Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
insulted your cousin, Lady Angela,’ she blurted out, with none of the finesse she had intended to use. ‘I am afraid something she said about me—’
‘Say no more.’ Adrian waved it away with one white, exquisite hand. ‘Angela is a shrew. She needs a husband, but with that tongue she is never going to get one. She will end up on the shelf with no one to blame but herself.’
‘But—’
She almost winced at the immediate flash of displeasure in the pale eyes. Adrian disliked being contradicted. ‘Angela is a bore. I have an aversion to being bored.’ He looked round the stuffy, crowded room. ‘In fact this assembly looks utterly dull. I can think of much more interesting things to be doing.’
The heat was back in his eyes and something inside her stirred, not altogether pleasurably, in instinctive recognition. And yet, her breath was suddenly short in her throat and her heartbeat seemed to trip. It was exciting to be looked at like that, to feel wanted and desired. Lily lowered her eyelashes modestly, feeling the brush of her long diamond ear drops against her cheek reminding her of her own worth.
‘More interesting? At Almack’s?’ Her own laugh sounded false to Lily. ‘Surely not?’
‘No. Not here. Come with me, Lily.’ Adrian’s fingers were caressing the inside of her wrist and he was standing scandalously close. She could feel the heat of his body. The strange sensation inside was becoming more disturbing now, but pleasurably so.
‘Where to?’
He chuckled softly. ‘I thought we should get to know each other better my dear—before we make any announcement public.’
‘You mean … my lord, are you making me a declaration?’
Adrian drew her back into a curtained embrasure, letting the heavy brocade fall softly behind them, secluding them in a secret bubble amidst all the chatter and music. ‘Would one be welcome, Lily? My lovely Lily …’ His mouth was very close to hers now. They were almost exchanging breath.
‘Yes. Yes, I think you must know it would be, my lord.’ Was it? She would be the most arrant flirt if she had not meant the encouragement she had given Adrian Randall these past few weeks. And he was exactly what she knew it was her duty to seek: titled, fashionable and with connections through every layer of the aristocratic world.
‘Then come with me now. We can … talk about things. Alone.’
‘You mean you will drive me home?’ It was not what he intended and she knew it. One had to play the game, Aunt had explained.
‘Eventually.’ Adrian smiled, his blue eyes narrowed with amusement.
‘But my chaperon? Lady Billington …’
‘Janey Billington will turn a very blind eye. I think she would be most surprised and disappointed if we stayed here all evening, don’t you?’ He was running the back of his hand down the curve of her neck now, murmuring appreciatively at the soft touch of her skin. Lily could feel her eyes becoming heavy with a languorous need. Can this be love? Surely I would not feel like this otherwise?
‘Very well.’ It was like stepping out in the dark. Where would she land?
‘Just go and tell Lady B. you’ve got a headache and that I’ll see you home.’ He took her arm and steered her out into the room again, ignoring the outraged stare of a dowager with complete insouciance. ‘In fact, I will come with you.’
As they circled to the chaperons’ corner, Lady Angela stepped out into their path. The patches of colour on her cheeks made Lily think of a wooden Dutch doll. ‘Adrian! This bitch—’
‘Been sucking lemons again, have you, Angela?’ Adrian’s tone was anything but playful. ‘I hardly think we all want to hear your spiteful ravings. And do take care, coz, or that expression will stick.’
Their departure was a haze after that. The picture of Angela’s furious face as Adrian swept Lily past her, Lady Billington’s complaisant, knowing, smile, the scrupulously bland expressions of the servants fetching their cloaks—they all swirled together. And in her head Aunt Herrick’s voice—You can’t afford to be nice like those aristocratic little misses. Your money is all very well, but you’ll need to sweeten the pill of your birth for him. You are buying his name and you need every penny piece and then some for that.
He helped her up into the carriage, his hand warm on her arm, his every gesture graceful and respectful. ‘Home, Granger.’
The vehicle swept out into the foggy night, into St James’s Square. Torches flared, light spilled from doorways into the murky damp of the evening. Sweeten the pill. No, surely Adrian wanted her for herself as well as for her money. Surely?
Adrian moved to sit next to her, lifting her hand in his. Lily thought he might kiss it. Instead he bent it back so that he could nuzzle the inside of her wrist where the tender flesh was exposed in the gaps between the tiny pearl buttons of her long evening gloves. His lips were hot—and seemed hotter still when he shifted her into his arms and began to kiss her neck.
Lily stiffened, then tried to make herself relax. This was the man she was going to marry, and she should not be shy of his advances. But no one had tried to make love to her before, so naturally it felt—strange.
No, it did not feel strange, she realised. It felt horrible. She fought down the panic and tried to slide away a little, her satin skirts slipping over the leather upholstery, adding to her sense of being off balance. Adrian was breathing heavily, his mouth not merely hot as it moved over her skin, but moist. His hands seemed to be everywhere.
In response to her wriggling, he pressed her back, down on to the seat. He was hurting her upper arm where his hand was clenched on it, but her protests were stifled by his lips and his weight as he shifted, almost on top of her.
‘No!’ Lily managed to get her mouth free. Adrian …’
His other hand was under her skirts, moving up past her garters to the bare skin of her thighs with practised ease. Lily moved convulsively, too panicked now to try argument or reason. The carriage lurched round a corner and Adrian rolled off her, cursing.
‘Adrian, please do not, not here like this …’
‘Oh, yes, just like this.’ She caught glimpses of his face as the lights in the street outside caught the inside of the carriage in flashes. He was flushed, breathing heavily, his lips parted and an expression on his face that Lily, even in her innocence, had no trouble in interpreting. Adrian was excited by her fear, excited by the semi-public nature of the carriage with its undrawn blinds—and he was in no mood to be gainsaid.
Adrian lunged for her and Lily twisted away, but not before his hand had jerked open her cloak. ‘Damn it, keep still, I am not going to hurt you.’
But he was. She had known that, assumed it was an inevitable part of losing one’s virginity—but Adrian did not care, it was obvious. With a grunt of satisfaction his fingers closed on the neckline of her gown, pulling her towards him. ‘Don’t be such a bloody tease, Lily.’ And then his mouth fastened on hers.
Lily groped wildly for some weapon, reached up to try to get some purchase on the top of the squabs, and found the check-string twisting in her fingers. With a sob of relief she pulled it. The carriage slowed and stopped.
‘What the hell?’ Adrian pushed himself off her and jerked down the window. ‘Granger, what the devil are you about?’
Lily tore at the opposite door handle and half-jumped, half-fell into the roadway. Where was she? The thoroughfare seemed nightmarish as the fog swirled around the flambeaux and lanterns. The road itself was congested with hackneys and private coaches, men with handcarts and sedan chairs. The pavements were thronged, mostly with men, but amongst them the cream of the demireps in paint and feathers. Lily swung round, still grasping the door handle in an effort to keep her balance. Piccadilly—at least she knew where she was.
‘Get back in here, Lily!’ It