A Wicked Reputation (Once Wicked)

by Liana Lefey

  The tension seated in his gut twisted a little tighter. Was she flirting with him? Surely not, what with her protector so near? He decided to err on the side of caution and keep the banter light. “I have no expectations, madam,” he said, giving her his easiest smile. “I learned long ago to assume nothing when it comes to women. For all I know, you may decide to seduce Prinny—or join a convent.”

  It earned him an honest laugh. The sight all but robbed his lungs of air. The curve of her mouth in laughter was perfection, the lift of her cheeks gentling her eyes with a tender light. She looked utterly angelic, a sharp contrast to the worldly-wise visage she usually wore. He could see the young woman she’d been before her tragic downfall.

  Regret filled him. Had he been less focused on himself years ago when they’d first met, he might have seen her, and things might have turned out quite differently. He remembered she’d been painfully demure, declining to raise her eyes to meet his—and that had been his fault. He’d thought her a quiet little mouse unworthy of interest, and he’d passed her by without so much as a second glance. If only he’d taken a moment to politely address her and cause her to look up, he’d have been enchanted.

  He was enchanted now. Years ago, she might have faded into the wainscoting, but now she was a scintillating presence impossible to ignore.

  “Are you quite well, Lord Blackthorn?”

  Her inquiry jarred him from his stunned reverie, and his mouth closed with a soft pop. “I…I was remembering when we were first introduced.” His ears grew unbearably hot, and he knew he must be flushed to the roots of his hair. “It was at the Cheltenham ball. You wore white flowers in your hair.”

  The tightening of her face was almost imperceptible. Almost. “That was a long time ago. I am no longer that child.”

  “You were no child then,” he quipped. “I, however, behaved like one. Please accept my humblest apology for my rudeness that day. I was no gentleman, or I would have made some effort at conversation and asked you to dance.” The depth of his chagrin was such that it sent another wave of heat across his face. Her gaze grew laden with some emotion. It could easily have been mistaken for regret, but he sensed more. He sensed anger. “I’m sorry to have made you recall what is doubtless an unsettling memory—”

  “Not at all,” she cut in, her face smoothing once more into an expression of nonchalance. “My prior life, while not always idyllic, was one blessed with few concerns. In fact, my only task was to marry a suitable gentleman.” One shoulder lifted, and a small laugh escaped her lips. “Despite my obvious failure, I’ve managed to do quite well for myself. I want for nothing.”

  Save love. Perplexed that such a thought should even cross his mind, he let out an incredulous bark of laughter. Her askance look prompted him to make up a hasty explanation for his outburst. “Which is exactly why I’ve yet to wed, myself.”

  The instant it left his lips, he mentally kicked himself. “I-I mean, not that I never wish to marry, but why rush into it? I’m content with things as they are. I mean, I could. If I wanted. But I don’t. Not yet.” He was babbling. Babbling. Like an utter fool. Stop talking. Just stop.

  One caramel brow had slowly risen as he’d spoken, and now a slight smile curved her lips. “One expects a gentleman to avoid the matrimonial noose for as long as possible. If one is content with one’s situation, then I certainly see no reason to alter it. Like me, you’ve found happiness in remaining unfettered.”

  At this smooth handling of his blunder, Lucas’s initial assessment regarding her level of sophistication underwent swift modification. She’d learned a great deal in her two years’ exile. A great deal. “Then we are kindred spirits,” he replied with an internal wince. What is the matter with me? First blathering on like a complete idiot, and now this? How did this woman turn him into a gibbering imbecile?

  Yet despite every instinct screaming at him to hold his tongue, his mouth continued producing sounds. “I suppose you would marry, however, if the opportunity arose?”

  Such was her look of astonishment at this inquiry that Lucas wondered whether any blood remained in his extremities, for it felt as though every last drop had risen to his face.

  Her expression told him his question had clearly caught her off guard, and in that candid moment of surprise he again saw a young woman of surprising naïveté. “I suppose I might,” she answered, the words seeming carefully weighed and measured. “But under the circumstances I doubt such an opportunity will ever manifest. I’m a courtesan, my lord.”

