Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
“Can you please open the window?”
William moved to do as she asked after having gained permission from the Duchess Ravensmere to escort Clementine home. Cool night air rushed into the carriage, carrying with it the faint scent of damp stone and distant smoke.
He sat beside Clementine, noting the sheen of sweat on her brow.
“Look at me,” he demanded, noting her pupils were as small as pinpoints.
Had she been drugged? She was certainly showing all the signs of opium poisoning.
“Clementine, did anyone give you anything to eat or drink this evening that tasted a little odd?” A thread of alarm tightened in his chest as he studied her too-bright eyes.
She’d been standing with his brother and danced with him before moving outdoors. Had Phillip done this to his betrothed?
She slumped back on the settee and narrowed her eyes on him as if trying to focus.
“Your brother gave me a glass of champagne to celebrate our betrothal, but otherwise I had a glass of wine, which didn’t taste any different from its usual earthy flavor.
” Her words were slow, as though dragged from her with effort.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. His brother had given her a glass of champagne?
“And you drank the full glass and then danced with him. Did he say anything to you during this time…anything odd?” Rage simmered beneath his calm tone, sharp and immediate.
He would kill the bastard if he’d injured her in this way.
“Odd?” She reached up and touched her lips with her hand, fear clouding her gaze. “William, I have to confess something. Something that I think will make you want to break off the engagement. And I would not blame you. I’m a terrible person, obviously.” Her voice trembled, fragile with distress.
“What?” he asked, knowing no matter what she was about to disclose, it was unlikely that either of them could get out of this union unless they both wished to be ruined and their families right along with them.
“On the terrace just now. I kissed Lord Hartwell. We kissed,” she admitted, slumping into the squabs as if the words cost her dearly.
It was William’s turn for the world to spin.
He stilled and digested her words. “Did Hartwell kiss you or did you kiss him?” His jaw tightened, every muscle in his body going rigid.
What happened next, and how he would react, would depend on her answer.
He waited with bated breath for her to disclose the truth.
She pursed her lips and reached for him, her hands fisting about the lapels of his coat. “He kissed me, William. I tried to push him away, but he would not relent. When I tried to tell him to stop, he forced his…his…” She winced and looked down.
William tipped up her chin, making her look at him. “Forced his what, Emmie?” His voice softened despite the fury building within him. It took all the will, the strength of his person, not to punch the carriage window from its seam. Phillip had forced a kiss on Clementine. He was a dead man.
Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked, one spilling down her cheek.
“He forced his tongue into my mouth. I could not breathe. I didn’t like what he was doing, and I tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t stop.
I’m so sorry, William,” she sobbed, the tears running freely now.
“I did not mean to be unfaithful to you, but my body refused to work. I had no strength to push him away and felt so terribly unwell.” Her words tumbled out, thick with shame and confusion.
He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back.
“It was not your fault, and you have nothing to be ashamed or sorry for. I shall deal with Hartwell, but for now, we must get you home and well. I think your champagne was spiked with laudanum or something of a similar nature, and that is why you’re feeling as you are.
Why are you dizzy and unwell?” Protectiveness surged through him, fierce and unrelenting.
“You think Lord Hartwell has done this to me on purpose?” she asked. “Why? I have done nothing to deserve such treatment.”
Other than to marry William instead of Phillip, she had done no wrong. That his brother was clearly harboring resentment, so much so that he would injure a woman, was beyond reprehensible. Phillip would pay for his cruelty.
“I should have told you before now that my brother is a sheep in wolf's clothing. A man whom I tolerate but have rarely liked. It is clear he’s angry that the woman he was courting is now engaged to his brother. He would not like it and means to make trouble, no doubt.” Bitterness laced his words, long-held and now impossible to ignore.
He would never forgive him for this act. Never.
“Trouble. He’s made an enemy of me, too, now. I shall never forgive him.”
William nodded, unfazed that Phillip had yet again ostracized himself from someone who could have been a friend. “I will find out the truth and deal with him, but you shall not have to see him again if you do not wish to.”
“I do not. But what shall we do about our living arrangements? He said we’re to live with him if your house on Brook Street isn’t ready before the wedding.”
William’s annoyance at his sibling doubled.
“That will not happen, and nor is that what was discussed. He’s lied to you.
” The man had no shame. “I will ensure our home is ready for us before the wedding, and you will never have to stay under the Hartwell roof.” He left no room for compromise in his tone.
“Thank you.” Clementine looked up at him, still pressed to his chest, his arms still tight about her body. “I’m less dizzy now and feel much better. Thank you for taking me home and taking care of me.” Her voice softened, trust threading through her words.
“My pleasure.” And it was, surprisingly, to have her in his arms so. They were not a love match by any means, yet still, of all the women he could have been forced to wed, she was the least unpleasant he’d ever met. The thought struck him as absurd, even as it formed.
He inwardly scoffed at his thoughts. Least unpleasant? She was far from that term. She was utterly breathtaking to look at, had a noble heart, and was kind and down to earth, not lofty and aloof. Far more than he had ever given her credit for.
Her hands slipped over his shoulders and settled at the nape of his neck, her fingers spiking into his hair.
“I want you to kiss me, William. I do not want this night to end before I’m kissed by the man I’m to marry.
