Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  She just might be worth it.

  He glanced at his watch and wondered what she would be up to now. The sooner these gentlemen finished their brandy, the better. Ethan Dorrill be damned, he’d have a taste of those lips before the evening was over.

  Chapter Six

  Just One Kiss

  Claire tried to follow the conversation floating around the drawing room as the ladies awaited the men to return from their brandy, but she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to her disturbing response to a person she ought to despise heartily.

  How would she avoid him for the entirety of this house party? Already, she’d failed at ignoring him throughout the course of a single meal.

  Just then, Amy clapped her hands together to draw everyone’s attention. “We ought to play parlor games tonight! Entertain ourselves with something lively.” Claire knew her friend did not mean charades or cards. Amy would have something scandalous in mind. Usually, Claire found humor in her friend’s less decorous endeavors, but tonight, she felt on pins and needles.

  She should leave. Have John load up the carriage and drive them home first thing in the morning. She could confess all to Ethan and courageously go about meeting another round of destitute noblemen.

  “No games or dancing tonight.” Mrs. Fairchild, although petite and quiet, managed to keep her daughter grounded. Claire breathed a sigh of relief as the less exuberant of the party’s hosts stated that since so many had traveled long distances tonight, they would have a quiet evening.

  Tomorrow, she conceded, they could perhaps roll back the large rug for some innocent dancing.

  Claire’s chest tightened. What would it be like to dance with Benjamin Peabody? Would his gaze follow her throughout all of the dance, even when she switched partners temporarily? A part of her wanted that.

  Heavy footsteps announced the return of the gentlemen. They hadn’t taken long this evening. When Mr. Fairchild got caught up in business, he’d been known to keep various business associates locked away with him for hours.

  Had he done so tonight?

  The tingling awareness that slid down her spine answered her question before she even glanced up.

  She felt his presence.

  How was this even possible? They’d only just met.

  The higher pitched conversation of the females resonated to lower tones as some of the male guests joined in.

  Claire’s heartbeat sped up and nearly burst from her chest. He would approach her. She knew it and she wanted it.

  What was she going to do about him?

  “Are you waiting for me, Miss Dorrill?”

  His voice nearly had her jumping when his shadow halted at her feet. Claire peered up, caught once again by his intent stare. “Aren’t all the ladies, normally?” she teased. She couldn’t stop herself from flirting! “Would you care to sit down?”

  He bit his bottom lip and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  His pause made her feel almost like he’d thrown cold water in her face. “By all means—”

  “Will you walk outside with me?” he interrupted her. “On the terrace.” He grimaced as he glanced around the room. “I can only handle so much of this.”

  She shouldn’t. She absolutely should not.

  “I’d love to.” Claire placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. At his touch, she immediately felt the spark. She recognized it now. A special connection between just the two of them. Without so much as a glance toward her hostess, she smiled. “Too much time spent sitting today already.”

  A long glass door had been left open at the far end of the drawing room, and she followed him without question.

  He glanced about the room, though, making her curious.

  “What is it?”

  “Your dog. I thought he might have joined you after the meal.”

  Those eyes of his.

  “Elmer?”

  “Ah yes, Elmer.” A teasing smile lit his eyes. As they stepped outside, the breeze lifted a few locks of his golden hair, making them stand on end. Claire felt a powerful urge to reach up and smooth those locks.

  Instead, she placed her hand on his arm. “Dolores and Elmer keep one another company. Elmer…” she paused and searched for the words to speak without disparaging the pup, “…has not taken well to polite society.”

  Mr. Peabody laughed. “Smart dog.”

  That low, gravelly mirth of his stirred up all those butterflies.

  “So, my dear Mister Peabody,” she began, “if I asked about your life, would you imagine I was trying to pry trade secrets out of you?” The volatile relationship that existed between their two families could not be ignored. And yet, she wanted to know more about him. “Do you just have the one older brother? Have you any other family?”

  “Our parents died years ago, but we have a few elderly aunts sprinkled about England. We do our best to assure their comfort. And we have some cousins in our employ. We’ve been lucky.”

  Claire nodded. She’d been lucky too. If not for the hard work of her brother, she’d likely be working as a chamber maid somewhere…or worse. “I hate that Ethan envies the upper classes. He’d never admit to it, but he does.”

  “And he expects you to marry into it.” He didn’t sound as though he approved.

  “He does. Much as he toils at his own work, I’ve had to wade through an endless stream of these…gentlemen.” She couldn’t prevent the hard edge to her words. These men might consider themselves gentlemen, but none of them ever had afforded her the respect of a true lady. She guessed that even if she were to marry one of them, she’d always be considered common. All they saw in her was that blasted dowry. “I…” She swallowed hard. “I’m exhausted from it. And it all seems utterly futile.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  Could he possibly understand? “Does your brother expect you to marry a titled gentleman’s daughter? I’d imagine so. Ethan and your brother seem to be constantly chasing the same prize.”

  “My brother has no say over whom I marry.”

  Claire’s throat felt dry. How had they come to be talking about marriage? Because suddenly, all she could imagine was what it would be like to be married to Benjamin Peabody.

