The Bewitching Hour Read online

  “You’re hateful.”

  “Perhaps," he conceded. "But no more so than you. Now back to our original discussion. Who else are you considering?”

  She managed to bring her anger under control. “For the first time in years, Lord Stratton is in town for the season. Supposedly, for his sister’s come out, but I would imagine he is looking for a wife. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I believe he would be an excellent choice.” She narrowed her eyes. “I see that look. What nonsense will you tell me about him?”

  He snorted. “It isn’t nonsense. He does have considerable wealth and will come into even more on his father’s death, but I’m afraid you may have serious competition.”

  “Competition doesn’t concern me.”

  “You believe he won’t be able to resist your charms? I’m afraid that at present, he has set his eyes set on Miss Priscilla Hawthorn.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” she returned. “That’s impossible. She isn’t even quality ton. My father was an earl.”

  “An impoverished earl,” Montville corrected.

  She glared. “That’s of little importance. The aristocratic line is there. There is no comparison. She's a little Miss Nothing.”

  “But it is possible. Her uncle’s a baron. A wealthy baron. His holdings are just south of the borderlands of Scotland.”

  She sniffed. “That’s practically the wilderness.”

  “Had you seen Lord Stratton’s expression the other evening you might not be so smug. He was watching her on the dance floor while you were conversing. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. They've taken a stroll in Hyde Park and he has called on her at home. This is as close as Stratton has ever come to declaring his interest in anyone.”

  She sniffed at this assumption. “A walk in Hyde Park counts for little as does a meager social call.”

  “The look on his face tells the story." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Whether you accept it or not, he is smitten with her. You’ll never turn his head while Miss Hawthorn is around.”

  “You doubt my abilities?”

  “Your abilities aren’t in question. It’s just that the man appears to be quite besotted.”

  “What has that to do with anything? His family’s title has been around for centuries and that was achieved by joining good bloodlines and power, not by marrying some chit one fancies himself in love with. He isn’t a stupid man. It won’t last,” she said with a huff. “Infatuation rarely does. By the end of the season, he won’t even remember her name. I’ll make certain of it.”

  “Think this through, Melissa. What can you bring into the marriage that Miss Hawthorn can’t? Her blood may not be quite as blue as yours, but I don’t think Stratton cares. The Hawthorns have considerable wealth, so her dowry is likely quite substantial and...”

  “It doesn't matter," she broke in. "He doesn’t need money, but a man of his age is still ripe for seduction. A skilled lover would best suit his needs at present. Passion is a far greater motivation than love and you know as well as I that she can’t possible know her way around the bedchamber.”

  He rested his chin in his hand and appeared to think. “I must admit you’re superbly skilled between the sheets. Have you made up your mind at present?”

  “I have.”

  He sighed. “And you won’t consider anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “I know better than to try and change your mind. But changing Stratton’s mind might be just as difficult. Our best bet may be to dissuade Miss Hawthorn rather than Lord Stratton. This will take some thought.”

  “Then be back here tomorrow at one and I will listen to what you have to say,” she snapped. “But I don’t plan on wasting any more time. Now, if you will excuse me, I must dress for an afternoon engagement.” She rose and stalked toward the door. “You can find your own way out.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Where are you taking me?” Priscilla asked breathlessly. Stratton had taken her hand and was pulling her along so quickly she felt as if they were flying down the corridor of the Morrison's town house.

  “Somewhere we can have a few private moments.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m surprised you have to ask.”

  “Of course, I have to ask. I can’t read your mind.” She heard him laugh. “In fact, I’m quite sure I don’t want to read your mind.”

  He stopped so suddenly she ended up in front of him. He grabbed her by the waist and whirled her around to face him. “Do you want to return to the ballroom?”

  She lowered her eyes and said, “No. I suppose I should, but I don’t.”

