The appealing look from those penetrating blue eyes proclaimed his absolute honesty. Allegra simply couldn’t help it—she was charmed…and curious.
“Excuse me, but I can’t believe you could fail to entertain even a young, inexperienced maiden. Especially a young and inexperienced one.”
“Oh, believe it! Either my appearance, my compliments—or the tales told about me—frightened one young lady into a silence that lasted throughout the meal. My conversational attempts with the other met with total failure until a desperate remark about fashion set her off on a monologue so full of tedious detail, I was ready to stab myself with a dessert fork just to escape the room.”
His look of comical dismay set her chuckling. Before she could reprove his exaggeration, he continued, “You laugh, but ’tis no jesting matter! I’m sure in my absence, if you were not already aware of it, Lord Lynton has acquainted you with my scandalous reputation. My cousin Lady Domcaster insists that I try to reestablish myself. However, if I am not able to successfully converse with proper ladies, I might as well abandon the attempt at once. Unless…” He drew the word out, gazing down into her eyes.
Intrigued in spite of herself, she echoed, “Unless?”
“Miss Antinori, in addition to being the loveliest girl in the room—no, forgive me, but you must allow the compliment, for it is simple truth—you have shown yourself both observant and clever. Might I impose upon you…might I beg you to instruct me?”
She stared at him. “Instruct you?”
“On how to make proper conversation that is agreeable to young ladies. I know about as much about respectable females as I do about the mysteries of the Orient. Unless I learn, and learn quickly, I haven’t a prayer of being received by the families of eligible young women.” He paused, frowning. “May I be shockingly blunt?”
“I prefer plain dealing, sir,” she replied, caught up in his tale despite her better judgment.
Once again that smile lit up his eyes. “I thought you might! Lucilla insists I should look for a wife—a rich wife with a fortune that could restore my estate, of whose dilapidated condition I’m sure Lynton already warned you.”
He gave her a wry, self-deprecating look. “Frankly, though I’m an amusing enough fellow when I choose to be, I sincerely doubt any respectable lady will want to take on so unlikely a husband. But I’ve promised Lucilla I’d make an attempt, so here I am, self-accused of being both a fortune hunter and a rake, throwing my poor body into the fray. A rake who earnestly seeks to be reformed. Will you not have pity and rescue me, Miss Antinori?”
Beneath the flippancy of his words she sensed a social isolation almost like her own. Perhaps because of that, she was tempted to accept his challenge. Except that behind the arresting intensity of his gaze lurked something deep, sensual. That same masculine allure that had led Molly to capitulate all those summers ago and warned Allegra that spending time with Tavener, despite his avowed desire to reform, would be dangerous.
“It would be more proper for Lady Domcaster to instruct you,” Allegra replied at last. “Not that I am not fully qualified,” she added quickly. “Mama instructed me in all the intricacies of ton behavior, and in matters of propriety, Papa was even stricter.”
“I’m sure they were, with so precious a prize to guard. Still, I should very much like to pursue your acquaintance. You would find me a willing pupil.”
Much as she tried to tell herself that his outrageous request was just another tool in his rake’s arsenal, she couldn’t shake a sense that, on some level, he was quite serious. Before an unwanted sympathy for his position—and her strong attraction to him—led her to capitulate, she replied, “Tutoring you would not be…wise.”
At her refusal, the hopeful look in his eyes faded. “Then I am doubly sorry. To lose your instruction, and to have begun so badly with you.”
Not knowing what to say, she did not reply. Tavener offered his arm, she took it, and in silence they resumed their circuit of the room.
After a few moments, he sighed. “Though I shall probably have to beg your pardon once again, before I return you to your chaperone, I simply must say this.”
As she tried to arm herself against whatever impertinence he meant to utter, he bent that compelling gaze upon her once more and said, “Miss Antinori, I must tell you how much I admired and respected your father. He was a true genius, and the musical world is much the poorer for his premature passing.”
