Chapter 9
“Your note said it was urgent, so I came as quickly as I could,” Richard said.
Emerson Prattley, Viscount Kennington, eyed the man in the doorway. He motioned him to enter the room. “Close the door. This matter is not only urgent, but extremely private.”
“Is Claudia home?”
“No, but she might be soon. I sent for you hours ago when she first left. Where have you been?”
His eyes shifted. “I was in a meeting.”
“I see. Let’s carry on before my daughter returns. Sit.”
Richard obeyed and sat across the desk in the leather wingback.
“When are you planning to propose to my daughter? I assume you have not forgotten your promise to do so.”
He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “No, I have not forgotten. But still I am not ready.”
“I can’t blame you for stalling. I wouldn’t want to be saddled with a woman like my daughter. Too much flesh. And far too many opinions, although I’ve done what every father could to try and break her of that.”
He poured himself a drink, deliberately not offering any to Richard. “She’s not the pick of the litter, I realize that, but once you’re married, you’ll have ample opportunity to mold her to the kind of woman you wish ... or I suppose you could just blow out the candles at night so you don’t have to look at her.”
“It’s not that. I have a bit of a situation.”
“Ah, a lady not willing to share you? You can dally with other females after you’re married. There’s no reason to drag your feet now. You have a nice dowry waiting for you.”
“I’m not dallying with anyone. As soon as my problem is sorted out, I will be ready to take Claudia as my wife. I need more time.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have any more time. I didn’t want to resort to drama, but you’ve left me no choice. Either you propose to my daughter immediately, or the queen will hear of your little embezzlement.”
Richard came to his feet. “You must give me more time. I need money now. Give me her dowry now, and I’ll marry her.”
“Why do you need money?”
“I have a debt that needs to be repaid.”
“Or what?”
“Or they’ll kill me,” he yelled.
“Lower your voice. I don’t believe you keep good company, Foxmore. What is the debt for?”
His lips pursed. “Necessities. Living expenses. There is a high price to pay to wear respectable clothes and eat at respectable establishments.”
“Idiot.”
“Will you front me her dowry? I’ll marry her as soon as the debt is paid.”
“What kind of fool do you take me for? No, you won’t get one farthing of her dowry until after you’ve said your vows. I don’t trust you, Foxmore.”
“If you report me to the queen, I’ll hang.”
“Possibly. But more than likely you’ll rot in prison.”
“Give me some more time. Two days, that’s all I ask. I’ll go see my uncle to borrow the money. He’s only a day’s ride from here. As soon as I return, I’ll marry Claudia. You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing to me.” He lit a cigar and took a thoughtful drag. “But your fear speaks loud and clear. I shall give you two days. After that I will post the announcement of your pending nuptials in the Times myself. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“One more thing. Leave a letter for Claudia setting up an appointment where you will propose.” He held out a piece of parchment.
Richard took the paper and nodded. He reached for the quill and scratched out a note. He let the ink dry, then folded the letter and wrote her name on the outside.
“I’ll be back in two days.” He held out the letter.
“I look forward to the announcement. And for your sake, Richard, you better be here, or those people to whom you owe your debt will be the least of your worries.”
“I thought you were going to stay home this week, not accept any invitations,” Poppy said, obviously surprised to see her friend.
Claudia removed her gloves. “My father insisted I come. He said I was not permitted to refuse an invitation by Lady Oliver. Besides, it’s not likely I’ll see Derrick here. Only dandies come to these card parties.”
Poppy giggled. “Yes, I see Morris Brimley over there. He is the very picture of a dandy. I was not aware that dots and stripes were complementary patterns.”
“Penelope, watch that mouth,” her mother said as she walked near. “If I heard you, then there’s a chance he did.”
“I doubt it, Lady Livingston, he’s deaf in his left ear,” Claudia offered.
“Regardless, it wasn’t kind. Mind your manners, dear, or you’ll never find a husband.”
That last part Poppy mouthed in perfect unison with her mother. It seemed every chance she got, Lady Livingston reminded her daughter of the importance of behavior and securing a husband. She meant well. It was only because she herself had found such joy in marriage and motherhood that she wanted Poppy to have the same, and she wanted Poppy well cared for.
“Girls, go and find your tables. And behave.”
It was nice having a mother fret over her again. Claudia loved Poppy’s mother. She wasn’t a replacement by any means, but she was the perfect stand-in when Claudia needed one.
“Alistair sent me a poem,” Poppy said as soon as they were out of earshot from her mother.
“An original?”
“I believe so. It’s not one I’ve heard before.”
“Was it any good?”
Poppy’s smile lit her face. “It was wonderfully romantic, with clever rhymes.”
