Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 55
Lorelei recognized his methods well. And she also knew better than to show any amount of interest in Drake, his extravagant display, or his future activities. “I suggest we discard the flowers posthaste in case we have any other callers this day.”
Her father eyed her, no doubt judging her every word, but most of all her actions. “Very well, again wise.”
“...and while we are at it, inform the butler that the marquis is to be turned away if he calls again.” Lorelei grabbed the bouquet of flowers, nestled in an expensively engraved vase, and made to leave the room.
“Where are you going?”
“To dispense with this atrocious display. No need to have the servants gossiping any more if we ask one to throw them out with the noon-day scraps. You can be certain word would reach the marquis.” The arrangement was heavier than it appeared. Her arms strained under the weight. “If you don’t mind, I will return shortly.”
Her mother smiled. “Very well,” she said approvingly.
Lorelei walked down the hall, but instead of turning toward the kitchen, she continued straight and veered to the left, pushing through a swinging door to the servants’ stairwell. The passage narrowed as she climbed the two flights of stairs, forcing herself upright under the increasing weight of the flowers. Thankfully, the passage was deserted at this hour, most servants busy cleaning various bedrooms and the main hall.
Pushing the door at the top of the stairs open slightly, she looked both ways down the hall. It was more likely she’d run into her maid in her suite, but Lorelei had come to trust the girl since she’d been assigned to her the previous week. Her maid, Isabelle, had youth on her side, but little else. With deft fingers and a chipper disposition, she attended to all of Lorelei’s needs. When she was assured that no one was in sight, Lorelei quickly hurried to her room and placed the flowers upon her dressing table.
Her mother and father rarely called on her within her own rooms, so she had little worry that they’d discover she hadn’t disposed of the arrangement. Besides which, she liked the sight and smell of them. Never had anyone given her a gift, beyond the small trinkets her father bestowed on her during the winter holidays each year. Even her birthday was not a day of celebration.
She sighed. It was time she returned to the drawing room, but she truly wanted to rush after the marquis, thank him for calling and for the beautiful gift, and tell him that if things were different, she’d welcome his attentions. His coach would be gone by now, however, taking him and Lorelei’s hopes for any sort of future with him.
These thoughts had no place in her life. There was no point in wishing and dreaming of things that would never be hers—the Marquis of Drake especially. He was a man of extreme wealth, title, and passion. He could do far better than tying himself to a woman embedded in his country for the sole purpose of espionage and treason.
She shook any thought of him from her mind and rubbed her hands together to be rid of any trace of the flowers she’d just carried.
She could change little in her life at the moment.
Once she’d found the plans—and thus demonstrated her parents’ allegiance to the new ruling faction—the opportunity to escape her current life would present itself, she was sure of it. Her mother and father could be made to understand her desires for more than the life they’d chosen for themselves. It included a home—not a rented townhouse in a foreign city, but a stable home with a garden in back and a large hearth. Where? She could only guess as of now. She enjoyed the liveliness of London, however. Mayhap her parents would decide to remain here.
Wandering to the window, she drew the curtain aside and stared at the street below her second-story opening. Neat brick homes lined the lane with a cobbled road between, barely wide enough for two carriages to pass one another.
One such carriage sat parked before her townhouse even now.
Squinting, Lorelei wondered who could be visiting her parents. No one sat on the driver’s box of the phaeton, only big enough for two, with a pair of smart-looking, matching grey horses hitched to it. She scanned the walk and front steps below and, sure enough, the marquis strolled the walk.
The man continued to surprise her. First asking her to dance without so much as an introduction, and then appearing with flowers. She wondered who had shared her directions with him.
Maybe there was enough time to ask him just that question.
Andrew lingered outside the comte’s townhouse, taking a few moments to calm his nerves. The last twelve hours had been spent giving orders and rushing about to make sure his flowers looked perfect. And now he hesitated to leave, for he had nowhere to go. He’d thought about going to White’s for a meal, or popping into his fencing club for a quick match, but neither appealed.
He’d expected more from his visit with Lorelei. A private moment was out of the question, but possibly an invitation to accompany them to a ball or dinner party. His hopes had been dashed when she’d accepted the flowers and the comte had made clear he wasn’t welcome to stay.
There was little chance of his gaining her favor, or advising her on Chastain, if he wasn’t able to speak with her.
Staring up at her townhouse, Andrew sighed.
It was past time for him to depart, for it would do him no good to be observed lurking around their house.
Before he could climb onto the box seat, the front door opened. He froze.
“Your lordship?” Lady Lorelei said. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the late-morning sun. “Is something amiss?” She lifted her gown and stepped down to the walk. The home across the way blocked the sun, and she was able to lower the hand.
Andrew instantly took it in his and raised it to his lips, sweeping a light kiss across her wrist. “Lady Lorelei,” he said. He released her hand and stepped back, hoping she didn’t notice the nervous perspiration on his palms. “Everything is wonderful.”
