The Caress of a Commander

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The Caress of a Commander Page 9

by Linda Rae Sande


  Her eyes seemed to dim just a bit. “I rather wish I had been there as well,” Jane replied. “But my aunt was not available to chaperone me.”

  Stephen gave a nod as he noticed an impending collision. “Is this your first year out?” he asked, managing to avoid Lord Sinclair and his partner as the man seemed to step on the poor lady’s satin slipper.

  Jane’s face fell. Was it that obvious? Well, after making that last comment, she supposed it was. “It is, my lord, but having three older sisters meant I simply had to wait my turn.”

  Three older sisters? Poor thing! Stephen felt a bit of relief when he realized she wasn’t as young as she might have been. “Are you entertaining suitors then?” he asked, more because he wondered how she would respond than because he had any intention of joining them. This was a reconnaissance mission, after all. He was merely collecting the names to give to Will when he returned from his trip to Oxfordshire.

  He still couldn’t believe Will’s comment that he intended to simply pick one and marry her based on his half-brother’s recommendations—if Barbara Higgins couldn’t be found.

  He still wondered how a woman who had pledged herself to Will could simply disappear from London. Until she could be found, Stephen had to at least appear as if he were in the market for a wife on behalf of his brother. Although the two men were similar in many ways—not the least of which was appearance—they didn’t share the same tastes in women.

  At least, they hadn’t in the past.

  Jane nearly stumbled at the question. Are you entertaining suitors? But, of course she was entertaining suitors! Isn’t that what chits did when they were nineteen years old? It didn’t mean she had to accept any offers, however. “I might,” she said with a nod, her face coloring up even more than it already was due to the exertions required by the dance.

  Despite his claim of not knowing how to waltz, the earl had taken over leading them in the dance and was proving to be a quick study. “Or will rather, should any make their intentions known,” she corrected herself, once again secretly mortified she could say such a thing out loud when the earl deftly pulled her onto a slightly different path to avoid a collision with a another couple.

  Goodness!

  They had managed to avoid being trampled by Lord Sinclair, sideswiped by Lord and Lady Tuttle, and completely taken out of the dance by the left feet of Lord Brougham.

  “Fair enough,” Stephen replied, deftly avoiding another run-in with Lord Sinclair. Did the man have no sense of rhythm? No sense of direction? His poor partner’s slippers would be ruined before the end of the dance!

  Jane allowed a smile. “And you? How long have you been in England, my lord?” she wondered.

  Stephen rather liked the way her question sounded with its honorific attached.

  My lord.

  I could get used to this, he decided, wondering how far his brother had made it on that day’s travel. “Not even a week, my lady,” he answered, once again maneuvering them around a couple apparently intent on causing a collision. “Although we docked in Wapping, I had... responsibilities that required I stay on board until a few nights ago.”

  The strains of the music faded and Stephen slowed his movements until Jane stood before him, one gloved hand still gripped in his. He remembered to bow and watched as she curtsied. Not an awkward, jerky curtsy he had seen some women attempt to perform in the port cities in which the Greenwich had docked over the years, but one that displayed Jane’s grace and poise. If William decided on her, Stephen thought she would make an acceptable marchioness. Her bold manner might even be a requirement for the position.

  Aware he was warm—too warm given the superfine topcoat and embroidered waistcoat he wore—he kept her hand and moved her toward the already open doors that led out to a dimly lit garden.

  The cool air and sudden quiet was such a relief, Stephen sighed audibly. “I apologize. I fear I am not yet comfortable in a crowded ballroom,” he said quietly. “Nor am I used to the odors of colognes and perfumes.” The odors aboard ship were certainly nothing pleasant, but those in the ballroom were positively cloying.

  Jane glanced up at her escort, rather excited he would simply take her out of the ballroom without first checking with her aunt to make sure it was acceptable to do so. It wasn’t, of course, but Jane didn’t think her aunt would mind too much. The old woman seemed determined to rid herself of the responsibility of sponsoring Jane—the sooner, the better.

