She would be damned if she’d let him turn her into property by blackmailing her. However, he was a guest, and she could not prove his evil inclinations to her parents, so she would simply have to be careful during the house party.
That was why Vaughn was here. She hoped his very presence would protect her in ways she could not manage on her own. As much as she hated relying on a man, she felt she could trust him in this matter. And he seemed to know the sort of man Samuel was and thought the man a bastard, just as she did.
“Mr. Milburn, welcome,” Perdita said, her tone cool but polite. There was no need to anger him, not if the charade with Vaughn was to succeed. The goal was to simply remove his interest in her, not provide him with reasons to desire retribution.
“Thank you, Miss Darby. I trust you have given thought to what we spoke of when last we met?” He flashed a charming grin that didn’t fool her one bit. She did not miss the look of calculation he gave her or the way he eyed her critically from head to toe, the way a man would study a horse he planned to acquire at Tattersall’s.
“I have.” It was all she would admit to. The time to reveal her engagement had not yet come, and she wouldn’t let it slip until Vaughn decided the time was right. He knew how to deal with a man like Milburn.
She stepped back and let him pass, along with his companion. Another coach was arriving, and she was relieved to have an excuse to leave Mr. Milburn to be seen to his room.
Another dozen guests arrived before Perdita was allowed to retire to her room before lunch was served. She decided to stay in her light-green wool gown with red trimming on the sleeves and hem. Most of the ladies would be changing out of their carriage dresses, but since she hadn’t traveled, she would do well enough in her day gown.
The entire notion of changing one’s dress three or four times a day frustrated her. There were a dozen other things she would prefer to accomplish on any given day, and having to change to suit the time of day or activity was both bothersome and unnecessary. Men didn’t have to change clothes so frequently, and she was envious of that freedom.
She chose to visit the library on the second floor on the opposite wing of the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Vaughn. Most of the guests were staying in the east wing of the house, but she had placed Vaughn on the west side closer to her own chambers.
There was no sign of him in the corridor, however. It was possible he was taking his repose in his bedchamber, or perhaps she had missed him on the stairs. He could be in one of the dozen other rooms in the house now, chatting with the other gentlemen. Or perhaps he had gone riding in the snow. The thought she might not see him was upsetting.
I don’t want to miss him...yet I do. Then she shook her head. I miss his kisses, that is all. I don’t know the man well enough to miss him.
She and Lysandra had discussed on more than one occasion how a man could distract a woman from her academic focuses with their passions. At the time, Perdita had no personal experience to argue with, but now...now she understood completely how a man could so thoroughly disrupt one’s thoughts.
Perdita went to one of the bookcases and took out a leather portfolio containing several essays she was working on. She then settled into a little window seat in the library, her latest astronomy paper resting on her lap. She still had revisions to make, but today she wanted to read it for clarity and construction before she sent it on to Lysandra. She raised her legs up in a bent position so that her red satin slippers peeped out from the hem of her skirts, and she rested the pages on her knees.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there before she had the distinct impression that someone was watching her. It was far too easy to lose herself in her work, and apparently she hadn’t noticed someone enter the library. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she tried not to panic, her first concern being that Samuel Milburn had found her alone. She raised her head and glanced about.
A lone figure leaned against the shelf not too far from where she sat in her alcove. When she saw who it was she wasn’t afraid, but her heart still jerked into a rushed pace.
“Vaughn!” she hissed. “You startled me!” She set her paper aside as he came over. She tried to stand, but he prevented this by sliding onto the seat beside her.
“You were quite engrossed in whatever you were reading. I didn’t wish to intrude upon your thoughts.” He gently lifted her feet and stretched her legs over his lap, the position highly scandalous, but the cozy intimacy was so irresistible she didn’t protest...much.
“We shouldn’t...”
“Nonsense.” He moved her skirts so he could place one of his large hands on her left calf.
Perdita jolted. “No, Vaughn...” She grabbed his wrist, and he lifted his face to hers.
“Easy, my sweet, just breathe.” His fingers stilled on her leg, and he leaned in to brush his lips over hers. His gentle kiss calmed her, even though a rush of shivers danced along her skin.
“Better?” he asked with a smile against her lips.
She nodded. “Yes. I was just frightened.”
“That’s what makes passion exciting.” He paused to stroke her leg again. “But I will take things as slowly as you wish.”
“But I thought you liked control.” She said the words softly, even though no one but the books could witness this scandalous moment.
“I do, darling. I adore control. But only once the lady feels safe with me.”
“I feel safe with you,” she replied truthfully.
“Good. That matters to me greatly.” He continued to stroke her calf, and she closed her eyes briefly, relishing his touch.
His fingers were long and elegant but not delicate. Beautiful hands...for a handsome man. Perdita watched in fascination as his hands touched her. The heat of his palms soaked through her white stockings to her skin, and she couldn’t stop the wave of heat that followed through her whole body.
