“Why, it’s utter madness.”
“I’m sorry to tell you, Lily, but the general conjecture among the ladies is that whatever the secrets may be in Colton’s bedchamber, they would like to find out.”
Lily clapped her hand against her cheek and stared at her sister with wide eyes. “Annie Andrews! I cannot believe I am hearing such rubbish come from your mouth. You should be thankful you’re too old for me to wash it out with soap.”
Annie tossed a hand in the air, completely unrepentant. “I’m not a child anymore, Lily, and you yourself wanted me to read that awful, scary pamphlet. I mean, I do have some idea what happens in private between a man and a woman. The Marquis of Colton is gorgeous. I’ve been pining over him myself ever since he danced with me at my debut.”
Annie hopped off the bed and dreamily swept around the room, her skirts in her hand as if she were dancing to some imaginary waltz, no doubt with the Marquis of Colton.
Lily plunked her hands on her hips. “You should be taking a nap before the ball tonight, and I must go back downstairs and sit with the matrons and do needlework while they fawn over that scoundrel Colton.”
“If you say so, but I don’t feel the least bit tired.” Annie shrugged and gestured to her book. “And if this Hannah More doesn’t put me to sleep, I don’t know what will.”
Lily took a deep breath to steel herself and slipped out of the room and back down the staircase. She quietly reentered the salon she’d left minutes earlier. Apparently, Lady Eversly had put an end to her gossip in the hallway, because that lady was sitting in the middle of a group of ladies, laughing.
Oh, please let the discussion of Colton be done.
“What about you, Lady Merrill?” Lady Eversly asked as Lily made her way back to her seat. “Who do
you
think wrote
Secrets of a Wedding Night
?”
Lily gulped. “Are we still talking about that silly bit of writing? Why, I thought that was old news.” She laughed, hopefully enough to seem like she truly found it amusing.
“Perhaps Lady Merrill wrote the pamphlet.” Lady Mountebank peered out from behind her needlework. “That is the rumor, you know.”
Lily’s hands went clammy. She searched her mind for something witty and light to rejoin with, but found nothing.
“Yes, well, we all know it had to have been one of us marrieds. A woman with enough experience to know what she was writing about,” Lady Eversly offered. “And you fit the description, my dear Lady Merrill.”
“Oh, think what you’re saying,” Lady Harris said. The woman was an elderly widow herself. “Poor Lady Merrill is a widow. Her husband died soon after their marriage. I’m sure she would not dream of maligning Merrill’s good name with such drivel.”
Lady Eversly laughed. “Yes, well, I’ve read
Secrets of a Wedding Night,
and it’s nowhere near the truth if you’re with a real man.”
Lily gulped.
“There’s another reason Lady Merrill couldn’t possibly have written it,” Lady Weston added. Lady Weston was a voluptuous redhead who was married to a man twice her age.
“What’s that, Emma?” Lady Eversly asked, looking a bit too interested.
“Why, everyone knows Lady Merrill was rumored to be consorting with Lord Colton before her marriage to Merrill … and if that man had anything to do with her education,” Lady Weston giggled, “I know firsthand she wouldn’t have written anything so condemning about the act.”
The women’s voices erupted into a chorus of giggles and shrill laughs. Lily was temporarily glad she was saved from the recriminations and further questions as to whether she had actually authored the pamphlet, but she was struck by two very different emotions. First, she didn’t relish her name being linked to Devon Morgan’s. Had people assumed they’d been intimate all these years? If so, how had she not known about it? And secondly, Lady Weston was very obviously implying that she herself had been “educated” by Lord Colton. And that thought made Lily both miserable and very jealous.
It surprised her, to be sure, to find herself jealous over Devon, but the fact remained. Had Devon taken Lady Weston to bed? If so, and Lady Weston thought the pamphlet was a jest, that must mean Devon was particularly, ahem, skilled in that area. Something Lily already knew from a bit of personal experience. The thought of Devon touching Emma Weston the way he’d touched her made her positively green.
Devon’s words from the first afternoon he’d arrived at her town house came back to haunt her.
“I intend to prove to you that your bloody pamphlet is wrong. I intend to show you how a real man pleasures a woman. I intend to seduce you, Countess.”
