In the perfumed silence of the garden, he heard her breath catch, her lashes lowering almost as if she were properly shamed.
“I will admit that I behaved badly. But there were reasons…”
“Such as making a mockery of the Peasant Earl?” he rasped.
Her gaze flew upward, her lips parting at his direct accusation.
“What? No, of course not.”
“I am not such an idiot as you might have suspected.”
“I never thought you an idiot.”
“So you approach every strange gentleman on verandas and announce your intent to have them as a husband?” he demanded in measured tones. Inwardly he battled his reaction to having her so near. His treacherous body was blithely unconcerned with the reason she was in his arms. Only that he do something about it. Something that would include heated kisses, raised skirts, and sweet moans of feminine pleasure. Dammit, Edward, concentrate. “Either you are frighteningly desperate or you thought it some delightful joke to play on the yokel.”
“I…” She bit her lip before sucking in a deep breath. “Please, will you put me down?”
“So that you can scamper back to have a good giggle with your friends?”
“No, I wish to apologize,” she shocked him by admitting in strained tones. “And to offer an explanation, if you are willing to listen.”
Still far from certain that this was not just some ploy to escape from his clutches, Edward slowly lowered her to her feet, once again experiencing that pang as she stepped from his arms.
He sternly folded his arms over his chest, as much to keep himself from reaching out to tug her close as to appear threatening.
“Very well.” His eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
Bianca discovered her entire body shaking as she smoothed her hands over her rumpled skirts.
She had behaved badly.
There could be no mistake about that.
Not only had she managed to make an utter fool of herself, but she had unintentionally touched a vulnerable nerve within the large gentleman who was currently regarding her with a disdainful expression.
Still, if she were being perfectly honest with herself, she would have to admit that her shaking had little to do with her well-deserved embarrassment and everything to do with having been so expertly and thoroughly kissed.
Oh…blessed saints.
The gentleman might be fresh from the country, but he possessed skills the most hardened rake might envy.
Even now her skin still tingled from the warm brush of his lips and feel of his hands so intimately holding her close. Worse, she could not deny that a tiny ache of frustration remained lodged deep within her.
Oh, it was not that she was a prude. She fully understood that a woman need not be in love to enjoy the touch of a man. After all, women throughout the ages had allowed themselves to be seduced by the most disreputable sorts of scoundrels.
But knowing in theory it was possible to respond to the touch of a stranger was considerably different from nearly melting into a puddle at his feet.
Shifting beneath his steady gaze, Bianca nervously cleared her throat. Stop it, she firmly commanded herself. Now was not the time to brood on wicked kisses, dash it all.
Not when a very large, very angry earl was hovering over her.
“I…” Her voice came out as a croak, and with an effort Bianca sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “I meant no insult when I approached you, Lord Harrington.”
His eyes narrowed. “But you knew my identity?”
“Yes.”
The dark, handsome features tightened with what might have been disappointment.
“And that was the reason you sought me out?”
Her heart gave a sharp squeeze. She could offer a lie, of course. She was not above a bit of deception. Especially when it might protect the feelings of another.
Unfortunately, there was a fierce intelligence in those hazel eyes that warned he would not be easily deceived. Nor would he take kindly to any attempts to spare his sensibilities.
“Only in part,” she grudgingly confessed.
“And what part would that be?”
She winced at his clipped words. He was certainly…blunt. A quality she was not yet certain she admired or not.
Needing a moment to collect her rattled thoughts, Bianca settled on a bench beside the gazebo.
“This is not simple to explain.” She gazed the long distance up to his shadowed countenance as she patted the seat beside her. “Will you join me?”
His deliberately glanced about them. “That all depends.”
“Depends upon what?”
“You do not have a vicar lurking about the hedges who is about to leap out and join us as man and wife?” he demanded dryly.
Her eyes widened before her lips gave a reluctant twitch. Good heavens but he was the most unexpected of gentlemen.
“To my knowledge the hedge is without vicars, parsons, or even monks, although I would not lay odds upon a stray bishop or two.”
The hazel eyes glittered in the moonlight. “I suppose I shall take the risk.”
“Thank you.”
There was a pause before he seated himself on the bench next to her. Bianca nearly gasped as a startling rash of awareness blazed through her.
Aye, aye, aye.
The man was a menace to any woman under the age of eighty. Herself included.
“Perhaps before we go much further you should tell me your name,” he drawled, seemingly unaware of her tiny shiver. “I should hate to discover myself tied for an eternity to an Esmeralda or Bertie.”
She gave a distracted blink. “What is the matter with Esmeralda?”
“I possess a particularly loathsome Aunt Esmeralda who used to descend upon us every Sunday for the specific purpose of lecturing me on my lack of piety and prophesizing that someday I would find the path that would lead me straight to hell.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Find the path to hell?”
He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I am still searching.”
“Ah.” She tilted her head to one side. “And Bertie?”
“The name of my mule.”
Her gaze narrowed at his smooth retort. Was he teasing her? Impossible to tell.
