Page 5 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
Milly sighed. Her sister was so innocent, like a sacrificial lamb.
“Yes. He’d compromise you. Come to your chambers in nothing but a dressing gown, climb into your bed, and arrange to be discovered with you.” Milly paused. She wasn’t all that sure of what followed except there might be a fair amount of kissing and something about a man lying atop a woman.
“Oh, Milly, you mean you think he’d…” Rowena made a funny little gesture with her hands by squishing them together almost as if she were in prayer.
Milly nodded. “He would force himself on you.”
Rowena gasped.
It was a fate worse than death in Milly’s eyes. Being compromised and then forced to marry the man who ruined you. Men who did that to women didn’t love them, and a marriage without love was something she never wanted to contemplate.
“My lady.” Constance flashed Milly a panicked look because Rowena had turned a frightening ashen white. Milly grasped her sister by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake.
“Rowena, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sure Mr. Hadley wouldn’t hurt you. He seems only to break hearts, not other things. I do not believe he’d do any real harm, except to your reputation. But you must take care all the same. Lock your door.”
When her sister nodded, her eyes still as round as teacup saucers, Milly kissed her cheek and then left to cross the hall to her own room to prepare for bed. She unfastened her necklace and removed her earrings before she slid her black gloves off and laid them down over the back of a chair. She would have to wait for Constance to assist her, so she seated herself at the vanity table. What a night she’d had, suffering Mr. Hadley’s strange behavior at dinner. Had he meant to tease her the way a cat did a mouse? It seemed likely he’d only attempted conversation with her out of boredom.
A pity that, she thought. I would have loved to have a genuine conversation with anyone, even him. But all the things she longed to discuss, such as politics or history, were not favorable topics for a lady. In France, she’d been able to speak so freely to men about her opinions. Back in England she’d been forced to accept the fact that the life she’d been living in France would likely never be possible here. Men still wished to go to separate rooms to smoke, leaving women to their idle gossip. She knew Ivy and Leo broke from tradition frequently and would sit and talk for hours about things that mattered.
I wish I could have that. The longing for it was so desperate that it left her feeling empty and cold because she feared she would never find a man who would wish to do that with her.
For a moment, she thought of Owen’s flashing dark eyes and the way he’d riled her temper up as they’d talked but how he’d also made her feel things she hadn’t ever felt before.
Heat. The word he’d used to tease her seemed to make her entire body burn at the thought. If she had to be completely honest with herself, his teasing had been enjoyable. But admitting that made her frown. He was a fortune hunter and she shouldn’t enjoy his attentions. Of course, she had no reason to worry; he had no real interest in her.
Men like him, while they loved the challenge of seducing women, wouldn’t be overly interested in someone like her, not when easy prey like her little sister was available. Envy slithered beneath her skin in that moment and she wished, at least some small part of her did, that Owen wanted her, not Rowena. It was foolish, nonsensical, but part of her longed to be desired. But it didn’t matter; she was in no danger of ever being married at this rate, nor would she ever be the subject of a fortune hunter’s seductions. She’d developed her prickly exterior too well to stop even the most determined man from trying to woo her. But that didn’t stop her from wanting the right man, the one who would love her, to see through her façade.
Milly was still brooding when Constance entered her bedchamber and came over to help her undress. After the layers of silk dropped to the floor and her corset and chemise were removed, Constance held out a long, comfortable, elegant nightdress with fine lace trimmed with ribbon inserts. Milly tugged her hair into a loose rope to one side and plucked a blue ribbon from her jewelry case and tied it in a bow around her hair at the nape of her neck.
“Ready for bed, milady?” Constance asked as she turned down Milly’s bed.
“Yes,” she replied, extremely weary.
She’d been up since dawn, helping Rowena prepare for the social niceties that would occur tonight and on future nights during her first Season. Rowena had been understandably concerned that she would make a mistake tonight. She hadn’t, of course; she had behaved beautifully. Milly could not have been prouder of her. The handsome Earl of Forres, who’d traveled all the way from Scotland for this house party, had even shown an interest in Rowena. According to Ivy, Forres was recently widowed and the father of a beautiful two-year-old daughter he’d brought down to England. He and his daughter had stayed here for a few weeks with the Dowager Countess of Hampton, who was some distant relation of his.
