Silk And Seduction Bundle 2

‘The shock made my mother very ill. Grandpapa Herriard took the opportunity to get rid of Stephen, when he moved us all back to Mount Street. But Stephen’s mother came looking for him. It seems my father had promised her he would raise her son like a little lord. She blamed my mother for the broken promise—and put a curse on her.’

Viscount Mildenhall could not help the derisive snort that emanated from his mouth.

Midge looked up at him coldly. ‘It might sound like a joke to you, sir, but the words were so accurate they haunted my mother to the end of her life. The Gypsy woman said that because she had stolen her son, she would never see a single one of hers live to adulthood. My mother had just had a miscarriage. And not long after that, my younger brother, my only real, full brother, took ill and died too.’

‘It was probably just a coincidence—’

‘You have not heard the rest,’ she broke in. ‘After cursing my mother, she went to Wardale’s execution, screamed curses at all three families involved in the loss of her son and her lover, and then hanged herself too. With a silk scarf. That—’ She did glance at the fireplace then, appearing momentarily distracted from her narrative by the sight of the purple and blue flames licking along the charred edges of the symbolic noose. She shuddered again, saying, ‘It is a reminder that my family, along with the Wardales and the Carlows, destroyed his mother. And that her curse will keep on eating us all alive until her form of justice has been satisfied.’

She turned and buried her face against his shoulder.

‘I am sorry I seemed to scoff at the revelation of a Gypsy curse,’ he said, hugging her tight. ‘And I am not sure I believe in such things now. But one thing I do believe, and that is that man holds a grudge against you all. Hal Carlow warned me that he has already tried to cause trouble for his family, and the Wardales. Well, tomorrow,’ he said, looking down into her troubled face, and smoothing the hair from her brow, ‘I am taking you down to Shevington.’ He had never thought of the place as a refuge before, but it could be for her. From the malicious gossip that painted her as something far different from her true nature, for one thing. And, ‘The devil will not be able to get at you there.’

Though the thought that the Gypsy might do her some actual, physical harm alarmed him, there was a tiny part of him that welcomed having the opportunity to demonstrate his ability to protect her. So that she would come to rely on him.

‘I don’t suppose he will ever come near me again.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘He only came to the wedding today to sow discord. The first time members of all three families have gathered together for a generation, and he ruined any chance there might have been for some kind of…reconciliation between us all.’

He wanted to tell her to forget the Gypsy. To put it all behind her. But he had seen her face when she thought she had regained a brother she had long thought dead. To have found him, only to discover he had only revealed himself in order to declare his enmity, was not something she would get over in a hurry.

‘I won’t let him come near you again,’ he swore. ‘The man is a menace!’

He thought there was a flare of something mutinous in her eyes, before she subsided and said in a subdued tone, ‘I am sorry. I have caused you nothing but trouble today.’

‘Nonsense!’ he rapped. Nothing that had happened today had been her fault, yet here she was, sitting with drooping shoulders, apologizing to him! When he should be the one making her feel better. She had been pushed into a marriage she had not really wanted, to a man she had taken in dislike, only to please her family…and how had her family repaid her loyalty? Her uncle had been angry, her aunt distant, one of her stepbrothers had blatantly made use of the wedding breakfast to suck up to Lord Keddinton, and a half brother had emerged from his hiding place to openly declare his hatred.

‘You cannot choose your family, more’s the pity,’ he said, dropping a kiss on to the top of her head. ‘Just wait till you meet mine! Anyway, let us not talk about anyone else tonight. Let me tell you instead—’ and he took both hands in hers, gazing straight into her eyes as he said ‘—you have done me a very great favour today.’

‘By marrying you.’

‘Well, yes. But more than that. You reminded me who I really am.’

The wounded look in her eyes turned to one of confusion.

‘Viscount Mildenhall—’ he pulled a face ‘—is a…is a…’ He floundered, finding it was not so easy to explain the tangled emotions that had led him to mislead members of the Ton into betraying their shallowness. ‘Well, to use your own words, a coxcomb.’

‘I don’t remember,’ she said hesitantly, ‘ever calling you a coxcomb.’