“Has he been to see your father, to make his intentions known?”
“No, but I suspect he will soon.”
“I’m really happy for you,” Claudia said, then gave Poppy a brief hug before they sat at their table.
They hadn’t so much as taken their seats when Derrick walked into the room. Claudia’s heart fell to her toes. She was certain her mouth dropped open, so she brought her hand to her lips to hold it shut just in case. What could he possibly be doing here? Tea and a card party, in the middle of the afternoon? It hardly seemed the kind of thing a man would enjoy. Especially a man who took great pleasure in living the life of a rogue.
He met her eyes across the room and smiled. The connection between them sizzled. She looked over at Poppy to see if she’d noticed, but she was busy shuffling the cards.
“Poppy,” Claudia whispered.
“What?”
“Look over there.” She motioned with her head, trying not to look again in his direction.
“What’s he doing here?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Well, you are the most intimate with him.”
Claudia smacked her in the arm. “Not so loud. And we’re not... intimate.”
“You don’t have to say it like a curse. There’s nothing wrong with intimacy.”
Derrick leaned over an older woman and kissed her on the cheek. She said something, and he laughed heartily. The rich rumble sent gooseflesh dancing across Claudia’s arms. He asked Lady Oliver a question, and she pointed to their table.
“Goodness, why is she pointing at us?” Claudia asked.
“We shall find out soon enough; here he comes. Oh, and he’s not alone, looks like Morris Brimley will be joining us. What a positively splendid afternoon. Perhaps I can marry him.”
Claudia couldn’t help herself and giggled at the thought of beautiful Poppy shackled to a fop like Morris Brimley. “At least he’s not old,” Claudia offered.
Poppy poked her in the arm.
“Having fun without me.” Derrick clicked his tongue. “You should be ashamed.” Derrick took the seat opposite her and smiled broadly. It was a wolfish grin, as if he planned to eat her up, then lick his chops.
Ordinarily a feeling that a man wanted to devour her might not sit so well, but with Derrick Middle- ton, it was a nice, although inappropriate, thought.
Morris took the seat opposite Poppy. He smoothed his hair before offering a smile. “Good afternoon, ladies.” Claudia hadn’t remembered him having a lisp. “I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance, sir. I am Morris Brimley, Viscount Felmworth.” His face pinched as he looked at Derrick.
“Derrick Middleton, lowly son of a working man,” he said dryly.
Claudia suppressed a laugh. “He owns London’s Illustrated Times.”
Derrick shrugged in confirmation.
Morris seemed unimpressed. More than likely he had a lack of knowledge regarding London’s Illustrated Times; he didn’t seem like much of a reader.
“Mr. Middleton, who is that lady over there that you spoke to when you came in?” Poppy asked.
“That is my aunt, the dowager Duchess of Shelton.”
“Your aunt is the dowager Duchess of Shelton?” Claudia asked.
“Yes. You know of her?”
“Everyone knows of her,” Poppy said. “She’s legendary. But I thought she’d retired from Society years ago.”
“She had, but she’s recently moved back to London, and is reacquainting herself with some old friends.”
“I’m sorry, why is she legendary?” Morris asked.
“She’s married no fewer than two dukes in her lifetime. And she’s known for having a complete disregard for convention. She’s a force to be reckoned with and a good example for women of our generation,” Poppy said.
“I believe, Lady Penelope, that you know more of my aunt than I do,” Derrick said.
“She is a fascinating woman. I would very much like to meet her at some point.”
“I think I can arrange that,” he said.
“Shall we get on with the game?” Morris suggested. “Lady Penelope, I do believe we’ve been paired together today.” He gave her a toothy grin.
“Splendid,” Poppy said, although Morris didn’t seem to notice her lack of sincerity.
“I suppose that leaves you and me to partner, Miss Prattley,” Derrick said.
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Claudia said.
Morris dealt first, with hearts as the trump. Fitting.
Derrick eyed her above his cards. As much as she hated to admit it, it thrilled her to be on the receiving end of his attention. She was certain everyone in the room noticed, and while she might have to pay for that later with her father, right now it made her smile. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could do anything about his being here—she herself hadn’t invited him. And her father had insisted she attend.
Did her father know Derrick’s aunt was the dowager Duchess of Shelton? Would it make a difference? Probably not, but it might be worth mentioning the next time they spoke, since Derrick clearly had no intention to cease courting her.
Something touched her shoe.
She looked up and met his glance, and he raised one eyebrow.
Was that his foot? Touching her foot? At a proper tea and card party, full of matronly women and dandies?
He was completely shameless.
