“Which is how Lord Fitzroy became acquainted with Miss Dennett, I presume?”
“Yes, and we all thought her to be charming and lovely upon first acquaintance. Her manners were exquisite, her deference towards me entirely as it should be. I was happy when she befriended my youngest daughter, Cynthia, and also Julia. She became a regular visitor to the Court, and when Cynthia married Lord Seymour, Philippa and Julia continued with their intimacy. Looking back, I can hardly believe I was glad Julia had someone closer to her own age whose society she enjoyed.”
“But surely that was only natural, ma’am? You were fond of Julia and wanted her to be happy here at the Court.”
“Yes, I suppose I can’t be blamed for that. How was I to know that Philippa could be so conniving? If I suspected her of any ulterior motives, I merely thought she was intent upon engaging Adam’s affections. I didn’t see any harm in that. I’d observed many before her fail in that particular endeavour, you see. However, when they did appear to take pleasure from one another’s company, I saw no reason to advise Adam to be cautious.” The dowager sighed deeply, looking crestfallen. “How blind I was, but I’m paying heavily for my lack of perception now.”
“The duke appears perfectly content with his new wife,” Florentina said. “And if she is as ambitious as you suggest, then perhaps Lord Fitzroy has had a fortunate escape.”
“Yes, that’s true enough.” Her Grace smiled. “Thank you, Tina. I hadn’t considered the matter in that light and draw comfort from the fact that Adam wasn’t the one taken in by her. He’ll be able to do much better for himself once his broken heart has healed.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“At this moment he must be dining at the same table as the woman he always intended to marry. What torture the poor boy must be enduring.”
Florentina didn’t contradict the dowager but knew Lord Fitzroy wasn’t at the Court. She’d seen him leaving that establishment this afternoon at a brisk canter whilst she’d been engaged with clandestine activities on a quiet corner of the estate few had occasion to visit. She’d been obliged to conceal herself from his view, holding her breath in case he’d somehow gained intelligence of her presence there and come to demand an explanation. But to her relief he rode on, taking a shortcut she thought only she was accustomed to using. It led to the edge of town where Chamberleigh was located. Presumably that was his destination. Irrational anger consumed her at the thought of his being unable to harness his lust until the hour of their liaison.
Florentina had been watching for his return ever since and was fairly certain he’d not come back. Perhaps he’d been diverted by the skill of Christine’s ladies and would no longer feel the need to keep his engagement with her. God’s beard, what was wrong with her? Instead of the relief that prospect ought to engender, her entire body was flooded with an intense feeling of disappointment.
“Oh, by the way, my dear.” The dowager’s voice intruded upon Florentina’s introspective thoughts. “We are engaged to dine at the Court tomorrow night.”
“Are we, ma’am? I hadn’t realised.”
“No, the invitation only arrived this morning whilst you were in town. Philippa has invited some of the neighbours and is throwing a party to welcome Adam home.”
“That sounds rather presumptuous of her, if you don’t mind my saying so, Your Grace.” Florentina twisted her spoon between her fingers as she arranged her thoughts. “Has she stopped to consider how awkward that might make him feel, do you suppose?”
“You’re not being at all presumptuous, my dear, and as usual our thoughts are in accord. My reaction was the same as yours initially. But having had time to reflect, I think she might actually be right on this occasion. Tongues will be wagging because everyone expected Philippa and Adam to marry. If they see them comfortable together it will put an end to the tittle-tattle. Not that poor Adam will be comfortable, of course, but I dare say he can see the need for the soiree as clearly as I can.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Florentina wrinkled her brow. “But are you sure I’m included in the invitation, ma’am? The duchess doesn’t think well of me.”
“Of course you’re included.”
From which Florentina surmised that she hadn’t been but that the dowager had insisted. “Oh, I see. Who is to attend, ma’am, do you know?”
“Well, of course I know.”
“Oh yes, I suppose the duchess was obliged to consult you about the guest list.”
