Liberty for Paul (20 page)

Chapter 24

Liberty felt Mr. Daltry’s racing heart beat in time with hers as he hugged her close. Who would have guessed that revealing she was already married could elicit such a reaction? Unless, of course, he took that to mean it left her free to engage in a torrid affair with him! That would be the only reason for his sudden reaction.

Pulling back out of his hold, Liberty stepped back and looked in his general direction. It was so dark on this part of the veranda and she could hardly see anything more than the outline of his form. At least where he was standing, he could see her because of the moonlight, but he was covered in darkness from the shadows.

“Just because I’m married does not mean I’m free to be your lover,” she spat. She brought her hand up and rested it on her thudding heart. The man was a scoundrel of the worst sort. He knew just how to hold and touch her in the right ways to get her blood to simmer.

“I have no such interest,” he confided. “Although, I am flattered you thought I did. I had no idea I held such appeal.”

She stiffened her spine. “I assure you, you do not,” she said as waspishly as she could manage.

“Are you satisfied with your husband, then?” he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

She felt her lower lip tremble on its own accord and she bit down on the inside of her mouth to keep it still. “Uh…yes,” she lied.

He chuckled. “Spoken like a woman in love. Say, is he here tonight?”

Her eyes flew wide. “N-no, he’s n-not h-here,” she stammered, fidgeting with the laces on her sleeve.

“Pity,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I would have liked to introduce myself to the poor sod so he'd know who was waltzing in the dark with his wife.”

She gasped. “You’re nothing but a…a…mean, mean man,” she burst out.

He chuckled at her ridiculous statement. “Is that so? I just thought the man ought know who’s dancing with his wife, that’s all. If you were my wife I wouldn’t let you out of my sight if I could help it.”

Her eyes flew up toward his face. “Really?” For some reason his answer meant a lot to her.

“Yes,” he said unevenly before clearing his throat. “But that’s not important. Where’s your husband tonight, madam?”

“At home I think,” she said dully.

“You don’t know?” he asked, stepping closer and grabbing her hand.

“No.” She shook her head and licked her lips when his warm thumb started rubbing soft strokes on the back of her hand.

“Where else do you think he might be?” His body so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.

She closed her eyes to squeeze in the tears that had formed. “With another woman,” she whispered at last.

Mr. Daltry’s hand tightened, creating an almost painful vice. She would have tried to take her hand from his, but oddly enough his painful grasp felt as a good as balm on an open wound. He seemed just as upset that her husband had paramours as she was; and for some reason his angry feelings were refreshing.

He relaxed his grip and brought her hand to his lips, placing a warm, searing kiss on the spot where he’d almost left a bruise with his thumb. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “Do you mind if we have a change of plans for the evening?”

Her eyes went wide with shock and she tried to pull her hand from his. “If you think just because my husband is unfaithful that I intend to be as well, you have another thing coming,” she said fiercely, grabbing her skirts and trying to scurry off.

His hand grabbed her just above the elbow. “That’s not what I meant. I meant to offer you some advice, nothing more.”

She stopped struggling and turned to face him. They were both bathed in moonlight now and she could see his face. Her eyes searched his face the best they could in the dim evening light. “Advice?”

“Yes, advice. Being a man myself, I think I can offer you some advice about your husband,” he offered.

Her heart leapt. Although she’d already made up her mind she was going to go to Paul as soon as she got home, it couldn’t hurt to listen to what this man had to say. After all, Elizabeth was the only other person who knew everything, and though she meant well, her marriage could never have been considered a success. She knew she could trust Mr. Daltry, she didn’t know why, she just could. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she realized exactly what she was going to be revealing to a perfect stranger. With a single nod in his direction, she led him to Brooke’s private sitting room.

***

Paul was full of nervous excitement as she led him through her sister’s townhouse. Putting aside his jealous feelings that she’d willingly take a stranger to a poorly lit private room, he focused on
why
she was taking him there. She thought he was having affairs? Where had she gotten that crazy notion? He was home every single night for dinner. He was there in the morning to bring up her precious bathwater so she didn’t have to go to the kitchen. What on earth had given her the idea he’d been unfaithful?

Taking a seat on the end of one settee, Liberty waved her hand and said, “Make yourself at home. If you’d prefer a chair, just bring over the one from the secretary in the corner.”

Paul gave her a quick smile as he unhooked his sword and untied the cape. When he was done disassembling his costume, he sat down right next to her. She cast him a wary look and tried to scoot away, but there was nowhere to go. “What exactly were you supposed to be anyway?’ she asked.

“’Mr. Daltry, Knight Swathed in Black’,” he said, quoting her father.

“No shining armor left at the costume shop?” she teased.

“I have no idea. Like I said earlier, it was picked out for me. I must confess your dislike for it rivals my own.” He flashed her a smile. “But we’re not here to talk about my costume.”

“Right,” she agreed, looking down to where the nail of her right index finger was digging in the nail bed of her thumb. “On the way up, I thought perhaps I should give you some background information about my marriage.”

He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see him roll them. He didn’t want to hear everything; he just wanted to know why she suspected him of cheating. “Very well,” he said slowly.

“When we were initially introduced by my father, we both immediately took a strong dislike for the other,” she said uneasily, shifting her weight on the settee.

Perhaps he did want to hear everything. “What do you mean?” He truly wanted to know, too. She’d told him it was because of his request she not address him formally, but he hadn’t fully believed that.

