I cannot believe that Lord Claybourne found me, and worse-that he still means to court me!
– Lily to Fanny
London, two days later
“I wish we could send that dastardly villain to Hades,” Chantel Amour muttered as she daintily sipped her tea.
“He is not quite a villain,” Fanny replied dryly. “He is simply a keen businessman. And he wants payment for the debt you and Fleur incurred in his gaming hell.”
Fleur Delee gave an elegant sniff. “You cannot believe Mick O’Rourke is anything less than odious, Fanny. Not when he is coercing you to pay or else he will lay charges against us to send us to debtor’s prison.”
“I never said he isn’t odious. Just that we are in this fix because you gambled away a fortune you didn’t have.”
“But O’Rourke plied us with brandy and encouraged us to play deep at the Faro table,” Chantel complained. “I have no doubt he arranged the entire episode because of you, Fanny. He wants you to agree to be his chere amie.”
Fanny pressed her lips together. “I know what Mick wants, but he won’t get it. We will just have to think of another way to repay him.”
Lily looked on as the three friends argued. When she’d shown up unexpectedly on the doorstep of Fanny’s London home two days ago, she had been welcomed without much protest once she explained about needing to escape Lord Claybourne’s unwanted attentions. An hour later she was settled here in the boardinghouse run by Fleur and Chantel.
To Lily’s surprise, the mansion was quite large and unexpectedly elegant. She’d been given her own bedchamber on the third floor and invited to use the owners’ private sitting room on the floor below, as well as the communal drawing room and the two small parlors on the main floor.
This afternoon the four of them had gathered in Fleur and Chantel’s private sitting room in order to discuss possible ways of earning enough money to repay the enormous gaming debt they owed.
Watching the women together, Lily had no trouble seeing the tremendous affection Fanny bore the aging courtesans. Reportedly they had taught Fanny everything they knew when she first entered the trade eight years ago, so she was determined to help them now.
Lily could also understand why the former Cyprians were once considered the toast of London. Though Fleur’s auburn locks were now unnaturally aided by henna dye, and Chantel’s blond tresses somewhat concealed the liberal strands of gray, they were still fascinating women, despite their faded beauty. Lily found them exceedingly warm and charming, although a trifle dreamy-eyed and scatterbrained. It seemed to her that they spent most of their time lamenting their lost allure and reminiscing about their bygone glory when they had reigned over the London demimonde.
In the past two days, Lily had heard countless stories about their long-ago conquests, as well as the details of how they had come to be in such dire straits now: They’d spent a disastrous night at the Faro tables at Mick O’Rourke’s gaming club and lost nearly forty thousand pounds.
Fanny, of course, had come to their rescue and paid off a quarter of the debt-ten thousand pounds, almost every penny she had saved-but they still owed the enormous sum of thirty thousand pounds. And they were exceedingly worried now, since O’Rourke was threatening to send them to prison.
He had offered to forgo the debt in exchange for Fanny’s exclusive services as his mistress, but she was loath to accept. Fanny had a history with O’Rourke, since he’d been one of her first patrons when she set out on her career as a courtesan. But even though they once were lovers and he had since made a vast fortune by pulling himself up from his harsh, low-class origins and making a success of his gaming club, he refused to show leniency toward her friends.
Which was an unforgivable sin, to Chantel’s mind. She had always viewed O’Rourke as uncouth and loutish, but now she considered him downright dastardly.
“I should think,” Chantel mused aloud, “that you could apply to one of your current protectors for the funds.”
Fanny shook her head. “Even if one of my gentlemen were inclined to such munificence-which I very much doubt-it would leave me uncomfortably obliged to him.”
Lily had heard Fanny’s rationale before this. She never allowed any of her patrons exclusive privileges, since she didn’t want anyone having such power over her; for if her lover abruptly decided to end their arrangement, he could cut her off without a penny and leave her scrambling for her livelihood.
Lily could sympathize with her friend, since she herself was adamant about never giving any man control over her own fate.
“There is another possibility, Fanny,” Fleur said, biting into a biscuit. “You could sell your memoirs.”
“No, that is not possible.”
“What memoirs?” Lily asked curiously.
Fanny gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I don’t even wish to discuss it.”
Fleur leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone to Lily, “A publisher has offered to pay dearly for Fanny’s memoirs if she will share titillating tales about her illustrious clientele.”
“We are not that desperate,” Fanny responded.
“I cannot fathom why you won’t at least consider it,” Chantel added plaintively.
