Rogue's Lady

by Julia Justiss

  Was there a hint of tenderness in the wide smile he gave her? “Nonsense!” he replied. “I can worship at your feet any day. I’m delighted you were able to meet so many excellent young men.” His smile dimmed. “Men of better stamp than Tavener.”

  “That’s hardly fair, Rob!” Allegra protested. “Not only did he shield me from scrutiny by his superior performance, while you were away procuring wine, he prevented Lord Wofford and Sir Harry Miles from lingering.”

  “Wofford and Miles—those two undesirables? Damn and blast!” he exclaimed. “They should never have had the effrontery to approach you—and I daresay they would not have, had Tavener’s presence not encouraged them.”

  About to protest once again Rob’s assessment of Tavener, Allegra was forestalled by Mrs. Randall, who cried, “Oh, Rob, are they not good ton? Lord Tavener did seem reluctant to present them to Allegra, but Lady Maxwell assured me that Wofford’s being the grandson of one of her good friends made it all quite proper.”

  Rob hesitated—probably, Allegra speculated, trying to frame a reply that his gentle cousin would not take as a reproof. “I’m sure Lady Maxwell meant to be helpful,” he said at last, “but in future, it’s best to let me make such judgments. I am privy to information about society’s gentlemen that a respectable lady wouldn’t know. And yes, Allegra, I suppose Tavener did exercise good judgment by discouraging those two rogues. Though he probably just wanted free rein to flirt with you himself. You did well tonight, but you must still be very cautious to limit your contact with him.”

  Allegra’s warm approval of Rob’s gentle handling of his cousin cooled. Though she’d hoped he might be jealous of the dangerously attractive Tavener, she could not like his persistent refusal to acknowledge any good qualities in the baron. She opened her lips to disagree with him again, then shut them.

  Thereafter, silence reigned in the vehicle, Mrs. Randall nodding off and Rob’s eyes closing as well. Her mind and senses still aroused after the events of the evening, Allegra wasn’t sleepy in the least.

  If Rob chose to believe the worst of Tavener, she obviously wasn’t going to dissuade him. Nor should she let his implacable disdain irritate her, since the lower Rob’s opinion of her undesirable suitor, the more likely that alarm over Tavener’s pursuit might propel Rob to a declaration.

  Still, Rob was showing himself rather dictatorial and small-minded, his unfavorable opinion of Tavener so firmly fixed in his head that he refused to entertain any evidence to the contrary. By instinct and observation, Allegra knew Tavener to be a much finer man than Rob would allow.

  Was she really sure she wanted to entice Rob into a proposal?

  That errant thought shocked her so much that she gasped. Of course she still wanted to marry Rob! she assured herself, trying to calm her agitation. Granted, the golden hero of her childhood had obviously changed a bit, but hadn’t she, as well? If he were now somewhat…firm in his views, ’twas understandable after all his years of commanding men in wartime. Besides, in her limited observation, most men believed they knew better than ladies what should be done in any situation—poor, misguided fools that they were.

  Though Tavener might be a good man at heart, as well as a devastatingly attractive one, she mustn’t lose sight of the fact that her future security and happiness were at stake here. Tavener may have beguiled her with his rogue’s charm and innate kindness, but worldly wisdom said that sooner or later, he would focus his mesmerizing eyes, tender regard and devastating charm on some other susceptible female.

  Once a rake, always a rake, a sorrowful Molly had told her. Rob seemed to share that opinion. Who was she to dispute their much greater knowledge of the world?

  No, she would not let herself be distracted from her purpose by the allure of a rogue. Even a rogue who seemed to possess as many fine qualities as William Tavener.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AS HE HAD most of the evening when not by the lady’s side, while Will nodded and smiled at his well-wishers, he watched Miss Antinori out of the corner of his eye. He’d hoped to speak with her again, but Lynton’s friends—eminently respectable men both—were leading her away.

