A Scandalous Passion Page 6

  I trust you.

  She shouldn’t. The image of her breast and the softness of her skin burned their memory into his consciousness. It would be a very long time before he forgot the way desire had erupted throughout his body. Longer still before he could honestly confess he did not want to experience it again and see it through to its conclusion.

  The sensation left him wholly unsettled.

  “I should go see what is taking the broth so long.”

  “Thank you. I think I may be a bit hungry. That is a good sign, is it not?”

  “I suspect so.” Spence stood and gave his coat sleeves a sharp tug. He did not tarry longer. He didn’t dare. He marched from the room and took the servant stairs two at a time. He would hire one of Brampton’s daughters to attend Lady Caelie, even if he had to pay her a King’s ransom to do so.

  He did not dare chance her reputation being left to him, regardless of her misplaced trust. Not when her innocence, and his freedom, hung in the balance.

  Chapter Five

  A soft knock sounded at the door before it creaked open. Caelie lifted her head from the pillow, expecting to see Lord Huntsleigh. He had made himself scarce the past two days as she convalesced. He had checked in on her, and of course he had slept here. She found him one morning stretched out between the two chairs by the fireplace looking less than comfortable, not that he had complained.

  One of Mr. Brampton’s several daughters checked on her throughout the day, ensuring she had enough to eat and that her health improved, which it had. She had reached the point of her recuperation where the four walls were closing in on her and she craved fresh air. She had walked across the room yesterday after Lord Huntsleigh had left and did not fall on her bottom, though her legs did wobble. Her stomach had recovered well and today Elsie, the oldest daughter, had promised to bring her something heartier than broth and bread.

  Caelie pushed herself up onto her elbows as the door opened fully. It was Elsie who poked her head through, not Lord Huntsleigh. She ignored the pang of disappointment. She liked Elsie. The woman, a few years older than Caelie, had a no-nonsense, practical way about her she found very appealing, but Lord Huntsleigh was far more entertaining. On the occasions when he did stay, he had regaled her with tales of his boyhood and the shenanigans he, Nicholas and Mr. Bowen had gotten up to that sent his poor grandmother into fits.

  The stories were amusing and demonstrated the affection he obviously felt toward his friends. He thought of them as family, the brothers he never had, including Mr. Bowen who had been raised as the ward of Lord and Lady Ellesmere. This affection only served to improve her opinion of Lord Huntsleigh and as the hours whittled away, so did the reputation he had as a scoundrel. In truth, the future Marquess of Ellesmere was a good man masquerading as a rascal, though she did not doubt a little of the rascal remained.

  She flushed at the memory of two days ago when she awoke to find his gaze fixed upon her breast, a look of rapt desire burning bright in his blue eyes. It both thrilled and frightened her. Thrilled her, because she had never had a man look at her in quite that way before—as if he wanted to eat her up. And frightened, because of how her body had responded. Warmth had spread throughout her, languid and heavy. She’d reveled in it, breathed it in. Wanted more.

  The sensation shocked her. She’d feigned indignation; afraid if she didn’t he would think her loose. A woman who gave in to such scandalous passion would surely invite more. But her indignation had no strength to it, nor did it dispel the sweet ache that pulled between her legs.

  Elsie approached the bed and behind her two of the younger girls appeared dragging a tub.

  “Lord Thurston sent us, m’lady. He thought a warm bath would help make you feel better.”

  “How thoughtful of him,” she said. She shook the memory from her head. She must be on her guard. She could not risk Lord Huntsleigh discovering she struggled with the same weakness her father had for such wanton desires. She did not want to share her private shame.

  “Come then. We’ll get you out of bed and ready while they fill it up.”

  Once the other girls had finished filling the tub that had been set up by the fire, Elsie dismissed them.

  “Do you have oils or soaps, m’lady, that you would prefer to use?”

  “Oh, yes.” Abigail had gifted her with a set of soaps and bath oil that held the essence of wildflowers, Caelie’s favorite. “In the bottom trunk.”

