What You Promised (Anything for Love, Book 4) Page 19

  The colour drained from John’s face until his pallor was ashen, an odd shade of grey. “Just for a moment. Miss Pearce injured her head. We couldn’t wake her. I … I couldn’t leave her lying on the steps. Robert struggled to carry her on his own.”

  “Bloody hell!”

  It was as though a hundred needles pierced his heart. He’d underestimated Lucinda’s skill for deception. All the signs had been there. Matthew pushed the footman aside.

  Fists clenched he mounted the stairs, fearing what he would find.

  Chapter 22

  The sight of frantic couples darting around the garden like ghosts in the night, searching for an available place to conduct a liaison, gave Priscilla faith in Matthew’s ability to empty the house early.

  She stood at the window, her palm pressed against the cold pane, waiting to catch a glimpse of her husband rounding up the rabble. Just the sight of him made her feel warm inside. Happy. Complete.

  Love was like a sweet form of agony.

  Whenever she thought about him her heart swelled so large it filled her chest. Her body tingled in his presence. She yearned for his company. Hungered for his kisses. Craved his touch.

  A whimper left her lips.

  He felt something too. Only time would tell if the flashes of emotion she noted in his eyes would develop into something more profound. But she could wait.

  In her moment of contemplation, her thoughts drifted back to the card game. The rush of satisfaction, the pure sense of exhilaration when they’d beaten Lord Boden was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It had nothing to do with winning back the vowel, with revenge or a desire to see the arrogance wiped from Boden’s face.

  Matthew’s triumphant grin, his puffed chest and square shoulders, the confidence oozing from his pores, was worth the trauma of playing a dozen tense games.

  The creak of the connecting door opening in the dressing room disturbed her reverie. From the ravenous look in Matthew’s eye when he’d left her on the stairs, she suspected he could not wait two hours without partaking in a little amorous activity.

  Fighting the urge to run into his embrace, Priscilla continued to stare out of the window. The smile on her lips stretched wide as she anticipated strong arms sliding around her waist, the feel of his arousal pressed against her buttocks.

  God, her throat grew tight.

  The light padding of steps towards her made her heart beat so fast she could barely catch her breath. Soon … soon she would feel his hot lips against her neck.

  With her mind lost in a heady cloud of desire, she closed her eyes and inhaled. Matthew’s unique scent always found a way to seep into her skin, to awaken every fibre of her being, to—

  Her eyes flew open.

  The smell of stale tobacco, a rank whiff of liquor, the fusty scent of days-old sweat clawed at her nostrils and bombarded her senses.

  Panic flared.

  She clutched her hands to her chest to stop her body shaking. Amidst the warm glow of candlelight, she saw him then, caught a fleeting glimpse reflected in the glass. His round face and swollen cheeks reminded her of a squirrel carrying food for winter. While Matthew was muscular yet lean, this man’s rotund physique filled her frame of vision.

  Every second spent thinking brought him closer.

  Had he honest intentions in mind, he would have coughed to gain her attention, introduced himself for fear of startling her. There was little point knocking the window. The guests were engaged in their usual antics, and would never hear the rapping above their grunts and groans.

  With no other choice left open, Priscilla swung around.

  It took a moment for her mind to confirm the gentleman’s identity. “Mr Mullworth,” she said feigning the confidence of a duchess. “What on earth are you doing in my private chamber? Are you lost? Did Mr Chandler give you permission to enter his room?”

  One after another, the questions tumbled out of her mouth. Talking settled her nerves.

  “There is no need to be coy, my dear. Miss Pearce gave me your note.” Mullworth stepped closer. “You said to come through the master suite to avoid detection.”

  Heaven help her. What was she to do?

  “I’m surprised you managed to sneak past the footman.”

  “Miss Pearce created a little diversion.” Mullworth’s greedy gaze fell to the jewelled brooch on her bodice. The tip of his tongue moistened the seam of his lips. “Of course, the woman has her own agenda. I’m sure you’re aware of her obsession with your husband. But let’s not talk about that now. Time is of the essence.”