  “Good.” He pulled her along another twenty paces, stopped in front of a white paneled door, opened it and drew her in behind him. He pulled the door shut and turned to her with a devilish look on his face. “This house is quite similar to others on the street and I took a chance we would find accommodations up here. Does this meet with your approval, Miss Hawthorn?”

  Moonlight spilled through a large window and the lantern he held cast a glow illuminating the closet. The shelves were piled with miscellaneous brick-a-brack, china and kitchen linens.

  "This was beyond the pale. She should be scandalized, even frightened. She wasn’t. “They’ll do,” she whispered.

  “We must be quick about this. Our absence will be noted if we’re away too long.” He pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “The letter you requested, ma’am.” He held the lantern over her shoulder.

  “Thank you.” She opened it and began to read.

  My Lord, It was with great disappointment that I left Grange and Gregory last Sunday. Yet, after pondering the circumstances, I cannot help but wonder if you caught a glimpse of me and, finding my youth troubling, left without acknowledgement. If so, you are forgiven. I grant that I am young and know little of the love between a man and woman, but please understand that I am not so young that I cannot know desire. The years between us are of little importance. I confess that the mere thought of you makes me tremble and to be in your presence, I cannot say what will happen. My imagination is limited by inexperience but my desire to learn is without bounds. There is so much for you to teach me. I fear my desperation for your touch brings out the boldness in me. Please meet with me at the same address at four o’clock next Sunday. For us to meet is madness, but I pray you will acquiesce. With deep affection, M

  “The mere thought of you makes her tremble?” she questioned. “Oh, please. Isn’t that doing it up a bit? You do have a swelled head, my lord.”

  “Among other things.” He cupped his hands around her face and said tenderly, “I’m about to kiss you. You don’t mind do you?”

  Her arms went around his neck. The thought crossed her mind that if anyone found them she would be ruined. It didn't seem to matter. “You shouldn’t,” she murmured.

  She tilted her face up to him and his lips came to hers feather-soft and teasing as they brushed against her mouth and then lightly kissed the tip of her nose. He kissed each eyelid then moved down and caught her lower lip gently between his teeth and pulled, flicking her lip with his tongue. He caressed the line of her jaw and a feeling of warmth rushed through her and pooled in her belly.

  Her need for him swept through her. She parted her lips as his mouth covered hers. He swept the inside of her mouth and she responded in kind without understanding what she was doing or even why. She glided her tongue over his and tasted the sweetness of brandy. How could kissing could make her feel such odd sensations in other parts of her body. A dampness blossomed between her legs and she was filled with a raw urge, a desire she was desperate to fulfill. She wanted him in a way she didn’t understand. Immersed in his touch, his taste, his scent, she wanted nothing more than to be possessed by this man.

  She pressed up against him and he suddenly went rigid. “Don’t move,” he groaned. “Priscilla, hold still. Please.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. He appeared to be in pain. Her hand was trem
bling as she touched his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He shook his head then unwrapped her arms from his neck, settled her feet firmly on the floor and stepped back. “No.” His voice sounded strained. “You did everything right. It’s me.” Her heart was still pounding as he caught her fingers in his hand and kissed them. “Another second with you in my arms and I couldn’t have stopped. This isn’t the time or place.”

  “But.” Later, then? Somewhere else? Dear Lord, what am I thinking? My mind has completely snapped.

  He took in a deep breath. “Move back a little. Give me a few moments and we’ll go back.”

  She took a step away from him and waited. Her heartbeat gradually slowed, her breathing became regular and her ability to reason returned. Suddenly embarrassed, she turned away. “I can’t think what happened to me. I’m not at all myself lately. I didn’t intend to be so brazen.”

  He touched her lips with his fingertips. Most of his face was in shadows, but she could see the odd glint in his eyes. “It’s time to go back. My self control is precarious this evening and I don’t dare test it further. I’m going to bid our hosts good-night and take the ladies home.” He sighed. “I wish I were taking you home with me. God’s Truth, you have me in a bad way.”

