The Seduction of Lady X (16 page)

“Oh, Mr. Tolly!” she said impatiently. “I think you have missed my meaning completely! You are too accustomed to solving all our problems. Do you recall the supper Edward hosted in honor of Captain Granville’s return from the war?”

“Of course.”

Her smile widened; her eyes sparkled. “Do you recall the seating?”

Harrison smiled, too. “How could I possibly forget it?” Seating thirty-six illustrious guests was daunting for the most seasoned of social secretaries. Unfortunately, neither he nor Lady Carey was very well versed in that sort of thing. “We spent two days in the formal dining room rearranging name cards.”

Lady Carey laughed with delight. “We moved Lord Rothbone a dozen times if we moved him once! We could not determine who would pay the price of sitting next to him.”

“‘I’ve a liking for haddock,’” Harrison said, mimicking the portly old Lord Rothbone, “‘but not in sauce. Haddock in sauce reminds one of gristle in bile.’”

“‘My husband does not care for
gristle,
’” Lady Carey said, mimicking the high-pitched voice of Lady Rothbone.

Harrison chuckled. “‘Have you venison, then? I should like a bit of venison. But not overcooked. Overcooked venison brings to mind a crofter’s shoe. Have you ever seen a crofter’s shoe? Quite a lot of muck and mire, as it were.’”

Lady Carey laughed roundly, pressing her palms against her belly as if to contain the laughter. “I think Lord Braxton has never forgiven us for putting Rothbone with him.”

“I can scarcely blame him,” Harrison said. “I could not bring myself to look the poor gentleman in the eye after that supper.”

She smiled fondly at him, then put her hand on his. The touch jolted Harrison; his hand fisted beneath hers. “I could not have done it without you, Mr. Tolly. I was lost when I came to Everdon Court, as green as summer grass and timid as a mouse. If you had not been here to lead me, I would have faltered badly.”

He remembered the young and inexperienced marchioness, wanting badly to do it all just so. “You give me too much credit, madam. You’ve always known what to do. I have not led you; I merely assisted you.”

“You are far too modest.” She removed her hand from his. “When my mother died, it was you who helped me make the arrangements.”

“That is the nature of my work for this family.”

“Perhaps. But like now, you went beyond your duties. I sat in your office sobbing like a child, and you sat beside me, your linen handkerchief at the ready.”

He had wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her that day and hold her in that moment of heart-wrenching grief. But he’d had to make do by clutching his handkerchief.

“And what of the blue silk you brought from London? I had only heard of it from my friend Bernie, and you bravely ventured onto Bond Street in my stead and found one to match the description. You had a square of it tucked away in your pocket, as if you feared someone might see you with it. Yet you cannot imagine how thrilled I was with the square. I sent for the silk straightaway, and now it is my favorite evening gown, and all because you were kind enough to seek it out and bring it to me.”

Harrison was beginning to feel exposed. She’d worn that blue silk to attend a soiree at the Earl of Elmont’s. That evening, he could scarcely look at her in the silk without feeling the blood rush in his veins, pooling in his groin, making him uncomfortably hard as he watched her leave on the arm of the bored marquis. He recalled how she’d cast a smile at him over her shoulder, and had fluttered her fingers at her gown as if to ask him if he approved. Oh yes, he’d approved.

“Madam, you give me far too much credit.”

“I do not. I depend on you more than anyone.” She smiled so fondly that he could once again feel the blood begin to rush in his veins. “Truthfully, this is another time I want so desperately to depend on you, Mr. Tolly. But unfortunately, your help is not to be borne. Not this time. I expressly refuse to allow you to marry Alexa.”

Harrison arched a brow in surprise, and she lifted her chin as if she expected an argument. “Will you not?” he asked gently. “For if there is no relative that Miss Hastings may go to, no widow, no Good Samaritan to take her in, then for her sake, and for
your
sake, and particularly for the sake of that unborn child, she must marry and marry quickly.”

“Yes, yes, I agree. But not to
you,
Mr. Tolly.”

“I shall try not to take offense,” he said easily. “Have you someone else in mind?”

“Not yet. But I have my jewels with which to barter, and I shall think of someone desperate for them. I am not completely without connections.”

She was naïve. Harrison shifted a little closer. “Madam, forgive me, but I think you do not understand.” He leaned in, speaking softly. “Any man you may consider for your sister likely would not accept her child. And even if you found a man who was kind enough to see his way to it, he would not accept the child as his own. As much as it pains me to do so, I must say this out loud: Alexa is ruined. Without some agreement, without some promise of continued enrichment—which I can advise you in confidence that his lordship will
not
provide—there is no one who will touch her.”

Lady Carey suddenly turned about on the bench and faced him fully, her expression earnest. “How can you
bear
it?”

“Pardon?”

“I must know, Mr. Tolly. How can you offer yourself when your affections lie with another? When you have
inherited
! Do you not deserve to take your inheritance and make your own happy ending with your Lady X?”

Hearing her say those words startled him. “Lady Carey—”

She leaned in, her gaze locked on his. “Have you not witnessed enough unhappiness here to warn you against an arranged marriage? Do you wish such turmoil and despair for yourself?”

Her admission unnerved him; a nauseating mix of fury and sorrow filled his gut.

