Juliana yawned. She had grown weary of discussing her sister’s suitor months ago. “Mayhap he favors how free you are with your kisses.”
“Apologize immediately!” Lucilla squealed with outrage.
“Ladies,” Cordelia said quietly.
Two ladies in the passing carriage peered at them with undisguised interest.
Lucilla curled her upper lip. Her pale green eyes reminded Juliana of cool, impenetrable marble. “You are just envious that I have garnered such devotion and friendship that Mr. Stepkins could not bear to be separated from me while all you have for company is an old pianoforte in the stuffy drawing room.”
It was mean-spirited of her to attack the one activity that truly gave Juliana pleasure. Music had eased her grief when the family had to carry on without their father, and gave her companionship when she was lonely.
She was not jealous of her sister.
Still, Juliana could not resist retaliating in kind. “The pianoforte is more entertaining than listening to Mr. Stepkins drone on about the new horse he purchased or the latest gossip he overheard. I daresay, he likely followed you to town because you are the only lady in England who does not fall asleep when he opens his mouth.”
“Ooph!”
Lucilla kicked Juliana sharply in the ankle.
“The word is ‘oaf,’ and it aptly describes your ham-fisted suitor.” Juliana sent the point of her closed parasol into the top of her sister’s leather shoe. “Nearsighted harpy!”
“Juliana! Lucilla!” Cordelia scolded them, though her light blue eyes were twinkling with suppressed humor. “Maman would be horrified if she witnessed this bickering. She wants us to make a good impression, and both of you are behaving like ill-mannered children.”
Juliana leaned forward. “Driver, turn about and return us to our mother.”
“Aye, miss.”
“You have no right to issue orders!” Lucilla said, twisting around to counter her younger sister’s command. “You there—”
“Let the order stand, Lucilla,” Cordelia advised dryly. “If you and Juliana persist, this shameful display will likely end in fisticuffs.”
Juliana giggled at the notion of facing their mother with a blackened eye or bloodied lip. When they were girls, the trio had engaged in some very unladylike behavior. Even though Lucilla was to blame, their mother would not tolerate squabbling and her daughters would all suffer her ire. “We could always open a booth at a fair and sell tickets.”
Cordelia smiled. “While that might be an inventive and amusing way to solve our family’s financial woes, I doubt Maman would approve.”
“When Mr. Stepkins asks Maman for my hand in marriage, I will insist that Maman come live with us,” Lucilla announced, a not-so-subtle reminder that she currently was in the best position to help their family.
Juliana shared a commiserating look with Cordelia. Lucilla was simply being Lucilla, but there were times when the rivalry was irksome.
“That is very generous of you, Lucilla,” Juliana said to placate her sibling. “However, Maman enjoys her cards too much to ever give them up.”
“That means one of us should find a wealthy gentleman,” Cordelia added.
Both Cordelia and Lucilla were welcome to hunt for a wealthy gentleman to marry. When pursuing a gentleman, Juliana had higher ambitions than marriage. She had already met one such gentleman. He was well mannered, friendly, and had no interest in courting her. Lord Kyd also shared her appreciation for music and seemed quite amenable to helping her find a publisher for her musical compositions.
His friendship had made her family’s stay in London bearable.
“If Maman has her way, she will be matching all three of us with titled gentlemen with hefty purses,” Lucilla said, looking pensive. She was probably wondering what she was going to do about her devoted Mr. Stepkins.
Juliana turned her head and stared at their driver’s back. The wide brim of her hopeless hat served to shield her from the prying gazes of the ton. Absently she waved away a hovering bumblebee as her thoughts drifted to Lord Kyd. She hoped that she would encounter him this evening and that he would save her from her mother’s matchmaking.
“Who has caught your eye?”
Alexius’s gaze shifted from the ballroom to the gentleman beside him. Fifteen minutes earlier, he had excused himself from the card table, leaving his friends to empty the purses of Lord and Lady Kempe’s guests. Alexius was surprised that Hugh Wells Mordare, or Dare as he was commonly called, had followed him, since the man preferred games of chance to the riskier games played by the ladies of the ton.
