Stolen Kisses

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Bastard,” Remdale grunted, then pulled a bulging leather purse from his pocket. “Here.” He tossed the thing onto the table.

  For a moment the marquis was surprised. “Where did you come up with the blunt?” Twenty-four hours ago, Dolph had been completely to let.

  “None of your damned affair, Dansbury. Where’s the pin?”

  Jack casually pulled the diamond from his pocket and examined it. “Hm,” he mused, “Uncle Geoffrey paying your gambling debts, now?”

  Dolph’s jaw clenched. “Give me the pin.”

  Jack tossed it to him. “In the future I suggest you not gamble with family heirlooms. Uncle Geoffrey seemed none too pleased to have it escape his clutches.”

  Dolph flushed, his face becoming the blotchy red which characterized Remdale rages. “You dog,” he hissed. “I should call you out over this.”

  That sounded promising. If there was one thing experience had taught him about the Remdales, though, it was that they didn’t begin fights they couldn’t win. Not without a considerable push. But Jack would be pleased to push Dolph, or better yet, his uncle, all the way to hell.

  Behind him, Peese scratched at the door and entered with his breakfast tray.

  Jack’s eyes lit on the bowl of marmalade, and on an impulse he snatched up the bowl and dashed the contents into Dolph Remdale’s face. “Will this convince you to call me out?”

  Dolph sputtered and stumbled backward, swiping at the sticky orange jam running down the front of his fine coat. “You damned blackguard!”

  “So?” Jack returned, examining his nails. “I asked if you were going to call me out.”

  Dolph glared at him, uneasiness abruptly vying with the fury on his face. Marmalade dripped down his perfect Roman nose, and he angrily wiped at it. “I’ll do worse.” He shoved past Jack and the silent Peese. “I’ll ruin you. You will regret this.” Remdale stomped down the hallway and out the front door.

  “Blasted coward,” Jack said calmly, looking after Dolph and licking marmalade from his finger.

  “My lord?”

  Jack turned to his butler. “Yes, Peese?”

  “Was that why you wanted breakfast?”

  The marquis snorted and replaced the bowl on the tray. “Would that I possessed such powers of premonition.” He headed out the door, already anticipating his next encounter with Lilith Benton. Her brother would know her schedule for the evening. “Have the tray sent up to my chambers, if you please. And have Benedick saddled.” He’d promised to assist William Benton with purchasing a new mount, and there would be several very expensive ones at the auctions today. Antonia was partial to black Arabians, something he would mention to the young cub. “As long as I’ve been dragged out of bed at this ungodly hour, I may as well try to get something accomplished.”

  The butler looked down at the orange globules spattered over the expensive and elegant Persian carpet, and sighed. “‘Something accomplished’?” he muttered. “What does he call this?”

  Vauxhall Gardens was a carnival of competing noise. In daylight, the pleasure gardens were uncrowded and quiet, one of Lilith’s favorite places. In the evenings during the Season, though, the wild soirées and fireworks displays were legendary. If it hadn’t been for Lady Georgina’s presence, her father would never have allowed her to attend. She was halfway to wishing he hadn’t permitted it, anyway.

  “Lilith, do quit scowling. It’ll ruin your complexion.”

  Lilith looked away from the sight of Lord Greeley and Mr. Aames wading through the Gardens’ central fountain, singing a ballad about some Scottish maiden with whom they were apparently quite intimately acquainted. “I’m not scowling, Georgina. I simply don’t understand how some people can behave so foolishly.”

  Her companion leaned over the side of their rented box to get a better look at the gentleman. “My papa says everyone is foolish.” She giggled as the two men waved at her. “Some are just less skilled at hiding it.”

  Behind Georgina’s back. Pen wrinkled her nose. Lilith stifled a smile. Georgina was a bit feather-brained, in addition to being nearsighted, but as her dowry was purported to be ten thousand pounds, her intelligence and her eyesight probably didn’t matter. Lilith sighed and looked toward the gazebo, where the orchestra played a beautifully rendered piece by Haydn. She was aware that she was considered to be a beauty, which meant she was viewed as superficially as Georgina. No one cared if she could wield a wicked metaphor.

