A Worthy Wife (7 page)

“Of course, but I could not let her go to the poor-house, could I? I thought you’d have the answer.”

“I suppose I should be warmed by your confidence in me, my dear, but I have already saved one damsel in distress. That’s my limit. I’m not taking a page from Podell’s book, not even for you, Aurora.”

“I didn’t mean you should marry her, silly. I just thought you might know of some kind family that would take her in for a few months or something.”

“I suppose she may stay on long enough to travel to Derby with us, if that’s what you wish. There is always an empty cottage or an old pensioner who needs assistance with chores.”

“I knew you could make things right!” Aurora leaned over the table and kissed his cheek.

“Hmm, I wonder how you’d show your gratitude if I found a home for your pet pickpocket, Ned.”

Aurora laughed, blushing at her own daring. “Needles is no thief. And he found his own home. He’s going to be my page.”

“Fustian. Pages went out of fashion with the Middle Ages.”

“Chivalry lives on,” she told him, patting his arm before reaching for her fork, “so why not page boys?”

She thought of him as a knight in shining armor? Kenyon’s heart swelled. So did other organs, to think the night might yet end amorously. He moved his chair closer still.

“So how was your afternoon?” Aurora asked hurriedly, before he could press her further.

Kenyon sighed, but addressed himself to the veal roulades instead of the delectable morsel at his side. “Not quite so eventful as yours, I daresay. The doddering old fools at the War Office have no news of my brother’s release, and your family’s solicitor confirms that you have no fortune. Had no fortune, that is, for mine is enough for both of us. At least I thought it would be, before you set out to give it all away.” He quickly held up one hand. “I am teasing, my dear.” He was also intending to get her out of Town before London’s underworld discovered what an easy mark his mutton-headed wife was.

“You’re truly not upset about my lack of dowry, Kenyon?”

He raised her hand—the one not holding the fork—and kissed her fingers. “A good heart is worth more than all the gold on earth. On the other hand, I still cannot help wondering about Podell’s motives. Don’t fly up in the boughs, my dear, but the man was a confirmed cad and a wanted criminal. He’d not have chanced a public wedding, with the banns being called three times and published for all to see, unless he expected a windfall in return, no matter how fond he might have been.”

“I have been thinking of what you said earlier, too, and I have to conclude that Harland never truly loved me, despite his oaths of eternal devotion. A man truly in love wouldn’t lie or cheat or chance destroying his beloved’s reputation the way he did. But I had no fortune for him to be hunting, so I have concluded that he…he simply desired me.”

Now Kenyon made the biggest mistake of his life,
after marrying Genevieve and trying to ride that man-hating stallion when he was seventeen. He regarded his pretty young wife through his quizzing glass, noting the demure, high-necked gown that hid a sweet but far from voluptuous figure, the clear complexion innocent of cosmetics, the honest blue eyes, and he laughed.

Which was indeed a very big mistake, unless he had been wishing to create a new style of neckcloth: the
trône d’asparagus
.

Chapter Seven

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“Then how are we going to get to know each other, my pet?”

“I don’t care if I ever get to know you, you insensitive clod. In fact, the more I do know of you, the less I like, so you would do better on your own side of the door.”

“But I cannot apologize through the wood, Aurora. Besides, you missed dessert. I brought a bowl of strawberries and cream.”

“Fresh strawberries?”

“Large, ripe, juicy ones. And fresh, sweet cream—perhaps from the cows right nearby in Green Park.”

Aurora opened the door, accepted the tray, and would have shut the door in his face if her hands were free. As if he could read her mind, Kenyon stepped inside the room before she had the chance to close the barrier between them again. He noted the angry spots of color still staining her cheeks, as if a child wearing mittens had played in the rouge pot, and said, “I do sincerely apologize, you know.”

She put the tray down on an occasional table and went to stand by the fireplace, away from him. “And I regret acting so childishly, throwing food at you. I don’t know what came over me.” Of course she did; it was the realization that she could never be the wife he wanted.

