Shayla Black (12 page)

“
Getting started is an expensive proposition.” There was no objection in Cropthorne’s voice, just fact.

“
With limitless gains to be had. I’ve hired a brilliant engineer. He has a revolutionary engine design that far outclasses anything currently in use.”

“
Hmmm.”

“
The land is nearly secured, just awaiting funds.” And Maddie’s agreement to be his wife. “I’ve gained the Royal assent necessary, had the parcels surveyed and the track designed using the latest technology.”

“
Impressive,” he said without sounding impressed at all.

Refusing to be put off, Brock continued, “Rail travel is developing now. People will make money, exponential returns on their investments, I believe.”

“
Why me?”

“
After the unfortunate incident with the mines, I thought you might be looking for a lucrative investment.”

A cynical smile tugged at the corners of Cropthorne’s wide mouth. “How did you hear about that? Damn, I tried like the devil to keep it quiet.”

Brock shrugged. It was his turn to smile. “Let’s just say I make it my business to learn these things.” It was one reason making money came more easily to him than most.

“
I’ll think on it,” Cropthorne said finally.

Holding in a sigh, Brock produced a card and handed it to the other man. He supposed any answer other than a flat refusal had promise. “Call upon me when you decide, but it must be soon. We have competition. I want to start quickly.”

Hopeful, Brock left the room to seek Maddie. She wasn’t hard to spot, dressed in such an unusual shade. Looking around, Brock noted with pride she was the only woman in the room who could carry such a color. The rest had to settle for insipid pastels and pray the color didn’t overpower them.

Beside Maddie stood a woman, tall with chestnut hair, wearing one of the aforementioned pale shades he disliked. The two women exchanged words, an argument from the look of Maddie’s tense profile. He edged closer, certain she had not yet spotted him.

“
In under an hour, you have become the subject for gossip,” hissed the other woman. “Lady Litchfield looked askance at me. You know if she cuts me, my season will be ruined. Ruined, I tell you! Colin would be shuddering in his very grave if he could see this travesty.”

Brock saw Maddie glare at the other woman. “Roberta, Lady Litchfield wounds people every season. You shall not be the last, I am sure. As for your brother, he has been gone for three years. You couldn’t possibly believe his opinion—or yours—would sway anything I do now.”

“
I shouldn’t expect so, given the fact you hardly cared for his good opinion while he lived. As his sister, I was often privy to the intimate details of his life. I know you never cared for him,” the thin woman hurled in accusation.

Brock stood frozen in place. Was it possible Maddie had not loved Sedgewick? If so, why the hell had she married the bastard, instead of awaiting his own return?
Position
, he reminded himself. A title.
Blue blood
.

“
How much did you care for Wallace before his death, Roberta?” challenged Maddie.

“
My late husband was twice my age and the match was arranged. Hardly the same thing at all. You only married Colin because you wanted to be a viscountess.”

Maddie said nothing. The sinking stone of dread in his stomach told Brock that Lady Dudley’s accusation held true.

Colin’s sister looked ready to stomp her feet in frustration. “Why did you bring Mr. Taylor here? He is completely beneath the Sedgewick name, which you still bear. Unless...Mr. Taylor is investing on your behalf. And you’ve…what? Brought him here as a favor for growing your funds? To be sure, everyone wants his financial advice, but not his society.”

Brock gritted his teeth.

“
It might interest you to know that Mr. Taylor is highly intelligent and excellent with conversation beyond the financial. In fact, I believe he spoke to Cropthorne earlier this evening.” Maddie smiled tightly.” But I came here to see Lady Moore, and my actions are none your affair.”

Brock blinked and stared. Despite the difficult position he put her in, the potent mixture of blame and lust brewing between them, she had
defended him
to her shrewish sister-in-law. She had found some of his good qualities. That warmed something deep in his chest.

“
Do y-you have feelings for the man?” She cocked a vicious brow. “He was a servant. Your servant once. This reflects badly on the Sedgewick reputation, on me.”

“
You seem to think everything is about you, Roberta. You might be surprised to learn that isn’t so.”

On that stinging note, Maddie turned from the woman and nearly walked into him. Brock steadied her with gentle hands, wishing he could pull her into his arms in front of everyone, protect her and express his gratitude.

“
I want to leave.” Maddie clutched his arm, her pale complexion and lips tight.

“
Of course,” he murmured, truly studying her. He frowned at her heavy lids and the dark smudges beneath her pale gray eyes that had not been there last week. “You look exhausted.”

She gave him a tired laugh. “Roberta has that effect on me.”

As they gathered their cloaks and departed, he replayed the incident in his head. Did Maddie indeed have feelings for him? Perhaps so. Before tonight, he would have wondered how he could use those to his advantage. He certainly would have stifled any urge he had to protect Maddie from the very family she had abandoned him for and deemed good enough to marry into.

Now...he had a healthy urge to verbally pound Lady Dudley into the highly polished dance floor. Which told him that he cared about Maddie, as well. As he led her away from the party, Brock couldn’t help but wonder, where did that leave them now?

#

Kent Wainwright, Viscount Belwick, stared at Lady Dudley as she watched Brock Taylor and his lady leave the ball. Roberta’s full-lipped pout more than hinted at her displeasure. He smiled as she tossed her head in agitation, sending the strands of her glossy dark hair fluttering around her delicate profile. If anyone had ever looked ready to talk, it was Lady Dudley.

He inched back to approach her from behind, then leaned in to whisper, “Shocking, isn’t it?”

Roberta whirled to face him. “Pardon me? Oh, Lord Belwick. I did not see you there.”

“
Not at all.” He took her hand and brought it just short of his lips. “I said, isn’t Brock Taylor’s presence at a
ton
event like this shocking?”

