by Lauren Smith
Audrey could not believe she was learning such useful information for the first time in her life. Jonathan made her feel inexperienced, yes, but not inferior. He was taking these lessons seriously, and that made her feel… How did it make her feel?
Important? Relevant? Equal?
In her time as Lady Society, she’d exposed herself more and more to the social injustices of her world, from the casual to the criminal. And the more she did the more part of her had wanted to run away from it all. To hide at home and let her brother smother her with his overprotectiveness, just to keep those realities at bay. But she’d fought on. And now, with Jonathan, it felt as though that will to fight was neither irrelevant nor futile.
“You know, if I had these lessons in my first season, I might’ve been more effective at stopping wandering hands. I had to kick Lord Willoughby between the legs, which I don’t recommend. Skirts make kicking most difficult.”
Jonathan’s eyes glinted. “Viscount Willoughby?”
“Yes. He took me to a veranda at my first ball. I didn’t understand the risks of letting a gentleman escort me outside. Cedric was never good at giving us advice, putting the burden of our protection entirely on his own shoulders. Horatia and I were quite unprepared for our coming-outs.” Losing her parents as a child meant her life as a young lady had been more unconventional than most. Cedric and his friends had always been there for her, but older brothers were no substitute for mothers and fathers.
“And what happened? With Willoughby?”
“He tried to move me to a secluded part of the alcove, just off the veranda. I got pressed into a rather unpleasant and prickly hedge as he did his best to kiss me. The bounder managed to get one hand halfway up my skirts. Of course, then I was free to give him a good sharp kick to the—”
“Yes, I see,” Jonathan interrupted. Audrey giggled when she noticed he’d angled his body away from hers, as though to shield his groin from a surprise demonstration. “How about I show you an alternative to kicking a man in the bollocks should you want to vary your defenses up a bit?”
She quickly nodded, eager for more instruction.
“Very good. I will demonstrate a defensive action, and then you will have a chance to use it.” He waved for her to give him her hand. When she held it out, he gripped it with both of his and began to gently bend her palm back. She winced, but he stopped just before it would begin to truly hurt.
“This is one I taught myself. If you do this quickly, you can snap a man’s wrist, break it, or you can hold it on the edge of pain and threaten to break it. So for any wandering hands, that is a move to employ.”
“And now we can act out a situation?” she asked.
Jonathan nodded. “Come closer to the wall here and put you back against it. We will act as if it is a garden hedge.”
Audrey stood against the wall, then turned to face him. He slowly approached her, a predatory gleam in his eyes that set her heart into a mad rhythm of excitement.
“I’m going to pretend to be Willoughby, and you will use the move I showed you.”
She swallowed hard. “All right.” He was going to touch her intimately, or at least try to, and part of her didn’t want to stop him.
“Where was his other hand? The one not under your skirts?” Jonathan asked as he stood inches away, peering down at her.
She honestly couldn’t remember. “Behind my neck, I think.”
Jonathan’s hand cupped the back of her head. “Like this?” His gaze lingered on her lips, and her body burned at his touch. Why did they have to be training when they could be kissing?
“Yes…”
“I’m going to pretend you are wearing skirts, all right? Try to stop my hand.” He whispered this just before he leaned down and kissed her.
Audrey forgot everything about her lessons. Lord, she’d forgotten how good his lips felt and how giddy she felt trapped between him and a hard surface. She was under his power, and she liked it because he would only bring her pleasure. His hand touched her hip, moved to cup her bottom, and she gasped against his lips. Lord Willoughby hadn’t done that!
His hand moved down the back of her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around his hips. He pressed tighter against her, their hips meeting as he pulled her off the ground, pinning her against the wall, continuing to kiss her. Then he slid his hand between their bodies, cupping her between her legs. Her knees buckled as waves of pleasure hit her hard. She clutched at his shoulders, trying to kiss him back. She felt frozen, frantic. Her yearning to feel that ecstasy at his hands was overpowering.
Jonathan rubbed his hand against her. She whimpered, trying to ride his palm. How did this man know how to set fire to her blood in such a way? His mouth broke apart from hers.
“You’re…not…trying,” he growled softly.
“Yes I am,” she insisted, arching her back to get closer to him.
“You’re trying to get me to bed you, not trying to fight me off. Are you not taking this seriously?” His frustrated tone was like a bucket of ice water over her. Fury rose up in her. She dropped her hands from his shoulders and snatched his wrist, jerking his hand back into the position he’d showed her. He leapt back from her, breaking free, and she dropped to her feet.
“Bloody hell!” He rubbed at his hand, scowling, but his anger soon cleared. “That… That was well done, if a bit delayed. But you’ll need to be able to keep your grip as well if you wish to subdue him. Once I’m free, you’re back where you started.”
Audrey wished she had punched him in the nose instead. This was exactly the thing she hated. His cool, dispassionate distance. Had he felt nothing between them?
“I think I’m done with my lessons for today,” she said. If there was one thing she hated, it was when a man made her want to cry.
“Very well. We shall have another lesson tomorrow.” He turned away and retrieved his boots, putting them back on. “And you will sleep in my chambers tonight. Or I will come to yours.”