The dowager blew air through her lips. “Philippa, unlike her predecessor, seldom requires my opinion. But I have my sources and can tell you precisely who will be there.” She proceeded to do precisely that.
“I believe the servants at the Court still look upon you as their mistress, ma’am.” Florentina shook a finger at her patroness and smiled broadly. “For how else would you have obtained such information?”
It was the dowager’s turn to smile. “My dear, I might have carelessly allowed myself to be outwitted by my daughter-in-law, but my family is too important to me to let go of the reins entirely.” She laid her napkin aside and rose to her feet. “I can assure you that keeping abreast of Philippa’s activities is not so very difficult.”
Florentina followed Her Grace’s example and stood up. Together they removed to the drawing room, where tea was served.
“Why do you not wear your new green muslin tomorrow evening, my dear? It would be the perfect opportunity for you to show it off.”
Florentina had arrived with few suitable gowns for her position, but Christine had directed her to a local seamstress who’d furnished her with the necessary garments to support her situation. The emerald-green muslin with a spangled overskirt of spider gauze was the most elaborate gown she possessed.
“I shouldn’t like to give the impression of pushing myself forward in company.”
“Nonsense, my dear, you’ll look lovely in it. I insist that you wear it.”
“Very well, ma’am. To please you, I shall do so.”
“Good, then that’s settled. Now tell me again how you found Mrs. Phillips this morning. Do you live in expectation that she will recover?”
They talked for some minutes about that unfortunate lady. Much sooner than Florentina would have liked, the dowager yawned behind her hand, remarking that the day had been a very full one and that she was fatigued.
With no further reason to delay, Florentina retired to her chamber and, hands trembling with nerves, slowly released her hair from its severe braid. She brushed it vigorously, pulling at the roots until her scalp tingled and the hair itself fell in thick sleek waves almost to her waist.
With a feeling of impending doom, she retrieved the silk gown from the recesses of her closet and slowly stepped into the petticoats.
Chapter Six
Adam delayed his return to the Court until he was confident that Philippa would have retired for the night. She would resent his absence from her dinner table and he had no wish to argue with her until he had a better idea what game she was playing. He made for the side door that led from the stables, discouraged to see lights still burning in the drawing room. He was stealthily making his way across the entrance vestibule when Kennedy materialized.
“Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening, Kennedy.”
The butler directed his eyes toward the drawing room. Adam shook his head vigorously. Kennedy’s dignified expression momentarily gave way to one of deep satisfaction as he opened the green baize door and facilitated Adam’s escape via the servants’ stairs. As he slipped away, he heard Philippa’s imperious voice demanding to know if it was Lord Fitzroy she’d just now heard coming home. Kennedy chose not to respond and it was left to a footman to truthfully deny all knowledge of Adam’s whereabouts.
He reached his chamber without mishap. Here, at least, he was assured of privacy, having sent his valet to bed. Even Philippa wouldn’t dare to come in search of him here. He threw aside his coat, waistcoat and neck cloth and sank into a chair in
front of the fire, frustrated by Philippa’s determination for his society.
He was anxious to reach the summerhouse before Florentina, in case she used his absence as an excuse to renege on their arrangement. But he couldn’t risk leaving the house again until he was sure that Philippa was safely out of the way. He crossed to the window and leaned out of it. The drawing room was at right-angles to his chamber, immediately below it. He craned his neck to the left, disappointed to observe lights still visible through a gap in the curtains.
Adam swore softly. He wanted to spend the next hour anticipating his time with Florentina but was careful not to allow his impatience to overcome common sense. He visited the window on numerous occasions and was eventually rewarded when the lights were extinguished half an hour later. He waited fifteen minutes more and then let himself out of the house, once again using the side door that had facilitated many such nocturnal wanderings during his youth. He didn’t bother with his neck cloth or waistcoat and merely shrugged back into his coat as a precaution lest the white of his shirt gave him away to anyone who might be watching for a window.
