John smirked. “How many times have we seen a lad hit a ball like that only to be bowled out on the very next ball due to lack of concentration?”
It was true and Rupert had to admit it. He sighed and banged his bat against the dirt of the wicket before turning and walking toward the bench at the side of the field.
“Hold up,” Fergus said, chasing after him. The others followed in his wake. “It wasn’t an insult. We’re just having fun with you. Especially since we all know good and well what’s turned your head so thoroughly.”
“The fairer sex makes fools of us all,” Harrison laughed in agreement.
“How would you know?” John teased him. “You haven’t seen the right side of a skirt in months.”
“That’s because I have my eye on one skirt in particular, and I don’t intend to stop until I make it mine,” Harrison answered.
John snorted. “Lady Helen Armstrong is never going to give you the time of day. I hear she won’t settle for anything less than a duke.”
“I’m a bloody marquess,” Harrison said indignantly. “That has to count for something.”
Rupert ground his teeth and picked up his pace to get away from his friends and their talk. “You’d think we’d all turned into women the way we gossip these days,” he muttered as he reached the bench and threw his bat down, then flopped into the seat to remove his pads.
“Come off it,” Freddy chided him good-naturedly. “We’ve always talked about women, our prospects with them, how to marry the right one.” He sent a guilty look Reece’s way.
Rupert glanced sullenly up at Freddy, risked a sly peek at Reese—who was watching Freddy with a forlorn expression—then scowled harder and returned to unbuckling his pads. “Yes, well, finding the right woman is not my problem. Making sense of her, however….” He let his sentence end with a wary laugh.
“Ah, so it’s the lovely Lady Cecelia that poses the problem here,” Fergus said, sitting on the bench by Rupert’s side and spreading his arms across the back. He looked more like a king on a throne, surveying his domain, than an Irishman freshly discharged from the army who had yet to take up any other responsibility.
Rupert tossed one of his pads aside and frowned at his friend. “I thought I had her,” he said, loath to go into more detail, reasonably certain his friends would know all if he said too much. “I thought that after the night of the ball, she would want to rush to the altar and that would be the end of that.”
John hummed knowingly, unable to conceal the adolescent grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Fergus thumped him on the back again in congratulations. Harrison and Freddy exchanged knowing nods.
But Reese stood where he was, arms crossed in thought, a serious frown etching lines between his eyes. “So you compromised her, then?” he asked.
Rupert stared at him with irritation at the truth being spoken aloud and sheepishness over the implied censure in his friend’s voice. “What transpired between Lady Cecelia and myself is none of any of your business.”
The others seemed to take that as an admission of guilt.
Reese let out a breath and shook his head, his arms dropping to his sides. “Did you deliberately seduce her in order to corner her into marriage?”
“What? No!” Rupert threw his other pad aside with far more violence than was necessary and glared at Reese. “If anything, she seduced me.”
It wasn’t exactly true, but neither was it completely a lie. He would have stopped with a kiss if Cece had told him to. She’d said in as many words that she wanted what had happened between them as much as he did. But knowing she was a willing and eager participant didn’t settle his soul or relieve the burden of guilt that pressed damnably down on him, no matter how much he insisted to himself that it shouldn’t.
His friends continued to stare at him, so he heaved a sigh and explained what he shouldn’t have had to. “It wasn’t intentional. One thing led to another. In the morning, I made a casual comment about having the banns read. You would have thought from her reaction that I’d said exactly the opposite, that I’d had my way with her and never wanted to see her again.”
“That makes no sense,” Harrison said, scratching the back of his neck with a confused look.
“I’ve never understood women one way or another,” Freddy admitted with a shrug.
“What exactly did you say to her?” Reese asked in sharp, distinct tones.
Rupert glanced up at him again, feeling the same way he had his first year at Eton when he’d been dragged into the headmaster’s office for cheating on an examination. “All I said was that I would have the banns read so that we could be married as soon as possible. It was the logical, moral, and upright thing to do.”
