Текст книги "An Accidental Affair"
Автор книги: Heather Boyd
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AN ACCIDENTAL AFFAIR
by
Heather Boyd
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
AN ACCIDENTAL AFFAIR
Copyright 2014 by Heather Boyd
Published March 2014
LLD Press
ISBN: 978-0-9875614-7-3
Edited by Anne Victory
Cover Design by Heather Boyd
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
For more information visit:
www.heather-boyd.com
London’s ballrooms and bedrooms thrive on scandal and decadent pleasure and the summer of 1814 will be no exception for the Distinguished Rogues in Heather Boyd’s latest Regency romance.
An Accidental Affair
Widowed beauty, Arabella Lawson, Lady Farnsworth, knows the value of independence after being trapped in a marriage that left her unfulfilled. Although she longs for a lover at last, she’s expected to chaperone her flirtatious niece during her first season. However, given the way the girl keeps disappearing every chance she gets, there is little hope of a good or speedy result. While searching for her charge yet again, she blunders into one of Lord Rothwell’s scandalous assignations. This time it’s Arabella’s turn to be on the receiving end of his hungry kisses, and she’s far from prepared to make the most of the opportunity.
Gossip may paint Merrick Bishop, the Earl of Rothwell, as a notorious scoundrel when it comes to women, but this season his intentions are honorable. Duty bound to marry, he’s determined to discreetly court an open-minded bride and prove the gossipmongers wrong by being on his very best behavior… until in his frustration, he mistakenly kisses the wrong lady and discovers that everything about the encounter feels so very right. Merrick never once believed he had a chance with shy Arabella, and when the unthinkable happens, she turns to him not for an affair or hopes of marriage but for his friendship and protection from her own family.
Can a rogue with a reputation for breaking hearts convince a widow who only hopes for an affair that their feelings are not only the stirrings of desire but the beginnings of the deepest and truest love?
DEDICATION
For Crystal.
Because you made me want to write this story so very badly.
Thank you for your continued support and generosity.
CHAPTER ONE
Being good was a damned nuisance. Merrick Bishop, Lord Rothwell, steered Lady Harrison away from curious onlookers for a moment’s privacy.
When they were alone and safe from prying eyes, Louisa’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I thought you came to my ball to further your search for a wife, Rothwell?”
“I did.” He sighed at her suggestion that he was after more than just information from her tonight. Louisa might be very lovely and have curves enough to tempt a man away from honorable intentions, but she had connections he needed to make use of first. Merrick wanted a wife this season, not a potential scandal. He’d put the decision off long enough. He was thirty and at an age when the future, not just his but others, preyed on his mind. “There is still much you can tell me about my quarry. What did you discover?”
She smiled at him fondly and ran her hands over his forearms. “A pity it must be so, but I agree it is high time you married. With your connections and wealth you should have had even the most cautious of fathers lining up to offer up their daughters for marriage to you by now.”
He frowned. “That has not been my experience. I only need one.” If he wanted to find himself the right sort of wife, then he needed access to information about the candidates and their families before he approached them. Louisa had her ear in the right circles, and the wrong ones too. Merrick cast an anxious glance along the hall, hoping no one was lingering close enough to overhear their conversation. He didn’t want to ruin what he’d started before he’d truly begun. “Where is your husband tonight?”
“Oh, the card room, I imagine. You know how he is when there are high stakes involved. Except”—her brow furrowed and her head turned toward the hall door—“he did seem rather interested in the guest list, so I think he may have his eye on someone I invited tonight. I do hope it’s not one of your possibilities.”
Merrick studied her face, wondering if Louisa had it in her to be the least bit jealous of another woman. “Does that disturb you? That he might be meeting with a lover of his own even now?”
She made a face and then laughed. “Only if he chooses someone I dislike. I do not like to share with my enemies.”
He laughed along with her, but he wasn’t the least bit amused. Marriage was a serious business. When he found the right woman, Merrick would not share. He knew his own mind well enough to believe that when he found a woman who matched his criteria and married her, he would be entirely possessive about her company. “Tell me.”
Louisa’s gaze softened. “It is as you feared.”
