One Scandalous Kiss (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

T
HE PATH TO
Lucius’s bedroom was the matter of a few steps down the hall, far easier than it had been to force her way through the crowd in the gallery that first night she’d met him. But Jess’s legs trembled in much the same way, and, standing outside his chamber, she needed a moment to draw in a few deep breaths and will her pulse to stop hammering in her ears. When she finally raised her hand to knock, the sound of voices on the other side caused her to hesitate. She leaned in to listen, and in the same moment the door swung open and Lord Grimsby’s valet, Mr. Mather, exited with an empty tray thrust out before him.

“Pardon me, miss.” The valet expressed no surprise at finding her on Lucius’s doorstep so late at night. He merely maneuvered around her in a precise, steady manner, never allowing the tray to shift in his hands.

Inside the room, Lucius stood next to a small table covered with food and a steaming teapot in the center.

The valet had clearly been busy. Lucius looked immaculate, his tamed black hair and elegant clothes presenting an orderly contrast to his disheveled state when she’d seen him in his father’s room.

“I’m interrupting your meal.”

Her words seemed to ignite him, and he stalked toward her with a hungry gaze that had nothing to do with food.

An answering pulse began in her body, thrumming in her chest and down into her belly. She needed him to touch her, kiss her, do all that his heated gaze promised. But he brushed past her, wrapping one large hand around her upper arm, and reaching out to close the door with his other. When he stepped close to her, sliding his hand down her arm, teasing her palm open with his fingers so that he might grasp her hand, Jess moved toward him as she’d done the first night they met.

“I was told you were sleeping and didn’t want to disturb you. Did you have dinner? If not, please join me?” His voice, deep and low, melted her with a flush of warmth.

“Food is the last thing on my mind.” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She wasn’t even certain how she’d formed the words, seeing as his voice, his scent, his nearness had turned her mind to porridge.

He chuckled, a delicious rumble bubbling up and echoing through her. He did it well, as if laughter came as naturally to him as it did to May or Wellesley.

Jess pulled back.

“What? I did promise to laugh more.”

His gaze held the promise of laughter and much more, and when he dipped his head as if he meant to kiss her, Jess ducked away only because she knew if he put his mouth on her, she wouldn’t be able to say any of what she’d come to say.

“I’ve come to a decision.”

He took a step back, giving her space to breathe, but he continued to clasp her hand tightly, as if he had no intention of letting her go.

For the first time in her life, Jess spoke of a decision that had nothing to do with money, and nothing to with what she should do, what her father expected of her, or what she must do. She spoke the truth in her heart.

“I want to be with you tonight.”

His tug nearly pulled her off her feet, but Lucius caught her, wrapped her in his arms, and lowered his mouth to hers. She’d tasted his kiss before, but not like this, not when she pushed away doubt and opened herself to him. She lifted her hands to his chest, hooking a finger into the front of his waistcoat, pulling him that single breath closer. Slipping a button, she could just press her hand inside, across the starched linen of his shirt, close enough to feel the tripping thump of his heartbeat. He deepened the kiss, reaching up to sink a hand into her hair, working pins free, and stroking down each strand he loosed.

Then he drew back, as breathless as she. The look he gave her, so full of love and admiration, soothed her, assuring her this—this precious connection that had been between them from the first—mattered most.

“I want you for more than tonight. I want you to be my wife.”

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t blush, but relief rushed through her veins, a melting sweetness, an incandescence of heat and pleasure and such happiness she couldn’t manage a reply.

“I will do that again properly, knee bent, ring in hand. I promise.”

Jess reached for his hand and lifted it to her breast, placing his palm over the point at which her heart seemed to determined thrash out of her chest.

“Only you.” She repeated his earlier words, tenderly, as solemnly as she’d utter any vow. “I only need you.”

When he pressed his lips to her cheek, it wasn’t enough. Jess wanted more. Turning her head, she sought his mouth, and kissed him deeply, exploring, teasing him with her tongue as he’d taught her to do.

