Lord Suitor (6 page)

"Yes,
no, oh, I don't know," Tessa said in an exasperated voice. "He crowds
me, so I can't think."

"He
seems to know you then," Mijo said shrewdly. "That is a good
thing."

Tessa
wasn't so sure. Waiting in the lounge, dressed in a gown of her favorite
cerulean blue silk with a gossamer thin shawl over her shoulders, she felt as
unconfident as a deb first faced with a man of power. Nat puzzled her, and it
worried her greatly. He was such a mass of contradictions. She watched as he
shook hands with her father and bowed to her maman before kissing her gloved
fingers. Mijo laughed and patted his cheek.

"Such
a charmer."

Since
when had her maman been on such intimate terms with the man? And how could her
papa stand by and watch the two flirt so? Tessa recognized her emotions as
jealousy, and it shook her. What did she have to be jealous about? The man had asked
for her hand in marriage, and she had said no. Or, she amended, he hadn't asked
her. It was very confusing. Sometimes she wasn't sure whose dark eyes appeared
in her dreams, her smuggler or her suitor.

Nat
turned to her and smiled as she curtsied. "And are you looking forward to
the theater, Lady Tessa?"

He
bowed over her hand also but didn't kiss her fingers. Why not? Was she not
worthy of such a salutation?

"What
is there not to anticipate with pleasure? I believe Mr. Kean's
Othello
is unsurpassable," Tessa
said in a horrid, tight voice she could hardly recognize.

"Of
course," Nat said urbanely. "And you host is likewise. If you give
him a chance."

Tessa
looked at him suspiciously. Was he teasing? However, his demeanor was calm, and
he raised one eyebrow at her.

"Truce?"
he asked softly.

She
looked toward her parents. They didn't deserve to be embroiled in her particular
tussle with her conscience, her memories, and her confusion. Her maman was
fussing with the folds of her papa's cravat—the only person who would get away
with such an act—and laughing at something he said. They were paying no
attention to Tessa or Nat.

"Truce."
She hesitated. "I don't want to appear ungrateful, my lord, but..."

"Good,
then don't," Nat said briskly. "Now perhaps we should see if your
parents are ready. We don't want to keep the rest of my guests waiting."

"Pardon?"
Had she really heard him say the rest of his guests?

"We
don't want to keep the rests of my guests waiting," Nat repeated
obligingly, with laughter lurking in his eyes.

"No,
of course not." Tessa rearranged her shawl—which did not need to be rearranged—and
picked up her reticule, annoyed at her instant dismay that she would have to
share him with other people.
Stupid, I
don’t want to be too intimate, so other people around us are best, surely?
"
We’d better go." She didn't quite manage to keep her pique out
of her reply.

"You
surely didn't think I'd attract unwanted attention to you by only inviting you
and your parents?" There was laughter in Nat's voice.

She
looked at him suspiciously. "Now why on earth would I think that?"
She really should lose the frost in her tone before her parents heard it and
asked why she was acting thus.

"I
have no idea, but as you have shown me in no uncertain terms you wouldn't look
at my suit with favor, I have no intention of doing anything to make people
think we're on the way to an understanding." He took her arm and urged her
toward her parents.

"Ah,
thank you," Tessa said, somewhat lamely.
I think.
"I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"I
thought you might, and believe me, you're welcome. Far be it for me to upset a
lady, or inveigle her into anything she doesn't want." He paused and moved
toward her until his lips were almost touching her ear. His breath tickled the
soft skin. "Or indeed, thinks she doesn't want, but is desirous of being
persuaded."

Damn, is he laughing at me?

Chapter Six

Several
days later Nat perused his morning post and frowned. A trip to Devon was the last
thing he really wanted, or needed, at that moment in time, but as his father
had often told him, if needs must, so must you. At least he could take Cubby with
him instead of his factor coming to up town for the boy.

"Tibbins,
I have to return to Fenniston Hall for a while. Ah, say tomorrow? And I'll take
Cubby with me." He'd need one day to make sure Tessa remembered him while
he was away. Nat grimaced as he remembered her determination not to hear a
declaration from him. If he hadn't suspected the reason, he would be mighty
miffed, but as he did have an inkling why she was so recalcitrant, he enjoyed
the thrust and parry between them.

However,
if he wasn't around, he wasn't going to make much headway. Even though he had
deliberately not spent any time in Tessa's company since the enjoyable, and he
decided, successful night at the theater, he had made sure she was aware of his
presence. Enabled and abetted by Mijo, who knew much more than anyone expected,
and whose knowledge had even surprised him, he'd appeared in the distance. Then
he refused an invitation to a casual family meal, and merely left a pretty posy
several days after their excursion. Mijo, he suspected, was enjoying herself
immensely as she helped him and forced her daughter to decide what she really
desired.

As
long as it was him, he'd be content. It was a pity his rival was so exciting,
but Nat thought he could get the upper hand eventually. Idly he wondered if
Tessa knew that he understood he had a rival.

