WANTON

by Cheryl Holt

  “I want you to ensure that Lucas doesn’t marry Miss Hubbard.”

  “How would I do that?”

  “You know him better than anyone. I’m certain you can think of something.”

  Nan studied Mrs. Cummings, finding her to be rude and snobbish in a way Nan loathed. Nan regularly engaged in treachery and trickery—it was just her penchant to be cunning—but the notion of being partners with Claudia Cummings, of scheming against Lucas on Claudia’s behalf, was nauseating.

  “I couldn’t harm Lucas,” Nan insisted.

  “If you can wreck the betrothal, how would that harm him? You’re aware of how remarkable he is. Could you really sit idly by and watch him ruin his life over such an inferior person?”

  Nan pondered forever, then said, “No, I don’t suppose I could.”

  “I’m asking you to flaunt your relationship with Lucas as you never have before. Throw yourself at him at every turn. Be seen with him at every event. If you must, spread lies about the two of you, and I’ll guarantee Miss Hubbard is apprised of any risqué conduct—even if it never transpired.”

  “She appeared to be very fond of Lucas.”

  “Much too fond—more fool her.”

  “And if she’s the innocent nobody you claim, she’d be immensely hurt if she was betrayed by him.”

  “Why would you or I care if she’s hurt? Or goal is to stop her from marrying him. It’s fair to employ any viable subterfuge in order to achieve our objective.”

  They stared and stared, like combatants in the ring, and Nan was struggling to decide her purpose. She liked Lucas very much and wanted him to be happy, but she wanted him to be happy with her—Nan—not with some unknown ninny who’d skated in at the last second.

  Ultimately, she slyly said, “You’d have to make it worth my while.”

  “I expected that request from you.”

  “How could you help me?”

  “I’m told you’ve accumulated quite a gambling debt at the Stevens brothers’ club.”

  Nan shielded any reaction. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I’d rather not say, but the amount is sufficient that your poor husband, Freddie, would be incensed if he learned of it.”

  “He won’t learn of it.”

  “Won’t he?”

  Claudia suddenly seemed very dangerous and much more cunning than Nan had ever dreamed of being. Nan thought she could probably take lessons in guile from the older woman. “Then again,” Claudia mused, “if you can chase Miss Hubbard away, I’ll pay the debt for you.”

  “All of it?”

  “Every penny, and Freddie need never know.”

  Nan scrutinized Claudia, wishing she could open the top of Claudia’s head and peer inside to read her mind, but with any conspirator, it was difficult to discern if there’d be a double cross.

  “Swear it,” Nan said. “Swear that if I run Miss Hubbard away, you’ll pay off my debt to the Stevens brothers.”

  “I’ll pay every single penny,” Mrs. Cummings vowed. “I swear.”

  They stared again, then Nan nodded.

  “All right. I should be able to take care of it tonight.”

  “I was hoping you could.”

  Claudia swept out, and Nan lingered, having a brandy from the sideboard, then she strolled to the ballroom alone. She glanced around, quickly discerning that no one had missed her, so no one would be wondering why she’d gone off with Claudia Cummings.

  The waltzing had stopped, and couples were proceeding into the buffet. She looked for Lucas and Miss Hubbard but didn’t see them. But it didn’t matter. The party would last for hours, and it was a long while until dawn.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Well done, Miss Hubbard.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Amelia smiled at Bryce Blair.

  “It looks as if you’ve snagged your quarry,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lucas Drake, of course.”

  “It was just a waltz,” she breezily claimed. “I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

  “I’ve seen a few people waltzing in my day, but I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s a ball. We were dancing.”

  “Were you?”

  Her waltz with Lucas had been amazing, and she was so elated she was surprised she didn’t float off into the sky. As Mr. Blair’s comments indicated, she and Lucas had made a public spectacle of themselves, the likes of which bored, lazy Londoners would likely gossip about for months.

  She was struggling to affect a jaded air, was flippantly denying any special occurrence, but it was extremely difficult to pretend it hadn’t been astonishing. It had ended an hour earlier, and the guests were still agog. Women glared maliciously, wondering what secret Amelia had used to coax such visible interest from Lucas. Men eyed her lewdly, wondering the same.

  She was disoriented from the magical episode, her mind spinning with joy, but with confusion too.

  Once the set was over, she’d presumed Lucas would escort her into supper. Or, better yet, that he might have begged her to sneak off into the garden so he could announce he was ready for their betrothal to become real. But he hadn’t. He’d deposited her at Barbara’s side, then disappeared. She hadn’t stumbled on him since.

  Mr. Blair leaned nearer and whispered, “Has he proposed? Is that what it was about?”

  “No, he hasn’t proposed.” She laughed. “Why would he have? We’re simply friends.”

  “Friends, really?” He snorted. “I should be so lucky.”

  “Have you seen my brother?” she asked.

  “Not for several days. Why?”

  “I haven’t seen him either.”

  “I’m sure he’ll show up. He always does.”

  The dancing was starting again, and Mr. Blair’s companions hailed him from across the room. He walked off to join them, so Amelia was finally alone. Needing to clear her head, she slipped out onto the verandah and stepped into the shadows.