For a moment, she thought she must have imagined his comments, so thoroughly had it been drummed into her head that she must on no account mention her parents. “You…knew my father?” she asked at last.
“No, but I did have the honor of hearing him play once, when I was at Oxford. Such passion! Such skill! I’m a bit hand of a violist myself, and have attempted to play some of his compositions, which are as beautiful as they are difficult. You must be so proud of him.”
“I am proud of him,” she whispered. A combustible swirl of grief, anger at having been forced to deny her parents, delight and gratitude at encountering someone who admired her father choked her into silence.
After three weeks of circumspect behavior, of confining her conversation to inquiries about the health of persons she knew little and cared less about or innocuous remarks about the weather, Tavener’s introduction of that taboo topic electrified her. Prudent or not, she decided on the spot to encourage his friendship.
Looking up into the blue eyes that once again seemed to sense the turmoil in her soul, she said, “Thank you. It is a great joy to speak of him. And Lord Tavener, though I still think Lady Domcaster’s qualifications for instructing you far exceed my own, I would be happy to help you practice your conversation.”
She was rewarded with a smile of such brilliance, she had no difficulty believing he’d made a long series of conquests. Sternly she reminded herself that, regardless of how great an admirer of her father he might be, she must not join their number.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “You shall not regret it, I promise. Would you like a glass of wine before we begin?”
Agreeing that would be very nice, she let him lead her off to the refreshment room.
They were nearing the exit of the ballroom when Allegra heard ahead of them a familiar tinkling laugh. She gritted her teeth as, through the passing guests, she saw Sapphira Lynton poised on the threshold.
CHAPTER SIX
FOR SEVERAL MOMENTS Lady Lynton stood in the doorway acknowledging greetings from acquaintances, framed by the pediment-topped opening like an actress by the proscenium. Though she was properly attired all in black, from the way the silken gown hugged her curves, its bodice cut low over her generous breasts, the dark color emphasizing the porcelain perfection of her skin, she managed to make mourning dress look provocative.
Not that the gown was styled or the bodice cut more seductively than those of other matrons, Allegra had to allow. The impression of allure was more in Sapphira’s air and manner—which did not, Allegra thought, setting her lips in a thin line, appear to be that of a widow suffering excesses of grief.
“Quite an entrance, don’t you think?” Lord Tavener murmured in her ear. “She should have been on the stage.”
Startled almost as much by this cynical assessment as by how closely it mirrored her own opinion, she turned to face him. Though she knew she should refute the statement, she found herself saying, “Indeed.”
Before she could think of something more appropriate, Sapphira spied her. Her gay smile fading, Lady Lynton stared without acknowledging Allegra almost to the point of insult before at last nodding. Then, taking the arm of an admirer who had rushed up, without saying a word to Allegra, she walked past her across the room.
Almost a cut direct, it was a snub such as Sapphira would probably never have dared administer had Rob been beside Allegra. A snub that telegraphed to everyone present just how little Lady Lynton thought of her late husband’s distant cousin, though Allegra was a guest in Lady Lynton’s own home.
Allegra felt her stomach churn with embarrassment. Having just had demonstrated to the world and her escort how undesirable a person she was to know, she turned to Lord Tavener, lips trembling with fury. “Perhaps you would prefer to take me back to Lynton now?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why would I wish to do that? Because a certain former ton Diamond has execrable manners? Lady Lynton’s lack is not your fault, Miss Antinori.”
She gave him a searching glance, but could detect no mockery in him. “You are probably the only one—or should I say the only gentleman—in this room of that opinion.”
“Sadly, society seems to contain fewer and fewer men of perception.”
Unwilling to surrender her fury—not sure she could bear to endure his pity—she said stiffly, “If reestablishing your reputation is important, you have just seen that being in my company will not advance your goal. I expect it would be best that you return me to Lynton.”
