Whisper To Me of Love (20 page)

Read Whisper To Me of Love Online

Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
13.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
He held Jacko's life in his hands, so he didn't really fear Pip's oldest brother, but it might behoove him to gain some hold over Ben—besides his brother's life, of course. Yes, it would be wise to bring young Ben to heel—nothing as spectacular as the murder he had arranged for Jacko's benefit, but something that would strongly remind Ben where his loyalties lay... .
Jane's two sons had never interested him overmuch, and a bored yawn escaped him. Deliberately he turned his thoughts to other things, such as his proposed removal from the city. London was beginning to get a little thin of company, and he was almost looking forward to a change of scenery—about this time of year, most of polite London deserted the city for the delights to be found at the seashore or, in some cases, at various country estates. He hadn't quite made up his mind yet whether he would follow the Regent's lead and stay at Brighton, or accept one of the many invitations he had received to stay at one of the more palatial country places. Inhaling again on his cheroot, he thought about it awhile, briefly even considering a stay at his own sumptuous estate in the country. It all, he finally decided, depended on the situation with Pip... .
Coincidentally, he was not the only one that day speculating on plans for the removal from London. Royce and Zachary, just rising from an excellent repast prepared by Ivy Chambers, were discussing the very same topic.
“You're going to be staying with Julian Devlin?” Royce asked in some surprise. “I realize that you two have settled whatever differences lay between you, but are you certain you want to spend several weeks in the country with him?”
Zachary smiled sheepishly. “I know it seems odd, but once we put aside our posturing and stopped trying to get the better of each other, we discovered that we have many interests in common.” His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Julian says that there is great fishing at St. Audries and that we can do some
real
riding and driving, not just those tame gambols in Hyde Park that pass for riding in London. It seems
forever
since I have had a bruising good ride! Everything is so restrained here. I am most eager to leave the city, I can tell you!”
Zachary's statements were not great revelations to Royce. He had been fairly confident that at first Zachary would be utterly fascinated by what a wicked city like London had to offer an enterprising youth, especially an enterprising youth who had never been to a city larger than the sleepy little town of Baton Rouge on the Mississippi River in Louisiana, and he had been prepared for his young cousin's interest to wane once the initial impact of London had faded. Aware, too, of the dearth of company to be found in London as the summer progressed, Royce had been considering several invitations they had received to visit various relatives and friends in the country. He had made no definite commitments as yet, and Zachary was old enough to make his own plans, so Royce had no real objections to his young cousin's proposed stay with Julian Devlin ... except the Earl would no doubt be in residence, and Royce was concerned that Devlin might make Zachary's visit extremely uncomfortable.
Glancing across at Zachary as they entered the salon, Royce asked thoughtfully, “And the Earl? Have you forgotten him?”
Zachary shook his head. “That was my first question to Julian, but he says his father seldom stays at St. Audries Hall. Says it has too many painful memories for him.”
Royce's left eyebrow rose skeptically. “Painful memories? The Earl?”
“Hmm,” replied Zachary as he threw himself down on the sofa. “Julian says the Earl was very devoted to his sister-in-law, and when she died, he discovered he couldn't bear to remain in a place that reminded him so much of her tragic death.”
His face wearing an expression of sardonic disbelief, Royce retorted, “We
are
talking about the same man, aren't we? The seventh Earl of St. Audries, Stephen Devlin? A more haughty, arrogant bastard I have never met! And you are trying to tell me that he actually suffers from tender sensibilities? Now, I can't imagine why I have trouble believing that!”
Grinning, Zachary said, “Well, according to his son, it's the
only
tender emotion the Earl has ever expended on anyone other than himself! Supposedly it is the Earl's excessive attachment to his deceased sister-in-law that caused the final rift between the Earl and his Countess.” Zachary's grin faded just a little as he added, “I understand that the Dowager wasn't your usual old dragon—she was reputed to be charming, very young, and
very
lovely—and Lucinda apparently made it abundantly clear that she was not the least bit unhappy when the other woman died in childbirth. Of course,” he added bluntly, “
she
wouldn't be—the Devlin fortune of which Lady Lucinda is so quick to mention came from the Dowager Countess. If the poor little thing hadn't left all of her worldly goods to the Earl, the Devlins would be poor as church mice!”
Interested in spite of himself, but unable to suppress the teasing comment, Royce drawled, “My, but you and Julian really seemed to have covered a great deal of family history in a very short time!”
