Five
Seated at the pianoforte in a distant corner, Bella absently plucked out a tune. It was not that she had any desire to display her dubious talent, but she was willing to do whatever necessary to place herself far away from the vicinity of Lord Brasleigh.
She had waited for days for the announcement that the two gentlemen were leaving Surrey. After all, they had no further reason to remain. But rather than rushing from the estate as she desperately hoped, they had continued to linger as if they hadn’t a desire in the world to return to London.
It was most aggravating, Bella seethed. For goodness’ sakes, she couldn’t continue to bolt about the neighborhood as she had for the past week. For one thing, she was weary to the bone from her efforts, and for another, the tenants were beginning to regard her with suspicion as she arrived every day with baskets of food and woolen blankets. No doubt they wondered if she were an overzealous philanthropist or just a bit daft.
Then again, she couldn’t simply remain at the estate and leave herself vulnerable to the lecherous advances of Lord Brasleigh.
Oh yes, it was all most aggravating.
As if able to read her very thoughts, the raven-haired gentleman suddenly rose to his feet and determinedly made his way in her direction. That familiar tingle inched down her spine as she instinctively stiffened. Even the knowledge that he possessed a softer side did nothing to lessen his potent danger.
Seemingly unaware of her tension, Lord Brasleigh boldly planted himself next to her seated form, the heat of his thighs searing through her blue gauze gown. “That was lovely,” he murmured.
Her hands abruptly clenched in her lap. “Thank you.“ .
“Beethoven?”
“Yes.”
Not put off by her overt lack of enthusiasm he bent closer. “Shall I turn the pages for you?” His breath brushed the handful of curls she had left free to frame her face.
“I have finished for the evening.” She made a move to rise, only to have his fingers settle on her shoulder and gently keep her in place.
“There is no need to run off. I do not bite.”
She froze, wishing that she possessed the nerve to push aside his hand. “You’ll forgive me if I do not believe you.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Well, perhaps a nibble or two. I particularly prefer the nape of the neck as I hold a woman close in my arms. What do you prefer?”
An evocative image of being held in his arms attempted to rise to mind, but was firmly squashed. “My lord,” she muttered in reprimand.
“Very well, Mrs. Smith,” he relented with a persuasive smile. “What if I promise to be on my best behavior? Could we not have a simple conversation?”
She refused to be charmed. “I cannot imagine that we have anything to say to each other.”
“I know very little about you. Have you always lived in Surrey?”
Her wariness deepened. She had been deliberately vague about her life before arriving at Mayfield. After all, the less anyone knew of her, the fewer lies she had to recall. And until now, he had not seemed particularly interested. She could only hope his curiosity was fleeting. His flirtations were bad enough. She did not need him prying into her past.
“No.”
“You are not very forthcoming.”
“I have no desire to discuss the past.”
“Well, I at least know that you have not been to London,” he relentlessly pursued. “I should never have forgotten such a lovely face.”
Her unease was briefly forgotten as she felt a surge of distaste at his outrageous words. Really, did he think her a complete buffoon? Even trapped in the depths of the country, she had known that the elusive Lord Brasleigh held no interest in debutantes. Only the most exclusive and sought after Cyprians could stir his attention.
“I should be very surprised if you would have even noticed me,” she mocked.
“You are very modest.”
“No.” She recklessly lifted her head to meet his brilliant silver gaze. “I am simply aware of your reputation, my lord. It is well known that your prefer the lures of actresses to respectable debutantes.”
Just for a moment he appeared disconcerted by her words. Clearly he had not expected her to be familiar with the gossip surrounding him. There might even have been a hint of color along the lines of his prominent cheekbones. But predictably, he remained in command of the confrontation.
“I will admit that I prefer ladies who enjoy the pleasures of love without the tedious complications of debutantes.”
She would just bet that he did, she acknowledged with a flare of distaste. He might treat Miss Summers with all the consideration of a young lady, but women without the protection of a family were a mere amusement to be enjoyed and then tossed aside.
“Ladies who are dependent upon you for their livelihood and in no position to make demands, you mean?” she demanded in distaste. “Hardly love.”
The silver eyes glittered at her sharp accusation. “That is a decidedly low blow, my dear. I assure you that my mistresses have never complained. Indeed, they have all seemed most satisfied.”
She refused to blush, although she did not doubt he had fully intended to embarrass her in punishment for her slight upon his charms. “They must be easily satisfied.”
He chucked at the thrust, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her shoulders. “What would it take to satisfy you, Mrs. Smith?”
She stiffened as a shocking heat flared through her body. It was anger, nothing else, she hastily reassured herself. That and outrage that he would behave so boldly in front of Lady Stenhold who was being firmly distracted by Lord Blackmar.
