A Carnal Agreement (Regency Intrigue Book 1) Page 2

  “Even if I agreed to this, I would still know the baby wasn’t Reddington’s.”

  “You would’ve known it wasn’t his if I’d been increasing before he died,” she said.

  Mr. Jenkins coughed uncomfortably.

  “You can’t prove he’s dead. You haven’t seen the body. And you won’t be able to prove the baby isn’t his either.”

  “Technically that is true, but it is a twisted presentation of the facts. It hardly absolves me of blame.”

  “Perhaps not, but I still refuse to ask more of you.” She took a deep breath and looked imploringly at both Loring and Mr. Jenkins. “Compared to things I saw and dealt with as Reddington’s wife, conducting an affair with Mark Foxwood will seem positively tame.”

  Loring shook his head.

  “All right, perhaps not,” Cassandra admitted. “But it will be nowhere near as scandalous as things Reddington did every day. Please, this may be my only hope to free myself. I know women are supposed to be content to marry and come under the protection of their husband, but I can’t marry again. I need to be on my own. I think I’ve earned my freedom after three years in hell.”

  Mr. Jenkins sighed. “You have, Lady Reddington. I wish I knew another way to help you, but I don’t. I will go along with your plan, but I cannot give you more than three months.”

  “That is all I ask. Loring?”

  “I don’t think you understand the kind of man Mark Foxwood is. I wish you would at least consider someone else.”

  “He is the perfect candidate. Since his estate neighbors mine, you can still watch over me. I promise to abandon the plan if he frightens me in the least.”

  Loring sighed. “I won’t stand in your way.”

  “Excellent. Mr. Jenkins, if you uncover anything new once you return to London, send word immediately, and I will abandon my plan.”

  “I will, my lady.”

  She looked from one man to the other. “You don’t know how much your support means to me. I don’t know if I could have weathered this marriage without you. Hopefully in a few more months I will be able to put it all behind me and look forward to the future and to raising the child I have wanted. Loring, I do hope you will stay on here when this is done.”

  He bowed. “I will stay as long as you like, my lady.”

  “If you will excuse me, I must prepare myself to make a call on Mr. Foxwood.”

  ***

  Mark lounged on a window seat in his study, one long leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent so his booted foot rested on the cushion. The thick snow covering his fields muffled even the cries of the birds. So when someone rapped on his front door, the sound made him jump.

  A servant rushed to open the door, and Mark listened carefully to determine who dared annoy him when he’d only been in residence a few short days. He tensed when he heard a woman’s voice. Surely his last mistress hadn’t the gall to follow him all the way to Devon. He thought he’d made it painfully clear their association was over.

  Andrews, the butler who had remained at Northamberly at Gillinvray’s request, had been instructed to hire more staff for the house. The woman was probably a local girl who’d come seeking a position as a housemaid. Andrews would handle it.

  Mark leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but two pairs of approaching footsteps followed by a knock on the door interrupted his peace once again.

  For a moment he considered jumping out the window and making a run for it. What was the point of being secluded in the country if he was forced to entertain visitors?

  “Come in,” he barked.

  The door opened slowly. Andrews entered, followed by a woman whose clothing and demeanor indicated she was not applying to be his housemaid. Her thick, dark hair made him think of chocolate. It was twisted in an intricate knot, but her attempts to restrain it had failed. Tight curls fell across her cheeks and down her neck, bouncing as she walked into the room.

  Her smooth, ivory skin was so perfect he almost thought her a statue come to life. The pale green gown which suited her coloring dipped low on her chest, revealing a bosom as full and rich as her hair. When she smiled at him, his body responded involuntarily, forcing him to lower both legs to the floor.

  One day. He’d been one damn day without a woman, and his cock was already begging him to seize her and rip off her beguiling dress. How could he get rid of her quickly?

  “What is the meaning of this? I told you I wasn’t at home to anyone, especially any females.” He picked up his snifter and drained the rest of its contents.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Foxwood, but her ladyship said it was an emergency.” Neither Andrews’s tone nor his expression indicated there was any sincerity behind his apology.

  Mark studied the woman again. His gaze raked her from her disarrayed curls to the pointed toe of the calfskin boot barely visible beneath her lacy hem. “Andrews, I do not know this woman. How can any emergency of hers be a concern of mine?”

  Mark truly had no idea who she was. Yet, there was something familiar about her. Where had he seen her before?

  Andrews declined to answer the question. The coward. He stepped back and closed the door, leaving Mark alone with a woman who was causing the exact response he’d intended to avoid while he was here.

  He sighed. “Since you’ve already disturbed my peaceful afternoon, you might as well go ahead and tell me who the hell you are and what you want.”

  The woman didn’t flinch at his crude language. Instead, she spoke in a strong, steady voice. “I’m Viscountess Reddington. I beg your pardon for bothering you, but I need assistance with a rather delicate matter. I was hoping you would be willing to lend me aid.”

  “I’m not impressed by your title, and I’m no champion of damsels in distress.”

  The infuriating woman had the audacity to smile. “No, I didn’t think you were, but the kind of help I require happens to fall within your area of expertise.”

