To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  Her lips quirked. “It is far more likely my stepmother will see us and scold me most assiduously on the way home tonight. You are one of several gentlemen I was instructed to avoid.”

  “I see.” He didn’t bother concealing his doubt. She played a coquette’s game by suggesting her guardian would object to him. Forbidden fruit was always the more desirable. “And yet here we are. Have you always been so rebellious?”

  “Rebellious? I am the soul of filial obedience.” Beside her mouth a dimple flickered, belying the prim answer. “If questioned, I’ll tell her the truth—that you insisted on partnering me.”

  The music began to play, and together they moved, matching their steps to its cadence.

  Not since his first country dance had Percy felt so off-kilter with a woman. Though the touch of her fingers against his palm was featherlight, it seared his flesh. Her willowy waist swayed as she made the turn, indicating the presence of only the lightest corset beneath the silk of her gown. How would that delicious curve feel freed of all restraint? Her bosom was glorious, a temptation he longed to answer.

  No wonder Wells was bitter. She was exquisite.

  Looking up, he stared into laughing eyes the exact color of a cloudless summer sky. Slowly, they darkened to evening shade. His loins tightened. Only two things did that to a woman’s eyes. Anger was one. Desire was the other. Which was she experiencing now? Hope whispered the latter. He watched as her attention was drawn to something just over his shoulder. The heat in her gaze cooled to detachment. That simply would not do. “Miss Lowther, I have no desire to again provoke your wrath, but I must ask one more question of you.”

  Instantly, her gaze flicked up to meet his as he guided her to the left to avoid colliding with another couple. “Ask.”

  “Do you, in fact, ever intend to marry?”

  One honey-gold brow lifted. “Does not every unwed female under the age of thirty?”

  “Not necessarily.” He narrowed the gap between them and lowered his voice. “Some women have no desire for a husband.”

  Her chin rose, and she stiffened. “What exactly are you implying?”

  Bollocks. “I meant no disrespect.”

  “Then pray explain yourself.”

  Cursing his poor choice of words, he pulled her out of the dance pattern and led her to a less crowded area. “Many women—women of good family and impeccable reputation—are simply unsuited for the institution of marriage. My own cousin is such a one.”

  For a moment, a frown marred the space between her brows. “Your cousin?”

  “Yes. Her name is Lucinda.” It was uncouth to air family disagreements to a stranger, doubly so in public, but he had little choice now he’d opened the door. “Her mother tried to arrange a marriage earlier this year, but Lucy was against the match. The moment I learned why, I went to the man and broke the betrothal on my cousin’s behalf.”

  Wide blue eyes regarded him with incredulity. “You severed their agreement?”

  “Is it an agreement when one party has not agreed to it? I paid the man a handsome sum to accept her refusal in a quiet, gentlemanly manner. I then backed my offer with a threat to put a hole in his jacket no tailor could mend if he did not do so.” He couldn’t help laughing at the way her eyebrows shot up.

  “What of her family?”

  “My aunt swore never to forgive me and disowned Lucy, convinced she persuaded me to help her shirk her ‘familial duty.’ Lucy is but fifteen.”

  A tiny gasp broke from Eden’s lips. “The poor thing! What will she do?”

  “She intends to marry the church. I’ve made her my ward until she’s old enough to take vows. So you see, not all females possess the inclination to marry.”

  “She’s only fifteen. That’s hardly old enough to make such a—”

  “I’ve known Lucy her entire life, and I’m confident her choice is the right one.” He waited for her to again object, but she declined to do so. “She has chosen to live quietly in the country until she’s of age. I support her decision.”

  “She sounds as unlike you as night is from day.”

  “We are indeed very different; however, it has not prevented our being good friends. Lucy is one of only a few people in whom I can trust.” Why am I telling her this? I am not at all myself tonight.

  “You find it difficult to trust people?”

  Damn. He favored her with a wry smile. “Let us just say, experience has taught me caution.”

  She nodded slowly. “As it has me.”

