One Dangerous Desire (Accidental Heirs)

by Christy Carlyle

  “I believe they’re starting now.” She tipped her head toward the center of the carpet where a footman had placed a single straight-backed wooden chair.

  Lady Stamford strode around the room, a finger tapping her lower lip as if she was considering a weighty decision.

  “Lord Devenham, would you be our Adonis?”

  The tall, blond earl offered May an irritatingly knowing grin before striding to the chair and stepping up onto it. Rex thought he looked like a buffoon, but the man preened from his lofty perch, flicking back the edges of his tailcoat, planting a hand on each hip, and tilting his chin at what he seemed to think was a rakish angle.

  “It’s Henry! She’s picked my brother.” Caroline bounced on her toes as she announced the blatantly obvious. What she failed to mention was why an aristocrat was standing on a chair in the middle of the drawing room.

  “What hellish game is this?”

  “It’s called Selling Adonis,” Caroline whispered as Lady Stamford began explaining the rules.

  “Lady Emily, you know your cousin well. Will you be our auctioneer?” the countess asked.

  Whatever that role entailed, Emily seemed eager for it. She stepped toward the chair where Devenham stood and took a deep breath before beginning a recitation of his talents, most of which involved riding, racing, or buying and selling horses.

  “After Em enumerates his charms, one lady must guess one of his secrets as a bid to sit next to him at dinner.” Caroline leaned in, pressing her bare arm to his jacket sleeve as she whispered, “I bet it will be Miss Sedgwick who claims the prize.”

  Rex bit back a curse. He tensed and held his body still. It was either that or give in to the urge to bolt from this party as he had from the Bridewells’.

  “Perhaps you’ll be our next Adonis, Mr. Leighton.” Caroline gripped his arm boldly, as if the earlier game gave her license to touch him whenever she liked. “Tell me one of your secrets so that I may win if you’re on offer.”

  He looked into the lady’s heart-shaped face and studied the clear green of her eyes, the sharp lines of her aristocratic nose. Marriage to such a lady could gain him a great deal. But she asked for his secrets.

  Whether it was Lady Caroline or Lady Emily or another, no noble lady would look at him with an admiring glint in her eye if she knew what he was. Knew the things he’d done.

  “No.” He stepped away from her, and her brows dipped in a frown. “Excuse me, Lady Caroline.”

  Stepping around a cluster of ladies whose gazes were fixed on the Adonis in the center of the room, Rex headed for the front entry hall. He needed a breath of air, though the urge to continue out the front door was strong.

  His talent for escape had served him well when ducking out of the orphanage as a child or evading police as a wayward boy, but he’d get no more invitations from countesses if he kept bolting from their soirees.

  Rex breathed deep and tasted roses. A heaping bouquet of the damned flowers weighed down a nearby table and scented the air.

  He forced himself to start back toward the drawing room. Reminded himself of his goals and why he’d accepted Lady Stamford’s invitation in the first place. He had a good deal yet to achieve, and he was willing to endure far worse than a room full of giggling aristocrats.

  Even if worse included watching May Sedgwick flirt with the Earl of Devenham for the remainder of the evening.

  Chapter Nine

  HE DOESN’T LIKE balls.

  It was a pointless observation. Rex Leighton’s preferences were none of May’s concern. Yet after encountering the man four times at various dinner parties during the previous week and a half, she couldn’t help but notice his absence at every ball over the same stretch of days.

  Perhaps he didn’t like dancing. Or didn’t know how. He wouldn’t have taken lessons from an overbearing tutor as a child, as she had. Though her dancing master had been a beastly man, May loved waltzing. It made her sad to think of anyone who’d never had the chance to learn.

  For a moment she allowed herself to imagine Rex taking a turn around a ballroom. Despite his height and bulk, he’d always moved with agility and grace. Unlike some men, he never settled into a languid slump. His body radiated a readiness to move, even when he stood, feet apart, as solid as an oak.

  Nonsense. Why waste time thinking about the man at all?

