Page 86 of His Wicked Charm

“Tell me you don’t regret last night.”

“I don’t regret it.” She felt his small sigh of relief upon her ear. Imagine that, the cocksure Con Moreland uncertain.

“Good.” There was a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice now, but Lilah didn’t mind. Somehow it was arousing. Almost as arousing as his fingertip circling her nipple. “We must talk more about this house, you know. What you felt.”

“I know. We will. Just...not right now.”

“No.” He smiled and kissed the side of her neck, his hand slipping between her legs. Lilah drew in a sharp little breath as he began to stroke her. “Right now I have something else altogether on my mind.”

His mouth came back to hers, and all conversation ceased.

When Lilah awakened again, Con was gone. He had to leave; she knew that. He was protecting her. But still, she missed his presence. She lay for a few moments, letting herself drift in the pleasure of last night, taking each kiss, each caress, each electric thrill, and turning it over in her mind.

She felt limber and languid, stretched, filled, even thoroughly used in a titillating way. It made her blush to think of the things Con had done, the way she had reveled in it. She was discovering herself in all sorts of ways, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. What she thought about herself. But she was eager to find out.

Down the hall, she heard a maid’s voice and Cuddington’s sharper one. Lilah jumped out of bed and flung on her nightgown, throwing the dressing gown onto the chair. She thought with horror of the sodden nightgown she had dropped on the floor of the kitchen. What had the servants made of that? Lilah turned as Cuddington entered, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as felt. Perhaps, she thought, she should start making changes in her life now.

“Cuddington,” she said in a casual voice as she pulled on her dressing gown. “You must miss London and Aunt Helena. Perhaps you should go back. Poppy can come down instead or one of the girls here could help me dress.”

“But, miss...who will do your hair?”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure one of the others—”

“Are you displeased with me, miss?” The woman drew herself up in righteous indignation.

“No, of course not. You’re an artist with hair, and you take excellent care of everything.” All that was true; she actually would miss Cuddington’s skills. But the danger of her finding out about Con and relaying that to Aunt Helena was too great.

“Then why are you sending me away?” Cuddington looked, amazingly, hurt.

“You’re Aunt Helena’s maid,” Lilah said reasonably. “Surely you want to get back—make sure her clothes have been handled correctly. You must find it dull here. The people are strangers.”

“Not all of them.” Her face softened a little, surprising Lilah even more. “I lived here before. Did Mrs. Summersley never tell you? I was your mother’s maid.”

Lilah stared. “You were?”

“Yes. From the time she was old enough to wear long skirts.” For the first time Lilah could remember, Cuddington smiled. “She was a sweet girl, so lovely, and her hair! It was just like yours, miss, and she loved to try out different styles. I was young then, too, and we, well, we enjoyed changing it up. People noticed because her hair drew one’s eye. Lady Battenborough even asked her one night who arranged her hair.”

“I...I never knew.” Lilah sank down onto the stool by the vanity. Was nothing what she’d thought?

Cuddington picked up the silver-backed brush and began to brush Lilah’s hair. “You were just a babe. You wouldn’t remember me. Mrs. Summersley was good enough to take me with her when she came to your mother’s funeral. She knew me well of course, and I’d helped her, too, in the course of my duties for Miss Eva. Your aunt is a good woman. I owe her a great deal.”

“Cuddington.” Lilah turned to face her. “Will you tell me honestly? Did my aunt send you to report back to her on what I did?”

“No! Miss, how can you think that? Mrs. Summersley wouldn’t ask that of me, nor would I agree to it. You’re Miss Eva’s child. That’s why I came. To make sure you were safe.” She scowled. “So nothing foolish might happen.”

Lilah’s eyebrows shot up. “Safe? You mean, from Con?”

The older woman’s face turned prim. “He’s a devilishly handsome man, miss.”

Lilah chuckled. “He is that. But Con wouldn’t harm me.” She turned back to face the mirror. “Then you would prefer to stay here?”

“Unless you wish me to leave.” She added reluctantly, “Mrs. Summersley is a saint, but she is very devoted to one fashion of hair.”

“No. If you want to stay, then you should.” Lilah had decided she would look at the world with new eyes. Perhaps she should do so with Cuddington. The woman was something of a dragon, but clearly she had hidden depths. After a moment, as Cuddington continued brushing her hair, Lilah said, “You knew my father as well then.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Eva loved that man. Sir Virgil was head over heels for her, too. He was in such a state when Miss Eva passed on. Roberts—that was his valet, miss—” Cuddington’s cheeks turned a little pink, surprising Lilah once again. “Roberts feared the master might do himself harm.”

“What of my grandfather? Was he still alive when you came here?”