Defying the Earl (32 page)

With fortitude and strength of mind, Livie refolded the letter and glanced out the window, deep in thought. It seemed a fool’s errand to remain hopeful there could be any kind of future between them. Having met Randolph by most unusual circumstances, it was a wonder they’d managed to correspond as much as they did. Still their friendship had evolved through their clever conversations and a mutual devotion had grown. She should be grateful for the friendship she’d developed in the past. Yet the niggling thought that perhaps he wondered of her, the same way she wondered of him, continued with relentless persistence. And truly, what harm would come from her writing one last letter? One missive to explain the circumstances, apologize for her lack of contact, and inquiry of his wellbeing? It seemed the right thing to do considering the circumstances and perhaps, to put an end to the ache that drenched her heart whenever she thought of their lost love.

Before she could change her mind, Livie withdrew a piece of foolscap from the drawer and, dipping the nib of her pen into the inkpot, committed her thoughts to paper.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Valerian was a man on a mission. Dressed in a very fine tailcoat of premium wool, he’d eschewed the tailor’s suggestion of tri-color embroidery and chosen a muted kerseymere. In lieu of inexpressibles, he’d opted for pantaloons and black polished Hessians. Together the ensemble spoke of exacting fashion, as flawless as the folds in his silk cravat, and as determined as his mindset to win Wilhelmina’s hand. She already owned his heart. How ridiculous the two of them had quarreled about nothing of significance in relation to their cherished emotions. All that mattered little now. He patted his coat pocket, a brilliant diamond betrothal ring kept safely against his heart.

Approaching the stairs to Aunt Kate’s town house, he paused beside the boxwood hedges and glanced to the second story, a smile turning his lips and an unharnessed energy coursing through him at the prospect of seeing Whimsy, proposing marriage and beginning a new life when he’d all but assured himself happiness was out of reach. He chuckled.

Climbing the stairs, he knocked on the front door, ignoring the brass.

No one answered.

Determined more than deterred, he lifted the brass this time and rapped with more strength than was necessary. Wasn’t anyone at home? Where was the housekeeper? He was led to believe Livie needed constant care. He reached for the knocker a second time when the door swung wide.

“Yes?”

Wilhelmina’s tone bespoke of patience stretched thin. Her eyes looked weary and tearful as if she’d been crying only moments before and her clothing was filthy. For a fleeting breath, the night they’d tumbled down the hillside resurrected, but the image was immediately replaced by the delightful hours found later with Wilhelmina in his bed. His body stirred and he forced himself to words.

“Are you all right?” He leaned in, examining her from head to toe.

“I told you not to call.”

Not the answer he’d anticipated. Foolish, that. “I’ve important news.”

She stared at him, her cheeks stained from newly shed tears, and his heart ached for whatever had driven her to sadness. Surely, she couldn’t doubt his affection. He’d declared his feelings and heart’s intent. Now that the earldom’s solvency had been restored, nothing stood in the way of their happiness.

“Lord Dash—”

“Valerian,” he interrupted with insistence. What was this silly game she meant to play?

“I’ve never considered you obtuse.” Her shoulders slumped in what only could be labeled defeat or frustration barely contained. “My aunt and sister have gone for an afternoon ride in Hyde Park and the staff has been given a holiday. I’d like nothing more than to soak in a hot tub. I am tired and…” she glanced to her skirts, “in need of a bath. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

She began to close the door, but he placed his hand against the edge.

“You can’t deny the love we have for each other, Whimsy.” His murmur was meant in the most charming manner.

“You denied our relationship for your financial security.”

“I couldn’t have you marry a pauper. Allow me to come in and talk to you.”

Her nostrils flared before she answered. “I smell terrible.”

Did he detect a trace of impish humor? How dearly he wished to kiss her. The lady was in desperate need of ardent professions of love. His love. “I don’t mind. It’s your heart I’m after.”

“Then you shall be disappointed this morning. I have nothing to offer you, Valerian.”

Wasn’t this a reversal of fortune?
You, my lady, are everything
.

