Sybille's Lord Page 7

  Thom nodded as Sybille paled. “You are perfectly correct. I was merely wondering if you preferred it?”

  “Later.”

  “Much later,” Sybille muttered as she sat next to him and took a sip of her drink. “So, let’s not prevaricate please. I feel as if the axe is about to descend.”

  “You don’t,” Mijo said. “But for some reason you are worried about something, and therefore it worries me. Time to open up. Tell us the all.”

  Thom looked at Sybille in enquiry. “Over to you, my dear. This is your story not mine.”

  “Ah.” Mijo frowned. “I had thought perhaps you both had the same story to tell?” A betrothal, her tone intimated.

  Thom laughed. “Sadly, not yet.”

  “Maman, stop it,” Sybille said sternly. “If, and I reiterate if, we have anything to tell you at any point we will. But remember, I am your daughter. Who taught me to be stubborn and stick to my guns?”

  Theo gave a bark of laughter. “She has you there, ma cherie. So Sybille, what is worrying you?”

  “Mama’s pearls,” Sybille said baldy.

  Thom looked from Theo to Mijo. Both seemed somewhat shocked and all the color had leeched from Mijo’s skin as she clutched Theo’s arm and leaned forward.

  “M…my pearls?”

  “Oh Maman, yes, your pearls. Where are they?”

  Mijo visibly collected her wits together. “Being restrung, I told you.”

  “Oh, Maman.”

  Sybille looked toward Thom with a pleading expression. He couldn’t resist it.

  “Mijo, Theo, We have a problem. Sybille also knows the pearls are false. No, hear me out.” He peremptorily cut off Theo’s what? “That in itself is not a problem. The problem regards their present location. Who did you give them to for restringing, if indeed you have done so?”

  “Of course I have done so,” Mijo said. “The string broke. It is expected I wear them.”

  “But Maman, they’re fake. You can’t let a jeweler have them. Good grief, Rundle and Bridge would crucify you if you let them believe them real.” Sybille jumped up and began to pace. “What now?”

  “Do you think me that stupid? Of course I didn’t send them to Rundle and Bridge. I sent them to Mr. Sandeman where I got them from.”

  “I’m not sure that’s any better,” Sybille said. “Who is he?”

  “The man who copied my original string. And the man who thought I had them copied for my daughters to practice their deportment in.” Mijo sat back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face.

  “So where are the real pearls?”

  Mijo bit her lip and looked at Theo. He shrugged and shook his head.

  “I do not know,” Mijo said as the silence lengthened to discomfort. “They were sold to pay for Dare to go to Oxford.” Her tone dared anyone to challenge her statement.

  Thom shot her a strange look. She sighed and nodded. “As you wish.”

  “I have them,” he said. “And maybe now you will accept my offer to lend you them so you can wear the damned things.”

  “You?” Sybille recoiled and leaned on the window frame. “You?” She slammed her palm onto the side table so hard the trinkets on it rattled together. “You let me tell you my problems and said nothing? How could you?”

  “It‘s not my story to tell,” Thom said evenly. “I only spoke of it now, so you wouldn’t think you have to try and trace them as well.”

  “Therefore it is now your story to tell.” Sybille’s voice rose. Thom could almost see steam rising from her. Her anger was a living, breathing thing. It fascinated him, even though he knew it was up to him to defuse it. “Tell me or you can forget about a favorable answer to your offer.”

  “Sybille, do not castigate poor Thomas. It is up to me to tell you,” Mijo said. “Your papa knew nothing until after the events, and Thom was my savior. Without him, we wouldn’t be here. Perhaps not even at Birch Hall. Now sit down and listen.”

  Thom had never heard that strict, but at the same time almost indifferent tone come from Mijo, and judging by Sybille’s gasp, neither had she. She moved back to the chaise and sat down abruptly next to him. He squeezed her hand and her tremors ran from her to him. The shocks and surprises weren’t over yet. She shot him a grateful glance and relaxed next to him, her leg warm by his thigh.

