Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) Read online

  After a long moment, her friend dipped her chin to confirm it. “I fear so.”

  She drew Harriet closer as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. A small wail of misery slipped out past her control as she vented her grief over the end of what had been a lengthy and often tempestuous affair. Harriet had never cried when an affair ended with her other lovers. Nor did Esme. They were alike in so many ways. Her friend would be better off without the blighter, and Lord Avery would undoubtedly move along to another conquest without hesitation.

  She did her best to soothe her friend. “Then it is a good thing that you’ve broken with him. I cannot imagine it was easy sharing him with other women before. Even worse if you loved him.”

  Harriet straightened suddenly, pulling a polite mask over her emotions and broken heart. “Enough of my troubles. Tell me about Windermere. Did he make you happy?”

  A small thrill raced through Esme and she worked hard to suppress it. “He is talented at making a lady feel rather special.”

  “Good. At least his reputation is deserved. I would not have you unhappy too.” Her friend stood suddenly. “This might be cowardly, but I’m not quite the thing today. I’m going to make myself scarce. I will see you before dinner.”

  “You’re not a coward. You just need a bit of time.” Esme followed her to the door. “I am sorry about Avery, my dear.”

  “So am I.” She let herself out and swiftly traversed the distance to her bedchamber down the hall.

  Esme waited until Harriet’s door closed behind her then closed hers slowly with a sigh.

  There was always a danger in conducting intimate relationships that one party might grow to feel more than the other. So far, she had been lucky that her partners had never stirred her heart. Was she too particular about who she loved?

  She liked to think she was, and with good reason. She had never wanted any man to take her affections for granted. Her late husband had done that. Heathcote had turned to another the moment they’d both realized Esme would never bear his child. To this day, she could not forgive him for making her doubt her own worth. She wouldn’t ever give a man that much of a hold on her emotions again. She enjoyed men but kept a distance.

  After all, what was the point of falling in love with a man who would undoubtedly want children she couldn’t have given him?

  The life she had was the one she needed. Uncomplicated and undemanding of her emotions. She was happy as a widow. Indeed, she’d never missed being a wife.

  With that thought in mind, she headed downstairs to enjoy tea on the terrace with people who had become dear friends since she’d learned to be happy on her own.

  Seven

  Richard scratched his jaw as undeniable satisfaction and conflicting confusion filled him with restlessness. How had he gone from arguing with a woman constantly to wanting to spirit her to his bed in the space of a few hours? He’d like to drag Esme away from his guests, over his shoulder if she became difficult about it, and make love to her all afternoon.

  Admittedly, their encounter at the river house last night had been glorious and unplanned. The spur-of-the-moment decision to seduce her had been well-timed and swiftly executed.

  But making love to her had been akin to holding fireworks. Dangerous and exciting, she was entirely capable of making a man’s heart stop from the pleasure to be found in her passion. He’d known, of course, that Esme liked sex. She’d had no lack of lovers over the years since becoming a widow. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why they hadn’t been intimate long before this. When he looked at Esme for any length of time, his tension grew until, without a shadow of a doubt, he knew he would pursue an affair with her for as long as they could stand each other.

  Last night had not been enough to quiet his need for her.

  He was sorry she wouldn’t ever have a child, but he wasn’t fool enough not to take advantage of it. Since he didn’t need to be careful where he spilled his seed, there was no reason not to indulge with her every chance he got. The house party ran for six more days and that would give him many opportunities to be alone with her. If she accepted his invitation to indulge in a purely intimate affair, that was.

  He glanced across the terrace to where she sat among the women of the party, taking in the sun of another perfect country day. Outwardly, she seemed no different, but he remembered all too well how she had reveled in his attention last night. It astonished him how much she’d clearly enjoyed their hasty romp. Normally, he wasn’t quite so aggressive with a new lover, but she hadn’t seemed to mind his impatience.

  Esme brought out the worst in him.

  Or was it the best?

  “Penny for your thoughts, old man,” his brother remarked as he took a nearby chair, half-empty glass dangling from his fingers. On first glance, one might think Avery was merely tired, but his blue eyes were bloodshot and he seemed not altogether steady. He was completely cup shot, and very much earlier in the day than was normal for him during their usual house parties.

  Richard had no interest in overindulging in spirits along with him. Not with Esme on his mind. “Is there a problem?”

  “No. No problem.” Avery chuckled. “But I had to come and see you. I’ve just been the recipient of the most astonishing bit of gossip from my valet.”

  Ah, the gossip. Richard was coming to regret the decision to allow his servants to spread tales that he and Esme had been intimate just to salvage her pride. “And what would that be?”

  “Is it true you dabbled with the Lady Heathcote?” Avery stared pointedly across the terrace to Esme. “You risk your appendage to frostbite there.”

  He risked being scorched. The woman was wild and he certainly intended to explore every inch of her body, discover everything she liked most and do it to her repeatedly. He clenched his jaw, astonished how just thinking of fucking her caused his cock to thicken.

