Not Just a Wallflower (A Season Of Secrets #2)(19)
Author: Carole Mortimer

‘Yes.’

She looked nonplussed by the starkness of his statement. ‘Oh…’

Justin’s mouth compressed. ‘Indeed.’

She swallowed. ‘But even so—surely the ton cannot seriously have made such an assumption on but a few days’ acquaintance?’

Justin felt a stab of remorse for the bewildered expression on Eleanor’s face; her eyes were wide green pools of disbelief, her cheeks having paled, her lips slightly parted and unsmiling.

All come about, he now realised with horror, because he had taken exception to being described as a bully. Even if, in this particular case, he had most certainly behaved as one. But only for her own good, he reassured himself determinedly. If Hawthorne, a man who cared nought for the gossip of the ton, for society itself, had been led to believe Eleanor was seriously interested in Endicott, then the rest of society must believe it too.

Justin sat forwards on the seat to reach across and take one of Eleanor’s tightly clenched hands into both of his. ‘The ton has made such assumptions on far less, I assure you, my dear,’ he murmured in a more placating tone of voice.

She looked up at him curiously. ‘You sound as if you speak from personal experience.’

His mouth tightened. ‘It is your own reputation that is currently in jeopardy; I accepted long ago, and you confirmed it three days ago, that my own reputation is considered beyond redemption!’

Ellie looked thoughtful. The gentlemen in society appeared to either admire or fear the Duke of Royston. The ladies, married or otherwise, to desire him. The young débutantes considered him as being the catch of the Season—any Season this past ten years or so! The mothers of those débutantes appeared to either covet or avoid coming to his attention, aware as they were that the Duke of Royston had successfully avoided the parson’s mousetrap for a long time; it would be a feather in any society matron’s bonnet to acquire the Duke of Royston as her son-in-law, but equally it could be the social ruin of her daughter if he were to offer that young lady a liaison rather than marriage.

As such, Ellie had no idea who would have dared to make remarks about her to him. About herself and Lord Endicott, of all people. Why, she considered that young man as being nothing more than an amusing and playful puppy. Oh, he was handsome in a boyish way, and pleasant enough—if one ignored his atrocious taste in clothes—but her feelings for Royston meant she did not, and never would, consider Lord Endicott as being anything more than a friend. That anyone should ever imagine she might seriously consider marrying the foppish boy, was utterly ludicrous!

That Justin should believe such nonsense she found hurtful beyond belief. How could she possibly be interested in any other man, when Justin himself had ruined her for all others?

And Eleanor did not mean her reputation.

No, her ruination was much more fundamental than that, in that she simply could not imagine ever wishing to share such intimacies with any other man but the one she had finally accepted she was in love with.

She had done everything she could to keep herself busy since that evening, and as such give herself little time for thought. And she had endeavoured to see as little of the duke as possible, considering they now shared the same residence. But there had been no denying the barrage of memories that plagued and tortured her once she was alone in her bed at night. No way then of ignoring how her n**ples pebbled into aroused hardness and between her thighs dampened, swelled, just remembering the way Justin had kissed her and touched her there.

With those memories to haunt her, how could anyone, least of all Justin himself, ever believe she had serious intentions in regard to a dandy like Charles Endicott?

Her lashes lowered again as she looked down to where Justin’s hands now held one of hers in his grasp. Those same hands had touched her so intimately, caressed and stroked her to a peak of such physical pleasure it still made her toes curl to even think of it.

A reaction she did not wish him to ever become aware of, let alone find out that she was in love with him. That would be a humiliation beyond bearing.

Ellie drew in a steadying breath as she raised her head, smiling slightly as she deftly removed her hand from his. ‘It is all nonsense, of course, but how exciting to think that I might soon receive my first proposal of marriage!’

Arrogant brows arched. ‘Your first proposal…?’

‘But of course.’ Her smile widened deliberately at his obvious astonishment. ‘The dowager has informed me that a young lady can only really consider herself a complete success in society once she has broken at least half-a-dozen hearts and received and refused her third proposal!’

