A Lady's Guide to Improper Behavior by Suzanne Enoch (20)

You’re off to see Amelia again?”

Theresa stopped halfway out the front door of Weller House. “Yes, Grandmama. I may stay for dinner, but I’ll send word to let you know.” She headed out again, Sally on her heels.

“What about the Brewster recital?”

“I’ve sent my regrets.”

“Just a moment, Tess.” Grandmama Agnes hurried down the staircase. “For ten days now you’ve been running out the door to James House. Do you think I haven’t noticed that you’ve canceled every afternoon engagement this week? Not to mention that a dozen men have come calling without you even sending your regrets for not being home to receive them.”

“I miss my cousin,” Theresa offered.

“And what about Colonel James? He has nothing to do with this, I suppose?”

Theresa blushed. “You know a lady never calls on a gentleman. It’s not at all proper.”

Her grandmother grinned. “But a lady does call on her cousin at a home where a very handsome bachelor also happens to reside.” With a cackle, Agnes pulled a bonnet from the rack by the front door. “I miss Amelia, myself. Ramsey, I’ll be at James House if anything should arise. I may stay for dinner, but I’ll send word.”

With a smile, the butler sketched a bow. “I’ll inform Lord Weller when he returns from Parliament.”

“Yes. He may wish to join us. Good thinking, Ramsey.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Theresa stifled a frown as she found herself following her grandmother out to the carriage. She’d been hoping to finally manage some time alone again with Tolly. With Sally, Lackaby, and Lord Gardner all hovering about, plus Violet attempting to wheedle out of her brother what he was scribbling all the time and Amelia pestering both her and Lord Gardner for the same information, Tolly had barely managed to kiss her a half dozen times in ten blasted days.

Now today she would likely have to spend all day sitting about and chatting with Leelee and her grandmother. Damnation. She already felt half ready to combust. Every night she dreamed of being in his embrace, and every morning she couldn’t wait to see him.

“Spending the day with my two dearest girls,” Grandmama Agnes said with a smile, patting Theresa on the knee. “Oh! Perhaps we should go have luncheon with Lady Primstead. She mentioned that her Lady Duchess is going to have kittens. That cat has the most pretentious name, but she does have very pretty eyes.”

“Yes,” Theresa agreed, attempting to keep the smile on her face, “that sounds delightful. I do think I might stay behind. Colonel James has been reluctant to…exercise his leg, but I seem to be able to goad him into taking a walk.”

“You goad him into it, or he likes to spend time in your company?”

Theresa let out a sigh. “It’s complicated.”

Agnes snorted. “Complicated is good. And your old grandmama isn’t quite as daft as you think. Is he as fond of you as you are of him?”

“Am I that obvious?” Theresa asked, a small measure of relief running through her.

“I’m very crafty.” Agnes’s smile softened. “If not for that blasted Hadderly getting everyone to think that Colonel James lied about the attack that killed his men, I would be hoping to hear about a match. Under these circumstances, however, I’m very proud that you have remained his friend.”

Oh, she was very much more than his friend. “Thank you for saying that, Grandmama.”

“You’re welcome. And I won’t force you to accompany Amelia and me to luncheon.”

“Thank you again.”

Agnes patted her on the knee again. “I hate to say this, because I haven’t seen you so happy in a very long time, but be a little cautious, my love. I would hate for you to finally give your heart to someone only to discover that you can’t tolerate his circumstances.”

With a nod, Theresa hugged her grandmother’s arm. “I’m very lucky to have you, Grandmama.”

“Yes, you are. And don’t you forget it.”

Considering that she hadn’t bothered to discover whether Amelia would even be home or not, Theresa was very pleased to find her cousin in the small James House garden, cutting flowers. “Leelee!” she exclaimed, pushing back her abrupt guilt that she’d spent nearly every minute of the past ten days at her cousin’s home and had barely exchanged a dozen words with her.

“Tess! And Grandmama!”

“We’re here to take you to luncheon,” Agnes announced, hugging her granddaughter. “Or I am.”

Leelee looked over at Theresa. “Ah. He’s upstairs, in the east sitting room. Again.”

“Thank you,” Theresa said, with a grin she couldn’t help.

“If you know what he’s doing up there, I wish you would tell me. I don’t like being barred from entering rooms in my own house. Particularly when my cousin goes wherever she wishes.”

“I—” Theresa closed her mouth again. Instead of attempting to explain something she couldn’t, she flung her arms around Amelia in a tight hug. “It’s all to help,” she whispered in her cousin’s ear. “I’d tell you if I could.”

“That’s what Stephen keeps saying.” Amelia grimaced. “Oh, go on. What are daisies compared with Colonel Tolly James?”

She didn’t wait for another invitation. Leaving Sally behind in the garden, she hurried up the back stairs, past Tolly’s bedchamber, and up to the closed door marking the east sitting room. She knocked. “Tolly? It’s me.”

Silence.

Then, a heartbeat later, she heard chair legs scraping against the wooden floor, and the distinctive thump of a cane. The key on the inside of the door turned, and the handle lifted. The door cracked open, and a hand, fingertips stained black with ink, reached out to circle her wrist. Then he pulled her inside and closed the door behind them.

