Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,88
undressing her in private, indulging her desires, pleasing her with his leisurely love play. Oh, would it not be exciting to have him do as she commanded?
She put out her hand, but stopped short of touching him.
Only moments ago, he had shown a forceful disregard for her wishes. Now she sensed a practiced quality to his seduction. Rather than a true warmth of feeling, he exuded a cold ruthlessness of purpose. Did he see lovemaking as a convenient way to keep her from James … and Lord Hailstock?
He must.
Drake kept his emotions locked in a place where she could not venture. No matter how hard she tried to probe deeper, he wanted only physical pleasure from her. Perhaps because she was a member of the hated nobility, he could admit only to an obsession for her, nothing more.
How long would his infatuation last?
Willing strength into her wobbly legs, she stepped away and adjusted her gown. “I must go. You know why.”
“The devil you say,” he bit out. “You can’t walk out now.”
His eyes were dark with unslaked passion. She could see the turgid outline of his manhood straining against the placket of his breeches. His unsatisfied state stirred a wicked satisfaction in her.
The balance of power had shifted, she realized. It might prove useful to keep her husband at a disadvantage. To find some way to make him view her as more than an object of lust.
Walking to the door, she turned and smiled at his angry features. “You said you would do whatever pleasures me. Well, it pleasures me to wait.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Holding a large map of England against the wall, Sarah stole a glance at Alicia, who used a hammer to tack down the corners. In the morning sunshine that lit the study at Pemberton House, her friend looked fresh and pretty. The periwinkle gown enhanced her blue eyes and golden hair, and a serene strength shone on her delicate features.
Sarah saw nothing of her own jaded bitterness there.
She breathed deeply to dispel the tightness in her breast. If only she could be so caught up in life again. She would relinquish her title, her wealth, her standing in society, if only she could eradicate the unhappiness inside herself.
Her gaze strayed to the far end of the study, where several rows of little desks stood empty, except for the last one. There, William sat in a desk beside James in his new wheeled chair made of caned beechwood. The two of them had their heads together in conversation, her son small and dark-haired in contrast to James with his vast shoulders and even vaster conceit.
Sarah burned to know what he found to talk about with her quiet son. If he dared to speak an unkind word to William …
Alicia stepped back to survey the map. “There. Do you think the place looks ready?”
“I suppose so.” Still baffled by her friend’s unorthodox plan, Sarah glanced around the study at the plain oak desk with its piles of primers, the standing globe, the slates and chalk. “But I cannot approve of this eccentric whim to open a school for servants.”
Alicia set her chin in a stubborn pose. “Opening a school isn’t a whim. I wish to do my small part to help those in need. It’s a worthy occupation, instructing the less fortunate so they may better themselves.”
Sarah couldn’t deny Alicia’s kindness. She wished she herself could be so unselfish. But this school went far beyond the charitable works appropriate for a lady of the ton. “If anyone in society finds out, you’ll be ostracized. Need I remind you, you’re barely accepted as it is.”
With a shrug, Alicia walked to the desk and set the dictionary on its stand. “The good opinion of the nobility doesn’t concern me.”
“But why not hire a staff to run your ragged school? Why would you and James”—Sarah scowled to see him chuckling at something William said—“teach the hired help?”
“Why, to help them, of course,” Alicia said serenely. “I’ve several in my household who would benefit from learning their letters. Perhaps you might wish to send a few pupils as well. It’s only for a few hours each day.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “Servants are paid to serve, not to shirk their duties. And somehow I have the feeling there’s more to your determination than you’re telling.”
Alicia’s blue eyes widened; then she turned her attention to tidying a pile of spelling primers. “It’s quite simple. Mama doesn’t need me anymore. Nor does Gerald. And Drake…” A subtle