Secrets of a Wedding Night Read online

  He set his glass aside and snapped the leather riding gloves he still held in his hand. “I won’t ask a third time,” he replied with his own type of smile—a decidedly angry one—that Lily was sure he had perfected.

  She stirred her tea with the spoon and spoke slowly. “I assume you’re here, asking these questions, because…”

  His new smile was tight. “Because my affianced bride, Miss Templeton, just cried off, and according to her distraught mother, it was a direct result of her reading your pamphlet.”

  Lily averted her eyes. A strange sensation tugged at her. Guilt? No. Not possible. She tapped the spoon on the side of the porcelain cup. Ping. Ping. Ping.

  Hmm. This little episode had the potential to become quite messy.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” she lied. “Though I cannot say I blame Miss Templeton. Marriage is not all it’s purported to be. Awful business, really.” She shuddered.

  Colton did not look amused. “Did you write that blasted pamphlet or not?”

  Lily raised her cup to her lips, hiding her expression behind it, watching him. Why, the cad was nearly shouting at her. Not to mention the swearing. Did she write the pamphlet? Of course she wrote it, and she happened to be exceedingly proud of it. But she couldn’t very well admit it and still maintain her place in Polite Society. And she needed her place in Society, for Annie’s sake.

  “Tsk, tsk. Such language, Lord Colton.” Another sip of tea. “If I wrote it—and I am not saying I did—I would stand behind its contents. Young ladies should know exactly what they’re getting into, after all. That pamphlet provides a much-needed service to the uninformed.”

  She dropped her gaze. No use trying to make him understand. He could never know the fright of a wedding night, married to a man old enough to be your grandfather, someone you didn’t know, didn’t love. All with no choice in the matter. It was enough to shatter a girl’s dreams. Just as Lord Colton had helped to shatter hers, though she’d die before she’d admit it to him.

  He clenched his jaw and leaned toward her, bracing his forearms on his knees. His maddeningly masculine scent found her nostrils, a mixture of horse leather, the barest hint of expensive cologne, and something indefinable. Probably that blasted confidence.

  His voice was silky, yet menacing, and held a promising tone that made it seem hot in the room again. “That pamphlet is a pack of lies told by a woman who hasn’t been bedded properly.”

  She gasped. Good heavens. She should slap him and order him from her house for saying such an indelicate thing. Instead, his words caused a rush of heat to singe her nerves. But she refused to be shocked by him. She would give him back as good as he gave.

  Lily kept her eyes hooded and leaned toward him. “Surely you’re not implying that you are the authority on bedding women properly? Even you couldn’t possibly be that arrogant, my lord. Or do I give you too much credit?”

  The growl that followed was meant to intimidate. Lily was sure of it. Instead, it served to delight. Finally. She’d scored a hit in their war of words.

  “I imply nothing,” he ground out, mirroring her action by leaning toward her, his mouth merely inches from hers. Their eyes met. “I know exactly how to bed a woman properly.” Lily sucked in her breath sharply, but she refused to look away. He stared her down. “Furthermore, I accuse you of writing that libelous bit of rubbish, and I demand you retract it.”

  Lily snapped her head to the side and bit her lip. Another flash of guilt—she was now quite convinced it was guilt—swept through her. He wanted a retraction? That’s what he was after? He couldn’t possibly be in love with the girl. Could he? She pressed a hand against her sinking stomach.

  Giving her head a shake, she turned back to face him. “The fact that your fiancée allowed some silly pamphlet to scare her off may tell you something you don’t want to know, Colton. Or have you never considered that?” She swept her hands across her lap and squared her shoulders. “At any rate, this conversation is entirely inappropriate, my lord. I think it would be best if you take your leave now.”

  Leopold’s furry head shot up and he growled softly, watching his mistress as if ready to defend her if necessary.

  Lord Colton gave the dog a distasteful glance and made no move to go. Instead, he stared Lily down again, a muscle ticking in his jaw once more. “Oh, no you don’t. You cannot go about destroying people’s lives without answering for it.”

