Love's Price (Lord Trent Series) (8 page)

When James had suggested her engagement to Tristan, she’d eagerly accepted. She’d deemed Tristan—the handsome, dashing brother of an earl—to be a marvelous catch. But after discussing the arrangement with her Aunt Bertha, she realized her mistake.

Why settle for the earl’s brother when she could have the earl instead?

So she’d waited until she knew Tristan would be gone, then she’d traveled to London with Bertha who had suddenly been notified of an
emergency
that required her immediate return to the country.

Miranda was in town—alone—with James, and she had every intention of instigating a compromising situation so he’d have to wed her. She’d planned it all out, but then, he’d spoiled everything by hiring Miss Stewart.

Miranda had done her best to force the idiotic harpy to go away, but nothing had worked. But to have her simply pick up and march out! It was an unexpected boon, and Miranda was already calculating the ways she could create a public scandal, when James entered the room. At the notion that he would soon be her husband, she was practically quivering with glee.

She went over to him, a smile on her face. Due to his mother’s abandonment of the family, James’s opinion of women was very low. When she was around him, she liked to appear happy and carefree so he would be refreshed by her pleasant company.

“Hello, James. What brings you downstairs? I thought you were entertaining guests.”

“They’re getting along fine without me. I decided to slip away.”

“I was about to ring for a tea tray. Will you join me?”

She took his arm and urged him toward the sofa, but he wouldn’t budge.

He peered about and frowned. “Where is Miss Stewart?”

“You won’t believe it.”

“What?”

“She’s quit! She left!”

“Left?”

“Yes—without so much as a by-your-leave.”

“When did she go?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Did you speak with her? Did she give a reason?”

“She wrote you a note.”

She handed him Miss Stewart’s curt statement, ecstatic to have him see it. Miss Stewart had dared to disparage an earl. And James of all people! After everything he’d done for her. Surely he’d comprehend why Miranda had complained so vociferously.

James scanned the short message, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the hearth.

“She doesn’t have my permission to resign,” he murmured.

“I know! I told her as much.”

“What was her response?”

“She didn’t care. She didn’t feel she owed you any deference or loyalty. It was the most shameful insult I’ve ever witnessed.” She grinned in a way that highlighted her dimples. It was a pose she often practiced in the mirror, and it made her look very fetching. “We didn’t need that old sour puss anyway. I’m glad she’s gone.”

“Are you?”

“She was horrid to me, and now, she’s been horrid to you, too. With her departure, we won’t have to fuss with her ever again. The cook bakes the best cakes. How about if I order us a plate to celebrate?”

“Celebrate what?”

“Her leaving, silly.”

She tried to drag him to the sofa again, but he eased away and started out.

“What are you doing?” She could barely hide her disappointment.

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I have some important matters to attend.”

“I understand completely.” She waved to the door, the very picture of accommodation. “You go on. I was just going shopping myself.”

“Not without a companion,” he insisted. “Take one of the maids.”

“What? You can’t mean it.”

“Oh, but I do.”

She bit down on her frustration, not keen to have him observe how her temper was sparking. “I’m eighteen, and I’m about to marry. I don’t need to have a servant trailing after me.”

“Until I can replace Miss Stewart, I’m afraid you’ll have to humor me.”

“Tristan wouldn’t mind. He believes that I’m mature enough to behave however I wish.”

“Well, Tristan isn’t here, and I am. You’ll take a maid, or you won’t go out.”

He stared her down, his male authority blatant and impossible to fight, and she had to relent.

“It’s sweet of you to worry about me.” She smiled flirtatiously. “I’ll bring someone.”

“Thank you.”

He turned and hurried out, and she tarried, perfectly positioned for maximum effect. She had supposed he’d glance back, but he kept on, as if—the moment she was out of his sight—he’d forgotten she existed.

The coach rumbled to a halt, and a footman peeked in the window.

“We’ve spotted her up ahead, milord.”

“Tell the driver to approach until we’re directly behind her, then I want to get out.”

The servant gave a smart salute, then stepped away, and the carriage lurched forward.

James relaxed in his seat, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing.

He’d schemed like a madman to force Helen to work for him, but she’d been correct in stating that Miranda hated her. He hadn’t had a second’s peace since she’d crossed his threshold, yet he was chasing her down the street like a besotted swain.

What in the hell was wrong with him? What was it to him if she quit?

It was that damned kiss, he realized.

He didn’t know
why
he’d kissed her. Nor could he fathom how such an insignificant event had flustered him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

While her situation was hardly ideal, he’d provided her with steady employment, with a secure environment and numerous gifts—that being the clothes he’d selected especially for her—yet she insulted him by refusing it all.

If he hadn’t been so stunned by her lack of gratitude, he’d have been incensed. Women all over London wished he would shower them with attention, and he’d finally deigned to display a tiny bit of interest in Helen, but she couldn’t care less.

He would not permit her to leave him! He couldn’t explain why, but the issue mattered to him very much.

The coach halted again, and the door was opened. He leapt out, thrilled to note that they had passed her. She was trudging along, head down, bag in hand, so she hadn’t noticed that she was proceeding straight to him.

As he watched her come, a confusing wave of affection and irritation warred inside him. He was furious with her; he was so glad he’d found her before she could vanish.

She neared, not looking where she was going until she was close enough to view his boots and grasp that someone was blocking her way.

