Dreams of Desire Page 2

  She’d almost made it to the door, when Penworth barked, “Miss Lambert, sit down.”

  “I can’t. I really must—”

  “Miss Lambert!” he stated more fiercely. “I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

  “I didn’t realize I needed it. I believe our appointment is concluded.”

  “It’s not concluded until I say it is. Sit down!”

  Brooking no argument, he gestured to her chair, and she vacillated, then slinked to her seat. He grinned malevolently, delighted to have his authority so blatantly demonstrated.

  “You’ve been hired,” he declared, “and you will not refuse me.”

  “As you wish,” she tersely retorted.

  “We depart for Scotland on Saturday, and I don’t have time to interview anyone else.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Your ungrateful attitude will not help matters, Miss Lambert.”

  “I apologize for my discourtesy,” she insincerely muttered.

  “Mrs. Ford assures me that you’re ready to commence your duties.”

  “I am.”

  “We’re sailing from London. I trust that mode of travel won’t be a problem for you?”

  She’d never been on a ship and had no idea how she’d weather the voyage, but when he was such an ass, she felt justified in being contrary.

  “I get seasick,” she lied.

  “I don’t care,” he rudely responded. “It’s a minor distance, so your discomfort will be brief.”

  “I’ll try not to be ill in your presence.”

  He ignored her snide remark and continued. “I’ve been informed that you booked lodging at the inn in the village.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “I will send for your bags. A chamber will be prepared for you, and you’ll join us for supper so you can be introduced to the twins. Tomorrow, you’ll assist them in their packing so that the three of you can become acquainted.”

  “I can’t wait,” she lied again, and she couldn’t shield her distaste.

  “You have a sharp tongue, Miss Lambert. I don’t like it.”

  “Then perhaps you should reassess your decision.”

  “No. I enjoy getting my way, and the more you protest, the more insistent I shall be that you do as I bid you. Might I suggest that—in our future dealings—you keep that fact in mind?”

  “I will.”

  “You may proceed to the foyer. The butler will meet you there and have a maid show you to your bedroom. We have drinks at seven and supper at eight. Be prompt and dress appropriately.”

  There were a thousand replies she could have made, but what was the point? He hated to be denied, and she was no better. Nothing galled her more than having an arrogant male ordering her about, which certainly had her questioning her choice of career.

  She imagined thwarting him, watching until he was off the property, then running away. Would he chase her down as if she was a feudal serf? Would he call out the hounds? Would she be dragged back in chains?

  He was such a conceited beast that he just might, so she’d bite the bullet and obey, but she would loathe her job—and him—every second.

  Why couldn’t she have had a different type of life?

  Her parents had died when she was a baby, and she didn’t remember them. She’d had no relatives to take her in, so she’d been shuffled among the neighbors until there was no one left.

  Since she was twelve, she’d supported herself. She struggled and toiled, but she couldn’t find a place where she belonged. It was her greatest dream to marry, to have a kind husband and a home of her own.

  Instead, she had to rely on the whims of a man like Penworth.

  They stared and stared at each other, his snooty expression letting her know how futile her spurt of rebellion had been. Her wishes were trivial compared to his, and she sighed and nodded, reluctantly acknowledging his power.

  Without further disagreement or complaint, she stood and went to locate the butler so she could learn where her bedchamber would be.

  Chapter 2

  LILY was stomping toward the foyer when a door opened down the hall. Two young ladies stepped out to block her path. Since they were identical in appearance, it wasn’t difficult to deduce that they were the earl’s wards, Miranda and Melanie Newton.

  Their hair was a silvery blond, their eyes an icy blue. In their matching white gowns, blue sash at the waist, they were lithe and willowy, sophisticated in a fashion Lily couldn’t have managed in a thousand years.

  They watched Lily approach, as Lily watched them in return. It was an odd encounter, almost a confrontation, and she couldn’t figure out why it was occurring. Already, she sensed disaster.

