Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Without waiting for an answer, she lightly ran her fingers down his arm as she retreated. When she turned, she exaggerated the sway of her hips. She didn’t need to turn around to know that he watched her. She felt his hot stare on her arse.

  Yes, he should be easy enough to handle, stubborn scientist or not.

  6

  On Friday morning, the sun beamed down behind a thin veil of clouds. Despite the brightness of the day, the sun did little as of yet to dispel the night chill from the air. Felicia’s breath fogged in front of her face as she navigated the back gardens behind the row of townhouses. Her high-heeled ankle boots crunched on the frosted grass underfoot.

  Every house in this line looked almost identical. The tall, narrow stone façade and slate roof loomed over groomed lawns, neat gardens in back housing decorative shrubs rather than vegetables or herbs, and trim fences in between. The latches on the side gates were simple enough to lift even when secured, if like Felicia you knew the trick. Dressed in a tawny brown travel dress that bared her ankles, she crossed the yards as close to the cold stone walls as possible, to avoid being seen by the servants. She counted down the row until she reached the townhouse in question that she searched for, the Graylocke residence.

  The garden in this house was trim and neat, but no better tended than the others down the line, the plants wilted and shriveled. For a moment, Felicia wondered if she had the wrong house. Was a botanist in residence here?

  She slipped along the narrow strip of lawn between the house and the fence separating it from the packed dirt alley between each of the homes on this street. Sticking to the shadow of the high wall, she approached the front, where a glimpse of the cobblestone street showed a waiting foursome of horses hitched to a closed carriage. At the corner was a large bush, mostly devoid of leaves though the thick tangle of thorny branches provided some cover for the young woman waiting there. Apparently, Felicia wasn’t the only person who had thought to sneak up from the back of the house in order to observe Lord Graylocke.

  The woman crouched, so it was difficult to tell whether she would be taller than Felicia or not if standing. Her hair was as ebony as the Graylocke brothers. It trailed down the back of her lavender dress in a single loose braid. She canted her head, trying to peek around the corner and onto the front street.

  Biting back a smile, Felicia crouched as she crept closer to join the young woman. “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

  The young woman jumped. She clasped her gloved hand over her mouth, stifling an outcry as she twisted to look at Felicia. Now that she had announced her presence, Felicia thought that she would have to explain her presence in the house. To her surprise, the young woman didn’t seem to care.

  That, or she dismissed Felicia’s plain attire as belonging to that of a servant. If the fine quality of her dress and the embroidery along its bodice, sleeves, and hem wasn’t enough to announce her class, her features would have done so. Her eyes were a dark, velvety brown, but she strongly resembled her brothers. The set of her mouth and the shape of her chin was a touch more delicate and feminine than their rough, masculine features, but the family resemblance was clear.

  Felicia settled herself onto the cold, half-frozen ground behind the bush, stealing a good vantage of the man pacing in front of it. Was he constantly in motion, or was it only the thought of meeting with her that made him nervous? He wore buckskins again today, though he paired it with an emerald jacket this time. His hair, for the moment, was tidy. Felicia didn’t expect that to last for long, especially if she didn’t reveal herself in the coming minutes as having arrived. Lord Graylocke, it seemed, was unfashionably prompt.

  Then again, so was Felicia. Clients were far less likely to buy if she made them wait.

  Craning her neck as she examined the road, Miss Graylocke—seventeen or eighteen at Felicia’s guess—answered without sparing another glance at her new companion in the bushes. “My brother is meeting a woman. He’s to bring her to our country estate.”

  Felicia laid a hand across her chest, feigning shock. “How scandalous!” Laughter bubbled in her throat, but she tamped it down.

  The young woman sighed. With a speaking glance and a roll of the eyes, she said, “I wish. No, he claims she will be there for business, only. He’s a botanist, you see.”

  Like many women her age, she seemed to be consumed with the thought of romance. Perhaps not for herself—Felicia had yet to make that determination—but certainly toward others, if her curiosity over her brother’s meeting was any indication. The curiosity seemed good-natured, so Felicia decided to play along.

