What a Gentleman Desires (24 page)

Except her next words contradicted that.

“Because clearly I’m no longer in charge of my own life.”

“Is that so?”

“
And,
I suppose, because I didn’t come to your bedchamber to watch you while you were in your tub.”

“You make a valid point, Miss Marchant.” Suitably chastened, he picked up the other comb and motioned for her to turn her back to him. Mimicking her movements, he began combing the hair on the right side of her head. It felt like silk between his fingers. Unable to resist, he raised one damp lock and watched as it curled around his finger, like a living, breathing thing, binding him to her forever. “Wait a moment. You
knew
I was watching you?”

“Not immediately, but once I did, I certainly wasn’t going to shriek in alarm and drown myself, so I pretended I didn’t.” She turned back toward him, taking his hand in hers, relieving him of the comb. “Valentine, I have no idea what’s happening between us. We barely know each other, we’ve been rather busy with hellfire clubs and rescues and hoping not to get ourselves killed. I have, however, come to see the sense in your proposal.”

He let go of her hair. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he didn’t want to hear this. “The sense in it. I see. By sense, I imagine you mean practicality.”

“Rose is going to need more than I can possibly give her on my own. And she’ll be safe at Redgrave Manor, you said so yourself, and I believe you. And Mr. Piffkin is amazing with her.”

“You aren’t a governess anymore, Daisy. Soames is Soames to you now, and Piffkin is Piffkin.”

“He will never be less than Mr. Piffkin to me. I owe him so much. You can have no idea how gentle he was with Rose at the inn while we waited for you to conclude your...your business at Fernwood. He always seemed to know exactly what to say to her, and when to not speak at all, but only stay close by if she might need him. And that doesn’t include how actually revelational he was to me prior to Rose’s rescue.”

“Revelational? In what way?”
God, even Piffkin knows her better than I do...and apparently she knows Piffkin more than I ever have. I need to think about all of this at some point. But not right now.

Daisy lowered her head for a moment, but then looked him straight in the eye as she cupped his cheek. “I’m good for you. I don’t completely understand why, but I am. And...and you’re good for me. To me. From the beginning, I’ve known you’re a good man. Well,” she said, smiling, “except in the very beginning, when I worried perhaps you might be mentally unhinged.”

Valentine chuckled in agreement. “You can safely forget that now, I hope. But you’ve made me curious. Why am I good for you?”

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” she said as she twisted her hair at the nape of her neck and it obediently wove itself into a long, curly rope.

“True,” he said, running his finger down the center of her chest, stopping at the knot she’d tied between her breasts. “However, I find I want to. Why am I good for you, Daisy?”

She averted her head. “You, um, you make me understand why I’m here.” Then she looked at him. “Oh, I don’t mean here, in Cavendish Square. I mean
here.
Here at all. Alive at all. I’d never really given the matter much thought beyond the obvious. I’ve always simply done what had to be done, what was expected of me. I did my duty. I—I don’t know how to explain myself, but I know what I mean. I’ve always been an exceedingly solid and sensible person. A worker, I suppose you’d say. Someone had to be, once our father died, and that someone was me. Too tall, too thin, too smart, too plain, but eminently sensible. And yet now?”

She raised her chin ever so slightly. “Now, thanks to you, I’m a woman. You think I’m pretty, and desirable. And I like it. I’m not certain I know exactly what I’m admitting, but I’m not ashamed to admit it. You’ve made me see...possibilities. But understand, I know I’m not perfect. One could also say I’m at times too practical. Annoyingly commonsensible. And perhaps prone to...to a certain stiffness of tone.”

“One could say that, yes.”

“I don’t laugh often.”

“You probably haven’t had too much to laugh about these last years. But that’s one of the things I plan to change. At least once people aren’t trying to kill us.”

She summoned a small smile. “You’re humoring me now, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. Come here.”

Valentine pulled her onto his lap and pressed her damp head against his chest, realizing he had an all-but-naked woman in his arms, and wasn’t feeling at all amorous, yet strangely, wonderfully
complete.
He bent and kissed the top of her head and she snuggled more against him, her nearly bare legs tucked up, her body all but melting against his.

She trusted him. With her life, with her body, with her future. Piffkin was right, she was good for him. She made him want to be the man she thought he was. She allowed him to see why
he
was here, why he’d been born. He’d been born to be the man Daisy Marchant believed him to be.

“This is nice,” she told him. “I feel as if all my worries have washed away in my bath, or some such thing. I don’t remember when I’ve felt so relaxed. You’re a good man, Valentine. I can’t say that enough.”