The night was warm and still, the sky smattered with random clusters of stars that looked close enough to touch. An almost full moon lit his path. The only sound to reach Adam’s ears was the distant hoot of an owl and a faint rustling in the undergrowth as nocturnal animals went about their business.
When he reached the summerhouse he lit two candles, safe in the knowledge that this particular building wasn’t visible from any part of the Court. Then he threw off his coat and settled down to wait. It was almost midnight and Adam wondered how long it would be before she came. But now that he was here, at leisure to enjoy the anticipatory nature of his thoughts, he no longer minded the waiting.
“Good evening, my lord.”
Her voice startled him. She’d slipped so quietly into the building that he hadn’t heard her approach. Adam stood and looked at her. She was dwarfed by a cloak but allowed it to fall slowly from her shoulders and threw it aside.
“Good God.”
“Is there something amiss?”
The power of speech appeared to have deserted him and he simply stared at her, feeling like the gauche youth he’d been before Christine took him in hand all those years ago. Florentina was wearing a scarlet gown that fitted her like a second skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He’d spent much of the day wondering how she would appear this evening, what she would wear and how she would behave. But nothing could have prepared him for the reality.
She was sensational.
But it wasn’t her clothing or her seductive air, nor was it the sway of her slender hips or the sight of her breasts spilling from her bodice that held his attention. It was something far more basic than that. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon but long spiral curls were falling across her shoulders, partially covering the exposed part of her breasts. The style was so natural, so at odds with what he knew her to be, that it caused him to become almost painfully aroused within the tight confines of his breeches.
He spontaneously reached forward, pulled the ribbon free, and her heavy tresses cascaded down her back in a silken tumble of curls. Still he didn’t speak, watching her intently instead, thinking of the hideous way she’d styled her hair that morning in an effort to dispel his interest in her. He’d wanted to undo that prim braid and put her across his knee for being such a tease. But all that was forgotten now. In fact he was minded to forgive all her transgressions simply because she was here, willing to submit to him, and because she was so comprehensively lovely.
“You’re beautiful, Mrs. Smith.” Adam was aware just how inadequate his words sounded.
“Why, thank you, sir.”
“Would you care for a glass of wine?”
“Thank you, yes.”
He opened the bottle of champagne he’d brought with him and handed her a flute filled almost to the brim. As she accepted it, their fingers touched and he noticed that her hands were trembling. So, she was nervous. That was interesting. She ought to be used to situations such as this, but perhaps her nerves were attributable to the fact that her future as his mother’s companion rested entirely in his hands.
“Come and sit beside me, m’dear.”
Adam waited until she settled in the farthest most corner of the daybed, as far away from him as she could situate herself, and then took up his own place. He was surprised by her reticence. Any courtesan worthy of the name would have taken precisely the opposite stance and done everything in her power to encourage his attentions. Instead Florentina was concentrating upon her champagne, taking constant sips. She sneezed several times when the bubbles went up her nose but that didn’t prevent her from consuming half the glass very quickly. At this rate she’d be too foxed to be of use to him so he removed the glass from between her fingers.
“There’s no occasion to be nervous, Florentina.”
“What makes you suppose I’m nervous, sir?” Her trill laughter sounded contrived. “I’ve done this sort of thing a thousand times before.”
“I dare say you have. However, I venture to suggest that on this particular occasion you are nervous. Your hands are shaking, you’re drinking too quickly and have chosen to sit as far away from me as you can.” He smiled and ran his hand along the back of their shared seat, lifting one of her heavy curls and running it repeatedly through his fingers. “Do I so repulse you, sweet Florentina?”
“Not at all.” She moved fractionally—very fractionally—closer to him and offered him a radiant smile.
“That’s good because I don’t bite, you know. Well, not very hard and never where it shows.”
“That will make an agreeable change.”
“You don’t object to your gentlemen abusing you?”
