The Coachman's Daughter (17 page)

“Nor did I. But he is a handsome man, and I
was not blind.”

Lisette got to her feet, pacing a little, a
smile of absorbing all of it on her lips. “Is that why he is so
changed. Why he is taking up his duties and…”

“No. I doubt it. He has simply come to his
senses.”

“Lovers.” Lisette sighed. She sat down again
and regarded haven for long silent moments before murmuring, “I
never thought you’d fall for a rake. Even if he is my brother.”

“Nor did I. Trust me, it was not smooth
going. But we were—are—attracted.”

“Good Lord. I was so wrapped up in Mama
thrusting Marston under my nose. I was not there for you. I wasn’t
even there for you when you found out about your mother.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Haven grinned at
her. “We were both going through something. What matters to me is
that you understand and don’t think less of me.”

“Of course I don’t. I love you.” Lisette
insisted. “I think you’re daft for falling at Deme’s feet…”

“It wasn’t exactly like that.” Haven put in
dryly.

“I’ll wager not.” Lisette chuckled. “You
know, now that I think on it. I did notice him looking at you, and
had I not been trying to avoid the Viscount, I’m sure I would have
seen it.”

“Everyone else seems to have.”

“Well, so you are his mistress?”

“Lover. You brother doesn’t keep or support
me.”

Lisette was intrigued now. “Is
it—exciting?”

“Being lovers.”

“That and the—other.”

Haven flushed. “It’s amazing.”

Lisette sighed. “I envy you. I always thought
I would have an adventures life. We were raised with every reason
to believe we did not have to conform. I mean, look who my parents
are?” Lisette chuckled. “I do not really understand why I’m the one
expected to have a conventional match. I would much rather have a
dashing lover and live a grand adventure.”

Haven knew that from those talks back when
Lisette was ill and in the sick room for months on end. To the
other, she said, “I didn’t set out to be his lover. I didn’t plan
or dream of—whatever it is we have.”

“But you are content with it?”

“Um. I do not think that fits either. I want
to be with him. That’s all that I can say.”

“And he wants you. He must, because we have
all noticed how different he is. He’s still an arse at times, but
mama was saying, it was as if he returned changed, in a good
way—still charming, still a bit of a rogue, but he’s more serious
about life.”

“I don’t think that’s my doing.” Haven stood
and walked over to her gloves and cloak.

Standing too, Lisette was waiting for her to
don them as they could hear the hall clock gong. She offered,
“Whatever becomes of it—and if that brother of mine is wise, he
will see what a wonderful person you are—but whatever happens,
we’re always friends. You’re like a sister to me.”

“Thank you.”

They embraced for a moment and then stepping
back, Lisette snickered, “We clean up pretty well, you and I, for
two females who run around in trousers and can likely out shoot
half the chaps in England.”

Haven laughed too and said, while they headed
out the door. “If they only knew. Remember the time I was teaching
you to handle the ribbons and you dropped them. We were screaming
our bloody heads off just watching the buggy and team take us
toward the lake.”

Arm in arm, they descended the stairs,
Lisette crowed on a chuckle, “God, yes. I decided we should jump,
and you did first. Wise. Since I waited a moment too late. The team
turned and I was tossed right into the icy water.’

Their laughter rang out and reached the
Marquis, and the Graces awaiting them below. They were still
smiling, when mid-way, Haven caught sight of Deme. He stood on the
other side of his mother, dressed in formal black and white,
holding a cape over his arm, his hat and cane in his hand. Her
knees got a bit weak noting how his shorn hair drew attention to
the gorgeous bones of his face. It was tapered against his nape,
short around his ears, with the curl there but not hiding his jaw
line. It fell over his right temple in a way that was roguishly
attractive.

She hardly knew she had stopped, nor that
Lisette was eyeing her amused, and so too was the Duke and Duchess,
who noted Deme’s, eyes fixed on her.

It was the sound of Lisette’s heels on the
stairs, realizing she was walking on without her, that got Haven’s
feet moving again. Her cape and skirt hem dragged on the step
behind as she held her hem enough to walk to the bottom.

