She closed her eyes against the sudden press of tears and fought the urge to stomp her foot—which would have been difficult since she was sitting. Besides, the barefoot stomp was never as satisfactory as a heeled one. The heeled one made a very satisfying thump. She allowed a frown to disfigure her face. It was dark, what did she care? Douglas thought she was that Lady Tremount. Or some other trollop. She would almost think the situation humorous, if she didn’t find it so horribly painful.
She’d done nothing so hideous in her life as to deserve this.
Cicely didn’t open her eyes when she felt him sink next to her on the sofa. The cushion flexed under his weight. She waited for Douglas to realize he’d mistaken her for another woman as he slipped his hand over her cold, clenched fist.
“Awfully quiet, my lady. I’ve never known you to be so reserved.”
She opened her eyes. She was positive any moment he would guess her identity and his horror would be too much to bear. But she would, just as she had a few nights before, face it. It was best to confront his disgust for her and use it as a weapon to remind herself what he thought of her. She turned her head, drawing back when she realized he’d moved closer. She blinked, then blinked again.
With the drapes closed, the room was near pitch black, and it was understandable he didn’t know who she was. He expected someone else.
Douglas trailed his incredibly warm hand up her arm, his fingers gliding over the side of her bound breasts then farther up to cup her face. Gently, he pulled her closer. His heat surrounded her, warmed her, mesmerized her.
When she was just inches away from pressing her lips to his, he paused to say, “I’ve never known you to play reticent before. I have to say, I quite like it.”
His breath warmed her face as he spoke. Guilt held her tongue. She should tell him and end this embarrassing façade. A moment later, he brushed his lips against hers and every thought of righting his misconception dissolved. A liquid-silver thrill shot through her, sending her heart beating out of control, her head spinning. Sighing, she leaned into him. This was a fear she could learn to love.
Apparently thinking it an invitation—because truly it had been— Douglas raised his other hand to frame her face completely and deepened the kiss. She twined her arms behind his neck and returned the kiss with all the passion in her heart. The feel of his tongue against her closed mouth caused her to gasp. Before she knew what he was about, his tongue was inside, tasting her…tempting her.
God help her, she was putty in his large, capable hands.
She moaned. He slipped his hands down her body to her waist then lifted her, placing her on his lap. Warmth seeped into every pore, her flesh heating, her body vibrating. This wasn’t proper, that she knew.
Still…
She felt his heart beat through his shirt and jacket. That he thought her someone else didn’t matter. All that mattered was that at this one moment, the man she desired—and God help her, loved—desired her in return. Her, a nobody who barely turned the head of even the most boring of men. But this man, a gorgeous, seductive charmer, was kissing her as if his life depended on it. Somewhere in the back of her mind a bit of her better judgment prodded. With determination, she pushed the doubts away. She just wanted to be touched…to feel, to be felt.
He slid his hands to her back, urging her to him. She shifted her weight, rubbing her chest against his. Even through the fabric of her gown and the layers of her binding, the friction hardened her nipples.
Her bones melted as he moved from her mouth to the delicate skin just below her jaw. His lips felt so good. They burned a trail wherever they touched and when they slid from one spot to another, the fire lingered, pushing deep past her defenses, ingraining in her memory. Wanting— needing—more, she tipped her head to one side allowing him better access to her throat. He murmured something against her skin that she couldn’t grasp, but it thrilled her just the same. He moved on to her ear as she began to shift against him. The scrape of his teeth against her lobe had her moaning his name and threading her fingers through his hair.
“Catherine.”
The sound of another woman’s name on his lips, in a voice deepened with arousal, had the same effect as a bucket of cold water. Shame filled her as she realized that while Douglas thought her someone else, she had known the truth all along. And she had allowed him to think she was that other woman. She’d believed she could accept that. She was wrong.
Pulling away, she stumbled off his lap and landed with a thump on the floor.
“Catherine?”
Arousal still threaded his voice. She sensed him looking at her and she knew at any moment she would be discovered. Oh, lud, she didn’t want to face his pity and revulsion. She bit her lip to keep silent. She scrambled to her feet, bending to grab her slippers, then rushed to the door.
“Catherine!”
She couldn’t say a word because there was no doubt he would know who she was, but she did hear him rise to come after her. Panic gripped her insides as she fumbled with the doorhandle. When it gave way, she hurried through the door, praying no one was in the hallway. Thankfully, for once in her life, the angels actually heard her stricken prayers.
Without a backward glance, she slipped down the hall to the retiring room and breathed a sigh of relief upon finding it empty. After donning her slippers, she took in her appearance in the glass and gasped. A flush stained her cheeks, her lips were swollen and her eyes shone.
She looked like she’d been ravished, which was partially true. She would never confess it had been her. Before she could contemplate her excuses for being absent for so long, the door opened and three debutantes came rushing through, giggling.
They came to an abrupt halt in the doorway, two of them running into each other. If her nerves weren’t so frazzled, Cicely was sure she would have found it funny. Still, she offered them a smooth smile then scooted around them and out the door. It was time to return to the ballroom and pretend nothing at all had happened.