A strange sensation for a woman who had been wrapping gentlemen about her little finger since the cradle.
“Well, I can safely assure you that my name is neither Esmeralda nor Bertie. It is…”
“Yes?”
“Lady Bianca Carstone.”
“Lady?”
“My father is the Duke of Lockharte.”
There was an ominous silence before his lips twisted in a humorless smile.
“Ah. Of course he is.”
Bianca stiffened at the edge in his voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”
With a smooth motion he was back on his feet, his face adverted to reveal a perfectly chiseled profile.
“You have yet to explain your little charade on the terrace.”
She pressed her hands together at his suddenly cold tone. “I have no real excuse but that I was furious with my father and hoping to punish him.”
“By being seen in the company of the Peasant Earl?”
Put like that, it did sound horrible.
Selfish, insensitive, and horrible.
“Yes.”
His gaze swung toward her at the soft admission.
“Well, at least you’re honest. A rather rare commodity here in London.”
She grimaced as she rose to her feet and lightly placed her hand on his sleeve. “I am sorry.”
He stiffened beneath her touch but did not pull away. “You are not the first woman to find amusement in seeking my attention. If I were a vain man I would simply presume it was my masculine charms that stir such unexpected interest. As it is, I am well aware it is the fact that I am an odd bit of dross among the glittering gold.”
She frowned. Not a
t the thought of women throwing themselves at him. She had already accepted that he possessed an indecent appeal for the opposite sex. But that he could be unaware of that appeal.
“That is ridiculous. You are an earl.”
His jaw tightened, almost as if her words had managed to offend him further.
“I am a common farmer, as all are swift to remind me. Having a dozen titles dropped on my shoulders does not change who I am or make me more welcome in society.” He smiled, on this occasion without humor. “As I am certain your father must have warned you before you flounced onto the terrace in a snit.”
Her cheeks flared at his all-too-accurate thrust. “Rather more than a snit.”
“What was it? Did your father refuse to purchase you a pretty diamond? Or perhaps you had your heart set on a matching pair to pull your golden carriage?”
Despite the knowledge that she was in the wrong, Bianca felt a shaft of annoyance flare through her. He condemned her as shallow and spoiled without knowing the least thing about her. Just as all of society did.
“What I had my heart set on was a marriage based on love. Instead my father has recently informed me that I am to be bartered off to the highest bidder in an attempt to salvage the family’s failing estates.” Her chin tilted. “Since the lands and estates are entailed, it appears I am the only property he has left for the auction block.”
He paused, as if she had caught him off guard. “A marriage of convenience?”
“Convenient for my father, not for me.”
In the shimmering moonlight his brow furrowed and he reached out a hand as if to touch her.
“Lady Bianca…”
Bianca took an abrupt step backward.
Blast it all, what was she doing? She sounded as if she were begging for his sympathy like some soppy milquetoast.
Something she detested above all else.
“I have apologized, my lord, and I sincerely hope that you will forgive me for entangling you in my ridiculous troubles. I assure you that I will not bother you again.”
Sweeping an elegant curtsey, Bianca set a determined path toward the townhouse only to be halted by the soft sound of his voice.
“You have told me why you approached me on the terrace,” he murmured. “But that does not explain why you allowed me to kiss you.”
Bianca bit her lip before forcing her feet to carry her forward.
The day from beginning to end had been an utter disaster.
Tomorrow, by God, she intended to spend the entire day in bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
For the first time since his arrival in London, Edward discovered himself arising from his bed with a surge of anticipation.
He could attribute his eagerness to begin the day to the rare spring sunshine that shimmered through his window. Or to the fact that his valet had managed to inflict only a handful of bruises as he washed, shaved, and wrestled him into the skintight buff breeches and sapphire blue coat. Or even to the hot coffee that his cook had at last been convinced to include with his breakfast tray rather than the insipid tea he detested.
Unfortunately, he had never been one to hide from the truth.
However pleasant he found the sun and coffee and a lack of broken limbs, none of them could have him hopping from his bed and humming beneath his breath.
Humming, for God’s sake.
A wise man would no doubt crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head.
Humming was never a good thing.
Especially not after a night filled with delicious dreams concerning a raven-haired minx with the most kissable lips in all of England.
Instead he meekly allowed Hallifax to fuss to his heart’s content over the ridiculous knot in his cravat. He didn’t even attempt to flee when his servant was interrupted by a discrete tap on the door.
There was a low murmur as a uniformed footman passed his message to Hallifax and the sound of the door once again being shut. Returning to his interrupted work of art, the valet met Edward’s curious gaze in the mirror.
“It seems that Lord Bidwell has called, my lord.”
“At this hour?” Edward grimaced.
He had already endured a sharp lecture from his friend when he returned to the ballroom last evening. It appeared all were aware that he had spent several moments alone with Lady Bianca, and Biddles had wasted no time in assuring him that only the worse sort of clod willingly made an enemy of the powerful Duke of Lockharte.
