Sally MacKenzie Bundle (17 page)

Interesting.

Had the experience been so unpleasant? Or so wildly erotic they were both stupefied?

She hoped the latter. If she had to have Westbrooke’s heir, she’d like the planting to be some of the best carnal play she’d ever experienced. And she had experienced a lot—as much as she could and still be a virgin. Since she was exceedingly creative, that covered a lot of territory.

But if she wished to be the next Countess of Westbrooke—and she definitely did—she would have to deal with Lady Elizabeth. She did not care for competition.

Felicity frowned.
Was
Lady Elizabeth competition? She should be. She was unmarried and the sister of a duke who also happened to be the earl’s good friend. And Lady Elizabeth and Westbrooke were obviously extremely friendly as well. Yet there was no engagement announcement. Why not?

If Lady Elizabeth wished to be the next countess, she needed to play her cards with more finesse. She needed to get Westbrooke to misbehave before witnesses if he were reluctant to come up to scratch.

Felicity stepped from behind the leafage. Her quarry and his companion had disappeared down the corridor. She was not about to give Lady Elizabeth advice on how to snare the elusive earl—she intended to catch him for herself.

She looked at the conservatory door. Another puzzle—why was Tynweith helping Lady Elizabeth? He must have known Felicity was looking for Westbrooke. She knew the earl had come down this corridor. She’d been right behind him. Yet he had vanished and in his place she’d gotten Tynweith. Tynweith who’d whisked her back to the music room, no matter how much she’d tried to drag her feet or get him to go on ahead alone.

Tynweith was not known for his philanthropy. So why would he help Lady Elizabeth? If he helped anyone, it should be Felicity.
She
was Charlotte’s friend, and Tynweith appeared to have some connection to Charlotte.

What was it? Charlotte became very evasive when his name was mentioned. She was usually extremely frank, yet she would not say one revealing word about their host.

Well, the house party was still young. There was plenty of time to solve these mysteries—and compromise a certain earl. She had to think about that, what the trap would be and how best to bait it. The capture must be spectacularly public and unequivocal. She wanted no loopholes for Westbrooke to wiggle through.

She headed upstairs to bed. Alone, unfortunately. Lord Peter was probably still swiving Charlotte.

Felicity had considered inviting him to stop by her room afterward, but she had decided against it. He’d been too obnoxiously proud of himself yesterday for plowing a duchess. Well, Lord Andrew was arriving in the morning. He was entertaining.
Very
entertaining. He knew quite a number of inventive games.

Lady Felicity paused on the stairs and smiled. And he had asked for Lady Elizabeth’s hand and been denied. He’d been rather bitter about that if she remembered correctly. Perhaps he would be interested to hear that lovely Lady Elizabeth was no better than she should be. He was known to be a mite vindictive.

Yes, Lord Andrew should turn out to be very useful indeed.

Chapter Nine

Robbie could not have children.

Lizzie didn’t know how a man knew such a thing, but Robbie must know it. His voice had sounded tortured when he’d told her. She had wanted to cry.

She sat on the window seat in her room and leaned her head against the glass. It was still cool from the night. It felt good. She had a dull headache and her eyes were dry and gritty, as if there were sand in them.

It had taken her forever to fall asleep, and then she’d been haunted by bizarre dreams. Nightmares, really. She’d been looking for a baby, sometimes in the countryside, sometimes in the stews of London. She’d argued with so many people—with James, Robbie, some one-eyed hag with broken teeth. One time she’d actually held a baby boy, but another woman had snatched him out of her arms and vanished into the London fog.

She pressed her forehead harder against the glass.

Perhaps Robbie was wrong. How could he know for certain? He wasn’t married. Maybe once he wed, he’d discover that he
could
have children.

But what if he were right? She squeezed her eyes tightly together, but that didn’t keep the tears from leaking out.

Did she love him enough to give up hope of ever having a child?

She did not know.

She took a deep shuddering breath, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Betty would be in at any moment with her chocolate. She had better wash her face. She did not want to explain why she had been crying.

As she got up, she glanced out the window. There were two people outside on the lawn. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like Felicity was with a man. Not surprising. Lizzie just hoped the other girl would find a secluded spot before she did what it was rumored she usually did with men.