  They hadn’t moved, and at noting their heightened scrutiny, she was extremely uncomfortable. She stopped and smiled, but they didn’t smile back.

  “Miss Lambert, I presume?” one of them said. Her voice was breathy and seductive, like honey on a spoon.

  “Yes.”

  “I am Melanie Newton.”

  “And I am Miranda Newton,” the other chimed in. “John must have hired you. He told us he planned on it.”

  It took a moment for Lily to realize that in speaking of John, they were referring to Lord Penworth.

  “Yes, he hired me,” Lily confirmed.

  “He’s so anxious to depart for Scotland,” Melanie mentioned.

  “He just loves his dreary old castle,” Miranda added, “and his horses and hounds. What about you, Miss Lambert? Do you love horses and hounds?”

  “I can probably take them or leave them.”

  “You don’t ride? You don’t hunt?”

  “No.”

  “How will you entertain yourself in all that wild heather?”

  They cocked their heads at exactly the same angle, as they studied Lily’s plain gray dress, the conservative collar and cuffs. Miranda peered at her sister, and a silent communication was exchanged. They both smirked.

  “This is going to be so amusing,” Miranda crooned.

  They circled Lily, assessing her as if inspecting a horse they might purchase. Then, at the same instant, they halted and leaned in, so Lily was wedged between them.

  Their perfect faces were mere inches from her own, so she could see their creamy skin, their plucked brows, their ruby lips and dark lashes. They were very beautiful, but in a brittle manner that Lily found disturbing.

  “Did John inform you of how many companions we’ve had?” Miranda inquired.

  “Seven?”

  “Can you guess why?”

  “I’m supposing you don’t want a companion,” Lily said.

  “Touché, Miss Lambert.”

  The wicked pair talked rapidly, finishing each other’s sentences, as if they were completely attuned. Lily glanced from one to the other as if a ball was being batted back and forth.

  “Our father never required us to have a nanny.”

  “We were always free to behave however we pleased.”

  “I’ll bet you were,” Lily mumbled.

  “It’s tremendously annoying to have John smothering us.”

  “He means well, but—”

  “—we are eighteen.”

  “He should trust us—”

  “—but he’s so accursedly set in his ways.”

  “He certainly is,” Lily agreed. For his being only thirty, he seemed fussy and demanding and downright ancient.

  “Can you also guess,” Miranda went on, “why the others fled or were fired?”

  “Was it because you made their lives miserable?” Lily asked. “Or was it because you got them into trouble with Lord Penworth?”

  “The latter. We worked to convince them to go on their own—”

  “—and when they wouldn’t, it was so easy to persuade John of their incompetence.”

  “He’s quite gullible, and he doesn’t like women very much. You can accuse a female of any wretched conduct, and he’ll believe you. Can you imagine what we might tell him about you, M
iss Lambert?”

  “Oh yes,” Lily replied, “I definitely can.”

  Penworth had alluded to transgressions by the prior companions, and it all made sense now. The twins had tricked or deceived the poor women, then lied to Penworth about what had transpired.

  Being an oblivious male, he’d accepted the twins’ version of events, and the companions were left to twist in the wind.

  “Do you really think you should stay, Miss Lambert?”

  “I’d rather not,” Lily asserted. “I tried to explain to Lord Penworth that I didn’t want the position, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “He can be stubborn. Perhaps you should try a bit . . . harder.”

  Miranda pinched Lily’s arm, firmly enough to bruise, and Lily yelped with outrage.

  “Ouch!” She flashed her severest frown. “Desist at once. Both of you! You’re not the first miscreants to cross my path, and I don’t graciously tolerate spite.”

  “Don’t you? You’d be surprised what we can do—when we put our minds to it.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Lily thought they were the most vicious, most despicable duo she’d ever encountered, and over the years, she’d seen plenty.

  They didn’t wish to endure her presence any more than she wished to endure theirs. It was a lose-lose situation, and if she could induce Penworth to discharge her, everyone would be happy. Most especially herself.

