Compromising Miss Tisdale (17 page)

The now familiar weight of guilt lay in his stomach like bricks.

He swore out loud and tried to shake off the unwelcome feeling. His uncle had depended on him; his family’s future had depended on
him
.

The mammoth weight had shifted from the pit of his gut to the breadth of his shoulders.

Somehow, he had managed to control himself, amongst one of the most unexpectedly desirable females he had ever met and the weight of his family’s future, and done nothing to secure a marriage. He was more concerned with her doubt in him and how she rebuffed any notion of having true affection toward him than fulfilling his duty.

And even though he hadn’t ever been refused by a woman before, vanity, for once in his life, was hardly the root of his confusion. Miss Tisdale had complicated the situation far greater than he could have ever expected.

When he presumed her to be of easy virtue, she had surprised him with her integrity. When he thought her indifferent, she had surprised him with passion. When he considered her cold, she’d proved to him that she could indeed be an inferno of warmth. When he assumed to know her motivations, she’d confessed her confinement.

And this person had made clear her expectations. She wanted a marriage, with
real
love. Something he knew he could not—
would not
be able to provide for her. He was his father’s son, after all. He knew the limits of his potential.

Miss Tisdale wanted a fulfilling marriage, which per her requirements included a loving husband. And when women spoke of love, their definition often included fickle details such as fidelity and trust. He couldn’t promise any woman that. He was a rake and always had been. Without that, he had nothing. Her line of questioning had already exposed that much. Even in his quest to bring honor to his own family, he had gone about doing so using deception and lies to win the affection of Miss Tisdale.

With such an unholy start to any relationship, how could anything good ever have been expected to come of it?

Still, James continued. “How on earth, when provided with the most perfect of circumstances, were you not able to compromise Miss Tisdale? Really, Duncan, given your reputation, I would expect so much more of you.”

Duncan had heard enough. “Really, James?”

“Perhaps your charms aren’t as great as they say they are?”

“Is that your jealousy rearing its ugly head?”

James laughed. “Hardly. I’m only stating the obvious.”

His patience was wearing thin. “James, I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with Miss Tisdale—or me. Take your pick.”

“I am only concerned for your welfare. You need money, and soon. You must secure a large sum quickly or I cannot promise that I can use you as a partner in my investments.”

“James, I must stop pursuing Miss Tisdale,” he finally declared aloud, ceasing his great moral debate.

James appeared genuinely surprised. “Now, what has happened? You can’t possibly be jealous of my dancing with her?”

Duncan shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’ve made my decision. I’d rather not go into the details, just know I am standing firm and do not wish to be pressured otherwise.”

James narrowed his gaze. “I would never dream of trying to sway your convictions. But need I remind you that you have promised your uncle the nuptials are all but finalized. He is depending on it. And need I remind you that in his delicate state, to recant now would be tantamount to putting the nail in his coffin.”

Duncan hit a nearby wall with the palm of his hand, leaning in threateningly. “Enough. I am well aware of the despair this news will cause my uncle. But if I do not do this now, the despair will be even greater for her. I will find someone else, someone richer, someone . . .
different
. But I implore you to stop all this nonsense about Miss Tisdale.”

James stepped back, a look of disgust creeping across his face. “You have
feelings
for her?”

Duncan shook his head, a bit too vehemently. “It has naught to do with feelings, but respect. I have come to respect her a great deal.”

James balked. “
Respect
? A woman? Are you getting soft on me, Duncan? Weren’t you the man who up till a week ago was cavorting with a different female nightly? Weren’t you the man who said women only played the parts of virtuous females to land a title? Weren’t you the one who agreed to a marriage in name only for the sole purpose of obtaining a fortune? And now you’ll have me believe that you hold a
tendre
for a girl, that for all your noble intentions that you now declare having, you had previously opted to swindle?”

The muscle in Duncan’s jaw flexed unintentionally. But not out of anger toward his friend. After all, James was simply calling a spade a spade. One could not fault another for declaring the truth aloud.

