“I have no intention of being polite to this pushy, nosey rabble.”
“Great gad, woman! Can you never act as you are supposed to? You disgust me.”
“How nice to hear you say so, Bernard. In fact, I’m extraordinarily pleased. I believe the little surprise I’ve planned for you later this evening will more than meet your expectations.”
The Marchioness took a faltering step back, her head whipping back and forth between the engaged couple. As their sniping continued, she began to look faint…and panicked. “Lord Karmon, father expects such uncivilized actions of Chastity, however, he would be shocked to see you behaving so before our company.”
Bernard’s face turned red and he looked away, lips drawn tight with anger, body tense with the effort to control his temper. “You are correct, of course, Lady Avondale.” He gave a stiff bow. “Please accept my apologies. As usual, I lost my temper around your cousin.”
Chastity hid her grin at Bernard’s chagrin. Patting Alicia’s arm, she gave the hostess of tonight's extravagant gala a pitying glance. “Poor Ali; forced by your daddy to play chaperone to your wild, New Indian relative. This re-entry into polite society isn’t working and it’s obvious you’ve realized I am slated to be this season’s most spectacular failure.”
“Would you please stop snarling at your guests and behave?”
“Your guests, cuz,” she returned out the side of her mouth, lips barely moving, “yours and Bernard’s. I didn’t invite any of them, so my behavior has been exemplary…relatively speaking.”
Alicia’s shoulders slumped. She did dejected well and managed to make Chastity feel guilty. After all, her quarrel wasn’t with her cousin. Truthfully, she had always liked Alicia best of all her relatives.
“Doing it a little too brown, dear,” she whispered.
Lowering her head, Alicia slumped more.
Chastity threw her hands up in surrender. “Oh, very well, I’ll try to act civilized…for your sake.” She laughed at Alicia’s exaggerated relieved sigh but the next guests had her wishing she could take back her rash promise. Gritting her teeth, she gave a curt nod and begrudgingly acknowledged the Duke and Duchess of Pettibone.
Slim to the point of scrawniness, Pettibone towered over his stout lady wife, his sour expression stealing what little handsomeness he had. Completely ignoring her, he greeted Alicia and Bernard, leaving his wife to trail along behind him.
Fighting back the wicked urge to do something to shock the spit out of the dour-looking aristocrat, she settled for batting her eyelashes at him as she snatched up his hand and vigorously shook the limp appendage.
The Duke’s appalled expression pleased Chastity to no end. He was trapped by his own interpretation of socially acceptable behavior. He couldn’t retrieve his hand without committing a gross social gaffe.
She smiled full in his face.
The Duke froze in place. His eyes widened then flared with sudden heat.
What? Why do men always get that look on their faces when I smile? Yuck!
Deciding she needed to stop smiling, Chastity shrugged off the incident and reached to shake the Duchess’ hand. She, at least, looked friendly.
The pale green eyes that met her brown ones held no censure and the generous mouth curved in a motherly smile as the dimpled woman squeezed her hand. Unwinding a bit, Chastity gave the short woman a real smile in return. The Duchess startled her by drawing her closer and furtively whispering, “My name is Lucynda. You need to come to me at the earliest opportunity, dear.”
Already acknowledging the next guests crowding behind the royal couple, Chastity nodded absently. Trying to pay attention to names and titles and figure out what Lady Lucynda’s secretive exchange had been about started a pounding headache behind her eyes. She gave up both exercises, content to have Alicia prompt her with names.
“Uhm-hhmm…”
Chassy knew the woman so grandiosely clearing her throat. This guest truly was the last person she wanted to see.
Greeting the hag civilly didn’t come easily. It was hard keeping the frown off her face and the fake smile hurt her jaw. Rosalind Gradimore hated her guts and she knew it. “Why, Lady Gradimore, how lovely that you could attend…” Not!
“So glad to see you back from the wilds of New India, Lady Tilson. Too bad it was the sad circumstance of your father’s violent death that forced your return.”
Bitch.
