Eight for Losing, One for Loving (Wicked Sons #9)

Chapter 7

Dear Cara,

I have done the most ridiculous thing…

―Excerpt of a letter from the Hon’ble Miss Violetta Spencer (cousin and adopted sister to Lady Aisling, Lady Cara and Conor Baxter – Viscount Harleston) to The Right Hon’ble Cara De Vere, Viscountess Latimer.

24 th June 1850, The Queen’s Head, Wrestlingworth, the Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire border.

I have done the most ridiculous thing, and yet I don’t regret it. Not in the least. How shocked you will be when you hear, assuming I am ever brave enough to reveal all. There is a good chance I will take it all to my grave…

Vi considered that as she mentally began a letter to her sister, one she would write tomorrow if she got the chance.

My lonely grave, she corrected morosely, though she knew she would not write such a maudlin sentiment in black and white. Foolish beyond permission, she scolded herself, shaking her head. Outside the curtains she could hear the servants coming in and out, the slosh of the water as they filled the bath. Though she had deeply regretted the interruption to their kiss, she was relieved, too. It seemed as if she might have persuaded Leo to take her to bed, and that being the case, she could not bear to be anything less than clean and sweet smelling for him. Like a bride on her wedding night, she thought wistfully, before scolding herself all over again.

She would never be his bride. That way lay a lifetime of worry and stress and dispute between them. For if she curbed his wild behaviour, he would grow to resent her for it, and she would hate that. If she did not curb it, then she would be sat upon thorns for the rest of her life, waiting to hear the news that he had been killed during some ridiculous race or wager. She remembered hearing via her brother that Leo had once leapt from a cliff over seventy feet high into the sea, just for a lark. Even thinking about it now, years and years later and knowing he was perfectly safe and well, made her feel both sick and so furious with him she could wring his blasted neck.

Don’t think about it, she told herself sternly. It was a familiar refrain. Don’t think about it, or don’t think about him , words she had repeated to herself more times than she cared to remember over the past years.

She heard the door close, and then the bed curtain was pulled open. Leo smiled at her.

“Your bath is all ready, Vi. There’s even soap,” he said. His gaze fell to her mouth, and he cleared his throat, looking hurriedly away. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then and—”

“No.”

Vi’s heart was thudding very hard as he turned back to her, an arrested expression in his eyes.

“No?” he repeated.

She shook her head. “If… If we’re going to… well, it’s silly, isn’t it? For you to go, and I should feel happier bathing in a strange place, with… with you here,” she said firmly.

“You would?”

Vi nodded. “You hear terrible stories about people being walked in on or getting robbed when in their baths in places like this, or—”

“You want me to stay?” he repeated, apparently not interested in all the reasons it was a good idea he stay past that she wanted him to.

Vi nodded again, deciding it might be safer to keep her mouth shut. Less chance of vexing him that way.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll sit on the bed and close the curtains.”

“Oh,” Vi said with a sigh, for having him watch her bathe was something she had been uncertain she was brave enough to endure. “Yes, please.”

His lips quirked at her obvious relief. “Don’t worry, love. I won’t peek. You’re quite safe.”

“Well, there’s no need to sound so certain about it,” she said, suddenly indignant, which was unfair and ridiculous, but there it was. Did he not wish to peek?

Leo gave her a sharp look of interest and then came forward, taking her hands and drawing her off the bed and to her feet. “I shall be listening to every sound you make, imagining the scene beyond the curtains, and driving myself wild with frustration and the desire to peek, but I am a gentleman, so I shall not do so.” He reached for a loose curl, tucking it behind her ear. “Does that help?”

“It does rather,” Vi admitted ruefully. “You must think me terribly foolish.”

Leo shook his head. “No. I think you woefully out of touch with reality. How can you be so accomplished, and so sensible, and not know that any man would give his right arm to be where I am? How can you not know how lovely you are, how special? You are beautiful, and intelligent, and very, very alluring. Don’t you forget that.”

Vi gazed up at him, searching his eyes and finding nothing but sincerity there. He really meant it.

“Yes, I really mean it,” he said, his lips quirking as he correctly interpreted her intent gaze. “Do you really think every word I say is nonsense? It’s not very flattering, love.”

“Of course I don’t,” she said at once. “It’s just… some things are far harder to believe than others. I… I saw your mistress once, you see, and she was so very lovely and it’s hard to believe—”

“Who did you see?” he demanded, frowning at that.

“I’m afraid I don’t know her name, we were not introduced,” she said dryly.

“Where and when?” he asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

“At the theatre, the year before last. Really, Leo, have there been so many that—”

“Ah. Mrs James,” he said, nodding. “A rather buxom brunette.”

“Quite so,” Vi said tartly, the warm feeling she’d had upon his lovely words dissipating. Her own fault, of course, she ought never to have mentioned his mistress.

