There's Something About Lady Mary Read online

  “There’s really no need to apologize,” Mary began, feeling the heat all the way to her earlobes. “I—”

  “Why, Mr. Summersby,” a melodious voice interjected. “I never imagined finding you here.”

  Ryan turned his head to find none other than Stephanie Maplewood gliding toward him with a brilliant smile pasted on her porcelain face. If a woman had ever looked as though she was cast from plaster, then it was truly she. He’d always considered her to be pretty, though in a somewhat unusual sort of way—the unusual part being that neither a single blemish nor the trace of a fine line marked her face. If they had, she might actually have looked human.

  Upon seeing her now, his first instinct was to turn and run. After all, the woman had been chasing after him since her debut two years ago, though he couldn’t imagine what had her so obsessed; he’d repeatedly made it clear that whatever she hoped for would never be. However, he was a gentleman, and as such, he did what all well-bred gentlemen were raised to do. He slapped on his most charming smile and said, “Always a pleasure, Lady Stephanie.”

  “I hope that I am not intruding,” she remarked. “But when I saw you, I simply had to come right over.”

  “And we are so glad that you did,” Ryan said. “Have you perhaps met my sister, the Countess of Trenton, and her ladyship, the Marchioness of Steepleton?”

  “How do you do, Lady Trenton. It is always such a pleasure to see you.”

  “Yes, I am quite sure that it is, Lady Stephanie,” Alexandra remarked in a dry tone that did very little to hide her displeasure of the other woman’s sudden appearance. “It is unfortunate that we do not have more time to stop and chat, but we really are very busy, as you can see.”

  “Then by all means, I shall not disturb you any longer.” Lady Stephanie turned to Ryan with a silky smile. “I do hope to see you again soon, Mr. Summersby—at the ball on Friday, perhaps?” And without as much as acknowledging Lady Steepleton’s existence even once, she strolled off.

  “Did I offend her in any way?” Lady Steepleton asked Alexandra as soon as she was gone.

  Alexandra rolled her eyes heavenward and waved her hand in dismissal. “I wouldn’t worry overly much about it if I were you. Stephanie Maplewood has been trying to sink her talons into my brother for years and will shun any woman he spends time with, unless she happens to be a blood relative. She is relentless in her pursuit of him.” She looked up at Ryan. “Promise me that I will not have to suffer with her as my sister-in-law

  “You have my word on it,” he promised, as his eyes strayed to the marchioness.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “We’ll drop you off first, Alex,” Ryan said as they got back inside the carriage after placing Lady Steepleton’s order at the dressmaker’s. The woman they’d spoken to there, a Madame Bessette, had assured them that the gown would be ready on Friday morning, just in time for the Glendale ball.

  Ryan spotted the look of mischief on his sister’s face and warned her with a frown. All he wanted was to have some time alone with Lady Steepleton so they could talk, but with the way things were, there was never a moment of privacy.

  “As you wish,” Alexandra replied. She looked as if she might erupt with laughter. Ryan rolled his eyes. Well, at least she wasn’t enough of a stickler to stand in his way, for which he should probably count his lucky stars.

  Lady Steepleton on the other hand, looked visibly shocked, her lips parting as if she were readying herself to protest. Ryan’s heart hammered as he watched her most expectantly, but when Alexandra said no more, the marchioness apparently decided not to force the subject and settled back against the seat instead. Ryan’s heart rate slowed. He knew he was risking her reputation, but it couldn’t be helped; they would simply have to be careful. Whatever it was that was happening between them had to be explored—he could ignore it no longer. And if at the end of their conversation it appeared as though their acquaintance with one another might progress, he vowed to tell her about his assignment. Better to be honest now than to deceive.

  They arrived at Trenton House within fifteen minutes. Ryan watched as Alexandra gave her ladyship a quick embrace, gathered her skirts, and offered him her hand so he could help her alight. “Don’t do anything untoward,” Alexandra warned him as he led her up the front steps of her home. “It wouldn’t do to ruin her. As it is, you’re riding alone with her in a closed carriage.” Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “I’m not judging you or telling you what to do; the choice is yours. I’m merely advising you to use caution.”