Douglas rushed to the door and into the hallway only to find it empty. He settled his hands on his hips. His shaft still throbbed from the encounter and his body burned. He’d never been so aroused from just a simple kiss.
Sighing, and trying to think of anything else to cool his ardor, he had to admit it was more than a kiss. So much more. He had never had a woman completely lose herself in a kiss. Her beautiful little moans had struck him to the core.
“Douglas.”
Catherine’s cool voice cut through his haze of memories causing his ardor to deflate. He turned and faced the one many called The Angel. She truly did have a celestial look about her with her light blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and alabaster skin. She was usually the type of woman who attracted him. But at the moment, he couldn’t understand why he felt compelled to romance a woman with such a slender figure and a confident air.
“Catherine. Where did you go?”
“I have been waiting for you.”
“But—” He rubbed his forehead. “Where have you been?”
“I said I would meet you in the study.”
He remembered her saying that. So who had been in the room with him? “I’m sorry, I thought you said the library.”
She studied him for a moment, a look of confusion drifting over her features before resignation replaced it. “I think if you truly wanted to be there, you would have been.”
No accusation laced her tone. He had been ready for a fit of jealousy, although she had never shown that sort of behavior before. Married at the age of eighteen to a man in his sixties, she was now a widow known to have lovers, but was incredibly discreet. They were the same age and had been friends since they met. It was because of that he thought he needed to give her an explanation.
“Catherine—”
She shook her head and took his hand in hers. “Do not worry, Douglas. I knew this day would come and I am relieved for it. You need some happiness in your life. You deserve it.”
A burst of
giggles turned their attention down the hall. Catherine gave his hand a friendly squeeze then let it go. She turned to leave.
“Catherine?”
Looking back over her shoulder one last time, she offered him a small smile. “I hope she is all you need.”
With that cryptic statement, she left him. He wandered down the hall in the opposite direction and allowed his mind to drift back to the encounter in the library. Something about the woman was familiar although he was sure he had never kissed her before tonight.
Needing air, he decided to abandon the ball and go to his club. After his altercation with Lady Cicely, he was more than ready to leave. She had been his one and only reason for attending. A drink or two, perhaps a hand of cards would do him good. Within a few moments, he was in his carriage and on his way to White’s. In the darkness, his mind drifted back to the feel of his unknown lady’s soft, full lips pressing against his.
When he licked his, he could taste her there, sweet and innocent, with a touch of seductive temptress. His body reacted immediately. Letting loose an aggravated groan, he scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to dislodge the memory. When he did, a hint of lavender mixed with a subtle undertone of woman had his senses reeling.
He knew women especially by their scent. Catherine had always favored roses, on her skin, in her bed. It hit him that he should have known who his mystery woman was the moment he had leaned closer to her. Lavender had surrounded him, but he ignored it and the implications. Until now, alone in the dark with his thoughts and his dismay.
He closed his eyes as he remembered the scent of warm lavender on Lady Cicely’s skin. Good Lord, he should have known. The way she had kissed told him that she hadn’t had many, if any, encounters. Innocent and enthusiastic, but completely inexperienced. He opened his eyes, then narrowed them thinking of the way she’d fled, as if the hounds of hell were after her.
She had stood in the ballroom, the picture of sincerity, and told him she had no plans to meet anyone. She’d been lying. Goddamn her to hell, she had been lying. Right to his face!
A rush of heated anger infused his blood. From what he had experienced, Cicely was not wasting any time going forward with her plan. She had made arrangements to meet another man. Her reactions, her moans, everything he thought had been for him was not. It had been a lie. When she discovered it was him, she had fled, thinking he would never figure out it had been her.
He smiled, with no humor, thinking about confronting her at the next ball. Lady Cicely had much for which to answer to.
Three days after the encounter with Douglas, Cicely carefully turned the page of the diary. The book itself had seen better days and she suspected whoever had been in possession of the diary had not worried about its care. She assumed they had hidden it away, not wanting anyone to know what it was. More than likely, someone had not comprehended what they owned. That might explain the sorry condition of the book when she found it for sale. It wasn’t until she had read about one-third of it that the incriminating information came to light.
Cicely was more than thankful for the diary these past few days. She and Anna had found themselves without Victoria, who had come down with a cold. And with the rainy weather, all of their outings had been canceled. Stuck in the house, with little to do but read, her mind kept wandering back to her last encounter with Douglas. She knew nothing would come of it, but that one taste of passion with him had her doubting she would find someone else to replace him. If he had known it was her, even though it pained her to admit it, he would have been repulsed that he had been kissing her. But for her, she worried no man would be able to compete with him.
She sighed as she looked out at the rain-drenched streets. Water sluiced down the windowpane, the patter of it hitting the ledge a perfect accompaniment to her mood. It had been several years since she had been reduced to this level of melancholy. But the thought of finding someone other than Douglas for her deflowering just seemed to send her spiraling downward.
