Author: Beverley Oakley
Category: Nonfiction
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He stared down at her; at this young woman who made no secret of her feelings: indignation, hope, pleasure. He’d been on the receiving end of them all, and how refreshing it was to know that artifice was not a measure of her makeup. Lizzy Scott was as transparent as a pane of glass, and right now she wanted him to continue making love to her.
Yet, while his body cried out to respond, he had enough wit to know he could not do so without passing the point where he could no longer be responsible for his actions.
He shook his head and she glanced up at him, her lips parting in disappointment. “This is how I wanted to feel when Mr Dalgleish kissed me,” she said honestly.
It was how Theodore wanted to feel when he kissed the woman who would be his wife. It was how he wanted to feel when the time came to kiss Amelia. He would have a lifetime of kissing Amelia. He was honour-bound to make the commitment they both knew was forthcoming.
A great fire began to build within him. Anger at the wrong that had been done to the innocents this past year, where idle salon gossip had callously besmirched and smeared reputations. Anger at the price of atonement. And desire—deadly desire—for taking what was on offer before he tossed it all away with the seeming callous disregard with which his dismissal would no doubt be received.
But desire trumped honour, and he didn’t let her go when he should have. “And is this how you want to feel when matters progress beyond a kiss?” he demanded, roughly, pulling her more thoroughly into his arms and bringing his mouth down to hers in a kiss that was far more demanding than hitherto.
Perhaps if she hadn’t responded so willingly the last vestiges of his honour would have swooped down to save him. Save them both.
But her whispers of need, her feminine heat, her warmth, and softness, were an invitation he could not refuse. Cupping her cheek with one hand, his other cupped her shapely bottom, skimming up her waist to trace the heated flesh at her décolletage.
Desire ratcheted up further. The darkness that lurked dangerously within the depths of his depravity swirled about his brain, and he slipped his fingers beneath the silk of her gown, the rigid busk of her stays, beneath the cotton of her chemise, the last layer against her skin, insinuating their way further down to feel the small hard nubs of her nipples.
She should have arched back in shame and horror.
Instead she merely gasped and pressed herself closer, her breath rasping in her throat, her mouth devouring his while she gripped him round the neck like a lifeline.
It was only as he was in the very act of whisking her from the ground and placing her along the length of the window seat to ravish her there and then—and knowing he could do it without objection—that honour finally swooped down from the blackness to perch on his shoulder and veritably bite him on the ear.
So shocked at himself was he that his withdrawal created a sudden vacuum, and she stumbled in the space his bulk had hitherto inhabited, looking up at him with surprise and confusion.
“My apologies, Lizzy.” He tried to collect his breathing, “I think we both got a little too carried away.” He bowed formally, pressing his lips together in shame and disgust, while the stricken look on Lizzy’s face as she took a step forwards nearly undid him.
“Theo—”
“And just so you don’t spend the night fretting about it, let me reassure you that what we have just done in no way constitutes a danger with regard to the begetting of children.”
The enormous relief that crossed her face should have made him laugh. Fondly. And then gather her into his arms, which was what he wanted to do more than anything else at this moment. Instead he said, grimly, “That is only a danger in the absence of clothing, and I am quite sure you would take care to keep your clothes on in the presence of any gentleman.” He gave a grim laugh at his poor attempt at humour, then turned, saying over his shoulder as he made for the door, “Good night, Lizzy.”
He didn’t want to look back and see the look she sent him.
He didn’t have to.
For he could feel it scorching his back.
Chapter 14
Feeling disoriented, dizzy, excited, and distraught, all at the same time, Lizzy collapsed onto her bed the moment Mabel closed the door behind her.
“What is it, miss? Yer look fair done in. ’T’was it that young man yer ter marry? Mr Dalgleish? Why, ’tis, isn’t it?” Mabel sounded shocked. “Yer ʼair is all disordered!”
Lizzy put a hand to her coiffure which was suffering from a lack of several key hairpins and shook her head. “No, it was Mr McAlister,” she murmured, closing her eyes and feeling the effects of the brandy and the remembered excitement still coursing through her.
