by Jenna Jaxon
His eyes darkened, and the smile that curved his lips seemed more dangerous than any other he had given her. “Splendid, Miss Sharpe. I hope it will be an evening you will never forget.”
Chapter 6
Standing in front of the small mirror in her room, Amanda fidgeted with her pearl necklace as the maid put a cream-colored shawl around her shoulders. She’d been dressing for two hours, changing her mind about her outfit three times. First, she’d chosen the blue and white striped muslin, but decided it too plain for such an occasion. Next, she’d tried the peach silk embellished with silver beading and crystals, which made her skin glow creamy white, but seemed more lavish than the evening called for. At last she’d settled on the pale blue cotton, embroidered with silver-metallic thread all over and with a wide flounce at the hem.
“Perfect,” she murmured, tossing her head so her pearl and sapphire earrings caught the light and sparkled.
If anything would catch and keep Lord Somersby’s attention, this ensemble would. She glanced nervously at the clock on the mantle. He was to call for them at nine-thirty so they might arrive at Vauxhall in good time for the concert and fireworks display. Lord Somersby had hinted that a very special entertainment would accompany the fireworks. Was that an actual part of the display or had he concocted something of a more personal nature?
Ever since the night they’d met at Lady Hamilton’s, she and Lord Somersby had seen one another frequently at ton events. She’d not expected to meet him again until tonight, but he’d called on Tuesday and taken her to Gunter’s for ices, and he’d been in attendance at Almack’s on Wednesday night as well. She’d only been able to grant him one dance that night, and not even the supper dance, although they’d spoken several times throughout the evening, and he’d mentioned more than once that he was looking forward to their outing to the pleasure gardens.
A shiver shot down her back. The reputation of Vauxhall had been impressed upon her even more severely by Mrs. Doyle before she agreed that Amanda might go. She’d already imagined Lord Somersby attempting to seduce her there. And if he did, what would she do? She wanted most desperately to feel his lips on hers. If presented with the opportunity, how could she resist? Besides, if one wanted to tame a rake, surely one must use a rake’s tactics.
The chiming of the half-hour brought her out of her daydream. She quickly grabbed her reticule and fan and hurried from the room, making her way down to the ground floor receiving room where Mrs. Doyle awaited her.
“You look absolutely charming.” The lady’s smiling face belied the severe reservations she’d confessed about the outing. “If Lord Somersby has indeed begun to court you, he will be most pleased with you this evening.”
“Do you truly think so, ma’am?” The mere thought of seeing him in a few minutes made her mouth dry as dust.
“How could he not? You are lovely, Amanda. And if his attentions have not been serious until now, quite likely tonight will decide the question.” She patted the place beside her. “According to Lady Ivor, the gentleman has always had a wild streak, and has been disinclined to settle down. Very arrogant too, because of his position, and careless of money as well. He wagers on anything and everything.” Her chaperone pressed her lips into a thin, straight line, brows furrowed. “I cannot say that I am at all sanguine about his suit, but I do believe if anyone can redeem him, Amanda, it is you. You’re one with enough spirit and determination to meet him head on if you have to.”
“It’s true that I’m not one to back down from a conflict.” She sat beside Mrs. Doyle and sighed. “I will do what I believe is right and am not afraid of what others think of my decisions. My father taught me that. ‘Whatever you do, think it through, then do it boldly and with confidence.’”
“It is not always easy for a woman to follow such advice.”
“I suppose not.” Although it had never seemed difficult for her. Her parents had instilled a set of moral values in her then insisted she think for herself. The result had given her the confidence she needed to take on any challenge. Even a lord with a very bad reputation.
A sudden knock on the door had Amanda bolting up off the sofa, hands clasped before her.
“Steady, my dear.” Mrs. Doyle rose as well as Lord Somersby strode into the room.
“Good evening, Mrs. Doyle, Miss Sharpe.” He bowed and when he rose, his gaze rested on her, warm approval in his eyes. He’d dressed elegantly as usual, his evening attire cut very well, his cravat tied in an intricate knot.