He wanted her, needed her. It made her bold, and her boldness seemed to thrill him. He pulled her closer, he explored with his hands, caressing her flesh where he could, dragging his fingers down her back in a delicious stroke. But he let her explore too, tipping his head when she moved her lips to his neck, moaning appreciatively when she nipped at the flesh of his ear, and emitting a low growl when she slid her hand down to tentatively stroke the hard length of him through this trousers.

The primitive sound set off an answering pulse in her center, and Jess pulled back, frightened at her own hunger and need, so fierce it made her quiver.

He cupped her cheek. “We can take it slow.”

Slow wasn’t what she wanted, but it was likely what she needed.

“Wh-what does your aunt say to all this?” Grasping for any thought other than the need to mold her body to Lucius’s, Jess latched on to her one lingering concern.

Fearful she’d doused all the passion of the moment, she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“She’s pleased. Thrilled, I suspect. You’d only agreed to be her companion for a year, but now she’ll get to keep you as a niece forever. You know she can’t do without you.”

He reached his hand to around to grasp her nape, and the slide and heat of his palm on her skin made her moan.

Dipping his head, he hovered over her mouth, lips brushing hers, breath gusting against her skin. “Neither can I.”

When he finally kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers, Jess opened to him, urging him to plunder, and reached up to his waistcoat, freeing more buttons until she could press her palms against his chest. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer, needed to feel his heated skin against her own. Tugging his shirt, she pulled until she felt the edge of it slip from his trousers. Lucius gasped against her mouth when she slid her fingers underneath, finally touching the firm, supple plain of his chest. His skin was so warm, heated velvet, even across the muscled ridges.

Breaking their kiss, Lucius gazed at her a moment before lowering his head again and kissing her neck, lifting to skim his mouth over the curve of her ear and then laving the skin below it. When he dipped his head, pressing his mouth to the skin just above the neck of her gown, a warm syrupy heat melted her inside and a craving, deep and profound, took hold.

She lifted her hands to front of his waistcoat, peeling the garment back and pushing it from his shoulders. He released Jess long enough to lift his arms and pull his shirt over his head. Having seen the male form only in sculptures or paintings, Jess found Lucius’s chest a revelation and ran her hands over his skin, amazed by the contrast of soft flesh and hard muscle, the smooth expanse of his stomach and the dark patch of hair forming a trail to the edge of his trousers.

He allowed her explorations only a moment before reaching for her again, grasping her waist, then sliding his hands up over the swell of her breasts, lifting a finger to the button at the top of her bodice. He paused, a flash of uncertainty in his gaze. But Jess wanted more—for him to touch her as he’d allowed her to touch him, to shed every barrier between them, to know him as she’d never known any man.

She reached up to slip the top button on her bodice herself, and he reached for the next, and the next. Once freed, Jess slipped the front hooks of her corset, and Lucius pulled at the bowed ribbons to release her chemise. As soon as the cotton slipped from her breasts she reached out to embrace him, sighing with pleasure at the slide of skin against skin.

He pulled away just enough to take her hand, leading her through the sitting room to a doorway and his bedroom beyond. Without his heat warming her, his chest covering hers, Jess felt a moment of embarrassment and lifted a hand to cover her breasts.

A fire burned in the bedroom hearth, heating the air and filling the room with an amber glow. Jess could just make out the details of a grand four-poster bed with a deep blue counterpane.

Lucius released her hand and closed the space between them, pressing his body against hers and reaching up to free the rest of the pins from her hair. She watched his eyes, and then the seductive grin curving his mouth, as he threaded his fingers through the strands, drawing them down across her chest and over her breasts. He tilted his head back and smiled, as if pleased with the sight of her taut nipples peeking through the waves of her hair.

“You’re magnificent.”

Before she could respond, speak, or reach for him, he dipped his head and drew a nipple into his mouth. She arched back and he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. He licked and teased until she moaned and reached up to dishevel his silky black hair as she’d longed to do every time she looked at him. Then she pulled back, afraid she’d scratched him or grasped him too roughly.