He cursed under his breath. “Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” She frowned. “The old rumors about your father’s frequent dalliances are circulating again, as well as whispers of your own more recent affair with that dreadful actress. I warned you anyone who named herself after fruit would be trouble. But she has cried so convincingly over the loss of your affection and everyone thinks you were a monster to her.”
Merrick scowled at the memory of his last affair with Josephine Peach. He was not sorry to have ended things as abruptly as he had. “I found her in bed with not one but two grubby stage hands when she’d claimed to be indisposed for dinner. I brought her flowers for heavens sake to brighten her bloody room.”
“Well, she is an actress and they do lie for a living.” Louisa shrugged. “Couple that with your new interest in balls and even attending the odd picnic, and your behavior has taken on a wholly different light than what you wished for. I imagine every father with a daughter fresh to the marriage mart is watching you closely, and they don’t believe you intend to marry. It’s no wonder there’s a chill greeting you.”
Merrick slumped against the wall. “I’m nothing like my father.”
“I know. We’ve been friends a long time and that is why you have me on your side. I’ll help ease your way into their good graces, though I’m not sure how much good it will do. You’ll have to prove you have honorable intentions, at least for a while.” Lady Harrison eased closer, her hands caressing his chest fleetingly. “So, the Howard chit is rumored to prefer books to balls, and there is Lady Cecily, who seems meek and mild at first glance, but she has more spirit than most beneath the well-polished exterior.”
She paused for a moment, thinking. “You also asked about Miss Milne’s family. Her father has built a reputation as a shrewd businessman, thanks in no small part to the weight of his pocketbook, though that also makes her less appealing when compared to other young ladies coming out this year. The girl is quiet but always the first to supper. Nerves, I expect. Some women eat when they are anxious. She will regret that later in life, I believe.”
Merrick nodded. “The Howard girl clings to her mama’s skirts at balls and will not leave her side, so we have not spoken more than a few words.” He would never consider Lady Cecily, though he did not mention that to Lady Harrison because he didn’t care to fuel the gossips as to his reasons. Miss Milne was a possibility, though with her common background and lesser connections, she had not been invited to tonight’s ball. Louisa’s remarks about her appetite did explain why he could never find her at other events she attended though. He’d avoided the supper room in the hopes of striking up conversation away from prying eyes. He wasn’t keen to single out any one woman yet, but if he wanted to speak with Miss Milne, he was looking for her in the wrong places. “Thank you for the information.”
“It must be rather tedious to court a proper girl, given your past preference for naughtiness. Everyone expects you to continue as you always have, and there have been more than a few long faces this season, I can tell you.” Louisa’s gloved fingers curled around his. “You should stick to your own kind, Rothwell. You want a wife with an adventurous manner, not a frumpy mouse who’ll clear the sideboard in one sitting. I think Lady Cecily deserves a longer look. She has come into her own in terms of fashion, thanks to her aunt’s excellent influence. If you would simply tell me your exact requirements the pain might be done already. You’re holding back something, I can tell. If I knew all it might make finding the right wife for you easier. I hate to see you unhappy and I know just the way to make you smile again.”
Her hand slipped lower to brush across his groin, tempting him away from his plans for the night. A romp with Louisa would do his body good, though getting caught in an affair, no matter how fleeting, was the surest way to lose ground. The ball underway was in part a way to help him find a wife. He had spoken with Lady Mary tonight, though he still had doubts they would suit. Her mother and father had seemed ill at ease when he joined them, almost frightened, which he found utterly ridiculous. He did not make a habit of seducing virgins, though it was highly likely he would end up married to one. Observing Miss Milne’s behavior around others would require planning on his part and would await another evening.
“What I want precisely is my business to know.” Merrick eased back from Louisa, offering an apologetic smile. “I do appreciate whatever advice you can offer, my dear.”
She pouted. “Whoever you marry had better deserve your skills in the bedchamber. You will find you sacrifice much freedom in a marriage.”
“That is true.” And it was also not. The lady he married would be the one to sacrifice much. The rumors of his father’s misdeeds had plagued Merrick his entire life. His mother had fled society eventually, humiliated and hurt because it was all too true. Once Merrick married, he feared that his wife could be subject to the same sort of speculation.