“Is something wrong with your carriage?” She glanced over his shoulder, taking in both horses and rig. “We have a stable in back if you require assistance with anything.”
“All is as it should be, I promise you.” The location wasn’t ideal for warning her against Chastain, but at least the walk was abandoned, and the door behind her only stood partly ajar. When he saw a flash of material in the crack, he knew a butler hovered inside. “I should be going. Thank you for accepting my call without sending my card round first.”
She smiled, tentatively, appearing as nervous as he. “I am happy you came—and thank you for the flowers, they are beautiful.”
Nowhere near as beautiful as you, he thought, but kept silent, afraid to look the unexperienced lad with his first lady love. Which was preposterous, for he’d only come to warn her about Chastain’s less-than-honorable intentions.
Though he would admit, the way her dark hair cascaded down her back, as though her maid hadn’t had time to arrange it before she’d left her chamber, drew his notice. And her olive eyes, shadowed by her dark lashes, had him drowning in a sea of green.
“Your lordship?”
“I beg your pardon,” he replied. “I was…” Lost in your eyes? Imagining my fingers running through your hair? “…thinking of the many engagements I have today. I really should be going.”
Her puzzled expression almost had him reaching for her hand again, but he clenched his fists at his sides, resisting the temptation.
“I see.” Lady Lorelei crossed her arms, closing herself off from him. “Do have a lovely day.”
He regretted his words immediately. “And you also. Might I interest you in a ride through Hyde Park?”
“Now?”
“Oh, no.” He was making a mess of things; it would be best if he turned tail now and fled before he said something truly embarrassing. “Possibly tomorrow—or any day after.”
Any man who knew him would be giddy with laughter over the mockery he was making of himself.
“I should enjoy that greatly, your lordship.” She smiled. “I will have to inquire with my parents—”
“Naturally,” he cut in.
“—but I would find pleasure in that. I have seen very little of your city since my arrival.”
A man cleared his throat and they both looked in the direction of the step, where a young lad stood, a satchel slung over his shoulder. “Morning post, my lady.”
“Oh, thank you, Gustavo.” The lad beamed at her words and handed Lorelei a few envelopes. “I will bring them to father right away.”
Andrew felt a sliver of envy for the way Lorelei looked at the boy. There was little to be jealous of, for he’d only danced with her once and brought her flowers. He had no designs on her—nor would he ever. He was not looking for a wife. He reminded himself that he’d only come out of a need to protect her.
Lorelei glanced through the letters when the post boy moved on to his next delivery, an awkward silence falling on them.
“I will bid you farewell.” He bowed, but she continued to stare at the envelope in her hands, her knuckles white from grasping it so tightly. “Are you unwell?”
At his words, the butler opened the door behind her and glanced out.
Finally, she looked to the marquis once more, but her former ease was gone, her shoulders tensed and her eyes wide with concern.
“I must go,” she said, not waiting for his response before she fled into the house. The door slammed behind her—no doubt the butler conveying his suspicion of Andrew.
Chapter 4
Andrew stepped down from the carriage in front of his townhouse and flipped the reins to his waiting footman before straightening his overcoat. His morning had taken an odd turn, but nevertheless, Lady Lorelei had received him and she’d loved the flowers. The comte had been gracious, though not overly welcoming. No member of the ton would look unfavorably upon their daughter being courted by a marquis, even if said marquis had a less-than-stellar past.
He’d thought long and hard the previous night about forgetting the woman, continuing on as if they’d never met and sparks hadn’t flown between them. He had little doubt it would have been for the best, yet instead he found himself rising to send a servant to his hothouse for the perfect flowers to present to her. Giving a woman flowers was not something he was used to doing. A shiny bauble here or there, of course. Silky scarlet-red undergarments, most definitely. But flowers? Heavens, no. They did not benefit him in any fashion.
It nagged at him the way their visit had ended. He should have followed her back inside, if only to make sure she was well after receiving the letter in the post.
His most significant failure, however, was neglecting to warn her about Chastain. Now, he reasoned that the likelihood of her ruin decreased significantly if he simply remained close to her.
“Good day, Alfred,” he said when the front door opened.
“Good day. Lord Chastain awaits you in your study.”
It was almost as if his thoughts had conjured the man. It was early for Chastain to be about. At this hour, he was usually entertaining his guest from the previous night, ensconced in her bed.
His friend paced before the hearth, facing Andrew when he entered the study. “Where have you been?”
“I was out.” He wasn’t about to tell him he’d been at Lady Lorelei’s townhouse. “What are you pacing for?”
“We were to leave first thing after morning meal for Sasha’s annual festival at Eggerhart Quarry.” Benji threw up his hands like a petulant child denied a sweetmeat. “If we do not depart with all haste, all the choice girls will be picked over.”
He’d forgotten the one thing that both he and Benji lived for: Madame Sasha’s annual masquerade ball at her country estate. It was a fortnight full of debauchery during which Madame Sasha introduced a new crop of courtesans to exclusive men of the ton. Her guests were encouraged to sample the Madame’s goods and make offers on any girl they found to their liking.
