His words were muffled, but she heard them clearly.
She pulled her head and shoulders away from him. His hand still held her bottom pressed intimately against his loins, so she could only move so far but it was enough that Hugh had to meet her gaze.
“You can’t imagine that I would…that we could…” How to say it delicately? “In the garden?”
His eyes focused on hers. For a heart-stopping instant, she saw pure lust in the depths of his black irises. Then, he shook his head as if to clear it. His gaze dropped low, to the point where a nipple peeked from her bodice. The touch of wind on her bare skin was titillating. She should have been ashamed but for some reason felt completely at ease in his arms. Finally, Hugh met her gaze again, and it was as if a door had slammed shut between them.
He shook his head, this time in denial, and her heart fell.
“We can’t do this.” He sounded tortured, as wounded as she felt by his refusal.
“I don’t understand…”
A hand still held her bottom so she could not pull away—not that she had any mind to do so. The heaviness of his manhood felt right snugged against her hip and she had no desire to lose that connection.
“I didn’t mean to ravish you here. I…” Hugh looked baffled, but glanced down again to where her breast was uncovered. “This is not why I came here, Elise. You can’t think I would come to take advantage of you in your garden.”
The feelings flooding her body only an instant earlier had subsided but by no means were they gone. She was a virgin but she recognized desire when she felt it. Their attraction was mutual. Whatever was he going on about?
“Of course not. But you did come to see me, didn’t you?”
This couldn’t be a mistake. It was clear; Hugh wanted her, too. He could not deny the attraction. The evidence still throbbed hotly against her.
“Who else would I have come to see? You left me no choice.”
“Pardon?”
He removed his hand from her buttocks. Her hands still clasped his biceps so he didn’t move away.
“You didn’t return to London, did you? So I had no choice; I had to come here to talk with you.”
“Talk with me?”
“Of course. As I said, you don’t think I came here to ravage you in the midst of your mint and oregano, do you?”
Elise took her hands from his arms and stepped back. Suddenly it became clear that they were of different minds.
“No,” she said softly. “I would not expect that of you.”
Hugh raked a hand through his curls. One fell low on his brow, making him look more than a little rakish. He looked seriously into her eyes as he said, “That is a relief. I did not mean to get carried away, but you were so delectable sitting amongst the greenery. I am, after all, a man.”
No doubt there, she thought.
Hugh cleared his throat. One step backward took him into the basil plants, and their delicious aroma swirled around them. Elise was tempted to look down but refrained. The evidence of his desire was imprinted on her skin and in her mind. No need to add another image to the memory.
“Why did you come here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
This time, she did glance down to the hard bulge in his breeches.
“Elise—”
“Why, Hugh?” She met his gaze, her throat tight.
“To convince you to go to London with me. I thought you realized that. Emmaline needs to—”
His words hit her like cold water.
“Emmaline?”
Hugh’s brow furrowed. “That’s right. Emmaline needs to speak with you. There are papers to sign, assets to transfer—”
She cut him off. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t understand, do you?” Hugh took a deep breath. He cleared his throat, then spoke slowly. “Your father was a wealthy man. He had no sons, business partners or anyone else other than you, your sister and, of course, Emmaline. She has no desire to lay claim to his assets. Her business left her well taken care of, so she has decided to turn all of your father’s holdings over to you. There is a bank account, some other interests and the house.”
“The whorehouse?” Elise spat the word. It left a sour taste in her mouth.
He looked taken aback, but gave a fast nod. “The London house, yes. It is yours now. All you need do is return with me, sign some papers and, hopefully, have a nice chat with Emmaline. That is all she wants, you know.”
Comprehension dawned, hitting her hard. Elise placed a hand over her midsection. The pain was so sharp it felt like she had been punched.
Business. He’d come on the whore’s business.
Not for her.
“I don’t want it. Now, please leave.”
She took a step toward the stoop but his hand caught her wrist and stopped her. Elise looked at him, disgust at her foolishness making her almost ill. How could she have believed him different? He was just like every other man, just the same sort of scoundrel her father had been.
