To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  One hurdle down. Several more to go. It was an intimidating task she’d set herself. Tavistoke was so worldly, so cynical. And she was, by comparison, naught but a green girl.

  Lady Montgomery did it once. It can be done again. She paused in the act of straightening a bow, one among many marching down the front of her stomacher. The woman had turned Society on its ear as none had in many a long year. But though Lady Montgomery had once captivated him, Eden knew better than to emulate her. She had used Tavistoke and that other man, Lord Fairford, to incite her now-husband to come to scratch. To give the appearance of similar behavior would likely repulse him. No man relished having to deal with rivals, but he, she was sure, would find it especially off-putting.

  Besides, there was no other man she’d be willing to actually marry. What she needed was time to learn what Tavistoke really wanted in a wife. Today, she would have that opportunity. She reviewed her list of known facts concerning him.

  He was a right hellhound when it came to women, but tended toward the more sophisticated, discreet sort rather than brazen flirts—which must, she supposed, be counted a redeeming quality.

  He adored gaming, as did most men, but he wasn’t known to risk excessively large sums as some were apt to do, which meant he was capable of using good sense and understood the concept of consequences. She grimaced. That might or might not work in her favor.

  Other bits of information she’d gathered were more trivial in nature, but important to remember. He preferred coffee to tea, was extremely fond of horses, and enjoyed all forms of music but most especially the violin. She’d heard him play the very first time she’d seen him.

  When they were twelve, she and Genevieve had spied on a party hosted by her parents. Tavistoke had been a guest, then a celebrated young man who’d been welcome in her house. Even as a brash youth, he’d stood out from the other young men. In answer to a wager made in jest, he had borrowed a violin from one of the musicians.

  His playing had been astonishingly beautiful, and she’d never forgotten the look on his face as he’d skillfully plied the bow—enraptured. Only a deeply spiritual person would be so moved by music. From that moment on, despite the fact he was likely to marry well before she would be allowed to take her first sip of champagne, he’d been the bridegroom of her fanciful daydreams.

  The soft chime of the hall clock interrupted her reminiscence, and she rushed to finish her toilette. Patting a curl into place, she surveyed her reflection with approval. Her manteau was the very latest in French fashion. An airy creation of blush silk embroidered with a flowering vine pattern, it sported pleats that fell from her shoulders to gather in folds flowing into the back of her skirts. The color complemented her hair and complexion, enhanced the cream of her skin, and made her eyes sparkle like the finest sapphires.

  Knowing her hair was a magnificent thing to behold in full sunlight, she’d left her curls uncovered. A parasol would keep the freckles at bay. If she forgot to open it every time they emerged from the shade, well, it would be worth it to show off her crowning glory. Eschewing rouge, she bit her lips and rubbed them with peppermint oil to plump them and bring out their color.

  Innocent, yet tempting, was her goal.

  With a surreptitious glance to be sure no one was about, Eden turned sideways and threw back her shoulders. The result was most satisfactory. Her décolletage was appropriately modest for an afternoon event; thus, her shape in profile would have to serve to remind him of what he’d seen displayed in evening attire. The Wexley ball was next week. If she played her cards right, he would ask to accompany her.

  When Eden descended the stair, it was to find Tavistoke and her stepmother waiting for her.

  “Your devoted servant, Miss Lowther.” The look in his eyes as he bowed was one of warmth. “I shall be the envy of all men this afternoon.”

  Briefly, Eden wondered if her heart might not have just ceased beating. “You flatter me, sir.”

  To her joy, his garb complemented hers as if he’d known what she would be wearing. A jacket of pale green watered silk clung to his broad shoulders and trim waist before flaring out in the latest fashion. The rich fabric was embroidered with small pink-flowering vines that just happened to be the color of her gown.

  Inwardly, she cheered. They looked like an established couple.

  Her stepmother, on the other hand, sallied forth in the equivalent of half mourning. Gowned in brown silk with little ornamentation, wearing scarcely any jewelry and a severe coiffure, her dour appearance was a silent expression of disapproval.