“My sister.”
So he was not being exactly truthful. Seconds before Dare had intruded, Alexius had been searching the crowd for the mysterious blonde who had not lingered around for a proper introduction.
“Berus had mentioned that the countess had sent several messengers to Nox,” Dare said, his somber blue-gray gaze casually drifting from guest to guest. “What does she want from you?”
Dare was a cynical soul when it came to family and their demands. Years earlier, he had been betrayed by his brother and the woman Dare had loved. The experience had left him embittered and his family divided. It did not take much intuition for Alexius to predict how his friend might react to Belle’s small favor.
“Perhaps Belle was simply missing me.”
Dare glanced back at Alexius, bemused that his friend would suggestion anything so ridiculously naïve. “No offense, Sin, but most ladies, and your sister, in particular, always have a reason.”
It was a shrewd observation that Alexius could not dispute.
“Is there a reason why we have not moved on to another house?” Vane demanded as he strolled up to them. “Hunter fell asleep in the middle of the game; Saint is winning, which is annoying Frost, so he is doing his best to provoke Kempe’s heir into a fight.”
Christ.
“That will get him and the rest of us tossed out onto our arses,” Dare muttered.
Alexius had been mildly surprised that Lord and Lady Kempe had bothered to send the Lords of Vice invitations. Nevertheless, a man’s title and wealth went a long way to smoothing his less savory habits. Lady Kempe, undoubtedly, hoped to do some matchmaking.
Alexius said to his friends, “I need a word with my sister, and then we can depart.” He pointed at Dare. “Keep Frost from killing Kempe’s whelp.”
Alexius walked away, intending to circle the perimeter of the ballroom once before he and his friends took their leave. He had lied about his need to see his sister. Belle had not mentioned to him that she would be attending the Kempes’ ball. Nor was he interested in seeking out her rival, Lady Juliana Ivers.
The lady he desired was elusive. If he did not find her here, there were other ballrooms, other nights.
As he mulled over whether or not there was time to walk the ballroom again before Frost or the others strained their welcome, Alexius’s vision was obscured by gloved fingers.
“Sin,” the low feminine voice sighed, as if his name were a benediction. “Oh, you dreadfully wicked man. Where have you been hiding?”
Alexius smiled at the exasperation he sensed in the question. “Nell, my lovely hussy, the real mystery is: why are you here? I thought you were visiting Bath.”
The Countess of Lawrie’s hands lifted from his eyes so he could turn around and properly greet the lady who occasionally shared his bed when the notion suited them both. Only three inches shorter than him, the twenty-four-year-old dark-haired beauty was staring at him as if she wanted to nibble her way down his body.
Since they were in public, however, he bowed over her hand and she curtsied. There was a twinkle of mischief in her dark blue eyes that always seemed to taunt him into being wicked. He had met her six years ago when she was eighteen and he was nineteen. The elderly husband her greedy father had secured for her had already left her a widow. Fortunately, the earl had also bequeathed a small fortune to his young countess. Free of her tyrannical
father and a restrictive enfeebled husband, Lady Lawrie had dedicated herself to spending her dead husband’s wealth and enjoying her lovers.
Nell pouted as Alexius straightened. “You were correct. Cadoux was utterly tiresome out of bed. I left him at Royal Crescent, or thereabouts,” she said with a dismissive flick of her fingers.
“You are remaining in town for the season?”
“But of course.” She surveyed Lord and Lady Kempe’s ballroom with a sanguine expression. “With you at my side, we shall keep the gossips and the ton amused for weeks.”
An energetic, naughty minx, Nell was just the lady to shake the ennui that had been gradually stealing his enthusiasm about remaining in London. As a lover, she had been creative and generous. There had been odd times when Alexius had genuinely missed her as she had moved on to other lovers.