  For once, there was no smooth, ready response on the tip of his tongue. “Then, like me, your trust must be earned.”

  “Indeed it must.”

  “I shall keep it in mind.” The irony of his situation did not escape him. He was trusted by London’s soiled doves, looked upon as a savior by the most disadvantaged and vulnerable women, while those in his own lofty circles looked at him with wariness. “And what will you do if you cannot find this ‘perfect gentleman’?” he asked, leading her back into the flow of the dance pattern.

  One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I suppose I shall have to be content on my own.”

  Percy knew better. The way she spoke, the way she moved, everything about this woman was vibrant and alive. She was passionate in every sense of the word—and he found it incredibly stimulating—on many levels. “I very much doubt that will be your future,” he murmured, smiling. “Unlike my cousin, who is eminently suited for a life of quiet solitude, someone like you could never be happy thus. I cannot see you moldering away in the countryside alone. No. Women like you require a broader and more sophisticated social circle.”

  “Women like me?”

  Her tone was indicative of an imminent flare of temper. Best to nip that quickly. “Simply put, you are no country mouse, my dear.” He gave her his most charming smile. “The rustic life is not for such as you. You would long for the company of your friends here in London, ever missing connection to the wider world. And being unwed and unprotected, you would most certainly attract trouble of the worst sort.”

  She eyed him. “I already have.”

  If she only knew.

  …

  Not wanting to invite further insult or give him any more ammunition to use against her, Eden elected to remain silent for the remainder of their dance. Never had she been so unsettled by a man. She vowed to relieve herself of his company after this dance was over and never seek it again. Mentally, she struck his name off the top of her list.

  In spite of her vexation and disquiet, she experienced a tiny prick of regret. There was something about him that inexplicably drew her. But no, as he’d said earlier, he was an intolerable ass. On that one point, at least, she agreed with him. Wholeheartedly. He was arrogant, caustic-tongued, and cynical. And he’d certainly made clear his opinion of her. He thought her shallow, vain, and ambitious.

  Given his reputation, it rankled mightily. Could she alter his estimation of her character? Why should she even bother? He meant nothing to her, and she meant less than nothing to him. He was only here because of Wells. There was probably a bet in the book at White’s regarding the outcome of this little meeting.

  Her blood heated at the thought. She ought to break away and leave him standing alone this instant! Everyone would assume it was his fault. As if he’d read her thoughts, his grasp on her hand tightened a fraction. Not painfully, but firmly enough that wresting herself free would cause a disturbance.

  A sudden melting sensation in her knees almost made her miss a step. Had it not been for his hand impelling her, she might have done so. She tried not to look at him, but it was impossible. When she finally gave in to the impulse, she found his dark eyes were not on her. They were fixed elsewhere—and filled with naked pain. Following his gaze, she saw Lord and Lady Montgomery standing a short distance away.

  Shock raced through her, replacing the heat of a moment ago. The rumors were true, then. Nearly two years, a marriage, and a child later, and he was still in love with her. She to
re her eyes away. Her mind reeled. No wonder he’d laid into her with such vitriol. He assumed her to be of the same ilk as the woman who’d broken his heart.

  Words of denial were on the tip of Eden’s tongue, but she stayed them. To reveal intimate knowledge concerning what he no doubt thought a private matter would be the height of imprudence. They’d only just met, after all, and men disliked having their feelings trotted out for examination. Better to be silent and observe.

  Mentally, she removed the strike from his name. A man who could love so deeply, even after such a betrayal, was not beyond hope. The problem lay in that he was still besotted with Lady Montgomery. It would be difficult to wrest his heart free of her grasp—but not impossible. She’d have to prove herself vastly different from the woman, win his trust, and then capture his affections.

  For the moment, however, it would be best to retreat. Let him believe he’d driven her away with his boorish behavior. Let him stew for a bit and think about how awful he’d been. It would give him an excuse to call on her later and beg forgiveness. Eden waited until the music drew to a close. A sense of loss engulfed her as his hand slid from hers. Pushing it aside, she waited for him to bow, curtsied deeply—and gave him her back.

