Sweet Torture Page 9

  “I suppose that means you will come?” She panted.

  “Nothing could stop me.”

  “We should be returning now.”

  “I’ll follow you.” Devon relished the warm slide of her fingers as she pulled away from him and left the corridor. As the door closed behind her, he leaned against the wall, bringing his hands to his face. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and, for a moment, tried to tame the beast inside him that demanded he follow her—swoop her up—and carry her out of the ball like a conqueror of old. He couldn’t believe what had just happened—he couldn’t believe the happiness threatening to burst from his chest. It was surreal, and he had no idea how he would make it through the rest of the evening without grinning like a fool at everyone he saw and walking like clouds carried him. Time could not move fast enough. He sat and listened to the sounds around him, the hum of hundreds of people talking at once, the clink of glasses and scurrying feet of servants moving to and fro. It was soothing in its own way, the music of a ball in full swing. He sat and listened without a thought of time until a footman came barreling down the hall, nearly tripping over him as he rushed to the door of the ballroom.

  “Whoa there, lad, where’s the fire?” Devon chuckled; nothing could bring his mood down.

  “Pardon me, my lord, but some ladies were kidnapped!” The footman glanced briefly before pulling the door open. “I must find Lord and Lady Lesley!”

  “Halt!” Devon lurched for the lad and grabbed his arm. “I am Lord Wilhelm, son of Lord Lesley. Now tell me who was kidnapped!”

  When Lydia returned to the ballroom, it was a hive of excited chaos with Prince George at the center of it. Lydia edged around the mass of people surrounding him, looking for her mother. Now that she had spoken with Devon, she had no desire to remain. Lilly and Olivia were nowhere in sight. It seemed impossible to try to find them in such a crush. She spotted her mother a few yards away, talking animatedly with a group of matrons. Lydia jostled, elbowed, and glared her way through the unseemly mob of people. Most were oblivious to the sheer impropriety of standing so close together, and some gentlemen were enjoying the opportunity it presented. Reaching her mother’s side, she sighed in relief.

  “This is madness.”

  “Quite so, I am almost at my wit’s end and contemplating leaving.” Lady Covington scowled. “Now that the presentation is over, and we have offered our support to Lady Lillian, it would not be unacceptable to leave,” she continued. She scanned the throbbing crowd with disgust.

  “I suppose so,” Lydia responded quietly. She wanted nothing more than to return home and wait. Her skin tingled excitedly.

  A rotund woman came surging through the crowd. The ostrich feather on her head waved like a battle flag as she pushed and shoved to the group of matrons, forehead beading with sweat, and her giant bosom heaving like a storm-ravaged sea.

  “Lady Gitwitch, what on earth?” Lydia’s mother exclaimed.

  “There’s been a kidnapping!” She panted. “Lady Lillian—Lady Olivia—taken right from the house!”

  “Oh, dear!” Lady Covington gasped.

  Lydia grabbed her mother’s arm in shock, and then without warning, the room tilted wildly and darkened to blackness.

  There were screams as Lydia collapsed against her mother in a dead faint. They would have both fallen had there not been so many bodies standing around them. Gentlemen rushed to help as Lady Covington struggled to stay upright under the weight of her daughter.

  “Lydia, Lydia!” She tried to rouse her.

  “Allow me to assist, my lady.” Chance appeared out of thin air and scooped Lydia into his arms. Guests parted as they headed for the exit, adding more excitement and gossip to the affair. Reaching the front hall, Fields, the butler, rushed to assist them.

  “I want my carriage at once,” Lady Covington demanded. She was busy fanning Lydia as her eyes began to flutter open.

  “Forgive me, my lady, but the street is overrun with conveyances. It could be an hour or more.”

  “Preposterous!” Lady Covington was shaking. “My daughter is ill, can’t you see that?”

  “Mother, please.” Lydia struggled to pull her senses together. She looked up at Chance and blinked owlishly.