Yet he needed a son—a legitimate heir to take responsibility for the estate and all those who depended on him.
So in return for taking him on, and the burden of his father’s legacy, Merrick would make his own pledge. Fidelity. His wife would be the only one to bear his children. There would never be a bastard child bearing his likeness. He would not cause the same pain as he had witnessed in his parents’ marriage. He had told no one of his thoughts on the subject because in truth, he expected to be disbelieved. However, he had come to the decision that the woman bound to him for the rest of her life deserved the same consideration. “I should return to the ball.”
“A pity.” Louisa’s gaze searched his, and then she smiled, proving there were no lingering hard feelings about his unavailability for a romp in the foreseeable future. “There is a dinner at Lady Berry’s this week. I shall endeavor to have you invited so you might meet Miss Milne in simpler surroundings. Her parents will be guarding her as carefully as usual, which would get in the way of any seduction, but I am sure your charm alone will win her over the dinner table.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “And if you change your mind and want my company in private, I’m only too happy to oblige.”
“Thank you.” Miss Milne was at the top of a short list. There were still questions in his mind about her nature to be satisfied, and although she stirred no great passion in him now, Merrick had no doubts he could bed her successfully if they married. He had scant enough new information for tonight, but what he had would have to do.
Louisa flicked her fingers in an intimate wave and departed, leaving Merrick to make his way slowly back to the ballroom. As he returned, he mused at the gamble he was taking in confiding in Lady Harrison and placing so much faith in her information. The one thing in her favor was that she was no friend to his wider family, having locked horns with his aunt, Lady Penelope Ford, on several notable occasions.
Louisa was also very critical. She frowned upon indiscretions in the very young and unmarried set, an amusing contradiction for a woman whose dalliances were as scandalous as any he’d heard. But not for the first time did he fear that the names she’d supplied him were what she might want in his wife and not what he needed. It was clear she expected him to continue their assignations once he was married. It was altogether likely the names she’d provided were for women whose morals matched hers and who would turn a blind eye to indiscretions.
He caught the eye of a servant and secured a cup of punch. Not his favorite beverage, but his aim was to appear innocuous and no threat to a good woman’s virtue. As always when he thought of a good woman, his eyes turned to one in particular. Tall, slim, and perfectly poised. Arabella, Lady Farnsworth, stood well above those around her, wrapped in pink, tasseled muslin and a feathered turban hiding her pale hair. He had a slight acquaintance with her through a mutual friend, but while he knew much about her from shared confidences, he had actually spoken very little to the lady. Arabella might be a widow, but she wasn’t the kind to invite a gentleman to get to know her better. She was much too straightlaced to give him more than a cursory glance when they met. Judging by her frequent high color, his reputation with the ladies made her distinctly uncomfortable. She would never give him the time of day, so Merrick kept a distance and enjoyed the view from afar.
He frowned now though, his eyes flickering to her unexpected companion. What the devil was she doing in Lord Parker’s company again? Her niece, Lady Cecily, a debutante whose behavior bordered unacceptable, wasn’t even there to be paraded before the man. Parker, an older bachelor like himself, might have the distinction of being received everywhere, but there was something about him that didn’t sit well with Merrick. He wasn’t worthy of standing so close to the very respectable Lady Farnsworth, but Merrick couldn’t pinpoint why.
“Ah, Rothwell.” A pleasant male voice interrupted his musing. “Are you making the rounds again tonight?”
He turned to find Lord Louth, an earl he’d not spoken to in close to a year, looming beside him. Louth was extremely tall and broad and well-muscled. He dwarfed most gentlemen and tended to keep to himself. Merrick shook hands with him. “I seem to be. I’m surprised to see you here tonight.”
An unhappy grumble left Louth. “Keeping up with recent events.”
Merrick glanced at his face and laughed. “Your mother’s suggestion?”
“Something like that.” His gaze scanned the room slowly, as if looking for someone. His next words confirmed he was. “Have you seen Taverham of late?”
“Last week, I think. Passed him on Bond Street. Why?”
