Her Perfect Match (23 page)

And without warning, the second release mobbed her. This time he didn’t coax her through it. Instead, his thrusts increased, his breathing heavy against her neck, and with a harsh cry, he burst within her, their release merging as they continued to writhe together through the final shivering explosions of orgasm.

With a groan, he flopped on his back and pulled her with him. Vivien cuddled into the crook of Benedict’s arm with a satisfied sigh. She had never made love to a man in her own bed before. It felt new and fresh, like the first time.

But his tension was palpable as he stroked fingers over her bare shoulder.

“I felt your desperation,” he said softly.

She swallowed hard. He was not wrong about that emotion. Now that her list of items to do was almost finished, her promise to leave London loomed over her. She would never see him again if and when that time came.

But she wasn’t going to tell him that. He would only muddy the already cloudy waters of her decision.

“It was desire you felt,” she reassured him.

He shook his head and looked down at her. “I am no fool, Vivien. I know what it was. Please, you have trusted me with secrets, you have trusted me to take me to your own bed…couldn’t you trust me with the truth about what is going on with you? Perhaps I could help.”

She stared into his face. He wanted to support her. Perhaps he was the only man who had wanted it without an ulterior motive. And she loved him for it. But if she confessed all, there would be only one end. He would tell her to stay. She probably would. And nothing would change. They could no more be together now than they ever could have.

At least, that was what she had always believed. Now her certainty felt cloudier.

“Sometimes it is best to leave things unsaid,” she murmured, stroking the lines of his bare chest with the tip of her finger. She could touch it for hours.

She did not have the opportunity. He sat up and stared down at her, frustration as clear as his desire had been a few short moments before.

“Damn it, Vivien, you do vex me,” he blurted out.

She stared as he climbed from her bed and began to dress himself with jerky movements.

“I do not understand you,” he continued. “Why do you bother taking these steps forward when you only intend to retreat? I do not know what to think. Do you care for me or not? Do you want me or not? Do you trust me or not?”

She stared at him as she sat up and covered herself with the sheet. “Benedict,” she began.

“You know I love you,” he snapped and the world cut to half time.

He had said the words to her before, a very long time ago. Then they had caused a panic in her. Fear that reached her very core.

Today they brought something else. Something more dangerous. They brought her hope. Foolish and empty hope, for she knew, perhaps more than anyone, that love was not always enough. In fact, it rarely was.

“Benedict, you should not love me,” she whispered. “You have a life to lead and it will have no room for me.”

He shook his head. “Yes, so you have always told me. But you must have known that I still cared for you when you came to me that night at your party and asked me to come back to your bed. Since I do not think you are a cruel woman, it makes me wonder…why? Why bring me back to your side? I think it is a question you should ask yourself since I am not allowed that privilege of inquiring about anything beyond the most surface subjects. And when you have an answer, please do contact me.”

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair beside the door and strode from the room, leaving her staring at him, words left unsaid on her tongue. Words like, “I love you” and “Stay”.

Words she couldn’t say, not because she didn’t feel them, but because they didn’t belong to her. And she slipped to her side on the bed and wept with the pain brought both by his confession and by her realization that she could never be with him.

Chapter Twenty

Vivien stared at the ledger before her, adding up columns of numbers, making notations about additional payments her accountant should prepare and giving herself a general sense of her financial health. Most women of any station did not involve themselves in their household budget as she did, but she found that the absolute value of the numbers gave her some kind of peace. In math, there was a right and a wrong answer, no gray to muddy things.

And she needed that black-and-white view at present to calm her ever-confused mind as it spun on questions of her future and her heart.

Her office door opened and Nettle stepped inside. “Miss Vivien, you have a visitor.”

Vivien squeezed her eyes shut. She was in no mood to see anyone at present. She could barely stand to put on her public persona for an uninvited guest.

“Oh, please tell whoever it is that I am not in residence at present.”

Her butler shifted slightly. “I would do so, madam, but it is Lord Abbotton who calls and he insists on waiting for you if you are not at home.”

Vivien’s hand hovered over the ledger until a drop of ink splashed down on the column she had been reviewing. With a curse, she jerked the quill aside and shook her head.

So, Derek had come. Of course he had.

“I see the problem,” she said softly as she began to tidy up her work space. “Why don’t you show the Earl to—”

She broke off. The public rooms in her home were designed to celebrate her position in Society, but with Derek she had always felt awkward and uncomfortable with herself. She didn’t want him sitting in her parlor, staring at the erotic wallpaper and judging her even more harshly than he normally did.

“The terrace off the breakfast room is very pretty this time of year,” Nettle provided with swift efficiency. “And the weather is warm and still, so he shall not be soaked or blown away during his time there.”

Vivien nodded. “Yes, that should be perfect. Tell him I shall meet him there momentarily. And have tea brought. I doubt he’ll lower himself to share in it, but we mustn’t base our manners on the reaction of our guests, must we?”

Nettle nodded and his chin lifted with pride. “Indeed not. I shall bring a spread that will rival that which was served to the Queen today.”

Vivien smiled as he executed a stiff bow and let himself from the room. Her servants had always been of the highest quality, with the kind of loyalty anyone would pray for. At least she didn’t feel entirely alone as she put the ledger away and took a quick glance at herself in the mirror.