“Mr McAlister? But…I thought yer was ʼere ter agree ter Mr Dalgleish? Now there’s an ʼandsome feller.” Mabel’s tone was almost cajoling as she sat on the bed beside Lizzy and started removing hairpins, gripping her mistress’s shoulder to turn her so she could unbutton the back of her dress.
“Not nearly as handsome as Mr McAlister,” Lizzy sighed, eyes still closed.
“But…but Mr McAlister’s a fortune ’unter.” Mabel’s busy fingers stilled. “They’re sayin’ it both upstairs an’ down. “Yer know it ain’t goin’ ter be easy ter bring Mrs ʼOdge round ter bein’ ʼappy ʼbout Mr McAlister.” Yer can’t marry ʼim, miss! Not if yer want any peace.”
“I can’t marry him because he’s marrying someone else.”
“Someone wiv a fortune, no doubt! See, he ain’t no good fer yer. ’An’…he tried ter kiss yer?”
“He did kiss me, Mabel. And it was wonderful.” Lizzy opened her eyes and stared dreamily at the ceiling. “I’d kissed Mr Dalgleish earlier in the evening, and it wasn’t nearly so nice as kissing Mr McAlister. Oh Mabel, what shall I do?” She jerked upright and bit her lip.
“Fer a start, yer better not tell anyone else, that’s what yer’ll do,” Mabel said disapprovingly. “What would Mrs ʼOdge say?”
“Do you think I’m such a ninny-hammer as to tell her?” Lizzy asked scornfully. “I’m sure Mr McAlister isn’t nearly as bad as people say he is. You can’t disagree that he was perfectly charming when he looked after us so well. And he saved my life, after all.”
“Well, it were ʼim wot fired the shot that frightened the ʼorses so ’twas the least ʼe could do.”
“It was the boy he was teaching, Mabel. Do not misrepresent the matter.” Lizzy felt a surge of indignation on Theo’s part. “Really, he’s the nicest, handsomest, most thrilling gentleman I’ve met, and I don’t care that he’s a fortune hunter for that is what Mr Dalgleish is, only no one seems to condemn him for it.”
“That’s aʼcause he ain’t guilty o’ the things Mr McAlister’s done.”
Lizzy sent her maid a combative look. “And what do you suppose those are, Mabel? What are his crimes? Kidnap? Murder? I don’t think so, otherwise he’d be locked up in gaol or facing the noose.” Lizzy clenched her fists, raising her arms so Mabel could help her out of her dress. “I’ll wager that if you asked anyone who was actually involved, they’ll tell you that those weren’t his crimes at all. No, society has painted him as all these terrible things, and if he is to marry, then the lady who has accepted him obviously knows better. Oh, but I’d like to meet her and hear her account. Mr McAlister is my hero and I…I love him, Mabel; yes, I do!” She covered her face with her hands. “I just wish he loved me back!”
And as Theo lay on his bed later, unable to sleep, he stared at the ceiling of the sumptuous guest chamber he had been allotted and could think only of Lizzy’s refreshing enthusiasm and innocent charm.
How easy it would have been to have taken what she offered—her love—in return for a ring upon her finger. Honourable marriage. That’s what they both wanted, and yet it would be so dishonourable if Theo were to give in to the stirrings of his heart.
She was just a chit of a thing and far too young to be a wife.
He tried telling himself this, and yet when he thought of Lizzy marrying Dalgle
ish, instead, he felt only the greatest dismay for her future happiness, and disappointment for what Theo was losing as a result.
It was many hours before a restless, anxious sleep finally claimed him. And his last waking reflection was how fully alive he had felt when he’d kissed Lizzy in the Long Gallery, and what a sense of peaceful satisfaction he’d felt knowing what she truly felt about him.
“What’s the matter with you, girl?” Mrs Hodge’s bulk took up much of the doorway to Lizzy’s bedchamber as she regarded her charge through narrowed eyes the following morning. “Do you intend sleeping the whole day away?”
“Why does it matter to you?” Lizzy pulled the covers over her head like a child in her best attempt to put Mrs Hodge out of humour.
It worked. “You know very well that young ladies have responsibilities, and yours is to deport yourself with grace and charm,” Mrs Hodge said through gritted teeth, marching up to the bed and whisking off the bedcovers.