“This situation you would put yourself in is insupportable. You are a fine man, and you deserve a wife you esteem and children and the happiness that most people only aspire to. What you propose is madness! Do you fear my husband? Do you fear what he will do to you or to Alexa? Is that why you would turn your back on your Lady X, the woman you esteem above all others—”

“I cannot have her.” He said it more sharply than he intended, but he had to stop her before she enumerated the many, many things he would never know with her. His fingers curled into a fist against his knee. “It is as simple as that.”

She cocked her head to one side, seeming confused. “Why ever not?”

Did she truly not see why not? Did she not see how he looked at her now? Harrison swallowed and pushed down the urge to touch her, to say words that he could never say to her. “I think it is impossible that you can understand it so I beg of you to not even try.”

But Lady Carey was undaunted. She touched his fist. “I think perhaps you are the one misjudging the situation, Mr. Tolly. Are you
certain
you cannot have her?”

“Entirely,” he said firmly, and shifted just enough to move his hand from beneath her fingers.

Lady Carey drew a breath. “I beg your pardon. It is not my place to interfere, or to offer advice . . . yet I cannot help but tell you that I am certain Lady Martha would be quite
pleased
. And if she is not, I would be happy to intervene.”

It took Harrison a moment to understand what she thought, and the realization shot him to his feet. “Lady Martha!” he exclaimed. “Good God, madam, please extend me the courtesy of assuming that I would be attracted to someone of greater . . .”—he could not think of the word that described the simpering, dull, Lady Martha—“
vigor
than Lady Martha! I have no regard for the woman!”

She reared back, her eyes widening with surprise. “But if not Lady Martha, then who?”

Harrison faced her, his hands on his hips, and stared down at her.

Something seemed to register in Lady Carey. Her lashes fluttered with a thoughtful frown, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “My goodness . . . does she . . . does Lady X know of your regard?”

“Apparently not,” he said dryly.

Lady Carey bit her lower lip. “But if she knew, she might . . .”

“She might what?” he asked impatiently. “Leave her husband and live in reduced circumstances with her reputation destroyed? No, madam. To confess my affection and esteem to Lady X is to compromise her completely, and I would never dishonor her.”

Lady Carey looked up then, her eyes full of understanding.

And sadness.

Harrison regretted saying anything at all. He should have allowed her to continue believing his affection lay with Lady Martha—

Lady Carey stood, and surprisingly, she touched his cheek. Harrison was so flustered by that single, soft touch that he was rendered speechless.

“Poor man,” she murmured. “I understand better than you know.”

Harrison was suddenly tumbling off a precipice. He’d balanced on that rim for all these years, standing practically on the tips of his toes, never falling into the abyss, but standing close enough that he could smell the roses that scented her hair, feel the softness of her touch. And now he was falling, falling so hard and fast that he couldn’t even say what happened next. He only knew that his arms were suddenly around her, and that his mouth was on hers, on lips that were as soft and succulent as he knew they would be, yet searing him like a hot coal.

He cupped her face, tasting her as he had longed to do all these years, his tongue against the seam of her lips, and then plunging inside her mouth, swirling about her tongue as he fell, tumbled, and disappeared into the desire he’d kept bottled inside him.

Lady Carey kissed him back, tumbling right along with him, her body rising up to his, pressed against his. She gripped him as if she feared she would fall, wrapping her arm around his neck when he encircled her waist with his arm to hold her there, to keep the feel of her shapely form against him as long as he could. His erection strained against his trousers, demanding he fulfill his body’s need to be physically sated. Somewhere in the depths of his conscience, he was acutely aware of the danger in kissing her, but in that moment he didn’t give a damn.

His hands roamed, sliding over the curve of her hip, up to her rib cage and to her breast, filling his hand. Only then did Lady Carey make a sound of alarm in his mouth. Only then did she recoil, jerking back and away from him.

“Oh my God,” she said hoarsely, and pressed her palms to her cheeks. “What have I done?”

The look in her eyes was of sheer panic. “Breathe,” he said to her.

“That should never have happened,” she said frantically. “What if someone had seen us? It was a mistake, a dreadful mistake!”

“Please do not panic—”

“It is too late for that!” she said sharply, and grabbed up her basket. She moved to pass him, to flee, but Harrison caught her arm.

“Madam.”

She looked up at him, and Harrison saw unbridled desire mixed with fear in her eyes. “Let go of me,” she said, and yanked her arm free.

She rushed up the path, the basket’s ribbon dragging behind her. What he had seen in her eyes was the worst sort of yearning. He knew, because it ran deep in his veins, cutting deep crevasses into him.

When she’d disappeared around the corner, Harrison groaned and ran both hands over his head.

“
Goddammit.
”

I
n the dowager house salon, a glum Alexa examined the pianoforte. She thought it out of tune, but her skill was only passable, so she wasn’t entirely certain.

Alexa’s mother had possessed a pianoforte that she had claimed had come all the way from the Palace of Versailles. Alexa didn’t know how her mother could have possibly acquired such a thing, but it was made of the finest wood and the keys were polished ivory. She felt confident that Mr. Tolly’s pianoforte had
not
come from Versailles. She rather doubted it had come as far as even York.

She sighed heavily and played a few notes.

Carlos undoubtedly had a fine pianoforte. His family was wealthy. Not that she’d ever inquired, but it was apparent. Carlos Alfonso de la Fuente lived in a castle overlooking Madrid.