I had wanted to spend the day otherwise. I told myself that I’d wanted to spend it meeting up with friends and acquaintances, but truthfully, I’d wanted to spend it with my face under Molly’s skirts. I’d left the Baron’s last night with a raging erection that refused to abate, despite the two times I’d stroked myself off. Last year—hell, even last week—I would have found a woman to take care of it. I would have charmed her into my bed and fucked her until we were both limp and sweaty.
But for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate to myself, I abstained. I settled for my hand and then woke up as hard as an adolescent boy as a result (and was forced to settle for my hand again.)
So I was already miserable this morning when I heard the rumors at a breakfast with Rhoda and Zona, rumors that infuriated me and frustrated me and made me even more miserable.
Hugh and Molly. About to be engaged.
Thus the trip to the solicitor’s. Contingency plans, my father used to tell Thomas and me as he managed the business of our estate. The secret to success is to always have a contingency plan.
And so here I was. Contingency plan in place, although I desperately hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.
I didn’t feel satisfied, or even relieved, as I took a cab back to my townhouse, mostly because things were still so uncertain. There were only rumors, hearsay, the one thing that travels faster than the wind. And since this Mr. Cunningham I’d wanted to meet with had decided that our meeting should be put off until tomorrow, I would have no real answers until then.
It wasn’t until we pulled onto my street that I realized there might be someone else who had real answers, someone close to me.
Which was how I ended up in Mercy Atworth’s house, waiting for her in her front room, pacing the rug with long strides. I practically jumped on her the moment she entered, but I backed away when I noticed she was wrapped in a silk dressing gown and nothing else.
My groin—already aching from last night’s neglect—filled with blood.
“Silas, how unexpected. And wonderful. I’m sorry it took me a couple minutes, I needed to send word to a friend about something.” She raised up and kissed my cheeks in the Continental fashion, her nearly-bare breasts brushing against my chest as she did, the thin silk of her wrapper doing nothing to hide the erect peaks of her nipples.
I took a step backward. And then deciding that wasn’t enough, spun around on the pretense of examining the clock on her mantel.
“What brings you here today?” she asked. “Are you lonely already? I figured there would be plenty of women at the Baron’s who—”
“You’re close with Hugh, aren’t you?” I interrupted her. “I mean, you spend lots of time together. You were on the train together two days ago.”
Mercy cocked her head a little, her chestnut hair sliding easily over her silk robe as if her hair were made of silk too. “Yes. We are close. Why?”
“Has Hugh offered to marry Molly?” I couldn’t keep the urgency out of my voice, and I didn’t really see the point in trying anyway. Soon, everybody would know what I was after here in London.
“Oh,” Mercy said, her eyes widening as if suddenly everything had become clear to her. She walked over to a sofa, and I tried not to notice the enticing way her ass and hips moved under her dressing gown. She sat and patted the seat next to her.
I obediently sat down, trying to keep as much space between us as possible, even as my cock lengthened down my pant-leg, as if trying to reach for her.
“Yes,” she said. “Hugh has proposed to Molly.”
I swore.
“And…” she looked a little hesitant “…he also approached the board of her company and got their approval. He’s the endorsed suitor for her hand now.”
I let out a long breath between my teeth. Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Hugh—I should have fucking known from the possessive way he acted at the Baron’s. I should have known he was doing more than escorting Molly for the night. He wanted to marry her.
“She hasn’t said yes,” Mercy said soothingly. “He proposed two nights ago, and she still hasn’t given him an answer.”
“She hasn’t said yes?” I repeated, hardly daring to believe it to be true.
Mercy nodded.
“The board,” I said. “Do they really support him? Can they force Molly to marry him?”
Mercy looked thoughtful. “I suppose it depends how badly Molly wants to keep her company afloat. Marrying is her only way to save it, and if Hugh is the only man they want her to marry…”
My face must have fallen, because she laid her slender hand on my shoulder. “But maybe she’ll decide her independence isn’t worth it and abandon her company. Or maybe she’ll stay and let them sell all of their shares. There’s no way it would stay solvent after the board left, but maybe she can start something new?”
I shook my head. “You don’t know Molly. You don’t know how much she loves that company—it was everything to her father, and now it’s everything to her. She’ll die before she gives it up.” My heart clenched. Was this it, then? Was this the death knell to my courtship, ringing out its demise before it had ever even started?
“Maybe you can meet with the board,” Mercy suggested. “And get them to change their minds?”
I did have a meeting with Frederick Cunningham tomorrow, the man I understood to be the informal leader of the board. “Maybe,” I said doubtfully. “It has to be worth a try. I guess if it had to be anyone, Hugh isn’t the worst. At least I won’t have to worry about him taking advantage of her and her company since he has so much money already—”
Mercy snorted and I looked at her. Her face straightened immediately, and she leaned forward, letting her dressing gown fall open. Heavy, ripe tits spilled out, the nipples dark and hard.
I shifted, my dick surging at the same time as my mind remembered Molly’s eyes last night, the gloriously furious way she’d yelled at me.
God. It was like I was two different people, and I wanted to be the good one, the one who only wanted one woman. Why couldn’t I just be the good one?
“You must really care about Molly,” Mercy said, her hand moving from my shoulder to my chest, from my chest to my abdomen. Her dressing gown opened further, exposing the smooth, soft planes of olive skin and the tiniest glimpse of dark, silky curls at the bottom. “I never thought I’d see the infamous Silas Cecil-Coke wanting to marry.”
“It’s a business arrangement,” I said automatically. My mind was chanting get away get away get away. “A partnership between friends.”
“You really know how to woo a girl,” Mercy teased and then her hand was lower and lower and fuck that felt good.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “You’re so hard. Silas, you poor thing.”
You know what? I was a poor thing. The woman I wanted didn’t want me, and she was probably about to marry a man I despised, and I would never be able to find anyone like her again, and I was so hard that I couldn’t think straight.
I gave Mercy a pouting look.
She moved like water, like satin folding against itself, smooth and silent, until she was kneeling on the floor in between my legs, looking up at me with dark eyes.
But when she reached for the buttons of my trousers, I stopped her, breathing hard. “Mercy, I want this, believe me I do, but it’s not right for me to do it when—”
Mercy raised an eyebrow. “When what? When Molly went home with Hugh last night? When Molly has been fucking him the entire time you were away in France?”