  “How lovely you look,” Eden said sweetly, kissing her cheek. Her funereal garb would make no difference. In fact, it might even work to her benefit. If a man of Tavistoke’s reputation was willing to be chaperoned by such a stern-looking matron, it could only mean he was in earnest pursuit.

  “Thank you.” Catherine’s tone was as flat as a crepe. “Shall we?”

  The look on her face would have petrified a less stalwart soul, but Tavistoke bore it with impressive nonchalance. “Indeed,” he answered, following her out. “Rain has spoiled everyone’s enjoyment these past few days, but today the Fates have been kind in granting me sunshine.”

  The twinkle in his dark eyes told Eden he wasn’t talking about the weather.

  When she at last looked to the street, she nearly stopped in her tracks to gawk at the spectacle. A caravan of sorts awaited them. Behind his personal conveyance stood a pair of heavy-laden wagons bearing a small army of servants and all manner of baskets, boxes, and parcels.

  “I thought we were to dine au grand air,” she said, laughing up at him. “This looks more like preparation for a siege.”

  “I never go into a battle inadequately armed,” he murmured, holding her gaze until her cheeks warmed. Louder, he added, “Those who prepare well are less likely to be disappointed with the results. Just because we are to dine outdoors does not mean we must do so like savages.”

  If he thought to impress their chaperone with the display, he was sadly mistaken. Despite her stepmother’s basilisk glares and short answers, however, he remained charming and solicitous throughout the journey to the Lathams’ London estate.

  Upon arrival, they were caught up in a maelstrom of activity as Tavistoke issued commands for the contents of the wagons to be taken to the lakeside. When finished, he offered Eden his arm.

  She took it without hesitation, earning a frown from her stepmother. Satisfaction filled her as Lord and Lady Latham greeted their party with unconcealed delight and curiosity. Before this day was over, all of London would know she and Tavistoke had arrived together.

  Tavistoke sidestepped their hosts’ thinly veiled inquiries with practiced politesse, and together they proceeded to join the other guests.

  “I see Lady Aldeford is in attendance,” said her stepmother. “I must speak with her. Eden, remember our discussion.”

  “Yes, of course.” Eden glanced at her escort. Thankfully, he appeared oblivious. Her stepmother turned, and they parted company.

  Together, she and Tavistoke progressed along the graveled walkway under the bright sun and the avid gazes of everyone they passed. She’d known their pairing would cause a stir, but this was beyond what she’d anticipated. Every woman fell to whispering to her neighbor behind her fan. Every gentleman eyed her with blatant speculation. Had she been a more timid creature, it would have unnerved her. Even so, she had to close her eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.

  “Oh, come now,” murmured the man beside her, his voice a warm caress. “Their reactions can hardly come as a surprise.”

  “I knew there would be some curiosity, but this borders on rudeness,” she replied with just a hint of acid.

  “No smelling salts for you, I see.” An amused smile hovered about his lips. “A woman of courage, as well as beauty. Well done.”

  “Courage is required to be seen in your company, but perhaps not for the reasons you imagine,” she told him. “Every unwed woman present would chee
rfully toss me in yon lake for dashing her hopes.”

  “Have you?” But before she could dredge up a response, he spoke again, “You flatter me, madam.”

  “I seek not to employ coyness, sir, but speak only the truth.” She looked at him sidelong. “We both know you are much sought after. I fear not your reputation so much as I fear the enmity of my own sex.”

  “Do you indeed?” He laughed. “You don’t sound very afraid to me.”

  “I conceal my terror well.”

  The man beside her again laughed. “You fear nothing, Miss Lowther, though perhaps you should.” He leaned a little closer. “Do you not harbor even the slightest qualm over being associated with a man of my reputation?”

  “Why should I, as long as I behave properly and you maintain the appearance of gentlemanly conduct?”

  “Oh, the appearance of it. I see. The fact that I am no true gentleman matters not to you then, only that I ‘appear’ to be one while in your company.”

  “But you are a gentleman, my lord. This I know.”

