Perfect 2 - A Perfect Groom

by Samantha James

  “I think it’s safe to come out now,” Georgiana ventured after a moment.

  Cautiously Arabella stepped out from behind the column.

  “Georgiana, I very much fear a fourth suit is imminent.”

  Georgiana laughed.

  “Don’t laugh,” Arabella grumbled. “It should be you fending off unwanted admirers, not me.” Petite, with silky flaxen hair and a heart-shaped face, Georgiana was the epitome of the very proper London miss — all that Arabella was not.

  Indeed, Arabella’s own mother, Catherine, along with Catherine’s elder sister Grace, had both been beauties in their day. Arabella, on the other hand, was very much her father’s daughter. Not only had she inherited his tall, rangy frame, but his abundance of thick red hair as well…all of which were most unfashionable in an age where petite, pale beauties like Georgiana reigned supreme.

  “By the by, I adore your gown, Georgiana. You look like a princess.” A slim gloved hand touched Georgiana’s skirt of white bombazine. “I do wish I could wear white, but it makes my skin look like paste.” She cast a wistful glance down at the blue silk of her gown.

  “You sparkle like a jewel,” Georgiana said warmly. “That’s why everyone is so taken with you.”

  Arabella reserved judgment. There was no way to hide her gaudy coloring; she’d learned by trial and error that there was little point in trying.

  “I recognize that expression, Arabella. Don’t argue. You’re all the rage. Accept it, and enjoy it.”

  “You know as well as I that it’s not me.” She was as ungainly as the elephants she’d ridden in India. At affairs such as these, she felt gauche and awkward. She must constantly bite her tongue to keep from speaking her mind. She simply hadn’t the patience to remember each and every one of Society’s blathering rules, despite the tutelage of Aunt Grace and Georgiana.

  Lord, but she hated all the attention she was getting this Season! She’d spent her entire life eliciting second glances. By now she should have grown used to jaw-dropping stares. She’d never quite been able to decide which was worse — having hair the color of fire, or being the tallest female in the kingdom (in the entire world, she was convinced). Oddly, Society had been most accepting of her faux pas, probably because Aunt Grace and Uncle Joseph were such well-respected members of the ton.

  She sighed. “It’s simply that I chanced to receive the first proposal of the Season.”

  “As well as the second and third.” Georgiana struggled to keep a straight face. “Why, I could almost be jealous, but you’re blissfully unaware of your own charm.”

  “Georgiana! It’s all quite distressing, really. I prayed I wouldn’t cause a stir. I should have known better! Before I knew it, all of London was talking about me. And now it seems the whole of London is looking at me, and all these silly gentlemen are circling like vultures. I’ve seen them, you know, in Africa, and it’s not a pretty sight.”

  Georgiana made no reply. At her silence, Arabella glanced at her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Georgiana was gazing across the ballroom, her lips parted. She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Arabella, he’s here,” she whispered. “He’s here!”

  “Walter!” Arabella gasped and would have darted behind the column once more if Georgiana hadn’t reached out and caught her sleeve.

  “No, Arabella! It’s him, the handsomest man in all England! And he’s coming this way!”

  The handsomest man in all…Oh, for pity’s sakes. At that precise moment there was a distinctly feminine squeal nearby, followed by a shrill of giggles.

  Arabella locked her chin and deliberately looked the other way. Whoever he was, she was in no hurry to see him. It appeared as if every female around her was suddenly all a-twitter, their hearts all a-dither, but she was not a jiggle-brained idiot, to fawn over a mere man.

  Georgiana poked her. “Arabella, look, he’s with the Dowager Duchess of Carrington. She’s giving him her hand to kiss.”

  “Georgiana, I’m in no need of a blow-by-blow account. If I wanted to look at him, I would.”

  “Oh, but he’s quite splendid. I’ve never seen him so close before.”

  “Georgiana, really!” If she sounded cross, she couldn’t help it. “I didn’t think you were the sort to be taken in by such a man. No doubt he’s the world’s worst rogue.”

  Georgiana didn’t argue. Instead she said in a strange voice, “Arabella, he’s coming this way.” She gasped. “I do believe…yes…yes! He’s coming toward you.”

