Page 9 of Not a Chance in Hell (The Chances #6)

March 27, 1840

L ilianna looked at the invitation in her lap and bit her lip.

The carriage tilted to one side as it rattled along, closer and closer to their destination. A destination that she was still not entirely sure was a good idea.

“S-Stop biting your lip.”

“I wasn’t,” Lilianna said swiftly. She looked up and met her mother’s eye. “Not much.”

Florence Chance grinned. “So I see.”

The whole thing would have been so much easier, of course, if she could parse her feelings for the man who had sent the invitation in her lap, but that appeared to be impossible. Try as she might, Lilianna only managed to get herself into knots whenever she thought about him.

Worse, when she considered the conundrum at night, she grew warm all over, heat peaking between her legs, where a dull ache made it most difficult to fall asleep.

She blamed him for that, too.

The Earl of Taernsby. He was wonderful, and arrogant, and irritating. And he was a Nelson, not a particularly noble house. He was wealthy, yes, but not spectacularly wealthy. Well-bred, but not truly noble, not like the Chances were. He was, among the gentility… average.

A memory sparked in Lilianna’s mind: of the way he had pulled her into his hallway and for a moment she had thought he had been about to ravish her and she had wanted him to .

Lilianna cleared her throat as the carriage wended on its way. Perhaps not that average.

And it was not like she had ever been pursued by a man like… Well, like this. Lord Zouch had been uncouth and ill-mannered, Lord Hastings had been ignorant and na?ve, and the less said about the Right Honorable Henry Ponsonby-Jentham, the better.

Taernsby was quite different. Different from any man she had ever met.

The carriage slowed and eventually came to a stop.

Lilianna swallowed. “We’re here.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “So I see. S-Sit still.”

Lilianna obeyed, closing her eyes as the Marchioness of Aylesbury leaned forward and adjusted one of the curls near her temple. “You don’t have to worry, Mama, the wind will mess it regardless.”

“But w-when you get out of the c-carriage, you should at least m-make an effort,” said her mother sternly. “I w-want you to be p-perfect.”

The carriage door opened as Lilianna nodded, a twisting pain in her stomach.

Perfect. Yes, she had to be perfect, and that meant finding the perfect husband.

So what did she think she was doing, accepting invitations from him ?

“Finally,” said a voice accompanied by a hand offering to help her down. “I thought you’d never get here.”

Heat seared across her body, but Lilianna did not have time to collect herself. There was no time to think, no time to even consider. Her mother was gesturing to get out of the carriage but that would put her right in the arms of—

Not the arms. Definitely not.

Lilianna rolled back her shoulders and tried to calm herself. It was a concert. That was all. There would be plenty of people there, and they would not all be staring.

Probably. How much gossip had emerged from the Daltons’ card party, anyway? She had never thought to ask her mother, and yet now Lilianna could not comprehend how she had failed to inquire.

“Mama,” she said hastily, “how much—”

“Out,” her mother said firmly, giving her that glare that said in no uncertain terms that stammer or no stammer, she would be having words with her if she did not obey.

Lilianna sighed, but then a perfect daughter did what she was told.

The Earl of Taernsby’s hand was still proffered in the open carriage doorway. She took it.

Thank goodness for her gloves. As Lilianna stepped out into the cool, evening air, the scorching heat from Taernsby’s fingers were only just mediated by the soft fabric of her gloves. If she had not been wearing them…

“You’re here,” he said as Lilianna wrenched away her hand and tried to pretend she had not been burned. “You came.”

Lilianna flushed. “I… That is to say, we accepted your invitation, did we not?”

And the only reason she had accepted it was because it had been addressed to both of them, the earl doing something properly for a change. Without her mother here, Lilianna would have felt quite exposed. With her here…

Well . A grin flickered across her face. The last time Florence Chance had seen Lord Taernsby, she had threatened him to a duel, as far as Lilianna could remember. She may have been shy, but there was no one more protective of her daughters than the Marchioness of Aylesbury.

Cheered by this thought, Lilianna turned to help her mother from the carriage—only to discover that at some point during her reverie, Taernsby had managed to do so before her, the footman off to the side and allowing the earl to perform his duties.

