Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) (10 page)

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Never, ever again.”

He pressed a kiss to her breast as he rolled away to lay flat on his back and watch the sky above. He caught up her hand again and held it tightly within his. “What will I do after the house party?”

She shaded her eyes with one arm, wondering the same thing. “There’s always another set of breasts, Windermere.”

And there would be other men for her too.

“True, but the rest of the lady matters, as you’ve just proved to me.” He kissed the back of her hand reverently once more. “I’ll return shortly.”

Esme lowered her arm from her eyes to watch him walk away, hitching his trousers up as he went and fastening them. Her heart skipped a beat. She would be sorry to lose him as a lover but it was inevitable. He needed a wife who could give him babies and she never dabbled with married men.

For an affair he was possibly perfect, but the rest she could never hope to have.

Eleven

Esme gritted her teeth a moment before responding to the insult her lover’s brother had just delivered very loudly to a crowded room. “Lord Avery, your compliments take my breath away.”

For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why Lord Avery Hill had taken a set against the world tonight, but he’d grown particularly cutting toward her in the last few minutes.

“Wasn’t a compliment,” Avery slurred, the effects of his indulgence in spirits very obvious in the way he formed words. “Dragons need slaying and my sword is at the ready, ill-tempered wench.”

The hovering crowd of guests sucked in a collective breath and the ladies began twittering behind their fans. Esme shook her head at their whispers. Avery was not always a nice man. Somewhat belligerent and entirely too sure his way was right, and they occasionally locked horns over his attitude that women were nothing more than disposable pleasures. Esme would weather whatever insults he threw out well enough, but the small crowd would remember every word he said and spread the news all over London.

 
“I’d say you fit that description better than I.” She studied Avery with growing annoyance. He had already offended three other ladies tonight, made a pass at more than one servant, and refused to take himself somewhere more private to continue his drinking.

And after such a satisfying ride with Windermere, and their tryst under the warm summer sun earlier, Avery’s attitude threatened to suck all the joy out of her day.

Unfortunately Windermere was nowhere to be found, and since Oswin and Lady Jillian appeared helpless to control Avery, Esme could see no choice but to step in and save the evening from total ruin. “If you could lead the others away,” she whispered to Lady Jillian. “You might leave him to me.”

Both Lady Jillian and the butler frowned at her request.

She smiled reassuringly to both. “I know exactly what to do with him. Trust me.”

Lady Jillian bit her lip a moment, torn but too timid to take charge herself. “You do not mind?”

“Never fear. I grew up around belligerent men.”

Jillian kissed her cheek. “I will owe you for this.”

“And I promise to collect one day,” she returned halfheartedly before she ushered Jillian and the milling guests toward the door. Best not to have Lord Avery utter any further scurrilous
opinions
on her character to others. If he didn’t like her, so be it. But why he chose tonight to tell the whole world was disappointing.

The butler hovered at the doorway, dragging his feet in leaving. “I should stay,” he offered.

The faithful retainer appeared so concerned that Esme shook her head firmly. Better to have the older man elsewhere in case Avery’s attitude worsened. “Make sure everyone else is comfortable, Oswin,” Esme advised, and then slowly closed the door in his face.

She knew how to handle men like Avery Hill. Her mother had died young and her brothers and father had been fond of drink in the years after. It had always been left to Esme to clean up the mess and right the furniture they’d knocked over as well as soothe ruffled feathers when she’d lived at home with them. Men often thought they were so clever, but a little gentle persuasion tended to go a long way.

She turned around and squared her shoulders. Avery followed her movements about the room through hooded eyes. He had made quite a mess and she straightened a few things back as she remembered them being positioned.

“Why are you still here?” He scowled. “Get out too. Stay away from me. I’m not going to poach on my brother’s preserve.”

Esme rolled her eyes at his contrary statements. “
As if that were possible
. A man of your appetites leaves me quite cold, I assure you.”

His face darkened with anger. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Say what you like to me, but I’ve always thought it preferable not to offend absolutely everyone at a house party when it’s only halfway done.” She smiled. “I sent the others away so you might enjoy keeping some friends for tomorrow and not completely embarrass your brother and poor sister.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Avery hissed. “Just because my sainted brother got under your skirts doesn’t mean you’re on your way to becoming mistress of this house.”

She burst out laughing at the mention of her fling with Windermere leading to a permanent situation between them. “Oh, my word, you must be foxed. I have a certain interest in your brother for the moment but I’ve no right or desire to keep him about for long, nor he me. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever entertained the idea before, but I do thank you for the amusement.”

“Harridan.”

She reached for the bottle at his side and lifted it to her nose. “Gin. How very common of you.”

“It does the job. Damn Oswin hid the wine cellar key from me again,” he grumbled, sprawling deeper into the chair, holding a silver tankard at a clumsy angle in his fingers. Avery was so far gone he hadn’t noticed he’d run out. A little more spirits in him and hopefully he’d pass out and that would be the end of him for the night. Esme grinned at the idea, steadied his hand, and refilled the tankard halfway.

Avery stared at the mug a moment. “My thanks. At last, a woman who knows what a man needs without having to talk a subject to death.”

When he lifted it to his lips to drink, a fair portion escaped to slide down his jaw and the chair beneath him. Esme shuddered as the cushion grew damp and ruined from his spillage. The chair, the pattern particularly, was one of her favorites. She might not be mistress of this house, but she appreciated the beauty around them more than Lord Avery Hill ever could.

“Such a mess again,” she chided. “Beyond last year’s efforts, indeed. I’ll never understand why Harriet put up with you. She should have found someone who wouldn’t embarrass her with the way you go on.”