  “It’s not unheard of for such women to wed their protectors,” he replied, again astounded at his boldness. In for a pence, in for a pound. “I’ve heard it said that your Lord Harrow intends you to replace his wife in the event of her death.”

  Her reaction to that was as suspect as any he’d yet seen. Instead of the smug affirmation of a mercenary female assured of a coveted position, he saw sudden fury fill her eyes. It was only for an instant, but it spoke volumes.

  When she answered, however, her voice carried none of that anger. “I consider Lady Harrow to be my friend. I know most people are unable to accept that a man’s mistress can be friends with his wife, but it’s quite true for us. I certainly hold no ill will for that lady and in fact wish her a long and healthy life.”

  He just couldn’t help himself. “So you have no ambitions at all, then?”

  “Certainly none that involve the untimely death of a good friend!” she hissed, the wrath returning to light her eyes and color her cheeks.

  A thrill raced through Lucas as he realized he was now seeing the real Lady Diana. Anger often removed the masks people wore, showing the true self. What he saw was…astonishingly commendable. Loyalty, morality, altruism. Not qualities one would expect to find in a courtesan. His suspicion concerning her function in Harrow’s life increased yet more.

  As he considered the flushed, angry woman before him, he marked how the sun shone on her honey hair, turning it into burnished gold. His fingers itched to feel its texture, his palms to frame that lovely face and soothe it to calmness. He’d riled her, and he’d done it on purpose, just to get the true measure of her. Curiosity had compelled him, but now he almost regretted it, because knowing who she really was beneath the facade hadn’t cured him of his attraction to her.

  Indeed, no. It had only served to fling fuel upon the already burning fire.

  Attraction and admiration, when combined, were the world’s most potent aphrodisiac. Contending instincts warred within him, one driving him to do as he imagined, as he desired—to cup her flaming cheeks and kiss away her upset. The other, however, was thankfully far louder, telling him to keep his distance lest he end up facing his new friend Harrow on the field of honor at dawn.

  Say something, you ass! Apologize. “I humbly crave your pardon, madam,” he said, all nerves. It took all his willpower to keep from looking to see where Harrow was as he addressed her. “In giving voice to such distasteful gossip, I have again exhibited the most rude and un-gentlemanlike behavior. Tell me what I must do to regain your good regard.”

  Chapter Seven

  Diana longed for nothing so much as to pull back her arm and slap Blackthorn with all her might, but Harrow, who was not far off, would hear, and then there would be trouble. Stuffing her ire back down, she regarded her neighbor with all the frigidity she could muster. “You may begin by never again speaking of my friends in so coarse a manner.”

  The bottom dropped from her stomach as, too late, she realized her mistake. Did I just refer to Harrow and his wife as my friends?

  The subtle shift in Blackthorn’s expression did not go unmarked. Contrition bled from his gaze, replaced by the distinct gleam of triumph, as if he’d just won a great prize. “Old habits are indeed slow to perish,” he murmured, using her own words against her. “The lady may be removed from her raising, but the raising can never be removed from the lady. You’re not at all as I’ve been led to expect.”

  Her heart tried to claw its way up o
ut of her throat, but to her surprise, he elected not to further pursue that path.

  “I have erred and offended you, madam. Deeply, I fear. I must again beg your forgiveness. My curiosity got the better of me and led my tongue to incivility.”

  Curiosity be damned! It required great effort to maintain a placid demeanor when she was torn between the desire to run in terror and the need to repair the damage already done before it was too late. If it wasn’t already. “I’m well aware of the speculation about me,” she said, taking a steadying breath. “The mixture of truth and falsity is doubtless bewildering from your perspective.”

  “You have a gift for understatement,” he said with a rueful half smile. “You’ll pardon my shock, but I’ve never heard of a man’s mistress referring to him and his wife as ‘friends.’ At best, the wife and the mistress tolerate each other, but friendship?” He left it there, hanging in the air between them.