“Good evening, my lord.” Amanda dipped a curtsey as her chaperone called for her wrap.
“I see you are quite ready.” His smile flashed. “We should have ample time to explore the gardens before the fireworks display. They are truly marvelous, especially if you have not seen them before.”
He offered his arm, and she gladly placed her hand in the crook, thrilling to the powerful muscles beneath his coat. Mrs. Doyle joined them in the entryway and they proceeded quickly to his massive carriage, pulled by a matched pair of grays.
The ride through London as the daylight waned was magical. Lord Somersby kept up a lively conversation with Mrs. Doyle, this time about Vauxhall, which she’d attended last when her own daughter had come out. Keeping one ear on their conversation, Amanda gazed out the window, drinking in the sights of London. Until she’d come for the Season, she’d never been to the city before.
“To give you the complete experience, Miss Sharpe, we will alight on the north bank of the Thames, take a boat across the river, and walk into the gardens.” His eyes twinkled at her, and she sighed happily. Above all else, she wanted to experience everything she possibly could tonight.
* * * *
“Oh my goodness!” Amanda squealed and drew back against Lord Somersby as a woman wearing an outlandish Turkish-looking costume with short skirts and pantaloons ran down a tightrope from an extreme height overtop the crowd. As she ran, fireworks exploded all around her, lighting up the night sky, and threatening to catch them all on fire.
“Magnificent!” Lord Somersby clapped enthusiastically, prompting Amanda to offer her lukewarm applause as well.
Madame Saqui, as the poster out in front of the gardens called her, leaped off the rope at the last moment then curtsied to the crowd as the thick smoke from the fireworks dissipated.
“Didn’t you enjoy the finale, Miss Sharpe? I thought you would appreciate one of the spectacles for which Vauxhall is famous.” Raising an eyebrow, he offered her his arm.
Coughing at the unusual scent of gunpowder, Amanda squeezed his arm and thanked her stars as he hurried them away from the awful smell. “I did enjoy it, my lord, however it was a very startling feat. I feared she, or someone else, might be hurt in such a display. I suppose I was not prepared for that lively an exhibition.”
“I declare, my lord,” Mrs. Doyle broke in from just behind them, clasping her escort’s arm so tightly she might end up permanently attached to him, “you should have warned us of what was about to happen. I was quite overwhelmed by it all.”
“I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Doyle.” He turned to her, his lips drawn into a slight frown, his stance a bit stooped. “I should’ve thought things through more completely. I didn’t think the display would frighten you ladies, else I would’ve told you or at least found places somewhat further back from the entertainment. As it was, I only hoped to please you and Miss Sharpe.”
“Do not fret on my account, my lord.” Speaking up quickly, Amanda hoped to discourage any idea on his part that she was not pleased with the evening’s activities. “I, for one, have had a marvelous time.”
They’d arrived in good time for the concert, in which an excellent vocalist with a high, pure soprano voice sang selections from various operas. Afterward, he shepherded them into a supper-box, where he plied her and her chaperone with thinly sliced cold meats, a lobster salad, several cakes, and a lemon tart. The food was delicious, and Amanda ate far too much. She was therefore happy to oblige his suggestion that they
stroll to the center of the gardens and find a good vantage point from which to watch the finale, chatting the entire time. As a result, even with the fright she’d just had, she would not have changed places with any other young lady in London. Lord Somersby had been kindness itself, the perfect gentleman from the moment he’d arrived at their townhouse. Perhaps her company appealed to him enough that he made sure to be on his best behavior around her. If only the ton could see him the way she did, they might not judge him so severely.
“And I would like to keep that good opinion of my outing. Here,” he said, leading her further away from the smoke and the crowd gathered around Madame Saqui, toward the line of trees, most of which were illuminated with little twinkling lights. “Let us take this path that leads to the arch and give these people time to wander elsewhere.”
