Page 11 of The Lady (Daughters of Dishonour #3)

T here was nothing else for it. She was going to have to turn around.

Of all the nasty, unexpected interruptions, this had to be one of the worst. Short of her older brother the duke being there.

Of all the badly timed occurrences. Silvester, Lord Langley, the one-time rake and libertine who’d debauched London a decade or more ago with his wild antics.

Of course, he was now entirely reformed, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease the pair of them mercilessly.

Flora felt sick to her stomach and tried to think of a positive part of this, but none were occurring.

At least Langley wasn’t a gossip. She supposed that was something, but there was no way in hell he wouldn’t tell his beloved wife, Margot.

The problem was, of course, that Margot would tell Elsie, and Elsie happened to be Flora’s sister-in-law.

There was no way the duke would appreciate hearing from such a source about whatever Philip and she had been doing.

Especially given how much Kit barely tolerated his brother-in-law and thought Philip little better.

What a muddle.

With a sigh, Flora turned on her heel to face the two brothers and answer the question which lingered on Philip’s lips.

She had come here ready and willing to offer herself to him.

She had wanted his kisses. His touch. Hell, if he’d been willing, she would have wanted to get engaged.

But what she most definitely didn’t want was for either of them to feel forced into a match.

Which seemed to be the situation now. A marriage of necessity or force was not something that held any appeal to her.

Looking between them now, she could see Langley was his normally arrogant self. The earl had moved away from her and was busy helping himself to the tea things. Hurriedly gobbling up the biscuits as he waited for Flora to reply.

On the other hand, Philip had stepped closer, all considerate concern. There was such an undercurrent of kindness to the man, of safety—that was why she had wanted him in the first place. And his undeniable attractiveness, why even his exposed forearms…

Pay attention, Flora told herself.

Philip’s hand came out to rest on her waist, blocking her again from his brother’s view. If Langley ever bothered to look up from his food she would be shielded.

“My lady, I presumed, but you must realise…”

“I would not force your hand.” This was a key point she wished to emphasise.

Her plan this morning had been to practically propose herself.

Or at least to initiate an affair—which wouldn’t be nasty in the slightest. Her aim had been clear.

She wished to succeed in making Philip fall in love with her.

Eventually yes, she hoped they would wed, but not until she was secure in his affections.

Such things came to her in rapid clarity but, sadly, all completely useless now.

Philip looked surprised at her comment, his face colouring for a second. “I am a man of honour. I would never take advantage?—”

“I threw myself at you. I gave you very little choice.”

There was a noise from behind him, from Langley who seemed to find her comment vastly amusing, but it did not strike Philip in the same way. He was just frowning. “Would you like me to go on one knee, or speak to your brother, the duke first?”

With her back stiffening Flora shook her head. “We do not need to speak to Kit.”

“Wouldn’t envy you that particular task,” Langley said.

“Get out.” Philip snapped, a mottled red suffusing his cheeks. “I don’t think this is the right place for you, Brother dear.”

“But I did so want some happy news.” Langley stuffed the remainder of a lemon pieces into his mouth and sighed.

“I know your wife is pregnant,” Philip said.

“She isn’t due for weeks. Her pregnancies always do last a longer time than average. Trust Margot to be different.”

“Silvester—”

For the first time Langley looked serious, he drew from the pocket of his jacket a letter and handed it over to Philip. A note of sincerity made his voice rich as he stared at his younger brother until Flora felt she was the one interrupting.

Philip glanced up from the letter. “When did Mother scarper?”

“Three days ago,” Langley said. “I meant to arrive and tell you promptly.” He glanced sideways at Flora with an understanding smile, “But the pair of you looked so happy, carrying on in the chair… that if you were both celebrating something… But the deed is done then, and I’ve told you.

” He looked at Flora. “She has run off with my steward, having put it about that she was dying. Our mother is nothing if not dramatic.”

Flora wished she had not remained to hear such news.