  “I guess your distraction answers that question. Despite the temper, she is lovely?” Avery snorted. “When I saw the guest list, I must admit I was entirely taken aback. I thought she didn’t like you. Didn’t you two exchange strong words? Some claim it was a lover’s tiff but I didn’t believe it at the time.”

  They had frequently been at odds. But Richard would give their arguments entirely just to hear her moan his name again in the heat of passion over and over again. “She likes me enough.”

  That was also a problem. Despite becoming lovers last night, he had no idea how to go on with her. Esme had brushed aside suggestions to make a night of it and retired to her bedchamber alone last night. Richard had accepted but not liked her refusal terribly much, and had made a cursory circuit of his home before he too headed to his bed alone. They hadn’t spoken this morning beyond common courtesies. Esme had immersed herself in conversation with the other guests and barely glanced his way after that. Normally, a lack of polite conversation with her wouldn’t concern him, but he would give everything he owned to know how she viewed last night. And him.

  The group Esme had been sitting with broke up and she excused herself from them to walk into the garden with Jillian. He tracked her movements, his body already awakening to the idea of a daylight tryst. A romp in a sun-filled glade with Esme would fill his mind with clearer images of the body he’d made love to last night. She was much softer than he’d imagined. Not weak but strong and flexible.

  She and Jillian stopped to converse beside the fountain and he took a pace forward. Was Esme going to mention her disapproval of her relationship with Lord Hogan? He watched Jillian closely and although she did not seem outraged, she did grow more subdued during the conversation. Esme was upsetting her, but then they embraced and everything appeared to be congenial once more.

  “Hmm, is that competition I see poised to take your place?” Avery mused, pointing toward the stables.

  Albert Meriwether had paused in the shade of a tree, watching Esme and Jillian converse rather obviously. Since he appeared dressed for riding and hadn’t been in sight all morning, Richard a
ssumed he’d recently returned from visiting his new fiancée on her neighboring estate.

  “He hasn’t a chance,” Richard insisted. “Married men, or about-to-be-married men, are not her type.”

  “Ah, is that why she settled for you last night?”

  Richard bristled. The idea that he’d come second to Meriwether rankled. He chose to offer no comment. Avery would needle him no matter what he said to deny it anyway, and drunk, he’d be ten times as obvious to others.

  “Better claim what’s yours, brother, before someone else does. As I have learned, women are fickle creatures, every last one.” Avery sighed. “She is lovely. Out of curiosity, just how adventurous in bed is she?”

  “I have no idea yet but I intend to find out.” He spun about and saw speculation in Avery’s eyes. They had bedded the same lovers in the past but never at the same time. Usually before or after the other was done with them. But Esme and Avery? He couldn’t bear that idea. “Do not even think of approaching her.”

  Avery winced and he drained his glass. “There’s nothing wrong with additional companionship in bed.”

  Richard scowled and shook his head. “I doubt Lady Ames’s and Esme’s friendship extends that far. Find someone else for a third, Avery.”

  “Fine. You can keep the little dragon.” His brother scowled and stood. “But I’ll do what I want with whoever I want.”

  Richard ignored Avery’s belligerent tone and was grateful when his brother went on his unsteady way in an obvious huff. He tried to relax about Esme. They were nothing to each other really. One night with her warm body to play with should not make him feel so damned possessive. She was very good at hiding her real feelings behind a polite mask and his tension increased. When it came to Esme, looks were absolutely deceiving.

  God help him, he’d never imagined he could feel so strongly about where Esme spent her time. She confused him, attracted him and yet with her, he was wary of putting a foot wrong. He was entirely without sense this morning and he didn’t know what to do with himself—but watch her and wait for some sign that she might want him again.

  Eight

  A warm summer’s day amused by friends had been just what Esme had really needed. Listening to their lives, their concerns and hopes for their families, brought a sense of inclusion to her life that a hundred balls never could. One could hardly talk candidly at a ball, there were too many ears and not enough friends among them, and she had much to say to one lady in particular.

  Lady Jillian frowned. “And there are gentlemen like that?”

  “Oh yes,” Esme insisted, pulling Windermere’s sister farther along the path and deeper into the garden. She was very glad to have a chance to talk to Jillian alone but she had to be delicate about how she’d come about her knowledge. “Many men enjoy taking a firm hand with women who like that sort of thing for pleasure. But believe me, Hogan is an out-and-out bully about it. Not the way a casual observer would notice, but it is there.”

  Esme kept her eyes on Jillian. The woman was still young; a widow who’d loved her older husband dearly. But by all accounts, she’d been utterly controlled by that man. Not cruelly but certainly kept as a possession. Rumor had it that Jillian’s late husband had been a man with an extensive collection of sexual accoutrements designed for both pleasure and pain too. How far Jillian had enjoyed that life wasn’t clear, but Esme suspected the woman was lost and without someone to talk to about her old life.

  She squeezed Jillian’s hand. “It will start out small, a gathering left early, a favorite dancing partner you will be pressured to refuse more often than not, a hat he doesn’t like changed at the last moment. Over time, you would lose friends and disappoint your family by being so wrapped up in his concerns as to have no time for anyone else. You might not make any decisions without consulting him first just to keep pleasing him.”

