Taste of Temptation (21 page)
Read Taste of Temptation Online
Authors: Cheryl Holt
Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction
“Can you forgive me?”
It was the last comment she’d expected, and she cocked her head, not sure she’d heard him correctly.
“Forgive you? Whatever for?”
“I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been able to sneak away. After what passed between us in London, you must think I’m contemptible.”
“No, no, I never could.”
He extended his hand, and she dropped the rose and leapt into his arms. Then, he was kissing her and kissing her, and as he picked her up and twirled her round and round, she laughed with joy—and no small amount of relief.
He carried her into the bedchamber, and he deposited her on the mattress and came down after her.
As they began to make love, she understood that it would be completely different from their previous encounter.
He moved effortlessly, showing her how the sexual act was meant to be accomplished. He touched her all over, stripping off her nightgown so she was naked, and he sucked on her nipples, biting and pinching them until she was moaning in agony. She was so happy she wondered if she might die from contentment.
After her initial experience, she was extremely anxious, but thankfully, it was the splendid event her virginal mind had frequently conjured.
There was only pleasure and none of the pain.
When he finally entered her, he slid in easily, their joining so perfect that the Good Lord, Himself, might have specifically created them to fit together.
He thrust meticulously, watching her reactions. Eventually, the sweetest, most exotic wave of ecstasy swept through her. She gasped with surprise, her body tensing, which spurred him to proceed to his own conclusion.
The speed and intensity increased, and very soon, he spilled himself far inside her. Gradually, he relaxed and drew away, stretching out so that they faced each other.
They stared and stared, grinning like fools.
“That was better than the first time, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Much.”
“Since then, I haven’t thought of anything but you.”
“I’m glad.”
“I want to be with you as often as I can while we’re here in the country.”
“I want that, too.”
She could hardly keep from squealing with delight. She wouldn’t have to fume with resentment, terrified that some other girl had captured his fancy. She wouldn’t fret over where he was, because he would be in her bed.
“I’ll arrive,” he said, “as near to midnight as I can manage.”
“All right.”
“We must be cautious, though.”
“Yes, very cautious.”
Verbally, she agreed to vigilance, but in all actuality, she was impatient to be discovered. If they were, they’d have to marry immediately. He would be hers forever, but she couldn’t risk detection until she was certain he was as madly in love as she. Once she was positive, she would notify the entire world of what they’d done.
“Your reputation mustn’t be damaged,” he insisted.
“It won’t be.”
“The village dance is Friday.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I have to show the same amount of attention to everyone; I can’t play favorites. Don’t be jealous.”
“I won’t be.”
“I would dance every dance with you if I could.”
“I know you would.”
His respiration was slowing, his eyes drooping. He was dozing off in her bed, and the notion was too thrilling for words.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
“Yes. Let’s nap for a while, then we’ll do it again.”
“I’d like that.”
“So would I.”
He pulled her close and hugged her, and she lay very still, eager to imprint every detail into her memory so that she would never forget. Yet, even as he drifted off, she was irked to find herself fussing over his presence.
Wasn’t this what she wanted from him? Hadn’t matters turned out precisely as she’d planned? Why was she so apprehensive?
The pesky morals upon which she’d been raised were niggling at her, and she tried not to heed them, but they wouldn’t be silent.
“When you visit me ...” she murmured.
“Hmm... ?”
“My maid is here sometimes. She can’t catch you sneaking in. We should probably use some sort of signal to indicate that the coast is clear.”
“Your maid is here? At midnight?”
“If I’m up late.”
“Who was assigned to you?”
“Her name is Lydia.”
“Lydia? Oh, I’ve known Lydia for ages. Don’t worry about her.”
His eyes shut, and hers did, too. She slept, cradled in his arms, convinced that she’d made all the right choices.
LYDIA walked down the empty hall, proceeding to her tiny bed in the attic room she shared with three other women. She was grumpy and exhausted and feeling gravely harried at having stayed up merely to tend Jane Hamilton.
The servants were aware of how Captain Odell had rescued the Hamilton sisters from dire straits, how he’d ensconced them alongside the Seymour family when they didn’t deserve such an exalted spot.
Lydia was consumed with rage over Jane’s good fortune and disturbed by how she constantly threw herself at Lord Hastings.
Over the past few years, he’d showered Lydia with affection, and thus, she had cause to expect that great things were in store for her.
She was buxom and willing, and there was no reason why she couldn’t be his mistress. Her mother had been the one to suggest it, and Lydia had quickly decided, why not?
Why shouldn’t she set her sights so high? A girl could go far by allying herself with such an important man, and she’d just begun hinting at such an arrangement when Jane had arrived on the scene. Where Lydia was concerned, Lord Hastings had been blind ever since.
Lydia hated Jane Hamilton. She hated her pretty hair and big green eyes and willowy figure. She hated the beautiful gowns the captain had bought for her with Lord Hastings’s money. Most of all, she hated how Jane was allowed to fritter away the day with no duties or chores, while Lydia had to work like a dog.
