Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

B e my mistress.

Yes.

Lily Layton had agreed to be his mistress, yet pain had flashed in her eyes before she had shuttered her expressive gaze. Was it that she wanted more, too? A sense of disquiet pierced Oliver, for he had been longing for a more permanent connection with a lady who complemented him in all ways. His entire life he’d known the sort of woman he was duty-bound to marry. Genteel, privileged, blue-blooded, with enough wealth and beauty to make any man happy. The opposite of Lily Layton. Except that everything about her was vastly appealing. A longing to have her at his side in all ways threaded through his entire body and into the depths of his soul.

If he courted her, he would be going against every expectation of his position. What were her family connections, what was their history? Oliver doubted anyone from the Ambrose line had taken a wife not of their society. He couldn’t take her to be his marchioness, but it went against every grain and governing principle to take another woman to be his wife while Lily had such a hold over him.

How in God’s name could he continue looking for a wife when the woman he had been searching for was now curled against his side, sleeping? Long red hair lay against the creamy flesh of her breast. Her lips were parted, her breath a soft flutter over his chest, and with a sigh, his name whispered from her lips. Oliver’s heart tripped, and in that moment, he doubted he would ever be able to let her go. “Lily?”

“Hmm?”

“Come with me to London.”

Her eyes cleared of the last fog of sleep, and she stared at him alertly. “You’re going to town?”

“Yes. I’d meant to depart tomorrow. I’ve a few invitations from friends that I am compelled to honor.”

“Why do you want me to come?”

“I want you to select a townhouse and a shop.”

She sat up slowly, a frown marring her lovely face. “I don’t understand.”

He didn’t, either. Oliver had sworn he wouldn’t take a mistress and a wife at the same time. Ah, bloody hell. He would have to delay his plans to find a wife for the near future. Everything in him only clamored to be with her.

“You’ve agreed to be my mistress, yes?”

Her lips quivered, and then the lower one caught between her teeth. “Yes.”

“Then I will set you up in a house in town, with servants and a carriage and an allowance. We’ll visit Tattersall, and you can select a mare if you are of a mind to ride in Hyde Park. I know your shop is very important to you, so select one in High Holborn, and I will pay the lease for a year.”

She bestowed on him a small, quizzical smile. “You don’t need to do all of that. Your wealth and station aren’t the reason I want to be your lover.”

“I know.” He gripped her hips and dragged her up the length of his body so that her lips hovered close to his. “Let me take care of you, Lily.”

“I believe I can manage that on my own, and might I remind you that you still owe me a thousand pounds?”

Oliver smiled at her disgruntled tone. “I was simply hoping you would allow me the privilege of being a part of it.”

“Do you think perhaps society will know I’m your mistress? I would not want any rumors to reach my parents, even though they are so buried in the country.”

“We’ll be discreet,” he murmured.

Her eyes searched his intently, and he wondered if he was mistaken at the shadow of hurt lurking in her eyes.

“Lily, I—”

She stole the words from his lips in a soft but passionate kiss. He cradled her cheeks and ravished her mouth, groaning at her sweet taste.

They pulled apart, and she smiled. “Yes.”

Fierce triumph clutched at his heart. “I will make the arrangements through my solicitor. Until then, you will stay with me in Grosvenor Square.”

“Even so far removed in the country, my lord, I know that to be scandalous and quite improper.”

“You are a widow and my mother’s companion. I do not mean to be callous, my sweet, but we do not socialize with the same society for anyone to question your presence within my home. And it will only be until the lease on your townhouse is secured.”

Her golden stare pierced him with unfathomable emotions. “I understand,” she said softly.

“I’ll also set you up with an allowance of—”

Her lips against his once again derailed his train of thoughts.

“You are already being overly generous, my lord. An allowance is not necessary. You are helping me to secure a dream in a few weeks that might possibly take me years to accomplish. I thank you.”

“It is my pleasure to take care of you.”

“And it is my wish to not be fully dependent on your kindness. The profits from my shop will provide a more than sufficient living for my family and me.”

“Then allow me to front you the money you will need for materials. Another thousand pounds added to what I owe you.”

Her eyes widened at the sum. “My lord, in truth you do not owe me, for I did nothing to warrant the first promised thousand! I’ve not even properly sat for you as yet! This is remarkably silly.”

As of their own accord, her fingers traced his lips. “I confess, you make me feel that silly. It’s the only explanation, my sweet.”

Excitement burned in her eyes and joy filled him at the myriad of expression chasing her features. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for several seconds. “I can only accept on the condition that it is an investment, and you will be an investor in my business, with a twenty percent share.”

There was something wonderful about her, something entirely unexpected. “Done.”

“Oh, Oliver,” she breathed and flung herself into his arms. An oomph escaped him as he tumbled back with her soft weight resting delightfully on him. Lily scattered kisses on his chin and lips, giggling her happiness. “I am dizzy with excitement at the possibilities!”

She rolled from his clasp and tugged on his banyan, which dwarfed her voluptuous figure. A sudden, inexplicable longing filled him to lay the world at her feet so that he could always bask in the radiance with which she currently glowed.

“I must retrieve my sketches and magazines. Oh, magazines! Now I’ll be able to subscribe to all the latest fashion magazines, even the one from Paris. I’ll be right back, Oliver.”

She faltered as she gripped the doorknob.

He frowned at the tension that sifted through her.