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably. She didn’t want him to imagine she had set her cap after him.

  Did she?

  Had she?

  Of course not!

  “It’s a shame.” She sighed. “That our families cannot declare a truce. Work together, even. I’d often thought that both businesses could ultimately benefit by combining economies of scale.”

  “Pride is a powerful thing.”

  “Which can, at times, be counterproductive.”

  “Indeed.”

  He steered them away from the terrace, down a flagstone path leading into the garden. She’d never experienced such an enticing yet comfortable presence. All of this felt like the most wonderful night of her life, and yet perfectly natural at the same time. As though all time had existed to lead her to this moment.

  “Your scent is sweeter than the flowers,” his voice cut through the darkness.

  “My scent?”

  She felt him nod in answer. “Sweet and floral, like a snapdragon. And fruity, citrusy. When I lean in…” She felt his lips touch her hair. Gone were all thoughts of business and of Ethan and of his brother.

  Claire froze, unable to breathe as she absorbed his warmth. “When you lean in?” she encouraged him to complete his thought.

  His fingers trailed along the side of her face. As she inhaled, his subtle masculine scent assaulted all of her restraint. With his mouth mere inches from hers, Claire licked her lips.

  Never had she craved a kiss before. She’d been curious. She’d thought it might be pleasant. But she’d never hungered for one.

  Until now.

  In this moment, she wanted Benjamin Peabody’s kiss with every inch of her being.

  “Claire?” he whispered.

  She couldn’t s
peak. All she could do was bring her lips closer to his by tipping her head back a few inches.

  “I’ve wanted to do this all day.” His breath mingled with hers. “Since I first saw you sitting primly on that log, ‘my lording’ me. Teasing me with that smile.”

  Claire swallowed. For all the life of her, she couldn’t remember a single reason why she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her.

  Destiny.

  Fate.

  “So why haven’t you?”

  With the sudden assault of his mouth on hers, Claire’s knees weakened and the world spun out of control. Magic. Sorcery. Enchantment.

  Her hands wound around his neck. She needed something to cling to so that she would not dissolve into a pool of liquid. She tasted him in wonderment, his flavor a delight, thrilling and masculine. Sweet brandy mingled with something smoky.

  “Hmmm…” he rumbled. A growling, humming sound that had her pressing her thighs together as his mouth skimmed to her jaw and onto her shoulder.

  “Benjamin.” She clung tighter.

  She shouldn’t allow him, but how could she not? This kiss had all the makings of a terrible addiction. Worse than opium or spirits. Claire pressed her curves into the hard planes of his chest and thighs. Man and woman. It all made sense to her now.

  Oh, God.

  Oh. God.

  Benjamin’s lips trailed like fire, bringing something to life inside of her she’d never known existed. An urge to give herself away. An urge to be conquered, to be possessed.

  “What in the bloody hell is going on?” an icy voice had Claire’s clinging hands shoving at her lover.

  Blasted bollocks in hell.

  Ethan.

  Chapter Seven

  Cold Cocked

  He lay upon something cool and hard. Rather uncomfortable, really. Rocks? Stone? The hint of fresh cut grass wafted over his senses. Barely had he registered the cool breeze before blinding pain reminded Ben that he’d been hit.

  On the receiving end of a merciless facer.

  One moment, Ben’s lips had been exploring the sensual delights of Miss Claire Dorrill and the next a fist of steel had landed neatly between his eyes. He’d seen stars inside his head. White flashes of light and then blinding pain before fading into oblivion.

  Remembering all of this, his tongue explored the rows of his teeth, and although he tasted the coppery flavor of blood, none had rattled loose.

  That would have been a damned nuisance.

  Damned Ethan Dorrill. Not giving a fellow the chance to so much as flinch before landing such a blow.

  Ben slowly opened one eye and then the other. Hell and damnation, pressure was already building behind both of them. They’d likely be swollen shut by early morning. The hit had landed right between the eyes as though Dorrill intended to shove Ben’s nose directly through his face.

  Not that he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such a punch, Ben was honest enough to admit…

  Sitting up, the landscape swung around wildly and he lost his train of thought.

  What with having his brain pounded in the midst of the most satisfying kiss of his life…

  That kiss.

  Claire.

  Sweet. Giving. Teasing. Beautiful Claire.

  Who was now nowhere to be seen. In fact, he’d been abandoned out here. Left for dead.

  He chuckled at his own dramatics.

  Still somewhat dazed, Ben contemplated Claire’s current predicament. Although a scourge in business, Ethan Dorrill would likely not harm his sister. The mere thought of the bastard laying a hand on Claire caused the blood to rush in Ben’s ears and forced him to his feet.

  He needed to track her down.

  Then another thought struck. What if Dorrill forced her to leave Elysium Fields early? It would be the logical course of action.

  And for the best.

  She was too much of a temptress…too much of a distraction. Ben had only attended in order to conduct important business with Fairchild, and so far, all he’d done was attempt to lay claim to the least attainable woman in all of Great Britain—for him, anyhow.

  She’d make an alliance with some titled nob, by God.