‘You should have! I was…I don’t know.’ He ran his fingers through his short, blond hair, leaving it sticking up in spikes. ‘I have been so used to being a soldier, dealing with life and death on a daily basis, that suddenly being thrust into a world that revolves around utterly trivial issues, I—’ he sprang to his feet and paced away ‘—I was supposed to consider my position and not do anything to bring the title into disrepute. I got such a lecture, before coming to town, about the clubs my brother had belonged to and the style in which he lived that I…’

‘You rebelled,’ she breathed, her eyes growing round. She had wondered what on earth had happened to turn Monty, the epitome of all the manly virtues, into that dandified, rude…angry viscount. And he had been angry, she now perceived. All the time. Not just when she happened to cross his path.

‘Yes—’ he turned and looked down at her ‘—that is exactly what I did.’

She heaved a great sigh, looking up at him enviously. ‘How I wish I could have had the courage to do that. I went the other way. I…squashed myself into the mould they tried to make for me…’

He strode back to the ottoman, grabbed her hands and tugged her to her feet.

‘When Rick told me how miserable his sister was, I wanted to rescue her…’ He paused, a frown on his face. ‘Of course, I did not know she was you, but—’ he squeezed her hands tightly ‘—earlier on, you said this marriage could be a new start. Oh, I know you were thinking about the mess your parents left behind them. But—’ and his eyes took on an intensity that called to something deep inside her ‘—could it not be a fresh start for us?’

‘Us?’ Her eyes were wide and misty, the way he had seen them look after he had kissed her. Her lips were slightly parted, too. His heart thudded heavily against his rib cage.

‘You and me,’ he growled, scarcely resisting the urge to step forward and close the minute gap that still separated them. ‘I will never try to mould you into some unattainable image, Midge. I shall not expect anything from you that you are not equipped to give.’

And then he traced the length of her lower lip with his forefinger.

She had the strangest urge to capture the finger between her lips and nibble at it. Her eyes flew to his. He was looking at her expectantly.

And then he smiled at her.

He was such a handsome man. Even when he was scowling, there was still something about the vitality of him that had made her body leap in response.

But to have the full force of that smile turned upon her…oh, it went straight to the very core of her, like a cup of hot chocolate on a bleak winter’s day. Because his former words had been almost as devastating as they were heartening. Yes, he expected her to be a social disaster, but he would never hold her inability to behave decorously against her. He was prepared to accept her exactly as she was.

Just as, she suddenly perceived, he was hoping she would try to see the best in him. He wanted her to forget the vain, pompous ass who had paraded about town dripping with jewels. To look beneath the gaudy clothing and see the man he wished he still was.

‘I will always think of you as Monty, then,’ she vowed.

Afterwards, she was never quite sure who had moved first. She only knew that they were in each other’s arms, kissing each other as though their lives depended on it.

She no longer felt the need to hold back from him. Or pretend that she objected to the way his hands were exploring her body.

He wanted her.

Just as she was.

And for the first time in her life, she was not a bit sorry she was female. Her body, which she had so often despised, now seemed like a treasure chest, which he was unlocking, revealing unimaginable riches within.

She felt a little shy when he finally laid her on the bed, having divested her of every stitch of clothing. Blushed when he tossed aside his dressing gown and joined her.

But the feel of his hard, naked body next to hers was so delicious, the sensations he roused as he kissed and caressed her softness so powerful, they soon swept modesty aside.

When he made them one flesh, she felt complete for the first time in her life. More fully herself than she had ever dreamed she could be.

But he did not stop there. He drove her on, into new realms of sensuality that almost began to frighten her. Finally being encouraged to behave exactly as she wanted was one thing. But now she was beginning to feel as though she was almost out of control.

‘Monty!’ She gasped, her eyes flying wide open. ‘I can’t…it’s too much…’

‘Let go,’ he murmured breathily into her ear. ‘Let it happen.’

Then he raised himself up so that he could look into her face.

‘Trust me…it will be good…’

The lower half of his body ground harder against her, just where the exciting feelings were at their most intense.