  “As you know, money has always been tight,” Sybille said. “By the time Dare was due to go to Oxford it was very tight. Your papa had and still does work wonders, but we needed a little more. My pearls were of the finest quality, and I knew that any monies raised would pay for Dare’s studies. So I took them to be valued, as I said just so I knew, and then decided to pawn them. Thom came across me outside the pawnshop, and dragged the story from me. The upshot was he bought the pearls and helped me arrange the fake string.”

  “You did?” Sybille stared at him with tears in her eyes. Thom gave into temptation and wiped them away with his thumb.

  “I did.”

  “But why?”

  “I hoped your maman would continue to wear them, until such time as she could have them back. She wouldn’t, so I helped her arrange the fake string. It will pass muster unless it goes to someone like Rundle and Bridge.”

  “Or someone like Bankfoot finds out about them?”

  “Or that.”

  “How did he find out?” Sybille said.

  “I know,” Mijo said. “Or I think I do. When I broke them, at Daisy Arthur‘s picnic, I took them to Sandeman. After all, he’d sorted them in the first place. However, as I now remember, as I came out of Sandeman’s a man very similar to Bankfoot was walking toward me. I only got a glimpse but I swear it was he and he went into the shop after I left.”

  “I’ll check it out,” Thom said.

  “We’ll check it out,” Sybille retorted. “Together.”

  “Sybille it’s not Hatton Garden,” Thom tried for a level, reasonable tone. “It’s a shop that sells cheap jewelry and copies things.”

  “Then all I can say is it’s no wonder Bankfoot was there. It’s about his level. Sorry Maman, you know what I mean.”

  Mijo laughed. “Oh yes, he is a man I would not trust as far as I can throw him, and me, I have a very bad throwing arm. So what will you do Thomas?”

  “See if I can find out why he was there. I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “We will go,” Sybille said firmly. “Together. You can pretend you‘re buying me a bracelet or something.”

  “Or a copy of your betrothal ring?”

  He waited.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was now or never. Sybille accepted her hand was being forced but hadn’t she decided not to cut off her nose to spite her face?”

  “Or a copy of my betrothal ring,” She said. “With a few provisos, which we will discuss later.”

  Mijo had half risen and she slumped back into her chair. “Provisos? What, pray?”

  “Mijo,” Theo said. “Do not push your luck. That is something I think we haven’t given them a chance to discuss.” He stood up and tugged his wife to her feet. It wasn’t often Theo put his foot down, or spoke in that tone of voice but when he did, no one defied him—even Mijo.

  Mijo stared at him for a second and then nodded. “Eh bien, we will retire. You—” she pointed at Thom, “will behave. You—” she turned her finger toward Sybille, “will sort things out. I want to celebrate.”

  “Or not,” Theo said. “We will abide by your decision and wait to hear what happens next.” He put his hand over his wife’s mouth. “And bid you goodnight. Don’t keep her up too late, Thom. I promise you won’t be disturbed for the next hour at least.”

  “The others?” Sybille asked anxiously. The last thing she wanted was one of her siblings barging in on them.

  “Will not come into your maman’s sitting room at this time of night. If any of them venture home before midnight, Stubbs will tell them we have retired. Which, if my dear wife moves, will be true. Bid them goodnight, my dear.” He towed a laughing Mijo out
of the room, and shut the door behind them.

  “My maman is incorrigible.”

  “I’m beginning to think like mother, like daughter. Are we betrothed or not?”

  Sybille bit her lip as she tried to decide how best to explain her worries. “It really does depend.” She hesitated. “Whether we are truly compatible. If I marry, I do not want a husband who strays. I want him to want me, only me, as I will want him.”

  “That is my intention.”

  Lord, he sounds so starchy. Well if I have offended him, so be it. ‘Tis best to know how he reacts to me and my needs now, than have them ignored later when it may well be too late.

  “And,” Thom said. “I will do my utmost to sort out the mess you are in, whatever you decide.”

  “I didn’t doubt that for one minute.” If there was one thing she was certain of it was Thom’s integrity. “That is not my problem.”