  The notion of her absence, of not seeing her again, didn’t feel like it was for the best. Rather, the idea left him feeling empty.

  He slipped back indoors, brushed past other guests, and searched faces for any indication of Dorrill’s inconveniently timed arrival.

  No Claire. No irate brother.

  Ah, Amy Fairchild beckoned him to her side. On this occasion, he was more than happy to oblige. If Claire were being forced to leave, surely her friend would know.

  “Good God, Ben! He certainly got in a good one.”

  “Did you know he was coming?” He’d thought he and Amy Fairchild were friends. Like brother and sister, almost.

  She shook her head adamantly. “I’d no idea. One of Ethan’s informants obviously couldn’t wait to run to him with information.”

  “Where is she?” Ben didn’t bother explaining who he referred to. Amy would know.

  She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “And why should I tell you? Obviously, you were up to no good.”

  “Might I remind you of a scandalous little episode last spring where you disappeared for nearly an hour alone with Roger Winthrop in the forests at Vauxhall?” He’d been complicit in her alibi.

  She smiled dreamily and then grimaced. “Very well. Her chamber is directly across from mine. Not that you’d have any reason to know where mine is.”

  “And Dorrill?”

  “In the study with my father.” Of course, Dorrill’s visit would not only curtail his activities with Claire, but also infringe upon Ben’s negotiations with Fairchild. Blast. Clem would give him hell for such a turn of events.

  None of which really was his own fault.

  With a wave of thanks, Ben dashed out of the drawing room toward the stairs. He needed to assure himself of Claire’s well-being.

  He was also of a mind to finish what he’d started. Once he’d reached the family’s wing, he turned left and located Claire Dorrill’s chamber without difficulty. He’d stayed with the Fairchilds often enough. He oughtn’t to know where the daughter’s chamber was located, but he’d run into her leaving it on occasion.

  He knocked on the appropriate door.

  “Go away, Ethan!” a feminine voice called out.

  “Not Ethan,” he responded and then turned the knob slowly. “Are you all right?” he spoke into the opening before inching the door inward.

  The door flew open.

  “You are not dead!”

  Before he could register anything else, she’d tugged him ruthlessly inside.

  “No one can see you here.” And then, “Your poor eyes!”

  She disappeared through another door. “I felt horrible leaving you on the ground like that. I’d no idea if you were living or dead. Such a dreadful sound, fist meeting with flesh like that.” Appearing once again, she carried with her what looked to be a dampened washcloth.

  Lavender water, if he was correct.

  She dabbed the cloth soothingly at the corners of his eyes, and then below them. “Oh, Benjamin!”

  She called him by his given name.

  “Ouch,” he muttered when the cloth pushed at one of the more tender spots. He reached up and stilled her movement with his own hand. “He did not hurt you, did he?” This was what truly mattered. Ben swallowed hard when his gaze traveled down her alabaster throat to the swelling of her breasts, tantalizingly visible beneath the thin cotton of her dressing gown.

  She must have read the desire in his stare, but she did nothing to hide herself from him. Ben drew his eyes back up to hers. Lovely. This girl. Addictingly lovely.

  She shook her head. “Ethan would never hurt me. I just hated to leave you lying there. I feel horrible.” She dabbed at another tender spot, but Ben didn’t want to stop her. He preferred the pain that came with her touch to not having her touch at all.


  “He’s meeting with Fairchild. I imagine he plans on taking you home tomorrow.” His chest tightened. He’d only met Claire Dorrill today, but he felt like he’d known her for a lifetime.

  She turned away and this time Ben’s gaze wandered down her back. The narrow curve of her slim waist invited his grasp, and his palm itched to reach for the lush heart shape of her backside. She stopped at the window and then glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “I’ve never before seen him turn such a deep shade of purple.” She grimaced. “I imagine your eyes will resemble that same shade in the morning.”

  Ben didn’t care about his eyes. Or that he ought to be clocked again for entering this innocent young woman’s room. He didn’t care what Ethan Dorrill wanted. All he cared about in that moment was that he find a way to have Claire Dorrill in his life.

  Permanently.

  “Are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked her again.

  “We are.”

  His gaze locked with hers. Somehow, he knew, as much as he knew the sky was blue and the grass was green, he knew that if he didn’t find a way to keep her, he’d regret it for the remainder of his life.

  Except, he didn’t believe in romantic love. He believed in lust—sexual satisfaction. Love existed for those people who couldn’t face reality.

  When had fantasy become reality?

  “Where will you go? London?” Ben slowly began crossing the room.

  In a last attempt to keep some distance between them, Claire crossed her arms in front of her. “Yes,” she nearly whispered.

  She felt this too. How could she not?

  “What will you do?” his question could have meant a thousand things.

  “I’ll wonder.”

  “What will you wonder about?”

  “You.”

  Ben stood towered over her, the top of her head barely meeting his chin. Inhaling, he memorized her scent.

  He needed a plan—a strategy. His fingers caressed a line from the back of her ear to just inside the collar of her night rail.

  “I have an idea.”

  She tilted her head back to search his gaze.