“I don’t understand, Elise. How can you not want the money? Think of what it will do for your social standing. You will be wealthy.”
A rake. A heartless, money-driven rogue.
“There are some things that aren’t for sale. At any price. Please, go. Now.”
Chapter 9
London, May 1814
Elise stared at the designs before her. They were good, one better than the other, and each so different from the next. Demure necklines, high waists flowing into a sea of ripples, pleats where no one else dared place them, plunging backs on evening gowns…so many to choose from, and the swatches of fabric attached to each any woman’s dream.
She piled the large vellum sheets atop each other, too overwhelmed by the array of choices to pin her heart to only a few favorites. They would have to wait until later, after dinner perhaps, when the hours stretched long and lonely.
Louise entered the room on silent, slippered feet. She hadn’t dressed yet, and her yellow dressing gown made her look younger than usual. Perhaps the glow coming off her in waves was in some way related to the reason she was so late beginning her day.
“Did you and Mother enjoy the theater last night?”
Elise sat back in the soft leather chair, steepled her fingers and waited for a reply. Louise took her time, arranging her gown around her and drawing her feet up beneath her on the chair across from the library’s big desk. Elise spent a lot of time at the desk, and her sister frequently occupied the visitors’ chair. They had come to the arrangement smoothly, and it suited them both.
“We did,” Louise said.
She had an odd gleam in her eyes that Elise did not miss. Before she could be questioned, Louise continued.
With a wave at the desktop, she asked, “Do you like my new sketches? Mother helped choose the fabrics, but the designs are mine. Do you think they will work in the shop?”
They had fallen into their new roles well. Louise designed, Genevieve supervised and Elise tended to the business matters of their new London dress shop. So far, the arrangement hadn’t posed any problems, and the trio was pleased with every aspect of the endeavor.
“They are lovely the fabrics, too. I believe every well-dressed London lady will soon be wearing one of your creations, Louise.” It was true. Louise had a knack for fashion.
“I hope so.” She stared wistfully at an area above Elise’s head for a moment. Then, she said, “You should have gone to the theater with us. I think you would have been quite amused by the company we kept.”
Since their move to London, the three women had more social encounters than they’d ever had in Essex. Elise did not care much for parties or the theater, preferring to stay in and read or work on her needlepoint. Louise, however, loved the excitement and was glad to experience what all the city offered. Of course, Genevieve chaperoned the young woman everywhere, so Elise was often on her own at night.
Two weeks prior, Louise had made the acquaintance of a young man from a good family. Jacob Wainwright was not a peer. Nor was he wealthy. He did, however, have prospects for providing a good life to a wife and family, courtesy of his family’s shipping business. It was a suitable match, leaving Louise happy as a lark.
Elise was grateful their changed circumstances had wrought happiness for her sister and peace for their mother.
“How is Jacob?”
Louise blushed. She grinned, saying, “Jacob is perfect. Just perfect.” She paused, then added, “He wasn’t the only person we saw last night.”
Just then, Henry came into the room bearing the mail tray. He waited while Elise took the solitary envelope and murmured her thanks. Then, he left.
“Who is it from? Cornelia?” Louise peered at the handwriting while Elise slit the envelope open.
Scanning the familiar handwriting, Elise shook her head. “No. It’s from Emmaline. Want to hear?”
“You know I do. Please, read it.”
“
Dear Elise,
It is hard to believe that so many weeks have passed since we last saw each other. But time does fly when life is going well, doesn’t it?
I hope you are all settled into the house by now. I know it is the perfect arrangement, and I am so glad you finally consented to accept your father’s fortune.
He loved you girls. Please remember, your father was a good man, but a man, nonetheless. He loved in his own way, and never forgot you or Louise. He was simply too proud to ask your mother for visiting privileges. Instead, he watched over you from a distance, always abreast of your lives without making any trouble for your mother. But we have been through all of this already so I will move on.