“I’ll come check on you in the morning when I bring your tea and scones.” Constance smiled and took her leave.
Milly climbed onto the bed and pulled the bedclothes up around her chest and sighed. The bed was so large, and rather lonely. Usually she didn’t let such a melancholy thought bother her, but tonight for some reason, it did. There was a dull ache in her chest and she rubbed the spot with her hand. Somewhere tonight, Mr. Hadley was likely climbing into bed, dreaming of all the young ladies’ hearts he would steal and break. A treacherous little flutter in her chest made Milly wince. She ought not to think of Hadley, certainly not while she was in bed…yet thinking of him, as frustrating and maddeningly irritating as he was, flushed her with a welcome heat in the chilly room.
The oil lamp beside her bed was the only light left in the room and it burned steadily. Often she read late into the night and forgot to turn it off, but tonight she was too tired to read. She reached over and gently twisted the brass knob to kill the little flame. Darkness absorbed the dying light and Milly flipped onto her back. The cold of the sheets almost stung her bare toes and legs when her nightdress rode up to her knees. A cold bed, an empty bed. It shouldn’t have upset her, but after Mr. Hadley’s talk of heat and summer, she was off balance and bothered.
The mere thought of him and the way his eyes had darkened and seemed to shimmer with inner flames brought on another rush of warmth. His eyes, like honeyed fire, and his lips, the way he’d smiled sardonically, almost mockingly, in a way she rather liked, irritated her, yet fascinated her. There was no reason to like a man’s mouth or to imagine what it might be like to have that mouth pressed to hers in a kiss that caused the heat he was so fond of discussing. She knew his kiss would be hot, because when she thought of it, her body blossomed with a swelling of heat in her belly. His mouth is wicked…sinful…and I hate that I wish to know how he tastes. It was a forbidden thought, but one she couldn’t deny. She rolled over onto her stomach, fluffed her pillow, and squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to will herself to sleep. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 3
Owen paced the length of his bedchamber, wearing light trousers and a dressing gown, but no shirt. His valet, Evans, had come and gone, having helped him undress and put away neckcloths, cuff links, and a hundred other minor details of Owen’s wardrobe. Normally he and Evans would converse at length on any number of topics but tonight he had one thing on his mind.
Rowena Pepperwirth.
Such a lovely young lady and perfect for his needs. Even though he hadn’t had a chance to speak with her that evening, he’d seen enough to know he’d happily bed her. He’d asked Evans tonight to discern where his future bride was sleeping. Apparently, she was in the opposite wing, just past the suit of armor on the left.
Owen checked the clock on the marble mantelpiece above the fireplace in his chamber. Half-past midnight. Surely she was asleep by now. All he needed to do was slip inside her chamber and wait to be “discovered” when Evans found a reason to have Rowena’s mother come to check on her. Stalking over to the door, he cracked it open and peered into the hall. Empty. No servants were within sight and no houseguests either.
He slipped out of his bedroom and hastily took the route Evans had described. The golden light of the hall lamps and the rich red carpet made the hall feel warm and cheery. It put him in good spirts. This plan was going to work. He paused at reaching the chain-mail knight. His reflection in the shiny helmet was almost comical and he smiled. After tonight his future would be secured; he would have a lovely young bride and Wesden Heath would have a fortune to sustain it. He just hated that he had to secure his home by such dastardly means. He’d tried wooing widows and heiresses the last year with no success. Desperation had driven him to this foolish scheme but he couldn’t turn back.
Two more steps and he was facing Rowena’s door: the woman who would become his wife, albeit through scandalous measures. But Wesden Heath needed to be protected and supported.
“You’ve got this, old boy,” he muttered in encouragement, and reached for the door handle. The latch clicked down and the door pushed inward to the darkened room.