“Well,” she paused to bite her lip and shift again. “Before we were introduced, I saw him across the drawing room and thought he was rather handsome.” A slow blush crawled over her face.

Paul put his head down to hide his grin. He still didn’t know why her family had set this whole thing up, but right now he could kiss them for it. Without having to beat it out of her, he was about to know the answers to all his questions with unabashed honesty.

“But then we were introduced, and I discovered a handsome face doesn’t make up for a lack of personality,” she said, causing his grin to vanish as his short lived glee came to an abrupt end.

“What do you mean?” he asked again.

She shrugged. “He was a conversational bore,” she told him.

“A bore?” he asked, astonished. They’d just met, did she expect him to regale her with tales of his boyhood or something?

“Yes, a bore.”

He stared at her in disbelief. His great sin was that she thought him boring? “Pardon me, but being a man and not fully understanding the situation, could you please explain what constitutes a bore?”

“He barely spoke to me,” she said with a sniff.

“
Did you give him a chance?” he retorted. He remembered the night she was talking about very well. And unless he’d suffered a brain fever he didn’t know about since then, he’d swear
she
talked so much
he
couldn’t get a word in if he’d tired. She’d talked about everything from the voyage from New York to the origins of her and her sister’s names to some prank her sister had pulled on her involving a toad. She’d even gone so far as to clue him in on details of her sister’s courtship with the man that was now her husband.

She sent him an icy glare. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

“Perhaps you were distracted by his dashing looks and started to prattle,” he suggested with a wink. When she lowered her head and looked down at the floor in embarrassment, he let out a bark of laughter. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

“Partially,” she admitted.

He shot her a grin. “My, my, this gets more interesting by the moment.”

“If you’re going to mock me, you may leave,” she said defiantly, crossing her arms across her chest defensively.

“Not at all. Pray continue,” he said, crossing his ankles and leaning back.

She relaxed her body, but continued to stare at the floor. “All right, I admit I talk overmuch when I’m nervous, and he made me undeniably nervous. But I was also irritated. See, when we were introduced, he immediately asked me to call him by his Christian name.”

Paul studied his boots a moment before asking, “And why did that bother you?” He already knew her answer, but thought Mr. Daltry would ask to be polite.

“Because it’s not proper,” she insisted.

Turning to face her, he reached his fingers to her chin and tipped it up to face him. “And do you always do what’s proper?” he asked quietly.

She swallowed. “No,” she breathed. “Not anymore.”

“And what changed that? Your faithless husband?” he asked bitterly, letting go of her face.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she told him, holding his gaze.

“Really,” he drawled, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Really,” she confirmed.

“And how did the bounder accomplish that?”

“I couldn’t say,” she said unevenly. “He just did.”

“I see,” he said dubiously. “So are you telling me that you act improper around him, or is it just me?”

She looked away from his face, which told him she’d understood his question. “Both,” she said.

“Just with the two of us, then?” he asked, searching her face the best he could in the dark room with no spectacles, hoping, nay praying, she’d say yes. He didn’t think he’d be able to hear her acknowledge she’d misbehaved with another. Even if she thought “Mr. Daltry” was Mr. Daltry and not him, he could deal with that, but he couldn’t stand the idea there had been another.

“Yes,” she answered, looking chastised.

“Look at me,” he said, running a slow finger up and down her cheek. “You still haven’t told me why you suspect your husband of infidelity. But I want you to know that you’ve done nothing with me of which to be ashamed of.”

She nodded her agreement even though she looked doubtful.

Bringing his other hand up to her face, he cupped her chin and leaned as close as he dared to her. She smelled of lilacs and her plump, moist lips were calling to him. Lowering his lashes so he could shamelessly stare at them, he said in a husky voice, “Your husband doesn’t deserve you.”

Her lips parted in surprise and he could no longer control his own. Leaning an inch further, his lips collided with hers, sending sparks of heat straight to his groin. Her lips responded to his and a low, sweet groan escaped her lips. Encouraged, he ran his tongue back and forth across her bottom lip. He licked the corner, and she opened to him. He reveled in the taste of her. She tasted sweet and minty. He swept his tongue along one cheek, then to the other. Crossing back between the two, he ran his tongue along her teeth, going slow, not wanting to miss the one in the front that was misaligned. He groaned when he reached it. There was no doubt, this was Liberty. His wife. The woman who hid her insecurities behind a cloak of propriety.

Abruptly, he felt two cold hands grab his and pull them off her face. She jerked her face back and looked at him uneasily. “I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s not right,” she panted, pressing her fingers to her flushed cheek.

Perhaps he should tell her the truth, he thought. But not until she told him why she suspected him of adultery. He shook his head in disbelief. What would make her think such? Would she believe him if he told her he was just as virginal as she was? Truth be known, he didn’t want to do that, either. No man, even a man in his position, wanted to admit to such a thing.

“It is I who should be sorry,” he said at last, adjusting himself next to her on the settee.

“No, I’m just as responsible,” she said blandly. “I responded to your advances on my own accord.”

He smiled at her. “Very well. Now, are you ready to tell me about your husband’s indiscretions?”

“I suppose. Although I left a lot out,” she said, frowning. “Be warned, this isn’t a pretty story. If you ask questions, it might lead to other not-so-pretty revelations.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a grin.

“All right. I found proof that an illegitimate child exists,” she said tactfully.