  Arabella pointedly turned her back. Just what she needed. Another vulture.

  “Perhaps you’re mistaken,” she stated calmly. “Perhaps he’s coming toward you.”

  There was no answer. Instead there was only silence, a silence that dragged on and on.

  Arabella tapped her foot. “Where the devil is he now?”

  Still no reply. An odd, heated feeling caught her in its midst. She could almost feel the hairs on the back of her neck sizzle in awareness.

  “Georgiana?”

  She turned impatiently…and it wasn’t Georgiana she beheld, but the spotless knot of an intricately tied cravat. Her gaze strayed up — and up! — taking in a square masculine jaw, a long elegant nose and male lips that might have been sculpted by the hands of a master, all the way to clear, crystalline eyes the color of emeralds, set beneath a slash of dark, slanted brows.

  And then the unthinkable happened. She, who usually managed a retort for everything, swallowed what she’d been about to say — and very nearly her tongue.

  It was him.

  Justin Sterling.

  The Farthingale house was only a few blocks away from St. James’s Street. After their arrival, Justin and Gideon stood on the fringes of the ballroom.

  “Quite the crush, isn’t it?” Beside him, Gideon raised his quizzing glass. “Lady Farthingale will be crowing tomorrow. I heard she invited half the city.”

  “And it appears few of them declined.” Many of the guests stood elbow-to-elbow, shoulder-to-shoulder.

  Hundreds of jewels glittered and winked in the candlelight. With a single, practiced stroke of the eye, Justin’s gaze encompassed the room full of partygoers, the sea of shimmering ball gowns and elegant coiffures…until at last it settled across the room.

  “I see you’ve found her.”

  Justin responded with a lift of his brow. “I daresay you were right. She’s impossible to overlook.”

  “Yes, she is that, isn’t she? And I see she’s garnered her usual audience.” Gideon snared two glasses of champagne from a white-gloved servant, handing one to him. “Silly young pups! Fools, all,” intoned Gideon, “that they fancy themselves in love.”

  Love. For the swell of a heartbeat, an odd emotion churned in Justin’s gut. It wasn’t that he was incapable of that tender emotion. But he knew no woman could ever love him.

  “So what was it if not love that sent you sniffing about the lady’s skirts?” he inquired.

  Gideon’s half-smile left him in no doubt.

  Justin’s regard returned to the woman across the room. He’d noticed her right off, and it wasn’t just the brightness of her hair that set her apart from every woman here tonight. Gideon was right, he surprised himself by admitting. The Unattainable was exceptionally tall for a woman, yet she didn’t shirk from it or try to hide it. A twinge of reluctant admiration cut through him. She carried herself like one who was proud of it — and God knew, she carried it well.

  She was gowned in ice-blue satin, a shade that should have clashed hideously with her hair, yet didn’t. The empire waist fell in soft, delicate folds to the toes of her slippers. It made no secret of the fact that her breasts were delectably full and high on her chest. God knew he was a man who was an ardent admirer of bountiful, curvaceous breasts. Her shoulders were slim but broad for a woman, which somehow made the column of her neck, long and slender, appear all the more feminine, particularly when she tilted her head as she did just now. A froth of curls sp
illed over her shoulder, onto the generous expanse of her bosom.

  Desire stirred, a dark stab in his middle. Her legs would be fashioned like the rest of her, he decided, long and slim and lithe, strong enough to wrap around his hips as he drove inside her. Granted, it was just as he’d told Gideon. He wasn’t partial to redheads. And he’d always avoided virgins like the plague. But this one…

  He had to stop himself from taking an involuntary step forward. He only caught himself just in time! For the first time tonight, he experienced the ripeness of anticipation. He’d yet to gain a glimpse of her face, just a hint of her profile, which held a great deal of promise, her figure a great deal of allure. No, he wasn’t worried. His taste in women, as in everything, was fastidious. He wouldn’t bed a toad and Gideon knew it. Ah, yes, he reflected in mute satisfaction, to win this wager would be no hardship at all.