Each year, Sasha delivered on the promises made in her invitation. Men left their wives, children, and responsibilities behind to flock to the country house party for several nights of delight with the chance of returning to town with a new mistress.
Other men, like Benji and himself, enjoyed the diversion, but were less likely to settle on one girl for more than a few nights. They much favored Madame Sasha’s London establishment—Craven House—to meet their needs.
“Please, temper your urgency.” Andrew poured himself a drink and, upon second thought, gave Benji one, too. He was on edge and could use the heat. “It is only a few short hours’ journey, and within a day, you’ll tire of the festivities and be ready to return to town.”
Taking his glass, Benji downed the liquid in one gulp. “Let us be off already.”
“I am unsure I can go.”
“What? You jest, certainly.”
“I fear I do no such thing. Something has come up and I must remain in town.”
“What could have happened since last eve? Wait a moment…”
Andrew knew from the smirk on his friend’s face that he’d reached the correct conclusion. “I have business—”
“Business… Lady Lorelei is business now, is she?”
“Who mentioned Lady Lorelei? As you well know, I have many responsibilities. I do not relish the way you squander your title and estate while you focus solely on indulging your own needs.”
“You are bloody cunning,” Benji said. “You still fancy the chit.”
“And if I do?”
“She is captivating, in that exotic way.” Benji tapped his forefinger against his chin in thought. “Eyes that look into your very soul. But if I am being honest, I only care about how heavenly it would feel to be embedded deep inside her—”
“She is a lady. Have a little respect.” The concept was one neither man had ever thought much about, since their only true use for a woman up until then had been to afford them pleasure. A warm bed for the night—or several, depending on how welcoming her charms were.
Benji had a look of utter confusion on his face. “I will admit, I pondered the idea of gaining a private moment with the girl, mayhap spirit her off to one of the empty rooms above.”
“All I mean to say,” Andrew said, “is that Lady Lorelei is young and new to England. She deserves better than men who favor her only to get a glimpse of what her silk evening dress hides. We are not rutting boys, straight out of university.”
His friend thought over his words before speaking. “Then I propose a truce.”
“What type of truce, exactly?” he asked skeptically.
Benji was back to his easygoing, devil-may-care self. “Neither of us pursues her.”
“Go on.”
“No talking, no touching, do not even dream of her at night—a simple dance is out of the question altogether.”
It was better than he’d hoped for—his desire to protect her would be moot, leaving him free to return to his daily life. “You would agree to that?”
And hope that Lorelei’s allure faded with time.
“Most assuredly.” Benji moved toward the door. “Now that that is settled, shall we be off?”
The man’s agreement had come too quickly. Their long acquaintance allowed Andrew the clarity to see past Benji’s words to the heart of the matter. His friend knew he wanted something—whether it be a woman or a horse, mattered not—and therefore, in accordance with their good-natured rivalry, Benji would make sure he acquired it first.
“As I said earlier,” Andrew said, “something with my estate has arisen and I cannot delay addressing the issue. But, by all means, please go and give Sasha my best. I do regret not attending.”
“Very well,” Benji said skeptically. “I believe I can manage without you this one year, but under no circumstances will I give excuses to Sasha for you. Send word yourself.”
“Then I do hope you are overtaken by highwaymen on your journey.”
Benji laughed. “And I will give them what-for and send them on their way, relieved of their own weapons.”
“I expect nothing less.”
“And it will highly impress Madame and her girls. My tales of unmanning an unsavory highwayman, all to reach them. Why, their corsets will untie themselves, I suppose.”
His friend had one thing on his mind, and, thankfully, it did not start with an L—neither Lorelei nor love. Yet, those two words were all Andrew could think of.
Maybe it would be wise for him to spend time in the arms of a willing woman in order to forget about a certain girl.
Instead, he said, “Yes, I agree, they will fall to your feet in ecstasy when you retell your harrowing journey to deflower them. I truly wish I could be there, but I must meet with my steward posthaste.”
“Then I will not keep you. Shall we have dinner at White’s upon my return?”
“If I have returned from my country estate, for certain.”
“I will think of you during my time of debauchery.”
“Please, do not,” Andrew called after his friend as he left the room.
He despised lying, especially to someone he considered as close as family. That he did so with Benji, agreeing to a truce with which he had zero intention of complying, set him on a path he was reluctant to go down. He’d worked hard to mend the ways of his youth, putting his transgressions behind him.
With Benji out of town and away from the rumor mills, Andrew could advance his relationship with Lorelei in a proper way, if he were so inclined. Part of him feared her allure extended beyond the competition with Benji for her attention—that she was more than a prize to be won.
Mentally, he made a list of things one did when courting a woman. His list fell decidedly short as he was at a loss after flowers. He realized he was not versed in much past lifting a girl’s skirts and giving them pleasure. Without that, what drew a woman to a man? He was in over his head and knew it.
Lorelei paced her room—back and forth and then back again.
