Pleasures of a Tempted Lady
Page 34
Blue eyes. Surely they were blue.
Those eyes held him in her thrall, sweet and lovely, and sensual too, despite her obvious innocence. Max felt suspended in midair, like a water droplet caught in a spider’s web.
She glanced at Fenwicke and then quickly to the floor, and Max plopped back to earth with a splat. But satisfaction rushed through him in a warm wave, because just before she’d broken their eye contact, he’d seen the first vestiges of color flooding her cheeks.
“Very well,” he told Fenwicke. Tonight he didn’t politely excuse himself from Fenwicke’s company, because tonight Fenwicke appeared to have information Max suddenly craved—information about Olivia Donovan.
He turned away from her, but not before he saw another gentleman offering her his arm for the dance and a bolt of envy struck him in the gut. Thrusting away that irrational emotion, Max followed Fenwicke down the corridor to the parlor that had been set aside as the gentlemen’s retiring room. A foursome played cards in the corner, and an elderly man sat in a large but elegant brown cloth armchair in the corner, blatantly antisocial, a newspaper raised to obscure half his face. Other men lounged by the sideboard, chatting and drinking from the never-ending supply of spirits.
Fenwicke collected two glasses of brandy and then gestured with his chin at a pair of empty leather chairs separated by a low, glass-topped table but close enough together for them to have a private conversation. Max sat in the nearest chair, taking the glass Fenwicke offered him as he passed. He took a drink of the brandy while Fenwicke lowered himself into the opposite chair.
Holding his glass in both hands, Fenwicke stared at him. “I gather you haven’t had the pleasure of observing the Miss Donovans prior to tonight.”
“No,” Max admitted. “Do they plan to reside in London?”
“No.” Fenwicke’s lip twisted sardonically. “As I was saying in the ballroom, I believe they’re leaving before the end of the month. They’re off to Stratford’s estate in Sussex.”
“Too bad,” Max murmured.
But then a memory jolted him. At White’s last week, Lord Stratford had invited a few men, including Max, to Sussex this autumn to hunt fowl. He’d turned down the offer—he’d never been much interested in hunting—but now…
Fenwicke gazed at him. The man had always reminded Max of a reptilian predator with his cold, assessing silver-gray eyes. “You,” he announced, “have a tendre for Miss Donovan.”
It was impossible to determine whether that was a question or a statement. Either way, it didn’t matter. “Don’t be absurd. I don’t even know Jessica Donovan.”
“I’m speaking of Olivia,” Fenwicke said icily. It sounded like Fenwicke was jealous, but that was ridiculous. As the man had said, the lady had been in Town for less than a month.
“I don’t know either of them,” Max responded, keeping his tone mild.
“Regardless, you want her,” Fenwicke said in an annoyed voice. “I’m well acquainted with that look you were throwing in her direction.”
Max shrugged.
“You are besotted with her.”
Max leaned back in his chair, studying Fenwicke closely beyond the rim of his glass, wondering what gave Fenwicke the right to have proprietary feelings for Olivia Donovan.
“Are you a relation of hers?” he asked.
“I am not.”
“Well, I was watching her,” Max said slowly. “And, yes, I admit to wondering who she was and whether she was attached. I was considering asking her to dance later this evening.”
The muscles in Fenwicke’s jaw bulged as he ground his teeth. “She has no dances available.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked her myself.”
Max stared at the man opposite him, feeling the muscles across his shoulders tense as the fingers of his loose hand curled into a tight fist. He didn’t like the thought of his angel touching Fenwicke. Of Fenwicke touching her. The thought rather made him want to throw Fenwicke through the glass window overlooking the terrace across from them.
He took a slow breath, willing himself to calmness. He wasn’t even acquainted with the woman. Didn’t even know the sound of her voice, the color of her eyes, her likes and dislikes. Yet he was already willing to protect her from scum like Fenwicke.
He wouldn’t want Fenwicke touching any young innocent, he reasoned. He’d protect any woman from the marquis’s slick, slithering paws.
“How is your wife?” he asked quite deliberately, aware of the challenge in his voice.
Fenwicke’s expression went flat. He took a long drink of brandy before responding. “She’s well,” he said coldly. “She’s back at home. In Sussex. Thank you for asking.” His lips curled in a snarl that Max guessed was supposed to appear to be a smile.
Max remembered that Fenwicke’s country home was in Sussex, just like the Earl of Stratford’s. He wondered if the houses were situated close to each other.
“I’m glad to hear she’s well.”
“You can’t have her,” Fenwicke said quietly.
Max raised a brow. “Your wife?”
“Olivia Donovan.”
Max took a long moment to allow that to sink in. To think about how he should respond.
“She’s not married?” he finally asked. He knew the answer.
Fenwicke’s tone was frosty. “She is not.”
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“Then why, pray, can’t I have her?”
“She’d never accept you. You would never meet her standards. You, Hasley, are a well-known rake.”
“So?” That had never stopped any woman from accepting his advances before.
“So, you’re not good enough for her.” Fenwicke’s smile widened, but it was laced with bitterness. “No man in London is.”
“How can you possibly know this?”
“She told me.”