“Hello,” he said, pushing her back against the closed door and kissing her.

She flung her arms around his shoulders, kissing him back. After better than ten days of being so close and barely able to touch, he felt so warm and solid and delicious that she wouldn’t have cared if Lackaby was in the room next to them.

A heartbeat later she turned her face away a little. “Lackaby’s not in here, is he?”

“I banished him for incessant pacing.” Tolly rested his forehead against hers. “I’m very glad you didn’t listen to me when I said you should stay away.” Slowly he kissed her again, teasing at her mouth until her heart pounded and she could barely breathe.

“I’m…I’m not here to distract you, you know,” she managed, groaning as his hands lowered to her hips, pulling her up against him. She could feel his arousal between them, and her knees went weak.

“You’re not distracting me,” he returned, shifting his attention to her bare throat and jaw. “You’re saving me from pitching myself out the window.”

“Tolly!” She shoved his shoulders. He retreated all of an inch, but at least he stopped kissing her long enough that she could think. “There is to be no pitching out of windows.”

“It was just an expression.” He ran a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. “I am not a writer. Lackaby keeps yelling at me to add more adjectives, and Stephen says I’m too brutal.”

“What happened was brutal.”

He nodded. “And I want it out of my mind for just a damned minute or two.”

Theresa reached between them to loosen the knot of his cravat. “Then perhaps I can be of some help, after all.”

Tolly smiled, the expression sensual and wicked and just for her. “I was hoping you would say that.” With a click he turned the key again, locking the door.

“I don’t know how much time we have,” she said, untying his cravat and pulling it free. “Sally will come looking for me, and my grandmother’s here, as well.”

“Then we’ll have to hurry.” He pulled her fingers away from his waistcoat. “Don’t bother with that.”

“But—”

His mouth took hers again. “If I don’t have you now, Tess, I cannot guarantee my sanity.”

They sank onto the floor in such a tangle of limbs and clothes that she could barely tell where she stopped and he began. Where before he’d been slow and gentle and careful, clearly he had more urgent things on his mind today. He grabbed her skirt in both hands and yanked it up around her waist. Then he turned her onto her back, leaning over her for another burning, openmouthed kiss.

Somehow he managed to kneel between her thighs, keeping his weight on his good knee. Swiftly he unfastened his trousers and shoved them down. Theresa felt wild, wanton, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from him, from his large, aroused manhood. She ached for him, and she couldn’t imagine any clearer evidence that he wanted her. Badly, apparently.

“Theresa,” he murmured, settling his body over hers.

“Now, Tolly. Please.”

He angled his hips forward, sliding inside her. Theresa gasped, wrapping her ankles around his thighs as he thrust into her again and again, harder and faster until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think. Abruptly she shattered, throbbing, clinging tightly to his shoulders.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Oh God.”

His pace increased as he gazed down at her, amber eyes glinting. “Mine,” he rumbled, sinking down to kiss her again. “Say you’re mine, sweet Theresa.”

“I’m yours, Bartholomew James,” she managed, tangling her fingers into his hair.

With a groan he came, holding himself hard inside her. Theresa slid her arms around him as he lowered his head to her shoulder. Both of them breathing hard, they lay there tangled on the floor together.

“I feel better now,” she breathed, smiling.

Bartholomew lifted his head again, grinning back down at her. “Not a great deal of finesse, but I have to agree.” He kissed her soft mouth again. “The next time I intend to very slowly remove all your clothes and then lick every bare inch of your skin.”

“That sounds very nice, too.”

“Nice has nothing to do with it.” With an even more wicked grin he sat up beside her. “And now I’m going to be disappointed if someone doesn’t come knocking at this door almost immediately.”

Chuckling, Theresa climbed to her feet. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t even removed her shoes. She lowered her skirts again, smoothed at them, then dragged the writing chair over for Tolly. “I almost threw my own grandmother out of the carriage this morning because I thought I would miss seeing you.”

With a stifled groan, Bartholomew hauled himself to his feet. Straightening, he fastened his trousers again. All morning he’d been distracted with thinking of her—though in truth he had been distracted by thoughts of her for weeks. At least now he would survive through the day.

Moving as swiftly as he could, he unlocked the door again, shoved it half open, and pushed his chair back to the desk where he’d been sitting for the past ten days. As he passed Theresa, though, he couldn’t help pausing for another kiss.

“How far have you gotten?” she asked, pulling another chair up beside him.

“I’ve finished with the section about that last patrol of mine. And I prefaced it with various accounts I’d heard about the Thuggee before that.” He picked up his dipped pen, then set it down again. “Frankly, not much else about my time in India is anything worth writing about. And even less worth reading about, I think.”

She frowned. “I think it’s fascinating.”

“You are unique.” He glanced at the page again. “The idea is have as many people as possible read this.” He lifted the thin stack of papers. “Not to make me known as a great writer. And an entire book, I’m afraid, will only prove that I’m more adept at riding and shooting than I am with pen and paper.”

For a long moment Theresa gazed out the window. “You said Sommerset had contacts with the publishing houses.”