“Because the sale would only cover part of your debt. More importantly, even if I wished to expose my former patrons in that distasteful way-which I do not-my memoirs would take time to write, and Mick has given us only one month, a concession he made very reluctantly after much pleading on my part, I might add.”
“But have you considered,” Fleur interjected, “how lucrative it could prove if you chose not to expose your lovers? There must be quite a few gentlemen who would pay handsomely to be left out of your recollections.”
Fanny’s gaze narrowed on the older courtesan. “You mean blackmail, do you, Fleur? That is totally out of the question. Not merely because it is unprincipled, but because I don’t want to make enemies of London’s elite set. Were I to do so, I could find it difficult to remain employed.”
Fleur offered a graceful shrug of her shoulders. “Well, I do not see how we are to come about if you insist on being so virtuous. Beggars cannot afford to be choosers, Fanny.”
“I am not reduced to begging yet,” she said tartly.
“It is a pity our boarders cannot help us,” Chantel lamented with a heavy sigh.
Fleur’s scoffing sound was very much like a snort. “Indeed. But they earn a pittance compared to what we once did.”
“Because they haven’t our former skills or our former beauty,” said Chantel.
“Or our refinement,” Fleur added sagely.
Chantel gave a sad nod.
Lily comprehended what they meant by a lack of refinement. There were over a dozen female boarders lodging in the mansion, all from the lower classes, some who were just beginning to become established as members of the muslin company, or demimondaines, the polite term Chantel insisted on using instead of prostitute or harlot. Of the girls who roomed here, the majority were opera dancers and actresses who supplemented their meager incomes by becoming part-time mistresses. But several sold their wares in various clubs and pleasure houses in the nearby theater district.
Fleur and Chantel, on the other hand-and Fanny also-could claim superior birth and breeding, which had allowed them to excel at their profession and command a much higher class of clientele.
Looking despondent, the elder courtesans fell silent, until Fleur finally mused aloud. “What we need are some very rich men to come to our rescue.”
“That goes without saying,” Chantel agreed. “But how do we acquire such men? You and I have lost the ability to attract wealthy patrons.”
“Alas, that is true. But several of our lodgers are beautiful enough to take our places. With the right guidance from us, they could be groomed to act in our stead.”
“But what would be the point?” Chantel asked dismissively.
“Don’t be such a slow top, love,” Fleur chided. “If some of our boarders could land rich protectors, they could help us pay off our debt to O’Rourke.”
“But how would they even meet any rich protectors?” Chantel huffed. “Such prizes are not scattered about waiting to be scooped up, you know.”
“Of course not, but some could be found if we search hard enough. Just consider, Chantel. We could hold a soiree just like the old days. And we could invite everyone Fanny knows. She has valuable connections among the ton, and we still have a few ourselves.”
For more than two decades Fleur and Chantel had reportedly held elegant soirees and entertained the cream of artistic and intellectual London society, even though they now no longer entertained at all.
“Well…I suppose we could hold a soiree,” Chantel answered. “But the effort would be futile, since our boarders will never become more refined.”
Fanny suddenly sat up as if her interest had been piqued. “Perhaps it would not be impossible with the right tutor.” She cast a glance at Lily. “Do you think you could instruct some of our boarders in the social graces, Lily? Just as you do at your Academy for Young Ladies?”
Lily’s brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”
Fleur’s expression also brightened as she regard Lily. “Because, darling,” Fleur explained, “our boarders need cultivation if our plan is to succeed. Demireps from the lower orders cannot easily attract wealthy noblemen or gentlemen. Members of the Quality want refinement, not bawdy manners and coarse speech. The girls here would have been drummed out of our former soirees the instant they opened their mouths.”
“Yes,” Chantel chimed in. “Wit and charm are important, but proper diction and accent are crucial. Those and deportment are the biggest handicaps preventing them from acquiring wealthier protectors.” Breaking off, Chantel suddenly stared at Lily as well. “Could you teach our girls, dear?”
Lily found herself frowning as she considered the question. The idea of helping young women sell themselves to rich men unsettled her more than a little, yet she didn’t want to refuse outright. “Perhaps. It should not be much different from the academy my sisters and I started three years ago. We teach girls from the merchant classes how to become more refined and ladylike, so they can hold their own in genteel society.”
“It might solve all our problems,” Fleur admitted with enthusiasm.
“Is there some other way for them to help you repay the debt?” Lily hedged.
“Not such an enormous sum.”
Lily couldn’t dispute her. Respectable jobs as servants earned perhaps ten pounds per annum. Even the most elite positions open to women-housekeepers of large estates, governess to wealthy families-rarely paid more than fifty pounds.
