Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

so you can lace up the back.”
She disappeared into her dressing room. Moreham clenched his fists to stave off the shaking. He knew how to get a woman out of her dress but had not had much experience with lacing one into a dress. The women he consorted with tended to remain undressed. Not that he intended to explain his inexperience to his wife of less than half a day.
Far sooner than he would have liked, Gillian reentered the bedchamber and turned her back to him. “From what Aunt Isadora says, you know your way around ladies’ clothing.” She giggled. That sound charmed him like no other ever had.
The white gown hung off her shoulders. The back of the gown gapped open for his perusal. How he wanted to trace each bump of her backbone with a single finger. He was a doomed man. This woman would be the death of him.
His hands shook as he made short work of doing up her gown. All he could think about was accomplishing his task without embarrassing Gillian. To his chagrin, she held her gown close to her chest. He He dared to not think of the coming night.
Moreham forced himself to move away from Gillian to look out the window by her bed. Never had he felt so undone. To bloody hell with Whitney and Philly and their friends. He wanted to enjoy his time with his wife. What was wrong with wanting to take time to get to know her?
“James, I am dressed.” Gillian’s voice broke through the quiet.
He turned around to find Gillian standing next to him, looking as innocent as she had in the dismal brown servant’s dress, she’d worn that night in Philly’s library. All thought of ravishing his wife dissipated into the air. They must learn the truth about Whitney before they could move forward with their wedding night.
“You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” he said.
She laughed. “I think you exaggerate. There is no need to spout such to me. I have a mirror and know I am a plain woman.”
Moreham shook his head. “You are not plain. Your eyes light up with humor at the most inopportune times. No one can be disconsolate when you are so optimistic. I will admit, when I first met you, I thought you to be unremarkable. Now, I crave your smiles for my own enjoyment and am jealous when you beam at anyone else.”
Gillian narrowed her gaze on him as if she were trying to discern if he was being truthful. He hated the distrust he saw in her eyes. At that moment, he knew he would strive to deserve her esteem.
She reached out and touched his cheek. “Very pretty words. You are a romantic at heart. I never realized.” She gave him a pointed look. “It would seem I should assist you in changing for our outing. Turn about being fair play and all that.”
“Gillian, if you were to help me dress, we would never appear at Whitney Place which would mean my mother and Philly would run roughshod over your aunt and uncle. That pair are dangerous when they have a common purpose.”
“Such as manipulating you into marrying me?”
“Yes, exactly. While I would enjoy your assistance and I hope to take you up on the offer at some point in the future, you have no idea how much it pains me to say my valet will assist me and I’ll be back in a thrice.”
Moreham rushed from her bedchamber before his will power vanished and he did indeed take his wife to bed. He knew as well as he knew his name that once he had her beneath him, he would never let her go.

Chapter 7
Moreham met her back in the sitting room in less than a quarter hour. He nudged her toward the door.
“Time to face them again. When you have had enough, let me know and we will be on our way. There is a certain latitude allowed newly wedded couples. I’ll spirit you back into our love nest within minutes. All we have to do is secure our time at Whitings then we can leave.”
“I hope you mean what you say. Aunt Isadora can be a trial when she doesn’t get her way. I love her dearly, but even I can only take so much of her martyrdom. This will be the quickest cup of tea she’s ever poured.” Gillian nodded her agreement and led the way down the stairs.
The carriage ride was short, so her lack of conversation didn’t seem to bother Moreham. What did she want from him anyway? Affection? Friendship? A marriage of convenience? She didn’t know. What she did know was when Moreham smiled at her, she lost sight of her reason for becoming embroiled in Moreham’s business.
To save Uncle Whitney.
She must remember her actions were to save her uncle. With her resolve strengthened, Gillian left the carriage and entered her former home to find her uncle’s butler waiting. The older man stood back from the door wringing his hands and occasionally looking over his shoulder. The servant bobbed a stiff bow to her and Moreham each, but she noted his attention was not on them but on whatever was going on behind him. Gillian saw nothing behind him out of place.
“Ambrose? Are you unwell?” Gillian asked as she handed him her pelisse and bonnet. “Are we the last to arrive?
“I’m quite well, my lady and yes the countess and Lady Philomena have arrived. My lady, you best hurry. When I was in the drawing room several moments ago, the dowager countess asked the duke about his lineage. Her ladyship was not happy when he said the first duke was a bosom beau of old Tudor Henry.”
Moreham groaned and hurried Gillian along to the library. “Mama considers the eighth Henry a womanizer and poor monarch. Trust me, we do not want to get Mama started on his many failings.”
Moreham pulled her into the drawing room