Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (19 page)

“I’ve taken care of all that,” Christian assured him. “Crockett won’t be bothering you any more.”

“You’ve paid him?” Merissa, who was almost out the door by now, turned around and gaped at Christian. “All of it?”

“No, I didn’t pay him. The bastard, excuse my language, doesn’t deserve his ill-gotten winnings. I made it very clear that he was not to fleece any more green boys,” Christian said with satisfaction. “Told him I’d ruin him if he kept up his reprehensible practices.”

“And he agreed?” Charles gave an exultant laugh. “That’s capital, sir!” He came to shake Christian’s hand. “I’m much obliged to you. I told Merissa that you were a great swell, the very best of gentleman!”

“What makes you think Crockett will heed you?” Merissa asked. “How can you trust him? He seemed like a very hardened, sinister sort to me. I would not be surprised if he sent someone after Charles, and perhaps me as well.”

Her shudder of dread aroused Christian’s ire. The foolish little minx! Crockett might well have hurt her. The thought made his blood run cold. “Which is another thing, Merissa!” he exploded. “Whatever possessed you to go to such a place? You might have been hurt or robbed, or worse!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she shouted back. She turned to go out the door.

Christian reached for her arm and held it firmly. “No, you don’t. I’m not traipsing around London anymore today, trying to save you from your own bacon-brained foolishness. You’re coming to my town house and that’s that!”

“Bacon-brained!” Merissa drew a gasp of outrage and began to pummel him. To save himself, he grabbed her other arm and pinned it against her body. They were face to face, their bodies touching. Christian felt a totally inappropriate rush of desire.

“Let go of me!” she cried. She looked to Charles. “Make him unhand me! He has no right to restrain me.”

Charles looked from Merissa to. Christian. “See, here ‘Rissa, he does have a point”

“Ohhhhhh!” She shrieked and began to struggle wildly.

Christian tightened his grip. “Stop that! You’ll only hurt yourself!”

“Stop it, or what?” she challenged. “You’ll truss me up and kidnap me?”

Christian regarded her in exasperation. Her face was flushed, her breasts heaving, her spectacles askew. She looked utterly delectable. “Stop that or I’ll... I’ll kiss you.”

She froze instantly and stared at him as if he had said he would bash her head in.

Christian suppressed a relieved laugh. All this awkward shouting and brawling when all he had to do was threaten to kiss her “That’s better.” He loosened his grip on her arms. “You know I’m right. I only have your best interests at heart.”

She regarded him with a kind of furious wariness. He took her arm in a gentlemanly grip. “Charles,” he said. “If you would be so good as to bring the baggage.”

In the hackney, Merissa leaned back and closed her eyes, fighting tears. It had been such a trying day. Truth was, she wanted to bury her face in Christian’s immaculate waistcoat and cry her eyes out. But she would not. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her helpless and weak.

She had to remain strong. She had to stand up to him. Everything was in his favor. He was a man, he was rich and titled, and they did owe him a great deal. If he really had arranged things with Mr. Crockett, he might well have saved her brother’s life.

The thought made a new surge of emotion well up inside her. Why was he being so kind to her? What did he want? To see her utterly humiliated and humbled? To make her beg for him to kiss her?

Dear heavens, that was what she wanted! To have him hold her in his arms and kiss her and take her to that rapturous, magical place once more.

Why could he not leave her alone? He’d made his feelings clear. Why couldn’t he leave her be?

Next to her, she could hear Charles and Christian conversing quietly. Traitor! she thought bitterly. All Christian had to do was appear manly and gallant and her brother was completely enthralled. He’d actually taken Christian’s part rather than hers. See if she ever tried to rescue him again!

The self-pitying tears threatened once more. Oh, dear, what wouldn’t she give for a soft, warm bed. She felt the will to fight slipping away from her.

When the carriage stopped, she didn’t even try to rouse herself. Let Christian carry her. He treated her as if she were a pathetic, missish schoolgirl. She might as well act the part.

Besides, it felt good to have his strong arms around her. To smell the spicy scent of his shaving soap. As long as she pretended to be asleep, he’d never know how much delight she took in the feel of his body close to hers.

