One Night in a Lord's Bed, page 4
That was yet another reason why he wanted to be as far away from this woman as possible.
Except that Mother Nature had other plans in mind, and the heavens had opened up before the carriage was much beyond the front gate, soaking Alex to the bone and forcing him inside the relative dryness of the coach. Even if he was still quite wet, at least he wasn’t becoming any wetter, so he supposed that was some comfort.
Unfortunately, that also meant he was forced to sit opposite Miss Violet Denton. Which meant looking at her and that delicate face of hers, one that reminded him of a painting of an angel his mother had brought with her from France when she married his father.
That creature had been ethereal, almost too beautiful to real. Which the angel hadn’t been because she was a painting after all, but still a very young Alex had wondered what it would be like to encounter a living, breathing female that exquisitely beautiful.
Now? He knew the answer to that question. In short, it was hell.
It shouldn’t have been hell. But it was. Very much so.
Lady Violet was everything Alex neither wanted nor needed in a woman. She had a delicateness to her, even though she was more generously curved than he had first thought and possessed a more than ample bosom. He generally preferred a heartier woman with no hint of delicateness to her frame, but looking at Lady Violet, he was becoming quite convinced he could change his mind on that point. She was also a blonde whereas he typically sought out brunettes and redheads. That also no longer seemed to matter quite as much as it once had.
Miss Denton was also the quiet and meek sort, at least from what he could tell, despite the fiery spirit he fully believed lurked within her. She had barely said “boo” to him from the moment he had handed her up into his carriage, her voice soft and somewhat melodious. In general, Alex liked his women talkative. They didn’t have to be all that intelligent necessarily – however some witty conversation was nice, even in bed – but he did like them to scream out his name when he bedded them. He enjoyed hearing his name on a woman’s lips as he pleasured her. Somehow, he did not think Miss Denton was that sort of lady.
Not that Alex should be thinking of her in that capacity at all. And he wasn’t. Not really. He was merely tired from having run all over the bloody English countryside in search of the chit and carrying out Nick’s orders. He hadn’t enjoyed a woman since Delia. Or had her name been Delilah? Deborah, maybe? Diana? Daphne? Perhaps?
Oh, who in the bloody hell knew?
Honestly, Alex wasn’t certain of the woman’s name any longer. All he knew was that she had been an opera dancer who had allowed him to do all manner of wicked things to her delectable body until she had kicked up a fuss over the use of a French letter. Pity, for she could have been enjoyable for more than one night. Maybe. Briefly, he wondered if she had ever found her way out of Lord Pendleton’s love nest. She hadn’t struck him as the most intelligent woman he had ever bedded.
For some reason, Alex suspected that Miss Denton would be more than a match for him in the brainbox department. He wasn’t certain how he knew. He simply did.
That could present a problem.
The chit might be young, but there was an intelligent gleam in her eyes that he could not and would not ignore. Because of that, Alex could also not discount the possibility that, now that she was free of the finishing school, Miss Denton might try to run to God-only-knew-where. After all, he knew nothing about her or not much anyway. No one did. Not even the man who had been her brother for the better part of his life.
Perhaps it would be wise to use this time in the carriage to learn a little something about her. Something that would make it possible to track her if she did run. For if Alex lost her, he would be required to find her again. He could not show up at Fullbridge’s house party without the girl in tow. That would not do.
So perhaps it was time he used some of the skills Candlewood had taught him over the years and sussed out a bit of information about the chit without trying to appear to do so. Provided she did not figure out what he was doing and call him out for it, of course.
“How old are you anyway?” Alex asked casually as he made a great show of straitening the cuffs of his shirt. No matter that his cuffs – much like the rest of him – were still dripping with copious amounts of water. Thank God he had rented this carriage and was not ruining his own personal conveyance. “Not that I care, mind. I am merely curious. Your brother has only spoken a very little bit about you.”
Which, if he was pressed, Alex could swear was the absolute truth. Until a year ago, Lord Francis Deaver hadn’t even known his own name, let alone that he had a sister stashed at a run-down finishing school in Hertfordshire run by a Gorgon in black sackcloth.
Not that it was any great surprise to Alex, but the chit slanted him a look as if she knew what he was about before replying. So. More clever than he had anticipated. Best be on his toes around this one then. Who knew what other secrets she was hiding?
“I am twenty at present, my lord. I shall turn one and twenty next month.” She paused and looked down at her hands as if it was taking all of her courage to look him in the eyes. Odd. A moment ago, she had all but openly challenged him with that slanting glare of hers. Damn, but she was a contradiction. Alex did not like contradictions, especially when it came to women. It made them far too complicated and he did not like complicated women. “Which I should think you would know if you are friends with my brother as you claim.”
“We play faro for pennies so as not to bankrupt ourselves. We don’t talk much about family. It is distracting.” Again, that was the truth. Sort of. Francis couldn’t remember his old family, so he didn’t talk about them. He couldn’t. Not to mention that usually when they were playing faro, Nick was also present and he disliked “idle chitchat” when he was trying to concentrate. He was competitive, even when they were only playing for mere pennies.
