Compromising the Marquess (15 page)

“Take Beth with you, if you don’t mind,” Leah said, glancing at her sister.

“Oh no,” Beth said, shaking her curls. “There’s still much to do. I’ll stay here and help you.”

“You look pale. You’ve overdone it. Go with Flick and take a break. The air will do you good.”

“Certainly you must come,” Flick said. “And you too, Leah. The rest of these wretched cards can wait.”

“No, I shall continue here,” Leah said. “But, Miss Archer, you look quite done in. Perhaps you should retire to your chamber and rest for a while.”

“I could do a little more.” The little governess, who was well past her prime, looked to Flick for guidance.

“Nonsense, we’ve worked you too hard,” Flick said. “Take the rest of the day off. We have made good progress and can manage well enough without you.”

“Very well, if you’re sure.”

Miss Archer stood, curtsied to Hal and left the room.

Hal, perfectly aware of Leah’s true purpose, bit back a laugh at the easy way in which she managed her companions. He returned to the sanctuary of his own study, the only area of the house unaffected by the upheaval, and waited.

She knocked less than ten minutes later.

“Come in,” he said, conscious of the amusement in his tone and the anticipation coursing through his body. “Miss Elliott.” He raised a brow in faux surprise as she closed the door quietly behind her. “What a pleasant surprise. Was there something I could do for you?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Not you perhaps, but if Phoebe is at leisure to receive me?”

Hal locked the door behind her, reached for her hand and led her to the chaise situated in an alcove away from the windows. He waited for her to arrange her skirts and then sat beside her.

“You’re still quite determined to do this?” he asked, unsure how he wished her to respond.

“More so than ever,” she said with an emphatic nod.

“Well then, let’s not waste the opportunity you so artfully created.” He shifted sideways and was rewarded with a clear view of her profile. “What do you remember about Phoebe?”

“She was directed to indoctrinate Fanny by the bawd who took her in. She was charged with awakening her passions so she’d know what to expect when a gentleman was introduced to her bed.”

“So she was.” Hal twisted one of Leah’s curls round his finger, tugging gently, his eyes devouring her profile. “How did she go about it?”

“They slept in the same bed and Phoebe paid homage to Fanny’s lovely body.”

“
La amour sapphist.
The fantasy of every red-blooded male.”

Leah’s expression showed surprise. “Such situations would be of interest to a man?”

Hal chuckled. In spite of her extensive reading on the subject, she was still so much the innocent. “Certainly it would be.” Hal ran his arm across her shoulders, idly fiddling with another escaped curl. “How did Phoebe incite Fanny’s interest?”

“Fanny was naïve, and frightened. She’d overheard talk. There would be a good market for her maidenhead and she was to be broken like a young filly to the mounting-block.” Leah shuddered. “That would be enough to frighten any young girl.”

But not this one, apparently. Her eyes were round with curiosity rather than fear. “I’ve always thought that information was deliberately allowed to reach her ears, giving Phoebe a viable excuse to step in and comfort her.”

“She felt safe with another woman because she didn’t have...how did Fanny describe it?” Leah paused. “‘A wonderful machine,’” she added, giggling.

That laughter was Hal’s undoing. With a smothered adjuration he bent his head and captured her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. The intensity of her response surprised him. Her hands, with their long elegant fingers, reached for the back of his neck as she leaned into him with enthusiasm and not the least embarrassment. Resisting taking the inevitable step was going to be harder than he’d anticipated, and definitely required him to remain fully clothed, regardless of the discomfort caused to his throbbing erection.

Hal broke the kiss and pushed gently until she was lying on the chaise.

“Think of this chaise as Fanny’s bed,” he said, turning the words into a playful invitation.

She nodded, clearly incapable of speech. Hal, unable to suppress a smile, loosened the ties that were conveniently situated at the front of her gown and slipped the bodice down her arms. She wore no corset and her firm breasts were now visible through the thin material of her chemise. He sucked in a breath, able to fully appreciate the magnificence of her body in a way that hadn’t been possible in the dim lantern light the previous evening.

His hands hadn’t deceived him. She was every bit as lush as he had thought. He reverently cupped a breast, moulding, caressing, all the while watching carefully for any signs of distress, or for a change of heart. There were none. Instead she squirmed with impatience, biting her lower lip as she offered him a sultry smile. Unsure whether to be encouraged by the spontaneous nature of her reaction or to be put on his guard by it, Hal dropped his head and suckled a hard nipple through her chemise. His actions elicited a long moan.