She tilted her head and regarded him from beneath a fringe of thick lashes, appearing to consider her response. “Perhaps I enjoy such treatment,” she said in a flat, lifeless tone that lacked conviction.
“How have you occupied your time today?”
“Oh, Her Grace had some calls to make this afternoon and I accompanied her. And this evening we dined alone at the dower house.”
“I see.” Adam settled himself in a position from which he could observe her face more easily. A whole range of emotions filtered across it, none commensurate with those he would expect to see on the countenance of a seasoned courtesan about to ply her trade. He allowed himself to wonder. “And what did you eat?”
“Caldo gallego.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Caldo gallego, it’s?”
“I know what it is. A Galician delicacy.” He threw back his head, dredging up memories of the spicy dish. “Casserole with ham, pork sausages and, er…”
“Potatoes and turnip tops. It’s a great favourite of mine and reminds me of home.”
“I’m sure it does but I wasn’t aware that my mother enjoyed Spanish cuisine.”
“Oh, she doesn’t mind if I occasionally direct her cook towards my tastes.”
“Then she must hold you in high regard.”
“Sí, de acuerdo.”
He smiled at her. “In that case, the two of you must find a great deal to talk about when you’re alone.”
“Oh yes, a very great deal.” Her face came alive, as did her voice. The fact that she so obviously returned his mother’s regard only added to Adam’s dilemma. “The duchess spoke a great deal about you today, as a matter of fact.”
Adam elevated a brow. “Did she indeed.”
“Yes. Her Grace hoped you’d call and relieve her mind about your first meeting with the new duchess. But I knew you wouldn’t do that.” Colour swept up her cheeks. “She thought you didn’t come because you were too upset but I knew you wished to avoid seeing Her Grace in company with me.” She dropped her eyes to her hands. “Not that I blame you for that.”
Adam contemplated her face, flushed with embarrassment. “Is that what you really thought?”
“Yes, ind
eed.” She turned to face him, her lovely eyes alight with compassion. “Forgive me, my lord, I know it’s no business of mine, but I feel for you excessively. I understand you were greatly attached to the duchess, and meeting her again under such circumstances must have been a painful ordeal.” She paused, again addressing her next comment to her folded hands. “You deserve better than that.”
“Sweet Florentina.” Moved by her obvious sincerity, Adam reached out and slowly traced the curve of her face. “Underneath all that deceit you’re a truly good person, I think. Your position with my mother hangs in the balance, and yet you can still find it in your heart to worry about my feelings.”
Her blush deepened. “I don’t care to think about anyone’s generosity being misused. And you were generous towards me, my lord. You rescued me at a time when I needed it very badly and didn’t press me for an explanation.”
He was charmed at how her accent became more pronounced as her embarrassment increased. “Yes, that at least is true. But let me put your mind at rest about my situation. My heart is not broken. In fact, I wish Philippa great joy with my brother.”
“But surely, if you were in love…” Florentina frowned, nibbling at the end of her index finger. The gesture was so endearing that Adam was tempted to fling her down on the daybed, pin her beneath him and take her then and there. But he resisted the impulse, determined to take his time with the enigmatic Mrs. Smith and enjoy her to the full. Their first coupling would not be clumsily conducted because he was unable to control his passions.
He smiled at her. “Do I look like a man whose spirit is broken?”
“Well, no. Now that you mention it, I suppose not.”
“Exactly.”
She shook her head. “But I’m not deceived. Your mama predicted that’s how it would be.”
“Enough talking,” he said gruffly.
Adam put his glass down, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He circled her slender waist with his arms, his eyes focused on the dark shadow of areola visible above the line of her bodice. His hands slid smoothly across the silk and came to rest on the small globes of her derrière. His breath peppered her face as he pulled her against him and felt the already frantic rate of her heartbeat increase quite alarmingly. In spite of the fact that she made her living by this means, could it indicate that he’d penetrated her defences and she returned his desire to some small degree?
A Scandalous Proposition Page 8