  “And this should come from you,” he said, grinning, and she responded with a smile.

  Her eyes, however, were a touch more serious. “You’re not away in some foreign city where nobody knows you. This is Mayfair, Ryan. If you decide to ravish her, you’d best pick your locations wisely.”

  He knew she was right, of course. “I’ve no idea of ravishing her in a carriage, Alex. I merely thought we might talk.”

  Alexandra stared back at him with vast amounts of doubt in her eyes. “Talk?”

  “As it happens, I enjoy our conversations immensely.”

  Stepping inside her foyer, Alexandra squeezed his arm and lowered her voice to a whisper. “If that was all you meant to do, you’d hardly need to risk scandal by getting her alone.”

  She had a point, and she was right, of course. Bidding her a pleasant afternoon, he strode back down the walkway and popped his head inside the carriage. “I know this is not quite proper,” he said, offering Lady Steepleton a means of escape, “but I was hoping for a little more time with you than it might take for us to drive up David Street. Would you mind terribly if we asked the driver to take us about for a while?”

  Again she hesitated. He ought to take her directly home if he knew what was good for both of them, but the temptation of having her to himself was too great to resist, and so he had offered her the ultimate decision.

  “No,” she finally said on a gush of air. “No, I don’t think I would mind it in the least.”

  Ryan wasn’t about to give her the chance to change her mind. With a curt nod, he issued directions to the driver as quickly and concisely as possible, then climbed up inside and took his seat beside her ladyship. For the next five minutes, neither one of them said a word. Instead, they both stared straight ahead. Ryan was beginning to feel more and more like a naughty child who’d deliberately thwarted his parents’ wishes. Lady Steepleton shifted restlessly in her seat. He became instantly aware of her thigh brushing against his. Dear God, he really should have seated himself across from her. Whatever had he been thinking? She moved again, and it had the inexplicable effect of sending warm waves of heat scurrying through him to places he dared not even consider, for fear that other shameful thoughts might enter into his head. Too late. Blast!

  She made an attempt to turn in her seat, apparently hoping to face him more directly, but she eventually gave up and let out a deep sigh of what he could only presume to be frustration. Hell, he really ought to move to the opposite bench.

  “Mr. Summersby,” Lady Steepleton suddenly said, turning only her head this time. She leaned back against the side of the carriage to avoid hitting him in the head with her bonnet. “There is something that I absolutely must tell you.”

  “And there is something that I must tell you,” Ryan replied, his eyes locking onto hers. He forced a weak smile to hide his embarrassment at the subject that he was about to address. They were finally alone, and he’d already wasted precious time plucking up the courage. Well, he might as well say what needed saying and pray she wouldn’t gape at him with incomprehension afterward. “I. . .I don’t quite understand it, but I feel. . .” He let out a sigh, not knowing quite how to go about putting his feelings into words. “I feel this constant need to be with you. And whenever I am not with you, I cannot think of anything else but our next encounter. I understand that we have only just met and that this may sound rash, but I simply cannot seem to get you o
ut of my mind. And then, whenever you grace me with that lovely smile of yours, or I hear you laugh. . .I just want to pull you into my arms and. . .”

  He noticed her flustered expression. Oh blast; he’d shocked her. It hadn’t been his intention to do so; he’d merely hoped for her to understand the way he felt, had hoped she might reciprocate in some manner. But clearly. . .Oh hell, if only he’d kept his mouth shut and taken her home. He took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Forgive me. This is not the sort of thing that a gentleman ought to tell a lady. I cannot imagine what I was thinking.”

  “I wonder if you know,” she said quietly, so quietly that Ryan had to strain to hear her, “that, as unfathomable as I find it myself, I happen to feel precisely the same way.” She then allowed her hand to slide from her lap and onto the seat, where it came to rest right next to his, their two fingers brushing ever so gently against one another.

