The Kiss of a Rogue

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "I had thought about it," she replied, uncertain for a moment how the duke would take her comment about participating in the athletic event. She had learned quickly during her first season in Town that there were some men who were not overly fond of females competing in any fashion. Or of being physically active - unless it was in the bedchamber where they were expected to be acrobats. "I enjoy being active. I'm not much for watercolors or stitching, despite the fact that they are far more ladylike enterprises."

  To her surprise, the duke snickered. She had not expected that. A frown perhaps or a short comment, but not laughter. Perhaps she did not know him quite as well as she thought. "I think you should play, my lady. I have it on good authority that my sister is participating and she needs a good challenge. I believe that you could give her one."

  "Lady Sophia?" Abigail was surprised that this man would not want his sister to win. "But I thought..."

  "That I would want her to win?" The duke looked at Abigail slyly out of the corner of his eye. "I do. In a fashion. Do not mistake me. However, often times in the past, given her rather delicate nature, those who have competed against her have not tried very hard. In some cases, they openly allow her to win, even when she should not. I believe you saw that for yourself at bowls yesterday when Lady Emily all but threw her ball into the shrubs so she would not beat my sister. Sophia would benefit from some true competition, I believe."

  Abigail thought about that for a moment. "That does not seem very...brotherly."

  "It isn't," he agreed with a grin, "but as you know, my sister and I are not presently speaking to one another. And while this might sound terrible of me, I do not think she will even listen to anything I might say because she always believes that she is correct - about everything. In her mind, she is invincible."

  "So this is more about Lord Selby than about battledore." Abigail didn't pretend to misunderstand. And she had to admit a small thrill at the duke speaking to her so directly. In her experience, men of the ton typically treated her as if she was a simpleton since she was not of their station in life. It grew wearisome after a fashion. And more than a little annoying.

  Lord Hathaway stopped then, just short of the path that would lead them back to Fairhaven. "Miss Northrup," he began but she held up a hand.

  "Please. If we are being so frank with one another, call me Abigail. I am not one to stand on ceremony, as you well know."

  The duke nodded crispy, though Abigail thought she saw a flash of pleasure light his eyes. "And you must call me Adam." He grinned again and this time there was no doubt. It was pleasure. And it was very, very male. "In private, of course."

  Abigail nodded, trying not to trip over her words for he had flustered her a bit. "As you were saying? Adam." His Christian name felt good and right on her lips, though she also tried to ignore the little thrill that shot through her when she said it.

  He cleared his throat and for a moment, Abigail wondered if hearing her speak his name had affected him as much as it had her, but then she dismissed the notion. She was allowing her imagination to run away from her. Again. Would she never learn?

  "As I was saying, my sister always believes that she is right. In all things." Adam shook his head and twisted his lips in a grimace. "While I have not attempted to speak with Sophia since our disagreement the day we arrived, I already know how it will end. She will insist that I am being a brute and that I only wish her misery. She will not listen to any of my evidence regarding Selby's gaming debts and will, instead, insist he is perfect." He shrugged and then sighed heavily. "It is a consequence of her being coddled at every stage of her life. Some of which is my fault. Much of it, actually." He flushed a bit scarlet as he said that and Abigail thought it was charming. Not that she would ever inform him of that, of course.

  "And me challenging her at battledore has what to do with any of that?" In Abigail's opinion, that would likely only make Lady Sophia angrier.

  Adam let out another, long-suffering sigh and looked skyward. "For her entire life, my sister has won, so to speak, at everything she has attempted. Mostly because I, along with the rest of my family, let her win. To her detriment, I am afraid. It has fed this absurd notion she has that she is always right.

  "And because of that, she no longer heeds council on matters of importance. Not even from her older, and much wiser, brother." Abigail was beginning to understand Adam's concern. "Such as when matters of the heart are involved. Especially then." He shook his head. "At times, it is as if she takes pleasure from openly defying me. I do not want that, for we were never that way in the past. Only recently."