“You’re forever telling me I have none of either,” Lizzy muttered, curling herself in a ball before seizing the covers and pulling them back over her head. “I don’t have to do what you tell me to do if I don’t want to.” She felt safer saying this in a stranger’s house where Mrs Hodge was unlikely to screech as she usually did when she and Lizzy were at loggerheads.
“I’d have thought you’d want to very much,” Mrs Hodge said threateningly, “if you only think how I can make life uncomfortable for you. You’ve been a drain on my purse for the past five years, and I’m as tired of having you in my household as you clearly are to be forever under my feet.” With a deft flick of her wrist she once more whisked off the covers and, with a groan, Lizzy sat up on the soft featherdown mattress. So much more comfortable than her own at home. So much more enticing a prospect to imagine she could sleep on something similar when she finally quit Mrs Hodge’s household.
And, indeed, that’s really what she needed to do if she were to keep her sanity.
But at what cost? Mr Dalgleish? Was he really the one for her? She had thought he might be when she’d set out on this adventure.
Mrs Hodge loomed over her, hands on hips. “There’s a jug of water. No longer hot but you’ll have to make the best of it. Tidy yourself up. I will send Mabel to dress you and arrange your hair. You look a perfect fright! Mr Dalgleish was asking after you but half an hour ago, and I said I’d send you down shortly.”
“What if I don’t want to see Mr Dalgleish?”
A terrible silence greeted this pronouncement and then Mrs Hodge was like a dervish. “He is your salvation! You said those very words to me not five days ago when you railed at me for keeping you like a gaoler. He is my salvation for you are an ungrateful, lazy, slovenly girl, and he has agreed to take you off my hands and provide you with all the comforts you have ever dreamed of. The very comforts you’ve lamented you are so deprived of.” Mrs Hodge gripped Lizzy’s shoulders and shook her forcefully. “You will marry Mr Dalgleish. Indeed, you will!”
“But maybe I want to marry someone else instead.” Lizzy retreated into the corner and stared at Mrs Hodge, warily. “It would still amount to the same thing. I’d be off your hands.”
The response was interesting. Mrs Hodge stiffened, and a look of shock crossed her face. For a moment, Lizzy contemplated challenging her with the fact that she was almost certain Mr Dalgleish was paying her to broker the match but quickly thought better of it. Besides, what did it really matter if Mrs Hodge was benefitting through Mr Dalgleish? Lizzy was hardly going to benefit from her fortune. She’d long ago resigned herself to this. A woman was pushed from one protector to another, and the fortune that came with it was something she profited from only through the kindness of spouse, father, or brother.
Mr Dalgleish had presented himself as a handsome, interesting, and interested suitor. There were no others lining up. An image of Theo’s beautiful soft lips and the real ardour in his eyes burned her but the fact was, that when it came to suitors, Mr Dalgleish was the only one.
“Do you?” There was a strange note to Mrs Hodge’s voice as she moved ominously towards Lizzy. “Do you want to marry someone else?”
“Maybe,” Lizzy said, as she shook off Mrs Hodge’s hands, scrambling off her bed to make for her dressing table.
Mrs Hodge’s nostrils flared. “Who is he? A fortune hunter, no doubt?”
“And Mr Dalgleish isn’t?” After the traumatic evening Lizzy had had, and the dismal reality she was now contemplating—that the man she loved was not going to marry her—she found a perverse enjoyment in baiting the older woman.
“The only reason there might be someone else is if you’ve behaved like a grubby little trollop to whip up his interest.”
Lizzy hoped the shame that bubbled up inside her didn’t reveal itself in her expression. Mrs Hodge could smell weakness a mile away. And since Lizzy had discovered this not so long after arriving in her household, she’d been very sure not to show it. She had become practised at hiding her feelings from the woman. But clearly, not so good at that when it came to charming gentlemen.
“Mr Dalgleish has impeccable credentials.” Mrs Hodge’s voice held a warning.
“And so does the gentleman I might prefer to marry.”
“Who is he?” Mrs Hodge’s voice was like a whip.
“I’m not telling you.”
The woman’s hands were again touching the soft flesh of her neck. Lizzy swotted them away and turned on her stool. “I will not. Now, here is Mabel to do my hair. Please leave me so that I can get dressed.”