“I’m a better man than I was two weeks ago. But you’d be wise to never count on me to be
too
good.”

Daisy laughed at his words, the sweet, delightful sound pure music to his ears, and Valentine felt his heart swell.
By God, I’ve gone and turned romantical. We’re falling like dominos, that’s what we Redgraves are doing. First Gideon, then Kate...and now me. Banged over the head by Cupid’s shovel. Another rascally Redgrave, tamed, domesticated. Thank God there’s still Max. Cupid would need to drop an anvil on Max’s head, probably repeatedly....

The mantel clock chimed twice, rousing him from his thoughts, and he realized that, as he’d been thinking, Daisy had grown very quiet, her body more and more molding against his.

The hour was late, the warmth from the fire cozy and relaxing, and they’d definitely had a busy day. It would be so easy to rest his back against the wingchair behind him, his arms full of soft, clinging, sweet-smelling female, and simply glide into sleep.

“Daisy?”

Her only response was to slide her arm farther around him and sigh into his shoulder.

Yes,
he thought as he carefully maneuvered himself to his feet and carried Daisy over to the bed,
I’m a much, much better man than I was.
He laid her down on the soft mattress, relieved her of the damp bath sheet and, after only one rather long, satisfying look, pulled the covers up to her chin.

She sighed in her sleep, and seemed to reach out her right arm across the mattress as if in search of something. Someone.
Him.

Valentine looked to the door to the hallway, remembered he’d locked it. He looked to the fireplace, where his shirt hung, drying. Putting one and one together, he should don the shirt, unlock the door and take himself off to his own chamber.

Or he could walk around the bed, climb in beside Daisy, gather her close (she had been searching for him, hadn’t she, or she might be cold, having lost the warmth of the fire, the warmth of his body?) and wake in the morning to an armful of warm, hopefully still-willing woman.

“All right,” he whispered aloud as he headed for the other side of the bed, “so perhaps I’m not
that
good.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“V
ALENTINE
?
V
ALENTINE
.
Valentine, you have to move. I can’t get up, you’re lying on my hair.”

He opened his eyes. Daisy was right. He was behind her, his body following the outline of hers, his arm draped over her bare waist and his nose was rather buried in her thick, still faintly damp curls. No wonder he’d been dreaming of lemons.

“Nice,” he murmured, pulling her closer to what was rapidly becoming his morning arousal. “You really can’t move?”

“No, I can’t. Not that I have anywhere to go. I’m naked.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not.”

“An oversight easily mended,” he assured her even as he slid his hand around her breast. Began stroking her nipple with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll have you know I didn’t touch you, not that I wasn’t tempted.” He whispered the next words against her ear. “Sorely tempted.”

“A gentlemanly behavior you abandon at dawn?” she asked him, even as she bent her head as far as she could, exposing her long, slender neck to his light, trailing kisses.

“It appears that way, yes. I’ve never before spent the night with a woman. It avoids...complications.”

He raised his head, releasing her hair as she turned toward him. “Would you consider it to be even more
complicated
considering you have also awakened under your grandmother’s roof?”

He could see the laughter in her eyes. He’d seen so many emotions there, but the twinkle he saw now had to be considered his favorite. “You’re right, of course. You’ve thoroughly compromised me. Shame on you.”

She pressed her palm against his chest. “I don’t know that I feel at all ashamed. In fact, Mr. Redgrave, I believe I’m feeling rather proud of myself. Daisy Marchant, seductress. A rare accomplishment for a vicar’s once probably uninspiring daughter.”

Valentine slid his hand along her side, enjoying the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip. “You
inspired
me from the beginning. Daisy? I want you to know you don’t have to marry me. Well, yes you do. But if you’d said no, we Redgraves would have taken care of Rose, anyway. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I realized that at once. It was the fact that you didn’t consider the offer as some sort of leverage over me that was so wonderful. You’re a good—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t say it. I swear Daisy, I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. I keep expecting you to then pat my head and send me off to play with my toy soldiers.”

“You can’t stop me. You’re a good— Valentine!”

He’d flipped her onto her back and come down on top of her. “I warned you. Say it again, and there will be consequences.”

She smiled up at him as he laughed, because he could see a hint of devilishness now in her beautiful eyes. “You’re a—” She couldn’t say more because she became lost in a paroxysm of giggles as he set in to tickling her. She slapped at him ineffectually, twisting provocatively beneath him as she tried once more: “You’re— Oh, stop, Valentine....”

He’d seen her smile. He’d heard her rare laugh. But giggles? Pure, unaffected delight? Silliness, the sort she’d probably left behind in her childhood, before her spirit was all but squeezed out of her by the hand life had dealt her? No worries, no fears, no need to stand completely on her own. Never again. She’d never have to face life alone again.