Lilianna slipped her hand through her mother’s arm hastily. “Shall we go inside? My mother—”

“ My mother always recommended this box, so I selected it with both her and you in mind, my lady,” Taernsby was saying in a low voice to Lilianna’s mother. “It was always her hope that I would only share it with the most discerning of ladies.”

Oh, what rot!

Lilianna almost said the words aloud but bit down on them before they escaped. Taernsby had somehow taken her mother’s free arm and placed it upon his, and he was guiding them into the concert hall and past numerous people who were staring at them.

All that guff about his mother—well, really! Lilianna knew what he was up to, naturally. It was blindingly obvious! Charm the mother in an attempt to win over the daughter.

If the strategy weren’t so tired, she would have been irritated.

Lord Zouch had tried that, and so had the Mr. Ponsonby-Jentham. Neither of them had gained much ground with her mother.

Society expected the Marchioness of Aylesbury to be weak, just because she was shy. Well , Lilianna thought triumphantly as they stood in a short queue waiting for their tickets to be checked by a man in red livery, Taernsby is going to get rather a surprise. Her mother would never—

“Oh, you are w-witty, m-my lord.” Chuckling, Florence Chance tapped the man on the arm as Lilianna stared in mortified astonishment. “Quite unlike the other rakes m-my daughter has—”

“ Mama !”

“—attracted,” her mother said sagely, turning from her daughter and dropping her arm. “What d-did you think I was going to s-say, Lil?”

Lilianna flushed. Nothing I could say in company.

“It does not surprise me that your daughter has gained so many suitors, my lady, after taking after you so clearly,” Taernsby said smoothly, his charm radiating on the both of them, but the full blast directed at her mother. “It must be a great delight to you, to have your beauty reflected in Lady Lilianna.”

Oh, for goodness’s sake.

Her mother giggled.

Lilianna sighed heavily. Well, that is it, then . She had been relieved that her mother had been included in the invitation because she had been so certain that the great and nervous Marchioness of Aylesbury would be an adequate buffer between Lilianna and the earl.

“—too kind! T-Tell me about your m-mother. I only had the p-pleasure of her company once, in Y-York, a long time ago. I was sorry to read of her passing.”

“Oh, York! What a splendid place York is, I wish I spent more time there,” said Taernsby genially.

Lilianna stared. She was standing just behind her mother now, out of her eyeline, and so could stare unashamedly at the spectacle her mother was making of herself. Laughing at his words? Asking about his mother? What on earth?

He was charming her mother.

Irritation crawled through her bones. The cheek of the man. Charming her mother, as though that were a surefire way to get her to like him!

Lilianna made sure to glare at the man over her mother’s shoulder. If he could see just how infuriated she was by his antics, how absolutely outrageous she thought his behavior…

Her mother was chattering away quite happily. “—n-never heard B-Beethoven in concert. I’m v-very much l-l-looking forward to it.”

Taernsby caught Lilianna’s eye. Despite the very obvious displeasure that she had ensured was splashed across her face, he grinned.

“Mothers love me,” he mouthed. Then he winked.

Oh, it was enough to draw lightning down from the heavens! Lilianna deepened her scowl to the darkest she could manage, but all it appeared to do to the man as they stepped forward and Taernsby showed his tickets to the footman was amuse him!

Amuse him! Her, amusing him !

“Mothers love me.”

The three words gave a jolt to her stomach as they moved up the staircase toward the boxes. What on earth did he mean by that? Mothers. Mothers, plural.

“And yes, charming women has never been a particular challenge for me. And none of them ever interested me as you do. ”

Lilianna swallowed. Well, she had never presumed that the Earl of Taernsby was a saint, not with his reputation. And it was perfectly normal in Society, much as she did not like it, for a gentleman to enter into a marriage with a great deal more experience in… in those matters, than his wife.

Still. The idea of Taernsby being with other women, seducing them, kissing them as he had kissed her…

“I said, don’t you think, Lil?” her mother asked her.

Lilianna blinked. “How—How did we get here?”

It was a foolish thing to say and she regretted it instantly, but there appeared to be no way of taking it back.

They were standing in a box. Four seats in resplendent red velvet were there, angled slightly to the right so that each guest would face the stage, where a gaggle of musicians appeared to be squabbling over sheet music.

She had no memory of walking here, so lost had she become in her thoughts.

