Page 26 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

‘Surely you protested this injustice!’

‘Of course. But apparently pressed men often try to talk their way out of service, and I had nothing but the quality of my speech to support my claim of being a gentleman. The lieutenant in charge, doubtless not wishing to make another foray ashore to find someone to replace me, told me I could present my case to the captain once we were on board.’

‘But by then, you were at sea and nothing could be done,’ she surmised.

Greville grimaced, remembering those first wretched days. ‘Since the first lieutenant was no more impressed with my protestations than the shore guard, I wasn’t permitted to see the captain until long after the ship left British waters. So, yes, by then, nothing could be done.

‘Although I came to believe my service aboard ship was divine intervention, sent to help me correct my life’s course, there’s no avoiding the truth that I was beaten, drugged and sold to a press gang.’ He looked away, not wishing yet to see the condemnation and disgust that should by now have replaced any tentative approval he’d earned in her eyes. ‘It probably was outrageous for Lord Englemere to prevail upon your father to offer me hospitality. I’m still amazed he didn’t send me packing that first day.’

‘It’s you who have been outrageous, Mr Anders, right from the start,’ she replied.

So much for their budding friendship. Ah, well, ’twas doomed anyway. He was about to agree and bow himself off when the tenor of her voice sank in.

Surely that couldn’t have been…amusement he heard in her tone? Certain he must be mistaken, he whipped his gaze back to her face.

Rather than looking repulsed or offended, though, she merely seemed…thoughtful. ‘Not that I do not recognise you made grave errors. But in the end, you recognised the wrongs that had been done and took steps to correct them.’

‘True, but by then, many had already been forced into desperate need. And even then,’ he said, still disgusted by his arrogant naïveté, ‘Barksdale was able to take me unawares, like a drunken country boy rolled for his purse on his first trip to London.’

‘How could an honest man predict the depths of evil to which a villain would descend?’ she countered. ‘Certainly you conducted yourself well aboard Illustrious.’

Greville nodded. ‘Once I accepted that there was no escaping my fate, I believe I did, at such limited tasks as a landsman can perform.’

He laughed ruefully. ‘The unexpected sojourn at sea gave me plenty of opportunity to reflect upon my life, to promise myself and the Almighty that I would do better, if granted a future. And while confined aboard, I had much time to observe sailors, from deckhands to senior officers. Most of the men, though rough and unlearned, were honest and hard-working, the sort one would want at one’s back in a fight and be proud to call friend.’ With a touch of defiance that reminded him of Althea, he concluded, ‘I admired them.’

She nodded. ‘As I admire the farmers here. Many have so little, yet they make much out of it. It’s…humbling.’

Greville sucked in a breath, feeling as if the ground had been cut away from beneath his feet. There could be no mistaking her words: she actually…understood.

Awe and amazement filled him that a girl of her beauty, class and privilege seemed to share his unconventional views. He’d been right when he’d seen her that first moment in the hallway: she was an angel.

It took a moment for his scattered wits to summon a reply. ‘It is humbling indeed,’ he agreed, adding wryly, ‘and over the last nine months, humility is a subject in which I’ve received a thorough grounding. Not without good cause. Save the service I rendered aboard ship, I’ve done little else of worth in my life.’

‘A little more humility would benefit us all. But I should not too much disparage a gentleman who endured what many of his class would not have survived and emerged from the ordeal a better and wiser man.’

Once again, she’d surprised him, pronouncing a judgement far kinder than the one he’d levied upon himself. ‘A most charitable assessment, Miss Neville, that I fear I do not deserve. I’m not nearly as good a man as I’d like to be.’

Because when she looked at him like that, with sympathy and understanding and, yes, respect, all he wanted to do was tip up that lovely face and kiss her. Pull her into his arms, absorb the warmth of her beauty and goodness deep within him. Hold her so tightly, her lush curves moulded into the hardness of his body while he went on kissing her, mindless and senseless with wonder and need, until she was as gasping and as needy as he.

