His Perfect Game (7 page)

Wiping her tears away before Mary saw, she worked on presenting an emotionless face. Her father would be watching her tonight. He expected her to act as though she were enamored with Lord Merrick, a feat that would prove difficult in her current state.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Mary asked, watching her closely.

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

Crossing the room to peer into the mirror, Abigail sighed in defeat. How could she hide her emotions with her eyes mocking her?

“The powder from my hair must have agitated them. Oh, Mary, what am I to do? If Father sees me like this, he is sure to explode in a rage.”

“Don’t overset yourself. It will only make your eyes worse. Simply keep your head down. It will fade in time,” Mary assured.

Abigail nodded, knowing she didn’t have any other option. Regardless of what she did, her father would be angered, so it didn’t matter. Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed Mary to finish preparing her for their dinner guest. She hoped this courtship charade would end soon. After she was wed and away from her father, she would only have one man to fear.

Dinner was quiet, albeit a little too quiet. With Abigail and her mother remaining silent, the task set with the gentlemen to hold the conversation. Unfortunately, Lord Merrick’s simple responses to her father’s attempts didn’t call for further elaboration.

Throughout she tried to keep her gaze down, but her traitorous eyes sought out Lord Merrick several times before she caught herself. He watched her with an intensity that discomforted her, making her believe he could see through her.

The clanking of silverware on dishes resounded through the room as the gentlemen ate and the ladies feigned eating. When her mother stood, announcing the ladies’ time to withdraw, Abigail slumped in relief, until she saw the gleam in her father’s eyes.

“I believe we should forgo enjoying port tonight,” her father said. “As a matter of fact, I do believe I’m feeling too unwell to participate in joining everyone in the drawing room.”

“Then I will not impose on your hospitality any longer,” Lord Merrick quickly agreed.

“Nonsense. My daughter would be more than pleased to keep you company while my wife and I retire.” Pure hatred and malevolence filled the look her father shot her. A warning, in the event she resisted.

“Yes, my lord. Please join me in the drawing room.” Her voice came out as a squeak, but no one seemed to notice.

Lord Merrick nodded, then took her arm as her mother and father quietly left the room. How quickly her father was to leave her alone with a gentleman made her uncomfortable. However, she already knew how little he regarded her safety. When would his responses cease to surprise her?

“How do you intend to entice me tonight?” Lord Merrick asked after the drawing room door ominously shut.

“What leads you to believe that is my intent?”

“This whole evening was a ploy by your father to secure this private time for us, so I’m certain you have instructions on your next move.”

“Since you have knowledge of his plan, it would be pointless to deny my father’s intentions.”

“So, what are you planning to do?”

Abigail’s heart raced as Lord Merrick took a step toward her. With his emotions locked tightly away, she could not discern his mood. Was he angry? Would he beat her? Pushing her shoulders back, she knew she could not escape the inevitable.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I see.” He nodded, and the intensity left his gaze. “Perhaps you would care to talk first?”

“I would like that.” Smiling at the short reprieve he offered, she sat in a chair. He stepped forward and claimed the one next to her.

“As I stated the other night, our betrothal didn’t come about by mutual interests for a reason. Once our wedding takes place, I shall obtain what I want from this marriage, so I would like to know what you desire from it.”

“I’m not sure I understand, my lord.”

She could not believe he asked what she wanted. She never recalled her father asking her mother of her desires, so she was unfamiliar with the proper protocol. The viscount’s motive remained beyond what she understood, but even so, the compulsion to tell him burned. Could she trust him to not be angered by the truth?

“Everyone wants something. I just want to know what it is your heart desires.”

“I never wanted to get married.”

“Why not? Are you so content in your father’s house?”

“No, but I don’t want to be owned.” She watched his reaction closely, and to her surprise his expression remained unmoved. “I want to live alone where no one can trouble me.”

“I see.” He regarded her with a sad glint in his eyes.

She didn’t know if he pitied her or himself, but she didn’t care. “What is it you are looking for?” she blurted. “That is, besides respectability.”

Immediately the pity vanished as he narrowed his eyes. “You know of the particulars of my birth. I’m not surprised.”

“I know very little, but it’s of no consequence to me.”

“It does not matter to you that your soon-to-be husband is a bastard?”

“No. Does it matter to you?” she threw back at him. Whether he admitted it or not, she knew it was of great importance to him. She suspected his parentage guided his every decision and every step he made. Society was cruel, and she could only imagine the pain he’d endured at their hands. It helped to explain his lack of emotions as well as his willingness to inflict pain like her father.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said at last. “After we are wed, we will remain in London as you help me gain my respectability. Once I’m satisfied with my connections, you may live at Merrick, for I intend to continue to reside in London.”

“You would send me to your estate in the country to live alone?”

“If you would prefer to live in London, you will stay in my house. I will not give them any more fodder for their rumors.”

“London or the country, it matters not to me. I simply wanted to ascertain if you truly meant I may live so far away without you demanding your rights.”

Abigail held her breath, waiting and praying she understood him correctly. Her vision for her life had always been bleak, but he offered her a glimmer of hope. Could he truly mean to leave her alone?

As his grey eyes darkened to nearly black, her hopes sank. He was no doubt thinking of his rights and how often he would demand them. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she could not stop from parting her lips. Would he kiss her? Should she want him to?

His hand slowly rose and gently grasped the back of her neck. She remained immobile as he pulled her closer. When their lips met, sparks of pleasure spread throughout her body. Lifting her hands to his chest, she clutched the lapels of his jacket. Never had anything felt as wonderful as when his lips were pressed against hers.

When his tongue touched her mouth, she jumped, but his hand held her firm. The slick wetness traced her lips before he slipped it into her mouth. Pleasure hummed though her body, making her weak. Never before had she encountered such a feeling, and it astounded her. Without breaking contact, she shifted to the edge of the chair, desperate to be closer to him. She needed more.