“Pardon me,” she mumbled, glancing up. On seeing him, she blanched and stumbled back.

“Hello, Helen.”

“What do you want?”

“I saw you walking. I thought you might like a ride.”

“I don’t need a ride.”

“Then I ought to mention that you’re traveling in the wrong direction. My house is that way.” He pointed behind her.

“I won’t go back there.”

“Of course you will, and if you don’t come with me in my carriage, you won’t be able to dress in time for supper. We’re dining together, and you’re to wear your new gown, remember? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my invitation.”

“I didn’t forget,” she said very quietly.

They stared and stared, her green eyes poignant and mesmerizing, and he was overcome by a desperate urge to pull her into his arms.

“Get in the carriage, Helen,” he said.

She dithered, wanting to argue or refuse, but she recognized that it would be a waste of breath. He was determined that she stay on, so stay on she would.

“You promised there would be no gambling,” she charged, appearing hurt and sad.

“I lied.”

“I can’t believe you admit it.”

He shrugged. “I have many faults. Lying is the least of them.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right for you to do it.”

“I didn’t say it was
right
. I’m simply stating the facts.”

He nodded to the coach where his outriders were hanging on their every word.

“Let’s go.”

She plodded past him, looking again as if he was torturing her on the rack. Why did he make her so miserable? Why was she so unhappy? Why was
he
so upset that she was?

He helped her in, then he climbed in after her, and he scooted over so he was very close, so their thighs were touching.

She gazed at him and claimed, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re a bully, and you’re being so cruel to me.”

“I’m not being cruel, Helen. I’m really not.”

“Then why are you treating me this way?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t return to your house.”

“And I can’t let you tot off on your own.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know that either.”

He bent down and kissed her as he’d been yearning to do. He had such vivid memories of their earlier embrace, and he was certain that—in his mind—he recollected it as being much more wonderful than it actually had been. He was positive that a second kiss would prove to be average or even boring, but the instant his mouth was joined to hers, he was once again seared with ecstasy.

She might have protested or pushed him away, but she didn’t, so cad that he was, he convinced himself that she welcomed his advance.

With slight pressure of his lips to hers, he eased her into the corner and kissed her fully as he should have done the first time. Perhaps if he’d lingered over the initial event, he’d have had his fill of her and quelled any desire to do it again.

On this occasion, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would continue on until he’d slaked his strange, unrelenting need for her, but to his surprise, the longer he dawdled, the more he craved. He wished the moment would never end, but she had more sense than he, and she drew away.

“Please,” she said, “I’m dizzy. I can’t breathe.”

“Good.”

“You overwhelm me with your attentions. When you start in, I don’t know how to make you stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“What happens now?” she asked, glancing away.

“Now...we go home.”

“Miss Wilson will have a fit.”

“It doesn’t matter.
I
want you there, and that’s all that counts.”

“You never listen to me.”

“I would—if you ever said anything worth hearing.”

“What about your gambling? Will you desist?”

“I have to gamble, Helen.”

“You
have
to? Are you telling me you’re addicted to it?”

“No. I would never be that foolish.”

“Why do you do it then?”

“My father squandered our fortune. When he passed away, my brother and I were broke, yet suddenly, I owned many large properties and was responsible for the welfare of thousands of people. I had to wager to earn money.”

“And now? You keep on because you like it?”

“No. I’m winning back what my father’s acquaintances stole from us. He was a drunkard, and they were supposed to be his friends. They took advantage of him, and I am determined to regain what is rightfully mine.”

He couldn’t believe he’d confided in her. With the exception of Tristan, he never discussed his father or their finances, and he suffered a wave of panic. He’d never trusted a woman with so much personal information, and he’d given her many ways to cripple him. Would she babble and gossip to others?

While he couldn’t imagine her betraying him, who could predict what a female might do?

“Can you understand why I must continue?” he inquired.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I approve.”

“I told you I have many faults. This is one more. Can you put up with it—for me? Because I’m asking you to?”

For a long while, she was silent, then she sighed. “I don’t want to ever know anything about it. I don’t want to see it occurring or meet any of the men who visit you.”

“You won’t have to.”

She leaned her head against the squab and groaned with dismay. “I am so gullible. Why do I allow you to manipulate me like this?”

“You’re crazy about me.”

“Only in your wildest dreams.”

He kissed her again, and briefly, she permitted the embrace before she shoved him away.

“It will be all right,” he murmured. “Don’t worry so much.”

“Oh, Lord Westwood—”

“Call me James.”

“I can’t. This is all so wrong.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It
is
. It’s wrong.”

Was it? In all his years as a grown male, he’d never seduced a servant, but then, he’d never been attracted to any of his maids the way he was attracted to her. When they shared such a strong bond, when they generated such a lively spark, why not act on it?

“We’re both adults, Helen,” he said. “We can do whatever we want.”

“You can maybe, but I certainly can’t.”

“And why can’t you? You’re twenty, and you have no family ties to prevent you from doing whatever you wish. You’re living in my home and under my protection. We can carry on however we please.”

“You’re mad.”

“Mad about you. I want us to be lovers.”

“Lovers! Have you any idea how sordid that sounds? I’m not some doxy. I’m a gently-reared governess and lady’s companion. I would never consider such a thing, and I’m insulted that you suggest it.”

“We’ll be very discreet. No one will know.”