  The only thing he’d like to help this little minx do was remove her clothes and spread her legs for him. Come to think of it, sexual escapades were about the only area of expertise anyone in society thought he had. “I can’t imagine what that would be.”

  “Before I explain what I need, I have to tell you something that must be kept secret. I am going to trust you are enough of a gentleman to do so.”

  “Not many people consider me a gentleman, but you are welcome to take the risk.”

  She paused, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, the first sign of nerves she’d shown. “My husband is dead. He died under suspicious circumstances in France.”

  “I hope you don’t think me an investigator.”

  She gave him a scathing look and continued. “He could hardly have been a more wretched person, and I must admit I’m glad to be rid of him. However—”

  Mark couldn’t help but smile at her honesty. “I suppose under the circumstances I should offer my congratulations rather than my sympathies.”

  She laughed, a pure, clear sound which heightened his arousal. God, she was refreshing, so different from the simpering misses who pandered to him in London.

  “Thank you. He may be gone, but he is still managing to vex me. It is necessary for me to conceal his death for as long as possible.”

  She paused for a moment, and Mark found himself more intrigued than he should be by her story. He poured himself another brandy and said, “Go on. You’ve already proven yourself to be the most interesting woman I’ve talked to in months.”

  “Reddington’s will specifies that I am to be disinherited unless I have produced a child.” She took a deep breath. Mark watched her ample chest rise and fall. “I need to be with child before anyone finds out my husband is dead.”

  Mark was thankful he hadn’t just taken a drink. He would likely have spewed it across the room. “Are you proposing what I think you are?”

  “I need a man to get me with child and allow me to pass the baby off as Reddington’s.”

  �
��And you thought me a likely candidate?”

  “I understand you are quite skilled in such matters.” Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “But that’s not the only reason I chose you. You live nearby—my estate lies across the lake.” She pointed through the window towards the back of his property. “You are unmarried, and you… well, you don’t have a title of your own to pass on.”

  Anger boiled inside him. This woman dared come here and propose to use him like some farmyard stud. Why he let it get to him he did not know. Women had treated him as something to be tossed aside since he reached his majority, seeing him as a toy for their amusement.

  He was Gillinvray’s bastard, not a man in his own right. He wasn’t allowed the name he deserved. Why should even his seed belong to him?

  He despised her presumption. And yet, angry as he was, he couldn’t help but think what a delight it would be to bed her. She was outspoken, lush, and startlingly direct. Considering Reddington’s reputation, she had likely been trained in all manner of delights.

  Yes, Lady Reddington had the potential to give him the most fun he’d had in years. The eager young widows and overused professionals he’d been with in London had done nothing to ease the knot Katherine’s betrayal had lodged in his chest. But perhaps he didn’t need celibacy. Perhaps what he needed was something new, a rare delicacy to replenish his appetite for life. Lady Reddington was certainly unique.

  He would consent, but only on his own terms. “I will entertain your proposal, but first I require some information. How long were you married?”

  She looked surprised by his question but answered without hesitation. “Three years.”

  “If you did not conceive a child in this time, what makes you believe you will be able to now?”

  “Ahhh, a good question.” She exhaled slowly. “I’ve never tried.”

  “You mean you took precautions to prevent children?”

  She shook her head. “No. I mean I am still untouched.”

  This time Mark’s timing wasn’t as fortunate. He swallowed the wrong way and brandy burned his throat and lungs. He coughed loudly, bending at the waist and gasping for air. It took him several moments to recover enough to lift his head and study Lady Reddington.

  She was smiling, obviously enjoying his discomfort. She looked like a cat who had licked up a large bowl of cream. No man could be married to this woman for three whole years without taking her to bed. The idea was ludicrous.

  “Surely you jest. I can’t believe your husband, a man who certainly needed an heir, would not visit your bed.”

  “Oh, he visited, and he wanted an heir, but it did not work.”

  Mark frowned. “What do you mean it did not work?”

  “He didn’t work. His… manhood refused to cooperate.”

  Mark bit his lip to keep from laughing at both Lord Reddington’s predicament and the obvious difficulty she had finding a polite way to say such a thing. “I’m sorry if this gives offense, but I’ve seen Reddington with other women, women whom he hired for their skills in the bedroom.”

  She scowled. “It’s not me if that’s what you think. I am not so odious he found himself unable to bed me.”

  “No, my lady.” He studied her intently, staring boldly at her breasts until, finally, she blushed. “It is nearly impossible to imagine a man finding you unattractive.”

  “From what I came to understand, he only managed to make himself useful if the woman he was with… abused him in some fashion.”

  Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How had Reddington managed to hide his problem from the ton?

  Lady Reddington’s cheeks turned a deep pink. “Please do not ask me to explain further. He tried to perform his duties with me and cursed me up and down for not being able to inspire him, while also insisting it was not a wife’s place to perform such services.”

  Mark didn’t mean to laugh. Living with Reddington must have been hell. If Reddington weren’t already dead, he would go after the man himself. Yet, the image of him bent over while a woman whipped his ass was too much.