She smiled again despite the gravity of the situation. What she should do was get up and leave. But that would only make a scene and draw more attention to them. She tucked her feet in closer to her, trying desperately to stick them underneath her chair, but with her undergarments, that was an impossibility.
Poppy played a seven of diamonds, and then it was Claudia’s turn. She glanced at her cards and tossed down a three of diamonds. Then it was Morris’s turn, and she realized she still held the ten of diamonds. Clearly she wasn’t paying proper attention to the game. She hoped Derrick wouldn’t mind if they lost.
When this game was over, she would simply make her excuses and leave early. She could plead a headache or some other ailment.
It was her turn again. She studied her cards, trying to determine the best to play. Finally she gave up and tossed down a four of spades.
Once the game ended, she quickly stood. “I’m afraid I must leave you to find a new player. I’ve developed a headache and believe it in my best interest to return home and lie down.”
Poppy frowned at her, but she could explain to her friend later.
She didn’t check for Derrick’s reaction, rather made her excuses to the hostess, then stepped into the hallway.
Claudia stood waiting for the butler to retrieve her cloak, when Derrick grabbed her elbow.
“I do hope you’re not leaving on my account.”
She jerked her arm free. “Certainly not. I’ll have you know that very few of my actions are determined by you.”
“I see. Then you are not angry that I followed you here.”
“You followed me here?” What was it about him that made her want to touch him? A simple placement of her hand on his arm was all it would take, but such a thing was entirely improper. It seemed the more she tried to behave around him, the more her body and mind protested.
He shrugged. “I knew you would be here today, and I wanted to see you.”
She tried her best not to smile. It shouldn’t please her so that he’d come here only to see her. But it did. It was a heady feeling that tingled all the way to her toes. He’d followed her here. She should stop being such a goose and leave the house as she intended.
She glanced around the wood-paneled hall, seeing no sign of the butler or anyone else. “You’ve deserted poor Poppy and Viscount Felmworth. You should get back to your game, and I should be going.”
“Are you looking for someone?”
“The butler went to retrieve my cloak.” She lifted her chin. “And I don’t believe it is appropriate for us to be chatting alone.”
“We’re in the middle of the hall.”
“It matters not. Is there something of importance you wish to discuss with me? Or will you leave me here to wait for my cloak alone?”
“Actually there is something.” He grabbed her arm again, but this time he pulled her, leading her to an alcove below the stairs. “Now, is this better?”
“No. If people find us here, they will assume the worst.”
“The worst?” His eyebrows arched perfectly over his intoxicating eyes. “What might that be?”
She tried to peek around him into the hall, but his broad chest blocked her view. “That you are ravishing me,” she whispered.
“Ravishing?”
“Would you stop repeating everything I say? They’ll assume we’re being amorous.”
“I see.” He took a step closer to her, so that he stood mere inches away, his chest only a breath away. He leaned down so that his mouth was close to her ear. His hot breath sent a shiver racing down her spine. “So they might assume that we are kissing?”
“Yes.” Her whisper came out louder than she intended. She put her hand over her mouth. “I really must go, I have—”
He straightened, but did not get out of her way. “Yes, a headache. I do hope you’re not too ill.”
She frowned. “What is it that you wish to discuss with me?”
“Richard.”
“Again? I shall not listen. I am meeting with him in a few days, and I plan to discuss your allegations with him.”
“And you think he’ll tell you the truth? Claudia, surely you’re not that naive.”
Was she? She hadn’t even considered that Richard, were he in fact guilty, would probably lie about that guilt if she pressed him about it. That certainly made her sound naive. And stupid. She wasn’t stupid.
He plucked a curl from behind her ear and fingered it. “You know what your problem is?” he asked.
“No, but I’m betting you think you do.”
“You trust all the wrong people. I think inside you know that Richard isn’t the man for you— whether he’s done the things I claim he’s done aside—you know you shouldn’t marry him.” He trailed his finger down her cheek to her throat and then across to where her heart lay. “You should trust that.”
She didn’t trust the wrong people. She simply trusted people until they gave her a reason not to.
And she trusted herself. Didn’t she? What was she feeling inside about Richard? She didn’t want to marry him, Derrick was right, but that was for purely selfish reasons. She didn’t want to marry Richard because he would never love her, but more importantly, because she would never love him.
“Think about what I’ve said; that’s all I’m asking,” he said.
“Derrick, even if you’re right about me not wanting to marry Richard and him not being an upstanding man, it doesn’t change the fact that my father has chosen him for me to marry. I must obey.”
“We’re never going to agree on that. I still think you could find a way out. If I could find proof of Richard’s guilt, then your father would release you from your obligation of marrying him.”
“But you have no proof, so this is a futile discussion.”