Wished she had picked any other day to try to foster herself on Philip.

Or that she could somehow remove the pain of his mother’s actions, yes that would be a preferable action.

She took a tentative step towards the door, not knowing what she should do, but feeling certain it was best to leave the brothers in peace.

Glancing around, Philip’s pained expression stopped her in her tracks. She could not leave him now. “What can I do?”

“Say you’ll come with me to the estate.”

Flora nodded. “Of course.”

“The issue is my steward is married,” Langley said. “His wife and son live on the estate...”

“We must help her and see if we can force our mother to return.” Philip held on to the letter, brandishing it up. “Do you believe her?”

Langley sighed and bit his lip, “I’ve never known if I could believe Mother. But I would sincerely appreciate both of your presence on the estate whilst we decide the next best course of action.”

Flora nodded and said, “We will depart at once.”

Langley’s Hampshire estate was located just south of Beauworth, amongst the pleasing, verdant hills, handsome bushy green trees, hedgerows, and mellow streams. The house itself was a modern manor constructed in the last sixty years by Langley’s grandfather, with none of the old haunting elements that Flora associated with her family home in Cornwall.

No, Langley Manor was everything a modern country estate should be, stretched over two floors, numbering thirty bedrooms, with an orangery attached to the side of it.

The only drawback Flora could see was how far it was from London, just over seventy miles.

The first hour had been spent in silence. Mrs. Wotton had packed up a pleasing array of foods for them to take, although neither of them had touched it as of yet.

Langley had returned to his own townhouse with an assortment of letters to write since he knew a fair number of men to contact and wished to hire a detective.

He promised to be homeward bound for Hampshire on the morrow, along with Flora’s own maid and some of her clothes, so Flora would not feel the loss too dearly.

Having set off late in the day, Flora and Philip would by no means reach Langley Manor by nightfall. But as the sun set around their private coach, Flora became all too aware that neither of them had spoken for what felt like an age.

She could, she supposed, bring up the incoming scandal of his mother. If not, then perhaps she might raise the topic of their kiss this morning. And if not that because she was too much of a coward, then she needed to find out what was their plan for this evening.

When Philip broke the silence, she was so grateful. “I do not mean for us to forget what occurred between us. Nonetheless, given what we will have to contend with, perhaps it is better we do not make any mention of…”

“Of our kiss?” Flora asked. He was the one who had brought it up, and relief flooded through her. “Indeed, we might even attribute it to a moment of madness.”

“No, I do not...” Philip reached for the picnic basket and pulled out one of the sandwiches. “Especially not since my brother has witnessed…”

“If anyone should be able to keep a secret, then it should be Lord Langley.” Flora accepted the proffered sandwich and bit into it. “Do you wish to tell me what the letter said? The one Langley showed you? Was it from your mother or the man she has left with?”

“She made me an offer.” Philip raised his gaze, and Flora could not look away from him. There was a broodiness, alongside a sadness she had not seen in him before. “If I finally vanish from polite society, she will send Langley’s steward home.”

A frown creased Flora’s forehead as she tried to reason out the dowager’s decision-making. Finally, she shook her head. “I do not understand her.”

“She hates me,” Philip said, “because my existence ruins her reputation. My bastardy reveals her affair. If I disappear, then she might be accepted one more amongst her cronies.”

Reaching closer, Flora interlinked their fingers. “Then she is a fool.”

Despite the growing dark, she thought she saw a tentative smile on Philip’s dear face. But before she offered him more words of kindness there came an outcry, and the coach started to slow.

“I believe we are at the agreed upon accommodation.” He pulled away from her grasp and hastily climbed down away from her.

The next ten minutes passed easily enough as they were shown into the neat little parlour wallpapered in duck-egg blue, with a delightful spread of onion soup, thickly cut bread, and a hearty-looking ale.

The innkeeper went off to arrange a change of horses.