  She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply looked at him.

  They walked in silence until they reached the ladies withdrawing room. “Good-night, love,” he said softly. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  Ten hours later the sky was leaden with approaching rain and a damp breeze ruffled Stratton’s dark hair. His chestnut stallion shifted nervously on the cobbles and Stratton could feel the tension in the horse’s flanks. It had been a wretched morning. Both were taut with frustration and their early morning ride had done little to ease the strain. Even if it were allowed, Hyde Park was not the place for a breakneck, throw caution to the wind type gallop. And at the moment, that was what was needed. He should have made the trip to Richmond Park. Didn’t have the vaguest idea why he hadn’t. Whatever the reason, it hadn’t been a sound decision. He simply wasn’t thinking clearly. Scowling, he dismounted and tossed the reigns to his groom.

  “Can’t think why I didn’t turn you out, Biggs,” he said. “Remind me.”

  The blond young man grinned showing a row of even teeth. “Ya couldn’t find no one else who could ‘andle this beast of yer’s. Jupiter’s a ‘andful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple. “Ain’t ya boy?” The stallion snorted then nuzzled his nose up against Biggs palm and took the apple.

  Stratton had to admit the young man had a way with Jupiter. The stallion was the finest creature he had ever owned, but the beast loved to challenge and intimidate. It was a damnable bit of luck that the only groom who could handle Jupiter could also not keep his breeches on and the reminder did not bode well with the disgruntled viscount. “You’d best watch yourself or you’ll find yourself tossed out on your ear, whether I can replace you or not,” he said in a harsh tone. “I’ll tend my own horse, if need be.”

  The grin quickly vanished. “Didn’t mean no disrespect, milord.”

  “I take care of those in my employ. If I hear you’ve tumbled one of the servants again, not only will I turn you out without a reference, but I’ll make it known that you can’t be trusted to keep your hands off the female servants.”

  The groom lowered his eyes and mumbled, “Yes, milord.”

  Stratton’s expression blackened as he tapped the edge of his riding crop against the side of his boot. “You may as well know that your young woman’s been found and was packed off to Reston Manor, yesterday.”

  Biggs looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. “My young woman?”

  Stratton fought the urge to plant his fist in the groom’s face. “The young woman who’s carrying your child.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Polly?”

  “Is there more than one woman carrying your child?”

  “No, milord.” He flushed. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “When we return to the Surrey estate, you can marry the chit.”

  The groom’s tanned face turned pale and his mouth dropped open.

  If not for his sour mood Stratton would have laughed at the man’s astonishment. Instead, he said, “There are enough bastards in this world as it is. While working for me you will not add to their numbers.” He paused. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re irreplaceable.” Then he turned on his heel and strode toward the house leaving Biggs to ponder the threat.

  Stratton threw open the front door, expecting to see Reeds, but the foyer was empty. “Hell and the devil,” he muttered as he stripped off his coat and gloves and threw them down on the table. “Where’d the man go?” Reeds was always there to greet him when he came in from his morning ride. It was a ritual. With nerves stretched as tight as a bowstring he had no wish for a change in routine.

  His Hessians clattered noisily against the tile floor as he crossed the entrance hall and strode toward the staircase. He could have ridden to Surrey and back and it wouldn’t have helped. Neither would chopping up the furniture. As he took the steps three at a time he realized how idiotic his comment to Rand about chopping wood and self discipline was. This constant aching need for Priscilla was costing him dearly. He’d barely slept the night before and what little sleep he did get was plagued with erotic dreams of her. By dawn he was dressed and headed toward Hyde Park.

  Hell and damnation. Nothing seemed to ease the relentless ache in his groin. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, breathe in the scent of her golden hair, taste her soft skin. He shivered. Christ! Something had to ease this pain or he would go stark raving mad. A cold bath. He would order a cold bath and sit in it until his balls were blue and shriveled and he was as limp as a wet rag.