“Oh, no, Miss Antinori!” he said with mock sternness. “You shall not that easily renege on your promise to instruct me. Unless…” His expression sobering in earnest, he continued, “unless you fear being seen with me may discredit you. A fear which, regretfully, may have merit.”
An almost grim expression flitted across his face before he fixed his eyes on her again, their blue depths no longer ice, but flame. “Loath as I would be to lose your company,” he said in a voice as dynamic as his eyes, “I could not allow myself to bring you harm. If you wish, I shall of course return you to your chaperone.”
He did not wish to risk discrediting her. That avowal flowed over her like a cooling breeze, carrying off her anger, while the sincerity of his concern flooded her aching heart with a healing balm. A strong sense of connectedness once again bound her gaze to his.
They were connected, she realized. Both outsiders looking in upon a world that might not deign to accept them. And though prudence whispered that each would fare better fighting separately the battle to gain access to the ton, his kindness in wanting to keep her from harm was the first she’d received from anyone of her class save Rob.
Not only was he kind—and perceptive enough to see beneath Sapphira’s blinding veneer of beauty—he had both known and appreciated her father. How could she send him away? Despite the simmer under her skin at his nearness that whispered of the danger he posed.
His gaze was still fixed on her, awaiting her answer as if there were nothing in the world more important to him. “I suppose it would be more prudent for both our purposes that we not associate with each other but…but if you are willing to run the risk, Lord Tavener, so am I.”
Once again, the brilliance of his smile caught her off-guard. “Indeed I am, Miss Antinori. Now, some wine?”
Keeping her hand tucked under his own, Tavener walked her to the refreshment room and signaled a waiter to bring them each a glass. As they sipped, he said, “So, Miss Antinori, how should I address an innocent young female?”
“You need to wed an heiress, you said?” When he nodded, she continued, “Whether or not she is handsome, such a girl will probably be surrounded by suitors. Though she may well have heard every extravagant compliment that could be devised to her appearance, you should still be prepared to praise her. But only in general terms,” she cautioned. “Celebrate her loveliness, her beauty, her perfection, perhaps even her eyes or her countenance, but nothing else…specific.”
“Like her lips—or shoulders—or bosom?” he asked, his eyes slowly inspecting those parts of her as he named them.
A little shiver sped down her backbone and her breasts seemed to swell and tighten under his lingering gaze. Shaking off the sensation, she pointed an accusing finger. “That is exactly what you must not do!”
His eyes, which had gone heavy-lidded, snapped wide as he jerked them back up to her face. “Right! Loveliness, beauty, eyes, countenance. No bosom.” He sighed and shook his head. “This is going to be difficult.”
A laugh bubbled up her throat, which she choked into a cough before it escaped. Correctly interpreting what she’d uttered, Tavener grinned at her.
She shot him a severe look. “Lord Tavener, are you serious about trying to find a respectable bride?”
His blue eyes turned penitent. “Yes, Miss Antinori.”
“Then, I beg you, try to overcome your rogue’s responses and pay attention.”
He nodded. “I am duly rebuked. What else should I say to the young lady?”
“After a proper compliment, it would be good if you could question her about her interests, if you have knowledge of them. If not, comments about the weather or events taking place in society are always acceptable. And current fashion, of course.”
He groaned. “Are we back to remarks about bonnets and the state of the roads? If being ‘proper’ means I have to confine myself to uttering such swill, perhaps I should give up now and emigrate to the Americas.”
Though Allegra couldn’t help but sympathize, having just endured three weeks of social calls that focused on those same numbingly innocuous topics, she said, “Pray, do not despair yet! You may speak about the theater, concerts or exhibitions currently taking place. Or if you invite the lady to ride or drive in the park, you may discuss horses and carriages. Literature, if the young lady enjoys it. But generally not politics.”
He chuckled. “So I discovered! For all the recognition it sparked in my dinner companions tonight, the Congress of Vienna might have taken place on the far side of the moon.”