  “If she is visiting for the purpose of business alone, then why are you spying?”

  With a speaking look that Felicia was hard put not to giggle at, the young woman said, “Simply because he claims it is business does not mean there isn’t something more. I want to see if there is more than friendship between them.”

  There was certainly something between Felicia and Lord Graylocke, but it wasn’t friendship.

  Cocking her chin, Miss Graylocke added, “Two of my brothers have recently married. I helped to pair them both. I know the signs.”

  Mirth warmed Felicia’s chest as she confessed, “I can help with that.” She tucked her fingers into her reticule and withdrew a small crystal vial of perfume. It was the most concentrated version, that she had hoped to persuade the duke to purchase, since his wife seemed so adamant over the idea. However, torturing Lord Graylocke—that seemed like an infinitely better use. Felicia pressed the vial into his sister’s hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a cologne for men. I bought it at market, and was told by the seller that it’s guaranteed to make someone fall in love with the man who wears it.” She fought not to laugh as Miss Graylocke examined the amber liquid with interest. “If you sprinkle him with it, maybe this business partner he’s come to meet will fall in love with him.”

  She won’t. Felicia kept that thought to herself. She tried not to smile too wide and give the joke away.

  The young woman’s eyes brightened. “Oh! What a delightful idea.” Curling her fingers around the vial, she clutched it to her chest and stood.

  Felicia eased back to make room as Miss Graylocke sidled around the bush, arrowing for her brother. Lord Graylocke had his back to them at the moment, his jacket stretched tight across his shoulders as he paced toward the far corner of the townhouse. The horses stamped, picking up on his agitation and his sister’s exuberance. The driver hopped down from his perch to settle the steeds.

  “Giddy!”

  Lord Graylocke turned at his sister’s call. Trepidation crossed his face as he noticed her sprinting toward him, the hem of her dress draped over one arm. Her back was to Felicia, so she couldn’t tell whether or not the vial of perfume would be visible to him. Would his sister give it to him and cajole him into wearing it?

  No. Instead, she pretended to trip. As she fell against Lord Graylocke’s chest, he caught her by the upper arms. “What the devil, Lucy!”

  Felicia bit her tongue hard to keep silent. Lord Graylocke recoiled from his sister, backing away to show a dark splotch dripping over his beige waistcoat. Felicia wrapped her arms around herself, shaking with contained laughter. Her ribs ached. Even the pain didn’t help to mitigate her amusement. His sister hadn’t sprinkled the perfume on him—she’d upended the entire vial!

  Even from feet away, Felicia smelled the musk. It wasn’t the most pleasant of smells in such a concentrated dose, hence why she advised her customers that a little went a long way. Even with such a deep, earthy stench, the perfume performed its trick.

  Three young debutantes newly out of the school room, at Felicia’s guess, strolled along the street. The moment they reached the rear wheel of the carriage, a second after Lucy had poured the perfume onto her brother’s chest, the young girls caught wind of the scent. They surrounded him, three girls his sister’s age or younger, each dabbing vigorously at his person
with their handkerchiefs while he tried adamantly to extract himself. He was so tall that his harried expression was unobscured even by the girls’ bonnets.

  Felicia lost the battle to keep quiet. She roared with laughter, leaning against the corner of the manor behind the bush.

  The sound drew Lord Graylocke’s attention to her. His expression darkened. “Miss Albright! What the devil did you direct her to spill on me?”

  Felicia fought for breath. The rough stone snagged against her spencer as she slumped against the wall.

  Miss Graylocke drew herself up, indignant. “What language, Giddy. There are ladies present!”

  Indeed. And those ladies continued to attempt to clean him, gaggling all the while with demure tones that didn’t carry. They didn’t seem to notice or care for his disinterest. He snagged one woman’s hand as she strayed too low for his comfort. My, she was a brazen one. Felicia liked her best. Not that she could tell the three apart, in equally pale, modest dresses and with bonnets covering their hair.