That intensity swelled to a crescendo. The most incredible pleasure she had ever known blasted through her, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

‘It’s happening!’ she cried, in shock, clinging to his shoulders as she flew apart.

‘Oh, yes,’ he groaned. ‘Yes, it is…’

Time stood still as everything shook and pulsed and throbbed.

And then they floated gently back down to earth, like the sparks after a rocket has exploded.

Together.

As the carriage swept through the park gates and Midge got her first glimpse of Shevington Court, her stomach tied itself into a knot. Not for the first time that day, she was glad Monty had elected to ride beside the carriage. For she would have felt obliged to find something positive to say about the imposing set of stone buildings sitting on top of a rise, dominating the entire landscape. The closer they drew, and the larger she realized the place was, the greater grew her sense of inadequacy. She had never even attended a house party in a home so grand. Now she was expected to live here!

By the time the carriage drew to a halt beneath the port cochère Monty had already dismounted, and it was he who came to hand her out. He did not, as a footman would have done, merely extend his arm for support, but took hold of her waist and bodily lifted her to the ground.

His hands seemed to burn through the material of her coat as she recalled, with a flush, how they had felt on her bare skin the night before. But as he set about deftly straightening her skewed bonnet she began to feel annoyed. How could he remain so calm, so unmoved by their proximity, when she was in a breathless state of arousal! It was galling to think that if he decided to kiss her, she would simply collapse backwards into the carriage, dragging him in after her, and never mind what the servants might think as she slammed the door in their faces. But of course, he did no such thing. Once he had assured himself that she was tidy, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her up the flight of shallow stone steps to the front door.

She had to cling to his arm for support, so weak were her knees by this time. The man was a menace to female kind!

‘It’s not what you would call a comfortable home,’ he startled her by saying. ‘Draughty barracks of a place, positioned as it is on top of a hill. My grandfather built it for show, more than convenience, I think. Good training for me, though,’ he finished enigmatically, turning to eye the ranks of windows.

‘Training?’ she asked.

‘Oh.’ He seemed to snap back to her from far away. ‘For school. Army barracks. Bivouacking in the Pyrenees…’ His voice trailed away as the immense double doors swung open as if by magic and a stately butler materialized from the shadowy interior. ‘Good day, Francis.’ He nodded, then murmured into her ear, ‘Indeed, you may find that the wearing of extra petticoats may prove beneficial. I shall have to inspect the efficacy of your underwear thoroughly, every day, I should think, to make sure you don’t catch cold…’

The thought of him inspecting her underwear made her go hot all over. And so she entered the imposing main hall of Shevington scarlet-cheeked, thoroughly flustered and rather aggravated with him for not only having put her in such a state, but also for remaining completely unmoved as he did so.

A veritable army of staff, in smart black-and-gold livery, were all lined up in the hall to greet them.

She was momentarily grateful that Monty had lifted her out of the carriage and made sure she would pass muster. She would not have liked to run the gauntlet of all those curious eyes with a trailing hem or her bonnet askew.

But that brief spasm of gratitude soon passed. For rather than making any attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he stalked along at her side, his hands clasped behind his back, his face unsmiling as the housekeeper went through the roll call of names.

He looked, in fact, exactly like a stern major, inspecting the troops. She would not have been a bit surprised if he had straightened a footman’s powdered wig or snapped at the lowly boot boy to shine up his rather tarnished buttons.

But at last, parade was over and the troops dismissed. And the housekeeper, Mrs Wadsworth, gestured towards the grand sweep of the staircase.

‘Your rooms are on the west corridor,’ she announced, leading the way.

‘You will never get lost,’ Monty murmured in her ear as they followed her, side by side. Then he held out his hands, spreading his fingers in an elongated rectangle. ‘South front, east wing, west wing.’

‘His lordship,’ said Mrs Wadsworth, flinging open a set of double doors about halfway along the corridor, ‘thought you would wish to have this set of apartments.’

‘Did he, by God,’ Monty murmured to Midge, out of the corner of his mouth, ‘you are honoured. Last time I was here, I only merited one of the guest rooms.’