“Here you are, miss.” The butler was back from retrieving her cloak. “Miss?”
Derrick put his hand over her mouth and leaned into her, so that his body pressed against hers, and her body pressed into the wall. It was a gesture meant to keep them in hiding lest the servant discover them in this precarious position, but all it did was light her body on fire. Every nerve sparked to life and began stirring about her flesh.
Think about something else. Think about hair ribbons or paintbrushes or ... ducks. Anything else. Anything but Derrick’s hard thigh pressed intimately between her legs. It was difficult to think of anything besides convincing herself not to push against him. Disgraceful thoughts. She really ought to be ashamed of herself, but instead she was exhilarated.
“Always changing their minds,” the servant muttered, “strange creatures.”
Derrick released a breath and removed his hand from her mouth. But he didn’t pull back from her body. “That was close,” he said.
“Indeed.” She should push him off her, but for reasons she dared not investigate, she stood still and simply stared into his eyes.
“I suppose I could ravish you under here. Not a lot of room, but I do believe we could manage.”
She realized her hands were grasping material at his sleeves. His glance dropped to her breasts. Touch them. She clenched her jaw to keep from saying it.
“You drive me crazy with desire.” His voice was ragged. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.”
It was all the encouragement she needed. She tilted her head and kissed him. She didn’t wait for the slow seduction he usually gave her lips. Instead she thrust her tongue into his mouth. Blood thrummed through her body, singing as it went from one body part to the next. She allowed her hands to release his jacket and move up to thread through his hair.
He kissed her back just as forcefully, their tongues rolling and caressing. He left her mouth and dropped kisses on her cleavage. She was ready to tear her dress off, so she could feel his warm mouth on her skin.
His hand crept beneath the hem of her dress; the fabric brushed against her ankle, then her calf, behind her knee, and then she felt his hand on her inner thigh—dear God, where was he going? He stopped at her most private spot.
“God, Claudia, I want you so badly.”
He didn’t move his fingers at first, just cupped her gently. She rocked against him. He found the slit in her drawers and moved one finger against her skin. She leaned into his shirt to muffle a cry. What was he doing to her? Slowly he moved his finger against her, back and forth, back and forth, until she thought she’d go mad.
Then suddenly his hand was gone as fast as it had appeared, and much too soon as she was certain something big had been about to happen. She almost asked, but then it became abundantly clear why he’d stopped.
She looked at his face, saw him mutter a curse, then he turned around to face the woman who had discovered their hiding place. How could she have been so stupid? She couldn’t even bear to think what the woman must have seen or heard. Was that why she’d come—had Claudia cried out? She’d been so engrossed in the feelings, she hadn’t even remembered where they were.
She was the worst sort of woman, a woman without a shred of self-control.
“I daresay, Mr. Middleton, I do hope there is an explanation for this,” Lady Oliver said, her voice tight.
Derrick put on his best smile. “Absolutely. I’m afraid it’s my fault. You see, Miss Prattley has just agreed to be my bride, and I am embarrassed to say I couldn’t hide my enthusiasm.”
He was lying. For her. Taking the blame in a situation that was certain to ruin her. She couldn’t allow him to do this, yet when she opened her mouth to argue, she found she had no words.
Lady Oliver, known for being a romantic, smiled and placed her hand on her heart. “How very wonderful for you two. And I do apologize for interrupting. It’s only that Benson, my butler, was concerned when Miss Prattley asked for her cloak and then disappeared. He came looking for her in the parlor, and when he couldn’t find her there, I told him I would go find her. Your secret is safe with me,” she whispered. “But you really ought to be more discreet.” She winked and swatted Derrick on the arm.
Derrick held on to Claudia’s hand as he pulled her out from the stairwell. “Let me get my coat, and we can be on our way. She wants to tell her father right away.”
“Of course,” Lady Oliver offered.
In the course of fifteen minutes Claudia’s entire life had changed. How or why wasn’t clear, but she knew nothing would ever be the same. She wouldn’t marry Derrick; he would never see it through, and her father certainly wouldn’t allow it. He’d clearly been disappointed that they were discovered and that he had to do the honorable thing, or he wouldn’t have cursed. He didn’t want to marry her, and she certainly wouldn’t require him to.
She was weak and obviously had no control over herself. Shame heated her entire body, and she wanted to scream. No matter what happened between them now, she’d always feel as if she’d trapped him. As if she’d given him no other choice. No one wanted to be a bride under those circumstances.
And now it no longer mattered if she did or didn’t want to marry Richard, or if he was or wasn’t all that Derrick claimed him to be. All that mattered was she had been compromised.
Her reputation was ruined. And her relationship with her father would never be the same.