“London would have been boring without you,” he said, deciding that talking with the lady next to him would be more entertaining than pursuing his mystery lady or seducing the vain Lady Juliana Ivers. There was comfort in the familiar, which was an indication how far he had fallen into his odd melancholy. “Would you prefer—Oh, Christ.”
“What is it?”
There she was. His mysterious lybbestre, an inviting vision in violet. Her hand was on the arm of Lord Kyd’s as they promenaded back to their positions of their set. If Belle had been present to witness her lover’s delight as he grinned boyishly at his dancing partner, she would have happily murdered them both.
As if sensing Alexius’s scrutiny, his lybbestre glanced at him. He seized Nell’s hand and dragged her behind one of the marble colonnades.
“Sin, what on earth—?”
The last thing he wanted was for the lady to see him with Lady Lawrie. He and Nell shared an intimacy that was apparent even to the casual observer, and if the blonde inquired about them there was an endless supply of gossip that could fill her ears about their relationship.
He had to get rid of Nell.
Alexius stared intently at the countess, wondering what to do with her.
As she misunderstood the intensity radiating off him like heat waves, Nell’s dark blue eyes softened. “Sin?”
“This ballroom is stuffy. Care to take a walk?” Without giving her a chance to reply, Alexius pushed his companion toward the closest door. Assuming that he was in the mood to play games, Nell was willingly to indulge him.
Chapter Six
“WHAT AN AMAZING coincidence that I encountered you and your family at the park this afternoon,” Lord Kyd said, escorting Juliana away from the dancers.
“My mother would describe it as providence,” Juliana said wryly. “I must confess that I had been quarreling with Lucilla when we came upon you, Mrs. Maddock, and Maman. Your presence prevented us from continuing our appalling behavior.”
“Do you often fight with your sisters?”
“I do not think I should answer such a question, Juliana said teasingly. “After all, if you are going to conduct business on my behalf, I would not want to give you the impression that I am difficult.”
“I have a particular fondness for temperamental ladies,” he countered, the corner of his mouth curling in an appealing manner. “After reviewing the music compositions that you entrusted to me, I am willing to indulge your artistic disposition.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Lord Kyd straightened and cocked his head to the side as he recognized someone. She peered in the direction that he was gazing but could not find the cause for the resignation in his tone.
Concern marked her brow as Juliana asked, “Something troubling?”
“No, no,” the baron denied briskly. “I had hoped that we might dance again; however, I have other business matters that need my attention. Immediately. Another time, perhaps?”
Lord Kyd clasped her extended hand and bowed.
“Of course.”
The indulgent smile on Juliana’s face faded as she discreetly observed the baron as he made his way to the other side of the ballroom. Her eyes narrowed. Oh, she had been right about the trouble, she mused, watching him as he paid his respects to the one person determined to ruin her stay in London. Lady Gredell. After a brief greeting, the couple disappeared through the doorway that led to the outer front hall.
Juliana clasped her hands together and released the breath she was holding. The tightness in her chest eased at the couple’s departure. Although it was none of her business, she could not fathom why Lord Kyd would consort with such a dreadful woman.
“I have the devil’s own luck,” a masculine voice drawled, interrupting Juliana’s uncharitable thoughts about the disagreeable countess. “For me to find a pretty wallflower just begging to be plucked.”
“Vincent Bishop, Earl of Chillingsworth,” the handsome stranger said, his hand scrolling with a mid-air flourish as he bowed. “My friends call me Frost. And your name, my lovely?”
“Lady Juliana Ivers,” she replied unthinkingly, the manners her mother had drilled into her coming to the forefront. She curtsied as she discreetly searched for her mother and sisters.
Juliana did not understand her rising need to flee from this gentleman. While Lord Kyd had shyly gazed at her with a combination of quiet awe and respect, Lord Chillingsworth’s gaze was unswerving and intimate.