She heard him giving orders to his servants, and their murmured responses. Then he was carrying her upstairs. A door creaked open. A delicious warmth emanated from a well-stoked fireplace nearby, and he lay her down on a cloud-like bed.

“Don’t let her take a chill,” he said to someone. A door shut and soft, efficient feminine fingers began to undress her.

~ ~ ~

He shouldn’t, Christian thought. It was hardly appropriate, or seemly. When had that ever stopped him before?

Stealthily, he opened the door. The worst that could happen was Merissa would awake and start screaming at him. But then he could use his secret weapon and kiss her. If the mere threat of it was enough to silence her, the actual thing should make her completely submissive.

He crept into the room. The only light was the faint glow from the fire, but it was sufficient to reveal her loveliness. He stood beside the bed, entranced by the way her riotous curls framed the pale oval of her face. By her plump pink lips. Her pert nose, sprinkled with those unfashionable, but adorable freckles.

It was a terrible struggle not to kiss her. Not to trail his mouth down the long column of her neck and seek the sweet warm hollow between her breasts.

He swallowed. He shouldn’t have come. The temptation was too great. Perhaps she’d known that it would be this way. That once he got her into such close proximity, he’d never want to let her go back to Whytcliff

She aroused such feelings in him. Such tenderness. She made him care. Made him—jaded, cynical Christian Faraday—behave like a moonstruck boy.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out and touched a silky curl lying against her cheek. She sighed softly, faintly, and something twisted inside him. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to sit in the chair by the fire and watch her all night. To know that she was safe. That the harsh, brutal world hadn’t touched her irrepressible spirit.

But, really, there was only one way to protect her, to make certain that she remained his charming, aggravating, delightful Merissa. He was going to have to marry her.

Odd that he’d fought the notion for so long. It was the only logical, reasonable thing to do. Unless he married her, he wouldn’t be able to protect her and take care of her. And that was what he wanted. More than anything.

But it might not be that easy. She might refuse him. She was such a stubborn, willful wench. He’d have to think of some way to convince her that becoming his wife was inevitable.

Perhaps if he did ruin her, climbed in bed with her and indulged his heated, passionate fantasies, she’d have no choice but to marry him.

But he didn’t want it to be like that. He wanted her to say “yes” and smile at him with love in her eyes, not resent him for coercing her.

There was no help for it, he’d have to woo her, court her. He wasn’t quite certain how to go about it. He’d never pursued a woman before. They’d all come to him. A few had behaved coquettishly and played hard to get, but he hadn’t exactly strained himself in the chase.

How the devil did a man behave when he wanted to make a woman fall in love with him? Give her gifts? Whisper sweet loving words? Make a fuss over her in public?

He wasn’t certain any of those things would work with Merissa, but he had to try. The main thing was to convince her to remain in London. Perhaps he could engage Charles’s help in that. Then, he could proceed with his plan to win her heart.

~ ~ ~

She woke up slowly, stretching luxuriously into the yards of soft fabric surrounding her. Her eyes opened and she beheld the massive bed, the swirls of gleaming white sheets and quilted pink satin. She retrieved her spectacles from a bedside table and looked around. Everywhere were beautiful things. Gold and rose wallpaper, velvet upholstered chairs, white furniture inlaid with gold, a pink marble fireplace with a fire glowing in the grate. It was like a dream.

A frown creased her brow as she wondered how many other “ladies’ had slept in this room. And had they slept alone, or had Christian joined them?

Restless, she climbed out of bed. A pair of kidskin slippers with gold tassels rested on the patterned carpet at her feet, and as she looked down at herself, she saw that she had been dressed in a fine muslin nightgown. Everything in this household was in readiness for female visitors. All that was missing was a perky lady’s maid to help her with her toilette.

Even as she had the thought, someone knocked softly on the door. “Miss Cassell, are you awake yet?” inquired a feminine voice with a slight French accent.

“Yes, I am,” Merissa answered.

A doe-eyed young woman entered and curtsied. “I’m Yvette. I’ve come to help you dress. Let us put on your wrap and I’ll have the footman bring your clothes.”