  Perhaps later, he thought, not willing to leave the musicale while there was still the possibility of snagging her for a bit more of their delicious conversation. Since Lucilla had been obligated to attend another function tonight, he meant to take full advantage of this chance to focus upon Miss Antinori, free of his well-meaning cousin’s urging that he seek out more “suitable” young ladies.

  Now that Miss Antinori was out of black gloves, Will might even be able to claim her for a waltz.

  Ah, that he might let his arm encircle her waist, clasp her hand while the movements of the dance brushed her body against him. Lust and longing blasted through him at the thought.

  A simple conversation might be safer if he wished to keep enough wits about him to charm her. He’d hardly exaggerated when he told her he had trouble thinking when she was near.

  Trouble thinking of something appropriate, that is. The words that sprang to his lips weren’t the politely superficial “I shall delight in calling upon you” she’d coached him to utter, but something simpler and more basic.

  Like “Come with me.” “Kiss me.” “Stay with me.” Just a glimpse of her from across the room was enough to set his body simmering. A mere touch of her hand whipped his smoldering desire back to full flame.

  For a moment, he let himself imagine the splendor of satisfying the constant ache to possess her. The wonder of caressing the round of hip and provocative thrust of breasts beneath him, worshipping that velvet skin with his hands, his mouth, revealing to her the powerful release he knew awaited them both.

  He couldn’t remember ever craving a woman this badly, wanting to wind his arms and legs around her and bind her to him. To taste her, inhale her, absorb the essence of her into his skin, like a potent elixir that would cure the ills of isolation and loneliness that still plagued him deep within.

  At the same time, he felt this powerful need to make her laugh, to shield her from unpleasantness and protect her from maggots like Wofford and Sir Harry.

  Maybe from himself.

  Hands shaking with the ferocity of the emotions she roused in him, Will took a deep breath, realizing he hadn’t heard a single word of the gushing compliments being paid him by the attractive young matron before him.

  A matron who was well curved, full-bosomed and sending him every possible signal that she wished to discover if his reputation as an excellent lover was justified.

  He vaguely remembered from their introduction earlier that she had an elderly husband secluded away at some country estate. Voluptuous, interested, available—she possessed all the attributes that normally would have prompted him to smile back at the invitation in her eyes.

  It was not the vow he’d taken to remain celibate while looking about for a rich wife that prevented him from responding. With a jolt of panic, he realized Madame LushBosom, who was now leaning forward so he might have a better view of her assets, didn’t tempt him in the least.

  Curling his hands into fists, he made some excuse and walked away, leaving the woman gazing after him with a slightly piqued frown. Needing solitude in which to cool his overheated mind and body, Will escaped onto the balcony beyond the ballroom.

  It appeared, he thought as he wrapped his fingers around the chill stone of the balustrade, that his first instinct had been correct. It would be safer for him to avoid Allegra Antinori.

  But he knew in his next breath that he wouldn’t. And the wicked amusement he derived from aggravating Lynton by pursuing her no longer played any part in that decision.

  Besides, Miss Antinori might have her heart set on winning Lynton’s…but Will was certain Lynton had no such designs on his ward’s. He’d watched them carefully tonight without ever seeing on that gentleman’s face anything like the admiration and affection so nakedly visible on Miss Antinori’s as she’d gazed at her guardian in the park. Perhap
s Lynton was more circumspect in concealing his emotions than the passionate Miss Antinori, but Will didn’t believe that was the reason for the man’s lack of ardor.

  Lynton’s expression while Colonel Jessamyn conversed with his ward denoted approval and gratification—as if he were showing off a well-schooled colt. Where Will was inspired to almost snarling rage when Sir Thomas Reede bent over Miss Antinori’s hand, his leering eyes trying to peer down her bodice with an insolence that made Will want to land him a facer, Lynton appeared not to have even noticed the baronet’s effrontery.

  Her guardian treated Allegra, Will concluded, like a valuable prize—but one he intended to award to some other fortunate contender.

  Whereas if she were Will’s to guide and protect, he could never persuade himself to give her up.

  Will didn’t know which of them was the bigger fool.

