The Debutante's Ruse

by Linda Skye

  “I am most delighted that you enjoyed it.” Sir Edward nodded heartily, beads of sweat forming at his brow. He turned to Isabella and grazed her forearm with pudgy fingertips. “And I am so glad you decided to come, Miss Isabella. I had thought you were not planning to attend.”

  “Women change their minds at a drop of a hat, don’t they?” Arthur chuckled.

  “Yes, don’t they?” Isabella parroted blandly. “I am glad I came.”

  Arthur steered her toward the tea table with Sir Edward trotting along to keep up with their brisk pace. She smiled almost pityingly at Sir Edward and sighed slightly. The poor man. She knew that Arthur had set his sights higher than Sir Edward, the son of a mere baron. It was uncomfortably obvious to all—except the poor Sir Edward—that Arthur was keen to secure marital ties for her with the son of a duke.

  Her mind having wandered back to the duke’s son, Isabella glanced around the room to look for him. She had expected him to accost her immediately with his flirtatious antics and maddening double entendres as soon as the concert ended. But instead, he seemed content to meet her eyes from across the room. Isabella suppressed the shiver that threatened at the base of her spine as she realized that he was circling her, much like a cunning beast of prey. And though she silently snarled at him with her glittering green eyes, she was met with nothing but his pleased predatory gaze as he moved easily through the room.

  And now that she saw him from afar, she could not deny his masculinity: long-and lean-limbed, broad-shouldered and possessed of a devastatingly handsome smile. Catching her eyes upon him, he winked and offered her a flash of perfect white teeth. Heat blossomed in her lower abdomen as she began to wonder if she had perhaps underestimated her opponent. A traitorous corner of her mind began to wonder what he might demand from her should she lose their bet. She doubted that he would expose her to the authorities; no, he would likely submit her to more pleasurable punishments. She paused and let her lids flutter shut as she reached the tea table, unwittingly allowing herself to imagine long fingers pulling at the laces of her corset, large hands skimming her bare flesh, muscled limbs parting, pushing—

  “Isabella?”

  Arthur’s voice startled her from her indecent reverie.

  “Yes?” She tried to keep the irritated snap from her voice.

  “You seem flushed,” He commented, concerned. “Shall I fetch water for you instead of tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Isabella answered with faint smile, “I’m fine, Arthur. But I do think I will have a sweet before getting tea.” She nodded amiably at Sir Edward. “It is a lovely spread.”

  “As you wish, of course,” Arthur shrugged. “You do have an incorrigible sweet tooth.”

  Isabella threaded her way through the crowd, offering demure smiles and polite comments when addressed. When she finally reached the dessert table, she pretended to peruse the many decadent cakes and pastries while taking a few moments to still her rapidly beating heart and wild imagination. When her brother finally turned his back, she seized her chance. Steeling her resolve, she slipped away.

  * * *

  Henry watched as Isabella disappeared around the corner. Clever girl, he thought to himself as he slowly sipped his drink. Vanishing at a party where he was in attendance was practically a blatant invitation for him to chase her, and he considered his options. Where to look first—a closet, a study or perhaps a guest room? Henry hid a sultry grin behind another sip of liquor. He would give her a few moments to begin stealing, and then he would also slip away to catch her in the act. He swirled his drink as he imagined what would happen next. He would take his time, slowly building the same burning ache in her that she had inflicted upon him until she begged him for release. He hoped she’d chosen a target that was far removed from the main reception hall or he’d have to help her mute her cries of pleasure.

  Movement at the edges of the party caught Henry’s attention. Sir Edward loitered near the corridor that Isabella had taken, his beady eyes shifting nervously. Henry frowned and narrowed his eyes, muscles tensing, as the short man crept away.

  Meanwhile, Isabella was hurriedly digging through drawers in the study, her mind racing. The jade jewelry had not been in its glass display case, nor was it hidden in the large mahogany bureau. The locks on the desk drawers had barely been a challenge, and she had soon rifled through their contents. But after checking, rechecking and even knocking on panels to check for secret compartments, she’d still come up empty-handed. She stifled a frustrated growl.