He
waited until Tibbins confirmed he'd put all the preparations in place and threw
his napkin down on the pristine tablecloth. He'd visit Tessa and see how she
received him without prior warning. Stage two, or was it three, was about to
begin.

Oh,
the best-laid plans, Nat thought, as he handed his card to Thurbelow, only to
be told that Miss Tessa—he loved the familiarity—was in the sitting room with
Lord Mitcham.

The
surge of red-hot anger that filled Nat surprised him. Did she have a death
wish? How could she be so stupid?

"I'll
join them," he said grimly as he handed his coat to Thurbelow. "No
need to announce me."

Thurbelow's
eyes twinkled. "No, my lord, although, perhaps I should mention..."

Nat
waved him away. "No need." He wanted to catch them red-handed.
Mitcham was in for the surprise of his life. When he'd asked Nat how to attract
women, Nat didn't expect him to rehearse on Tessa.

He
walked quietly along the corridor, pleased he could put into practice at least
one of the skills he'd learned in the army. That of stealth.

When
he reached the door Thurbelow had indicated, Nat waited silently, his ears
strained for voices. It seemed quiet, and then he heard a man's laugh. A
confident laugh.

How dare she entertain a man? She
is mine.
The
thought shook him, as did the white-hot rage he experienced.

Nat
pushed the door open in one smooth, flowing movement.

"Well.
Well..." Five faces looked up at him in surprise. He recovered himself
quickly. "Well, I didn't expect to see so much beauty in one room. I don't
include you, of course, Mitcham."

Arthur
Mitcham grinned. Gone was the fumbling, petulant man Nat had been helping. In
his place was a cheerful, self-assured gentleman who sat between Tessa and her
mother and could hardly turn his gaze from Marielle—who sat opposite—to look at
Nat.

"I
should hope not," Mitcham said now. "It wouldn't do. Handsome maybe,
not beautiful, please."

"I'll
give you that, and I stand corrected. Four beauties and one, er, passable male.
How's that?"

"Well
wriggled, my lord," Mijo whispered as she stood up to greet him. "A
touch of biliousness?"

Nat
bit back a smile. Mijo was way too astute. However, he knew she would
understand the rage that had filled him when he thought Tessa was with
Mitcham—Mitcham of all people—alone.

"As
you say." He took the seat she indicated and stared at Mitcham, who
wriggled and then stood up.

"I
must go." He made his good-byes and winked at Nat. "Will I see you at
Cribb's later? I believe there is to be a boxing exhibition, about which he
will talk."

"Perhaps."
Nat was deliberately noncommittal. He wanted to speak to Tessa first before he
said any more. "I have an urchin to sort out first."

"Pooh,
fighting. Such a boring, manly sort of thing." Amalia wriggled her nose.

"Amalia,"
Mijo reproached her.

Nat
looked at Tessa, who was struggling not to laugh. He winked, and she changed a
laugh into a cough behind her hands.

"Well."
Amalia didn't seem the least bit repentant. "It is."

"So
it is," Nat said. "Rough and tumble, horrible specimens we are.
Hopeless, in fact."

"And
on that note, Amalia, you and I are going to hunt out another such person, also
known as your papa, and demand he takes us to Hatchards."

"Via
Gunther's for an ice?"

"Very
likely. Gentlemen, until we meet again." Mijo took Amalia's hand, pulled her
from the settee and forcefully propelled her out of the room.

Marielle
rose in one graceful movement. "My lord," she addressed Mitcham.
"I'll see you out." She steadfastly refused to look at Tessa, who
shook her head as the door closed and she was left alone with Nat.

"A
conspiracy?" She raised one eyebrow and tilted her head to one side. As
ever one russet curl had escaped her chignon and teased her shoulder. Her eyes
twinkled, and she lowered one lid very briefly and then raised it to grin up at
Nat.

"More
likely they knew I was ready to wring your neck. How dare you let your
majordomo intimate you were here with Mitcham?" He
wanted
to wring her neck for the emotions she'd made him face up
to.

****

"Did
he?" Tessa tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably. She
giggled. "Well, I was, but not alone. I fancy Arthur has designs on
Marielle. He pops up at the most peculiar times, and it never fazes her. Why
yesterday, they went to the British Museum as soon as it opened and were gone
for ages. Maman sends Jeannie, our old governess, with her for propriety, and
she told Doris, my maid, that they really do study the exhibits, not each other."
She raised her eyebrows. "Ah well, it keeps her out of mischief. And to be
honest Amalia has enough of that in her makeup for all of us." She shrugged.
"Each to their own, and there are some interesting specimens there. As for
me? I think the servants imagine I need their help to bring you up to scratch.
It doesn't matter how often I say, loudly and in their presence, I'm happy as I
am, they don't seem to believe me. Maman doesn't help either by singing your
praises all the time." Tessa rolled her eyes.

"At
least someone appreciates me," Nat said with a grin. "However, I've
come to give you good news."

"You
have?" Why did she not trust the innocent look on his face? "What is
that?"

"My
departure. I'm off."