Since she was not going out today, she had dressed herself more conservatively than she normally would. She wasn’t certain if that fact made her happy for she would present as a lady of a certain level…or horrified because she wasn’t wearing her armor when she went in to treat with the enemy.

Perhaps something in the middle was the best reaction.

She smoothed her hair, drew a deep breath and headed out of the room, down the hall to the breakfast room. It was one of the more benign of her public chambers, though even it had a large portrait of a naked woman hanging on the wall above the fire. She sighed as she walked toward the terrace doors.

She could see the Earl of Abbotton through the glass, pacing her terrace even though there was a table there with comfortable chairs that overlooked her pleasant little garden.

She stared at him while she had an unguarded moment. He had qualities that put her to mind of Benedict. They shared a broad-shouldered build and bright gray eyes that were telltale signs they were related. Beyond that, though, she had never felt they were much alike.

Derek was so stern and proper, so much a part of Society in a way Benedict never seemed to fit. He would always do the proper thing, whereas his brother…well, Benedict would more often do what was
right
, despite any consequences.

As if he sensed her watching him through the window, the Earl turned and looked directly at her. Immediately, Vivien’s palms began to sweat at his stern expression, but she wiped them on her skirt and came onto the terrace with as bland a look as she could muster. She could only hope it reflected that she did not have a reaction to his unexpected presence, not that his being here made her nervous and, frankly, terrified.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

He nodded. “Miss Manning.”

“I must admit, I was surprised to be told you were here. I was not expecting you—did I miss your card?” she asked, very happy that she could remain calm and polite.

He shook his head. “I should have made an appointment, I know, but I feared you would not see me.”

She pursed her lips. “Despite what you think of me, Lord Abbotton, I would never be so uncouth as to refuse a meeting with you.”

She might have considered it, yes, but would never have done it.

He shrugged. “I shall recall that fact for next time, Miss Manning. My most sincere apologies once again.”

He looked ready to launch into whatever he was going to tell her, but Vivien interrupted him, unready for the onslaught about to come.

“Won’t you sit, my lord? My staff is about to bring us tea.” She motioned for the table with one hand, expecting his refusal.

He stared at the table for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll join you.”

She nearly fell over in surprise. Derek had never made his distaste for her a secret, not three years ago, not now. To have him decide to break bread with her was utterly unexpected.

“V-Very good,” she managed to stammer. She took her place and he joined her as the door opened and a few servants came out with tea and food. She poured him a cup, proving him with milk when he asked for it, but no sugar. She prepared her own cup and only then did he settle back and look at her evenly.

“I think we both know why I’m here today,” he said.

A hundred sharp retorts balanced on her tongue, but she bit them all back. He had been polite to her thus far—there was no call for her to be otherwise.

“I assume you have come to speak to me about your brother,” she offered as she took a bite of one of her cook’s delicious cakes. Because of her nervousness, it tasted like sandpaper. Damn him for ruining cake.

“Yes,” Derek admitted.

She arched a brow. “In fact, that is the topic of a conversation we had many years ago, isn’t it? The last time you lowered yourself to darken my door.”

He flinched ever so slightly at her directness, but then nodded. “Yes. I did not think I would have a need to return here and discuss this matter with you again. And yet here we are, three years past, and I feel as though I have traveled through time.”

She shook her head as she thought of Benedict. The last time they had been together, she had not dared to admit her feelings, even to herself.

“No, everything is different,” she said softly.

He looked at her sharply with that answer, but continued, “But it is not, Miss Manning. Just as we discussed when I came to you three years ago, my brother’s well-being and future are being damaged by his obsession with you. He needs to move on. He needs to focus on the future he must fulfill.” Derek sighed. “He
needs
to be free.”

Vivien’s own sigh caught in her throat. The Earl was not incorrect in his assessment. She knew that more than anyone. In fact she had told Benedict that very thing just a few nights ago. But Derek’s attempts to intrude on the delicate situation did not please her.

“You do realize that your brother is a grown man, very intelligent and well-capable of establishing his own needs,” she said softly.

“On most subjects, I heartily agree with you.” Derek shook his head slowly. “But on this one, I fear he is not. You are his Achilles’ heel and I do not think he will, or perhaps
can,
let you go, Vivien.”

She drew back at his use of her first name, as well as the fact that he would be so direct in his words. Words that pierced through her armor and made her heart swell with joy at the idea that Benedict would hold her forever.

But the joy faded at his brother’s drawn, unhappy face. He was living proof that if Benedict chose her, if she gave him what he desired, it would hurt him. He would be brought low in the judgment of others, even his own family.

At first Benedict would weather that storm, but she couldn’t believe it wouldn’t take its toll over the years. That it wouldn’t destroy their love in the long run, after he realized how much he had sacrificed for her.

“I believe you care for him,” the Earl continued.

She stared, snapped from her reverie by his utterly unexpected words. “I…what?”

He smiled at her confusion. “I believe…no, I
know
you care for him. It is evident by the way you look at him, talk to him, and in the fact that you gave him up all those years ago, though it must have brought you pain.”

She blinked. Was her heart so plain then? So obvious now? She had fought years to hide it, yet this man seemed to see it.

Benedict
saw it.

“It did bring me pain,” she admitted with great difficulty. “I don’t know why I began again with him this time.”

He tilted his head. “Do you not?”

She pursed her lips at his implication, but did not respond to it.