Tutoring Miss Molly (6 page)

Devlin stood facing a fireplace while a stunning blonde stood in profile close to him, her breasts pressing against his arm. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the fireplace mantle while her arms snaked around his waist. Devlin’s beautiful companion was the same lady whose carriage almost ran her over on the road.

“Who is the girl?” the lady asked.

Was she talking about her? Molly waited for his reply.

“She is nobody,” Devlin answered, his tone emotionless.

“That
nobody
caused a big stir in the ballroom.” Even in her tone Molly could hear the lady pout.

“If you must know, Lady Audrey, she is just another charity case my father wants me to break in.”

The lady blew into his ear and lightly bit his earlobe. “Then why not give her to your brother?”

He did not respond.

The woman pressed closer against him and slipped her hand into his trousers. Judging by the motion of her arm, she took the liberty of arousing him. “When we are married, I will choose who you are intimate with.”

Devlin’s shoulders tensed and his head dropped. A deep, low moan filled the room.

Molly ran upstairs two at a time, her heart pounding in her ears. Devlin was betrothed. Moreover, he thought of her as a charity case. Tears of humiliation fell down her face. What about the kiss they had shared by the lake?

Was she the only one affected? How could she be so…so foolish? Wiping her eyes from blurry tears, she ran blindly into a wall of flesh. Her gaze started at a man’s red boots and followed up the tight contoured red costume.

She had run into the devil himself.

* * * *

Audrey smiled to herself. She was well aware the new girl had been lurking around the corner listening to their conversation. It was fun goading Devlin to speak about her in a careless way. It was best the girl knew her place. However, it irked her that Devlin was not sharing information. Nobody knew who the new girl was, only that she was under Devlin’s wing.

“Tell me who she is,” she ordered seductively, and stopped rubbing him from the outside of his breeches and glided her hand inside the waistband. Her fingers clasped his warm, hard manhood—the tight skin was smooth like velvet.

Devlin straightened and grabbed her wrist. “Enough.”

Fury burned in her chest, but she forced a smile. “You have never told me to stop before.”

He pulled her hand out of his breeches and turned his back. Her smile fell. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “Devlin, I demand to know who this girl is.”

He faced her. “Not everything involves you.”

“You are lying. Your left eyebrow is ticking.”

Devlin rubbed his eyebrow and picked up the book he had been reading and tucked it under his arm. “Go to bed, Audrey.”

Ignoring his requests, she trailed her fingers across his shoulder blades. “Let’s set the date for our wedding, my love. I wish to be your wife.”

“You wish to be a marchioness,” Devlin countered, “and someday Duchess of Albany.”

She wrapped her arms around his back and pressed her breasts against him. “It is what our fathers want for us.”

Devlin released a sigh and took another swig of his liquor. “And disappoint all your lovers?”

“When we are married, I will be faithful only to you. Our children will have your eyes and brown hair.”

“You forget. I know when
you
lie.”

He turned to leave, and she grabbed his hand. “Just remember you are mine, Lord Devlin Harman.”

This time his square jaw line ticked, his blue eyes darkening to gray. She released his hand, and he left without a word. She had gone too far, she knew it. However, a cold desperation entered her heart and she could not shake its grip. The redhead had changed something within him. Tightening her lips, bitterness settled into her stomach.

She had to get rid of that girl.

Chapter Five

Molly found herself in the arms of the same golden-haired gentlemen she had run into when she had first arrived at the manor. His well-molded face held a wide mouth curved into a tempting grin.

“My apologies,” she said, lowering her moist eyes, “again.”

He tilted her chin up with his finger and studied her with an affectionate gaze. Pulling a white handkerchief from an inside pocket of his red jacket, the man dressed in a devil’s costume wiped her tear-streaked face.

“That’s better,” he said and tucked the cloth into his pocket. “What has brought such a beauty to sorrow?”

His soothing voice warmed her like hot tea on a chilly day. Molly shook her head, unwilling to expose her vulnerability. “I—I wish not to discuss it,” she whispered.

“Then let us not dwell on it. Instead, may I have the honor of escorting you back to your room?” The gentleman held out his arm, his sea-blue eyes sparkling with kindness.

Molly gave him a trembling smile and placed her arm into the crook of his. “My name is Miss Molly Cambridge.”

“I am Lord Kenneth Harman, son to His Grace, the Duke of Albany.”

She halted. “You are Lord Devlin’s brother?”

“Indeed,” he answered, his brows flickered a little.

“If I may be so bold, you look nothing like him.”

“This is true. I am likened to my mother’s fairness whereas the marquess inherited my father’s dark complexion.” He led her to her room and opened the door.

Molly hesitated and slanted her head. “How is it you know which room is mine?”

Kenneth shrugged. “My brother puts all his favorites in the Lily Room.” He picked up her hand.

