The Bluestocking and the Rake (Hearts in Hiding 2)

He tried not to betray the extent to which his words wounded him. “You loved my brother? I suspected as much. Did you—“ He didn’t know what he was going to ask. But the knowledge that the exquisite woman before him was, in fact, the daughter of one of the country’s most learned men on ancient artifacts and that she and Richard had loved one another was like salt in the wound of his own unworthiness.

“Did we act on that love?” She was angry. “What a coarse question. You’d not have asked it of me if you truly thought me the pure creature I was when your brother saved me. He ensured I was adequately chaperoned when it was possible. When he farewelled me, he kissed my brow. I can feel the touch of his lips, still. No man had ever kissed me. He inspired in me the most profound sense of admiration and gratitude.” Her voice grew harsher and her eyes flashed. “Little did I know what I was soon to become. Ruined, and as such, the preserve of any man who could pay for me.” She swung round and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because if a woman doesn’t have a husband or a brother, she will fall into the hands of the first man who wishes to be her protector. You are well aware of what motivates such men. Not honor and a desire to protect. Oh no, indeed!” She glared over her shoulder at him. “So why didn’t you not come when you were supposed to? No one was there on the Sixth Day of Christmas when your brother promised…” Her voice shook, “that I would be safe.”

Oh God, this again. Guilt had always needled him but now, confronted with the evidence of the terrible consequences of his failure, Miles felt incapable of atonement, much less any possibly acceptable excuse. He put back his head and stared at the ceiling before he could meet her look. “I didn’t get back to London in time. A friend had…an accident, and I was rendering assistance. If it helps, I returned every day at the same time for the next two weeks. When you weren’t there, I assumed you’d returned to the safety of your family.”

“Because you failed to make that meeting, I became a reluctant wife—or so I thought—until I discovered I had been duped into marriage by Mr. Graves. You know very well what happened next, Lord Ruthcot. After that, I was traded by my so-called husband to become Deveril’s mistress in order to pay Roderick’s gambling debts. Thus I was forever beyond the realms of respectability. I am a well-known member of the demimondaine now. The irony is that because you failed me, I have had to pay the price. There is no return to respectability, as you well know. And no man in your position could tolerate a wife like me, despite the fact that my virtue was stolen from me.” She threw up her hands. “It doesn’t matter how much I want you; that’s irrelevant. The damage is done and can’t be undone. You will forever be out of bounds because you can’t offer me what you once might have, had things been different…had you made the appointment your brother made on your behalf.”

She was weeping now, her hands covering her face as she leaned back against the wall. When he moved towards her, she waved him away. “Leave me to fight my own battles, Lord Ruthcot. I’ve managed well enough until now. Men have only sought to profit from me — other than your brother —and I will not let you be another one.”

“Because you love me too much to risk yourself getting hurt?”

“If you like to so flatter yourself,” she snapped, dropping her hands. “But know this, regardless of my feelings, I will never be your mistress, Lord Ruthcot.” She stared at him viciously. “I succumbed to your charms two nights ago because my life depended on getting the clay tablet that I’d hidden in the vase in the room in which you were sleeping. There! Does the truth not lessen your sense of your own attractions?”

Carefully, he closed the gap and gathered her in his arms.

“And now you seek to profit by my weakness yet again.” It came out as a moan as she sank against him, her body slackening as he stroked the back of her neck.

“I seek to atone, not profit,” he whispered, gently cupping her face. “I seek to win back your trust.”

“By seducing me? But of course, you’re a man, how else would you go about getting what you want?” she wept.

“Succumbing to one’s natural instincts is the surest way of gauging the truth in one’s heart.” He felt he was feeling his way here but on the right track, for she was yielding, and he didn’t know how else to breach her prickly defenses. Two two nights ago, they’d celebrated their love with an explosion of fiery passion. Now there was just the catharsis of finding one another, and navigating the truth along the way. She wasn’t a shy virgin to treat with kid gloves. It was her heart he needed to protect, and she needed the warmth of human contact.

He snaked an arm about her waist as he led her backward toward the bed. She didn’t protest, but her face was mute with unhappiness. Still, when he put his lips to hers as he gently laid her on the mattress, she kissed him back as if she needed to take strength and succor from what he had to offer.

And when he drew off her dress and undergarments, divested himself of his coat and shirt, his boots and breeches, and lay his naked body the length of hers, she raised her eyes to the ceiling and offered no objection.

He straddled her and tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “You say nothing. Is there no feeling in your heart?”

“I wish I had no feelings for you! Then I’d be in no danger. I was never in danger when Deveril made love to me, or before that, the man I believed to be my husband. There! I speak of my two lovers while you have the dubious distinction of being my third. Does that not disgust you? Do I not disgust you?”

He could barely articulate the shameful words. “If anyone is to blame for what you have become, it is I. I’m unaffected by the idea that you have been possessed by anyone other than myself. They are not my competition. My dead brother is. It torments me to compare the feelings you had for Richard, who was so truly honorable, and those you have for me.”

She narrowed her eyes, still not objecting as he gently contoured her breast with the palm of his hand. “Your brother behaved like a gentleman. He treated me like a lady. With respect.”

“I would have expected nothing less. But I am not my brother. My passions are more easily aroused. And no, we can’t turn back the clock. We are what we are, and I deplore my part in your pain and your shame, but I don’t regret for one minute ever loving you.” He dipped his head to kiss her lightly upon the forehead. “I can’t win you with the courteous charm my brother used to such great effect but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you as much—no, more—than he did. I can only try and use whatever means I have at my disposal to remind you that what we have is equally powerful and true.”

He dropped his head to take one small nipple into his mouth, and she jerked back, gasping.

“See! You’re not insensible to the pleasure I can give you.” He put his fingers to the wetness beneath her legs, hiding his surprise at the heated moisture he found. She could not feign desire like that.

She rolled her head to one side. “Do as you wish, Lord Ruthcot. You know I need money to achieve my goals. I imagine this is your way of doing trade.”

He’d been on the point of entering her, but her words made him go limp. Horrified, he rolled off her.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed. What does it look like?” He had no right to be so angry, but he was. Angry with himself. He’d hoped to remind her of what she felt about him. Yes, he was satisfied she felt desire, but that wasn’t enough. And certainly his method of mending what he’d all but destroyed was about to compound the great harm he’d done her.

She drew up her knees and sat up, the sheet pulled to her chin, her expression as she watched him difficult to fathom. Relief? Disappointment? Still, she said not a word.

“You’ll need funds to continue your journey.” He reached for his coat, thrusting his hands into his pocket to pull out a small drawstring purse which he put on the table. “There should be enough to see you safely to your destination and back.” He shrugged on the rest of his clothes. “You’ll also find the rubbing of the Rosetta Stone within. I know you were relying on it.”

At the doorway, he turned. “Goodbye, Jemima. I’m sorry for everything I did and didn’t do to destroy your life. I’m sorry about your father. I’ll ensure your family is safe and well. It’s the least I can do.”

“Goodnight, Lord Ruthcot.”

He saw she was crying, and that she tried to steady her voice. She didn’t look at him as he opened the door. He hesitated, unsure what to do. It couldn’t end like this.