lady Evesham, is increasing. She’ll be in Town but not going about much. She has given us a letter of introduction to Madame Lisette, whom, I will have you know, is the most exclusive modiste in Town. If we arrive a couple of weeks before the Season, Phoebe has arranged for Madame to design all your gowns.” Grace put down the letter and glanced at her sister. “Isn’t that good news?”

Charlotte’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Yes, indeed. Dotty told me Miss Smithton wanted to go to her last year and could not get in.”

Grace resisted a grin. Dotty, Charlotte’s best friend, was coming out this Season as well. Miss Smithton, a year older than Charlotte and Dotty, had considered herself the reigning neighborhood beauty until Charlotte and Dotty began going to the local assemblies and some private parties. Miss Smithton was indeed beautiful and knew it, which put off many of the young men. Charlotte’s fair hair contrasting with Dotty’s black tresses made a stunning pair, which caused many young men to gather around them. Grace was glad they would come out together.

Her sister picked up a heavy glass paperweight, lifting it up and down for a few moments. “Grace, do you think Dotty may come with us to Madame Lisette’s?”

“My dear, I am sure Lady Sterne will have sorted Dotty’s wardrobe.” She saw no reason to remind Charlotte that the Sternes were not quite so plump in the pocket as the Carpenters. “You may go shopping with her at Pantheon’s Bazaar.” Grace took out her calendar. “We must bring our trip forward by a week.”

Charlotte glanced at her pensively. “Grace, wouldn’t it be nice if you and I left early, and the children could come as planned?”

Sitting back, Grace toyed with the feather end of the quill, passing it over her cheek and lips until it reminded her of Worthington’s kisses. She put it down. “I’d love to be able to give you that treat. Let me talk to Jane and the others. If they think they can handle the rest of the children without me, we’ll do it.”

Jumping up in a very unladylike fashion, Charlotte rushed to Grace, hugging and kissing her. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I love them all, but sometimes . . .”

Grace returned her sister’s embrace, pushing a stray curl behind Charlotte’s ear. “I understand, my dear. No one could think badly of you for wanting some time without all of them hanging on one and listening at the doors.”

Charlotte stepped back and frowned slightly. “Do you ever wish it?”

Smiling, Grace took her hand. “Of course I do. But I wouldn’t give any of you up. Not for anything.” Not even for Lord Worthington. “And we are very fortunate. Unlike many, we have the funds to order life as we will. All of you girls have good dowries, and the boys have easy competences. Indeed, I could not wish for more.”

“We’re lucky we have you.” Charlotte grinned and squeezed Grace’s hand. “I’ve finished the accounts and they all balance. May I ride to Dotty’s house?”

There’d be no gallops for her sister in London. Grace glanced at her and nodded. “Yes, as long as you dress warmly and take your groom.”

Charlotte kissed Grace again and skipped, before remembering to walk out of the room at a sedate pace.

She put her head in her hands, which was how Jane found her. “Grace, my dear, are you going to tell me what is bothering you? You’ve been in a brown study all day.”

She glanced up. “It is nothing, really. There’s just so much to do, and now I must take Charlotte to London a week early for her wardrobe. Do you think, between you, Nurse, Miss Tallerton, and Mr. Winters, you could manage the rest of the children yourselves for that week?”

“I do not see why we cannot.” Jane’s brow wrinkled. “The boys mind Mr. Winters well and the girls love Miss Tallerton. Where will you stay? You’ll not want to be alone at Stanwood House with Charlotte.”

Grace shook her head. “No, that would not be at all proper. I shall write Aunt Herndon and ask if we may visit with her for the week. It will be a good way for Charlotte and her to get to know each other better. My sister is a good girl, though one could hardly call her biddable.”

Jane eyes sparkled with laughter. “None of the girls could be called biddable, my dear, including you.”

“No, I think it’s in the blood.” Grace grinned and picked up another letter. “Oh look, it’s from Charlie.” She read his hastily scratched missive. “He’s doing well and thinks I shall be happy with his marks this term. He asks if he may come to London during the holiday. Well of all the chuckleheads. Where else should he go?”

Her cousin gave a laugh, shook her head, then left Grace alone with her correspondence. Yet other than reading a few letters from friends with whom she maintained a large correspondence, she accomplished nothing else. She turned in her chair and gazed out of the window at the rosebushes. Many of them were still covered in frost and sparkled under the midday sun.

She shouldn’t have done it. She’d thought if only she could experience it once, she’d be satisfied to live out her life as a spinster. Now she was anything but content. Every time she thought of him, her body tingled and she imagined his hands stroking and teasing her. And it was not only the lovemaking. And it wasn’t simply the way he made her body feel, she’d so enjoyed talking with him throughout the day and evening. They agreed on almost everything. When they had differed, he’d listened to her point of view respectfully and even agreed she had good reason to think as she did. She would miss that more than his touch.

She had to stop thinking about him. Going to Town early would be a good change. She could settle Charlotte’s wardrobe and forget Worthington.

Grace reached out for a piece of elegant pressed paper and dipped her pen in the standish.

Yet even as she wrote her aunt with plans for their visit, the emptiness inside her wouldn’t leave.