  Elsie strode across the room and lifted the top trunk onto the floor as if it weighed next to nothing. She opened the bottom trunk and carefully set aside the underthings. “You like to read, m’lady?”

  “Yes, very much.” Her face flushed. She had stashed several books in her trunk when Mother wasn’t looking. “I know it isn’t considered very ladylike, but—”

  “Pish,” Elsie said with a wave of her hand. “A lady has as much right to read as any man, is my opinion.”

  “Do you read?”

  Elsie returned and poured a small amount of the oil into the bath then reached down a hand to mix it into the water. “I do, mum. My ma taught me when I was a girl, a’fore she died. She’d been in service before she married my pa and the housekeeper ’ad taught her, thinkin’ she might elevate her prospects. Didn’t work too much for her, but she thought it might do me some good.”

  “And did it?”

  “Lean your head back, m’lady,” she said and poured a ewer of water over Caelie’s head, wetting her hair. “I suppose it didn’t do me no harm. I know my letters and numbers and I taught my sisters, though some of ’em learned better than the others.” Her wry tone made Caelie smile. She had longed for siblings, but the closest she came was to share a womb with her brother. How different would Caelie’s life have been if he had lived?

  An idea struck Caelie as the heat from the water seeped into her bones and the scent of wildflowers washed away the smell of illness that had clung to her like a bad dream.

  “Elsie, do you enjoy your job at the inn?”

  “Oh, I suppose it ain’t too bad, m’lady. It wasn’t the life I ’ad planned for, but it’s the one I ’ave.”

  “What did you plan for?”

  “Guess I thought Rabbie and I might have a passel of children, grow old together.”

  “Rabbie is your husband?”

  “Was, m’lady. He died in an accident shortly after we were married. I came back home then. Didn’t seem much reason to stay where I was without my Rabbie.” The sadness that bled through Elsie’s words touched Caelie.

  “You must have loved him.”

  Elsie laughed a little and sunk her hands through Caelie’s hair and massaged her scalp with the soap Abigail had gifted her with. “At first, I thought him a stubborn mule, but he worked hard and he treated his horse with a gentle hand, so I figured he had a kindness to ’im underneath his stubborn hide. After a fashion we learned to love each other.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She didn’t know what else to say. She knew the pain of losing someone suddenly, but she suspected losing a husband brought a whole different kind of pain. Her Aunt Lorena had buried her husband and Caelie could tell a part of her had died along with him. The rest of her carried his memory around like a constant companion.

  “That’s mighty kind of you, m’lady. I thank you for that. Lean back now and we’ll give you a good dunking and get all the soap out.”

  Caelie did as the woman bade, one of Elsie’s strong hands holding most of her weight while the other pulled through Caelie’s mass of curls. When she finished, she handed Caelie the soap and washcloth.

  “Think you can manage?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She took them from her. As she washed herself, she mulled the idea she had been considering. It made a good kind of sense. Smart and efficient, Elsie had proven herself competent. Caelie had never hired an employee before. That had been left up to Mother. She had no idea the things she should ask.

  Caelie handed the cloth and soap back to Elsie when she was done
. “Can you dress hair, Elsie?”

  “Oh, aye. I ’ave seven sisters, m’lady. As the oldest, it usually fell to me, especially after Ma passed on.”

  “Would you…” She hesitated. How would she pay her? Caelie had no income of her own. Father’s fortune had dwindled to nothing by the time he had died and while she knew Benedict would find a spot for Elsie when they returned to London, that didn’t solve the issue of how she would pay her now. Then again, Lord Huntsleigh had indicated they needed to find a chaperone, so perhaps he would be willing, at least until they reached London.

  “Would I what, mum? Fix your hair for you? Such beautiful curls, won’t be no trouble at all. Truth be, it’s pretty all on its own. Don’t need much in the way of decoration or fixin’. Simple works best to show it off.”

  Her kind words warmed Caelie. Mother had always lamented her curls. Dreadful, awful things. But Mother was no longer with her. She had made her choice to abandon Caelie and as such, perhaps she should abandon Mother’s dictates in turn.