“You like that?”

She sighed. “Very much indeed.”

“Do you think Fanny felt reassured when Phoebe did the same thing to her?”

“Huh?”

It was obvious that his question hadn’t registered. Instead she furtively rubbed her thighs together, much as Fanny had done when with Phoebe. Taking the hint, he lifted her skirts and ran a hand along her lower leg, taking his time to raise it higher.

“How did Phoebe introduce herself to Fanny’s most intimate places?” he asked.

“Er...she introduced a finger into the quick, I think.”

“She did indeed.” Hal’s hand brushed against the curls at the apex of Leah’s legs. “Shall I do that to you?”

“If you don’t,” she said, her face flushed, her voice fractured, “I shall think myself very badly used.”

Laughing, Hal nudged her legs apart, drinking in the sight of her exposed sex. “Don’t ever believe you’re not beautiful,” he said, his voice thick as his fingers continued to tantalize and taunt.

“Don’t, Hal. Please, I need to—” She rotated her shoulders as though trying to relieve a physical ache. Hal knew how she felt. “The feeling, it’s...I can’t describe it.”

“‘She brought me again to the crevice so favourable to our curiosity,’” Hal quoted, gently inserting one finger inside Leah, watching her reaction closely.

She gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

“How does it feel?”

“Strange, intrusive and yet, I don’t know, like I’ve always been waiting for something like it.”

“Ah, but you’ll never know the full extent of what you’re missing since you don’t plan to marry.” He removed the finger, sucked it into his own mouth and grinned. “You taste as sweet as summer,” he said, licking his lips with exaggeration. “Did reading about Fanny’s experiences make you feel the way you do now?”

“No, I found it informative, nothing more.” She opened her eyes even wider still. “You appear to know the book very well. I believe you just quoted a passage verbatim.”

Hal laughed. She didn’t need to know that he’d reread the appropriate passages the night before in anticipation of this moment. “I first read the book at the same age as you, except I didn’t do so with my father’s prior knowledge and consent. All the students at Eton were talking about it, I knew my father had a copy in here, and well—”

“Of course!” Her soft smile melted his already vulnerable heart. “An essential part of any schoolboy’s education, I would imagine.”

“Precisely.”

She wriggled her lovely body into a more comfortable position, apparently unembarrassed by her state of semi-undress, even though he was still fully clothed. “But now you must finish what you started.”

“Tell me what you want me to do, sweet Peisinoe.” He leaned closer, breathing the words against her ear. “Use Fanny’s language.”

“My ‘mount-pleasant,’” she said on a fractured breath. “It would please me if you touched it again.”

It would please Hal too. It would probably also drive him insane. Even so, he did as she asked, one finger continuing to delve inside whilst his thumb found her nub and agitated it. He bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth and ruthlessly increased the pressure of his thumb. She shattered beneath his fingers almost immediately, crying out as she bucked her hips against his hand.

Smiling, Hal removed his hands, watching her as, eyes closed, she absorbed the full force of her first orgasm.

“Welcome back,” he said, smiling when she opened eyes still cloudy with passion and looked up at him with genuine surprise.

“I had no idea,” she said.

“You would hardly have needed my services if you did.”

Leah returned his smile. “Perhaps not.”

“Knowing from Fanny’s account of it how one lady could please another, or indeed, please herself, were you never tempted to try it alone?”

“No.” She looked rather shocked. “The thought never occurred to me.”

“Good.”

“Why does that please you? Surely you don’t disapprove. I thought you broader minded than that.”

“No, I don’t disapprove of the theory. I’m merely pleased to have been the first to give you practical experience of your theoretical knowledge.”

The explanation appeared to satisfy her and so he adjusted her gown, helped her sit up and retied the ribbons.

“Thank you,” she said primly, trying ineffectively to rearrange her wayward curls into some semblance of order.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

“What shall we do next?” she asked, avoiding looking at him as she continued to fuss with her hair. She would have been better served to splash water over her face to cool it down, or do something about lips, swollen from his kisses.

“How did Fanny describe the male organ?” he asked. “Other than as a ‘wonderful machine.’”

“Let me try and remember.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side. Hal resisted the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her again as he waited for her response. “‘An engine of love assaults’ was one way.”

Hal crossed the room and reached to the shelf that held his copy of the book. He pulled it down and turned to the appropriate page.

