Lady Priscilla's Shameful Secret Read online

  He nodded. ‘I expect half of London has as well. Is there any meaning in it?’

  He doubted her. If she asked him, he would swear it wasn’t so, but the few lines of text worried him more than he cared to admit. She should not have been surprised. If her father and stepmother did not trust her, then why should this man, a virtual stranger to her, be any different?

  It hurt.

  She took a breath. ‘Of course not. I have not seen him. And if I do, I do not mean to seek him out. But I suppose it is possible that someone saw us in the same place at the same time and assumed the worst. Or it could simply be a lie meant to upset me.’ And him as well.

  ‘Very well, then.’ She felt a little of the tension go out of him with the breath at her ear. ‘If you tell me that it is nothing, we will speak no more about it. I trust you.’

  It was an honour to have that trust. But it made her no more comfortable, for it was a great responsibility. ‘I fear I will be a disappointment to you,’ she said through a bland smile, afraid to turn and look at him. ‘I will not be able to control what people say about me. The gossip made mention of you as well.’

  He touched her arm. ‘While your desire to protect me from my own worst impulses is a noble one, you must let me decide what it is that will make me happy. And I am beginning to suspect that the only thing likely to make me happy is you.’

  He said it casually, as he said everything else. And that nonchalance made it seem all the more important. This was not some florid compliment, meant to turn her head. She was the font of someone’s future happiness. He truly felt that the room was a more beautiful place for her presence in it. She felt the last resistance in her cracking and breaking from the gentle pressure in a way that a full onslaught would never have achieved.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, with equal neglect, smiling into the room and wishing she could turn and sink into his arms. ‘But I would think my family could have told you by now that, for all you might gain by marrying me, I am unlikely to bring you any real joy. They all tell me that I am an endless source of trouble.’

  ‘To them perhaps you are. But I doubt they will understand you as well as I mean to.’

  ‘You offer me understanding?’ If he was not careful, he would make her lose her composure and spill the contents of her heart, right here in a crowded ballroom. She wanted to tell him how tired she was of London and of the people in it. And how life only seemed more frightening, the more she learned about it.

  Instead, she gave what she hoped was a sophisticated nod. ‘An interesting gift. And it has the advantage of being inexpensive as well.’

  ‘Unlike the other presents I’ve given you, which set me back a pretty penny.’ He was leaning forwards just enough so that he could speak into her ear without arousing the attention of the other guests. To them it might look as though he were commenting about the dancing, or the other guests. ‘You are wearing them tonight, are you not? I can see the gloves. But I can hardly request that you lift your skirts so that I might examine your legs.’

  ‘I will set your mind at rest, then. The stockings are where you would expect them to be. That was your intention in giving them to me, was it not? That they be worn together.’ She smiled, fumbled with her fan for a moment and dropped it upon the floor at her feet. Then said rather loudly, ‘How careless of me.’

  ‘Allow me to get that for you.’ As he stooped to retrieve the fan, she swayed in time to the music and raised her skirt just enough so that he might see her ankle. Then she let it fall into place again and he rose and handed her the fan.

  There was a trace of a sly grin on his face, in place of his usual guarded expression.

  ‘Satisfied?’ she asked and smiled back, feeling as wicked as ever she had.

  ‘Not by half. But I hope, soon, to change that.’ His voice was a low rumble in her ear that made her nerves dance. And this time it was not with fear, but with the playful excitement that she had felt on the previous day.

  ‘Do not forget where we are,’ she said, more to herself than to him. ‘This is a rather public place to be having such a discussion.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ he countered, all innocence.

  ‘You know perfectly well,’ she said.

  ‘Then I suppose you will disapprove when I remind you that the things I have given you be worn next to your skin,’ he said, absently. ‘Jewellery is far too cold to symbolise what I think, when I look at you.’

  It had not occurred to her, before this. She had thought the impropriety came from a lack of manners, but he had known exactly what he was doing from the first moment. Her arms and legs were encased in his gifts to her, a continual and intimate touch. He might be offering marriage, but he was trying to seduce her as well.

  ‘It is not enough that my gifts touch your body,’ he said. ‘I want each one to be a caress. Perhaps I shall purchase a silk ribbon to wear at your throat. Or a fur muff, to warm your hands in winter. But first, a chemise.’

  There was nothing awkward about his suggestions tonight, nor were they meant as jokes. He was speaking truth into her ear. The fact that they were surrounded by people made it all the more erotic. She felt a tingle down the length of her spine, as though he had passed a hand along her skin.

  ‘What do you favour?’ he asked. ‘Linen? Lawn? Or the smoothest China silk, caressing the most intimate parts of your body.’

  Then he laughed to cover the sound she made, which was close to a moan of suppressed desire. She glanced around hurriedly and was relieved to see that the people nearest to them were too caught up in the music to notice her behaviour.

  ‘Perhaps I shall give you all three,’ he continued. ‘We shall experiment, to see which you prefer.’

  ‘Stop doing this to me.’ She could feel the same trembling in her legs that she’d felt in the salon, after he’d stolen her stockings.