  As Mullworth took another step, Priscilla knew she had to move away from the window if she had any hope of escaping.

  “If you have come here expecting something from me, then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.” Taking a few discreet sidesteps for fear of him pouncing, she shuffled into the middle of the room. “Surely after witnessing the way I danced with my husband, you must know there has been a mistake. Is it not obvious I am in love with him?”

  Mullworth’s frown was quickly replaced with a sly grin. “As your note said, that is the game you play to make the gentlemen try harder to win your affection.”

  Good Lord, with her talent for deception, Miss Pearce should work for the Crown.

  Priscilla edged closer to the door. “Miss Pearce is the one playing games, sir. She will use any tactic necessary to get my husband’s attention.”

  “What are you saying?” Mullworth’s fleshy jowls wobbled.

  “There has been a misunderstanding. I will never engage in any activity unless it’s with my husband.”

  A moment of silence ensued while the gentleman scrutinised her face.

  “Ah, I understand,” he said, his straggly eyebrows wiggling up and down. “You wish for the three of us to partake in a liaison together. I mean it’s not what I’m used to, and I’m not sure what Chandler will—”

  “For heaven’s sake, no! Does anyone in this house possess a rational mind?” Priscilla sucked in a breath and thrust her arm out towards the door. “I suggest you leave, sir, before my husband finds you in here and blows a hole in the middle of your forehead.”

  Surely the thought of a dawn appointment would make the man reconsider his position. But no. The faint chime of the grandfather clock in the hall sent the man into a mild panic.

  With hands flapping, Mullworth closed the gap between them. “Come on now. You’re married to Chandler. A little wild sport with the guests is expected.”

  “How many times must I tell you? I shall sleep with no man other than my husband.”

  Fat, chapped fingers gripped her shoulder. His head fell forward as he ogled her breasts. Priscilla stepped back, but his grip was firm.

  “One kiss, just to see if you like it.” Mullworth puckered his lips which brought relief from his repugnant breath. Both hands settled on her shoulders. “Just one before its time to leave.”

  Priscilla struggled to raise her arms. She kicked out, but the man was too drunk to care.

  “Come on,” he continued as she turned her head away to avoid his kiss. “Chandler won’t object. The guests' needs always come first.”

  “Let me go, Mr Mullworth, or I’ll scream.”

  A growl resonated from the back of his throat. “You’ll kiss me, woman, else I shall withdraw my membership.”

  “Consider it done.” Matthew’s deep, masculine roar filled the room. “Right after I’ve knocked your damn teeth down your throat. Now, get your filthy hands off my wife.”

  Relief coursed through Priscilla’s veins. As soon as Mullworth released her, she sagged to the floor.

  Mullworth swung around and raised his hands as a shield. “There’s no need for violence, Chandler.”

  “Oh, there’s every need.” Matthew took a step forward. He had the air of the Devil: dark, menacing, utterly terrifying.

  Priscilla shuffled back.

  “I thought the chit was interested. A fellow can’t help it if he’s misread the sig
ns.”

  “Course not.” Matthew crossed the room in a few strides. “Just so there can be no confusion in future, let this act as a reminder.” With a few short, sharp jabs, Matthew punched Mr Mullworth in the stomach. The man’s shrill cries filled the room. He reeled, staggering back a few steps. “And maybe one more in case your memory fails you.” One uppercut to the chin sent Mr Mullworth up into the air, and he landed with a thud.

  Priscilla gasped.

  Matthew marched to the bedchamber door, turned the key in the lock, yanked it open and stomped out onto the landing. “John,” he shouted over the balustrade. “Come up here and get this good-for-nothing piece of shite out of my home.”

  Within seconds, John and Hopkins appeared at her door. Both men entered the room, their frantic gazes focusing on the lifeless lump. The butler’s face turned ashen when he noticed her crouched on the floor.

