Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Never Trust a RakeDicing With the Dangerous LordA Daring Liaison

by Annie Burrows

  ‘Not tonight. And definitely not here. But soon.’

  The breath stuttered in her chest. They were back to speaking of kissing.

  ‘So tell me,’ he said, leaning closer, ‘whether I may expect to see you at the theatre tomorrow night?’

  ‘Yes, you will. Of course you will. I told you Uncle Ledbetter has hired a box, did I not?’

  ‘I recall something of the sort. But who knows, you may have received so many invitations since we last spoke that your aunt has decided to take you instead to the Arlingtons’ soirée, or the Lensboroughs’ rout party.’

  She shook her head. Heavens, but it was hard to breathe, let alone form rational thoughts, when he looked at her mouth like that...

  ‘Oh!’

  He was doing it to her. Looking at her mouth, in just the way he’d told her she was to look at a man’s mouth, to let them know she was speculating.

  ‘That is a very effective tool,’ she said, in total awe of his skill. ‘And a very practical demonstration of the kind of look I should be giving men.’

  The sultry look died from his eyes.

  ‘A salutary lesson,’ he said, somewhat bewilderingly.

  Then his face hardened.

  ‘Time to cease, now, I think. You look sufficiently flustered by my love-making to stir up the gossips.’

  She felt like a deflating balloon. For a moment she had forgotten this was all make-believe. She had felt as though she was just talking to a friend.

  But a man like Lord Deben could never truly be her friend.

  She forced herself to smile, and look about her in an interested way once he’d bowed and left her. Above all, she refused to allow her eyes to follow his progress through the room, like a lovesick puppy. Yet her fingers closed round the handkerchief he’d left lying in her lap. And when she thought nobody was looking, she stuffed it hastily into her reticule. Only then, her mouth firmed with determination, did she get to her own feet, and set off through the throng to seek out her aunt and Mildred, and the rest of their party.

  * * *

  The moment they entered their box at the theatre the next night, Henrietta scanned the auditorium to see if she could spot Lord Deben. He was standing, quite alone, in a box that was virtually opposite theirs, gazing down upon the crowd below with a decided air of disdain. He couldn’t have been in a better position to notice her if he’d planned it. As she sat down, she wondered if he had. She could imagine him discovering where they were going to be sitting, by some nefarious means, and then making sure he would be able to watch her all night without having to go to the bother of craning his neck.

  Well, she wasn’t going to appear any less cool about their forthcoming assignation than he. She would not keep stealing glances at him, to see whether he was watching her, or whether he would acknowledge her across the theatre by bowing, or making some other sign of recognition.

  But it was no use. Just knowing he was there and that he would be coming to their box during the first interval made it completely impossible to think about anything else. The harder she tried to avoid looking at him, the more aware of him she became. Though she kept her eyes riveted upon the stage, she was completely unable to follow the plot and, when the other occupants of her box burst out laughing, she was at a loss to comprehend whether it was due to something the actors had done on purpose, or the result of a joke Mr Crimmer had made about their performance.

  Even when he did come, it was quite impossible to look at him directly, but only to dart him small glances. He greeted her uncle, and while he spent a few moments talking to him about the play she looked at his shoes, his evening stockings, and the way her uncle’s cravat bobbed in and out as he talked. Then her eyes slid towards her aunt, who was gazing up at Lord Deben in awe, taking in, on the way, the set of his shoulders and the way his hair curled upon his coat collar.

  And then he was taking her arm and she could only conclude that her aunt had granted him permission to take her for a walk along the corridor behind the boxes.

  ‘Miss Gibson.’

  She gave a start and looked up to find Lord Deben giving her a quixotic smile.

  ‘Dare I ask,’ he said, ‘what you were thinking about so deeply? If I were a more sensitive man, I would think you were scarcely aware of me at all.’

  ‘Oh. Lord Deben. I do apologise. I was just...’

  ‘Wondering what you might say to enchant me tonight?’

  ‘I most certainly was not.’ She’d already worked out that any attempt to impress him would meet with derision. So there was no point in being anything other than herself.

  ‘Most women would have made use of that opening to commence flirting with me. But you, Miss Gibson, you are a delight. I adore the fact that there is no artifice about you.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Indeed I do. You need have no fear of telling me what has been occupying your mind, you know. There is nothing you can say that would shock me.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ she muttered darkly. ‘However, there are things that no lady should discuss with a man.’

  ‘Well, now I am really intrigued,’ he said. ‘Although I cannot, for the life of me, imagine you thinking about anything so improper you dare not let the subject pass your lips.’

  She wished he had not spoken of lips. It made hers tingle with hope and recall what his had felt like against the skin of her neck.

  ‘If there are improper thoughts in my head,’ she said resentfully, ‘it is entirely your fault for putting them there.’

  ‘Now that sounds promising,’ he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I do not think I shall be able to rest, now, until I know the nature of them.’