  Abigail let out a decidedly unladylike snort. "And you believe that me challenging her in battledore will somehow change that?"

  He shrugged. "It will if you beat her. It also might teach her some humility. You very well might be the only lady here who would take her on and honestly play to win. And I have it on good authority that you are excellent at bowls. So it stands to reason that you are skilled at battledore as well."

  "Actually, that does not stand to reason at all," she corrected him gently, "but as it happens, I am a bit skilled at the sport." In truth, Abigail almost always bested her brothers each time they played, but she thought that would be bragging if she admitted as much.

  "So you are playing then?" He seemed altogether too hopeful on this topic but Abigail found that she didn't mind. In fact, in a way, she thought it was sweet that he cared so much about his sister. She did think this was an odd way to go about dealing with the issue of Lady Sophia and Lord Selby, but then, thus far, nothing the duke had done was exactly proper. Starting with that bone-melting kiss.

  For a moment it was on the tip of Abigail's tongue to say no, but then, that would be lying, and she did not wish to lie to Adam. "I am. I will also challenge Sophia to play me directly." Then, because she was feeling in a bit of a wanton mood, especially since she was alone in Adam's company again, she added, "And I hope you are there to watch this time, your grace. Unlike yesterday." It was terribly forward of her, but somehow, she had the impression that the duke would appreciate her candor.

  So. Abigail had noticed that he wasn't there the previous day. For some ridiculous reason, that pleased Adam immensely. "I will be there," he promised softly. "In fact, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  Chapter Six

  Thwack.

  Abigail hit the shuttlecock with perhaps slightly more force than was necessary, but at the moment, she was beyond caring. This game of battledore had been going on for the better part of the afternoon, with breaks being taken only when a fresh shuttlecock was required. Both she and Lady Sophia had stripped the feathers off the infernal little object several times so far, and Abigail feverently hoped that Lord and Lady Enwright had an unlimited supply of them.

  Knowing Lucy as she did, Abigail suspected that she had a whole bag full of them somewhere. For Lucy Enwright knew her friends well. And none of the women who called the duchess a true friend were exactly the shy and retiring sort.

  Thwack.

  Another hit from Abigail's racket sent the shuttlecock flying backwards, this time so far back that Lady Sophia had to lift her skirts and reveal a bit of ankle as she raced to reach the flying object in time.

  Not that anyone likely noticed the flash of feminine skin or if they did, well, this was a bit of a scandalous crowd, as Abigail was quickly coming to discover. Not much shocked them. Especially not something as simple as a mere stocking-clad ankle. Truthfully, that would barely even raise an eyebrow most of the time.

  In fact, if anything, it would take rather a lot to shame this crowd, which, she reasoned, was precisely how the duke and duchess preferred it. After all, the duke had long been known for his just-this-side-of-completely-scandalous, end-of-season house party that would culminate in the grand masked ball next Saturday evening. The fact that Lucy not only liked but encouraged her husband to continue the tradition was something that was whispered about in the drawing rooms of London throughout mos
t of the Season.

  Especially since an invitation to the event was one of the most sought after in all of London. And the guest list was notoriously select. And small. Not to mention largely confined to those who could keep a secret and were not scandalized by such things as a flash of ankle.

  Or two women gallivanting about Fairhaven's massive front lawn in pursuit of a shuttlecock while trying their best to defeat the other with something akin to cutthroat gusto.

  For the second day in a row, almost the entire assembled guests of the house party turned out to view the women's athletic competitions this afternoon - including Lord Hathaway. Or Adam, as Abigail had privately come to think of him in the last few hours. In fact she was so busy thinking of him that she almost missed the small hole in the yard and had to neatly side-step it, lest she turn her own ankle and flash a bit of flesh. That would never do. Or would it? She supposed that all depended upon what outcome she desired. At the moment, she didn't know what that was.

  Thwack.