With great heavy breathing through her nose, Mrs Hodge stepped back with obvious reluctance to allow the maid access to Lizzy’s long, undressed hair.
“You’re a little fool if you think I shan’t find out,” she whispered, putting her mouth to Lizzy’s ear and leaving her with a moist and uncomfortable leave-taking. “And if you won’t tell me, I shall force it out of Mabel or the girl shall lose her position, mark my words.”
Chapter 15
“Antoinette, a rather vexing conundrum has arisen.” Without elaborating, Fanny glided into the room and insinuated herself between her sister and Fenton.
"Look!” With a snap, she drew aside the curtains and pointed in the direction of the lake.
Antoinette squinted, then turned to Fanny with a blank look. “A couple taking a stroll?”
“Not just any couple,” Fanny returned. “Don’t you see, Antoinette? It’s your fortune hunter!”
“Yes, I can see it’s Mr McAlister,” said Antoinette, shading her eyes against the weak winter sun, “but that’s not Lizzy.” The poke bonnet effectively hid the young woman’s face, but her figure was short and dumpy and her gown a simple and homely grey. Not at all the dashing figure young Lizzy Scott liked to cut. “And since it’s not Lizzy, I don’t see what you’re concerned about. I did what you told me to do, last night, even though I disliked doing it very much. I had stern words with Mr McAlister. I effectively warned him off Lizzy.”
“You were supposed to warn him away from Miss Harcourt, too!”
“I did! And I shall have a cosy little chat with Lizzy and ensure that she does what is in her best interests, provided that’s not chasing after Mr McAlister.” Antoinette paused. “I do believe that you and I are doing our duty sufficiently to keep both our heiresses safe from Mr McAlister, Fanny. Mr McAlister did not dance with Miss Harcourt last night—”
“But now he’s escorting her down the hill to goodness know’s where.” Fanny nibbled at her fingernail. “And the girl’s companion is still indisposed and can keep no eye on her. Lord, Antoinette, I wouldn’t care two figs about it other than that I really don’t want to see Mr McAlister kidnap the second Harcourt heiress, from under our roof this time.”
To Fanny’s irritation, Antoinette’s eyes lit up as if the idea were marvellous. “Well, we can only do what we can but…two heiresses kidnapped in less than a year? My, my, that would be rum.”
“It would be bad, Antoinette. Very bad.
”
“Anyway,” said Antoinette, “like Miss Scott, I think Miss Harcourt should do what she likes with her fortune, and of course I’d hate to upset my darling Quamby, but really, if she likes Mr McAlister after what he did to her sister, doesn’t that all but prove he’s not the devil? She should choose her own husband. Like we did.”
“We didn’t have twenty-five thousand pounds to gild the lily.”
Fenton, who’d now returned from a short journey to the mantelpiece to replenish his snuff, laughed at this. “But what you had was of much greater worth. Though, I must say, dearest, I think you’re doing it too brown with your concerns over fortune hunters at large and heiresses in danger of being whisked to Gretna Green in the middle of the night.”
Fanny regarded him a moment, then sighed. “You would not be so cavalier in your attitude if your invitation to court hung in the balance.”
“Oh, so that’s the reason!” Antoinette responded gaily. “I had forgotten you’d insinuated yourself into the good offices of Countess Villeneuve with her wondrous royal connections. Well, if it’s only your pristine reputation you are worried about, and not Miss Harcourt or Miss Scott’s well-being, I say let the young ladies make up their own minds.”
Fanny tried to keep her exasperation in check. “Except that Quamby will be exceedingly vexed with you if Lord Leighton arrives to find his second niece kidnapped, and Mrs Hodge will make my life intolerable, and no doubt spread all kinds of falsehoods that will stymie any further invitations to court, if Lizzy marries someone other than Mr Dalgleish. Someone she met here,” she added meaningfully.
“I suppose you are referring to Mr McAlister.” Antoinette stated the obvious. She appeared to ponder this a moment before glancing up, a rather harried expression upon her lovely face. “Let me assure you, Fanny, that I’m being kept very busy trying to be a good hostess, especially to several poor, lonely gentlemen who seem to know no one. But if you are asking me to devise my own way of taking Mr McAlister’s mind off either young lady, then I shall happily—”