Nodding her assent, Amanda gazed around, drinking in the marvelous sights of the gardens. Everything here seemed designed for no other reason than to delight the senses and give the utmost pleasure to the patrons. Almost as though she’d been transported to another world. As they continued to stroll, the scenery became more rustic. The trees crowded closer, and specific paths meandered enticingly into the dense foliage.
“Isn’t it amazing how they light all these lamps in an instant? Truly remarkable, don’t you think?” Lord Somersby turned them down one of the paths, lit by the tiny lamps, but only for the first few feet. After that, the darkness became absolute, save for faint moonlight that penetrated in a few spots.
Amanda grasped Lord Somersby’s arm tighter, only now aware that Mrs. Doyle and the rest of their party had been left behind at some point. She was completely alone with a gentleman, an occurrence expressly forbidden to young, unmarried ladies. Should she beg Lord Somersby to return to the safety of the lighted pathways? Or perhaps she should be bolder than ever before. If her suspicions were correct, his lordship might have brought her here to dally…or to propose. The only way she would learn the truth was to remain here with him and play the hand she had with as much skill as possible. She scarcely knew the rules of this particular game, but she learned quickly, and she always played to win.
Abruptly tugging her off the path, he started them up into the trees and turned her to face him.
Dear Lord, was this it? But which scenario would it be? Her eyes had adjusted to the faint moonlight, revealing the hunger in his eyes. Not a proposal then. So much the better. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest until she wanted to clutch it, still it. More than anything, she wished to savor this moment, her very first kiss. Perhaps her first kiss with the man she would marry. And if that was wrong, she didn’t care.
He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her until every inch of her pressed against his hard body.
Trembling, she tipped her head back to stare into eyes dark as any demon’s.
“Are you afraid, Miss Sharpe?” His voice rasped in the still air.
“No, my lord.” The strength in her reply surprised her. Inside, she shook as badly as an aspen leaf.
“You should be.” He tightened his hold on her, sending shivers down her arms. “Many a young woman has been ruined thus at Vauxhall.”
“Do you intend to ruin me, my lord?” Where the challenge in her voice had come from, she had no idea. She hadn’t meant it to sound that way. He was a man who would want to take up such a challenge.
“Yes, by God, I do.” He buried his face in her neck, his mouth pressed eagerly against her bare flesh.
Heat blasted through her, as though she’d been thrust into a fireplace amidst the burning logs. Every part of her seemed to be aflame. Incredible yearnings prickled her senses as the lanterns made the pleasure gardens glow. Wanton feelings she’d never known before erupted deep down within her.
He kissed his way up her neck and across her jaw until she gasped for breath. Raising his head, he gazed down into her face, a stark hunger in his eyes. A frisson of fear flickered in her as he bent his head, bringing his mouth toward hers. An eager whimper escaped her.
He froze, his lips poised just above hers.
Waiting, scarcely breathing, she anticipated the thrill of his lips touching hers. Why didn’t he continue? Why did he keep her in such agonizing suspense? Did he not understand that she wanted him to kiss her? Instead, he simply stared at her, his brows furrowed, jaw clenched.
“What is wrong, my lord?” Had she done something she shouldn’t have?
“Everything,” he growled, and stepped away from her until they stood several paces apart.
“What do you mean?” Tears pricked her eyes. She’d been so certain he wanted to kiss her. What had she done to turn him away?
“I have acted the rogue by bringing you here, hoping that a stolen kiss would ensure your good will toward me.”
“Oh.” Peering up at him, her heart melted at the sight of the regret that showed so plainly on his face. Should she tell him she wouldn’t have minded— With an inadvertent gasp, she registered his last words. He wanted her good will?