  Lord Sidwell had been trying to corner her, demanding Amelia provide explanations about Lucas that she didn’t possess. Barbara had been eager to flee the party and hurry to her house so they could dissect the incident, but Amelia hadn’t thought they should leave. She thought they should stay in case Lucas sought her out.

  Amelia just wanted to hide and regroup and revel in her success. She’d never been so happy and couldn’t fathom why Lucas hadn’t taken the moment to speak up, to say what had to be said so they could move their relationship to the next level.

  She was desperate to talk to her brother, to tell him what she’d like to have happen. While Lucas wasn’t the most conventional man, it was appropriate for him to confer with Chase before any offer was tendered. She was wondering if that wasn’t what Lucas planned. If so, Chase had to be very visible so Lucas could locate him without too much bother. But he’d vanished, and she had no idea where he might be.

  She lingered in the dark, and that niggling voice of doubt returned with a vengeance. It was the one that had been chiding her for being a fool, for counting on Lucas.

  In light of his past history, it was entirely possible that he’d seduced her with wicked intent and wasn’t about to propose. As the alarming notion presented itself, she shoved it away. She absolutely would not denigrate him! He wasn’t the cad she’d believed him to be in the beginning.

  He was capable of great affection, and he’d showered her with it. He would propose, and it was ridiculous to spend a single second worrying that he wouldn’t.

  The orchestra finished its piece, and in the sudden silence, she heard the tinkling of a harpsichord. Could it be Lucas, off in a quiet room? Was that where he’d gone?

  She wandered down the verandah, peeking in windows, and without too much trouble, she found him. He was seated at a harpsichord, playing a very sad, very haunting song. A single candle illuminated the space, and he’d shed his coat and rolled back his sleeves.

 
The window was open, and she hovered, watching him. She yearned to murmur his name, to notify him that she’d arrived, but he was so engrossed in his task that she didn’t. She would hate to have him think she was following him, and besides, she received an enormous amount of pleasure from observing him when he didn’t know she was.

  She whispered a prayer that she would eventually have him as her husband, and as she focused on that prospect, she painted a vision in her mind of the estate Lord Sidwell had promised them.

  The image was incredibly detailed, right down to the size and shape of the house, the color of the drapes in the front parlor. She pictured herself in that room, Lucas at the pianoforte and singing a song just for her. They were content with their life and their choices. It seemed so real, she was convinced it was a sign that it was meant to be.

  The sound of a door closing wrenched her from her reverie, and she peered inside again to discover that Nanette Nipton had entered. She sauntered over to him, and as Amelia spied on them, her heart was thundering so violently that she was terrified it might simply quit beating.

  “Hey, sailor.” Mrs. Nipton draped herself across his back, her arms over his shoulders, her palms on his chest.

  He turned his head, and their lips touched in a quick kiss. Though it was chaste in emotion and duration, Amelia was so shocked her knees nearly gave out.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “Who knows you better than I do?”

  “No one.”

  “When I couldn’t locate you in the ballroom, I knew exactly where you’d be.”

  She slid around and eased herself onto his lap, and their intimate acquaintance was extremely blatant. She was fiddling with his cravat, riffling her fingers in his hair.

  “I heard the strangest gossip a bit ago,” she said.

  “What was it?”

  “I heard that you were engaged.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “A little bird.” There was a protracted pause, where Lucas didn’t affirm or deny the news, and Mrs. Nipton inquired, “Well? Are you?”

  “No,” he scoffed.

  “I stuck up for you and insisted you weren’t. You wouldn’t agree to such silliness without informing me.”

  “My father arranged one of his idiotic matches. It has naught to do with me.”

  “Why must he continue to put you through such torment?”

  Lucas shrugged. “He enjoys it.”

  “So...she’s merely another girl he’s thrown at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And a schoolteacher, no less! Is she a scold?”

  “She can be.”

  “Most of them are. They can never quite leave the schoolroom behind.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that, but it makes sense. She’s been very adept at lecturing me.”

  “Gad, what was Lord Sidwell thinking?” Mrs. Nipton commiserated. “He’s aware of how you hate to be bossed.”

  “Yes, but he assumes I could use some bossing.”

  “Bossing from a woman! You’d rather jump off a cliff, wouldn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “Yes.”

  “Let me be clear, darling, so I can tamp out the stories: You’re not marrying stodgy, tedious Miss Hubbard?”

  “She’s not stodgy.”

  “But tedious?”

  He smiled. “Sometimes.”

  “And she’s not about to be Mrs. Lucas Drake—despite what she supposes?”

  Lucas frowned. “Why would you imagine she’s supposing anything about me?”

  “Your waltz, Lucas. Everyone is babbling about it.”

  “Don’t they have better things to do than titter over me?”

  “No, actually, they don’t,” she simpered. “Can I categorically state to any curious rumormonger that—I have it from your own mouth—you will remain a bachelor for the foreseeable future?”

  “Much longer than that.”

  “Forever?” she pressed.

  “If I’m lucky.”

  Mrs. Nipton beamed with delight. “I’m so relieved. I can’t picture you leg-shackled.”

