Defying the Earl (11 page)

Leonard appeared no worse for the wear, although his expression displayed a mixture of surprise, betrayal, and curiosity.

“Fiona, whatsoever are you doing?” Wilhelmina’s indignant objection burst through the silence before she could think better of it. It could only be emotion evoking the brazen remark. She shifted her eyes to Dashwood, his face unreadable.

“I should ask the very same.” Leonard’s tone indicated equal parts confusion and concern.

“So now you’re in a hurry to talk and take notice.” Fiona gathered her skirts and rushed past in a flurry of agitation, Leonard fast to follow, the tips of his boots nearly clipping the heels of the lady’s slippers.

“You’ve made a mess of things, Lord Dashwood.” Misplaced anger, at her inability to see the couple happily joined, at the predicament and her inadequacy, laced the accusation with an edge of hysteria. She knew her words were harsh, but anger overrode etiquette.

“Slow down in your berating. I had nothing to do with Fiona’s half-baked scheme.” He turned, his words calm, his expression amused and the glint in his eye deflated her anger in one fell swoop.

“You might have discouraged her.” Her voice dropped to a level of misery. “Fiona and Leonard are meant to be together if they would stop playing these silly games and trust their true emotions. Perhaps Leonard should present Fiona with a pretty bauble.” She spoke more to herself than her company.

“Trust their true emotions?” He stifled a chuckle with effort.

“Have you no faith in love?”

“None at all.”

Silence stretched for several awkward moments.

Then abandoning his cryptic reply, she leveled a stare meant to convey restrained patience. “How is it, wherever I go, you are there too?”

“I could ask the same of you.” One corner of his mouth twitched, as if he suppressed a smile.

“I was invited at Fiona’s request. We are friends…at least we were at one time. You’ve wounded her sensibilities.” For some unnamed reason she stepped closer to him, although the logical thing would be for her to turn and walk away.

“I’ve wounded her? You had the man of her heart on your arm as you traipsed across the meadow, negligent of her feelings while she waited here in the arbor. You’re quick to criticize Fiona’s approach while you also play a game with Leonard’s affection. At the moment, I believe the man doesn’t know where he stands with either lady who’s caught his eye. Have a care with his intentions.”

“How dare you? I would never toy with someone’s affections. I am a woman of high standards.” She poked her finger into the air to emphasis her exclamation. “I’m to have a care? You’ve voiced slanderous comments and inaccurate suggestions that discombobulated Fiona’s confidence, so much so, the lady believed it necessary to stoop to a ridiculous ploy such as this.” She paused for emphasis and attempted a haughty look of disapproval. “Such as
you
.”

Perhaps she’d gone too far. The mischievous smile that played at his mouth through their argument had vanished, replaced by a somber grimace, his lips pressed tight and his thick, dark brows lowered in a concentrated V. He began to speak and then reconsidered.

Wilhelmina stared at his mouth in anticipation of his next objection, but the longer she did, the more her brain noted every detail. Ebony whiskers shadowed the elegant arc of his upper lip leading to a small scar at the right corner of his mouth. His jaw was tense; the angle strong and straight, and too, there was that devilish cleft in his chin. She itched to trace the indentation. Her fingertips rustled against the folds of her skirt, her hands all of a sudden restless and agitated.

With a new understanding of desire and another less decipherable emotion, she raised her eyes to his as a tremor of anticipation trickled down her spine. Why did he have to be so inexorably handsome? His eyes, the exact color of an evening sky, intense and intriguing, bore into hers as if he wondered and questioned the same ethereal bond, the frisson of sensual current, an urge and craving, an unexplainable attraction.

She grasped desperately to any fragment of thought to dispel the undeniable emotion stirring inside. “Why? Why did you kiss her?”

“Fiona kissed me.”

Wilhelmina offered her answer in the form of a raised eyebrow.

“Are you jealous?” His question was pure mockery, yet the conversation took a decidedly different turn.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She paused to marshal her sense and dislodge his smug smile.

“Curious?” he persisted, with a hint of provocation.

“You imply that I care.” Her usual tetchy retort was less than a whisper. How had he melted her anger into the warm, comfortable emotion that now wrapped around her better sense?