  This ball would be like the others. She’d try not to think about what trouble her father might be getting into on the other side of town, visit with Em, attempt to be civil to Lady Caroline, and enjoy dancing with Henry. That is, if she could manage to get a dance with him at all.

  Lady Caroline kept pushing her friend on him as eagerly as Emily nudged May his way. The father of Caroline’s friend had also made his fortune in trade, but the young lady had impeccable family connections and was a true English rose, with pale skin and ever-blooming cheeks. She didn’t have a million-dollar dowry like May’s, if rumors were true. But May knew gossip could cut both ways, especially if her father’s financial troubles became known.

  “You look deep in thought when you should be filling your dance card.” Emily approached and offered May a kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Caroline is certainly scrambling to rearrange hers.”

  “Oh, why so?” May scanned the edges of the ballroom for Caroline, and her gaze snagged on Henry, who stood watching her from across the room. He tipped his head and offered a dimple-edged grin.

  “Because of him.”

  May followed the direction of Emily’s gaze and gasped. More than a gasp. Lower and full of irritation. Almost a growl.

  Rex stood on the threshold of the Bridewells’ ballroom. And he looked nothing at all like a man who disliked balls. He scanned the room with a confident smirk curving his sensual mouth, like a warrior who’d just conquered all he surveyed. Then he spotted her, and the up-tilted edges of his mouth fell.

  Her own brows knit in a frown. Every time she saw him, urges clashed inside her. A contest between her head and heart. Between her body’s buzzing reaction to the man, and the impossibility of ever allowing herself to trust him again.

  “Improve my evening, May, and tell me you’ll save me several dances.” The sound of Lord Devenham’s voice startled her. Distracted with watching Rex, she’d failed to notice Henry’s approach.

  “Of course I will.” It was a relief to turn and smile at the earl, rather than continue her absurd staring match with Rex.

  “Would you join me now?” Henry lifted his arm as if he meant to lead her away, though the music hadn’t begun. “I’m off to greet my cousin and her circle who have just arrived. I’d be pleased to introduce you.”

  May rested her hand on his arm and nodded her assent. The earl swung between showing her preference and favoring Caroline’s friend. Tonight, it seemed, he intended to make her the focus of his regard.

  Henry’s cousin proved to be a haughty young lady, who waved her hand in dismissal at nearly every comment others made. Devenham and his family were mad for horseflesh, and the topic soon turned to the schedule of upcoming races during the social season. May tried to follow the discussion as one young man rattled off the names of stallions and their owners. She thought it might be enjoyable to sketch a race. A challenge, if nothing else.

  Challenge was an apt description for Rex Leighton too, and his sudden, perpetual presence at every social event she attended. Now, it seemed, she wouldn’t even be free of him at balls.

  Ignoring the man was the best course. Yet even as she promised herself she’d do so, May caught a glimpse of his tall, muscular frame in her periphery. Turning her head for a quick glance, she saw Rex approach Lady Caroline. The young woman beamed back at him as foolishly as she herself had. Countless times, so long ago.

  “And what will you wear, Miss Sedgwick. Do you have your hat yet?” Henry’s cousin questioned her loudly, as if to point out just how little May had been attending to the conversation.

  “Derby Day,” Henry whispered helpfully.

 
May knew it was the day of a popular horserace and little else. She’d hadn’t attended the previous year and had minimal interest in doing so this season.

  “You’ve never been?” The haughty female cousin sounded both astounded and appalled. “And how long have you been in London?” There was nothing of subtlety in the young woman’s question. Her intonation said she thought May a social pariah for not attending the race.

  “Long enough to know the city is filled with amusements beyond those involving horses.” The words were out. She couldn’t take them back, nor did she wish to. Every word was true.

  And, apparently, shocking. May managed to stay in the circle of noble ladies and gentlemen while they executed a chorus of chastising sniffs at her rudeness. Long enough to see Henry’s eyes widen as if May had insulted the queen.