  She wiped the moisture from her eyes. Her torso and cheeks ached from laughing. Even once she shut her eyes, she couldn’t banish the image of Lord Graylocke’s flustered expression. His voice tight, he apologized to the ladies and retreated inside with big, clomping steps.

  A moment later, a shadow fell over her. She opened her eyes to Miss Graylocke’s amused expression. “His business partner will fall in love with him, will she?”

  Felicia smirked as she accepted the young woman’s hand to rise. “Well, that was a bit of a stretch from the start. I’m afraid we don’t much get along. But he has experience that I need and I have experience that he needs.”

  “What are you working on? He wouldn’t say.”

  Standing, Felicia noticed that Miss Graylocke was a couple inches taller than her. The entire family were giants, it seemed. She offered the young lady a bland smile. “It has to do with a plant I’ve gotten in from South America. You likely wouldn’t be interested, Miss Graylocke.”

  The young woman pursed her lips as she considered the statement, but she must have ruled in favor of agreement because all she said was, “Please, call me Lucy.”

  Felicia couldn’t possibly address a duke with familiarity, but his sister was much more disarming. Not to mention over a decade younger. “Thank you. Then you must call me Felicia.”

  With a charming smile, Lucy linked arms with her and drew her toward the house. The debutantes lingered a bit as they strolled on their way, as if hoping Lord Graylocke would make an appearance again. Felicia battled another tide of laughter as Lucy craned her neck, staring after the trio.

  “What was in that vial?”

  Felicia laughed. “I didn’t lie to you. It was a cologne for men.”

  “Designed to attract a woman to fall in love with him.” Dubiousness entered Lucy’s voice. Her delicately arched brows were pulled close over her eyes.

  As they reached the steps, the younger woman released Felicia to allow her to mount them first. The Tenwick butler opened the door, stoically paying them no mind. Felicia suspected that he attended far more closely than he seemed to.

  Lowering her voice, she admitted, “In a way. If you’ll forgive the crass admission, it invites lust more than love. It has to do with a woman’s chemical reaction to the smell. Though I asked you to put only a little. In high doses, the smell…”

  Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Indeed. Does that actually work?”

  Pausing on the top step, Felicia turned back to send the young woman an arch look. “Do young debutantes usually fall over themselves to touch your brother?”

  “Maybe Tristan or Anthony,” Lucy said with a laugh.

  They entered the house, only for a screeching voice to announce, “Shut your gob, Lucy!”

  With a sullen look, the young woman waved her hand toward a second, older woman and the blazing blue parrot perched on her arm. “This is why Giddy has no debutantes fighting over him.”

  Because of his bird or because of the stately woman serving as a perch? The outdoor sunlight cut off as the butler shut the door, leaving Felicia blinking rapidly to help her eyes adjust to the dimmer interior. Once she did, she noticed the resemblance between the two women immediately. Lady Graylocke had chestnut hair, instead of the ebony locks all her children seemed to share. Her eyes seemed a darker gray than her oldest son’s, but similar in shape. With her delicate features, she looked to be an older version of her daughter. If she had been older than Lucy upon giving birth to her oldest son, Felicia would eat her fist. The serene woman didn’t appear more than fifteen or sixteen years older than Felicia, though perhaps she had aged well.

  Confirming Felicia’s suspicions, Lucy said, “This is my mother, Evelyn Graylocke.”

  Felicia curtsied. “Felicia Albright, my lady. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  The woman waved her hand. “None of that formality, dear. I understand we’re to live with each other for quite some time?” Her voice lilted, raising her calm statement into a question.

  “Indeed, madam. I will be at the whim of your hospitality until your son and I complete our project.” Inwardly, she added, I hope it will take all winter.

  The bird on the dowager’s arm turned its head sideways to inspect Felicia. Yellow markings around the large parrot’s eye and black beak made it appear as if grinning. It squawked, bobbing its head up and down as it shifted position on the dowager’s sleeve.

  “That’s Antonia,” Lucy introduced.

  The parrot half-opened her wings and pronounced, “Giddy!”

  “She’s giddy to meet you,” Lucy informed, straight-faced.