Reese narrowed his eyes slightly as he continued to stare at Rupert. “Did you ask her if that was what she wanted?”
A feeling as though headmaster Reese had taken the switch down from its mount on the wall behind the desk sent cold fingers of dread through him. “Isn’t it obvious?” he answered in a mumble.
The rest of his friends seemed to catch on to Reese’s line of logic. They hummed and groaned and acted as though Rupert had missed the cricket ball and had his bails blown off the stumps in spectacular fashion.
“What in the devil is wrong with telling the woman I love, whom I have intended to marry for nearly five years, and whose honor I have—arguably—imposed on, that we can be married as soon as possible to keep things above board?” he demanded.
“You have to introduce something like that gently,” Harrison argued. “Women are delicate and cannot handle direct confrontation like that.”
“On the contrary,” Reese said, shaking his head. “Women are far stronger than any of us have given them credit for.”
The others turned to Reese with looks of shock and bafflement.
“You’re the last person I would expect to hear defending the strength of women,” John said.
Reese’s face turned stony. “Why?” he asked. “Because my wife died in childbirth or because I have always preferred the company of men?”
Dead silence pressed down on their group. Of course, they had all known from the start what Reese was like. But it was never, ever spoken of.
Reese cleared his throat and went on. “The world is changing at a faster pace than it ever has. It’s not just the proliferation of technological innovation and medical advancement. Women are slowly but surely taking up places in society that our fathers and grandfathers would never have dreamed of. Perhaps my own, unique view of the positions of the sexes allows me to see things differently, but mark my words, we cannot continue to treat women the way they have been treated. We must genuinely value their opinions and stop referring to them as feeble creatures who do not know their own minds.”
As loath as Rupert was to contradict his friend when he acknowledged full well that Reese had a legitimately different experience of such things, he said, “But that is exactly the point. I do not believe for a second that Cece does know her own mind in this matter.”
“Then you are a fool,” Reese shot back at him. “She deserves to be with a man who will appreciate her strengths.”
Rupert’s back shot straight and every muscle in his body tensed. “I suppose you’re referring to yourself? I’ve seen the way the two of you have formed a friendship. Do you truly think she would be happier married to a man who is repulsed by the idea of bedding her?”
The air crackled between them. Their friends looked on in tense silence.
“I was referring to you,” Reese said at last, each word clipped and distinct.
Deep embarrassment flooded Rupert. Only an ass of the highest order would lash out at a friend who was trying to help him on such a personal level. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, lowering his head and slumping his shoulders.
He would have goaded himself into a better apology if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted by the sardonic greeting, “Well, well. Isn’t this a sorry display,” as Charles Denbig
h approached. He was dressed in cricket whites and escorted Lady Claudia. “Giving up already, gents?” he asked, adding, “And you,” with a sneer for Fergus, implying he wasn’t a gentleman.
The mood instantly shifted. Rupert stood when Fergus did, ready to defend his friend with words or even fists if he had to.
“Our practice isn’t over,” he said, glancing past Denbigh to see a cluster of men gathered at the far edge of the boundary, carrying bats and dressed for practice. “We have the field until noon.”
“It’s nearly noon,” Denbigh said haughtily. “Though I don’t see how practice will help you one bit. You can’t teach a dog to dance, after all.”
Tension crackled around them. The only one who seemed nonplussed was Fergus.
“I’ve seen plenty of dogs dance,” he said, crossing his arms and sending a polite smile to Lady Claudia.
Rupert’s gut clenched at Fergus’s audacity. Luckily for him, neither Denbigh nor Lady Claudia caught the insult.
“I’m so looking forward to your house party next week, Lord Howsden,” Lady Claudia said with a smile for Reese. “How kind of you to invite all of the May Flowers.”