  With his mind in turmoil, perhaps it would be best not to seek out Miss Antinori again tonight. Sighing with exasperation, Will wheeled around, stomped off the balcony and headed across the crowded ballroom floor.

  Deciding to evade the pursuit of Madame LushBosom—and put off to another evening the chore of trying to charm one of Lucilla’s “suitable” maidens—he would visit the refreshment room for another free glass of his hostess’s excellent wine before returning to his rooms.

  He’d proceeded a few paces into the hallway when a touch to his shoulder made him stop.

  “My, my,” the amused voice said. “So absorbed in your reflections were you, my lord, I thought you had gone deaf. I nearly had to run to catch up with you.”

  Pouty pink lips curved in a smile, the low-cut bodice of her black silk gown drawing attention to the rapid rise and fall of her full breasts, Sapphira Lynton stepped around to face him. Slowly she slid her hand from his shoulder down his sleeve before tucking her hand under his.

  “Shall we have a glass of wine? I wasn’t able to penetrate the ranks of your admirers earlier to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance.”

  “Did you indeed?” he asked, resisting the urge to pull his hand away. Already disliking her for the way she treated Miss Antinori, he resented even more this obvious attempt to use her sensuality against him.

  Though she’d flirted with him before—as she flirted with any man who came within her orbit—Lady Lynton had never before singled Will out. Wondering why she’d chosen to do so now, Will decided it would be wiser to swallow his distaste and play along. Perhaps he could find a way to scare her off persecuting Miss Antinori—or winkle out of her any other schemes she might be hatching to embarrass or discredit Lynton’s ward.

  “So ardent and unusual a piece,” Lady Lynton was saying as she led him into the now nearly deserted refreshment room. “I’ve heard you write music. Was it your own composition?”

  Will knew instinctively Miss Antinori wouldn’t want him to share anything about her father with this woman. Especially not the work the maestro had composed for the courageous, beautiful lady who’d defied her family and deserted her world to marry him.

  Did Miss Antinori know he’d played it just for her?

  “Still abstracted, my lord?” Lady Lynton recalled him, the tiny frown on her forehead signifying she wasn’t pleased at receiving less than his full attention.

  Before he could dredge up some insincere apology, she continued, “’Tis no matter. Come, let us sit and chat.” After the footman handed them each a wineglass, she linked her arm in his and led him to a small sofa in the far corner of the room, strategically placed behind a pillar and hidden by a screen of plantings.

  The furniture’s location suggested it had been set there to encourage just such discreet encounters. Lady Lynton’s familiarity with it indicated this might not be the first time she’d availed herself of the arrangement. Storing away that observation, Will waited for her to speak.

  With an arch smile, she said, “After you’ve gone to such lengths this evening to impress the lady, I imagine I can guess who occupies your thoughts. You must know I fully support your ambitions!”

  “And which ambitions might those be?” he asked.

  “Come now, you needn’t be coy,” she chided, tapping him with her fan. “I noticed your interest in Lynton’s Tall Meg of a ward before tonight. I mean Allegra, of course.”

  So she thought he had played this evening simply to impress Allegra? He supposed that was part of it. Treading cautiously, he said, “And if I were attracted to the lady, what interest could that be of yours?”

  She took a sip of her wine, then slowly licked an errant drop from the tip of her lip. Watching his reaction from under her lashes, she said, “I might be in a position to…further your aspirations. I could, for instance, arrange for you to visit the house while Allegra is home alone. A dark night, a candlelit bedchamber, no hovering chaperone…well, I imagine an attractive gentleman of your vast expertise would have little difficulty persuading her to give you what you desire.”

  The images she conjured up flooded over him. Allegra his, coming to him clad in nothing but a silk night rail, her lustrous dark hair unbound. Teasing and tempting her until passion glowed in her dark eyes as she came into his embrace. His fingers, clumsy with eagerness as they worked the ties of her garment…

  It took several seconds for his indignant brain to wrench control back from his rampaging senses. In the aftermath of ardor, shock knifed through him. Had Lady Lynton truly meant what he thought she had?

