Something Scandalous (11 page)

He broke away for a moment to glance down. Her nipples were hardened into tight peaks that ached for his touch. With a groan, he kissed her harder this time. He brought his hand up to cup her breast and stroked his thumb across her nipple. Molten moisture rushed to her womb. Her hips rocked against his in an age-old ritual.

She moaned softly against his lips as his thumb continued its exquisite torture. He skimmed his hands down her back, flattening her to his chest.

She knew she should break away from his intoxicating body. Instead, she brought her arms around his neck tighter and rubbed her aching breasts against him. She wanted him to touch her there again. Worse, she wanted him to touch other places on her body.

How could something she knew was wrong feel so wonderful? This man was completely wrong for her. So, if that was true, why did she want to feel his naked skin on top of her? Oh, God, she was becoming a wanton. Her friends’ influence had finally rubbed off on her.

She broke away from him and ran from the room. Once she reached her own bedroom, she locked the door behind her. If he walked in here, she would have no self-control. She sat on the bed and waited, her heart pounding. Twice in one day, he had kissed her. And not just a cousinly peck on the cheek, but a passionate kiss meant to heighten her desire.

He never did find out what she was looking for in his room. Now she had the rest of the night to come up with an excuse. Was that possible? What would a lady attach to the bottom of her desk?

Jewelry?

Perhaps that was the answer, or excuse, as it were. She could tell him that her mother had hidden some of her jewels so her father would not sell them.

Elizabeth lay back on the bed. That made no sense. Her father wouldn’t need to sell any of her mother’s pendants.

A letter? That made the most sense. Her mother had hidden a letter from her father because…she was having an affair. No! Because her mother had stashed some money in a safe place, and left the note somewhere in the house. Elizabeth thought she could find the note, and therefore retrieve the money to use for her own security.

Perfect!

At least it would be perfect if Will believed her.

Will paced the salon, waiting for everyone to finish their preparations. He needed to show the children the darker side of London. They had to realize that not everyone lived as they did now.

“Please rethink this idea,” Elizabeth begged him.

Those were the first words she’d spoken to him since entering the room. She’d made no mention of their encounter in his bedroom, and right now, he had no desire to speak of it. When they returned, he would ask her for a better reason why she’d been in his room last evening.

“I agreed not to take Sarah, Robert, and Ethan, but the others should see how England treats its downtrodden. Today we will take Ellie and Lucy, and tomorrow I will take the boys.”

“And I suppose America has no poor?”

“Of course they do. Just nothing like the severity of London’s poor.”

“I do not believe you. All large cities have issues with poverty,” Elizabeth commented. “And many people are flocking to America now. Their poverty will only grow.”

“True enough,” Will said, as he strode past her chair again. He suddenly stopped and turned back to her. “Have you ever even seen what I’m talking about?”

“I have lived in London most of my life.”

“Yes, but have you ever really seen the areas I am speaking of?”

“I have been to Covent Gardens.”

“But Whitechapel, St. Giles—have you been there?”

She glanced away from him. “Of course not! It is not right to take them there. The entire area is nothing but crime and poverty.”

“And that is exactly what they need to see,” Will said.

She stepped forward and smiled at him. “Please, rethink this, Will,” she said in a wholly seductive voice. “You would not wish to put your sisters in danger.”

As cute as her overt attempts at flirtation were, he was in no mood for them today. “No, Elizabeth.”

She lifted her hand as if to caress his cheek. He caught her wrist in his grip and she started.

“I said, no,” he said in a quiet tone. Releasing her hand, he stepped back.

Finally, Ellie and Lucy entered the room.

“Will, I really do not think I should go,” Ellie said softly. “I have a touch of a headache—”

“Then the fresh air will do you good,” Will replied.

“The air is far from fresh down there,” Elizabeth added. “It is quite putrid with the coal smoke and fumes.”

“Enough!” Will clenched his fists in frustration. Every one of them was against him.

“I can’t wait to go,” said Lucy in an excited tone. “We might see some pickpockets, or maybe even a murderer!”

“Oh, I think I am going to be sick,” Ellie whispered.

“You are not going to be sick,” Will commanded. “The carriage is waiting. We need to depart.”

Will walked out to the landau first and waited as his sisters clamored into it. Elizabeth took his hand but shook her head as she climbed inside. She would never understand the importance of this trip. His life had been nothing like this in either America or Canada. While his father had been on a diplomatic mission, the salary had barely covered the expenses.