  “There are countless others who would beg to differ, my dear. And my name is Percy.”

  “Perhaps they might,” she conceded, ignoring his prompt to familiarity. “But I remain convinced that for all your black reputation, there is a gentleman buried somewhere beneath the jaded façade.”

  “If he exists, he’s buried most deeply, I assure you.”

  “Then you acknowledge his existence.”

  “I don’t deny I was once a gentleman and that there are certain gentlemanly ideals to which I yet cling. For the time being.”

  “Honor being one of them?”

  He stopped and faced her. “My sense of honor is my own and holds to no standard set by anyone else. Some find it adequate.” He raked her with his eyes, and heat unfurled deep in her belly. “Others don’t. I wonder into which category you will fall?”

  “I shall simply have to trust your sense of honor is in accord with my expectations.”

  She counted several heartbeats before he answered, “And what is your expectation of me, Eden?”

  The sound of her name spoken in his low, intimate rasp sent tingles racing across her flesh. She ought to correct his breach of manners, but the delight of hearing him speak to her thus was such that she couldn’t bear to chide him—as long as he didn’t do it in front of others. It took a moment to find her tongue. “Why, that you will conduct yourself with all due propriety in my presence, of course, as any true gentleman would.”

  A lazy, sensuous grin stretched his mouth. “If you craved a true gentleman’s company you would not be here with me. You would have allowed your stepmother to toss me out on my arse as she doubtless longed to do the very instant I crossed her threshold.” His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “No. I suspect you desire an altogether different sort of man.”

  All the moisture in Eden’s mouth dried up of a sudden. She forced a wry smile. “Other men have said similar things to me, typically in the form of an insult and usually just after I have refused their offer of marriage.”

  “Those men were fools.” He offered his arm once more.

  She took it, and they again walked. “Most men are.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  “Of that I am certain.”

  “Again, you flatter me.” His voice had changed, no longer warm and intimate but cool and brittle. “And flattery always serves a purpose.” Veering off the path, he led her away from the main gathering. Not out of sight, but far enough away not to be overheard. Lines of discontent bracketed his mouth. “Tell me, what exactly is it you expect to get out of being seen with me today?”

  Scorching heat rose to prickle her ears. Whether it was anger, embarrassment, or something more dangerous than either of those, she did not know. At the moment, she didn’t really care. “Unprovoked, you approached me at the Wyndham ball. By your own will, not mine, you called on me at my residence without invitation. It was by your request that I accompanied you here. All these things happened through no machination of mine. Perhaps I should ask you what it is you want of me.”

  …

  Percy tried not to show his surprise at her counterattack. To his chagrin, he couldn’t find satisfactory words to answer her.

  A knowing smile curved her ripe lips. “A moment ago you could not be silent, yet now you refuse to speak. I’ve been forthright with you. It is only fair you should now employ the same level of honesty with me. Why did you request my company on this outing? What do you stand to gain by our association?”

  Her blue eyes impaled him with all the keenness of a newly sharpened foil. There were any number of excuses he could give her—a means of apologizing for his earlier conduct being only one, and a thin one at that. He could say it was in the interest of helping her, but that would imply she was incapable of netting a fellow on her own. Such was not only an insult, but laughable. Was he not here now, dancing a merry jig to her hornpipe? She would never believe such an explanation.

  No. He had asked her because it was what he’d wanted. He’d acted on an impulse, and there was nothing to gain by it save a terrible lot of trouble. The last time he’d done such a foolhardy thing, he’d damn near ruined everything for several people, including himself.

  Shrugging off his strange paralysis, he forced his mouth to form words. “Can a gentleman not enjoy a lady’s company without being accused of nefarious motives?”

  One delicate brow arched. “No. And you, as you so kindly informed me, are no gentleman. You have no real interest in me. Therefore, I must assume you intend to use me as a means to whatever—or whomever—it is that truly interests you.”

  “How can you be so certain I have no interest in you?” He let his eyes roam over her in a deliberately suggestive manner.