The maid helped Merissa into a mauve wrapper that lay at the foot of the bed. Then, she left the room and returned shortly with a young man carrying a large wrapped parcel. The young man placed the package on the bed and bowed to a bemused Merissa.

Yvette tore open the package and began to spread the contents on the bed. Merissa’s eyes widened as she beheld white silk stockings, lavender velvet garters, a chemise of the sheerest batiste, and, finally, a gown of pale lavender muslin sprigged with violets.

“What’s that?” Merissa asked.

“A day dress,” the maid replied. She held it up to Merissa. “His Lordship did well. It looks as if it will be a perfect fit.”

“His Lordship? You mean, Chris... Lord Bedlington? He selected this?”

“
Oui,
demoiselle.”

“But how... when did he have time?”

“It’s now three o’clock in the afternoon. His Lordship has been up and about for hours.”

“I had no idea I’d slept so long. No wonder I’m starving!”

“Would you like me to arrange for a small luncheon to be brought?”

Merissa did not know what to think. It was startling to have her every need looked after. But having a meal brought to her bedchamber seemed very slothful. “I’m certain I can manage to walk to the dining room,” she said.

“Very good. Are you ready to be dressed, demoiselle? Or would you prefer that we arrange your hair first?”

Merissa looked wistfully at the beautiful gown. She turned to the maid. “Where are the clothes I was wearing?”

“They’re being laundered.”

Merissa looked back at the splendid garments on the bed. If she wore these things, she would be even more beholden to Christian. But what else could she do? Remain in the bedchamber until her own garments were returned to her? No doubt he had planned this all so she would have no choice.

“All right,” she said rather irritably. “You may dress me now.”

~ ~ ~

“Demoiselle looks exquisite!” the maid cooed.

Merissa put on her spectacles and regarded her reflection in the large looking glass above the dressing table. The elegant miss who looked back at her was a stranger. Her hair was arranged on top of her head in a knot of curls intertwined with silk violets, powder had been applied to her face so her freckles were not be so obvious, and the tiniest bit of lip rouge brightened her lips.

Her gaze traveled downward. Although Yvette assured her that the dress was quite modest, Merissa could not quite get used to the idea of her neck and shoulders being bare. But the gown was a perfect fit, and the color very flattering. Although she did not perhaps look “exquisite,” the transformation was certainly satisfying.

“Now it is time for demoiselle to go downstairs so His Lordship can see her.”

Merissa stiffened at the maid’s words. All of this was for Christian’s benefit. He was the one who wanted her to look like an empty-headed, painted society miss. What was wrong with the way she appeared normally? Did he find her simple gowns and plain coiffure so repulsive?

Rebellious thoughts surged through her. Then she decided she was being foolish. After all, in her heart of hearts, she wanted Christian to desire her. If she indulged her bitter urge to jerk off the beautiful clothes and throw them in his face, she would only be disappointing herself as well as him.

She left the bedchamber and followed the maid down the curving walnut staircase.

Thirteen

The pleasure she saw in Christian’s eyes when she entered the breakfast room both gratified and irritated Merissa. Once again he’d had his way. On the other hand, there were worse things than being forced to wear beautiful clothes.

He rose swiftly and came to kiss her hand. “Miss Cassell, you look good enough to eat.”

His dimples deepened as he grinned teasingly. Merissa felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair. She wanted to slap him, but could hardly do so with two footmen looking on.

“Speaking of food, what would you like?” He gestured toward the table set up at the side of the room. From a dozen shining silver dishes came the most tantalizing odors. He took her arm and guided her over. “What will it be?” He began to lift off the silver lids, one after another. “Ham and scrambled eggs?  Pastries and chocolate? Or perhaps I can tempt you with an omelette or custard.”

Merissa stared at the banquet set out before her. There was enough food for an entire household. She turned to Christian. “What are you having?”

“Oh, I’ve already eaten. Hours ago.”

“So this is... all for me?”

“Of course. I’ve always known you to have a hearty appetite, and after the trials you endured yesterday, I thought you must be ravenous.”

As if in response, Merissa’s stomach growled. She blushed deeper. Christian chuckled and moved close enough that she could feel his warm breath against her neck. “I know you’ve been taught to abstain from the urges of the flesh, but sometimes they simply can’t be denied.”