Page 17 of A Lady of Means (Roses and Rakes #1)

Chapter Twelve

Battle strategy meeting. Friday. My brother’s club. Burgundy room.

X,

* * *

“You came.”

Devyn had almost expected she wouldn’t show. It had been her invitation, the first contact with her since the ball a few evenings prior: a torn piece of paper slipped into his hand by her lady’s maid as he’d left his brother’s house.

But now she looked good enough to devour in a purple dress and he was glad that he’d rearranged his schedule at her behest. He counted himself among a number of men who weren’t quite sure what they wouldn’t do for her, but somehow he was the one she’d crossed a full ballroom to get to and trusted with her carefully guarded secrets.

“I invited you,” she replied.

There was a biting edge to her voice. Icy blue flecks and golden embers floating in her eyes contrasted with the delectable sweetness of her curves poured into that purple dress. He liked her in purple. Wasn’t purple the color of queens?

The taut set of her shoulders and the tilt of her jaw made him want to take her into his arms and show her all the ways he could melt away the ice in her veins.

He took her hand and led her into the meeting room.

There were trays of food spread before them on a table, a fire in the hearth.

He took in her hooded cloak, the fact that she was unaccompanied.

He could hear the proprietary voice of his father, a general, inside his head telling him he was a damn fool and a reckless one at that.

“You came without a chaperone,” he said, trailing a finger down one arm of her cloak.

She gave a small laugh that almost made him forget his own name. “I’m good at diversion.”

He was well versed in that fact. Every thought he’d had since meeting her outside a coaching inn had been diverted in her direction. “You don’t have to be.”

Moria sat on the settee, he sat next to her. He took her hand and placed small kisses on the back of her hand. Her eyes tipped up to his in challenge. “So, you’re in the market for a wife then?”

She was bold, direct. It was one thing he found attractive about her. One of the many things.

He tightened his hold on her hand, looking into her eyes in challenge. “I’m in the market for you.”

She placed one hand on the side of his face. “And after the month is up? You’ll go to Jalalabad? There’s no seducing you into staying in England?”

There was a teasing note to her voice, but he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He owed her the truth.

He kissed her hand, then placed it in his hair.

He scattered more kisses on her jaw, trailing down her neck.

“You have fought your battles to get to where you are, my lady, I’ve fought mine.

And just like you, I have my pride,” he inhaled the sugar scent of her skin, willing to tell her anything so long as she kept curling her fingers in the hair at his nape.

“Giving up my leadership of my men, even for a perfect woman, doesn’t feel like the honorable course. ”

He met her eyes. “I’ll share the plans I called you here to discuss. But first, I’d prefer it if you kiss me while you still have the chance, soldier.”

His lips took over, crashing into hers, drinking in her little whimper of surprise when his tongue circled hers. Her hands ran down his shoulders. He could feel every inch of her that pressed against him. The heated rise and fall of her chest against his had her pulling back.

“It’s this blasted corset, it’s too hot in here.”

He spun her around. Slowly, he peeled off the delicately embroidered gloves and each sleeve of her bodice and set them gently on a table. She was just in the 14 other remaining layers of clothes she’d put on today.

“This is absurd. Were these clothes designed to make women suffer?” he said, pulling back her chemise so that he could unlace the strings of her corset.

“If they’d been designed by men, perhaps.”

“No, there’d be a lot less of them in that case, my lady.”

When he untied them and placed a finger in the panel to release some of the tension, she sucked in a large breath and leaned her back against his front, her hand still at her abdomen.

She hadn’t need of a corset so blasted tight, his hands already fit around her waist. She was perfect, just like this, with her hips, even in her skirts, jutting into his manhood.

He bit down a groan. He needed his hands on her.

He spun her to face him. “Better?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. His hands tightened on her hips, his mouth drew swirls and licks against her breast until she sighed audibly. That sound embedded itself underneath his skin. She arched underneath his touch.

He was startled back to alertness by the rattle of the locked door handle. There were always interruptions with her, always intrusions and demands on her time. But if it were like this just being with her for a few minutes, what must it be like for her?

Her eyes darted to his. “What do we do?”

There was the sound of voices on the other side of the door, Moria must have recognized them because she muttered, “Drysdale.”

“You know him?” His jaw and fists fought the urge to clench in jealousy.

She winced. “We were almost engaged a couple of times. He’s not a threat.”

As Devyn held his tongue over her nipple, and the back of her corset in his hand, he arched a brow at her. A low growl escaped before he could rein it in. “Moria.”