Even more of a reason to be done with the Tisdale nonsense.

“You are absolutely right, James. But the clarity you have just provided does not change my mind, rather it confirms my decision even further. I am a Maddox and Miss Tisdale deserves much better than that. She’s not at all what I expected. And though I am still not certain as to what prohibits her from taking a husband, I know it is not for want of a title or any other vanity. I am indeed despicable, but even I have limits. First thing tomorrow I shall identify a new prospect.”

James stared at his friend in silence for far longer than Duncan was comfortable with. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping in concession. “Like your brother before you, I feel compelled to assist you in whatever way I can. After all, you are one of my closest friends. You may rest assured that I will do whatever it is within my power to see your endeavors realized.”

Duncan interpreted the remark as an apology designed to save pride, but accepted the words nonetheless. “I would appreciate that very much,” he finished before heading out to his waiting carriage.

He laid his throbbing head back against the seat and let his thoughts run away from him. He could not get the site of her, wet with rain, gown soaked, revealing all the curves of her body, from his mind. He could still feel her skin beneath his hands and if he concentrated very hard, he could catch a weft of the subtle scent of mint that Miss Tisdale always left behind.

Chapter 16

Two days later, Ambrosia started the morning soaking in a warm tub. Since her time in the garden, she’d repeatedly found herself chilled to the bone and warm baths seemed to be the only way to find respite from the cold. It also had the added benefit of providing an easy escape from her family’s prying questions.

She dismissed her maid and allowed herself to sink into the steaming bath, warm water engulfing her body. The sensation sent her mind back to those moments where his mouth and hands had traced that same path down her chest. She sighed. His hands had ignited her senses and left trails of desire that days later were still not quenched. She’d never felt such desire before and feared she would never feel it again with anyone else. Ambrosia tried to rationalize her feelings. Perhaps his was a skill that all libertines possessed? Maybe she was just growing desperate in her old age?

She was a sensible girl-some would argue to a fault. Because of that, she was too smart to keep passing her feelings for the Earl off as fleeting or simply aesthetic appreciation for a charming man. After all, any women would appreciated his dashing looks. He was handsome in a playful way, but she wouldn’t dare proclaim his appearance boyish. Lord Bristol was obviously a
man
and possessed an alluring and unique blend of unmistakable masculinity and youthful exuberance. But unlike Kenning, there was something more tangible underneath his handsome façade.

With each meeting, she found herself more and more drawn to him. Lord Bristol was unlike any man she had met before. He did not care who was staring or who was not. He did not care if his cravat was tied in the perfect knot or his waistcoat dapper. He did exactly as he pleased, when he pleased, and nothing was for the benefit of others. Or so he would have everyone believe. Even the way he spoke to her—insolent, wicked . . . endearing. His imprudence was ambient and when she stood close enough to him, she felt a little lighter.

She gave her best attempt to dampen her feelings with logic. Men like him could not be taken seriously. He was only interested in frivolity and had made his intentions, or lack thereof, known. Besides, he was a scoundrel and would most certainly break her heart if ever she was to present it to him.

Ambrosia sighed. The ball had been a grave disappointment. Afterward, her mother had found her in her room, already in her sleeping attire. A lecture ensued, followed by the customary guilt.

She had received no further offers of marriage.

It was a twofold disaster. Not only had she the disappointment over the realization that her prospects for marriage were greatly limited, but she had finally succumbed to her desire for the Earl.

“Yes?” she looked behind her, sensing the arrival of someone else in the room.

“Your father has sent the ledgers that you requested,” her maid responded.

Ambrosia smiled to herself. She was in need of a diversion and had requested to audit her father’s accounts. Her need for a distraction was so great that only ledgers, not the embroidery of cushions, painting a watercolor, or learning a new sonata, could bring. The pursuits of young ladies were hardly suitable when trying to escape the thoughts of a man’s kisses on one’s naked bosom.