“Yes, she was a handsome woman, but we did not last long.”

“Why not?” Vi asked before cursing her own stupid curiosity. She really did not wish to know. “No, don’t tell me, I—”

“Because she bored me silly,” he said frankly. “No conversation past whatever piece of jewellery she wanted me to buy her or where she wanted to go to be seen wearing it. Very tedious. You, however, are never dull. I never know what you are going to say, and your opinions are always your own, not recited from overhearing something someone else said. You think about things, Vi, and if you think I’m wrong, you’ll explain why, not just tell me I’m wrong and sulk about it if I disagree.”

“Oh,” Vi said, mollified, though she felt abruptly bad for Mrs James. Had he broken her heart?

“Have your bath, Vi,” Leo said, smiling at her. She watched as he tugged off his boots and tossed them to the floor before stretching out on the bed and pulling the curtains around him.

Vi shook her head and sighed, picking the boots up and setting them neatly in the corner of the room before investigating the bath. Steam rose from it, fogging the mirror. She dipped her fingers in, pleased to discover it was the perfect temperature.

Stripping off the worn nightgown, she stepped into the bath. The water lapped against the sides. Leo would hear that too, and know she was getting in. The idea he might be imagining her just as she was, naked and standing in the bath, brought a rush of heat to her skin that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

Slowly, she sat, unable to repress a sigh as she lay her head back and the water eased away the aches from too many hours sat in the tilbury.

“The water is not too hot?” Leo’s voice came from behind the curtains.

“No. It’s wonderful,” she said, wondering why she was not more scandalised by the situation, but it was surprisingly natural to speak to Leo whilst she bathed.

“There’s soap, on the little table beside you. Did you find it?”

Vi looked around and saw a small wrought-iron table had been set beside the tub, holding a clean flannel and what looked like a homemade cake of soap. There were bits stuck in it that looked like petals.

“Guess what it smells of?” Leo asked her, his amusement obvious.

Vi lifted it to her nose and laughed. “Roses!” she said. “Of course.”

She lathered it between her hands, luxuriating in the delicate scene.

“What are you doing, Vi?”

Vi froze, her hand upon her forearm. “Er… washing.”

Leo made a muffled sound that she thought might have been a snort.

“Give a fellow a bit more information, love. My imagination needs a little extra help.”

Though he could not see her, Vi blushed scarlet. She couldn’t possibly… could she? Steeling her nerves, she told herself to be brave, just this once. Tonight was a night out of time and place, a once in a lifetime, never to be repeated time, and the person she was here and now could do that.

“I… I’ve lathered the soap between my hands. It's lovely, though the scent isn’t very strong. Now I’m st-stroking the lather up my arms,” she said, fitting action to words. “My shoulders now, and my neck.”

She was silent for a moment, not thinking he needed to hear about her washing her armpits.

“What now, love?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

Vi swallowed, knowing what she would do next if she were alone, but discovering she wasn’t that brave. “My feet,” she called out cheerfully, ignoring the little chuckle of amusement. “And my ankles, now my calves, behind my knees and—drat, I dropped it.”

“Don’t leave out all the good bits,” he called out to her.

Vi huffed at him, amused. “I am not going to annotate everything .”

“Spoilsport,” he replied, still laughing softly.

Vi rediscovered the soap and spent the next few moments attending to the private places she was not about to tell Leo about.

“Shall I come and wash your back?”

The question hung in the air, somehow having far more weight and substance that the steam coiling around her.

“Vi?”

One night out of time , she reminded herself. Be brave, Vi.

“Yes, p-please,” she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut and wincing. The desire to change her mind was in every heavy thud of her heart as it pounded behind her ribs, but then she heard the curtains pull back and Leo was standing before her.

Vi shivered in the bath water, though she wasn’t cold. She had wrapped her arms about her legs and now pressed her face against her knees, avoiding his gaze.

“That was a yes?” he asked her, his tone careful.

Vi nodded, feeling the heat in her cheeks against her bare legs.

Leo sat down on the floor beside the tub and reached for the soap she had set back on the table.

“A lovely scent, delicate,” he said, dipping his hands in the water behind her. She felt the movement ripple the water, but he did not touch her. The sound of the soap, slick between his hands made her pulse leap, however, knowing he would do so any moment.

“Vi? Is this all right?”

She breathed steadily for a long moment before she nodded. “Yes, Leo.”

He shifted behind her and then she felt his warm hands, slick with soap, gliding over her shoulders and upper back.

“How lovely you are,” he murmured. “Your skin is so beautiful, like silk. You have the loveliest back.”