“My dress requires…resettling…I’ll hide in that adjacent chamber over there and you buy us time. Just make conversation about…military strategy,” she instructed.

Before he could protest, she’d disappeared, and he was left with a young dandy in the now open doorway.

“Oh, hello, there.” The man Moria had called Drysdale said as he entered. He was a blond-haired fop in finely fitted tailoring. Devyn couldn’t help noticing the farcical contrast between himself and the other man.

Devyn gave him a noncommittal nod as he looked up from his papers he’d had the sense to remove from his bag in the nick of time. The toff looked at him askance, then tried to peek at the papers Devyn was reading.

“Sorry to be a bother…only…I’m damn curious why the door was locked.”

Devyn arched a brow. “Important military documents,” he said, holding up the parchment in his hand. He felt like an idiot as the other man eyed him skeptically. His eyes settled on an intricately embroidered glove beneath a seat cushion, then turned to Devyn.

“Moria Pembrooke, I know you’re here,” the other man said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. He was the picture of smug arrogance.

Not Lady Moria Pembrooke, just Moria. He’d known her by her glove?

Had she been here before, with him? Hate was too watered down a word for how Devyn felt about it.

Moria appeared from an antechamber somehow immaculately dressed and coiffured. Drysdale smiled and kicked a leg up on his other knee like he’d won some sort of contest.

“Lovely to see you, darling,” he said, taking in her appearance, his eyes falling on the lack of a glove on one arm before taking a sip of his drink. Devyn wondered if he could simply knock the toff out cold and shove him in the antechamber and leave with Moria.

Her voice was like honeyed steel. “I hear felicitations are in order on your impending nuptials. Glad you wasted no time with Miss Wimbley.”

Drysdale inclined his head and raised his glass at her. “I’m just glad I’ve finally found the right woman to tolerate me. Although,” he paused to sip from his crystal tumbler, “I can see why you never did, Moria. This man is ghastly hard to look at without feeling inferior.”

“Isn’t he just?” Moria added, then turned to Devyn, whose cheeks were surely pink. “I’m sorry have we met?”

Drysdale chuckled. “Don’t you dare try that one on me. I saw your glove beneath a cushion.” He grabbed said glove and handed it to her.

Moria closed her eyes and grimaced. “You’re an ass, Drysdale. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Drysdale ignored her jab and turned to Devyn with an outstretched hand. “Caleb Howley, Earl of Drysdale, I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance.”

“Captain Devyn Winter, Her Majesty’s Army.” Devyn shook the other man’s hand harder than he likely ought, the other man retrieved his hand, shaking it as though in pain.

“Message received, Captain. I never saw either of you here.” He looked to Moria. “Not that I’d ever be a snitch.”

“I rescind my previous statement; you’re not entirely an ass, my lord,” she said, with a winning smile.

“I won’t take offense. I’m sure you’re acquainted with my finer qualities.”

Moria shook her head at Devyn in caution. Was his ire was written on his face? He’d been told in the past that his nose was too large, his eyes were too black, and his body was too large to be anything but a brute. He’d only be proving everyone right if he gave into a violent impulse right now.

“Is that any way to speak to a lady, sir?”

Moria’s eyes widened in alarm as Drysdale spoke. “Oh, unclench your fits, Captain, it was only a jest. Lady Moria has made far more colorful jokes at others’ expense in the past.”

While he didn’t doubt that was true, Devyn didn’t back down. He let his full stature tower over the other man.

“Devyn,” Moria whispered, her bare fingers warm and soft against his arm. An entire language passed between them when he looked into her eyes.

“I’ll play chaperone and help you two evacuate the club without being seen.”

Devyn looked at him, brows raised, fists still clenched.

“Your fists are the size of cannons, I know better than to cross a man of your size,” the Earl bowed over Moria’s hand briefly before letting it go.

“He’d level a peer of the realm for you without batting an eye.

You are worth fighting for, dear girl. Just because I was never willing to, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. ”

Moria’s eyes went a bit cloudy at that, but she wasn’t looking at her former beau, but her current one. Made Devyn feel like less of a chump and more of one at the same time.

“That was…oddly touching, my lord.”

“I don’t know what came over me. Please let’s never speak of it again.”

Moria chuckled. “If you’re still willing to help, I’ll agree to that.”

“Did you…have an escape plan when you snuck in here?”

Devyn said, “Servant’s entrance,” at the same time Moria held up her reticule and said, “Spider.”

The Earl of Drysdale shook his head. “I should have guessed one of your sister’s animals would factor into this.”