  Then she turned and started toward the exit, past where Rex and Caroline stood together, past Em and the stunned glance of Mrs. Bridewell.

  A footman scurried to open the front door, and May stopped on the front step, sucking in long gulps of cool night air. Moments passed before she tamed her frustration, as much with herself as with Henry’s cousin and friends. She’d never run away from a drawing room skirmish. Worry over her father seemed to be fraying her nerves.

  “Escaping before the evening is over is my style, not yours.” Rex had found her.

  Before she could put back her armor and guard against him, the deep tone of his voice sent a wave of heat rushing through her body, igniting memories she’d vowed to forget.

  “I intend to return to the ballroom momentarily, Mr. Leighton. You needn’t have come to rescue me.”

  He moved to stand next to her. Too close. So near that his citrus and spice cologne made her mouth water.

  “You’ve never struck me as a woman who required rescuing.”

  May sensed him watching her, not appraising her as those in the ballroom had. His gaze was different. It always had been. He looked at her as if she mattered. Not her fine clothes, whatever beauty she’d inherited from her mother, or her father’s wealth. Just her. What she thought and needed and desired.

  “Which sort of woman do I strike you as?” She hadn’t meant to speak the question so breathily, to let him know how eager she was to hear his opinion. Even now, after so many years apart.

  He turned fully, facing her, though she continued to keep her focus ahead. His gaze pressed like the stroke of fingertips against her face.

  “Strong willed.” His voice was too deep, too full of admiration.

  “You mean stubborn?”

  He chuckled and a bit of her armor began to crumble. “Well, you are your father’s daughter.”

  “I won’t tell him you said that.”

  “You’re a clever sort of woman.” He crossed his arms as he watched her. “Too intelligent to waste your time talking about horse races.”

  She swiveled to face him. “How did you know we were talking about horseracing? You were on the other side of the room.”

  “Does Devenham ever talk about anything else?”

  He smiled, and May felt an answering tug at the corners of her mouth. She tried for one of those English sniffs of disdain and only managed to get a whiff of him. Not his cologne, but the unique scent of his skin. She’d never forgotten it.

  “I’m sure Henry can speak on many interesting topics. He would have been tutored in polite conversation as he was in all the other rules of etiquette.” Her throat burned and she loathed the brittleness in her tone as she reminded Rex of Henry’s virtues. Perhaps she was attempting to convince herself.

  “Fascinating man, the earl, I’m sure.” He seemed as unconvinced as she was and flashed one of his potent grins. “Yet you knew where I was in the room. His chatter was so interesting that you took the time to look for me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I was looking for Emily.”

  “Liar.” He took a step closer, hovering over her.

  A single step forward and she could touch him. Kiss him, if she lifted onto her toes. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to move toward the broad, heated shelter of his body.

  “You can’t lie to me, May. I know your tell.”

  “My tell?”

  He raised his hand as if to touch her. She leaned in, aching to feel his skin against hers. He offered her no satisfaction.

  “Your right eyelash flutters.” He traced his finger in the air over the arch of her brow. “Not quite a squint. Just an agitated little quiver.”

  “I do not quiver.” But she was, if one counted her belly, her thighs, the tickle up her spine, and, probably, that traitor of an eyelash.

  He lowered his face toward hers. Looked her straight in the eyes. “Don’t deny what you want. That’s not the May I remember.”

  “Perhaps I’m different now. As you are, Mr. Leighton.” May took a step back. She hated that he knew her so well, that she’d allowed him into her heart, let him see parts of herself no one else had. If he’d valued those moments, loved her as she’d loved him, it would hurt so much less. But he hadn’t.

  “Because you’ve learned the etiquette of London aristocrats?” He closed the distance she’d created by stepping toward her. “You needn’t follow all their rules, May.”

  How dare a man who barely knew the rules of polite society lecture her on ignoring them?