  So much for thinking he’d decided to leave it alone! It was time to put into action the contingency plan she and Harrow had formulated in the event of a break in their cover story. “Although Lord Harrow is my lover and indeed, my protector, I also consider him my friend. I’m privileged to have also found favor with his lady wife, who could have considered me a rival and a threat to her position, but instead welcomed me.”

  Of all the rumors about them, the idea that Lady Harrow was somehow part of a triangle involving her husband and his mistress was the most sordid. Minerva was well aware of it, yet held her peace. Better for people to think that than to learn the truth. Blackthorn’s eyes betrayed him, telling her he’d most definitely heard the tale.

  Dropping her voice even lower, Diana continued. “Few know it, but Lord and Lady Harrow have been friends almost from infancy. Their marriage was one of convenience rather than passion. Thus, when the physician who delivered Henry—their son—warned Harrow it would surely kill her to bear another child, he vowed never to touch her again. Theirs is an amicable arrangement, and I am part of it. I agreed never to sow discord between them or seek to usurp her, and she has rewarded my fidelity with her friendship and trust. My company may be paid for, Lord Blackthorn, but there are some things money cannot purchase. Lord and Lady Harrow have been good to me, and I would not betray either of them for the world.”

  So piercing was his clear gray gaze that she had to stop herself from squirming.

  At last, just before her composure threatened to crumble, he spoke. “I begin to comprehend. Both you and your situation are far more complex than people assume.”

  “So it is with most things, I imagine,” she quietly snapped. “Which is why one should be slow to pass judgment. Think what you will of my adulterous relationship with Lord Harrow, but leave Lady Harrow out of your crude conjecture.”

  He looked duly chastised as he conceded. “Rare is the occasion upon which I am humbled, but you, madam, have most assuredly put me in my place. I’m ashamed to say I’ve allowed myself to be guided by the opinions of others where you are concerned, when I ought to have ignored them in favor of forming my own. That error must now be corrected, as my findings are in direct opposition to almost everything I’ve heard.”

  “Almost?”

  His eyes lit with amusement. “Well, you are quite the loveliest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I cannot contradict that general view.”

  She forced herself to look him calmly in the eye and breathe as if her heart weren’t hammering against her ribs. “And what of your opinion concerning my character?”

  His smile gentled. “Your cleverness is eclipsed only by your compassion and loyalty, Lady Diana. Lord Harrow is indeed quite the luckiest of men, for his wife is a saint and his lover unlike any woman I’ve ever known or even heard of. Had you not become his mistress, you would have made a wonderful wife.”

  Diana nearly laughed aloud over his visible discomfiture as he realized what he’d said. Pity moved her to be merciful. “I doubt many of the gentlemen that once considered a match with me would agree with you.”

  “That’s only because none of them have taken the opportunity to get to know you.”

  The quiet statement sent a tendril of heat snaking down to coil at the base of her spine. “I’m far too outspoken for such domestic bliss,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation into less treacherous waters. “Having been granted relative freedom to do as I please, I fear I would chafe under the yoke of a husband’s authority. I prefer to remain untamed.”

  “To tame you would be an egregious sin,” he replied, his eyes darkening dangerously. “Better to let a wild creature come of its own volition to an open hand offering an enticement than to trap it and risk forever destroying both its nature and inherent beauty.”

  And like some wild creature faced for the first time with a huntsman intent on taking it for a trophy, Diana froze, even as the coil of desire within her tightened. This must stop. Immediately. “I thought you were decided against poaching?”

  A guilty look flickered in his eyes an instant before a wry smile tilted his lips and chased it away. “I am, indeed. And, unless I’m mistaken, no offer save that of friendship has been laid before you.”

  It was a blatant half-truth, but she could work with such. She squared her shoulders. “Then I accept your offer. As a friend, I hope you’ll be discreet regarding our conversation today. I should be…” She chose her next words with utmost care, “disappointed, if Lady Harrow ever learned of it and became distressed.”

