My Fair Temptress

by Christina Dodd

  He wouldn’t marry simply to help her fulfill her dream; but after all this was over, he would reward her adequately. “I need my teacher at my side to tell me why the ladies resist my charms.”

  “They can’t resist your charms.” Her smile softened her refusal. “Not when you flirt with such marvelous subtlety. I predict you’ll be a resounding success.”

  That night in her room, Caroline opened her lesson journal and read her entries. Week 1, Week 2…and that was divided into days, and after each day she had listed the lesson and afterward divulged her thoughts on Huntington’s progress. At last she got to

  Week 1, Day 7: Teach Lord Huntington how to converse with a lady in a public place.

  Beneath that, she wrote:

  Lord Huntington comports himself well out of doors and will find himself much in demand as an escort.

  Then, with an honesty that eased her troubled conscience, she added:

  He obviously has much experience in pleasing a woman to the full extent of propriety and beyond, and is capable of making any lady forget his odd habit of dress and his equally odd idiosyncrasies. I fear that to successfully lure a young lady into the wedded state, she may have to visit the garden with Lord Huntington, where she can concentrate on his embrace. That is a sure cure to make a woman forget what he says and how he acts, and to ardently esteem the man inside the silly costume. I know this to be true.

  With a sigh, she shut the journal and blew out the candle.

  Chapter 15

  Jude dawdled in the foyer, listening as Nevett’s voice rose and fell behind the closed door of his study—mostly rose—and Jude grinned. He’d played an awful trick on Caroline, but he needed her at his side again.

  Unfortunately, Jude’s amusement led Phillips, on guard by the door, to let loose a nasty smile. “I knew she would get above herself, sir,” the butler said smugly. “She’s that sort of female.”

  “Did you?” Jude’s grin cooled. “I would have said she was the sort of female whom I’ll be escorting to parties.”

  “Only because she’s your governess,” Phillips said, with stiff daring.

  “I would take it ill, very ill indeed, should gossip be spread beyond the bounds of this house about my governess.” Jude stepped close to Phillips. The butler was shorter, older, set in his ways, but in his faded eyes Jude saw a hint of meanness. “Any kind of gossip, but especially gossip detrimental to Miss Ritter.”

  “Of course not.” Phillips pokered up. “I don’t gossip.”

  “Nor should your minions.”

  “Not a breath shall escape the household.” All trace of Phillips’s satisfaction was gone now.

  “Good.” A silence fell in Nevett’s study.

  Jude lost interest in the butler, for the door snapped open, and Caroline stalked out.

  With a single glance, Jude knew he was in trouble now. “Miss Ritter, you look glorious this morning.”

  Caroline’s morning dress of dark blue merino covered her from neck to wrists to toes. The skirt was wide, but not too wide, as befitting a woman of modest means, and she wore a white lace pelerine over her shoulders tied in a dark blue necktie.

  She paid no heed to him or his courtesy, but stalked up to Phillips. With an indignation that made Phillips back away, she said, “I believe this would be a good time for you to go to His Grace and confess your sins.”

  “Such effrontery!” Phillips snapped. Then, “What sins?”

  “The sin of eavesdropping.” Still without acknowledging Jude, she strode into the library. He followed, and found her standing with her arms stiff at her side and her eyes hot and resentful. “You did it on purpose,” she accused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

  “Did what?” As if he didn’t know.

  “Behaved like a fool at the Lawrences’ ball and alienated every lady there.”

  “Why would I do that?” Jude pretended a bland ignorance.

  “So that I would be forced to go with you to Baron Atherton’s ball tomorrow night.”

  Jude placed his fingers on his chest and sighed miserably. “I’m crushed that you can accuse me of such manipulative behavior.”

  She caught her breath as if she wanted to blast him, then slowly let it out. She was too aware of her position as governess to give him the upbraiding he deserved.