  ‘I? I am doing nothing, Lady Priscilla. You said that you were afraid of my touch. And I am barely doing that, you must admit. My hand is on your arm. That is all.’ His fingers rested gently on the few inches of bare skin between glove and sleeve. It was hardly intimate.

  He must know that she was burning for him. Her knees were weak and her thighs were wet. ‘Reighland,’ she said in warning, ‘I will not even allow you my arm if you do not stop this instant.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ he said and his hand dropped to his side. ‘Now, back to the subject of your new chemise. I would hope that you select something that is not the least bit practical. I would replace it, of course, if, for some reason, it were to be torn.’

  Was he suggesting what she thought he was? It hardly mattered. She could imagine the torment of being rubbed to arousal by silk and picture him putting gentleness aside and ripping some sheer nothing from her body before taking her to bed. She had a brief, fearful memory of what the past had been, then rejected it. Awful though that might have been, right now, every inch of her being ached with the need to be closer to Robert.

  ‘Please.’ She turned her head and said it so quietly that no one else but he could hear the need in her voice.

  ‘What, darling?’

  ‘I can no longer fight you. Nor do I wish to. If it is possible to give myself to anyone, then I am yours, body and soul. You may have whatever you want from me. But please, do it quickly, and give me some relief. Do not torment me in public.’ Even now, she felt on the verge of the sort of very physical reaction that she had never felt outside her own solitary bed. Never except for her time with the Duke of Reighland.

  ‘Very well, then.’ He took her hand and she trembled at the thought of the contact, even through the protection of the delicate leather. ‘I doubt that all the guests will be happy with this revelation. But at least we will be sure that the papers will talk of nothing else tomorrow.’ As he looked into her eyes, he reached into hi
s pocket and she felt the suddenly increased heaviness of her hand as a ring was slipped on to her finger.

  ‘What is this?’ she said, confused.

  ‘The Reighland betrothal ring. You said I could do what I wanted, as long as I did it quickly. And this is it.’

  She was shocked and perhaps a little disappointed. When she spoke, her voice was too loud and she could not manage to care if anyone heard. ‘I assumed that you meant to pull me into an alcove and ravish me.’

  He touched her gloved fingers to his lips. ‘First things first. Now that I know I have your co-operation. I wish to formalise our relationship in the eyes of the ton.’

  ‘Marriage.’

  ‘Engagement, at least.’ He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘It is what couples normally do before attempting congress.’

  People who did not include her, she supposed. She hoped that this was not meant as a rebuke to her morals. But it did not seem to be, for he was smiling at her. And he had offered to marry her.

  ‘It is not as if I do not wish to pull you into the musicians’ gallery and have my wicked way with you,’ he consoled. ‘Just not tonight. Mrs Tremaine will be in alt that her ballroom is the location that I make the announcement. It is a social coup. But I doubt her hospitality will extend to allow sporting in dark corners. She was a vicar’s daughter, after all. Now, come, let us make the announcement.’

  ‘Announcement?’ she said, still trembling from excitement, but going rapidly numb at the sudden change things that taken.

  Robert was leading her towards the front of the room and paused to whisper a few words to Rosalind Tremaine, who clapped her hands together in elation and signalled for the musicians to pause.

  All heads turned in their direction. Robert explained, politely, and briefly, that Lady Priscilla had just done him the honour…

  She had been trapped, although she was not quite sure how it had happened. He had not showered her with gifts, since two was hardly a shower. Nor had he given her his undivided attention for months on end. Although, in the brief times they had been together, she had felt she had it.

  And he had certainly not smothered her with his lovemaking. During the aborted attempt on the floor in his house, she had been quite terrified. But beyond that he had kissed her lips only once. And he’d kissed her ankle, of all places. That was at the same time most improper and hardly improper at all.

  And yet she could not help thinking that they had been together for ages. How else had she become so totally aroused by the thought of the man? Although she had sworn she never would, she was eagerly doing what her father had wanted all along.

  It galled her. But it was almost worth it to see the shocked looks on the faces of the other girls. Char Deveril was there in the crowd, looking as though she had just swallowed a toad. Apparently she’d had designs on Reighland, just as everyone else had. But considering the speed with which Char had turned on her last Season, holding her up for ridicule and cutting her when they met on the street, Priss was not the least bit sorry for her.

  Her feelings were much more confused when she saw her father. Benbridge looked as she remembered him from before Ronnie, and even before her elopement. For the first time in ages, he was truly smiling at her. He was accepting the congratulations of other guests as though the good fortune was entirely his. Veronica was a portrait of icy triumph, ready to use this new connection to cement her place in society. And when her father looked at her, it was with all the pride and approval he had used so many months ago, when she had still been his favourite.

  For a moment, Priss was almost happy. That time had been easier, for her at least. Her sister had suffered, but she had been happy, in her own selfish fashion. She had not realised how quickly favour might be lost.

