Chapter 3
When Gregory awoke the following morning, he was greeted with soft sunlight streaming in through the windows and a stiff cock tenting his sheets.
Lord, have mercy.
He groaned up at the ceiling—or was it a growl?—and rubbed his very tired eyes.
Dash it, had he dreamed of Lady Dunne all night?
Waking up with an erection was not an unusual occurrence for him. He was a healthy young man in his prime, so of course he thought about women and sex on a fairly regular basis.
Or every two to three minutes, if he were being entirely honest.
Naturally, having an attractive young widow sleeping across the hall had made his body stand up and take notice, as he was sure it would for any man.
What he found so peculiar was just how enthusiastically his body responded to her. He’d taken himself in hand last night before finally falling into a fitful sleep, and if his morning erection was any indication, his lust still was not sated.
“Pathetic,” he grumbled, stubbornly ignoring his body’s demands. “Pathetic and unscrupulous.”
For what sort of man would lust after a woman who had just survived a frightening ordeal?
The worst sort, that’s who.
He knew his behavior was less than honorable, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him like this. He wasn’t certain there was ever such a time.
Not even the woman he had once intended to marry had affected him this way, and Olivia was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Not that Lady Dunne was difficult to look upon. With her sea-green eyes and honey-brown hair, she was undoubtedly a comely woman. But it was her sensuality, her confidence, that made her so attractive. So magnetic.
Her ample curves were rather intriguing, too, and he wondered again if she had slept in her gown last night.
He still couldn’t believe he’d offered her one of his shirts, and even though she’d refused, the mental image of her in his lawn shirt—loose hair, unbound breasts, dimpled knees—had plagued him well into the night.
His face heated as he thought of his actions, of spilling his seed to fantasies of a woman who was only in his home because she had required his help.
Well, no more. He would not give into his body’s needs again.
At least, not this morning.
Shoving aside the bedsheets, he climbed out of bed to attend to his morning ablutions, forcing himself to think only of the day ahead, of his mother, his country estates, his obligations, until finally his ardor began to cool.
He didn’t know what Lady Dunne intended to do now, but whatever her plans entailed, she would be leaving him soon, perhaps even as early as this morning. And when she did leave, this distraction would end, and life would return to normal.
He sighed. That meant seeing his mother again and telling her—again—that he would not marry Miss Withers, though why he thought she’d give up this time when she never had before was anybody’s guess.
Perhaps it was irrationally optimistic of him, but he was certain the day would come when his mother finally let him run his own life.
Gregory spent the next ten minutes readying himself for the day and as he left his room, he glanced across the hall at the guest chamber and paused.
Lady Dunne’s door was closed. He pursed his lips. A closed door could mean one of two things: either she was in there, or she wasn’t.
If she was still in her room, there was every possibility she was still asleep. After the night she’d had, she certainly deserved a long rest. He was loath to wake her, but he did have a meeting to attend after breakfast, and he didn’t wish to leave without speaking to her first.
He wavered over what to do for another few seconds before finally making up his mind. Crossing the hall to her door, he raised a fist, intending to knock, but before he could, the door swung open and there stood Lady Dunne.
“Oh!” She stopped short, her hand flying to her throat. “Your Grace, you startled me.”
Gregory stepped back so as not to crowd her and offered an apologetic smile. “Good morning, Lady Dunne. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was about to knock when you opened the door.”
It was important that she knew he hadn’t been hovering outside her room like a lecher.
“Will you join me for breakfast?” he asked, trying not to think of his lecherous behavior last night in his room. “Or perhaps you would prefer to take a tray in your room?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, I would be very glad to join you.”
They set off in silence, with Gregory stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye.
She looked well-rested, her thick hair pulled back in a loose knot at her nape, and though she wore the same gown she’d been wearing last night, it was remarkably free of wrinkles, as if she’d removed it before going to bed.
Which left him wondering: had she slept in a chemise?
Or nothing at all?
Heat flooded his cheeks and he cleared his throat, shoving the wicked images from his mind.
“How did you sleep?” he asked as they walked into the dining room. “I hope the bed was comfortable.”