Tessa's
heart plummeted. Had she really scared him away? Even though her thoughts and
feelings both puzzled and confused her, she had to admit she enjoyed sparring
with Nat. His attitude worried and excited her in equal measures, but it
enlivened her otherwise boring and enforced stay in the capital.

"What
have I done?" she asked, the words tumbling out as if she were Amalia, not
Tessa. "If I..."

Nat
topped her almost incoherent speech by putting his finger over her lips.

The
last time someone had done that she'd sucked the finger into her mouth and...
Do not even begin to think of such things.

"Now
why would you think it's something you've done?" he chided her gently.
"Apart from refusing my offer, of course."

Tessa
shook her head and laughed reluctantly. "My lord, you never have offered
for me, to me, not properly. I suppose I'm somewhat paranoid at the moment. It
feels as if you pop up everywhere for days on end." She bit her lip.
"Well, almost everywhere. I believe the various ladies' withdrawing rooms
are still sacrosanct. Then pouf, no Lord Fenniston around. Is it any wonder I
wondered?"

"I
assure you, it is nothing to do with you. I have some business on my estate that
only I can deal with."

Did
she imagine he'd said, "Not directly"?

"Will
you miss me?" He tilted her chin up with another finger so she looked
directly into his eyes.

"In
the manner of how good it feels when you stop banging your head on a wall,
perhaps," Tessa said around his finger.

He
didn't look particularly bothered. He chuckled. "Then this won't make my
suit any worse." He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward
him, none too gently. Tessa staggered and tripped over the toes of her slippers
to fall against him. She pressed against his body, and before she had a chance
to pull back, Nat pounced.

She
gasped and to her mortification sighed in encouragement, as with one hand he caressed
her arse over the fine lawn of her morning gown while the other held her chin.
He stroked the material over the globes of her rear, and the friction set up
delicious shivers and goose bumps over her body.

"Nor
I think, will this." Nat clutched a handful of gown, presumably to hold
her still and put his lips to hers.

Tessa
opened her mouth to protest, and then all coherent thoughts left her as his
tongue demanded entrance. She could no more refuse him than fly. She let him
inside eagerly and reveled in the way his actions mimicked that other, more
intimate act, and she moaned deep in her throat.

He
outlined the globes of her rear with one and then two fingers, and even over
her clothing, the erotic circles he traced set her skin on fire. Nat pulled her
even closer to him, and Tessa felt the hard bulge that rubbed against her
stomach. She pushed forward, eager to feel every inch of him.

Much
too soon in Tessa's mind, Nat broke the kiss, breathing heavily and
erratically, and she groaned her displeasure.

"There's
more." He whispered the words in her ear and nibbled his way along her nape
and across the swell of her breast.

Tessa
closed her eyes and let her head fall back, the better for him to access her
body. Nat moved the neckline of her gown and put his mouth to her breast. Her
heart almost stopped as he sucked on the skin and then bit her, hard enough to
make her gasp.

Hot,
erotic shards of sensation rolled from her breast to her mound, and she began
to shake. Somewhere, in the depths of her mind, she realized she was poised on
the brink of a climax harder and faster than anything she could give herself.
She'd felt nothing like it since...since… Tessa tried to marshal her befuddled
thoughts. She fought a losing battle.

"Oh,
sweetheart, if only we had time for more. But not, I think, in your maman's
drawing room." As if she was in a dream, Tessa heard his tender endearment
and trembled as Nat carefully pulled the neckline of her dress up and kissed
her ear. "There now, let's calm ourselves."

She
shook her head, unable to formulate her thoughts, and he held her close. Not
too close, however. Tessa realized he was under as much strain as she was and
admired his rigid control. Nevertheless, she lifted her head to press a kiss to
his
neck.

She
closed her eyes as his scent and presence surrounded her. He smelled like...

"Ah,
sweetheart, no, I can hardly contain myself as it is."

Firm
hands took hold of her and lifted her a good two feet backward. Tessa opened
her eyes and shook her head to clear it. For one moment, she was back in time
and...

"Did
your father..." She blushed. There was no way to phrase her question
delicately. "Ever have issue on the wrong side of the blanket?"

Nat
started and then roared with laughter. "He's probably got by-blows all over
the country. He never was one to keep things to himself. He believed in sharing,
be it his food or his body. Why?" He smiled but Tessa was certain she saw
a degree of wariness in his eyes.

"I..."
She shook her head again. "No, it's nothing. Ignore me."

"Oh,
I couldn't do that." He kissed her nose. It seemed to have a fascination
for him, and Tessa screwed it up.

"You
tickle it."

"Good."
He kissed it again, and Tessa giggled.

"Enough.
So you are off to Fenniston Hall?"

"Yes,
at first light. I'm taking my urchin with me. Young Cubby."

Tessa
nodded. She'd heard all about him from Arthur. "What will you do with
him?"

"He'll
help Frost, my factor." Nat walked to the door. "I must go. Think of
me whilst I'm away."

"Of
course. Take care."

"Oh,
I will. After all I have a wooing to conduct and a wedding to plan."