  Lily stared right back. “Resorting to intimidation now, are you, my lord?” Time to put an end to this ridiculous conversation. And she knew just how to do it. “I realize you need to marry an heiress. Everyone knows your father left your estates completely penniless, and your own heedless gambling hasn’t helped the situation, but it seems you’ll just have to find another young woman to lure with empty promises.” She smiled a fake-sweet smile. “Perhaps one who is less well read?”

  Colton slapped the black gloves against his thigh, his dark eyes blazing. Leopold propped himself up on his two front paws, poised for action.

  Colton’s deep voice came through clenched teeth. “I want you to write a retraction. I want you to tell Miss Templeton what you wrote is only one young lady’s experience.”

  “Souls in Hades want a drink of water.” Lily gripped the arm of her rosewood chair until her fingers ached. “You may be used to ordering about your servants and your timid little Miss Templeton, but you certainly shall not order me about. I am quite through with being ordered about by men.” She leaped from her chair. Leopold sprang up and bared his teeth at the marquis.

  Colton surged to his feet. He squeezed his gloves so hard, the whites of his knuckles showed.

  Good.

  Lily stretched to her full height. Though her own diminutive size of three inches over five feet was no match for him, she would not allow him to intimidate her. She had to strain her neck to stare up at him. “By the by, this is what it looks like, my lord, when someone fails to kowtow to you. No doubt it’s a foreign concept, but one that exists, I assure you.”

  The muscle continued to tic in his jaw. “You will write a retraction.”

  “Will I?” she asked, nonchalant, struggling not to let him see how deeply he’d affected her. Her hands trembled. “And how exactly do you intend to force me to do that?” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her black slipper on the carpet, awaiting his answer.

  Lord Colton pulled on one glove and then the other. He bowed to her, though anger still emanated from every pore. “I intend to prove to you that your bloody pamphlet is wrong. I intend to show you how a real man pleasures a woman.” He stared her straight in the eye.

  Sparks leaped between them. Lily’s heart thumped in her throat.

  “I intend to seduce you, Countess.”

  Lily’s jaw dropped, and one second later, he spun her into his arms. She tried to push away, but his mouth swooped down to capture hers. Her hands struggled against his broad shoulders. The brush of his bold lips made her dizzy. Her head fell back. She stopped thinking. His hot, insistent tongue invaded her mouth, and Lily’s stomach dropped in a way it hadn’t in … five years. Blast it. She whimpered. Her hands crept up to wrap around his neck. She melted against him.

  Lord Colton pulled his mouth from hers and took a step back. His breath came in heavy pants. His perfect hair was slightly mussed. Something akin to bewilderment flashed through his dark eyes. If Lily hadn’t been intently watching, she might have missed it. She touched her fingertips to her burning lips.

  Colton turned abruptly and strode toward the door. “Consider that an opening shot across your bow, my dear. You have been warned.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Devon Morgan descended the stone steps of Lily’s town house with ground-devouring strides. He mounted Sampson, his chestnut gelding, and tugged on the reins to head toward the park.

  Who did that woman think she was? Lily, the dowager Countess of Merrill. Bah. She’d gained that title after a month-long marriage. She had nerve. She’d baited
him—acting as if she didn’t write that blasted pamphlet—and in the end, had mocked him.

  Infuriating.

  And to make matters worse, since he’d last seen her, he’d somehow managed to forget what a striking beauty she was. When she’d finally deigned to grace him with her presence, he’d been taken aback … very well, captivated, by her walnut-brown hair, violet-blue eyes that slanted up slightly at the corners, her dark fringes of lashes, alabaster skin with a hint of pink at the cheeks, and lips that practically begged to be kissed. A blasted incomparable beauty.

  Clearly, he’d also forgotten she was such a shrew.

  No wonder. Beauties often proved more trouble than they were worth.

  Devon made his way into the park, nudging Sampson into a gallop. He passed the Serpentine and a field replete with daisies, before coming to a halt in a clearing that contained a mix of servants and his best friend, Jordan Holloway, the Earl of Ashbourne.

