Tempting His Mistress (7 page)

She had felt that too many times. Her dear mother had too. For years, she had ignored gossip and the supercilious looks but never had any of those whispered words or spiteful glares made her feel
this
humiliated.

Lilly lifted her chin and prayed he did not see her tears. “I have no need of your kind of support, my lord. I have long looked after myself. I’m sorry that you are in need, but you will not find charity in me. It might seem to you that you can order me about, make demands of me due to my birth, but regardless I am a woman of principle, whatever you may think.”

“Miss Claremont, I do not think of you as… as some kind of…”

“Whore?”

His jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth clack together. “I never intended to insult you in any way. You cannot deny our attraction and you’d benefit from it greatly.”

“I can deny attraction. At this very moment, I have never been less attracted to a man,” she declared. “I see no benefit in it for me.”

She turned, intending to stomp ahead, but he grabbed her arm again. Scalding anger rolled through her, heating her skin and creating a throbbing ache in her temples. How dare he handle her so? He really did see her as so below him if he thought he could get away with such behaviour. She lifted a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and used it to hold her in place.

“You are a stubborn, frustrating woman,” he ground out as he bore down on her. “I am offering us both a way out of this. I don’t see you as a whore. I see you as a beautiful, aggravating, intelligent woman, with few choices. I see you as a craving that I must fulfil if I am to move on with my life, and I have no doubt you feel the same. Whatever you might believe, I’m not a simple man and I know full well you crave me as much as I you. Nor am I so arrogant to not know that I am asking much of you, but I had hoped you were bright enough to see that I’m offering you a way to create a better life for yourself.”

“By being your mistress!”

“Yes. By giving yourself up to me, body and soul, for one year.” His dark and dangerous gaze dropped to her lips. “I will not lie. I want everything you can give.”

Lilly held her breath. The fire in her belly turned into an ache. Why was the thought of giving herself to him so tempting? Was she no better than her mother? Guilt jabbed her. Sometimes she loathed her mother for the position she had put herself in, but her mother had done it for love. She was far less honourable than her mother if she even remotely considered giving herself to this man for something as simple as desire.

He dropped his head closer so that the brim of his hat almost touched her forehead. Her knees threatened to give way. His breath brushed her lips, ribbons of desire thread through her. Why did this man have such an effect? Lilly trembled.

Lord Hawksley dropped back. He snapped his chin up and released her. Lilly wavered, finding her balance. Whatever she had done changed his countenance. His desire was masked and he made a show of looking for the rest of their party.

“Come, we shall lose the others.”

With a determined stride, he made down the slope and said nothing more, leaving Lilly to grab her skirts and hurry to catch up. What had happened? What could account for the sudden coldness? One moment he had been determined and certain to kiss her and the next...

That same coldness dampened the fire in her veins. It was not disappointment though. No, as much as she’d been tempted to kiss him, she was relieved he had come to his senses. Hopefully his proposition would be forgotten and they would continue on as indifferent acquaintances.

“Foolish girl,” she murmured to herself when a bitter lump of regret settled in her stomach as heavy as coal. After all, she would never wish to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Never.

“I asked her, you know.” Evan laid down a card. He loathed whist but the alternative was to sit and make conversation with the ladies and he would not do that.

“What?” Thomas asked.

“You know full well what.”

“Devil take it, determined to get in there before me, eh?”

“She refused.”

Thomas raised a brow. “She did? I’m surprised. It appears you know her better. Are you sure it was not just you she found repugnant?”

“She made it very clear that it was being a mistress that repulsed her—not me.”

Though Evan was beginning to wonder if he had not gone about it the wrong way. Women were never his strong suit. He’d never had to woo a lady and nor did he ever intend to. His title and wealth were enough of an enticement for him to forgo unnecessary frivolities. Funny, he had not thought Miss Claremont to be the type to need romantic entreaties.

He stole a look in her direction. She sat on the chaise longue by the bay window, far from the other women, head buried in a book. If the three ladies noticed her distant demeanour, they made no comment on it. As it was, Harriet was regaling them with talk of the French fashions, having recently made a trip over there for a new wardrobe.

Thomas followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. “Harriet cost me a fortune and yet she is demanding to go back shortly.”

“And you think you could maintain a mistress too?” he asked quietly.

“I couldn’t see Miss Claremont costing quite so much. She seems a low maintenance sort of a woman.”

“You will still ask her, will you?” Evan gripped the playing cards.

“No, I shall not set myself up for a fall.” He grinned. “If she refused you, I suspect I have little chance. You’re far wealthier and of more importance. What chance does a lowly man such as myself have? Really, I should be grateful to you for testing the waters.”

“You are more handsome though, Brother,” Evan put in.

