As he fairly commanded her, a hard glint came to her fierce expression. “I’m going to my house and you to yours.”
The abode she stayed in for last year was hers, but he didn’t think she referred to it. He directed a quizzical look at her.
“My mother left me somewhere to live when she died.” She offered.
Of course, he predicted she'd have somewhere to go as she left him, but didn't imagine she'd have a property. "Your place is with me." He stated hotly.
That defiant chin tilted up. “My place is where I decide to go.”
Expelling impatient air through flaring nostrils, he raked his hair. “Is this your final word?”
“Yes,” she said resolutely.
That single affirmative fell in his guts like a huge iceberg, hollowing everything in its way. Why couldn’t the diminutive woman simply abide by him? She seemed pliable enough to do it in the past.
“Fine,” he yielded. “I’ll drive you in my carriage.”
“Thank you, but my brother will accompany me.” She wouldn’t give him even this slight joy. “Good night, my lord.” And curtsied, bare feet and all.
Her irreverence might blow him to pieces. And he’d go happily up in the air if only he could look at her one last time. Before he gave in to the impulse of throwing her over his shoulder and taking her to the nearest secluded corner, he gave a curt nod, pivoted, and left.
It would be another long, long night.
Next afternoon, Hester entered her father’s office, still reeling from the encounter with her former keeper the previous evening. The veritable tornado of emotions the blasted man erupted in her was beyond enduring.
“Did you want to talk to me, papa?” she asked her father as she sat.
After the play ended yesterday, she’d taken refuge in this very room, reluctant to return to her empty house and stew on the image of Drake and Lady Millicent, or how they matched in looks and rank. She’d taken her boots off as they’d seemed to be squeezing her own heart. But everything became even more muddled when he found her. The remembrance of their time together and the steamy reactions he still arose in her made it nearly impossible to say no to his biddings. The temptation to go with him shredded her to pieces. For a moment there, her body was an inch away from convincing her mind to throw caution to Hades and follow wherever he took her. She faltered when he came too close with talks of sleep and nights.
She had to fight this irrational pull. The meek mistress needed to go. Hester would strive to retrieve her life, her work, herself. It hadn’t been healthy to give it all up, allow Drake to take up all the space in her thoughts, her body, her very will-power. Rumour or not, his alleged betrothal had fairly worked as an alarm bell to her. And she’d make sure she woke up to the reality that mixed ranks invariably ended in disaster to the weaker side.
“I did,” Oliver answered. And rose his head to the door behind her. “Oh, right on time.”
She turned to see who the newcomer was and collided with brandy-eyes fast on her. “What is he doing here?” She demanded, standing abruptly.
From the top of his six-four down to his feet, he dressed a dark blue suit cut to show off his broad shoulders, massive chest and long legs. Those perfectly tailored breeches hugged the tapered waist and lean hips. In the night, he used his hips to probe her legs open to the most wicked caresses she’d ever experienced. She wondered if she might ask an apothecary for a potion that’d dull her memory and her traitorous body.
“Miss Green.” He greeted, and something in those magnificent eyes told her she was in the proverbial hot water.
Oliver also stood and bowed to the giant. “Lord Worcester approached me with a proposition.”
“Another?” She blurted unable to eliminate the sarcasm in her voice. Anything coming from him was suspicious, especially as he looked like the cat that caught the fish from the bowl.
Mr Green motioned for them to sit. The blasted man took the seat beside hers, and she had no choice but do the same. This close, the bathed scent of him laid siege to her nostrils, a note of rosemary entangled with his own like a waltz. His skin bore the fragrance of leather mixed with the wind that awoke every nerve in her body.
“Sorry, I’m late.” Her brother, Eli, came in bringing a chair for himself as the office contained only three. Eli didn’t inherit their father’s eyes, but her mother’s brown ones though the siblings shared the light brown hair. He counted three years more than her own twenty-four.
The presence of her brother indicated that money would be involved here. He took care of the finances of the theatre and proved to be very good at it. This gathering became fishier by the minute. Hester sat spine even straighter, preparing herself for what might come.
“Lord Worcester proposed to invest in our next play.” Her father began.
“But we don’t need any investment, we’re solvent.” She countered. The insufferable man was up to something.
“We are.” Eli agreed. “But an investment means better pay for the actors and the people who work with us, better costumes and more elaborate scene devices.”
Her brother didn’t need to spell it out, she had grown up in the business. “And how much are we talking about?” she asked. The man would never be poor, his estates yielded a fortune every year. He could buy ten theatres if he so wished.
Eli named the sum, and Hester almost lost her breath. It was a small fortune, enough to buy a luxurious carriage and four thoroughbreds. Her accusing glare turned to him. His sole reply was the hitching of an eyebrow, daring her to voice her misgivings.
“And his returns,” she questioned.
"One per cent over the invested amount," The marquess's tenor sounded for the first time.
“One,” she echoed as the ludicrous information hit her. It seemed nothing short of charity, he’d get nothing from it.
"But he has a few demands concerning the play," Oliver added.
Oh, now came the catch.
“You’re to have the main role as your father already stipulated.” Drake took the word. “And I am to direct it.”
This made Hester bolt from the chair as if struck by lightning. “That is outrageous!” Her father used to have that position, and he did an outstanding job of it. Their plays attracted a full house every night.
“Why?” He asked silkily, too silkily. “You’re well aware that I possess a consistent knowledge of theatre.”
He did, and it had surprised her when she first learned of it and listened to his insights. "Lords don't direct plays." She argued. "Not even as a pass-time in house-parties." That would concern women as in-house entertainment.
“You should know by now that I don’t fit the average ton’s frame.” He clasped those luminous orbs on her, almost level with her even if he remained seated.
No, in fact, he behaved rather differently, which caused his mother to go haywire with his innovative attitudes. No one had ever heard of a lord who allowed his mistress to renovate his country seat's greenhouse to her own taste, or stand by his side in a soiree full of lords and ladies mixing with artists, scientists and poets. Drake and Hester even received the Duke and Duchess of Brunswick for dinner in Hampshire soon after their wedding. Philippa had become a dear friend of Hester's.