I do not want my first kiss to be such a horrible memory, as it is at present. ” Her request was quiet, yet resolute.
Heat pooled in his stomach, and without thought, he wrenched her closer still. “Are you sure? I don’t want to do anything that you’ll regret come morning.” Restraint warred with desire, each vying for control.
She shook her head, holding his gaze. “I won’t regret it. But I will regret having the memory I now have. Please take it away.”
He could not refuse her. William lowered his head, giving her time to change her mind before his mouth settled on hers. Her lips, just as he imagined, were soft and pliant. She moved beneath him, wiggling closer, opening for him. The world seemed to narrow to the space between them.
He took the opportunity and kissed her deeply, a long and slow dance of seduction.
Yet, somehow, in his attempt at restraint to coax her into the kiss, his restraint evaporated at her eagerness.
Her tongue teased his, and his control snapped.
Desire flared, swift and consuming. He’d wanted to kiss her for weeks now.
Possibly from the very first moment when she’d judged him for acting like an ass.
He’d wanted to kiss her into a different opinion of him, one that she would not be able to get out of her mind.
There was nothing that could stop the onslaught of desire that rushed through his blood. He took her mouth in a searing kiss, their tongues teased, breath mingled.
She was so willing, wanton, and his.
His future wife. The realization struck him with unexpected force.
The thought made his head spin, even without the use of tonics.
He clasped the back of her neck, guided her to kiss her deeper.
She made a little mewling sound of pleasure that made his cock hard.
He fought to control his desire, to rein in his appetite that had spun out of control the moment their lips touched.
Every instinct urged him to take more than he ought.
He would make her forget his brother. Hell, he’d make her forget everything in her life that came before this kiss.
The carriage jerked to a halt, and they came apart.
Their eyes met, hers wide and full of need.
A demand that pulsated through him, too.
Their breathing ragged, they did not speak, not a word, before the carriage door opened and a footman let down the steps.
Reality returned too quickly, breaking the fragile spell between them.
“Goodnight, Lord William,” Lady Clementine managed, seemingly far more in control of her senses than she was when they left the ball.
He reached for her hand before she stood. “Do you not need assistance inside?”
“No, I believe I shall be well. I’m feeling much more myself now.”
“No, you are not.” He jumped out of the carriage and turned to take her hand.
When she wobbled, he scooped her up in his arms and started for the door.
The footman, wide-eyed by this turn of events, raced before them and held the door wider.
Her weight in his arms felt both fragile and far too right to be his reality.
“Show me to Lady Clementine’s room. She is unwell.”
“Of course, my lord,” the footman replied, starting up the stairs.
William followed, not placing Clementine down until she was seated safely in a comfortable chair before her small hearth.
“The duchess will return soon, and I will instruct the servants to make you some tea and a small sandwich of some sort. That will assist in your recuperation.” The room was softly lit, the faint glow of lamplight casting gentle shadows along the walls.
“Thank you.”
He couldn’t tear his attention from her. She looked windswept, utterly kissed to within an inch of her life, and far more appealing than ever before. “Have you forgotten what’s happened this evening?” He needed to know—needed reassurance she would not carry that earlier violation with her.
A small smile twisted her lips, and her cheeks pinkened. “Thank you, yes. Very much so.”
“So you enjoyed the diversion I offered?” he could not help but ask.
A part of him needed to hear that what his bastard brother had attempted did not outweigh what they did.
He didn’t want their proper first kiss to be one that was forced.
He wanted her to remember desire, need, passion.
Everyone’s first kiss should be perfectly so.
“I did. Your diversion is one I’m not likely to forget.” Her gaze lingered on him, soft and unguarded.
“Forget what?” the duchess asked, bustling into the room. “Oh my dearest, how are you feeling?”
“A little better, thanks to Lord William.”
The duchess smiled. “We appreciate you bringing Clementine home, my lord.”
“I shall return downstairs and have the servants send up tea as we discussed. Good evening to you both,” he said, bowing and leaving before another word could be spoken, or Clementine was forced to answer what diversion she was unlikely to forget.
He left quickly, unwilling to linger where his restraint had already been tested.
He ordered the servants as he promised and then left to return to his brother’s home. There was a conversation to be had, one Hartwell would dislike, but how dare the bastard touch one hair on her precious head? Fury simmered just beneath the surface of his control, waiting to erupt.
How dare he force a kiss upon his fiancée?
Phillip would be lucky if he kept his teeth after he was finished with him.
He called out the direction and jumped up into his carriage, settling into the squabs.
The vehicle still smelled of Clementine, the lingering scent of roses teasing his senses.
The faint trace of her perfume clung to the upholstery, impossible to ignore.
He breathed deep, relishing the reminder of her.
He looked out the window, watching as Mayfair passed by, houses lit up with event after event.
People milling about the street, waiting for carriages or merely enjoying a moment or two outside.
The city bustled on, oblivious to the storm brewing within him.
He ran a hand over his jaw, preparing himself for the confrontation to come. Had Phillip drugged Clementine, and what was his ultimate goal if he had? What was he planning to do had he not interrupted them on the terrace? The possibilities darkened his thoughts further.
A shudder of revulsion ran through him at the thought, and he wondered if he really wished to know. Something told him he would prefer not to, but would soon enough.