“I never slouch.”
“No, you don’t. But you walk differently, like you’re always on guard.”
He walked like a predator, a large jungle cat. Dangerous, cunning, and graceful in a different way. Like he was ready to pounce on an enemy at the slightest provocation.
“A man must always be ready to protect what belongs to him,” he said.
“But you must appear at ease. Elegant, remember?”
He snorted. “Ladies are elegant.”
“Gentlemen are as well.”
“Not real men.”
As he said it she realized he was right. The men of the ton with whom she was acquainted acted more feminine than masculine. The dandies of the beau monde were more consumed with their appearance than most women. She was startled by her thoughts: she didn’t want to agree with him on any topic.
She also didn’t want to feel the slightest attraction for him. Ian Swift was different. The man radiated power and pure masculinity. It was unnerving.
“Don’t be difficult. You were raised in an earl’s household. You must have been properly tutored. You should be familiar with everything I’m saying.”
“I don’t want to talk about my upbringing,” he said in a clipped tone. “I left my father’s house long ago.”
“But you must take your deceased brother’s place as the heir to the earldom.”
“I may now be the legal heir, but I will never take my brother’s place.” His voice grated harshly.
For the first time, she realized he was not happy with the turn of events—that there was real loss beneath his armor of indifference. His tone was different than when he spoke of his father. She wondered what his relationship had been with his brother and how it had affected him.
She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to suggest you would replace him.”
“Then don’t,” he said. “As for tonight’s lesson, shall I show you how a real man can move?”
Before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms. She staggered forward and fell against his chest. Strong arms caught her and immediately tightened around her waist. His mouth swooped down to capture her lips. She was unprepared for the man. He was raw power, almost overwhelming. It was not a gentle or coaxing kiss but a dominant form of mastery. She stiffened and her hands came between them.
But just as quickly, the kiss changed, slowed and eased. His lips, which appeared hard, were soft and enticing as he brushed them against hers. When she gasped, he slipped his tongue in to slowly stroke hers, and a delicious heat raced through her. Never had she experienced anything so consuming. He was a master seducer. She felt herself swiftly slide into unknown territory.
She pressed a palm against his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer she wasn’t certain. But at the first touch she felt his heart beat against the linen and the hardness of his chest, and she froze. She kneaded the hard flesh, reveling in the power she felt in his muscles. It was weakness, for certain, but she wanted to lean against his strength, to feel more of him. What would it be like to have such a masculine man?
He groaned, pulled her flush against him, and deepened the kiss. The touch of her sensitive corseted breasts against his chest was shocking. She came to her senses. This wasn’t a harmless lover’s tryst. His kisses were dangerous and could easily lure a lady—inexperienced or not—to her ruin.
He kissed a path across her cheek, then flicked his tongue against the sensitive shell of her ear. The sensations were purely erotic. Oh my.
Her mind struggled to hold on to her train of thought. She mustn’t allow him these kisses. Mustn’t allow him to think of her as anything other than a lady. He may be hurting from his brother’s death, but that didn’t give him a right to use her in such a fashion. If she let him have the upper hand so easily, they would never be on even ground, and her task would fail before it ever began. He would never be ready for Lady Crowley’s ball. He could easily rescind their agreement and demand her father pay the six thousand pounds, or worse, demand that she share his bed in exchange for all or part of the debt.
Where would she be then? How could she provide for her young brother? She pushed against Ian’s chest. “Ian, stop.”
He tightened his arms to keep her near, his head lowering to capture her lips once again.
She turned her head to the side and shoved more forcefully. “Ian, stop!”
He took a step back. “What is it?”
Her heart was racing, and she struggled to keep her features controlled. “This is wrong.”
“It didn’t feel wrong to me,” he said.
Her brows drew downward. “If this is how you’re going to behave, then I cannot see how we can work together.”
That got his attention. A familiar mask of coldness that she’d seen at his gambling club descended upon his features. “Pardon my behavior. I had thought you had enjoyed it as much as I had.”
She had enjoyed it. She hadn’t experienced anything like his kiss. Not even the quick kiss she’d experienced during a garden stroll at a ball. But she must never admit it to him.
“I don’t see how I can tutor you if you kiss me.” She reached for her cloak with trembling hands.
“You’re leaving?”
Was that surprise in his voice? “Yes.”
“Will you return tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know.”
Dark eyes narrowed. “We had an agreement.”
Her hand hesitated on the door handle. “I remember.”
“You needn’t worry. I shall restrain myself. It won’t happen again.”
Dare she trust his word? Could she afford not to?
“All right,” she said.
“I shall escort you home.”
“No,” she said, a note of desperation in her voice. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him in a carriage. She frowned, realizing she sounded anxious. “I will be perfectly fine on my own.”
His dark, brooding expression returned. “As you wish.”
She tried not to run as she threw open the library door and rushed down the stairs.
…
Ian parted the curtains of the library window and watched as his coach drove off. Damn. What had possessed him to kiss her? He crushed the silk fabric in a fist.
If their arrangement was going to succeed, he had to keep his distance from her.