  Hardly able to credit such a thing, he said, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  She laughed softly. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I am suggesting. Do not fear. I would make sure you were not…interrupted, so there would be no unpleasant consequences afterward.”

  Though Allegra had told him Lady Lynton disliked her, Will could scarcely believe this woman graced with the beauty of an angel really wished him to commit so devilish a deed: to ravish a gently bred maiden under her roof.

  “Why would you wish me to do this?”

  She tossed her head. “A man of your breeding must have recognized at first glance, as I did, what she truly is. I’ve tried to encourage only the sort of men she deserves, like Wofford and Sir Harry, to seek her out. But—” she gave him a seductive smile “—clever girl that she is, she seems to prefer your company. If you were to keep her…occupied, I could relax my vigilance, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to use those siren’s looks to gull some respectable gentleman into offering for her.”

  “And why is that so important to you?”

  “I should think that would be obvious,” she replied impatiently. “An Italian menial’s trollop daughter trying to jump above her station and marry into the ton—why, the very notion offends! Lynton would recognize her for what she is, too, if he weren’t so blinded by a mawkish attachment dating back to his youth. Of course, my late husband encouraged him by tolerating the girl and her wretched family. Why, I cannot imagine.”

  “Perhaps because the late Lord Lynton was related to her mother?” Will suggested, struggling to keep his voice neutral as he suppressed the urge to tell this spoiled daughter of the ton that he did indeed recognize a trollop when he saw one—and it wasn’t Miss Antinori.

  Be cautious, he ordered himself, at least until you’ve discovered the whole of her scheme.

  Mastering his contempt with an effort, he said, “As you pointed out, Lynton does have a fondness for the girl. What would happen if he discovered our…assignations? I have no desire to find myself on a grassy field some morning, sighting at him over the barrel of my pistol.”

  “I doubt it would come to that! Most likely if he did discover the liaison, he would finally have his eyes opened to the creature’s true character. And if there should be…difficulties, you need only retire to the country for a time while the scandal blows over.”

  Will shook his head. “I’ve no desire to rusticate for years in rural obscurity, my lady.”

  She waved an impatient hand. “’Twould be no need for that. A fortnight
’s wonder it would be, if the on-dit lasted that long. Once the ton learned the particulars, they would think no more of it than if they discovered you’d taken some chit from the opera as your mistress. The orchestra is her proper milieu, after all,” she said, her voice dripping scorn. “And of course, if you should need something to…sustain you during your short exile, I’m sure I could assist.”

  Her audacity and total lack of remorse almost choked him. Will had to swallow hard before he responded, “Pray remind me what I would derive from this scheme?”

  “Beyond the immediate enjoyment, you mean?” When he said nothing, she slid closer to him. “If you require more…inducement, I understand you’ve turned your eye toward Dianthe Herndon. She’s extremely fastidious about her lovers, but since she’s a close friend of mine, I could whisper a word in her ear for you.”

  Trying to drive the scent of her perfume out of his nostrils, Will shook his head. “Kind of you, but I’ve no interest in the lady.”

  “Indeed?” Sapphira leaned toward him until her breasts brushed against his chest before looking up, her full lips almost touching his. “I might offer my own gratitude.” She lowered her breathy tone to a whisper. “My very…personal…gratitude.” She tilted her chin up and closed her eyes.

  Though his body clamored for him to lean down the short distance that separated them and take the kiss she offered, he fought off the urge, reaching instead to intercept her hand before her groping fingers found his trouser flap.

  The fact that she could use her sensuality to force a reaction from his body even though her proposition affronted him in every fiber of his being only increased his rage. Never in his life had he been so close to striking a woman. How he wished she were a man, not just so he would be immune to her sensual advances, but also so he might challenge her to meet him in the ring.

  But, alas, Sapphira Lynton was a woman, beyond the ability of a gentleman not of her family to chastise. For a moment he marveled at the malice and self-centered arrogance that led her to believe she was justified in plotting to ruin a girl whose only crime was to be held in high regard by the family of whom she was a distant connection.