  “Forgive me, madam.” Hopkins inclined his head. “Our task was to protect you, and we have failed.”

  “It’s all right, Hopkins. There’s no harm done.” The tremble in her voice said otherwise.

  John’s face flushed, and he pursed his lips. “It’s my fault, madam. I left my post.”

  Matthew sighed and thrust his hand through his hair. “It is no one’s fault but mine.” He shook his head, though struggled to look at her. “Now, throw this oaf into his carriage. Inform his coachman that if I see him within a hundred yards of my home, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  The servants nodded, heaved Mr Mullworth to his feet, took an arm each and carried him out.

  Matthew followed them onto the landing. “Find Lawson and Pike. I want everyone out of the house. Check the summerhouse and scour the garden. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be down to help. Follow the procedure we use in case of a fire. That should prevent any arguments.”

  The men’s mumbled replies were barely audible through the din below.

  Expressing a weary sigh, Matthew returned to the room and closed the door.

  For a few seconds he stood there and stared at her, his mouth drawn into a thin, sombre line. What she regarded as sparkling emerald eyes were now the colour of the sea on a dull overcast day.

  “I’m sorry.” The words breezed from his lips on a whisper.

  Priscilla stood. “You weren’t to know.”

  It was as though they were standing on opposite sides of a valley, the space between them vast, growing wider by the minute.

  The gaunt, haunted look in his eyes marred his handsome face. “When I saw him in here … when I …”

  She took a step towards him and held out her hands. The gesture caused him to suck in a breath, and he crossed the room and pulled her into an embrace.

  “I’m sorry, Priscilla.” Large hands stroked her hair, patted her back and shoulders as though searching for a sign of a wound or injury. “What was I thinking? What husband would allow his wife to live in these conditions?”

  Priscilla pulled back and touched his cheek. “Don’t blame yourself. A wife was not on your agenda when you planned these parties. These things cannot be helped. Next time—”

  “There won’t be a next time.” He covered her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it five times or more. “One’s home should be a place of solace, a place of safety. To hell with the lot of them. Let them find their entertainment elsewhere. I’ll find some other way to supplement my income. Lord, we can take to the gaming hells if we get desperate.”

  Priscilla managed a smile. The event with Mr Mullworth had left her shaken. “I’m not worried, and so you shouldn’t be.”

  He nodded. “Together we will find a way to muddle through.”

  “We’ll do better than that. You’ll spend your days painting, your nights in bed pleasing me. I shall spend my days organising your diary, entertaining patrons and raising our children. Every night I shall show you how much I love you.”

  She waited for the flash of fear in his eyes at the mere mention of children and love. But it never came.

  “It sounds perfect,” he said offering a wide grin. “But you omitted to mention one vital part.”

  “Oh, and what is that?”

  He opened his mouth, but no words followed. His watery eyes glistened in the candlelight.

  Doubt surfaced and her bottom lip trembled. “We promised to be honest, remember. If I’ve been presumptuous or made an error—”

  “No. As always your words speak of nothing but the truth. But there is something else I intend to do as well as painting and rousing your exquisite cries upon release.”

  The muscles in her core pulsed whenever he mentioned anything amorous.

  He cupped her face between his large hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “I intend to love you my whole life.”

  “Love me?” The world seemed to tilt on its axis and she fought to keep her balance. “But are you not a man incapable of deep affection?”

  The corner of his mouth curled up. “Only where other people are concerned. But I love you, Priscilla, with every fibre of my being.”

  A well of suppressed emotion burst. A tear trickled down her cheek. She couldn’t help it. Indeed, she was in danger of becoming a blubbering wreck.

  “Don’t cry.” He brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Are you not happy to hear my declaration?”

  “My lack of confidence begs that I challenge you, but you would not have spoken the words unless you meant them.”

