An Improper Seduction

by Quill, Suzanne

  “Oh, yes, my lady. I am. You were so correct about the color and the style. There are a number of young men here who have had a positive reaction. Even the viscount complimented me.”

  Angeline was sure the viscount did but she doubted Gertrude would have read the leer which was also given. Gertrude had much to learn about Society. Angeline hoped she was a quick study or she might not make it to a Season in London.

  The room became suddenly silent. Most every head turned to the door. When Angeline turned away from her friends, she could not be surprised that it was the marquess standing in the doorway.

  He did look dashing, not at all like a fop despite the fact that he was dressed in formal attire. His jacket and pants were such a dark green they looked to be black. His shirt and cravat showed even whiter for the darkness of his clothes. Both were immaculately tailored and the cravat tied in a sedate but formal style. Geoffrey stood at the door for some moments surveying the crowd. When his eyes met hers, the excitement heated her skin and tightened her lungs.

  He moved toward her directly.

  Angeline could not move. She stood stock still as he approached. She could hear the twittering of the ladies around her but what they were saying did not register.

  His gaze never left hers.

  As he neared, the green of his eyes flared with some inner light, some inner knowing. Angeline felt her whole body brace itself for his touch.

  “Ladies.” Geoffrey bowed to her companions, then turned to her to take her hand. “Lady Angeline.” His warm lips brushed the back of her hand as he continued to look into her eyes.

  “My lord,” she said as she curtsied and took a much-needed breath. She was sure she would pop all of her stays if she didn’t get control of her breathing. Large gasps for air would burst her ribs against the fittings.

  A throat cleared behind the marquess. Angeline looked up to see Viscount Hexford standing behind him. She quashed the urge to make a repugnant face.

  As Geoffrey rose he moved aside while placing Angeline’s hand on his arm.

  “I will be starting the first dance. You will partner me, Lady Angeline. Will you not?” Hexford knew it was unlikely any woman in the room would dare refuse the host the first dance when asked.

  “As you wish, my lord.” She looked up to Geoffrey’s face, his lips twitched as he acknowledged her proper behavior and released her hand.

  Angeline tried not to shudder as Hexford tucked her hand in his crooked arm. They stopped in the center of the dance floor where she knew every eye in the room was fixed on the two of them. Hexford beamed as if he had gained her attentions permanently. He nodded to the orchestra, which began a melody no doubt prearranged with the viscount.

  It was a waltz. Hexford pulled her into his arms.

  Geoffrey girded his loins to watch another man be the first to take his lover across the dance floor. He could do little but stand and watch the rich, gold, silk brocade of Angeline’s full-skirted gown float by him. He could only admire from afar the wide, laced- edge décolletage that hinted of the charms hidden beneath. He could only stand to the side as he appreciated the stylish, pointed bodice that emphasized her slim waist, and the pleated, beret sleeves that sheltered her graceful arms. She would have shone just as brightly on a ballroom floor in London. He settled in to enjoy Angeline’s graceful movements and the enchantment she wove upon the room as the other guests, too, watched their host and his lover dance.

  But it wasn’t long before his serenity was tested and he flinched when he witnessed Hexford’s overbearing actions. He could see, though he doubted others noticed, the viscount trying to draw Angeline closer. She was using all her strength to pull herself away. Geoffrey’s body tightened as he watched her subtly struggle. Would he have to make a scene?

  The dance continued for some moments before the orchestra gave some hint that others could take the floor. Geoffrey turned and bowed to Gertrude and begged for her hand. He had to get closer in case Hexford strayed out of bounds.

  Gertrude seemed delighted to be his partner, but Geoffrey had eyes only for Angeline. He kept the conversation with the miss trite and watched Hexford, whose steps were less than elegant, steer Angeline around the floor. He nearly sighed out loud when the dance came to an end and the ladies curtsied to their partners’ bows.

  Hexford led Angeline back to the Sisters Grimm as he did the same with Gertrude.

  Bowing once again, Hexford said, “I must see to my other guests. I thank you, Lady Angeline, for the dance and pray we will share company later.”

  Angeline returned a chill smile and turned to face her friends as Hexford departed. Geoffrey reclaimed her hand upon his arm. The look he shared with her spoke volumes but no words were passed.

  As the early hours elapsed, Angeline remained on his arm while she introduced Geoffrey to neighbors he had yet to meet. He inquired if she wished to dance but she declined until the last waltz before dinner.

  He escorted her to the floor and gently pulled her to him, as close as propriety would allow. His heart warmed as she easily came to him and fitted herself in his grasp. He bent his lips to her ear.

  “Words cannot describe your loveliness tonight, darling. The gold of your gown highlights the flecks in your eyes and the glints in your hair.” He squeezed her hand and drew her just a little closer. How could he tell her how he’d lost his breath when he saw her from the door? The bodice of her gown clung like a golden web around her lithe but lush frame. Her breasts were properly covered but their fullness rose high from the décolletage exposing a swathe of creamy skin that glowed from the reflection of the fabric and her good health. Her hair, though artfully arranged, begged for him to slide his fingers among the curls and braids and pull the pins to let it be free. Then he would draw her so close he could take her mouth with his and start their mating dance anew.