‘Her Ladyship’s sitting room.’ The housekeeper waved her arm round the room they had entered. It was a perfect square, and very green, was Midge’s first impression. Pale green walls, dark green curtains and various shades of green upholstery on all the furniture. Then her eyes took in the ornately plastered ceiling, with generously proportioned picture rails below. And the almost paper-thin, floral porcelain ware that decorated every available surface. And the very expensive-looking carpet in the middle of the highly polished floor. And the low table positioned before the fireplace, with an immense vase, from the same source as the rest of the china, squatting on top.

It might have looked less hideous if somebody had thought to fill it with fresh flowers, but she supposed there were not many large enough, at this time of year, to do it justice.

‘Viscount Mildenhall’s chamber is through that door, and yours through this one,’ Mrs Wadsworth explained, pointing to two doors on opposite sides of the green room.

‘His Lordship will be along shortly to meet you and welcome you to your new home,’ Mrs Wadsworth said to Midge. ‘I shall have the tea things brought up.’

Midge’s anxiety level soared to new heights. She had no wish to drag the poor old earl out of his sick bed. She turned to ask Monty if he thought it might be better if they were to go to him, only to see him stalking through the door that led to his own room. She could hear him muttering to his valet, flinging open doors and slamming drawers. He was clearly not in the best of moods, for some reason. And she did not know him well enough to know how to deal with him yet.

Not quite daring to tread on the luxurious carpeting, Midge kept to the bare boards round the edge as she made her way to the door that led to her own room.

She peeped in to see a footman depositing a trunk at the foot of the bed.

‘Not there you great lummox,’ Pansy was saying scathingly. ‘Over there, by the cupboards!’

Midge’s lips twitched at the sight of the brawny footman meekly doing the diminutive Pansy’s bidding, and she backed away to the relative peace of the fussily feminine sitting room.

The door to Monty’s room was now closed. Well, that answered the question of whether to go and talk to him or not!

Feeling rather at a loose end, Midge sidled along to a window and gasped with pleasure. She could see a river winding artistically down to a lake that filled the bottom of a thickly wooded valley. And, if she pressed her nose to the windowpane, the corner of a building that looked very much like stables. She hoped there would be a decent mount for her. Her spirits lifted as she regarded the short turf sweeping round the lake and a track leading into the woodland. Oh, how she would enjoy being able to go for a really good gallop again!

Somewhere, at the bottom of one of her trunks, she’d had Pansy pack the disreputable old riding habit she had brought with her from Staffordshire. She had ensured it survived every single one of her aunt’s culls of her wardrobe, and now she could hardly wait to don it again!

She was just wondering if it was safe to enter her room yet, to get washed and changed in readiness for the earl’s visit, when she heard a hesitant scratching noise at the main door.

When she opened it, she saw two identical small boys, dressed in nankeen breeches and rather shabby jackets.

‘You must be Monty’s brothers!’ She beamed down at them. ‘You look so much like him!’ And they did, in spite of what he had said about them possibly having different parentage. Both of them had his thick, fair hair, startlingly green eyes and dimples in the centre of very determined chins.

One of them dug the other in the ribs with his elbow. ‘She means Vern.’

The other nodded. ‘Spec so.’ Then added, ‘We aren’t supposed to be here.’

‘But we wanted to take a look at you.’

‘And show you Skip,’ said the first, looking down at the front of his jacket which was filled out by a mass of something squirming. The corner of a dog’s ear promptly flipped out over the edge of the boy’s lapels.

‘Oh, is it a terrier?’ she asked, warmed by the first sign of anything approaching informal behaviour since setting foot in the house.

The twin with the bulging jacket nodded. ‘Best ratter in the county,’ he declared.

Midge bit back a grin. The boy was probably only allowed to use his dog under the strict supervision of a gamekeeper, within the bounds of his own park. But the fact remained he was immensely proud of his pet and wanted to show it off to his new big sister.

She pulled the door open wider to let the boys and their dog in. The twins scanned the corridor behind them rapidly, then exchanged a look with each other, before darting into the formal sitting room.

