Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

F or perhaps the first time ever, Lazarus was attending a ball with the sole purpose of speaking with someone about a parliamentary matter. Droxford would be exceedingly proud.

He arrived relatively early, hoping to complete his errand and be gone before he ran into someone troublesome. Such as Miss Worsley or her mother. Or Gwen. Though, truth be told, he wouldn’t mind observing the latter from afar. Or pining, such as the case may be.

Shefford happened to be there too and approached him with a nod. “I sent my man on his way. I hope you were able to find some rest.”

“Thank you,” Lazarus said. Rest was beyond him at this point. He had tried working on the reading exercise Gwen had given him that afternoon, but his mind was too preoccupied. It hadn’t been another love poem, unfortunately, but a passage from a scientific pamphlet. She’d explained that it would be good for him to read a variety of things. He could not fault her logic.

Indeed, he couldn’t find anything to fault with her at all. She was perfect in every way.

“You here looking for someone?” Shefford watched him. “You keep scanning the ballroom.”

“Yes, I need to speak with Morganfeld about a matter he’s discussing in the Commons.” Lazarus was concerned they would be delivering speeches on the same thing, and he hoped they might complement one another.

Gwen appeared in the ballroom suddenly, flanked by her parents. Lazarus hadn’t seen them enter. Her beauty made Lazarus’s chest ache with want. Her dark hair sparkled with bejeweled combs that caught the candlelight. She wore a green gown trimmed with ivory lace, with an embroidered bodice.

He wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he needed to avoid her as if she carried a deadly disease. Perhaps he should look for Morganfeld elsewhere.

“I’ll go in search of Morganfeld in the gaming room,” Lazarus said.

“I’ll join you,” Shefford said. “I’d rather be in there than here.”

“Why are you here?” Lazarus asked as they made their way from the ballroom.

“My father was supposed to attend, but is unable to do so. He asked if I would come in his stead. He owed Jordan a favor.” Jordan was the host.

“He wanted a duke to grace his wife’s ball?” Lazarus asked.

Shefford nodded. “The duke’s heir will have to be good enough.”

As they departed the ballroom, Lazarus glanced back toward Gwen. She’d seen him, and now their gazes connected. He saw the longing he felt reflected in her eyes. None of this was fair! He could only hope that in a few days, the Miss Worsley situation would be behind him, and he could perhaps consider courting Gwen.

But should he? She still deserved someone better than him.

Lazarus went to the gaming room, but Morganfeld wasn’t there either. It was likely he hadn’t arrived yet. If he didn’t show up at all, Lazarus would be frustrated. But Lazarus wasn’t sure he would wait much longer. Being in the vicinity of Gwen and unable to talk with her was absolute torture.

“I’m going to play for a bit,” Shefford said. “Join me?”

In his current state, Lazarus didn’t have the patience or attention to gamble. “I’m going outside.”

He strolled out the exterior door into the cool evening. No, it was bloody cold. What had he been thinking?

But before he could return inside, a flash of green hurried toward him. “Lazarus, I must speak with you,” Gwen said urgently as she grabbed his forearm and dragged him toward the shadows.

“It’s freezing out here,” he said. Instead, he looked for another entry. There was a door near the corner of the house. “This way.” He clasped her hand and led her to the door against every one of the voices of reason in his head that were screaming at him not to.

Turning the latch, he ushered her inside a dim landing. Stairs led up and down. The latter likely led to the kitchen. It seemed to be a servants’ passage.

Lazarus pulled Gwen inside then closed the door. Two sconces on either staircase provided meager lighting. But it was enough for him to make out her flushed cheeks.

“You should not be following me,” he said harshly. “Nor should I have brought you in here.” He should have run back into the house and left the ball.

“I need to speak with you about an urgent matter.” Her voice was tight, and he could feel the anxiety coming from her. Unless that was just his own. He had so much of it.

God, did she somehow know about Miss Worsley? But no, how would she? Lazarus forced himself to breathe. “What’s happened?”