  He drew his thoughts back to the waltz lest he cause their steps to falter. “I pray I get myself under control before this dance has ended or the entire gathering will know what I am thinking.”

  He watched the flush rise to her cheeks.

  “My lord, you embarrass me. You know you have more control than I.” She looked up at him, a seductive glint in her pale green eyes, as if she wanted to be nowhere else but in his arms.

  “Angeline, if anyone is watching us right now, I am quite sure they know there is something between us.” He smiled at the double entendre. “Their question could only be, how much?”

  The dance ended, their momentary solitude shattered; an announcement was made dinner was served and the viscount would select a lady to escort to table.

  Angeline girded her loins. She had no doubt who that someone was to be.

  Geoffrey gave her an understanding and encouraging look as she was claimed by Hexford and led to the dining room. She caught a last glance of him over her shoulder as he returned to the Sisters Grimm and their charge.

  Dinner was a tedious affair, as the viscount fawned over her. He made a point that everyone be aware she was seated to his left. The food was mediocre at best and the service was slow; there were not enough footmen to do the job properly. Obviously, Hexford invested his monies in places other than his estate. And, there was no doubt, if he gained a fortune by marrying a wealthy heiress, those funds, too, would not go to the proper maintenance and staffing of his lands.

  She consoled herself it would not be her inheritance which would be called to bear. But she did feel sorry for the helpless girl who would be burdened with the task. She expected it would be arranged with some father who wanted a title for his daughter and his own prestige in the Ton. Society could be very cruel.

  She was finally released after the meal. When she was returned to her father, she could not see the marquess anywhere in the room. As they came upon her friends once more, she inquired of his whereabouts.

 
It seems he had been drawn off by some of the local gentlemen to discuss horseflesh and estate matters. Men never gave it up.

  After the next dance, Angeline was happy to sit on one of the settees and give her feet a rest. No sooner had she settled than a footman delivered a note to her on a silver salver. “The Library” was all it said.

  It did not quite look like Geoffrey’s handwriting. True, it was broad and grand but something about it was different. Maybe not quite as neat.

  But, maybe he was in a hurry or writing it someplace where he might be seen.

  She turned to her friends. “Please excuse me, ladies. I fear my feet have been used badly and I wish to retire for a few minutes to give them rest.”

  Gertrude turned quickly toward her. “Lady Angeline, are you not well? May I assist you?”

  “Of course not, Gertrude. I am fine and I do not wish to take you away from the party. You need practice dancing and flirting with the eligible gentlemen. I’ll just take a brief rest and return to you shortly.” She turned to go but was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

  “Be wise, Lady Angeline.” It was Miss Patience, who concluded her warning with a knowing wink.

  Angeline blushed, leaving the sisters nodding to each other as she retreated.

  The library door was ajar when she reached it. The lighting was soft, with only two lit candles in tarnished brass candlesticks on the mantel. The draperies, of worn burgundy velvet, were drawn back to let the starlit sky show through the two windows flanking the large desk at the end of the room. The threadbare rug hushed her footsteps as she crossed to the windows.

  There was no one in the room.

  She stood by the glass peering into the garden, occasionally looking at the reflection of the door on the pane. Minutes passed as she calmed her fluttering nerves. Surely the marquess would do nothing untoward here where they could be discovered. Would he force her hand in such a caddish manner?

  She saw the door move in the reflection. Turning toward the door, the smile on her lips froze as her eyes took in the leering form of Viscount Hexford.

  “I knew you would not dismiss my invitation, Angeline.” His hand shut the door quietly behind him.

  Did he lock it?

  “I have much been looking forward all evening to having you to myself. You look ravishing tonight, my dear. Fit for the likes of a viscount.” He moved forward. Angeline shifted behind the desk.

  Hexford continued to advance. Angeline tried to move around the desk but she brushed up against the large leather desk chair, which did not seem to move as she pushed her weight against it. She turned to take an arm in each hand and guide the chair out of the way.

  Hands stole around her waist and grabbed her breasts painfully. She felt the weight of the viscount at her back and the threat of his manhood, hard but not near as great as Geoffrey’s, against her derrière.

  Damn. How did she get herself into such a predicament?

  The pain ceased as Hexford released her but the relief was short lived as he spun her around and cornered her against the desk.

  “My dear,” he crooned in her ear, his breath reeking of drink and dinner, “you have kept me waiting far too long.”

  He leaned against her, knowing his greater weight would keep her immobilized.

  Angeline shuddered as she felt his hand on her leg pulling up the fabric.

  “I think we will take the time to seal the proposal right now, right here.” His other hand came up to painfully squeeze her breast.

  “No. Whatever you do, I shall not marry you.” She squirmed, her hands shoved against his chest to free herself.

  “When we are done,” he sneered, “I doubt you will have any choice in the matter.”

