The Danger in Tempting an Earl

by Sophie Barnes

  “You sound surprised.”

  He didn’t answer immediately but expelled a deep breath instead and lowered himself slowly onto the bench beside her. “I must admit that I was hoping you’d be here this evening. When I saw you last, at Crossby’s funeral, you looked so pale and weary that I couldn’t help but worry about you.”

  “I’m better now, so you needn’t concern yourself,” she said, looking away.

  “And yet I find myself doing precisely that.” He paused before saying, “I know you’re unlikely to trust what I say, given my reputation, but I wanted to offer my ser­vices, in case there’s anything you need.”

  She drew back. “Are you propositioning me, my lord?”

  “No.” His words were firm. “You deserve better than to be insulted in such a manner. Katherine, I—­”

  “You are being entirely too familiar, my lord. I don’t believe I have ever given you permission to address me so liberally.” If only he would leave. She hated how scornful she sounded and how angry she felt, but seeing him had reminded her of things she’d rather forget, and it was rapidly ruining her evening.

  “Forgive me, my lady,” Starkly said. “It was not my intention to upset you, just to let you know that should you need anything—­anything at all—­I’m more than happy to assist.”

  He rose then, bowed toward her and wished her a pleasant evening before walking back inside. Katherine stared after him, fighting back the tears that burned in her eyes.

  Rising, she headed for the stairs leading down to the lawn below.

  “There’s a waltz starting, Kate,” a deep familiar voice spoke. “I was hoping you’d agree to dance it with me.”

  A flutter stirred her stomach as she turned to face Lucien. Determined not to allow anything to cloud the mood when she was in his presence, lest he become suspicious, she tamped down the nerves that had lingered from her conversation with Starkly. “What about Lady Julie? Wouldn’t you rather take her for a walk in the garden so you can become better acquainted?”

  “I must admit that I did intend to suggest it, but her sisters asked her to take a turn with them, so I’m afraid she’s otherwise engaged at the moment.”

  “How disappointing that must be for you,” Katherine said, attempting a lighthearted tone even though his confession made her feel like the rejected toy that only gets played with while the favorite one is being cleaned or mended.

  He laughed and shook his head with amusement. “Not at all. Indeed, I’m thankful for a chance to spend a bit more time with you.”

  “Oh?” Her spirits began to rise a little.

  “If you must know, I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking to Lord Starkly. I thought I’d better ensure that he didn’t say anything untoward. The man doesn’t have the best reputation.”

  Linking her arm with Lucien’s, Katherine allowed him to lead her back toward the ballroom. “If you’re inquiring as to whether or not he made any inappropriate suggestions, then the answer is no, he did not.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “Others have, however, but I have turned them all down. The last thing I need right now is a scandal.”

  They entered the ballroom, where the shimmering glow of light from the chandeliers overhead bounced off each and every piece of jewelry present so they sparkled like stars. Smiling down at her as he led her onto the dance floor, Lucien said, “I take it you hope to remarry?”

  His arm came about her waist as they took up their positions for the waltz. “No,” she said. “I merely hope to raise my daughter without tarnishing her name.”

  The music started and Lucien took the lead, his hand pressed firmly against her back as he guided her forward. “A husband would permit you to do so,” he said. “Especially if you make the right match for yourself. A husband will grant you security, Kate, not to mention friendship and . . . so much more.”

  “Good heavens,” Katherine gasped. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but look away. “You’re as bad as your grandmother!”

  Lucien grinned. “She made a similar suggestion, did she?”

  Katherine was not about to repeat what Lady Roxberry had said to her about a woman having “needs,” so she just nodded and said, “She did.”

  “Well, if war has taught me anything, it is how fleeting life can be and how much more we might accomplish in the time we have if we’d only be more candid and less fearful of what others might think.”

  Returning her gaze to him, Katherine noticed that all traces of humor had vanished from his face, and as she stared back up at his soulful expression, she felt her heart ache for him and all that he had been through. “There is such a thing as propriety to consider, Lucien. One cannot always utter the first thought that comes to mind.”

  “One ought to be able to do so among family and close friends,” he countered.

  Uncertainty threatened, and Katherine felt herself frown. “I’ve always imagined that you and I were very straightforward with each other. Are you telling me that hasn’t always been the case?”

  Pulling her a little closer, he whispered in her ear, “You were an innocent when last we met, while I was a man with some experience. It goes without saying that there were certain subjects we could not discuss.”

  Oh dear God, she was going to burst into flames right there on the dance floor. “We ought not even discuss such things now,” she muttered. How she was capable of speech in the midst of such discussion was beyond her.

  “Oh, Kate,” he told her cheerily as he spun her about. “I only have your best interests at heart, and while you may be opposed to the thought of remarrying right now, I have every intention of getting you to change your mind. Indeed, I plan on seeing you properly settled now that I’ve returned, and I shall do so by helping you find a husband.”

  “A wha-a-a-t?” Surely he was joking.