But he never had a chance to voice the words as she was already shutting the door and were it not for his quick reflexes she might have closed his fingers in the jamb. As it was, the cuff of his new ensemble caught in her hurry to force him away, now providing the perfect entry as the door was not sealed properly. He cracked it open, just enough to gain view of the lathe-turned banisters and long staircase which led to the upper floor. He’d allow her a few minutes before rearranging her plans, for certainly their futures were meant to be spent together.

Wilhelmina sank into the hot water grateful Rose had helped her fill the tub before leaving to visit family. Quietude was the exact remedy to her malady. She loved her sister and aunt dearly. So much so, they were the impetus of all she’d perpetuated lately, yet today, after losing the charm bracelet and accepting with discontent Valerian’s stubborn refusal, solitude was the necessary cure. It didn’t matter he showed at her doorstep. It was too late. Too much had changed.

Weeks ago she’d felt the same forlorn despair yet she’d been spared the brokenhearted misery of loving Valerian. Now, she had little to offer other than a dependent sister and aged aunt. A whisper of conscience reminded her her situation mirrored the dashing earl’s but she nudged the realization away and sank further into the comforting warmth of bubbles and lilac-scented soap.

Matchmaker?
She deserved the title of worst ever, unable to find the way to her own content.

She leaned her neck against the rim of the tub and massaged the muscles against the cool copper. A wistful part of her heart prodded she should again explain the circumstances to Valerian. He’d understand having dealt with similar financial difficulties. He might agree their sentiments for each other were paramount. How had everything become so muddled? This time it was her pride preventing the words from being spoken. Closing her eyes, she willed her body to calm, pulse to slow, a nap just the thing to erase the horrid morning, her mother’s bracelet forever gone.

She floated at the edge of a shallow sleep when she alerted to a sound in her bedchamber, the click of the door and soft fall of shoes on carpet. Good heavens, she was alone in the house. Howsoever could there be a noise? But then again, the light step, as if someone trod with determined care. She sat up in the tub, leaning forward through a mountain of bubbles to strain her ear as closely to the door as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest. Could it all be a trick of imagination? Were she to see the knob twist a choked scream of panic would never be heard.

Then the door opened, and there stood Valerian.

Her mouth went dry from the pure handsomeness of his appearance and she fought a treacherous wave of affection.

And then he leaned against the doorframe as if he had nowhere in particular to be.

She did so love when he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned.

Deliciously wonderful ideas came to mind that had nothing to do with her previous disappointment and everything to do with her nakedness in a tub of hot soapy water and the Earl of Dashwood only three feet away.

Neither of them spoke, though his eyes were wicked in the wavering candlelight, invested with dark secrets and hidden desires and promises…promises of inestimable pleasure.

Steam rose from the water, the air as heated as his gaze, and her body reacted, a tingling from the tips of her breasts, downward, tracing her spine, to settle in her core where she responded with immediate warmth and wetness.

How dare he? In her bedchamber.

She was trapped.

“Get out.” Her words didn’t capture her intent as they bespoke more of surrender than reprimand and she found herself unable to sustain any degree of temper.

“I’d rather get in.” His answer was pure sin.

“Valerian!” Her outburst expressed a fair degree of shock.

He chuckled a deep tenor and pushed from the doorframe to take a menacing step closer. She had nowhere to hide. With all her heart she didn’t want to. When had she become so shameless?

“Lean back.” His words were all command as he removed his coat and lifted the scented soap from the stool beside the sink. He dipped his hands into the bathwater near the foot of the tub, hardly bothering to roll his sleeves.

“You’ll ruin your shirt.” Was that her only protestation? A rush of heat drenched her from head to toe.

“This old thing?” He winked with the charm of a scoundrel, dismissing her objection before moving to stand behind the tub. “Rest your head on the rim so I can soap your hair.”

She swallowed a strong case of nerves, but did as she was told. The firm press of his fingertips against her scalp, the care with which he threaded his fingers through the length, the very idea that he would offer such intimate ministration, made her heart pound with pleasure. That is, until it stopped beating altogether.