In spite of his boldness, the earl appeared to be exactly what her mother was seeking for her daughters. He was titled, and the refined quality of his coat, the heavy gold seal ring on his right hand, and the silver buckles on his polished shoes indicated wealth. Oh, and his face. If fallen angels walked the earth, this gentleman could have been mistaken for one. A strong narrowed jaw, piercing turquoise eyes, and black hair that fell in artful disarray, the ends brushing his cravat. The fact that he was astonishingly handsome, too, would have only encouraged Juliana’s mother to secure him for one of her daughters.
If Lady Duncombe saw them together, it would be disastrous.
“Forgive me, my lord; my mother and sisters are waiting for me,” Juliana said, edging away from the earl. She did not want to be rude, but she sensed any subtlety would be lost on this gentleman.
Lord Chillingsworth stepped in front of her. “Dance with me.”
“I really must return to my family.”
“You did not seem to mind tarrying with Lord Kyd,” he said, backing her up against one of the colonnades.
“Lord Kyd is a friend of the family,” she brazenly lied. With her back against the marble, Juliana inched her way around until she could walk to the next column. “We share a mutual appreciation for music.”
“I like music,” he said, casually pursuing her as she moved from the colonnade to a closed door. “And I like to share.”
Juliana’s intuition clanged like a bell in her head, warning her that the earl might not be remarking about his love of music. The back of her head connected with the solid oak door.
This was getting a trifle awkward.
“Lord Chillingsworth, please!”
Juliana started when he braced each hand on the wooden frame of the door, effectively cutting off her escape. “You beg so sweetly, Lady Juliana,” he said, lowering his head. “How will you taste?”
Her eyes widened as the scoundrel kissed her on the mouth. Or perhaps “plundered” was more apt. There was a muffled squeak of surprise when he grasped her upper arms. Juliana felt the flick of his tongue along the edge of her teeth. Her brief struggle for freedom seemed to inflame his ardor. She reached behind her for the door latch and pushed.
The door swung wide on its well-oiled hinges, and locked together they staggered into the room. They bounced against the door and collided with a high wingback chair. Juliana thought her back would snap in half from the weight of the earl on top of her.
The brute had the audacity to laugh.
It was too much for a sheltered lady.
“Get off of me!” she said, her voice laced with maidenly outrage.
“Frost?”
Both Juliana and Lord Chillingswo
rth stiffened upon hearing his nickname. Although she could not place it, the masculine voice seemed vaguely familiar. She twisted her neck in an attempt to identify the gentleman who had witnessed their humiliating entrance.
Good grief, it was him!
She shoved frantically at the earl’s chest.
Across the room, there stood the gentleman who had been trysting with Lady Lettlecott in her gardens. The man who seemed to be the living and breathing essence of all things wicked and forbidden.
Sin.
And the gentleman was not alone. With his back partially facing them, his large muscular frame was shielding a dark-haired lady who was prudently adjusting her bodice.
Exactly how many mistresses did Sin have in town?
Juliana tore her gaze away from the couple and glared at her captor. This awkward predicament was plainly his fault!
Lord Chillingsworth, the unrepentant fool, did not seem uncomfortable that he had been caught groping her. He straightened and pulled Juliana against him, his hand resting possessively on her left hip. “Sin, what are you—?” He broke off and grinned. “Nell! This is indeed a pleasant surprise. I thought you were in Bath with some French bas—?”
The earl bit his tongue, suddenly recalling the lady at his side.
“It appears that I prefer the English ones to French,” the lady saucily drawled, slipping her arm around Sin’s waist.
“The trouble is, you keep choosing the wrong gent,” the earl teased; his ease with the unknown lady revealed that the trio had been friends for some time. “And Sin is the worst.”
“I fear some habits are too troublesome to break.”
Lord Chillingsworth and Sin’s companion laughed.
For some reason, the woman shifted her shrewd attention to Juliana. “Do you not agree, my dear?”
Juliana preferred being ignored by the trio.
Sin was staring at her. She could feel the weight of it as her eyelids lowered; her gloved fingers were digging into the back of the dark green wingback chair. She shifted her stance, shrugging off the earl’s hand on her hip.
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