Allegra shook her head in sympathy. “I’m afraid young ladies are not encouraged to study—much less to venture opinions—on such matters, which some consider beyond their understanding.”
“But not beyond yours?” he guessed.
“My upbringing was not precisely…conventional. Such foreigners as we encountered in our travels were often bid to dine, and rather naturally, Papa wished to discuss the turmoil on the continent.”
“I should like to hear more about your proper but unconventional upbringing.”
The interest he was expressing in who she really was, rather than in the society maiden she had to appear to be, drew her as strongly as his physical appeal. Resisting it, she said, “Perhaps another time. But to continue your lesson, neither should you discuss any purely masculine pursuits, such as cock-fighting or boxing.”
She remembered then that Tavener was a boxer—a very accomplished one, if Rob’s impressions were correct. Perhaps that was responsible for the slight aura of danger that hung about him as negligently as the black coat stretched over those broad shoulders.
Allegra slid him a glance from under her lashes, trying to imagine that lean, powerful body stripped of jacket, waistcoat and cravat. Balanced on the balls of his feet, shirt open at the neck, sleeves turned back as he circled his opponent, fists up and ready, his fierce blue gaze focused…She shivered as a thrill of attraction and trepidation rippled through her.
She started from her reverie to find his head bent, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. That intense blue gaze focused on her, he said softly, “What else can I touch upon, Miss Antinori?”
Ah yes, touch… Her eyes strayed to his mouth, hovering near hers. The top lip was firm, almost stern, but the bottom lip was plump, sensual. Allegra had a sudden memory of Molly and her rake standing in the shadowed wings of the theater, the man slowly pulling Molly’s head down as he slanted his mouth over hers. A memory of Molly’s sigh…
Tavener looked like a man who knew a great deal about kissing. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her.
Her heart commenced pounding and heat suffused her. Beginning to understand the sensual spell Molly’s rake had cast over her that long ago summer, alarmed by how much she yearned to lean up and brush Tavener’s lips, Allegra jerked away. “You may touch upon many topics, my lord, but you must not look at me—at a young lady—like that.”
He smiled, his eyes still heated. “Like…what?”
“Like you were about to kiss her!” Alle
gra blurted.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he murmured.
“My lord, you are hopeless!” Allegra declared, once more stifling a laugh. “If you are to make any progress at all, you must cease uttering such provocative comments.”
“Is Lord Tavener annoying you?” a stern voice asked.
So absorbed was she in her conversation with Tavener, Allegra had become completely oblivious to their surroundings. She looked up to see Rob gazing at them, arms folded, a disapproving frown on his face.
“Not at all, Rob. He has been quite…entertaining.”
The glance Rob gave Tavener was distinctly unfriendly. “You were gone so long, I grew concerned. Mrs. Randall begged me to fetch you. A number of people have stopped by, desiring to make your acquaintance. Let me return you to her now.”
Allegra couldn’t imagine that she had truly been in such demand, but judging by the almost hostile look on his face, Rob was determined to separate her from Tavener.
Before she could reply, Tavener said, “I’ve no doubt there are others anxious to meet her. Excuse me, Lynton, for monopolizing so lovely a lady. Miss Antinori, I hope you will permit me to call. As you have just noted, I still have much to learn.”
“I should be happy to receive you, Lord Tavener,” she replied, curtseying to his bow. Then Rob seized her hand and propelled her toward the exit.
Glancing over her shoulder, Allegra saw Tavener standing motionless, his bright blue gaze following her as Rob walked her away. Something sizzled in the air between them before Rob steered her through the door.
“Unfortunately you cannot cut the connection, Allegra,” Rob said as he hurried her into the ballroom where Mrs. Randall waited. “Still, I cannot help but think it highly imprudent for you to spend much time with him. You can hardly hope to encourage more eligible gentlemen to pursue you if you allow that…that man of questionable character to hover around you.”
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