Say You Love Me (6 page)

But Percy didn’t know that and never would. Percy might be a dear friend, but he was a dear friend who simply couldn’t keep a
secret to save his soul, and James Malory’s past nefarious exploits were a well-kept secret that only the family would ever know of.

“Besides, Percy,” Jeremy said, getting back on the subject, “m’father hates balls, positively, and only gets dragged to ’em these days at his wife’s insistence. Same with Uncle Tony. Definitely know how they feel. Feels like I’m being dragged to this one, damn me if it don’t.”

Derek frowned. “I’m not dragging you, dear boy, only pointing out your obligations. You didn’t have to agree to Diana’s request.”

“I didn’t?” Jeremy replied. “When I have the worst bloody time telling a female no? Any female, for that matter. Just can’t stand to disappoint ’em. And I certainly wouldn’t have disappointed the one you just left behind.”

“If all she wanted was to be left alone, Jeremy, then I’d hardly say I disappointed her.”

“Left alone?”

“You find that hard to believe?”

“Women scheme and fight to get into your bed, cousin, not to leave it. I’ve seen it firsthand—”

Derek cut in. “And sometimes women just don’t want to be bothered, for one reason or another, and that is the distinct impression I got from this girl. She looked exhausted. Could have been no more’n that, but as I already had other plans anyway…Besides, Jeremy, I didn’t fork up all that blunt just to bed the girl, so I am hardly impatient to do so. Didn’t
want
a mistress in the first place, but
now I’ve got one, I’ll bloody well see to her in my own good time, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Indecent amount for something you
didn’t
want,” Percy remarked.

Jeremy chuckled. “Wasn’t it though.”

Derek slouched down in his seat, grumbling, “You know why I did it.”

“’Course we do, old boy,” Percy replied. “And commend you for it, ’deed we do. Don’t have the blunt to be so noble m’self, but at least one of us did.”

“Aye,” Jeremy agreed. “Thwarted Ashford and got a splendid bonus for doing so. A fine night’s work, if I do say so m’self.”

All but blushing at the unexpected praise, Derek said, “Then perhaps you will both cease the ribbing about leaving the girl behind?”

Jeremy grinned. “Must we?”

A scowl from Derek had Jeremy glancing out the window beside him and whistling a merry ditty. Incorrigible scamp. Uncle James really was going to have his hands full trying to reign this young pup in to responsibilities when the time came. ’Course, Derek’s father had been lamenting about the same thing where he was concerned. But then, of the four Malory brothers, Derek had to be stuck with the head of the family, and being so, Jason Malory, Marquis of Haverston, was the most stern out of the lot of them, and the hardest to please.

7

Derek usually enjoyed balls, though not ones with
over three hundred people in attendance, as that night’s turned out to be. But he liked to dance, could usually find a friendly game of whist or billiards, and invariably there would be a fresh new face or two there to intrigue him.

The intrigued part never lasted long, however, since most young ladies who decked themselves out so splendidly for these occasions, and flirted so coyly, were after only one thing: marriage. And the very minute their motive was established, Derek would bid them adieu, because marriage was the very last thing he was interested in.

There were a few exceptions to that rule, but those didn’t come along very often. Even if a girl didn’t want to get married right away, she’d be dealing with pressure from her relatives to get the matter seen to. It was the rare young lady who could withstand that pressure and devote some time to just enjoying herself.

Derek actually liked those independent-
minded young ladies the most, and had gotten to know several fairly well. These were innocents still, so the relationships involved were not of a sexual nature. Far from it. Derek respected the rules of society and found it quite refreshing to associate with them on other terms, good conversation, shared interests, and to simply be able to relax his guard with them.

Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t constantly on the lookout for his next bed partners. He just didn’t pick them from the crop of new innocents who descended on London each season. No, his sexual pursuits were culled generally from young wives and widows, the former unhappy with their marriages, the latter free to do as they chose—with discretion, of course. And he rarely left one of these large London affairs without a tryst arranged for later in the week, or even that night.