  A confectioner’s cart rounded the hedge, and she straightened. “I’m going to get a strawberry ice,” she declared, needing a rest from giggling nonsense for a moment “Does anyone else wish one?”

  “No, thank you.” Pen shivered. “It’s too cold already.”

  When Georgina, the marchioness, and Lady Sanford declined as well, Lilith stepped down from their box and strolled over to purchase her ice. As she paid her shilling, the Duke of Wenford’s gravel-bucket voice sounded from somewhere behind her. Lilith flinched.

  With a stifled curse, not stopping to question her wisdom, she hurried toward the protection of the gazebo. She couldn’t face Wenford without Pen or William there to help extricate her from any difficulties. The duke’s voice came again, closer still, and she looked over her shoulder as she ducked behind the structure—and immediately crashed into someone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to steady herself and finding her elbow gripped. “How clumsy of—”

  “Not at all. Miss Benton,” the Marquis of Dansbury returned, looking down at her with dancing eyes. “How rude of me to be standing to one side of the path like that.”

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  At her jerk, he relinquished his grip on her arm. “Actually, I was listening to the orchestra.”

  “There are benches around front for that purpose.” Belatedly, she stepped backward to put distance between them.

  A male voice said something from around the turn of the hedge, and the Duke of Wenford answered. Lilith jumped again. She had thought to escape His Grace, and now she would be plunged into the middle of another confrontation between him and Dansbury!

  “I didn’t wish to risk my reputation by being seen sitting on a bench without a companion.” Dansbury tilted his head, dark hunter’s eyes studying her. “Perhaps you’d care to join me.”

  “You must be joking.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  He raised an eyebrow, following Lilith’s gaze before he returned his attention to her. “Are you in some difficulty?”

  “No.”

  “Not avoiding anyone, are you?”

  Blast him, he was every bit as quick as William bragged. “If I were, it would be you,” she countered.

  The marquis nodded agreeably as his eyes focused on something past her shoulder. “Just as a point of information, though, you might wish to know that your fifth suitor is coming around—”

  Lilith whipped around, frantically trying to think of some way to escape Wenford’s presence. Before she could react, Dansbury yanked her backward through a cluster of bushes.

  “Don’t you dare—”

  “Shh,” he chastised, putting his finger over her lips.

  Lilith looked at him, startled at the touch, then slapped his hand away. She turned to stalk back out of the bushes, then heard Wenford on the other side of the gazebo—where he would have a clear view of her if she departed. When she turned around again, Dansbury was still watching her, his expression speculative.

  “You truly don’t want Old Hatchet Face’s attentions,” he said.

  “That is none of your concern,” she snapped as loudly as she dared.

  He shrugged. “Then I shall depart,” he told her, turning to walk away.

  “Don’t you dare leave me to follow you out of here, as though we’ve been up to something,” she hissed.

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “You request my company, then?”

  “I didn’t ask you to drag me into the shrubbery, and I won�
��t have myself ruined over it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But that’s your intention, no doubt.”

  The marquis returned to stand in front of her, pursing his lips. “If I were trying to rain you, we would both be wearing fewer clothes.”

  “Hah,” she scoffed, trying not to blush. “Is this one of the subtle seductions you are teaching my brother? I fear, then, that he is doomed to celibacy.”

  Unexpectedly, Dansbury chuckled. “If you disbelieve my pure, good-hearted intentions, Miss Benton, then leave.”

  “I will. As soon as you look and see whether His Grace is still there.”

  With a slight bow, the marquis turned and parted the branches. “He’s still there, lecturing Greeley. Looks as though that idiot’s been wading in the fountain again.”

  “Again?” she repeated. Lilith craned her neck to see over his shoulder, and instead caught herself studying the lean, rugged line of his jaw. When he looked back at her, his eyes seemed genuinely amused, the cynicism for once missing.