  Chance smiled down at her. “You fainted dead away. Devon will never believe it, nor would I, quite frankly, if I had not seen it with my own eyes.”

  “It was a singular event, I assure you. You may put me down,” Lydia said imperiously.

  “Absolutely not! We are returning home at once and summoning the doctor. Lord Armstrong, if you are able, please assist us to the carriage.”

  “We have to stay and help find Lilly and Olivia,” Lydia pleaded.

  “That is out of the question. The proper authorities will handle that dreadful situation. We are going home.”

  Lydia looked back at Chance. “We have to do something.”

  “We are but I swore to Devon that I would see you safe first.” He adjusted her in his arms, and they quickly left the house.

  Lydia absorbed those words slowly. Lady Covington all but ran with Chance close on her heels. They searched the long rows of carriages until they spotted theirs. Chance set her down before the door as the driver jumped down.

  “What do you mean, Devon made you swear to see me safe?” Lydia asked as her mother harassed the driver.

  Chance winked. “Don’t worry, Lydia, we will find Lilly and Olivia in no time. One of us will let you know when all is well, but for now”—he sighed—“Please, be the one female of my acquaintance who doesn’t need rescuing.”

  Lydia frowned but nodded. She turned to her mother. “Mother, please stop bothering Gregory and get inside the coach,” she ordered. He had raced back to the house and was presumably working to rescue her dear friends. Lydia desperately prayed, as Gregory handed her into the coach, that come morning, her friends would be home safely.

  Lydia stayed up for hours waiting on word from someone—anyone—that Lilly and Olivia were safe. The decorative clock on her mantel painted with small white daisies slowly ticked as minute after minute, hour after hour passed with nothing. She hated the inaction, and she hated that she was home, sitting in her nightgown on her bed with nothing to do but imagine the worst and pray that everything was fine—had been fine—for hours, and that no one thought to tell her. She wished none of it had happened, and that Devon had come to her tonight. She wanted that more than anything.

  She sat with her knees tucked against her chest, head resting on them, and slept in small spurts. Every noise jolted her awake, only to find that no one was knocking, no one was tapping at her window. Repeatedly, she would get up and look in the hall or out her bedroom window, but every time she did, there was nothing to see. There was no footman with an urgent note, no too-handsome-for-his-own-good, green-eyed devil sneaking to her room. After hours of this torture, her body gave up, and when she woke again, it was morning. The sun streaked through her lace curtains with obnoxiously cheery rays. The mantel clock displayed the time as a quarter past ten. Lydia bolted upright when she saw the time and cursed. Jumping out of bed, she threw on her dressing gown as someone knocked on her door and entered.

  Her maid, Esme, entered bearing a tray of tea and toast. Lydia froze.

  “Good morning, miss. Your mother said to wake you with breakfast.” Esme set the tray down on a small table next to the window and opened the curtains to let in more light. “It’s a beautiful day today.”

  Lydia’s gaze focused on a small envelope tucked next to the plate.

  “Oh, I almost forgot, a letter came for you this morning.” Esme smiled, oblivious to Lydia’s anxiety.

  “Thank you, Esme, that will be all for now,” Lydia replied. With cold numb fingers, she ripped the wax seal and unfolded the letter. She released the breath she was holding as she recognized Olivia’s handwriting. Another tightly folded note slipped out and landed on her foot. She bent to pick it up as her eyes scanned Olivia’s carefree script. They were safe,
and Lilly was married. Olivia went on about how romantic it was, how exciting the rescue was, and went on to talk about Captain Colton’s ship. A weight lifted off Lydia as she smiled and silently thanked the heavens for the safe rescue, and a wedding it seemed. Lydia wished she could have been there. Remembering the note, she set down Olivia’s letter and opened it.

  Devon’s bold script was so different from his sister’s.

  I’m sorry I could not see you last night. You can now add pirate extraordinaire to my list of sins. I never like to keep a lady waiting. Can I see you tonight?