  “Elsie, would you be interested in taking a position with me?”

  Elsie worked another towel through Caelie’s hair, soaking the water out of her drenched curls. “What kind o’ position might that be, mum?”

  “I require a lady’s maid, at least until we reach London. Permanently, if you’re interested in staying longer.”

  “Where’s your lady’s maid now?”

  “Oh…I…she stayed on the ship. She’d taken a shine to one of the sailors.” Caelie rushed past the lie before Elsie could question it. “We can pay you a decent salary and if you find the position is not to your liking, or you miss your family, we will return you home after we reach London. You’ve only to say the word.”

  Elsie’s hands slowed and Caelie held her breath and prayed Lord Huntsleigh would not balk at paying Elsie. After all, having her present would benefit them both.

  “Ain’t never been to London,” Elsie said.

  “I expect you’ll have to discuss it with your father and get his permission—”

  “Permission?” Elsie chuckled. “I’m my own woman, m’lady. My decisions are my own to make, not Pa’s.”

  Caelie looked away to hide the surge of envy that filled her. Hiring Elsie was the first decision she had made on her own. Even decisions that should have been hers were often wrested from her control by Mother, who thought she didn’t have enough sense to make a good choice.

  But Mother was gone. In a sense, she had as much freedom as Elsie now. The prospect proved daunting, yet exhilarating at the same time. She could do and say whatever she liked without being constantly censured. Good heavens, the very idea made her head spin.

  “Then you will consider it?”

  “I suppose it might be a nice adventure to try somethin’ new, eh? At least for a little while. ’Course, I’d have to help Pa out while I’m here, what with Lord Iber’s wedding fillin’ us to the rafters. But I will come with ye to London and then we’ll see from there.”

  With the matter of a lady’s maid settled, Caelie let Elsie finish her work while her sisters came and removed the water, tossing bucketful after bucketful out the window before dragging the empty tub away.

  Once she had the room to herself again, she waited for Lord Huntsleigh’s return. She longed to go outside for a walk—she loathed being cooped up—but she could not risk it. She tried to read one of her books, but even that did not hold her attention for long and she took to pacing until her legs tired and finally she pulled a chair up to the window and stared at the stables below.

  In time, the sun set, casting an orange glow across the skies. Caelie’s stomach grumbled. She had asked Elsie to have a supper prepared for her and her husband, to be brought up on his return. Whenever that would be. Did he intend to stay out all night?

  She hated how the thought he might not return rankled her. She had no claim on him. He was her husband in ruse only. Granted, she had enough reason to demand he marry her for real. Marriage to Lord Huntsleigh would certainly eliminate the bulk of her problems, but she had given her word she would not trap him so, and she meant to keep it.

  Besides, how good a husband would he make when he treated the institution with the same reluctance he would being marched before a firing squad? She didn’t ask a lot out of a potential husband, but she would at least like a man who wished to be married to her.

  A soft tap at the door made her turn.

  “Lady Caelie? May I enter?”

  A rush of pleasure sent her to the door which she opened with a flourish. “Please, come in.” She swept her arm into the room but he did not move. Instead, he stood there mutely staring at her.

  “Is something amiss, my lord?” She touched her hair self-consciously. Had Elsie’s attempts at setting her hair come undone?

  Lord Huntsleigh shook his head but his gaze did not waver. Nor did the rest of him. He remained rooted to the spot.

  “Would you like to come in?” It seemed strange to ask him, given he had bought and paid for the room. She was but a guest here at his largesse.

  “Uh, yes. Thank you. I would.” But still he did not move.

  “You’ll have to put one foot in front of the other to manage that, my lord.”

  He nodded and stepped over the threshold. He stopped in front of her. “You look positively stunning. Ravishing, really.”

  Ravishing? No one had ever called her such. Oh, she had been a celebrated beauty when she made her introduction to Society, but Mother had repeatedly counseled not to let her vanity get the better of her, for she was no more beautiful than anyone else. Quite plain, in fact. And she had that hair to contend with, after all.

