The Scent of Love

by Platt, Meara

  She smiled. “You ought to see the look on your face. I rather enjoyed shocking you. But it’s all right, Finn. I didn’t really mean it.”

  The look she’d seen on him was not one of shock, but of inflamed desire. This is what Belle did to him. The mere possibility of kissing her set him off. What was it about her? Perhaps the book she’d mentioned Violet had given her would help explain what he was feeling. “Follow me.”

  He drew her down the steps into a shaded portion of the garden just beneath the veranda and took her in his arms. “Is it true, Belle?”

  “Is what true?”

  “Your not wanting to kiss me.” It was dark where they stood, the two of them cast in shadow. But the pain in Belle’s eyes stood out clearly. She thought he’d meant to put her off and never kiss her again.

  Her gaze was hopeful as she studied his face. “Do you want me to want to kiss you?”

  “Yes, I want you to indulge in as many wants with me as you desire. We only have another minute before I must deliver you back to your family.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “This is for granting me the favor of having my brothers join us.” He kissed her again, this time pulling her up against him and crushing his lips to hers with unmasked hunger. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t a rough kiss, either. He could only describe it as profound, for this is how he felt about Belle.

  Profoundly wonderful.

  Profoundly hopeful.

  Profoundly besotted.

  He enjoyed the soft press of her mouth on his, and knew by her sigh of contentment that she was enjoying herself as well. She wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed up against him with delightful innocence and curiosity. She tasted of the ratafia she must have sipped before dancing with him.

  He felt the softness of her breasts against his chest.

  When he ended the kiss, he took a deep breath to steady himself. He inhaled the scent of grass and flowers in the humid air, as well as the warm scent of lavender on Belle’s skin.

  “Yes, I want you to want to kiss me,” he said softly. “Yes, I want to kiss you. As often as you’ll permit. I didn’t mean to put you off, Belle. I was only thinking of my inability to stop myself from going further if I ever did give in to your temptation.”

  “Going further?” Her eyes were wide in fascination. “What more are you inclined to do?”

  Peel off her gown and kiss his way down her body.

  He groaned. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are? You’d slap me if I told you what I’d really like to do.”

  He returned Belle to her family, smiled at Hortensia when she cast him that I-am-going-to-crush-your-skull look, because she was sure he was after one thing from her niece. Which he was, but if he actually succeeded in getting a night of hot, wild pleasure with exquisitely innocent Belle, he would get the special license and marry her that very same day.

  Finn strode off to the card room and kept himself busy until the supper dance, first playing a few turns at whist and then settling in for the next hour playing vingt-un.

  “Finn, where are you going?” Lord Crompton asked at the end of the hour when he gathered his winnings and rose to leave the table. “Give us a chance to earn back our losses.”

  “Later, I’ve promised the supper dance to Miss Farthingale.”

  The Earl of Wycke, one of the foursome at their table, looked up suddenly. “Honey Farthingale?”

  “No, Belle.”

  “They’re both beautiful gels,” Crompton said with a leering grin. “Well connected, but I hear they work in a shop. What’s your interest in the sickly one, Brayden? Heard you saved her life at Lady Dayne’s tea a few months ago. Has she been cuddling up to you since then?”

  “Watch your mouth, Crompton,” Wycke said, casting Finn a warning glance as well when he noticed his hands clenching. “Those girls are respectable. They’ll do well for themselves. Not every man is interested in acquiring a helpless, brainless wife with impeccable bloodlines.”

  “Oho! You, Wycke? You’d seriously consider marrying one of them?”

  “Why not, if I were in the market for a wife? Given a choice of beautiful and brainless or beautiful and clever, why wouldn’t I choose clever?”

  Crompton appeared surprised. “And you, Brayden? You’d choose a shopgirl over the daughter of a duke? What would your brother say? And your cousins? Why would you lower yourself to—”

  “Enough about these Farthingales. Are we going to play cards or not?” Wycke raised his arm and motioned to a gentleman just entering the room. “Driscoll, come join us. We need a fourth.”

  Finn held back as Wycke cast him a second warning glance. He nodded to him and walked away, knowing the man was right about ignoring Crompton, much as he would have liked to pound the pompous bounder to dust.

  He entered the ballroom and shouldered his way through the crowd, hoping his anger would abate by the time he reached Belle. Between Crompton’s dissolute remarks about her and Walton’s ogling her, he was not in good humor.

  Crompton’s words particularly troubled him.

  Yes, he was the brother of an earl, but how did this make him anyone of note? He held no titles. He worked in finance. How was he so different from Belle? Why would working in the family perfume shops lower her standing to the point that many of the Upper Crust would shun her?

  But they wouldn’t dare shun him. Not only because he was very well connected. His brother Tynan was Earl of Westcliff. His cousins, Marcus and James, were the earls of Kinross and Exmoor, respectively. Their titles alone did not make them men of good character. That’s just who they were, who all Braydens were raised to be. Men of honor and valor. Men who fought to protect those they loved and those too weak to protect themselves.

  The Brayden women were just as valiant.

