Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 17
Josh had not meant to haul Iris onto his lap. To kiss her again so soon or demand his servants leave them, which no doubt right about now was fodder for gossip below stairs. He could just imagine the size of the hornet's nest he had disturbed.
But seeing her seated beside him, nibbling on her bacon had been too much to bear, and he'd snatched her onto his lap, determined to have her close, just for a little while longer until they parted company for the day.
He wished he could stay here, sleep under the same roof, but it would not be safe to do so. Such an action would tarnish her reputation. But until he left, he would make use of the close proximity and have her all to himself and in any way he wished.
Still, the idea of sneaking into the house late at night, stealing into her room and laying her bare, stripping her of her night rail or gown made him groan. He wanted nothing more than to slide her free of her silk stockings. Work his fingers through the ribbons of her corset, setting her ample bosom free for his kiss.
He lifted her, pushing the plates to the side of the table and seating her atop the mahogany. She gasped but did not try to stop him. She should, of course. He wanted to have her here in the dining room without thought of who could come in or what would be said.
Fire coursed through his blood. His cock felt heavy and hard in his breeches. "Touch me," he begged. If he could not have her fully, he needed her in this way.
Her eyes gleamed with fiery promise, and then the slow, tentative touch of her fingers grazed the outside of his breeches. He fought not to demand her to take him in hand harder, stroke him until he came. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, watching as she learned every part of his cock.
"You're so hard, Your Grace." She bit her lip, and he clenched his jaw.
The sight of her teeth clasping the small piece of flesh drove him mad. He imagined lifting her silk gown to pool at her waist, stroke the wetness between her legs until she squirmed for more. Begged to be fucked.
She flipped the buttons to his falls open and reached into his breeches. A guttural moan wrenched from him, a sound he had never heard before, not in all the times he'd been with other women. He pumped into her touch, her fingers long and banded tight about him, helping him find pleasure.
"What will happen to you when I do this?" she asked him, still fascinated by his cock that strained and grew in her hold.
"I'll spend against your dress, and we cannot be having that," he said, covering her hand with his and stopping her.
She pouted, and he took her lips, wanting her so much that he thought he might die. How was he ever to survive the time before their wedding?
Her thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock, and she lifted her fingers, staring at the transparent liquid. "Fascinating," she stated, her tongue darting out to taste him.
Good God, he would expire. Who was this woman? The siren in his arms did not appear to be the shy, sugary-sweet woman he'd met at the beginning of the Season. This woman did not shy away from pleasure but wanted to experience and learn all that he could show her.
He could not wait to be hers in truth.
"I like the taste of you, Your Grace."
"You would taste better," he returned, tying his falls back up and placing well-needed distance between them. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths.
"I will not deflower my future bride on the dining table. We must behave," he demanded, needing to rein in his desires, for he would allow her to do anything to him, so long as he was able to play with her in return.
"Pity," she quipped, slipping off the table and starting for the door. "It would have been as memorable as the closet last evening. Good day, Your Grace," she said, grinning over her shoulder and leaving him standing, gaping after her as she left him alone.
There were too many weeks left before she became his wife.
"Do you have it, Father?" Lady Sophie commanded, her voice harsh and impatient as she snatched the rolled parchment from her father's hand. She opened it, scanning the black scrawl that ran over the page.
She laughed, the sound calculating. "La, how the dear Miss Cooper will find what I hold in my hands disappointing. I should think being the daughter of a vicar, she would not appreciate her betrothed had a hand in Redgrove's death."
"The baron's death was his own fault. The young man was always partaking in bets. It was only a matter of time before he came to an unfortunate end," her father stated, starting for the library.
Sophie followed close on his heels. "That does not signify. The duke will not be marrying Miss Cooper from silly old Cornwall."
"She is the Earl Buttersworth's granddaughter. Do not forget that, Sophie, even if the family is estranged."
She shrugged, slumping down on the leather settee before the roaring fire. "The countess wants nothing to do with her granddaughter after Lady Jane married a boring old vicar. How droll."
"Lady Jane fell in love. I worry that this course you are taking is not right, Sophie. You are an earl’s daughter yourself. There are other dukes, marquesses, and earls in society you could marry tomorrow. What is it about Penworth that you're so fascinated with?"
She bit her lip, not wanting to tell her father it was a simple purpose. The duke did not want her. The diamond of the Season. One of the most beautiful and adequately dowered daughters in England. No, he wanted the scarred, lame Miss Iris Cooper from nowhere. A woman who she had seen herself limp when no one else had noticed. "He will not be happy with Miss Cooper. Not in a year or so. He will regret his hasty choice. I am equal to him in wealth and position. We suit much better and I have always loved the ducal coronet I've seen the dowager duchess wear at times. It will suit my coloring more than Miss Boring Cooper."
Her father sighed, pinning her with one of his disapproving stares. She ignored his warning.
"It is already done, Sophie. They are engaged. You cannot come between them now, no matter the fact that I have given you that note out of fatherly affection."
She read down the torn bet from the book at Whites. So many years ago, but the words were as clear now as they were then. The bet that the duke had placed, one hundred pounds to anyone who could beat his time about Hyde Park in a curricle.
What a pity that it was the duke's newly betrothed's lost love who had taken up the call. Had raced about the park with carelessness and killed himself in the process and almost killing Miss Cooper along with him.
What would the sweet, angelic Miss Cooper say when she hears the duke, her future husband, had been the mastermind to her injuries? To her betrothed's death.
"Miss Cooper will not remain engaged to the duke with this knowledge. And then he shall be free to marry a woman suitable to his rank. That woman will be me. No one in society would dare try to cut me off from having what I want."
"Do not be so manipulative, Sophie, or I shall send you back to Hampshire. You must not cause trouble in town. I will not have it. You're a lady. You must act like one."
"I will not cause trouble, and you can be certain that I shall act with the utmost care. Miss Cooper will never know that it is I who has given her this information. No one will trace it to you or me, Papa. But you do wish to have what I want, do you not? You would not deny me happiness."
Her father pointed at the parchment as if it were something alive and dangerous. "I should not have taken it, and if anyone should find out, I will lose my position at Whites. Never to be accepted there or any other gentleman's club. Be sure that it is not traced to us if you're so determined to have the duke as your husband. Although, in my opinion, I did not see the attachment you seem so certain was between you. Are you sure you're not mistaken and have confused friendship with more?"
She frowned, rolling up the bet and starting from the room. "Of course, I know the difference. The duke would not have called on us had he not wanted to further his acquaintance with me. That is not the way of a gentleman."
Her father shook his head. "Very well, do what you must, but this better not go awry for our family, Sophie, or it'll not just be the ton whom you will have to face, but my wrath as well."
She threw her father a sweet smile, knowing when she did, she always got her way. His features softened, and she knew he'd already forgiven her and trusted her words. "I promise it will not. All will be well, Papa, and soon you will have a duchess as a daughter. How pleasing that sounds."
She flounced from the room, starting for her own. Tomorrow night was the Morrison masquerade ball. She would start her plan then, small tidbits of questions, little doubts in Miss Cooper's ears, so when she did finally read the bet, she would know the truth of her past and her future.
Sophie smiled, excitement thrumming through her veins. Her Grace, Sophie Worthingham, Duchess of Penworth had a special, perfect sound to it. She would enjoy being a pillar, one of society's highest-ranked hostesses. Married to Penworth, she would rule all of London if for no other reason than she wanted it to be so.