  “Because it is such a large room?” Jane commented, thinking the rooms on a ship would be small. “Or because it’s such a crush?”

  Stephen angled his head, deciding she was perceptive. “Claustrophobic, in fact. That, and because it’s rather crowded,” Stephen replied with a nod. “And warm, and...” He paused, realizing too late the setting in which he found himself alone with a young lady unaccustomed to what he usually did with women in such a situation.

  Just walk, he told himself, thinking there must be a garden path that would take them away from the house but circle back after a time. “Will you be missed?” he asked suddenly, hoping she wouldn’t be scolded when she returned to her chaperone’s side.

  Jane had to suppress a snort. “I rather doubt it. My aunt is probably thrilled at the moment. She’s no doubt imagining you kissing me and proposing marriage, and she probably already has the entire wedding planned...” She ceased speaking, her eyes clamping shut as she suddenly stopped walking.

  Damnation! Did I really just say that? she wondered, mortified by her loose tongue.

  Stephen stopped in his tracks and turned to regard the young woman on his arm. He allowed a chuckle as he noticed her other hand lift to her forehead. “Oh, my mother would be doing the same thing if she were here,” he said with a lifted eyebrow.

  Jane opened one eye and regarded Stephen for a moment. “I apologize for my boldness, my lord,” she managed to get out as she shook her head.

  Stephen grinned. “No need to apologize, my lady,” he countered. “But given the circumstances, would you be adverse to a kiss?” he asked, thinking she would deny him what he found he really wanted that very moment. Goodness! The chit was downright adorable! How could he resist at least asking for a kiss?

  Jane blinked. And then she blinked again as she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Truly?” she replied, as if she were in awe.

  Stephen stilled himself, realizing that not only would she allow a kiss should he bestow one on her, but she would welcome it! He glanced about in search of other couples. If he did kiss her, he didn’t want anyone else to pay witness to it.

  He didn’t want to be accused of ruining the chit.

  “Have you been kissed before?” he asked as he led them to the other side of a hedgerow that provided a screen from the French doors of the ballroom.

  Jane stilled herself, stunned by the man’s question. “Of course not,” she replied with a shake of her head. “But should you be so inclined, I would not deny you,” she said in a breathy whisper.

  Stephen blinked. And then blinked again. Christ! Jane was suggesting that she was willing to have his kiss be her first kiss!

  There was that moment when he thought to simply wrap an arm about her shoulders and pull her hard against his body, to capture her lips in a kiss that would leave her breathless and boneless and gasping in surprise. But he forced himself to consider all the options.

  He didn’t want her angry with him. He didn’t want her claiming he had ruined her. He didn’t want her fainting to the flagstones beneath their feet. “Really?” he responded, nearly kicking himself when he heard his lame reply. “Pardon me, I just...” He took a deep breath. “I am not accustomed to...” Kissing.

  Well, it wasn’t as if this would be his first kiss. It wouldn’t be, of course, but it wasn’t as if he had a good deal of experience in kissing young women, either. He had only ever kissed the daughter of a countess in Italy (and only because she had initiated it) and his mother, of course, but that had always been a peck on her cheek,
and so it didn’t really count.

  “Young ladies claiming they would welcome your kiss?” Jane offered in a voice that suggested she was disappointed by her comment.

  “Kissing in general,” Stephen corrected with a shake of his head. At Jane’s widening eyes, he added, “Perhaps we could... learn together?” he suggested, completely forgetting he was vetting the young lady for his brother.

  The poor girl might end up as his sister-in-law!

  For the rest of their days, they would both know that they had stood in the Weatherstone gardens and practiced kissing under a quarter moon and a paper lantern.

  Jane didn’t give him an answer. At least, not verbally. She was suddenly pressed up against the front of his body, her head angled up just below his, her lips slightly parted and her eyes nearly closed. Stephen accepted the invitation, lowering his lips to hers until they locked into place.

