My Lady Rival (20 page)

Willa laughed. “You can’t mean women in general? Because they’re interested in wearing the same color as the Queen?”

Woolstone glared at her, obviously categorizing her as one of them. No wonder he’d taken an immediate dislike to her; he never would have been susceptible to her charms if every woman in England was trying to charm him out of the dye. “It is like a plague.”

is like a plague.”

Willa turned to A lex and grinned. “Still think someone was watching us tonight, Mr. Laurie?” He’d tried to protect her, even if the monsters had been imaginary.

She wouldn’t forget it.

His lips thinned and he ignored her, instead addressing Woolstone. “Thank you for being willing to meet with me again. You have the dye information?” Woolstone folded his arms and shifted—looking, to Willa’s mind, distinctly uncomfortable. Hope soared within her breast. “My apologies, Mr. Laurie, but I could not keep my word. She needed my help.”

A lex flinched at the same time Willa’s breath hitched.

“You gave it to someone else?” he asked.

She stepped forward. “Who? Who did you give it to?”

“My sister now has the dye information, to do with as she pleases.” Willa’s shoulders tried to slump, but she wouldn’t allow it. Simply because Lady Marianna had the dye didn’t mean that she would give it to A lex. They weren’t yet betrothed, either. It might never be his. But she also couldn’t see a reason why Lady Marianna would give it to her.

“A h.” Beside her, A lex sounded relieved.

Woolstone cleared his throat. “I know you are courting my sister, Mr. Laurie, but you should know that I gave her the dye so she would have the freedom to marry or to not marry as she wishes. If she chooses you, she will need the dye as her dowry, because I know my father won’t approve of the marriage.”

“I don’t need her dowry. A nd I intended to marry her regardless.” A lex ran his hand through his hair, then down his face, as if he could wipe Woolstone’s words away.

It was difficult to find any pity for him. Though it was possible he wouldn’t succeed in convincing Lady Marianna to marry him, from everything Willa had seen, it appeared he had a very good chance.

Willa, on the other hand, did not. In a way it could have been amusing that both she and Lady Marianna regarded the Madonna dye as their means to freedom, to choose to live their lives as they wished. Only Willa was fairly certain what Lady Marianna would choose; she could practically hear the wedding bells for A lex and the marquess’s daughter now.

“I’d like to return to the hotel,” she said.

A lex nodded and they bid good-bye to Woolstone.

Once outside again, they discovered that the drizzle had softened to a fine mist.

It blanketed her skin like dew, and Willa turned her face to the heavens. A s soon as she returned to the hotel, she would decide what to do next.

Willa pursed her lips, lowering her head. For the moment she didn’t want to think about A lex marrying Lady Marianna.

“We will return to Holcombe House first,” he said as they walked along. “I would prefer to take a hansom cab, but I fear it’s too late for many to be about, and I don’t want to wait. My apologies for the state of the carriage.” Willa swallowed. “How goes your courtship of the Lady Marianna?” Willa swallowed. “How goes your courtship of the Lady Marianna?” He stiffened, then narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” It was the truth; she hadn’t even considered sabotaging their relationship until now.

He gave a bitter chuckle. “Well, thank you. I suppose it’s a good thing I like her so well already, isn’t it? If you marry Uxbridge we will again be competing for investors, won’t we?”

Would she still consider marrying the earl? It had become a possibility, if only as a last resort so she wouldn’t have to marry Eichel. A nd she was fond of Uxbridge.

“If I married the earl, I would no longer work for my father. You would have the investors to yourself. A nd the Madonna dye.”

“Perhaps I could convince her to sell the dye to you, so you could have your freedom. A s I said, I meant to marry her, anyway.”

Willa stared at him. “I know you want the dye. Why would you—” He stopped walking and swung around in front of her, taking her shoulders in his hands.

“A lex—”

He kissed her. It was not at all the slow, exploring kiss of Italy, but an angry, sweeping, passionate kiss that had her bringing her hands up to his chest, uncertain whether he meant to maul her to death.

It turned out that being mauled to death by kissing might not be such a bad thing.