“I’d hoped I detected some signs of favor from you these past days,” he said, dropping his gaze to the ground. “However, I feared I’d been mistaken in your regard for me and foolishly sought to persuade your affections through an unscrupulous means.” He raised his head but didn’t meet her eyes. “Please, I beg of you, Miss Sharpe, forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you, my lord.” Seizing his hands, Amanda tried to draw him to her, but he resisted, keeping her at arm’s length. “You have done nothing in which I have not been a willing participant.”
“That does not matter, my dear, although it thrills me to hear that you were not unamenable to my advances.” He squeezed her hands very slightly. “Then I may hope to gain your good will once more?”
“You have never lost it, my lord. And I…” She drew in a deep breath. “I beg you to call me Amanda.”
“Amanda.”
Spoken as lightly as a breath on a breeze, her name on his lips sent shivers to her soul.
“Would you do me the great honor, Amanda, of calling me by my given name? No one has ever used it. I’ve been Somersby since the moment I was born. Even my mother called me by my title rather than my Christian name.”
The eagerness, almost longing, in his voice touched her heart as his words had not. “What is your name, my lord?”
“Richard.”
“Like the Lionheart.” So fitting for this man, whom society had apparently misunderstood for years. “Thank you, Richard.” The name rolled off her tongue as though she’d been addressing him thus forever.
A smile curved his lips as he raised her hand to them. “You have made me exquisitely happy, Amanda.”
She stepped toward him. If only she could recapture their earlier closeness. “Happier still if you were to kiss me.”
Hunger flashed in his eyes once more, and he squeezed her hand, began to draw her to him.
She sensed a battle of wills within him. Oh, please let that dark desire win.
Then, with a shake of his head and a sigh, he released her hand. “Certainly, in the moment, I should be supremely happy. However, we must have a care for your reputation, Amanda.”
“No one is here to see.”
“Perhaps, although one never quite knows who lurks in the shadows of Vauxhall.” He took her hand and placed it firmly in the crook of his arm. “So we will rejoin our party with no stain upon your honor.”
“A spot or two would do no permanent damage,” she grumbled. His lips had been so tantalizingly close. One taste would have been heaven.
“But I fear I couldn’t have stopped with just one kiss.” They turned into the main avenue, where the twinkling lights revealed a rueful smile on his face. “Your charms are as potent as those of Aphrodite to me. Until I can claim them all for myself, I will have to content myself with none.”
“Claim them for yourself?” She clutched his arm to her. Did he mean what she thought he meant?
“I will need to speak to
my father about you,” he said, staring straight ahead. “He’d informed me earlier this Season that he wished to arrange a marriage for me. I was not happy with the idea and so came to Town to find my own wife.” He stopped in the middle of the Grand Walk and placed his hand over hers. “I must inform him of my intentions before I seek out your father.”
Amanda’s mouth dried so completely she couldn’t have spoken had she tried. Was this truly happening? Had Lord Somersby—had Richard all but proposed to her? Of course he must speak to her father before he could declare to himself to her, but there could be no mistaking his meaning.
“You have no objection to this, Amanda?”
Dazed, she shook her head.
“I only ask that you speak of this to no one until I inform my father of my intention.”
Still incapable of speech, she nodded, and noticed for the first time that they’d rejoined their party. As if in a dream, she smiled at Mrs. Doyle, who met her with a stern frown.
“Miss Sharpe, you should not wander off, even with Lord Somersby’s escort.” She might as well have said, “Especially with Lord Somersby’s escort.” The sentiment was all too apparent in her voice. “Young ladies cannot be too careful.”
“Do not worry on that account, Mrs. Doyle.” Amanda glanced up at Richard’s handsome profile, like that of the Greek statue of Achilles in the garden behind their townhouse. “Lord Somersby has been the perfect gentleman.”
And, pray God, soon to be the perfect husband.
Chapter 7
Richard returned to his set of rooms at the Albany, well pleased with this evening’s work. He always enjoyed excursions to Vauxhall; they very often ended in an amorous encounter with some woman, of the ton or not. Tonight’s foray hadn’t resulted in satisfaction of that sort, but it had worked out completely as planned.