Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 72
He leaned close and whispered, “Come with me. My coach is not far.”
“I mustn’t.” The words came on a breathy sigh. “Please, Andrew, just go.”
She longed to accept his offer, to climb into his coach and drive off, even if it were only for an afternoon. That may be all the time left to her before she’d need to make the biggest decision of her life.
She could flee with her parents, leaving Peter in Mrs. Dutton’s care, or go against her father’s wishes and face the wrath of De Pez and the French government. She knew for certain she could not risk taking Peter with her, because it would only jeopardize his life.
That left one option: she and Peter must disappear together. Leave London, Chastain, the marquis, her parents, and her country behind.
Andrew grasped her arm when she pulled away, his fingers biting into the skin above her wrist. His grip tightened for a brief second then he released her.
“Please.”
No one would have heard the pain in his simple, heartfelt plea. Nor would they know the depth to which that plea resonated through her… At least, she hoped they would not.
They walked side by side in silence once more, not touching. She felt his pent-up response beside her.
He must feel her presence as strongly as she did his.
She wanted to give in—give in to everything he wanted from her.
Their connection was something she’d long tried to deny, or at least tamp down to a manageable ache. She’d thought of him, but it was too much to hope that he’d done the same. She was his best friend’s wife. That she’d met him first mattered naught.
And so they walked, with no destination in mind.
For the first time since she’d returned to London, Lorelei was unconcerned who saw her. A dozen French government officials could be trailing her now and she didn’t care. They could all go on about their business and leave her alone.
She was an English duchess…and, therefore, untouchable.
Though she knew well what had happened to the last Lord Chastain.
He was no more.
For now, she had this time, these few hours before she must make the decision that would change so many lives—though in truth, she wondered if the decision had already been made.
She would consider the thought once more when she and Peter were safely out of harm’s way. If that ever occurred.
For the moment, she was protected when she walked side by side with Andrew. Not because he was a marquis…or influential…or wealthy, but because he would allow nothing to happen to her.
“May I call on you?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“You know that would be improper.”
“I want to give my good tidings on the birth of your son.”
“Chastain’s son?” she asked.
“Your son, Lorelei.”
“You will have ample time for that when he is presented to society.” He didn’t need to know that that day would not likely come, and if it did, Lorelei would not be present.
“Do you need anything?”
“You sent the peppermint leaves.” She looked out the side of her eye to gauge his reaction. “That was very kind of you.”
“You left town so quickly I hadn’t the time to wish you farewell.” The sadness in his words took root in her.
“I wish I hadn’t had cause to leave so suddenly, either.” She wanted to give him peace, but feared she would only lead him to believe there was something—could ever be something—more between them. “But we both know that even if I’d stayed in London there would be needless gossip if you continued to show favor to me.”
“So instead you fled?”
Lorelei didn’t want to answer the question. It would be easy to blame her exile to the country on Chastain, make him appear the cruel and heartless man he actually was, but that was untrue.
She’d chosen to leave.
She’d needed to go.
If not to gain distance from a future she’d been hard-pressed to deny herself, then to have space to clear her mind, search for the plans…and try desperately to forget the man she could never have.
And where had that gotten her?
Ordered to a seamstress to have proper evening attire fitted, that’s where. She’d expected her clothes to be tight, yet she’d found they hung off her frame. Presently, her coat was the only thing covering the dreadful mess that was her walking gown.
Andrew stopped mid-step. “Lorelei, answer me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything.” His eyes searched hers.
“I am sorry!”
“Not that,” he yelled, taking her shoulders in his hands. “Never that.”
“I am sorry,” she continued. People watched their exchange, but she was helpless to stop the flow of her words. “I am sorry I ever locked eyes with you in that ballroom. I am sorry I allowed you to lead me onto the dance floor. But most of all, I am sorry I married your best friend.”
“Why?” he asked, as if he hoped it was because she loved him instead.
“Because we are now forever entwined.” She watched the light dissipate from his eyes with her every word. She would not give him the faith she lacked. “You are now cursed to see me with another for as long as your friendship lasts with Chastain.”
Her words were cruel and meant to cut him to the quick.
“And I,” she said, prepared to drive her point home, “now must live with my own mistakes and the life I created. I truly wish it were just mourning a love I pushed away. But know this—you shall forget me as I will forget you, in time.”
Too late, Lorelei realized that Andrew hadn’t been walking aimlessly as she had. He’d been herding her, in a way, exactly where he wanted her.
His carriage stood beside them, his manservant holding the door wide.
“I must get home to Peter.” Though she said the words, she wanted the complete opposite. This might well be her final chance to be with Andrew, to know the touch of his skin against her own, to feel his lips upon her body. She craved the kind of passion she’d never known with another.