Forgive me, I am an old woman and just want to see every piece of my life’s puzzle securely in place before I go to my reward. If I have meddled, it is because I have grown to love you—through your father’s eyes initially, then firsthand now that we have met. I mean no harm, Elise. I trust you know that.
Stay well. Please give my best to Louise and Genevieve.
Sincerely,
Emmaline”
Elise read the letter a second time, silently, but could not decipher its meaning. She turned the page over, but the back was blank.
“Cryptic, isn’t it? Another mysterious letter from Emmaline Byrd—can you believe it?”
Before Louise could say a word, the library door opened. She looked up, expecting to see Genevieve, Henry or the maid, Helen, but her expectations were not met.
Hugh strode into the room, the heels of his polished Hessian boots striking the oak flooring like gunshots.
Louise rose, fleeing the room with a small greeting for Hugh. She hadn’t looked shocked by his arrival.
He looked larger than Elise remembered, and even handsomer in person than in her dreams. Be that as it may, she did not intend to let him see her true feelings. He had proven her theory about men correct, leaving for overseas directly from the house in Essex after their morning argument.
She couldn’t forget that he’d run out on her. It had rankled her these past weeks, the time when she learned the truth about her father, made peace with Emmaline and, along with Louise and Genevieve’s full agreement, decided to accept her father’s property.
Where had he been all that time? Nowhere to be of any help, so why bother showing up now?
“You look like a lady to the manor born. It is a change that suits you.” Hugh grinned, sending her heart falling into her belly.
He did not sit in the visitors’ chair, instead perching on the edge of the desk. She pushed Louise’s sketches further to the side of the wide wooden desktop.
“You have not changed. You are still arrogant, bursting in where you have not been invited.” Elise forced herself to remain seated and struggled to put iciness behind her words. It was not an easy task given that her body was suddenly aflame.
He leaned down so his face was even with hers. “I knew I would never be invited back here.”
“You’re right. This is no longer a…ahem, it isn’t an establishment where women are taken and discarded. You’ll need to find that sort of entertainment elsewhere.”
“You came to see Emmaline.”
The topic change threw her, but only temporarily. Elise nodded.
“I’m glad,” Hugh said. He lifted one eyebrow so high it disappeared beneath the curl hanging over his eye.
His hair had grown, and the curls were longer than they had been the last time they had been together. Elise liked the change. Her fingers itched to touch his black curls so she scrunched them tightly in her lap.
“Why should it matter to you?” Elise swallowed the accusation that he didn’t care about her enough to stay in England. She wanted to hear his explanation. Then, she would let Henry show him the door.
“You don’t know? Truthfully, you don’t know?”
His dark gaze seared into her. She shivered, her disloyal body sending surges and heat to points that had no business growing hot.
This had to end.
Elise stood. There was little space between them now and they were eye to eye but she didn’t back away. This was her house. Her office. He was the intruder, not she.
“You have to leave.” She was tired of playing games with him. “I already told you that the type of woman you seek is not here anymore. There are places to accommodate your needs; I’m sure you know just where they are. Now, please, leave me in peace.”
She held her breath. Part of her wanted him to go and the other part…well, that was the part she couldn’t control.
Hugh didn’t move. He sat, staring at her until she thought she would scream from the pressure.
“You can’t know what kind of woman I want—need—because I didn’t know, either, until just recently.” His voice was hypnotic, soothing in the face of her agitation.
Elise couldn’t move. She wanted to, knew she needed to, but she couldn’t do it. She stood there, her gaze locked with his.
“Emmaline said you resisted taking the money. Why?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want it. I was happy in Essex. I liked our little shop. Money cannot buy the important things,” she added.
“Why, then?”
Sighing, she admitted, “Mother and Louise. They wanted a bigger shop and Louise wanted the opportunities having funds can provide. So I said yes.” She swept her arms wide. “And here we are.”
“Thank you.”
“For?”