Lady Beresford's Lover (17 page)

She stole a surreptitious glance at the clock. God, would the hands never move? After an eternity, her cousin rose. “Come Silvia, we must leave.” Addressing Vivian, Clara asked, “What time will you depart?”

“Shortly after you.” Vivian took another drink of wine, careful to sip a small amount. She was so nervous, she could easily continue to imbibe.

She followed the others up the stairs, before fleeing to her apartment. She had to calm herself, or she would never make it through the evening.

She entered her room, where her maid was waiting. “How much longer?”

“As soon as the coachman sees her ladyship drive off, he’ll come around.”

“I hope Barnes will not mention to my cousin that I’ve left in a hackney.”

“If her ladyship asks him, he will.” Punt smoothed her skirts. “Which was the reason I hired a town coach for the rest of the Season.”

Another worry abated. “You think of everything.”

“If I can’t talk you out of this,” Punt said caustically, “I can keep you from ruining your reputation.”

“Thank you.” Perhaps she was correct, and Vivian should not have an affair with Lord Stanstead. What if he did discover it was her? She couldn’t bear for him to think badly of her.

A knock sounded on the door. “My lady, a coach is here for you.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Punt stood. “I’ll meet you at the corner. It won’t do for me to be going out with you.”

Another point Vivian had not thought of. She really was not very good at this type of thing. “Maybe I am making a mistake.”

“You’ll make me a happy woman if you stay, but you do owe his lordship an explanation, and you’ll have to give it to him in person. I can stay in the room if you like.”

She pulled her gloves on. Was it nerves, or should she call the affair off before it began? She’d have to make a decision, and soon. Lord Stanstead would be at the house in less than an hour, and she still had to don her disguise.

R
upert had excused himself from dinner and a small card party with his mother and father. As he normally tended to linger, they would think it strange if he left too early.

He tied his cravat in a simple style, one easily undone. Would Vivian come as herself or as Cleopatra? Earlier, he had been tempted to seek her out, but as he had strolled to the house on Mount Street, he’d seen Lady Telford’s carriage, with Vivian and Miss Corbet inside, leaving the house.

Musing about this evening was useless. He would have to wait for his answers.

The clock struck the half hour. Not long now. “Wigman, I want my plain black town coach.”

There was no point in advertising his presence at the house.

“Yes, my lord.”

A quarter hour later, he climbed in his carriage. “Take me to the corner of Hill Street and Waverton Street. I’ll make my own way back home.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

After he’d done everything he could think of to protect Vivian’s reputation, Rupert leaned back against the soft black leather squabs, but he couldn’t relax. It was almost as if he’d never had a liaison before. He wondered if Vivian was equally nervous.

The coach rolled to a stop. “We’re here, my lord.”

He stepped out, took his bearings, and turned right. The small town house was two buildings down. The door opened as he approached. A stern-looking woman, likely in her forties, eyed him appraisingly.

Trying to shrug off the feeling that he was not wanted, Rupert smiled. “Good evening.”

“Sir. If you will follow me.” She led him up one flight of stairs, down a corridor to a largish chamber in the back of the house. “In there.”

Rupert opened the door and stopped.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it was not this. Standing in the center of the room, Vivian was once again gowned in the costume, and trembling like a virgin sacrifice might. Any remaining thought that she could be an experienced seductress fled.

He ambled forward until he stood in front of her. “Your Majesty.” Taking her hand, he kissed each finger. “Thank you for seeing me.”

She gave a tight little nod. Wide eyes searched his face. “You came.”

Her tone held surprise and something else. If he didn’t know better he would think it was a hint of sadness. Yet why would she be unhappy that he was here? She blinked rapidly. Was she going to weep? Good God, anything but that. “I could not have stayed away.”

She jerked her hand from his. That was obviously not the right thing to say. A tray with two glasses and a carafe of red wine stood on a small rectangular table. “Shall we have something to drink?”

Once more she nodded.

“I believe we are both a bit nervous.” He snoodled to the table, poured two glasses, returned to her, and pressed the goblet into her hand. “Take a sip.”

He set his glass on the table as she gulped down most of her glass. Much more and she’d be in her altitudes. “Here.” He took the goblet from her, placed it next to his, then bent his head, touching his lips lightly to hers. “We will take this slowly. If you wish to stop, you have only to say the words.”

Gradually, her lips opened to his, and the heat that had been between them the first time rose. Careful not to alarm her, he placed his hands on her slender waist.

Her palms slid up his chest to his shoulders, and soon wrapped around his neck, as her firm breasts pressed into his chest. Rupert groaned, and deepened their kiss.