“Was he with anyone?”
“Only Lord Acton and his widowed sister. They’re thick of late, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Taverham is ready to give up on his wife’s return and find a new one.”
“That’s what I heard, too.” Louth smiled grimly. “Well, so good to see you again. My thanks again for the lease of your Yorkshire property.”
“My pleasure.” Merrick grinned. “Did you and your lady friend enjoy the winter there? I’m told it’s quite lovely if one doesn’t leave the bedroom.”
“I don’t know.” Louth scowled . “The lady threw me out in a fit of temper the very first night.”
He hurried off, leaving Merrick to puzzle over that final remark. After all the trouble Louth had gone to in leasing the property and practically begging for absolute discretion, he must have blundered quite badly to not spend even a single night with the woman.
He faced Arabella again and froze as Lord Parker, being taller than the lady by several inches, cast a lascivious eye over Arabella’s perfect breasts. The man was practically drooling over her. In fact, as Merrick watched on, Parker’s hand rose to play with the tassel hanging from her loose-fitting sleeves. The touch was protracted, and yet Lady Farnsworth did not slap his hand away.
Merrick took a moment to suppress his surprise and then checked the room to see if anyone else had noticed the proper Lady Farnsworth being seduced so publicly. Unfortunately, Louisa had noticed. Her little fists were clenched tightly at her sides, her eyes narrowed. Louisa certainly wasn’t the sort to guard the virtue of another lady, so he was convinced she wasn’t outraged on Lady Farnsworth’s behalf. Was she engaged in an affair with Lord Parker too?
A cunning smile flittered across Louisa’s face, and it seemed a distinct possibility she was engaged to some degree with Lord Parker. When she glided slowly toward Arabella and Parker via a circuitous route, Merrick moved to better view the encounter, heart sinking with dismay. Louisa clearly had no love for the situation and Lady Farnsworth seemed unaware she was in the line of fire. It wasn’t in Louisa’s nature to make a public spectacle of herself, but as she had told him on more than one occasion, there was always a first time for everything.
However, when Louisa insinuated herself into the conversation, Arabella engaged her in a protracted conversation, leaving Parker at a distance from the pair and largely out of the conversation. Indeed, they spoke so exclusively together that when Parker went on his way, neither paid much attention except to bid him farewell. Perhaps he’d been wrong about Louisa and Lord Parker. But whatever the situation might be, it seemed Arabella’s knack for avoiding awkwardness with other women was as strong as ever. Her ability to appease others was a skill she employed effortlessly. No matter what happened around her, Lady Farnsworth continued on as if any untoward behavior had never happened.
CHAPTER TWO
At the age of eight and twenty Arabella Lawson, Lady Farnsworth, was not the kind of woman to incite great passion in the gentleman she met. In truth, she did not believe she had ever stirred the slightest rush of desire in her entire life. Nevertheless, she would not be deterred from her mission this night as she had been on so many others. She wanted a lover this season. At long last. Someone who would not laugh at her inexperience. Someone who would show her what her marriage had lacked without thinking there was something wrong with her.
Around her, the most handsome, witty, and downright dangerous lords of society strolled the throng, taking their pick from any number of willing widows. Arabella was both a widow and exceedingly willing. It was simply a matter of catching the right gentleman’s eye and praying he understood her intentions. Thanks to a friend’s explicit advice, she was as prepared now as she’d ever been. Rosemary Randall, now Lady Grayling, had shared many intimate details of how one might spend a night in a lover’s arms, though Arabella had not had the opportunity to put any of that into practice.
So far a lover hadn’t fallen into her lap, and the more time passed, the more nervous about the matter she became. She had allowed the need to prepare her niece for the season in London as a reason to set the issue aside until tonight, and that had been a mistake.
What she wouldn’t give to have Rosemary at her side now, promising again that all would be well. It was so unfair. If only Arabella’s husband had loved her a little, she’d never have been in this predicament. They had married for different reasons, reasons Arabella had not fully understood when she’d made her vow, and she had promised herself to never assume happiness couldn’t be hers again. She would never remarry, but that did not mean she had to be alone. Once the small matter of her virginity was put behind her, she would be content to grow old alone.