  Isabella stood suddenly as she heard the doorknob turn. She spun around to face the grand window overlooking the gardens just as the heavy oak door whispered against the plush carpet as it slid open.

  “Why, Miss Hennessey,” Sir Edward called out thickly, “I did not expect to find you here.”

  Isabella swallowed nervously and turned, gently nudging the last desk drawer shut with her hip. She painted her face with a guileless smile.

  “Sir Edward,” She said, tucking a curl behind an ear, “I’m sorry if I am not meant to be here. I was feeling a bit hot in the crowds and needed a moment alone. I do apologize if I have intruded.”

  “Not at all, my dear,” Edward replied, pushing the door behind him closed with a definitive click. “I’m glad I found you.”

  Isabella’s eyes went from the closed door and back to Edward, who was slowly pacing toward her. She spun around to look out the window.

  “The view from your study certainly is captivating, Sir Edward,” she said, a knot forming in her stomach.

  “It is, indeed.”

  Edward reached her side and placed a hand on the desk behind her. She pushed away and stepped toward the empty glass display case, peering down as if curious.

  “And what is this for?” She asked, running fingertips over the smooth pane.

  “That was for my collection of jade. I acquired a particularly beautiful jade necklace, you know.”

  Edward walked toward her, his eyes greedy.

  “And where is it now?” She asked innocently.

  “At the Hong Kong Club, as part of a temporary exhibit.”

  He was suddenly very close, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her shoulder. Blinking, she flitted away toward another cabinet.

  “What an honor for the gentlemen of the Hong Kong Club,” she said with a nervous smile, backing toward the door. “Well then, I seem to have recovered, so—”

  “A moment, Miss Hennessey,” Edward raised his voice slightly and beckoned to her with an open hand. “There is something else I would like to show you.”

  Isabella’s mind whirred as she watched the stout man turn to reach into a cabinet. Her stomach roiled at the thought of spending another moment in the room alone with him. But he was her host, and surely he would do nothing untoward. Reluctantly, she inched her way to where he waited expectantly, some treasure clasped behind his back.

  “Closer, my dear girl,” He said with a chuckle when she hesitated, “I won’t bite.”

  When she was finally close enough for his liking, he produced his treasure, holding it between them so she could admire it. And indeed, it was a fine piece. Isabella remembered to coo over his prize as she assessed its worth.

  In Edward’s open palms lay a black lacquer fan inlaid with gold and mother of pearl. It had been carefully polished, and she guessed it would fetch a pretty penny. She took it and held it up to the light, admiring the way the pearl caught the light.

  “It’s beautiful,” She agreed with a smile, holding it out for Edward to take back.

  A cloud passed over his round face, and suddenly his sweaty hand closed around her wrist. Surprised, she dropped the fan. She tried to wrest her hand away, but found that under all his fat, Edward had a grip of steel. She twisted, but Edward, heavy as an anchor, pivoted on his heel and swung her into the cabinet so hard
that her teeth rattled. He pushed in close, his face red and angry.

  “Why do you scorn my gifts but shower him with favor?” He hissed, spittle flying onto her cheeks.

  “Sir Edward,” Isabella protested, vainly pushing against his heavy mass, “Please, I don’t understand.”

  “Little hussy,” He snarled, “Your virtue would be wasted on a brute such as that pampered little lord. I would give you so much more; I would adore you as a priceless diamond, a beautiful gem.”

  “Please,” Isabella begged as she struggled in vain to gain leverage with which to push him off, “This is terribly indecent. If my brother—”

  “Yes, indecent.” Edward pushed her further into the cabinet wall and pressed his forearm against her throat. “What would your brother do if he discovered this indecency between us? Surely then, he would see what needed to be done.”

  Edward began to fumble with his clothing, and Isabella began to thrash anew, her heart filling with panic.