His shaft was already hard, and he wanted her with a fierceness he had never felt before, yet rushing her wouldn’t help either of them. First he needed to know how experienced she actually was. He trailed his fingers down her back, closing them over her bottom. She moaned, pressing into him more fervently and rubbing against him. Did Vivian even know the effect she was having on him?

He palmed one breast, flicking his thumb over her nipple, causing her to squirm. Toeing off his evening pumps, he walked Vivian backward to the large bed filled with so many pillows it wouldn’t matter where they landed. “I want you.”

“I want you too.” Her voice was breathy and full of desire.

He found the clasp to her costume, but the second he began to release it, Vivian froze. “No, I don’t wish to undress.”

Rupert slowly moved his hand down her back. “Very well. Whatever you wish.” What the devil had her husband done to her? He pressed kisses to her neck as he eased her onto the bed. “Tell me what you like.”

A tiny sob escaped her. “I don’t know.”

Christ, she was going to break his heart. It was a damn good thing her cur of a husband was dead, or he’d see to it himself. “There is no need to worry. When I touch you, let me know if you enjoy it.”

“My lord—”

“Under the circumstances, I would rather you call me Rupert.”

“Rupert.” Vivian’s heart pounded out of control. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let me pleasure you.”

What else he could possibly do to give her more delight, she didn’t know, yet he seemed to want to be with her. “All right.”

Then he twirled Vivian’s nipples between his fingers, and flames shot through her. She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her breasts swelled, and she was lost in a bliss so intense she could never have imagined it. Rupert kissed her again, deeply, as if he would possess all of her. Her hips lifted, and he made a low, groaning chuckle.

The next thing she knew, cooler air moved up her legs, and she stiffened. Every time her husband had touched her there it had hurt. “No.”

Rupert ceased, then placed one of his legs between hers. He moved his firm lips down over her jaw. “Let’s try it this way.”

Fear threatened to overwhelm her. “You’ll stop if I want you to?”

“Always.” His mouth closed over her breast as his knee moved bit by bit to the apex of her thighs.

Her hips lifted, rubbing against him as he rubbed her. Lovely frissons flooded her, and her body tensed. She needed more, there must be something more. She pressed her hip against his leg and his knee rubbed her. Suddenly the tension broke, and her body pulsed, and she’d never known such completion. “Don’t stop. Don’t let me go.”

Rupert’s lips curved against her breast. “I won’t.” He kissed her again, this time lightly on her lips. “Sweetheart. My beautiful darling, I’ll be here for you as long as you want me.”

If only what he said was the truth. Still, now she knew she’d go through with the affair. “Will you come back?”

Rising onto one elbow, he gazed into her eyes. “Yes.” He arranged her so that she was tucked against him. “For now, rest a while.”

Vivian had never felt safer than she did cuddled next to Rupert. She closed her eyes, sure she would be unable to sleep, but when she opened them again, the candles had burned down so low she jerked up.

He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to hers. “It is time I left. We wouldn’t want the neighbors to see me.”

She almost forgot he had no idea she didn’t live here. “You’re right.” She couldn’t see the clock over his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.” Rupert rolled to a sitting position. “I’ll call your maid to you as I leave.”

“Thank you.” Vivian watched as he tied his shoes. His jacket and cravat were crushed. If anyone saw him they’d know he’d been doing something. Lifting her hand, she cupped his cheek. “Until to-morrow.”

He leaned down, grinned, and possessed her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough. “Until later this evening.”

A few moments after Rupert left, her maid entered the bedchamber. “You must change and go home. I sent for the coach.”

In much less time than it had taken to don her disguise, it was off, the kohl cleaned from her eyes, and everything put away. Hugging her cloak around her, Vivian strode through the garden to the gate in the back. Punt opened the door, making a come-quickly motion with her hand, and they climbed up the steps to the carriage.

“I told him to drop you off in the front, my lady. I’ll go around to the side gate.”

“I have decided to go forward with this.”

Punt nodded. “I thought you might.”

A sleepy footman answered the door at Clara’s house, which meant her cousin and friend had already returned. He bowed Vivian in. “You may go to bed now,” she informed him.

Later, as she lay in the much smaller bed than she had shared with Rupert, Vivian smiled. Except for the fact that he didn’t know he was making love with Vivian rather than Cleo, this evening had been perfect. She punched the pillow. She could not have everything, so she would have to be content with what she’d been given. At least he was much nicer than her husband had ever been.

