To Seduce a Bride

The girls seemed most grateful for Lily’s efforts, which also gratified her. From the first moment of the first class, it had quickly became clear to her that these young women needed her far more than the rich daughters she taught at the Freemantle Academy.

Additionally, Lily felt a humbling gratitude for her own comparatively good fortune. She and her sisters knew what it was to be at the mercy of fate. It made Lily shudder to think that they might have been forced into prostitution themselves, had not their step-uncle felt obliged to take them in, however grudgingly.

As for Mick O’Rourke, he seemed to be biding his time, waiting for the agreed-upon grace period to be over.

Yet Fanny had been busy with another endeavor to raise money. Rather than writing her memoirs, she had penned a manuscript based on her recent letters to Roslyn, entitled, “Advice to Young Ladies on Capturing a Husband.” The publisher anticipated brisk sales among the ton’s debutantes when the book eventually went to print early this fall.

Lily’s only regret now was that during the past month, Roslyn had fallen hopelessly in love with the Duke of Arden and become betrothed. If she’d remained at home to protect Roslyn, Lily lamented, perhaps she might have stopped her sister from making such a drastic mistake.

At least Arabella and Marcus still seemed to be happy. They had just returned to Danvers Hall from their monthlong wedding journey, according to Roslyn.

Lily yearned to see her sisters again, although not enough to risk encountering the Marquess of Claybourne.

Her gaze darkened as she remembered the dismaying letter Roslyn had sent her yesterday, warning that the marquess might not have lost interest in her. Reportedly Claybourne had made an unexpected trip to Hampshire in search of her.

He’d been directed there by Winifred, who was highly disgruntled to discover Lily was not visiting friends in her former neighborhood as she wanted everyone to believe.

Lily couldn’t help but worry about his lordship’s persistence. She’d been confident that she had escaped him. But apparently “out of sight” did not mean “out of mind” to him.

With any luck, though, he would never find her here, Lily thought as she moved from one elegantly set table to the next.

The score of female diners looked just as elegant as the place settings, all dressed in evening gowns even though it was barely two o’clock in the afternoon. They were practicing the art of drinking soup without slurping, and Lily had very few corrections to make.

She had just signaled the two manservants to clear away the soup plates and bring in the next course when she was approached by a chambermaid, who whispered in her ear.

“Beg pardon for intruding, Miss Loring, but you have a gentleman caller who wishes to speak with you.”

Lily felt her heart skip a beat. No gentlemen of her acquaintance even knew she was here…unless… Surely Lord Claybourne had not found her. “Did the gentleman give a name?”

“No, miss, but he looks like a fancy lord-and he acts like one, too. Said to tell you that he has ‘enough patience to outlast you,’ whatever that means.”

Regrettably she knew exactly what that meant. Lily drew an uneven breath, alarmed at the thought of having to face the marquess again. “You put him in Miss Delee’s sitting room, Ellen?”

“No, miss. He asked to be shown to your bedchamber.”

“My bedchamber?” Her tone had risen in pitch, but when Lily realized that several curious pairs of eyes had turned in her direction, she lowered her voice. “My bedchamber is not the proper place for a gentleman caller, Ellen.”

“I know, Miss Loring, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

It sounded just like Lord Claybourne, Lily thought, torn between exasperation and vexation.

Vexation won out when Ellen added, “He said you would rather have a private interview there than have him come to the dining room with your pupils present.”

At the implied threat, Lily pressed her lips together in irritation. Obviously she had no choice but to receive him in her bedchamber, since she didn’t want him making a scene in front of an audience.

“Do you want me to fetch Miss Delee to deal with him?” the maid asked nervously at Lily’s silence.

“No, I will see him, thank you, Ellen.”

After politely excusing herself from her pupils for a moment, Lily left the dining room and took the back stairs. Deliberately ignoring the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she climbed two flights to her own floor and marched down the corridor to her bedchamber. The door was shut, but she pushed it open-and came up short at the sight of Lord Claybourne.

He was actually lounging on her bed, his back propped up against the pillows, one booted leg casually drawn up as a prop for the book he was reading.

Her book, she realized, her mouth dropping open at his temerity. But it was the man himself who made her speechless. It was shocking how just being in the same room with him seemed to draw all the air from her lungs.

Then he looked up and locked gazes with her, and the flutter in her stomach suddenly became a riot.

Lily pressed a hand to her midriff, yet her defensive gesture did nothing to calm her smoldering awareness of him. Not when Claybourne was looking at her in that disconcerting way.

The gleam in his hazel eyes held a mix of triumph, sensuality, lazy amusement, and more-the promise of retribution.

“Come in, angel,” he said in his low, rich voice. “We have a great deal to discuss, wouldn’t you say?”

If he’d wondered how he would feel at seeing Lily Loring again, Heath had his answer now: Sensation shot through him, making his stomach clench and his loins tighten.

She felt the same spark of fire between them, he knew, watching her lustrous eyes widen and turn wary. It gave him a primal male satisfaction.

Marveling at the undeniable physical impact Lily had on him, he let the heat of his gaze travel slowly downward to her lush mouth. He couldn’t forget the taste of those dusky-rose lips. Couldn’t forget those amazing dark eyes, that rich chestnut color of her hair.

Yet in person she was even more vibrant than in his memories. And his visceral response to her was even more intense.

It wasn’t mere lust, however. Something about her made his heart race. He hadn’t imagined it, he knew that now.

Heath smiled inwardly at himself. The question of whether the spark would still be there between them had made the last four weeks seem interminable. His life had been utterly flat since meeting Lilian Loring. Certainly there hadn’t been a single woman in the interim who’d captured his interest.

He hadn’t expected to run his quarry to earth in a lodging house for lightskirts, though. He hadn’t expected Lily to run from him, either. Or to put him to the trouble of chasing her. He’d never been compelled to exert himself to pursue any woman.

Admittedly he’d been piqued by her flight, yet exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. Which made his triumph at finally catching her all the more sweet, despite his reservations at finding her living in a residence owned by Fanny Irwin, with a pair of infamous highflyers and a score of other straw damsels.

“Do come in, angel,” Heath urged. “And shut the door, unless you wish to broadcast my presence in your bedchamber.”

That seemed to snap Lily out of her daze, for her beautiful eyes narrowed. “Your presence in my bedchamber is extremely ill-advised, my lord. You should not be here, you know very well.”

“I wanted a place to be private with you.”

“There are two parlors and a drawing room in the house. Any of those would be far more suitable for a gentleman caller.”

“But not suitable for my purpose.”

Her eyes turned wary again. “Just what is your purpose, Lord Claybourne?”

“I cannot tell you as long as you remain loitering out there in the corridor.”

Lily obliged him, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, but she obviously wasn’t happy