Suddenly her enjoyment disappeared as pain stabbed her back. She cried out as she jerked away. His eyes were confused, and his breathing heavy. In her overwhelmed state, she’d forgotten about the wounds on her back until he’d inadvertently touched them.

“Are you all right?” he rasped.

Looking at her shaking hands, she clasped them together in an effort to settle her nerves. “I’m just . . . I have never been kissed like that before.”

Straightening back in her chair, she hoped he didn’t notice her lack of explanation. Glancing over to gauge his reaction, she observed him looking down. Following his gaze, she saw black hair powder on his hand. He rubbed his fingers together as if trying to determine where it had come from.

Her face burned in mortification. Although reluctant for him to look at her and see the proof before him, she needed to distract him before he realized the source.

“What were you saying before,” she squeaked, “about your rights?” She hated to bring the subject back to what started the searing kiss, but it was preferable to the consequences.

“Ah, yes.” He discreetly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers. “First, I will not have the validity of our marriage questioned, and second, I do require heirs.”

“How soon will you have need of them? If I’m living at Merrick, I can’t see how obtaining them will be possible.”

“I don’t need heirs immediately. I will inform you prior, so rest assured, I will not be making nightly visits to your bedchamber.”

His words mixed with the throaty quality of his voice brought out a longing in her, but she squelched it. Hope resurfaced and left her feeling happy. She smiled. It was the most genuine reaction she had ever bestowed upon anyone. Somehow it felt significant that her smile was meant for him.

“Then, Lord Merrick, I accept your proposition.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, for I spoke with your father earlier today. Our betrothal will be announced soon and our wedding will take place in a month’s time.”

Although shocked by the haste in which the wedding would take place, she wasn’t upset by it. Soon she would escape from her father. In one month, she would be free from his control and his beatings. She would be safe . . . but her mother would not.

Chapter 4

Greyson closed the account book with a sigh of relief. Ravenhurst stood in good financial standings and would have no trouble selling should that be the consensus. The thought tasted bittersweet as he had been content for all the years he, Richard, and Jonathan had run the club. It had provided him with a purpose and a comforting sense of power. For so long he’d suffered without any control in his life.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair. In a fortnight he and Lady Willimena would be wed. Their interactions over the past weeks had been minimal, but he could feel a change within her. Offering her a compromise with their marriage had been one of the wisest decisions he’d made, but for some reason he could tell the idea brought her sadness.

Thinking of his betrothed always brought memories of the kiss they shared in the drawing room. Never had he experienced such an intense reaction before. Had she not pulled back, he feared he would have taken the encounter much too far. Although inexperienced, she acted with eagerness and learned fast.

Even stranger than his reaction was the smudge of powder on his fingers after touching her. He dismissed the obvious explanation, considering she presented herself well and always managed to smell sweet. Her scent consisted of a pleasant aroma of honey and flowers mixed with a familiar earthiness he could not place.

Suddenly it hit him. The texture and the smell reminded him of the powdered wig his father had owned. If Lady Willimena powdered her hair, it would also explain how she managed to keep it so tight and obedient. Certainly the oil or beeswax she used to make the powder adhere offered its assistance when styling.

The thing that didn’t make sense was why. He could not imagine what could be wrong with her hair to make her go to such lengths to hide it. Regardless of her reasons, he would find out. Once they were settled in their marriage routine, he would be free to learn all her secrets.

“I hope you are not working too hard.”

A familiar voice pulled Greyson from his contemplations. “Richard, I was unaware you planned to return to London before next week.” Greyson’s tone only held mild surprise, as he enjoyed seeing his friend.

“It was Brianna’s idea. She wanted to arrive early so she could meet your betrothed before the wedding. I believe she also wanted to see Grace. With Joseph being so young, traveling is difficult. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to attending Lady Laramie’s ball. I have yet to miss one of her parties, and I refuse to start now.”

Greyson easily recalled how Lady Laramie always hosted the finest ball of the Season. Her themes were based on an exotic location she traveled to that year, and he enjoyed learning of new places. Thinking back, he felt a sense of accomplishment surround him as memories of the Rainforest Ball last year resurfaced.

Richard had brought him as a guest, and Greyson had spent the time working the card room and getting a handle on the duke. That night was the first night he’d played the man. Greyson had intentionally thrown the game in order to build the duke’s confidence. Overall, it had been a successful night.

“I recall, and I thank you for bringing me as your guest all those years. Have you learned of the new theme?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure it will be splendid as usual.”

“It’s the Arctic. I heard she is having large pieces of ice transported here for the event.”

“Brianna will be excited to hear it.”

“I can imagine. How is your family doing?”

“Brianna spends all her extra time painting for the show she is determined to have, and Joseph does his best to ensure his mother does not have any free time.”

“Sounds frustrating.”

“It is, but by God, it’s wonderful.”

Greyson was pleased to see his friend’s happy smile, and it made him wonder if he and his betrothed would ever achieve such a state. Immediately he shook off the thought. His marriage would be nothing like Richard’s. The two men’s lives were different, and considering Richard had no need for respect, he had the freedom to select a woman he was compatible with.

“Tell me about Lady Willimena,” Richard said, interrupting Greyson’s disturbing musings.

“She is respectable and proper. Her family descends from relations to the crown. Her dowry is sizable, and I have been assured she will give me sons.”

“From your stunning description, I could not tell if you were speaking of a woman or a piece of horseflesh you plan to purchase. Surely you have something more to add.”

Greyson did. He could add a number of things about his betrothed, including how she melted in his arms. Or how the vibrant shade of green in her eyes lit with such an intense hope he could hardly breathe with the force of it.