 

Nick strolled into the Pigeon Hole, an exclusive gaming hell in Mayfair, accompanied by Hawksworth. There was no point in attending any more of the
ton
’s entertainments until he’d spoken with Silvia, yet this was not his preferred form of entertainment. “I don’t know why you brought me here. You know I don’t like to gamble.”

“That is because you are so very good at it, and you hate fleecing fools,” Hawksworth drawled as he raised his quizzer and surveyed the room. “Speaking of fools, Lord Oliver appears to be in his cups and with little to show for it.”

The number of counters and coins on the table in front of his lordship was pitifully small. Nick snorted. “Idiot. This is what comes of giving a man too much money and no responsibility.”

Hawksworth handed Nick a glass of wine. “Apparently, the good duke has threatened to cut him off unless he marries. Upon which time, he will increase Lord Oliver’s allowance.”

“He should be making his own way.” Nick couldn’t stand the excess he’d seen in London. More than one family had been left destitute because of gambling and other vices.

“But, my dear friend, that is what he intends to do.” Hawksworth raised a black brow. “He plans to marry his way into solvency.”

Nick grabbed his friend’s arm. “Miss Corbet?”

“Mind the jacket.” Hawksworth scowled. “My valet is notoriously fussy, and I don’t wish to lose him.”

Nick dropped his hand, but had to stop himself from growling. “I asked you if he wants to improve his finances through Miss Corbet.”

“Who else has he been dangling after?” his friend asked in an exasperated tone. “Not that I think he likes her over-much, but needs must.”

“How does he know anything about her portion?”

“It seems to be common knowledge amongst the dowagers and older ladies that her sisters had large dowries. Naturally, it makes sense that she would as well.”

Silvia would loathe anyone who wanted her for her money. He’d bet his fortune that she had no idea Lord Oliver was aware of her worth. “Bloody worm.”

Hawksworth heaved a sigh. “Could you please speak in full sentences? One could easily forget you are well educated.”

“As you wish.” Nick narrowed his eyes at Lord Oliver. “I said he is a bloody worm that should find somewhere other than in England to reside.”

“There, now you have a purpose, and you will be doing the lady a service.” Hawksworth pulled out a chair, kicking one out for Nick. “Probably his father as well.”

“I don’t give a farthing for his father.”

“No,” his friend murmured, “you wouldn’t. How do you propose to remove Lord Oliver from Miss Corbet’s surroundings?”

“I know a sea captain who wouldn’t mind taking him to India. He could probably get a good price for—”

“No.” Hawksworth interrupted. “Marrying for wealth is a perfectly acceptable way of repairing one’s fortune. You simply do not like him or that he has selected your Miss Corbet.” He waved his hand, and two chairs appeared at Lord Oliver’s table. “Let’s join him. I’m sure you are bound to come up with a better idea.”

“One that causes more suffering,” Nick said in an under-tone, but as they took their places, Lord Oliver rose.

“Give me a few moments, gentlemen. I shall return directly.”

Lord Oliver strolled toward a corridor leading off the main room. A few moments later, a scruffier-appearing man glanced around before following.

“I don’t like the looks of that.” Nick motioned with his head. “I’ll be back straight away.”

Hawksworth laid a restraining hand on Nick’s arm. “Do you want me to come as well?”

“No, it might look odd. I won’t engage them.”

He sauntered from the room as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The corridor was lit by candles in wall sconces. Neither gentleman was visible. Nick opened the first door he came to, which turned out to be a privy. Making his way to the end of the corridor, he finally spied a heavy wooden door that probably led outside. Pushing it open, he heard Lord Oliver’s well-bred voice.

“I’ll have the money as soon as I convince the lady to marry me. It won’t be long now. M’father doesn’t expect a large wedding.”

“I’m sure your lordship can think of a way to hurry her along.” The English was proper enough, but the man sounded as if he was from the Rookery. “Get her alone for a while, and make sure you roger her good.”

Nick clenched his hands, fighting the urge to beat the speaker into the ground and anyone else who happened to try to stop him.

“I won’t rape her,” Lord Oliver insisted urgently. “If my father ever found out, I’d be banished for good.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“A simple abduction would work well. All you’d have to do is take her out of London for a night. I’m sure she and her family would see the sense of an immediate wedding.”

“Very well,” Lord Oliver said. “If she refuses me, I’ll do it.”

“If she refuses you, you’ll never get the girl in a coach,” Rookery said. “You have a week, or I’ll take care of it for you.”

Nick was half-way tempted to just kill Lord Oliver now, but Hawksworth was right. There must be a better way of dealing with the man, and murder was too quick. His lordship deserved to suffer for a long enough time to learn the error of his ways.