Sweet Torture Page 3

  “I won’t be another one of your conquests, Devon.”

  “That’s not what I want, Lydia. This is different... You’re different.”

  Lydia shivered.

  “Are you cold, dearest?” Her mother touched her arm as the carriage stopped before their home.

  “No, Mama. Just tired,” she replied as a footman opened the door and pulled down the steps.

  “I will have Melinda make a toddy for you. By morning, you will be right as rain.”

  Lydia grimaced. The last thing she wanted or needed was one of the housekeeper’s slimy concoctions. “I just want to go to bed, Mother, there is no need to wake her.” Lydia waited while her mother was assisted out of the coach, and then they climbed the steps together and entered the townhouse.

  All was quiet and dark with only two tapered candles lighting the front hall. They each took one and proceeded to the stairs as the footman locked the door and retreated to his own quarters. Her mother kissed her on the cheek and bid her good night. Lydia entered her room to find a cozy fire and Agnes waiting to help her undress.

  “I just need help unbuttoning the back, and then you can head off to bed.”

  “Thank you, Miss.” Agnes quickly unbuttoned the back of her dress, and then headed to her quarters.

  Lydia slowly undressed herself as she thought about all that had transpired. Lost in her thoughts, she moved slowly about the room, draping her ball gown over a chair, removing her undergarments, and finally donning her nightgown and sitting before the vanity to take down her hair. Her pale blonde hair picked up the warm tones of the fire. Each pin removed, revealed a long thick lock relieved to be free of its moorings. She massaged her aching scalp with her fingers while closing her eyes in pleasure. When she opened them, she looked at herself and wondered if she looked different. Could secret kisses change someone’s outward appearance? She felt different, she felt…as if she were standing on a precipice. Her clear silvery blue eyes looked back at her and mocked her. She was being foolish, and her head knew it, but the problem was her heart. She didn’t want to set her cap for Devon Brentton. She had seen for herself what marrying a rogue could do to a woman. She had seen for herself exactly how a broken heart could hurt someone long after the man who did the breaking was gone.

  Lydia was conceived shortly before her mother booted her father out of England. She had never met her father, and she had never written to or received letters in return. Perhaps her mother would have allowed it, but Lydia had been too afraid to ask. When news of his death came six years ago, Lydia had felt nothing but the continued emptiness for the father she didn’t know. Her mother always said she was better off; he didn’t deserve the affection of such a perfect daughter. She said he would only let her down and eventually abandon Lydia, the way he had abandoned her. If it was true, and Lydia was hard-pressed to believe otherwise, then Lydia was thankful to have been spared such pain. After all, if he had loved her and wanted to know her, he should have fought for her, but instead there was nothing. Even his own family didn’t speak of him. His title passed to his younger brother, and life went on.

  Lydia had trouble viewing Devon in such a way. Devon was liked by nearly everyone who knew him. Sure, he was a rake and a rogue as bachelors tended to be at his age, but Devon had a lightness about him. He was frivolous and playful, but when he pulled her close, he seemed dangerous and exciting.

  Lydia sighed. She finished brushing out her hair and got into bed. All this thinking was getting her nowhere. She snuggled into her pillow and pulled the coverlet up to her neck. When she closed her eyes, she immediately pictured him in the conservatory, and his words repeated in her mind. What did he truly want from her? What did she want from him? Only time would tell. As she drifted into slumber, her imaginings turned to dreams of Devon pulling her close and trailing kisses across her lips.

  Chapter 4

  Devon was not a coward, but he did need time to think about his actions before putting himself in close proximity to one Lydia Covington. She was not to be toyed with, and she deserved his respect and honesty. So, what was he to say for his actions? He was alone with his thoughts as he rode through Hyde Park in the early morning hours. The sun could not yet be seen over the trees, but its warm rays had already begun to chase away the clinging fog.

