A Lot Like a Lady (15 page)

Grey gave her a sidelong glance. “In that case, we should probably leave now.”

The smile she bestowed on him sent thunderclaps of heat racing through his body to knock against his heart, the sudden surge of warm desire melting a huge part of the cold barrier he had surrounded it with. Of their own accord, his lips curved up in response and he gave her arm a little squeeze.

All of a sudden, Grey’s tension drained. She energized him with her excitement. He stopped trying to remember the last time he had so thoroughly enjoyed himself, choosing instead to benefit from the pleasure of her company. He scarcely noticed any of the exhibits, but his companion’s reaction to the many sights fascinated him. It wasn’t enough for her to simply study the displays, she insisted on reading every detail from the guidebook and the companion he had purchased for her.

Enchantment washed over her face as she marveled at learning a giraffe stood more than seventeen feet tall, then cried when she read how someone named Mr. Gordon had killed one of docile creatures, deeming him the cruelest person in the world.

He opened his mouth to point out that it was hardly fair to curse Mr. Gordon when the very exhibits she was enjoying were compiled of animals that had met their end too soon as well and surprised himself by snapping his mouth shut. He refused to tarnish this experience for her.

She looked up at him, her eyes and face full of awe. “Isn’t it magnificent, your grace?”

You
are the magnificent one
. He cleared his throat, barely stopping himself before speaking the words aloud. “It… um… is quite interesting, Magpie.” How could he possibly answer her when he had not a clue to what exhibit she was referring?

“
Interesting
? Surely such elegant black and white stripes are better than interesting. Although, I must admit, your Spanish stallion is by far more beautiful than even the zebra.”

Her words flowed over him like balm. Grey wanted to touch her; either hold her hand or wrap his arm around her waist. He froze, shocked by the idea. He had never wanted to express affection in such a way before. His blood heated and his heart quickened. But it was something more as well. Something he shied away from considering too deeply in the same fashion Satan shied from the cart.

It wasn’t only that he wanted to touch her; he truly enjoyed just being in her company. As they wandered from section to section, he lost himself in watching her.

Who are you, really? Where have come from?

He thanked God she had come into his life… and then prayed for the Lord to keep her there.

Grey followed her, happy to let her study and admire at her leisure. Even found himself forgetting they were not alone. And when she read about the flying fish and laughed out loud, he joined her. Then when she saw the necklace made of human bone and declared it to be ghastly, Grey found himself agreeing.

Magpie surprised him by spending the most time at the display of birds. The information and facts seemed to intrigue her. Lips moving silently, she took care to read each paragraph of the guide, sometimes with a frown of concentration creasing her forehead.

“The eagle has been known to carry off a small child!” she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her abdomen in what appeared as a reflexive protective gesture.

Grey’s heart squeezed against his lungs at the image of his little magpie, her belly swollen with child. He struggled to draw his next breath, but she’d already stepped on to the next display, a case with hummingbirds.

“Oh my,” she said with a sigh, staring in awe and not saying another word.

The case with the crows drew Grey’s attention — in particular, the magpies. He stared at the bird with the white chest and lower body and black head and wings and then the larger of the breed with its glorious blue feathers that trailed into a long, elegant tail with a beautiful brownish red head and wings just slightly darker than
his
magpie’s eyes.

When exactly
did
I start thinking of her as mine?

The exit loomed ahead and Magpie sent Grey a pout that his heart echoed. A pang settled over him when he considered their return to the townhouse. How would he go back to the twisted normalcy his life had become of late after the past weeks spent in the magic of her company?

He couldn’t.

Placing a hand at her waist, Grey helped the Lady Magpie into the waiting carriage, allowing his hands to linger a little longer than necessary. The yellow muslin was even softer than he’d imagined. A bit of the museum’s mustiness clung on the air, but his nose sought and found the soft scent of roses that he’d come to think of as hers.

The coach set off with a tiny jerk and she leaned back into the seat, closing her eyes. Grey watched her. Had she tired herself so that she’d fallen asleep? After a time, a smile curved her lips and she popped her eyes open again, capturing his gaze.

“Thank you for a lovely day. What an amazing place, the museum. Truly, I cannot thank you enough for taking me there, your grace.” She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It does make me wonder what some of the animals would be like out in the wild.”

