Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (19 page)

“Ways in which I could aid the mission.”

Her heart gave a leap as she stared up at him. “You would do that?”

“Your father is not the only member of my family to support the freedom of others, as well as different causes.” Wivenly gazed back at her. His lips curled slowly into a smile. “My father was responsible for helping to pass the bill ending the slave trade.” The look in his eyes turned wry. “Unfortunately he was not as successful in freeing them.”

She thought of the babies and small children she’d saved and tears pricked the back of her eyes. She blinked them away. “Papa said it will be years yet.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree.”

Three quarters of an hour later, as they strolled past the hotel, she spied Cicely and her parents entering. It must be close to noon. Cicely had told Eugénie earlier she wanted Andrew to host them. Surely they would not mind company, and it would give her an opportunity to tell Tidwell what she thought of his methods. “I see Cicely and Andrew. Let us join them. It will also give me an opportunity to speak with your valet.”

“Yes, let’s.”

He allowed Eugénie to lead him toward the front steps. Would she really beard Tidwell?

Eugénie and Will entered the parlor on the heels of Andrew, Cicely, and Cicely’s parents.

Tidwell stood in the doorway leading to Will’s bedchamber appearing a bit nonplussed. Nothing could have pleased Wivenly more. It was about damned time his valet had a surprise.

“My lord, I did not expect . . .”

Eugénie turned to Tidwell with a dazzling smile on her face. “Ah, you must be the estimable Tidwell I have heard about.”

Tidwell glanced at Will, who couldn’t keep from smiling, then back at her. “Yes, miss.”

She reached up and gently tugged at his cravat. He winced as the rough cloth rubbed against his neck. It hurt much more than he’d expected.

“You see this redness?”

Tidwell cringed.

“This is what happens when you use too much starch.” She raised one brow, her voice a gentle command. “I trust you will not do so again.”

Tidwell glanced at Will for a moment before replying, “No, miss.”

“Bon.”
Eugénie nodded sharply. “We understand one another. Please tend to his lordship immediately so we may eat luncheon.”

For putting Tidwell in his place, something Will had never been able to do, he could have kissed her. Right there in front of everyone. As he followed a subdued Tidwell into his chamber, it occurred to Will that a wife could actually be a very useful thing to have around. No one had ever actually taken his side in domestic disputes before. In fact, all of his father’s senior servants treated Will as if he were still barely breeched. But a wife would set them straight. Hadn’t Beaumont said something of the sort about his wife? Who would have thought that a lady one was to protect could actually defend him?

Will removed his neckcloth, handing it to Tidwell. Then Will took the cool, wet cloth Tidwell passed to him, putting it around his neck. The dampness alone soothed his chaffed skin. Before Will donned a lightly starched cravat, his valet spread some sort of cream on the rash. In less than half an hour, he’d rejoined the others.

Eugénie handed him a cold glass of wine before turning to study his injured flesh. “Hmm.”

He took a large drink. “Hmm, what?”

“You shall escort me home.”

“I had planned to do so.”

Andrew’s valet entered, followed by some of the hotel’s servants with luncheon. The conversation, because the Whitecliffs and Andrew could discuss nothing else, centered on Andrew and Cicely’s nuptials, or lack thereof. An hour later, Will and Eugénie made their escape.

She stopped them in front of the bottom gate to Wivenly House, and pulled the key out of her reticule.

He said nothing, but watched as she opened the door. Where was she taking him?

“Come.” She motioned for him to follow her, as if he would not. “We must talk and this is the only place we can be private. Keep your voice down.”

They entered a large parlor, much like the main floor’s but not as deep. The back must be dug into the hillside. Flanking the room on each side were two additional rooms.

Eugénie’s maid walked into the parlor from one of the side rooms. She glanced at Eugénie, then at Will, and back to Eugénie again. It was clear from her confusion that no other man had been here before.

“Miss?”

“Marisole, take this, please.” Eugénie removed her bonnet. “We’d like some refreshment. I also need some clean cloths, cold water, brandy, and salve. His lordship has a rash.”

Once Marisole departed, Eugénie went to a white and blue porcelain contraption in the back corner of the parlor. “What is that?”

“A type of gargolette the Danes use to filter and cool the water.” She poured two glasses, handing him one. “Why do you wish to marry me?”