  Her expression did not alter one iota. “Because, with only one other exception, you have sought out the companionship of married women.”

  It was stated plainly and without scorn or disgust. Though he’d quickly come to expect direct speech from her, hearing her boldly say what everyone else only dared whisper behind his back was both shocking and refreshing.

  “Now we come to it at last.” He chuckled. “Very well. You told the truth about the offers you refused. Therefore, I shall do likewise concerning my past. I was indeed the man you describe, a cheerful usurper of wifely affections.”

  He waited, but she neither reeled aghast nor even blushed, so he continued, spurred to even bolder speech. “I enjoyed my life immensely, amusing myself at the expense of others with no cost to myself—other than my good name and perhaps the stains on my soul for which I shall have to answer in the hereafter. But I am that man no more.”

  She looked him in the eye as she calmly threw his own words back at him. “There are countless others who would beg to differ. Most would insist men like you are incapable of turning from their wickedness.”

  That stung. “They would be wrong. The events surrounding the…‘other exception’ to which you referred wrought many changes in me. Changes that were not, I can avow, either anticipated or very comfortable.”

  “Oh?” Her tone was laden with sarcasm. “Do tell.”

  Wrath, not at her but at himself, flashed through him. “I tried to pick up the threads of my previous life, believe me. I pursued my old vices with all the fervor of a devout worshipper of all things carnal,” he drawled, determined to wring some sort of shocked reaction from her. “Drink, wagers, duels, women of loose morals—I threw myself headlong into every sinful diversion I could find.”

  “And?” Her blue eyes bored into him.

  That she had not even flinched was a disappointment. “I found no joy in it.” It was hard to admit, even now that he’d accepted it. The grim truth was he was done raking Hell’s coals.

  Her staid expression slowly transformed into one of wonder. “Good Lord, you grew a conscience.”

  “Apparently,” he spat, furious. “And it’s a bloody pain in my arse!”

  “Con
gratulations.” Her lips quirked. “Welcome to humanity.”

  A growl of frustration rumbled in his throat over her unconcealed amusement. How dare this untried chit of a girl find humor in his predicament?

  “You still have not answered my question,” she prompted. “Why did you ask me to accompany you today?”

  And she was as tenacious as a terrier on the scent! Fine. An excuse, then—damned if he was going to tell her the truth. “I suppose I wanted to make up for the way I treated you when we met.”

  “By causing everyone to speculate concerning our association and thus question my moral rectitude?” A half laugh escaped her upturned lips. “But that was really the point all along, was it not?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wells put you up to this. The man is determined to see my good name overturned as vengeance for my having refused him.”

  Percy’s vexation instantly withered into contempt. “I am no man’s puppet, madam,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’m at your side this day to satisfy my own curiosity concerning your person. Wells had nothing to do with it.”

  Her expression remained one of doubt.

  “It is true he brought you to my attention,” he confessed, annoyed. “But I very quickly ascertained he was wrong about you.” No change. He softened. “You are not a heartless jade, Eden.”

  He watched, relieved, as the chill faded from her blue eyes.

  “And you are not the despicable rogue you pretend to be.” A faint smile trembled on her lips for a moment. “It seems our reputations have become a stumbling block, something to overcome rather than to recommend us. Come. Let our opinions of each other be unbiased by the words of others. Rather let us agree to shape them from our own unique experiences.”

  “I think that a wise course,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Though I will own that mine is the significantly larger obstacle.” He offered his arm again. “Mountainous, in fact.”

  Her smile widened. “I will certainly not deny it is so. But nothing is truly insurmountable.”

  He’d not thought it possible for her to be any lovelier than she’d been the night of the Wyndham ball, but here in the bright sunlight of this fine clear day, the woman was breathtaking. There wasn’t a trace of maquillage anywhere on her face. Not many women could lay claim to such unadorned beauty. As well, most ladies preferred the gentle forgiveness of candlelight, which hid a multitude of imperfections. Not so, Eden. What some might think of as the harsh light of day was for her the perfect illumination.