Flushing slightly, Zachary answered quickly, “Oh, it's not Julian who told me everything. Leland's mama and Lady Lucinda are bosom friends, and it is Leland and Jeremy who explained everything to me when I commented once on the coldness between Julian's parents—it is very obvious, even to a stranger like me, that there is no love lost between them. Leland swears it is because the Earl had fallen in love with his brother's widow and that Lucinda could never forgive him for it. According to Leland, Lady Lucinda has an exceptional memory, and even after nearly twenty years, she is still full of envy and hatred for her dead sister-in-law. Leland's mama claims it is because Lucinda really wanted to marry the Earl's older brother, the sixth Earl, and that Lady Lucinda hated his young widow simply because he chose to marry her over Lady Lucinda.
He
evidently was
nothing
like Julian's father! Leland says that everyone thought that the present Earl's brother was a smashing fellow. They called him the ‘Dashing Earl,' and he was very well liked amongst the ton. From what I've seen, I'll wager that Julian is more like his uncle than his father!”
A fascinated eye on Zachary's face, Royce replied faintly, “How, er, enlightening. I cannot tell you how ...
overcome
I am to hear all this positively riveting information about the Earl and his family.”
Zachary shot him a suspicious look, and seeing the amusement twinkling in the topaz eyes, he laughed. “Leland is a good gun, but he
will
go on and on!”
“Yes,” returned Royce dulcetly, “and you seem to have picked up the same habit!”
Zachary smiled ruefully. “Well, you can't deny that it really is an absorbing story. I mean, the dashing Earl marrying a great heiress half his age, and then, just when everyone expected him to settle down into obscurity in the country with his young and beautiful bride, he was murdered! And then the bereft young widow was consoled by his brother, who inherited the title and who, incidentally, was known to hate him, and then
she
dies, and her baby daughter with her—it's like something Shakespeare would have written!”
“And since when,” Royce asked dryly, “have you become such an ardent admirer of the bard? If I remember correctly, you flatly refused to accompany me to the theater a few weeks ago to see
Othello
performed.”
Zachary pulled a face. “Oh, that! It's not the same,” he said in a dismissing tone.
They conversed idly for a few moments longer, and then, as usual, Zachary disappeared, intent upon his own pursuits. Royce was thoughtful after his cousin's departure, and wandering about the elegant salon, he considered the information that Zachary had just imparted to him. It was history, many of the main characters dead for over twenty years, and yet Royce found it strangely riveting. Was it because Stephen Devlin had inherited a fortune from his brother's widow that he was so quick to resent others who had acquired wealth in more traditional manners? Could these long-ago events explain the Earl's aversion to him? He doubted it, but Zachary's words kept spinning through his mind ... especially that part about the infant daughter who had died at birth....
If Royce found the Earl's history interesting, Pip would have been fascinated by it. After all, Zachary had been talking about
her
family, even if her relationship was on the wrong side of the blanket!
In the days since she had come to the house on Hanover Square, she had almost managed to push aside the knowledge that she had actually seen the man who had fathered her. Jacko and Ben didn't even know that she had discovered her father, and while errant thoughts of the tall, haughty gentleman she had seen that fateful day flitted through her mind, there was little she could do to find out more about him. From his clothing and bearing, she knew him to be a gentleman, but beyond that, she knew absolutely nothing about him. She didn't even know his name, and though she was certain Royce would tell her if she asked him, she was oddly reluctant to do so. It wasn't that she wasn't curious—she was, almost insatiably so, and she would have hung on every word that Zachary had uttered about the dead Earl and his wife—but there was something about the man she believed to have fathered her that made her distinctly uneasy. Something in the cold gray eyes and the forbidding set of his mouth that made Pip not precisely enthusiastic about furthering her acquaintance with him. And being of a somewhat practical mind, she didn't think that knowing more about him would change her life in any appreciable manner. He had obviously put Jane from his mind a long time ago, and his only emotion upon learning that a daughter had resulted from his liaison with a high-flyer he had once kept would probably be annoyance.
In spite of being the newest and lowliest servant in the household, her days spent rushing about from one task to the other, constantly at the beck and call of all the other servants, Pip did have moments of quiet in which, when images of Royce did not dominate her brain, she had thought about the gentleman whose features were so like her own. It was true she was not particularly eager to get to know the man she believed to be her father, but it was also true that she could not help the occasional little fantasy in which, upon learning of her existence, her father swept her away to a marvelous life of ease and luxury where she was his much-doted-upon daughter.