A wise warning, no doubt. But Edward had been in no mood to listen to reason.
Lady Bianca had fascinated him in a manner he could not fully explain. And while every instinct assured him that she was firmly out of his reach, he could not force himself to put her from his mind.
Not after the kiss they had shared.
“Sir?” his servant prompted as Edward remained lost in his thoughts.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell him…tell him that I was attacked by a pack of wild dogs and even now hover upon the brink of death.”
The thin, sour face remained stoic even as he lifted a disparaging brow. “Dogs, my lord?”
“You think pirates a better choice?”
“Far more distinguished.”
Edward gave it a moment of consideration. “Yes, but surely a gentleman trained in the sporting arts should not be so fainthearted as to be bested by ruffians?”
“You were rescuing a poor maiden and as such unable to toss yourself fully into the fray for fear of disturbing her delicate sensibilities.”
“Ah…a nice touch.”
Hallifax gave a faint nod as he twisted the linen into a perfect knot.
“You may depend upon me.”
“Arrgg.” Edward glared at his valet as he struggled to breathe. “You do know if you wish to be done with me, Hallifax, it would be much less painful to simply slash my throat with your razor.”
“I could never abide the sight of blood, sir.”
“And a slow torture is so much more rewarding?”
Hallifax offered a bow. “There is that.”
“Damn.” Rising to his feet, he reached to slip on the heavy signet ring that had come with the equally heavy title. “I suppose you might as well send Biddles up, although I must insist you take away his walking stick. ’Tis bad enough to be whacked by his ridiculous fan; I will not be beaten with a cane.”
“I shall do my best.”
Gliding from the chamber with his superior silence, Hallifax left the door open, and within moments the slender, flamboyantly attired Biddles made his entrance.
“Ah, Edward, my dearest friend,” the nobleman purred with a deep bow.
Edward could not halt the warm smile that touched his mouth. Whatever their differences, he counted the roguish rat as one of his closest friends.
“Good morning, Biddles.” He motioned toward the breakfast tray. “Coffee?”
“Gads, no.” With a shudder, Biddles withdrew a flask from his coat to take a swig of the no-doubt-excellent brandy. “’Tis horrid enough to be up and about at this unsavory hour without being forced to consume something so akin to tar.”
“And may I ask what has you up and about at such an unsavory hour?”
“You, of course.” Returning the flask to his pocket, Biddles regarded him with a searching gaze. “I wish to assure myself you do not intend to do anything foolish.”
Edward gave a lift of his brow. “By ‘foolish,’ do you mean running naked through Hyde Park? Or, horror of horrors, scuffing the gloss upon my boots?”
The pointed nose twitched with annoyance. “I mean by allowing your little tryst with the Ice Princess to lead you to waters too dangerous to swim.”
Edward discovered his jaw tightening. “I presume you are referring to Lady Bianca?”
Biddles took a step closer, his expression somber. “Listen, Edward, I will be the first to admit that she is a rare beauty with enough charm to make the most hardened rake toss his heart at her feet. But she has also proven to be a callous flirt
who has devoted four seasons to luring susceptible men into her trap and tossing them aside when she becomes bored with their adoration.”
Edward considered the warning for a long moment. Not unusual. He was not a gentleman to leap to swift conclusions or made decisions in a blink of an eye. There were those, of course, who thought his habit of careful consideration a sign of slow wits, which suited him just fine. To be underestimated always ensured he had the upper hand.
“You think her a femme fatale?”
“Of the first order.”
“And you fear she desires to break my heart?”
“Only if you are naïve enough to allow her.” Biddles gave him a look that indicated his opinion of anyone so hideously stupid. “Take my advice and avoid Lady Bianca like the plague. There are any number of debutantes who would not only be eager to become your countess but have been trained to ensure your household is a haven of peace and comfort.”
Edward could not halt the twitch of his lips. “And is that what you searched for in a wife, Biddles? Comfort and peace?”
The pale eyes held a sudden glint. They both knew that comfort and peace were two words that would never be applied to Lady Bidwell.
“Perhaps not,” he conceded wryly. “Still, I do not wish to see you hurt, old friend.”
Edward gave a tug of his cravat. “If that were true, then you would never have hired a valet for me who is obviously determined to slowly strangle me to death.”
“Edward.”
“Forgive me, Biddles.” Reaching out, he placed his hand upon the nobleman’s shoulder. “You must know that I am deeply appreciative of all you have done for me.”
“And you will heed my warnings?”
A beat passed before Edward gave a lift of his shoulder. He better than anyone knew that appearances could be deceiving. Had he not already been judged by a society that knew nothing of him?
Whatever Biddles’s opinion, he suspected there was more to Lady Bianca than just a heartless jade.
Or at least he had hopes there was.
And there was only one way to discover the truth.
“I am more than willing to heed your warnings when it comes to matters of etiquette, fashion, and society, Biddles. They are, after all, a complete mystery to me. In affairs of politics and the heart, however, I must insist on following my own desires.”
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