“Did I hurt you?”

He lifted his head, giving her a chance to breathe.

“It will only hurt if you stop,” he rasped before taking her other nipple between his lips, treating it to the same loving, delicious attention. His hands were as busy as his mouth, and she felt her skirt loosen, her petticoat slip over her hips, and the ribbon lacing her drawers drawn free.

When he moved his hand between them, pushing her drawers over her hips, and then sliding his fingers down, skimming them across the flesh at the apex of her thighs, Jess bucked against him and her legs turned to jelly. He eased her back, lifting her onto his bed, staring down at her with awe and adoration as he reached for the buttons of his trousers. She saw his hand shaking and reached up to help him.

Jess watched, enthralled as Lucius slipped out of the last bit of clothing between them, pushing his trousers and drawers over the chiseled edge of his hips, lower, revealing his impossibly hard length. She lifted a hand to touch him there, but he eased her back instead, lifting his body over hers and easing down gently until their bodies melded—chest to chest, thigh against thigh, his stiffness teasing at her damp cleft.

She lifted her mouth to his, eager to be joined in every way. She took the lead, grasping his head in her hands, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and he groaned, grinding his hips against hers. His cock pressed deeper, sliding in the moist heat between her thighs, and she lifted her hips, needing him closer, aching for a release she could not name.

Lucius turned his head, pressing kisses to her neck, then whispering in her ear. “I need to taste you.”

She thought he meant to kiss her again. Yes, she needed to taste him too, but she emitted a little whine of protest when he pulled back instead, easing his body off hers and sliding down. She opened her mouth to ask him to kiss her, beg him if necessary. But then he did, pressing his mouth to the cleft between her breasts, trailing his lips down her belly, dipping his hot tongue into the hollow of her belly button, and then moving lower. When he pushed her thighs apart, gently, stroking his fingers over the sensitive inner skin of her legs, Jess bit her lip to stifle a cry—of pleasure, embarrassment, need. Then his tongue, the hard pointed tip of it, eased her open, tasting her, savoring her, lapping at her body as if she was the sweetest delicacy he’d ever known.

Jess couldn’t hold back her cries. They rang out of her as she clutched at his shoulders, sank her fingers into his hair, and bucked against his mouth. Sensation seized her, drawing her tight, to the sharpest point of pleasure. Just when she thought it too much, thrashing her head side to side against the bed, pushing then pulling at Lucius’s head, a wave of sensation broke over her. She opened her mouth to cry out but heard nothing but the violent pulse of her heartbeat in her ears.

When she opened her eyes, Lucius was there above her, smiling at her as if she was precious and loved. Then he eased against her again.
Yes.
She’d never known pleasure like the heat and slide of his body as he molded it to hers.

She lifted her knees, urging him closer, and felt the length of him lunging inside.
Yes.
She needed him closer, deeper. He tensed, controlling his movements despite her attempts to draw him near.

“Easy, love.”

He kissed her then, and she reached down to stroke his back, his arms, his hair, every part of him she could touch and caress. He stroked her with his tongue and matched the motion with his hips. Jess gasped as he thrust in to the hilt, then deeper, faster, drawing her into pleasure so complete that she forgot the flash of pain.

As he drove into her, kissing her mouth, her neck, the skin above her breasts, he whispered to her between kisses. “I love you. I need you. Stay with me.”

“Yes.” It was all she could manage, that and the way she bucked against him, tugging him closer, needing him as she’d never needed anyone before.

When she drew near the unbearable point of pleasure again, he came too, flooding her with sensation as he groaned into her mouth.

Afterward, lying sated and tangled together in the firelight, they exchanged more kisses and precious promises.

“I love you.”

“I need you.”

“Nothing will part us now.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

J
ESS WOKE TO
find herself in a warm, masculine cocoon, Lucius’s arms wrapped around her, his body spooning hers. The fire in the grate had faded to embers and she could see dark skies through a slit in the drapes. It wasn’t easy to pull away from him, to exchange the delicious heat of his body for the chill in the room, but she could only imagine the apoplexy they’d cause his elderly valet if the man found her in His Lordship’s bed come morning.

