‘Hmm.’
It was one syllable that held a wealth of meaning. ‘You do not want to meet her? You must, soon.’
‘Yes, of course. I am
sure she is delightful, but she will not welcome me as a prospective daughter-in-law, will she?’
‘If she likes you, she will accept you whether you are a duke’s daughter or a flower seller,’ Ashe said with perfect truth. As soon as he said it he spotted the danger. The corollary was, of course, that if Anusha Herriard decided that Phyllida was wrong for her son then she would move heaven and earth to stop the match and the woman beside him was quite sharp enough to realise that. ‘And it is no use you play-acting in order to give her a disgust of you. She has seen you and heard enough about you to see through that.’
‘I have told you, my lord, I am resigned to my fate,’ she said as sweetly and meekly as she had addressed the carriage full of ladies.
And I trust you no more than I do Lucifer, Ashe thought. He would just have to give Miss Hurst something to think about besides plotting to get rid of him.
They conversed with excruciating politeness all the way back across the park to pick up Ashe’s groom, then on even blander topics on the drive back to Great Ryder Street.
At a word from Ashe the groom jumped down and went to the horses’ heads and he dismounted himself to hand Phyllida out of the curricle. She was relaxed, he saw, confident now that she had arrived home unscathed, probably pleased with the little barbs she had slid under his skin.
He escorted her up the steps, then took her hand and raised it to his lips. That was unconventional enough behaviour these days, he knew, but she accepted it readily enough after a quick glance to ensure that his body hid what he was doing from the almost-deserted street.
Phyllida was wearing short kid gloves. It was the work of a moment to roll the one he was holding down her hand until her palm was exposed to the sweep of his tongue, slow, insinuating, deliberately lascivious.
‘Ashe.’ She froze, her hand rigid in his, the scent of the jasmine water she had dabbed on the pulse point of her wrist filling his senses as he sucked the swell at the base of her thumb right into his mouth.
‘You are mine now, Phyllida.’ He rolled the glove back, freed her hand. ‘And I hold what is mine and I do not let it go. Remember that.’
Chapter Fifteen
On my own front step… Phyllida stood, her right hand cradled in the left at her breast, staring up at Ashe. Her pulse was thundering in her ears, her whole body felt sleek and tight and as wet as the flesh he had just sucked into his mouth in a blatant erotic statement that she had no answer for. No words at all.
It took an effort of will to unclasp her hands, to reach for the knocker, her eyes still locked with his, to bang it down and then stand there, waiting, waiting until the door opened.
‘Clere!’ Gregory opened the door wide. ‘Do come in.’ Despite his tone his eyes were hard.
‘Thank you.’ Ashe stood aside courteously to let her past. Phyllida made her unreliable legs move, crossed the threshold and went straight into the drawing room and the nearest couch, throwing aside gloves, bonnet, parasol before she collapsed on it, hands over her face.
Behind her she heard the door close and Ashe’s voice, pleasant and normal, just as though he had not been wreaking indecent havoc on her nerves a moment before. ‘I hope you will be the first to congratulate me, Fransham.’
‘Cong… You are marrying Phyllida?’ She could almost hear his jaw drop.
‘You feel I should have asked your permission first? But Miss Hurst is of age and very independent.’ Ashe sounded friendly and not in the least bit apologetic.
‘No, no not at all. Delighted.’ The relief in Gregory’s voice was clear. ‘But last night…’
‘If a match had been announced last night, then it would have been quite obvious that something untoward had occurred.’
‘But it hadn’t.’ Gregory sounded suspicious again.
‘Of course not, but your sister had been at Eldonstone engaged on an activity she does not want to be public knowledge. She was found in my arms, her gown was disarrayed. People have such nasty minds. Now they will see a perfectly conventional, respectable courtship taking place. I have compromised Miss Hurst, I will marry her—but not with any unseemly rush.’
‘Then you have my blessing.’ By the sound of it Gregory was pumping Ashe’s hand enthusiastically. And no wonder. He would be round at the Millington house immediately, telling them the good news that Harriet would be sister-in-law to a viscount, the heir to a marquess. Phyllida kept her eyes closed and tried to get her unruly body under control.
How could Ashe speak so piously about an unseemly rush? Unseemly! What he had just done verged on the indecent and now she wanted more, wanted him, and he knew it perfectly well.
‘I must go now. Shall I call tomorrow so we can have a preliminary discussion about the settlements?’
‘Yes, certainly. About three suit you?’ Their voices became fainter as they went to the front door.
Phyllida lay back against the sofa cushions and tried to work up the energy to be indignant. Gregory did not control her money, she did. If Ashe wanted to discuss settlements, he could do it with her and her lawyer.