Rupert had to hand it to the woman, she knew how to insert herself to stop a male argument from happening. “You’ll be there?” he asked, playing along, if only to keep Fergus from ending up on the wrong end of a fistfight.
“Of course, I will, Lord Stanhope,” Lady Claudia said with a particularly cloying smile. “I take it you will be there as well?” Her cheeks were a rosy pink as she waited for Rupert’s answer, batting her eyes.
“I will,” Rupert answered with a friendly nod. It struck him that Lady Claudia wouldn’t have balked if he’d proposed having the banns read immediately after bedding her. Then again, he didn’t think Lady Claudia was the sort to dance willingly into a man’s bed the way Cece had with him. Lady Claudia seemed more the kind to close her eyes and pray for it all to be over quickly.
All the same, Lady Claudia broke away from her brother and wedged herself between Rupert and Fergus, forcing Fergus to take a long step back to accommodate her enormous bustle. “I do so hope we can spend quite a bit of time together in the country,” she said, resting her fingertips boldly on his forearm. “I have been informed that the grounds of Albany Court are simply lovely and that there are a variety of gardens and walks in which one can enjoy a bit of privacy.”
“It’s true,” Reese answered with a perfectly straight face and eyes bright with mirth. “There is even a particularly devilish hedge maze that my late wife had planted to enjoy with her companions.”
“That sounds positively delightful,” Lady Claudia replied, gracing Reese with a smile before turning back to Rupert. “You will come rescue me from the maze if I get lost, won’t you?”
“Of course, I will,” Rupert said, trying not to burst into laughter at the woman’s clumsy flirting. If she thought she had half a chance with him simply because he and Cece had rowed in public, she was a ninny. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be civil with her. Perhaps it might even light the fire under Cece’s feet that a morning in bed doing devilish things hadn’t.
“I shall count the days until the party starts,” she said, breathless and starry-eyed.
Denbigh cleared his throat. “Claudia, my dear, could you give us men a moment alone?”
“But of course,” she said. She made a demure curtsy to Rupert. “Good day, my lord. Until we meet again.”
She turned and walked off, though her steps were somewhat awkward and swaying, enough to make Rupert wonder if she was attempting some sort of seductive walk. If that was the case, the poor woman had a lot to learn.
The amused grin was wiped off his face a second later when Denbigh growled, “If you so much as look at my sister sideways at this ridiculous house party, I’ll use your balls for cricket practice. Do I make myself clear?”
Rupert huffed a laugh. “You have no need to worry on my account,” he said.
Of all things, Denbigh reeled back, looking mortally offended. “Is my sister not good enough for you?”
Rupert sighed and held up his hands, seeing straight away that he wasn’t going to win the argument, no matter which course he took. “We’re only here to practice cricket,” he said.
Denbigh sniffed and tugged at the bottom of his sweater. “Fat lot of good practice will do you.” He shot a condescending look to Fergus. “We’ll wipe the floor with you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Fergus growled in return.
Rupert wanted to roll his eyes. Just like that, they were back to the same pissing contest they’d begun with. None of it would be settled until the match was actually played. Truth be told, he wasn’t certain things would be settled even then.
“Your team can have the field,” he said, no longer in a mood for conflict of any sort. “I think it’s time for us to practice lifting pints in the pub.” He nodded to Reese and the others, then bent to scoop up his discarded pads.
“Your day is coming, O’Shea,” Denbigh growled before turning and stomping back across the field to where his team and his sister were waiting.
“That man is a first-rate ass,” John said, watching him go with a scowl. “I hope we humiliate him and his team.”
“What we really need to humiliate him is a team full of Irishmen,” Fergus said.
Rupert brightened, as did the others.
“Do you have any Irish friends in London who play cricket?” Freddy asked.
Fergus shrugged. “Most likely. I’ll ask around and see who I can scrounge up.”
“It would be incredibly satisfying to beat Denbigh with a squad filled with Irishmen,” Harrison laughed.