  At this, his smile broadened into something more genuine. “Then allow me to assure you of my unrelenting silence on the matter. The grave will be more forthcoming than I, should anyone inquire of me concerning our exchange. In fact, you may henceforth consider my lips sealed against all temptation to share our conversations with anyone.”

  Only time would tell whether he spoke true or if this was just another pretty speech from a right rogue. She raised her voice a bit. “Then I count myself fortunate to name you among my friends.”

  “Splendid. And perhaps we should celebrate our newfound friendship?” he suggested, matching her volume. Again, the smile widened an increment, giving rise to a dimple beside his mouth.

  The sight of it sent an unexpected bolt of want lancing through her. Suspicion made her want to narrow her eyes at him, but she forced herself to maintain exterior calm. “What do you propose?”

  “A picnic,” he said at once. “Oh, I know I’m throwing a ball soon, but such events lack warmth. I’ve invited several of my closest friends to dine outdoors with me here in this very garden three days hence. I now invite both you and Lord Harrow to join us.”

  Harrow’s voice preceded his appearance by only a moment as he returned to her side. “To what have we been invited, may I ask?”

  Feeling a burst of affection for her protector for coming to her rescue, Diana took up one of Harrow’s hands and held it between her own. “A picnic,” she told him, nodding toward Blackthorn with enthusiasm.

  Taking her cue, Blackthorn began to elaborate. As he did so, she again took his measure. If he kept his word and mentioned nothing of their conversation to his friends, which she would ascertain while at this picnic of his, then perhaps she might be willing to tolerate his neighborly presence.

  Still, they would need to be extra careful. Harrow had visited her several times, but his first romantic rendezvous with René at this address was to occur tomorrow evening. As her protector graciously accepted Blackthorn’s picnic invitation, she contemplated the situation.

  Seeing how often Blackthorn’s gaze flicked over to her as he was talking to Harrow, an idea began to form. The man could hardly keep his eyes off her. She imagined his curious gaze was frequently drawn toward her house.

  A wicked chuckle lodged in her throat. Perhaps she might use Blackthorn’s meddlesome nature against him. Instead of having all the curtains drawn before the couple’s arrival, what if she left them open for a little while? Just long enough to let anyone who might be watching witness a bit o
f carefully orchestrated exhibition? Seeing her “entertain” Harrow and another gentleman—René would be unrecognizable—would sorely challenge any further assumptions on his part.

  The idea almost made her laugh aloud. As soon as she and Harrow had a moment of privacy, she’d ask his opinion. Oh, it would be such fun!

  And yet…it had been nice to have someone’s genuine admiration, even if only for a little while. He had truly admired her.

  Don’t be a fool! He’d admired the facade. Not her. Not Diana. Though he’d come closer to uncovering her true self than anyone, Blackthorn hadn’t managed to get under her armor completely. And she didn’t intend to let him.

  As soon as they’d extricated themselves from her neighbor and were once more safely behind walls, windows, and wainscoting, she told Harrow her idea.

  A burst of delighted laughter was his initial response. But he quickly sobered. “You really are quite terrified of him. And not, I think, entirely for my sake.”

  “I am,” she admitted, hating herself for it. “He has this way of looking at me that makes me feel…” Naked? Exposed? Vulnerable? “As if he can see right through me. I fear even the smallest misstep, lest he know me for a liar and tell everyone.”

  Harrow’s comforting grasp on her shoulders made her look up at him. “I’ve already begun drawing him in, my dear. Within a few weeks, our names will be irrevocably linked as bosom friends in the minds of the Ton. I guarantee it. All you must do is maintain appearances here. And I think your plan is a damned good one.”

  So it was that the following day René arrived incognito as “an acquaintance from the club” alongside Harrow, and Diana played hostess to the pair with extra gusto, joining in several games of cards and then charades in her cozy, garden view salon…with the curtains open. The abundant libations they consumed—diluted wine and tea-tinted water—rounded out the deception. When Harrow joined her and their new “friend” in an embrace in which Diana was caught between the two men, they made certain it was directly before the broad windows.