If only she could have kept her search cold-blooded. Men performed the task of picking a lover without giving it any more thought than choosing a new cravat. Theirs wasn’t a choice of the heart, but of convenience. That was originally why she came up with a list. She knew it would be no more than one stolen moment, one interlude of pleasure— at least she hoped—with no promise of marriage or further liaisons.
She now worried that any man would pale in comparison to Douglas and that was not acceptable. This solitary chance to taste passion should not be dampened by the memory of a single kiss. One make–her-knees-weak-and-her-head-spin kind of kiss, but it was still just a kiss. Not the actual deed. Although the memory of the heat that burst between the two of them from that simple act still caused a flash of warmth to spread through her.
“Woolgathering, Cousin?”
Anna’s question jolted Cicely out of her thoughts. When she looked at her younger cousin, Cicely felt her face flush with embarrassment at being caught thinking about that.
Anna’s smile widened. “Ahhh, and it must have been something naughty to get that blush.”
“’Tis nothing. I was reading over the diary again.”
Anna offered the diary a nasty look. “You have had your head stuck in that book for days. It’s almost as depressing as this weather.”
Cicely gave her an understanding smile. Anna tended to lean toward debates on modern politics, rather than history as Cicely did. Most of the ton would be amazed to find a decidedly clever debate partner in Anna since she hid her intelligence behind a cloak of smiles and twinkling eyes—not to mention being one of the best known sources of idle gossip.
“I am enjoying the intrigue of it, even if I may never know who these people are.”
Anna settled in her favorite chair. She trailed her fingers over the curving scrollwork on the armrests. “Go ahead, tell me.”
“You hate history.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “I would do anything to break the monotony of these past few days. Even listen to history. You know you want to talk about it. So go on. Share with me.”
Guilt engulfed Cicely. “I am so sorry, Anna. I know—”
Her cousin waved that away. “No. I just get a little crazy waiting around because it is raining. It has nothing to do with missing the balls.”
She smiled. “Of course, they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Hmm, and is there anyone in particular you are thinking of?”
Anna’s smile turned radiant with a touch of devious delight. “I will tell you as soon as you tell me about that. Tit for tat.” She pointed to the diary that now lay open on Cicely’s lap.
“You must really be in need of amusement if you are begging entertainment from me.”
Anna apparently missed her dry tone and opened her mouth to argue but Cicely laughed. “No, truly, I understand. These past few days have been a bit…tedious.”
“Cicely.”
“There was a group of five members of the Quality who saw the events in France during their revolution and plotted to overthrow the monarchy in England.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “Do you think there is any truth to it?”
Cicely shook her head. “I do not know. There seems to be an interesting layer of history woven into it, some of the more significant historical highlights are mentioned with eerie accuracy…” She shrugged.
“Anyone could have done that. If nothing else, it could make for an interesting work of fiction.”
“Yes, it would. Imagine, five men of noble blood, conspiring against the crown during the time of turmoil.” Her cousin’s look turned speculative. “You know what would make a better novel?”
“What?”
“The story of how they plotted but were never found out. That would be interesting.”
She chuckled. “Seriously, Anna, why would that be interesting?”
“Think. Five men, their very reputations at stake, their lives, their fortunes, and a diary that could ruin it all. That
is powerful.”
“Oh, it is probably just someone’s active imagination, but it is fascinating. So, I have told you. Now it is your turn. Tell me about this person you would like to have grow fonder of you.”
Anna sighed, one of those dreamy sighs women did when they had developed a tendre. Her expression softened. Her speech slowed. When she spoke, she seemed older, more mature. “The Earl of Dewhurst.”
“Dewhurst?” Cicely had to fight the urge to laugh. Now was not the time. She tried to picture the two together in her mind. Had she ever even seen them dance? “When did you decide you were interested in him?”
Anna giggled. “Oh, it wasn’t me, but him. He asked to dance with me twice, once the waltz, then a minuet. Then he asked if he might call upon me, but with the weather and Mother’s illness, I decided to tell him I was not available.”
“Correct me if I am wrong, but your mother is not harboring the secret of dying from the Black Death, is she?”
Anna shook her head.
Amused but not inclined to encourage the behavior, Cicely admonished her cousin, “Anna, that wasn’t very nice of you.”
“Mother always says a man has to learn that you are not waiting for him, that he must wait for you, before he will truly appreciate you.” The bundle of energy she was, Anna jumped off her chair. The action startled Cicely. “Speaking of my mother, I need to check on her and see if she needs anything.”
“Let her know I will be happy to visit with her, but I did not want to bother her.”
Anna had already made it across the room. She opened the door but paused with her hand on the knob. “Cicely, do not be silly. Mother would love to have you visit. I am sure you are a welcome calm after spending time with me.” With a quick wink, she headed out of the room.
Cicely closed her eyes and chuckled again. Well, Dewhurst was now officially off the list. She was not that interested in the man to begin with, but her cousin’s interest sealed it. He seemed a bit boring for Anna.
Again, though, maybe that is what she needed. A colorful butterfly like her cousin might desire someone calm and uninteresting to even her out.
Once Upon an Accident 02 - Lessons in Seduction Page 6