Love With an Improper Stranger (15 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Another package is
just arrived for you, Miss Teversham.”  Jennings strolled into the sitting room of her private chamber, set a beribboned box on the table, and bowed.  “And Her Grace asks you to join her in her quarters, if you will permit me to show you the way.”

“Oh, what could it be now?”  Lenore groaned, as she glanced at the mountain of parcels, which contained all manner of gowns, slippers, unmentionables, outerwear, and accessories.  Given Her Grace’s impeccable taste, Lenore and Lucilla had spent an enormous sum of money, debts she feared she might never be able to repay, as she had no idea how much her father saved for their dowries.  “And thank you, Jennings.  I shall follow you, at once.”

After depositing her embroidery on the ottoman, she stood, shook out the skirts of her violet half-mourning gown, and smoothed her hair.  Well nigh dragging her heels, she stepped into the hall, trailing in the butler’s wake.  In the gallery, which boasted a sea of impressive paintings of Elliotts past, she made a face at Blake’s portrait and then stuck out her tongue at his image.  Yes, it was a childish gesture, but she cared not, as he seemed blithely indifferent to her concerns.

For every logical argument she leveled, regarding the numerous persuasive reasons she should not marry a duke, her stubborn naval captain persisted in his courtship.  And every time she raised the alarm, he ignored, and in some instances made sport of, her apprehension.  Yet she could not disregard the vast chasm separating his regal sphere from her rather pedestrian existence.

At a double-door portal, Jennings paused, opened an oak panel, and dipped his chin.  When she crossed the threshold, she beheld splendor unlike any she had ever witnessed.

Crisp white panels featuring wall accents of powder blue enclosed an elegant outer apartment.  Matching furnishings of alternating damask and velvet, including two Hepplewhite chairs and a coordinating sofa, conveyed wealth and prestige, as well as a warm and welcoming sanctuary.  And a Palladian window, festooned in coordinating dressings of pale blue silk and crisp white taffeta, with gold tassels and gilt carved supports, occupied an entire wall, which filled the space with saffron rays of sunshine.

The inner enclave boasted the largest four-poster she had ever seen.  Hand-carved crest rails adorned with ribbons and drapery marked the head and footboard, and reeded finials crowned each post.  The counterpane and pillowcases were done in sapphire silk trimmed in cream piping.  A vanity and escritoire sat at either side of the huge bed, and a closet in one corner contained an equally resplendent armoire.

“Ah, there you are, my dear.”  Her Grace smiled, as she glanced at a tall and impeccably garbed gentleman.  “Lenore, may I present Thomas Hope, a personal friend of the family and one of London’s most prestigious interior designers.”  To the stranger, Sarah said, “Thomas, this is my successor, Miss Lenore Teversham, soon to be Her Grace, the duchess of Rylan, and Blake’s wife.”

At such an introduction, Lenore flinched.

“Felicitations, Miss Teversham.”  He dipped his chin.  “Indeed, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope I may be of assistance.  As Her Grace has engaged my services to create a unique haven to suit your tastes, have you a vision for your accommodation, or do you prefer I make recommendations for various alterations?”

The room seemed to spin out of control, imaginary walls enveloped her, and the floor shifted beneath her feet, as his words echoed in her brain.  Dizzy with a brutal mix of confusion and consternation, Lenore stumbled in retreat.  Unusually warm, she wiped her brow, and she gasped for air, as a heavy weight settled on her chest.  Stubbing her toe on the thick carpet, she whimpered, turned, and ran from the bewildering scene, as Her Grace called to Lenore.

As she retraced her earlier steps, Lenore broke into a sprint, rounded a corner, and slammed into Lucilla.

“Oh, sister, I was just coming to find you.  Look what Blake brought me.”  With a chuckle, Lucy juggled a large, leather-bound tome in her grasp.  “It is a concise study of crustaceans.”  She flipped through the pages.  “Are the illustrations not lovely?  Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?”

“How many books is that, to date?”  And why would her nemesis not stop buying things?  “Wait a minute.  Is Blake in residence?”

“His Grace is in his study, and I have lost count of the gifts he has generously bequeathed.”  With a squeal of delight, Lucy hugged the volume.  “Is it not rude to total such presents, when he has asked for nothing in return?  And I am for my chamber to spend the remains of the day reading on a new favorite topic.”

How wrong was Lucilla?  Although Blake had made no proposals to the younger Teversham, to Lenore he had made numerous illicit propositions, some which stretched the limits of her imagination and, she suspected, her physical abilities, and all of which hinged on what he viewed as their inevitable nuptials.

“By all means, enjoy your ill-gotten gain.”  Riding a crest of high dudgeon, Lenore descended the grand staircase, which spread wide as it spilled into the massive foyer.  Veering left, she traversed another passage until she perched at another threshold.  For a few seconds, she mulled whether or not to knock.  As her courage faltered, a series of lengthy, passionate kisses flashed before her eyes, and she slumped forward.

Torn between fledgling desire and the chill of trepidation, she gazed at her new slippers and wiggled her toes.  To Blake, she owed everything covering her body, and that realization inspired soothing warmth and delicious shivers, at the same time, much to her chagrin.  So what would she gain with a confrontation?

As she put her hand on the knob and twisted, she knew exactly what she needed from her captain.  With no illusions of grandeur or successful rebellion, she barged into his domain and found him before the hearth, staring into the flames.

“Am I interrupting anything of importance?”  Swallowing her apprehension, she closed the door behind her.  As he always did, he faced her, his expression softened, he extended his arms and flicked his fingers, and she marched straight into his embrace.

