every Wilde had his one true mate, and he now wanted to see if Maura Collyer was his.
Maura did indeed
have to feign nonchalance as Lord Beaufort escorted her back to London. Her body still throbbed from his scandalous touch, her mind felt dazed.
Casting the marquis a surreptitious glance, she was keenly conscious of the tender ache in her breasts and between her thighs—
Maura gave a mental moan at her weakness. Once again she’d fallen victim to her traitorous senses and failed to put up even the slightest measure of resistance. She should have learned her lesson by now: She couldn’t be near Beaufort without succumbing to temptation.
Frankly, she was disgusted with herself for letting him distract her from her mission to save her stallion, even temporarily. But at least now she had settled on her course of action.
She had no choice now but to take drastic steps. Deering would never forgive her for humiliating him twice in as many days, Maura knew.
Yet it was clear she would have to act on her own. Lord Beaufort had no immediate solution to her problem, he’d said so himself, and she couldn’t afford to wait for him to develop a fresh strategy. Not when she feared for her horse’s welfare, perhaps his very life. She couldn’t stop fretting over Emperor, worrying about how he was being mistreated right this very moment. She would not—could not—leave him in that villain’s hands any longer.
Nor could she confide her plan to Beaufort, since undoubtedly he would try to stop her. Which is why she had pretended to accept his counsel a short while ago.
It had required her best acting skills, and she could tell that he didn’t quite believe her sudden acquiescence. And she still had to convince him of her benign intentions. Therefore, Maura spoke little on the return ride and replied vaguely to any comment he made.
When they reached the Collyer residence on Clarges Street, he started to dismount, but Maura stopped him. “No, pray don’t trouble yourself to help me down. I can manage on my own.”
Unhooking her leg over the sidesaddle, she dropped lightly to the ground just as a footman exited the house to take possession of her mount.
“Good day to you, my lord,” she said politely, looking up at Beaufort. “Thank you for the pleasant ride.”
Maura was glad that he seemed to accept his dismissal for now, although not happy with his promise of future conversation. “I will call on you tomorrow morning, Miss Collyer, if that is agreeable. We can discuss a new plan while we ride.”
“Yes,” she murmured, “that is quite agreeable.”
He surveyed her for a long moment, as if distrustful of her amiability. Finally he tipped his hat to her and turned his bay gelding down the street.
Maura breathed a sigh of relief as the marquis rode away. She would be very pleased to see the last of him, for her own self-preservation.
She handed her mount over to the footman, to be returned to the nearby livery stable where the Collyer horses and vehicles were kept. Additionally, she asked to have her gig delivered at one o’clock that afternoon. “And please make certain that it is drawn by my chestnut, Fripon. The livery will know which horse I mean.”
“Very good, Miss Collyer,” the footman replied. “Also, Mrs. Collyer bade me tell you that she wishes to speak to you as soon as you returned.”
“Thank you, John.”
Maura ran up the steps, thinking ahead. She had a great deal to accomplish if she hoped to pull off her plan, yet for the first time in days, she felt almost calm because she knew exactly what she had to do.
First, however, she would have to face her stepmother, who would surely ring a peal over her head upon hearing the news of her public brawl.
Not surprisingly, Priscilla was alone in her favorite parlor, an elegant room done in shades of rose and cream that complimented her ivory complexion, raven hair, and blue eyes. Pris looked up from her needlework when Maura entered, and as
Maura did indeed
have to feign nonchalance as Lord Beaufort escorted her back to London. Her body still throbbed from his scandalous touch, her mind felt dazed.
Casting the marquis a surreptitious glance, she was keenly conscious of the tender ache in her breasts and between her thighs—
Maura gave a mental moan at her weakness. Once again she’d fallen victim to her traitorous senses and failed to put up even the slightest measure of resistance. She should have learned her lesson by now: She couldn’t be near Beaufort without succumbing to temptation.
Frankly, she was disgusted with herself for letting him distract her from her mission to save her stallion, even temporarily. But at least now she had settled on her course of action.
She had no choice now but to take drastic steps. Deering would never forgive her for humiliating him twice in as many days, Maura knew.
Yet it was clear she would have to act on her own. Lord Beaufort had no immediate solution to her problem, he’d said so himself, and she couldn’t afford to wait for him to develop a fresh strategy. Not when she feared for her horse’s welfare, perhaps his very life. She couldn’t stop fretting over Emperor, worrying about how he was being mistreated right this very moment. She would not—could not—leave him in that villain’s hands any longer.
Nor could she confide her plan to Beaufort, since undoubtedly he would try to stop her. Which is why she had pretended to accept his counsel a short while ago.
It had required her best acting skills, and she could tell that he didn’t quite believe her sudden acquiescence. And she still had to convince him of her benign intentions. Therefore, Maura spoke little on the return ride and replied vaguely to any comment he made.
When they reached the Collyer residence on Clarges Street, he started to dismount, but Maura stopped him. “No, pray don’t trouble yourself to help me down. I can manage on my own.”
Unhooking her leg over the sidesaddle, she dropped lightly to the ground just as a footman exited the house to take possession of her mount.
“Good day to you, my lord,” she said politely, looking up at Beaufort. “Thank you for the pleasant ride.”
Maura was glad that he seemed to accept his dismissal for now, although not happy with his promise of future conversation. “I will call on you tomorrow morning, Miss Collyer, if that is agreeable. We can discuss a new plan while we ride.”
“Yes,” she murmured, “that is quite agreeable.”
He surveyed her for a long moment, as if distrustful of her amiability. Finally he tipped his hat to her and turned his bay gelding down the street.
Maura breathed a sigh of relief as the marquis rode away. She would be very pleased to see the last of him, for her own self-preservation.
She handed her mount over to the footman, to be returned to the nearby livery stable where the Collyer horses and vehicles were kept. Additionally, she asked to have her gig delivered at one o’clock that afternoon. “And please make certain that it is drawn by my chestnut, Fripon. The livery will know which horse I mean.”
“Very good, Miss Collyer,” the footman replied. “Also, Mrs. Collyer bade me tell you that she wishes to speak to you as soon as you returned.”
“Thank you, John.”
Maura ran up the steps, thinking ahead. She had a great deal to accomplish if she hoped to pull off her plan, yet for the first time in days, she felt almost calm because she knew exactly what she had to do.
First, however, she would have to face her stepmother, who would surely ring a peal over her head upon hearing the news of her public brawl.
Not surprisingly, Priscilla was alone in her favorite parlor, an elegant room done in shades of rose and cream that complimented her ivory complexion, raven hair, and blue eyes. Pris looked up from her needlework when Maura entered, and as
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