Will had farmed to keep the food coming in, but moving to Canada had reduced his planting season. The winters were far harsher than when they’d lived in Virginia before the war. They had never starved, but he knew what it meant to be hungry.

The coach rumbled down the street toward the east end of London. Familiar sites turned to strange buildings and poorly dressed people. Will glanced out the window, noticing the air turning thicker with smoke as the fumes permeated the coach.

“Will, I really think I am going to be sick,” Ellie tried again.

He knew his sister well enough to know that she was never sick. Still, glancing over at Elizabeth’s ashen face, he had second thoughts about this trip. She stared out the window as they slowly rolled past an elderly woman sitting on the walk. People passed by her without even looking down at the poor soul.

Could Elizabeth think this would happen to her? They never had discussed their argument from last night. She might think he still wanted her to leave. And that was the last thing he wanted. Somerton was right.

Will needed her.

The scenery turned worse as they headed into the area of Whitechapel. As instructed, the groomsman turned down some of the smaller streets, and the poverty was far greater than he had expected. Children no older than his ten-year-old stepbrother Robert roamed the streets in threadbare clothing. Will watched as one child who looked to be about ten picked the pocket of an elderly man.

“Will, what is a pawn shop?” Lucy asked when they paused for a moment in front of one.

Will glanced out quickly and then turned his head back to the window. A woman who looked very much like Elizabeth’s friend, Miss Seaton, walked out of the pawnbroker’s shop with a slight smile upon her face. He slid a glance to Elizabeth, who also stared out the window toward the woman.

“Will?” Lucy prompted again.

“It’s when you give something to the man inside, who will then give you money for it.” Will again stole a look at Elizabeth. Her face was completely white now.

“Will,” Ellie started, “you are a duke now. Why can’t you do something about all this?” She pointed out the window. “Surely, you must have some influence so changes could be made.”

“Those changes could only be made in Parliament,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, you all won’t be here long enough for Will to make any real changes. Those things take time.”

“We’re not really leaving, are we, Will?” Lucy spoke up.

Will understood that Lucy and probably Ellie, too, seemed to like England better than America or Canada. Of course, for them it might have something to do with the lack of chores here and the beautiful gowns.

“I thought we had been through this already,” Will said. Why did they think something had changed? Couldn’t they look around and see how horribly this country treated its citizens? Soon they would return to their huge home in Mayfair, with more food for dinner than most of these people had in a week.

He felt Elizabeth’s eyes burning into him, waiting for an answer to Lucy’s question. “I don’t know yet,” he finally answered.

As they finished their drive and headed back to the relative safety of Mayfair, Will thought about Ellie’s questions. Was there anything he could do about the plight of the poor? He had no idea how to move about in political circles. But for the first time, he wanted to find out.

Will waited in his study for Elizabeth to enter the room. He’d summoned her over an hour ago. Hearing a commotion at the front door, he strode to the hallway to find out which boy was in trouble now.

“Have the carriage brought around once the rest of my trunks are packed and carried down,” Elizabeth commanded the footman.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

“I believe last evening you asked me to leave,” she retorted without even glancing back at him. “Where are the children? I need to say good-bye.”

“The children are out for a walk and some fresh air. I asked you to join me in the study an hour ago.” Will moved away from the wall and stepped closer to the footmen. “Return Lady Elizabeth’s bags to her room. She is going nowhere.”

Elizabeth turned her fiery gaze on him. “How dare you! I shall do as I please.” She looked back at the footmen. “Do not move these trunks.”

The two footmen looked at each other and then back at Will. “As you wish, Your Grace.” They picked up the first trunk and carted it back up the stairs.

“Now,” Will said, clasping Elizabeth’s arm. “I believe we are scheduled to talk.”

Elizabeth pulled her arm out of his grip but walked silently down the hall toward the study. Her stiff posture spoke volumes about how she felt today. Once in the room, she sat in the chair across from the desk and folded her arms over her chest.

Will stifled a chuckle. “How are you this afternoon?” he asked politely.

“Perfectly well, thank you,” she muttered.

“Excellent.” He leaned back in the leather chair across from her. “I believe we were having a discussion last night about why you were under the desk in my bedroom. Shall we continue?”

“No, thank you.”

He smiled. “I think we shall.”

Elizabeth let out a frustrated sigh. “Very well. I was looking for a note that my mother had secreted somewhere in the house. She and the duke were having some marital problems, so she hid a bit of money in case she needed it. She wrote a note to remind herself where she put the money.”

Will almost laughed at the absurdity of her explanation. “She thought she wouldn’t remember where she hid the money, so she hid a note to tell herself?”