She kissed him gently on the curve of his shoulder, unable to leave without capturing the taste of him on her tongue. Then, after lifting the counterpane to cover him, she dressed and returned to her room, holding her breath as she tiptoed down the hall, afraid to make a sound that might wake Lady Stamford or, heaven forbid, Kitty Adderly.

Her bedsheets were cold and the bed itself far too large and lonely, but Jess closed her eyes and replayed the happiest moments of her life.

Then Tilly nudged her shoulder.

“Good morning, miss. Don’t want to be late for breakfast. Miss Adderly will be taking her leave soon, and I hear Mr. Wellesley will return to Granby, his family’s home nearby. Seems the house party is over almost before it’s begun.”

Jess washed and dressed quickly, grateful for Tilly’s assistance. Beyond the intense desire to see Lucius, she couldn’t miss the opportunity to speak to Kitty before her departure. Though theirs was a strange and short-lived acquaintance, she suspected a marquess’s daughter might be just the person to advise her on the most challenging undertaking of her life.

However much she loved Lucius, nothing in her life prepared her for the role of viscountess. Lady Stamford and Marleston’s staff had patiently instructed her in rules of etiquette, but Jess knew there was more, a world of expectations and traditions she’d only read about in books. Her teachers had been Dickens and Austen, who were as likely to satirize the aristocracy as paint them with accuracy.

When she entered the breakfast room, hoping to find Kitty, her breath wisped between her lips and she beamed like a child on Christmas morning. Lucius sat at the head of the table but stood the moment he glimpsed her. He smiled too and then strode forward, embracing her and lowering his mouth to hers. Before Jess could protest that a maid or footman might see them, Lucius pulled away and led her to the chair next to his.

“I woke to a very empty bed,” he whispered.

She leaned toward him, only just resisting the urge to touch him. “As every bachelor should.”

“We must rectify that as soon as possible. Don’t you agree?”

He handed her a plate of eggs and toast, and she noticed her teacup was already full, but it was dark. She’d never seen tea so dark.

“It’s coffee. Aunt Augusta mentioned your fondness for it, and Cook apparently likes it too. She was happy to share.”

Jess lifted the cup to her lips and sipped the warm brew, wondering how quickly they could reasonably marry.

“Thank you. And, yes, I agree.” Now that she’d decided, she didn’t wish to wait another moment to be his wife.

“I checked on my father this morning. He’s settling into his new room remarkably well. I’ll inform him about my detailed plans for the estate after breakfast.”

When a footman entered the room, Jess pulled her hand from Lucius’s reluctantly.

“My goodness, aren’t you two up early?”

Lady Stamford swept in as she spoke and then stopped, tipping forward as if she might fall over. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

Jess wasn’t certain at all what Lucius’s aunt saw, but it seemed to please her. She broke into a beaming smile and her gaze turned glassy. “I am so happy for you, my dears.”

“Happy about what?” Mr. Wellesley strode into the room, glanced at each of their faces, and then stopped short, much as Lady Stamford had. “Oh, I see.”

His grin was more mischievous than usual, and that was a good deal of mischief. What could everyone see? Happiness? Joy? Perhaps lovemaking tinted one’s skin or put a sparkle in one’s eyes. It made sense to Jess that an experience so extraordinary should leave its mark.

“I hear you’re returning to your family home, Mr. Wellesley,” Jess asked as he seated himself directly across from her and began heaping marmalade on a slice of toast.

“Yes, without May to flirt with and Annabel to tease, what’s the point in staying?” Chomping down on a bite of toast, and then closing his eyes a moment as if to savor the marmalade, Wellesley reached down to his napkin and leaned toward Jess with a glint in his eye. “I’d stay for you, of course, Jess. But I trust you’ve already been taken.”