A sarcastic comment about it being her best side leapt to Vi’s tongue, but she swallowed it. Why not believe him? She had offered him everything, with no strings. If he was the kind of man to say such things merely to get her into bed, she had done the hard work for him, and she did not believe Leo to be such a man. Though his reasons for wanting to marry a woman past her prime who would only nag him dreadfully still eluded her, perhaps she ought to believe that he at least found her attractive, desirable. It was true men had told her she was beautiful before, just as he’d said, and it wasn’t as though she believed she was unattractive, just that their words had been gilded by the promise of a connection to Lord Trevick and her rather hefty dowry. Leo would not say it for those reasons.

His hand slid down her spine, smoothing the soap over her skin and she gasped as he got to her waist, jumping a little.

“Ticklish?” he asked, and she could hear the grin in his words without looking at him. “Beg pardon. I’ll be careful.”

He was too, though her breath hitched again as his hand drifted lower.

“Th-That’s not my back,” she said in a rush.

“No, but it’s the next part on the list,” he said with amusement.

“I did that bit,” she told him, turning to look at him over her shoulder, his warm gaze meeting hers.

“Without telling me? How cruel you are, to leave out all the interesting places.”

She rolled her eyes at him but felt a smile tug at her lips. “Heartless, I know,” she agreed.

He chuckled and got to his feet, drying his hands before unfolding the large towel that had arrived with the bath. He stood beside the bath, holding the towel out before closing his eyes and turning his head away.

“Up you come, then. I’m not looking.”

Vi smiled and got to her feet, feeling strangely cosseted and cared for as he wrapped the towel around her. He kept his arms in place about her, holding her for a moment as he cracked one eye open.

“All covered up?”

“All covered up,” she agreed, though the idea of being uncovered before him was suddenly not as daunting as it had been. His hands rubbed over her arms and legs briskly, drying her so she wouldn’t feel chilled.

“I suppose I’d best let you do the rest,” Leo said with obvious regret. He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze full of warmth and… and something tender she did not dare name for fear of being unspeakably foolish. “Well, my little love. You’re all clean. So, now it’s my turn.”

Vi nodded and stepped out of the tub with his help to steady her.

“I’ll sit on the bed, I shan’t peek.”

“No. Sit there,” he nodded at the chair by the empty grate.

Vi’s expression must have been a picture, for he gave a choked laugh. “You can look away while I get in if you prefer, but I’d rather talk with you beside me, not hidden away behind a curtain. Is that terribly shocking?”

Vi shook her head. It was a bit late to shriek about indecency after all.

“If you prefer,” she said, pleased with herself for sounding so calm when she was a very long way from it. Taking a moment to extricate her arms from the wrappings, she padded over to the chair and sat down, keeping her eyes cast down as Leo made quick work of stripping off his clothes.

“We ought to have asked Jenny to see to your coat and trousers too,” she said, investigating her fingernails with apparent interest. “I’ll be all neat and tidy in the morning and you will look thoroughly disreputable.”

“Well, the truth is hard to disguise,” he said amiably. “I’m a shocking villain, after all.”

“Indeed, you are not,” she said, a little surprised by her own vehemence.

She heard the water sloshing and dared a glance up to find he had settled back in the tub. Vi glanced hurriedly away again, though the desire to look more closely was hard to deny.

“I’m not? Are you quite certain? In the circumstances,” he added, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Quite certain,” she told him, finding she meant it. Leo was a good man, not perfect by any means, but kind and honourable. If he gave his word, he would keep it. She considered this more carefully. Would that extend to marriage vows? She had never believed so before, but had that been unfair to him?

“What are you looking so intent about?” Leo’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked up, shaking her head.

“Just woolgathering,” she replied, and then swallowed as she watched him soaping his arms and chest. Powerful shoulders filled her gaze and arms far more muscular than she had appreciated beneath his exquisitely tailored coats. The soap lathered up in the golden hair on his chest and Vi suppressed the sudden and urgent desire to wash him herself. She imagined his shock if she ran over and wrested the soap from his hands, and blushed, tearing her gaze away once more. Surely, she had scandalised the poor man enough for one night. What must he think of her for kissing him so… so enthusiastically? Vi pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were now scalding.

“What on earth are you thinking about? You’re red as a beet, Vi, my pet.”

“I’m not your pet,” she said automatically, grasping at the silly endearment rather than answering the question.

“Oh, but you are, and you’re not diverting me that easily. What made you blush so hard? Are you thinking naughty thoughts, Vi? If you are, for heaven’s sake, tell me,” he added, grinning.

Vi huffed and covered her face with her hands. “Stop it!”

“Want to wash my back?” he asked, a note of challenge in his voice. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

Vi peered at him from between her fingers, her heart thudding. “M-Maybe,” she admitted.

He looked so thoroughly pleased by this confession that she dropped her hands into her lap, shaking her head. “Don’t look so smug.”

“I shall look as smug as I please. The woman who has filled my dreams and my every thought for months now finally admits she fancies me, and she wishes to wash my back. I’m cock of the walk, love, and don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

“Leo, you are the most ridiculous creature.”