He hadn’t intended to kiss her. But she’d brought up his brother’s death and he wanted the topic to cease, and there was one sure way to stop a woman from talking.
The problem was he hadn’t anticipated his response to the kiss. He’d experience a jolt of raw lust. Possessive. The last thing he wanted was for Grace to cease his lessons before they ever fully began. What would that gain him?
His mother was right about one thing: he owed Matthew. Even though their circumstances had been different from birth—Matthew had been the firstborn son and heir, and Ian had been the spare—they’d shared a bond. Their father’s dislike of Ian had not severed their friendship, and Ian grieved over the loss of his brother.
Matthew was gone, but he still had his sisters. Olivia and Ellie’s happiness and social success were his goals. Nothing else. He would go through this ridiculous charade for his siblings.
As for Grace, he needed her tutoring as much as she needed to pay off her father’s debts. Lady Crowley’s ball hung over his head like an axe.
He’d have to restrain himself where Grace was concerned. She was to train him, as she would say, into becoming an acceptable gentleman. She was a means to an end, nothing more.
Chapter Six
“Are you daydreaming again?”
Grace looked up to see her friend, Lady Prudence Wetherby, watching her curiously.
Grace blinked. “Pardon?”
They were in Prudence’s parlor for their monthly meeting for the benefit of the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society. A half-dozen other ladies were present. A servant had wheeled i
n a tea tray, and the women were nibbling on scones.
“Exactly what I thought,” Prudence whispered. She set her teacup and saucer on a dainty end table and turned on the cushioned sofa to look at Grace. “You haven’t been paying attention to anything that’s been said this afternoon.”
“That’s not true, Prudence.”
Prudence made a face that suggested she didn’t believe a word Grace said. Prudence was right, of course. Their mothers had been good acquaintances, and Grace and Prudence had been friends since they were eight years old. Prudence loved to gossip, and Grace recognized the gleam in her friend’s eyes.
Prudence lowered her voice further and leaned close. “Are you thinking about a man?”
That got Grace’s attention. She sat up straight. “Why would you think that?”
A mischievous gleam lit Prudence’s gaze. “A lady has a faraway look in her eyes when she is thinking of a gentleman. Are you thinking of your dance with the fair-haired gentleman at Lady Parson’s ball last month?”
No. Grace dropped her scone on her plate. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry; she reached for her tea and gulped. Her thoughts weren’t consumed with her brief ballroom dance or orphans, but of a tall, dark gambling club owner who had immersed himself in sin for ten years.
Quite a different picture.
Prudence raised the teapot. “Perhaps another cup of tea will help to stop your daydreaming and sharpen your senses?”
She didn’t need to sharpen her senses. They were very attuned to the unexpected kiss of a disreputable rogue. The trouble was she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Goodness, did that make her a wanton?
What had started out as a harsh kiss had unexpectedly turned tender and tantalizing—a kiss to make her insides quiver. Grace swallowed as she raised her teacup for Prudence to pour. She needed more tea to soothe her throat and calm her pounding heart.
Grace felt a nagging guilt for not being entirely truthful to Prudence. Her friend knew about Grace’s work with the milliner’s ledgers and her gift with numbers, yet Grace had kept her arrangement with Ian Swift secret. Prudence knew the baron gambled and that Grace had devised a way to help with the household, but Grace had never confessed the true extent of her family’s financial troubles or that her dowry was dwindling. Plus, there was Prudence’s propensity for gossip. She would never intentionally seek to harm Grace, but nevertheless, there was the risk.
Prudence’s gaze snapped to the doorway. “Why, I don’t believe it. Lady Castleton is here. Mother didn’t expect the dowager to attend today’s meeting.”
Grace jerked and tea sloshed on the ruff of her sleeve.
“Careful!” Prudence admonished as she set down the pot. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
Grace ignored her friend. Her gaze was riveted on the doorway where the Countess of Castleton stood. Grace had been introduced to the lady at Almack’s. Lady Castleton was a popular hostess with the ton. When she’d expressed interest in joining their charitable work, Prudence’s mother had been thrilled, and she’d introduced both her daughter and Grace to the lady. But Grace had never suspected the dowager had a son who owned the Raven Club.
Who would have thought?
The lady was tall, attractive, with blonde hair. She wore a black bombazine mourning gown. On most women, the color would make their complexions appear sallow, but she managed to look elegant. She was, quite simply, the epitome of grace and good breeding.
Grace scanned the room of women. Everyone knew that Lady Castleton’s son, the earl, had had been tragically killed in a riding accident months ago. No one expected her to appear to today.
Did any of them know about the existence of the countess’s other son?
Lady Castleton took the seat on a chair across from Grace. “Good afternoon. My apologies for being late. I was delayed by family.”
Curiosity welled within Grace. Had she visited Ian at his home? Or, heaven forbid, his club? She couldn’t imagine the woman donning a mask and strolling into the Raven Club. The thought was as ludicrous as it was alarming.
Watching the countess beneath lowered lashes, Grace pondered Ian Swift’s past. Why would the son of an earl leave his family to open a gaming house? Something must have happened to make Ian depart.