Anything could be the truth if one looked at it from the right perspective.
She seemed to consider that for a moment. “Fair enough.”
Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, and Alex felt his cock jump in his trousers. God’s bones, he’d been without a woman longer than he had thought if he was reacting to an innocent in this manner. He did his best to slow his breathing and will his over-eager cock back into an at least semi-flaccid state.
“You won’t tell me where my brother has been or why he left me here, will you?” Lady Violet asked abruptly, blissfully unaware of the scandalous fantasies racing through Alex’s mind just then.
Doing his best to look as proper as possible, he shook his head. “No, my lady. I’m afraid that I cannot. It is not my place. I was merely sent to fetch you.” Again, the truth. From a certain perspective.
“Will you tell me what he has been about?” Miss Denton cocked her head to the side as if studying him to determine how willing he would be to share what he knew. Well, she could look all she liked. Alex was not about to be the bearer of such wretched news. At least not if there was a risk – however slight – that she might cry in front of him. He really did despise crying.
“I’m afraid I can’t.” More like wouldn’t, but Alex wasn’t about to quibble over the details.
“Is he well?” She tried again, much to Alex’s annoyance.
“Well enough.” That much was true, or at least it had been the last time Alex had seen Francis at Lady Ardenton’s ball. He was also healthy enough, which was one definition of the word “well” if someone chose to be picky about the matter.
She frowned. “Does he know you were sent to fetch me?”
“To a degree.” Francis knew that many of Candlewood’s friends were out scouring the countryside for her. He had no way of knowing who would find her first. Alex just happened to be the unfortunately “lucky” man.
“Why didn’t he come to bring me home himself?” In a surprising flash of temper, Miss Denton smacked the seat of the rented coach with her hands, giving Alex his first hint that his meek and biddable innocent might not be so meek and biddable after all, just as he had suspected. Damn it! Why did every woman he meet have to possess the claws of a she-devil hellcat? “Is there something wrong with him? Is he ill? Hurt?”
He doesn’t remember you, my sweet. He doesn’t even really know that you exist beyond a name on a half-burned sheet of paper.
The words were on the tip of Alex’s tongue but he somehow managed to keep silent. Again, this wasn’t his place. Instead, he shrugged and briefly wondered if there was any possible way to speed this journey along. Flying, perhaps, but then humans did not fly. Oh, how he wished they did.
“As I said, he is well,” Alex finally replied with a sigh. “It is not my place to say anything more.” When Lady Violet glared at him with a mutinous look, he decided to offer her a bit more information in hopes of quelling what he suspected might be a nasty temper. Well, the pretty ones always were a bit shrewish at times, he supposed.
Reaching into his coat pocket, Alex withdrew the sealed paper he had shown to the headmistress earlier. “Read this.”
Grudgingly, Lady Violet reached out and snatched the paper from his hands, her eyes racing over the page. “This authorizes you to remove me from the care of Mrs. Smithson’s and to both transport and accompany me to my brother.” She frowned, her fingers skimming over the battered and broken wax seal. “All at the behest of one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood at the Prince Regent’s direction. Prinny? The Bloody Duke? Is that the sort of men my brother is associating with these days?”
“You know of the Bloody Duke?” Alex was more than a little incredulous.
“Who has not heard of the man?” She gave him a speaking look. “We do get the papers out here in the hinterlands, my lord. Some of us are even intelligent enough to read them.” She handed the folded paper back to him. “I’ve heard of you as well, my lord. The famous, or should I say infamous, Lord Alexander Huffton. The Marquess of Buxton. Notorious Lover of London. Rake, libertine, and all-around debaucher of women.”
The impertinent chit was playing at possessing more confidence than she felt. Alex could see the truth of it in her eyes. However, he respected that she was doing her best to hold her own in what must be a terrifying situation for her. Just then, he realized that while he viewed this as an assignment to be done and then just as quickly forgotten, this was her life he was dealing with. For Lady Violet, this trip was everything, even if she didn’t know that yet. Perhaps he should not be quite so callous. In the span of an afternoon, she had gone from being little more than an indentured servant to riding in a luxurious, if not more than a little damp, coach on her way to be reunited with her brother. A brother who wasn’t really her brother and no longer remembered her.
Her life was about to be turned upside down in the most awful and confusing of ways, and she sat opposite him now with absolutely no idea what was coming. Alex was not a callous man, or at least he never used to be. Time was changing him and he didn’t like it. Perhaps he could be a little kinder, starting now. A little softer maybe. Even if those things were not in his nature any longer.
“I am those things,” he conceded with a brief incline of his head. “I also carry out delicate tasks for both the Crown and Lord Candlewood on occasion. Tasks that require a finesse not found in most Bow Street Runners.”
“This is one of those occasions?” she asked, some of the fight going out of her far too quickly for his liking. As if she could not decide what part of her personality she wished to show him or how she should behave in this situation. Pity. He liked her better when she was angry. It put a spark in her eyes that was difficult to ignore. Not that he should be paying attention to any sparks in any eyes. Especially not hers.