Pleasure embraced him and he smiled. “If you would like, I could take you to the Lion Tower. Although not quite the same as the wild, you can at least see several live wild animals such as lions and tigers.”

Her cat’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Truly?”

“I have engagements I cannot postpone.”
Especially after rescheduling them today
. He shrugged. “But perhaps a couple of days after the masquerade—”

She squealed with delight, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you!”

Grey’s body jumped to life and he stiffened. Her innocent gesture had him ready to explode if he didn’t put distance between them. He wrapped his hands around her arms and set her back slightly.

She tensed, but didn’t pull away. Grey needed no further encouragement. He crushed her to him and applied pressure to her mouth until she parted her lips. It wasn’t nearly enough. Driven to feel more, he deepened the kiss, savoring the tangy sweet taste of her.

When she softened in his arms and touched her tongue to his, it was nearly his undoing. He must stop soon, before he wasn’t able to.

With a sigh, Grey pulled back, but left his lips against hers and whispered, “Please… tell me your name.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Oh, let the words fly back into his throat. Why had he uttered the cursed things? And yet he waited in anticipation of her answer all the same.

Eyes widened, Magpie closed her mouth and turned from him to stare out the window beside her. The carriage stopped.

“Magpie—”

She shoved the door open and scrambled out. Her knuckles where she clutched the carriage whitened as her foot slipped on the cobblestones. Then she raced toward the townhouse, her honey-colored curls and the pale blue ribbons of her dress whipping in the wind.

Cursing under his breath, Grey stared after her, mired in the anguish of his own doubt and unable to move.

“Your grace?” The bewildered footman hovered in the carriage doorway. Grey frowned and the man stepped back.

What had possessed him? He’d ruined the moment by pushing her to reveal her true identity. And blast the deceitful chit for making him care.

“To White’s,” he ordered the driver.

****

Juliet raced up the stairs, uncaring that she sounded like a herd of horses.
Please don’t let anyone see me.
Tears blurred her vision, and she fumbled with the knob before managing to push the door open. By the time she reached her bed, sobs tore from her throat. She slammed her fist against the pillow.

Confusion and misery twisted her stomach and heart in knots. She never should have tried to be something she wasn’t. Now her very being ached for a life — for a
man
who could never be hers.

I have no one to blame but myself. I never should have let Annabella talk me into coming here.

Juliet buried her face in the pillow and cried harder. Had she known the extent of the deception she never
would
have agreed. She’d spent weeks waiting for a message that would allow her to leave with no one the wiser. And it hadn’t come. Had Annabella deceived
her
as well? Juliet dared not send a message to Haselmere asking her friend what had happened.

She hiccupped. Well, being found out was the least of her troubles now. She would hurt Grey. Lying to him wasn’t fair. A more decent man she’d never met — not even his father. And he didn’t deserve to be made a fool of.

Not for the first time Juliet cursed Annabella for putting her in this position. But she did curse herself this time too, along with her weakness when she’d agreed to the harebrained scheme.

She rolled onto her back and watched the play of late afternoon shadows against the window.

I should have told him the truth the moment I got here. Now… now… I’ve lied to him so much, I would not know where to begin trying to explain myself.

But that was exactly what she needed to do. He had opened his home to her, been gracious and kind, albeit grudgingly at first, rearranged his schedule — his life really — for his stepsister’s benefit. He’d made the sacrifices because of the wrong he had inadvertently done to Annabella and Regina. He’d given her his mother’s beautiful pearls. True, he hadn’t actually given them to
her;
he’d believed he was bestowing them on his stepsister, but still.
And… and…
She sat up, a chill wrapping around her.

I love him
.

Impossible!
Yet it was true. She loved him and couldn’t bear the idea of telling him the truth and hurting him, or worse… losing him.
You don’t have him.

Her trembling worsened. There was nothing for it — she had to tell him. To live in the shadow of the lie… such a course would only hurt them both.

She would ask to speak with him privately after supper and tell him the truth, even if it meant he tossed her out. Juliet brushed the tears away and climbed off the bed. She padded over the soft carpet to the window seat and sat, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. A carriage rolled by on the cobblestones below, the horses trudging slowly as they picked their way along the street. Shadows had lengthened in the late afternoon, but the sun had gone watery so they weren’t as stark as they had been earlier. The soft grey and tan of the townhouses across the street blended into the graying sky. Juliet’s tears soaked her cheeks.