At this ball, however, nothing seemed to interest him. He did his requisite dancing to keep the hostess happy, and had to take pains not to yawn before he relinquished each partner to the next gentleman on her dance card. He tried a few hands of whist, but again, he couldn’t manage to concentrate on the game, even when the stakes rose perilously high.

Two of his former lovers had tried to interest him in another rendezvous, but where he would usually put them off with promises of another time, he had simply told them he was otherwise involved at the moment. Yet he wasn’t. The girl he had dropped off at his
home couldn’t be considered an involvement—yet. Besides, a mistress was never considered an involvement, not a true involvement. A mistress was simply a very nice—and expensive—convenience.

And he still couldn’t believe he had one now. The one and only other time he had agreed to pay the support of a woman in return for her favors had been an utter disaster.

Marjorie Eddings had been her name. She was a young widow of good breeding who couldn’t quite make ends meet to continue living in the style she had been born to. He had paid her debts—actually, most of them had been her departed husband’s debts—refurbished the house she had inherited, gave in to her desire for costly little trinkets.

He’d even agreed to be her escort to the many gatherings she was still invited to, when he’d had no desire to fill that roll. All aboveboard, naturally, and highly respectable, even to dropping her off at her residence, as was proper, and having to wait hours before it was safe to sneak in for the favors he was due—which, half the time, she claimed she was too tired to supply. And during the entire six months of their relationship, knowing full well that he had no interest in marriage, she had plotted to get him to the altar.

Even if he had liked her well enough to make their relationship permanent, which he hadn’t, he didn’t like being tricked and lied to, which she had done. She claimed she was with child when she wasn’t. Then she had let their
real association leak through to the gossip mills, while claiming that he’d promised to marry her. That had been the last straw. And she’d made
that
claim directly to his father.

Of course, Marjorie had underestimated the Malory family. It was impossible to insinuate herself into their ranks with lies. Derek’s father knew him well enough to know he’d never make such a promise. As it happened, Jason Malory would have been delighted if it were otherwise.

But Jason knew his only son wasn’t ready to settle down any time soon, and thankfully, he’d never tried to force Derek to change his mind. Derek knew the day would come when the pressure would be turned on. Responsibility and all that, carrying on the line, and in Derek’s case, the title he would eventually inherit, were large considerations.

As for Marjorie, well, Jason didn’t like liars either. He was a man of rigid principles. And having been head of his family for so long—since he was sixteen, actually—and having had to call his younger brothers on the carpet so often for their misdeeds through the years, as well as Derek and Reggie, whom he’d had the raising of, he had that sort of thing down to an art.

A hot temper should also be mentioned. It was only the most innocent who could stand up to one of Jason’s furious sermons. The guilty would quickly crumble in shame, and in the case of women, tears, since it was very unpleasant getting the roof dropped on your
head, as Uncle Tony was fond of putting it.

Marjorie had left in tears and disgrace and had troubled Derek no more. She’d gulled a great deal of money out of him during their short relationship, so he was feeling no guilt himself that it had ended so badly. And he’d learned his lesson—at least he’d thought he had.

To be fair, though, the woman he had acquired earlier that night wouldn’t—at least shouldn’t—be anything like Marjorie. Kelsey Langton wasn’t gentry, even though she might
sound
like it, wasn’t raised to privilege, so she would be genuinely grateful for anything he might do for her, whereas Marjorie had expected it as her due.

Furthermore, he’d actually bought her. He had the bill of sale in his pocket to prove it. And he still didn’t quite know what he thought of that. But she’d put herself up for sale. It wasn’t as if she’d been sold without her permission and…better not to even think about the bought-and-sold part of it. He’d acquired a mistress, and he hadn’t even done it to acquire one but to keep that blackguard Ashford from brutalizing still another woman, and this one without an avenue of escaping his cruelties.

Beating Ashford senseless obviously hadn’t put an end to his perverted ways, as Derek had hoped. He was just going about it more legally now, as in that absurd auction and in making use of houses like Lonny’s that supplied women for such purposes.

