Chapter 10

10

F ew things could douse a cockstand faster than the imminent arrival of one’s mother. A lesson Nicholas sorely wished he hadn’t just learned from experience.

He gave his breeches a final tug to straighten them and shoved back the hair, now damp with perspiration, that had fallen onto his forehead. It was a wonder he could move at all when just seconds ago, he’d been locked in a pleasure-filled haze caused by Miss Windham straddling his lap, unfastening his fall, crying out her release, still wanting more.

Yet the ominous tap had made it all vanish. Somewhere in his desire-addled brain, which comprehended little beyond the concepts of sweet and Phoebe and more , the sound had loudened, assuring him of its reality. And then, its meaning had sunk in, making his stomach drop to his boots. The Dowager Marchioness of Rockliffe —who was supposed to be in London until the Season officially ended—was unquestionably not in London but at Beaumont Manor , her cane thumping against the corridor floorboards as she approached his study. Damn my luck .

He positioned himself in front of the fire, resting his palm against the mantelpiece as if he’d been idly enjoying its warmth, just as the door opened to reveal the figure he knew would stand there.

His mother wasn’t large of stature, nor was she particularly spry now that her joints suffered the effects of rheumatism. However , something about her steely demeanor made her presence fill the room, and her slow, rhythmic steps, accompanied by the beat of her cane, only amplified the effect.

He gritted his teeth, waiting as she crossed the study, meeting her shrewd stare head-on.

“ Rockliffe .” She arrived at the fireside, giving him only the barest nod before shifting her gaze to where Miss Windham stood beside his wing chair, her hand resting primly atop the back. “ Who’s this?”

“ This is the vicar’s niece and Emily’s new governess.” He cleared his throat, the sounds of her breathy cries still ringing through his ears. “ Miss Phoebe Windham .”

“ My lady.” Miss Windham’s ability to bob into a seamless curtsey didn’t fail her even now, although her skin remained flushed, and her formerly severe hair knot had the audacity to droop.

His mother looked her up and down, quirking a silver brow. “ Governess , you say?”

“ Yes ,” he nigh on snarled, his fingers tightening around the edge of the mantel. He could think of a great many obscenities he wished to shout, but while dramatic scenes were certainly no anomaly in the Prescott household, he refused to start one in front of Miss Windham .

“ A pleasure.” His mother pursed her lips in a gesture that couldn’t have shown less pleasure if she tried. “ Rockliffe , I need to speak with you privately. I presume you won’t mind leaving us, Miss Windham , for it looks as though you need to busy yourself with gown repair.”

His knuckles cracked against the mantelpiece as he shot a glance at Miss Windham’s neckline. That blasted high, too-concealing neckline, which he’d grown overzealous about removing. Even in his fervor, he’d only left a small tear near the right shoulder, hardly noticeable. His mother noticed, though. The Dowager Marchioness of Rockliffe , damn her, noticed everything.

“ Not at all.” To Miss Windham’s credit, she spoke as coolly as the dowager did, tilting her head with almost exaggerated politeness. “ Goodnight , my lady. Lord Rockliffe .”

Don’t go . He wrenched his hand away from the mantelpiece, pressing his fingers to his aching temple. Fingers that smelled of her arousal. He wanted her back in his arms, writhing beneath his touch, putting her hands on his fall?—

Except that moment had been soundly crushed.

He could only stand in silence and watch her depart, as if the whole encounter had never happened, until he was left in the dim study with solely his mother for company. And that was not a pleasant position.

He scarcely waited until the door closed to turn to the dowager and bite out his frustration. “ Why are you here and what do you want?”

His mother was so prone to exhibiting churlishness that receiving it didn’t faze her in the least. “ Why do you think?” she asked mildly. “ First , Amelia left London for her honeymoon, and then, you disappeared without a word to anyone after I specifically explained why doing so was a foolhardy venture. But I suppose I should hardly be surprised. In any case, the Season is nearing its end, and it was time for me to depart London as well. Especially as you seem in want of company and guidance.”

“ I am not.” Each word fell from his tongue like a cold weight. “ And why are you traipsing into my study at whatever hour it is and not residing in the dower house?”

“ Because .” His mother looked at him as if he were a child who’d asked something incredibly absurd. “ During your absence, I relocated here. As such, the dower house has experienced a period of disuse, and it will take time to get it sufficiently aired and back in order. It certainly wouldn’t do for the guest we are about to receive.”

“ The what ?” A muscle in his jaw gave a painful twitch. Had he somehow misunderstood, or had he truly just entered a new circle of hell?

“ That’s right.” She hobbled the short distance to his wing chair, lowering herself to the seat—no doubt still warm from the heat of his and Miss Windham’s bodies—and surveying him like a queen upon her throne. “ I invited Lady Letitia Burville to spend a month with us here at Beaumont . Are you familiar with her?”

“ No .” He could barely choke out that single word, let alone muster the wherewithal to remember an expansive list of society ladies.

“ Lady Burville is the daughter of a viscount and widow of an earl. Not only does she come from good breeding, but as a woman of five-and-forty, she possesses the maturity and good sense that one finds lacking in those of the younger generation. I admit, she isn’t exceptionally wealthy—rumor has it old Burville played too freely at the hazard table—but we can hardly fault her for that. Had all gone according to plan, I would have had her here by dinnertime to make introductions, but a broken wheel on her carriage necessitated us making an unexpected stop at The Rose and Thistle . I had no great desire to dine there, but in the time it took us to do so, the repair was completed, and we were fortunate to have the skies clear so we could complete the journey by moonlight. Lady Burville’s carriage departed the inn just a short time after mine and should be arriving any minute.”

Fortunate ? This was a fucking disaster.