She darted a discreet gaze around the room in search of likely candidates for a lover and found no new faces. Drat. Even the unexciting Lord Parker was nowhere in sight, likely discouraged by her talk of fashion with Lady Harrison. Lady Harrison had latched on to the topic of riding habits and confessed she collected riding crops to match them. She could never get enough apparently and had a vast array upstairs. The topic had sent Lord Parker on his way in a hurry, his face flushed red.
Lady Harrison winked. “Do excuse me, won’t you my dear Lady Farnsworth? A hostess must not neglect her guests, and I see a gentleman over there desperately trying to catch my eye.”
“Yes, of course,” Arabella said quickly, not in the least concerned to be abandoned so soon. “I do understand. It is so easy to ruffle the feathers of an overlooked acquaintance when hosting a ball. Your events are always so well attended.”
Lady Harrison gave her an odd look, then sauntered away in a swish of red silk. Arabella envied her assurance as she moved through the crowd, throwing teasing smiles at the gentlemen she met. Unfortunately, such behavior was beyond Arabella’s skills. She wished she only had to look at a man for him to know what she was thinking, but so far, no one was listening and interesting things only seemed to happen to other ladies.
The last time she’d tried fluttering her lashes, Lord Louth had asked her if she was ill.
Across the room, Lady Harrison paused to speak to Lord Rothwell, and a devilish smile flittered across his lips before he whispered something in her ear. Tall, dark, and sleek as a caged leopard at Wombwell’s traveling menagerie in his dark coat, breeches, and gold-and-white-striped waistcoat, Rothwell could have any woman he wanted and, according to London’s finest gossips, frequently did many times over. Was she witnessing an assignation?
More than likely, given his eager nod of agreement and Lady Harrison’s pleased, secretive smile. At least that is what Arabella had to assume. Having never been in the same situation, she could only guess what one might say to make that man smile so wickedly.
Arabella put her speculation aside and reluctantly returned to her brother-in-law’s company. She smiled at the few friends standing about him, but was astonished to find her niece Cecily was not standing with her father anymore. After a discreet check among the couples gathered on the dance floor for the quadrille, Arabella groaned under her breath. Cecily had vanished. Again. She tightened her grip on her fan. Cecily had promised no more disappearances, yet the minute Arabella’s back was turned the girl flitted away. Chaperoning her was proving to be a nightmare.
A hot breath against her ear made her jump. “Go find her this instant and bring her back to me.”
The demand from her brother-in-law was not unexpected. He’d made it very plain that Cecily’s behavior and her failure so far to snare the right husband was entirely Arabella’s fault, and to a degree he was right. Yet she’d spent little time with the girl as she was growing up, and Cecily already had firm opinions on what she would do and would not do. She could hardly be blamed if the girl refused to heed her words. Cecily pointed out more often than was comfortable that Arabella should have had a daughter of her own to mother by now.
“She won’t be far,” Arabella said quickly, eager to appease Farnsworth before anyone noticed the steam billowing from his ears. She didn’t have the faintest idea where her niece had disappeared to in this crowd, but if Arabella didn’t make a start on finding the girl then everyone around them would soon know Cecily was unchaperoned yet again.
Her brother-in-law elbowed her arm hard enough to sting. “The minute you discover her location, we are leaving this madhouse,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll decide whether remaining in London another month is worth the expense.”
Arabella’s heart soared. Once she was done chaperoning Cecily, she could return to Winslette, her home in Wiltshire, and the company of her closest friends. Because of Farnsworth’s demands and assurances that his daughter’s needs came first, she’d missed two of the most important weddings of the season. The first was the Duchess of Romsey’s and the second was of her friend and neighbor Lord Grayling to Miss Rosemary Randall. She was very sorry to have missed the latter as she’d had a hand in matching the pair together. Farnsworth had refused her leave to go, citing that his daughter’s needs took precedence.
Since Farnsworth had become the earl, he’d developed the most penny-pinching and demanding habits. Not that any of the Farnsworth men had ever been reasonable creatures. It was uncharitable of her to think ill of the dead, but her husband and his son, short though the latter’s life had been, had not been easy people to make happy.