  He glanced out the open door into the foyer, where he knew Phillips stood, ears straining to hear their quarrel. If they’d been alone, would Caroline have felt free to shout at Jude? Perhaps. He hoped so. He rather enjoyed seeing his governess pushed beyond the bounds of propriety. Wonderful things happened there. Marvelous things, seductive things. Recalling them, he took a step toward her, to gather her into his arms and kiss her as she was meant to be kissed.

  But she made a sound, a rough sound deep in her throat like of the type one uses to discipline a dog.

  And, like a well-trained dog, he stopped. He adjusted his cravat. He asked, “What is our lesson for the day?”

  “You’ll write letters of admiration to all of the ladies you met last night.”

  “But I must have met a hundred.”

  “Yes.” Caroline pointed to the desk. “Compose them there. When I return, I’ll read them, and I expect them to be in your best handwriting, and I expect them to be right.”

  Meekly he seated himself at the desk and dipped his pen in ink. “As you wish, Miss Ritter.” He supposed this was a small enough punishment to get his own way.

  Tomorrow night, Caroline would go to the ball.

  “I’m apprehensive about facing the company.” As the luxurious ducal carriage jostled along in the line waiting to disgorge its passengers at Baron Atherton’s town house, Nicolette fussed with her ball gown.

  You’re apprehensive? Caroline thought incredulously.

  “You’re my duchess,” Nevett said. “Why would you be fidgety about anything?” In the feeble lamplight, he looked amazed as only a man totally secure in his status could look.

  In his position beside Caroline in the backward-facing seat, Huntington moved closer, close enough that his arm rested along the length of hers.

  “I haven’t been out for so long. People will stare and wonder how we’re dealing with our loss.” Nicolette glared at her insensitive husband. “I hate being the center of attention.”

  Huntington’s touch warmed Caroline; he seemed aware that she would be the center of attention, not the duchess, and that she stood in peril of being treated with the rapt cruelty allotted to a disgraced female.

  “You hosted a tea only a few days ago,” Nevett reminded his wife.

  “A small gathering of friends. It was almost completely appropriate for a family coming out of mourning. But this!” She gestured toward the brightly lit house, where carriages disgorged their fashionable passengers. “This is an ordeal.”

  “Blame Jude if you must.” Taking her hand, Nevett patted it. “It’s his fault we can’t stay at home of an evening.”

  Caroline found two pairs of eyes focused on her and Huntington, and feared the duke and duchess would observe that they sat too close. So she looked at Huntington, also, and wished she hadn’t.

  He had arranged his hair in a perfect, understated style. His profile was strong, his chin determined. He gazed at his father and stepmother through eyes that seemed both wise and wary—and he was a nightmare in purple and black.

  Apparently Nevett had the same thought, for he said, “Son, you look like a bruise.”

  Caroline fought a desire to burst into hysterical laughter. Clenching her gloved hands, she told herself sternly that her disquiet meant nothing. What happened to her that night, what was said to her, was of no importance. What was vital was keeping Huntington on a tight leash, introducing him to the proper ladies, getting him married…doing her job.

  “I wondered about that, but my valet assured me I would be the most stylish man at the ball,” Huntington said in a fretful voice. “We should go back so I can don the sunrise neck scarf.”

  “No!
” The other three spoke in unison.

  “Not the sunrise scarf. It’s preposterous,” Nevett said.

  “Wh…what do you mean, sir?” Huntington sounded hurt.

  Caroline smoothly interceded. “He means it would look like part of your bruise is fading.”

  “We’re almost there,” Nicolette said. “I couldn’t get up the nerve to leave and return. Please, Jude, I think you look very nice.”

  Nevett gave her an incredulous glance, then craned his head out the window. “By George, this baron fellow enjoys spending his money a little too much. His common roots are showing.” He pulled his head back in. “Sorry, Miss Ritter. I wasn’t referring to you.”

  For the first time that night she moved from anxiety to amusement. “I didn’t take offense, Your Grace.”

  “Good. You’re a sensible girl. No megrims for you.” As the carriage stopped, Nevett turned to his wife. “Nicolette, you should be more like Miss Ritter.”