  Gideon had noted his appreciation. “Stunning, isn’t she?”

  There was no need to answer. “Well,” Justin murmured almost lazily, “I suppose it’s time I sent the pups scattering.” Suddenly he laughed.

  “Bedamned!” he said. “No need to bother after all. She’s ducked behind the column near the dining room. And now another young woman has joined her —”

  “Yes, that’s Georgiana Larwood, I believe.”

  “No wonder she’s known as The Unattainable. It appears she’s determined to evade them. Or perhaps someone in particular.”

  “Probably you,” injected Gideon with a smirk.

  “Highly improbable,” Justin said smoothly. “Now, wish me luck, old man.” He drained his champagne and placed it on the tray of a passing footman. “Oh, and don’t bother calling for details early in the morn. I fear the night may be a long one.”

  Gideon hastened to help himself to another glass of champagne. “Ah, the master at work! Perhaps I should take notes.”

  “Oh, I’m certain you’ll find another diversion.”

  Justin ambled across the ballroom, his path taking him ever closer to The Unattainable. He paused to chat with several acquaintances, among them the Dowager Duchess of Carrington.

  The duchess peered up at him, her eyes a vivid hue despite her age.

  “Justin!” she exclaimed, offering her hand. “How delightful to see you again.”

  Justin kissed her fingertips. “I assure you, Your Grace, the pleasure is wholly mine.”

  The elderly woman let out a resounding chuckle. “You know there was a time when I was convinced you were quite an irascible rake.”

  Justin feigned astonishment. “What! Do you mean to say I am not?”

  Her shoulders shook with laughter. “Never mind your wretched reputation. I know better, boy. Indeed, I’ve become quite fond of you the last few years.”

  “A feeling I return in full sentiment, Your Grace.” Justin spoke with genuine affection.

  “Save your charms for the younger ladies, m’boy. Which reminds me, I was just telling Sebastian and Devon very recently that I do believe it’s time you set your mind to taking a wife. So if need be, keep in mind I shall be happy to lend my matchmaking efforts.”

  Justin laughed softly. “You do love to play matchmaker, don’t you?”

  The duchess settled both hands on her cane. “I do,” she declared, her eyes sparkling like a girl’s. “I once told your brother it was high time he married, and look at the outcome!”

  Justin thought of Sebastian, blissfully enamored of his wife and family. While the hand of fate was squarely behind the fact that Devon landed in Sebastian’s arms and life, the duchess had indeed played a part in steering the pair together when it appeared Sebastian might lose his ladylove.

  “So,” the duchess finished with a vigorous wave of her cane, “should my services become necessary, you have only to say the word.”

  Justin chuckled. The duchess spoke not with her hands, but with her cane. Many a word was punctuated with a stab of that infamous instrument, and God help anyone who chanced to get in the way when she wished to make a point. “I assure you, Your Grace, should it come to that, you shall be the first I shall call upon.”

  She beamed. “Excellent!”

  He bade the duchess farewell, bowing low. When he straightened, he caught Gideon’s eye.

  Gideon raised his champagne in silent salute.

  Justin smiled to himself. The chit’s back was to him now, but she was still there. He’d yet to see her face, and he was suddenly impatient.

  Three steps closed the distance between them. He acknowledged her companion with a faint nod, but his attention was solely for her…

  She turned then, this chit known as The Unattainable.

  Even as a part of him acknowledged that she was a feast extraordinaire for the eyes and senses, he was pricked by a horrifying certainty.

  A hundred thoughts, a hundred curses skittered through his mind in that instant. Oh, Christ, but he should have listened to his instincts…he should have known. Perhaps he had.

  Justin did not thank Gideon in that moment. He did not thank Providence. For in his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined it could possibly be true.

  But it was. Sweet Christ, it was.

  The woman before him was none other than the bane of his youth. The wretched little brat who’d made such a nuisance of herself in her younger days…

  Three

  “Miss Arabella Templeton,” he drawled as he recovered his powers of speech, a recovery he considered miraculously swift, thank God.

  In truth, he was still reeling. But by God, he wouldn’t show it. Not to her.