  “I sincerely apologize for kissing you senseless. Now may I please undress you?” he asked aloud. All around him was silence except the chirping of birds and the distant sounds of a city waking up. His horse nickered softly and itched to return to his cozy stall. Devon turned his horse toward home and continued to think. He didn’t understand the sudden feelings for Lydia. She had always been an attractive young lady, but never did he view her as a possibility for dalliance, not that dalliance was what he wanted. Even as a young girl, she had been quite formidable and icy. She carried herself as if the animalistic natures of people such as lust and depravity couldn’t touch her. But now? Now that he had breached the walls and tasted of her, he knew the truth. She was like a starving flame desperate for kindling, for touch. He could taste it when he kissed her. But one couldn’t just fondle Lydia Covington and leave it at that. She was not meant for a dalliance or conquest or a brief affair. Lydia was a woman you married. Lydia was a woman you made love to shamelessly at night and shared breakfast with in the morning, possibly in bed and naked… Devon caught himself smiling, and then had to shake himself out of his imaginings. Lydia was a woman one married; that was all there was to it. Was he ready for marriage? Even if he were, would Lydia even have him?

  Self-doubt was a new and uncomfortable feeling for Devon, but there it was. He had created a rather sordid reputation for himself in his wilder, younger years, and now it would be a barrier to finding out exactly what was between him and Lydia. Her mother would not approve of him; of that, he was certain. He knew all the tales of the wretched Lord Covington. He was an example of how not to treat one’s wife and how discretion is necessary in polite society. Devon would never betray the woman he took to wife, but many men did not hold to that value. It was still the norm for husbands to have mistresses, but never should they be paraded before the ton like a new phaeton. It just wasn’t done, as they say.

  What in bloody hell was he going to do? Devon cursed as he rode into the mews and dismounted. He was thinking in circles and getting no closer to an answer. He had never met a woman who did this to him, who…tortured him night and day with taunting memories of kisses and gut-twisting indecisiveness. He was giving himself a headache and needed distraction. Entering through the kitchen, he decided to do some work in the study until his family awoke, and then he could break his fast with them. As he entered the foyer and climbed the staircase, he passed the green parlor and froze. Taking two steps back, he beheld his icy angel sitting before the fire, twisting a kerchief mercilessly in her hands.

  “Lydia?” He entered the room slowly as he took in the sight of her. She was dressed hurriedly in a simple dove grey morning gown and a matching fur trimmed cloak. Her hair had been hastily tied back with a blue ribbon and draped over her shoulder in pale lustrous waves. Her hair was longer than he could have imagined. It cascaded over her breast, and instantly, Devon could picture her naked with only her hair to cover her like a mermaid rising from the waves or Venus on the shell. He mentally shook himself. “What are you doing here?”

  As Lydia stood, a tornado of frantic energy entered from behind him in the form of his sister, equally as disheveled and hastily garbed.

  “Oh Devon, thank God! You must come with us at once.”

  “What is going on, Livie? Where are mother and father?”

  “They are still abed, but I have summoned a carriage, and we are going to find Lord Armstrong. We must do something for Lilly!”

  “You’re not making any sense, Livie. Please sit and catch your breath. Have you no idea what time it is?” Devon urged her to a chair by the fire, and Lydia brought her a cup of tea.

  “Surely your mother didn’t approve of a morning
call at such an hour?” Devon raised a brow.

  “Your sister summoned me, and when a friend is in need, I come.” She was standing close to him, and her eyes washed over his attire. “I did not realize you were a morning person. I would have pegged you another sort.”

  “Shocked, are you? Should I be lingering in some opera dancer’s bed?” He winked at her, and she turned away in disgust. Mentally he kicked himself. It was habit to annoy her, but he wasn’t going to earn her favor with remarks like that.

  “I had an awful dream, Devon. I dreamed that Lilly was kidnapped by some evil man. I can’t sit idle while someone I love is out there all alone. We must do something. I don’t give a fig what it does to my reputation. I will find her and help her.”

  “What does Armstrong have to do with it?”

  “He will help. I know he will.”

  “So, you want to visit his home at six in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Lydia broke in. “Our maids will ask him to come to the carriage, so we can speak without being seen. ’Tis better if you would join us, but either way, we are courting scandal. We should wait for a more appropriate hour.”

  “I won’t wait,” Olivia barked. “I am going with or without you.”

  Lydia sighed. Devon rolled his eyes heavenward, begging for salvation.