  He stalked down the hallway to his bedchamber and pushed the door open with a bang then pulled on the bell cord for his valet. Johnson quickly appeared, looking flushed and winded.

  “Yes, my lord,” he said unevenly as he attempted to catch his breath.

  “Where’s Reeds?”

  “I believe he’s with Madame’s dogs.”

  Stratton narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the evasive look on the valet’s face. Something odd was going on. “Have you been running?”

  The valet hesitated a moment then said, “Yes, my lord.”

  “Why?”

  Johnson looked uncomfortable as he shifted his gaze to the floor. “We have a small problem. Nothing of great importance. Reeds is seeing to it, my lord.”

  Stratton folded his arms and stifled a groan. “A problem with the dogs. Specifically, what kind of problem?”

  “Um.”

  He was interrupted by a shriek and cacophony of yipping and yapping that grew louder by the second.

  “Damn it! Can’t we go a blasted day without those dogs causing an uproar?” Stratton yanked open the door and stepped into the path of a small gray kitten streaking down the corridor followed by a horde of brown and gray terriers scrambling close behind. The kitten flew at him and frantically climbed until it reached the top of his head. He felt pinpricks in his scalp and grimaced. He reached for the creature and was rewarded with a hiss and a swat. A low growl emitted from the feline’s throat. The terriers gathered at his feet clamoring for their prey.

  “Oh, dear. Oh, dear.” The shrillness of Aunt Mirabella’s voice sent chills down his spine.

  Lips tightly pressed together, he watched as she scurried down the corridor squawking like a hen. “Madame,” he said. “Will you please cease your infernal caterwauling? Between you and these damned dogs, I can’t hear myself think.”

  The shrieking stopped but her mouth stayed open as her chest heaved and she gasped for breath. She stared at him.

  “And sit down before you swoon,” he ordered noticing the purple tinge to her face.

  The illusive Reeds appeared from nowhere and escorted her to a nearby chair.

  “And could you please ca
ll off your dogs?” Stratton added raising his voice over the din of yapping.

  “Now, darlings,” she managed breathlessly. “Come here.”

  Hell and damnation. This is bloody insane. “Quiet!” he bellowed. To everyone’s shock, they obeyed, and with tongues lolling and tails wagging they gazed adoringly at the tall man in their midst.

  “Reeds,” Stratton managed between clenched teeth. “What the devil is going on?”

  The butler cleared his throat. “It appears you have a kitten on your head, my lord.”

  “Yes, I had come to that conclusion,” Stratton observed in a dry tone. He reached up again and plucked the tiny creature off his head, wincing as it clawed at his hand. He held it by the scruff of its neck to avoid further injury. “As well as a pack of dogs at my feet.”

  “Did you have a pleasant ride this morning, my lord?” the butler inquired.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said. “There isn’t a decent place to gallop in this godforsaken town.”

  “Might I suggest you try Richmond, my lord? I’ve been told it’s a much better choice.”

  “I know it’s a better choice! I’ve ridden there countless times. I simply wasn’t thinking this morning." His voice lowered appreciably. "Why am I explaining myself?”

  He shifted, stepped on one of the dog’s paws and it yelped, beginning another round of barking. “Quiet!” The command worked again. “Now,” he said in a deadly tone as his gaze traveled from Aunt Mirabella to his valet and butler. “Where did this,” he glared at the pelt of fur hanging limply from his grasp, “come from?”

  Johnson glanced down the hall towards Cecelia’s chambers and a look of conspiratorial guilt crossed his face.

  “Don’t bother answering. I should have known. My tenderhearted sister who feels the need to rescue every misbegotten creature that crosses her path,” he muttered. He looked at Reeds. “Is Cecelia still in her chambers?”

  Reeds averted his gaze. “I’m not certain, my lord.”

  “It won’t bode well to cover for my sister. Let me rephrase this. Has Melly been upstairs to help her dress?”