“Eberforce sent a note to my parents saying you and I are conducting a liaison, that we’ve been meeting at your cousin’s house.”

“ Bloody fucking hell. ” Lazarus clenched his jaw shut, but it was too late, for he’d already let the curse out. “My apologies.” Could things get any worse? And could his behavior deteriorate further?

“Do not apologize. Those are my exact sentiments.”

Lazarus tried to ignore the thunderous thumping of his heart. It wasn’t entirely due to this vexing news. He was also keenly aware of Gwen’s proximity and the fact that they were alone and would likely not be interrupted. Desire pulsed through him with a steady, insistent rhythm. “What did you tell your parents?”

“That it’s not true, that Eberforce is just being spiteful.”

“Which he is. But how on earth does he know we’ve been meeting?” Lazarus set his hand on his hip. “And why would he say we’re having a liaison. Unless…is there any way he saw us kissing?”

“I had the same questions, but I can’t see how he would be able to access Droxford’s rear garden, and that is the only way he would have been able to see into the library.”

Lazarus saw that her heart was also beating fast. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Was she as affected by him as he was by her? Or was her physical reaction entirely due to her concern over that giant arse, Eberforce?

“I will find a way to deal with him,” Lazarus promised, thinking he would again need to consult with his friends. Except, it wasn’t his place to do so. He wasn’t a family member, and he wasn’t her husband. While he was also implicated, his reputation would not suffer as Gwen’s would. A powerful yearning tore through him. “Unless your father plans to put an end to his baseless gossip. He would be better suited,” Lazarus added rather lamely.

“He will not. And it isn’t baseless. We were meeting, even if we weren’t actually having a liaison.”

No, but Lazarus would have liked to. Even now, he couldn’t help thinking how much he wanted to back her against the wall and kiss her. He’d raise her skirts and stroke her thigh, then her sex. She’d moan for him, and he’d bring her to a fierce climax. Then he’d lift her so she could wrap her legs around him while he opened his fall and?—

“Lazarus?”

Christ, had she said something? “I’m sorry. I was thinking of ways I’d like to put Eberforce in his place,” he lied.

“I was telling you my father’s plan to respond to Eberforce’s information which Eberforce will surely make public. He may be spreading his rumors this very moment.” She pressed her lips together, and Lazarus hated how this was affecting her. She was supposed to be attracting a husband, and this would be a terrible setback. Because of him—Lazarus’s reputation would fuel Eberforce’s rumor. It would be easy to believe Gwen would be seduced by the rakish Viscount Somerton.

“What is your father’s plan?” Lazarus hoped it would save her from disaster.

“He has written to Markwith to negotiate our marriage settlement.” She sounded as if she’d been sentenced to prison. Or transportation.

Lazarus let that sink in. She wasn’t happy with her father’s plan. Which was to marry one of her very excellent suitors.

But why would that make her happy when this very afternoon, she’d tried to tell Lazarus that she loved him?

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, cupping her face and moving to stand before her so their bodies nearly met.

“I don’t want to marry Markwith,” she said, her voice nearly breaking.

“No, I can’t imagine you do. Nor do I want you to. This is all my fault.” Lazarus stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “I allowed us to grow too close.”

“Nothing you could have done would have changed anything. Unless you’d never rescued me at Almack’s, and I hope you don’t regret that. Your actions that night and ever since have been the greatest things anyone has ever done for me. To think that I was actually the queen of the Phoenix Club ball and attended a literary salon—because of you. You have made dreams I didn’t know I had come true. ” She looked into his eyes, her lips parted. “Please don’t regret any of it.”

“ Never. ” Lazarus lowered his head and kissed her with a savage intensity that he feared would consume him if he didn’t unleash it. His body sang with passion and hope as he cupped her head and brought one hand down her throat, caressing her warm flesh as she pressed her body into his.

She clasped his neck and returned his kiss with a ferocity that made him tighten his hold on her. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he never wanted to let her go.

He steered her backward into the darkest corner at the base of the stairs that went up, his mouth devouring hers with an ever-increasing lust. He had never wanted to possess anyone the way he did Gwen. She’d completely overtaken his mind, his body, his heart, his very soul.