Then lead her to his room, gentle her with caresses and more drugging kisses until she urged him to ease her out of her garments. Savour her sweet eager innocence as he taught her how to use her mouth and breasts and body to give and receive joy, to experience the fulfilment only the union   of a man and a woman could bring.

His mind was so carried away with sensual imagining, he was shocked to discover, moments later, that her face was indeed closer, her lips only a breath away from his. Had he moved towards her, or had she leaned up of her own accord?

Whatever brought her mouth so near, he bent that last small distance, compelled to brush his lips against the ones she seemed to be offering.

Just a taste, his body urged. Just a taste, it promised.

And then he was kissing her, light and long and slow—had he ever kissed a virgin? He didn’t think so—long and light and slow while his body hummed and buzzed and pulsed and sparked.

Stilling the hands that burned to explore her, he went on kissing her, letting her decide when to pull away. When, finally, she did so, the effort required to force himself to let her go made his whole body shake.

‘I’d…better leave,’ she said, trembling as well.

‘You most certainly should,’ he agreed when he could speak.

‘You’ll tell me what you learn tomorrow?’

‘Yes. But better not to do so in a dark library at midnight. I am trying to become a better man, but flesh and blood can only resist so much.’

She gave him the wicked smile of a temptress. ‘Good,’ she said. And walked out.

Greville sat down abruptly, then sprang up, sitting in his tight breeches having become suddenly uncomfortable.

What was he to make of that interlude—and her parting remark? He shook his head, wishing he had more—any—experience with virtuous young maids.

She certainly hadn’t seemed affronted. No, his body confirmed, she’d been an enthusiastic participant in the caresses they’d exchanged, melting compliantly against him, her little murmurs of pleasure urging him on.

Had it been a tease? A desire to experience a forbidden thrill?

A mistake?

Or something natural and inevitable for them both, a confirmation that she was drawn to him as powerfully as he was to her, despite everything that should keep them apart.

And would. He mustn’t forget that. She was destined to become the wife of a wealthy, powerful peer. He would go into government service or land management, tending important affairs…but as secretary or agent for a man like the one she would marry, who could offer her more status and wealth than he would ever amass.

Impatiently he brushed that brutal fact from his mind. For now, he would embrace whatever joy life offered, an old Greville principle the new Greville intended to practise.

He’d start by fulfilling her request that he find out all he could at the coastal station. He hoped the information might relieve her anxiety, though he doubted it. In any event, he intended to search out one George Neville and have a pointed chat with him, and discover if Bronning’s heir was dabbling in illegal activities that could get him killed, injured or transported.

Where could they safely meet for him to report back to her? If he couldn’t keep his hands off her, they had no future even as friends.

Tenderness and awe flooded him again as he recalled the amazing fact that, rather than consider her tenants simply as menials who worked the estate, mere implements like farm tools and draught horses, she saw them as people, valuable and worthy of respect. It seemed he’d been teasing her from the first about a sense of superiority she did not possess.

But how was he to have guessed she shared his values, she who had enjoyed from birth every advantage meant to make a lady of her class feel superior and indifferent to those beneath her?

Though he should have seen it; indeed, he was sure, on some level, he had already realised the truth after watching her converse with field hands and shepherds, lace-weavers and farmer’s wives. The genuine concern and mutual respect were evident in her interactions with these people who knew her well, whom she had no need to impress. How could he not have tender feelings for such a beautiful, accomplished, compassionate lady?

Now that was a dangerous conclusion, he thought, tossing out a mental sea anchor to bring this suddenly perilous line of reflections to a halt. Resolving to focus instead on what he needed to discover tomorrow in Salter’s Bay, Greville headed for his chamber.

Chapter Twelve

By late morning of the next day, Amanda had to force herself to continue with her daily routine. Tense and distracted, she went about consulting the housekeeper and the estate agent, supervising maids, footmen and laundresses, though she was too anxious to give these domestic matters her full attention.

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