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“My father refused to let us marry, Reese. He insisted I marry the earl.”
“Funny, I seem to remember you saying that you would gain his approval and you would marry me.”
She tried not to flinch beneath his cold regard. “We were never officially engaged. In time, I thought my father would give us his blessing. He refused. After you were gone, it wasn’t so easy to fight him. I wasn’t as strong as I am now.”
And I was pregnant and frightened and only eighteen. But she could hardly say that.
“And there was Aldridge,” he said darkly, “right there knocking on your door. Writing you poetry, always solicitous, always full of flattery.”
“He was nothing at all what he seemed. He fooled my father completely. At first he even fooled me.”
“Still, you are a countess, your son an earl.”
She looked down at her empty glass, wishing she had more sherry, wishing she had let him pour her some more. “I am wealthy in my own right. My father left his fortune to me. It is returned to me now that Aldridge is dead.”
“Lucky for you.” He had moved closer, she realized, and now stood right behind her. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck. “Have you thought about what happened in the music room?”
She swallowed. She could scarcely get those moments out of her head. Slowly, she turned to face him. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve never been kissed in that way.”
He frowned. “Surely Aldridge proved a satisfactory lover.”
Her stomach rolled. She couldn’t bear to think of the nights Edmund had pressed himself on her. “Please, I would rather not discuss my late husband.”
His hands came to rest at her waist. “You’re right, of course. I would rather discuss what might be arranged between the two of us.” She stiffened as he bent toward her, pressed his lips against the side of her neck. Gooseflesh raced over her skin and her heart set up a clatter.
“What … what are you doing?”
“I am kissing you, Elizabeth.” And then he did, his mouth claiming hers as if he had every right. He took her with abandon, a deep, drugging, possessive kiss that should have frightened her but instead left her light-headed and yearning.
The kiss deepened, grew more fierce. His tongue was hot and slick over hers and he tasted of the brandy he had been drinking. She couldn’t think, could barely stay on her feet. Her hands slid up the lapels of his black dinner jacket and she clung to him, breathed him in.
“You wanted me before, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her ear. “Apparently, you still do. And believe me, I want you.”
He held her so closely she could feel his powerful erection pressing against her. She should have been repulsed but she wasn’t. His body was lean and fit, his chest wide and hard, and the feel of his arms around her made her knees feel weak.
She forced herself to pull away. “You don’t … don’t even like me.”
He shrugged those broad shoulders. “Like has little to do with desire.” He leaned toward her, bent his dark head and kissed the place below her ear, and her stomach quivered.
“It’s obvious the attraction between us remains,” he went on. “You’re a widow. We could please each other, Elizabeth.”
She moved a little away, desperate to save herself. He didn’t like her, but he desired her. He was a man, after all, no different from any other. “I’m not … not interested in some illicit affair. I have a son to consider. And I refuse to be the victim of another man’s lust.”
One of his sleek black eyebrows went up. “That’s all there was? Edmund and his lust?”
Tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked them away before he could see. “I don’t want to think about it. Please, Reese …”
At the sound of his name and the plea in her voice, he straightened. He studied her a moment and she wished she knew what he was thinking.
“All right, if that is the way you want it. Just remember, the offer remains open. Think about it, Elizabeth. I can give you the pleasure he couldn’t.”
She only shook her head. She enjoyed Reese’s kisses, the featherlight touches that made her feel like the woman she had once been, but the thought of making love was utterly unbearable.
“I—I’ll be leaving here soon,” she said. “I haven’t got the arrangements entirely worked out, but I’m certain I’ll be able to see it done very shortly.”
Reese said nothing.
Elizabeth moistened her lips. “Good night, my lord.” His blue eyes darkened for an instant, before she turned away. Elizabeth hurried out of the drawing room, headed upstairs. She couldn’t wait to reach her bedroom.
And she couldn’t understand why Reese’s offer made the blood pump so furiously through her veins.
Reese paced the floor of his bedroom. The scene in the withdrawing room had been completely unplanned. But sometime during the course of the evening, watching Elizabeth beneath the glow of the candles, admiring the gleam of her raven hair, the pale smoothness of her skin, the subtle rise and fall of her breasts, desire had begun to burn inside him, along with the notion of having her in his bed.
He kept thinking of the kisses they had shared, remembering the way she had responded. He wanted her and apparently she wanted him.
He owed her nothing.
If he wanted her, why shouldn’t he have her?
