Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

E lwood removed his riding gloves and slapped them against his thigh as he headed for the library. He wasn't sure if his sleeping beauty was still lost to dreamland, but he was finding himself deuced bored waiting for her to rise. He was enjoying the distraction of her pleasing company during his self-imposed exile from London, away from the hounds that were trying to dog his heels there.

If there was a silver lining to any of this disaster, it was Miss Newton. She was a surprise in so many ways, and he was eager to learn more about her. But then, he would have to reveal more about himself. Although he wasn't entirely eager to do so, considering his reputation as a rogue, he was enjoying the fact she wasn't completely convinced he was a ne'er-do-well. He actually appreciated that she wanted to learn about him before making a judgement about his character. Of course, after this morning, he had probably not endeared himself in that regard, but that didn't mean he hadn't stopped thinking about her.

In fact, he had done little else but think of her. It was why he'd decided to go for a brisk ride, to keep his desires in check. He couldn't very well ravish the woman when he was supposed to be acting the part of a gentleman. It was a rather novel experience for him, but he wanted to prove to Miss Newton, for some odd reason, that he wasn't the unrepentant scoundrel he was portrayed to be. Granted, what "The Belle" had said was true, but while a leopard couldn't change his spots, humans were not without redemption. While he wouldn't go so far as to say that was what he was hoping for from Miss Newton, he did want more than an interview for an article.

He walked into the study, intent on sending a missive to his solicitor, but paused and continued on toward the library. It was the most logical place to search for Miss Newton since she had seemed fascinated with it the day before. He wondered if she was wearing one of the dresses he'd purchased for her that morning. He was eager to see if his measurements had proven true.

He stopped short when he entered. The object of his fascination was indeed, sitting prim and proper in one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace. She was wearing one of the gowns he'd personally selected, and he congratulated himself on his choice.

However, the lady didn't even glance up when he entered, but rather appeared engrossed in her novel. He narrowed his eyes, because he found it odd that her cheeks might have such high color. If memory served, his father hadn't carried many torrid novels, and the one she held in her hand wasn't the sort to gauge that kind of reaction.

He stared a minute longer, and then gave a light snort.

Walking over to her, he set a finger in the center of the page that she was supposed to be reading so thoroughly and said, "I've found it's easier to follow a book when it isn't upside down."

Her lips fell open slightly as she slowly moved the book upright. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Anytime," he returned smoothly. He plopped down in the chair across from her and set his gloves on a nearby table. He folded his hands and set them over his midsection. "You seemed engrossed when I came into the room. I daresay I'm impressed that you should have gotten through so much of—" He paused and leaned forward to read the title on the cover. "— The Portico: A Repository of Science & Literature ." He cleared his throat. "I didn't realize American literature was of such interest to you."

"It's something to read," she muttered as she shut the cover with a determined snap and set it aside. At long last she lifted her green gaze and met his look of amusement. "Fine." She rolled her eyes. "I hardly entertained a word. Is that what you wanted me to admit?"

"Not at all," he returned smoothly. As he lifted a brow, he added, "I was rather hoping you might admit that last night wasn't a mistake."

She blinked. "How did you come to the conclusion I was thinking that at all?"

He shrugged. "You are innocent, and not in a position where you might rely on your own money for survival. Without the bonds of marriage, you don't have any other prospects except to continue the life of a weaver, assumably at your parent's behest?"

She opened her lovely mouth, but nothing emerged, because it was the truth and she couldn't deny it.

"Just as I thought," he nodded. While Elwood hated what he was about to say, he had to know where he stood with her, and sometimes brutal honesty was the only approach he knew. "Other than trying to make a life for yourself as a writer, which you are hoping I shall provide enough information you might do so, I bet you consider intimacy as another form of bondage, like poverty, rather than mutual, physical pleasure. Naturally, you would consider last evening to be a horrific and detrimental experience that shouldn't be replicated. I'm sure you consider me to be the worse scoundrel you've ever had the misfortune to meet and shall relish the opportunity to weep into a handkerchief and express what a sordid time you've had at the hands of the rake of the month when you return to London." He tilted his head to the side, his gaze sharp and direct. "Am I very far off the mark?"

For a moment, Meliah could do nothing but stare at him. At first, she was almost too shocked to allow her brain to work properly. She had thought he might be a bit more considerate of his words and her feelings rather than speak so plainly, but then, at least she knew where she stood with him.

But then, perhaps that was the point. Could it be that he'd spoken so crass in an effort to contradict himself?

Curious, she decided to put her theory to the test. She wasn't about to let him browbeat her into breaking down into hysterics or some other such nonsense, and she didn't want to ruin her life by acting inappropriately and throwing away any chance at marriage and a family, but she currently had nothing else to look forward to other than the long, toiling days of weaving.