“‘Grasp a column of the whitest ivory,’”
he read. “‘Beautifully streak’d with blue veins, and carrying, fully uncapt, a head of the liveliest vermilion: no horn could be harder or stiffer, yet no velvet more smooth or delicious to the touch.’
Fanny certainly had a way with words.”

Leah licked her swollen lips. “Yes.”

“How did she come to see this great white ivory column?”

“Voyeurism. She and Phoebe concealed themselves and watched one of the other girls with her lover.”

“And Fanny found the sight highly inflammatory, did she not? Phoebe was obliged to satisfy her lust in much the same manner that I just satisfied yours.”

“Yes, rather frantically, right there in that cupboard.”

“When passion strikes as fiercely as it stuck Fanny, location is of no consequence.”

“Is that what we’re to do next?” she asked. “Observe others engaged in the act?”

Hal regarded her closely. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I rather think I’d find it informative.”

Hal roared with laughter. “I wouldn’t have you remain uninformed and so shall arrange it.”

She took the volume of
Fanny Hill
from his hands and flicked through the pages. “This feels like such an old friend. And this edition is remarkably well preserved, just as my father’s...” She frowned, turned to the front cover and gaped. Her eyes swivelled between the book and Hal. All colour drained from her face and she looked to be on the verge of swooning. “This
is
my father’s copy,” she said in a strangled tone. “It’s one of the books that was destroyed in the fire.”

Chapter Fourteen

Hal leapt forward, catching Leah as her legs buckled beneath her. His strong arms encircled her body, preventing her from crumpling to the floor, as she surely would have done otherwise. He helped her back to the chaise they’d just vacated.

“Sit down and give yourself a moment,” he said. “You’ve had a severe shock.”

Leah drew in several deep, calming breaths. Slowly her world stopped whirling and her wits were restored to her. Hal poured her a glass of water and held it to her lips, forcing her to take a sip.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing the glass aside. “I feel better now.”

“You’re quite sure about the book?”

“Let me see it again.”

He fetched it and placed it in her lap. Leah examined the binding, noting the dent in the leather at the top.

“My father’s assistant dropped it and caused that damage,” she said. “Papa was quite cross with Jenkins and berated him for his clumsiness. I was there when it happened and so I remember it perfectly well. My father so seldom got angry that it stuck in my mind.” She opened the cover and examined the flyleaf. “Look at this.” She pointed to the initials neatly inscribed in one corner. “My father didn’t write his full name in his books, nor did he use a nameplate. He felt it would adversely affect their value if he ever had to sell them. But he took the precaution of initialling them as a protection against theft.”

“So you’re absolutely sure.”

“Yes.” She met his gaze and almost flinched. His eyes, softened with a heady combination of pleasure and passion when he’d been acting as her Phoebe, had now taken on a diamond-hard gleam. The marquess, she was fast discovering, wasn’t a comfortable person to be close to when he was displeased about something. “Where did you get it?”

“I’m unsure.” He shrugged. “Part of Cowling’s duties is to seek out additions to my library.”

“It must have been fairly recently.”

“I agree with you. It isn’t the original copy of the book that I borrowed from my father, of that I’m quite certain.” He flashed a brief, mirthless grin that failed to banish the menace from his eyes. “That particular tome has dog-eared pages marking the most salacious passages. I, and two brothers after me, saw to that.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “I daresay.”

“I believe this, and several other valuable books, were added to my library a year or two ago.”

“Which others?” She made to stand up but he placed a hand on her arm that stopped her. “Stay there. I’ll look.” He crossed to his bookshelves. “I know they were all of an erotic nature, so they’re probably shelved together.” He ran his hands along several spines. “Here we are,” he said, delivering another tome to her. “I’m certain this one arrived at the same time. I remember it particularly because it’s a rare first edition I’d been long hoping to acquire.”

Leah glanced down at the worn cover of
Erotopolis, The Present State of Betty-land.
She knew, even before opening it, that it was her father’s most prized possession.

“It was Papa’s,” she said, blinking back tears and then lifting her face to meet his gaze. “How can that be?”

Hal seated himself beside her, took her hand in his and answered her question with one of his own. “Where did your father keep his rare books?”

“In a strongbox that served several purposes. It kept the books safe from thieves, protected them from the elements and, here’s the irony, was supposed to also guard against fire.”

“Morris told you he’d recovered them, I believe you said.”

“Yes, but he said they were badly damaged by smoke. He had them restored as best he could and sold them for a fraction of their worth, giving the proceeds to me, less his expenses, of course.”