  “We expect,” Miranda said, “that you’ll speak with John immediately.”

  “I will,” Lily concurred.

  “If he won’t release you, you’ll simply have to vanish.”

  They began finishing each other’s sentences again. “If you went missing, what could he do, hmm? We’re leaving for Scotland on Saturday.”

  “It’s not as if he’d have time to search.”

  “You’ll be gone, and we’ll be free.”

  “That’s all we ask.”

  “It’s nothing personal—”

  “—but we just don’t like you.”

  “Good-bye,” they simpered in unison.

  They sauntered away, and Lily dawdled in the quiet hall, watching the swish of their retreating backsides. As they disappeared, she blew out a heavy sigh.

  “Well,” she muttered to herself, “that was pleasant.”

  She whipped around and proceeded to the library to notify Penworth that she quit—whether he wanted her to or not. His wards were monsters, and he needed to be apprised that they were. Hopefully, her fortitude would save their next companion an enormous amount of grief.

  It took some meandering through deserted corridors before she found the correct room. She’d raised her hand to knock, to announce herself, when she realized the door was ajar and that she could peek inside.

  Penworth was still there, but he’d been joined by a woman. They were a few feet away from Lily, standing very close together. And they were alone.

  Lily should have tiptoed away, but curiosity had often been her downfall. She presumed his associate to be his fiancée, Violet Howard, and Lily was dying to learn what type of individual would betroth herself to him. However, after a quick perusal, it was evident that—whoever she was—she couldn’t possibly be Lady Violet.

  Violet was eighteen, and she was a duke’s daughter, a sheltered debutante who’d just had her first Season and had snagged Penworth, the biggest catch to flounder onto the Marriage Market in a decade.

  The woman sequestered with him looked to be his same age, and she was very bold, very brazen.

  She had luxurious auburn hair, and a shockingly curvaceous figure, so she was particularly striking. Her breasts were most noticeable, which Lily could plainly discern because her dress was cut so low in the front.

  Penworth was riveted, his concentration completely captured by so much bosom being displayed for his prurient enjoyment.

  To Lily’s astonishment, the woman placed her palm on Penworth’s chest and massaged in slow circles. While Lily had had experience with licentious males trying to grope and fondle her, she’d never seen the opposite—a woman being so amorously forward. She was enthralled by the sight.

  Penworth’s demeanor had been altered, his handsome features softening. His gaze was warm and appealing, his body loose and relaxed. He seemed younger, approachable, and not anything like the pompous aristocrat who’d interviewed her.

  She sucked in a deep breath but couldn’t let it out. A frantic warning sounded inside her head—that she should sneak away, that Penworth need only glance over and she’d be discovered—but she couldn’t go. The slightest motion would reveal her presence. How would she explain it?

  “I was in the neighborhood,” the woman murmured. “Aren’t you glad I stopped by?”

  “It’s a tad inconvenient, Lauretta,” Penworth said.

  “Is it?” she pouted. “Are you sure?”

  She stepped in so their torsos were connected; Penworth obviously didn’t mind. He gripped her hips and pulled her even nearer.

  “What are you really doing here?” he asked.

  “Can’t an old friend visit without there being an ulterior motive?”

  Their lips were barely separated. Would they kiss?

  Lily was agog with anticipation, as her brain roiled with conflicted thoughts: Was this the same straitlaced Penworth who’d lectured her on vice? Who’d bragged about his high moral standards? His ridiculous principles?

  What a hypocrite!

  “You didn’t attend my grand opening party.” Lauretta twined her arms around his neck. “Didn’t you receive my invitation?”

  “Yes, but you know I’m not much for brothels—even a fancy one like yours.”

  “I realize that, so I came to you instead. I wouldn’t want us to lose . . . touch.”

  Lily stifled a gasp.