  “At least my situation brings amusement to someone,” Lady Reddington snapped.

  “I’m sorry. It is simply difficult to believe Reddington was even worse than I thought.” When Mark closed his eyes in an attempt to compose himself, he heard a snicker. He looked up and realized Cassandra was laughing too.

  “It shouldn’t be funny,” she said as the color in her cheeks intensified. “But when you have to live with it, laughing can be the only way to bear it. Combine his perversion with his drinking and gambling and perhaps you can understand why I don’t mourn him.”

  Mark sobered. “Yes, I believe I do. Why did you accept the marriage?”

  She sighed. “Reddington’s father knew exactly what his son was. He despaired of ever finding him a wife. When he discovered my father was up to his ears in debt, he offered to pay off some of Father’s bills in exchange for me. If I had refused, my sisters would not have enough money for a London season or a chance to marry someone more amenable. I was the sacrificial lamb.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mark didn’t know what else to say. That a father could let such a thing happen to his daughter made him ill.

  “I chose it, and I suffered. But now I’m going to be free if I can get around the stipulation in the will. Here’s my proposal. I will be your mistress for the next three months. If I become enceinte, I will announce my husband’s death and pretend the child is his. If not, I will announce his death anyway and begin looking for a position as a governess or companion. Either way, you will be free to go at that time.”

  Mark shouldn’t say yes. He didn’t need this complication in his life. Worse, something told him walking away from this woman wasn’t going to be as easy as he would like. Once he had his hands on such a fascinating bedmate, he wouldn’t want to give her up. But aside from the pleasure she would bring him, he truly wanted to help her get back at both Reddington and her father.

  “I agree, but I have a few conditions of my own.”

  Lady Reddington looked wary, but she nodded for him to continue.

  “If you wish to be with child in three months, we need to make frequent efforts to accomplish our goal. Therefore, you will live here for the duration of our liaison.”

  She started to protest, but he held up his hand and kept talking. “I want you easily accessible. More importantly, you will be ready to serve me whenever I want, day or night.”

  Her cheeks were flaming red. “I refuse to be treated like a servant.”

  “That you may. But if you wish me to be your personal stud, the only compensation I will accept is the free use of your body.”

  The color drained from her face, and for the first time since she’d entered his study, she looked truly rattled. Excellent. If he got to her with his words, how much more might he affect her with his touch?

  “I will pay your price,” she said after a few moments of consideration. “I will go home now to collect my things and return in a few hours. I trust you understand no one else is to know of our arrangement.”

  “I’d planned to spend the next few months in solitude. I expect no visitors. Should I have unexpected guests, I will allow you to return home until they leave.”

  “Then, it is settled.”

  An unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation squeezed at Mark’s chest. He could only assume it was pangs of remorse for agreeing to divest this woman of her innocence. “I will give you one more chance to reconsider. I am not a gentleman. You cannot expect me to behave as one when I bed you.”

  Cassandra gave Foxwood a tight smile. “If I expected such, I would never have come here.”

  “I suppose a gentleman wouldn’t suit your purposes.”

  She nodded. “I can show myself out.”

  “Wait,” he took hold of her arm. “I wish to seal our bargain.”

  ***

  Cassandra started to tell him there was no need, but her protest died when he pulled her hard ag
ainst him. His lips hovered inches from hers, and she could scarcely breathe.

  “Does the lovely viscountess have a name? I refuse to use titles in bed.”

  “Cassandra. My name is Cassandra.” It came out as a choked whisper.

  “Excellent, you may address me as Mark.”

  She nodded.

  “Cassandra, darling, do you have any idea how much danger you are in?”

  “W-what do you mean?”

  She never got an answer. Instead, he brought his mouth down on hers. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed her. He was branding her as his property rather than sealing their bargain. Yet her body responded in ways she’d never dreamed of. Heat flooded her, and an aching tightness coalesced at the juncture of her thighs. She couldn’t breathe. She thought her lungs would burst, but she didn’t want him to stop.

  When his tongue pressed against her lips, forcing them open, she moaned. Her response mortified her, but she couldn’t help it. He stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and her knees buckled. She would have crumpled to the floor if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her back, bringing her whole body in contact with his.

  His hips pressed into hers, and the hard ridge of his arousal made her shiver. At least he wasn’t going to have any trouble fulfilling the bargain. He rubbed himself against her, and of their own volition, her hips moved to meet his. She leaned into him, craving more contact, but he broke off the kiss and pushed her away.

  She stumbled before she could stand up straight. When she looked at him, his chest was heaving and he’d braced himself on his desk. At least he wasn’t unaffected. She might have died from embarrassment then.

  “That definitely had promise,” he said, when his breathing had returned to normal. “I think I might rather enjoy our little arrangement.”

  Cassandra’s heart raced. She had to get out of there. “Go. Gather your things. Don’t bother with too many clothes. I don’t think you’ll be wearing them often.”

  The urge to slap him was so strong she nearly succumbed. How dare he talk to her like she was a whore he’d sampled and chosen to buy? Without a word, she turned and walked out, unable to resist slamming the door behind her.