  “Greeley seems to end up in some pool of water or other at least twice a Season. He is something of a toad, though, so I suppose it’s not all that surprising.”

  Greeley was somewhat frog-eyed, and a corner of her mouth quirked. “That’s not amusing.”

  Dansbury contorted his face into an expression of mortified dismay. “Oh, my, is Greeley a seventh suitor of yours? I had no idea. Please, let me tender my most sincere apol—”

  “He is not a suitor,” she said, beyond impatience. “And neither are you, my lord.”

  “But I can think of nothing but your heavenly smile,” he protested, the picture of innocence as his own deucedly attractive smile touched his mouth, “and tasting your sweet lips. How can you so callously banish me from your heart?”

  “I am surprised you have any place for thoughts of me at all, with the amount of time you spend pursuing hazard, faro, port, and brandy,” she retorted, unsettled. Not even Lionel had dared suggest he thought about kissing her. The evening’s fireworks began close by, and she jumped at the sudden noise.

  He laughed again, softly, and reached out to straighten the blue shawl draped across her shoulders. His fingers were warm even through his gloves as they brushed the base of her throat, and her pulse leapt in response. “You exaggerate. I almost never drink brandy.”

  “And this is supposed to redeem you, you scoundrel?” she countered in her most hostile voice.

  “One can only hope.” He took a step toward her, so only a few scant inches separated them. A white cascade of glittering light lit the night above his head and made his eyes sparkle. “Do you mean there is no charity in your heart for a poor, misguided soul such as myself?”

  “You’ve guided yourself astray,” she informed him, backing up, “and my poor brother, as well.” Her thoughts and her wits seemed to have scattered, and she fought to keep an affronted expression on her face.

  “Then he is safe,” the marquis murmured, “for my path leads straight back to you.”

  That was what she was afraid of. She should simply turn and leave, Wenford or not, but the rogue was not going to have the last word. “You will find that the gate is locked, my lord.”

  “I’ll jump the hedge.”

  Of all the things she had expected, Lilith had never imagined Dansbury could be silly. “I shall buy a large dog,” she answered shakily. Why was the blackguard being charming when he knew she despised him?

  He grinned. “Then I shall be bitten, whereas now I am but smitten.”

  “Smiting you would be my pleasure,” she returned, her voice faltering a little at the end.

  “Come now,” he chastised. “You want me dead for approaching you to ask a waltz?” He reached out again, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  Lilith took a ragged breath, trying to regain control of her senses. “You know what I mean,” she said, as soon as she regained control of her voice. If he would stop touching her and looking at her in that intense, heart-stopping manner, she would be able to give him the set-down he deserved.

  “Please, explain it to me. I wish to know your thoughts.”

  “Very well. I want you to leave William alone.”

  “I can’t do that,” he answered promptly. “I’m quite fond of the lad.”

  “You’re ruining him. And that will destroy my father, which will…” she faltered, not wanting to disclose something he didn’t already know. There was apparently little, though, that the marquis didn’t seem to know. “Which will…hurt me.” She met his gaze. “Unless that is your intention, I beg you to stop.”

  His eyes searched hers. In the cold night breeze a lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, making him look boyish and far more innocent than she knew him to be. Finally he smiled, less innocently and more sensuously than before. “Will you not sacrifice something to save your brother from such evil as I apparently represent?”

  She narrowed her eyes, thankful that she could rally her anger again. “You truly have no heart at all,” she stated hotly. “A gentleman, anyone possessing any kindness, would not do what you are doing.”

  He grinned crookedly. “But you’ve already informed me that I have no positive qualities whatsoever. So how could I possibly make use of them? Perhaps I have sought you out as my last chance of salvation. You are as beautiful as any of heaven’s angels, Lilith. Could you, would you, save me?”

  Lilith’s heart began to beat wildly in trepidation and something more as he leaned toward her, his gaze focusing on her lips. “I—”

  “Miss Benton,” a male voice called sharply, and she jumped again.