  “Then what the hell is, woman? I’m tied in knots here, with no idea what you want or how to help you with it. Tell me in words of one syllable before your maman happens to need to return for her crochet or something.”

  Sybille burst out laughing. “Never crochet. She wouldn’t have an excuse. She‘d just come in and demand, well? Oh lud Thom, I’m embarrassed.”

  She swallowed, and took up her hardly touched wine and sipped. The silky smooth liquid quenched her thirst and gave her courage to continue. She wasn’t a coward and it had to be said. Thom had risen, and she waved him into his seat once more. She shook his head.

  “Not until you sit.”

  “Ah.” Within the informality of the room, she’d forgotten his gentlemanly attitude. She sat, and cogitated for a moment. Beside her Thom sat with his legs outstretched and sipped his port. As ever, the way he lounged, totally at ease if you overlooked the slightly wary look in his eyes, set her senses quivering.

  The new me, remember. “Right. How will we know if that is for us?” Sybille said rapidly before she could lose the courage she’d talked herself into. “How will we…” She blushed. “Fit?”

  To his credit Thom didn’t show how her words affected him. “As man and woman?”

  “Yes, as well…” She waved her hand vaguely. “When we need to…to… do whatever it is we have to do.” Lud, this is difficult. “I know as an unmarried lady I‘m not supposed to know of such things let alone talk of them to a gentleman, but I need to know. Therefore, I suppose I’m no lady. But I am my mother’s daughter.”

  “And you deserve to know, what exactly? Do you need diagrams?”

  ****

  He wondered if her face could get any redder.

  “You are a beast.”

  He nodded. “A hungry one. Do you know what those words do to me?” He gestured toward his cock, which swelled his pantaloons. He could only thank Mijo for insisting it was not a formal evening and evening breeches wouldn’t be required. The knit of his pantaloons was much more sympathetic to his burgeoning pego.

  She hesitated and looked anywhere except at him. “Not really.”

  “I want you.” The timbre of his tone, the way his eyes had darkened once more, the tremor within him as he spoke, all indicated how his senses were reacting to her innocent question. He wanted to show her there and then. To untie the laces of her gown, slide the lacy sleeves across her shoulders and down to her elbows to pinion her arms. Then as her breasts were bared to him, to feast and suckle and teach Sybille the first stages of passion. Before…

  “Thom? Are you all right? You seem dyspeptic.” Sybille touched his cheek. “You’re feverish.” She shook her head. “You should be at home in bed.”

  Thom groaned and lifted her hand from his face. “I may well be feverish, but not for the reason you think.” It was time to tell her just how she affected him. He hoped she wouldn’t have need of smelling salts. He didn’t relish waking up the household to tell them he’d caused one of the daughters of the house to pass out.

  Sybille stared at their linked hands. “I think, my lord, you’re toying with me. It’s not right.”

  Oh grief we’re back to ‘my lord’ again.

  “Nor is calling the man about to introduce you to passion, in that tone of voice. Thom, please.”

  Her eyes widened, she bit her lips and then smiled. He’d wager she had no idea, but it was the enticing ‘come to me’ smile of a houri.

  “Thom, please.” Sybille giggled. “I’m not sure what I’m asking but… please.”

  “You do realize we are limited at this moment, don’t you?” He had to warn her. “When I fill you and take you to be mine, I want time. Time to show you how I can worship every inch of you. Touch you, taste you, fill you, and make you fly.” He turned their hands over and kissed her palm. “I want, to be crude, to fuck with you.”

  To her credit, she only blinked, swallowed, went white and then nodded.

  “Then do it.”

  It was his turn to blink, swallow, he hoped not go white, and sadly shake his head.

  “By my reckoning we have less than an hour in private, it isn’t long enough.”

  “N…not long enough?” Sybille sounded puzzled. “I thought… no… never mind. Why is it not?”

  “When we make love, I intend to show you everything. To worship your body and let you worship mine. To explore each other so thoroughly there won’t be once inch of each other we don’t know intimately. When I finally come in you, you’ll be oh so ready. That is my oath, Sybille, but until we have that much time, all we can do is play a little.” Very deliberately he stood up, unwound his cravat and set it over the back of a chair. Then he opened his jacket and waistcoat and shrugged out of them. “How much we play is up to you.”