“Why?” Will lowered his tumbler. Thankfully he’d not had any in his mouth or it would have gone all over him.

Hell and damnation
. He thought he’d been doing so well courting her. Now he suddenly felt like the fox at a hunt. Why wasn’t it enough that he wanted to make her his wife? He should have known it wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. He had a mother and younger sisters. Women always wanted to talk of their feelings.

She stuck her chin out in a belligerent manner. “Yes. I wish to know.”

He didn’t want to have this conversation. Mostly because he had only a vague idea himself, and he’d only recently come to the conclusion that a wife could be useful to have. Unfortunately, he had no glib answer to give her. Somehow he had to get her mind off this topic. A diversion was needed.

Kissing usually distracted her, and would put her lips to better use than trying to make him think and talk about things he’d rather not. He lowered his head, brushing his lips across her mouth. Will pulled Eugénie to him. Her supple body was warm against his. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair, kiss his way down her neck to her lush mouth. Run his palms over her . . .

“Non.”
She pressed her lips in a tight line and turned her head away. “Tell me.”

God, he’d better come up with something, fast. Then he remembered everything she’d done to-day, and what the brother had told him. “You are compassionate, fiercely loyal, and intelligent. My life will never be dull with you.”

She sighed, and her body softened against his. He slid his palm down her back and cupped her bottom. “And your derrière fits perfectly in my hand.”

Will tightened his grip as Eugénie sucked in a sharp breath and attempted to pull back. “
Oh! You
. . . you are not a . . .”

“Gentleman?” He grinned, finishing her sentence. “Sadly, I fear Tidwell agrees. Though I do have some redeeming qualities.”

She slowly raised one finely shaped brow. “Name one.”

How did he manage to always get on her bad side? Something told him if he didn’t come about now, it would be bellows to mend with him. Why was he having such a problem? From the beginning, Will had wanted Eugénie to be his. The idea that another man would ever kiss her had his blood boiling. Every time another man glanced at her, he wanted to make sure the world knew she belonged to him. Good Lord, he’d even begged flowers for her twice and promised not to touch her until she agreed to marry him. He’d never even considered doing anything like that before.

Then this morning when Eugénie had taught the children, he’d had a vision of her with their children. He wanted to see her holding his babe. Not to mention that despite all the angst Will had caused her, she’d waged war on Tidwell and won. Will might as well admit it: If he wasn’t in love, he deserved to be in Bedlam. And if he couldn’t bring himself to tell her, he’d lose Eugénie for good. He took a breath, then blurted, “I’m desperately in love with you.”

Her head jerked back. “I-I . . .”

The bane of his life seemed shocked into silence.

A trickle of sweat rolled down his back as he waited for her to continue. His lips hovered over hers. Perhaps if he kissed her . . . ? Will groaned. Probably not a good idea.

Eugénie’s eyes searched his. “You are?”

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t merely want my . . . my body?”

If this went on much longer, she was going to be the death of him. “There is no
merely
about my desire for your exquisite form.” He ran his palm down her back. “From the very first, you were a siren call to me.” He placed a soft kiss on her temple, pulling her closer. “I love you from the tip of your head to your toes and everything in between.”

Will touched his lips to hers. The taste was manna to his starved soul. He’d need to keep a tight rein on his desire, or at this rate, he’d scare her away again.

Her mouth softened beneath his. “I did not wish to, but I love you as well. When I saw the rash, and you didn’t complain at all, then at the church . . . I had thought to test you.”

Will grinned. “I had an idea that might be it.”

“It was then I knew, but I needed to hear it from you.”

As he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she opened. He caressed her tongue, and the warm cavern of her mouth. “I was a little daunted by trying to figure out how to make you even like me.”

Her head lay against his chest. She nodded. “Sometimes you are not very likable.”

“No?” A sense of satisfaction filled him as he ran his thumb over her nipple, and she shuddered.

“Non.”
Her tone was breathy. “At times you are ill-tempered and domineering.”

Oh God, he wanted her. No other woman had ever felt right in his arms. “You’ll have to take me to task when I get out of hand.” Drawing back, he placed a finger under her chin, tilted her head up, then kissed her, deeply. “I want you to like me.”

“I want the same.” A sultry smile appeared on Eugénie’s lips as her hands slid up over his shoulders, and she kissed him. “I believe it is time we wed, my lord.”