Far too often for her liking or peace of mind, however, she had other, more vivid, fantasies, and these were invariably centered about her large, handsome employer. As in the daydream involving her father, Royce, too, swept her away to a life of ease and luxury, but there was
nothing
paternal in the way Royce treated her! Nearly every night, in the privacy of her cramped room as she lay on her hard little bed, memories of the way Royce had kissed her would insidiously invade her mind no matter how hard she fought against them. Just remembering how it felt to have his strong arms around her, his mouth hard and seeking on hers, would cause her body to react wildly, and in mere seconds she would be moaning with frustration as wave after wave of intense desire would sweep over her.
Pip tried desperately not to dwell on what had happened that evening in the library when Royce had taken her in his arms and kissed her, but in spite of all her good resolutions to the contrary, the memory would not go away. If anything, it became more powerful and more insistent, until her young body was almost constantly in a state of yearning arousal, burning with the need to have Royce's muscled length pressed against her, to feel again the savage possession of his mouth on hers.
She had not slept well since that evening, her nights spent in restless tossing on her bed, and her sleeplessness was beginning to be noticed by the others. By Tuesday she was pale and wan, the purple shadows under her eyes giving her the appearance of a starving waif. That morning, as the servants were hastily eating breakfast in the big kitchen, Ivy worriedly expressed the concern that they were giving her too much to do. Afraid that someone would realize that it was sleepless nights spent longing for their employer's embrace that caused her wan look, Pip had felt her face flame with embarrassment, and she had quickly assured Ivy that such was not the case. To prove her point, she worked tirelessly that day, hoping that perhaps she could exhaust her slender body so that when night fell, she would not once again be tormented with images of Royce making love to her.
Unfortunately, no matter what she did, she was still beset with the most erotic thoughts and fantasies imaginable and she tossed fitfully on her bed, her body aching for the touch of one man. This must have been how my mother felt that first time, she thought miserably as she stared unseeingly at the ceiling overhead. Had Jane lain awake night after night so bedeviled by the longings of her flesh that finally she could bear it no longer and had given in to the urgings of her body? Had the hunger for one particular man been her mother's downfall? And was she on the point of making the same mistake?
C
HAPTER
13
P
reoccupied with her own thoughts, Pip moved about the house in an unhappy daze. She was faced with a dilemma that was becoming more and more painful with every passing day. Even the fear of the one-eyed man had momentarily vanished from her mind, and though she was conscious of missing her brothers, of longing to see and talk to them, the majority of her thoughts were centered on how she was going to resolve the powerful attraction that existed between herself—a guttersnipe, bastard, and thief—and the wealthy, wellborn master of the house. To make matters worse, her problem was tangled up not only with the nearly irresistible magnetism that existed between them, but also with the changes that living in his house had made within her.
In St. Giles, she had accepted life as she had found it, and if, occasionally, she had wondered if there was some other future for her, she had been too busy thieving, and lately worrying about being forced to whore for the one-eyed man, to spend much time on speculation about her destiny.
But living in Royce's house had opened her eyes to an entirely new world. It wasn't just that the house was richly furnished with all manner of elegant objects that she had never dreamed of, let alone touched or seen; nor was it the enjoyable, regular meals; it wasn't even the pleasure of having her own little room with its hard, narrow bed, or of wearing a dress nor the joy of discovering what it meant to be
really
clean, that was making a radical impact on her. What affected Pip the most, aside from her preoccupation with the master of the house, was the notion that she was doing
honest
work, that she did not have to constantly be sizing up the person next to her with an eye to picking a pocket, that she needn't fear she would suddenly feel a rough hand on her shoulder and be instantly carted off to Newgate. No, here in Royce's house she was at ease with herself for the first time in her life, and she found that she delighted in the orderly routine that ruled the lives of his servants. She
liked
rising every day at dawn to join the others in the kitchen for a hasty meal before they went about their appointed tasks; she liked knowing that on Mondays and Fridays she and Hazel would be thoroughly cleaning the upper rooms; she liked knowing that on Tuesday she would be helping Ivy in the kitchen and that on Wednesday she would work with Sarah as the older woman patiently attempted to teach her how to mend linen and sew a fine seam; and she even liked knowing that every evening she would be helping Alice wash and dry the mountain of dirty dishes, the completion of that task signaled the end of her chores for the day.
As a matter of fact, she thought half-forlornly, half-blissfully, as she absently dusted the mantel in Royce's study, there was little about living in Royce's house that she
didn't
like, aside from his unsettling presence and the disturbing sensations he made her feel. And while she knew that someday she would have to leave the sanctuary of this house, the things she had learned while living here would remain with her forever. Never again, she vowed with a little scowl, would she be a thief!