But who was her companion? He was too short to be Robbie, thank heavens, and too broad to be Parks or Lord Peter. Certainly Lord Tynweith would not be showing Felicity his gardens, would he? Who else was there? None of the other male guests would tempt Felicity from her bed—or into her bed, for that matter.

The man took off his high-crowned beaver and the mystery was solved. Black hair with a narrow white streak gleamed in the sun. Lord Andrew had arrived. “Lord Skunk” the
ton
called him for his hair, but Lizzie thought the nickname suited his personality as well. The man had offered for her once, even though she had given him absolutely no encouragement. She assumed he could not resist the gleam of her dowry. She had tried to be polite when she refused him, and she had tried to politely avoid him ever since.

She turned away to splash water on her face. It was going to be extremely difficult to avoid him here.

“Up early to greet me, Felicity? If I’d realized you were here, I would have come down yesterday and saved you the trouble of getting out of bed.”

Andrew reached for her, but she stepped back.

“Not here in full view of the house.”

“Why not?” He pulled off his hat and looked up at the building. “Never say you’re turning shy?”

“No, of course not. But Westbrooke’s room faces this direction.”

“Ah, still trying to catch the earl, are you?”

“Of course.” She turned and started walking down the lawn. Andrew fell into step beside her. “I could use your help.”

“Really?” He leered at her. “It will cost you.”

She did like Andrew. He was not overburdened with scruples.

“I expected it would.” She stepped onto the wide gravel path and followed it though Tynweith’s Frenchified garden, past the parterres and ridiculous bushy spheres and pyramids, under an arch. She turned left, passing between two hedges into the topiary garden. She knew exactly where she was going. She’d found this spot yesterday when she’d been searching for Westbrooke.

Andrew stopped to examine a topiary orgy. Well, hardly an orgy to her mind—if she discerned the sex of the trimmed bushes correctly, there was only one male and three females.

“Tynweith’s gardener is quite inventive.”

“Yes, I know. Come on, Andrew.” She ran her hand over his forearm. “There’s a place up ahead where we can…talk.”

“Where our tongues can be busy, hmm? I’m ready for a very long, very deep discussion.”

“Good.” She wet her lips, noting the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles in his thighs. He was shorter than Westbrooke, but he seemed much larger. His nose, his hands, his…um. Excitement shivered down her spine, settling between her legs.

He looked like he should be lifting boxes on a dock, not wineglasses in aristocratic drawing rooms.

“Here we are.” She stepped through some tall hedges and walked over to the stone bench in the center of the grassy square. They were hidden from the house, but anyone happening through the gap in the hedge would see them. Another shiver of expectation skittered up her spine. Frolicking behind closed doors was so boring. The threat of discovery added spice to any encounter.

“Tynweith’s damned bushes are quite inspiring, Fel. They give a fellow all sorts of interesting ideas.” Andrew cupped her cheek with one hand and pulled down her lower lip. “I might have trouble deciding how best you can repay me.”

She tilted her head so she could suck on his thumb.

“I packed the handcuffs and the switch when I heard you were coming.”

“Did you?” His eyes got a very sharp, intent look. “Lovely. So what do you need me to do?”

A very bawdy answer popped into her head, but she repressed it.

“You know I plan to marry Westbrooke.”

“All the
ton
knows it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And you know I’m not one of his intimates. If you’re looking for someone to persuade him, I’m not your man.”

Felicity sat down on the bench. It was still cold and damp with dew. It felt quite splendid against her heat. “I’ll handle Westbrooke. I have a different job for you.” She looked up at him. “It involves a woman.”

“Does it?” He came over to stand beside her.

She put her hand on the front of his pantaloons and smiled. He was already hard.

“It might involve a rape.”

His bulge leapt.

“Really? This sounds very interesting. Perhaps I should be paying you.”

“Probably. I think you’ll be delighted to rape this particular young lady.”

“But will it leave me required to marry her?”

Felicity shrugged. “Most likely. However, she comes with piles of money, and if you find her boring, I will be happy to entertain you.”