She might as well take a chance while she had it.

Calmly folding her hands in her lap, a perfect mirror to his pose, she offered a tight smile. "I have never been one to ‘weep into a handkerchief' as you so eloquently suggested. But you are correct in believing that I shall do whatever I can to make my own way in society by becoming a respected writer. While you seem determined to prove ‘The Belle' right about you, you can be assured last night went far toward giving me more than a glimpse into your true nature. You could have taken advantage of me, but you didn't." When he lifted a brow, her smile widened, and she continued. "And speaking of last night…" She glanced toward the door then back at him. "Are any of the servants in residence? I know someone was here earlier because there was a breakfast tray in my room."

"Alas, I have already sent them home for the rest of the afternoon. The cook will not return until this evening."

"That might be regrettable—but for one thing." She got to her feet and for the first time, the earl looked a bit wary. However, she refused to break character. She had witnessed Samantha coerce her footman with a seductive, side glance, so surely she could emulate her actions?

She slowly walked toward Lord Belmont with the same seductive glance. When she proceeded to lift up her dress to her thighs, exposing the skin above her stockings, she was assured that he was taking notice. His mouth had fallen partially open and he had yet to swallow. Tossing a leg on either side of the chair, she straddled him. Putting her hands on his chest, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "That gives us plenty of time to be… alone." She leaned back enough to look at him.

He actually looked ill. "Pardon?"

Meliah wanted to laugh aloud when his voice cracked slightly. She looked at him in wide eyed innocence. "Come now, my lord. Don't be coy. Last night made me realize what you can offer me." She dared to run a finger down the center of his chest. "I find that I'm quite taken with your attentions."

She started to lean forward for a kiss, but he set his hands on her hips, not to bring her closer, but to halt her movements. "Miss Newton. Shouldn't you be…ah…reasonable about this? Consider the ramifications of your actions should we embark on an affair."

"Oh, trust me, I have," she purred. "And I want more."

She batted her lashes, but his hesitation had been enough to tell her what she'd wanted to know.

He stared at her in blatant amazement, and then it was as if he finally understood what she was trying to do. Immediately, that lazy grin was back in place and the grasp on her hips abruptly brought her closer to his groin, as if he had to prove he was the libertine. She instantly felt the hardness beneath her core and while she ought to be frightened or unsure, she found herself… intrigued. "I will gladly oblige, Miss Newton. It shall relieve me of my extreme boredom while we are here."

"Wonderful." This time when she moved down to kiss him, he didn't stop her. Instead, he reciprocated with a fiery temptation that her had almost squirming on his lap by the time he released her.

He gave a sigh, as if one of regret. "I forgot that I have an appointment this afternoon with the land steward that I can't afford to cancel. It has to do with the future of this very house."

She tried to adopt a pout and hoped that it appeared convincing. "That is a terrible shame. Shall you be gone long?"

He smirked. "I will make every attempt to rush back into your waiting arms."

Disentangling herself from him, Meliah shook her skirts back into place. The earl rose as well, and when he started to walk away, he paused and lightly grasped her chin. "That was very well done, Miss Newton. You nearly had me convinced, but I can sense the unease that still pulses through your veins." His nostrils flared. "And that is not all I sense."

As he walked away, Meliah clenched her fists at her sides. She thought she was being the perfect seductress, but unfortunately, her ploy had failed miserably. The man was entirely too perceptive for his own good. And perhaps, the real gentleman he tried so hard to ignore.

Elwood closed the door of the study with a fist set upon the wood. His cock was pounding furiously, eager to finish what his little vixen had started. Who would have thought that such a sweet woman might be able to bring a reputed scoundrel like himself to his knees in such a fashion? Whoever had been teaching her the art of flirtation had done a superb job of it. It was all he could do to leave without embarrassing himself. It had been years since he was a randy young man traversing the brothels of London, years since he'd been that shocked by such brazen behavior.

He froze. Could it be that she was ‘The Belle' in disguise?

He was surprised he'd never considered it before. It would, of course, be the perfect way to hide in plain sight. Although he'd already been targeted as the victim for October, perhaps she had found a way to further bedevil her chosen rakes after the article was released? Was it to be his fate to suffer all month by desiring someone that he shouldn't be dallying with? The entirety of London might believe him to be the spawn of Satan, but truth be told, he wasn't completely without scruples. And he'd nearly proven that to Miss Newton just now.

He shoved a hand through his hair and decided that he would have to get to the bottom of this, although he had no idea how he might do so. Until now, ‘The Belle' had been perfectly anonymous, without anyone able to discover her identity. However, he would exhaust all of the resources at his disposal if necessary to prove her identity.