“There is always my settlement,” Lily suggested. When all three women looked blankly at her, she expounded. “The funds Lord Danvers settled upon me at my emancipation from his guardianship. It amounts to twenty thousand pounds, Fanny. You are welcome to have it.”
Giving a little gasp, Chantel clapped her hands together in delight. “I knew you were a right ’un, Lily darling.”
But Fanny frowned. “I could never take your money, Lily.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have plans for those funds. In any case, your fortune isn’t enough to satisfy the entire debt. We would still owe Mick an enormous sum, and you would be destitute again.”
“I suspect Roslyn would gladly share her portion.”
“Perhaps, but I have no intention of asking her. You both were virtually penniless three years ago, but now you are finally able to afford an independent life of your own. I won’t spoil that under any circumstances.”
It was Lily’s turn to frown. “Fanny, if you think I will let you enslave yourself to a man you don’t even like simply so I can spend a fortune I never expected on jaunting all over the globe, you have gone completely daft. What kind of friend would I be?”
“You know you have always wanted to travel.”
“So I have, but the circumstances have changed. You need the funds far more than I do.”
Fanny smiled faintly. “Thank you, dearest. I will consider accepting if the situation becomes truly dire, but not until then. Seriously, Lily, I believe Fleur’s idea of helping our boarders to acquire wealthy patrons would serve far better. Raising their station holds such tremendous advantages for those girls, I’m certain they will agree to help us pay off the debt in exchange for the exceptional training we can provide. So what do you say? Could you teach them to speak and behave with more gentility?”
Lily pursed her lips in thought. Manners and deportment were certainly not her forte. She was far more at home coaching the Academy’s pupils in sporting activities such as riding and archery, and physical skills such as dancing. But she could manage if the girls were willing to learn.
“Will your boarders be willing to apply themselves?” she asked.
“I have no doubt they will.”
Her reticence must have continued to show, however, for Fanny murmured, “It is asking a great deal of you, I know. You needn’t help if you are uncomfortable, Lily.”
“No, of course I want to help,” she said quickly, trying to control her squeamishness at participating so directly in the courtesan trade. “It is just that I wonder whether your boarders will be amenable to your plan to find them new patrons.”
Intervening, Fleur offered Lily a sympathetic glance. “Our girls will be delighted to land rich men, darling, take my word for it. And you will be doing them a good turn. If they can attract a higher class of clientele, they can earn significantly better livings.”
Lily nodded, knowing it wasn’t fair to deny her help because of her own conflicted feelings. “Then we should begin at once.”
The elder courtesans looked relieved, while Fanny smiled her thanks. “The question is, can we make sufficient progress in the next month?” she asked Lily.
“I believe we can if they are agreeable to attending classes for several hours a day.”
“Good, because a month is all the time we have. We can perhaps put Mick off for a bit longer after that if we can convince him the debt will soon be repaid, but he could very well act on his threat to have Chantel and Fleur thrown in prison. So what do we do?”
Lily’s brows drew together as she considered the problem. “I think we should conduct lessons in elocution and grammar to improve their improper speech, and in grace and deportment to improve their manners. We can use the drawing room as our main classroom, and we can clear one of the parlors to provide enough space for dance instruction… But if we want to move quickly, I should begin devising a curriculum at once.”
She glanced up at Fanny. “And it would be best if we divide up responsibilities. I can teach your boarders a number of useful subjects, but you and Fleur and Chantel could advise them on things I know nothing about, such as conversing with prospective patrons.”
“Yes,” Fanny agreed, “that would be wise. I can also send some of my servants here to assist with the additional workload, and my dresser to help the girls acquire suitable gowns to wear at the soiree.”
“And I know Tess Blanchard will be glad to help,” Lily said. “I also think we should ask Basil to teach diction.”
Fanny’s expression instantly shadowed. “Whyever would we ask him?”
Lily raised an eyebrow at her friend’s curt response. “Because he is a Latin scholar and can speak four other languages as well. If anyone can teach proper speech, it is he. Moreover, he lives here.”
Basil Eddowes was one of their few male lodgers-a tall, gangly young man about Fanny’s age who clerked and translated Latin for a prestigious law office in the City. Although Lily hadn’t seen Basil in four years, he’d been her bosom friend when she was a girl. Fanny also knew him well, since they’d all been neighbors in Hampshire together during their childhood.
The trouble was that Basil and Fanny had been at loggerheads ever since she’d taken up her scandalous new life. He severely disapproved of her occupation, which made it strange that he would choose to board here with so many fallen women, where he would be obliged to see Fanny whenever she visited the house, which was frequently.