His palms skimmed her shoulders, teased her breasts, until one clever hand fluttered past her hip to rest on her sex. She inhaled sharply, unable to exhale in wonder of what he would do next.

She didn’t have to wait long, her breath rushing out on a lovely sigh. She might have said something, made some kind of objection when his fingertip caressed the most intimate part of her, but then he was kissing her shoulder, nuzzling the arch of her neck where his whiskers abraded her skin in delightful friction, his soft murmurings reverberating down where his fingers played, each stroke igniting a fresh lick of heat, a spark of pain pleasure which left her wriggling to be free and all the while, desperate for more.

Oh, what he did to her. She tilted her hips the slightest to offer a better angle.

His left hand caressed the tip of her breast, his teeth nipped her skin, while his fingers rubbed her cleft with infinite delicacy, urging her to find release, to abandon all decorum and surrender to sensation. She arched in answer to his quest, her breathing nothing more than sighs and moans carried on the hum of appreciative murmur. Her hips matched the rhythm of his determined caresses, gentle yet strong, the building force of climax not to be denied.

The soapy water lapping against her breasts, warm and erotic, mimicked the exquisite exploration of his fingers below, and she, unable to stay still, soaked in the onslaught of wicked temptation urging her toward completion.

She found release at the same time he tasted her lobe, his satisfied smile against her cheek a reminder that she should be appalled at her behavior, yet she couldn’t grasp the concept, her limbs languid and sated, her body tingling with the aftermath of pure awareness. The brush of his hair at her cheek, the hot press of his lips against her skin, the scent of neroli, cloves and masculinity, left her helpless, drained, never happier.

She kept her eyes closed, partly to extend the intimate moment, and also to avoid the embarrassment of her wanton behavior. She felt him withdraw, frowning at the loss of heat against her bare back and heard him wash and dry his hands at the sink, the silence suddenly overbearing. Wouldn’t he say something, anything, to alleviate her complete mortification?

He gently tipped her chin upward and her eyes fluttered open as he pressed a tender kiss on her cheek.

“I want to give you something.”

“You already did.” She spoke the words shyly, her eyes dropping to the fading bubbles in hope they concealed her embarrassing blush.

“Only my heart.”

The words captured her attention, her eyes flared, as Valerian kneeled beside the tub.

“I’ve learned from the most reputable matchmaker in London that ladies like baubles.”

His deep tenor sent a shiver through her spine though the water remained warm. When he produced a velvet box from his pocket, her chest constricted with a dozen emotions. Fire shone in his midnight-blue eyes, and she smiled with amazement at the handsome earl who was set to propose marriage while she soaked in the bath.

“Volunteering for the parson’s mousetrap, are you?”

His bark of laughter caught her unaware.

“Something like that,” he said with amusement. Then he opened the jewel box and lifted the ring into view.

“My dearest Whimsy, treasure of my heart, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“You’re truly serious?” She blinked back tears as they hurried to blur her vision.

“Never more so.”

“What brought about this change of heart?” Her words fell to a raspy whisper.

“My admiration has remained ever constant. What’s changed is circumstance and like new invention I’m not about to see the opportunity slip away. A lesson I’ve learned recently. So yes, I’m truly serious.” He smiled and a low chuckle chased his words. “As serious as one can be when kneeling beside a bathtub in wet shirtsleeves proposing marriage.”

Wilhelmina couldn’t imagine a better proposal, her heart filled with every joyful emotion she’d ever imagined. “Then yes, Valerian St. David, I accept.”

He slipped the ring on her finger, the glistening diamond almost as brilliant as her smile and they kissed to seal their promise to each other.

Needless to say circumstances continued to improve.

Sixth Earl of Dashwood Revolutionizes the Art of Bathing
.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The sun shone brilliantly on the morning of Whimsy’s wedding. Not a cloud marred the London sky and pleasant weather was such a rarity, it could only be considered a good omen of many joyful years to come. Wilhelmina stood in the vestibule entry, her nerves atwitter although her smile never faltered. Today she would become Valerian’s wife. Her heart overflowed with emotion.