“ I don’t want introductions, and I don’t want visitors!” He balled his hand into a fist and abruptly released it, although instead of ridding him of tension, the action only made it grow. “ What scheme have you concocted in arranging all this?”

She smirked, her fingers tapping against the silver tip of her cane. “ Scheme is an unfavorable word. I’m assisting . Because Letitia Burville is a respectable lady who would make a suitable wife?—”

“ No .” He hadn’t really needed to ask in order to realize the direction of his mother’s plans. However , that word— wife —dropped the truth on him like a knife twisting in his gut, making his anger flare. “ How dare you try that with me? Again . Do you never learn your bloody lesson?”

The dowager gave an indignant sniff. “ Let go of the past, Rockliffe . This isn’t the same situation at all. I do not know what sort of marriage Lady Burville desires, but she’s of an age where she would have no expectations of expanding her family, and the topic need never even come up?—”

“ Stop .” The brandy in his stomach roiled to the point he felt in danger of vomiting upon the Aubusson rug. How could he let go of the past when it seemed perilously close to repeating itself? His head continued pounding, an inner voice shouting at him to extricate himself from this nightmare without delay. And in that regard, he did have a weak shred of something to which he could cling. He folded his arms, fixing his mother, the bestower of an infamous glower, with a glare of his own. “ There’s no purpose in speaking about any of this, for it will all come to naught. I’m leaving for Foxhill in the morning.”

She instantly stiffened in her chair— his chair—and raised her cane several inches off the floor, slamming it back down with a decided thump. “ No , you damn well are not.”

He clenched his jaw, his face rigid enough to splinter. The unbelievable gall of the woman! Always interfering, speaking to him as if he were still a boy to command when he was the blasted marquess , for Christ’s sake?—

“ Enough , Rockliffe .” Blue eyes—a mixture of ice and fire—bore into him, cutting him off before he could manage a word. “ Haven’t you already spent enough of the past decade wallowing at that musty old lodge? And to what purpose? It’s macabre, this strange fixation you have, and I think you well know that you’ll never change what happened there.”

Shut up, cease this, don’t dare say another thing . He intended to shout all those words and more; anything to put this at an end. Yet her speech delivered another stab to his chest, and the breath to voice his outrage rushed from his lungs. Leaving his mother free to barrel ahead.

“ You’ve been through an ordeal. Now , you can have another chance.” Her voice softened around the edges, and the detestable nuance it contained— pity —was far worse than anything they could yell at one another. “ Don’t you understand? The right marchioness will bolster your position in society instead of diminishing it, along with negating some of the gossip. Take a wife, and enjoy the benefits she brings. Use the opportunity to reestablish yourself in London next Season . Go back to the Lords . To White’s . Become reacquainted with your peers. Act as the Marquess of Rockliffe because that is your birthright, no matter what damnable circumstances befall you. It is high time you stopped shrinking from the role.”

She made it sound so easy, this woman who careened over everyone and everything, thinking she could make the world bend to her will. Even after going through countless experiences in which the world proved itself unbending.

If only the power to press on while ignoring inconvenient truths came naturally to him, too. But it didn’t. On the contrary, these things followed him everywhere he went, reminding him of his detrimental failure. Something that couldn’t be erased despite his mother’s best efforts; in fact, her interference in the matter had caused no end of devastation.

The dowager, not prone to patience, gave an irritated huff at his silence. “ If you refuse to entertain the idea for your own benefit, then do it for Emily ,” she said, eyeing him levelly. Prodding at the chink in his armor. “ God knows she could use some stability after everything she’s gone through. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that the child is ailing. Perhaps having a mother figure back in her life will set her right again.”

A mother figure. Like Miss Phoebe Windham . Why was all he could envision changeable eyes of blue, green, and gray and a face he’d been a fool to ever think of as nondescript?

Except Miss Windham was a governess. A woman who could leave his employ within a matter of weeks with the hefty sum he’d promised. And even if she didn’t … the position would end at some point or another. There was no alternative; he had nothing else to offer her. And then, where would Emily be? Time might strengthen her body and lessen her grief, but what if it never erased her disdain for him? She needed someone else. Someone who wasn’t lacking.

He pressed his mouth closed, a bitter taste flooding his throat. Something alarming was happening. He was beginning to think his mother’s proposition held a modicum of sense.

What a goddamn mess. This wasn’t the sort of thing that should be sprung on a man when his body and brain still reeled with the aftereffects of interrupted desire. He needed another brandy, needed to go to his bedchamber alone?—

But there was no time. The faint sound of the front door creaking open reached his study, followed by a hum of voices echoing in the entrance hall.

“ Ah . That must be Lady Burville .” The dowager gripped the arms of the wing chair, pushing herself upright and taking her cane back into her grasp so she could pivot in the direction of the door. She turned her head over her shoulder, toward the fireplace where he stood gawking like a clodpate. “ Well , are you coming? It would be unthinkably rude if you didn’t greet your guest.”

A guest I didn’t ask for! A guest I don’t want.

A guest I would be remiss in discounting without at least considering what advantages an association between us could bring .

He pulled himself away from the heat of the fire, his legs like lead. His heartbeat a dull thud. “ Indeed .” He frowned at the sudden brightness that flashed in her eyes. “ You’ve given me little choice. I’ll not thank you for this.”

Her cane tapped against the floor, assisting her in moving to the doorway with surprising swiftness. “ Not to worry, Rockliffe . I don’t require your thanks.”

And with that, she was gone, not pausing or looking behind her to ensure he followed. No doubt she’d already made up her mind that he would.

Hell and damnation . He did. He followed her, silently cursing himself every step of the way.

Whether he chose wisely or would live to regret this remained to be seen.