Max nearly choked on his brandy. “What?”
“I propositioned her,” Fenwicke said simply. “In the correct way, of course, which was quite delicate, considering her innocence. I dug deeply—quite deeply indeed—into my cache of charm.”
Max’s stomach churned. He could never understand what women saw in Fenwicke—but obviously they saw something, because the man never needed to be too aggressive in his pursuit before capturing his prey, despite his marital status.
Yet it seemed Miss Olivia Donovan didn’t see whatever it was in Fenwicke that all the other women saw. Intriguing. Without ever having met her, Max’s respect for her grew.
The thought of how many times Fenwicke had abandoned his young wife in the country left Max feeling vaguely nauseous. How many times had he seen the man with a different woman on his arm?
Perhaps what left the sourest taste in Max’s mouth was that everyone knew about Fenwicke’s proclivities but continued to invite him to their social events. No one spurned him. He was a peer, after all, a member of White’s, and an excellent dance partner or opponent at cards.
Long ago, Fenwicke had decided that Max was an adversary and had pushed Max into a constant competition. They’d competed over sports, women, their studies, and politics. It had all started in Max’s third year at Eton, when his cousins had died of influenza and Max became the heir to a dukedom just like Fenwicke was—Fenwicke’s father was the Duke of Southington and Max’s uncle was the Duke of Wakefield.
Fenwicke even had the audacity to claim he’d be more of a duke, since he was an eldest son rather than a nephew. That statement had enraged Max—no one could vex him like Fenwicke could. Something about the man brought out the worst in Max, which was why he’d tried his damndest to stay away from the marquis. Avoidance hadn’t worked, however. Both he and Fenwicke had gone to Cambridge and now they belonged to the same gentleman’s club. Max couldn’t get rid of the man. And once they were both dukes and sitting in Parliament, they’d be required to see more of each other. Max had to come to terms with the fact that Fenwicke was a permanent fixture in his life, but that
didn’t mean he had to like it.
Now, thinking of Fenwicke’s lascivious thoughts toward Miss Donovan in spite of his married state, Max’s dislike of the man threatened to grow into something stronger. Something more like hatred. He closed his eyes and images of his father passed behind his lids. His mother… alone. The tears she’d tried to hide from him. Even at a very young age, Max had known exactly what was happening. Exactly how his father had betrayed his mother, how he’d hurt her, ultimately destroyed her.
Max would never do that to a wife—he’d never marry so there would simply never be a concern—and he’d never abide anyone who did.
Fenwicke set his empty brandy glass on the table with a sigh. “I’m afraid Miss Olivia Donovan simply isn’t interested.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “So because you failed to charm the lady, you assume that I’ll fail as well?”
“Of course. She’s frigid, you see. The girl is composed of ice as solid as a glacier.”
Another of the many reasons Max disliked Fenwicke: He never took responsibility. If a woman rejected him, he’d think it was due to some defect in her character as opposed to a natural—and wise—dislike or distrust of the man himself. If a woman professed no attraction to the marquis, naturally she wouldn’t feel any attraction to any man, because all other men were lesser beings.
“I sincerely doubt she’s frigid,” Max responded before he thought better of it.
Fenwicke’s eyes narrowed. “Do you?”
Max met the man’s steely glare head-on. “Perhaps you simply don’t appeal.”
Fenwicke snorted. “Of course I appeal. I’m a marquis, to begin with, and the heir to—”
“Perhaps,” Max interjected, keeping his voice low, “she possesses no interest in engaging in an adulterous liaison, marquis or no.”
At his periphery, Max could see Fenwicke’s fists clenching. He braced himself for the man’s lunge, but it never came. Damn it. If Fenwicke had attacked first, it would have given Max a good reason to throttle him.
Fenwicke gave him a thin, humorless smile. “I would beg to differ.”
Max shrugged. “Perhaps we should agree to disagree, then.”
“If she did not succumb to my charms, Hasley, then rest assured, there’s no way in hell she’ll succumb to yours.” Fenwicke’s voice was mild, but the cords in his neck bulged above his cravat.
Max shook his head, unable to prevent a sneer from forming on his lips. “You’re wrong, Fenwicke.”
Fenwicke’s brows rose, his eyes glinted, and a sly expression came over his face. He leaned forward, greedily licking his lips.
“Would you care to place a wager on that?”
ALSO BY JENNIFER HAYMORE
A Hint of Wicked
A Touch of Scandal
A Season of Seduction
Confessions of an Improper Bride
Secrets of an Accidental Duchess
Praise for the novels of Jennifer Haymore
Secrets of an Accidental Duchess
“4½ stars! Haymore’s characters leap off the pages in her latest installment in the Donovan family saga. Written with gentleness and emotional strength, it’s a creative romance readers will not soon forget.”
—RT Book Reviews
“5 stars! The second book in extremely talented author Jennifer Haymore’s Donovan Sisters series is a witty, exciting historical romance… One of the best books I have read in the past year… I could not turn the pages fast enough… This novel is definitely bound for my keeper shelf.”
—RomanceJunkiesReviews.com
“Jennifer Haymore writes intriguing, detail-oriented stories… The scenarios and details that Ms. Haymore creates make every reader feel as if they too are being held captive by the magic that is the blush of true love.”