“And yet these books were never exposed to fire,” Hal said softly.

“Yes, I realise that.” She wrinkled her brow. “He deceived me. But how?”

“That we have yet to ascertain.”

But it looked to Leah as though he already had thoughts on the matter. “Tell me,” she said.

“Morris was a blackmailer.” He told her a brief story about such exploits driving him out of London.

“And yet he told me there were greater items of gossip to be gleaned from the prince’s court in Brighton because there was less formality, which was why he moved there.”

“He still had you supply him with snippets from London.”

“Yes, but not nearly as much as before, which greatly affected my circumstances. I thought he was doing it because he knew I needed the money.” She blinked back tears. “I’m starting to see that I was much too trusting.”

“He kept throwing scraps your way because didn’t want you to think about those rare books he stole from your father?”

“Yes, that must be it.” Leah shook her head, angry now at being so easily duped. For never having suspected Morris’s honesty. “He wasn’t normally given to generosity but I was desperate enough not to question his motives.”

“And well he knew it,” Hal said through tightly compressed lips.

“Do you think he blackmailed Papa into giving the books to him before he died?” Leah closed her eyes, desperately hoping it wasn’t the case but unable to think of any other reason for their being in Morris’s possession. “That would explain why he lied to me about their condition.”

“Your father doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who would lay himself open to blackmail.”

Leah shook her head. “No, nor me. He certainly held true to Mama. But what else—”

“All in good time. Are you strong enough to stand?”

“Yes, I think so.”

She took the hand he extended and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. The room remained in perfect focus, which she took to be a good sign. He steered her towards a chair in front of his desk, unlocked the door to the hall and rang the bell twice, apparently the signal for Cowling to attend him. When the secretary responded, Hal was sitting behind his desk, their respective situations entirely respectable.

“My lord?”

Hal indicated the two books on his desk. “We acquired these a year or two back. Can you recall from whence they came?”

“It was closer to four years, my lord. They came from a reputable bookseller with premises in Bond Street. He is retained to notify me whenever items that might interest your lordship come into his possession.”

“Do you recall the name of the seller?” Leah asked.

“Dresden and Sons, miss.”

Leah exchanged a glance with Hal. “I know them,” she said.

“Do you have a receipt for that purchase, Cowling?”

“In my office, my lord.”

“Fetch it, if you please.”

Leah and Hal waited for him in stultifying silence, each occupied with their own thoughts. Leah had never much liked Mr. Morris, but she had trusted him implicitly. It now appeared that her trust had been grievously misplaced.

Cowling returned and placed the receipt on Hal’s desk.

“Thank you, Cowling, that will be all.”

The secretary bowed and left the room.

“Let me see.” Leah jumped up and examined the receipt. “I can hardly believe it!” she cried. “Almost all of the books on this list correspond with those owned by my father. And, oh—”

“What is it?” Hal, who was standing also and reading over her shoulder, appeared alarmed by the sudden change in her.

“These prices, just look.” She was too outraged to do more than point at the amount paid for
Erotopolis.

“That’s less than it’s worth. Cowling did well.”

“But I did not. That sum alone would have kept Beth and me in luxury for several years.” Leah picked up a paperweight, sorely tempted to hurl it across the room in an effort to relieve her anger and frustration. Apparently sensing it, Hal removed it from her hand and placed it out of her reach.

“Before we decide what to do about this,” he said gently, “let’s first examine the rest of the books on this list and see if they also belonged to your father.”

A short time later, Leah confirmed that they all had.

“He had eight precious books and you now own six of them,” she said. “The two most valuable of all are not amongst them.”

“If they were that valuable, Morris would have known it and probably sold them at auction.”

“Yes, no doubt. He was awake on all suits when it came to the book trade.” She whirled about the room, too animated to remain still, her skirts whipping round her ankles and tangling with her feet. “Perhaps now you understand why I’m so reluctant to place my future in the hands of a man.”

Hal’s own hand coming to rest on her shoulder stopped her in midpace. Muscled arms closed about her as he pulled her body against his own. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his broad shoulder, not averse to taking temporary comfort from his strength in spite of this latest example of male duplicity.

“I understand you better than you imagine, little one,” he said softly. “Well enough to guess the nature of your thoughts at this moment.”