  Oh dear. She should have known better than to attempt to fence with a man of his experience. She could not, would not admit that the mere sight of him was enough to make her weak at the knees. Or, worse, that thoughts of him filled her mind to the extent that from time to time, today, she had found herself scarcely able to flounder through the most routine of conversations. And most especially not that she was growing increasingly impatient to have him actually kiss her, mouth on mouth, breast to breast, thigh to thigh.

  Just then, they passed a man lounging against the wall, ogling the passing ladies through his eyeglass, and inspiration struck her.

  ‘Well, if you must know,’ she said, absolving herself with the reminder that what she was about to say was true in a sense, ‘it is what you said about...’ her cheeks flushed and she lowered her voice ‘...bottoms.’

  He burst out laughing. ‘I never know what you are going to say from one moment to the next. Whether you are going to fly up into the boughs, or say something utterly outrageous.’

  She flicked open her fan and worked it rapidly over her burning cheeks.

  ‘D-dare I ask,’ he managed to say once he’d controlled his mirth, ‘in what context?’

  ‘Well, you pointed out that men watched them.

  Ladies’ ones, I mean. And so I found myself watching men do it. Like that man, there,’ she said, nodding her head in the direction of the lecher with the eyeglass. ‘But,’ she said firmly, ‘it does not seem to matter very much whether they are neat or untidy, or whether ladies sway their hips enticingly or not. Men look anyway.’

  ‘Indeed we do. It is one of life’s harmless little pleasures.’

  She huffed. ‘It might be harmless for men to look, but I’m beginning to think that attempting to make men look is not harmless at all. Why, I have seen married ladies sashaying round the room in such a way that nobody can doubt they are doing it on purpose to make men look. And the ones that do that have a tendency to smile in a rather naughty way at handsome gentlemen once they’ve caught their attention. And shoot them positively inviting looks over the tops of their fans,’ she finished in disgust. ‘Oh, no doubt you’ve seen it al
l before. But I never really thought about the way women go about attracting the notice of men before.’

  ‘And it shocks you,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes, it does. It does not seem to me the way that married ladies ought to conduct themselves at all. I...I suppose that makes me seem very gauche to you, sir.’

  ‘Say refreshing, rather.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You are the only female I have ever met who says what she thinks. Most ladies do nothing but flirt with me. They speak on the surface about one topic, whilst underneath there is always a second meaning.’

  She frowned. ‘Even the married ones? With you?’

  Of course they did. He was famous for having conducted affairs only with married women at one stage in his life. She hoped he would not take her remark as a criticism of his own behaviour. Of course, it was very reprehensible. But somehow she found the women who would betray their husbands more to blame than a single gentleman who took them up on their invitation.

  ‘Yes. While their husbands are in the card room dealing with their boredom by gambling for ridiculous stakes, their wives get their thrills from seeking out new lovers. Say it.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘What you are thinking. I can see it written all over your face, so you might just as well ask why on earth they got married in the first place, if neither of them meant to remain faithful.’

  ‘I don’t need to now, do I?’

  ‘Persons of my rank choose partners because they come from good stock. It is all about inheritance. Bloodlines. There is very rarely any affection between such a couple. At best they tolerate each other, whilst getting on with their own lives.’

  ‘That’s very sad.’

  His mouth twisted into a cynical smile. ‘It is the way of the world.’

  ‘And why you have never married.’ She felt his arm stiffen under her hand and shot him a nervous look. She should not have presumed to touch upon such a personal matter. He was frowning.

  ‘So far,’ he agreed. ‘Though I shall have to marry, one day.’

  His heart was beating rapidly. Not that she was ready to receive a proposal from him, not yet. Besides, he would never propose to a woman in such a public place, during the interval between one act and the next. But this was a golden opportunity to open the topic so that when he did propose, it would not come as a complete shock.

  ‘I must have an heir, you see. I do have a younger brother, but lately I have begun to see that he is not a suitable person to succeed to the title, should I die childless.’ His mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste. ‘It is no secret. He is not my father’s son.’

  ‘Not your father’s...’ Henrietta’s eyes widened.

  ‘No. My mother was one of those ladies who did not take her marriage vows all that seriously, not once she’d done her duty in producing me. And although many men of my father’s rank do not care, he did not regard her infidelities with complaisance. It led to such unpleasantness that it has rather soured me against the whole idea of entering the married state.’

  ‘I am not surprised,’ she murmured.

  ‘However, I really cannot allow my own preferences to prevent me from doing my duty indefinitely. Just recently, I have begun to...’

  ‘What?’ He had remained broodingly silent for so long she’d begun to think he had regretted confiding in her.

  But then he flashed her a grim smile and said, ‘It is that damned poem, if you must know. The one about time’s winged chariot thundering up behind a man. It has been haunting me ever since my friend Toby Warren’s funeral. It was the unexpected nature of his death, I think, that shook me. One night I was drinking with him in my club, the next morning he was as dead as a doornail, for no apparent reason.’

  ‘How dreadful.’

  ‘It was, actually, because not a week earlier, we’d both attended Lord Levenhulme’s funeral. Now he had fallen from his horse and broken his neck, which is the sort of stupid accident that might happen to any man. But for Toby to just...not wake up. It made me...’