  He reveled in the feel of her pillow soft lips, in the light scent of lilac and lavender that reached his nose, in the barely audible moan he heard from her—or is that me? he wondered suddenly. Although he didn’t dare push his tongue between her lips, he was tempted to do so. He could not deny it. And he thought she would accept the assault.

  Despite his attempt to prevent himself from doing so, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her harder against the front of his body.

  He expected she might protest, that she might put up her hands against his shoulders and push him away, but she did no such thing. She merely returned the kiss, angling her head a bit so that she might better fit her lips to his.

  Although he had never kissed like this—even the kiss with the count’s daughter had ended quickly—Stephen realized he had better end this one. He could feel his loins tightening, and at any moment, his arousal would be quite evident behind the placket of his satin breeches.

  Before he could end the kiss, though, Jane suddenly did at the sound of her name being called from behind the hedgerow.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered before stepping back, giving him a curtsy, and then hurrying off.

  A bit unsteady on his feet, Stephen stilled himself and struggled to breathe. He was tempted to hurry off after the chit, to ask for more information about where he might find her. She hadn’t provided her family name, after all. Having such an enthusiastic partner in kissing, especially one so young, had him about to go after her. But he forced himself to remain where he was when he heard the voice of an older woman. “There you are. Have you been out here alone all this time?”

  Stephen held his breath, wondering how Jane would respond. Would she admit to having spent a few moments alone in the gardens with him? Would she claim she had been ruined by the Earl of Bellingham? Would she admit to having allowed a kiss behind the hedgerow?

  Allow? he countered to himself. She had been the one to initiate the kiss, to press her petite body against his, her curves filling his voids as she lifted herself on tiptoes and kissed him senseless.

  “I just needed some fresh air, Aunt Eugenia,” he heard her respond, her voice light and sounding ever so happy. “The ball is such a crush, and it’s a simply wonderful night, don’t you agree?”

  Well, at least his brother wouldn’t be forced to offer for her hand, Stephen reasoned when he realized she wasn’t going to tell her aunt about the kiss. But that thought had a bit of disappointment settling over him. If a wife were as agreeable as Jane, how could a marriage be so awful? Would a wife such as her allow me such delectable kisses every day? he wondered. Allow such intimacy?

  He thought of Cherice Dubois’ comments about kissing, rather glad she had encouraged him in that direction.

  Stephen sighed and straightened his coats as he contemplated his return to the ballroom, deciding he would start his list of potential wives for Will with Lady Jane’s name at the very top.

  Chapter 14

  Lady Lucida is Saved from an Amorous Potted Palm

  Meanwhile...

  Lady Lucida Fletcher watched as Lady Jane danced the waltz with the young man she had heard was the son of the Marquess of Devonville. Home from the Navy, someone had said. Ever so charming, another had said. Not the least bit proud, still another whispered. Which made her wonder how it could be the man was dancing the waltz with a chit who hadn’t yet been granted a voucher to do so!

  Lucida did her best to tamp down her jealousy. Why, if the Earl of Bellingham wanted to dance with her when the orchestra played the second waltz of the night—the last dance before the supper was to be served at midnight, she supposed—who was she to turn him down? If Lady Jersey should admonish her, so be it. Should the patronesses of Almack’s decide she was no longer welcome at the dance hall on Wednesday nights, then she would simply accept another’s invitation.

  Her mother, Lady Margaret Fletcher, had arranged for the Almack’s season subscription without having consulted her, after all. Had she done so, Lucida was quite sure she would have declined the offer. Although the dancing was quite invigorating and the gentlemen were rather good sports about dancing all night—what else could they do given there wasn’t a card room?—the lemonade was tepid and the lobster cakes were, well, made of lobster, and hadn’t she had quite enough of it in her lifetime?

  Glancing about, she wondered as to the whereabouts of the Earl of Bellingham. Not only was he missing from the ballroom—so was Lady Jane!