  “You’re kind to say so. Elsie did it. I…I hired her as my lady’s maid. I hope that pleases you, my lord.”

  His gaze started at the tip of her toes and traveled upward until it reached her face. He smiled, slow and easy. The impact of it whistled through her body like a warm breeze and made her legs weaken.

  “It pleases me fine.”

  “Good.” She flushed. His perusal had left her…what? Wanting? Yes. But what? What did she want?

  She looked at his smile and took in his rapt attention focused directly on her and knew the answer. She wanted him. The impact of it frightened her.

  “I gave instruction for supper to be sent up. Forgive me for being tardy.” Lord Huntsleigh closed the door behind him.

  “You must be famished, my lord.”

  “Indeed, I am.”

  She had meant with respect to dinner, but had the strange sensation he spoke of a different appetite altogether. An unexpected current in the air made the hair on her arms lift and tingle, not to mention other parts of her she did not want to consider. It was as if she had wandered out onto brittle ice and one misstep would send her falling through to the cold water below.

  He walked to the table set up near the fireplace and pulled out a seat. “Please, sit down. I do not want you to overtax yourself.”

  She obeyed his dictate, happy to rest her shaky legs. They made small talk while they waited for the food to arrive, though once it did, Caelie could not recall any of the topics they’d discussed. She’d spent most of her time stealing glances at Lord Huntsleigh. At the fine cut of his jacket, the lean muscles in his legs where he had stretched them out away from the table, and the fluidity in his hands as he arranged and then rearranged his utensils.

  By the end of the meal, her entire body had warmed and while she could blame it on the fire next to them, that would be a lie. This heat generated from somewhere deep inside, somewhere she rarely ventured, somewhere that scared her beyond comprehension. She feared this part of herself. It had led her down a dangerous path once before.

  They ate quietly, the silence only broken by the occasional comment on the tasty fare provided for their meal. Caelie ate what she could, being careful not to overdo it.

  After one of Elsie’s sisters came to take the plates away, Lord Huntsleigh paced about the room like a caged lion. In
fact, with his coloring, proud bearing, and agile gait, a lion was a good comparison.

  “Please do not feel you need to stay and keep me company if you would prefer to leave, my lord.”

  “Very kind of you, but I’m afraid the inn is crawling with dandies.” Lord Huntsleigh made a face as if he’d discovered the inn had become infested with rats. A description that was not far from the truth, should their ruse as Lord and Lady Thurston be discovered by someone who knew their true identities. “We should consider leaving soon. The longer we stay, the better our chance of discovery.”

  “I will be ready when you are.” She felt much improved and the trip from Hampshire to London would not take overly long. Delaying their departure no longer made sense.

  “Good. In the meantime, it appears we are stuck in this room for the evening.” It did not sound as if the prospect pleased him.

  “Perhaps we could entertain ourselves then.”

  He stopped pacing and looked at her, one eyebrow arched upward. “Indeed. What exactly did you have in mind?”

  Caelie swallowed. She’d forgotten for a moment she shared the room with an expert in seduction. Just that one small movement of his eyebrow coupled with the mischievous glint in his eye was enough to cause a nest of butterflies to erupt in her stomach.

  “Do you play whist?” They were two short, but surely they could improvise. Anything to take her mind away from the wings battering against her abdomen.

  “I do not. Do you play Three Card Brag?”

  “I’m afraid not. Mother frowned on such games of chance. She thought them the height of debauchery.” But Mother was not here, was she? “Perhaps you could teach me?”

  Lord Huntsleigh hesitated, as if giving the idea consideration, then he nodded. “It normally requires four to be played properly, but I think we can make due. Do you have cards?”

  “On the night table.” She had packed a set away in her trunk for the voyage. She’d pulled them out when reading did not hold her attention. The repeated games of solitaire she’d engaged in had not done much better.

  Lord Huntsleigh picked up the cards and returned to the table. “Are you certain you want to learn? This is hardly ladylike.”