“Yes, but dull is dull, my love. No matter how—”

“Does he have contacts with the London Times?”

Bartholomew looked at her. “You mean I should serialize the story?”

“Or print it all at once as an editorial. It doesn’t matter, after all, if everyone knows it’s your opinion, because that is all you mean for it to be.”

He smiled. “Have I mentioned lately how brilliant you are?”

She shrugged, her gray-green eyes dancing. “It never hurts to say it.”

“You, my dear, are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Slowly he gathered up the stacks of papers that littered the desk and the window sill. “If all I need is a very widely read editorial, I’m nearly finished.” He handed her one of the two stacks. “In fact, I would be honored if you would read it and give me your opinion. I’ll take the other version to Sommerset, and see if he’s of the same mind.”

“Now?”

“I want to marry you, Theresa.” He stood. “I have no intention of stalling about with this—unless you’ve changed your mind.” It physically hurt to say it, but he absolutely was not going to trap her into anything. Never. “Just tell me, and I—”

She smacked him in the shoulder. “Stop that. I wouldn’t be here now if I’d changed my mind.”

“I just wanted to hear you say it.” He leaned down and kissed her again.

“Thank God I’m not Lady Weller,” Lackaby said from the doorway, “or I’d be needing my smelling salts about now.”

“Shut up, Lackaby.” Bartholomew glanced over his shoulder at the valet. “Go have Meru saddled. I’m going out for a bit.”

“You have a book to write, Colonel. You told me to tie you to that chair if you couldn’t sit in it on your own any longer. And I am a man of my word.”

“I may be finished.”

The valet blinked. “Beg your pardon, but not even the goddess Kali could write that fast, and she has four hands.”

“A slight change of plan, which I am not going to waste time discussing with you. My horse.”

Blowing out his breath, Lackaby left the room again. Bartholomew turned back to Theresa. “I need to go get my leg brace. Will you stay here until I get back from Ainsley House?”

She nodded, her fingers clutching the pages he’d given her and an alluring mix of worry and hope on her pretty face. “I will.”

“And no following me,” he added. “And no telling anyone where I’ve gone. Sommerset wants as little public involvement as possible.”

“I know that. I’m only…I don’t want to begin hoping yet. If Sommerset still thinks a full-length memoir would serve you better, then—”

“Then I still have a great deal of work to do. But it will all end the same.” Picking up his cane, he limped up in front of her. “With you and me together.”

Theresa stood, sliding her arms up his chest and then around his neck. “Then I’ll just begin hoping now, after all,” she whispered, and kissed him.

He kissed her back, the warmth, the life of her, sinking into him. “You’ve even got me hoping, now.”

She grinned against his mouth. “Good. And Tolly?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t forget your cravat.”

He blinked. Thank God it had been Lackaby barging in, after all. Using his cane to scoop up the cloth, he continued toward the door. “And by the way, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my life.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be back shortly. Keep your fingers crossed.”

“I will.”

He met Lackaby climbing the stairs again, and tossed him the neck cloth. “Where did you learn to tie a knot?” he asked, stopping to let the valet fix the garment.

“You said I’m to mind my manners, Colonel, so I’ll only smile and ask if ye want any company, wherever it is you’re going.”

“No. Just keep an eye on our friend outside. Hopefully he’ll follow me, in which case I may have a bit of a delay losing him. But I think we both know I can manage that.”

“I’ve seen you ride, Colonel. What about Miss Weller?”

“She’s staying here. Keep your other eye on her.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he expected, the moment he left the James House drive, the watchful fellow outside stopped sketching whatever he was pretending to draw and swung up on his own horse. Good. The further this mess stayed from his Tess, the better.

“Go, Meru,” he urged, leaning lower in the saddle and surreptitiously touching the satchel slung over his shoulder. Tess had a less scratched-out copy, but he damned well didn’t want this one getting loose and flying about Mayfair. Not until he was ready for it to do so.

Immediately the gray broke into a gallop. In the crowded streets the pace was nearly impossible to maintain, but he didn’t mean to have to keep it up for long. Swiftly they dodged around a milk wagon and whipped around a corner, then fell in ahead of a half dozen coaches and turned the other direction.

In ten minutes he would have found himself hopelessly lost, if not for the fact that he’d spent every summer of his youth in Mayfair and its environs. Finally he slowed Meru to a more respectable pace, cut through St. James’s Park to put another dozen riders between him and the fellow he hadn’t caught sight of in two twisted miles, and then headed off to Grosvenor Square and Ainsley House.

If the fellow had any wits he would return to James House. Lackaby would keep watch, and as long as Tess and the other ladies were inside, there was nothing to worry over.

He trotted onto South Audley Street, and pulled Meru to an abrupt halt. A half dozen riders stood ranged across the narrow boulevard, blocking him. Behind him another four riders closed in, his original pursuer badly out of breath, but among them.

Well. This was one thing he hadn’t considered—that they already knew where he was going. His last thought as something hard cracked across the back of his head was that Tess would be waiting for him, and that he hoped she wouldn’t blame herself for his death.