“That is where you are wrong, my lord.” Molly curiously watched his soft lips touch the skin on her hand.

Lifting his head, he inquisitively gazed into her eyes. “How so?”

“I am not Lord Devlin’s favorite.”

He scanned her from the top of her head down to her bare feet and smiled with charming appreciation. “I can’t see why not,” he answered, and nodded briefly before retracing his steps down the hallway.

Molly leaned outside her doorway and watched Kenneth stroll away. His red devil’s suit clung to the muscles in his arms and legs, a pointy tail swaying from side to side. A smile crossed her lips. If the devil could find her pleasing, perhaps she could be a courtesan after all.

Yawning, she crawled back into bed. Streaks of orange and crimson lined the sky outside her opened glass doors. Molly placed a cushion over her forehead to shield the morning glare from her eyes.

It seemed like only a few minutes passed before a knock on the door invaded her dreams. “Lord Devlin?” she called dreamily, rubbing her eyes.

The knock came again and Molly rose to open the door, her green gown had crinkled beyond help. Expecting to find Devlin scowling at her on the other side of the door, she instead found a yellow rose held in front of her face. She gasped with surprise and took the flower. “Thank you.”

In a dashing brown suit with a crisp, white shirt, Devlin’s brother casually entered the room, whistling a merry tune. How very different Kenneth was to Devlin. Where Kenneth’s features were fair, his personality polite and charming, Devlin was dark, somber and blunt.

“I have a present for you.” Kenneth produced a rectangular box from behind his back.

She opened the box to find a beautiful pair of blue slippers. “I do not know what to say.”

“If you want to be a courtesan, you must get used to gifts. Besides, how will you accompany me down to the dining room without shoes?”

So the word was out. She was officially known as the new courtesan. Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she placed the soft shoes on her feet. A perfect fit. She ran her hands down the creases on her dress that seemed to have doubled since last night.

Kenneth smiled, brightening his features. “You look exquisite,
ma chérie.
”
He sauntered to the door. “Come, let us go to breakfast.”

“I must at least brush my hair,” she insisted.

“Then do so,” he said, and sat on the bed. “I will simply have to dine on your loveliness until my hunger is sated.”

Blushing, she positioned herself at the carved mahogany table. She combed her untamed locks until she could gather them into a bun. Tendrils of hair escaped, softening the features around her face and neck.

She stood, and whispered to his reflection in the mirror, “I am ready.”

“Indeed you are the most radiant in all the land,” Kenneth professed, his eyes sincere.

Casting her gaze downward, she only hoped Devlin thought so.

Arm in arm with Kenneth, they arrived at the top of the staircase. Unlike before, the foyer was completely filled with gentlemen and ladies. Dressed in finery and jewels, the guests stood outside the dining room. Quietness befell the cramped space when everyone stared up at Molly and Kenneth, then turned toward the marquess who stood leaning against a column. If they were expecting a reaction from him, they were not disappointed. Devlin truly looked like the devil, glaring at Molly and his brother with murderous eyes.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Devlin promptly closed the distance between them. Standing on a step lower, he said in a deceptively calm voice, “I told you not to wear those old clothes.”

She flinched at the tone of his voice.

He looked over his shoulder, his brows furrowed at the guests gawking up at them. He faced her again. “Your armoire is filled with gowns of the latest fashion, yet you disobey me by wearing this…this…” He tugged at the worn skirt. “This rag.”

 “I think she looks delightful,” Kenneth declared and gave Molly a reassuring smile.

 “What you think is of no consequence,” Devlin snarled at his brother. “Yvette!” He called to the maid walking down the hallway. “Take Miss Molly back to her room and help her dress like a
lady.
” The marquess pivoted and descended the staircase.

Molly stiffened as though Devlin had struck her. Shame and fury surged through her veins. She just wanted to—wanted to—

Kenneth took one of her hands and kissed it. “I’ll save you a place next to me in the dining room.”

With tightened lips, she gave a curt nod. Following Yvette, she cursed Devlin’s arrogance with each step she took. Storming into her room, she ripped the bun apart, pulling strands of hair with it. Ignoring the searing pain to her scalp, she threw the armoire doors open. Gowns of every color and design neatly hung with drawers of countless fripperies to match. Velvet ribbons and laces, bonnets, pelisses, gloves and shoes—the wardrobe held all a lady could desire. Molly fingered through each exquisite gown as her temper simmered.

“They are beautiful, no?” Yvette stood behind her.

Molly briefly glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, they are.”

“I think the morning gown will suit you best,” Yvette said, her thin pale eyebrow raised in a knowing gesture.

Pulling out the garment the same rich color as the forest, Molly gently laid it on the bed. It was too fine by far for her to wear. Trimmed in black velvet ribbon and a sash fringed with lace, the green muslin was soft and decadent.