“Thank you for your words of sympathy, Rosalind. I felt it best to be with my family in this painful time. Yet, my father lives on…in my heart.” She dramatically placed a hand over her heart.
The other woman simpered, mouthed some appropriate sentiment, but her lips drew up in a bitter curve at the common use of her first name.
Chassy’s smile turned genuine. How it irked Rosalind that her title and circumstance were lower. She could never address Chastity as anything other than Lady Tilson or milady unless given permission.
She wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon.
“His Highness, the Grand Duke Archer Morrison and the Grand Duchess, Lady Eileen!”
Now, here were people she delighted seeing.
Chassy’s curtsey to the royal couple was deep and respectful. The king’s brother and his wife had always been close, true family friends.
“Chastity,” the grand duke began in his powerful basso voice, “we were so sorry to hear about your father’s demise. He was a good friend. We shall miss him.” His voice never cracked but she read his sincerity in the hooded look he shared with her.
“Thank you, your highness.” She bowed again. “My father always held you in high regard, as do I.”
“Has the murderer been apprehended yet?”
Chassy’s lips drew flat, her eyes narrow. “Not yet, sir, but you can rest assured I will find the person or persons responsible for separating me from my father.
“Not now, Archer, Chastity!” The low reprimand reminded Chassy they were not in a private place.
“Your highness,” she whispered, sinking into another deep courtesy.
Lady Eileen pulled her up from her genuflecting and hugged her, pressing a warm cheek against hers in a sign of affection. “It is so good to see you out of mourning, Chassy. Life must continue, but we understand how you still miss him. Feel free to call upon us for any need, darling. You are like a niece to us.”
Their words melted the shield of animosity she’d erected and tears stung her eyes. She cringed, not willing to expose her true worry to the crowd of vultures comprising most of the evening’s guests.
“Yes, indeed, you may call upon us, child.” The Grand Duke curled his index finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Loosing a loved one is hard, liebchen, but this is not the place to let others see your pain…or your anger.” His low pitched words reached her ears, only.
Grateful for the support, Chastity nodded, letting him wipe away the evidence of her pain with his finger.
“Smile for me, now. Let me see that vaunted appeal others have mentioned,” he urged with avuncular humor.
Obeying, she flashed the couple a wide grin and was shocked to see the man she thought of as an uncle stiffen and flinch back. The grand duke stepped back and reached blindly for his wife’s hand, curling his fingers about hers as if he held on to a lifeline.
Unease roiled through Chassy. The smile fell from her face. She didn’t want to understand his reaction, but was glad beyond words she hadn’t seen lust glittering in his gentle eyes.
“That is a mighty weapon you wield, young woman,” the Grand Duchess murmured, mouth curved in a wry grin. “Use it wisely.”
Huh?
She pondered the grand duchess’ words while the royal couple passed on. Another took their place, with another and another lined up behind those. Growing more frustrated by the minute, Chastity fidgeted beside her momentary fiancée and her cousin. “When does this interminable ritual end?”
Bernard drew away, distancing himself physically as well as emotionally. His
non-verbal disapproval was biting and as acerbic as his verbal. “It ends as soon as the last well-wisher is greeted and not before. Cretin,” he finished, muttering under his breath.
His pompous attitude irked her and she twitched her skirts to the side. He wasn’t the only one who could convey disgust and dislike with a gesture. Giving him her back, she resumed greeting and smiling at the guests, her emotions as frozen as her fake smile.
Her uncle had done exactly as she’d prophesied; forcing a dynastic betrothal upon her almost as soon as she’d arrived. The Duke of Eathrington was a familial martinet, holding the reigns of his household in a tight controlling fist. His wife and children all toed the line or faced the threat of disinheritance. He pretended he acted on Chastity’s best interests, but he lied to himself as well as to her.
Bernard, Lord Karmon, was the only son of the neighboring aristocratic family. Lord Eathrington had long coveted the rich lands that marched along his northern borders and saw a way to insure they would come into his hands. By offering Chastity’s vast ducal lands as bait, he’d managed to get the Karmons to agree to deed over the contested land. As soon as the marriage went through, the lands were his.