  “Sir Edward, is that any way to handle another man’s fiancée?”

  She recognized the imperious voice immediately, and when she turned to see Henry’s silhouette in the doorway, she breathed a sigh of relief. Edward stepped away from her to straighten his clothing.

  “Fiancée?” He panted heavily. “I was not aware such arrangements had been made.”

  Henry took a few slow steps into the room, and Isabella’s eyes widened at the cold fury that simmered just below the surface of his calm façade.

  “And why would you be privy to the betrothal negotiations that I make with her father?” Henry’s deep voice was faintly mocking, his eyes hard. “You forget your place, Sir Edward.”

  “And you forget yours,” Edward snapped, “This is my home.”

  “You may fancy yourself a lord in this little colony, but may I remind you that you are not.” Henry stalked forward, his voice unflinchingly severe. “Do not forget who I am, lest I decide to inform the governor about this incident.” He stopped only to look down his nose at the snivelling man. “Now leave,” he barked, “So that I may attend to my fiancée’s well-being.”

  Edward cast them both a spiteful glare before grudgingly trudging out. Henry followed to slam the door after him. He paused, his hand upon the door, and sighed deeply.

  “My lord—”

  “Call me by my given name,” Henry interrupted softly as he turned to look at her. “I would be more than a title to you.”

  “Henry,” Isabella began again, weighing the name on her lips as she dipped her head in acknowledgement, “Thank you.” Her breathing hitched slightly when she thought of what might have happened. “Thank you,” She repeated in earnest.

  Henry sighed again and leaned his back against the door, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. He shook his head, affection warming his eyes.

  “You’re a foolish girl, Isabella.”

  She stiffened and strode over to the mahogany desk, her fingers lightly trailing over the smooth surface.

  “Foolish?” She raised a brow. “And also betrothed?”

  “A very slight exaggeration, I assure you,” Henry laughed. “So, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “No,” Isabella said disgustedly, “It wasn’t here. He moved it to—”

  She stopped suddenly and treated him to a glare. Henry’s lips turned up into a smug smirk as the full-lipped pout she wore only made her all the more alluring. He pushed away from the door, walked toward her and planted his hands on the desk behind them, one on either side of her hips.

  “I do believe I’m entitled to claim a prize, Isabella.” He said her name slowly, savoring each syllable.

  “I think not,” Isabella scoffed, “You forget our terms. You have not caught me in the act of stealing.”

  “True enough,” Henry conceded. He tugged at a tendril of her hair that had come free and wrapped it around his index finger. “May I claim some small token then—for almost catching you?”

  He drew her lock of hair to his lips and then let it slide away across his fingers.

  “What token?” Isabella asked, lifting her chin.

  Henry leaned in to press his lips to the underside of her jaw and exhaled. His warm breath on her neck sent tingles of pleasure skittering across her skin.

  “Just a taste,” he whispered, pulling away even as he cupped her face in his hands.

  Isabella shyly lifted her eyes to his, and they were so close that she could see the blue flecks in his slate-gray irises. Her lashes fluttered as she examined the nuances of his masculine features: a strong chin, a square jaw and gray eyes that stole her breath. The air in the room was cool, but she felt a strange and sudden fire spread through her body at his touch. She was not frightened by his proximity—and now that she was pressed close enough to scent his masculine musk, she felt an electric thrill sing through the air.

  “As you wish,” She said softly, “Just a small token of my favor.”

  The sight of her upturned face, unguarded and fragile in her innocence, was his undoing. Raw hunger raced through his veins, and he could not help himself. Henry ran the pad of his thumb up her delicate cheekbone and then buried his fingers in the hair at her scalp. He leaned in close, dipping his head to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, trembling with the effort to remain in control. Her fingers went to his sleeves, and she clutched blindly at the thick fabric as he planted another kiss near the corner of her mouth.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured softly at her ear as he felt her breath catch. “I won’t hurt you.”