A chill crept over her but she didn’t move until a soft knock echoed on the door and then it opened. “Lady Charity told me to fetch ye for supper, m’lady,” said Emily.

“Thank you, Emily. Would you be so kind as to let my aunts and the duke know I will be down as soon as I freshen up?”

“His grace ain’t here, m’lady,” Emily said as she lit the lamp on the bedside table. When had the room been cast into such darkness?

“He isn’t?” Joy surged at reprieve from her confession. When he learned of her deceit hatred would fill his eyes… Juliet’s throat squeezed.

“No, m’lady. I will tell your aunts. Is there anything else I can do you for?”

“No, thank you, Emily.”

The maid nodded and left.

Tears of relief welled and Juliet squeezed her eyes to stem them. She glanced at the armoire. It would be wiser to pack her few belongings, write Grey a note explaining everything, and leave before he returned. But where would she go? She knew no one in London and had no money to hire a hackney to take her to Wyndham Green. And it would hardly be fair of her to run away and leave Ladies Charity and Harmony to face the duke’s wrath. The mess was hers and she would accept the punishment for it.

“I am so sorry, Grey,” she whispered to the empty room.

The note could wait, though. The aunts were expecting her for supper.

The foyer was dimly lit when Grey returned home. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it off to Higgins.

“A letter waits on your desk, sir.”

Grey’s heart jumped. Further word from Jon? Certainly his own missive had not had time to reach his friend as yet. Had Jon realized Grey would need more information than he’d sent in his first message?

“Thank you, Higgins.”

“Shall I bring you a supper tray, sir?”

At the mention of food, Grey’s stomach offered mild protest and he shook his head. “No, thank you. That will be all for the evening.” He slipped into his study, where a fire crackled a warm welcome, and stepped to the hearth to ease some of the evening’s chill.

He hadn't had a settled evening since
she
had come to reside in his home. Maybe with Jon’s note would come the answers Grey needed to put an end to her ridiculous charade. He poured himself a glass of Madeira and stalked to his desk.

The ragged scrap of dark paper called to him from the center of his blotter as he sank into his leather chair, and he snatched it up. The seal was old and cracked, barely holding on. Grey turned the battered and stained letter over to find his name printed in bold block letters.

Fingers of ice raced up and down his spine at the sight of the familiar handwriting. “Will!”

Hope sparked, tangled with joy and wound a path outward from his madly beating heart. The silver letter opener with the Markwythe crest glinted in the firelight as he slipped the tip under the seal and then unfolded the note. The tremor of his hand blurred the words, so he set the paper in front of him and closed his eyes.

“Will,” he whispered, bringing his brother’s face to his memory. Light brown hair, always a bit unkempt. Laughing blue eyes that denied the seriousness of life.

A chill twined along his spine. The stinging words with which they’d parted company now jailed his memories of the amity they’d shared as youths.

Will had broken the news of his impending departure on their walk back to the house from the stables at the country estate shortly after their father’s death from a fever.

“What do you mean you’ve purchased a commission in The King’s Army? You have responsibilities here. To the land… the people.” Grey halted his steps near the low stone wall that edged the near pasture and stared at his brother. In the distance, a yearling colt of pale chestnut kicked up his heels.

Will expelled a heavy sigh, which stated more clearly than words that he wished to be anywhere other than engaged in a discussion on the subject of his impending military service. “Those were Father’s responsibilities.” He draped his long frame over the top of the moss-covered stone wall and stared into the field. “Never mine, not by choice. Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there? How much more of life awaits around the next bend? Over the next hill?”

“No!” snapped Grey. He’d long ago tamped down any desire for adventure. “Because I have duties here.” He folded his arms across his chest and gave his brother a stern look to remind him of his place. “As do you.”

William swung his gaze back to meet Grey’s, and he shook his head. “Do what you want with my holdings. Give it all away.”

Though his brother hadn’t moved, the air left Grey’s lungs in a gush as though he’d been struck with a fist in the belly.“Give away all Father worked for?”

“Worked for? It was handed to him and he’s handed it on to you and me at his death. I won’t have a title forced down my throat.” Will stood and stalked to the house.

Grey watched him walk away, following more slowly as he gave consideration to the situation. Somehow, he would find a way to convince William to stay. He had to.

But William had left before supper, while Grey had been in a meeting with the estate accountant, which he’d sat through, all the while wondering why his brother had failed to attend.

