A Lady Compromised (The Ladies) (15 page)

Chapter 22

Lady Delia had bathed, napped, and was finishing dressing, when the
maid brought a request for her to meet the Marquess in his study. She flushed a bit with nervousness, remembering their morning’s discussion of marriage and hoped he would not bring it up again. She was afraid he would pressure her and she did not wish to reveal that she would not marry him unless he loved her. Perhaps it was a silly prerequisite. After all, not many ladies were able to do as they pleased when it came to choosing a marriage partner and why should she be any different? But, tugging at her heart, was the desire that she should love her spouse. She need not marry for money as she had a fortune of her own, and she was lovely enough to attract a man who was rich enough not to require an heiress. It was a sad, but accurate assessment of the market for marriageable young ladies: bloodless and mercenary. But Lady Delia knew her options were less limited than the vast majority of young women in Britain.

As for whether she loved the Marquess, she was certain that she did not. He made her vastly uncomfortable and was excessively bossy. But did admit that she was attracted to him. Which was different from loving him, of that she was quite certain. He would simply have to be patient—because Lady Delia
had no intention of marrying without time for consideration.

When the message came from Amelia that his lordship wished to see her, she braced herself to stay the course and refuse his respects, if he renewed them. She glanced in the mirror and noticed that while her color was high, she looked otherwise quite presentable. She wore a pale yellow morning gown of thinnest muslin, embroidered with tiny green leaves that she had ordered only a fortnight before as a present to herself now that she decided she need not wear mourning anymore.

As she walked into the Marquess’ study, she found it as she expected: furnished with heavy, dark pieces covered in leather and piled high with paperwork. She wondered why he did not receive her in the drawing room, like a proper host. When she saw him again, cleaned up after his long night and clothed in a wrinkle-free coat of superfine wool that molded his broad shoulders, she shuddered slightly and told herself not to think about how beautiful he was.

“Good afternoon, Lady Delia,” he said, making her a most proper bow and leading her to a comfortable chair near the tall windows with a view of the garden behind the house.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she replied formally, hoping that if the conversation could continue in this manner, it would do a vast deal for her scampering nerves.

“Do you find your chambers appropriately comfortable and suitable to your needs?”

“But of course,” she returned. “I am quite comfortable. Thank you, my lord, for proving so excellent a host. I do hope I may trouble you to ask for a sitting room where I might write without disturbing anyone?”

“Of course,” Mason said, “But write? Do you have so many letters? I rather thought you were in hiding.”

“Not
letters
, my lord, but my novel. I must finish it before the twenty-second. It is due to the publisher on that date.”

“Certainly you are not proposing to draft a
second
work of romantic fiction?”

“I do indeed! How else am I suppose to support myself—“ and at the Marquess’ wave of a hand, she continued, “And even if I am able to gain control of my own fortune, I rather enjoy it. A lady should have an occupation to keep her busy.”

The Marquess laughed and asked, “Do you intend to take up study of the law also? Opera singing?”

“Do not be flippant, my lord. I do not intend to sit about and spend hours with a
modiste
or having my hair done. I should go quite mad.”

“In that case, since ordering clothing and having one’s hair dressed seems to imply a level of social interaction that is not quite safe for you at this point, I must approve of your literary ambitions.”

“It’s not as if they require your approval.”

“Lady Delia, I do not suggest they would, only that I am pleased to assist you in any way.”

“Excellent. In that case, I shall need to procure plenty of paper and a good fountain pen, as well as a small writing desk. Preferably, near a window. I have a short list of things I will also be needing, if I am to stay in your home, even as a refugee, until the matter of my guardianship has been sorted out.”

“If you would provide me with this list, I should be happy to arrange for the necessary purchases.”

“Oh no, I could not let you procure them. I much prefer to buy them myself. It will do me good to get out of the house.”

“My dear Lady Delia, it will not be possible for you to leave the house while you are enjoying my hospitality because you simply cannot be seen. Not only can you not be seen coming and going from my residence, you
must avoid being seen about this area of London. It’s not a little out of the way place like Charles Street—why, you might be recognized. Finally, it is not safe. Your purported guardian has designs upon your person.”

“What on earth is that to mean?
Designs upon my person? Have you spoken with him?”

“In a manner of speaking. I am in possession of various items of his correspondence and it is clear from these letters that he intends to compromise you in order to marry you and gain your fortune.”

“He wrote this in a letter to
you
?” Lord Durham squirmed. He had hoped it would not come to this.

“Not me, precisely.”

“You pilfered his personal letters while at Washburn Court!”

“Certainly not. The truth is—your guardian has a relationship of which I was unaware. A relationship with a person I know, to whom he confided these matters.”

“And who might this person be? How am I to be sure that you are not the person for whom they are intended? I may point out that you are the person he suggested was responsible for my ruination?”

“Delia, you have my word.”

“Your word?”

“Must I be satisfied with this?”

“You must, at this time.”

“I dislike these secrets, Mason,” she said, slipping into the use of his first name at her confusion and discomfort. He was at her side in an instant and took her hand.

“My dear Delia—“

“Do not condescend to me,” she begged, her eyes on his face. “Whatever is going on?”

Unable to help himself, he pulled her onto his lap in the chair. She gasped but he held her close, one arm around her waist and with another he took her hand.

“You need not worry—only trust that I can protect you as long as you remain in this house. I intend to discover how Rosewood was able to induce your father to draft guardianship provisions so conveniently in his favor and why he has been in correspondence with this—acquaintance—of mine, and for what. I only want you to know that you are safe here and you must trust me. I can and will explain everything to you as soon as I know anything. But at this point, I do not know enough.”