Despite having little in the way of luggage, Flora doubted, in such a remote and quiet inn, she would see any of her acquaintance and there seemed to be little risk to her reputation.

In fact, as she finished her meal in private, she dwelt on the fact that, since the accommodation had been arranged by Langley, it would be highly suitable.

She knew the man had exquisite taste despite his humour and occasional japes.

When the innkeeper, Mr. Pauls, took her upstairs, she found herself tired and more than ready for bed. The jowly Mr. Pauls wished the couple a good night. However, on pushing open the door, Flora was less amused to see there was only one bed in the handsome chamber.

All of her earlier seduction plans reasserted themselves.

Across from her, shirtless and clothed in just his trousers, stood Philip.

Flora would have liked to run after Mr. Pauls, declaring her single status and a need for her own bedroom.

But she could not tear her eyes away from the sight of Philip’s muscular chest, or the pleasing wet tendrils of blond hair that glistened over the biceps.

He resembled some divine carving in a museum or some Greek temple.

The only gratifying thing was to realise how uncomfortable Philip looked in this scenario.

“My brother booked the accommodation. He did not realise I would be travelling with you. I had asked for some other room to be made up, but shy of sleeping down with the grooms, it is a small inn…” His voice trailed off.

Edging farther in the chamber, Flora gave him a quick nod of understanding. Of course this was Langley’s doing. She did not know whether to be grateful or annoyed.

“I will, of course, be making my way down to the parlour, once I have collected a blanket or two.”

“No.” She had walked nearer to him, swayed by the sight of his body, and the tension that now seemed to coil between them.

In the coach it had been easy to nibble on the picnic and to be sympathetic.

To feign a semblance of normality. Now it seemed all she wanted to do was resume their activities in the chair this very morning.

Reaching out a hand, Flora only meant to halt his progress towards the door, but he shifted, and her fingers grazed against his chest muscles.

And she could not pull away. Her fingers traced a line against the smooth plane of his stomach, drifting lower against the loosened folds of his trousers. “Stay.”

“You do not know what you ask of me.” His face was tender. “We have nothing agreed between us. It is all too complicated and?—”

“I am not some na?ve fool. I wish…” Her voice wobbled, and she stepped nearer, her arms curving up and around his neck. “I wish to go to bed with you.”

It was enough, the whispered promise caused Philip to snatch her up to him, pulling her against his damp chest, the contact everything she had hoped for.

His hands were wild and insistent as he pulled at her own clothes, loosening the pelisse she had donned, tugging it away from her body.

They fell back onto the bed, their limbs tangling as they fought to continue kissing.

His tongue dipped frantically into her mouth, tasting capturing her own.

He had drunk some of the ale, and the alcohol was rich and intoxicating.

Again, his hands scrambled between her own, pulling her garments free of her body, whilst his kisses continued down her throat, across her collarbone, and into the valley between her breasts.

All the while, Philip’s strong body pressed her deeper into the softness of the bed. What heaven.

As his hands pressed and explored her décolletage, his teeth made quick work of the chemise beneath it. A strangely loud rip sounded, and Flora’s eyes opened, locking with Philip’s.

She smiled up at him. Eager to feel more. To know more too.

“Are you certain?” His body was still lingering over hers, his arms framed either side of her head.

How she wished could hold on to this moment of intimacy, lock it away as a keepsake forever, regardless of what might come next.

For a moment, she wondered if she dared tell him the truth, that she was in love with him.

Would she trust him enough to reveal that much of herself?

Dare she tell him all? Did she trust him enough despite the past, and the lack of clarity now, to say her truth?

“Yes, I am sure.” The words of confession of love did not come to her lips, but the ones of desire did, urging him on.

She lifted her hips to meet his own, to press and angle herself against him, so she could feel the rise of his desire against her stomach.

All her doubts, all her fears, every other thing that plagued her throughout the day, crumbled away as she moved closer and kissed Philip.