  ‘Dance with me,’ Reighland demanded. The suggestion was ordinary and, as usual, ever so slightly rude. He should have said ‘please’. But it pulled her out of her reverie and back to his side. His words were full of invitation and hidden meaning, just as they always seemed to be. Out loud he had demanded a waltz. But in her mind, he had suggested something quite different. Love me. Make love to me and with me. Let me please you.

  She sensed no conditions upon them. Reighland was as unchangeable as a mountain. He would be her rock. As he led her out on to the dance floor, she leaned upon his arm and smiled.

  He leaned forwards to speak into her ear. ‘It is not so bad, is it? Marrying me, that is.’

  ‘I am getting used to it,’ she admitted, a little breathlessly, squeezing his shoulder where her hand rested and feeling the ring tighten against her fingers.

  ‘Good. Very good. I will still ravish you, of course. You need have no fear that I am uninterested on that front.’

  ‘Oh.’ What had she agreed to? The waves of passion that had caused her to agree to him were subsiding, as were the feelings of comfort. And like any ebbing tide, they were likely to uncover things she did not particularly want to think about.

  ‘Tomorrow, perhaps?’ he murmured. ‘I will be visiting one of my properties not far from London, not even a day’s ride. It is in the country, of course. Perhaps it is more rustic than you wish. Not one of Reighland’s fine houses, but a place I bought some years back. Still, it will be your home as well, once we are married. But it needs a lady’s touch. I would like to know what you think of it. We will be back by evening. Perhaps I can persuade your stepmother to allow an unchaperond trip, now that I have publicly declared my intentions.’

  Even with the engagement, she should definitely refuse him. It was quite risky enough to have the little meetings they’d had. If she was gone from home the whole of the day, travelling in a closed carriage with him, anything might happen.

  But what might happen would not matter to her father, any more than her indiscretions had mattered before Dru left. They had been hidden and that had been enough to please him. Now, she had accepted an offer of marriage from a duke. And to Benbridge, she might as well have been washed in snow. As long as the end result was her becoming Duchess of Reighland, her father would not give a fig for maintaining appearances. Her stepmother would not love her in any case. Priss sighed. ‘I will tell Ronnie that you wish me to have the house measured for furniture and new hangings. She will approve of my spending your money, I am sure.’

  ‘I will arrange it, then,’ Reighland said. ‘But do not tell her that we will be doing the bedrooms first.’ He smiled at her in a way that made her heart flutter, but whether it was excitement or fear she felt, she was not sure.

  Chapter Twelve

  Priscilla held her breath as the carriage drove round the bend and she caught her first sight of their destination. For all his talk of being a humble farmer, Robert Magson must have done quite well for himself, even before gaining the title. The simple country home that Reighland had described was larger than Benbridge Manor, with acres of parkland, riding trails, a grand house and many outbuildings. She could see the beginnings of gardens that would supply this house and the London property with fresh vegetables and herbs, and orchards blossoming that would be heavy with fruit come late summer and autumn.

  But this bounty was not the pride of the property. The fields surrounding the gardens were carefully fenced and the enclosed fields were dotted with horses: glossy blacks, chestnuts, dapple greys and rowans grazing peacefully, some of them great with foal.

  As they rode up the curved drive, she could see behind the house that construction of a larger stable was in progress. ‘I have only a small portion of the breeding stock here,’ Reighland said, glancing out into the field. ‘Most are still in the north. But it was too great a sacrifice to take on this supposed honour as Reighland and part myself from everything that gave me pleasure.’

  He was smiling down at the barns in a way that he never did while in town. Not even at her, she reminded herself. Mos
t of their interactions seemed controlled and distant, compared to the man she saw today, who laughed more easily as he allowed himself to relax in her presence. He seemed larger as well, as though being in the city was a continual restraint on his character. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to horses. They were large animals that did not require unusual tenderness on his part. He could be himself around them.

  The idea no longer bothered her. When the time came, she was sure he would take care with her. But it seemed that time had not yet arrived. If she’d expected the whole trip would be spent in amorous play, so far she’d been sorely mistaken. The two-hour journey had been quietly accomplished and their conversation a polite and rather banal rehashing of the previous evening’s events. A careful reading of the morning’s paper revealed no further gossip about a return of Gervaise. But Reighland had passed her a page with their engagement prominently displayed and assured her that it would settle much speculation and put an end to the rumours about her. ‘Do not let them see that you were bothered by the first notice,’ he said firmly. ‘I was not.’

  But he had asked her about it. If it had meant nothing to him, then why did he refer to it now? ‘Of course, Reighland,’ she said and willed herself to question him no further on the subject and trust that it was closed. Now that they were no longer sparring with each other, it was possible to view the sudden silence that fell between them as a comfortable thing. She need have no fear of what he might think during it.

  And it did seem that, if he thought of anything, it was of horses. The lulls in their conversation were filled with unusually detailed descriptions of his animals, their bloodlines and the sires of their expected offspring.

  Then he broke off suddenly and cast an apologetic look in her direction. ‘I am sorry if I am boring you more than I usually do. But I do tend to lose track of time when I am talking of cattle.’