Lily went hot and cold. She fanned herself rapidly and stood up. “I must rest before the ball tonight.” She hastily made her way from the room. Thankfully, the other women were still in gales over the earlier speculation and no one appeared to notice her departure.
She made her way up to her bedchamber. The room was dark and quiet. Annie was sleeping soundly in the adjoining room. Apparently, the Hannah More had done its work.
Lily slid between the cool sheets and expelled her breath. She hugged the pillow closely, closed her eyes, and tried to eradicate the memory of Devon’s kisses from her traitorous mind. But all she could recall was his hands on her, his lips on her throat, his tongue brushing hotly against hers.
Oh, God … she had been wrong all these years. A wedding night wasn’t as awful as she’d imagined it would be with the Earl of Merrill.
Her mind retraced to Devon. She remembered what it had been like five years ago to kiss him. The barest memory of actually looking forward to her wedding night came back to her. If it had been him—damn it, as it should have been—things might have been completely different. If it had been him—as it should have been—her life might be entirely different right now.
She thought of Devon with his dark good looks and all the nice things he’d done for her. He made her stomach leap when he entered a room. Surely a night with him would be exactly as Lady Eversly had described it. Nothing but pleasurable. If he made her feel the way he made her feel when he kissed her—and when he’d done those other things to her—she was certain to enjoy herself.
Lily tossed the sheets from her legs. Oh, whom was she fooling? She couldn’t nap right now. No, she’d go down to the stables and find a mount to ride. Perhaps that would serve to tire her out.
Careful not to wake Annie, she enlisted Mary to help her into her chocolate-brown riding habit. Once she was properly attired, she made her way to the stables.
“Ah, Lady Merrill, there you are!”
Lily winced and slowly turned around. Lady Eversly pranced about on a filly.
“You’ve come to ride?” the lady asked. “I’m just about to be off. Do come with me, dear Lady Merrill.”
Lily mustered the best smile she could. She had little choice but to join the woman. With the help of one of the grooms, she mounted a mare, and followed Lady Eversly from the stables.
“I know just the path to take,” Lady Eversly said. “The Atkinsons have such a lovely estate.”
“Let’s go,” Lily replied, already feeling better with the wind in her face. She’d think about her lack of money, her confrontation with Devon, and her future in Northumberland later. For now, all she wanted to do was to ride and ride and ride.
“You must call me ‘Catherine,’” Lady Eversly called to her.
Lily nodded. “You must call me ‘Lily.’”
Catherine maneuvered her horse next to Lily’s. They sauntered at a slow pace. “You left the sewing party quite abruptly earlier.” She leaned closer. “Do tell me, just between the two of us, did you write
Secrets of a Wedding Night
?”
“As much as I’d like to,” Lily replied, “I cannot claim credit for it.”
Catherine gave her a conspiratorial grin. “You know, that’s just what I told the other ladies this afternoon. Everyone knows you’re so proper you don’t even drink champagne. You couldn’t possibly have written
Secrets of a Wedding Night
.” But there was a gleam in her eyes that told Lily she was still very much under suspicion.
Catherine clucked to her horse and took off at a brisk pace. Lily squeezed the reins until her fingers ached, her eyes narrowed on Lady Eversly’s back. Finally, she reluctantly followed.
Soon they came to a fork in the road. “Follow me,” Lady Eversly exclaimed, and both women galloped sidesaddle into a narrow copse of trees. “I know a shortcut across the pasture,” she called.
They came to a break in the trees moments later and Lily squinted, making out two figures in the middle of the pasture. A small group of men encircled the figures. Voices were raised, bottles were being passed around, and bets were being placed.
“You can take him, Colton! My money’s squarely on you!” one man called.
Lily’s head snapped up. Colton was there. But what was he doing? She couldn’t tell exactly.
“Well, well, well. What have we stumbled upon here?” Lady Eversly shook the reins and kicked the side of her mount. “Let’s have a closer look, shall we?”
Lily tried to call out to Catherine and say no, but the lady was already halfway across the pasture.
Confound it!
She would have to follow. Lily trailed Lady Eversly, still squinting to make out exactly what Colton was up to.
“Hit him with another right, Ashbourne,” another male voice sounded as the women drew closer. “Don’t let me go home with my pocket lighter.”