  “Oh, Nevett,” she said in despair.

  “What? What did I say?” The door opened, and Nevett climbed out. He offered his hand to his wife. “That was perfectly reasonable.”

  Alone with Huntington, Caroline assayed a smile. “Shall we?”

  “Don’t worry.” Taking her hand, he kissed it. “I’ll be with you every moment, I promise.”

  She ignored the strong desire to agree. “I don’t want you with me. I want you to flirt with the ladies.”

  “I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

  “You’re being too agreeable.”

  “I can’t make you happy.” He descended.

  “Yes, you can.” Taking his hand, she stepped out of the carriage. “Find a bride. Marry before the end of the Season. That’s all I ask.”

  Baron Atherton was from an old family with a minor title. He proved to have an aptitude for making money, and since he wasn’t adverse to spending lavishly, the ton readily forgave him. Tonight, along with his much younger, very pretty, and vapid wife, he stood in his foyer and welcomed all of London society to his spacious town house.

  He cast a sharp glance at Caroline when Nevett introduced her, but said nothing. He was damned lucky to get Nevett there at all, and he knew it. The duke’s guest was acceptable…unless she caused another scene.

  Nevett and Nicolette, Huntington and Caroline moved from the receiving line to the wide door overlooking the ballroom, and Nicolette took a long breath. “Here we go.”

  Caroline took a long breath, too, and prayed to be unnoticed. She prayed that the evening would go well. She prayed they would indeed find Huntington a bride.

  She frowned. But she wanted to find him the right bride. Before she knew him, she had thought any lady would do. Now she wanted a woman who would treat his costumes with humor, who respected his opinions, and who enjoyed his lovemaking. Of course, she wouldn’t accept a girl who giggled at him behind his back. And she thought it wouldn’t be appropriate if the girl was beautiful, or even too pretty…because Huntington wouldn’t like the competition for attention. Yes, he needed the right bride. Then she remembered her sister, and amended that to—he needed the right bride almost as badly as she needed the money.

  As the duke and duchess strolled forward, Huntington gave Caroline a lingering glance. “You look lovely.”

  She touched her modest neckline. “Thank you. It’s a lovely dress.” Made of nutmeg crepe, which matched her hair, it was decorated with rows of ruffles on the full skirt, and was far more luxurious than anything she had ever hoped to wear again.

  “The dress doesn’t do justice to the wearer.” Huntington extended his arm for her to hold. “Shall we, my lioness?”

  Caroline savored the glow his words brought her. Placing her hand on his, she said, “Indeed we shall.”

  Walking down the steps, they entered into the fray.

  Chapter 16

  None of the guests circulating in the huge ballroom turned to look at Caroline or her companions. They were too busy gossiping and gaping at the decorations. Cool blue silks draped the walls. Long, feathered fans dyed in shades of the rainbow were plied by footmen dressed in exotic garb from India and the Far East, creating an atmosphere both decadent and opulent. An orchestra played behind a screen, and on the dance floor, couples swirled in great circles as they waltzed, and the scene was so colorful, so beautiful, it brought a lump to Caroline’s throat. She had missed this.

  “Look.” Nicolette clutched Nevett’s arm and broke into a smile. “There’s Lisa and Mary and Constance and Elizabeth. And Teresa! They’re all here. I haven’t seen them since—”

  The ladies saw Nicolette at the same time and emitted small shrieks. They rushed at her, surrounding her in laughter and friendship. They expressed their pleasure in her return with hugs and an exchange of gossip so intense it sounded like another language.

  “I think Mum has nothing to worry about,” Huntington murmured in Caroline’s ear.

  “I think you’re right.” Nor, apparently, did Caroline. With conceit and presumption, she had assumed her return to the ton would bring a storm of gossip. But the scandal attached to her name was old. The newest members of society didn’t even recognize her. No one cared that she’d returned, and her relief was heartfelt and genuine. Caroline relaxed.