Alex nodded. “It is. I’m sorry, Miss Denton. I cannot say any more. It is not my place.”
Once more, she took a moment to consider his words, indicating that she was more thoughtful than he would have guessed given that she looked like a heavenly being more so than a woman. And oh, what a heavenly being she was. Right now he would so very much like to lay her down on the carriage seat and…
God’s bones, what in the bloody hell was wrong with him?
He had to stop this insanity right now!
“But my brother trusts you?” she asked finally, yanking his mind back to matters at hand.
Just in time, too, before he did something he might regret. Perhaps he needed more sleep. Yes. That must be it. Sleep.
“He does,” Alex confirmed, praying that she didn’t notice the discomfort in his breeches just then, though for as clever as she was, she likely did. “He does trust me very much.”
Or as much as a man with no memory can trust anyone, I suppose.
Again, he did not say that.
Miss Denton sighed and it was a sound that seemed to come from someplace deep within her soul. “Very well. Then I suppose I have no choice but to trust you as well.”
“You did get into a carriage with me unaccompanied,” Alex pointed out, thankful that they were talking about something at least minimally distracting for the moment. Maybe he could finally keep his thoughts out of the gutter. “That supposes some level of trust does it not?”
“Actually, it rather means a great deal of desperation on my part,” she replied archly, though there was a teasing smile on her lips. Yes, this was better, he decided. Much better. “I spent nearly a year at that place teaching French and embroidery to bored debutantes who despised me. While I do not come from the upper reaches of Society as you do, my lord, I am a gently bred lady and was sent to Mrs. Smithson’s to finish my education. Not become a drudge.”
Alex could understand that sentiment, and he found himself relaxing back against the carriage squabs as they spoke, though his gaze did stray to her lips every so often. They did look just right for kissing. But no. He must concentrate on the matter at hand and not imagine how delightful it might be to debauch her, which would not do at all. While Miss Denton lacked the bright and sophisticated polish of a London debutante, there was no doubt that she was a lady to her very marrow. He must remember to treat her as such. Else he find his bollocks in a sling courtesy of Nick.
“And you shall be a lady again. Once I have you back where you belong.”
He was careful not to mention where, specifically, she belonged and, clever thing that she was, she noticed. He could see it in her eyes. Though she did not comment and instead let the moment pass – though likely only for now. Again, Alex made a mental note not to underestimate her.
For several minutes they rode along in mostly companionable silence before she spoke again. Alex had imagined he would be annoyed by conversation, especially with an innocent young thing, but oddly enough, he was not.
“What can I ask you, my lord? Is there any topic we can safely discuss?” She cocked her head to the side as she awaited his answer.
“You may ask me anything you like, my lady. My life, for the most part, is an open book.” Had they been in a ballroom, he would have bowed for effect. That was usually a nice touch.
“Very well. Is it true that you are London’s greatest debaucher of women? That whole ‘Lover of London’ nonsense. Is it true?” She seemed content to take him at his word and also determined to shock him in the process.
“What?” he asked as he nearly choked on nothing, so great was his disbelief at her question. “God’s bones, Miss Denton! What have you been reading?”
“The Town Tattler.” She sat back against the squabs, seemingly satisfied with her ability to shock him. “As I said, news from London does reach us all the way out here, even if it is a bit slow.” She studied him for a moment, seeming to gain more confidence with each interaction, going back to the woman he had glimpsed earlier. “I will take that as a yes.”
Alex shook his head. “What transpires in my bedchamber is my affair. Not yours and not any other innocent young woman’s either. I do not debauch innocents. Nor have I ever dallied with one. That is all I shall say on the subject. Next question.”
He was well aware that this conversation was wholly inappropriate and only threatening to become worse. He was also cognizant of the fact that she had started it, but only at his urging. Therefore, he would consider their discussion acceptable – for now. Also, it wasn’t as if anyone would ever discover what they had talked about in the carriage. It was only the two of them here, after all.
Alex was also aware that one not-so-innocent question had made him tingle with interest again and given him a raging erection once more, his cock so hard that it hurt. Perhaps it was those words falling from her innocent lips or perhaps it was the very idea that she knew of such things. That she was perhaps not as innocent as she seemed.
Uncultured? Yes. Innocent? Not hardly.
She was dangerous. Too dangerous. Especially because she wasn’t trying to be. This conversation had to end. Now.
“How old are you?” The chit seemed determined to wring as much personal information from him as she could, though in this case, he had no qualms about answering her. It also helped him forget about her question regarding his debauching of women. At least a little. Oh, very well. Not at all.
“I am aged thirty years, presently. I shall be one and thirty come December.” It wasn’t as if that was a secret.
“Ten years older than I, but not so very old. Still, well past time to be wed, don’t you think?” she asked. The question was probably meant to be innocent. It was anything but.
For just then Alex had images of filling a nursey with heirs dancing through his mind. And the activity necessary to beget those heirs. And who he might like to engage in that activity with just now.