  “Neither can I.”

  He gave a mock shudder, and they snickered like the old friends they were.

  “You’d be positively boring as a married man,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. It will never happen. Miss Hubbard was hoping to rope me into it, but you can guess my opinion. I wouldn’t have any bride my father picked.”

  “That’s my Lucas.”

  She leaned in so her breasts were crushed to his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her waist. They were nose to nose, their lips only an inch apart.

  “I’m weary of this ball,” she sighed.

  “So am I.”

  “Did I mention that Freddie is still in Scotland?”

  “Is he?”

  Mrs. Nipton rested her chin on his shoulder, so she was staring toward the window where Amelia was lurking. Amelia was in a very dark spot, so Mrs. Nipton couldn’t be aware of her presence.

  Still, it appeared that the other woman was looking directly at Amelia as she murmured in his ear, “Let’s amuse ourselves at my house.”

  He was silent for a very long while, then said, “I don’t know if I should.”

  “What’s not to know? The last time, we reveled for days, and they were immensely enjoyable.”

  “I have to pack.”

  “Pack for what?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  She sat up and scowled. “For where?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I simply need to get out of town.”

  “Then we should absolutely dally. If you’re planning to be gone for awhile, I have to be sure you remember you have a reason to return.”

  “I won’t forget the reason.”

  “You’d better not.”

  She kissed him sweetly, invitingly. He didn’t exactly join in, but he didn’t pull away either.

  “Come home with me, darling,” she cajoled. “You look so morose. Let me cheer you up.”

  He pondered and debated for an eternity. Finally, he muttered, “What the hell? Why not? There’s nothing to keep me here.”

  Mrs. Nipton peered over at the window again, and she grinned a cunning, triumphant grin that seemed specifically aimed at Amelia as if informing Amelia that Lucas was hers and Amelia could never have him.

  Amelia spun and ran.

  * * * *

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re lying on my bed, and I’ve removed most of my clothes, yet you’ve barely noticed me.”

  Lucas stared at Nanette’s voluptuous body, letting his lecherous eyes feast on her many charms, but for once, they held no appeal. He was extremely bored and had no desire—literally—to fornicate with her.

  He rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. When she’d found him at Westwood’s, he’d been in an odd mood, lonely and confused and unable to figure out his plan. He was leaving for India. Wasn’t he?

  He should have already been on the road, but when he’d waltzed with Amelia, something peculiar had happened. As if a magic spell had been cast, the rest of the crowd had faded away and they might have been dancing by themselves. His senses had been that overloaded. After it was over, he’d escorted her to Mrs. Middleton, mumbled an incoherent goodbye, then staggered away.

  Nearly two hours later, when Nan had located him in the music room, he’d still been perplexed by what had transpired and had yearned to discuss it with Amelia. There were many issues roiling him—the fight with his father, missing his brother’s wedding, sailing to India—and he was anxious to confide in her.

  She would have understood and sympathized, would have offered the advice he needed to maneuver the coming days and weeks without too much stress or drama. But he hadn’t tried to find her. In his disordered state, he’d been terrified over what else he might say.

  Nan had suggested a tryst, and he’d gone gl
adly, thinking that a raucous, lewd dalliance would be just the ticket to ease his ill humor. Yet now that they’d arrived, he couldn’t imagine proceeding.

  She rose up on an elbow, her bare breasts pressed to his chest.

  “All you do anymore is mope and sulk,” she pointed out.

  “Sorry.”

  “Ever since you returned from the army, you’ve been in a constant pout.”

  “It appears that way, doesn’t it?”

  “You should be celebrating! You’ve put the army behind you.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “You’re home in one piece. You didn’t lose an arm or a leg. You weren’t blinded in battle. Stop brooding. You’re home, and you’re fine.”

  Yet it didn’t seem as if he was home or that he was fine. He was more isolated and adrift than ever, and for reasons he didn’t comprehend, he wished he was over at Mrs. Middleton’s house, sequestered in Amelia’s bedchamber.

  When he was with her, he was happy and content. He didn’t fret or dither, he didn’t lament his plight or worry over his future. He simply tarried with her, and she made him feel as if he was grand and wonderful—as if he had no flaws.

  What was he doing in Nan’s bed when he could be snuggled in Amelia’s instead?

  It was a strange question and the type he’d never posed to himself before. In his carnal relationships, he never debated whether he should participate. If a woman spread her thighs, he was always delighted to jump between them. Yet on this occasion, he couldn’t muster the necessary enthusiasm, and he wanted to leave without having to quarrel about it.

  “I know what you need,” Nan murmured.

  “What is that?”

  She started kissing a trail down his stomach, and as she fiddled with the front of his trousers, her destination was clear. He laid a hand on hers, preventing her from continuing.

  She raised up and snapped, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m in an awful mood.”

  “You certainly are.”

  He slid away and sat up, his back to her, his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. He studied her room, thinking of all the times she’d invited him to visit her in it, all the times he’d gleefully accompanied her. But it was her husband’s house, her husband’s furniture, and while Lucas grasped that Nan had no morals worth mentioning, for once, he was disgusted by their behavior.