  The woman, Lauretta, was a prostitute? Penworth had welcomed her into his home? With his wards just down the hall?

  The tedious man—for all his posturing and sermons—was a fraud. A pretentious, conceited fraud, and Lily could scarcely keep from marching in and telling him so.

  Lauretta’s hand dropped between their bodies, and she shamelessly stroked his private parts, a daring maneuver that he clearly relished. He rippled with pleasure; a charming smile quirked his stern mouth.

  “Lord Redvers split with me,” Lauretta said. “He dumped me over like a bag of rubbish.”

  “I’d heard that he had.”

  “So I’m at liberty to consort with whomever I choose”—she licked her lips—“and I choose you.”

  “Do you?”

  “It’s been ages since we dallied.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  Penworth’s voice had descended to an entirely new range. It was low and smooth, and the timbre did something interesting to Lily’s innards. She felt hot and tingly all over. Butterflies careened through her stomach.

  Penworth dipped down and nibbled on the bare skin at Lauretta’s nape. She moaned with delight as his fingers settled on her breast and squeezed the large mound. At viewing the naughty spectacle, Lily’s own breasts swelled and ached, the nipples growing firm so they rubbed against her corset in an irritating fashion.

  It had never occurred to her that a man might caress a woman in such an intimate manner, that a woman might enjoy it. She was literally frozen with shock.

  Penworth drew away, and Lauretta rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

  “I have a few hours,” she said, “before I must proceed on to London. How about a tumble for old time’s sake?”

  “I don’t know,” he grumbled, but his resolve was weakening.

  “Won’t it be cold and lonely at your castle in Scotland?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those rural villages are awfully conservative. It’s not as if you can chase after any of the widows.”

  “No, I wouldn’t be able to.”

  “Who will entertain you?”

  Penworth studied Lauretta, assessing her beautiful hair, her eloquent green eyes, her sh
apely figure. He grinned. “Why not?” he gushed. “I’m not busy. Let’s take the rear stairs up to my room.”

  He clasped her hand and spun so quickly that Lily had no opportunity to flee. In a thrice, they were face-to-face, with Penworth gaping. His expression was perplexed, as if he couldn’t remember who she was.

  Recognition dawned, and he barked, “Miss Lambert? Why are you still here?”

  “I don’t have any idea.”

  “Are you spying on me?”

  “No!” she insisted, though she absolutely was.

  “Then what in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Nothing?” She turned and ran.

  Chapter 3

  “SHE’S a lovely girl.”

  “Who is?”

  John was staring across the crowded parlor at Miss Lambert, and he yanked his distracted gaze away from her and struggled to focus it on his stepmother, Esther.

  “I’m talking about Violet, John,” Esther said. “She’s lovely. I’m delighted with your engagement to her.”

  “Oh yes, Violet. Of course.”

  For a moment, he’d thought she referred to nosy, meddlesome Miss Lambert, who was very pert and very sassy and too pretty for her own good.

  While Violet was demure and shy, she couldn’t hold a candle to Miss Lambert. Lambert exuded a maturity and sagacity that separated her from other young women. Her composure rattled him, made him want to march over and demand answers.

  He simply couldn’t decide what the questions should be.

  “I hope,” Esther grouched, “that Edward has a chance at someone as perfect as Violet.”

  Edward was John’s half brother, Esther’s only child. A more slothful, worthless soul, John couldn’t imagine.

  “Don’t worry about him,” John said. “He’s hardly ready to settle down, so his marriage is a long way off.”

  “When he is ready, promise me that you’ll find him a bride as marvelous as Violet. It’s only fair.”

  It was her constant complaint that Edward was the second son, and thus not afforded the advantages he deserved.

  In reality, Edward was a spendthrift who frittered away his money, but in Esther’s eyes, he was wonderful. In John’s eyes, he was a negligent wastrel, and if Edward had been left in charge after their father’s death, he’d have swiftly beggared them. They’d be starving on the streets, dressed in rags.