  Feet braced, Jordan stood about twenty yards from a large canvas bull’s-eye and held a bow and arrow in his grasp. With sure hands, he released the bow. The arrow shot through the air, hitting the canvas with a thud. It shivered perfectly in the center of the mark. A footman rushed to retrieve it.

  “Well done,” Devon called.

  Jordan glanced up. “There you are, Colton,” he replied. “I thought you were lost.” Jordan took his time adjusting the leather straps of his gloves.

  Devon dismounted and tossed Sampson’s reins to a nearby groom. He tugged on his own gloves. “Hardly. I merely spent too much time on a fool’s errand this afternoon.”

  The corner of Jordan’s lip curved up in a mocking grin. “Ah, yes. So, was the poor little widow as charming as you expected?”

  Devon snorted. “Poor little widow … More like a well-dressed viper. That woman is utterly mad.”

  The footman returned with the arrow, and with the canvas clear, Jordan took another shot. His aim was nearly perfect again. “You cannot entirely blame her, Colton. After all, Merrill had to have been thirty years older than she.”

  Devon pulled an arrow from a quiver propped against a nearby tree and took up his own bow. “Frankly, I would have thought more like forty years older.” He squinted at the target.

  “And she was what? Seventeen? It’s no wonder she wrote so eloquently on the ills of the modern marriage.” Jordan laughed and shook his head.

  Devon released the bow. The arrow zipped to tremble unfailingly just left of the center of the bull’s-eye. “She chose Merrill,” he ground out. “It’s difficult enough convincing a young woman she won’t be pounced upon and attacked, without that mad countess filling her head with a lot of nonsense.”

  “Nice shot.” Jordan whistled. “Now that I think on it, didn’t you court the girl back when she made her debut?”

  Devon scoffed. “There was no courting Lily. She was after one thing and one thing only. Money. Any interest she showed in anyone else was merely a form of amusement to her. The earl had the deepest pockets.”

  Devon’s eyes remained on the target, but for a moment he was catapulted back through time to a ballroom and the sight of a remarkable beauty standing across from him, beckoning like some siren from the sea. He’d fallen for her. Hard. And she’d led him on a merry chase. A fruitless chase. All the while, she’d been planning to accept Merrill’s suit. His hands tightened on the bow.

  Lily’s words from earlier echoed in Devon’s brain. “You’ll just have to find another young woman to lure with empty promises.” What the hell had she meant by that? She was the one who had lured him with empty promises, damn it. She’d twisted everything. Just like a woman.

  Gone was the girl with the sparkling eyes, the lilting laughter, and sweet tenderness he’d once thought could save him. Gone was the young lady who had appeared to look beyond the callous assumptions of Society. And in her place was a jaded she-devil. A mocking widow with a rapier for a tongue. But he’d be damned before he let her affect him.

  Jordan hefted his bow in his hands and took aim again. “She’s always been a beauty. It’s no wonder you were interested.”

  His words shook Devon from his reverie. He was no longer the twenty-six-year-old who had followed Lily around as though he were just out of the schoolroom. No, he was a man now and when he’d considered marriage this time, he’d made the decision with his head, not his idiotic heart. He eyed his friend carefully. “Interested? Yes. Serious? No. All I want from that woman now is for her to dine upon her words.”

  Jordan’s shout of laughter echoed through the nearby trees. “So, the merry widow didn’t agree to write a retraction, did she? Why does that not surprise me? Take heart. It’s not as if she can stop marriage for all time, though God knows I wouldn’t object if she did. A hideous matter, marriage, nothing good can come of it.”

  Devon grunted. “Yes. Well. I’m not as fortunate as you, Ashbourne. I have no siblings. You’re the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have. I must produce a legitimate heir.”

  The truth was, the two of them had often been mistaken for brothers. Both were tall with similar muscular builds. Jordan’s hair was more of a dark brown, not Devon’s black, and Jordan’s eyes were gray, but they’d been told on more than one occasion what striking figures they cut together.

  Jordan clapped him on the back. “I do thank my brothers for being born every time I see them. But as to your predicament, why you insist upon letting everyone in town think you’re destitute when you have more money than I do, for God’s sake, eludes me. You’ve been gambling in the back alleys for years and won a bloody indecent fortune doing it, yet you act as if you’ve never played a game of cards in your life when you’re in the clubs of St. James.”