“What? No. Jonathan, we mustn’t. Not here.”
“Once a week, that was the agreement.” He faced her, his gaze entirely too serious. “Your reactions today only prove my point. If you get distracted by a man’s kisses, he can take advantage of you as I did, and you don’t want that.”
She raised her arms over her chest. “You’re certainly right. I don’t want that.” Her temper was boiling now.
“Especially not with me,” he added, a wicked smile suddenly curving his lips.
“No, you…you are…” she sputtered.
“Yes? What am I?” he asked, stepping close again. All she could think of was him, his warmth, his kiss, how she’d adored the way his hands had wandered.
“You are infuriating.”
“And you like it when I rile you.”
“I do not!”
“Of course you do. I keep you on those little toes of yours, waiting for more kisses, even though you act like you despise me.”
It was his smug grin that pushed her too far. She hauled back her arm to slap him, but he caught her arm easily in mid-flight.
He leaned down a little, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Never slap when you can punch.”
She held very still, her right hand trapped as their eyes remained locked on each other. She balled her left fist just as he had taught her and punched him on the jaw.
He hissed in pain as he released her. Audrey stepped back to give him time to collect himself and to avoid any retaliation he might have in mind. His proud smile surprised her.
“Now that was an excellent display of what you learned today. Well done, little sprite, well done indeed.”
Audrey was so confused that she turned and ran from the room. She didn’t stop until she reached her chambers. She collapsed on her bed, trembling from head to foot, utterly confused. Like always, he had stunned her and left her completely unsure of anything.
Except that wasn’t true. He had been proud of her. A disinterested man wouldn’t show pride, would he? She he
ld up her left hand. It was red and her fingers ached, but she suddenly had the desire to laugh. She’d learned how to strike back, had improvised as well, and he had been pleased.
She rolled onto her back on the bed and spread her arms wide, grinning. She was going to stay here awhile, enjoy a few more hours being in breeches before she had to confine herself to a dress once again for dinner. Luckily, she would not be missed in the meantime. A large house party had many benefits, the best one affording guests time to slip away to rest or conduct solitary activities.
As she lay there, she wondered what Gillian was up to. How had she and James faced being left alone? Audrey sincerely hoped they had done something enjoyable like riding or walking in the gardens.
Gillian learns to be wooed, and I learn to fight. She couldn’t stop giggling. What a day it had been.
10
“What happened to you?” Lucien straightened in his chair, alarm filling his gaze. Jonathan had just entered Lucien’s study and gingerly touched his jaw. By the feel of it, he was going to bruise.
“I may have had a tussle with one of the other guests.”
“Oh?”
“Nothing serious,” Jonathan said with a wry grin.
“Nothing serious? You’re turning blue on the chin.”
“I may have been teaching a certain little sprite to defend herself. She may have gotten the better of me.”
Lucien laughed almost as heartily as Charles had.
“I didn’t tell you so you can be amused at my expense,” Jonathan grumbled.
“I’m sure you didn’t, but dammit, man, you cannot deny it is amusing.” Lucien leaned back in his chair and propped his boots up on the edge of his desk. “Anyway, I hope you didn’t come here for advice on seducing Sheridan women. Audrey is very different from Horatia. Very. My love is sweet, shy, and gentle.”
“And Audrey is none of those.” Well, that wasn’t true; she certainly had her sweet moments. Just not with him.
“So, your grand plan to wooing her is lessons in self-defense?”
“Yes, it was something she wanted.”
“I will grant you it is an original plan, but I am not sure you properly thought it through.”
Jonathan opened and closed his mouth, testing his sore jaw. “Part of me certainly regrets it. She has a bloody good left hook.”
Lucien burst out laughing again, but the sound of the dinner gong changed that to a groan.
“Lord, I do miss our intimate dinners with the League. This house party nonsense is not at all my preferred way to spend the evening. And for a week, no less.” Lucien’s despondent look almost made Jonathan laugh.
Before either of them could say more, Charles burst into the study, his face tense.
“I’m glad I found both of you here.” He lifted up a newspaper as he walked over to them. “This was delivered an hour ago. Linley saw something rather important when he was setting it out for me.” He set the paper down on the desk.
Jonathan and Lucien both leaned over to see the article Charles pointed to. The Morning Post society section typically posted about births, marriages, and deaths. One name among them stood out.
“Mr. Gerald Langley was found dead in a residence close to Twinings tea shop,” Lucien read aloud. “It is believed he took his life as a matter of honor, leaving a letter to his family. There have been disconcerting rumors for the last few months regarding Mr. Langley, which may have contributed to his action. Mr. Langley is survived by his sister, Hillary Clifford… Langley is dead? Isn’t that the fellow who Lady Society thoroughly humiliated in her column?”
“Yes, that’s the man,” Charles said. “Jonathan, I think you ought to tell Lucien about Audrey and the hellfire club.”
Lucien’s voice turned hard, and Jonathan felt the weight of his gaze upon him. “Tell me what? What have you gotten her into?”