Bloody hell, if he kept thinking about Lady Dunne and beds, he’d be sporting a cockstand all through breakfast.
“The bed was very comfortable,” she said as she took a seat at the table. “I slept like the dead.”
“After the evening you had, I’m not surprised.”
Gregory took the seat across from her, a frown furrowing his brow as he thought again of last night, of Lovelace with his hands around her arms, holding her captive, refusing to let her go.
Ruddy brute. He ought to have given the blackguard a taste of his own medicine.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Lady Dunne’s gaze met his across the table. “For giving me a place to stay last night. And for being so kind.”
Pleasure suffused his cheeks with heat, and he was relieved when his maid, Sally entered the room carrying a large tray, which she unloaded onto the table before leaving the room.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, as the room filled with the delicious scents of scrambled eggs, ham, toasted bread and hot tea.
As if on cue, her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to her belly with a sheepish laugh. “Apparently I am.”
“So am I. Famished, in fact.”
He reached for a slice of buttered toast and she did the same, her hand colliding with his. Their fingers tangled and he froze, heat lancing through him at the brush of her skin, cool and remarkably soft.
He drew back, hoping she wouldn’t notice how the simple touch had affected him.
“After you,” he said, his voice gruff, and he took a drink of tea to wet his dry throat.
“Have you decided what you’ll do about your—about the viscount?” he asked a moment later as he spooned eggs onto his plate.
Lady Dunne was silent, her gaze on her work as she slathered her toast with marmalade. “I think it would be wise if I left London for a few days. Until all this…” She gave a little wave with her toast. “...has settled down a bit.”
She took a bite, the picture of calm, but Gregory would wager she was more concerned than she let on. She was leaving town, after all. He hated that she felt she had to hide away.
But he hated Lovelace even more for making her do it.
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“To Cheshire. I have a sister, Lizzie, who lives there with her family. She’s been asking me to pay a visit. Her husband is a trifle stuffy, so he won’t appreciate the surprise, but Lizzie will bring him ’round. She always does.”
“How will you get there? By coach?”
“Yes. If I’m able to leave today, I should be in Cheshire in three days’ time.”
The thought of her travelling with strangers in a cramped mail coach did not please him, especially if she planned to go alone.
He ate a bite of ham. He should stay out of it. She hadn’t asked him to help, and what she did was none of his business. Besides, he had his own affairs to attend to, including a meeting in—he glanced at the mantel clock—two hours.
He pursed his lips. It was none of his business.
He should keep out of it.
“Will you allow me to take you to Cheshire?”
The words popped out of his mouth almost as soon as the thought was fully formed, and despite all the reasons he shouldn’t get involved, it felt right to offer his assistance.
She blinked at him, her slice of toast hovering near her mouth, and in a matter of seconds, her eyes went from surprised to confused to suspicious. “Why would you do that?”
Gregory could hardly blame her for being distrusting. He was still a stranger to her, and the last man she’d had dealings with had mistreated her, frightened her. It was only natural she should question his motives.
“I’m concerned for your safety,” he admitted. “I’d feel better if I knew you had reached your sister’s house safe and sound.”
She eyed him in a way that suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. People were rarely selfless, and most kindnesses came with conditions.
He had none, but she wasn’t to know that. If he wanted her to accept his offer, he would have to give her another reason, a personal one, one she could more easily believe.
“And,” he said slowly, as if reluctant to admit it, “I could use the excuse to get out of town for a while.”
It wasn’t untrue, precisely. He truthfully wouldn’t mind a brief reprieve from his mother’s meddling.
“Why do you want to leave town?” She studied him over the rim of her tea cup, her expression still skeptical but curious, too.
Gregory hesitated, not wanting to lie. “It’s…complicated.”
A look of understanding crossed her face as she set down her cup. “Trouble with a woman?”
He huffed out a laugh. “You could say that.”
Of course, she didn’t know that the woman causing his trouble was not a lover but his mother, but Gregory saw no reason to volunteer that information.
Especially as his plan looked to be working.
She didn’t speak again for several seconds as she worked on her slice of toast, but she appeared to be giving his offer some serious thought, and when she met his gaze again, the suspicion in her eyes was gone.