“Basil is so disagreeable,” Fanny said in a dark tone, “he will likely refuse just out of spite.”
“Let me ask him,” Lily offered.
“You may try, of course. He will be more willing if the request comes from you.”
Fanny was still speaking when Fleur rose abruptly. “It is settled then, so we had best get started. Chantel, come with me. We will find the girls and discuss our scheme with them. And then we must begin planning the soiree. It will be such a pleasure to have an entertainment to look forward to.”
Obediently Chantel stood and followed her colleague to the parlor door, but before she left, she glanced back at Lily. “We are delighted you have come, darling. Already our prospects are looking much brighter.”
Lily returned a tentative smile. “I only hope we can make it work.”
“It will, I feel sure of it.”
When the two older women had gone, Fanny eyed Lily over her teacup. “Are you truly certain you want to involve yourself so intimately in our problems?”
“Yes, of course,” Lily said at once. “I am happy to do it.”
She was more than willing to try to help Fanny and her friends. And more importantly, she wanted to help the young women she had met during the past two days to improve their lot in life. Even if she had qualms about the purpose of the soiree, tutoring them in speech and deportment was a worthy goal and might allow them opportunities for respectable jobs that they could never hope for otherwise.
“You mustn’t worry about me, Fanny,” Lily assured her. “I wouldn’t involve myself if I didn’t wish to.”
“I know.” Fanny’s smile suddenly turned humorous. “But when you came to London to escape Lord Claybourne, I doubt you expected to start a school for Cyprians and teach our boarders how to behave as proper ladies.”
“No,” Lily agreed lightly, hiding her wince at the mention of the marquess. “But this is an excellent use of my time.”
And will provide an excellent distraction as well.
She had thought of the beguiling nobleman far too often since that passionate interlude in the loft and his startling declaration the following morning.
Shifting uneasily at the memory, Lily picked up her own teacup. She simply had to stop dwelling on Lord Claybourne and his enchanting kisses. It was deplorable, how her thoughts were centered on a man she scarcely even knew. Especially since she suspected he had forgotten all about her the very next day.
By now his lordship would have moved on to more willing conquests, Lily was certain. Yet, vexingly, it would take her a good while longer to forget all about him.
One month later…
Lily still had not forgotten about Lord Claybourne four weeks later, but as she watched her pupils practice the proper use of silver and crystal one afternoon in the dining room, she felt pleased by the success of her “academy.” Indeed, her classes were in high demand, since word had spread among the London demimonde.
There were twenty-two young women enrolled now, and the fees were waived for those who signed a voucher promising to donate a portion of their first year’s income to Fleur and Chantel’s debt relief fund.
In addition to speech and manners and deportment, the girls learned about proper dress, dining at table, pouring tea, conversing with the gentility, dancing, attending the opera and theater…the myriad skills needed to enhance their prospects of securing wealthy, well-born patrons.
Almost all of her pupils, Lily believed, would be ready for the soiree, which was to be held next week, although she was in truth surprised by their rapid progress. Yet as Fleur had predicted, the girls were eager for the chance to significantly improve their circumstances.
“For finding rich men to support them,” Fleur had said more than once, “is the only way they will ever rise up out of poverty. It is the way of the world, Lily dear.”
The courtesans’ view was pragmatic by necessity. And admittedly, living here with them in their rooming house had opened Lily’s eyes to an entirely different world, much of which was not pleasant or adventurous in the least. She’d thought she understood the plight of penniless females in society, since she and her sisters had faced destitution and homelessness after their family scandal. But some of the young women here were much worse off than she had ever been.
On the whole, however, her pupils were a cheerful bunch. Thanks to Fanny and the elder courtesans, they had safe, genteel lodgings to call home, which was more than most actresses and opera dancers could claim. And many of the girls actually seemed to enjoy their extra employment as ladies of the evening. They had chosen this life, just as Fanny and Fleur and Chantel had. Yet there were some who had been forced into the flesh trade unwillingly.
Those were the ones Lily wanted most to help. Those unfortunate incognitas who were trapped in a profession they despised. Lily had already managed to help two of them escape by sending them home to Roslyn at Danvers Hall to join the manor staff as chambermaids. It was menial labor, true, and the jobs paid less than the girls made as lightskirts, but they considered serving in a noble household better work by far than earning their livings in a brothel.
It had brought Lily profound satisfaction to provide the two girls new lives. And she understood now why Tess strove so hard for her special charities.