When they galloped close enough, it was obvious. Lord Colton and Lord Ashbourne were engaged in a boxing match.
Without their shirts.
Lily gulped.
The two men circled each other in a patch of trampled grass while the small group of other men shouted along the sidelines.
Lily raised her voice. “I really don’t think we should—”
Lady Eversly quickly turned back to face her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Lady Merrill, but I suggest you do a lot less thinking and a lot more enjoying yourself.”
“But it’s completely improper to—”
“All the very best things are completely improper. That, you can count on.” Lady Eversly winked at her and then set off in a gallop that Lily quickly replicated.
Lily’s gaze swung back to the men. She swallowed and raised her chin. Lady Eversly was entirely right. It might not be proper to be galloping full pelt toward an obviously male pastime, but the thrill in her belly told Lily she wanted to get a closer look.
A much closer look.
They trotted within twenty paces of the gathering before one of the men looked up and noticed them.
“Why, Lady E, you know you shouldn’t be here,” the man said with a wry smile on his face that made Lily think he was very glad indeed to see Catherine.
“If it’s proper enough for you, Ellerbee, it’s proper enough for me,” Catherine shot back.
Ellerbee smiled a wide smile full of perfectly white teeth. “You are very right, E,” he said with a laugh.
Most of the other men were still engaged in the sport and barely glanced over when Lady Eversly and Lily cantered up.
“My friend Lady Merrill,” Lady Eversly said to Ellerbee.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Devon’s head whip to attention. He stopped the match.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ellerbee said to Lily, doffing his hat. “Any friend of Lady E’s is a friend of mine.”
Lily nodded and returned the greeting, but her every nerve was completely attuned to Devon and his awareness of her presence.
Lord Ashbourne had looked up when the match stopped and he glanced over his bare shoulder at Lily, obviously wondering what had so caught his opponent’s attention. He spat a mouthful of blood.
“What do we have here?” he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Exactly what I was saying to my friend Lady Merrill just now,” Lady Eversly called to Lord Ashbourne.
“Do you intend to remain atop that horse or will you get down and watch?” Lord Ashbourne called back.
Lily had never been much for propriety, but even for her, the discussion between Lady Eversly and Lord Ashbourne seemed overly familiar. The casualness with which Lady Eversly addressed the men was entirely inappropriate. Lily shouldn’t be here. She wanted to gallop away and not look back.
That is, until she allowed her eyes to rivet to Devon’s bare, muscled, sweaty chest.
CHAPTER 20
Devon wiped sweat from his brow and Lily noted with a funny feeling between her legs that his hair was mussed and his chest was perfect. The sheen of sweat that glistened over him made her imagine all sorts of things, specifically, his rock-hard body glistening above her, his muscles rippling as he hovered over her in bed.
A rush of heat burned her cheeks. She drew a deep breath.
Lady Eversly glanced back and forth between Lily and Devon. “Looking good, Colton,” she said in a voice that Lily found
entirely
too friendly. “Which one of you handsome men should I bet on?”
Devon nodded toward the manor house. “Don’t you think Eversly would wonder where his money’s gone?”
“Not,” Lady Eversly shot back, “if I win. Tell me, Ashbourne, which one of you is in more of a fighting mood today?”
“He is,” Lord Ashbourne said, cocking his head toward Devon. “But unless I mistake my guess, the bloke is about to forfeit this particular match.”
“I’m not forfeiting anything,” Devon growled at his friend.
Lady Eversly laughed. “You cannot blame him, Ashbourne. Everyone knows the rumor that he’s here for the weekend to seduce the writer of
Secrets of a Wedding Night
and it’s entirely possible that that particular lady is sitting atop a horse in front of him right now.”
Neither Devon nor Lily uttered a word. Their eyes met. Lily’s face burned with shame. She wished the earth would open up and swallow her.
Thankfully, Jordan Holloway broke the silence. “Don’t tell me you’re the author, Catherine,” he said, putting his hand over his heart in a mock sign of pain. “And here I’d always had such a good opinion of Eversly.”
“Hardly,” Lady Eversly snorted. “I’ve never been much for writing, but if you’re doling out lessons sometime, Ashbourne, do pay me a visit.”