“I fuck well.” Avery saluted her with his tankard. “Good luck to her finding a replacement that makes her scream like I can in bed.”

For added clarity, he lewdly grabbed his groin with his spare hand, but it was easy to tell that what lay beneath his clothing was in no condition to live up to his boast.

“I’m sure there will be dozens of men who vie for her attention when we return to London,” she replied in a bored tone but watched him for a reaction. He winced and then wiped the expression clean. Esme sat across from him. “But is that all you do with her?”

Avery swallowed a large mouthful and then wiped his sleeve across his lips. “I’ve had dozens of women in my bed. They’ve never complained about my techniques.”

She knew his history and of his skill with women, thanks to Harriet’s shared confidences. “They’ve little chance of complaining since after sharing your bed, you barely see any of them again,” she muttered under her breath. “But you always kept coming back to Harriet before she could find someone better.”

He squinted as if he’d stopped listening. “Eh?”

“Oh, nothing.” She would laugh aloud at how slow-witted Avery was under the influence of spirits, but this was the man her best friend had fallen for. If he had any sense, he’d be trying to mend fences with Harriet rather than drowning his sorrows that he’d lost her through his own actions. The safest thing for all concerned was to get him into his own bed, alone, and perhaps tomorrow he’d be a touch more civilized, at least enough to apologize to those other offended ladies. “Have you had enough?”

“Keep out of my affairs.” Avery hugged his tankard against his chest, slopping more onto his shirt. He glared into the cup, and then drained every last drop in one swallow. Afterward, he swayed forward to show her the empty tankard. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Is that so?” From years of Harriet’s confidences and Esme’s own observations, she knew he actually couldn’t. Her plan was working so well. “Well then, let me refill that for you, my lord, and you can prove to me how fine a gentleman you really are.”

She refilled the tankard to the brim and then sat back to watch him drink in peace. All too soon the man could barely find his mouth.

He jerked upright suddenly. “Do you know what that woman wants?”

His sudden question surprised her, but Esme assumed “that woman” referred to her friend Harriet. “She wants what we all want.”

“Excitement. A bit of fun.” He scowled. “I gave her a damn good time.”

Esme shook her head. “You haven’t a clue about women, do you?”

He stared, and then smoothed his damn shirtfront. “More of an idea than my sainted brother.”

“Now,
that
is where you are wrong.” She sighed. “All we want is a man who will put our needs first.”

“There, you see,” he said with a renewed burst of energy. “I always wait for her.”

Of course his mind ran to sex but that wasn’t what she’d meant. “I’m not speaking of intimacy, but I fear you are too blinded by drink to understand the difference at the moment.”

He lurched toward her, falling to his knees in his haste. “Tell me.”

Esme pushed him away with the tips of her fingers and he collapsed onto the floor in an untidy heap.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Gave her every pleasure I could think of.”

He groaned and rolled away, curling onto his side, almost in a ball, resting his head on his arm like the most innocent babe. But this man wasn’t at all innocent and he hardly deserved her sympathy for the way he lived his life.

Esme prodded his shoulder with the toe of her shoe after a long moment of silence from him and received no response. She sat back and regarded him sadly. “Fool. All she wanted was your undivided attention.”

He snored suddenly and her heart ached for Harriet. She knew very well what her friend had wanted most of all and had given up. What she wanted would never be possible with Avery unless he was prepared to change his life completely. “She wanted your love, Avery. That is all a woman really needs to be happy.”

Twelve

“How the hell did this happen?” Richard shook his head in disgust as he stared at the body at his feet. His brother was passed out and drooling on the damn rug in the little sitting room just off the ballroom.

An appalling thought struck him. His brother wasn’t a good drunk. Too mouthy by far, too rude to all and sundry. Richard had been occupied in the stables for hours so he’d have had plenty of time to cause trouble. “Oh God. Do I need to make amends to anyone in particular tonight?”

The butler winced. “He spoke rudely to several ladies until Lady Heathcote intervened. Lady Jillian has smoothed the other ladies’ ruffled feathers I believe but an apology from your brother might be in order.”

Richard winced. Esme took offense quite easily to the things he said and he didn’t want to imagine her mood over his brother’s rudeness. An upset would affect his hopes for the rest of the house party. “I’ll speak to Lady Heathcote and the others myself tonight.”

“Actually, when the countess left your brother, she didn’t seem particularly offended by events,” Oswin remarked. “She merely asked me to lock him in as he was and to wait for your instructions. She returned to the other guests quite happily, I feel. When I saw her last, she was laughing with Mr. Hammond on the terrace.”

Unease filled him at the idea of Esme and Hammond laughing together while he’d been stuck out in the stables attending to urgent estate business. He studied his brother and then glanced at the clock. Almost two in the morning and the house party was only just winding down for the night. The whole time he’d been in the stables, he hadn’t been imagining Esme dealing with his brother, or smiling and laughing with someone else. He’d foolishly hoped she’d been wondering where he’d gone.

His brother snored on, uncaring for the difficult position he was likely in. Richard wasn’t sure what was going on with Avery, but he’d have to get him upstairs and into his bed. He hoped there wasn’t a woman waiting because Avery was in no condition to make any sort of good impression. “Do you know who is sharing my brother’s bed at the moment?”

The butler nervously glanced around. “I don’t believe there is anyone this year.”

Richard frowned. “Surely Lady Ames?”

“Not currently.” The butler dug a finger beneath his neckcloth, clearly discomforted by the topic of their discussion.

It was accepted there was often more than one woman sneaking from his brother’s bed at any time of the day or night. Until now, Richard had never needed to discuss those peculiarities with his butler.