Lord Will & Her Grace (6 page)

Lord William had been standing before her
in the altogether
, just come from his bath. He had been
toweling his dark hair, leaving all the world to see his towering,
muscled magnificence in the golden sunlight streaming in through
the window beyond.

She had never seen anything like him. Indeed,
the fishermen and townspeople of Porthcall did not seem to be of
the same species!

Sophie stopped at the end of the corridor and
gripped the corner, the directions back to the front hall
completely forgotten. She closed her eyes but could not escape her
mind's vision of the man who so perfectly matched her idea of
Adonis.

Sophie's gaze had been instantly drawn to
his, his… well, to the very part of him that indicated his sex.
That part of his anatomy had looked nothing like the Greek marble
statue she had seen in the foyer at one of the grander London
townhouse balls she had attended. A fig leaf, no, two fig leaves
would not have been large enough to cover… Her breath finally
seemed to desert her in one long exhale.

He had turned to notice her and a slow smile
had spread across his face, revealing the wicked dimples. He had
thrown back his head and laughed.

Sophie was about to flee, despite her
uncertainty of the correct path back to the main hall, when she
heard from behind her a deep baritone voice laced with the
slightest hint of a French accent.

"
Chérie
, this is delightful. Do come
back. I was just thinking about you," Lord William called out,
chuckling. "Although I did not think my wishes would be granted so
quickly."

Sophie turned to see Lord William standing in
the hallway only slightly more decent. He had donned a white lawn
shirt, which just covered his obvious masculinity. Sophie found she
could not draw her eyes away from his chest, as the fabric was
rendered invisible in some places from his still wet body.

She swallowed. "Excuse me. I—I'm sorry to
have intruded," Sophie said, averting her eyes finally. "I was told
your tailor was here. I must leave."

She turned and began to retrace her steps
toward the main stair but his words stilled her steps.

"
Chérie
, come back or I'll be forced
to come after you in this, ah, state of undress."

He wouldn't dare. She lifted her chin in
defiance.

His eyes twinkled and he walked toward her.
"My tailor is waiting for you. He just stepped away for a moment
while I finished my bath," he replied, making a motion with his
arms to urge her to precede him back to the room. "You may come in
now."

"I think not. I'll return to the lower salon
until your tailor will see to my needs." Her gaze remained glued to
the carpet.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, tugging on a blue
dressing gown she just now noticed he had carried over his arm. His
dark eyes dipped to her line of vision. "I promise you I'm modest
now, even by England's more repressive standards."

Sophie sighed. She was not at all sure she
would be able to find her way back without getting lost. "And where
is Mr. Farquhar?"

"Gone to prepare the rest of my morning
toilette," Lord William said, releasing her hand to rub his fingers
over his morning shadow of whiskers.

"I'm sure he has," Sophie said under her
breath.

"What did you say,
chérie
?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Oh, this is very
awkward."

"It doesn't have to be," he said, winking.
"Come now, we can't have you standing about in the hallway. Do come
in. I promise not to bite." Lord William took her hand gently and
encouraged her back down the hallway and over the threshold,
keeping the glimmer in his dark eyes.

"I'm not intimidated by you, Lord William. I
assure you I am not."

"All the better. I've never been able to
tolerate shrinking violets."

"There's no reason for me to fear you, given
your inclinations."

He looked as if he would burst out laughing.
Instead he smothered a smile and attempted a poor imitation of
contriteness. "Then we understand each other,
chérie
. It
will make it so much less tiresome if I do not have to explain
everything to you."

He raked his longish wet hair back from his
face, oozing charm from every pore. "We are agreed then that I'm a
perfectly harmless gentleman. I'm also a generous man, and as such,
I invite you to go first. The tailor is just through the passage in
the adjoining chamber." He cupped her chin in his hand. "I may be
depraved,
chérie
, but I will not let it be said that I'm not
considerate of a lady's sensibilities."

"Please stop calling me that. I'm not your
chérie
."

He took one step closer to her.
"
Non
?"

"
Non
!" And before she could stop
herself, she blurted out, "I know your game."

"Really? Pray tell, what is it?"

She did not have the nerve to tell him her
thoughts concerning Mr. Farquhar, especially when his handsome
frame towered over her and his eyes glowed with mischief.

"But I must be allowed to call someone
‘
chérie
.' Life will be unimaginably dull if I cannot have
a female friend
who understands me." Lord William bowed and
looked up with a devastating smile. "You slay my heart, Miss
Somerset. I suppose I'll be forced to turn my attentions to the
Mornington sisters for feminine camaraderie. Do you think they'll
agree to endure the alarming designation?"

She felt unaccountably irritated by the idea.
And annoyed more so with herself and the way her stomach churned
every time she looked into his dark eyes. She hated being such a
fool.

A knock sounded on the half-closed door
separating the two chambers. The shiny pate of a small man peered
around the doorframe. "Excuse me, my lord. Shall I await— Oh, I do
beg your pardon, miss," he said, seeing Sophie and bobbing
quickly.

"That's quite all right," Lord William said.
"Miss Somerset was just on her way in." He looked down at her as
the little man disappeared. "I've something I'd like to discuss
further with you,
chér
-Miss Somerset. Would you allow me to
escort you to Villa Belza after your fitting?"

"I'm shocked, sir," she replied, trying to
appear lighthearted. "I had rather thought your appointment with
the tailor would take precedence over taking the air with a female.
But, yes, you may escort me."