Jonathan bristled. “I did nothing! She was the one who” His words dissolved into a frustrated growl. He understood Lucien’s fear. Horatia had been targeted by an enemy of the League before, and he had every right to worry that Audrey could be in a similar situation.
“I swear, Jonathan, if you—”
“Lucien, at ease, man,” Charles said. “Let him answer.”
Lucien crossed his arms, scowling but remaining quiet.
Jonathan took a deep breath. “The first thing you should know is that Audrey is Lady Society.”
Lucien’s eyes widened. Then he blinked, as if the words only now had truly hit him. “She…? Lady Society? The woman whose pen has poked and prodded and chastised all of us at one point or another?”
“And found wives for at least half of you,” Charles added with a wry smile.
Lucien looked to Jonathan. “The one who mocked you only a week ago?”
“Yes,” Jonathan confirmed.
Lucien shook his head. “I’d be tempted to laugh had you not mentioned a dead man and a hellfire club. Good Lord, how did things end up there?”
Jonathan tried to explain. “From what I understand, it began when Audrey took up the case of defending the Earl of Rockford’s daughter.”
Lucien nodded. “I recall the incident. That’s what led to Langley’s activities being exposed in Lady Society’s column.”
“She then somehow found out, Lord knows how, that Langley was the leader of some silly hellfire club in the Temple Bar district, and she wished to expose them before they did more harm.”
“She came to me,” Charles cut in, “looking for an escort to the club.”
“And you didn’t think to tell Cedric? Or me? You didn’t feel her brother or her brother-in-law ought to have been informed?” Lucien growled. “People who could have protected her?”
Charles didn’t flinch. “Oh? And what would you have done? Walled her away in a tower? Once that lady is bent on something, especially something troublesome, she manages to find her way into the thick of it with or without our intervention. My intention was to protect her, since she would’ve gotten there one way or another.”
“So you took her to Langley’s club?”
Charles’s face reddened. “Er… No. She sent Linley a note informing me that she’d changed her mind and wasn’t going to go.”
Jonathan knew to take over now. “Linley didn’t believe it, though. He found me as I left Berkley’s and told me his concerns. So I went after her. She was damned lucky I did too. The whole thing was a trap.”
Lucien remained silent, still watching Jonathan, still brooding.
“I fought Langley and the rest of his club. We were able to escape out a window, and I took Audrey safely home, but I feared Langley might have seen her face. He probably knew her identity.”
Charles stared at Jonathan in horror. “You didn’t…” He mimed shooting an invisible pistol with his hand.
“No, of course not!” Jonathan reassured him. “Last I saw Langley, he had gone after Pembroke and Audrey’s maid, Gillian.”
“Pembroke was there?” Lucien cried out. “How the devil did he wind up with such…devils!”
“Not so different from how I did. He is enamored with Gillian and was there to rescue her.”
Lucien’s brows rose. “He’s in love with a lady’s maid?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Jonathan reminded him. “And I think we know better than to judge people harshly on matters of the heart.” After all, Jonathan had been in no better a position than Gillian until last year. “Pembroke doesn’t know Gilly is a maid, by the way, so I wouldn’t mention it if I were you.”
“Another of Audrey’s schemes?” Charles asked, grinning.
“What else?”
Lucien frowned. “Isn’t that doing Pembroke a bit of a disservice? The man deserves to know.”
“I believe Audrey has a plan,” said Jonathan. “I would trust her on this.”
“Seems like she’s toying with him, if you ask me.”
“Gillian’s circumstances aren’t as simple as they seem at first glance.” In defend
ing Gillian, Jonathan felt like he was defending his own position within their ranks. “Audrey believes they belong together, or at least a chance to be. And in the end what should matter are their feelings for one another, not what society deems to be an appropriate match.”
“Hear hear!” said Charles. “Let love go where it may, for those who care for such things.”
Lucien sighed wearily. “I suppose that explains why Horatia told me to call her Miss Beaumont and not to be surprised that she was joining us at meals like the other guests. They said something about a play, but to be honest, I stop asking questions after a certain point.” He paused and then sobered. “Do you think Pembroke murdered Langley?”
“No,” Charles said. “That man is the best of men, better than any of us. He’s not a killer. He would have punched Langley, certainly, bound him for the authorities if he could, but he would not have killed him.”
“Do we really believe Langley killed himself?” Lucien stroked his chin. “I don’t know much about the man.”
Charles glanced down at the paper. “He certainly didn’t care about his reputation, but there comes a point where any man can see no salvation for their situation and see hell as an improvement over their time left on earth.”
“That’s true.” Jonathan remembered the fire in Langley’s eyes. That coldhearted black fire didn’t belong to a man who understood shame, but he could recognize an unwinnable situation. The man was about to be exposed for running a hellfire club. Whatever indignities and difficulties he had suffered from Lady Society’s initial exposure would be nothing compared to that. That alone could have driven even the worst man to end his life.
The three of them were silent a long moment.
“Still, it’s also possible someone helped him pull the trigger,” Charles said at last.
“Perhaps,” Lucien said. “But who would kill him, and to what end?”
Jonathan couldn’t shake a bad feeling in his stomach, like he had left something undone or unremembered. Something important.