Accidental Peers 03 - Compromising Willa (14 page)

Her mouth fell open. “Indiscretions?” Nausea bubbled in her chest. “Is this your way of informing me you plan to take mistresses?” She knew many
ton
marriages were marked by open affairs on both sides, but she could never countenance that kind of union for herself.

He examined her face. “Would you care if I did?”

Her body sank inward to absorb the blow of his words, as if he’d physically struck her. The duke planned to humiliate her with his affairs—just as her father had her mother. Tears prickled her nose. Like all men, he could not be trusted.

“Clearly, we hold differing views on the matrimonial state,” she bit out, proud she managed to inject a coolness she didn’t feel into the words. “It is fortunate we’ve realized our mistake before proceeding any further.” Shoulders back, chin tilted upward, she moved to walk past him.

“I have no intention of taking a mistress.” His large body stepped in her path. “There is only one woman I want and she stands before me.” The profound tenderness in his expression stole her breath. “You are all the woman I need.”

He lowered his face and gentle lips covered hers, his masculine scent filling her nose. He cradled her cheeks in his large hands and tilted his head to better take possession of her mouth. His lips were both firm and lush, imbuing the intimacy with intense emotion. Heat flooded her insides. The tip of his tongue touched her lower lip, asking for entry. She opened her mouth immediately and wrapped her hands around his neck.

Their tongues met, flickered together, and then mated in full stroking motions. Shivering with pleasure, she tasted the lingering essence of tea and cheroot, and an explosion of other nuances in the velvet warmth of his mouth. Hart’s tongue probed and demanded, tasted and devoured. His large hands closed over the swell of her bottom, cupping and massaging the sensitive mounds, urging her closer.

She went willingly. Shocking herself, she clawed at Hart’s shirt, desperate to feel the warm, bare skin underneath. When at last she reached the smooth, hard musculature of his back, his skin burned under her fingers. Her body throbbing with need, she pushed her heavy breasts against his chest, the curve of her body clinging to the determined lines of his. His arousal pressed into her softness. Just when it seemed as if nothing could stop her wantonness, an indignant voice rang out.

“Unhand her this instant.”

The shrill tone in Augustus’ outraged words pierced Willa’s abandon. Instead of floating on a cloud of warm pleasure, she returned to earth, to the feel of the hard ground beneath her boots and the press of the afternoon sun on her back. She broke away from Hart as though touched by fire, her cheeks and ears burning. The earl sat atop his gelding, watching them with a blanched face contorted with rage. Dismounting, he strode toward them, his body tensed with challenge.

Hart turned to Augustus with arrogant confidence, satisfaction etched in every line of his face. “I beg your pardon?” His cavalier tone suggested no trace of shame or humiliation at being caught
in flagrante.
Quite the contrary. Instead, he exuded the air of a man greatly enjoying himself.

Anxiety shot through her. She could not bear for this tawdry scene to become fodder for gossip among the house guests. It would humiliate her mother and taint the festivities planned in honor of Addie’s engagement.

Hart seemed amused by Augustus’ obvious distress and appeared to be in no hurry to alleviate it for him. “You have no right to interfere here. This is none of your concern.”

Augustus’ eyes widened. “None of my concern?” He dismounted in a quick motion and took a step toward them. “You, sir, have corrupted this lady and I shall call you out for damaging her honor.”

Another duel. Over her. Willa’s head spun, and not just from Hart’s kiss.

“You needn’t concern yourself with my affianced bride’s virtue.” Taking Willa’s arm, he tucked it into his elbow, signaling he had rights to her that no other man had.

The earl’s imperious features froze. “Your bride?” he said with a harsh laugh. “The Lady Wilhelmina? I think not.”

“What you think is of no consequence to me or my betrothed.”

Augustus’ gaze shifted to Willa’s face. “I have heard nothing of a betrothal. If you think to spare yourself from the dueling field by hiding behind her skirts—”

Hart took a step toward Augustus, his tone full of lethal warning. “As I said, our betrothal is none of your concern. You have no rights to the lady.”

“Ah, but she and I have unfinished business.” The earl ran in his eyes over Willa’s body, his eyes lingering on her breasts. She flushed, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. “Do you truly believe you are the only man to have sampled her abundant charms?”

Willa stiffened. Shame and dread shot up her spine at the mention of her ruination. Clearly, the earl meant to destroy her once and for all.

“You will speak no words against the lady nor do harm to her reputation.” The cut lines of Hart’s face sharpened into a menacing mask, his still-untucked shirt adding to an aura of untamed ferociousness. “Or I warn you I shall not bother to wait for the dueling field. I will beat you to a bloody pulp. I promise you another thrashing that will make Cambridge seem like a glove to the face in comparison.”

Warmth spilled into her belly, radiating out to her limbs at the fierceness of Hart’s tone. No one had ever defended her honor this way. Not even her family. Although they’d sought to shield her by ignoring the swirling rumors of her ruin, no one had ever stood up for her as Hart did now.

Augustus stared, for the first time betraying the faintest sign of alarm. “When is this supposed betrothal going to take place?”

Willa lifted her chin and sealed her fate. “It is already set. His Grace has spoken to Camryn.” Her hand remained in the comforting strength of the crook of her betrothed’s elbow. Her
betrothed.
She’d never intended to become anyone’s betrothed. But, to her immense surprise, the sound of that appealed to her.

“Is that so?” the earl said coldly. “And why is it no one seems aware of this most joyous news?”

“We are waiting until after the house party to make the announcement.” Willa placed her other hand on Hart’s elbow, so that she almost cradled his arm. “So as not to interfere with Adela and Race’s betrothal celebrations.”

“You needn’t concern yourself any further.” Warning saturated Hart’s words. “She is under my protection now and forever more. An insult against my lady is a slight against me and will be dealt with accordingly. Now, I suggest that you mount your beast and leave us to our privacy.”