  “Let us be on with it and hope that we make it back before Mother and Father discover you ever left. I take it you bribed the necessary staff?”

  Olivia nodded as she stood and they made their way to the door. A carriage was waiting promptly, and off the trio went to find help for their dear friend, Lilly.

  Upon arrival, they discovered Lord Armstrong was not at home, and Olivia slumped in defeat. “Where could he be?” Olivia asked.

  “Well, given the hour, the question is not where but with whom?” Devon stroked his chin.

  “That is vile,” Lydia rebuked. “Have a care for your sister’s innocent ears.”

  “Are your ears not innocent?” Devon smiled devilishly. “I would love to know why.”

  “Perhaps I have spent too much time in your company.” Lydia replied.

  “If I’ve only debauched your ears, then you haven’t spent enough.”

  “Devon, please, this is hardly the time. I will thank you, Lydia, not to egg him on.” Olivia returned to her vigilance of the scenery outside her window.

  “Me?” Lydia’s mouth dropped open then promptly closed as she turned to Devon, who held his fist to his mouth and shook with restrained laughter. “I’m doing no such thing. What woman in her right mind would wish to garner attention from you?”

  Devon sobered. “Who indeed?” He held her gaze and silently dared her to respond.

  “Oh look, a carriage is stopping in front of the house!” Olivia alerted them.

  “Good, Betsy and Cara will send him our way.” Lydia leaned forward.

  The carriage rolled away and revealed Lord Armstrong talking with the two maids who waited on the stoop. He turned to look at their carriage and began to walk toward them. Olivia flung the door open and leaped through the opening.

  “For Christ’s sake, Livie, wait!” Devon grabbed for her arm. He stumbled out after her, trying to stop her from falling.

  “Lady Olivia, Lord Wilhelm.” Chance nodded.

  “Oh, Chance, I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed as her brother grabbed her arm tightly to keep her from collapsing in the street.

  “What’s wrong, Olivia?” Chance asked quietly.

  “Perhaps we should go inside,” Devon suggested.

  “No,” Lydia said from inside the carriage. “It’s too dangerous. We should circle the park while we talk.”

  “Always the savior of propriety,” Devon mumbled.

  “Some of us care for our reputations,” Lydia snapped.

  Chance followed them back into the carriage and seated himself beside Devon.

  “Now, what’s this all about?” he asked sternly.

  “I haven’t heard from Lilly. I am so scared for her, Chance. I tried to send her notes, but they were all returned unanswered,” Olivia cried into her handkerchief. “Where could she have gone? Daddy won’t let me help her, and now she’s gone!”

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Livie,” Devon soothed.

  “How can we help her without dragging our own names through the mud? It’s too dangerous, Olivia,” Lydia stated.

  “How can you be so cold, Lydia? Our friend is missing!” Olivia nearly shouted.

  “All you care about is your good name and reputation. Don’t worry,” Devon sneered. “You won’t have to dirty your hands. I will help my sister find Lilly. Society, be damned.”

  Lydia shot daggers at Devon. “How dare you speak to me like that, you rogue. It’s not that I don’t care. Lilly is my friend, too. I just don’t see what we can do for her. We don’t even know where she is.”

  “I know where she is.” Chance interrupted their hysterical arguing. “Well, I have a pretty good idea.”

  “You do?” two feminine voices said in unison.

  “She’s with a friend of mine, possibly the only man who can truly help her. I believe he’s taken her to his country house.”

  “She’s there alone with him?” Lydia gasped.

  “Lilly’s life is being threatened by her stepfather and whoever else is guilty with him. I found out this morning that a rather nefarious character has been asking after her whereabouts. I’m hoping I can lead him away from Lilly and find out where her stepfather has been hiding.”

  “But how are we going to do that?” Olivia asked, her tears beginning to ebb as hope lit in her eyes.

  “I’m not sure there is anything we as a group can do. I need to speak with Dominic before I can do anything. I don’t want to inadvertently damage his investigation, if I can help it.”

  “Dominic Coel? The Earl of Redwick?” Devon asked.

  “The very same,” Chance answered.

  “I thought he retired from the office?”

  “He did, but they can never seem to let go of a very good sp-...uh, employee,” Chance snorted.