—TheReadingReviewer.com
“[Haymore’s] stories and characters stay with me and make me think… They make me feel… I can’t wait to read the next book in the series.”
—RomanceNovelNews.com
Confessions of an Improper Bride
“With beautifully rendered characters, lush sensuality, and a riveting story line, this well-told tale puts a refreshing spin on both the hidden-identity and classic reunion plots and gets Haymore’s new series off to a delightful start.”
—Library Journal
“4½ stars! Top pick! Haymore carefully crafts an original ‘second chance at love’ romance that showcases her creativity and understanding of what readers want. Her three-dimensional characters and their depth of emotion strengthen an already powerful plot. Those new to Haymore’s work will be enchanted.”
—RT Book Reviews
“5 stars! Now this is a book worthy of its luscious characters with all their secrets and baggage on board… Jennifer Haymore has given us a wonderful Cinderella story that does have more than its share of pain but also has more than its share of passion. A wonderfully paced story that will take you from London to Gretna Green and back with a lush amount of sass, finesse, and pizzazz to keep you well satisfied like a cat in front of a bowl of milk. Just delicious!”
—GoodReads.com
“Gripping… engaging… The writing allows the reader to get deeply involved and the emotional struggles of Serena are palpable… I’m looking forward to reading about the other Donovan sisters… Confessions of an Improper Bride is a great start to this series, and I would recommend it to all romance novel fans.”
—TheRomanceReader.com
A Hint of Wicked
“Full of suspense, mystery, romance, and erotica… I am looking forward to more from this author.”
—Las Vegas Review-Journal
“A clever, provoking, and steamy story from an upcoming author to keep your eye out for!”
—BookPleasures.com
“Haymore is a shining star, and if A Hint of Wicked is any indication of what’s to come, bring me more.”
—FallenAngelReviews.com
“Debut author Haymore crafts a unique plot filled with powerful emotions and complex issues.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A unique, heart-tugging story with sympathetic, larger-than-life characters, intriguing plot twists, and sensual love scenes.”
—Nicole Jordan, New York Times bestselling author
“Complex, stirring, and written with a skillful hand, A Hint of Wicked is an evocative love story that will make a special place for itself in your heart.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A new take on a historical romance… complicated and original… the characters are well crafted… surprisingly satisfying.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“What an extraordinary book this is!… What a future this author has!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“Ms. Haymore’s talent for storytelling shines throughout this book.”
—Eye on Romance
A Touch of Scandal
“Jennifer Haymore’s books are sophisticated, deeply sensual, and emotionally complex. With a dead sexy hero, a sweetly practical heroine, and a love story that draws together two people from vastly different backgrounds, A Touch of Scandal is positively captivating!”
—Elizabeth Hoyt, New York Times bestselling author
“Sweep-you-off-your-feet historical romance! Jennifer Haymore sparkles!”
—Liz Carlyle, New York Times bestselling author
“Haymore discovers a second fascinating, powerful, and sensual novel that places her high on the must-read lists. She perfectly blends a strong plot that twists like a serpent and has unforgettable characters to create a book readers will remember and reread.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A Touch of Scandal is a wonderfully written historical romance. Ms. Haymore brings intrigue and romance together with strong, complex characters to make this a keeper for any romance reader. Ms. Haymore is an author to watch and I’m looking forward to the next installment of this series.”
—TheRoman
ceReadersConnection.com
“A deliciously emotional Cinderella tale of two people from backgrounds worlds apart, A Touch of Scandal addicts the reader from the first page and doesn’t let go until the very last word. Hurdle after hurdle stands in the way of Kate and Garrett’s love, inexorably pulling the reader along, supporting them each step of the way. A Touch of Scandal is a surefire win!”
—FallenAngelReviews.com
“A classic tale… Reading this story, I completely fell in love with the honorable servant girl and her esteemed duke. This is definitely a tale of excitement, hot, sizzling sex, and loads of mystery.”
—FreshFiction.com
“These characters are just fantastic and endearing. I just couldn’t wait to find out what happened on the next page.”
—SingleTitles.com
“4 stars! Kate and Garrett were wonderful characters who constantly tugged at my heartstrings. I found myself rooting for them the whole way through… If you like historical romances that engage your emotions and contain characters you cheer for, this is the book for you.”
—TheRomanceDish.com
A Season of Seduction
“4½ stars! Haymore uses the Christmas season as an enhancing backdrop for a mystery/romance that is both original and fulfilling. Her fresh voice and ability to build sensual tension into lively love stories… make this tale shine.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Sizzling… an engaging historical tale.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Each time Ms. Haymore writes a book in this series I think there is no way to top the one I just finished. I started this latest one and realize she has done just that and has proven to me how fresh this series can remain.”
—The Reading Reviewer
“Jennifer Haymore strikes a good balance of strength, sensuality, drama, and intrigue in her characters… Becky is an independent, fearless woman except when it comes to opening her heart to another man. And Jack, while strong and passionate, shows great sensitivity under his ‘rogue’ persona.”
—www.FictionVixen.com
THE DISH