  This time, Abigail's strike at the shuttlecock was accompanied by a small grunt and she heard a loud cheer in the distance. She supposed that was because it was assumed by one and all that ladies of good breeding did not make such noises. And she had. Rather loudly. Then again, as Lady Josephine had pointed out earlier when both Abigail and Sophia had taken to the playing field, Abigail was not exactly a lady.

  That, however, did not seem to bother many of the Enwright's guests, as Abigail could hear several of them cheering for her. Even though cheering was also unseemly as well, at least in Lady Josephine's opinion. A few more daring guests were also placing bets on who would win the battledore competition and Abigail wondered briefly what Lady Josephine would have to say about such a thing. Probably not much good, she imagined.

  Not that Abigail minded the cheering. Or the betting. It meant that she was doing well, which was precisely her goal. Especially after meeting Lady Sophia in person and gaining a better understanding of exactly what Adam meant regarding his sister.

  During the Season, Abigail and Sophia had not traveled in the same social circles, so Abigail knew little about the woman she was - by some small miracle of agreement - competing against in the battledore tournament. Abigail knew that the other woman was petite, beautiful and, by all accounts, delicate as a fragile summer flower. What she had not known, however, was that Adam had a better grasp on who his sister truly was than most of Society did. For from the very moment she picked up the battledore racket, Sophia was also an extremely fierce competitor who clearly didn't like to lose. Especially not to the same woman who had bested her in bowls the previous day. There was a grim determination in her expression, as if she saw losing to someone like Abigail as a personal affront.

  Perhaps she did, for it was clear that Lady Sophia was not cut from the same cloth as her brother. He was more, well, Abigail did not want to use the word forgiving, for that wasn't quite right. Perhaps human was the word she was looking for, though she doubted much of the ton would agree with her on that choice of word, either. Though Abigail did suspect that at one point, brother and sister had been very much alike. But that was before Adam had rejected Lady Diana and his entire world and social standing had fallen apart. And he'd had to learn an extremely hard lesson in humility.

  Thwack.

  Another hit and the shuttlecock sailed back towards Lady Sophia, this time just to the left so she had to gallop a bit towards the shrubbery that marked the far edge of the sporting lawn. Good. Abigail didn't want this to be easy. She still might lose, but if she did, Lady Sophia would have earned the victory. It would not have been handed to her - just as Adam had feared.

  Adam.

  Even now, Abigail could still feel the hard, delicious muscles of his arm beneath her hand that very morning. They were warm and strong, so hard that even now they still made her shiver. Not that he was a man for her, certainly. In fact, she shouldn't be thinking about any man since she had declared her intention not to wed. But there was something about the Duke of Hathaway that drew her, like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was because with his currently sullied reputation, he was no longer beyond her touch. If anything, he was below her in some regards, for she still had the respect of all and he did not. Certainly, it made him more human.

  And when he had asked her to challenge his sister and not allow Lady Sophia to win, his gray eyes gleaming in the bright morning sun? He had been utterly delectable and his chiseled chin had made her heart beat just a little faster.

  Thwack.

  This time, Abigail almost missed the shuttlecock because she was so caught up in her musings about the duke and she heard the assembled crowd shuffle off to her left, causing her to re-double her concentration. She was expected to lose. After all, she was a merchant's daughter and Lady Sophia was the daughter of a duke. Not to mention that Lady Sophia always won. It was just expected that she would. However, Abigail was not in the mood to loose. If anything, she was feeling a bit giddy after her unexpected walk around the lake with Adam that morning.

  Abigail liked the way Adam made her feel. It was completely and utterly unexpected, especially after so many years of meeting men and feeling completely bored to tears by them. That she should have this feeling with a duke of all people was beyond her expectations, but for once, she was not questioning the way he made her feel. Despite her rather vivid imagination, Abigail knew she was often rational to a fault, and the way Adam made her feel was anything but rational. He had from that first, and altogether unexpected, kiss in the garden the previous morning.