Discovering how little she knew of passion made his desire for her even greater. Clearly, Edmund Holloway had been an inept lover. The sort of husband who took his pleasure and gave nothing in return. As Reese looked back on the kiss in the music room, he had sensed an innocence he hadn’t expected. It was there in her untutored kisses tonight.
He could teach her, give her the pleasure she had missed in the course of her marriage. And in doing so, relieve his need for a woman, unsatisfied since his arrival at Briarwood.
In a way, taking Elizabeth as his temporary mistress would be gaining an odd sort of revenge. He didn’t love her. Not anymore. But he desired her. More, perhaps, because he’d had her only once and had never gotten his fill.
He wanted her and she wanted him and only Elizabeth’s conscience stood in the way.
A hard smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Considering the ease with which she had jilted him for another man, whatever minor amount of conscience she possessed shouldn’t be much of a problem.
Shrugging out of his coat, Reese tossed it onto the bed. His leg throbbed as he walked over to the bellpull to summon Timothy and began to plan his strategy. He’d been an officer in the army. He knew how to mount a campaign.
With very little effort, Reese believed, he would have Elizabeth Holloway in his bed.
Elizabeth sent a note to Lady Tavistock, requesting a meeting at her earliest convenience. The dowager’s reply suggested they meet in the garden at two o’clock that afternoon.
Elizabeth paced nervously back and forth across her bedroom, wishing the time would pass. At one o’clock, she summoned Gilda to help her change into a walking dress and coif her dark hair. The chambermaid acting as her temporary ladies’ maid was tall and thin, with very curly blond hair. The girl didn’t know much about a lady’s toilette, but she was willing to do whatever Elizabeth asked.
Gilda opened the door of the armoire. “Which one, milady?”
Elizabeth bit her lip. Several days ago, she had sent Gilda to Aldridge Park with instructions to get Sophie’s help in packing more of Elizabeth’s clothes. Once she reached London, she would send for Sophie, who had been her maid for years. Until then, she needed a few more things to wear than she had been able to carry in the satchel with which she had escaped.
She studied the gowns in the armoire. All of them were black, of course, but at least the styles were different.
“Perhaps the one with the pagoda sleeves.” She shook her head. “No, I think the silk and crepe with the bodice that buttons up the front would be less formal.”
The girl laid the gown out on the bed, walked over and tightened Elizabeth’s stays, which had been loosened while she rested after lunch. Gilda helped her into the several layers of black petticoats that held out her full skirts, then helped her fasten the black silk buttons on the front of the gown.
Elizabeth turned toward the mirror. She wasn’t as pale as she had been when she had arrived, but it didn’t really matter. She hated the way she looked in black.
One more bad mark against Edmund for dying and forcing her into mourning.
One good mark that he was finally gone from her life.
She sat down in front of the dresser and Gilda worked to smooth her heavy curls into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. Satisfied she looked proper enough to face Reese’s aunt, she rose and started for the door.
“Thank you, Gilda. I shall not need you until an hour or so before supper.” At which time, she would put on a different black shroud, one that at least allowed a portion of her bosom to show and displayed a bit of femininity.
She tried not to wonder if Reese would look at her as he had last night after supper. She could still feel the heat of his gaze as it settled on the hint of cleavage between her full breasts. She had never been slender, not even as a girl, but after birthing Jared, her bosom was fuller, her hips more curvy. Reese seemed not to mind.
The thought made her skin feel moist and a trickle of warmth slid into her stomach. She had to stop thinking of him, she told herself as she made her way down the staircase, had to stop thinking what it might be like to let him kiss her again, hold her in his arms.
Instead, she focused on her meeting with the dowager countess. Her greatest concern was her son. She had to find a way to protect him.
Elizabeth crossed the brick terrace and descended the few steps into the garden, which was heavily overgrown. The entire house needed a good thorough cleaning and overall polish. But Reese was a bachelor, and caring for the charming old manor house was a task only a woman could see fully accomplished.
For the next ten minutes, she wandered the gravel pathways, her slippers crunching on a colorful array of fallen leaves. Another set of footsteps sounded on the path behind her, slower, more hesitant, and she knew the dowager countess had arrived.
Elizabeth turned to see the old woman in a gown of apricot silk warmed by a light, matching pelisse moving slowly along the path, leaning heavily on her cane. Without thinking she hurried to help her.
“Why don’t we sit right here?” she suggested, easing the old woman down on a wrought iron bench.
“Thank you,” Lady Tavistock said stiffly.
“I appreciate your seeing me.” Elizabeth took a seat on the opposite end of the bench. The air was crisp and cool but not cold, the wind not more than a whisper.