It was not a request. Augustus’ eyes moved over Willa, lingering longer than was appropriate. Hart cursed under his breath and stepped forward, but Willa tightened her hold on his arm, silently imploring him to desist.

“I will withdraw. For now.” The earl swung up onto his horse. “But I warn you, this is far from over.” With that, he urged his horse onward at a leisurely pace, not appearing the least bit rushed or intimidated.

When he’d moved a distance away, Willa turned toward Hart and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the questions he would inevitably ask. Of course he would want to clarify Augustus’ pointed implications. If they were to marry, she knew the time had come to answer Hart’s questions honestly.

He regarded her with clouded deep blue eyes, but his tone was easy. “That settles it then.”

“Settles it?” She pressed a hand flat against the heavy disappointment in her stomach. He was leaving her. Just an hour ago, she might have welcomed it. But no longer.

“Yes.” He walked over to his mount and picked up the reins. “No bits of muslin for me and no strange men in your bed.” He walked back over and offered her his arm. “If that kiss is any indication, I’ll have no need to look further than the marriage bed to satisfy my needs.”

…

With a loud cry of outrage, Augustus hurled the brandy decanter. It shattered against the stone hearth, spewing shards of glass onto the faded Aubusson carpet. Standing in the dark-paneled study at Bellingham Park, he battled to calm the storm in his head.

Up until now, he’d been fairly certain he had been the only man to kiss Willa, to know her intimately. Now Hartwell had infringed on what was his.

Augustus’ plan to keep Willa untouched by another man until he was ready for her had worked beautifully up until this moment. It had almost been too easy. For years she had dangled like succulent low-hanging fruit before the entire
ton,
but no idiot dared step forward to pluck her. Until today. And it had to be Hartwell, now a duke, no less. Not someone who could be intimidated or bought off. Though perhaps blackmail remained a possibility. He would have his man of affairs look into it.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the loathsome images of Willa in Hartwell’s arms, her supple body arched up against his. She’d behaved like a common whore who’d spread her legs for any man. Unlike how she had been with him. Her nervous, stilted kisses at the inn had been anything but welcoming. She’d even put up a struggle, unaware she fought the inevitable.

The thought of her with Hartwell made his head pound. Dark jealousy gouging his chest, he slammed his fist onto his desk and swept everything off its surface. The books and artifacts fell with a thud on the rug. His fit of fury was punctuated by a polite rap on the door and the butler entered to announce that the earl’s solicitor awaited his pleasure.

Once he was shown in, James Ogden, a short, sturdy man in spectacles, went straight to the purpose for his visit. “My lord, you lost 10,000 guineas in a single bet last week.”

“Yes.” He examined his fingernails. “What of it?”

“My lord, I must warn you the excessive betting is doing severe damage to your financial situation.”

“Why are you bothering me about a silly wager?” Augustus said impatiently. “I have made bigger ones.”

“Yes, indeed,” the solicitor said. “That is part of the problem.”

“How dare you presume to tell me how to manage my affairs? Perhaps you should remember your place.”

Ogden coughed. “My place is to handle your financial affairs. I thought you should be aware that it might be difficult to meet certain expenses in the coming months.”

Augustus adopted a condescending tone, one he’d use with a child. “Then take out more markers. Just see that you take care of things.”

“Incurring more debt would not be a wise course to take. Perhaps you should consider cutting expenses—”

Augustus had heard enough. He rose to signal the end of the conversation. “Perhaps you should find a position elsewhere. I’ve no further use for your services. Get out of my sight.”

Ignoring the man’s departure, his thoughts bounced back to the sight of Willa in Hartwell’s arms. He couldn’t wait to teach her a lesson, to punish her for letting another man touch her. And given Ogden’s concerns about finances, her dowry would come in quite handy as well.

The butler reappeared with a packet. “My lord, this came for you today. From a man who identified himself as a Bow Street runner.”

“Excellent. Just what I’ve been waiting for.” Eager anticipation supplanted the earl’s irritation. He could only hope these papers contained the information he sought. Tearing the package open, he scanned the documents, finally finding just what he needed to make Willa his. He smiled. It wouldn’t be long now before he brought the haughty princess to her knees. The delicious sense of long-awaited satisfaction swelled his member.

He refocused his attention on the butler. “Benton, what is the name of the new maid? The pretty one with the brown hair and big brown eyes.”

Benton stiffened. “Mary, my lord?”

“Mary, yes. Send her in to clean up this mess.”

“My lord, William, the footman, can see to it. It is his duty.”

Augustus waved an impatient hand. His breeches were fast becoming uncomfortably tight. “I determine who does what around here. Send Mary in now.”

A few minutes later, after a tentative knock on the study door, Mary entered with her head bowed, a riot of brown curls escaping the sides of her demure cap. She knelt to pick up the mess on the floor. Augustus watched her for a moment from behind his desk. He tried to remember her story. Ah, yes, she came from the village. The father was dead and the girl’s earnings supported the mother and younger siblings. He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned his hip against it as the maid went about her task. She was a petite little thing, a mere girl really, with not much meat on her bones. Not that it mattered. He began to unfasten his breeches.

“Come here, Mary. There is something else I need you to take care of for me.”

“You have terrible aim,” Addie said gaily to Race after he missed all but one pin in his first throw at Skittles.

The guests had scattered across the lawn behind the manor house. Some played croquet while others tried their hand at battlecock and shuttledore. The older guests, ensconced in comfortable chairs grouped together on the grass, sipped lemonade and watched the goings-on.

Race’s brows waggled in his rough-hewn face. “My aim is perfect when it counts—as you shall soon see.” Addie colored, but an agitated Augustus interrupted the couple’s flirtation.