Something tragic or disturbing.
Grace shifted in her seat. The meeting seemed to drag on and on for the remaining hour as the women discussed future activities for the orphanage.
Lady Taddlesworth, a portly woman, reached for her third scone. She was one of the founding members of the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society and by far the most opinionated. She was also a good friend of Lady Jersey’s, one of the powerful patronesses of Almack’s. “Now that everyone is present, I have good news. We received a generous donation of one thousand pounds.”
Gasps reverberated around the room.
“From whom?” Lady Wetherby asked.
“An anonymous donor,” Lady Taddlesworth said.
“We can use part of the funds to purchase coal to heat the orphanage for the winter,” Prudence said.
“Good idea,” Grace said. She thought of the impending weather—the cold rain, snow, and biting wind that could whip through the London streets and chill a person to the bone.
“The headmaster’s office needs refurbishing,” Lady Taddlesworth said. “We shall use the remaining funds for this purpose.”
“The headmaster’s office?” Grace said. “The children need an instructor. Someone competent in mathematics and reading and writing.”
“Why on earth would they need lessons?” Lady Taddlesworth asked.
“With education, they would have a chance to improve their lives,” Grace said.
“Almost all will be servants in households or work in the factories. That is an improvement for their lives.”
The topic was too important to allow Lady Taddlesworth to push her aside. “I respectfully disagree,” Grace said. “The children’s needs should come before the headmaster’s office.”
Silence descended as all eyes turned from Lady Taddlesworth to Grace.
“I see.” Lady Taddlesworth’s lips thinned. “Let us ask what others think.”
Lady Castleton arched a brow as she looked at Grace curiously. “Perhaps Miss Ashton is correct. With such a generous donation, we can afford to retain the services of a teacher and refurbish the headmaster’s office.”
Lady Taddlesworth opened her mouth to protest, but Prudence, her mother, and several others quickly agreed it was a splendid idea.
Soon after, the meeting ended and the ladies rose. The butler was busy fetching the guests’ belongings in the vestibule, and fine carriages began to line the drive.
Lady Castleton touched Grace’s sleeve. “I thought your idea was worthy. The orphans should have a chance to be educated.”
Grace looked into the lady’s brown eyes. They were a shade similar to Ian’s, only hers were a softer hue while his were darker and piercing.
“I’m sorry for the loss of the earl,” Grace said.
Sadness touched her eyes. “I have another son who has been away. My hope is he will return soon to take his place.”
Grace wanted to help the lady. If tutoring Ian to return to his proper place in Society would ease Lady Castleton’s grief, as well as help his sisters find their own places in that world, then Grace began to see her task as more meaningful than she had realized.
“I’m certain he will, my lady,” Grace said.
Lady Castleton sighed. “Thank you, but I’m afraid not much is certain when it comes to him.”
Chapter Seven
Ian climbed the steps of the Berkley Square home and lifted the brass knocker. The door opened and a butler with a battlefield of wrinkles glared down at him.
“The countess is not at home.”
Ardmore had worked for Ian’s father, and even though the old earl had passed, it was clear the servant’s dislike of Ian hadn’t changed. The man’s hawkish face never seemed to have know
n a smile.
“Summon my sisters, then,” Ian said, pushing the door open wide and stepping inside the vestibule. Ian stripped off his great coat and thrust it at the butler. “I’ll wait in the parlor.”
The only sign of distress on Ardmore’s face was a pinch between his craggy eyebrows. Ian didn’t care. He’d refused long ago to be intimidated by his father’s pompous staff. If Ardmore had any sense, he’d acknowledge that Ian was now the earl and to tread carefully if he wished to retain his position.
Ian strode into the drawing room. The decor had changed little since he was a child. Striped silk drapes, a rich Oriental carpet, and Egyptian-inspired settees.
A memory returned from the black stillness of his mind. Ian had arrived to see his brother. “He isn’t here.” The earl had appeared in the drawing room doorway. “You should leave. I don’t want you corrupting my son and heir with your filthy ways from that club of yours.”
Son. Heir. Filth.
Ian had wanted so badly to respond in kind, but that would show he cared. He remained impassive instead. “Your hypocrisy astounds me, Father. I understand you wagered and lost ten thousand pounds at White’s last month.”
“How did you…” The earl nearly choked on his words. A vein bulged at his temple like an angry snake. “Get out! I never want to see your shadow darken my home again.”
“Gladly.”
Ian had stormed from the parlor and had nearly collided with his mother. Her face pale, her hands had twisted before her. She’d opened her mouth, then shut it. She hadn’t said a word in his defense as he’d collected his belongings from Ardmore and left.
The sounds of running footsteps echoed off the marble vestibule and snapped Ian from his troubled musings. The parlor door opened and two girls ran inside with a swirl of skirts and laughter.
“Ian!” Ellie threw herself into his arms.
“We’re so glad you came to visit.” Olivia kissed his cheek.
Ian hugged and kissed both sisters’ cheeks, then set them aside and studied each of them. “Look at the two of you. Ellie, is that a new gown? And Olivia you’ve grown at least an entire inch in height.”
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