She’d recruited Tess as an instructor twice a week, and Basil Eddowes taught speech classes early each morning before leaving for his work. Fleur and Chantel had thrown their hearts into mentoring the girls, and Fanny had won their adoration by sharing her secrets of becoming desirable to men.
The girls seemed most grateful for Lily’s efforts, which also gratified her. From the first moment of the first class, it had quickly became clear to her that these young women needed her far more than the rich daughters she taught at the Freemantle Academy.
Additionally, Lily felt a humbling gratitude for her own comparatively good fortune. She and her sisters knew what it was to be at the mercy of fate. It made Lily shudder to think that they might have been forced into prostitution themselves, had not their step-uncle felt obliged to take them in, however grudgingly.
As for Mick O’Rourke, he seemed to be biding his time, waiting for the agreed-upon grace period to be over.
Yet Fanny had been busy with another endeavor to raise money. Rather than writing her memoirs, she had penned a manuscript based on her recent letters to Roslyn, entitled, “Advice to Young Ladies on Capturing a Husband.” The publisher anticipated brisk sales among the ton’s debutantes when the book eventually went to print early this fall.
Lily’s only regret now was that during the past month, Roslyn had fallen hopelessly in love with the Duke of Arden and become betrothed. If she’d remained at home to protect Roslyn, Lily lamented, perhaps she might have stopped her sister from making such a drastic mistake.
At least Arabella and Marcus still seemed to be happy. They had just returned to Danvers Hall from their monthlong wedding journey, according to Roslyn.
Lily yearned to see her sisters again, although not enough to risk encountering the Marquess of Claybourne.
Her gaze darkened as she remembered the dismaying letter Roslyn had sent her yesterday, warning that the marquess might not have lost interest in her. Reportedly Claybourne had made an unexpected trip to Hampshire in search of her.
He’d been directed there by Winifred, who was highly disgruntled to discover Lily was not visiting friends in her former neighborhood as she wanted everyone to believe.
Lily couldn’t help but worry about his lordship’s persistence. She’d been confident that she had escaped him. But apparently “out of sight” did not mean “out of mind” to him.
With any luck, though, he would never find her here, Lily thought as she moved from one elegantly set table to the next.
The score of female diners looked just as elegant as the place settings, all dressed in evening gowns even though it was barely two o’clock in the afternoon. They were practicing the art of drinking soup without slurping, and Lily had very few corrections to make.
She had just signaled the two manservants to clear away the soup plates and bring in the next course when she was approached by a chambermaid, who whispered in her ear.
“Beg pardon for intruding, Miss Loring, but you have a gentleman caller who wishes to speak with you.”
Lily felt her heart skip a beat. No gentlemen of her acquaintance even knew she was here…unless… Surely Lord Claybourne had not found her. “Did the gentleman give a name?”
“No, miss, but he looks like a fancy lord-and he acts like one, too. Said to tell you that he has ‘enough patience to outlast you,’ whatever that means.”
Regrettably she knew exactly what that meant. Lily drew an uneven breath, alarmed at the thought of having to face the marquess again. “You put him in Miss Delee’s sitting room, Ellen?”
“No, miss. He asked to be shown to your bedchamber.”
“My bedchamber?” Her tone had risen in pitch, but when Lily realized that several curious pairs of eyes had turned in her direction, she lowered her voice. “My bedchamber is not the proper place for a gentleman caller, Ellen.”
“I know, Miss Loring, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
It sounded just like Lord Claybourne, Lily thought, torn between exasperation and vexation.
Vexation won out when Ellen added, “He said you would rather have a private interview there than have him come to the dining room with your pupils present.”
At the implied threat, Lily pressed her lips together in irritation. Obviously she had no choice but to receive him in her bedchamber, since she didn’t want him making a scene in front of an audience.
“Do you want me to fetch Miss Delee to deal with him?” the maid asked nervously at Lily’s silence.
“No, I will see him, thank you, Ellen.”
After politely excusing herself from her pupils for a moment, Lily left the dining room and took the back stairs. Deliberately ignoring the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she climbed two flights to her own floor and marched down the corridor to her bedchamber. The door was shut, but she pushed it open-and came up short at the sight of Lord Claybourne.
He was actually lounging on her bed, his back propped up against the pillows, one booted leg casually drawn up as a prop for the book he was reading.
Her book, she realized, her mouth dropping open at his temerity. But it was the man himself who made her speechless. It was shocking how just being in the same room with him seemed to draw all the air from her lungs.
Then he looked up and locked gazes with her, and the flutter in her stomach suddenly became a riot.