He stopped in the middle of the room and shook his head.

Good God, he sounded mad.

Moving over to the desk, he sat down and dipped the pen in ink. It hovered over the paper on the desk until it started to drip. With a sigh, he set it back down, unused. The likelihood was highly slim that Miss Newton was the famed author of the Rake Review. He realized this was just a desperate attempt to keep his hands to himself.

He leaned his head back against the chair and wondered how he might use his time before the steward arrived. He hadn't been lying about that, at least. His father had written to him with the news that he would be expected. His sire had decided that his failing health didn't allow for the hunting box anymore. Elwood had been so busy at his townhouse and carousing in London, that this place was starting to become a forgotten relic of his past. He'd had some good memories here, but perhaps his father was right and it was time for it to be passed on to the next owner. It was nice to know the vineyard was still profitable, so that it might benefit the next owner and gain them a bit more blunt for the efforts. Hopefully, he would be able to find a way to procure a bottle of wine from time to time.

When he heard the sound of Miss Newton's even step approaching, he tensed, waiting to see if she might knock, but she continued to pass by. He was equally disappointed and relieved that she hadn't attempted to talk—or further bedevil him.

He walked over to the window when he saw a flash of white from her dress as she passed by. She didn't wear any sort of outerwear, and he realized he hadn't offered anything to her. He should have felt very ungentlemanly indeed, if it wasn't for the fact the weather was still very mild for this time of year. Autumn had always had its particular delights—the foliage offering brilliant colors before the leaves fell from the trees.

Nevertheless, he didn't wish for her to catch a chill, and while his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment, he couldn't stop from rising from his chair and grabbing his greatcoat on the way out the front door.

Meliah was restless. She didn't have any other word for it. She wanted to blame her current state on the earl, but she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. She should be stronger than to allow her inner sentiments to bother her this deeply. One moment she was yearning for Lord Belmont's touch, and the next she was so frustrated with him that she was at sixes and sevens.

She rubbed her arms and realized that once her emotions had cooled off to a dull simmer, she was starting to feel the brisk wind blowing through the trees. Until now it had been relatively warm, but a glance upward at the waning afternoon sky revealed gray clouds were starting to thicken and roll in. She thought it might rain soon and she shivered. It would mean she could be trapped inside with the earl. How very dreadful that would be, she told herself, and yet, she lacked the proper conviction of that statement.

She stopped to look out over the even rows of grapevines on the upper hill. She thought of the juicy, delicious fruit she'd consumed and decided she'd never enjoyed something quite so much before. It was a wonderful treat that she would likely never get to partake of again.

Her throat burned with the rise of regret within her. She had to succeed with this writing endeavor so that she might procure her own delights now and again. It would be satisfying to know she had only to depend upon herself to gain such luxuries.

Meliah startled when her arms were enveloped with a warm cloak. She turned her head to see Lord Belmont smiling at her. He moved around to face her and said, "I regret that I didn't purchase a pelisse for you this afternoon when I was in the village. I fear you will have to make use of my greatcoat until I can make another trip."

She didn't want to enjoy the warmth of the garment surrounding her, but she pulled it a bit closer and inhaled softly of the masculine, woodsy scent she had come to recognize as his. "That was kind of you, my lord. And please, don't trouble yourself any further on my account. It's not as if you were planning for me to join you in your self-imposed exile. I shall never be able to pay you back as it is."

"I ask for nothing in return," he said softly.

She wanted to believe that, but she wasn't entirely convinced. "Don't you?"

He frowned slightly as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "What I give you is not charity, nor is it a bribe for some licentious purpose. I am not setting you up as a temporary paramour. You are a guest and as such, I have never denied anyone's comfort whether it be food, hospitality, or a few garments. Trust me when I say I have paid much more for fancy baubles to impress a female companion."

She tilted her head to the side. "I shall have to remember that for the article."

His arms dropped back to his sides. "That I use my wealth in exchange for sexual gratification?"

She appeared to have hurt him and she regretted it. "No. That you are generous when the occasion merits it."

He regarded her steadily and then offered a crooked smile that made her breath catch. "I appreciate that you are choosing to consider those gifts as more than what they actually were."

He started to walk forward and she fell into step beside him. "I daresay I have wondered something with each article that appears." She paused. "Does it bother you to imagine people think the worst of you?"

He glanced at her, and with his ebony hair tousled on his head, and those piercing blue eyes lit on her, she was nearly overset by his handsome appearance. "It bothers me when certain people think the worst of me." He stopped walking and added quietly, "I don't wish your opinion of me to be soured, although I can't readily express why I might care."