Page 84 of His Lordship's True Lady
Hessian’s fingers, casually stroking her arm. The beat of his heart beneath her cheek. The sheer, shameless relief of being close to him.
“I should be packing for Scotland,” Lily said. “I don’t want to move.”
Hessian shifted to peer down at her. “You cannot in any way let your uncle know what you’ve learned, Lily. For the next two weeks, he controls the money, but it’s in trust for you, your sister, your ducal relations, somebody. If he has you followed to Scotland and learns that the real heiress is alive, what will he do? Look at the lengths he’s gone to with you. Two years in an exclusive finishing school, an elaborate charade, significant expense, this farcical notion of marrying you to Oscar.”
“You’re saying Uncle is desperate.”
Hessian brushed her hair back from her brow. “Only a desperate man would risk deceiving ducal in-laws for years on end, much less defrauding them of settlements that in all likelihood should have reverted to their hands.”
“But if my sister—”
He kissed her, barely a peck on the lips. “I will go to Scotland. I’ll investigate your sister’s circumstances, if indeed Mrs. Delmar is your sister. You must stay here and carry off one last deception, Lily. You have always done your uncle’s bidding, however much you might grumble. You must for two more weeks be that resentful but submissive niece and give me time to untangle this mess.”
They would be the longest two weeks of her life. “I’d rather go myself,” Lily said, winnowing her fingers through Hessian’s hair. “If my sister is alive, I want to hear her explanation. I want to see her. I want to know what she can tell me about who my father is.”
Hessian dropped his forehead to Lily’s. “If you attempted the journey to Scotland, the instant your uncle caught up to you—there being very few wellborn redheaded young ladies traveling the Great North Road at speed—he would claim you’ve taken leave of your senses and apply to become your guardian. I beg you, don’t give him that opportunity.”
Recent threats from Walter suggested he would enact even that plan.
“Be careful,” Lily said, holding Hessian tightly. “Please, be very, very careful.”
He wrapped his arms around her, Lily shifted, and as if the room had been shaken by thunder, she realized that despite all the information Hessian had conveyed, despite the clear thinking he was capable of, he had also convincingly dissembled for the second time in one day.
Hessian had been a dutiful reporter, he was prepared to gallop forth on his next assignment, and his affections thus far had been bestowed reluctantly.
And yet, he was aroused. He was utterly, absolutely, wonderfully aroused.
Chapter Seventeen
Hessian buried his face against Lily’s shoulder and buried a coach-load of self-reproach as well.
He’d had such worthy ambitions for his day: interview the former governess, speak with the duchess, report to Lily, and formulate the next step in a plan to see her freed from Walter Leggett’s schemes.
Items notably missing from that agenda had included:
Playacting to cozen confidential information from an unsuspecting innkeeper.
Peering into kitchen windows and climbing through same to inspect the governess’s personal abode.
Perching like London’s most unlikely gargoyle outside Lily’s window and watching her drift off to sleep before the fire.
Climbing into bed with Lily for any reason, even to comfort her amid upheaval that would have sent a woman of lesser fortitude into strong hysterics.
Making love with Lily.
Hessian had tried to stand fast against the need to hold her, touch her, kiss her. Withouteventrying, Lily had blasted through his best intentions, and here he was, hard as any standing stone decorating the Cumbrian countryside.
“Lily, this isn’t wise.”
She stroked his hair. “It’s much too late for wisdom, Hessian. Wisdom would have prevented my mother from risking my conception—and my father, whoever he might be. Wisdom would have put somebody trustworthy in charge of Mama’s money rather than my varlet of an uncle. Wisdom would have seen me raised somewhere other than a coaching inn and never let my sister be lost to me. We must make our own wisdom now.”
Her illogic was beguiling, her touch was irresistible. Hessian allowed himself a protracted kiss that started off tender and ended up incendiary.
Bad idea. Glorious, bad idea. “When I come back from Scotland, we can discuss—”
Lily resumed kissing him, bringing up the topics of desire, pleasure, and present joys rather than distant negotiations or headlong journeys. She had a firm grasp of the subject matter and a firmer grasp of Hessian himself.
“I want you naked, Hessian, and I want you badly.”