Lily pressed a hand to her midriff, yet her defensive gesture did nothing to calm her smoldering awareness of him. Not when Claybourne was looking at her in that disconcerting way.
The gleam in his hazel eyes held a mix of triumph, sensuality, lazy amusement, and more-the promise of retribution.
“Come in, angel,” he said in his low, rich voice. “We have a great deal to discuss, wouldn’t you say?”
If he’d wondered how he would feel at seeing Lily Loring again, Heath had his answer now: Sensation shot through him, making his stomach clench and his loins tighten.
She felt the same spark of fire between them, he knew, watching her lustrous eyes widen and turn wary. It gave him a primal male satisfaction.
Marveling at the undeniable physical impact Lily had on him, he let the heat of his gaze travel slowly downward to her lush mouth. He couldn’t forget the taste of those dusky-rose lips. Couldn’t forget those amazing dark eyes, that rich chestnut color of her hair.
Yet in person she was even more vibrant than in his memories. And his visceral response to her was even more intense.
It wasn’t mere lust, however. Something about her made his heart race. He hadn’t imagined it, he knew that now.
Heath smiled inwardly at himself. The question of whether the spark would still be there between them had made the last four weeks seem interminable. His life had been utterly flat since meeting Lilian Loring. Certainly there hadn’t been a single woman in the interim who’d captured his interest.
He hadn’t expected to run his quarry to earth in a lodging house for lightskirts, though. He hadn’t expected Lily to run from him, either. Or to put him to the trouble of chasing her. He’d never been compelled to exert himself to pursue any woman.
Admittedly he’d been piqued by her flight, yet exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. Which made his triumph at finally catching her all the more sweet, despite his reservations at finding her living in a residence owned by Fanny Irwin, with a pair of infamous highflyers and a score of other straw damsels.
“Do come in, angel,” Heath urged. “And shut the door, unless you wish to broadcast my presence in your bedchamber.”
That seemed to snap Lily out of her daze, for her beautiful eyes narrowed. “Your presence in my bedchamber is extremely ill-advised, my lord. You should not be here, you know very well.”
“I wanted a place to be private with you.”
“There are two parlors and a drawing room in the house. Any of those would be far more suitable for a gentleman caller.”
“But not suitable for my purpose.”
Her eyes turned wary again. “Just what is your purpose, Lord Claybourne?”
“I cannot tell you as long as you remain loitering out there in the corridor.”
Lily obliged him, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, but she obviously wasn’t happy about it, for her hands went to her hips. “Now will you pray explain the reason for your delightful visit?”
Heath grinned at her acerbic tone. “Yes, if you will explain what the devil you are doing in a scandalous pleasure house.”
She stiffened. “It is not a pleasure house precisely. The boarders don’t entertain their patrons here.”
Heath arched a skeptical brow. “You are saying they don’t hold assignations with their lovers here?”
“Well…not frequently, at any event. The proprietresses frown upon it.”
“And that should assuage my concerns?”
Her lips pressed together. “Assuaging your concerns is hardly my responsibility, my lord. But if you must know, I am helping Fanny Irwin and her friends repay a rather large gambling debt.”
“So I understand. I’ve learned a great deal about you over the past three days since I discovered your location. You have obviously been hard at work.”
Her eyes widened. “You have been watching me?”
“In part. When I called yesterday, you were occupied in the drawing room, surrounded by a gaggle of beauties practicing the waltz. At least your friend Eddowes was willing to satisfy a measure of my curiosity.”
“Basil told you about our endeavor?” She looked taken aback. “I cannot believe he betrayed my confidence! Or that you managed to persuade him to.”
Heath smiled at her vexation. “You proved so elusive, I was forced to become more resourceful. Eddowes has your best interests at heart, you know.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I have your best interests at heart also. Actually, I think he was relieved to share his apprehensions with me. He doesn’t quite approve of you being here.” Heath’s gaze narrowed on her. “Marcus would not approve either if he knew, I’ll wager.”
“I do not need Marcus’s consent to be here,” Lily replied stiffly. “He is no longer my guardian.”
“But he is head of your family now. And Arden will soon be joining it as well. You know he and your sister Roslyn are betrothed?”
“I know,” Lily said, her tone gloomy.
“So don’t you think it would be detrimental to your sisters if your presence here became known?”
“I don’t intend for it to become known. And if Basil Eddowes told you about our academy, then you must realize it is for a worthy cause. We are helping some unfortunate young women improve their speech and social graces so they can better their lives. It is immensely satisfying, seeing their progress day by day. And next week we plan to hold a soiree so they may meet a higher class of clientele. Hopefully they will be able to improve the deplorable circumstances under which they must earn their livelihood.”