  “I would never lie to you, and I am not a man who says things just to please other people.” He brushed his mouth against hers, the kiss sweet, tender. “Damn. I must be in love with you as the thought of holding you close whilst still fully clothed seems appealing.”

  “What, you don’t want to bed me?”

  “Of course I want to bed you. Trust me. I could rouse the required response within seconds. But holding you in my arms is fulfilling. Just being near you soothes my soul.”

  She did cry then, a fast-flowing river that carried away all her fears and doubts.

  Matthew held her to his chest, stroked her back and whispered endearments.

  Sucking in a breath, she raised her head to look at him. “If the dowager Lady Morford we here I think I’d kiss her.”

  “Indeed. When I agreed to marry you, I thought I had settled my debt to Tristan.” The warm glow of candlelight danced over his handsome features. “Now it is evident I owe him a far greater debt, one that can never be repaid.”

  A feeling of contentment filled her breast. “Dance with me.”

  “Dance? But there’s no music.”

  “I can hear love’s melody.”

  Matthew smiled. “Are we to move fast or slow?”

  “Slow. I want to savour the moment.”

  He held her close, hummed a sweet tune as they moved in perpetual circles around the room. Priscilla placed her head on his chest, inhaled the unique scent that made her knees weak.

  “I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

  “I love you.”

  They tried to ignore the loud rap on the door, but the caller grew more persistent.

  “We should answer it,” he said as they came to a halt. “No doubt there is trouble downstairs. And the sooner we get rid of them, the sooner we can enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  The thought of joining him in bed sent shocks of desire shooting to her core. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He chuckled, marched over to the door and yanked it open. “What is it, Hopkins?”

  “Forgive me, sir,” Hopkins said.

  “Are the drunken fools refusing to leave? Did you not ring the damn handbell?”

  “If you don’t come down, fists will be flying. Lawson is at the end of his tether, and I fear he’s liable to do some lord harm and hang for the privilege.”

  “Bloody hell.” Matthew pushed his hand through his hair. He turned to face her. “I should go down. Lock the door behind me, and the one in the dressing room too.”

  “Mr Mullworth re
gained consciousness when we loaded him into the carriage,” Hopkins added. “He asked me to convey his apologies.”

  “The bastard can go to hell,” Matthew snapped.

  Hopkins inclined his head. “That’s what I told him, sir. Oh, and Lord Boden said to tell you he intends to make sure Miss Pearce leaves for France on the first available crossing.”

  Priscilla breathed a sigh of relief. The woman was intent on causing trouble. “Thank goodness, although it beggars the question why Lord Boden would want to help us.”

  A sly grin touched Matthew’s lips. “When I come back, remind me to tell you about Lord Boden’s new hobby.”

  Curiosity flared. “You can’t leave without giving me a clue.”

  “Let us just say that Boden’s wants and desires are not as straightforward as they seem. I shall leave you to ponder the comment.”

  A string of vile curses echoed up the stairs.

  Hopkins rushed to look over the balustrade. “Damn it, Pike. Put the man down and let him walk out.”

  Priscilla rushed to Matthew’s side. “Go, before all the staff find themselves dangling from the hangman’s noose.”

  He kissed her roughly on the lips. “Lock the door.” He took two steps forward, hurried back to her side and kissed her again. “Have I told you I love you?”

  Priscilla smiled. “Three times.”

  “I promise to say it at least another ten times before the night is out.” Without another word, he raced down the stairs.

  “What’s going on Chandler?” a loud voice rumbled from the hallway. “Is there a fire?”

  Priscilla closed the door and turned the key. She touched her forehead to the wooden panel, closed her eyes and let happiness consume her.

  Matthew loved her.

  The stranger who’d rescued her in the garden had become her life, her love, her everything.

  The future held nothing but promise.

  Epilogue

  With the room painted a dark shade of red and an abundance of gilt-framed canvases littering the walls, the picture gallery was unrecognisable from the ballroom once used to entertain the dissolute members of the ton.