It was dark inside but not overly full of clothes, making it easier for him to spot the slight figure of Lady Rebecca as she huddled against one corner. Crouching down, Daniel silently pushed a box aside and eased himself into the narrow space beside her. He then pulled on the door until it remained just slightly ajar and the light within had been diminished to a murky blackness.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said, her voice dismal when compared with the happiness it usually contained. “Has Laura told you the news?”
Daniel’s greatest desire in that instant was to restore her characteristic joy and laughter. He hated seeing her like this, but he could not blame her; she had good reason to feel miserable. “I want to help you,” he said, preparing to fight for her. “Will you allow me to do so?”
A beat of silence followed, and then she said, “I fear it may be too late. My aunt and uncle have already accepted the Duke of Grover as my future husband. The lawyers will be stopping by the day after tomorrow to handle the settlement, and then we’re off to London to announce the engagement. It is all settled.”
Fumbling about, he found her arm and followed the length of it with his fingers until he reached her hand. Wrapping his fingers around it, he gave it a gentle squeeze that he hoped would reassure her of his friendship and his willingness to assist her in any way possible. She didn’t pull away, but he heard a sharp intake of breath the moment he touched her. Was that a good or a bad thing? he wondered. It was difficult to tell.
“It is not too late until you speak your vows,” he said as his thumb brushed back and forth against her soft skin. He heard her swallow, her breathing grow a little deeper, and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d been aware of the effect he had on her a few times before, but he had buried his own urges because he’d wanted her to think well of him. This was still the case, of course, especially if he was going to convince her to come with him, but it also supplied him with the confidence he needed to press his case. “Elope with me to Scotland. I’ll marry you, and your aunt and uncle won’t ever be able to hurt you like this again. You’ll be under my protection.”
Mr. Neville’s willingness to risk scandal on her account touched her heart, and whatever qualms she’d previously had about accepting him were long gone now that she’d become affianced to the Duke of Grover—a man fifty-five years her senior who’d alluded to some most explicit bedroom activities that had made her stomach churn.
On the other hand, considering what she knew about Mr. Neville, she still wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him, particularly when it came to her dowry. All of it would become his property if a settlement wasn’t drawn up, and it wouldn’t be, not if they eloped. In fact, he would be able to disappear with her five thousand pounds the moment they were wed—a possibility that ought not to be dismissed, considering that he was marrying her for money to begin with.
All prospects considered, however, it was a chance she was willing to take, because if he did stand by her, she sensed that their marriage would be a happy one, filled with friendship, laughter and . . . passion, if the effect she had on him equaled the one he had on her. Even now, as he barely touched her, she could feel a flush creeping across her skin and her br**sts beginning to tighten. With the very surreal feeling that she was leaping blindly into an abyss, Rebecca whispered, “I will accept your offer, Mr. Neville, if you will grant me a favor.”
“Anything—just name it.”
“That Laura is allowed to come with us. I won’t leave her behind.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, his voice low and thick in the darkness. Dear Lord, she didn’t have to see him to know that the heat radiating from his eyes would probably burn her to cinders. “You’ve made me extremely happy, my lady, and I will endeavor not to disappoint. The last thing I want is for you to regret your decision.”
He leaned closer, the length of him pressed up against her, the light stubble on his chin and jaw brushing against her neck until she ached for his touch. God help her if this made her wicked, but she could no longer deny the sensations that coursed through her whenever he was near—a wanton desire for his hands to caress her in places she rarely touched herself.
“May I kiss you now?” he asked, his words barely more than a breath of air against her flesh—flesh consumed with prickling heat.
“It’s one of my requirements,” she managed, attempting a touch of humor and hoping that she didn’t sound too desperate in doing so.
“Only one?” His hand had found her face and his fingers were tickling her jawline, turning her head in his direction.
“One of many,” she said, fearing that her galloping heart might escape from her chest.
“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss the rest later.” His breath caressed her cheek. “As for the one of kissing you—I’m only too happy to oblige.”
And then he did, his lips touching the corner of her own so gently that she scarcely felt it at all. But then he adjusted himself, his mouth finding hers with greater pressure. It felt good, though not as cataclysmic as she’d expected, given the way her body responded. Somehow, she’d imagined the kiss would increase her pleasure and this need she felt to crawl all over him with complete abandon, but it didn’t really. It was both puzzling and distressing.
“Why so tense?” he asked, pulling back just enough so he could speak.
Tense?