They signaled to their teammates still practicing that it was time to yield the field as they headed to the clubhouse to change into more suitable clothes.
“You aren’t really going to pay attention to Lady Claudia at my house party, are you?” Reese asked as they crossed the pitch.
Rupert shrugged. “I’m not going to ignore her.”
The others groaned and shook their heads in disapproval.
“I thought your present aim was to convince Lady Cecelia to marry you, not to make her want to slice your cock off and feed it to the swans in Reese’s pond,” Freddy said.
“I can be amiable to a woman without making promises or crossing boundaries,” Rupert argued.
Fergus laughed and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re right. You don’t understand the first thing about women. You’ve got a lot to learn if you want to keep your little head intact.”
Rupert had the horrified feeling that his friend was exactly right.
Chapter 13
Under usual circumstances, Cece loved trains. She’d loved speeding along through the countryside, watching the world whisk by, since she was a child traveling with her father between their ancestral home in Scotland and London. But the relatively short train ride from London to St. Albans, sequestered in a first-class compartment with Rupert, was akin to torture.
Almost a week had passed since the night they’d spent tangled up in passion, and tempers were still high for both of them. They’d managed to be civil to each other in the presence of their family, although that likely had more to do with the fact that they were both far more irritated with their meddling, smirking, unconventional family members than with each other. Which was saying something.
“Mrs. Morris sent biscuits for the trip,” Rupert said in an overly-polite voice, searching through a carpetbag on the seat beside him. “Would you like one?”
“No, thank you,” Cece replied with equal politeness. She glanced briefly at him, seated across from her in the rear-facing seat—which he’d taken without comment, knowing she hated riding backwards—then resumed watching the blur of the London suburbs shifting into countryside out the window.
“They’re the sort with raspberry jam in the middle,” Rupert went on.
Cece’s mouth instantly watered, and she dragged her gaze b
ack to him, tempted to lick her lips. The biscuits had been wrapped in a cloth which was now spread open over Rupert’s legs. The small mound of raspberry-filled biscuits dusted with powdered sugar roused her with temptation. Almost as much as the shapely hips and masculine curves of his trousers directly behind the biscuits.
She bit her lip, feeling heat rise to her face. The very last thing she should be noticing while enclosed in a train car with Rupert was his body. But now that she knew what that body looked like without clothes, now that she had experienced the wonderful things it could do, her mind simply refused to think of anything else. She’d had more than one restless night in the past week, thanks to the memories of his hands exploring her body and his mouth doing scandalous things to her nether regions. The fact that she would succumb to him in an instant if he were to make the slightest move to renew their carnal dealings was a blow to her pride on so many levels.
“You look like you want it,” Rupert said.
Cece blinked and sucked in a breath, drawing her errant gaze up from his crotch to his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“You look like you want one,” he said, his expression blank but his eyes smoldering.
She pressed her lips together. If he was going to pretend he hadn’t goaded her on purpose, then she would respond in kind.
“If I must,” she said, keeping her back stiff and leaning forward to take a biscuit. She deliberately chose one from the far side of the pile that allowed her to brush her hand across the center of his trousers.
Rupert sucked in a breath and stiffened, proving to Cece that she did have the upper hand after all. She settled back in her chair, fixing him with a coquettish smile, and licked the edge of her biscuit before biting into it with shocking sensuality.
“Vixen,” Rupert growled. He quickly gathered the edges of the cloth, securing it around the biscuits and setting the whole parcel on the seat beside him. That done, he adjusted his hips to what Cece supposed was a more comfortable position, given the sudden change in the energy in the air. Evidently, he wasn’t going to settle for her taking the upper hand, though. He looked her dead in the eyes and said, “If this trip wasn’t less than half an hour, I would bend you over that seat, bunch your skirts around your waist, and take you from behind so vigorously that you would pray for the whistle to blow so that it drowns out your cries of ecstasy.”
A Lady’s First Scandal Page 13