“Nothing that you could offer.”
‘’You have not yet heard what I have to offer.”
“I am not interested,” she muttered.
“Surely a lovely young woman such as yourself cannot be content to play companion to an old woman?” he demanded. “I could give you a home of your own, pretty baubles to wear and of course, the pleasure of my company.”
She glared into his handsome countenance. “Pleasure?”
“Of course.”
“A pleasure for whom?”
His gaze dropped to her unsteady lips. “For the both of us, I promise.”
“I thought I had made it clear that I have no interest in such an arrangement.”
He merely gave a click of his tongue. “Such a tease.”
Her breath hissed between her clenched teeth. “Good heavens, are you always so persistent?”
“That all depends upon how badly I want something.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “And, of course, we both know that this pretense is no more than a ploy to capture my interest.”
A ploy? For goodness’ sakes, the man possessed enough arrogance to fill all of England. “I would suggest that you change the topic of conversation, my lord, unless you wish to have your face slapped,” she threatened darkly.
The fingers roamed the curve of her neck. “Ah . . . I do like a woman of spirit, Mrs. Smith.”
She jerked from his touch. “And I like a gentleman who knows how to behave as a gentleman.”
“I can behave any way you like.” He bent even closer. “Shall I come to your room tonight and prove it?”
She gasped in disbelief. “Certainly not.”
“Then come to my room.”
“No.”
He straightened slowly, a hint of steely determination etched on his dark features. “Very well. We shall continue our game another day or two, but I promise, Mrs. Smith, by the end of the week you will be mine.”
With a faint bow, Lord Brasleigh turned to stroll back toward Lady Stenhold, leaving Bella more shaken than angry. He seemed so . . . relentless. So confident. How was she to convince him to leave her alone? She had to discover some means.
It was that or fleeing once again.
* * *
There was a definite hint of spring in the air as Bella and Lady Stenhold stepped from the small church. Bella sucked in a deep breath of the flower-scented air. It was a welcome relief to be standing in the fresh air after two tedious hours of enduring the droning chastisements from the vicar on the sins of mankind.
Beside her, Lady Stenhold glanced toward the portly vicar who was hovering beside the church with smug self-importance. “I do wish the vicar would devote as much passion to tending to his flock as to condemning them.”
Bella could only shudder at the thought. The vicar would no doubt bully and terrify his flock if he took it into his thick head to take an interest in their personal lives. “He is a rather stern man,” she carefully retorted.
“He is a wretched bully.” Lady Stenhold was not nearly so discrete. “I pity his daughter.”
“Yes.” Bella turned to glance at Miss Summers, her heart giving a queer leap at the sight of Lord Brasleigh standing at her side.
As always, he was impeccably attired, his fitted coat so snug she could easily discern the muscles of his broad chest. It was a sight that appeared to delight Miss Summers, and she giggled with pleasure at something he was saying.
For no reason at all the sight decidedly annoyed Bella.
Lady Stenhold, on the other hand, appeared inordinately pleased. “I must say that she has quite bloomed beneath Lord Brasleigh’s attentions. I have never seen her appear so lovely.”
Bella’s features unconsciously hardened. “He is a most practiced rogue.”
“So I have noted,” Lady Stenhold agreed in dry tones, her shrewd gaze abruptly turning back to Bella. “Is he . . . troubling you, Anna?”
Bella was caught off guard by the abrupt question. Oh, how she would love to confess that the insufferable man was not only troubling her, but that he had insulted her in the most shameful manner. She had no doubt that Lady Stenhold would be deeply shocked and soon would have him tossed from her estate. But always in the back of her mind was the fear that such an action might enrage the man to the point of retaliation. She could not have him seeking more information on the mysterious Mrs. Smith to enact his revenge.
So instead she swallowed her hasty words and forced herself to give a small shrug. “He is simply the type of gentleman who feels the need to flirt with every lady he encounters.”
“Perhaps,” Lady Stenhold murmured in skeptical tones. “You do know that I would request Richard to return to London with Lord Brasleigh if need be.”
Bella smiled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, but I am certain they will soon be leaving. Besides, it must be pleasant for you to have the company of your nephew.”
Lady Stenhold considered her words for a moment before an odd expression flitted over her lined countenance. “Richard has been decidedly elusive. It is almost as if he is avoiding a comfortable chat with me. Very odd.”
Bella had been so enwrapped in her own troubles that she had not taken much notice of Lord Blackmar. Now she regarded Lady Stenhold with a frown. “Is something wrong, do you think?”
Lady Stenhold tapped a gloved finger to her chin. “I am uncertain. I shall no doubt discover the truth in time.”