  Lydia shivered. The fine hairs on her arms stood up in anticipation. After the excitement of last night and her fainting spell, it wouldn’t be difficult to cry off. Their only plans had been a dinner and musicale with one of mama’s closest acquaintances. If she could convince her mother to go without her… Lydia penned a response to Olivia, promising to visit after luncheon, but how could she get a response to Devon? She added to her letter to Olivia:

  Please give your brother my thanks for your safe rescue

  No that would not do, she pursed her lips in thought.

  Give your brother a kis

  Absolutely not, what was she thinking? She crumpled up the letter and tossed it in the fire. Scribbling a new note to Olivia, she made no mention of Devon at all and left it at that. She summoned Esme and gave her the letter to send over to Olivia posthaste. An hour later, she received a response.

  * * *

  Mother say’s I am not allowed to receive visitors, although everyone and their mother has seen fit to call. I am locked away in my tower until we leave town. It is not as if I wanted to be kidnapped, but it seems as though I will be punished for it. Devon was disappointed you did not respond to his note, I can only guess at what he wrote, mind you, but he was quite insistent I include it with my letter. If you include a note with a letter to me, I promise to give it to him, and I will not peek. You have my word. I am smuggling these letters out through my maid, Anna, for the high sum of my daffodil gown. I wore it last season. Do you remember it? She certainly has an eye for style but that’s why I love her. I don’t know when I can see you again, but I hope this mess blows over soon.

  Fondly.

  Olivia

  * * *

  Lydia’s heart sank. Olivia was banished to the country for now. It was not surprising, given the scandal that would ensue, but surely, Lydia would be able to visit? She sincerely hoped her mother would not forbid it, as well. She thought about Devon. Would he leave town, as well? Olivia said she would pass along a note. Does that mean she knows about them? So be it. If there was one person whom she could trust with her deepest darkest secret, it was Olivia Brentton. To Olivia she wrote that no matter what, she would come and see her soon, and to Devon…

  Don’t keep me waiting…

  Chapter 12

  Lady Covington went out as usual. It was no surprise Lydia was not up to it, and she did not argue. A quiet evening at home would be restorative.

  Lydia rejoiced when she waved farewell to her mother and watched the door close behind her but did not show it. She returned to her room, ate by herself, and then settled in her bed with a book. The staff carried on as usual, retired early, and celebrated an evening off from their usual duties. Lydia tried to absorb herself in her book, but her eyes wandered to the clock on her mantel repeatedly. Lydia did not know when her mother would return, although it would be after midnight. She was attending a musicale given by the Duchess of Summersong and generally stayed to play cards. They had been girlhood friends and attended the same finishing academy. Her visits tended to be long when she visited the duchess.

  The clock struck ten as Lydia watched the second hand tic-tic-tic. When there was a light scratching at her door, her heart stopped. Her whole body came alive with awareness as she gently slid off the bed and donned her dressing gown. Pushing her thick braid of hair over her shoulder, she opened the door just a crack.

  “Did you think I was a mouse?” Devon whispered.

  She could not see him in the pitch-black hall. She opened the door, and he stepped into her room. As she closed the door and locked it, her heart kicked into a rapid rhythm. He peered around her room as though it were an exotic museum exhibit. Lydia wondered what impression he took from the white marble fireplace, snapping and popping cheerily as if happy to see him. The papered walls were covered in an elegant white on white pattern, and her stylish but simply designed furniture was also in white. The thick rug patterned with blues and greens was speckled with daisies. Her mantle clock, the perfumes on her vanity, and finally her bed. Silvery blue velvet drapes hung over a pristine white coverlet and pillows.

  He turned to look at her and time stopped.

  “This room is just like you.”

  She laughed nervously, “I beg your pardon?”

