What a Lady Craves (24 page)

With a nudge of her hip, Henrietta closed the door to her bedchamber before leaning back against the panel and pressing shaky fingers to her lips.

Damnation, hellfire, bugger,
bollocks.
What had she just done?

Not that she needed to ask herself when her body still hummed with the desire Alexander had aroused. He may have sated her for the moment, but something heavy and enticing still throbbed in the pit of her belly. Oh, but they’d left things unfinished.

A woman is never finished.

Whatever lay between them, Alexander still proved her greatest temptation. No matter that he’d shattered her heart once, he held the power to draw her, to bring her back begging for more. And she would beg at the least provocation.

How on earth had she reached such straits? At the first kiss, she should have stopped him, should have shoved him away and stalked off. The emotions tumbling through her resembled too closely those she’d experienced before: solid, captivating, inescapable. This was too much like their first courtship.

His troubles with his daughters had posed an obstacle, one she might help him surmount, and they’d come together in amicable fashion—even if what they’d just done was hardly behavior friends engaged in. Lovers and mistresses, certainly husbands and wives. Never mere friends. If tonight had proven anything, it showed simple friendship between the two of them was an impossibility.

Alexander would always demand more. She would always yearn for more. Someday—soon—they would carry matters too far. They’d nearly done so tonight. A few touches, a few kisses, and she was perfectly willing to set the past at naught and permit the most scandalous of intimacies.

Even now, her fingertips tingled with curiosity. If she dared touch herself the way Alexander had, in just that spot, with just that firmness, would she bring that wonderful rush on? Would it be the same? Or was some of that soaring feeling tied to the man himself?

Henrietta would have to be more careful in the future. Until matters were settled for good and all, she simply couldn’t let herself be alone with Alexander in a closed room—even if it was through no fault of her own. Even if Lady Epperley had machinated the entire situation.

The beldam was up to something more than matchmaking.

In fact … Henrietta opened her eyes and peered about her new bedchamber, the room Alexander had recently vacated. The furnishings might be sadly outdated, but the bed was comfortable enough—more so than the cramped quarters under the eaves she had inhabited until recently. Clearly a chamber meant to receive more exalted guests than a simple lady’s companion, the room was done up in pale green velvets. Wreaths of roses joined by pink ribbons scattered across cream-colored wallpaper, and long mullioned windows overlooked the gardens. Oddly feminine for Alexander, but perfect for a female guest of note. Goodness, the girls would love such a chamber. Perhaps once they were settled …

She shook her head. What on earth was she contemplating? Her wayward thoughts were behaving as if she’d already made up her mind to marry Alexander. And she wouldn’t agree to his proposal. Not without a proper declaration.

But that still left the matter of his aunt. Henrietta peered into the corners, as if the old lady were lurking, making certain Henrietta didn’t decide to entertain any male guests or arrive in her quarters with her coiffure and buttons undone. At the thought, her cheeks burned like twin coals. She
was
arriving in just such a state, her hair askew, her gown rumpled, her lips swollen and tingling.

And that was another reason to avoid Alexander. Lady Epperley was all too eager to pounce on the match. She’d badger her nephew into acting if she thought anything untoward was going on. In fact, that could be the only reason they were left alone tonight—so that the unthinkable would happen and Alexander’s ingrained sense of honor would force him to marry Henrietta.

Heavens, it nearly had, and through her own recklessness at that. Her brazenness led to her near-ruin as much as anything. Reaching into the man’s trousers indeed, taking him in her hand, running her fingers along his steely length, and wanting. Wanting more. Wanting what she could never have, unless she was willing to risk her heart on a man who had already broken it once.

Good Lord, she had to stop thinking about the wanton hunger. About him.

At all costs, she must do a better job at avoiding him.

Muffled footsteps sounded in the corridor, a steady rhythm coming closer. The soft beats reminded her of last night when she awoke to the strange feeling of a foreign presence in her chamber. At the memory, her heart jumped a mile. She ought to go for a candlestick, a porcelain vase, anything she might use as a weapon against an intruder, but her feet remained frozen to the spot.

Thump, thump … thump.

The sounds came to a halt outside her door, but her heart continued the rhythm, racing much too quickly onward. Surely she was being silly with such wild thoughts. Logic declared the person outside could only be Alexander, but that notion did nothing to calm her pounding pulse. An emotion of another hue—at once darker and lighter—replaced her fear.

To be certain, she called, “Who’s there?”

Silence. She dug her nails into the oak panel at her back, as if that small act might be sufficient to bar the door. If he was truly contemplating coming into her chamber, could she stop him?

Did she want to?

“It’s only me.” The confirmation ratcheted her pulse up another notch, and the weight of her blood settled low in her midsection.

She listened, almost sure she could hear him breathing through the thick wood. But then the thuds began again, and his footsteps continued down the passageway until they faded. Farther along the corridor echoed the quiet
snick
of a latch as it slid home. Only retiring, then. As she ought to. But Lord knew she wouldn’t get any sleep.

“Miss Upperton, a word, if you please.”

At Lady Epperley’s imperious tone, Henrietta stopped short.
Miss Upperton?
Had her employer somehow discovered what had transpired between her and Alexander last night? Was Lady Epperley about to insist on a hasty marriage?

Whatever the outcome, Henrietta couldn’t help goading a bit. “What shall I do with the girls while you have your word? You’ve asked me to keep them out of sight.”

“I require their presence, as well. In the sitting room, please.” Lady Epperley stepped to one side and gestured with a wrinkled arm, as if she were the butler ushering in guests.

At the mention, two small bodies pressed against Henrietta’s skirts. She rested her hands on their shoulders, hoping the gesture communicated what she’d like to say aloud. She wasn’t about to let the old dragon breathe her fire on them. “It’ll be all right.”

