The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) (24 page)

Royce heard himself speaking, some of the words old and familiar. Words he’d used to lure various females to his bed. But this time, they weren’t just words. They were thoughts—thoughts entwined with feelings so powerful he thought he would explode from the pressure of it.

Liza drank in everything he said. She seemed to glow before his very eyes, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, down her jaw to her neck. Her skin was soft, with just a hint of moisture. The tension grew and thickened, and Royce’s body responded. He was mad for her, yearning with a passion he’d never felt. This was Liza, his friend, his conscience. And somehow this was right. They were meant to be together at this moment, in this way.

She twined her arms about his neck and pressed herself to him. “Royce. Please.”

She was so exciting—her sparkling eyes, soft lips, the warmth of her skin begged for his touch. His body yearned for her, his manhood hardening in response. He forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly in an attempt to remain in control, though he knew it was tenuous at best. What was he doing? This was Liza, who trusted him and believed in him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Which was why he had to protect her from Durham, who would hide her magic and never let her be herself. If she ever tasted true passion, she’d never accept anything less.

She sighed softly, her breath brushing Royce’s cheek. “Royce, please,” she said again, only with more urgency.

He didn’t give her time to rethink her decision. He bent to capture her lips with his, molding her body to him, his hand sliding down her back to cup her firm behind through her skirts. She was well made, strong and lithe, with a body capable of providing hours of enjoyment. And this would be her first time. The realization made him hesitate, but Liza wouldn’t allow it. She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed against him, her hips raking his. Desire, hot and immediate, poured through him. Royce swooped her into his arms and carried her to the small settee that graced the corner of the room.

Moments flew, moments of teasing and tasting, of tormenting pleasure so perfect that it was painful. He loosened the ribbon at her neck and pushed the material aside, baring her breasts. They were perfectly formed, each firm mound topped by a tight berry-colored nipple. Royce groaned and lowered his mouth to them, tasting first one and then the other.

Liza gasped, threading her fingers through his hair and arching against his mouth. Royce delighted in her shivered response and he trailed his fingers up her leg, pushing aside the voluminous skirts as he stroked the insides of her thighs. She shifted, opening for him as if divining his intent. Every move was so easy, so right.

He kissed her, touched her, showed her that she was more beautiful than words could express. He trembled in his eagerness to touch her, to caress her creamy skin, to feel the pressure of her most intimate places against his fingertips. He worshipped her lips, her slender throat as he loosened his waistband. Soon he was where he’d dreamed of being—between her thighs, her bared skin against his.

All he cared for in this world was lying before him, innocent and warm. She was his, by God. And he would prove it.

Yet despite the blood pounding in his body, despite a hunger so intense that he almost didn’t recognize himself, he came to her slowly, carefully.

She shuddered beneath him, lifting her hips instinctively. He poised on the brink, and he suddenly realized the implications of their actions. She was a virgin. If he took her now, honor decreed that he marry her. To his utter astonishment, the thought didn’t dim his need one bit. “Liza, we—”

She thrust upward, enclosing him with her strong legs, pressing herself around him. Royce reacted impulsively, pushing forward, burying himself deep within her. She cried out, a flicker of pain in her wide green eyes.

Royce captured her cry with a kiss, his hands smoothing, soothing. “Easy,” he murmured, stroking her softly. “Kiss me.”

She did, as hot and passionate in her response as he had been. Gradually, the tension on her face eased, and a deep moan sounded in her throat as she moved against him. Royce gently kissed her even as he thrust once more. Heat built and increased, and soon Liza was meeting him thrust for thrust, her body perfectly in tune to his. But of course it was—this was Liza, his best friend, his companion, his soul mate. Each movement was exquisite, almost painfully perfect. She arched against him, and he groaned with pleasure.

“Liza,” he gasped. “Stop moving. If you’ll just wait…”

She held still, pressed firmly against him, her legs wrapped about his waist. He pressed further, grinding himself tightly against her, worshipping her delicate neck with his mouth as he waited.