The minute the door closed behind them, the boy with the dog undid his jacket, and a very excited tan-and-white terrier dropped onto the rug. Tail up, nose down, it embarked on a rapid exploration of the room. Its little paws scrabbled frantically on the smooth surface of the floorboards when it left the safety of the carpet, but it had been running so fast it was unable to slow its skid by much, and landed against the wainscot under the window with an audible thud.

Midge stifled a giggle as, with a doggy attempt at nonchalance, Skip put his nose straight down and began to sniff determinedly along the wainscoting, as though this was exactly where he had decided to be.

‘Looks like he’s got the scent of a rat,’ said his owner knowingly.

‘I am sure there are no rats up here,’ said Midge. There were so many staff, and the household appeared so strictly ordered, she was quite sure no rat would find a home behind the woodwork.

‘Do you—’ the second twin took a deep breath ‘—do you like animals?’

‘Yes, I do.’

He brightened up immediately, reached into his own jacket, and extracted the sinuous body of a ferret. ‘This is Tim. I use him for rabbitting.’

Skip’s head shot up. He looked straight at Tim, pulled back his lips and snarled in the manner of one greeting an old adversary. The ferret shot out of the boy’s grasp, the dog bounded back onto the carpet, and for a few seconds, the floor about Midge’s feet was a blur of fur and teeth and tails.

The ferret emerged from the mêlée first, streaking across the rug and straight up the curtains where it found a precarious perch on the curtain rod.

The terrier started jumping up and down on the spot, yapping furiously for a few seconds, then, balked of its prey, sank its teeth into a fold of velvet and worried at the curtain as though killing a rat. The action made the curtain pole, on which the ferret was balancing, rattle in its moorings. Tim promptly abandoned it and ran along the picture rail, scattering items of pottery as he went.

Uttering a cry of alarm, Midge flew across the room in time to catch a bud vase, a cup and a plate in rapid succession while Skip, who seemed to have temporarily forgotten that it was the ferret he had been after, redoubled his ferocious attack on the curtains.

When the ferret reached the chimney breast, instead of swarming round its edges, it ran straight down the silk wallpaper, landing on the tea table, where it used the vase as a springboard to launch himself into his master’s waiting arms. The vase wobbled, rocked, then pivoted towards the edge of the table. Midge dived to catch it, at the exact same moment that Skip’s hind legs found purchase on the carpet and he finally managed to make some headway. Just as Midge’s hands closed round the vase, the curtain pole parted company from its moorings, bringing yards of green velvet slithering down on her.

From within the smothering folds of the curtains, Midge heard the crash of breaking crockery, a yelp and the clang of the brass curtain pole landing on the floor.

It was hard to breathe. Even harder to find a way out of the heavy curtaining wrapped round her body. Eventually, she found a chink, through which she saw that the sound of breaking crockery had come from the doorway, where a maid had dropped the promised tea tray. The vase, she noted with a feeling of triumph, was lying cushioned by a fold of velvet, the plate, cup and bud vase beside it. She pushed the curtain off her face and sat up.

‘Not a single thing broken!’ she crowed, flushed with success.

There was no sign of the dog or the ferret, but the twins were standing before the hearth, clutching each other’s hands as they stared, aghast, at the slender, fair-haired gentleman who had paused just beyond the wreckage of the tea things.

Monty was there, too, sauntering across from his own quarters, and bowing politely to the fair-haired gentleman.

He cleared his throat, then waved one arm in the direction of the cascade of curtaining, from the depths of which Midge was still struggling to emerge.

‘Allow me,’ he said, ‘to present my wife.’

The fair-haired gentleman’s eyes swept the length of Midge’s legs, which had emerged from the curtaining minus her skirts. Then, his nostrils flaring in a fastidious expression of distaste, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

Chapter Eight

‘We didn’t mean any harm, Vern!’

The twins were having a hard time keeping up with Monty as he strode out of the house and through the stable yard to the kennels.

‘We just wanted to see what she was like!’

‘That had better have been all it was,’ snapped Monty, as he produced Skip from inside his jacket. ‘I hope it was not the kind of devilment you have employed in the past, to rid yourself of every governess who has dared to set foot in your schoolroom.’