  Jordan motioned to a second footman to pour him a drink and the servant hurried to a small table perched on the grass between two trees. He poured two glasses of brandy and returned to hand them to the two men.

  Devon took his first sip and tried not to think about the brandy he’d had earlier, or who had served it to him. “I’ll give no one the satisfaction of judging me based on how much money they think I have. I’ll never forget how my father was treated when he was penniless. Everyone is pleased to assume I live on an indecent amount of credit, and I’ve no intention of disabusing them of that notion.”

  Jordan took a sip of his own drink. “Have it your way. Surely Miss Templeton’s mother will convince the girl to come to her senses. Though I’m sure she’d do so much more quickly if she knew her intended fiancé was as rich as Croesus in addition to holding one of the most esteemed titles in the country.”

  “That’s just it, Ashbourne.” Devon’s voice was tight. “I don’t want a wife who is obsessed with the size of my pockets. I want a wife who wants to marry me. I cannot hide my title, but I can damn well hide my fortune.”

  Jordan sipped his drink. “Fine. What’s your next move, then, now that Lady Merrill has refused to write a retraction?”

  “She will write a retraction all right,” Devon promised. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Damn it. His frustration wasn’t even about Miss Templeton, or the retraction. He’d known that from the moment he’d seen Lily again. In truth, he’d been nothing but relieved when his fiancée had cried off. Miss Templeton’s family was rich, but he’d never been entirely sure she hadn’t wanted him for his title alone. And blast it all, Lily was right. The fact that Miss Templeton had allowed some silly pamphlet to scare her off just proved she was unsuitable.

  No, it wasn’t about Miss Templeton at all. It was Lily he couldn’t take. She’d nearly destroyed him once. He refused to allow her to do it again.

  Jordan propped his bow against the nearest tree. “What do you intend to do? Write the retraction for her and sign her name?” He paused, quirking a brow. “You know? That’s not a half bad idea.” He took another drink.

  Devon shook his head. “No, damn it. I intend to bed her.”

  Jordan spit the brandy. “The devil you say!”

  “I was angr
y. I couldn’t think of anything else to threaten her with.”

  Slapping his open palm against his chest, Jordan wheezed. “You mean you told her you intend to bed her?”

  A single nod this time.

  “Well, well, well. This just went from interesting to fascinating. What, pray tell, did she reply?” Jordan leaned back against the tree, still cradling the drink in his hand.

  Devon shrugged. “I didn’t give her a chance to say anything.”

  “I daresay, this shall be the most diverting sport in all of London this Season,” Jordan replied.

  Devon raked a hand through his hair again. “This is not about sport. This is about proving that woman wrong and keeping her from interfering in my personal life.”

  “I’d say it’s more than personal if you intend to bed her.” Jordan chuckled.

  Devon rolled his eyes.

  “And it won’t be easy,” Jordan continued. “Seems you’ve made a contest out of bedding a woman who’s being courted by nearly every eligible bachelor in town. They say she’s spurned them all.”

  Devon snorted. “Oh, I know all too well how she can lead a man on. I was duped by her once. I will not make the same mistake again.”

  But another thought occurred to him. The threat of seduction may have been impetuous, but it would give Devon the perfect opportunity to finally seek his revenge against Lily Andrews. He would shame her. Make her want him and then toss her aside. She rejected him cruelly five years ago. This time, he would be the one to reject her.

  “It’s absolutely perfect,” Jordan said. “These days, you’re known for your rakishness while Lady Merrill is known for her disdain of men. The game is under way, and two more perfectly matched opponents there could not be.”

  Devon finished his drink in one hefty swallow. “It’s not a contest.” He handed his glass to the timid footman, grabbed up his bow, and hefted it to his shoulder. “But if it were … make no mistake as to who the victor would be.”

  “Not to worry. My money’s on you, Colton.” Jordan’s eyebrow shot up. “Speaking of contests, when is your next appointment in the Rookery?”