  “You may not think you need one, but I know you, Kate—­you’re a romantic at heart, always have been since you were a little girl. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten how fascinated you were by the story of Odysseus and Penelope. It wouldn’t do for you to live out the remainder of your days without a man at your side, or in your bed, if you prefer.” He winked.

  Katherine gasped, but before she could think of an appropriate response, Lucien said, “I know I ruined things by staying away as long as I did without sending word to you, but I still think that our history offers us a closeness that ought to allow me to be direct with you without you getting overly appalled, especially since you know how deeply I care for you.”

  “I’m very pleased to have you back,” she told him. “Even though you’re being terribly bold with the advice you’re giving.”

  There was something wolfish about him as he pressed her closer still. “I am simply all too aware of the pleasure that can be had between a man and a woman, and I would hate to see you miss out.”

  If she spoke now, she knew she would stammer like an imbecilic fool, so she held silent while the spicy scent of him washed over her, caressing her senses and drawing out an awareness of him that she’d never sensed before. It was making her feel rather dizzy.

  “So,” he went on in a very businesslike manner (clearly without sensing her lack of composure, which was probably for the best), “I shall start looking for a suitable gentleman for you—­someone handsome enough and smart enough to hold your interest.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t,” she said, finding her voice. “As I’ve said, all I want right now is to forget all this talk of courtship so you and I can make up for lost time. What I truly desire is a friend, not a husband or a lover, for that matter.”

  “Very well,” he acquiesced, “but if you happen to change your mind, I do hope you’ll let me know so I can find you someone of whom I approve.”

  Katherine felt her whole body tense up. The way he said it made her won
der if perhaps he’d disapproved of Charles and might know the truth about her marriage, but she could see no trace of such knowledge in his features. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes,” she said. “If I ever decide to take a husband or”—­she hesitated as she struggled with being as forward as he had been—­“a lover . . .” Lucien looked annoyingly amused as she repeated that word. “. . . then you shall be the first to know.”

  Bowing his head toward her ear, he quietly whispered, “I certainly hope so.”

  The maelstrom of emotion that flooded through her was enough to leave her not only breathless but also imagining the most wicked things possible—­not with a faceless stranger she’d yet to encounter, but with Lucien, of all ­people. Good Lord, whatever was she going to do?

  Chapter 6

  “I believe it’s time for the fireworks,” Lucien said when the waltz ended and they stepped away from the dance floor. “Let’s go outside so we can find a good place from which to view them before it gets too crowded.”

  Katherine accepted his arm with only the briefest hesitation. There was a most delightful blush to her cheeks, but her eyes held a wariness about them that made Lucien wonder if perhaps he’d been too bold toward her when he’d spoken of lovers, passion and secret desires.

  It was time for him to pull back a little, so rather than pursue the issue, he said instead, “We can have our portraits drawn in the pumpkin carriage once the fireworks are over.”

  “What a splendid idea. I should like that very much,” she said as they passed through the throng of ­people gathering on the terrace and started down the steps toward the lawn where they’d spotted the duke and his mother, the duchess.

  “Oh look, I see that Mr. Goodard is there as well, along with the Winstons and the Huntleys.”

  “But who is that lady with the blonde hair standing next to the duke?” Katherine asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her before.”

  Spotting the lady in question, Lucien had to admit that he didn’t know either. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” he said as they stepped down onto the gravelly path at the foot of the stairs. Crossing it, they headed for the lawn.

  “Even with her mask there can be no denying her beauty,” Katherine murmured.

  There was something so utterly sad about the way she said it—­a sense of melancholy that reminded Lucien of her reaction earlier in the evening when he’d complimented her on her looks. Once again, he wondered if it might be possible for her not to realize how beautiful she truly was. Intent on setting her to right, he halted their progress and turned her toward him. “Indeed there cannot,” he said. Her entire posture seemed to wither before his eyes, and he knew then beyond any shadow of a doubt that Katherine’s confidence in herself had been drastically shaken during his absence. There would be a better opportunity to discuss the reason for this later, however, so he merely looked her squarely in the eye as he continued with what was the absolute truth. “And yet she pales in comparison to you.”

  “Lucien, I . . .”

  “You are beautiful, Kate,” he told her firmly. “I always thought you knew that.”

  Katherine’s lips parted ever so slightly as if she meant to say something, but instead of words came a rush of air. Her eyes glistened, and she looked more vulnerable than she’d done at the age of six when she’d sprained her ankle after falling from her horse. Her bottom lip had quivered then, Lucien recalled, but she hadn’t shed a tear, and he knew that she wouldn’t do so now either, no matter how difficult this conversation might be for her. He decided to cheer her up a bit by saying, “Besides, most gentlemen prefer brunettes anyway.”

  It took a moment, but then she smiled. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “Well, whatever you’ve heard is all wrong. Blondes can be had by the dozen in England, whereas brunettes and redheads . . . well, don’t even get me started on those.”

  To his delight, she finally laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. “You’re absolutely incorrigible.”