He laughed and brought her hand to his
beautiful, full lips. "I shall await you with impatience then,
Miss Somerset
."

Sophie could not control the slight frisson
of excitement that flowed from her hand to her heart. He looked up
at her, his lips now an inch from her glove, and gently turned her
hand in his own to press a kiss on the sensitive flesh of her
wrist.

Oh, he was wicked, indeed. It was all so
confusing, she thought as she walked into the fitting room.

As the tailor went about his work, Sophie
smiled. She forced herself to acknowledge that she rather liked the
idea of continuing their conversation despite the guilt she felt,
knowing her father would never have approved of deepening an
acquaintance with a man of such dubious character. But, she really
had nothing to fear from him, considering his preferences. She had
more to fear, if she was honest, with her own reactions toward him.
He was the handsomest man she had ever seen. She would have to take
care not to make a cake of herself.

At least, he had not shown any indications of
being a fortune hunter like Lord Coddington. His array of clothes
alone had most likely cost a small fortune. And she hazarded that
gentlemen such as he never married.

Lord William had only ever exhibited an
inclination toward one particular transgression. And given that
Sophie was a vicar's daughter, and had witnessed some of the basest
aspects of human nature while attending to her deceased father's
parishioners, she did not fear vice as she had learned everyone was
a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. And it seemed that this
particular gentleman's failing didn't hurt anyone except himself,
which was a lesser offense according to her father.

Miss Somerset's delightful maid had provided
William the ideal opportunity for a delicate conversation. During
the long walk back to the lady's villa, the maid's fragile slippers
had given way to the abuses of a dirty, pebble-strewn country
lane.

William had hailed a passing neighbor's
dogcart and enlisted the man's aid in transporting the female back
to her mistress's residence. He had ignored the maid's schemes to
trap him into carrying her back to the villa. If Miss Somerset had
understood the sexual nature of her saucy servant's flirtatious
suggestions in French, the maid would have been sacked in a thrice.
As it was, William was hard put not to take the girl up on her
offer. She was a petite, fetching Frenchwoman despite her
overpowering perfume and bold suggestions.

But Mr. Derby's demands took precedence. If
William did not secure the necessary funds soon, all would be
lost.

Now he was left with a brief half hour to
ensnare his prey with his sinful proposal. It could work. It was
the only plan he had, given Miss Somerset's apparent dislike of
fortune hunters and her confusion over his character. Yes, it might
well work after all was said and done.

"Miss Somerset, I'm hoping you will allow me
the freedom of speaking plainly."

"I daresay I've little say in the matter,
sir."

"Well, since you've already seen me without a
stitch"—he stopped upon seeing her shocked expression. "Ahem, I
thought you wouldn't mind if we dispense with trivial talk such as
the weather?"

"The weather can provide for stimulating
conversation at times, my lord. This might just be the exact topic
we should choose."

"My dear Miss Somerset, I'm here to offer you
my help. I've heard of your misfortunes in London—of not being able
to attract an eligible parti—but let's speak no more of the pack of
fools inhabiting London these days." He dared not look at her face
lest he lose his nerve. He rushed on. "I would like to propose to
teach you the art of finding and attracting a husband."

She had stopped walking He retraced two steps
to rejoin her.

"Well, I suppose I should be surprised and
insulted by your unusual proposal. But I find I cannot be either."
She glanced the length of his physique. "I'm very sure you could
teach me to attract a gentleman—an art you have evidently honed to
perfection. Attracting gentlemen, I mean."

She was steadier than he would have
guessed.

"However, there's a flaw in your plan," she
continued.

"A flaw?"

"Yes," she said, pulling a pale blue shawl
more tightly about her shoulders. "I've no interest in securing a
titled fortune hunter for a husband. I'm returning to Wales."

"Ah, I see. You have a love match all pat and
secure, waiting for you in your quaint little village in
Wales?"

"Porthcall."

"Ah, in Porthcall, then?"

"No, I do not."

He dipped his head to get a better view of
her expression. Her eyes were curiously composed. At least she
wasn't blushing and turning missish on him. "Then you've convinced
the relative who shall parcel out the inheritance that you're
worthy without benefit of a husband?"

"You know a lot about my affairs, Lord
William."

"As do you about my own, Miss Somerset."

"Touché, sir. We are both of us in
uncomfortable situations."

"Yes, my dear—uh, Miss Somerset. But you're
in a position to acquire what you ought to have, and I can help
you."

"I thank you, but it is unnecessary. I have
taken my decision and it shall stand."

"You're actually going to allow ten thousand
pounds a year to slip from your grasp?" He tried to make his tone
sound neutral.

"No. It is actually more like fifteen
thousand a year."

William closed his eyes in shock.
Good
God
.

"But my Aunt Rutledge thought it would be
better if we didn't reveal that high a sum straightaway. She
thought I'd be able to attract the right sort dangling just ten."
She looked away. "However, my awkward and vulgar behavior, I am
told, took care of squelching any possible hope of connections to
the
ton
."

"You are wrong, my dear." He took hold of her
chin gently and drew her gaze back to his. "I'm certain, no matter
how great your transgressions, you could secure a comfortable
marriage easily, with a bit of help from me, behind the scenes, so
to speak."

"I told you, I have decided to return to
Wales. I have no need of a husband."

"Well, perhaps you are right. You probably
couldn't attract a flea for a spouse given your reputation at this
moment in time."