Her husband had married her to run his homes and promptly ignored her in favor of his own amusements. Since his death, it had become clear the most recent Lord Farnsworth had little patience for either the social whirl or the expense and fuss of his daughter’s first season.
Arabella set off in pursuit of Cecily with a heavy heart. Mending fences when Farnsworth was rude to their hosts gave her a nightly megrim she could easily do without.
Farnsworth’s dislike of London and the season’s frivolous entertainments ran counter to his expectations for being here. If he wanted his daughter to make an advantageous match, then at least he could expend some effort to get the girl successfully married off.
She studied the men around her as she moved through the crowd in search of Cecily and contented herself yet again with inspecting the lords present. Arabella was tall herself, so her eye was drawn to the men of equal or greater height more often than not.
When it came to choosing a lover, Arabella also had a short list of requirements: Cleanliness was essential, though not the suggestion of it that came from heavy-handed application of perfumes. Unmarried and unattached by affection for the season was her main requirement, however. She could not contemplate usurping another woman’s place. What she wanted was someone to be hers alone when they started, someone who did not mind that one short affair might be enough but would not be averse to a repeat meeting if their tryst proved enjoyable. Arabella blushed as she gained the entrance hall and looked around. She didn’t have the first idea under what circumstances that might be possible. She only had the guidance of a distant friend’s confidences to rely upon that the sexual act was both pleasant and worth repeating.
As she traveled through the card room and came up empty-handed, she marveled that there were so many widows in London for the season, many of whom already seemed in the company of unattached men. She envied them their confidence. Arabella couldn’t look at a certain well-known rake with whom she was acquainted without a blush heating her cheeks. But from all she’d heard, Lord Rothwell had a similar effect on every woman.
She fanned her face quickly, then snapped the fan shut. Now was not the time to dwell on her own interests. She had a niece to find before society noticed her absence and scandal caught them. She was almost satisfied she would survive one more night without incident until she ventured to the retiring room. Cecily was not there either, and Arabella retraced her steps, hoping they had passed each other unseen.
As she regained the ballroom and looked around for her niece, an elegant, silver-haired matron caught her eye. Lady Penelope Ford, society’s most intimidating stickler when it came to propriety, met her gaze steadily as she drew closer. Arabella straightened her spine instantly, even while concentrating on appearing as unperturbed as possible.
“Good evening, Lady Farnsworth,” Lady Penelope Ford murmured as she drew near.
“Good evening, Lady Penelope. A pleasure to see you again.”
After a long, uncomfortable moment, Lady Penelope nodded regally and returned to her own party, a half dozen members of the Ford family by their looks. Arabella continued on with as much calm grace as she could manage, but her heart was pounding. Quite frankly, Lady Penelope’s scrutiny terrified her. It always had. One curt word from that lady would ruin Cecily’s chances of making a good match and put the family out of favor with those who mattered.
She glanced behind her self-consciously and shuddered. Every time she crossed paths with the Fords, Arabella developed an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Society called them the Fighting Fords. Navy men, every last one, and with tempers little suited to conforming to society’s expectations. No one doubted their loyalty to king and country, but they were said to fight as much amongst themselves as against the French.
A prickle of awareness caressed her neck. She turned her head a fraction, startled to meet the Earl of Rothwell’s intense stare. Lady Penelope Ford’s wayward nephew was known to her through a neighbor and friend in Wiltshire, so she smiled kindly.
His attention did not waver when dancers formed lines between them, and he did not smile at her as he had done with Lady Harrison. Heat swept up her neck and cheeks, making her wish her discomfort wouldn’t be obvious should she reach for her fan and beat it furiously before her face.
Arabella returned her gaze to the path ahead, determined not to appear as virginal as she felt at that moment. Rothwell’s scrutiny, even from across a crowded ballroom, was worse than his aunt’s. He had the most remarkable effect on her nerves, sending them in all directions at once. Yet when she peeked in his direction again, Rothwell had vanished, leaving her to sadly conclude that he’d certainly had no trouble forgetting her as soon as his gaze moved on.