  “Not all of us can remake ourselves and do as we please.” Her tone was more complimentary than she meant it to be. Wistful, even. Hadn’t she considered remaking herself weeks before when presenting her sketches to Emily? Dreamed of starting her own business, as he had, and succeeding in design rather than the drawing room.

  “There’s a difference between you and me.” His voice dipped low, a husky tone she felt like a whisper puffing against her skin. “You’re lovely just as you are. No changes required.”

  Her heart thrashed in her chest as she bit back the words that welled up. She wanted to tell him that he was lovely. With the moonlight setting his eyes aglow and casting all the striking angles of his face in light and shadow, he was beautiful. Far more appealing than any chiaroscuro drawing she’d ever attempted. And the man he’d become—his confidence and accomplishments—all of that impressed her too.

  “No,” she said, to herself and to him. She couldn’t allow herself to be drawn in again. If she’d changed at all, it was because he’d taught her not to trust too readily. “We should return to the ballroom. People will talk if we’re both gone too long.”

  He took a step back when she pushed past him toward the door; then he reached an arm out to stall her. “Will you dance with me?”

  “No, I don’t think we should.” She imagined it, could already feel the tingle of his hand clasped in hers, the press of his palm at her back.

  “Because you’re saving all your dances for Devenham?” It was the first time he raised his voice since joining her on the front step.

  “As you’ve promised Caroline all of yours?”

  He shifted his arm to grip her lightly around the waist, finally offering the touch she’d been craving. She pressed against his hand. Some part of her needed this—his touch, his warmth, his nearness.

  “I’d rather dance with you,” he whispered.

  Yes. She wanted to dance with him too. They’d never danced before. It would be new and fresh between them, untainted by past hurts. But she’d want more. She already wanted more.

  “What about the duke’s wager?” Grasping, she searched for any reason, any excuse, that would allow her to deny her desire to waltz with him. “Dancing with me won’t win you the funds for your hotel.”

  Rex lowered his arm and shoved his clenched fist down at his side. “Go, then. Devenham will have missed you by now.”

  He’d rarely spoken to her in anger, but she heard it now in his tone, felt it radiating off of him, as hot as the heat of his palm had been against her belly.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Leighton.”

  May made her way back inside. Returning t
o the ballroom took effort, determination, as if every moment spent in Rex’s company tangled her up in him again. Walking away didn’t feel like victory anymore.

  Henry approached the moment she crossed the ballroom’s threshold, pleasure lighting his face. She told herself to go to him. Reminded herself not to look back.

  Chapter Ten

  REX SNAPPED THE lid on his pocket watch closed and looked up to see Sullivan’s hansom cab rattling around the corner. He waited until the horse and vehicle pulled up to the pavement and approached before Sullivan could disembark.

  “Move over. I’m joining you.”

  “I’ve come to deliver my weekly report, sir.” Sullivan grimaced. “Have I not arrived at the hour you requested?”

  The man truly loathed any change in his ordered routine.

  “As always, you’re perfectly timed, Jack. You can deliver your report en route to the Olympia Grand.” Rex glanced up at the driver as he mentioned their destination before stepping into the cab.

  Sullivan grumbled, “I still don’t comprehend.” He shifted to make room for his employer. “You are going to a skating rink. And you wish me to accompany you?”

  He said the words skating rink with as much disdain as he might have referred to the worst den of iniquity London had to offer.

  “You comprehend the situation perfectly.” Rex tried to find a place to rest his arm and ended up pointing his elbow out the side of the cab. Neither of them were diminutive men and their overcoats made for a crowded carriage.

  “I am afraid I do not, sir. In fact, I feel quite certain there are details of which I am not yet in possession. Key details. Important facts that would explain why you wish to engage in faddish entertainment and how my accompaniment will assist you.”

  Rex cast his inquiry agent a sidelong glance. “Do you ever engage in entertainment, Jack? Faddish or otherwise?” He worked to keep any hint of judgment from his tone. He was truly curious. Considering that Sullivan was the closest he had to a friend and confidant in all of London, he knew frightfully little about the man’s personal life.