“I mean,” she said, clearing her throat, “how did you secure such a box, Taernsby?”

Her mother pinked. “ L-Lilianna !”

“My lord,” Lilianna added guiltily.

His grin only increased her self-ire.

When had she started to think of the annoying man as Taernsby, rather than Lord Taernsby? It had happened so gradually, Lilianna could hardly recall.

Well, that would have to go. There was no possibility of her falling into that habit again.

“Taernsby—I mean, my lord,” Lilianna said, hating herself and her own foolishness. “I shall sit here.”

“Oh, no, you must sit here,” he said, striding forward and placing his hand on the back of a chair. “I think you will prefer the acoustics.”

Lilianna almost rolled her eyes. Prefer the acoustics, indeed!

It could not be more plain what the brigand was up to. The four seats were angled to the right, toward the stage—so the leftmost seat was almost completely out of sight of the one on the very right… where Taernsby was currently placing her mother, gracing her knuckles with a kiss as he did so.

Her stomach tightened. And so that way, he would sit between them… and her mother would not be able to see much of what they were doing.

Not that they would be doing anything. Obviously. Oh, this man!

“S-Sit, Lil,” her mother chided softly. “I believe th-they will start s-soon.”

Taernsby stood by the chair he had allotted her with a hand outstretched and an eyebrow raised in challenge.

Oh, what was the use? She should never have accepted the invitation, that was her trouble. But it had been so… so formal. So unlike the letter he had previously sent.

Lilianna’s cheeks burned as she sat, the memory of that letter heating her from within. That a man could write such things, could think such things, and then set them down in pen and ink. Could send her that letter, knowing she would read all the things he wanted to do to her…

“Do you like Beethoven, Lady Lilianna?”

She started and turned to glare at Taernsby, who was seated beside her. “What, you can address me appropriately now?”

“I told you that mothers love me, and I spoke the truth,” he said lightly with a seemingly well-practiced air of levity. “You think they would continue to love me if I did not speak to their daughters with respect?”

“And will you treat me with respect?” she shot back, trying to keep her voice down. A few ladies seated in a row just below them looked up curiously.

Taernsby grinned. “You think I have treated you with anything else, in our entire acquaintance?”

Lilianna swallowed what she wanted to say, which was that she had never been treated with such disrespect in her life. Respectful gentlemen did not go around kissing ladies beside lakes!

The trouble was, that was not the sort of thing one could say to an earl at a concern with one’s mother present.

“Mama?” Lilianna said uncertainly.

“Oh, don’t m-mind me, Lil,” said her mother happily as she settled herself in her new seat—farther away from them, leaving an empty seat between herself and the earl. “I th-think I shall h-hear far better from here.”

“But…”

Her words trailed away as she saw her mother’s smile. Oh, bother it all. He was right. Mothers did love him.

“Oh look, there’s Lady Romeril,” said Taernsby, leaning forward and pointing at the row right in front of the stage. “And goodness, look who is with her!”

Lilianna’s mother craned forward to look.

“Now, are you going to behave?” Taernsby said in a low voice as he leaned toward Lilianna.

That was when she knew she was most definitely in trouble. No man deserved to smell like that. Like… like heat. Like the radiating heat from red bricks after they’d been sitting in the midday sun for hours. Like touching them would not only scald, but burn, burn a scar into you that would remind you forever just what you had touched.

Her breath hitched in her throat. “ Me , behave?”

“Yes, you ,” said Taernsby with a wicked grin. “I’ve brought you all this way—”

“It was our carriage that brought us here, actually.”

“—and I have sufficiently distracted your mother, and that means that we have what we so desperately need.”

Lilianna wetted her lips. “‘Need’?”

His eyes had flickered to her lips at the small movement but returned to her eyes as he nodded. “Time.”

Time.

Oh, there wasn’t enough time in the world to understand this man. Strong and controlled and uncontrolled at different passing moments in any given minute, Lilianna could not understand what he wanted. He said he wanted her, he said he wanted heirs—but why her? Why not any other woman? He seemed to not need her dowry—and he already had a title of his own, so marrying the daughter of a marquess would not necessarily raise his status.

“Time to better understand each other,” Taernsby said quietly as the conductor strode out and gentle applause started to ripple through the cavernous space. “Time for you to understand me, and me to understand you.”