  ‘Realise that you cannot put off the inevitable.’

  ‘Precisely so.’

  Henrietta did not know what to say. And so they proceeded for a few paces in complete silence.

  Until he sighed, and said, ‘Do you have no advice for me? No pearls of wisdom?’

  She shot him a startled look. ‘I would not presume to give you advice.’

  ‘Have I not just asked you to do exactly that?’

  ‘Well, then,’ she began, tentatively, ‘it seems quite obvious to me what you should do.’

  ‘Pray enlighten me, then.’

  ‘You should look for a woman you like, who likes you back. And then perhaps having to marry her won’t seem such a dreadful fate.’

  ‘It is a start,’ he conceded gravely. ‘I shrink from embarking upon a lifelong relationship with a female for whom I can feel no affection. Nor would I wish to stay shackled to some poor creature who could feel none at all for me. As was the case with my mother. Although,’ he said, shooting her a challenging look, ‘like is such a tepid word. I would have thought you would have recommended I looked for something stronger. Like, perchance, love.’

  ‘Oh, no! I would never recommend you wait until you fall in love. I don’t think you are capable of...’ She trailed off, blushing.

  Although that could not have gone better if he’d planned it—for he had to make her see that although he would not mind if she loved him, she must not expect him to love her back—for some reason he did not like to hear her say it with such conviction.

  ‘You think me incapable of experiencing such a strong emotion? Or perhaps you meant to say, such a noble one?’

  ‘N-no, I would never say anything so...’

  ‘Impertinent?’

  ‘I was going to say unkind. I just don’t think, from what I have observed of your behaviour, that you are the kind of man to take any action, of any sort, without thinking about it carefully, and planning it down to the last detail. Falling in love is a very...impulsive thing to do. You cannot plan to do it. It just happens. Happens to you in such a way that you would feel...no longer in control. I do not think you would like that feeling. I think you would take care to avoid it.’

  ‘In that you are correct,’ he said. ‘I would not like it.’ Well, it was better for her to understand him. ‘And you are also correct in thinking that I shall not take a bride without studying her most carefully, and being absolutely sure she will be both a loyal wife to me and a loving mother to my children. Where do you suppose,’ he said quizzically, ‘I might find such a paragon?’

  ‘I’m sure I have no idea,’ she replied, although at least she did have more of an idea why he’d been so horrified by Miss Waverley’s attempt to trap him. He would have to respect a woman a great deal before she could persuade him she was worth overcoming his reluctance to enter the married state. And Miss Waverley had forfeited his respect by revealing an aspect to her nature that he would never tolerate in a wife.

  ‘No?’ He smiled at her then, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Never mind.’

  She couldn’t quite understand why that insouciant shrug of his shoulders should make her feel so depressed. It wasn’t as though she wanted Lord Deben to look upon her as a marital prospect.

  It was just, well, it was not at all pleasant to discuss some imaginary female, the kind of woman who would tempt him to abandon his bachelor freedoms for, when he took it as read that she was not that woman.

  He found her company amusing. She had made him laugh on several occasions. She supposed she must represent quite a change from all the people who agreed with his every word.

  But she was very far from being the kind of person who could handle marriage to a man of Lord Deben’s stamp and they both knew it. Or he would not be ab
le to talk to her about the kind of woman he would consider marrying, with such ease. And he would not be teaching her how to go about becoming seductive enough to attract that bevy of suitors he kept talking about.

  Oh, no. Was he just using her to distract him from a task he found singularly unpleasant? The task of sizing up the current crop of eligible débutantes, and deciding which of them he could steel himself to feel a little affection for?

  If that were the case...

  And she’d begun to think he really liked her. That they shared something...

  ‘Do you think we ought to return to our box now? My aunt and uncle will be wondering what has become of me.’

  She was wondering what had become of her. She had no reason to feel as though he’d just plunged a knife into her heart. It wasn’t as if she’d come to town looking for a husband. Not unless it was Richard.

  Though now the thought of marrying him roused nothing but cold revulsion in her stomach.

  Lord Deben dipped his head in acquiescence and they retraced their steps.

  ‘Until tomorrow night,’ he said just before ushering her through the door.

  ‘At the Arlingtons’,’ she replied. He had correctly summed up society’s reaction. The morning had seen a veritable flood of invitations arrive with the post. And while her aunt was thrilled that, at last, Henrietta would be moving in her natural milieu and carrying Mildred along in her wake, all she could think, now, was that it would be at such glittering gatherings where Lord Deben would find the woman who would meet all his requirements.

  And that it wouldn’t be her.

  Chapter Nine

  After a fortnight of having Lord Deben make love to her in public, Henrietta was beginning to feel a bit like a length of wet linen being put through a mangle. And he was the one turning the handle, smiling mockingly as he wrung her out. She could even see him hanging her out to dry once he’d tired of their association. He would say he had done what he had agreed—made her the toast of the ton. And she would have no excuse to make a complaint. He’d been honest with her from the start.