“Why not tell me everything now?”

“Because part of what I must tell you is my own fault. And I mean to repair the damage I have done through my own stupidity before I reveal it to you.”

Delia looked decidedly displeased and then decided not to rise to the bait.

“You are a silly, vain man and because of your vanity, will not apprise me of a mistake you have made that puts me in danger. That sounds exceptionally clever,” she said, lightly pushing against his shoulder with her gentle, tapered fingers.

“I’m pleased you are able to think as ill of me as if I had revealed my mistake,” Mason replied, taking her hand and lightly kissing the tips of her fingers. She shivered.

“I will think of you as I please, particularly if it is bad,” she said. “Just as I shall not forgive you for forcing me into that shocking nightgown last night.”

“Do not speak of that!” growled Mason. “I cannot be responsible for my actions if I begin to think of you in that ridiculous negligee. And now it’s too late,” he said.

He moved a hand to her shoulder to trace the delicate line of her collarbone to her chin, which he lifted to kiss her lips. His mouth was soft but firm and as she kissed him, the strange feeling deep in her belly began to flower again and she made a little moan as she opened her mouth. At that, the Marquess deepened his kiss and ran a hand down her leg to the bottom of her skirts, which he lifted as he brought his fingertips slowly up the inside of her calf to her knee. Her stockings were tied just below the knee and as his warm fingers touched the bare flesh, she jumped slightly but relaxed into his chest as he moved her knees apart.

His hands were warm and Delia felt slightly dazed as he caressed the soft skin above her knees. She plucked helplessly at his coat and was about to pull apart his cravat when Mason stilled her hand.

“If you undress me,” he said with a hitch in his voice, “There is no turning back. I can keep myself under control if I am fully clothed but not if you begin to pull off your only defense against me.”

Her breath was short and Delia gazed into his eyes, with pupils large with lust. She kissed his temple and ventured a kiss on his mouth but drew back as he leaned into her. Two could play at this game, she had decided.

“You are weaker than I,” she teased. “As I seem to be perfectly capable of keeping myself under control.”

“That is not true,” Mason said with a scowl. “You are simply ignorant and do not know what you may be missing. Whereas I do.”

“My ignorance is bliss then,” she said and kissed him again, this time on the jaw, near his ear. She traced his eyebrows and lips with a warm finger and said with complete guilelessness, “I haven’t the faintest idea how you are going to continue fully dressed when you are constantly undressing
me.
And in your own house, no less! I should probably refuse to be alone in a room with you for the duration of my stay.”

He kissed her again and groaned into her mouth. “That is certainly the wisest action, but I cannot say I approve.”

“Once again, you are insisting on approving my actions. Learn quickly, my lord. I shall do as I please.”

“But you agree that you will not leave this house without my protection, or without notifying me in advance? This is not simply my overwhelming boorishness but also the fact that you are technically in hiding.”

She sighed and turned away from him on his lap for a moment, feigning consideration.

“I suppose if I were a heroine in my own novel, I should cry and rage and refuse. But romantic
heroines are particularly blind to their own dangers, which is why they inevitably end up kidnapped. I shall endeavor to behave with more reason.” She tapped him on the nose and stood up.
              “Though I would prefer to sit on your lap and kiss you for the rest of the afternoon and evening, I really must needs finish my manuscript, which means I will forego that pleasure.”

Mason pulled her wrist and she fell into his lap again and he kissed her until she was thoroughly breathless. She pulled back and smiled at him.

“You are impossible. But I must finish my newest addition to the canon of flighty fiction. Perhaps I will add a new subplot involving a Marquess who cannot stop kissing the lady he is supposed to be shielding from a vicious guardian?”

“Another vicious guardian? Have you no imagination?”

“Hush. You haven’t the faintest idea how different this book is. Now,” she said, standing, “I will see you for supper. In the mean time, please direct me to where I may continue my writing.”

The Marquess sighed, but rose and led her out of the study into the front hall and then toward a back drawing room done in pale green with a pretty writing desk and two matching, delicate gilt armchairs from Morel & Hughes, upholstered in pale jade velvet. Then he froze.

“Harriet,” he said. Delia started with surprise at the pretty, young brunette lounging in a velvet-upholstered chaise as they entered the room. “Harriet, my dear, arise from your recumbent and unladylike position for one moment while I introduce you to my fiancé, Lady Delia Ellsworth.”

Delia and Harriet both gasped.

“How dare you!” Harriet shouted as she jumped up with glee, “You told me specifically you were
not
engaged to Lady Delia! My lady,” Harriet curtseyed sweetly at Delia and Delia did the same, mechanically, unsure of what to say.

“As I’m sure you are aware, the circumstances of our engagement were…unusual,” Mason began, “And I was unsure how to broach the subject. However, Lady Delia is unfortunately in a position where we cannot marry due to the refusal of her guardian, who wishes to marry her himself. Until we have untangled the legal documents purporting to grant this guardianship and preventing our marriage, Lady Delia must remain in our home, secretly.”

“How romantic!” sighed Harriet. “I have always wanted a sister! And now I will have one!”

Delia shot the Marquess a look of severe vexation but then smiled at the young woman. “Of course! I am delighted to be gaining a sister as well. I only regret we must meet in such odd circumstances. I was living quite happily on my own when your brother officiously forced me to move into his home, which in my opinion is quite inappropriate.”