The chatter about the place was dying down as the conductor tapped his baton on the music stand before him, but Lilianna could not concentrate on that. She could barely concentrate on getting enough air into her lungs. “‘Understand’?”

It was more a whimper than a word, and she hated her weakness for it.

The music started.

It was beautiful, and it was played brilliantly. Never before had she heard Beethoven played so exquisitely. Perhaps if she had been with anyone else, she would have cared more.

But Lilianna was concentrating on keeping enough air in her lungs not to faint away while sitting a mere two inches away from a man who seemed able to set her skin ablaze with a single look.

Taernsby smiled. “Can you accept that I’m courting you now?”

Lilianna tried to think.

Courting . That was what he called it, though she was almost certain that the kissing was supposed to happen after the courting. After the engagement. For some, after the wedding.

Not for gentlemen, of course. But for ladies like her, this was all wrong. It was the wrong way around.

“I think you owe me a kiss now, Lilianna.”

“L-Lady Lilianna.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“You have not a chance in hell.”

Lilianna raked her gaze over him and Taernsby accepted it, not turning away or flushing at her investigatory expression.

What sort of man was this, who could so easily charm mothers and yet had never wed? He wanted an heir, yes, but he could offer matrimony to anyone. She had said no , declined his offer of marriage countless times. And he was still here.

Still looking at her as though he wanted to rip all her clothes off and—

“Fine,” she muttered.

Taernsby grinned. “Is that how you’d like to acquiesce to my courtship, Lil?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said sharply in a quiet voice. “Only my family calls me that.”

“Fine,” he said in a mocking, teasing tone. “My countess.”

A shiver rushed up her spine. It truly was most unfair of him to speak like that. Like they shared secrets. Like this was merely an evening of entertainment for them before they returned to their home. Their bed.

And then she gasped.

It was a small miracle that a gasp was the only reaction she had to such an unexpected gesture. Before she could understand why he had done it, or even consider what it must look like if her mother looked over at them, Taernsby had done the unthinkable.

He had taken her hand in his own.

Lilianna immediately tugged hers away—at least, she tried to. The man had an uncanny grip and a frustratingly impressive way of knowing just when she was about to wrench and twist it away.

“Let go,” she muttered.

“Never,” Taernsby shot back without hesitation. “Not if I can help it.”

A bubble of laughter rose in her before Lilianna could stop it. Oh, it is so ridiculous . The friction between them had to be the cause of all this heat, did it not? The desire rising in her, the laughter, the ridiculousness of it all—he knew he was doing this, didn’t he?

Taernsby grinned. “I like this version of you.”

Lilianna’s hand stilled. “Which version?”

“This one,” he whispered. “This carefree version, the one where you don’t care what you look like or what anyone thinks of you.”

She swallowed. “I…”

What was there to say? That she so rarely experienced it, she hardly knew whether she liked it herself? That there was almost no version of herself she knew except the controlled, buttoned-up, perfect version that she had so carefully constructed for the world to see?

Taernsby was smiling, a softening of his lips like affection, not devastating heat.

Lilianna tried to slip her hand away. “You are too clever by half, you know that?”

She had intended it as almost an insult, but the man grinned. “I know. And you’re still trying to get away from me.”

“I am.”

“Then go.”

Lilianna gasped as Taernsby released her hand. The sudden absence of pressure, of his presence, was quite a shock.

The Earl of Taernsby shrugged and placed his hands on his thighs, grasping his legs. “I won’t keep you.”

She had not expected to feel so… so bereft.

The music continued. It had probably continued, Lilianna realized, the entirety of the hand-being-held-captive debacle. Strange. She had not heard it. Every one of her senses had been trained on the man seated to her right.

He wasn’t looking at her. Lilianna deflated somewhat as he stared at the stage, humming and nodding his head along with the music. It was as though she wasn’t there. As though he had completely forgotten about her.

Lilianna looked at her right hand. It was empty.

Did she want it to be empty forever?

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered.

She leaned over, removing Taernsby’s left hand from his thigh and placing her own within it. Her instincts made her lace her fingers in between his own and it felt…

Right.

Taernsby was grinning. His wide grin made him even more attractive, and by God, he knew it.

“Shut up,” Lilianna said darkly, squeezing his hand.

The Earl of Taernsby squeezed back.