  “Let me go.” Angeline slapped at his face, pushed his hands away, and continued to fight her assailant. “I will not have you.”

  “But I will have you. And when the matter is settled, it will not be so bad. I’ll get you with an heir and the proverbial spare and you’ll be happy enough raising the brats and staying out of my way. After all, women aren’t much good for more than bedding and breeding anyhow.”

  “You are the most loathsome male I have ever met. Your ideas are absolutely archaic as well as distasteful.” She continued to struggle. “Let me go. Wedding me will do you no good. I will still be in charge of my fortune. My father made it so. And, I would give you not a farthing if your very life depended upon it.”

  “There are ways around such inconveniences, Angeline. But we need not enumerate them here. Now, let me have you.”

  Losing all patience, she screamed at him, “No, let me go.” With no hesitation and all the strength of her body, she raked her nails down the right side of his face.

  The door swung open, hard against the wall.

  “At last,” sneered the viscount. “Now we’ll see who will be bested.” As he looked up Angeline saw his face redden in rage. She turned her head. Geoffrey was rapidly advancing toward them.

  “Angeline, are you all right?” He demanded. “Has he damaged you? I’ll cut out his heart if he so much as—”

  “Geoffrey.” She shoved the viscount aside and went into his open embrace. Looking up, she said, “I’m fine. Nothing happened. You arrived just in time.”

  Geoffrey moved her behind him. “I’ll deal with this bastard.”

  “It was not to be you,” said the viscount, finally coming to his senses. “It was to be. . .”

  “Yes, yes. Who was in on your little game? Who was to back up your dishonorable claim for Angeline’s hand?” Geoffrey heard movement at the door, but when he and Angeline spun, around no one was there.

  “She should be mine,” raged Hexford. “I have waited all these years for her to give over but I can’t afford to wait any longer. Who are you but some rakish upstart from London? You can have any of the chits who come out every Season. Angeline is mine and I shall have her.” The viscount’s face turned purple with his anger. “Get out of my way and let me finish my business.”

  The hard look in Geoffrey’s eyes told Angeline Hexford was being foolish daring the marquess to lose his temper.

  “She’s not yours. At this moment she belongs to no one and neither you nor any other shall force her into it.” Losing all control Geoffrey pulled back his arm and smashed his closed fist into the same side of the viscount’s face that Angeline had soundly scratched. The viscount reeled back and fell into the leather desk chair.

  “Stay away from her, Hexford. Or I’ll have the pleasure of calling you out. I guarantee, if I do, it will be the last day of your life.”

  Geoffrey turned back, and grabbed Angeline by the arm to pull her from the room. Heat radiated from him like the sun and his face was set in such a way it looked like it had turned permanently to granite.

  Down the hall, down the steps to the front door, without giving her a chance to say a word, Geoffrey called for his carriage and led her down the steps.

  “My father. . .” she pleaded.

  Geoffrey turned to a footman and mumbled a few words as his coach drew up amid a bustle of activity by every servant in the area. Geoffrey threw the carriage door open and roughly helped Angeline inside.

  After settling into the cushions across from her, Geoffrey stared at her. He stayed quiet for some moments while they pulled away from the manor. Geoffrey banged on the ceiling and gave orders to take them to her home. Then he resettled and looked at her.

  He took in a deep breath. Quietly, he asked, “What in bloody hell were you thinking?”

  His subdued tone warned Angeline this was a matter to be handled very carefully. She took a deep breath of her own.

  “Did you think to make me jealous of that crude lout?” The rough driveway jostled the two of them and almost threw her into the marquess’s lap.

 
“I thought no such thing, my lord.” She had fire in her voice. She was not about to be accused of actions in which she had no part. “I would never step so low, over you or any man.”

  “Well, then, what happened?” His voice was under control now but danger still lurked there.

  “I received a note.”

  “A note. From whom?”

  “I thought it was from you, Geoffrey.” Maybe using his name would disarm him a little.

  “From me?” He roared. “Would you think I was so callous or selfish I would work to compromise you in Hexford’s house?”

  “Well, my lord,” Angeline took another deep breath to sustain herself through the next onslaught. “There is the circumstance at the inn. . .”

  “The inn?”

  “Well, we were alone. We were unchaperoned. The public rooms were filled with villagers. Anyone could have thought anything.”

  “Nonsense, Angeline. The innkeeper was free to come and go as he pleased. The door was unlocked.”

  “Geoffrey, I hardly see the difference and I had the note.”

  “Where is this note? Could you not tell my writing? You’ve seen it often enough?”

  “I dropped it. And, true the writing was not exactly like yours but I thought you might be hurried or someone might be watching. I thought it was from you.” She could feel the heat in her face and the embarrassment in her heart. It had not been he who had sent for her. It was a near thing.

  Geoffrey was quiet and took a number of deep breaths as if straining to control himself. He gazed out the window at the passing countryside illuminated only by the waxing moon and twinkling stars. He let go of a heavy sigh as he ran his hand through his thick locks. A curl fell over his forehead.