Valentine made a vow, right there and then. She’d laugh at least once a day, until the past was no more than a long ago memory, with the
now
and the
future
the only things that mattered. Their
now,
their
future,
together.

“Valentine?”

He’d stopped tickling her. He was simply looking at her. Her eyes intent on him, her hands tightened on his shoulders.

“Valentine?” Her voice wavered slightly.

“Daisy,” he countered, barely able to breathe. There was no question in his voice, only certainty. She was his
now,
his
future,
his reason for, as she’d said,
being here.
He had to tell her.

But perhaps she already knew.

He watched as a tear escaped her eye, to run into her hair. She opened her mouth slightly, raised her head from the pillow just enough to show him her willingness, perhaps even her own dawning realization that something important had just happened between them, was happening between them.

They came together in a kiss that said everything that had to be said, and more. He slid his hands beneath her upper body and held her tight against him, rolling over onto his back, taking her with him, their mouths still melded together.

He ran his hands up and down her back as she cupped his head, as her hair cloaked them, as their tongues dueled...as they strained to be closer. Closer.

He’d die if he couldn’t have her. Be deep inside her. Give everything he had to give, take anything she would willingly offer.

Daisy pushed herself up, her delicate spine bowing as she twisted her hair so that it all fell over her left shoulder. She pushed her palms against his chest, maneuvered her way down his body, her gaze never leaving him, even as she sat back on her haunches on his thighs, her hands going to the buttons on his breeches.

It was too much. Her inexperienced touch was about to drive him over the brink. He’d never felt more aroused, more urgently driven toward completion. He was a raw youth again, and in danger of losing control.

He pulled her toward him, rolled her onto her back once more and settled himself between her thighs. She was so ready for him, taking him in, scissoring her legs up and over his back to hold him to her, in her.

Summoning all the command over himself he had managed to retain, Valentine pushed himself up on his hands and looked down into her face. Then, slowly, oh, so slowly, he brought his mouth down on hers. Holding himself completely still inside her.

Until she began to move beneath him, grind herself against him, and he was lost.

And yet, forever found.

* * *

D
AISY
WASN
’
T
CONVINCED
her ensemble, borrowed from Lady Katherine’s amply supplied wardrobe, quite suited her. She was more accustomed to grays, to browns. But Sara had assured her the cap-sleeved pink morning dress was just what the dowager countess had explicitly ordered laid out for her. The softness of the material, the lovely mint-green leaves embroidered stem-to-tip just beneath her bosom, the overskirt of the same deep pink material that reached three-quarters of the way around her, adding fullness to what was otherwise a fairly slim skirt, the pink satin slippers that, with a minimum of tissue stuffing, had fit her so well had been too difficult to resist. Impossible to resist.

And if that made her a silly, weak woman, then so be it.

Sara had proved a marvel with the curling stick, taming Daisy’s wild ringlets into long smooth curls concentrated behind her left ear and secured with pins. Daisy had protested only at the end, when Sara advanced on her with a soft brush and a tin of fragrant pink powder, but relented when the maid promised a ladylike blush to her cheeks would add sparkle to her eyes. “Lady Trixie says if God didn’t give you everything, there’s always the shops.”

Daisy was still smiling about that remark, one she believed was probably typical of the dowager countess, as she headed toward the drawing room Soames had directed her to when she came down the stairs. Then again, she had only lately crawled out of the bed she and Valentine had shared this morning. She was so in charity with the world she could smile at most anything.

But first she had to stop and admire the miracle that had taken place after she’d gone upstairs to her bath.

“Saving a lingering smell of smoke,” she said as she stood at the balustrades and looked down into the main foyer. A circular rug covered the marble that had been scorched, fresh flowers were displayed on the large drum table and the statues lining the stairs had been returned to their former unadorned glory. “It’s as if the fire never occurred at all. My congratulations and admiration, Mr....um, Soames.”

“Thank you, miss,” the butler said, bowing. “There remains much to be done. The chandeliers, a fresh coat of stucco on the walls, we’ll be quite overrun by workmen and ladders and the like, I’m afraid. Both here and in the kitchens. Her ladyship will be removing to Redgrave Manor until all is set to rights.”

“Sensible,” Daisy said, nodding. “Mr. Redgrave and I will also be out from underfoot as soon as possible. You are a marvel, Soames. Her ladyship is a lucky woman to have you.”

The butler straightened his spine, clicked his heels together and favored Daisy with another, this time deeper, bow. “The miss is too kind.”