  The Earl of Nance fought his way through the shrubbery to face the marquis. Thank goodness it wasn’t Wenford, or any other of her suitors—Lionel Hendrick at least had some sense in his head.

  “Has Dansbury offended you?” Nance demanded, glaring at the marquis.

  Jack smiled lazily. “Yes, Miss Benton, have I offended you?”

  She wanted to slap him for nearly kissing her, and for making her wonder what it would be like. Lionel, though, looked aggravated enough to push for a fight. She certainly had no wish to be involved in one of Dansbury’s scandals, which he appeared to regard with such amusement.

  Lilith shook her head. “I simply no longer wish to converse with him.”

  “Allow me, then, to escort you back to your friends, whom I discovered looking for you a few moments ago.” Nance tucked her hand around his forearm.

  “Yes, by all means,” the marquis agreed easily. “But beware, Miss Benton. Your ice is melting.”

  She looked at him sharply. His gesture, though, was toward the strawberry ice she still clutched in one hand. She’d forgotten about it. Lilith glared at him for effect, then turned to Nance. “Thank you, my lord,” she smiled sweetly, “for your assistance.”

  As they emerged from the bushes, she looked about warily. The duke was nowhere in sight, and she had to wonder whether the marquis hadn’t made up the tale of Wenford’s continued presence to keep her hidden with him. She glanced back to give Dansbury a cold parting glance, but he was gone, vanished in the dark as if into thin air.

  The faint smell of brimstone from the fireworks drifted by as she and Nance returned to the Sanfords’ box. Perhaps Jack Faraday was the actual devil. He’d already possessed William, and now he was after her. He would find, though, that she was not so timid and easily cowed as he believed. However charming he thought himself, this was one little game that the Marquis of Dansbury was not going to win.

  “Jack, would you please explain to me once more what in God’s name we are doing here?” Ogden Price muttered. He nodded halfheartedly at the shocked-looking cluster of women standing a short distance away from them.

  “We are attending a tea-tasting,” Jack said calmly, putting another biscuit on the small plate he carried. “And do try smiling, before you frighten the poor dears. You’re becoming entirely bracket-faced.”

  “And you’re becoming entirely demented,�
�� Price hissed back. “Why didn’t you convince your sister or Antonia to come along, instead of dragging me into this hell?”

  Jack’s determinedly pleasant smile became more strained for a moment. “Antonia is nocturnal. And my sister’s side of the family doesn’t speak to me, remember? Besides, a little civilization is good for the soul.”

  “You haven’t a soul.” Price sighed. “Otherwise, you never would have done this to me. Pass me a damned biscuit.”

  Across the room, the tittering and whispering females looked like a flock of frightened hens herding away from a fox. To complete Jack’s torture, Lilith Benton had yet to make her appearance. William Benton was going to find himself in considerable trouble if he was wrong about her plans for today. “Honey, or blueberry?”

  “Honey, damn your eyes.”

  “If you please, Price, do watch your tongue.” He took a bite of biscuit, smiled grandly, and addressed one of the women in the corner. “I say, Mrs. Falshond, these are marvelous. You must see that my cook receives the recipe. That spice I taste couldn’t be cinnamon, could it?”

  Mrs. Falshond perked up and ventured a few steps forward. “It is cinnamon, my lord. The secret ingredient of a very old family recipe.”

  Jack nodded and elbowed Price to try a bite. “I do hope you don’t mind sharing it.”

  “Of course not, my lord.” Their hostess preened like a peacock and playfully slapped her hand against his sleeve.

  Evidently she’d decided he was harmless today, and though that was Jack’s aim, her gullibility amazed him. “Splendid.”

  Mrs. Falshond clapped her hands imperiously. “Shall we proceed, ladies?” As she turned back, her smile brightened further. “Mrs. Farlane, Miss Benton. So pleased you could come. I believe you are acquainted with everyone present.”