  Felicia gave the bird a flamboyant curtsey, the kind she sometimes used to attract customers. “The pleasure is all mine, Antonia.”

  “Giddy, giddy, giddy!”

  Lucy added, “I named her after my brother, Anthony because he’s so rarely at home.”

  “Oh?” Felicia offered a polite smile. “And why is that?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. The dowager’s polite expression turned hard and closed. Her lips thinned as she pressed them together.

  Even Lucy’s exuberance dulled as she explained, “He’s a captain in the Royal Navy.”

  And thereby in the center of the war with France. Oh, dear. What could Felicia say to that? “He sounds very accomplished.”

  “All my children suffer from that particular affliction,” Evelyn said, her voice tight.

  Lucy laughed, though it sounded a bit strained. “Even Tristan?”

  “Especially Tristan,” her mother said. She stroked the bird’s feathers, calming it and keeping it quiet for the moment. “He’s been competing with Morgan from the moment he could walk.”

  Shaking her head with a fond smile, Lucy said, “I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Mother.”

  “I am not. You weren’t there. You don’t know the trouble I had with those boys. All four of them.”

  “Even Lord Graylocke?” The man she’d been shown thus far had been studious and quiet, save for when she or his sister riled him.

  Evelyn frowned. “To which Lord Graylocke are you referring? They all have titles, at least honorary ones.”

  Pinpricks of heat enflamed Felicia’s cheeks. Did she have to refer to the ornery scientist so familiarly? She schooled her expression to one of mild disinterest that the beau monde seemed so fond to wear. “Lord Gideon.”

  The dowager’s face blossomed into a broad smile. “He caused me the biggest fright. Every time I turned around, he had disappeared, off to explore or examine some plant or insect located on treacherous terrain. The quiet ones are always the worst. But please, if you stand on formality it will make the air at Tenwick Abbey dreadfully stiff. Call him Gideon or Giddy like we do.”

  She couldn’t possibly. She smiled weakly. “Shouldn’t that be something Lord Gideon invites me to use?”

  “Nonsense. I’m his mother. If I say you can call him familiarly, then you must.”

  She said it in such a glib, matte
r-of-fact tone that Felicia almost believed her. Never mind that she was the daughter of an untitled gentleman—a fact that the dowager didn’t even know. For all she knew, Felicia might have been raised by the circus folk she still called family. For all her absence from polite society these past thirteen years, she still retained the ability to speak with the refined accent of a peer. It no longer came as second nature to her, so she had to concentrate, but she had been from the moment she first engaged with Lucy. But sounding like an equal and treating a duke’s family as equals were two very different things.

  What sort of family was this, not to stand on the same ceremony every other haughty peer did?

  Antonia saved Felicia the need to argue the point of familiarity with Lord Gideon when the bird squawked and shouted, “Giddy!” The screech punctured the air, making Felicia and the other two women wince.

  Apparently, it could be heard above stairs, for the sound of loud footsteps on the staircase was accompanied by Lord Gideon’s cry of, “I’m coming! No need to shout.”

  The person who first appeared at the top of the steps was not Lord Gideon, but a beautiful blond woman about Lucy’s age. Her hair was dressed in ringlets, her cheeks as rosy as her dress. She wore a bleary, irritated expression.

  As she reached the bottom of the steps, Lord Gideon directly behind her, she paused to yawn and mumble, “I don’t see why we have to leave so blasted early in the morning. Don’t you ever rise at a reasonable hour?”

  The tall man behind her slipped around her form without comment, straightening his cravat. His hair was now in disarray from the task of changing. He wore a maroon coat matched with a dove-gray waistcoat. Both fit him to advantage, but Felicia couldn’t help but feel disappointed over the fact that she wouldn’t know whether or not the green coat emphasized his eyes.

  Felicia lurched as Lucy linked arms with her and hauled her forward. “Charlie, this is Felicia Albright. Felicia, this is Charlotte Vale—or Charlie, to us. Isn’t it wonderful, Charlie? Felicia will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”