  Heat rushed through him at the point of contact, and his heart leaped. He turned a steady gaze on her, knowing full well that he was flirting with disaster. But how could he resist in light of what she’d just revealed? “Do you mean that?” His voice was hushed, as his finger traced its way along hers.

  She offered him an awkward little smile, refusing to meet his eyes as her cheeks turned crimson. “I do,” she told him in little more than a whisper.

  Ryan drew a ragged breath. He could feel his blood pumping furiously through his veins and wondered if Lady Steepleton was in any way aware of his need. She couldn’t possibly be, a woman like her, so composed and demure. It hadn’t been his intention to force his desires on her in the carriage. All he’d essentially wanted to do was talk, but when she’d said that she felt the same way, it was almost as if all his primeval urges had suddenly been unleashed.

  His eyes drifted over the swell of her breasts, so taut against her bodice from the strain of her anxious breathing that the faint outline of her nipples became clearly visible beneath the muslin. He immediately felt his groin tighten at the thought of what he wanted to do to her and consequently drew a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. Lifting his hand carefully to her cheek so as not to startle her, he waited quietly for her to relax against him, the soft contours of her cheek pressed against his palm, while her eyes drifted shut and a blissful smile played upon her lips.

  How curious it was that when he’d first seen her, she’d struck him as ordinary and plain. Yet looking at her now—her hair slightly tussled beneath her bonnet, her long black eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks, and her full, crimson lips—he realized that she was anything but that. In fact, she was absolutely perfect in every way: a diamond of the first water, in his eyes.

  “I have no desire to do anything that you might not wish for me to do,” he told her softly as he stroked his thumb against her cheek. “So I would like to ask for your permission first. May I kiss you?”

  She caught her breath the moment he asked her, her gaze meeting his in one of puzzlement, as if she couldn’t quite fathom what he had just asked her, and it dawned on him, with a massive amount of regrettable sadness, that this remarkable woman did not think herself worthy. She hesitated, studying him as if to ascertain his reasons behind such a request, and for a long unbearable moment, he thought she might decline. But he held her gaze, and somehow, as if by some miracle, he watched as her misgivings subsided and were replaced by longing. On a quivering breath, she managed a small nod of approval.

  Ryan didn’t need a second telling. Unwilling to give her the chance to reconsider the implications of what she’d just agreed to, he leaned toward her and brushed his lips ever so slightly against hers. It was a feathery soft kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds, gentle and tender in every way. Even so, he could have sworn that his heart stopped beating, while glowing embers ignited in the pit of his belly, a slow blaze that grew in strength until it became a roaring fire.

  When he pulled away to gauge her reaction, he saw that same fire reflected in her eyes, her yearning written plainly upon her face, and just like that, he lost what little restraint he’d had. Taking her firmly by the waist, he pulled her onto his lap in one easy sweep. A swift pull on the bow beneath her chin sent her bonnet toppling backward onto the carriage floor only seconds before he crushed his lips against hers.

  She quivered against him when he traced his tongue along her lower lip, her posture stiff, as if she might protest at any moment. And though she surely must have considered doing so, she made no attempt to push him away. But Ryan sensed her uncertainty and knew that he must force himself to proceed at a slower pace. Pulling back a little, he placed soft kisses upon her eyelids, and then her cheeks, while his fingers worked their way through her hair, toying with the pins until her dark brown locks tumbled over her shoulders.

  He kissed her chin and then her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her lilac perfume while his hand moved up her side to rest beside her breast. He paused there, inhaling her, then exhaling her, while her pulse drummed beneath his lips, her breathing low and ragged. But then she shifted. It was ever so slight, and quite subtle, so subtle, in fact, that a less experienced man might not have noticed. But Ryan was no fledgling, and he certainly had no intention of denying either one of them when an invitation had just been offered.