  His fingers tightened in her hair as he pressed his other hand into the small of her back, drawing her in close. He pulled back only slightly to kiss her forehead, and then began to trace a line of kisses down the bridge of her nose. Isabella gasped, her heart aflutter and her hands inching their way up to his shoulders.

  And then, wrapping an arm securely around her waist, Henry tilted his head ever so slightly and pressed forward. His soft mouth captured hers, and he suckled on her plump bottom lip before parting her lips with his tongue. She whimpered as he began to explore her mouth, helplessly lost in the sweet sensation. Instinctively, Isabella twined her arms around his neck, drawing him in as he filled her senses with the sensual glide of his tongue.

  When he finally pulled away, the kiss had seemed both endless and much too brief. Her dark hair was a halo around her porcelain face, that was tinged with a fetching pink blush. She might be untested in carnal pleasures, yet Henry could see sweet yearning begin to swirl in her wide, luminous green eyes.

  “Lord James, I—”

  “Have you forgotten my name?” He asked as he feathered kisses along her jawline.

  His lips descended upon hers once more before she could answer, and he wound his arms tightly around her slender frame, molding her body to his. Her fingers twisted in his hair as he massaged her back in long strokes. As his caresses grew desperate in fervor, he lifted the hem of her voluminous skirts and slid a hand up her thigh. When his fingers grazed her bottom, a burning ache spread down her thighs and up her belly. She threw her head back, and he hooked an arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. Skilled fingers dipped lower, and she clung to him as he carefully stroked her moist folds with a knuckle.

  “Henry,” She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, “Henry.”

  “I like the sound of my name on your lips.” His voice was rough as he pulled away and tried to ignore his need straining against his trousers.

  With a throaty moan, she ground herself lightly against his heated groin. Then teasingly, she pulled away.

  “Then you will have to catch me to hear it again.”

  The breathlessness in her sweet voice was entrancing.

  “Yes, I will,” He vowed huskily, “But the next time my name is upon your lips, you will be screaming i
t.”

  Chapter Six

  Isabella waited until the city stilled and slowed under the heavy blanket of darkness, for stealing her prize in broad daylight was simply not an option. The Hong Kong Club was the most elite gentleman’s club in the eastern colonies, a veritable landmark. No women and no Chinese were allowed in. She was both. Worse still, it was in the center of the city, where slipping in unnoticed would be next to impossible—not to mention the fact that her father would likely be there for most of the evening.

  So it was the dead of night when Isabella finally slipped away from Mountain Lodge clad in her black silk jumpsuit. She slid from shadow to shadow, swiftly making her way to the tall, imposing edifice. Kneeling by the servants’ entrance, she skilfully picked the lock and crept inside. Once through, she closed the door behind her and crouched low, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The room slowly came into focus. Kitchens, she thought as her eyes traced the outlines of hanging pots and pans.

  The heavy silence was almost oppressive, and Isabella had to concentrate to hear over the rush of blood in her ears. This was unfamiliar territory, and she would have to be especially cautious as she had not the slightest knowledge of its interior layout.

  Not a sound—save her light breathing—interrupted the veil of quiet in the building. Pulse racing, she stood and began to creep through the rooms on light feet. When she found her way out of the servants’ areas, she entered the most luxurious hallway she had ever seen. A set of great double doors was open at the other end of the hall, and she could faintly see the silhouettes of settees in the distance. As she crept closer and peered in, she saw that the drapes on the tall windows had been pulled open, allowing moonlight to stream through the immense receiving hall. Everything was illuminated in a swath of cool light, and Isabella smiled to herself. Tasselled cushions, burnished leather and gleaming hardwood—everything in the lavishly appointed suite screamed power and prestige. She straightened and padded confidently into the room, sure that the jade jewelry would be displayed in this very room. A flash of light caught her eye, and she turned her attention to the tall display case at the centre of the room—the only jewelry display case in sight. She glided over and looked in.