A groan came from deep inside him. “If I could have figured out how to accomplish that feat, you’d already be Viscountess Wivenly.”

“It is very simple.” She patted his chest, with a smug look. “We sail to Tortola. It is not at all far. With a good wind, only a few hours.”

“Tortola?” It was that simple? Of course, twenty-one was the age of majority in the British islands and, not being in England, they did not fall under the Marriage Act. They could be married immediately, as long as they could track down the vicar. He drew his brows together, spearing her with his gaze. “How long have you known this?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “A few years. I have heard it said, that the British islands are our version of your Gretna Green.”

“Which means Cicely and probably Andrew know as well.” And didn’t bother to share the information with Will. His scowl deepened. “I’ll kill him.”

“Y
ou may not murder Andrew. He must stand up with you when we wed.” She took his hand. It wouldn’t do to allow Wivenly to become overwrought. He didn’t behave well when he did.

Eugénie reached up and kissed him. “Come, let us tell everyone and make plans to leave as soon as possible. I’ll send a note to the docks to ready the ship.”

“That boat we were out on won’t carry more than three people.”

She glanced up at his handsome face and tried not to laugh. How could he possibly think they would take the dory to Tortola? “No, we’ll take the
Sidonie
. It is the one we use when all the family comes.”

He jerked her to a stop. “Why didn’t I know about this boat before?”

Because he probably would have tried to force her to go with him somewhere. “You had no need to know. It is not part of the business.”

“Eugénie.” He spread out her name as he said it.

“Oh, very well. I wanted what we have right now. I didn’t want to marry you until I was sure of your affections.” She took a breath. “If you had been aware . . .”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “I would have forced you to marry me.”

She peeked up at him, surprised to see even a hint of contrition in his face. “Yes, and I could not allow that to happen.”

Wivenly’s arms closed around her. “I’m marrying you because of your wisdom as well.”

“First, my lord, I must care for your neck. I do not like the job Tidwell did.”

“Eugénie, I would like you to use my name.”

She drew her brows together. “I already call you Wivenly.”

“No. My friends call me Will.”

She wanted her own special name for him. “Would you mind if I use William?”

“Not at all.” He drew her to him. “I’d like it more than anything.”

Marisole returned as he removed his cravat, and it was a good thing. His poor neck was so inflamed that he must be in excruciating pain. She quickly sniffed the salve, some sort of grease.
Imbécile!

“Oh, William!” Eugénie picked up the sponge from the basin of cool water her maid had drawn. “I will kill Tidwell.”

He flinched as she touched his neck with the sponge. When she unfastened the shirt buttons, her fingers shook with rage and something else she had trouble defining, a desire to touch him she was unfamiliar with, and a need to protect him. A V of curly, dark gold hair appeared. It was all she could do to stop herself from caressing it. She cleared her throat, and quickly cleaned the area with coconut soap. “Now the salve.”

Oh dear. She almost didn’t recognize her voice it was so breathy.

The corner of his lips quirked up into a crooked smile. “Having any problems, my love?”

Oooh, he was infuriating. Eugénie was that close to dashing the whole bowl of water in his lap, yet he wouldn’t be able to go out if he was wet, and his shirt would stick against his hard chest. She stifled a sigh. Ever since Cicely had put the idea in Eugénie’s head, she’d thought about what it would be like to make love with him. Now that they were to marry, and he loved her, there was no reason to wait.
Oh! This must be what Cicely has been feeling.
And unlike Andrew, William—Eugénie was sure—would agree they need not find the vicar first. Tomorrow she’d tell him they could make love. She could wait until then, perhaps.

Will’s body tightened as, with shaky fingers, Eugénie applied the salve. If her maid hadn’t been present, he’d have found a way to claim her now. As it was, he’d have to distract both of them. “Who lives on this floor?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he wanted to run his tongue down its length. “My brother, Benet, and me.”

“You led me to believe you lived with the other children.”

“Non.”
She shook her head. “You chose to think that, and I did not correct you.”

He willed his body to relax. “I would never have forced my attentions on you.”

“I know, but you would have made it . . . difficult to refuse you.”

“You’re right.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly. “I did say I love you for your intelligence.” He buttoned his shirt and sniffed. What had she put on him? “What was in the salve you used? It doesn’t smell bad at all.”

“Aloe, a plant we have here known for its healing properties, and a bit of lavender.”