Never!
She was
not
going to live the rest of her life in fear of being transported to some godforsaken penal colony or hanged on Tyburn! And since at the moment the chance of sailing for America seemed extremely slim at best, she was going to have to consider precisely how she intended to make her living once she left Royce's house. Which brought her back to her very painful dilemma. Was she, in spite of her best intentions, going to become a whore like her mother?
Until she had met Royce Manchester, she would have sworn vehemently that she would rather die than allow herself to become a rich man's plaything, but that was before her young body had been assailed by the heady desire that one man's kiss could arouse. Now she wasn't so certain.
Frowning blackly at an unoffending silver candelabra as she briskly whisked her dustrag over it, she asked herself for perhaps the hundredth time—would it really be so very awful if they became lovers and she let him buy her fine clothes and install her in a snug little house? Her lip curled. Every instinct cried out against what she was considering, yet ...
Moodily she walked about the room, dusting and cleaning, her thoughts dark and brooding.
What else is there for me to do?
she asked herself viciously.
Of course, I could aspire to be a servant in someone else's house,
she reminded herself uncertainly, but recalling the shocking tales from the other servants, horrifying tales of rape and sadistic beatings, Pip doubted that she would tamely bear any such abuse by brutal and disagreeable employers.
So what was she to do? she wondered exasperatedly. Hope that miraculously she and her brothers would gain passage to America? Hope that the one-eyed man would abandon his ugly plans for her? She snorted. That bloody well wasn't likely to happen! And while she was safe now, what would happen when either Royce grew tired of protecting her or he returned to America? She couldn't count on him standing between her and the one-eyed man forever, could she?
Furious with herself, she narrowed her eyes and stared grimly at the lovely carpet that lay on the floor. If she couldn't sink what pride she possessed and simply live to be at his command, she had better think of something else! Pacing the floor with restless energy, she considered the options available to a woman in her position and came to the conclusion that unless she wished to be a servant all her life, or intended to return to thieving, she had only one other way of gaining some sort of life for herself—selling her body—and that if she didn't want to end up like her mother, she was going to have to put a very high price on herself. Her small chin took on a stubborn tilt. If Royce Manchester wanted her badly enough, he should be willing to pay a high price, a
very
high price.... It was a repugnant thought, one that horrified her, and yet the St. Giles part of her, the part that had seen accomplished harlots of nine or ten hawking their pitifully young bodies to passersby, the part of her that acknowledged that her own mother had been a high-priced whore, commended her hardheaded practicality.
The whole business was too ugly, too sordid, to contemplate! But despairingly she reminded herself that women in her position had no business being squeamish or even hesitating when a toff like Royce Manchester expressed an interest in them. He'd already asked her what she would do if he made her an offer, and she'd be a fool if she let him off too cheaply. There were her brothers to think of, too! If she could bring herself to the sticking point, she stood an excellent chance of gaining what would be, for them, a small fortune, fortune enough to even buy a farm in the new land and to enable her brothers to fulfill their dreams. And if she had to sell herself to gain them all that—at least
she
would have chosen the man she wished to take her virginity, and
not
the one-eyed man!
Defiantly Pip tossed her black, curly head, deliberately ignoring the feeling of shame that curled in her stomach at the knowledge of what she was seriously considering doing. Quashing her reservations, ignoring the feelings of degradation and regret that hammered in her brain, she set her soft mouth in a grim line. The next time Royce Manchester decided to kiss and caress her, she thought obstinately, she'd make it very clear that while she had no objections to his touch—he was going to have to make it worth her while!
Her decision made, she should have felt relieved, but she was conscious of only a black emptiness within herself, and listlessly she continued to move about the room, not even aware of what she did. She was so lost in her unhappy speculations that she did not hear the door open and shut behind her, and the first indication she had that she was not alone was when Royce murmured with amusement, “I believe that you have dusted that particular picture quite enough.”
Startled, she whirled around, her heart slamming into her chest at the sight of the object of her thoughts standing a scant few feet behind her. He was garbed quite casually for this time of day, especially in London. He wore a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the open neck giving a tantalizing glimpse of curling, tawny hair at the base of his throat; formfitting russet breeches hugged his muscular thighs, making Pip intensely aware of his potent masculinity. A crooked smile curved his mouth, and the thick, tawny hair on his head was tousled as if he had run his fingers through it several times. There was a teasing glint in the depths of those tiger's eyes, and Pip was almost breathless simply staring at him.