Little did her uncle know she had no intention of falling into line and being one of the quiet, retiring little social butterflies without minds, he’d turned his own daughters into. This betrothal would end tonight. She would finally be able to rid herself of Bernard’s possessive posturing and snide male attitude of superiority.
The party wouldn’t really get started until twelve midnight. When the clock struck, Alicia would have a huge cake rolled out and the guests would wish her felicitations. Bernard planned to announce the date of their wedding.
Chassy’s plans were a bit contrary to theirs. She could hardly wait. A few more guests to greet…a few more hours till freedom…
Bored beyond attention, she barely noticed the last few people she greeted. A handshake, a curtsey, a regal nod of the head, depending on the social status of the ones presented to her. And then a commotion at the door distracted her. Wandering gaze following the burst of noise, she focused on the front door and caught a glimpse of the new arrivals.
She froze in the act of clasping the hand extended toward her. Mouth falling open, Chastity gaped at the tall gentleman passing beneath her elevated position at the top of the flaring staircase. Her spice-brown eyes followed his path, greedily drinking in the unadulterated male splendor.
“Great guardian angel-serpents…just look at him!”
Under the glittering light of a thousand flickering candles the man’s darkly tanned skin was a dramatic contrast against the pristine white of his neck linens. The tailored cut of his formal black tuxedo and skin-tight breeches emphasized the powerful outline of his magnificent build. The close-fitting cloth indecently hugged his body, highlighted the heft and jut of his sex.
“My God…!” Chastity gasped, ignoring the shocked expressions of the bewigged nobleman standing before her, hand still outstretched for the acknowledgement she’d failed to make. He huffed, insulted when she absently shooed him out of her line-of-sight, and then literally pushed him out of the way when he didn’t move fast enough.
Head a-swirl with the giddy rush of sudden arousal, she leaned over the banister for a longer, more focused look, craning her neck to keep him in view. She couldn’t drag her eyes away.
“You are insufferable!” Bernard snatched her arm, pulling her away from the railing. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Look who’s talking,” she snapped, baring her teeth and yanking her arm away. “Touch me again and I’ll garrote you. I was going to save this for later but since I can’t stand your hand on me another moment, I’ll tell you now. This betrothal is over!”
Bernard grimaced, distaste etched in every line of his face. “You don’t have any say in ending our betrothal. Your uncle set it up and he is the only one who can nullify it.”
She brushed her hands together, ridding them of the slimy feeling of having touched Bernard, and shook out her skirts. Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she glared at the man who thought he owned her.
“Lord Karmon, I have officially gained my majority…and my independence. My money is not subject to my uncle’s control after tonight. I am not subject to my uncle after tonight. And I choose not to be subject to you ever. Now get out of my sight, you’re obstructing my view.”
Giving him a fierce frown, she turned her back on him and moved back to the stair rail, ignoring the gasps of those who had gathered around to eavesdrop. Leaning over the side, she searched the crowd until she again sighted her prey.
“Ah! There you are, you handsome hunk, you.” She sighed dreamily as the man paused to speak to an acquaintance. As the two men spoke, he shifted until he was facing the stair, giving her an unobstructed frontal view.
The man was gorgeous. No male should be built like that, endowed that well… If that bulge behind his pantaloons represented his cock at rest, she couldn’t wait to see it in full erection.
Perhaps he follows the current fad and stuffs padding in his small-clothes. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Chastity chuckled, shaking her head. Somehow, observing the fluid shifting of honed muscles as he maneuvered effortlessly across the parquet floor, she just knew there was nothing false or artificial about his athletic body. That bulge was all him, every curled thick inch of it.
Liana had been right, as she usually proved to be. Fate had caught up with her tonight…and what a fate. Forgetful of her audience, she groaned deep in her throat, a gruff, sexy sound she’d never made before. Pressing both hands against her chest, she attempted to contain her thudding heart, her thundering pulse. Mind racing, she blinked drooping lids, striving to clear her racing thoughts.