Lady Stamford choked, coughing as little droplets of tea dribbled onto her plate. Jess rushed to pat her back and offer a fresh napkin as Lucius glared at Wellesley.

“How soon are you leaving?”

Wellesley rose and moved to Lady Stamford’s side, kneeling by her chair and looking up at her with all the remorse of a naughty puppy. “Forgive me, Augusta. You know my tongue is forever getting me in trouble.”

Lucius’s voice cut off the absolution Lady Stamford appeared on the verge of offering. “Perhaps you should keep it in your mouth more often.”

Lifting his hand to his lips, Wellesley pinched his fingers together and twisted, as if turning a key in a lock.

When Lady Stamford seemed recovered, Jess returned to her chair and relished a few more sips of coffee. Their small group continued in companionable silence. Wellesley’s silence was particularly impressive, and Jess found herself almost missing his irreverent quips. He brought out a teasing, sarcastic side of Lucius that she quite liked.

It was odd not to hear Lady Stamford’s voice too, though she did glance warily at Wellesley now and then between bites of egg and toast. And once she looked on the verge of commenting when she caught Jess and Lucius gazing at each other too long.

If nothing else, Jess expected Kitty to sweep in and spark conversation.

“Miss Adderly hasn’t left yet, has she?”

“You’re keen to speak with her?” The concern in Lucius’s tone surprised her. Surely he couldn’t doubt her desire to stay after what they’d shared.

“Yes, I would like to speak with her before she goes.”

Lady Stamford directed a footman to refill the teapot as she replied, “She asked for a tray in her room, my dear. She wished to oversee the preparations for her—”

A sound, a hammering shudder as loud as cracks of thunder, rumbled through the room.

“What the devil was that?” Wellesley asked around a mouthful of crumpet.

Lucius stood, not bothering to straighten his waistcoat, and started toward the breakfast room door. A red-faced footman rushed in at the same moment, nearly colliding with his much taller master.

“Forgive me, my lord. Mrs. Penry’s asked me to come and say we have an unexpected guest.” The lad laid a hand on his chest and sucked in gulps of air, trying to catch his breath.

Lucius waited with admirable patience, and the young man finally rewarded him with the answer they all sought. “It’s Mr. Sedgwick, my lord, and Miss Sedgwick too. Mrs. Penry sent them to the drawing room.”

Jess twisted her hands together under the table. When she looked up, Lucius was watching her. As he had in the dining room two nights before, he made a slight, tiny movement with his mouth, not quite a grin but a softness meant for her alone. Then he dipped his head in a subtle nod, reassuring her, comforting her, signaling that all would be well.

He turned to his aunt and Wellesley. “If you’ll excuse me.”

When he was gone, silence fell in the room and everyone’s appetites seemed to wane. Jess couldn’t rouse herself to take another bite, and Lady Stamford kept turning her gaze in Jess’s direction rather than attending to her breakfast plate.

Wellesley broke the silence. “Do you know what it’s about, Augusta?”

“No, my boy, but I should go and find out.” She stood, prompting Jess and Wellesley to do the same. She embraced Jess and then pulled back to pat her cheek. “Wish Lady Katherine a safe journey for me. And try not to fret.”

J
ES
S MADE HER
way to Kitty’s room and tapped lightly on the door. She expected a maid to answer, but Kitty pulled the door open and gasped.

“Heavens, what’s happened? You’re positively peaky,” Kitty said. She reached for Jess’s hand and pulled her inside. “With all the guests gone, I didn’t think I’d miss any excitement at breakfast.”

Jess slumped down on a chair, but popped up again when Kitty squealed. Reaching behind her, Jess slid a fur-lined velvet traveling cloak out from under her backside.

“I’ll just lie that over here.” Kitty placed the garment with care, seated herself opposite Jess, and rested her hands in her lap. “Tell me everything.”

“May has come back with her father.”

“Mmm.” Kitty pursed her mouth and reached up to tap her lower lip. “I thought she might. Well, I thought he might insist on it.”

“Why?”