“Oh, but you do.”

His words skittered across her skin and she shivered no matter she heated from the inside out. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

How he baited her. “It’s considered rude to contradict a lady.” Her retort was more purr than reprimand.

“Etiquette be damned.”

He drew her to him, deep into the shadows of the gazebo, before his husky murmur had finished, his head angled to the left, his mouth a whisper away. Her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. But he did not finish the distance to bring the kiss to life and her face heated. Had she misjudged his intention? She opened her eyes the slightest. He stared at her with dark intensity, as if he sought to find something in her eyes but she could not fathom for what he searched.

Before she could decipher his meaning his hand moved from her arm to her shoulder, sliding over her sleeve in a possessive caress. Did he mean to anchor himself to her or steady her step, for surely she swayed with the onslaught of emotion spinning her out of control? She withdrew in confusion, and he pursued, his mouth capturing hers, hard and demanding.
He wanted her
. It was the last thought she grasped before reason and resistance evaporated.

Chapter Nine

Why had he hesitated? One touch of Wilhelmina’s silken mouth drenched his senses with awareness; she tasted like a coveted delicacy, sweet and all consuming, with the ability to ruin one’s desire for any future delectation. Her feather-soft lips as refreshing as a springtime sun shower, the delicate murmur of her enjoyment more powerful than the loudest thunder, and her feminine scent, part lemon, part gardenia, sent a rush of desire straight to his groin.

Somehow her kiss vanquished the heavy burden of malaise, the somber emotion having clung to him since discovering the dire seriousness of his future.

He knew the moment she melted, felt her gentle shudder the instant she gave herself over to the kiss, and the knowledge burned through each layer of indifference, every wall of rejection, finding his heart despite he’d rather have kept it hidden.

Her lips on his were a lightning bolt to the heart, sparking it back into rhythm. What power did she possess to evoke emotion long lost, dead and buried?

When she offered no resistance, he deepened the kiss, her soft warmth turning his body to stone, yet awakening him all the same. He drank in the renewal she offered. He never wished to leave.

With hesitancy, she raised her gloved palms and skimmed his shoulders. Did she mean to separate them or hold them joined? He locked her closer, unwilling to consider ending their embrace; one hand anchored at the small of her back, the gentle arch of her spine perceivable through multiple fabrics, and his imagination burst with images of Wilhelmina, bare and beautiful in his arms, in his bed, an invitation to pleasure and so much more.

She shifted the slightest, the weight of her breasts pressing against his chest, causing his heart to stutter. Had she resuscitated the dormant organ to now stop its beat altogether?

Somehow, through the haze of pleasure, sensibility warned he shouldn’t be kissing her. The realization had nothing to do with security or debt or financial ruin. Still with each passing breath, his control slipped another notch, desire demanding full attention. How easily he might spin out of control and lose a part of himself, lose all power to recover. The lady gave no signs of objection, quite the opposite to his surprise, but the truth of the situation managed to struggle to the surface, fracturing his longing with the force of awareness.

Were a party guest to stumble upon their unexpected embrace, no reason or excuse would suffice. He’d be altar-bound by morning, and while Whimsy peaked his curiosity, his eager body in full agreement, the grave conclusion was too stark to ignore. Wilhelmina deserved better than a pauper for a husband. He wanted her, but to what end?

He disengaged from their kiss with curt efficiency and ignored the catch in his breathing. “I should leave.”

The words couldn’t ring more true. Were someone to happen upon them alone in the garden, never mind kissing, the worst gossip would destroy her reputation, and ruin any chance at building her business as a discreet matchmaker; one more adept at bringing together the affections of others than understanding the expression of her own heart.

Yet this kiss, his kiss…she had no words to explain the exhilarating pleasure found in Dashwood’s embrace. The touch of his mouth upon hers instigated a pulse of excitement that thrummed in her veins demanding attention despite his immediate dismissal.

More than a little confused, she mumbled her agreement. “I could never bring embarrassment to my aunt’s doorstep. She has shown my sister and me generosity and kindness.”

“And your sister, shall I make her acquaintance this afternoon as well?” His voice sounded close to normal.