Her passion for her cause was obvious, Heath reflected, watching Lily’s expressive face. Although it didn’t surprise him, he wondered how many ladies of her class would become involved in helping prostitutes raise their standard of living, much less endure these rather spartan conditions for weeks on end. He glanced around the small chamber, which was bare except for a narrow bed and side table, a washstand and bureau, and a chair. Very unlike her bedchamber at Danvers Hall, he would imagine.
“Your compassion is highly admirable,” Heath said mildly.
She regarded him with suspicion. “Are you roasting me, Lord Claybourne?”
“Not in the least. I am quite sincere in my admiration. And I understand why you began teaching here, but not why you came to be here in the first place.”
That made her smile. “Why, I was avoiding you, of course. You made it clear that you wouldn’t give up your absurd notion of courting me.”
“I presumed as much.”
Her look grew puzzled. “I confess I am astounded by your persistence in the face of my obvious reluctance to entertain your suit. Did you really go to Hampshire to look for me?”
His mouth twisted when he thought of his futile journey a fortnight ago. “I did. Imagine my surprise when I learned that you had not set foot there in four years. You merely put out that tale to misdirect Lady Freemantle and therefore me.”
“It seems I was wise,” Lily said wryly, “since you pursued me there. And here as well. How did you find me, if I may ask?”
“Your sister Arabella. When she and Marcus returned home from their wedding trip the other day, she accidently let slip that you were in London with Fanny. Once I had a general location, it was an easy matter to follow Fanny here.”
Sitting up, Heath swung his legs over the side of the bed. “You led me on a merry chase, sweeting,” he chided lightly. “I am not accustomed to women running from me.”
“I imagine not,” Lily replied, her tone dry.
“Did I frighten you that badly?”
She frowned a little, as if giving serious thought to the question. “Unsettled is a better word. I didn’t like the feeling in the least.”
“That is regrettable, because I am in no way giving up.”
Lily stared at him a moment before her expression grew frustrated. “It makes no sense, Lord Claybourne. Why would you want to court me?”
“I beg to differ, love-it makes perfect sense. I will have to wed someday, and I think you might make a good match for me. But I need to ascertain if we have any chance for a future together. I already know I am powerfully attracted to you. And that you are just as attracted to me. Don’t bother denying it.”
Her mouth opened to protest but shut almost as quickly. “Perhaps so, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry you. Or that you want to marry me. We barely know each other.”
“I intend to remedy that right now.”
“Your lordship!” she exclaimed as he rose from the bed.
“Don’t be alarmed. I only want to conduct an experiment.”
Holding her gaze, Heath crossed the small room toward her. Immediately Lily tried to back away, but there was nowhere for her to run. Cautious, wary, she stood there looking up at him, her hands raised defensively in front of her.
Lifting his own hand, Heath let his thumb glide along her lush lower lip before he bent his head down to her.
“Lord Claybourne…” she said breathlessly.
“Hush, let me show you.”
She inhaled sharply but remained frozen as Heath kissed her. Her lips felt soft and ripe under his…and oh so arousing. A jolt of pure desire sizzled through him.
No, he wasn’t mistaken about Lily, he thought with a feeling of triumph and pleasure as he savored her. He felt that fire in her again, searing him. He felt the hunger in her. It was unconscious, instinctive, but there all the same, arousing the same intense heat that had ignited between them their first time together in the loft.
That fire and his own reciprocal response settled the issue for Heath. He’d never met a women who stirred his passion the way Lily did, certainly not a young lady who possessed the qualifications to become his marchioness. Ergo, he wouldn’t let Lily go. Not until he proved to himself that she wasn’t the right bride for him.
“There,” he said softly when he at last raised his head. “I wanted to see if my attraction to you was merely a passing fancy, and I now know it wasn’t. You felt it, too, don’t deny it.”
She stared back at him, looking dazed, and wet her lips before finally finding her voice. “I felt something, but it was not at all pleasant.”
Heath arched an eyebrow. “I never would have thought you were given to falsehoods, darling.”
“I am being quite truthful, my lord. I did not enjoy kissing you. It made me too…disconcerted. Too flustered.”
“You felt out of control, and you didn’t like it.”
“Yes, exactly! I am gratified you understand.”
“But I don’t understand. I am offering you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, and you turn me down out of hand.”
Her chin rose at his teasing. “I am not the least interested in pleasure.”
“I expect I can change your mind.”