The duke’s back straightened, his expression suddenly grim. ‘I sincerely trust, just because of our recent interlude, you are not considering counting my own heart as among the ones which you have broken?’

Ellie forced an incredulous laugh to cover the jolt she felt at hearing Justin refer so dismissively to their lovemaking. ‘I believe the only thing broken on that particular evening was a cup and saucer, your Grace. Besides,’ she continued evenly, ‘surely one has to be in possession of a heart for it to be broken?’

‘So you do not believe I have one?’

She raised auburn brows. ‘Are you not the one who once stated he has no intention of ever falling in love?’

His nostrils flared. ‘I believe what I actually said was that I have no intention of being in love with my wife. But,’ he continued drily as she would have spoken, ‘you are actually correct. The truth is, I have no intention of falling in love with any woman.’

‘Why not?’ Ellie could have bitten out her tongue the moment she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. And yet a single glance at his closed expression stopped her from instantly retracting the question.

But it was a curiosity that a man such as he, a man who could have any woman he wished for, had decided—no, refused, to fall in love with any of them. ‘Well?’ she prompted as he made no reply.

His lips quirked. ‘Perhaps it is that I have observed too many of my friends succumb to the emotion, and prefer not to behave in the same ridiculous manner? It surely makes a man far too vulnerable.’

It was both a glib and insulting answer, but at the same time it somehow did not ring true to Ellie’s ears. She wondered anew if his aversion did not have something to do with what he had once referred to as his own parents ‘exclusive marriage’. ‘Is the object of that love not showing the same vulnerability by allowing her own emotions to be hurt?’

‘Then why take the risk at all?’ the duke argued.

Ellie shrugged. ‘Possibly because it is the natural instinct of human beings to need the love and affection of others?’

‘The implication being, therefore, that my own feelings on the matter must be unnatural?’ he rasped.

She looked at him for a minute, the blue of his eyes glittering—with anger or something else? ‘You are avoiding answering my original question…’ she finally murmured.

He gave another humourless smile. ‘How very astute of you.’

‘And you are still avoiding it.’

‘That being the case, would it not be a prudent move on your part to move on to something else?’ he suggested.

Ellie’s cheeks warmed as she lowered her gaze and turned to look out of the window beside her. ‘I do not believe I may claim to have been particularly “prudent” in our…relationship, to date, your Grace.’

Justin could certainly vouch for that!

Indeed, Eleanor had been anything but prudent in her dealings with him this past week, to a degree that he now knew her body almost as intimately as he did his own: the satiny smoothness of her skin, the taste of her br**sts, the warm touch of her lips and the expression on her face as she cli**xed against his fingers.

Just as he could not help but notice the perfection of the calm profile she now turned away from him: the creamy intelligent brow, long lashes surrounding those emerald-green eyes, her cheek a perfect curve, freckle-covered nose small and straight, her lips full above her stubbornly determined chin.

Eleanor had grown in elegance as well as self-confidence this past week, her pale-green bonnet, the same shade as her gown, fastened about the pale oval of her face, with enticing auburn curls at her temples and nape, her spine perfectly straight, shoulders back, which only succeeding in pushing the fullness of her br**sts up against the low bodice of her gown, knees primly together, dainty slippers of green satin peeping out from beneath the hem of her gown.

Yes, Eleanor was certainly the picture of an elegant and beautiful young lady, and Justin realised that her air of self-confidence was due to the admiration and attentions of fawning young dandies, of which Endicott was no doubt only one.

In sharp contrast to those eager young fops, he knew himself to be both cynical and aloof, and not at all what might appeal to a young woman who was so widely admired and fêted. Indeed, her remarks about his cynicism towards the emotion of love would seem to confirm that lack of appeal. A realisation which irritated Justin immensely.

So much so that he felt a sudden urge to shatter her air of confidence and calm. ‘I assure you, dear Eleanor, I have absolutely no complaints at your lack of inhibitions in the bedchamber. Nor would you hear any objections from me if you were to decide to behave that imprudently again!’

‘Justin!’ She gasped as she whipped round to face him, a fiery blush colouring her cheeks.