Her mother had always warned her against showing such a propensity for numbers and had seldom given her opportunity while growing up to exercise her interest. Her father, however, had recognized her gift at a young age and helped to nurture it by providing the occasional ledger to review or by letting her sit by him and assist during card games.
Trust your solicitors and account managers, but double check the books
, he always said. The Viscount hadn’t the head for numbers, but Ambrosia excelled where he fell short. Not even Thomas had possessed the inclination for numbers that she did.

The maid helped her out the bath and she made herself comfortable at a small desk by the fire. At least the threat of seeing the Earl would be greatly reduced. The annual house party at the Tisdale family estate, Brightly, was set to start in three days’ time. She would depart in the morning.

Thankfully, there would be at least a day’s traveling time between her and Bristol.

The entire dreadful ordeal would be over. She wouldn’t have to bother herself with the Earl again and order would once more be restored in her life.

“Ambrosia?”

Ambrosia jumped at the sound of the voice. “Mama!” She shut the ledger and turned her attention toward the door. “What are you doing in here?”

“It is
my
home, is it not? And are you not my daughter? Isn’t that reason enough to pay you a visit?” The woman commanded regally from the front of the room. Flora’s hair was piled high upon her head and her day dress was more elaborate than any of Ambrosia’s evening gowns. It was easy to demand attention when you looked like that.

“Of course those are both two very fine reasons. But never before reason enough to visit my chambers.” Her mother only ever visited the girls’ rooms when there was some sort of issue. And Ambrosia never had issues.

“Pish!” Flora walked toward the window overlooking the back of the home. “I’ve just returned from a most riveting meeting with Mrs. Bates.”

“Our housekeeper?” Ambrosia asked, dryly. “Riveting, you say? Has there been a discrepancy in the silver? Perhaps a tear in the good linen?”

“Nothing quite that riveting. Did you by chance have a servant fired after our ball?”

Ambrosia was caught off guard by such a question. “Mama?”

“I thought I’d simply inquire as to the severity of her offense. I thought perhaps you could shed a bit more light as to the circumstances surrounding her dismissal?”

Ambrosia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, questioning the true motivation behind her mother’s unusual line of questioning. She proceeded to speak slowly, giving herself more time to calculate the answer. “I did indeed report such an incident to Mrs. Bates. I had stumbled upon the girl in a most indecent circumstance with one of our less prestigious guests during the ball.”

The Viscountess nodded. “Yes. Is that the only reason you reported the incident to Mrs. Bates?”

Ambrosia hesitantly proceeded. “Mama, we’ve let go of servants for far less than that.”

“Of course, dear. Now, how exactly did you come upon them? I was made to understand that the girl was found near the servant’s steps in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but wonder why on earth you were there.”

Ambrosia felt her pulse quicken. “I had an unfortunate mishap with my gown and had hoped to avoid the other guests. The servant’s stairs seemed a logical solution. After I was made presentable again, it was so late that returning to the ball was hardly an option so I chose to retire. Quite unfortunate, really.”

Her mother smiled. Much like a cat after finding a particularly plump mouse. “And what exactly was the mishap that rendered you incapable of returning to the ball?”

Ambrosia shook her head. “It was silly, really. I simply stepped out into the garden for a bit of air. Then that dreadful storm set in. I hadn’t time to escape the downpour. Pity.”

Superb acting if she did say so herself.
Brava!

Lady Tisdale clasped her hands together at her chest. “Wonderful!”

Her mother had always been over the top, but even this reaction was a bit much by her standards. “Wonderful?” Ambrosia repeated.

Flora simply beamed and headed out of the room. “Enjoy the day, dear. I have business to attend to. Quite urgent,” she sang.

Ambrosia, watching her mother’s hips sway their way from the room, was left confused by her baffling reaction.

Then again, she knew better than to try and find reason when her mother was in one of her moods.

“You shouldn’t drink so much.”