  He waited, barely able to contain his impatience while she assimilated his remarks. He had no hope she’d say no, and little she’d agree to whatever he chose without some input.

  Thom was correct.

  “How? Where? Show me.” Her words tumbled over each other. “Who says? Can we? What should…” She put her hands on his shoulders and swayed on her toes.

  He shut her up in the only way he thought might work. Thom put his fingers over her mouth, ignored her outraged “oufft,” and replaced his digits with his mouth.

  “Sweet Sybille, open your mouth and let me in.” Thom mumbled the words as he used his tongue to pry her lips open, and put his hands on her nicely rounded bottom to pull her close.

  His erection pressed into her belly. Her hold on his shoulders tightened to the point of pain and she gasped and stiffened. Thom took advantage and deepened the kiss. To his delight, after one second of what he assumed was deliberation, she responded and let her tongue trace his. Even through the fine lawn of his shirt and the silk of her dress, her nipples were hard against his chest. He let his emotions take over, and enjoyed her. Her fingers fumbling with his shirt brought him back to reality.

  Not now. No time. How he wished there was.

  Thom softened the kiss, reluctantly ended it and put a little distance between their bodies. He used one hand on her shoulder to hold Sybille where he put her, as she swayed toward him again. However he didn’t move either of his hands and continued his gentle caress of her rear. It was agony not to do as he wanted and bury his face in her breasts and feast on the soft flesh. Then suck and nip the hard nubs until she made those enticing moans and groans only an aroused woman could. Then move lower…

  Sybille looked up at him with cloudy eyes and flushed cheeks. Her rosy lips were parted and she snaked her tongue out to swipe at their contours. Then she shook her head and closed her mouth again.

  “No?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes?”

  “No, yes, must we stop?” Sybille laughed shakily. “My body aches. All of it, not just—” She stopped talking abruptly.

  “Not just?” Thom prompted her.

  “The bits I thought might ache when we… you… I… touched them,” she said in a rush.

  Thom chuckled. “You’ll find out later.”

  �
��That’s the problem.” Sybille pushed back and stated at his face. “When?”

  “Sybille, it’s not that easy. You live in your parents’ house. I can’t take you to my home, you know as well as I that the ton has eyes and ears everywhere. And, as you have not yet agreed to wed me, I cannot bed you.”

  Well he could, and hoped he’d get the chance, but he had no intention of telling Sybille that. He’d prefer her to agree to their betrothal. Thom had little hope that she considered her not so enthusiastic yes of earlier as binding.

  “Rubbish. You’re a…” she hesitated and changed her phraseology, “were a rake. Rakes have love nests tucked away somewhere. Take me there. Unless of course it’s still occupied?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sybille wished she had a gift for drawing. If she had, it would have been oh so perfect to capture his astonished expression. It wasn’t often she thought she could stun Thom to silence but this time it seemed she had succeeded. She gave up a mental prayer of thanks for the fact she’d overheard two rather fast members of the ton discussing my Lord Jeavons’s love nest, and wondering what it was like. The best part of her eavesdropping was to hear them both sigh and bewail the fact that it seemed he no longer approached anyone to join him there.

  She contained her impatience and looked at him with an outwardly calm demeanor. Inside she was anything but calm. It mattered that he agreed. She might not enjoy it, although if it made her tingle the way his kisses did, what wasn’t there to enjoy? And if it was pleasurable, all the better. Sybille knew she’d have to marry one day. It was expected, and even if her parents didn’t pressure her, their circumstances meant she couldn’t allow herself to be a burden on the family coffers forever. Plus, Thom was the only man to even make her heartbeat increase let alone pulsate so erratically.

  But oh how she needed to know what he wanted from her, and whether she had enough about her to ensure that if they did marry he wouldn’t stray. She had no intention of telling him she looked on him favorably, not yet. She may have agreed they were betrothed but she knew Thom would understand what she meant by, ‘with proviso.’