  Well. She allowed another sigh of disappointment. Lady Jane was no doubt enjoying a tryst with the randy earl in the gardens at that very moment!

  But could she blame the poor girl?

  Of course not!

  Had the earl invited her for a turn about the gardens, she would have gladly joined him. Had he paused by the fountain and offered a kiss, she certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. It was past time she experience her first kiss.

  Perhaps the earl would enjoy it enough to offer a second!

  Oh, she could only hope.

  Lucida rolled her eyes, rather doubting she would experience her second, let alone first kiss, at any time during the evening’s entertainments. But, oh to be strolling with the earl in the gardens! Far better to be outside enjoying the greenery and the attentions of the earl than to be keeping company with the potted palm that seemed to have moved another step closer to her shoulder since the waltz began.

  Lucida took a step to the left to avoid a palm frond that seemed determined to rest on her shoulder. Frowning, she wondered how long it had hovered there, ready to reach down and latch onto the tulle and satin sleeve of her white ball gown. Once it had attached itself, it would be nearly impossible to free her sleeve from its grip, the rough edges entwining themselves into the tulle so she might be forced to take a leaf home with her. Even as she regarded the tip of the frond, it seemed to sway in her direction as if it sensed she had moved away.

  “It appears as if this palm tree has decided to claim the next dance with you. Perhaps you’ll grant me the one after that?”

  Lucida’s eyes widened when she looked up to find the Earl of Bellingham looking down on her, mischief apparent in his hazel eyes.

  For a moment, Lucida was left speechless. Obviously, the earl had paid witness to the palm moving in her direction just as she suspected it had done! Perhaps he had even seen its frond fondling her shoulder!

  And now he had come to rescue her!

  Would he challenge the potted plant to a duel, she wondered? For having impugned her honor by caressing her bare shoulder without her permission to do so? For nearly grabbing onto her sleeve so she would be forced to fight with the devilish frond until she would have to tear it from its leaf in order to escape? But, no, she realized as she remembered the rest of what he had said about accepting its offer of a dance.

  Did he honestly think she would accept the offer of a dance from a potted palm? Why, she would be left doing all the work of leading the dance given the palm was quite secure in its Chinese pot!

  And then she realized the earl was teasing her, his lips slowly spreading i
nto a grin that made him appear far more handsome then he did when she had watched him dance the waltz with Lady Jane.

  Her own lips soon matched his before she dipped a curtsy. “I actually gave the palm my apologies only a moment ago,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “He was being rather too friendly given we’ve never been properly introduced,” she explained as she angled her head. “And now I fear he didn’t take it well,” she added, moving a few inches farther away from the insistent frond.

  Stephen took the hint. “Stephen Slater,” he said as he bowed over her extended hand and brushed a kiss over the back of her tight-fitting satin glove.

  “Lady Lucida,” she replied, realizing she had never introduced herself to a gentleman before. She usually had the company of her mother or another relative who took on the task of seeing to it she was properly introduced. “It’s very good to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

  Stephen arched an eyebrow, noting the chit didn’t provide more of a name to help him figure out who she was with respect to the others in attendance. Still in a mischievous mood, he held out a hand in the direction of the potted palm. “This is Fred, by the way. He’s frightfully dull, I’m afraid, although I was of a mind to challenge him to a duel when I realized he was about to take liberties.”

  Lucida blinked. She could have kissed the earl right then and there.

  “Pistols at dawn, do you suppose?” she wondered as she gazed at the rather handsome man. No wonder he was the evening’s most popular lord! She almost dared a glance beyond his shoulder to determine how many chits had their attentions directed to her, their faces green with envy. The longer she kept the man’s attention, the greener their faces would become, she thought in delight. She rather wished he could dispatch the palm, though. She was sure the damned frond was once again inching closer to her sleeve!

  “I rather doubt he could hold up a dueling pistol, let alone aim it,” Stephen countered doubtfully, his attention suddenly on the offending palm tree.

 

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