“The miss is exceedingly grateful for your kindness and discretion,” she said, feeling her powdered cheeks flushing naturally.

She entered the drawing room, still lovely, although missing two very large carpets, to find her ladyship occupying the same chaise she had reclined on the previous evening, while Valentine rather melted into a couch, his booted feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the low table in front of him. He hastened to his feet, waiting as Daisy curtsied to Trixie before motioning for her to join him.

When she sat down, arranging her borrowed skirts around her, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, but apparently, as age had done little to her ladyship’s physical appearance, it had likewise shied away from fiddling with her hearing.

“Most definitely, pet. I knew that shade of pink would be perfect for her.”

Valentine was still looking at Daisy, stroking her hand. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

Daisy turned to smile at Trixie. “I’m not, you know, although he most certainly is the most handsome man in the whole of England, at the very least. But, as he refuses to be dissuaded, I’ve at last decided to humor him.”

Trixie clapped her be-ringed hands in clear delight. “Oh, I see I m going to love you, young lady. Look, he’s blushing.”

“If you ladies are done poking fun at an innocent and apparently hapless man? Daisy, I was just now asking Trixie if she might have any notion as to who attempted to turn us all into cinders last night.”

“And I was just responding that I believe the blaze was meant for him after he made such mischief for the Society at Fernwood, as I believe myself to be universally loved and admired,” Trixie countered neatly. She toasted him with her wineglass. “And the shuttlecock is on its way back over the net to you, pet. I can keep this up all morning.”

Daisy could sense Valentine’s frustration. Clearly his plan wasn’t working. She herself was more accustomed to the direct approach, although she wasn’t entirely against the role of amused observer as these two volleyed back and forth.

“All right, let’s try it this way,” Valentine said, once again sitting back at his ease, pulling Daisy back with him and lifting his feet onto the tabletop once more. He really favored his comforts and, she had to admit, she could get rather used to not forever sitting erect, as if one had a board strapped to one’s back. Although, at this moment, she believed he was mostly using her in an attempt to convince the dowager countess he and his questions were harmless. “After the fire at the dower house, you and Richard didn’t come straight here to Cavendish Square, correct?”

“There wasn’t a fire, Val, there was a conflagration.” She smiled at Daisy. “The entire pile burnt to the ground, and beyond. If I were a romantic, which I’m not, I would say it burnt halfway to hell. It was magnificent.” She turned back to Valentine. “I’ve heard from your brother, and he and Jessica are going to have both tennis courts and a croquet lawn in its place.”

“Wonderful,” Valentine answered flatly. “Where did you— Damn, who let these two in here?”

Two small, plump yellow dogs with rather black, smashed-in faces had come bounding into the room, the pair of them heading straight for Valentine, yipping and yapping and attempting, it would seem, to climb him. “Gog! Magog! Down. You hear me,
down!
”

“What very
different
names they have. Oh, stop, Val. They’re excitable, I agree, but obviously harmless.”

“They’ll be
hairless
in a minute,” he responded as one of the pair began nipping at his shiny Hessians.

Ah, well, do what you do best,
Daisy told herself. She snapped her fingers, twice, and then said in her most stern governess voice, “Gog, Magog. Down. At once.
Sit.
”

The two dogs immediately aimed their rumps at the floor, their pink tongues lolling, their tails thumping against the marble floor, their eyes trained on Daisy in case she should ask something else of them, anything at all.

“How the devil did you do that?” Valentine asked, inspecting the damage to his boot. “They don’t listen to anyone.”

“I don’t know,” she told him, dipping her head slightly since he seemed able to see things in her eyes, perhaps even small fibs like the one she’d just uttered. “People—and dogs—just seem to want to obey me. I suppose they know I mean what I say and will brook no nonsense from them.”

“I believe I’ve just seen my future,” Valentine said glumly as his grandmother laughed in delight.

“You may laugh, my lady, but enjoyable as it is to see Valentine flustered, it’s time for us to get down to cases.”

“Oh, such a matter-of-fact tone you have, Miss Marchant. First my dogs, and now me? Very well, Daisy. Clearly you two have a broadside prepared between you. Fire away.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” Daisy responded, even as Valentine briefly lifted her hand to his lips. “Now, I believe your grandson was inquiring as to where you traveled after leaving Redgrave Manor, and before returning here yesterday. Please enlighten him, and then you and I will go shopping. I would value your opinion if he’s to outfit my sister and myself from head-to-toe, which he has promised. He brags he’s nearly odiously wealthy, and I’ve never before shopped without pinching every penny until it squealed. I’m looking forward to emptying his pockets.”