Perhaps, if in her shocked surprise Eleanor had not addressed him by his first name, Justin might have decided not to pursue this any further.

Perhaps…

Chapter Thirteen

Justin rose and crossed to the other side of the carriage and sat down next to Eleanor, his thigh pressed against the warmth of hers. He reached out and pulled the curtains across each of the windows, throwing the interior of the carriage into shadow, but not dark enough for them not to be able to see each other and know what he was doing, as he untied the ribbon on Eleanor’s bonnet before removing it completely.

‘We will reach Royston House shortly…’ she protested breathlessly.

Justin reached up and tapped on the roof of the carriage.

‘Your Grace?’ his groom responded.

‘Continue to drive until I instruct you otherwise, Bilsbury.’ Justin raised his voice so that he might be heard above the noise of the horses’ hooves on the cobbled street.

‘Yes, your Grace.’

Eleanor seemed frozen in place, unable to move or look away as Justin deftly removed the pins from those fiery red-gold curls, before releasing them on to her shoulders and down the length of her spine, reaching almost to the slenderness of her waist.

Justin groaned low in his throat, closing his eyes briefly, as he imagined how sensuous those long curls would feel against the bareness of his own flesh, his shaft now hardening, thickening, just at imagining it. ‘Dear Lord…!’ He opened his eyes and raised his hands up to cup either side of her face before lowering his head to claim her parted lips with his own.

Desire, hot and strong, erupted between them, leaving no room for tentative exploration and seduction as Justin felt the instant and powerful surge of his own desire as his arousal curved up strong and pulsing against his stomach, his arms sliding about Eleanor’s waist as he drew her firmly against him, breast to chest, the flatness of her abdomen pressing against the heat of his shaft.

She clung to him, her face raised as he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue over the softness of her lips before entering, then plundering the beckoning, enticing heat beneath.

* * *

For Ellie it was as if the last three agonising days of avoiding Justin had never happened, the instant heat of their desire making it seem as if this was a continuation of their previous lovemaking. Her love for him made it impossible to resist being crushed against him, his reaction to her telling her more surely than anything else that he was just as aroused as she was.

She became totally lost in the barrage of emotions as he continued to kiss her. Then he lifted her above him, the length of her gown rising up her legs as she straddled his muscular thighs, allowing him to pull her in tightly against him, her knees resting on the seat either side of him.

Her drawers had parted, allowing the fullness of his arousal to press up against the swollen heart of her, only the material of his pantaloons now separating them.

Ellie gave a breathless gasp as the rocking of the carriage rubbed his firm length against the sensitive nubbin between her own thighs, totally lost to sensation as Justin unfastened the buttons at the back of her gown. He broke the kiss to ease her slightly away from him to allow her gown to drop away, revealing her br**sts covered only by the thin material of her chemise, his eyes becoming hot and glittering as he raised his hands to cup the twin orbs.

Ellie looked down, her cheeks flaming as she saw what Justin had done; her br**sts were fuller, the n**ples swollen and hard at their tips as they pouted up and forwards invitingly.

‘You are so beautiful…!’ he murmured huskily, gently pushing her chemise aside before his head lowered to draw one of those swollen berries into his mouth.

Ellie’s whole body now felt suffused with heat as she thrust her fingers into his hair, every caress of that moist tongue a torture that coursed hot and molten through her veins.

She loved this man, needed—Lord help her, she needed—

She gave a low moan, throat arching, head thrown back, as Justin responded to that need, his fingers caressing unerringly that heat between her thighs, stroking in the same rhythm as his tongue now rasped against her other nipple, taking her higher, driving her insane with mindless desire.

‘Unfasten my pantaloons, Eleanor…!’ His breath was hot against her aching breast as he bit gently on her nipple. ‘Let me feel your hands on me,’ he pleaded gruffly.

Her cheeks burned as she sat back slightly, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of Justin’s pantaloons in her haste to see and touch the hardness that had pressed against her so insistently, barely able to breathe as he leant back against the seat, lids half-closed, as she finally allowed that long, pulsing length to burst free, as if it had a will of its own.