His lover pivoted on her heel to face him. “You are the Marquess of Ambrose. I am fully aware of what your duty to your title means. I’ll not remain your mistress once you’re married,” she said with a proud tilt of her chin.

“I would not dishonor my wife so.” Sentiments he had echoed for years now felt hollow to him. Lily Layton was a woman he wanted to know. He wanted to discover every hidden depth behind those lively, intelligent eyes. His instincts warned him uncovering all of her would likely take him a lifetime. Eventually, he would select a bride.

Denial roiled within him. The very notion of giving up Lily left a bitter taste in his mouth. He would simply have to persevere when the time came. Except, Oliver wasn’t sure he’d prove up to the task.

London was overcast, the atmosphere dreary and uninspiring. The streets were noisy, the bricked buildings grimy, and the scent wafting across the Thames was decidedly unpleasant. Lily smiled, for she wouldn’t trade being in London at this very moment for anything in the world. The marquess’s carriage rumbled over the cobbled road, taking her to High Holborn, where she was to meet with Oliver and his solicitor.

They had been in town now for three days, and she had been shocked at the efficiency with which he got things done. And how seamlessly things were achieved when one had money to spend without reservation. Lily had spent the day with several cloth merchants and had made a sizeable dent in her savings to purchase several bolts of muslin, calico, silk, and lace. She would start by making several elegant dresses for herself with her own unique flare. To secure the patronage she was hoping for, dressing modestly and unfashionably was not the way to see it done. She had some of the latest patterns from Paris and Venice, and ideas were already swirling in her head about some designs. She was eager to start sketching and cutting tonight. A smile tugged at her lips. But not before, of course, indulging in passion with her lover.

After dining together for the last few nights, he would sweep her into his arms, ravishing her with an intense passion that was sometimes frightening. They would talk for an hour or more before Oliver slipped away from her to attend some ball or stop in at his club. He would return before daybreak and make love with her again before succumbing to sleep. It was a pattern she found delightful, and one she could get used to. Except by next week, she should be in a house with her own servants and carriage. Lily could never have imagined that she, a simple country maid, would become the lover of a powerful lord. At times, when she lay atop him, replete and exhausted, a strange sensation would grip her. She fancied she saw a similar startled recognition in his gaze.

The carriage rolled to a halt, and a footman lowered the steps and assisted her down. She looked around at the lines of shops flanking each side of the road, anticipation blasting through her heart. The door to a shop on the left opened, and Oliver strolled out, appearing too wonderful in his blue superfine jacket, light brown breeches, and a top hat.

She went to him and clung to the arm he held out to her as they entered the shop. It was glorious. Far larger than she had anticipated, with several rooms. There was a sitting area at the front and another fitting area toward the back. There was a storeroom, and a workroom above with several shelves and cabinets where she would be able to store her work materials. Lily was lost in her thoughts as she went through the rooms, mentally arranging everything to suit her purpose. This was more than she had ever dreamed of.

A lump grew in her throat, and she turned to him. “Thank you, my lord, I do not know how I will ever be able to repay your kindness.”

He looked over at her, lifting a brow. “With twenty percent.”

Lily grinned, then stepped to him and kissed his lips.

The solicitor flushed and quickly diverted his gaze.

“I’ve arranged for workers to be at your command for the rest of the week to organize and decorate the rooms however you want. I’ve also set up several accounts with merchants in town and drafted a bank note for two thousand pounds.” Oliver turned to the solicitor with his arms around Lily’s waist.

“Mr. Hodges.”

The man’s spine snapped straight. “Yes, my lord?”

“Whatever Mrs. Layton desires, see it done. You have my full approval to exceed that sum if the lady wishes.”

Mr. Hodges bowed, his curious gaze flicking to her discreetly, then back to the marquess. “Yes, my lord.”

Oliver faced Lily. “We’ve been invited to a dinner party tonight at the Duke and Duchess of Basil’s home in Grosvenor Square.”

Lily felt faint. “We?”

“Yes, my sweet. The duke, Radbourne, and I are very close friends. I do not know a finer man.”

Somehow that assurance did little to assuage Lily’s apprehension. “And they know … they know I am your lover?”

If he sensed any of her discomfort, he gave no indication.

“Yes.”

He clearly saw no issue with her meeting dukes and duchesses. Good heavens. Her sister would not believe Lily’s tale. She smiled despite her anxiety. “And they want to meet me? A woman without any respectable connections?”

Oliver tucked behind her ear an errant lock of her hair that had escaped the confine of her bonnet. “You are a wonderful woman, Lily Layton. My friends want to meet the woman who seems to have captivated my senses, and I am sure they will like you.”

The shop door closed, and she was startled to realize Mr. Hodges had slipped away. Lily shifted closer to Oliver, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

“Are you well?” he demanded gruffly, resting his chin atop her bonnet.

“I am happy to be here with you, but there are times I am not entirely certain I am not dreaming. I am a simple country girl, with sometimes big notions, but none lofty enough to dine with dukes and duchesses.”

“There will be earls and countesses as well.”

“Oliver!”

“Just be yourself, Lily, and all will be well. I promise if you feel any discomfort, I will whisk you away immediately.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, breathing in his wonderful male scent and trying to feel confident about attending the dinner party. One that would possibly bring regret to his heart at having her at his side, for surely now he would see how wholly unsuited she was for his world and end their affair before it had truly begun.