“Ravishing,” the Duke said.

“I could not have chosen better myself.” The
Duchess announced cheerfully. “Haven, my dear, you are a vision.
The gossips will have their mouths hanging open all night.” She
laughed.

Deme, their gazes held, murmured, “I forgot
to breathe…”

Swallowing, and more than thrilled, she told
him, “I like your hair that way.”

“Yours is lovely.”

Lisette giggled.

The Duke cleared his throat.

Haven flushed but Deme merely gave Lisette a
wink before he was helping her on with her cape.

They were taking two coaches, and after the
men had their hats on, their capes, they stepped out into a lightly
snowing evening.

Haven glanced up before she got in the coach
with Deme, Lisette would ride with the Duke and Duchess.

Her father in his green livery, caped coat,
top hat and white scarf, was grinning down at her.

Deme was at her elbow and looked up at the
man as he rested his gloved hand on her spine. “Thank you for
allowing me to escort one of the loveliest women in England
tonight.”

The coachman said, “Is that an official
declaration of something?”

Ignoring Haven’s groan, Deme grinned and
nodded his head respectfully. As the footman had the door open, and
helped Haven in, he supplied, “Absolutely, sir. We shall speak on
it later.”

Snug in the coach, hearing her father’s snap
of the reins and command, Haven muttered, “Let’s not bring my
father into this.”

He settled back, his hat brim glimmering from
melting snow and the white silk scarf he wore enhancing his flushed
skin. “Just remember your promise, Mulhern.”

She grunted. “Back to that, are we? The last
time we were in this coach you called me Haven.”

His white teeth flashed wickedly. “Would that
be when I was lying on the seat you were riding my mouth.”

She hissed, “My father may hear you. For God
sakes.” And turned so red her eyes watered.

He was laughing his head off. It was filling
the whole coach for several moments.

She finally kicked his skin.

He leaned down and rubbed the spot, his eyes
glittering as they passed a lamppost. “My mouth is already watering
thinking about it.”

She moaned and looked away from him.

He talked that way, teasing, sensual, all the
way to the theater.

They stepped out amid carriages and a crush
of people. Heads turned when Deme’s masculine laughter rang out
again. Seeing the woman on his arm, everyone murmuring, and when
she lowered her hood under the awning—it added even more fuel to
the gossip fire.

Only Deme and Haven knew he had laughed
because she had looked up as she alighted, obviously trying to make
sure her father had not heard his intimate talk. It so amused,
Deme, that he hardly knew how many people blinked at the attractive
man he was, and the stunning couple they made, or that a few of his
fly by night trysting partners eyed him an blinked as if they
couldn’t believe their eyes and ears.

When they were caught up with the Duke and
Duchess, Haven felt the woman pat her arm.

She leaned over and whispered before they
headed to their boxes, “I just love to cause a stir.” And laughed.
“Society should thank us, my dear. Without the Wimberly’s around,
whatever would the sticklers do for excitement?”

Grinning, Haven watched her wink and then she
and the Duke and Lisette were heading to the Duke’s box.

She snickered when she recognized a tall dark
figure heading for Lisette. Apparently, Lisette saw him too, for
she turned her head and caught Haven’s eye, mouthing comically,
BLOODY HELL!

It was slow going but they reached Deme’s
box. She let him take her cape before seating her in one of the
elegant chairs. He removed his own and saw to them, and then took
the seat beside her.

Haven eyed the snowy cravat, his emerald
stickpin, and again admired his haircut, the curl at the bottom of
his ear, the blue-black sheen of it.

He caught her looking and leaned the short
distance between them to whisper, “I like the feel of your eyes on
me.”

Breathing in through her nose, Haven turned
to look down at the stage though she soon lifted it, aware that
tier after tier, box after box, there were eyes and opera glasses
turned on herself and Deme.

He slid his chair a bit closer to her. She
could almost hear a murmur and whisper start rising. Leaning over a
bit, his lips brushed her ear.

She looked at him. “People are staring.”

He held her gaze. “Let them. I’m with the
most beautiful woman here tonight.”

“I don’t think that is why.” She laughed on a
sigh.