Wrapping an arm about her waist, he backed her against the wall, pressing his body against hers in every place she’d yearned for him for the past three years.

But Willa fought just as well as he did; she lifted her hands to his face, scraping her fingernails along his jaw as their lips clashed in sensuous battle. She didn’t give him quarter by opening her mouth to him, but sought to invade his with her lips and tongue, wrapping her leg around his calf to take everything he was willing to give her.

Unlike in Italy, no moans escaped from her throat. Moans were for pleasure, and this kiss wasn’t a kiss of pleasure, but of greed. His hand slid from her waist to her backside, groping as he rocked hard against her pelvis. She dug her fingers into his damp hair, knocking his hat aside, wriggling against him to get closer.

More, more, more.

Their lips parted, clung, moving together and against each other. Neither gave but took, and only when the hot brand of his palm cupped between her thighs did Willa jerk to her senses.

She wrenched her mouth from his.

His hands immediately retreated and he stepped away. In the mist of rain his heavy breathing created gusts of fog, but otherwise he appeared calm. Unmoved.

In complete control as he studied her through dark, alert eyes. Whereas Willa’s body pulsed in places it shouldn’t, her skin sensitive and throbbing from his touch. Perspiration gathered on her chest, below her breasts. A piercing ache lay between her thighs; a wetness gathered that made her wish if only for a moment between her thighs; a wetness gathered that made her wish if only for a moment that they hadn’t stopped. She collapsed against the building, resting her head on the wall.

They watched each other not as predator and prey, but as equal combatants.

He waited for her breathing to slow, for her chest to cease heaving, before he spoke. She hadn’t known he carried such patience around in his arsenal of weapons; how much more generous it would have been for him to take her arm and hurry her along to the future, where she could forget these past few precious moments had occurred.

“I suppose you intend to tell me that kiss was disgusting as well.” She understood then: this kiss was all of the regret she would receive for the choices he would make. There would be no words to express what might have been.

Willa straightened and stepped toward him. She lifted her hand. He flinched.

A djusting the lay of his cravat, she said, “It was adequate.” She patted his chest and began walking again. “Come, Mr. Laurie. Take me to my hotel and then you can continue practicing the improvement of your kisses on Lady Marianna.” Not only did A lex have to endure another carriage ride; he had to sit in the carriage across from Willa. Even though he abhorred facing backward, he did so; it was either that or sit beside her, and then he’d have to worry about things. Such as whether or not he’d be able to keep his hands off of her before they reached her hotel. He’d refused to even consider letting her go alone—not because he feared for her safety without him, but because he knew he would be jealous of the minutes he could have spent in her presence.

He sank into the corner shadows of his seat, beyond the dim light of the lamp which swung gently to and fro with the sway of the carriage. He studied her—the proud tilt of her chin, the current aloof curve to the perpetual smile she seemed to wear, the profound interest she exhibited in the night occupations of London street rats as they traveled from Belgrave Square.

A cross the carriage, Willa gave a small sigh, soft enough that he might have mistaken it for his own breath if he hadn’t seen her lips part and her chest fall.

He shifted, his fingers clenching the seat’s edge. Even if he gave up the Madonna dye, even if he refused to marry Lady Marianna, he could not have her. Not if he intended to legitimize his family and business with aristocratic connections. Not if he wished for more aristocratic investors to smooth the way for future expansions, for the acclaim of his invention once it succeeded.

“Do you mean to marry Uxbridge if he proposes?” he asked casually, the first words either had spoken since entering the carriage.

Her shoulders jerked, but she didn’t look at him. “I haven’t decided.”

“What will you do if he doesn’t propose? Will you return to A merica to marry Mr. Eichel? Or will you stay here to encourage another suitor?” Finally she looked at him, her eyes searching for him in the shadows. “Truly, Mr.

Laurie. Simply because you kissed me a little while ago doesn’t mean you must be Laurie. Simply because you kissed me a little while ago doesn’t mean you must be privy to all of my thoughts and plans now.”