  With slow deliberation, his fingers crept over one breast and then over the other in soft strokes. Again she stiffened, her breath caught in her throat until a small groan of pleasure squeezed its way between her lips. So exquisite was the sound that it almost had him spending himself right then and there like a callow youth who’d never lain with a woman before. Taking courage in her response, he took one breast in his hand, squeezing it gently and testing the feel of it. She bowed her head against his, kissing his brow, then his temple, his cheek, until her lips finally found his in a deep and scorching kiss.

  Once again, he ran his tongue against her lips, but this time it lasted only a moment. On a soft sigh, she parted her lips and pressed herself closer against his embrace. A low growl rose from Ryan’s throat as this first hurdle was overcome. Tightening his grip to keep her steady as the carriage lurched sideways, he eased his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her warmth before coaxing her to follow his lead.

  It didn’t take long to discover that she was a nimble student, her passion matching his own as she raked her fingers through his hair and tugged him closer in obvious desperation. Nothing could have pleased him more, yet it wasn’t enough; he wanted more. With trembling fingers, he eased her sleeves from her shoulders and lowered his head to place soft kisses against the dip of her shoulder blade. Emboldened by her quiet murmur, he allowed himself to go a step further. Hooking his thumbs on the neckline of her bodice, he ran them slowly against her smooth flesh, brushing her gently aroused nipples. Her back arched on a loud groan, and he tugged the fine fabric away, baring her to his greedy gaze. He eased back a little so he could take a better look at her lovely delights: each breast so plump and full, and with a dark, perky nipple at its crest. It was impossible for him to look away. Instead, a devilish grin drew its way across his face. “So beautiful,” he whispered as he slid his fingers across them. She responded with a sharp intake of breath. He looked her straight in the eye as he took one tender nipple between his fingers and gently squeezed. She gasped and closed her eyes. “Do you like that?” he asked, knowing full well that she did.

  Still, he waited for her response: a small nod, followed by a soft “yes.”

  “Then I am quite certain that you will like this too.” He leaned forward and licked the hardened flesh with a slowness that would have driven any warm-blooded woman half mad. “Oh God,” she whimpered, pulling him against her with a fierceness that caught him completely unaware. It excited him to no end. There was a passion within her that he’d just unleashed, an urgent need as desperate as his own. Yes, Lady Steepleton would make an ardent lover; of that he was now completely certain.

  He wanted her. There was no longer any
inkling of doubt in his mind. Not now, he reminded himself, forcing back the desire that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d made a vow, not only to her, but to himself, that he would not take her innocence—not now, at least—not in a lurching carriage. No, he would have to wait for his own release, even if it meant that he’d have to wait for the wedding night. One thing was now quite clear in his mind, however: he would marry her.

  Easing away from her, he gently lifted her bodice, returning her to some measure of decency as he did his best to avoid the look of disappointment that shone in her eyes. Moving her off his lap, he bent to pick up her bonnet, then helped her arrange her hair in an orderly fashion. “Thank you,” he muttered, taking her hand in his and pressing a tender kiss against her knuckles, “for allowing me such liberties.”

  She blushed deeply in response, then favored him with a dazzling smile. “It was a pleasure.”

  Tapping the roof of the carriage to signal the driver that it was time to take her ladyship home, he placed his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close to him, and took courage from the intimacy of the moment. “As I said before, I know that we have scarcely known one another for more than a week, but I do hope that I have just made my intentions quite clear. I plan to marry you, my lady, if you will have me, that is.” Mary couldn’t get a single word out of her mouth; it seemed as if they were all jammed together in her throat all at once. So she just sat there as the idea of marrying Mr. Summersby manifested itself in her mind. He was right, of course; they didn’t know each other well at all, and she still had to tell him about. . .heavens, she’d meant to do it before, but he’d completely led her off track. She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, more horrified now by his potential response than ever before, because the truth of the matter was that becoming his wife didn’t trouble her in the least. In fact, it felt incredibly right.