“Tell me it is not what you want, and I will walk away now,” he said into her ear. “I will walk away and leave you with use of my coach to be taken wherever you desire.”
She flinched when he said the word desire, her body stiffening next to him.
They both certainly craved the same thing.
“I must go…”
“And you will. It is only a few moments of privacy that I am asking for.” She didn’t need that much urging to continue toward his carriage. “I believe you owe me this small favor…” He let his voice trail off.
Her sense of right would push her the last remaining steps.
“If Benji finds us together—”
“He will not.”
“One time about the block and you will drop me off here?” she asked.
“You have my word.”
Lorelei took his coachman’s offered hand and stepped up into his coach.
“Where to, your lordship?”
Chapter 22
He couldn’t keep his hands off her for long. He wanted all of her with all haste—now and forever. But he’d agreed to a simple carriage ride around the block, ten minutes at best. He took in the sight of her, sitting ever so prim and proper on the opposite seat facing him. He wanted to be next to her, to feel the heat of her desire for him, and she would feel his, as well.
It was like no time had passed—she hadn’t run off with Chastain. She hadn’t lied to him, though he should be angry with her. Yet, he could muster no emotion but need.
Moving next to her was also an impossibility at the moment, for he would never be done drinking in the sight of her. It puzzled Andrew that never did she look anything but perfect—to him, for him, and with him.
“Well,” she whispered. “Are you going to say anything?”
“Words could never be enough or express everything I have to say.”
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth before speaking. “Will you at least try? We have but a few moments.”
Andrew was at a loss for words. There were so many questions, but he feared every answer he’d receive. Could he handle it if she genuinely loved Chastain? Would he be capable of keeping his distance if she asked? If all hope were lost, would he be able to cope with a life without any chance of possessing her?
For the first time in his existence, Andrew was terrified of his future and what it held.
He’d inherited his vast estate and title at the tender age of seventeen… He’d basked in the glory of wealth beyond most people’s wildest dreams. Never once had he worried over the immense responsibility of managing his properties or his duties to Parliament.
Not ten years ago, he’d come face-to-face with one of his most horrible deeds, and not once had he been frightened of the consequences of his incorrigible actions. The woman—and his child—could still be seen here and there about London…the child claimed by another.
But losing this woman—a woman who was never his to begin with—petrified him.
And yet, he sat there in silence. No words could make her understand his need for her. He’d once thought it only a physical need, but now he knew he wouldn’t be happy or complete without all of her. Her body, her thoughts, her very being belonging only to him.
“I—”
“Andrew,” she said at the same time. “I think I owe you an explanation before you speak.”
“You owe me nothing,” he breathed. He was off his seat and kneeling before her. Her knees spread, and he moved between them to get closer to her. “I want to give you everything, but I understand if you truly have an affection for Chastain.”
He’d said it, the one thing that frightened him most. If it was a marriage of convenience, he could live with that, but once a woman’s heart belonged to another there was no changing that, even if the man were undeserving of her heart and did not return her feelings.
She set her hands on his shoulders and he looked to her face, waiting for the response that would crush him at his core.
“You do not understand, and I fear that is my fault.”
“Understand what?” he said, more harshly than he’d intended. “You married my best friend…knowing my affection for you. Knowing I intended to make you my Marchioness.”
“Andrew,” she started, but then stopped, as if she couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was in love with Chastain and there was no hope for them.
“Just tell me, Lorelei.”
“I have told no one.”
“But you can tell me,” he pleaded. “I will be here regardless of what you say.”
“You will look at me differently.”
“Never…”
“He accosted me…threw me to the ground…ripped my dress.”
Andrew pulled back from her in disbelief, but he knew his mistake the second he saw the hurt on her face, her arms crossed over her chest, closing herself off from him.
“That cannot be…” Andrew tried to make sense of her words. “Chastain may be without genuine care for others and selfish to the core, but to harm a woman?”
She lowered her gaze, breaking their eye contact.
If she were to trust him, he needed to bring that barrier down.
“I did not mean to say he did not take advantage of you,” he said, returning to kneel before her. “When did he do this? Your wedding night? If he hurt you—”
“No,” she whispered. “It was long before our wedding.”
“Before?” He wracked his brain, trying to think of a time they’d been together. Things had happened so quickly he could not pinpoint Chastain’s opportunity. “When he took you from the ballroom that first night? The son of a bit—”
“Not then, but a few days later.”
The next day, Chastain had been on his way to Madame Sasha’s country party. Andrew remembered that morning as clear as day: he’d returned from delivering Lorelei’s flowers and Chastain had been waiting for him to depart for the country, yet Andrew had called off in favor of pursuing Lorelei. But had Chastain not continued on to the party?
They had barely spoken since, for the distance Andrew put between them was also encouraged by Chastain. No more had they dined together or attended the theater.