“No, I should never have laughed. But I was not belittling your desirability, my dear. Lud knows I harbor lustful thoughts of you myself, after the sampling last night.”

“No, your honor demanded to brand me as yours, as you explained then. You’ll beget your heirs, doing your
duty, without ever believing that any man would develop a…a burning passion for me.”

“Widgeon.” He followed her to the fireplace and took her in his arms. When she did not resist, he kissed her, stealing her breath, if not her wits. “There,” he said, his own breathing none too steady, “you could incite passion in a dead man, I’d swear.” He placed her hand over his chest, where his shirt was open at the neck, his cravat and coat having been sent to the laundry; “Feel the heat? I do not burn for every attractive woman I meet. You did that.”

Aurora snatched her hand away, but not before noticing that the hair on his chest was darker than the hair on his head. It felt different, too—springy, and, yes, warm. Not as warm as she was feeling, though. She clasped her hands together, making sure they did not trespass where her mind was wandering. The heat had to be from the coal fire, so she moved away from the mantel, but that way was the bed. Oh, dear. “But if I, ah, elicit licentious thoughts in a gentleman like yourself, then why do you insist that Lieutenant Podell had other motives?”

Kenyon smiled at her nervous pacing and helped himself to a strawberry. “Because if all he wanted was your body, my dear, he would have taken it. The man had no honor, no principles to stop him from having his pleasure.”

“What, like that dastard cornering Judith on the servants’ stairs?”

“Oh, he would not have resorted to ravishment. Podell was contemptible, but he was a coward at heart. No, you would have surrendered your maidenhood in a hurry if he’d asked.”

Now she was affronted again. “I never!”

“So I discovered, but you would have.”

“How could you think I am that kind of woman!”

He took another bite of the fruit. “You were the one who declared yourself ruined, remember.”

“Yes, but I only permitted him such liberties because he said he loved me, and I expected an offer any moment. I would never have permitted a gentleman such license otherwise, you may be sure.”

“Fustian. You are a passionate woman. We proved that last night, too.”

“You plied me with champagne.”

“No, my lady wife, your blood runs warm in your veins, though you are not aware of it yet. A practiced rake could seduce you in a moment, despite your scruples, and without rendering you disguised.”

“Never.” Now if Aurora were more sophisticated, she would have known not to issue such a challenge. Then again, she would have known that the whole conversation had been a trap. “Never,” she repeated.

The gauntlets were down. He smiled, a knowing grin. Such a look a fox might have worn when the rabbit left his last bolt-hole. Windham’s green eyes were alight with dancing sparks, but Aurora would not back down. So when he said, “Let’s sit on the chaise, eat our strawberries, and discuss it further, shall we?” she had no choice but to follow.

She sat as far from him as possible, smoothing her skirts so not even an inch of fabric brushed against his satin breeches. Of course she could not help noticing how the smooth fabric molded itself to his well-muscled thighs. She inched over till she was in peril of falling off the sofa. But now she could not reach the strawberries on the table next to him.

“Oh, would you like one?” he asked, selecting a large berry, dipping it in the cream and holding it out. She reached for the fruit, but instead the earl brought it to her lips, brushing it against them, leaving a trail of cream for her to lick off.

He licked his own lips, as if in anticipation.

“I don’t think…”

He ignored her. “Sweet, hmm? But not as sweet as your lips.” He still held the berry, offering it to her again. She took a bite, and he ate the rest. Staring at her mouth, he licked the juice from the corner of his own mouth while she watched. “Hmm. Soft and moist and delicious.”

Aurora swallowed, loudly.

Then he selected another berry. But this time he wiped the cream off with his finger and sucked on it, reminding her of how their tongues had met. She almost choked on the berry he finally fed her.