Kissing along her jaw, he nipped at her earlobe. “Gwen, I am desperate to touch you. May I?”

“Yes, please. Touch me.”

Lazarus clasped her hip as he licked the flesh beneath her ear. “I want to lift your skirt.”

She pulled at the garment herself, and Lazarus skimmed his hand beneath the fabric along the inside of her thigh. She shivered, her flesh pebbling.

“Part your legs, my love,” he whispered, kissing her neck as he stroked her.

Widening her stance, she dug her fingers into his nape. “Yes, touch me,” she breathed.

Gently, he swept his fingertips along her sex. He lifted his head to look at her, but her eyes were closed. “Look at me, Gwen.”

Her dark lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened, though the lids were heavy. Lips parted, her breath was coming fast, echoing his own excitement.

“I should not touch you like this.” His hand barely grazed her as he urged himself to walk away from her.

She slipped one hand inside his coat and pulled at him. “I want you to touch me. I will die if you don’t touch me. Please don’t walk away. What if we never have another moment like this?”

Because she was to marry Markwith. And Lazarus might yet find himself coerced into marrying Miss Worsley. “Then I must tell you that I love you. I may be a rogue, but for the first time in my life, I am a rogue in love. I wish I could erase everything that has come before so that there is only you.”

Her eyes glowed with emotion as her mouth curved up. “I don’t want you to do that because then you wouldn’t be the man you are today—the rogue I love.” She smiled widely then. “Thank you for letting me say it.”

He kissed her hard and fierce. “I couldn’t bear to hear it earlier, for I don’t deserve your love.” If she knew what he was accused of, she would agree. Even if he wasn’t the father of Miss Worsley’s child, the fact that he could have been solidified his rogue status. He would never believe he could be worthy of someone as pure and perfect as Gwen.

She dug her fingers into his neck. “You absolutely deserve it. You have seen me as no one ever has. Please don’t turn away from my love. I couldn’t bear for you to do that.”

He kissed her again, more gently this time, his tongue mating with hers. She moaned softly as he stroked her sex once more, his fingers moving softly, delicately.

Guiding them toward the stairs, he lifted her right leg and set her foot down on the third stair. “Put your foot here.” Now she was more open to his touch and could be more stable.

“ Lazarus ,” she rasped as he opened her folds and rubbed his thumb against her clitoris.

She clutched him tightly, her hips rotating against his hand. Nonsensical noises and moans escaped her lips, and Lazarus kissed her so no one would hear her.

He increased his speed, urging her toward ecstasy. Breaking the kiss, he moved his mouth to her ear. “I want you to come for me. But you must be quiet. Can you do that, my love?”

“I will try, but I can’t say I know what to expect.”

For a brief moment, Lazarus considered ending this blissful interlude. This was not how she should experience ecstasy for the first time. But she was right in wondering if they’d ever have a moment together again. He wasn’t going to let her go without giving her something beautiful to remember.

He put all his attention onto her sex, stroking and coaxing until she was panting, her pelvis moving in wild jerks. Kissing her again, he slipped his finger into her slowly, astonished by how wet she’d become. His cock ached to fill her, to claim her, but this was entirely for her pleasure. His could come later.

After pumping his finger into her, he withdrew it to work her clitoris, then he thrust into her again. Over and over, he pushed her to the brink. He felt her muscles clench, and knew she was on the precipice.

Then she cried out into his mouth, her body trembling madly. He held her close and guided her through her orgasm until her body began to calm. He withdrew his hand and moved her foot to the floor.

Her breathing began to slow. “This can’t be the only time we have. It isn’t fair. There has to be a way for us to be together.” Her eyes met his. “Unless…you don’t want to marry me.”

“I do want to marry you, but I can’t. Not yet.” He couldn’t tell her the truth, not right now. The potential rumor from Eberforce and her father’s betrothal negotiations had further complicated matters. It seemed fate did not want them to be together. “If you can wait, things may change.”