  “Tell us what we can do Chance, if anything,” Lydia spoke up finally.

  “I’m not sure there is much we can do, at this point. I’m going to set up a watch for the man who was asking for Millie and have him followed.”

  “Who’s Millie?” Olivia asked in confusion.

  “Oh, it’s the name Lilly used while she was working as a servant.”

  “She worked as a servant?” two feminine voices said at once.

  “Oh, poor Lilly, she must feel so alone,” Lydia said tearfully.

  “What can we do, Chance? How can we help? I just can’t sit here while my best friend is being hunted for treason!” Olivia said fiercely.

  Chance was silent for a moment.

  “Just be patient. I will let you know when I know something.”

  “And if we can help,” Olivia demanded.

  “Yes, Livie.” Chance sighed. “For such a small woman, you sure are authoritative of men considerably bigger than you.”

  “You can say that again,” Devon murmured.

  “I will keep you informed, if I can, through Devon. We will not let Lilly come to any harm, I assure you.”

  “Give her our love,” Lydia spoke up. “She’s in our thoughts and not alone.”

  “Will do, Lydia.” Chance jumped down from the coach and waved goodbye.

  “Well, look at that. The ice queen has a heart.” Devon smirked at Lydia.

  “I would slap you, Devon Brentton, if I weren’t afraid of catching some vile perverse disease from the mere touch.”

  Devon winked devilishly. “You would have to be intimate with me to do that, love. If I had one—which I assure you, I don’t.”

  “Devon, Lydia!” Olivia gasped in shock. “How can you say such things to each other?”

  “It comes quite naturally to me. Wouldn’t you agree, Lydia?”

  “I agree. Filth comes
out of your mouth quite effortlessly, especially when speaking to women.”

  “Only to you, love.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Devon, please do not bait her.” Olivia slid closer to Lydia. “She may be the epitome of grace and elegance, but I do believe you could push her to become violent.”

  Devon laughed aloud, and Lydia growled.

  Olivia threw her arms around Lydia.

  “What are you doing?” Lydia asked.

  “I’m restraining you,” Olivia replied, and Devon laughed even harder.

  Chapter 5

  That afternoon, Lydia attended a small garden party in Hampshire. She stood on a grand terrace overlooking a large lawn dotted with tables and umbrellas. It was a pleasantly warm and sunny day, a gentle breeze flirting with hair ribbons and skirts. Lady Ogilvie’s garden parties were huge events that featured performers, contests, and a formal ball with a string quartet, held outside as the sun set. Devon would surely be in attendance, along with Olivia and her parents. She was hesitant to see him after all that had transpired that morning. Everything was confusing now. Why did he incite such strong emotions in her? Did she truly dislike him? But then why was she constantly thinking of him, and why did she imagine his kisses more times than she cared to admit, even to herself? She felt like a marionette being pulled in too many directions, never knowing which way was right. She was angry with herself and him. He joked and sparred with her as usual, but now everything had a deeper meaning. They had kissed twice now, and each time it did not feel like mere dalliance, it felt like…an awakening. A swell of emotion Lydia didn’t know she could feel, and didn’t understand, infused her. It made her want and imagine things that were forbidden to her. When Devon kissed her, all she wanted was more. It was an exhausting conundrum, and it needed to stop. Lydia refused to be toyed with.

  She would speak to him, tell him he could keep his kisses to himself, and to leave her alone. Glancing around the party, there would be ample opportunity to find a private place to talk away from prying eyes and ears. Lady Ogilvie’s grounds were extensive and harbored many arbors, pergolas, and even a folly down by the lake thickly covered with ivy. It was a short walk but away from the bulk of the festivities, garnering enough privacy for a little chat. There they could put this indecent situation behind them. Lydia had to admit to herself that she was a little disappointed. Never had anyone been brave enough to kiss her. When she was in his arms, she felt wanted and beautiful—not cold and aloof as her reputation presented her. Her reputation was as spotless as a newborn babe, and that was important to her and her mother, but it was also boring. Would she ever feel this excitement again? This anticipation? What would she do if he tried to kiss her again? She was lost in her daydreams when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.