  “At first glance, one sees pristine beauty, elegance, and purity.” He cocked his head to the side. “All the things you exuded to the world, but when one looks closer, one sees the real you, the daisies hiding in little places here and there, the figuring of a kitten batting at a ball of yarn, stacks of books… The things that make up all you are on the inside, your secrets, your dreams.”

  For just a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of twin breaths going in and out. They watched each other and waited. His eyes darted over her simple dressing gown, a virginal white with little daisies embroidered down the front. Lydia’s hands tangled with the sash as she looked down in embarrassment.

  “I gather the usual women you meet at night have something more stimulating on.”

  “Hush,” he soothed as he stepped close to her and took her hands. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I will never look at daisies the same again.” He brought her hands up and kissed each one before pulling her to the bed.

  Lydia’s eyebrows shot up, but he only pushed her to sit and sat down beside her. He seemed so much bigger inside her room. He was so dark and vivid compared to the pale colors. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she drank in his face and the simple dark clothing he wore.

  “Did you have any engagements tonight?” She nervously made small talk. She had no idea what to do or say when one invited a man into one’s room.

  “No, as you can imagine, all Brenttons will be laying low for a while. I’ll be heading to the country with the family for the summer. We’re thinking of taking Olivia to the continent for diversion. She has never been very good at rusticating. That’s if there are not certain engagements to plan and execute.”

  He looked at her with something in his eyes. Lydia was afraid she understood what he meant, but pretended not to, because she didn’t want to go down that road until she had to.

  “I see.” Lydia gave a small smile; she leaned forward inviting him to kiss her. Devon looked down at her lips, and unquestioningly obliged her by pulling her close and setting his lips to hers. Lydia gave herself to the kiss—body, mind, and soul. This night was only about the two of them. Nothing else mattered but the feel of his arms around her, and the passion that grew inexplicably between them. Tonight, she would give him every part of herself, and she would memorize every part of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her body up against him, aching to be closer to him. He crushed her against him in return and fell back on the bed, pulling her over him.

  Lydia at once broke from the kiss and started unbuttoning his waistcoat.

  “Slow down, love.” Devon chuckled. He sat up again and began to shrug off his jacket as Lydia continued to undo his waistcoat and start on his shirt.

  Her fingers nervously struggled. “Blasted buttons,” she cursed them.

  Devon chuckled again and took her hands in his. “We don’t have to do this, Lydia, I can wait for you.” He met her gaze.

  If Lydia didn’t love him already, she would have fallen head over heels for him right then. She could feel his arousal, and it excited her, but in his eyes, she could see how much he felt for her. His ey
es spoke of comfort and concern, of love and tenderness, and inside her, her heart beat for him and only him. She smiled, shocked to feel the burn of tears in her eyes, but she was happy, so happy that it sang in her veins, wanting to burst from her like rays from the sun.

  “I can’t wait for you, Devon, I want you now,” she stated boldly. Giving herself to him was as right as breathing.

  His eyes darkened into a deep green. If possible, he became harder beneath her, and she undid the rest of the buttons with slow deliberate fingers. The two halves draped open, and Lydia took her fill of his bare chest, reaching out with just her fingertips to touch and then push his shirt wider and over his shoulders. At the same time, he pulled open her robe and untied the ribbon cinching the top of her nightgown. It loosened and he pulled it open until he exposed her breasts. He lovingly touched them, worshiped them with his hands, his thumbs, molded them, and then dipped his head to taste them.

  Lydia gasped as she clung to his shoulders, allowing him to do as he pleased. He bathed her with his tongue until her skin was pink and dewy and her nipples pebbled. He slid the gown and robe down her shoulders as she pulled her arms free. He removed his shirt, pulling it from his breeches, and then hauled Lydia close again. She luxuriated in the feel of skin-to-skin, tilting her hips to grind against his hardness to soothe the unstoppable need inside her. He responded by thrusting back and groaning fiercely each time he grabbed her hips and held her hard against him. It was not long before they were panting with need and unspent lust.

  “I don’t want to rush this,” he growled in frustration.