A Lady for Lord Randall. Sarah Mallory
look of yours to flight!’
Harriett shepherded the ladies into the hall, saying as they put on their bonnets, ‘I intended to show Mary the gardens when she arrived last week, but the weather has been so inclement I have not yet done so. Do not worry, though, the new gravel paths will make it perfectly dry underfoot.’
The paths were indeed dry, but Randall soon discovered that they were not wide enough for them all to walk together. Harriett took Mrs Bentinck’s arm and moved ahead, leaving him no option but to walk beside Mary Endacott.
‘I doubt this is how you intended to spend your afternoon,’ she remarked. ‘If you have business elsewhere I do not mind walking alone.’
‘I am perfectly happy to escort you.’ He held out his arm to her. ‘Besides, to do anything else would incur my sister’s wrath.’
She chuckled at that.
‘I cannot imagine that would worry you overmuch.’
‘You were at school with Harriett, Miss Endacott. You know that she is not one to be gainsaid. All the Latymors are strong-willed, except my youngest sister, Sarah. She is very biddable.’
‘Overwhelmed by the rest of you, no doubt.’
‘Very likely. She is certainly unlike her twin, Gideon. He is a hothead.’
* * *
They strolled on, mainly in silence, but occasionally stopping to admire the new plantings and statuary that had been installed in the gardens. Randall found himself relaxing and enjoying the afternoon sunshine. He glanced down at the silent figure beside him. Mary looked completely at ease and he thought how comfortable it was to have a woman on his arm who did not consider it necessary to be chattering all the time. She was just the right height, too, her head no higher than his shoulder. They passed the new rose garden with its arbour at the far end. He imagined sitting beside her on the bench when the roses were in bloom and filling the air with their heavy scent. She might rest her head on his shoulder then. And if the air should be a little chill he might put his arm around her and rest his cheek against those dusky curls...
Confound it, man, you need to stop this, now!
‘I beg your pardon, my lord, did you say something?’
She turned her face up to him, delicate brows raised, green eyes enquiring. Randall felt a sudden impulse to pull her close and plant a kiss on those full, red lips. The rush of desire that fired his blood surprised him and he looked away quickly, clearing his throat as he sought for words.
‘You are returning to your, ah, business very soon, I believe.’
‘Yes, my lord. On Saturday.’
He kept his eyes fixed ahead, noting idly that they had fallen some way behind his sister and Mrs Bentinck.
‘And will you be sorry to leave?’
‘Of course. The Bentincks are not only relatives but very old friends and I allowed myself this short holiday after completing my trip to Cuckfield. My father left certain...affairs outstanding there when he died just over a year ago and I have now resolved them.’ She added, after a brief pause, ‘Debts, my lord.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Is that why you are obliged to, er, earn your living, to pay off his debts?’
She surprised him by laughing at that.
‘Not at all, I enjoy what I do, my lord. I hope you will not think me boastful if I say I have a talent for it. I am an independent woman, beholden to no one. In fact, I shall be glad to get back to work. I could not be happy with a life of idleness.’
‘Nor I.’
‘Then we are agreed upon something.’ She smiled up at him, as if relieved at the thought.
A mood of recklessness swept through Randall.
‘Why wait?’
‘My lord?’
They had reached a crossing in the path and with his superior height Randall could see over the surrounding hedge. Harriett and her companion were now making their way back through the box garden and towards the house. He led Mary into the shrubbery.
‘If you wish to work, as you call it, then you should do so.’
‘I do not think I understand you, Lord Randall.’
She stopped and turned to look up at him, still smiling, but with a faint crease between her brows. Unable to resist he put his fingers beneath her chin, tilting it up as he lowered his head and kissed her.
* * *
Mary was so surprised she could not move. Then, as his mouth worked its magic, she did not wish to do so. When he put his arms around her she leaned into him, kissing him back as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.
This reaction shocked Mary almost as much as his kiss, and when he raised his head she made no attempt to free herself, but laid her head against his chest, listening to the thud, thud of his heart. She was dazed, unable to understand what had occurred. Lord Randall, the taciturn, unromantic, unsociable earl, had kissed her. Her: plain, sensible Mary Endacott!
‘We have a couple of days before we must part,’ he said, his mouth against her hair. ‘We should make use of them. We must be discreet, of course. However free-thinking the Bentincks might be, I cannot allow my sister to know what is going on.’
Mary’s thoughts were still in chaos, her body trembling with the shock of his kiss, but even so she was aware that his words did not make sense. She put her hands against his chest and pushed herself away until she could look up at him.
‘What has this to do with my work?’
He was gazing down at her and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes, fierce desire that sent the hot blood racing through her limbs and made her aware of the ache pooling deep in her body, at the hinge of her thighs. If she had not been clutching at his coat she thought her legs might well have given way as that beautiful deep voice caressed her.
‘Everything. Let us understand this from the outset; it has always been my objective never to raise false hopes in any woman’s breast. I take my pleasures and I pay for them—and give pleasure in return, I hope.’
Those smooth, measured tones stroked her skin like velvet. She was in his arms, her lips were still burning with the memory of his mouth upon hers and at first she did not comprehend his words. But as their meaning filtered through the haze of well-being that his kiss had engendered, her euphoria began to ebb away.
‘You, you wish us to be...’ She swallowed. ‘To be lovers?’
Could she do it? Suddenly elation was replaced by uncertainty. She had discussed the possibility with her radical friends, but only as a concept, a brave and radical step that would fly in the face of convention. And in all her thoughts and discussions, her ideal man was one she had known for a long time, a trusted friend and companion, not a soldier whom she had met only days ago.
‘If that is the word you wish to put to it, yes,’ said Randall. ‘It will be business for you, but very lucrative, for I intend to be generous.’
Mary blinked. No endearments, no promises. The earl talked of business and suddenly his meaning became all too clear. She freed herself from his arms.
‘You...you think I am a—that I—’ Her hands went to her cheeks. ‘You think I would sell myself for money?’
There was no mistaking the bewilderment in his eyes. It was clear that was exactly what he thought. Disappointment, bitter as gall, swept through her.
‘Is that not the case?’ he said. ‘You told me you were in trade, spoke of your ladies, but perhaps since you are so successful you yourself no longer partake—’