Rebecca forced her awareness back to her own body and realized that yes, she was. The reason for it came a second later. This man was a rake. He’d kissed countless women and had probably bedded an equal amount, while she had no experience at all. This was her first kiss and she was worried she’d disappoint, though she’d probably done so already. Why else would he have commented? “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I know I lack the experience of—”
“Shh . . . not another word, Becky. May I call you Becky?”
She’d never had a pet name before, and the fact that he’d just given her one warmed her heart. “I like it,” she said.
“Good. Then you must call me Daniel from now on. Agreed?” She did, and he pulled her closer. “Now, let’s try that kiss again, shall we? Just relax and let me guide you.”
This time, she felt his tongue first as he brushed it against her lower lip, eliciting a helpless groan from her throat. His teeth came next, tugging gently at the plump flesh while his tongue pressed forward. Her mouth opened of its own accord, and he was there, ready to accept the invitation she offered.
This was what she’d wanted. Though she’d lacked the experience, her body had sensed that something had been missing. Daniel gave it to her now, stroke for stroke as his tongue slid over hers, teaching and directing as the pleasure of his kiss awakened other parts of her. She felt her n**ples tighten against the fabric of her bodice and could think of nothing more wonderful than for him to touch her there. How sinful that would be—a notion that swiftly sent a wave of heat straight down between her thighs. She gasped, and Daniel pulled away, leaving her bereft.
“You learn quickly,” he rasped, “and I look forward to teaching you more, but if we don’t stop now, then I fear I may not be able to.”
The implication of his words sank in, and no matter how much she wished he’d act on his rakish impulses, she knew that he was right.
“I will return for you and Laura tomorrow evening,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, happy that he’d mentioned her maid as well.
When they emerged from the wardrobe, they found Laura diligently mending some garment or other. “Have you come to an agreement?” she asked, setting her work aside and coming to place a blanket across Rebecca’s shoulders.
In the close confinement of the wardrobe, Rebecca had been unaware of the chill that filled the rest of the room. “Yes, Laura. We leave tomorrow. Mr. Neville has graciously offered to take me to Scotland, where we shall be married.”
The relief that flooded Laura’s features was beyond touching. “Thank you, sir,” she said as her eyes brimmed with tears. “I kept hoping you’d save her, and now you have. You’re a good man.”
Rebecca smiled, happy that the two most important people in her life were going to get along just fine.
Chapter 10
Things did not go according to plan.
When Rebecca awoke the next morning, she finished her toilette and started working on her watercolors while she waited for breakfast to arrive. Now was not the time to pack; she would do so later in the day when her aunt and uncle napped and she was unlikely to be disturbed by either of them. But when her aunt arrived instead of Wendy, who usually brought her breakfast, Rebecca set down her paintbrush and gave the woman her full attention. Something wasn’t right.
“I’ve brought you some sustenance,” her aunt said haughtily. Either she believed she was doing Rebecca a huge favor by feeding her, or she believed that having to climb all the stairs to get there had been a great inconvenience. Both were likely the case.
“Thank you,” Rebecca said. She looked warily at Laura, who’d risen as soon as Lady Grifton had arrived. She’d bobbed the expected curtsy and now appeared to be very much on edge.
Setting the tray on the table, Lady Grifton turned her usual scornful glare on Rebecca. “Frankly, I don’t know why any man would want you with that black hair and dark complexion, but then again, I doubt His Grace has any interest in what’s fashionable as long as you’re willing to tend to his needs.” Lady Grifton laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you—I’ve no doubt you’ll be spending a lot of time confined to your bedchamber once he takes you off our hands.”
Rebecca chose not to respond to her aunt’s inappropriate innuendo with the scathing retort that sat on the tip of her tongue, for she knew that Lady Grifton’s sole intent was to provoke her temper. Unwilling to give her the power to do so, Rebecca told her calmly, “I’m sure you’re right, Aunt, and I can assure you that I have no intention of shirking my wifely duties.” Though she’d every intention of fulfilling them with Daniel rather than with Grover. “However, I do think it would be wise of you to remember that once I say my vows, I will be Duchess of Grover, a position that far outranks your own.”
Fury drew her aunt’s lips into a tight line. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, you impertinent girl. You’re still in our care, and as long as that is the case, you will do as we say.” Her features softened into a smirk. “Your eagerness for your new title is fortunate, though, since His Grace has just suggested we forgo the formalities of a lengthy engagement and the crying of banns.”
A cold shiver ran down Rebecca’s spine, but she managed to feign a look of genuine interest. “What do you mean?”
“I suppose he’s quite keen for you to be his.” The nonchalance of Lady Grifton’s tone was far from comforting as she continued, “He has gone to London, intent on meeting with the archbishop and acquiring a special license.”