  Nevett watched his wife until her friends bore her away to a corner where they could catch up on conversation. To Huntington, he said, “I’ll be in the card room if you need me to, say, announce your betrothal.”

  “Not dressed in these garments!” Huntington looked shocked. “What woman would be interested? You yourself said I looked like a bruise.”

  “For God’s sake, lad, you’re wealthy and you’re an earl. You could look like a toad with warts, and still the ladies would chase you! Just stand still”—Nevett waved a hand—“and don’t talk!” Incensed, he stomped off.

  “Your father’s right, you know,” Caroline murmured to Huntington. “That I should take his money for finding you a bride is almost theft, but you’re making matters more difficult than they need to be.” She gestured across the ballroom, where young ladies in shimmering silks and huge full skirts dipped and danced like a thousand colorful blossoms tossed on the breeze. Their light voices mingled with the deeper sounds of gentlemen’s appreciation. The light of the candles turned their cheerful faces all aglow. “All of these youthful, pliant debutantes long for your attentions. Out of that number, we can easily weed it down to the half dozen who would suit you and make you a good wife.”

  “A half dozen? I don’t need a half dozen. One will do, if she’s the right one.”

  “You only get to marry one,” Caroline said, amused. She didn’t see his grave expression.

  “But you mentioned a half dozen. Surely you believe that in every life, there’s only one true love.”

  “Do you?” She pulled a long face.

  “Yes.”

  His simple yes made their lighthearted kisses into something more. Something momentous. Something never to be forgotten. He looked into her eyes, and the expression there made her rush into speech. “How do you know your one true love isn’t among this Season’s aspirants?” Don’t look at me like that. As if I’m your true love. Deliberately, she looked away, swept the crowd with her gaze. “Look, there are the Misses Foley. You liked them.”

  He paused before answering. Paused long enough to give Caroline that panicky feeling that presaged a scene. Then in a considering voice, he said, “Charming young ladies, although the youngest seems to be obsessed with handkerchiefs.”

  “What do you mean?” Caroline asked cautiously. She had thought she’d come to know this man. Now her confidence had been shaken.

  “She couldn’t tear her gaze away from my handkerchief.” That sounded more like the Huntington she knew. The crisis seemed to be past.

  “Then keep it in your pocket and don’t flip it.” Caroline located another debutante. “There’s Lady Amanda. Her teeth look quite white.”

  “Unnaturally white,” Huntingt
on said in a fretful voice. “Freakishly white.”

  “All right.” Caroline pounced on another face she recognized. “Lady Pheodora. She’s looking…very nice.” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

  “She is.” Huntington seemed equally surprised. “Amazing what a smile can do. I wonder what created such a transformation?”

  “I don’t know, but her suitors like her.” A respectable bevy of gentlemen surrounded her. She wasn’t the belle of the ball, but neither was she the wallflower.

  Caroline glanced around the ballroom again, and this time she caught a lady’s eye…She looked familiar, although Caroline remembered a thinner face…“Edith,” she breathed.

  “What?” He followed her gaze. “Ah, Lady James. No, I don’t think I can wed her. Lord James would complain.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We were friends. Best of friends.”

  “That’s right. I recall hearing you say that at Mum’s tea.”

  Caroline smiled to see the dear face, but she didn’t rush across the room. She knew better than to force her scandalous self on a former comrade, no matter how fond.

  She needn’t have worried. Edith’s eyes widened, and she gave a squeal reminiscent of the squeal that had greeted Nicolette’s arrival. As if that sound signaled a reunion, from around the ballroom five squeals sounded, and Caroline saw her old allies bearing down on her. They surrounded her in a rush, hugging, babbling about a hundred things, asking questions and telling her the news. Her eyes filled with awkward tears, but she brushed them away and returned each hug. “Alice. How good to see you. You’re blooming! Louisa, dear, I love your gown. Martha, when is your baby due? Volumnia, you’re as beautiful as ever.” She wondered if they’d heard she was coming and planned this, and thought how lovely it was to have such genuine friends.