“True enough. Maybe I shall give her some time.”

Forcing down the frustration threatening to burn its way up his throat, Evan offered a thin smile. “Maybe you should.”

Evan hoped in time Miss Claremont might come around to the idea but the way in which he had behaved... Damnation, he had acted no better than an animal. He had been so close to kissing her, to tasting those divinely shaped lips, but fear had widened her eyes and he would never forget her slender body trembling against his grip.

The week was drawing to a close. He would be returning to Hawksley Manor for a while and then would be on to London. Who knew what Miss Claremont would do? The idea of her penniless and struggling did strange things to his heart.

If only he could think of some way of changing her mind.

“Miss Claremont,” Lady Stanley piped up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Yes, my lady?” Miss Claremont lowered her book.

“Will you not play for us? I have not heard you play all week and you are far too quiet for my liking.”

“Lady Stanley, I would rather—”

“Will you not indulge an old friend?”

Evan spotted a suppressed sigh as she placed down her book. “Of course I will, Lady Stanley.”

Evan tried not to stare at her when she swept past to the grand piano. He attempted not to admire her trim waist defined by a pale pink gown and the arch of her neck or the way her curls caressed it like a lover—like he wished to. When she sat, she tilted her head, displaying more flesh and his mouth grew as dry as the desert. How would that elegant neck taste?

Inhaling deeply, he let it out in a long, low huff. He would never know and he could swear that would plague him to the grave.

Their card game forgotten, both he and Thomas watched her play. She was talented and her nimble fingers moved swiftly across the keys. Such fingers could be put to so many good uses. An ache grew in his trousers, and he forced himself to stare at the floral arrangement just behind the piano instead so as to keep up the pretence of enjoying her performance while ensuring he didn’t enjoy it too much.

The fact she played so well spoke of her mother’s devotion to her education. Mr Claremont had been proud of his mistress’s determination to ensure the girl did not want for anything. Unfortunately no amount of education could make up for lack of rank.

And while she played well, a certain appearance of disinterest on her behalf somewhat spoiled the performance. She was so accomplished perhaps, that it did not test her. Miss Claremont, he decided, was a woman who needed stimulation and excitement.

Damnation. It seemed even when he tried to think of her in any way not relating to the bedroom, his mind drifted back. He knew of
many
ways he could provide stimulation and excitement. From what he had seen, she would prove a fiery bed mate.

“Say, Miss Claremont,” his brother called when she finished. “Will you not join us for a game of whist?”

Evan held back a groan. If he was to witness his brother trying to charm Miss Claremont, he may end up going insane.

“Oh no, Thomas—” she protested, turning on the piano stool.

“Come, I insist.”

Darting a glance at the other ladies, she was clearly deciding whether to argue with Thomas and cause a scene. Funny how she didn’t give him the same consideration. She seemed more than happy to call him out at every occasion. Did she really feel some affection for his brother?

“Very well then.” She stood and sat to his right.

The small square table allowed little room for movement. Her skirts brushed his leg and a foot met his shin. She flushed. “Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” he grumbled, gaze firmly on the cards as he dealt them and handed them out.

While they played, he watched her as closely as possible without catching her attention. She called Thomas by his first name and smiled readily for him. Really, she was nothing but charming to him, yet she never looked at his brother the way he sometimes caught her looking at him. Never did her lips part or her breasts heave against the confines of her gown.

Evan snapped his gaze away when he felt it traitorously sneaking down to the breasts in question. If he was not careful, he would embarrass himself in front of the entire party. His brother smiled, both brows raised, and Evan shot him a warning look. The last thing he needed was for his juvenile younger brother to be teasing him about this blasted attraction.

Miss Claremont reached for a card at the same time as he did and their fingers grazed. Both pulled back their hands, and he realised it wasn’t even his turn. He curled his hand as a simmering sensation prickled through it. For the first time that evening, her gaze held his and he saw it... that tell-tale darkening of her pupils and the intake of a deep breath.

Smugly, he set down the King of Hearts and grinned at his brother. Whatever was between them was not over yet—not while she looked at him so. It might take some persuading but he still intended to take Miss Lilly Claremont as his mistress, whatever it took.

***

Lilly crumpled the letter, went to fling it in the empty fire and paused. If she put it in there a servant could read it. She unfolded it and scanned the words again. How could she have doubted Lord Hawksley was anything but a greedy, manipulative man? To think she had briefly thought there might be some kindness in the man.

But her cousin’s letter and Lord Hawksley’s belief he could have her as his mistress had put paid to any softer emotions she might have felt toward him. Why, he had seemed to assume she would be so grateful that a man like himself showed any interest in her that he expected her to fall to his feet and thank him for the honour!