Lily locked her jaw mutinously. “Your arrogance is astounding, my lord.”
The amusement leaving his expression, Heath regarded her with all seriousness. “There is nothing arrogant about it, Lily. It is merely simple logic. I want you, but I cannot have you without the benefit of marriage. I am not interested in an affair that would only result in scandal. So I intend to court you honorably.”
“Without my consent?” she asked, her eyes flashing.
“I hope to gain your consent. And I mean to start by kissing you again.”
Looking alarmed, Lily pressed her palms against his chest. “I am not about to let you ravish me, Lord Claybourne!”
His gaze dropped from her face to her breasts. He would like nothing more than to draw Lily down to her chaste bed and ravish her to their hearts’ content, but he was bound by the rules of honor.
Heath smiled. “It is broad daylight and you are surrounded by a houseful of people. I believe you are safe from ravishment for the time being. But that doesn’t mean I won’t use all the powers of persuasion at my disposal.”
His hands covered her shoulders, lightly massaging them as he locked gazes with her. Then bending, he covered her mouth with his in a slow, devastating, spellbinding kiss that sent searing heat arcing between them again.
His sensual assault stunned Lily. She felt light-headed and dizzy; she couldn’t breathe.
He was right, she thought with a feeling akin to desperation. The attraction between them was not a passing fancy. Nor could she blame her intoxication on champagne this time. His kisses still overwhelmed her senses even when she wasn’t foxed.
Sweet shocks of reaction surged through her body, making her soften instinctively against him. As his lips moved over hers with exquisite pressure, she pushed harder against his chest, struggling for the will to resist, but he caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged with soft nips.
When Lily responded with a little whimper, his tongue soothed the sensitive flesh before delving slowly, insistently, inside her mouth.
Filled with a strangled pleasure, she gave a helpless moan. She couldn’t fight this hammering of her senses, couldn’t fight his heat and hardness. Finding him impossible to resist, she gave a tiny, shuddering sigh of defeat and returned his kiss helplessly.
His mouth was magical…and so was his touch, Lily thought dazedly as his hand moved to caress her throat. While his kisses enchanted, his long fingers stroked the skin of her throat, gliding inexorably lower to the low, square neckline of her evening gown.
She whimpered once more as he feathered the peaks of her breasts with the backs of his fingers. Her nipples instantly hardened beneath the delicate silk fabric, while her breasts felt heavy and swollen.
And Claybourne was doing his best to increase her arousal, his knuckles slowly gliding over the crests, making Lily gasp at the sparks that shot through her. Then boldly, he brought both hands to her bodice, molding the contours of her breasts, making her knees go weak. Fire radiated from his hands and bloomed between her thighs, shocking her.
Lily closed her eyes against the undeniable pleasure. It was maddening the way he drew out each brazen caress, yet she didn’t want him to stop. His touch was so tender, so wicked…so right. The sensations left her shaking inside, kindling a heavy ache deep in her lower body…
It was some time before she realized that he had left off kissing her, although he was still cupping the ripe swells of her breasts.
“Don’t you see?” Heath asked, his voice husky and low. “Whatever this is between us, it deserves exploring.”
Dazed, Lily opened her eyes. Yes, she saw. She was aching with nameless longing…aching for him. She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t hide it.
But the emotional turmoil inside her was even stronger. She didn’t want to want him. She couldn’t bear to risk subjugating herself to a man’s domination for a fleeting taste of passion, no matter how delicious it promised to be.
Giving a frustrated groan, Lily slid out from Lord Claybourne’s embrace and backed away from him. When he took a step toward her, she held up her hands defensively and retreated farther across the small bedchamber, putting as much space as possible between them.
Claybourne stopped then, regarding her intently.
With shaking fingers, Lily tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and swallowed hard. Yet her voice was still a hoarse rasp when she finally spoke. “You are mistaken if you think I will meekly surrender just because you are a splendid kisser.”
“I think nothing of the kind,” he said, his tone wry. “You haven’t a meek bone in your lovely body, I’ll warrant.”
“No, and I will never accept your proposal of marriage, either,” Lily said firmly.
The smile he gave her was utterly beautiful and utterly maddening. “We shall see.”
Lily started to reply but gave a start when a sharp rap sounded on her bedchamber door. Then she froze as Fleur pushed open the door and swept into the room.
The courtesan took one look at Lily’s flushed face and passion-bruised lips and turned to regard the marquess with a baleful eye. “I trust you mean to explain yourself, my lord. Miss Loring is under our protection, and we will not stand for you seducing her!”