Kenyon slowly licked the cream off his next strawberry, making those contented humming sounds. Aurora could only watch, recalling how he had kissed her breasts through the fabric of her nightgown, licking as…as though he was licking the strawberry. Heavens!

He held the next one an inch from her lips. “Think of how good it will taste, how your tongue will wrap around it, keeping the flavor. How satisfying it will be. The anticipation is often the best part, isn’t it? You can almost feel the sweetness spread from your mouth to your throat and down to those hidden depths.”

Aurora couldn’t take her eyes off his lips as he finally put the strawberry in her mouth, then withdrew it. And again, almost as if—“I think I have had enough strawberries. Any more and I am liable to get spots.”

“Any more and you’re liable to let me make love to you here on the rug in front of the fire.” Kenyon reluctantly wiped his hands on a napkin. He’d made his point, but wasn’t cad enough to press the advantage. “Admit it, Aurora. I could have seduced you tonight, without ever laying a finger on your rosy skin. You are a warm-blooded woman, so why are you denying us both the pleasure of that comfortable bed?”

Because she didn’t want to be seduced; she wanted to be loved and cherished and esteemed. Because she did not want to be like every other woman he had lain with, her wedding lines notwithstanding. Aurora couldn’t say any of that, of course. What she did say was, “I thought this was a discussion about Harland and his motives.”

“He was not after simple sexual gratification.”

There was nothing simple about it that Aurora could feel—and she was still feeling quivers down to her knees. But he was wrong; she might succumb to strawberries, but Harland had never made her feel like this, not by half. “What, then?”

“There has to be money somewhere. Perhaps from your father’s family?”

“The Halles sent Papa out to India just before disowning him, I’m afraid. He had gambling debts, you see. I have avoided wagering my entire life, lest I become addicted to it, as he was reputed to be.”

“Perhaps he gambled on something and died before he could collect? Podell might have discovered it somehow. Someone else in India might have known.”

“The only one I know was Lord Phelan, but he was only there a month before contracting malaria. He left and took me and a nursemaid with him, I understand, because my mother was ill. He would have told me long ago if I was any kind of heiress.”

“Someone else, then, someone who made a practice of knowing every tidbit about every Englishman in India. Did you ever meet Lady Anstruther-Jones? Her husband was an official of the Trading Company, and she was the unofficial British hostess.”

“I left India before my second birthday; I really don’t recall anything but the heat.”

“No matter, Lady Anstruther-Jones will see us anyway. She enjoys chatting about her India days. I’ll send around a note tomorrow morning, asking if we can call, shall I?”

Aurora shrugged. “If you wish, but I swear it’s hopeless. You’d do better to drag Harland back and ask him.”

“He should be halfway to Portsmouth by now, on his way to catch the next ship for Jamaica. Lord Phelan was going to escort him to make sure the loose screw didn’t slip away, so perhaps your godfather learned something more. He said he’d call on us as soon as he returned to Town. We’ll visit the viscountess tomorrow. If anyone knows anything, she will. Meantime, the evening is still young. I thought we might…might…” He’d been going to suggest cards or something, but Lud, she didn’t gamble. “Discuss color schemes. That’s it, I want to redecorate the master suite at Warriner House and need to know your preferences. I brought some fabric swatches back with me.”

Goodness, Aurora thought, if strawberries could rouse such a fever in her blood, imagine what havoc silks and
brocades could wreak. She quickly yawned. “I’m sorry, my lord, but that will have to wait for morning, also. I’m not used to Town hours yet, you know, and I am much too tired. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

And it looked to be a longer night, but Kenyon was not giving up. He gave her a chaste good night kiss on the cheek, and then he intended to give her thirty minutes to prepare for bed. He changed into his nightshirt meanwhile, then paced in his own bedroom, peering at the clock.

Before twenty minutes had passed, he heard a scratch on his door. Thinking his valet must have suicidal tendencies in returning after he’d been dismissed for the night, Kenyon yanked the door open. “What the devil do you—”