“ May change? If we wait, I will be wed to Markwith.”

No , Lazarus would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. Footsteps on the stairs below them jolted him into action. He took her hand and pulled her to the door. “You need to go. Just…don’t marry Markwith. Not yet.” Not ever. But how could he expect her to wait for him if he would end up being forced to wed Miss Worsley?

She kissed him on the mouth and met his gaze. “I will wait. I love you, Lazarus, and I don’t want anyone but you.”

Then she was gone, and Lazarus closed the door then leaned his forehead against the wood.

“All right there, sir?” a male voice asked from behind him.

“Yes, just taking a respite away from the noise of the ball,” Lazarus said before opening the door and walking out into the garden. The night air felt even colder, or perhaps he was merely registering the loss of Gwen.

She might not want anyone but him now, but when she learned what he’d been accused of, she would understand just how terrible his behavior had been. He had much to be ashamed of, and he hated that he’d dragged her into this. Lazarus hoped Eberforce wasn’t here, for if he was, Lazarus might call the man out.

Making his way back to the gaming room, Lazarus walked inside, intent on departing the ball as soon as possible. However, Shefford intercepted him almost immediately and steered him from the room. “What the devil is going on with you and Miss Price?” he demanded.

Apparently, Eberforce’s gossip was already making the rounds. “Nothing.” That was a laughable lie, but Lazarus couldn’t tell him the truth. He also couldn’t reveal that he already knew about the rumor. “What are you talking about?”

“There is a rumor making its way through the ballroom that you and she are having a liaison, that you meet at Droxford’s. But you’re saying that’s not true?”

“I am not having a liaison with Miss Price.” Not for want of trying. If it were up to Lazarus, he would be deep inside her this very moment. Only it wouldn’t be a liaison. He would make her his wife. The ache to have her, to claim her as his own, was overwhelming.

Lazarus wondered if Eberforce’s name was publicly attached to the gossip. “Who is spreading this rumor?”

“It originated with that dolt, Eberforce.”

“That right there should tell you it’s rubbish,” Lazarus said vehemently. “He’s been insulting Miss Price since she spilled something on him at Almack’s.”

“It sounds as though he needs to learn a lesson about grace and generosity.” Shefford scowled.

“Droxford would be most impressed with the pitch of your brows.” Lazarus was surprised he could find humor in this moment. He dearly wanted to find Eberforce and plant him a facer. Or ten.

Shefford’s forehead smoothed, and his brows went back to their regular position. “Speaking of Droxford, he’s going to be livid that Eberforce has dragged him and his wife into this salacious nonsense. Though, I can’t credit Eberforce with much intelligence, so I doubt he considered that.”

Lazarus felt a pang of guilt. He was the one who’d dragged his friend and cousin into things. He should not have involved them in his secret meetings with Gwen. But then, when he’d initiated them, they’d been entirely about improving his reading and memorizing his speech. Lazarus could never have predicted that he would fall in love with his tutor.

Looking at Shefford with concern, Lazarus asked, “Is the rumor that bad, or are people discounting it since Eberforce started it?”

“It’s too early to say, but I’ve heard it from two different people now. I daresay if you went into the ballroom, heads would turn in your direction. More than they already do, anyway.”

Dammit. Gwen had likely returned to the ballroom. Was she suffering from everyone staring at her and whispering? His heart ached to think of her being subjected to that. And yet, if he went to the ballroom and they were there together—even if they weren’t together —the gossip would grow.

“I need to leave,” Lazarus said, moving toward the entrance hall.

“Yes, let’s,” Shefford replied. “I hear the Siren’s Call luring us.”

Lazarus had no desire to go anywhere but home, but perhaps Jo might know something about why Eberforce was doing this. Was he really just seeking vengeance over a bloody waistcoat?

As they left Jordan’s house, Shefford looked over at Lazarus. “You’ve had quite the couple of days. Perhaps you should become a monk.”

“That is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Lazarus replied. Though he’d no plan to join a religious order, Lazarus vowed in that moment that he would remain celibate until he could be with the only woman he would ever love.