  He glanced at her companion. “It’s Miss Larwood,” he murmured, “is it not?”

  Georgiana blushed and swept a curtsy. “It is,” she said breathlessly.

  “Miss Larwood, it is indeed my very great pleasure to introduce myself. I am Justin Sterling. But you would indulge me greatly if you would allow me a word with my old friend Miss Templeton.”

  Georgiana’s mouth opened and closed.

  “What! Miss Templeton neglected to tell you of our acquaintance?” He shook his head. “Why, I’ve known her since she was a child!”

  Georgiana seemed decidedly nervous. She glanced at Arabella, then back at him.

  Justin slanted a half-smile. “I do not bite,” he said lightly. “You have my undying promise to leave her in one piece.”

  “But of course, my lord.” Georgiana curtsied again and swept away.

  Justin transferred his gaze to Arabella. He bestowed on her the smile that invariably sent the ladies to swooning — all ladies but her, that is.

  Her consideration of him was surely destined to put the fires of hell to shame, he noted. Blithely he ignored it. “It has been a long time, has it not?”

  “Not long enough.” The words emerged from between gritted teeth.

  Still as charming as ever, he observed.

  “What do you want?” she said tersely.

  He feigned great affront. “Oh, come. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  His gaze ran over her. Gideon had been right. A conventional beauty she was not, but she had a mouth like sin and eyes the color of heaven. Christ, had he really told Gideon she sounded positively ghastly? Lord, he was the world’s biggest ass!

  Up close, she was even more breathtaking than from across the ballroom. Gone was the thin, gawky child whose carrot-red curls seemed to eclipse the whole of her being. Instead there stood a vibrantly sensual woman who wreaked havoc on his senses.

  The exposed skin of her shoulders glistened like porcelain. Affixed on a fine gold chain was a tiny sapphire that nestled in the velvet cleavage of her breasts. There were no feathers or pearls in her hair, no bracelets circling her wrists. He approved the costume for its very simplicity. In truth, she needed no other adornment to make her shine.

  And shine she did.

  His gaze, hot and avid, lingered on the tempting hollow between her breasts. A dark, swift heat seized hold of him as she took a breath. By God, he thought, every other wom
an in the room paled in her presence. She was ripe like a warm, sweet peach just waiting to be plucked.

  He dragged his gaze reluctantly to her face, only to find her blue eyes dark with outrage, the fullness of her mouth pursed into a tight little knot.

  He decided to remain at arm’s length for now. If he got any closer, she might well fasten her fingers around his neck.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded.

  “I’m simply marveling at how you’ve grown. Why, you must surely stand eye-to-eye with many a man.”

  Arabella stiffened. She’d always hated her body. For as long as she could remember, she’d been a full head taller than every other girl she knew.

  But she didn’t stand eye-to-eye with Justin Sterling. Indeed, if she gazed straight ahead, her focus came to the very center of his mouth, now curved into a lazily wicked grin. And yet, it was rather nice, actually, to feel for once that she wasn’t a great behemoth.

  If only it were any other man but him!

  “Do not mock me,” she said curtly.

  He swept her his most courtly bow. “I do not mock you.” He shook his head. Again his gaze slid over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts beneath her bodice, an unmistakably simmering appraisal. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, “how you’ve changed!”

  Silently, Arabella consigned him to a fate most reprehensible. Aloud she snapped, “And I see you have not.” But in truth, he had. He was bigger, even taller than he’d been at eighteen. She’d noticed it right off. Beneath his jacket his chest was broad, his shoulders lean but wide. Broader than she recalled…

  The realization was downright disturbing.

  He stepped close. She resisted the urge to step back.

  “Do you know,” he went on, “when my friend Gideon made mention of The Unattainable, I was pricked by the oddest thought. Odd, that I should think of it that way, don’t you agree?” He sighed. “Ah, but I have such memories of you, Miss Templeton. Not fond, but memories just the same.”

  “Indeed?” she inquired coolly.

  “You don’t remember? Well, then, let me refresh your memory. We were at the Dowager Duchess of Carrington’s estate in Kent, as I recall. There was some sort of outdoor entertainment —”