  “But I always consulted my late husband.”

  “Not in everything I suspect.” Esme sighed, thinking of how she’d failed one friend already in her life. She could not afford to be so timid again. Not where Hogan was involved. “I never noticed what Hogan did to Vera’s life until it was far too late to make a difference.”

  “Who was she?”

  “A neighbor in London whom I saw frequently, but not so often as every day. Luncheon invitations were the first to go, and then she was often not at home to me when I called, although I realize in hindsight that Hogan had likely told her not to receive callers. I allowed her to sever the acquaintance when I should have fought harder to stay involved in her life.”

  Jillian’s brow creased. “What happened to her?”

  “She died.” Esme remembered that tragic day, and the events of the few before that she’d pieced together afterward. “When he broke it off abruptly after a row over her gloves, of all things, Vera was distraught and begged him to forgive her. She chased his carriage down the street and then collapsed in tears when he wouldn’t stop. My servants and I helped her return home and that’s when I discovered how much she’d changed. He’d made her so dependent on his opinion that in the end, when he refused to see her anymore, she chose to die rather than go on alone. He destroyed her confidence in herself, a little bit at a time, until there was nothing left to go on with.”

  “Oh,” Jillian said, her face pale. “That’s a tragedy.”

  “You must be careful of such men.” Esme bit her lip and then sighed. She couldn’t speak of this in half-truths forever if she wanted to spare Jillian future pain. She had to be blunt. “Benjamin Moore was very different. He treasured you. He had a way with you that excited your body, but he never forced you to change your mind. Never punished you because you chose kid gloves over silk. He used warning words, a secret language perhaps, to let you know what he wanted you to do for him and what he would do to you.”

  Jillian licked her lips and her eyes darted in all directions. Her breath came fast, undoubtedly panicked by Esme’s knowledge of such matters. She took a pace backward. “How could you know so much about my husband?”

  “I have been acquainted with men like him and their unusually dominating passions before,” Esme murmured gently. “I have rarely been comfortable in a passive role, but for some women, and men too, a firm hand is bed play and beyond is required for their happiness. I believe you are such a woman, and I assure you there is nothing wrong with that.”

  All the air left Jillian’s lungs and she sagged. “I’m so lost without Ben.”

  “I can see that, but you won’t always be alone,” Esme assured her, relieved the woman would confide in her. “You must be careful whom you reveal your true nature to and whom you trust. There are good men who can fill your needs without crushing your will into the bargain.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like…” Did she really want to push Jillian into another man’s arms, control, so soon after losing her husband? Jillian undoubtedly needed time to grieve for Benjamin and decide if she wanted that life still. She could give the woman hope though. “The relationship you had depended on mutual respect and affection. That takes time. I could not in good conscience suggest any one man who could suit you. Only you can know what you need by spending time with them.”

  “You’ve given me much to think about.” Jillian stared at her and then blushed. “When I married Ben, I did not know I was like this. For a long time I feared I was perverse.”

  Esme curled her arm through Jillian’s again and led her along the path that would take them back to the house. “You are a good woman and deserve respect no matter how you find pleasure,” she promised. “Do not rush into the next bed just because a man will say you must belong in him.”

  She had always liked Jillian. Although not a fixture in society, Esme had come to feel a deep affection for Windermere’s sister from the few weeks they’d spent in each other’s company over the years. Jillian was funny and kind and possessed a keen intelligence Esme couldn’t bear to see harmed.

  “I will do as you suggest and not rush. T
hank you, Esme,” she said with a smile. “My brother might think he’s patching up your supposed rift but I am very glad you’ve come, if only to advise me. I might have made a terrible mistake with Lord Hogan.”

  Esme said nothing to that, but was very glad Jillian’s eyes had been opened to the variety of men in the world, and the power she had in choosing one.

  Jillian’s gaze sharpened, focusing over Esme’s shoulder. “I suppose I should be getting back to the housekeeper too. My brother’s parties at least keep my mind occupied so I don’t miss Ben so much. And I think a gentleman wishes to speak with you.”

  Esme rolled her eyes and turned, expecting to find Lord Windermere ready to berate her for warning Jillian off Lord Hogan—and instead found Albert Meriwether approaching, his stride determined as he bore down on them.

  She squeezed Jillian’s hand. “Do pass along my compliments to the housekeeper and staff too. Last night’s ball was a wonderful success.”

  “They will be thrilled to hear you think so. The poor dears worry so.” Jillian laughed softly. “I’ll see you later for tea with Harriet.”

  “Of course.” Esme affected an ease to hide her irritation when Meriwether bowed. “Mr. Meriwether. What an unexpected surprise. Glorious day, isn’t it?”

  The man smiled shyly. “Am I disturbing you?”

  She had once thought his smile endearing, but now his manner annoyed her. She shrugged, glancing over her former lover and seeing him in an entirely new light. His affectionate nature hadn’t truly increased with a longer acquaintance. What had she been thinking to believe a holiday together would bring them closer? It had done the exact opposite. He’d come here with an agenda that Esme played no part in. “Certainly not.”

  He drew closer. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem very somber.”