“Then you will be aware that I feel so helpless,” she said, the incipient rage that coursed through her body reflected in her brittle tone. “I can’t prove my case against Morris, so there’s absolutely nothing I can do about him and he’ll get away with it.” She stamped her foot, narrowly avoiding his toes. “It’s infuriating.”

“You might not be able to, but I can.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back until their gazes collided. “I have power and influence. Will you trust me to use them and right the situation on your behalf?”

She blinked up at him. “How can you do that?”

“I’ve no idea yet, but I have intelligence of his misdeeds on my side, which I shall somehow use to my advantage.” He lowered his gaze to her lips and his voice to a persuasive purr. “Morris is a blackmailer and a common criminal. He won’t get the better of me, on that you have my solemn word.”

“Very well,” she said without hesitation. “I trust you, but you can’t have forgotten that you have concerns of a more immediate nature to occupy you.”

“Morris will keep,” Hal said. Leah sensed power, strength and determination in the tightening of his jaw. He appeared as angry as she was, but controlled it better. “What he won’t do is escape.”

“I do have one condition,” she said, feeling a lightness of heart at direct variance to her present circumstances.

“Name it.”

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “I need to feel reassured.”

The words had barely left her lips before, with a wolfish smile, he bent his head, hair flopping across his brow, and did as she requested.

* * *

How Leah got through the rest of the day, she couldn’t later have said. When Flick and Beth returned they found her industriously writing cards. They weren’t to know that she’d made up for lost time, and expended some of her anger, by writing at a breakneck speed.

“You’ve done splendidly.” Flick nodded approvingly at the neat pile of written cards.

“How did the deliveries go?” Leah asked, smiling at both ladies, pleased to see the bloom returned to her sister’s cheeks.

“Everyone’s in alt. Lady Bentley is convinced that the ball is really being held in her daughter’s honour, your aunt is delirious with joy, simply because she’s been invited, and Mrs. Wilkinson thinks that Hal’s only doing this because she took his behaviour to task.”

Leah laughed. “Nothing unusual in any of those reactions.”

“Our aunt’s entire attitude towards us has undergone a marked alternation,” Beth said. “We now can’t do anything wrong in her eyes and she’s delighted that we’re helping Flick.”

“I’m delighted.”
And hopeful that we won’t now be evicted.

“Are you all right, Leah?” Beth asked, frowning at her sister. “You look a little odd.”

“I’m fine,” she said, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms above her head. “Just stiff from having sat in one place for so long.”

“You’ve done too much,” Beth scolded. “I knew that would be the case if we left you alone. You think to reduce my duties by increasing you own.”

Leah smiled a secret smile but said nothing, her insides flooding with warmth as she recalled the precise nature of her recent activities.

“We shall have tea,” Flick said, ringing the bell. “That will soon revive you. We were offered it everywhere we went but declined. Had we not, we would never have made all our calls, so we’re quite ready for a cup ourselves.”

Tea was duly served and Leah made a herculean effort to contribute to the conversation, even though she was thoroughly preoccupied. Not, as ought to have been the case, with Mr. Morris’s shameful deeds but with deeds of a very different nature carried out by the master of this house with expertise, tenderness and exquisite attention to detail.

* * *

When the carriage was sent for the girls the following morning, they were told upon arrival at the Hall that Flick was in her chamber.

“Lady Felicity asked that you join her there as soon as you arrived,” Potter informed them.

“I wonder what she’s up to now,” Leah muttered as she and Beth climbed the stairs.

They entered Flick’s pretty sitting room and found it buzzing with activity.

“Oh, there you are, just in time,” Flick said gaily, waving to them. She stood on a stool, clad only in her chemise and stays. Three women, clearly a modiste and her two assistants, flocked round her, holding various fabrics against her skin. “I’m being fitted for my new ball gown. Isn’t it exciting? What do you think of this pale rose silk, Beth? Does it become me or do you think I’d be better with the blue?”

Leah stood back whilst Flick and Beth, heads together, had lengthy discussions about a subject that engrossed them both. With the fabric finally decided upon, Flick clapped her hands.

“Right, ladies, now it’s your turn.”

Flick’s voice jolted Leah back to the present. “Thank you, but we cannot—”

“My treat.”

“You can’t buy us ball gowns!” Leah cried, shocked.

“Of course I can,” Flick countered airily. “Were it not for you two, I seriously doubt whether we would be ready in time.”

“Nonsense, you have an army of—”

“You don’t understand. If there was a delay, Hal might very well change his mind and call the whole thing off.”