Grey opened his eyes and glanced at the letter again. Amid the mishmash of scribbling, written cross-hatch style, with the second page of the letter written sideways over the first, the first few lines assured Grey of Will’s continued well being and expressed the hope that Grey was in similar good health. A frown pinched Grey’s brow. Apparently his brother hadn’t been able afford himself the extravagance of a second sheet of paper.

The next words fairly leapt from the page.

…if you would please liquidate my holdings by whatever means necessary. It is my express intent not to return to England as I have, I suppose, resigned my commission in the army. I shall be remaining in America.

To be sure, the letter contained far more… the words of a man who’d made a decision in haste, no doubt. His brother had lost his deuced mind. Grey held the paper toward the light and studied the scrawling penmanship, attempting to determine if Will had perhaps been imbibing more than was proper before sending off such an ill-advised missive. But the letters remained as neatly formed as when they’d been at school together.

Grey rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck against the cravat that strangled him. Muttering a soft oath, he loosened the fiendish thing and slid it off, dropping it to the desk with a sigh. His hand shook again as he picked up the glass in front of him and sipped his Madeira. The sweet wine went down smoothly but did little to soothe the sour taste coating the back of his throat. The room whirled though he hadn't moved. The small amount of spirits he’d consumed at White’s had begun to affect his senses.

Oh, for a night’s oblivion to take him away from the position in which he now found himself. Attracted to a stranger who might be part of a plot for his ruin had been bad enough. But the letter from Will…

He took another long sip and then set the wine glass on his desk with a thunk and pushed it to the side.

As his brother’s steward, Grey had ensured a lucrative estate, certain one day William Arthur Reginald Markwythe, seventh Earl of Edgemead would return from the conflict in America and settle down on his sizeable estate as a retired officer in the British Army. Anger flared, and Grey stood, flicking at the tattered paper with the back of his hand as he did so. The letter sailed across the desk and fluttered to the floor just as the door to his office was pushed open.

He formed his lips a snarl, prepared to send whatever hapless servant dared interrupt him away with a blistering of his tongue.

“Oh, please forgive my intrusion,” murmured Magpie, her eyes wide. “I-I apologize, your grace. I had no notion you were in here. Emily said…”

So she’d thought he’d stay away from his own home, had she? Grey schooled his features to erase his scowl. Well,
he’d
thought she’d have retired by such a late hour. It appeared they were both in error.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment but backed up a step when Grey said nothing. “I beg your pardon, your grace.”

Sighing, he shook his head and gestured for her to enter. From the expression on her face, she had something weighing heavily on her mind. Likely he knew what that was. But as sudden as a lightning strike, he had no desire to hear any apology she might offer. Nor did he care to offer her one for kissing her. He closed his eyes against the raw pain eating at him from the inside, drew a deep breath and opened them again.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Magpie. Come in. Here to raid my library again, are you?” Indeed, he’d never seen anyone read as much as she did. Maybe the mention of one of the books she seemed to love would tempt her away from the serious conversation he sensed she had on her mind.

Still she hung in the doorway. “I-I thought — that is, yes, I have… if it’s acceptable with you.”

Why did her eyes have to be so large, so dreamy… so enticing?
Who are you? What is your real name?
Ever since the moment Grey had discerned the truth of her deception, his mind frequently drifted to the riddle of her true identify. But after the embrace they’d shared earlier in the carriage, he’d almost reached the conclusion that her identity held no import.

Impatient more with himself and his musings than with Magpie and whatever the reason for her deception, Grey waved her into the room. “By all means, do come in and make yourself at home among my books the way you’ve made yourself at home in my house.”
And my heart.

Magpie’s head jerked around and she stared at him with those incredible eyes widened into saucers. Blast it all! He’d hunted and shot deer that looked less innocent than the girl hovering nervously at his door.
She cannot be involved in Dawes’ workings at Wyndham Green. There must be another explanation.

He blew out a sharp breath, exasperated by his own lack of decorum. “That was a foul thing to say. I’m sorry.”

He shouldn’t be noticing her in the ways a man noticed a woman; shouldn’t have touched his lips to hers earlier. Hated the fact that he’d done so anyway. But the girl hadn’t deserved his churlish response, no matter what else she may have been responsible for. Grey closed his eyes and readied himself for a barrage of castigation from her sharp-edged tongue.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the hush of the room. When Grey opened his eyes again, he discovered Magpie studying him, her head tilted to the side, her brow knitted in apparent concern.