He raised a white gloved hand and caressed
her jaw line. There was a distinct ripple of voices at that.
Neither of them cared.

Deme told her when he dropped it, “I grew
used to sharing a bed with you shockingly fast. I scarcely slept,
and when I did, my dreams kept me aching.’

Her body reacted to that admission. Her heart
pounded. The whole world could have vanished for all Haven
noticed.

Their gazes went over each other’s faces,
remembering intimacies, naturally feeling the urge lovers do, to
touch, and kiss each other. She released a shaky breath and jerked
her eyes away and back to the stage.

Deme saw the rise and fall of her breasts,
the flush on her cheeks, and watched a little pulse beat at the
side of her neck. He turned his eyes to the stage too, his body
pushed beyond the brink between his very vivid dreams and the
reaction to the vision she made tonight. Christ, that tease of her
perfume when he had taken her cloak stirred him.

The music swelled and covered most of the
whispers. Though they rose and fell often too. Each of them tried
to focus on the play, and even Deme was aware of the people
watching them. But time and again, their eyes found each other. He
would touch her in the guise of leaning to whisper in her ear. That
too was an excuse to put his lips on her skin. Both tense, aware of
each other, by the intermission, they made their way to the Duke
and Duchess’s box, talking, meeting those who came by to speak—many
to gawk and get a better look at the rakehell Fielding and his
mistress. The woman, most believed, who had captivated him as none
ever could.

In some part of her calm mind, Haven was
amused by it, aware the Duchess was having a grand time with it
too.

She was exchanging a look with Lisette, who
was preoccupied with the fact that her parents had invited the
Viscount to their box tonight. Objectively Haven could see what an
attractive a couple they made, the lithe and blond Lisette in her
elegant sapphire and silver—the tall and craggy Marston, who stood
just behind her, in formal black, his height and darkness, the
brawn of him completely complimenting her friend.

However, aware of Lisette’s opinion, she
accepted champagne that Deme handed her. Then gave Lisette’s hand a
squeeze and whispered in her ear, “Did you tell him about the time
you snuck into his Grace’s port and I found you watching one of the
grooms bathing necked.”

Lisette laughed and muttering in her ear, “He
wouldn’t see the humor in it. Although I must admit, I was shocked
as you’ll recall—discovering he had dangly bits.”

Nearly snorting the champagne out her nose,
Haven coughed and choked, “As I remember it, it was the size you
were confused by. I believe we deduced that had it been similar to
a horse’s—which you apparently expected—he would have never got his
trousers to fit.”

Their laughter burst out full and throaty. It
drew everyone’s attention in the box. Nevertheless, as she went to
stand by Deme, following a wink to Lisette, Haven glanced at the
silent Viscount and turned slightly red.

Something in his silver eyes told her, he had
heard every word they had said.

Deme’s hand went around her waist. She basked
in it whilst he finished a conversation with his father. It was
about time to return to the box, when she leaned into that touch,
subtly letting him know she was still in tune with his own
desires.

In the box once more, they did much the same
as the first time, talking now though, leaning to whisper
things—that had nothing to do with the play.

When it was over, and the family was out all
into the colder night, snow had blanketed the streets. The Duke and
Duchess expressed a desire to join a party of particular friends.
Deme insisted they take their coach, and he and Haven theirs. It
was all done with everyone acting natural and pleased with the
arrangement—as if it was not obvious the lovers could not very well
have her father driving them to some intimate trysting spot.

While it was going on, the getting to
separate coaches, Haven heard Marston offer to take Lisette to a
more-to-her taste, gathering. The Duke gave consent. Thus, when the
Viscount was escorting her by their coach, Lisette mouthed, “I
shall escape.”

Chuckling, having seen that, Deme said when
the coach pulled out, “She’ll get herself in bloody trouble
sneaking off one of these days.”

“Lisette can take of herself. Don’t doubt for
a moment she doesn’t have a stiletto in her garter.”

He guffawed, and they talked a bit more of
the woman’s spirit and resistance, before he took off his hat and
sat back asking her, “Would you like to see my townhouse or have a
light meal at the hotel?”