A true rogue could conjure up passion like a wizard. He could cast spells that made her forsake rational thought with only a wicked smile and a tender caress from her ankle up to her knee. He let her skirts fall back down over her legs but kept his hand on her skin. There was something seductive about his hand beneath her dress, touching her legs, without being able to see what he was doing. It was as though the excitement of what he might do next was greater than what he actually did. She wiggled slightly but made no attempt to flee.
“Now, what were you reading that had you so enraptured?” Vaughn was gazing at her, his blue eyes clear as a summer sky. The sunlight came in through the window, trickling down his golden hair and illuminating the strands until they glowed in a halo about his head. His lips were slightly curved, as though he was lost in a pleasant but possibly scandalous daydream. It was the sort of expression a woman could stare at for hours and wish desperately that it was she the gentleman had upon his mind.
“Oh, I was just...” She tried to tuck the pages of her astronomy essay behind her, but he reached around her body and pulled the essay in front of him to read it.
“Please, don’t—”
“Shh. I’m reading,” he teased as he continued to stroke her left calf in tickling circles with his fingertips, then paused. “Astronomy?” he asked.
“Are you surprised that a woman might have a love of the sciences?”
“Surprised perhaps, but far from displeased. It has been my experience that far too many men lack a proper interest. They learn enough to feign knowledge at their gentlemen’s clubs and pass along half-remembered conclusions as if they were their own. It can be quite depressing when one is looking for decent, intelligent conversation.”
“And you? Do you have an interest in the sciences?”
“I do, though I admit that I am woefully ignorant of the more detailed elements of the subject of this piece. It seems quite brilliant.” His eyes ran the length of the page as though scanning it.
“You think so?” She couldn’t resist wanting to preen at his praise.
Vaughn did not ans
wer at first, and his brow was furrowed as he studied the pages. “Do you know the man who wrote this? His observations are quite interesting, though I daresay some of the calculations are over my head.”
“Er—yes. I know the man. He’s pursuing publication of the piece, once it is ready.” She was not going to tell him she was the article’s author. He was no doubt the sort of man who believed women did not belong in the sciences.
“I imagine he will have success then. Does he often have you read his work beforehand?”
She nodded. It didn’t feel right to conceal anything from him, but this was a part of her life that held no connection to the bargain they’d made, and she would not share this secret with him. She was far too accustomed to men thinking ill of women who had minds of their own, and did not need his ridicule whilst they were trying to keep up their engagement act. “Where were you this morning? I thought you might come down for breakfast.”
Vaughn smiled his infuriating cat-in-the-cream grin. “A man ought to have a few mysteries about him.” He moved his hand beneath her skirts again, this time even higher, until he touched the soft garter that held the stocking up. He flicked the silk ribbon bows, and another wave of heat rolled through her.
“Would you like me to teach you about passion?” he asked, his voice now velvety soft.
Despite her body’s cries of yes, she shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m well versed in it.”
He grinned, still toying with the bow of her garter. “Liar. You’re afraid to risk it.”
“I most certainly am not,” she huffed, then curiosity got the better of her. “Risk what, exactly?”
“Falling in love with me, of course.” His crooked grin should not have made her heart flutter, but it did.
“I see no danger of that, I assure you.” She took the papers from him and climbed off her seat. She set her article on a nearby table and went toward the nearest bookshelf. There were three rows of shelves that were parallel to the door, and she often liked to hide behind the last one to go unseen if someone came to the library looking for her.
Perdita glanced over her shoulder and saw Vaughn following her. He trailed his fingertips along the surface of the walnut reading table. The burgundy waistcoat he wore went well with his dark-tan trousers. Perdita had to jerk her thoughts away from how well-fitted those trousers were.
“So...you say you know of passion, that you are well versed in it, but I assure you, you don’t know what it means to be with me.” He said this softly as he came up behind her. She faced the shelves, hidden from the rest of the library. Vaughn toyed with the flare of her skirts at her lower back, tugging on a red silk ribbon that trailed down her back from the sash at her waist.
“This is not part of our arrangement,” she said at last, though less defiantly than she had intended.
“You misunderstand me. What I’m trying to say is that whenever Milburn sees us together, he needs to believe we are lovers.” He leaned against her from behind, cornering her against the shelf. His lips feathered against her ear, and she shivered. Her womb clenched, and her knees ached.
“He will believe,” she replied, though her words trembled.
“I have no doubts that you are a fine actress, but I fear that without some experience you will do no better than a young girl swooning over her first infatuation. Milburn will see it for what it is—drawing attention to itself and utterly unconvincing.”
“And what would you suggest?”
“That you let go of your fears and allow me to guide you on a short voyage into those passions, while keeping your greater virtue intact. Only then will you be able to tap into those thoughts in Milburn’s presence. Only then will he see in your eyes what you want him to see.”
Perdita huffed. “I am sure you would say anything to get under a woman’s skirts.”
“True, I would. But it does not make my words any less reasonable.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she relented. “I have found your kisses a pleasant enough diversion. I doubt whatever it is you have in mind will be much different.” She threw out the challenge, and then her heart raced to see what he would do.
“And that, my dear, shows how much you have to learn.” The heat of his body pressed against hers made her forget for a moment how to breathe.