“My sister is unwell.” The admittance ended all conversation and after a long silent moment with nothing more than a curt nod, Wilhelmina backed her way out of the arbor and left straightaway.

Afraid to confront the jumble of emotions bombarding her, she returned to the main house where several guests shared a luncheon on elaborate tables set in a shady copse of a few walnut trees. She scanned the crowd for her quarry, but Leonard and Fiona were nowhere to be seen. A hitch snagged her breathing at the thought one or both might have left the gathering. What was wrong with her? She had a definitive goal and a relationship to repair before she could ever consider success, and yet the recurring echo of Valerian’s playful banter and breathtaking kiss repeated like a litany inside her brain. She closed her eyes as if to force the images into hiding and then opened her eyes wide and examined the crowd.

It wasn’t until she spotted Leonard and Fiona in the distance, walking the perimeter of the shuffleboard area and engrossed in conversation did she relax. She couldn’t tell if they were amiable or argumentative, but at least they were together. Then, only then, did the thunderous beat of her heart calm.

“Livie, what is this? When did you receive these letters? Who are they from?” Wilhelmina reached for the pile of ivory sheets tied with an ivory ribbon resting near the headboard of the bed, but her sister snatched the pile out of reach.

“These are personal.” She smiled as if to soften the blow of her refusal. “I’m sorry, Whimsy, but my letters are nothing I care to share.”

The response was entirely unlike Livie, and her reluctance to add to the mysterious statement fueled Wilhelmina’s determination to uncover exactly what her sister was about. “Does Aunt Kate know about them? If she brings you the mail, then I’m the only person excluded from this knowledge.” Wilhelmina sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving her sister’s face. If there was a truth to be discovered, she would ferret out the information.

“Posh with your suspicions.” Livie smiled as she tucked the letters under the second pillow at her back. She turned to face Wilhelmina with a calm, delighted expression, and not one of low-brow poor conscience as would be expected. “The letters are old remembrances from before we moved to London. I was reminiscing about our past life and thought I’d tucked them away better. There is no reason to belabor the subject with Aunt Kate because she knows as little as you do.” Apparently finished with her explanation, her sister reached for her cup of tea and busied herself with smoothing the satin trim of the coverlet near her waist.

“Do you miss it very much? Living in the country?” Her question stalled Livie’s hands, but when their eyes met there weren’t any shadows of sadness to detect.

“Actually, no. Not at all.” She quirked a quick smile before adjusting her spectacles. “It’s refreshing to be away from all the old memories of Mother and Father’s accident. I’d much rather begin anew. I saved these letters for a different reason. Mother knew about them. The letters are a happier memory amidst the tragedy of our past.”

For brevity, Livie’s eyes lit with sorrow and she shuffled her legs under the blanket as if to secure they still worked as she commanded. Wilhelmina did not miss the movement. She released a long exhale and vowed to turn the subject to something lighter.

“You needn’t look so dejected.”

It was impossible to hide anything from Livie’s perspicacious eyes.

“I’m sure you haven’t told me every iota of your personal affairs. While you’re off socializing in the name of matchmaking, you have surely accumulated a secret or two. Have you danced with a handsome gentleman? Shared conversation with a charming stranger?”

An immediate image of Dashwood formed, his dark hair and devilish smile always at the ready when she dared to dream. But a dream it was all. No matter the topic of conversation they always seemed to be at odds, as if stepping into that mud puddle and dragging him down with her had set a tone that could not be erased any easier than the stains that ruined her silk slippers.

“Look at that smirk. A gentleman has caught your fancy. Who is it, Whimsy? You must tell.” Her sister’s laughter overrode her demand and she leaned forward, placing her palm on Wilhelmina’s arm to entreat her confession.

“I should hold the information hostage until you elaborate about that pile of letters. I thought we told each other everything.”

“A nice sentiment, but one we’ve outgrown years ago. Although I daresay I enjoy sharing most everything with you, not that I lead a very interesting life.” Livie punctuated the statement with a short laugh and nudged her spectacles to the bridge of her nose. “Never mind my old letters. They are history, but this is your future. Do tell. I want to hear all about him, every detail and word.” A huge smile crossed her face, her eyes twinkling with excitement.