Embarrassed by her reaction to him, she ducked her head and muttered some inane reply. Intending to put as much distance as possible between them, she hurried toward the door, but she had not taken more than a few steps before Royce reached out and caught her arm.
“Don't go rushing off so quickly,” he said easily. “I have been looking for you. I want to talk to you about some plans I have made for you.”
Her mouth suddenly dry, she glanced up at him. Was he going to ask her to become his mistress? Oh, Lord, she hoped not! Despite all her good intentions, she dreaded the idea of following in her mother's footsteps and compromising herself before sheer necessity
demanded
it.
It had taken Royce a great deal of steely determination to go in search of Pip with the set intention of telling her what was being planned, and he had sworn savagely to himself that not by so much as a blink of an eyelash would he betray how very much the thought of her leaving his house, of her leaving England, filled him with an odd feeling of despair. It should be easy enough to do, he had told himself repeatedly; after all, she meant nothing to him—even if he did find her devilishly enchanting! There would be other women—her intrusion into his well-ordered life and everything connected with her had been merely a fascinating little diversion. A few weeks from now he would be hard-pressed to remember her name, let alone what she looked like. Unfortunately, when he came upon her in his office and had barely begun his prepared little speech, Pip looked up at him, those fascinating gray eyes with their long, black lashes fixed earnestly on his face, and to his intense annoyance, he felt all his good intentions fading. All of them.
Cursing himself for being a lustful bastard and hoping that she had not noticed that there was now a prominent bulge in the front of his breeches where there had not been one before, Royce continued rather irritably, “I saw your brothers, and it was decided that the most practical manner of eluding the one-eyed man would be for all of you to sail to America. I've already seen my agent about arranging passage, and in not too many days you all should be on your way to an American port.”
Stunned by his words, Pip stared up at his lean, dark face, her eyes widening and her lips unconsciously parting. Leave him? she thought with a queer pang. Leave him and never see him again? She shook her head dazedly, as if unable to believe what he had said. America. He was sending her away to America. Was it only a short time ago that her one wish in life was to escape to America with her brothers? She fought down a wild desire to laugh and cry at the same time. How ironic—now that her dearest wish seemed to be on the verge of coming true, all she felt was a dull ache in the region of her heart.
She took a step nearer to him, one small, slim hand resting lightly on his chest. Her head tipped back, her eyes dark as the clouds heralding a thunderstorm, she asked recklessly, “Is that what you want? For me to leave?”
Royce might have been able to suppress his baser instincts if she had simply accepted his word without question, if only she had not touched him... . Through the fine material of his shirt he could feel the heat of her hand, and his body responded violently to her nearness, the ache between his legs becoming nearly unbearable, the hungry desire coiling even tighter in his belly, increasing his already rampant arousal. Did he want her to leave? A bitter smile curved his chiseled mouth. Oh, yes, he wanted her to leave ... as much as he wanted the sun to stop shining, the moon to stop rising, and his heart to cease beating....
In spite of all his good intentions, the proximity of Pip's warm body proved too great a temptation; his desire for her
and
the fact that he was seldom denied something he wanted combined together to override everything but the growing need to have her in his arms again. Unwisely Royce ignored any lingering doubts he may have had and let the passion that was within him dictate his actions. A frankly sensuous smile curving his lips, he brushed her mouth with his and murmured, “No, I don't want you to leave... . At this very moment, all I really want is to carry you over to that very comfortable sofa against the wall... .” His lips slid along her jaw, his teeth gently nipping the soft skin as into her ear he whispered, “I want to lay you there and strip every single piece of clothing from your body until you are naked in my arms ... and then I want to make love to you.
That's
what I want!”
Pip's breath caught in her throat, the blood thundering so loudly in her head that she could not think, could not concentrate on anything but the turbulent emotions Royce's words evoked within her. Dazedly she shook her head, trying frantically to clear her mind of the blatant erotic images that were insidiously filling it. This was wrong! She mustn't let this happen! And yet ... and yet, Royce's mouth was warm and caressing against the curve of her ear, the gentle bite of his teeth exciting, and a treacherous wave of desire curled in her belly.

Other books

Mr. February by Ann Roth
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Villain by Garnier, Red
The Matisse Stories by A.S. Byatt
Cunning Murrell by Arthur Morrison
Silence of Stone by Annamarie Beckel