In a furious temper, she was marching up the stairs when she heard male footsteps in the hall below. Curiosity had her peeking down, and even though it was very dark, a glimmer of moonlight made it easy to see Lord Hastings as he went by.
Lydia’s pulse raced.
It was the perfect occasion to seduce him, and she tiptoed after him and was about to whisper his name, when he stopped at Jane Hamilton’s door, spun the knob, and slipped inside.
Lydia was so shocked that she had to count the doorways three times to be positive there was no mistake.
She knew him well; he wasn’t in the bloody room to drink tea and eat biscuits! He was having a sexual affair with Jane Hamilton! The rat! And here, Lydia had stupidly thought it was a harmless flirtation.
So ... Jane Hamilton was putting on airs, prancing about as if she owned the accursed mansion, but when it came right down to it, she was no better than she had to be.
Lydia shook her head with disgust, her mind awhirl with the possibilities presented by Jane’s behavior.
How much cash could Helen Hamilton be coerced into paying so that her sister’s folly wasn’t revealed? What would it be worth for Helen to save her plush existence?
Even more intriguing, what would Maud Seymour think of Lydia’s discovery? Maud had grand plans for Miriam to marry Michael, and she loathed the Hamilton sisters more than Lydia did.
What reward might she offer to be rid of Jane and Helen Hamilton?
Or should Lydia keep the earl’s secret for him? Was there an advantage in silence?
She couldn’t make a spur-of-the-moment decision on the matter, so she crept to an alcove where she could hide and wait to see what time Lord Hastings emerged. She snuggled down, eager to learn what benefits the night would bring.
Chapter 12
“GUESS what I heard?”
“What?”
Clarinda Dudley glanced over at her brother. Their wagon was parked on the lane that led up to Hastings Manor, and she could just see the grand house through the trees. It was a glorious day, the sky so blue, the grass so green.
While she was delighted with their new location, and the world suddenly full of possibilities, his expression was so dour that she laughed.
With their having traveled to the country, chasing after Helen Hamilton, he was in a foul mood. He’d agreed to come, but he was irked over the decision. He insisted that London held better prospects for his personal brand of chicanery, but she didn’t care where they camped. One place was the same as the other.
Though she couldn’t explain why, it had seemed vital that she tag after the Hamiltons. Silly as it sounded, she felt as if she was destined to befriend them, as if fate had shoved them into her path.
“The housekeeper,” Clarinda mentioned, “tells me that they’re hiring.”
“Why?”
“What with the earl being in residence, they’re throwing dozens of parties, and the guest rooms are all occupied. They need extra help.”
“Bully for them.”
“I thought I might take a job for a bit.”
He gaped as if she were insane. “What is wrong with you?”
“It would be fun.”
He scoffed with derision. “My sister is not spending the next month cleaning chamber pots for a bunch of rich arseholes.”
“We could use the money.”
“We have plenty, and besides, with all the people arriving for the harvest festival, we’ll make out like bandits. You don’t need to work for Lord Hastings.”
He looked so stern, as if he were her father and forbidding her from meeting with her favorite beau. He had an intense dislike of the aristocracy and didn’t wish to have any interaction with them—unless he was fleecing them out of cash. Then he was happy as a clam.
As for herself, she had no deep feelings one way or another. According to tales told by their long-deceased mother, their father had been the duke of Clarendon, a notorious fiend who had kept their mother as a mistress.
Clarinda didn’t know if the story was true, but Phillip was convinced that it was, and he hated all noblemen because of it. To her, it didn’t matter if they had been sired by Clarendon or not. It wasn’t as if they could show up on his stoop and ask to stay for supper. He was irrelevant.
“Maybe I
want
to work for Lord Hastings,” she said, just to needle him. “Maybe I’d enjoy it.”
want
to work for Lord Hastings,” she said, just to needle him. “Maybe I’d enjoy it.”
“Don’t be absurd. You’re too independent, Clarinda. The first time some fussy butler gave you a stupid order, you’d punch him in the nose and quit.”
“I might.”
She chuckled, absolutely able to imagine it.
She’d been on her own too long, had made her own schedule and followed her own rules, and she wasn’t one to suffer fools. Nor was there any reason to waste energy on tasks she loathed.
Yet, as she stared at the manor, the sunlight reflecting off the windows, she was amazed at how desperately she yearned to be inside it, to explore the quiet hallways and study the beautiful things.
“What is our plan while we’re here in the country?” she asked him.
“Same as always: Sell, sell, sell to every gullible female who walks by.”
“We’re low on bottles of Woman’s Daily Remedy. Shall I mix up another batch?”
“I will.”
It was a fruity alcoholic beverage that they marketed under the guise of it having medicinal qualities. Phillip claimed it eased stress, but mostly it left customers intoxicated so that they didn’t worry over their troubles.
Earlier in the summer, Lord Redvers had warned Phillip not to dispense any more of it, but Redvers wasn’t present, was he? She and Phillip could do what they liked without the officious aristocrat horning in and telling them how to act.
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