“It would seem we have a good deal to discuss.”
“Yes …”
“I rarely make mistakes in judgment, you know. And yet I made one with you. I knew my nephew was in love with you. There was a time I believed you were deeply in love with him. I was wrong. If you had loved him, you never would have hurt him the way you did.”
Elizabeth’s heart clenched. How could she possibly explain? “I understand the way you feel, my lady. You think I abandoned Reese and married Aldridge for his money and title. It wasn’t so. I loved Reese. I wanted to marry him more than anything in the world.”
She stared at her lap, the sun beating down on the heavy black folds of her skirt. She looked up at the dowager countess. “Then I found out I was going to have a baby.” She swallowed against the memory. “I was terrified. When my father found out, he was beyond furious.”
“I remember your father had a temper. I never thought he would hurt you.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. He never struck me. He simply … my father ruled me. Mother was dead. I did whatever my father commanded. I can’t remember a time I ever disobeyed his wishes.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell Reese about the child?”
Even now the memory was painful. “Father forbade me to have any further contact with Reese. He said he had dishonored me and he was never to come near me again. I wasn’t as strong as I am now. I wasn’t able to fight him. I did what he told me to do.”
The older woman looked at her askance. “And Aldridge’s charm played no part in your decision.”
“Not his charm, no. Perhaps the safety he offered in giving my unborn child his name. He was older, more settled, and he was there, not off somewhere adventuring. The decision itself was never truly mine. I married Aldridge, as my father insisted. And I regretted it every day of my life.”
The countess leaned back against the iron bench. Beneath her shrewd regard, Elizabeth fought not to squirm.
“My nephew says you came here because you feared for yourself and your child, but perhaps you had a different motive.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps you came here to resume your relationship with Reese. Do you intend to lure my nephew back into your clutches?”
“No! I came here because I was desperate. I knew my son was in danger. My family is all gone. Reese was the only person I could trust.”
“Because he is Jared’s father?”
“Because he is a man of honor and strength and I believed he would not turn us away.”
The countess seemed to weigh Elizabeth’s words. “When will you tell him?”
Elizabeth stared off into the distance. She had no idea how to tell Reese a secret so profound. A secret that would turn his dislike of her to hate.
“I need time. I don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know what will happen to my son once Reese knows the truth.” Tears collected in her eyes. “Jared is already so withdrawn. He is too young yet to understand his true parentage. I’m afraid if the information is handled wrong, it could destroy him completely.”
The dowager said nothing for the longest time. “The boy’s well-being is the most important concern. This wasn’t my business until you came here. Now it is. I’ll give you the time you need. I’ll give you a chance to figure out the best way to handle the matter, but I won’t let you deceive Reese forever.”
Her stomach tightened. She couldn’t imagine the enmity Reese would feel once she told him the truth.
A lump rose in Elizabeth’s throat. “In my heart I knew when I saw them together that sooner or later I would have to tell him. I give you my word that I will. Until then, you have my heartfelt gratitude for giving me the time I need to try to make this right.”
The old woman rose shakily from the bench. “As I said, for now, you may do as you wish. But I warn you, do not test my patience too long.” Leaning heavily on her cane, Lady Tavistock made her way along the gravel path, up the brick steps and across the terrace. She disappeared inside the house and Elizabeth sank back down on the bench.
For now she had the old woman’s cooperation. But dear God, how long would it last?
And how could she explain to a little boy that she had lied to him about the man who was his father?
Eight
Wearing only a white lawn shirt and a pair of riding breeches, Reese sat on a wooden bench in the stable, working his injured leg. He and Timothy Daniels had begun to follow the same routine daily.
“Pull harder,” Reese said, ignoring the sharp pain that traveled up his calf and along his thigh. He needed to stretch the stiff muscles, find a way to make them limber and useful again. “Now the other way.”
Timothy pulled and Reese gritted his teeth at the agony screaming up his leg. He could do this, by God. He would learn to walk without his damnable cane. In time, perhaps he would even be able to ride again.
“Harder, dammit. You’re as strong as a bull. Put that strength to use.”
Timothy looked dubiously at the sweat popping out on Reese’s forehead, but he was a soldier and a soldier followed his superior’s commands. “Aye, Major.”
Reese caught hold of the wooden contraption they had constructed above the bench and Timothy threw his weight against the leg.
Pain shot through him. “Keep going.”
Timothy kept pulling until something made a popping sound and Reese hissed in pain. “Dammit!”
Timothy hovered worriedly above him. “How bad is it, Major? What did I do?”