Elizabeth’s face reddened. “Yes.”

“And she hid this note under that desk?”

She licked her lips. “I believe so.”

“Where anyone might come across it, such as a maid?”

“I…That is what she told me,” her voice squeaked.

Will wondered exactly what it was Elizabeth was searching for last night. Obviously, she wasn’t about to tell him. “Very well, then. I believe we should get back to our family history lesson.”

“We should?” Elizabeth bit down on her lower lip. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“Elizabeth, even though you had several sisters, you told me they were all much older than you, correct?”

She nodded in reply.

“So I’m guessing you never had many arguments with people, did you?”

She shook her head.

“I told you to leave in the heat of anger. I did not mean those words,” he said softly, hoping she believed him. As much as she tempted him, he didn’t want to see her leave. He needed her. And he knew she needed him, too.

Elizabeth looked down at her sage gown. “I must apologize, too. I know this has been difficult for you and your family.”

“And I realize how important this family’s name is to you.”

Her face paled. “It is,” she whispered, still staring at her gown.

Will wondered at her quiet answer. Perhaps she’s just feeling a little out of sorts today because of his anger.

“Tell me about your father.”

“My father?”

“Yes, the previous duke. What type of man was he?”

“I cannot talk about this right now,” she mumbled. She rose quickly and started for the door.

Will beat her to the door and stood before it like a sentry on duty. “You said you would tell me about my history and the history of this family. I would like to know about your father.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You know, don’t you?” She spun away from him and faced the fireplace. “You found it and now you know the truth.”

He approached her slowly as if he were trying to get close to a wounded animal. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Elizabeth, I don’t have any clue what you are speaking of.”

“Of course you do.” She moved away from his grip and turned to face him. Tears rained down her cheeks. “How could you not know? Everyone knows, or at least suspects.”

He shook his head. “Suspects what?”

Her misery turned to anger. She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her out the room and down the hall toward the music room. Slamming the door behind them, she pointed to the portraits on the walls.

“Look at them,” she demanded.

Will did as she said and stared at the paintings on the wall. There were portraits of four women with blond hair and blue eyes, who all looked to be about sixteen when they had been painted. And then there was a portrait of Elizabeth at the same age. He smiled at the painting of her.

“What exactly am I supposed to see other than you and your sisters?”

She pointed to a large portrait over the fireplace and said, “That is my mother.”

Trying to maintain some patience, since this was apparently important to her, he nodded. “She was a very lovely woman.”

“And I look nothing like them,” she whispered. “Nothing.”

“Just because you have red hair and freckles doesn’t mean anything. You probably have another relative you look like.”

“No, I don’t. There is not one painting of anyone in any of the estates who has red hair. Just me! I am the only one.” She dropped to the sofa and placed her hands over her face.

He sat next to her and attempted to pull her into his arm. She pulled away and stood.

“Elizabeth, you cannot assume just because you have red hair that you’re not the duke’s daughter.”

“I don’t have to assume,” she mumbled. “I know I’m not his daughter.”

Will rose and drew her into his arms. “What do you mean, you know?”

Her lower lip quivered. “He told me I wasn’t his daughter. After my mother died, he told me. Perhaps he wanted to punish me for her death, I don’t know. But he told me that my mother had an affair, and I was the result. I don’t know who my father is.”

The anguish in her eyes struck straight to his heart. He pulled her close and held her tight against his chest. Her tears dampened his shirt and the edges of his cravat. He forced himself to ignore the sensual feel of her warm body touching his. Comfort her, he told himself.

Gently, he caressed her hair and several pins fell to the floor. Her tears slowed to a stop but still she clung to him. Warm lips kissed his jaw and he knew he was in deep trouble. He wanted to take away her pain, make her forget for a moment the torment in her heart. But the minute her lips touched his skin, he was lost.

This was wrong.

She needed comfort, not passion. As he tried to draw away, she tightened her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. He tasted the salty tears on her lips until she opened for him. Deepening their kiss, he realized he was done for. She didn’t want his comfort any longer.

Drowning in the flaring passion, he removed her hairpins. Her glorious red tresses curled down her back and he threaded his fingers through them. God, he wanted to see her naked with all that hair flowing down her back. He wanted to see her rosy nipples, erect and ready for his mouth.

He walked them both to the sofa and brought her down on top of him. He moved her leg so that she now straddled his hips. Her warmth pressed down on his hard cock and he wondered just how much control he had left.

Grabbing her hips, he rubbed her against his trouser-covered shaft. The sound of her low moan dropped his control lower. He had to stop this madness.