Just the sight of him energized her, made her see colors where the world had been black and white. Her nose twitched as aromas assailed her—the sweet cloying miasma of a hundred different, battling perfumes almost overwhelmed her. Beneath it all, the scent of him, sharp and green, like new growth in a primal jungle, reached her, driving a spear of lust into her brain.
The knowledge of him thrummed in her blood. Since early girlhood, she had dreamed, had chased an elusive form through fantasy landscapes of recurring nightly visions. At first, they’d been frightening, disturbing, dark and mysterious. Over the years, the dreams had morphed into erotic fantasies that made it easy for her reject the pale imitations of manhood surrounding her. None of her would-be swains could measure up to her dream lover.
Without having ever met him, she knew this man loved peas, but never touched liver. Knew he kissed divinely; liked his tea cold and his sex hot and sweaty.
Certainty warred with confusion. How could she know such intimate details about the man yet not know something as simple as his name?
With no effort on his part, this man had already captured her attention. If she weren’t extremely careful, he could end up stealing her heart and costing her, her life.
Hands shaking, she turned back to her cousin and gripped her wrist, determined on getting information. “Ali, quickly, you’ve got to tell me who that gorgeous man is.”
“I don’t think I’d better. You’re already too starry-eyed over him. He is danger with a capitol D.” Alicia leaned away to murmur an absent acknowledgment at some late-arriving guests.
Gnawing her bottom lip, Chastity waited impatiently while the young Marchioness completed her hostess duties so she could get back to their conversation. She couldn’t help but notice how her cousin dealt with each of her guests, the important ones as well as the not so important. Everyone was treated as if they were special.
If one didn’t know better, they’d think Alicia loved hostessing when in fact, Chassy knew she abhorred these elaborate social events. She would, however, do anything for her adored and adoring husband, Monty and Montgomery Stanton, Marquis of Avondale, held political aspirations.
Ali’s father, the Duke of Eathrington—acting as Chastity
’s new guardian--had agreed to sign Monty’s Indigent Bill if he would allow his wife to host this party. Of course, Monty had agreed, his hopes of political advancement winning over his dislike of his cousin-by-marriage.
As soon as Alicia finished her duty, Chastity spun her around. “Alright, now give! Tell me everything you know about that man.”
“You know, Chassy, I’ve always liked you. It isn’t your fault that you had to spend the majority of your formative years in the uncivilized wilds of New-India with eccentric uncle Cedric.”
“Gee, thanks, cuz.”
Ali raised her eyebrow at the sarcastic note in Chassy’s voice. “You’re welcome. Watching your outlandish behavior, while frightening at times, has been very entertaining. I wouldn’t dare behave like you, but I’m actually enjoying this gala. At least, I was until you went ga-ga and your eyes popped over the one man you should never have seen.”
“Who is he?” Chassy grit her teeth. “I swear, Ali, if you don’t tell me I’ll go ask him, myself.”
Alicia shook her head and tsk-tsked at her charge’s threat. “I believe you would, too. Very well, then, his name is Darian Acer, once Viscount Chesley, now known as Dare-the-Devil Acer—Dare for short.”
“Darian…” she tasted it on her tongue. “I like it. It’s a strong name, fit for a strong man.”
“I wonder how he got in,” Alicia mused aloud. “I certainly did not invite him.” She faced Chastity and placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to pay attention. Dropping her voice to a whisper she hissed, “Listen to me, Chassy… Dare may be beautiful to behold, but unfortunately, he is not safe. He is not the kind of man a woman like you should pursue.”
She disengaged herself from her cousin’s hold. “A woman like me…? Shall I tell you what kind of woman am I, Ali?” A practiced flick of the wrist set her dainty fan in motion, too late, trying to shield her expression. She hoped Ali didn’t see the avid gaze she directed toward Darian Acer. “I am just the kind of woman who needs a Darian Acer in her life.”
Humming softly, Chassy twisted her neck and visually followed the gentleman's leisurely progress across the crowded ballroom, watched him saunter about with the unconscious grace of a Bengal tiger.
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