“I suspect he’s offended, or simply doesn’t wish to see his plans overturned.” She leaned back and settled her skirt around her. “From what I hear, he is quite like my father. Charming, affable, and utterly ruthless in his business affairs.”

“Is the marriage of his daughter a business affair?” Jess’s father had been obsessed with money—losing it, winning it—but he’d never been cold. He never would have bartered her. Then again, he’d never expected her to marry at all.

“Even May said he saw it in that light.”

Jess breathed in deep, longing for strength, longing as she hadn’t since childhood for her mother’s embrace.

“Do you remember when we met at your home in Belgrave Square? I asked for us to speak plainly with one another. Will you speak plainly with me now?”

Kitty tipped her head. “Yes, of course.”

“You’re a marquess’s daughter. No doubt you’ll marry an aristocrat yourself.”

Kitty surprised Jess by grinning. “I wouldn’t count on that, but go on.”

The next words stuck in Jess’s throat, like a miserably tough piece of mutton at the Frog and Whistle that she’d happily spit out if no one was looking.

“Can you imagine me as a viscountess? Would you accept me among your noble friends?”

Kitty’s bow-shaped mouth dropped open, and then she snapped it shut, nibbling at her lips, but made no reply.

Jess took it as a sign of the worst. “It’s impossible, then?”

“Oh, Jessamin, a viscountess is not imagined or conceived. She simply is. If he marries you and makes you a viscountess, then that’s what you shall be. I would accept you, of course.”

Kitty grinned again, but there was no pleasure in it. “Most will accept you. Outwardly. It’s how they snipe about you behind your back that will keep you awake at night.”

Reaching out, Kitty flicked at her skirts, as if she’d just been showered with invisible bits of debris.

“But to be honest, to speak plainly, as you say, they would snipe about you even if you were born with blue blood in your veins. That’s the nature of an insular, back-biting group.” She titled her chin high. “You simply learn to rise above it, and give them something else to talk about. You’re clever and passionate about your politics. That’s enough to win you a few allies.”

Jess took comfort in Kitty’s words, and more so because it was clear Kitty wouldn’t simply tell her what she wished to hear. As Kitty spoke, Jess allowed herself to imagine life as Lucius’s viscountess, managing the staff at Hartwell and interacting with well-bred ladies like Kitty, who’d no doubt wish to speak of fashion, of which Jess knew little, and their ladylike accomplishments, none of which Jess possessed.

Surely stamping a title on her stationery or having her name inscribed in a great book next to Lucius’s would not make her a success in his world. And what of her world? Would she be able to continue her work with the Women’s Union? Speeches could be written anywhere, but she longed for the camaraderie of the meetings and her discussions with Alice.

Would Lucius ask her to give up her interests to be his wife? No, she couldn’t imagine it. Yet she could imagine, with absolute clarity, her own faux pas at social gatherings—saying the wrong thing, reaching for the wrong bit of silverware.

“I would never wish to bring him shame.”

“We all make mistakes, Jessamin. Just look at my little scheme at the gallery. I thought I’d humble him and have him on his knees. Instead, you have him enthralled.”

She laughed as she said it, her pitch rising in a soprano titter, and then stood.

“I must go if I’m to catch my train, but let me do this.” Turning to a satchel on the bed, she reached inside and pulled out two bits of paper.

“Take this and don’t say no.”

Jess reached for the offerings.

“It’s a ten-pound note and my calling card.”

Jess lifted the money out to her. “Kitty . . .”

Kitty put her hands up, palms out. “No, I insist. It’s enough to get you back to London if you wish. You can call on me or leave a note with my card and I’ll come to you. My offer to help you find a position still stands.”

Jess followed Kitty into the main entry hall and waited as a footman and maid bustled about them, assisting Kitty into her traveling coat, hat, and gloves, and tucking her bags into the Dunthorpe carriage for the journey to Newbury station. After a final round of well wishes and watching the carriage roll out of sight, Jess stepped back into the hall, fighting the urge to stop and listen at the drawing room door.