  As for himself, the rich and titled valued him because of his financial prowess. His father could have been a common dustman for all they cared. Preserving their wealth, enhancing it, was all that mattered to the upper class.

  He shook his head and sighed.

  If any good came out of his and Belle’s pretend courtship, it was that his mother would back off and stop bothering him about finding a wife.

  Of course, his mother would be another one to come after him with a battle mace when she learned it was a sham.

  He shook out of the thought.

  Being with Belle did not feel like a sham.

  Find Belle.

  He’d spent the last three months doing his best to avoid her. She thought his reason was because he disliked her. It was a logical conclusion after the calamity of their first meeting. Had he ever attended a worse tea party in all his life?

  But it was also the best.

  One might say, frighteningly good. Well, he hadn’t quite decided how he felt yet. Meeting Belle was like getting knocked down by a tidal wave and being pulled under by the force of its undercurrent.

  He wasn’t prepared for this feeling.

  It was odd. Different.

  He was used to being in control, comfortably in charge of any situation. But Belle made his senses reel out of kilter. There was something about her, an innocent sensuality is how he would describe it. She aroused him, turned him into a mindless, hungering beast.

  Even amid the chaos of their first meeting, he’d felt drawn to her immediately. They had never even been properly introduced, but it hadn’t stopped him from noticing her or wanting her. Mr. Brayden, may I present to you Miss Belle Farthingale. She is here to satisfy your wildest fantasy.

  Well, only in his dreams.

  Now that she’d come to him asking for help, he knew that he had to curb this inexplicable yearning for her. Spectacular fail so far. He should not have kissed her tonight. It would not do to mix business with pleasure.

  It was a dangerously potent brew.

  Keeping his hands off Belle while pretending to court her was not going to be easy. It wasn’t a pretense for him, although he had yet to fully understand or accept these feelings roi
ling inside of him.

  Remaining unaffected by her charm would be almost impossible, but he had to be up to the task for Belle’s sake.

  How was he to walk this fine line?

  Perhaps if he used the time productively and learned more about her and truly got to know her. What was that old adage? Familiarity breeds contempt? He hoped so, for the sake of his peace of mind. He needed to find out all the things he did not like about her and get those nightly fantasies out of his head.

  “Finn, why are you frowning?” His mother, the fierce and daunting Lady Miranda, came over to him, putting her hand on his arm to gain his attention.

  “Am I?” He was impatient to reach Belle. He saw her standing beside Hortensia, fretting once more while she waited for him to claim his dance.

  Did she think he’d forgotten?

  “You know you’re frowning. You’ll scare away all the young ladies if you persist in maintaining that dark scowl.” She followed his gaze. “You know Belle Farthingale, don’t you? You met her at Lady Dayne’s tea party.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

  “What a mess that was. Dear me.” She waved her fan, stirring the hot air. “I noticed you dancing the waltz with her earlier.”

  “So?”

  “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Bloody hell, no.”

  “Finn!” She was still grasping his arm, not yet ready to let go of him. “What is your interest in the girl? I hear she has that…thing.”

  He tamped down his irritation. “What thing?”

  No wonder the girl had a chip on her shoulder the size of an oak tree. Even his mother was passing comments about her breathing condition.

  The henna-red curls on his mother’s head bobbed as she shook her head. “You know very well what I mean. Weren’t you the one found with your lips on hers and your hand cupping her–”

  “My hand was on her heart.”

  “Fine, stick with that story.”

  He groaned. “You’ve been talking to Lady Withnall.”

  “No, she hasn’t said a word to me. But others saw you. I raised you better. Why were you kissing her? Never mind. A mother doesn’t really want to know.”

  “It wasn’t a kiss. I was trying to breathe life back into her body. Did the gossips fail to mention that?”

  “They might have done. She frightened the wits out of everyone at the tea. Are you sure, Finn?”

  “About asking her to dance? A wonderful suggestion.” He knew he was being rude, but his own mother had no right to intrude in his private life.

  He stopped before Belle. “Miss Farthingale, may I have the honor?”

  She looked beautiful, soft and gentle, as she smiled up at him in obvious relief, as though worried he’d decided to abandon her.

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Brayden.”

  He escorted her onto the dance floor and placed an arm around her waist. They stood side by side, he positioned slightly behind her as he took her hand in his, waiting for the cotillion to start.

  What made this girl different?

  She smiled up at him again.

  Her cheeks were pink, and her skin felt warm. “Belle, do you want to sit this one out?”

  “Afraid I’ll have another breathless spell while we dance?”

  Yes. “No, I just thought you might prefer to talk over our plans instead.”

  “You are not a smooth liar, Finn.”

  “Sorry, it isn’t you, it’s me. I feel the need for air. Truly.”

  She frowned and pursed her lips, now fretting. “What’s wrong? It’s this scheme, isn’t it? You’re finding it hard to pull off.”

  “No, Belle. Quite the opposite. I’m finding it far too easy.”

  Any other young lady would have accepted the compliment for what it was, but Belle’s look was one of uncertainty. Sure, you think you like me now, but just wait. I’ll disappoint you. This is what she was thinking, and it cut Finn to the bone.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight,” he said.