“
Exactly what I told my sister-in-law. Does she listen? Of course not! She hardly cares how I shall be talked about.”

Ah, so Brock’s lady was Madeline Sedgewick. Interesting, indeed. Rumor had it Taylor used to work for Lady Madeline’s father, and that Taylor had been dismissed without reference. At the time, he had hardly paid attention, for he had never imagined a mere stable hand would ever be a competitor to open England to railroads.

Thank God, he never forgot gossip entirely. One never knew when such tidbits were useful. Or people, for that matter, he thought, staring at Roberta. Given her connection to Lady Wolcott, and by association Brock Taylor, he might do well to see just how much she knew. And since gossip had it that Lady Dudley had taken more than one lover in recent months, he saw no reason not to approach the widow.

“
Lady Wolcott is indeed inconsiderate not to take your feelings into account.”

Tears pooled in the woman’s hazel eyes. “Completely!”

“
Do not upset yourself,” he crooned, producing a handkerchief.

Lady Dudley wiped her eyes and nose with the scrap of linen. When she would have handed it back to him with her thanks, Belwick held a hand of protest aloft.

“
Keep it, fair lady.” He dropped his voice an octave. “You may return it to me when I call tomorrow. Perhaps we can talk more then?”

Roberta’s gaze flashed across his face. Her inviting smile was easy to read. Belwick held in a sigh. Lady Dudley was an attractive, though tiresome, woman. Still, he could sacrifice a few nights in her bed for the potential to make a fortune if she helped him to eliminate the competition.

CHAPTER SIX

Brock entered the cottage the following midnight, wearing stunning evening black, his cravat askew, and a gleam in his eye. Tonight, he seemed formidable. Hungry. The impact of his presence made Maddie shiver. Then again, Brock had always affected her, even when he had been a servant with daring ideas and big dreams of wealth.

He paused in the doorway. She watched silently, heart beating in a heavy thud. The power of his reckless grins and drugging kisses swept over her. And the memories of their last night here together. God, they were impossible to forget. She closed her eyes, praying for the strength to resist him. But wanting him came dangerously easy. Heady anticipation coursed through her when he closed the door with a quiet click and stepped into the flickering candlelight.

He looked ready to deliver a devastating smile, a wicked word, and a touch designed to make her melt in surrender. Gone was the ardent though awkward lover she had known in Ashdown Manor’s stables. The bliss he had shown her that one stolen tumble in the hay had been of the heart, a joining of souls. The pleasure of flesh had been but a brief warmth. But what he had made her feel mere nights ago... She could scarcely find words to describe those hot, compelling sensations. She only knew two things: If she again shared Brock’s bed he could unleash a deluge of desire unlike anything she had ever dreamed, and few realizations had ever frightened her more.

Drawing in an uneven breath, Maddie fought for control as she rose from her oversized chair on trembling legs and greeted him with a seductive smile. “Hello, Brock. I’m glad you have come.”

“
Good evening, Maddie. Champagne?” he asked, lifting a bottle she had not previously noticed up for her inspection.

She frowned. “We have no society here.”

“
Must there be?” he asked, sauntering forward until the golden candlelight caressed his dexterous hands and tapered fingers as they worked at the cork.

“
One usually drinks champagne at social events.”

His reckless grin appeared with a flash of white teeth. “Why wait to enjoy the best?”

Maddie had no real answer for that as the cork gave way with a resounding pop in the nearly silent room. Foam bubbled over the top of the bottle and splashed onto the breakfast table in a cool puddle. Brock laughed. The hearty sound resonated all through her body and settled uncomfortably between her legs.

From his interior coat pockets, Brock withdrew two fine crystal glasses and filled them with the pale, potent brew, then handed her one. “What shall we drink to, interesting wagers?”

Maddie’s fingers curled around the crystal, wondering if the man knew how to be anything but audacious. Here he was, in the thick of the night, visiting his would-be mistress whom he had no intent to make love to. He sipped champagne without society and sported a too-sexy grin, while reducing the most important circumstance in her life to a mere wager.

She had known he was different from the first time they had spoken. A week after he had come to work at Ashdown Manor, her father had informed her she would have a season that year. With his shaking finger and stern countenance, he had made it clear that he expected her to marry well.

Nervous and fearful, Maddie had sought refuge outdoors, on her mare’s back. Unfortunately, thunder and twilight had proven too much for her skittish horse. The mare had reared at the sharp crack and sent her hurtling to the ground. Brock had reached her first. He’d been so handsome and solicitous, setting her naïve heart racing. He had quickly ascertained that she was not hurt, made light of the fall, and used his words to ease her embarrassment. For the next three months, she had been love struck.

Shaking away the bittersweet memory, she found Brock still awaiting a toast. Summoning every ounce of brazenness she possessed, she stepped closer with a sway of her hips and looked directly into his eyes, whispering, “Why drink to wagers when you can toast pleasure?”

Without another word, Maddie lifted the glass to her lips and emptied it, pressing her thigh to his. She prayed it roused him, for the visceral contact did irrepressible things to her pulse.

The champagne sluiced down her throat in a tangy slide of effervesce. Moments later, it warmed her belly. And the warmth spread to all parts of her body, most especially to their nuzzling thighs. Brock’s heated gaze only served to make her aware of their seclusion, of him.

“
Yes,” he murmured, his gaze intent on her mouth. “I never refuse drinking to pleasure.”

Brock threw his head back and gulped the liquid down. Maddie watched the thick column of his throat working, surrounded by the loosened cravat of snowy white. The room felt much too warm as a new flush of awareness came over her. Now that they had drunk to pleasure, would he take her to the bed upstairs and give her a night full of it?