Somehow, he knew of her situation. It might be temporary while her inheritance was in trust, but she supposed she might as well be destitute. Her father had always intended to provide for her after his death, even though her cousin Henry received the bulk of the estate.  Unfortunately his untimely death meant she had to wait another two years. Why he had believed her young cousin could manage her inheritance better than she, she didn’t know, but it was typical of men to believe a woman could not deal with such responsibilities and he had been an old-fashioned sort.

She huffed. Now she had to confront Lord Hawksley about this letter. Murderer or not, he was making demands of her cousin—asking for her father’s debt to be repaid. Lilly knew enough about her father’s shipping business to know that a lot of the money was tied up in investments and owed to him from clients. Such a sum could not be repaid instantly, and her cousin was intending to push forward with his plans to rent out her home. Where would she go?

Lilly chewed on the end of a finger. Would Lord Hawksley harm her cousin if he didn’t pay? Now she thought about it, killing the man who owed him money seemed thoroughly illogical but her cousin had been convinced, putting forwards these supposed rumours as proof.

She shook her head. From everything she had learned of her father’s relationship with the marquess, it seemed more and more unlikely he had been involved. Even Thomas had mentioned how shocked his brother had been to hear of his death and it appeared Lord Hawksley had written to a magistrate friend to push for an investigation. Everything she had believed was crumbling.

She needed to find out more. Perhaps she should write to Henry. She pulled out a piece of writing paper and paused as she caught sight of Lord Hawksley through the window, strolling about the gardens. He was headed down to the fountain. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the last time they’d met in the gardens.

Casting the paper aside, she pushed away from the writing desk and straightened her shoulders. Perhaps she should confront the marquess after all.

Lilly smoothed her lemon yellow gown, checked her hair in the mirror and scurried downstairs. She caught sight of the marquess not far from the fountain and though he walked at a slow pace, in her gown she had little hope of catching up with him unless she ran. “Lord Hawksley!”

He paused, rotated slowly and though the sun was setting, the grey light highlighted his surprised expression. He waited for her to near and tipped his hat.

“Miss Claremont.” He surveyed the gardens and presumably came to the same conclusion she had. They were alone.

“Lord Hawksley, could I have a word with you?”

“Shall I escort you back to the house?”

“No, I should like it to be a private word.”

He glanced around and nodded, motioning to the stone bench at one side of the fountain. Tucked behind the trees, even the nosiest of people would not be able to see them. Lilly twined her fingers together and tried to ignore how close he was to her as they sat. One slight movement and their legs would brush. In his evening wear, he cut a fine figure. The perfect fit enhanced his broad shoulders and, with his necktie slightly loose, she could not help recall a time when she had seen it discarded. Lilly clenched her legs together.

“Well then, Miss Claremont, whatever can I do for you?”

Gaze ahead, she studied the line of trees—anything to keep her from actually looking at him. The tumult of emotions racing through her mind prevented her from saying anything for several moments.

“Lord Hawksley,” she began and clamped her mouth shut. She tightened the grip of one hand on the other until her fingers ached. “Lord Hawksley, you know my cousin, Mr Henry Claremont?” Lilly turned her face and met his gaze head on, regret instantly jabbing her insides at giving into temptation.

“I do.” His dark gaze remained indifferent. How hard the man was to read.

“He... he has written to me of his plight—”

“And what plight is that?”

Lilly licked her lips. Why was she even attempting this? The marquess would never listen to reasoning or... or begging. She suppressed a shudder and prayed it didn’t come to that. “He tells me the estate owes you much money.”

“Does he indeed? How unusual for a distant relation to be sharing his money woes with—”

“A woman like me?” she asked, wincing at her defensive tone. Why did he always bring out the bitter side of her? Did she sound bitter to him too?

Perhaps she was bitter. Her father had been beaten to death after all. The pain he must have endured made her eyes burn. Could it really have been ordered by this man though?

“I meant no insult.”

She lifted her gaze to his again and saw, for the briefest moment, a flicker of concern. “You seldom do, my lord, yet you are quite practiced at insulting me.”

“You are quite practiced at provoking me,” he shot back.

Back straight, Lilly kept her gaze on him though the urge to run away and hide under a bush made her fidget on the cold stone bench. “My lord, I have sought you out to ask you to maybe consider... that is, my father’s estate cannot cover such a debt. I was hoping you might—”

“Write off the debt?” Two dark eyebrows arched high. His cold, impervious expression fired her anger at the same time as making her shudder, as if stoking a fire then drenching it with ice water.

“Yes,” she responded weakly.

“Do you suppose your father didn’t intend to pay back the debt?”

“No, of course not. My father honoured all of his agreements!”