  She was quick to nod. “I know.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight because it only makes me want to steal more kisses from you.” The music began before he could say more.

  Since Belle was determined to prove she could make it through the dance, they stayed on the floor with the other couples. When it ended, she cast him a triumphant smile that struck him in the heart.

  They moved on to supper afterward, their banter easy and constant as she nibbled her food. He steered the topic to things other than her father’s ledgers, but he was worried. What would he find when they reached Oxford?

  Would his sniffing around place Belle in danger?

  Chapter Four

  Belle stood in front of the Royal Academy, trying to rein in her excitement when she noticed Finn striding toward her. She and Honey had arrived a short while ago, driven in their uncle’s carriage by the kindly coachman, Abner Mayhew. The dear man had assured them he would be back precisely at four o’clock to pick them up.

  She and Honey had also been assigned a maid to escort them, a sweet but not very clever girl by the name of Elsie, who was easily distracted. Honey had dispensed with her quite handily, asking the girl if she would like to take the two hours to herself since the lecture would likely bore her to tears. “Oh, I shouldn’t!”

  Her sister, ever the efficient saleswoman, had cast the girl a warm, commiserating smile. “Nonsense, we’re in reputable company here. I’m sure you’d enjoy a few hours to yourself.”

  In response, Elsie had nodded enthusiastically. “If you think it will be all right.”

  “We won’t tell. Just make sure you’re back before four o’clock when Mr. Mayhew returns with the carriage.”

  Simple as that, no one would realize Belle had not entered the lecture hall with her sister. “Brilliantly done,” Belle whispered, the butterflies in her stomach now fluttering as Finn reached them.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Finn tipped a nod to Honey before turning his smile on Belle. “I was detained at my office. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

  Belle tried to sound casual, but she was never good at hiding her feelings and expected Finn knew she was happy to see him. “Not at all. We only arrived a few minutes ago. The lecture’s just starting.”

  “And I had better go in and find a seat.” Honey scampered inside, leaving the two of them alone on the steps.

  Finn offered Belle his arm. “Shall we begin our first lesson in love?”

  “Yes, let’s.” She tried once again to sound casual and failed miserably.

  Oh, he looks so handsome. The emerald silk of his cravat accentuated the smoke-gray and dark green of his eyes, an unusual mix that held a fascinating allure. “Honey showed me where she would be sitting if we finished early, and I wanted to join her in the lecture hall. Two hours is a long time for us to chat, don’t you think?”

  He merely shrugged. “We’ll see. It’s a nice day. Care to sit in the quadrangle?”

  “That would be lovely.” She raised the cloth bag she was carrying. “I’ve brought the book.”

  He laughed and gave a mock shudder. “I am quaking in my boots. Come along, let’s see what pearls of wisdom it has to offer us.”

  They found a bench in a quiet spot in a shaded corner of the manicured lawn.

  Belle hesitated before drawing out the volume. “Finn, what if it does have magical properties? Violet said this book holds the secret to making a man fall in love.”

  “Are you worried we might fall in love?” He seemed to find the notion amusing but said nothing more as he waited for her to sit. He then settled beside her, stretching his long legs before him and casting her a boyishly appealing grin. Propping his shoulders on the wooden back of the bench, he closed his eyes and tipped his head toward the sun.

  “I’m not worried for myself,” she said, her heart aching over the impossibility of his actually having feelings for her. “You’re considered a
catch. I, on the other hand…well, you know what everyone thinks of me.”

  He sighed and opened his eyes as he turned to face her. “That you’re what? Smart? Beautiful? Easy to be with? Oh, the horror of it all!”

  “Finn, be serious.”

  “I am. Go ahead and open the book to the first chapter. I’ll try my best not to propose to you again. And by the way, you look beautiful. I want you to know this before we read a word. Just so you know it comes from me and not some spell you think you’ve cast over me out of that sorcerer’s book.”

  “Very well.” She dismissed his glib remark and turned to the first chapter. “Love does not come from the heart but from the brain. It is the brain that sends signals throughout the body, telling you what to feel. Therefore, to stimulate a man’s arousal—”

  Finn laughed aloud. “Hold a moment. Are you certain Violet meant to give you this book?”

  Belle blushed profusely. “Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea. But she said it was scientific, and the observations would all make sense once we read through it. She insisted that I read through every chapter. I tried…I started…but something always held me back.”

  “I’m with you now,” he said gently. “We’ll do this together.”

  She took a deep breath, hoping what Violet had told her was accurate. “Therefore, to stimulate a man’s arousal response, one must arouse his sense receptacles in a pleasing way. By touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing. Finn, I’m not sure I understand this.”

  He leaned closer, regarding her with patience. “It will be explained as we continue, but I think the same would apply the opposite way. For a man to win the heart of a woman, he’d have to appeal to her senses as much as she would have to appeal to his. Let’s test the sense of smell. What’s my scent today, Belle?”

  She inhaled lightly and smiled. “Claudius again. That was easy.” She inhaled once more because she loved the scent of him. “Yes, definitely, Claudius.”

  “Are your sense receptacles tingling?”

  If going off like fireworks was the same thing, then yes, they were. “What do you mean?”