She gave a sudden gasp. “Royce!” She arched against him as waves of pleasure gripped her. Her reaction fueled his and he was soon lost as well, falling mindlessly over the edge.

Slowly his breath returned to normal. They were no longer on the settee, but the floor. Royce held her clasped to him, her head tucked against his shoulder, her arms about him. He didn’t move, suddenly afraid to destroy this perfect moment. For the first time in his entire life, he felt warm, safe, satiated, complete.

He tightened his arms about Liza, and she buried her face against his neck. He welcomed the warmth of her breath, holding her as her trembling subsided. Moments passed, the clock ticking away each second.

After a long moment, Liza sighed and pulled away. She peeped up at him with an uncertain smile that stole his heart all over again. “I believe I understand your fascination for this state,” she said in a husky voice.

He lifted up on his arm and looked down at her, aware of a rush of unusual feelings that made him want to hold her tightly and never let go. “You have only begun to understand the wonderment.”

A noise sounded in the hallway, and Liza sat upright. “Oh dear! That will be Poole.”

Royce didn’t question, but helped her to her feet. Once there, they stood awkwardly for a moment, then Liza managed a brittle smile as she began to adjust her clothing. Royce helped her silently, feeling the need to say something, but too full of feelings to give voice to his thoughts. Once she was back to normal, he began to adjust his own clothing. He was a little startled when she reached up and straightened his cravat.

In all the times he’d made love to women, none of them had ever helped him to dress. He looked down at her though all he could see was the top of her head as she smoothed his lapels in place.

“There!” she said brightly, stepping away. She didn’t meet his gaze, but stood there, looking adorably embarrassed, her hair still falling about her shoulders.

He retrieved some of her missing hairpins from the rug and handed them to her. “I didn’t know you could turn so many shades of red.”

Her blush deepened, and he impulsively bent and kissed her lips. “Put your hair up. We’ve things to do.”

“Oh. Yes. The dance lessons—”

“Why do you need to learn how to dance now? You should send a note to Durham as soon as possible.”

She slid the last hairpin into place. “And tell him what?”

“That you aren’t going to marry him.”

Her luminous gaze darkened. “Then who
am
I going to marry?”

For a stunned second, he couldn’t think. But then, from the very depths of his heart came the answer.
Me
. He wanted her to marry no one else. The words echoed in his head, growing louder by the second. But somehow, he couldn’t say them. This was Liza, the one woman above all others that he cherished, cared for…
loved
.

Wait a minute, he told his stunned mind. He cared for Liza, of course he did. But love? Real love?

Good God, he
did
love her. The realization left him reeling, and he found the settee with a groping gesture. Something seemed to be wrong with his knees, for they no longer supported him. He loved Liza with all his heart. But love was one thing…marriage—that was something else altogether.

Wasn’t it? He struggled to make his mouth work. “Liza, I—you…you can’t marry Durham.”

A glimmer of something flashed in her eyes. “Royce, I want to marry someone who is kind. And considerate. Someone with a steady character. Someone who will always be there for me, and with me. A partner. That’s what I want.”

Royce tried to digest this. He was many things…but kind? Considerate? When he thought of the way he’d used Liza in the past—confiding in her on so many unsavory topics—he could not find it in himself to call his behavior either kind or considerate. As for being steady in character…A sick feeling clenched his stomach, and he realized in that instant why he’d never attempted to secure Liza’s interest in all the years he’d known her—he wasn’t good enough.

He never had been.

She looked away, her lashes shadowing her eyes. “You…you aren’t speaking.”

He swallowed, drowning beneath so many unfamiliar feelings. “I—I can’t…” He shook his head, his throat closed. She deserved so much more than he was capable of being.

After a strained silence, she gave a soft, painful laugh. “Silence is an answer of a sort, I suppose.”

Royce raked a hand through his hair. He loved her, he really did. But…could he make her happy? What if he failed? Disappointed her in some way? He didn’t think he could bear it.