His neck was already starting to feel better. Will retied his cravat. “Let’s find everyone. We have a great deal to do.”

A line appeared in her forehead. “There is not
so
much. We shall take provisions from the house, and pack—”

He kissed her. “There is if we must find a place to hide Tidwell’s body.”

“Oh, that.” She laughed. “I will throw him overboard for the sharks.”

Will dragged Eugénie onto his lap, ignoring the shocked gasp from her maid. As far as he was concerned, the woman would have to get used to displays of affection or find another position. “You’re a bloodthirsty wench.”

Eugénie gave an exaggerated sigh. “It has always been my failing.” Her lips brushed his neck. “I protect my own.”

“As do I.”

Another sigh was heard from across the room. Will glanced over. He couldn’t believe it. The maid stood with her hands clasped, a wistful expression on her face, as if she were watching a Drury Lane play. At least there would be no trouble from that quarter.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t kill Tidwell,” Will whispered. “We could play matchmaker.”

Eugénie slid a look at her maid, pursing her lips. “Hmm, we shall see how they get along.”

“I was teasing.”

She widened her lovely brown eyes. “I am not. I do not understand why they should not be happy as well.”

The head of something that resembled a cat peeked into the parlor, then quickly ducked back. “What was that?”

Eugénie glanced at him as if he was mad. “What?”

“A gray thing.”

She jumped off his lap. “Probably my cat, Penelope. She does not like strangers. Once she becomes used to you, she is very affectionate. Come, we should tell the others.”

“Miss, come quickly!” Marisole, who’d left the room, ran back in, beckoning urgently.

Will followed Eugénie onto the terrace and to a long building which held the servants’ quarters. Her maid opened the door to one of the rooms. Inside, a black girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or so, paced, holding a small, fussy baby.

“When did she arrive?” Eugénie asked in a businesslike tone.

“Just a few minutes ago.” Marisole led the girl to a chair, pressing a glass of water into her hand. “I’ve sent for food.”

“Has anyone contacted the captain?”

The maid shook her head. “I do not know. This was quite sudden.”

The girl must have noticed Will for the first time, because she gave a start. He gave her an encouraging smile. He’d known of his great-uncle’s activities in helping free slaves, but not that Eugénie was involved. Though it shouldn’t have surprised him. Still, he didn’t like the danger it presented to her. “How can I help?”

His betrothed glanced up, her brows drawn together, chewing her bottom lip. “I must ensure the girl has a place to go, then a safe way to get to the harbor.”

“If she can remain here overnight, she could come with us tomorrow.”

Eugénie rubbed her forehead. “No, she must leave as soon as possible. One of our neighbors might hear the baby. Though you are correct, we can use our departure to cover taking her to the ship. Yet first I must speak with Cicely.”

Now that was unexpected. “Are you telling me she is involved as well?”

Eugénie grinned. “Yes, her father has many connections in the British islands. Cicely finds people to help the newly freed slaves.” She took his hand. “Come, let us inform Maman and the girls of our marriage.”

They walked the short distance from the servants’ quarters to the house, then to the level above Eugénie’s, which was devoid of children.

One of the two maids cleaning said, “The children are with the mistress, miss.”

Upon reaching the top floor, Bates informed them the family was out for the next few hours.

That was a disappointment. Now that the final decision had been made, Will wanted to tell someone, not to mention make arrangements for the girl and baby. He looked down at Eugénie. “Shall we visit Cicely and Andrew now?”

She twined her fingers in his. “A very good idea.”

When they got to Whitecliff House, Cicely, her father, and Andrew were gathered in the large main room.

Cicely glanced from Will to Eugénie and squealed. “Oh.” She quickly put her fingers over her mouth. “I should not have done that. Am I right, though? You have decided?”

Eugénie nodded and all Will saw was a flutter of muslin before Cicely threw her arms around his betrothed. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you.”

Andrew and Whitecliff strode over and slapped Will on his back, then hugged Eugénie.

“This calls for champagne,” Mr. Whitecliff said.

“Yes indeed.” Cicely took Eugénie to the sofa. “When will you marry?”

“We’ll sail to Tortola tomorrow or as soon as it can be arranged.”

Eugénie glanced at Will. Her eyes swam in tears, but she’d never looked happier, and he wasn’t going to let her down. “I’ll go from island to island if need be to chase down the vicar.”