Unsure what was stewing in the older woman’s mind, Bella was distracted as Miss Summers suddenly appeared beside them. “Good morning, Lady Stenhold. Mrs. Smith.”
“Good morning, Miss Summers,” Lady Stenhold greeted warmly. “Do you not look lovely?”
The maiden blushed, glancing down at her gown of a surprising shade of pale green. It was the first occasion that Bella had ever seen her in anything but her drab gray. “Thank you.”
“I do not think that I have ever seen you wear such a pretty gown.”
An expression of happiness illuminated her round face, lending an air that was most becoming. “Is it not lovely?” she breathed. “Lord Brasleigh happened to mention to Father that the bishop particularly preferred women to wear gaily colored gowns. He says that God would not have given nature such beautiful colors if he wished to view only black and gray.”
It was no doubt a devious lie, but not even Bella could condemn Lord Brasleigh’s deception. He had performed no less than a miracle in swaying the vicar from swathing his daughter in ugly gray. More importantly, he had also brought an unfamiliar sparkle to her eyes.
Lady Stenhold was dearly of the same opinion as a small smile curved her mouth. “A very wise man.”
“Yes,” Miss Summers swiftly agreed.
Lady Stenhold regarded her in a coy fashion. “You seem to be enjoying the company of Lord Brasleigh.”
“He is so very kind.” Miss Summers clasped her hands in a reverent motion. “He never makes me feel stupid or clumsy.”
“Of course not. You are a very accomplished young lady.”
Miss Summers gave a shake of her head. “I wish it were so, my lady, but I have always known that I was a sore disappointment to my father. He no doubt wishes that I could have been more like my mother. She always seemed to know precisely what to say and how to make others feel comfortable.”
Bella felt a surge of compassion. Having lost her own mother at a young age, she knew precisely how difficult it was to be raised in the shadow of memories. A young girl could not help but compare herself to her mother and find herself wanting, especially without the loving support of a father.
“You have your own strengths, my dear,” Lady Stenhold insisted.
Miss Summers’s smile returned. “That is what Lord Brasleigh tells me.”
“Then he is quite right.”
There was a sound across the way and the three ladies turned to discover the vicar waving his arm in an imperative manner.
“Oh, Father is ready to leave,” Miss Summers exclaimed. “I must make sure his luncheon is prepared. Excuse me.” With a hasty dip, the maiden rushed away to join her father.
Bella watched her retreat with a faint frown. There was no doubt that Miss Summers appeared decidedly improved by Lord Brasleigh’s efforts. Still, her own feelings toward the gentleman remained a tangle of anger and suspicion. How could he be such a noble gentleman one moment and an out-and-out cad the next?
“Lord Brasleigh seems to have found favor with one lady in the neighborhood,” Lady Stenhold pointed out with a narrowed gaze upon Bella’s pale countenance.
Bella’s lips thinned. “As I said, he is a very accomplished flirt.”
“Still, it is kind of him to make such an effort with poor Miss Summers. She has had precious few gentlemen offer her such attention.”
“I only hope that she is not hurt,” Bella muttered.
Lady Stenhold reached out to pull Bella’s arm through her own. “I am certain that all will be well.”
“If you say so.”
“Come along, my dear.”
* * *
Negligently standing in the shadows of the church, Philip watched with a faint smile as Lady Stenhold and Bella climbed into the carriage. He had not missed Bella’s covert glance in his direction, nor the faint hint of relief as she realized he was still present.
He had no doubt she intended to seek her private chambers the moment she returned to the estate. Lady Stenhold always rested after church, and the maiden would not want to risk being alone with him. But Philip was already one move ahead of her, and before the carriage had even begun to move, he had given a faint wave to Pudding and was swiftly retrieving his mount.
Within moments, he was away from the church and cutting through the back meadows and fields that would lead to Mayfield. Bella had eluded him for the past week. Today would be different.
Unconsciously humming a tune, Philip urged his mount to a gallop. The sun was warm on his face and a faint breeze carried the scent of clover. A beautiful day for a ride, but Philip did not allow himself to linger. Instead, he cut a direct path to the estate, barely slowing his horse to a trot as he entered the stables. Then, leaving his mount in the care of a groom, he crossed to the gardens to enter through the side door. He did, however, pause long enough to pluck a perfect rose from a nearby bush.
Once inside, he was careful to check that there were no servants about to view his entrance. With graceful stealth, he climbed the steps and made his way to Bella’s room. For a moment, he paused to inspect the tidy chamber, noting the obvious lack of possessions scattered about. He had known that she was unable to take many things on her hurried flight and could only shake his head in bewilderment. What maiden with the least amount of sense would flee the lavish existence he had offered her for a life as a common servant?