“I know, but you love me all the same.”

Vi stiffened but he held her gaze.

“Give a fellow a bit of encouragement. You must love me, even if it’s just a little bit,” he coaxed, holding up finger and thumb and squinting at the tiny gap between. “That much?” he suggested.

Relenting, Vi laughed. “You really are impossible. Yes, I suppose I might love you that much,” she said, showing him an even smaller amount between her own finger and thumb.

Leo nodded gravely. “I’ll take it. Now, come and wash my back, if you please.”

Vi took a deep breath, gathered the towel around her, and went back to kneel beside the tub.

“Good evening, Miss Spencer,” he said, his tone formal as she settled beside the bath.

“Good evening, Mr Hunt,” she replied in kind, though it was silly, but she was enjoying herself, enjoying his company and the realisation that she could be silly and playful with him because Leo could be silly and playful and would not think her odd or childish.

“Here,” he said, handing her the soap. “I shall smell as sweet as a rose, though I might get some odd looks in the taproom,” he added with a grin.

Vi took the soap, lathering it between her hands as she gazed at the expanse of broad back before her. He was tanned, she realised, and wondered at that.

“Where have you been with no shirt on?”

He glanced back at her and smiled. “I’ve a little sailing boat on the East Sussex coast. It can get dreadfully hot, so sometimes I strip off. Are you dreadfully shocked?” he teased.

“Dreadfully,” Vi replied serenely, picturing him on the boat, hosting sails and the like with no difficulty at all. She smiled until she considered all the ways things could go wrong, and her heart pounded hectically. He might get caught in a storm, might fall overboard, might— stop it. He was sitting in a few inches of water in a tub in Cambridgeshire, he was not about to drown before her eyes.

“Everything all right back there?”

She glanced up, blue eyes meeting hers as she realised she was sitting with the soap in her hands, staring into space. Vi shook herself and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Hurriedly, she put her hands upon his back, but she did so without thinking, without giving herself time to prepare. She sucked in a breath at the feel of his warm flesh under her touch.

Leo seemed startled too, his breath catching as her palms glided over his wet skin. He moved, leaning forward, and Vi felt the shift of powerful muscles beneath her hands. Lord, but he was strong. Such a vigorous, strong body. Heat simmered beneath her skin as she fought to keep her breathing even and concentrate on washing his back. She followed the line of his spine down to the crease of his behind before losing her nerve and sliding her hand back up to his shoulders. Instead, she washed the back of his neck, aware of his damp hair curling and tickling her fingers. Wishing she could linger but aware every inch of his back had been thoroughly soaped, she scooped up the water and washed the bubbles away.

“There,” she said, a trifle unsteadily. “All done.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, their gazes locking. Vi melted under the heat of that look, unable to deny that she saw desire in his eyes, need. It gave her courage, knowing that he wanted her, that she was not alone in wanting to touch, to caress, to be held. So she leaned in, slowly, hoping she would not make a fool of herself as their lips drew closer and closer and…

There was a sharp knock on the door.

“Mr Huntington, sir? Beg pardon, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Reverend Harbottle is downstairs. He says he has news about something that might interest you.”

Leo cursed but then his eyes widened as he heard who was waiting for them.

“Oh, Leo! It must be about Mau!” Vi said, regretting the interruption, but hoping it was good news.

“I’ll be down directly,” Leo called back, and stood up, water sluicing from his body as he rose like Neptune, all glistening skin and fascinating proportions.

Vi squeaked in surprise, but found she could not look away, not if her life depended on it. Heavens, but he was beautiful. Thankfully, Leo was too intent on getting dry and dressed to notice her open-mouthed gawking at him, and by the time he had pulled on his trousers, she was relatively in control of herself.

“Damned unfortunate interruption,” he said ruefully, smiling at her. “But Mau—”

“Of course, you must go at once,” Vi urged, knowing how worried he was about his cat. “I can’t, for I have no clothes, so hurry back and tell me as soon as you can.”

“I will,” Leo promised, pulling on his shirt and fighting with it as the fabric clung to his damp skin.

“Not like that! Oh, do hold still,” Vi scolded, hurrying over. With deft little tugs, she settled the shirt properly and reached for his waistcoat, helping him into it and doing up the buttons.

“This is nice,” he said softly, gazing down at her.

Vi smiled but said nothing. It was nice, and the sort of intimate, domestic thing she could do for him if she were his wife, but it was best not to think about that. Just one night , she reminded herself. His coat came next and soon he was dressed decently, if not neatly, and hurried to the door.

“Won’t be long,” he promised her, and rushed out.

Vi nodded and then sat down on the bed. Her heart was still careering about in her chest in a peculiar fashion, and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Just one night , her mind repeated, and she wished she did not feel so very much like weeping.