  “My lady, I never said that I wasn’t.” Winking at her, he resumed walking, only too well aware of how desperately he longed to haul her against him so he could kiss away the pain from behind her lovely green eyes. If this was Crossby’s doing, Lucien had a good mind to march into hell and drag the man out by his hair so he could challenge him. But, for the meantime, he somehow managed to keep his rising anger at bay and said, “By the way, I do believe Mr. Goodard might be perfect for you.”

  The look of horror on Katherine’s face was absolutely charming. Lucien smiled to himself, for he had known that Katherine would balk at the idea.

  “You cannot be serious,” she said.

  “He’s a very amicable gentleman once you get to know him.”

  “Well, in that case, I suggest you pair him off with Lady Julie instead—­she’s also very amicable.” The sweet smile she gave him was not to be ignored, for it was laced not only with irony but also with . . . dare he hope . . . a touch of exasperation?

  “I suppose I could, but where would that leave me?”

  She eyed him assessingly. “Since you’re so eager for us to speak our minds, I may as well tell you that it will never work. She’s entirely wrong for you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Quite.”

  “Well, if not her, then who? Who would you suggest I marry?”

  “Well, I . . . ,” she started, but her words trailed off into thin air.

  “Yes?”

  “As your friend, I would recommend that you take a moment to consider your options, since marriage is, after all, for life. You wouldn’t want to leap too hastily into something you cannot get out of again.” Her words, as wise as they were, were tight and concise, as if she’d shut herself off emotionally as she’d said them. “Besides, you did promise to postpone a courtship in favor of spending more time with me.”

  Lucien nodded. “You’re right, although considering my situation, I won’t be able to do so indefinitely. If anything were to happen to me, the Roxberry title would go to my second cousin, George.”

  Katherine scrunched her nose. “The ginger-haired fellow who thinks himself superior to everyone and once threw your cat down the stairs?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Well, we can’t allow that to happen.”

  “So you see my dilemma? The sooner I marry and produce an heir, the sooner I’ll stop Mama and Grandmamma from throwing themselves into the Thames—­which is precisely what they’ll do if George inherits.”

  “Right. Well, in that case, there’s really nothing for it, I suppose. You must get yourself married.” She looked at him conspiratorially. “Let’s contemplate it this coming week, shall we?”

  “When I take you fishing?”

  She laughed—­a sound he’d dearly missed. “Or after our race, which I have every intention of winning.”

  A bright burst of color exploded in the air. Looking ahead, Katherine nodded politely at her host, the Duke of Kingsborough, who had turned toward them with a smile just as the next firework rose in the sky. It was accompanied by a loud bang coming directly from Katherine’s right, and as she turned her head instinctively toward it, she saw to her horror that a woman whom she did not recognize was hanging limply in the arms of Mr. Neville, heir to the Marquess of Wolvington.

  Dear God in heaven, she’s been shot!

  Chapter 7

  It was like a scene taken from a nightmare. Fireworks continued to explode against the night sky while the crowd watching from the terrace cheered and clapped, oblivious to what had transpired on the lawn below. Katherine spun toward Lucien, but he was already leaving her side and rushing to help. “Stay back,” he said as she made to follow.

  “I can’t just stand here and do nothing,” she muttered, distressed by the fear in Neville’s eyes.

  “Get her on the ground,” th
e duke said as he removed his jacket for the victim to lie on. He shoved a wad of fabric toward Neville, who was now kneeling at the lady’s side, alongside Lucien, Lord Winston and Mr. Goodard. “Put this on her wound, add some pressure and try to stop the bleeding. Winston, I’m leaving you in charge here while I try to find out what the devil happened.” The duke then shot to his feet and took off at a run, heading toward the terrace.

  Katherine gasped as the woman’s sleeve was pulled back to reveal an ugly, blood-smeared wound. Seeing how quickly it was seeping through the compress, Katherine started grabbing at her skirt with trembling fingers, but a hand stopped her. “Don’t ruin your gown,” the Duchess of Kingsborough told her. “There are plenty more cravats and handkerchiefs for us to use should we need them.”

  “We should probably get her inside,” Lord Winston said. His voice was gruff. “The wound will need cleaning, and I’m sure she’ll be more comfortable too.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” the duchess said, her mouth set in a firm line of determination. “And since we’ve no way of knowing how serious the lady’s injury is, I suggest we hurry.”

  Following the duchess’s orders, Neville scooped the woman up into his arms and strode quickly toward the stairs leading up to the terrace, while everyone, with the exception of Lucien and Katherine, followed behind.

  Katherine’s throat worked convulsively as Lucien came toward her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She ignored his question. “Shouldn’t you be going with them so you can help?”

  “I fear I’ll only get in the way,” he said. “Her wound needs to be cleaned, and that won’t require more than two, possibly three, ­people at most. Besides, I’m sure the duke will have sent for a physician to tend to his guest.”

  “She just . . . she looked so awfully pale. And her face . . .” Katherine met Lucien’s gaze and immediately recognized the truth that glowed in his eyes. “That was Lady Rebecca, wasn’t it?”

  Lucien nodded. “Yes, I daresay it was.”