Granted, her place with Lady Stenhold was less than onerous, but it was still one that was far from her position as his ward. Or as Monsieur LeMont’s wife. She was clearly incapable of making suitable decisions for her own future.
Philip settled his tall form on the wide bed. Miss Bella Lowe might possess more spirit than he had originally suspected, but he knew that his constant attentions were wearing down her staunch courage. It would take little more to have her scurrying back to his estate. Beginning today he intended to bellow the flames a bit higher.
A rather startling flare of anticipation raced through his body as he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching. He could not deny he was enjoying this game with his ward. Perhaps more than he had enjoyed anything in a very long time.
Watching the door open, Philip was silent as Bella entered and firmly shut the door behind her. Then, with an audible breath of relief, she slowly turned only to freeze in horror.
“You . . .”
With his most engaging grin, Philip held out the rose he had picked. “I brought you this.”
A sharp color flooded her cheeks at his audacity. “How dare you come in here? Do you mean to create a scandal?”
Unrepentant, he allowed a slow smile to curve his mouth. “You know what I wish.”
“This is too much, sir.” She stomped her foot in childish rage. “Leave this room immediately.”
Slowly rising to his feet, he deliberately strolled until he was towering over her trembling form. “But I have no desire to leave. And I believe that if you would only be honest, you would admit that you too have no desire for me to leave.”
“You . . .” Her nose flared with fury. “I can only presume that you received a head wound during the war, my lord. Or else you are simply daft. There could be no other excuse for your inability to comprehend the word no.”
Philip chuckled at her fierce tone. “Thankfully my head made it through the war without incident, as did the rest of me. Of course, if you doubt my word you could always examine me yourself.”
Her chest heaved in fury. A most enticing sight, Philip was forced to conclude.
“The only thing I wish is for you to leave my chamber.”
“Come, come, my love. This game has gone on quite long enough. I have played my part, and now it is time for you to play yours.”
“If you do not leave, I shall scream,” she threatened, her tone unsteady.
He gave a slow shake of his head. “Do not be absurd, my dear. We both knew this moment would come the moment our eyes met. It is destiny.”
Philip watched in fascination as color stained her pale countenance. She had never appeared lovelier.
“I will scream, and Lady Stenhold will throw you out of her house,” she assured him.
“Did you know that your eyes become the darkness of an Italian sky at midnight when you are angry?” he murmured softly.
His compliment only fueled her ire. “My lord . . .”
“Philip,” he interrupted softly.
“What?”
“I wish to hear my name upon your lips.”
“Sir,” she retorted in stern tones.
“I see I shall have to convince you.” Reaching up, he framed her tiny face with gentle hands. “Say my name.”
“No . . .” she breathed, her eyes wide and dark with emotion.
Allowing the exquisite tension to build, Philip slowly lowered his head, capturing her lips with masterful pressure.
Intent on plunder, Philip meant to prove just how vulnerable she was to a man intent on seduction. But once again, he was caught off guard as his mouth encountered the sweet tenderness of her lips. Heavens above, they seemed to melt beneath the heat of his touch, molding to his own with a bewitching innocence. With a low groan, his hands dropped to stroke her neck and down the modest line of her bodice. His kiss was meant to be a punishment. A lesson to frighten her into marriage. But as he felt her soft body press closer to his own, all thoughts of punishment were vanquished by a flare of searing heat.
His heart gave a savage kick as he expertly parted her lips and deepened the kiss. He wanted to drown in her seductive innocence. To tutor her in the delights of passion.
His hands moved once again, rounding her slender waist to press her to his stirring thighs. With one smooth movement, he could have her off her feet and lying. upon the bed. He would slowly strip away the bothersome dress and kiss the rose-petal tips of her breasts to poignant desire. He would ease apart those slender legs....
“Philip . . .” she whispered softly. “Oh, Philip.”
With the shock of a bucket of cold water being tossed upon his head, Philip abruptly realized what he was doing.
Good gads! Had he completely lost his wits? He was despicable, he told himself. No, worse than despicable. He was as bad as any lecher he was supposedly attempting to protect Bella from.
Untangling himself from her clinging arms, he gave a sharp shake of his head. He had been a fool to come to this room, he chastised himself. No, more than a fool. Frightening the chit into marriage was one thing, but to actually consider laying her upon the bed and . . .
Philip felt a shudder wrack his body. Whatever his motives, he had behaved in a shameful manner. And it did not help to realize that the heat that had sparked between them still smoldered in the pit of his stomach.
Thoroughly repulsed with himself, Philip abruptly stepped past the bemused maiden and stormed from the room.
He did not consider the realization that far from being frightened, she had responded with trembling enthusiasm. Or that he had managed to coerce her into saying his name. His only thought was that he had come perilously close to seducing his own ward.