Head high, she chivvied the girls into the sitting room, Lady Epperley on her heels.

“I’m afraid I must go over Albemarle’s expectations once again,” Lady Epperley pronounced when they were all seated. “I hope by including these … children in the
conversation they might understand what is required.”

“I’ve been keeping them out of your sight,” Henrietta argued. Not an easy trick when the girls’ father wanted them kept in the manor under close watch.

“You have, indeed. However, they are still causing disorder. My cook has lodged a complaint.”

Henrietta fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I merely thought I could keep them diverted and out of your path if we took on a small project.”

“I cannot have you disrupting the preparation of Albemarle’s meals.” Lady Epperley paused and pressed her fingers to her throat. “His digestion, if you must know, is quite delicate.”

Albemarle lay curled in a tight ball on her usual silk cushion. Lady Epperley, on the other hand, covered her mouth, and her shoulders hitched. It may have been a small burp for the sake of the cat, but one did not mention such things. Francesca let out a giggle, which earned her a glare. The girl’s laughter quickly turned into a choking sound.

“Young lady, do you know what was expected of children when I was your age?” Lady Epperley snapped out her lorgnette, the better to inspect her grandnieces. “My governess took me in hand, and I did not see my elders and betters until I knew how to behave around them.”

Next to Henrietta, Francesca squirmed in her seat. Helena, however, was bolder. “It must have been a very long time ago.”

Good heavens, had the girl just defended Francesca? Henrietta’s heart warmed at the thought. She might win Helena over yet.

Henrietta waited for an explosion of temper that never came. “Yes, I daresay,” Lady Epperley said. “Things have changed and not for the better. One should not realize children are in residence, and yet I find the evidence strewn all about the place. Scraps of paper with letters—such horrendous penmanship—and rumpled embroidery. Books from my library. Various … toys. If my staff begins to resign over this, I do not know what I shall do.”

Henrietta cleared her throat. “Might I remind you, my lady, that these girls are not only related to you, they are guests.”

Lady Epperley turned her lorgnette-magnified eyes on Henrietta. “I am aware of that fact. You, on the other hand, are not a guest.”

Henrietta drew herself up straighter. “Should you require my resignation, I shall tender you a letter within the hour.”

Lady Epperley blinked and blinked again. Henrietta suppressed a smile. Whatever the old lady might threaten, she wasn’t about to turn her governess out as long as the girls resided under
her roof. “I do not think we need to carry matters so far. I merely wished to remind you of your duty.”

“And what of yours?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What of your duty?” Heaven help her, she may have gone too far now, but she refused to stand for Lady Epperley’s bullying any longer. “These girls are your family, and until their father’s affairs are settled, they’ve nowhere to go. What would people say about you if you turned them out?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Odd, but Lady Epperley hardly seemed put out over Henrietta’s breach of propriety. Her tone was downright mild. Perhaps one might go so far as to call it approving. “Besides, no one of any import would listen to you.”

“Do you think so? How many have remained as your guest for so long?” She caught herself before adding
and lived to tell the tale.
“I imagine I could find a few willing ears if I put forth the effort.”

“Humph,” Lady Epperley sniffed. “If I’d known you were prone to gossip, George, I’d never have hired you.”

“Strangely, I wasn’t prone to gossip before I came to live here. And George is my brother.
My
name is Henrietta. If you insist on giving me a man’s name, at least call me Henry.”

Lady Epperley let out a cackle. “Very well, although I see no earthly reason to deform such a lovely name as Henrietta. Just … What is it, Hirsch? Can’t you see I’m occupied?”

Hovering in the entryway, the butler bowed. “Forgive the interruption, but more guests have arrived.”

“More guests, is it?” She pressed on the arms of her chair and wobbled to her feet. “Isn’t it a wonder how many guests we have all of a sudden when we haven’t invited even one of them? Who is it now?”

“Your grandniece Miss Cecelia Sanford, and her mother.”

Alexander’s family. Henrietta should have expected them to turn up as soon as they heard he was back in the country. But what did the presence of these two mean for her? They might be potential allies as much as a sort of unwanted scrutiny and reminders of a painful past.

“Good heavens.” She turned to Henrietta. “Don’t you dare move. I’m going to need your help.”

Before Henrietta could say what she thought of that idea, Lady Epperley toddled from the room in the butler’s wake.

Francesca tugged at her sleeve. “Is she going to make you leave? I don’t want you to leave.”

“Of course not. She’s just said she needs me more than ever.” Henrietta smiled. “There’s a secret to dealing with your great-grandaunt. Do you want to know what it is?”

Both girls nodded, and Henrietta pulled them closer as if she were whispering a confidence. “Never listen to a thing she says, because the next thing you know, she’ll have changed her mind. Come now, let’s go meet your real aunt and your grandmama.”

“Will they be old like Lady Epperley?” Helena asked.

“No, indeed. Nobody is as old as Lady Epperley. And your aunt Cecelia is younger than I am. You’ll like her, I promise. She’s your papa’s sister.”

She led the girls to the foyer, where two newcomers stood talking to Lady Epperley. Alexander’s mother was tall, slender, and older, but still retained her beauty. The younger woman, Cecelia, looked nothing like her mother or her brother. She was beautiful in her own vivacious way, but dark-haired and brown-eyed, where her brother was fair. Her complexion was pale where Alexander’s was ruddy. When she talked, her hands followed the cadence of her speech like dancing puppets.

After a moment, she turned and caught Henrietta’s eye. “My goodness. Henrietta Upperton.”

“The last place you expected to see me, isn’t it?” Henrietta supplied for her.