Previously, David Ashford had bought cheap whores for a night. Such women had no recourse against lords of Ashford’s ilk, and worse, probably felt the few pounds he tossed them was ample compensation for whatever scars he left. Pathetic, but true. And even if Derek brought charges against Ashford, having witnessed firsthand the man’s sick excuse for pleasure, he knew no victims would be found to bear witness against the man. They’d be bought off, or disposed of, before it ever came to trial.

But Derek felt so strongly about this that he was going to have to do something further now that he knew for a fact that Ashford was still at it. And he couldn’t go around buying up every female Ashford tried to purchase outright, even if he caught wind of every auction of that sort. He didn’t have an endless supply of money. Tonight he’d acted on impulse.

Perhaps he ought to talk to his Uncle James about what to do. James had dealt a great deal with the unsavory side of life during his pirating days. If anyone would know how to deal with scum like Ashford, he would.

But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, he was having a devilishly hard time enjoying himself. And he finally began to wonder, when he kept seeing a pair of soft gray eyes in front of him instead of the blue ones belonging to his present partner, if Jeremy and Percy hadn’t been right. What the bloody hell
was
he still doing at the ball when there was a lovely
young woman—under his own roof, for that matter—who’d probably gone to bed tonight wondering why he wasn’t with her?

Of course, “under his own roof” put a damper on matters. One reason he got along with his father so well, and was rarely taken to task for anything, was because he understood that his father wasn’t going to try to curtail his pleasures as long as he practiced them with complete discretion. And Derek had always done so.

Which meant he’d never dallied with a wench in the London town house, not even at the two estates that had been turned over to him. Servants’ gossip could be the worst gossip there was, there being no faster grapevine than the one that connected each house down a street and beyond through their butlers, their drivers, their maids, their footmen, and so forth. And that meant he wouldn’t be getting to know his new mistress any better tonight.

Finally he gave up the pretense of enjoying himself and found Jeremy and Percy to let them know he was leaving and would send the carriage back for them later. They, of course, gave him knowing winks and smirks, thinking he was heading home to enjoy himself. But, then, they didn’t have fathers like Jason Malory.

Which wasn’t to say he didn’t give going to her a lot of thought on that ride home. Kelsey Langton wasn’t one of the servants, after all. And she wouldn’t be in the house long enough to gossip with any of the regular ser
vants. He could, in fact, visit her with none the wiser and be tucked into his own bed by morning. His valet wouldn’t be up to know the difference, since he never kept the man waiting up for him.

Actually, it didn’t take much to talk himself into paying Kelsey a short visit. So it was rather disappointing to be met at the door by Hanly again, even at that bloody late hour, and having that put an end to those plans.

Nosy old coot. If Hanly hadn’t stood there in the foyer and watched him ascend the stairs, every single step of them, Derek might still have gone down to the servants’ quarters to search out the girl. But he didn’t doubt for a moment that Hanly would be lurking about down there, watching for him.

And then Derek’s father would hear about it within the week, and he’d end up called to task about propriety, discretion, and ensuring the servants’ gossip had to do with other people’s households, not one’s own. All for one little tryst with a chit he could have access to at any time—after tonight? Not bloody likely.

But it was deuced hard getting to sleep that night.

8

“It’s my own fault,” Mrs. Hershal mumbled
.
“Should’ve seen it right off, but I’ll admit my eyesight ain’t what it used to be, “specially at night.”

Kelsey rubbed the sleep from her own eyes as she listened with half an ear to the housekeeper. She didn’t comment, since she didn’t know what the woman was talking about. Obviously, she must have missed that part, having awakened to find Mrs. Hershal taking one of her dresses out of her valise to smooth out the wrinkles.

The room had already been tidied up, not that she had been awake long enough last night to make much mess. And there was fresh water awaiting her, fluffy towels, and what looked like a pot of tea.

She yawned, thankful that she hadn’t awakened disoriented and wondering where she was and who the devil this woman was who was rummaging about in her room. Brown hair twisted into a severe bun, broad shoulders and an overly large bosom making her a
bit top-heavy, and thick brows that seemed slanted into a perpetual frown.