  As she walked away, thoughts flitted through her mind like a flock of birds disturbed from their roost. Curiosity burned, but she resisted the urge to look back and see if he was following. Part of her hoped to hear him call her name or feel his touch on her shoulder. The foolish part. She rejoined her group of friends and admirers without incident and looked for him only after she was among them.

  He was nowhere in sight.

  “Was he as charming as they say?” asked Adelaide in an excited whisper.

  Where had he gone? “Indeed, he was,” she answered absently, continuing to search.

  “Did he say anything impertinent?” asked Genevieve, always avid for anything gossip-worthy. “Did he attempt to seduce you?”

  “Far from it—and Genevieve St. Claire! What if your mother heard you speaking thus? He was a perfect gentleman.” She’d pay penance for the lie later. It really was stifling in here. “Excuse me. I should like some air.”

  “I don’t doubt it after a dance with him,” teased Genevieve, ignoring the admonishment and making ready to accompany her. “Come, Addie. She may swoon, and we must be there to support her.”

  With raised hand, Eden stopped them. “I just need a moment or two alone.”

  Adelaide’s gentle eyes grew troubled. “Did he say something to upset you?”

  For a moment she debated the wisdom of revealing anything of their conversation. “He…was not what I expected,” was all she could bring herself to say. “Your pardon, but I really must have some air.”

  The powder room would offer no solitude, so she made for the terrace. The air outside was cool but not too chilly for comfort. A few deep, restorative breaths helped clear her head and settle her frayed nerves.

  She wanted him. Never in all her life had she been so certain of anything. Her reaction to his touch had been powerful, but it was more than that. London’s worst rake had a hidden heart and was capable of loving. Deeply. It required only the right key to inspire devotion and make him her own. That he was flawed was a given, but every man was flawed. Provided his errors weren’t completely intolerable, she could and would make the best of it.

  Mama had done it to a brilliant end. Papa had been a terrible trial during the first years of their marriage, but she’d persevered. In the end, he’d come to adore her.

  Her mother’s voice echoed in her memory. A husband should be chosen with great care, Eden. You must mind not only your heart, but your head also. The heart is prone to foolish fancies and will quickly lead you astray. I was very lucky. Not everyone is as fortunate.

  She blinked stinging eyes. It was at times like this she sorely missed Mama. She would have liked someone to talk to about Tavistoke, someone to guide her. But Papa was not the right person with whom to discuss such things, and while she and Adelaide were dear friends, the potential for disaster in the form of her accidental slip would be far too great. She dare not risk Tavistoke discovering her intent. If she confided in anyone, it would be Genevieve—but not right away. Not until she had him under her spell.

  Her stepmother, of course, was out of the question.

  A familiar ache settled in her chest. Would Mama have approved of her choice? In spite of Tavistoke’s rather rude conduct, she found him admirable. She liked that he’d come to the defense of his cousin. She liked that he’d been honest and direct about his lack of trust as well as—unflattering though it was—his opinion of her. She liked that he’d looked her in the eye and spoken to her as one would an intelligent individual rather than a mindless cow. Yes, he’d been blunt and abrasive, but unlike some, she was no delicate china figurine to shatter at the slightest provocation. He had treated her as one on equal footing, a worthy opponent.

  Yes. She liked him a great deal. And “like” was a good place to begin. One could build a house on a solid foundation of “like.” It was an inclination that could, if properly encouraged, grow into love.

  Her pragmatic nature asserted itself before she could stray too deep into the treacherous waters of romanticism. He must be the first to declare, of course. On that she wouldn’t compromise. Mama had made the mistake of telling Papa she loved him too soon in the game, and he’d all but broken her heart before coming to his senses.

  She wasn’t about to make the same blunder.