He freed one of her breasts. She arched, making it easier for him to squeeze her nipple. She loved the feel of the sun and his fingers on her skin.

“Who is it? Lady Caroline? She is fat and ugly.”

“No, not Lady Caroline.” Felicity grinned. “You once offered for this lady.”

“I did?” Andrew squeezed harder and she yelped. “Don’t say it’s Lady Elizabeth you want me to deflower?”

“You are so astute.”

“God.” He kissed her, thrusting his tongue all the way to her throat. “I would love to have that bitch under me.” He grabbed both her breasts, kneading them roughly. “Your choice, Felicity. How do you want it? I’ll give it to you any way you like.”

Felicity started unbuttoning his pantaloons. “We should finish discussing the terms.”

“I’ve heard enough. I’ll be happy to take her wherever, whenever you like. On Almack’s dance floor even, under the noses of all the patronesses.”

“In front of her brother?”

Andrew’s hands stilled. “Damn, don’t ask that, Fel. He’d kill me before I’d breached her.”

Felicity laughed. “No, I won’t ask that. And I’m not certain she’s a virgin, so don’t be disappointed if there’s no blood.”

“No? That little Puritan’s been spreading her legs for someone? I feel cheated. Who’s she been swiving?”

“Westbrooke.”

Andrew laughed. “Westbrooke? As far as I can tell, the man barely knows how to unbutton his breeches to piss.”

Felicity finished unbuttoning Andrew’s pantaloons and freed his lovely, thick length.

“He appears to have mastered the skill. I’m fairly certain he was in her room—in her bed—naked the night before last. And I saw him leaving Tynweith’s conservatory with her last night. They both looked extremely untidy, as if they had been doing something besides admiring Tynweith’s plants.”

Andrew shook his head. “Fascinating.” Then he sucked in his breath as Felicity sucked on him.

“The most fascinating thing is there has been no engagement announcement. I want it to stay that way—at least with regard to Lady Elizabeth. The only announcement I wish to hear is Westbrooke’s name with mine.”

He squeezed her breast. Ahh. If only Andrew were the eldest son—then he’d be heir to a dukedom. But he had three healthy older brothers. Only a fool would wager on his getting the title. She was not a fool.

She stroked the delightfully large organ in her hand. If one part of Westbrooke proved small and disappointing, she’d imagine the part that was not—his pockets. The music of jingling coins could get her through many a bedroom waltz.

“The house party is going to some ruins tomorrow—an old castle, I think Tynweith said. There’ll be plenty of places to steal a few moments alone.” She drew her finger from the sack between his legs to his tip. “It shouldn’t take you long to get the deed done.”

Andrew laughed. “Not long at all. Seconds, if need be. But I hope I have more time. I’d like to taunt her a bit. See if I can get her to scream. God, I’d love that. She was such a cold little bitch when she rejected my suit.”

Felicity licked a salty bit of moisture from his tip.

“You can tease her today—that would be fun to watch.”

“Yes.” He rubbed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I can think of many ways to make her uncomfortable.”

“Don’t overdo it. We don’t want her so frightened she runs from your shadow.”

Felicity took him into her mouth again. Did she want him here or in her bum? Both had their advantages.

Andrew had his hands in her hair now, holding her to him. Enough talk of Westbrooke and Lady Elizabeth. She pulled back. He held her a moment longer than she wanted and then let her go.

“You want it the other way, do you?” He pulled her up and turned her. She felt his erection pushing against her. “Aren’t you afraid someone will find us?”

His hands were squeezing both her breasts. His fingers pinched her nipples. She gasped and leaned over.

“That’s part of the fun. Ahh…”

She screamed her approval as Andrew grunted his release.

By the time Mr. Dodsworth came running to investigate the disturbance, they were sitting discreetly side by side on the bench.

“Lord Andrew, it’s so pleasant to see you. What kept you in London?” Lady Caroline leaned forward, giving the man a better view of her plump breasts. Robbie watched him survey them briefly, then return to cutting the slice of ham on his plate.

“I had an engagement I could not break.”

Lord Peter sniggered. “With
Le Petit Oiseau
, I don’t doubt.”