“Are you not well, your grace?” she asked softly, approaching the desk.

No, he most assuredly was
not
well. His brother had just abandoned his heritage along with his duty, and Grey found his home filled with guests—
one
guest in particular who compelled him toward distraction. Something nefarious was afoot with the books from his country home, something that evidently involved his stepmother and possibly his stepsister. And he had yet to determine how this little magpie flitting in his doorway fit into the mystery.

“Your grace?” she murmured again, bringing his mind back to the present.

“Yes, I’m quite well. Thank you.” He waved his hand in the direction of the bookshelves. “Please… accept my apologies for my ill-mannered behavior. Consider the books as yours while you are here.”

The little magpie’s tentative steps whispering across the carpet were, without doubt, carefully placed so as not to disturb him. But she disturbed him on a fundamental level and irritation pushed through his system. He released an impatient sigh. Best to hold his tongue while his temper was on edge.

“Oh!” She paused in front of his desk and bent. The loose white gown fell forward and offered a less-than-modest view.

In no mood for decorum, Grey didn't bother to avert his eyes in a seemly fashion, and instead boldly stared at the valley between her breasts, allowing his darker considerations to steal into his consciousness. What would she taste like were he to kiss her… just… there? His body tingled at the memory of her softness brushing against him when they’d danced. His body ached with longing to crush those soft curves against him, to devour her and love her until they both found ecstasy.

The scent of flowers tantalized. In a daze, Grey discovered he had edged around his desk to approach the unsuspecting beauty, and he abruptly halted his steps.

Magpie pressed one hand to the gown at her chest, closing the gap, as she reached with her other hand and plucked Will’s letter from the floor. When she bobbed up again, she stood just outside arm’s reach. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared like a scared horse when her lips parted and she drew in a sharp breath. But she didn’t step back.

“This must have fallen from your desk, your grace,” she whispered. “It may be of… impor… tance.”

“Thank you,” murmured Grey, accepting the paper and tossing it on his desk. “It is… merely a letter from my brother.”

“Your brother?” Magpie blinked several times, confusion clouding her gaze. “Oh, yes. William.”

The sound of Will’s name on her lips raised Grey’s hackles, and he took a step forward. “Why is it you seem to have such trouble using my name yet the names of other men so easily roll past your lips?”

Magpie retreated a step. “I-I… don’t know what you mean.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. ‘Are you unwell, your grace?’…’The ball was lovely, your grace.’” Grey inched forward. “‘Thank you for seeing me to
bed
, your grace’…”

With a soft gasp, the little bird took another step away, but found herself backed against his desk. Trapped. “I’m sorry, your — I…”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly and she seemed to shrink into herself. So… he intimidated her. And even more so as he stepped closer. She swallowed hard. The spun gold of her hair reflected the firelight as it caressed her shoulders. He knew the feel of those silky tresses now. The heat from the fire was as nothing compared to the need that seared him inside, beginning in his belly and flashing through his veins.

She trembled… or perhaps he did.

He sighed. “Do you think — just this once — you might find it within you to call me by my name?” Grey froze; his heart had surely stopped beating. A duke’s voice should never sound so beseeching.

Of a sudden, the tension drained from her and Magpie straightened her back. Then she smiled, and a hint of mischief sparked in her eyes. “Which name would that be, Graeme Roland Dominick Markwythe?”

When she spoke his name, Grey’s throat went dry. Emotion welled in his heart, threatened to pour out.

“Or perhaps I should just call you… Grey,” she whispered as he crowded her against the desk.

“Grey,” he murmured as his mouth brushed against hers and retreated a fraction. “Definitely Grey.” He crushed his lips to hers, exploding in a conflagration of shameless desire as he settled his hands on Magpie’s waist, spanning it with splayed fingers. When she didn’t resist, he molded her gentle curves to his body.

Her breasts pressed against him, soft as lying in a bed of feathers. Grey closed his eyes and gave himself to the moment, his mind provoked by visions of a feather mattress and
her
. He gave his hands leave to roam upward along her spine, bunching the thin fabric of her dress beneath his fingers, shaking with the need to rend the garment in order to reap the rewards beneath.