“Ah, lovely Lenore, you interrupt nothing, as I persist in a constant condition of yearning for you, when I am without you.”  As he pressed his lips to her forehead, he gave her a gentle squeeze.  “You have no idea how I treasure coming home to you.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, you are correct.”  Nuzzling his chest, she sighed.  “I cannot fathom why you want me, when I am sure the
ton
is littered with beautiful, accomplished women who would kill to be your duchess.”

“In that you state the truth, but none compare with you, and that is why I will have you.”  With a playful nudge, he teased her, until she lifted her chin.  When he set his mouth to hers, Lenore parted his tempting flesh with her tongue and savored the hint of brandy as he met her, measure for measure.  Familiar heat invested her muscles, and she relaxed.

Just then, Her Grace rushed into the study, and the tension returned.  “Upon my word, Lenore.  Are you all right?”

Although Lenore would have preferred to retreat from Blake’s hold, he kept her firmly in his grasp.  Making no attempt to conceal the fact that they had been engaged in a tryst, he rested a palm to her hip, in a scandalous display of intimacy, as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

“What is it, Mama?”  The frustration in his voice rang clear as a bell.  “What do you want?”

“Do not take that tone with me, Blake.”  Sarah arched a brow.  “Per your instructions, I made an appointment with Thomas Hope, in order to redecorate the rooms, after the staff removes my belongings, while we celebrate the holidays on Portsea Island.  But Lenore panicked and fled.  Did you not apprise her of our plans?”

He tensed.  “I may have overlooked that small detail.”

“You call that a small detail?”  As it dawned on her that he now conspired with his mother, Lenore gulped, and her knees buckled, but her audacious host caught her.  “And I have not agreed to marry you.”

“A mere triviality.”  Again he repudiated her hesitance, and he frowned, as she squirmed, but still he would not release her.  “Mama and I discussed it, and we feel the moment is right for her to vacate her suite, so we can prepare it for you.”

“Indeed, it was my notion.”  The duchess nodded with enthusiasm.  “My dear friend Elizabeth, the dowager viscountess of Wainsbrough, did the same thing prior to Dirk and Rebecca’s wedding, and it made the transition so convenient.”

“Surrendering your personal accommodations to me is convenient?”  Lenore gave vent to a cry of exasperation.  “Does no one listen to me?  Am I speaking a foreign language?  I am but the daughter of a career military man.  I am not out, and I have never had a season.”  Then something the duchess said rang in Lenore’s ears.  “Wait a minute.  Did you say we are to celebrate the holidays on Portsea Island?”

“But of course.”  Her handsome antagonist grinned, as he chucked her chin.  “Dalton and Daphne have invited the whole family to join them at Courtenay Hall, and I sent our acceptance.”

“I thought you wanted to journey to Pemberton?”  Lenore wriggled free and paced.  “Did you not proclaim your preference for a country Christmas?”

“I did, and we will travel to the backwater, but not the original destination.”  Blake glanced at his mother.  “As I had second thoughts.”

“Why?”  Oh, no.  The queasy sensation in her belly resurfaced with a vengeance.  “What is wrong with your first itinerary?”

“I should finalize the dinner menu.”  Sarah withdrew but paused at the threshold.  “And when you are ready, Thomas left a selection of swatches for your perusal.”  Before Lenore could object, Her Grace exited the scene.

“Blake, what are you not telling me?”  Grabbing fistfuls of his lapels, she held on for dear life.  “You are keeping something from me.”

“Lenore, calm yourself.”  Clutching her wrist, he dragged her to the side table, poured a brandy and a healthy portion of coconut rum, passed her a drink, and led her to the matching high back chairs near the fireplace.  “Weigh your anchor.”

Without protest, she obeyed and then quaffed half the contents of her glass.

“Is this not nice?”  Blake peered at her and winked.  “I usually adjourn to my study prior to dinner, to savor a refreshing beverage and relax.  It would please me if you would join me on a regular basis.”  Assessing his fingernails, he huffed a breath.  “Some might call my routine rather boring, but I find it quite comforting.”

“Oh, I could not agree more.”  In fact, Lenore was an unashamed creature of habit, and she found solace in her reliable schedule.  How remarkable it was that she shared something in common with Blake.  “And that sounds lovely.”

“Also, once the weather improves, I often take long walks in the park.”  He scrutinized the toe of his boot.  “Perhaps you might accompany me, from time to time.”

“Strange, I would have guessed you preferred to ride the beast that trampled my favorite hat.”  She lamented the loss of the simple accessory, as it was a gift from her father.  “But I should be too delighted to partner you, as I am rather fond of long walks.”

“Then I look forward to our ventures.”  Blake sipped his amber liquor and averted his stare.  “And we depart for Portsea Island in the morning.”

“What?”  Lenore’s mind raced.  “Suppose Uncle Samuel arrives while we are gone?”

“I shall leave instructions with the staff to extend my hospitality to your relation.”  In that instant, he reached for her hand.  “And he shall remain here, as my guest, given we must negotiate the marriage contract and supervise the distribution of your father’s estate.”

And so they came full circle.

“Blake, what will you do, should I decide to remain unwed?”  Somehow, she had to make him acknowledge her right to decline his offer.  “I will not expose you to society’s ridicule.”

“Do not worry about me, as I benefit from rank.”  Blake raised his crystal balloon in toast and cast her a devilish smile.  “No matter what they think of me, the snobs must bow whenever I enter the room, and they will do the same for you.”  To her surprise, he drew her from her seat and patted his lap.  For a second, she dawdled, as his expression dared her to accept his silent challenge.  Then she sidled past his legs and eased into position.  “There, now.  Is this so bad?”

“Actually, it is nice.”  Without urging, she rested her head to his chest, and he rubbed her shoulders.  “You make everything seem so simple, but we must consider the reality of my upbringing.  I am unprepared to assume the duties of your duchess.”