He gave a short nod and jerked his gaze away, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. She was correct. She was not his family, not his wife. They weren’t lovers; they weren’t even friends. A nd it didn’t matter if she didn’t marry Uxbridge or Eichel. It didn’t matter if she never married at all. She wouldn’t be his.

“I fantasize about you, Willa,” he murmured in a low voice.

She stilled, and he wondered whether she would pretend to have not heard him.

He went on, not giving her the chance to pretend. “I’ve dreamed about kissing you like that a hundred times, a thousand times in the past three years. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you—”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t.” He heard her take a long, shaky breath, then whisper: “Please, don’t.”

He cursed beneath his breath, but he didn’t say anything further. Everything he wanted to tell her was too late. A nd none of it was enough. Even if he could have, he couldn’t speak to her of love.

He could speak of want, and desire, of lust not only for her body but also for her soul: to claim her and possess her wholly. But love? No, he could not speak to her of such. Even if he felt it, it wasn’t his right. A nd she deserved much more than torrid words spewed out of desperation.

They arrived at Mivart’s shortly after. The footman opened the door and unfolded the steps. A s Willa rose to descend to the street, A lex tugged at her hand.

Her head turned, her gaze meeting his. He forced a smile at the wariness he found there. But all he said was, simply, “Good night, Miss Stratton.” Chapter 13

As far as strategies went, Willa had decided not to leave her fate in the hands of others.

She had learned a few things while stalking A lex and Holcombe House. First, the more one was able to blend into the night, the better.

Tonight, she wore black trousers, a black shirt and coat, black boots, and a short black wig to cover her hair. Nothing would hide the fact that she was a woman; her face would always give her away. But she would keep to the shadows and avoid allowing her face to be seen.

Second, one mustn’t leave evidence behind.

Tonight, she’d left her mother’s pendant at the hotel.

Third, one must know one’s objective.

While at Holcombe House her intention was always to follow A lex and hope he led her to Woolstone, tonight she waited for the Marquess of Byrne, the Marchioness of Byrne, and Lady Marianna to leave for the A thertons’ garden party she knew they would attend.

Once they did, Willa crept to the low garden wall, hoisted herself over, and covered her nose and mouth with a kerchief to avoid any reaction to the flowers as she ran to the terrace doors.

Oh, yes: and one must learn how to pick a lock. She’d practiced that for hours and hours in her hotel suite with a hairpin until she’d become quite the expert.

A quiet click sounded as the lock released, and Willa eased the door open quietly, her breath frozen in her lungs. She waited a few moments, her ears listening for any movement outside the corridors of the Byrne ballroom that would indicate the servants somehow had discovered her intrusion. No one came; all was well.

Slipping inside, she closed the door and pocketed her handkerchief, giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness before making her way to one of the interior doors leading away from the ballroom.

Lowering herself to the floor, she searched beneath the crack of the door for the movement of shoes. A ll was quiet, still. A footman or the butler might be at the front door awaiting the family’s return, but the other servants were most likely in their quarters, resting or enjoying the family’s absence.

It was all too easy.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Willa opened the door. She crept quietly through the corridors, slinking from wall to corner to alcove.

She was nearly caught at the main staircase—she didn’t dare try to sneak up the She was nearly caught at the main staircase—she didn’t dare try to sneak up the servants’ stairs—when a maid turned a corner in front of her just as Willa stepped forward out of the shadows.

She froze, her heart beating at her throat, but the maid continued on, unaware.

Willa scurried backward into the shadows again.

The possibility of being discovered had occurred to her many times. A fter all, she knew it could happen. She’d been discovered at Holcombe House. A nd there was no feasible explanation for her being here now, not when the family was gone, not when she was dressed as a person who appeared inclined to burglarize the house. She could confess that she meant to sneak in to meet with Richard for an assignation, pretending ignorance regarding the fact that he lived alone somewhere else.

It was the best she had, and even that would thoroughly ruin her reputation. But she was desperate, and if she wasn’t discovered and she escaped back to Mivart’s in possession of the dye papers, then that would be a very, very good thing, indeed.