“It was my fault,” Lorelei whispered. “I sent him an invitation to meet me at Covent Gardens.”
“An invite to a play does not constitute an invite to your body, Lorelei.” He tried lessening her guilt. If the blame lay anywhere, it was on his shoulders. If he’d gotten into his carriage and left London that morning with Chastain as planned, his old friend likely wouldn’t have been in town to receive her invitation. He reached up and took her chin in hand, bringing her eyes back to his. “You are not to blame for his crude behavior. You understand that, do you not?”
“But I called him to meet me there, unchaperoned.” A single tear burned a trail down her cheek. “What else was he to think?”
Andrew leaned forward to kiss a trail down her face from where the drop had escaped her eye to her chin still in his grasp. She was utterly breathtaking, even in her sorrow.
“Never think you caused it,” he said.
In his mind, he played back the events from that time, remembering the night Chastain returned from the country and sent word to meet him at White’s. Benji had been drunk, so deep in his cups—and his shirt had been stained with dirt. Could his friend have done this and then met him for dinner?
She searched his face, as if judging the validity of his words. He waited for her to speak, still fearing what would come next.
“Can you show me what it feels like to be with someone you love?”
He sat there breathless, unsure how to respond…what she expected of him. And most of all, whether he deserved the chance to show his love for her at all.
“I have wanted that since the moment I laid eyes on you.” She stayed silent, and he sensed she could not admit she’d wanted the same…with him. “You needn’t say or do a thing. I can show you love.”
He leaned forward and took her mouth then, his lips pressed to hers; seeking her, claiming her—but most of all, showing her.
The room around her was everything, yet nothing she expected. Masculine to the extreme with its heavy, immense furniture, high-backed chairs crafted to handle the size and weight of a man, and dark-blue draperies and bedclothes. It appeared the room had been cleaned recently, or else no one had used the area as of late, for not an item was out of place. The heavy chairs sat in the best position to gain the most warmth from the hearth. Another fireplace was situated on the far side of the room, closest to the bed.
She craved nothing more than to be in that bed, sheltered from the outside world, and safe from those who threatened her and her son. But mostly, to be wrapped in his arms. How many nights had she dreamed of just that?
Lorelei knew she shouldn’t be here. She belonged with her son, making plans for their future. A future far from London, De Pez, Chastain—and unfortunately, outside Andrew’s reach. But she found that possibility difficult to accept.
“May I take your coat?” he whispered in her ear.
The material slid from her arms when she shrugged. She didn’t hear it hit the floor, and assumed Andrew must have caught it. In that moment, she didn’t worry about her ill-fitting gown, for Andrew would never judge her or send a harmful word her way.
Trust was something she’d rarely given another.
But Lorelei trusted him. Believed that if things had been different, Andrew would have been a marvelous husband and doting father.
Unfortunately, things were not different.
They had this one afternoon, and if all went according to her plan, she and Peter would disappear, never to be seen again.
She would allow herself this one afternoon, a brief few hours of pleasure and happiness, for after she left him, Lorelei had the hardest decision of her life to make. Though that decision was already solidified in her mind, the execution of it was something with which she hoped she could follow through. From this point on, she would forever be looking over her shoulder, trusting no one, and always questioning their intentions.
For now, then, she would not question anything—not Andrew nor his intentions.
Lorelei would take all he had to offer her, though she knew she would be unable to give anything in return.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.” A chill ran through her, not because the room lacked warmth, but from her own anticipation. She’d lived this very moment a thousand times over in her mind. The room was different, but this man was the same.
“Then why do you shudder?” His fingers traced a slow path up and down her bare arms.
“Because I want you,” she breathed.
She was startled by the depth of her own emotions. After Chastain’s misuse, she’d never thought to truly want another man in this most primal sense. Though she found she wanted more than just his body, but also his mind, his passion.
He moved to the buttons lining the back of her dress and deftly began to unclasp them. The fire before her warmed her front while the opening of her dress allowed air to cool her heated skin.
She stared into the fire as her dress slid from her body. There was no turning back now.
Which met her needs, for she didn’t want him—or this—to stop.
“Please,” she pleaded.
“Tell me all you desire, my Lorelei.” He kissed the tender spot behind her ear as his hands continued to move across her back, lightly trailing the delicate fabric of her shift. “I am yours to command.”
Lorelei took orders. She executed well-thought-out plans created by others… Never had she taken the lead to get exactly what she wanted, though it seemed that time was upon her. If she could take control now with this man, then she most assuredly could handle whatever her future held.
“I want to see you…touch you.” That was all she wanted for the time being, and more than she could ever hope for.
She turned in his arms, covered only in her shift, stockings and shoes, yet she did not feel at a disadvantage while he stood before her fully clothed.