“So you would teach me, then?” She kept her tone light, even though she was feeling strangely light-headed.
“Teach you to be wicked? Absolutely,” Vaughn said. “When you sit across from me at dinner and I look at you, he will see in your eyes and through the blush of your cheeks that we spent an hour in the library together, doing this...” He lifted her skirts, traced his hand up her right leg beneath her petticoats, and touched her there.
Perdita gasped, but he covered her mouth with his other hand. Rather than be frightened that he was silencing her, she was excited by the way he took control. She clutched the shelf in front of her, a wet heat pooling between her thighs as he explored her with his fingers.
“He should see that I own you, that I have touched you here and tortured you until you were begging for sweet release.” He murmured each wicked thought in her ear, and she struggled to stay standing. She wasn’t afraid, not of his muffling her sounds or the gentle but firm exploration of her folds with his fingers. He knew just how to touch her, how to stroke her. She had never known being touched in such a way could feel so...wild. The rush of sensations below her waist, the way her nipples hardened against her corset, his warm breath against her neck, all mixed with the press of his body against hers from behind...it was too much.
“Show me your dark side, Perdita,” Vaughn whispered, and she felt her body seize and come apart. Stars dotted her vision, and she felt herself falling. Strong arms caught her, lifting her back up.
She realized through the haze of her slowly dissipating climax that he was carrying her away from the bookshelves and back to the window seat. She blinked against the bright sunlight as he set her back down on the window seat’s soft cushions. Her head was swimming with a thousand emotions, but most of her felt dazed, shaky, and confused. He had just touched her at the apex of her thighs, and she’d come undone. The sensations, the heated explosion inside her was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
She looked up at him, blinking as she tried to stay calm and not cry. What he’d done had her feeling open and vulnerable. She wanted him to hold her, keep her close while she came down from the steep height her body had climbed. He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers.
“Tonight at dinner, when I look at you, think of this moment, my hands on your bare skin between your pretty thighs. Milburn will see what you wish him to see.”
With that he turned and walked away, leaving Perdita bewildered, her body lax yet trembling on a floating cloud of feelings she was too afraid to analyze. Vaughn was a master of sin, there was no doubt. She couldn’t help but worry that a small part of her might indeed be in danger of falling in love with him.
Perhaps he was truly more dangerous to her than Samuel.
VAUGHN RAPPED HIS KNUCKLES on the door to Mr. Darby’s study.
“Come in.”
Vaughn entered and found Darby bent over his desk examining a collection of shells with a magnifying glass. Snow fell outside the bay window behind him, which would leave a fresh layer for any gentleman riding tomorrow.
Vaughn’s impression of Darby was that he was a rather studious man, a man invested in the sciences. Just like his daughter, it would seem. He suspected she’d written that essay she’d been reviewing and she had tried to hide the fact from him. But her expression had given her away. Her face had been so open, her eyes so earnest in that moment as she seemed to yearn for his approval.
No doubt she was afraid he would be just like any other man and discount her ideas. But her arguments were sound and her conclusions logical. It was a paper worthy of publication, regardless of who had written it. He would find a way to convince her of that once they were married.
“A
h, Lord Darlington. I’ve been expecting you.” Darby chuckled as he set the magnifying glass down.
“Well, I wasn’t sure if...your daughter had informed you.” Vaughn was in uncharted territory here. He’d never expected to be in this situation, yet here he was.
“Your engagement? She mentioned it. I was a little surprised, of course. Perdy tells me almost everything, and she’s never mentioned you before, except this past September.” Darby studied him with a gentle curiosity. It surprised Vaughn. Most fathers with unmarried daughters would have been chasing a man like him off their estates unless they were desperate. Yet Darby was far more like his daughter than Vaughn might have guessed. He was of a rational mind, just like her.
“I admit we should have come to you at once, but I did not want to trap her into any commitment until she was sure she wished to marry me.”
Darby chuckled. “Noble words for one of London’s more notorious rogues, or so I hear. You aren’t part of that League of Rogues are you?”
Vaughn shook his head. “No, certainly not.” The League was not simply some club one could join, though gossip spoke of them as if it was. Investing with Ashton Lennox, one of the League members, was as close as he would get to being part of their number.
“Good, good. So you’re here to ask for my permission to marry Perdita?”
He nodded.
“Well, as you know, my daughter has her own heart and mind. My opinion on the matter holds little weight. She will do exactly as she pleases.”
“That may be true,” Vaughn replied, “but I also believe she values your opinion. I feel duty bound to pass any test you might put me through so that she will feel you accept the match as well.”
Darby tilted his head. “Are you aware that another gentleman here at the house has expressed an interest in Perdita’s hand?”
“Samuel Milburn? Yes, I’m aware, although he has no idea of our engagement. We were hoping to have you announce our happy news tonight at dinner. We believe it might direct the other fellow to seek another bride.” Vaughn knew full well that it would be hard to prevent Milburn from pursuing his blackmail on Perdita, but he secretly hoped that once Milburn saw that Vaughn was in fact going to marry her—assuming he could convince her it was a sound idea—that Milburn would give up.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 6