  In fact, she was rather glad that her chaperone was currently laid up in bed with a badly mangled knee. Not that she wished Miss Cutwright any ill-will, but the woman was constantly badgering Abigail about her behavior and the possibility of making an excellent match with a peer. If the older woman knew that her charge was currently keeping company with a duke, she would be over the moon - and likely plotting how best to trap the two together so they might be forced into marriage. And ruin everything in the process.

  Abigail didn't want that. She still had no plans to marry, and even if she did, she did not want to trap a husband. Rather, for her remaining few days in Society, she wanted to laugh and flirt and have a good time - with Lord Hathaway and without any sort of pressure to do or be something that she was not and never would be. If that was odd and unusual, then so be it.

  Once more, she was so busy thinking of Adam that she didn't see the shuttlecock until it was almost too late. During one of her lapses in attention, Lady Sophia had, for some inexplicable reason, sent the feathered shuttle on a direct line towards Abigail's face and it was only at the last moment that she was able to bring up her racket and deflect the object, hitting it so hard that at least two of its feathers flew off and fluttered to the ground in front of her.

  Sophia, clearly not expecting Abigail to react so quickly and likely believing that victory was within her grasp, had her back partially turned when the cock came flying back towards her. Unlike Abigail, Adam's sister was not quite able to bring her racket up in time and the projectile smacked her squarely in the nose, causing blood to gush everywhere.

  The moment Lady Sophia began to sprout blood, pandemonium broke out just about everywhere, with lords and ladies alike scurrying to the woman's side to see if they could assist her. Or perhaps come away with a juicy bit of gossip if they could determine whether or not Abigail had launched that particular shot on purpose.

  She hadn't. It wasn't in Abigail's nature to harm anyone. Not even the slightly insufferable Lady Sophia, who, though Abigail had just been formally introduced to her, had been acting like something of a spoiled brat all afternoon.

  "I do not wish to say this of a lady, but truly, she had that coming."

  Abigail turned to find the Comte De La Croix by her side, which she found odd. Though she knew the French count from her time in London, she did not know him well and had only spoken to him a handful of times during the Season.

  "My lord?"
Abigail raised her eyebrow as she made certain to hold on to her racket, for he made her a touch uneasy. "I am afraid I do not take your meaning." She didn't know this man and the last thing she wanted was to say the wrong thing in his presence. She might be Lucy's friend, but the man next to her had the protection of a title. That was something that Abigail lacked.

  De La Croix rolled his eyes. "The chit is lovely but she is spoiled beyond measure. She has been moping about since the other night over this nasty Lord Selby business. This is a house party. It is meant to be fun. It is not meant for this sort of weepy behavior."

  "I was unaware that you were acquainted with the young lady," Abigail offered, though she remembered the previous morning when Adam had gone to join the Comte and a few others over breakfast. "I am afraid that I have only just met her, so I cannot speak to her state of mind. Or her behavior."

  "You were here during that fit she took when Hathaway told her she couldn't marry Selby. I saw you." The man seemed pleasant enough, but he was also clearly fishing for something, which immediately put Abigail on her guard. "In fact, I notice all of the beautiful and unattached young woman at a party such as this one. Especially ones without escort."

  So. There was the truth of it. The man saw her as an easy mark, did he? That was not surprising. It was common knowledge that, like Lord Hunt, De La Croix was in need of funds. After all, the Revolution had stripped him of his family's lands and fortune back in France. However, unlike Lord Hunt who was ever the gentleman and exceedingly kind and polite, this man truly was a rogue. Not like Adam, who had been branded as such, but was still a gentleman at heart.

  "I have an escort," Abigail replied tartly, fully aware that this man would take advantage of her if he could. "Unfortunately, Miss Cutwright has been laid up with an injury and is unable to come downstairs." She looked around at where a small crowd still huddled around Lady Sophia. "However, given the sheer number of people at this house party, I do think that I am more than properly supervised. And perfectly safe."