“Royce, don’t—” Her voice broke, and she bit her lip, closing her eyes tightly. She stepped away, swiping angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand. “You cannot come to see me anymore.”

“Liza, I—”

“If Durham proposes, I am going to accept. I hope you will wish me well.” She walked toward the door unsteadily. She placed her hand on the knob, then turned to look at him with tear-bright eyes. “Whatever happens…wherever you go, I wish
you
well.”

She ducked her head, then left, shutting the door almost silently.

Royce stared blankly ahead. It was almost too much to grasp. How long had he loved Liza? Days? Months? Or had it been years? Had he not been silently comparing every woman he knew to her? It was as if she’d always been in his heart, tucked away in a safe corner, waiting for the right time to reveal her true beauty.

But now that she had, he was caught…
was
he the man for her? All the years of protecting her came to the fore, and he realized that he was exactly the type of man he’d always warned her about. The realization did little to ease the questions pounding through his mind. All he knew for certain was that he loved her and couldn’t live without her.

He raked a hand through his hair and wondered dismally what the hell he was supposed to do next.

Chapter 8

There is so much to report from Lady Shelbourne’s Valentine’s Day ball that This Author scarcely knows where to begin. But do not worry if you were not present (or not invited.) There is no need to feel that one is not au courant when This Author takes such splendid notes.

Ah, Gentle Reader, read on….

L
ADY
W
HISTLEDOWN
’
S
S
OCIETY
P
APERS
,
16 F
EBRUARY
1814

T
he Shelbourne Valentine’s ball exceeded even Meg’s wildest expectations. By ten o’clock, waiting carriages lined the avenue in front of the house for almost a mile. Liza stayed with Meg for a short time in the front hall, issuing orders to servants and doing what she could to help. Of course, Meg was beside herself with excitement, especially since Shelbourne’s cousin Susannah had married the Earl of Renminster earlier that week in a surprising move that had shocked them all.

“Oh Liza,” Meg said for the hundredth time, “the Shelbourne name is set! Not only will it be a horrid squeeze, but I will have the felicity of being the first hostess to introduce Renminster and his new bride!”

“How lovely,” Liza said absently, thankful Royce hadn’t yet appeared. By relying on Lord Durham’s constant presence, she’d successfully avoided Royce since their last “lesson.” Oh, he’d tried to see her, but Liza had thought it best if she maintained a safe distance. Her heart could not take another beating. Besides, she was sure that, in time, Royce would forget all about her. He forgot about all his other “loves.”

The thought was so deflating that Liza had to blink back tears.

“Look, here’s Lord Durham yet again,” Meg said, glancing over her shoulder where the gentleman hovered. “He’s anxious to have you to himself.”

As soon as he caught Meg’s gaze, Durham approached. Dressed with tiresome gallantry in a black coat and a sober brown waistcoat, he bowed over Meg’s hand. “Lady Shelbourne, you look lovely this evening!”

Meg simpered. “So you’ve told me twice now. I begin to think you are flirting with me.”

“I never flirt,” he said somberly. “Especially not with a married woman.”

Meg’s smile disappeared. “Oh. Well. Lord Durham, why don’t you take Liza into the ballroom and try some of the cake? I heard the cake at the Prudhomme ball was somewhat stale, and I was determined that would not be the case here.”

Lord Durham looked inquiringly at Liza. All she wanted to do was go home and sip a cup of tea before her fireplace, confide all her woes to George, and perhaps indulge in a nice, refreshing spate of tears. But she could see that that was not to be.

“Along with you both!” Meg said, shooing them away.

Liza didn’t want to sit, and she didn’t want any cake. But apparently what she wanted was of no moment, for she soon found herself cozily installed in a chair near the refreshment table, a piece of cake before her.

Lord Durham sat beside her, talking of this and that, eventually trailing off into silence. He stared into the distance as if contemplating a weighty matter.

Liza watched him with some trepidation. He was going to ask to marry her, she just knew it. Dread weighted her shoulders, and she found she couldn’t think of a thing to say to stall off the inevitable.