The butler came in with the bottle of wine and flutes. Once they each had a glass, Andrew held his up. “A toast to never hiding in trees again.”

Will gave a short laugh. He’d almost forgotten about the main reason he’d left England.

“You were hiding in trees?” Eugénie’s eyes rounded. “Why would you do such a thing?”

He slipped his arm around her waist. “Believe it or not, I’m considered quite the catch in England.”

Andrew grinned. “For the sole purpose of becoming his viscountess, young ladies used to plot to be found in compromising positions with his lordship.”

Eugénie’s jaw dropped for a brief moment. “Did so many fall in love with you?”

If she hadn’t led him such a chase, he might have been a bit insulted by her astonishment. “Not me”—Will tightened his hold on her—“my title.”

Her expression quickly turned to fury. “They will not do so again.”

That was one of the things he loved about Eugénie. “See what a good viscountess you will make me?”

“I shall make you a good wife.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I will request lessons from your maman for the other.”

“Nonsense,” Cicely said firmly. “You will be perfect.” She glanced at Andrew. “If only we could be wed as soon.”

Whitecliff set his glass down with a snap. “You shall be. Eugénie, my dear, if you don’t mind, we’ll take the
Song Bird
instead of the
Sidonie
and all travel together and hunt down the vicar.”

Cicely clapped her hands. “Papa, this is famous. What a wonderful idea! We shall have a double wedding.” She stopped and her face fell. “What will Mama say?”

Whitecliff’s jaw firmed. “She will, for once, do as I ask her. Now, if you children will see to the packing, I shall send a message to the ship. Eugénie, I imagine your mother will wish to accompany us.”

She squeezed Will’s hand. “And the children.”

He rose. “I’ll tell Tidwell he’ll have to launder my cravats.”

“Yes,” Eugénie said. “He must do that, or he will answer to me. Yet, I think he and I understand each other.”

Will had no doubt his valet did not wish to be on the wrong side of her temper.

“What the deuce is this about your neckcloth?” Andrew studied Will as if seeing him for the first time to-day. “What happened to it?”

“Too much starch. What did you think?”

A wide grin split Andrew’s face. “I thought perhaps Eugénie had tried to string you up.”

Whitecliff groaned and both ladies giggled. Will did his best to frown. “It was a near thing, I can tell you.”

“Yes, it was,” Eugénie retorted. “Now come, we have much to accomplish.”

“Meet back here for dinner,” Whitecliff said. “There is strength in numbers.”

“What time will we leave, Papa?” Cicely asked.

“We sail at first light. Which means we need to be on board before then. I’ll send the baggage down this evening.”

Cicely rose up on the tips of her toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”

He patted her on the back. “Let’s just hope we can bring your mother around, or she’ll be in a taking for quite some time.”

Will had never thought he’d look forward to being married so much. Now he knew how his friends felt and the reason all of them, even Beaumont, were happy to wed. Once they were in England, Will would introduce them to Eugénie. His friends’ wives, Phoebe, Anna, Serena, and Emma would take his wife under their collective wing. He pressed his lips to her head, happy to finally have everything settled.

On the covered terrace of the house in which they were staying, Yves listened to the boy he’d had keeping a watch on Eugénie. The problem was the child’s patois was so strong, he had trouble understanding what the child was saying.

“Dem old ladies, go wi’ dem little ones. Nothin’ else. Den that big one, he ask what I doin’ an’ I leave.”

“You did not see either of the younger ladies.”

The boy shook his head. Yves flipped him a coin. “Do the same tomorrow.”

“Yah, mister.” The child scampered off.

Yves was running out of time. Hervé was growing impatient, and it was time for Yves to show he was as much a Villaret de Joyeuse as his older brothers. He went to his chamber and found his valet. “How well have you got to know the staff?”

The man sniffed. “Quite well. Though I keep my distance.”

“I require a man who can charm women.”

“There is such a one. He is very popular with the fairer sex.”

“Send him to me. I have a job for him.”

“Oui, monsieur
.
”

Yves poured a glass of the chilled white wine his valet always had on hand for him. What he wouldn’t give for a red wine, but in this climate they went off too quickly, and one could not always imbibe brandy. Less than a quarter hour later, his valet knocked on the door and entered the chamber, followed by a mulatto. “Monsieur. This is Henri.”