  Another deep breath and her decision was made. Starting now, there would be no more outrageous flirting with her gaggle of admirers. In fact, just to prove she’d taken his ungentle criticism seriously, she would at once begin making it clear their pursuit was without hope. She’d set her course, and there was no point in keeping a bunch of useless hangers-on about. They’d only clutter the battlefield. But clearing away the detritus must be done carefully, strategically, in order to ensure maximum effect on Tavistoke.

  If her conscience balked at such cool plotting of the man’s conquest, it was overridden by the memory of desire—her own and that which she’d seen mirrored in his eyes when he’d looked at her. A tiny smile of triumph tugged at the corners of her mouth. Tavistoke might think himself still smitten with Lady Montgomery, but she had little doubt in her ability to overcome that obstacle.

  She’d spent her entire life wrapping men around her little finger, starting with Papa and progressing to his friends and the rest of London’s male population. Tavistoke might have slipped the matrimonial nets until now, but he wouldn’t escape hers.

  For some, tender emotion came before physical attraction. For others, such sentiment followed in the footsteps of lust. If lust had to come first, so be it. Hers would be a two-pronged attack. Tempt him with the promise of carnal delights—an easy task with a man like him—while quietly working to disentangle his heart from Lady Montgomery’s web and coax it into her own. The woman was married, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

  Unless they are having an affair…

  A frown pinched her brow. That would indeed be an unwelcome gnat in the inkwell. Her first order of business must be to ascertain their relationship. She ought to learn about any other possible rivals for his affection, too, before plunging headlong into battle.

  Eden stared at the sky above, marking the faint sliver of light that was the waning crescent moon. As she contemplated, a falling star streaked across the pinpricked darkness, catching her eye. It was silly, childish nonsense, but she whispered a wish on it, anyway.

  She wanted Tavistoke, plain and simple. Never had any gentleman inspired such desire in her. Many had been handsome to look upon, and a few had even managed to make her briefly consider accepting an offer, but none had made her long to feel their touch on her bare skin. None had been able to call up liquid heat from deep inside her with just a look.

  Whatever it took, she would have Tavistoke for her own.

  Doubts niggled at her. Could she real
ly tame The Terror of the Ton, or was she a total fool for even thinking it possible?

  Chapter Three

  Percy stared as Eden melted into the crowd. Though she cast not a single backward glance, her apparent indifference didn’t fool him. He knew when a woman was out to bag him. It was an instinct that had saved him from the matrimonial noose time and again, and he trusted it now.

  Going to the other side of the gallery, he watched from what he knew to be a concealed vantage point. Her return to the bosom of her entourage was brief, a mere moment before she took her leave and headed to the terrace. Alone.

  He chuckled and came out of hiding. If she thought to lure him out there, she was in for a disappointment.

  Eden. Her very name meant paradise. He was shocked at how attracted he was to her. Virgins just weren’t his cup of anything. Not only were they a dire threat to one’s bachelorhood, but they were dreadful dull between the sheets. Once, and only once, had he been willing to trade his freedom for the privilege of deflowering and teaching a virgin.

  As luck would have it, he looked down just in time to see Lady Montgomery passing below. Shoving back from the rail, he went to find the gentlemen’s lounge. At least there he wouldn’t be subject to fate’s constant mockery.

  In truth, all was as it ought to be. He’d made the right choice, and so had she. Nevertheless, the result of the whole debacle was that he’d gone from being a perfectly happy man of the world to this, a lonely, sentimental fool who envied his best friend’s happiness.

  I’m becoming bloody morose. It was unacceptable. He entered the masculine haven, taking comfort in the familiar scents of pipe smoke and brandy. He had more than enough to occupy him without miring himself in misery a second time. There were the preparations for his cousin to join the Sisters of the Holy Trinity, and there was Miss Trouvère’s school.

  Eden…

  Snapping his fingers, he summoned a servant and requested a decanter of brandy and a large glass. That he couldn’t put the woman out of his mind was a bad sign. In that moment, he determined to select another female to act as the new cornerstone upon which to rebuild his disreputable name. While he didn’t believe her innocent of all feminine plotting, he did believe her undeserving of deliberate ruination.