A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1)

by Patterson, Stephanie

  Merchandise from the most exclusive shops in London found its way to her door as if by magic. Everyone wanted the reigning Incomparable to wear their gowns, gloves, boots, or jewels. Should she admire a fan, within two days a box of them in all manner of intriguing designs and colors arrived for her. The fan maker, the cobbler, the haberdasher, all were willing to wager their merchandise on her marital success simply to have bragging rights to Arabella’s patronage. Even her stepfather benefited from the credit offered him because all of fashionable London believed she would make a spectacular match. And how could she fail? She closed her eyes against the flash of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t fail. The consequences to both herself and her mother were too grave to be considered.

  Arabella straightened her shoulders. Iredale must have been detained by some of the other gentlemen in the library. She drew a calming breath. Today she would show him that no other gentleman had secured her favor. The image of a pair of pale, gray eyes flashed in her memory. She frowned at their intrusion on her well-ordered plan. Michael Lassiter was a rogue and dangerous to her cause as well as to her peace of mind. Still, no other man looked as well in evening dress, nor did they take command of a moment as well as he did. She forced her thoughts back to Iredale and the importance of securing his attentions. What on earth could be keeping him. Arabella tapped her foot on the flagstone steps. She was about to give up and join her friends when a hand reached out and grabbed her firmly by the arm.

  “Good morning, Araby.” She turned and looked up into the handsome face of Michael Lassiter. Her heart jumped in response. It was as if her wayward thoughts had conjured him. His cool gaze swept over her. “I see you’ve equipped yourself for today’s hunt. Tell me, is it Lord Iredale who has the honor of being your prey, or some other simple- minded fool?”

  “It’s none of your concern and he is not simple-minded,” she snapped, discomforted by the similarity in their hunting metaphors. He chuckled and she tried to sweep him with a contemptuous glance – something nearly impossible to do because he filled out his jacket and trousers as well as he did his evening dress.

  “I...I mean,” she sputtered, trying to gather her thoughts, “the very idea of ladies as hunters and gentlemen as their unwilling quarry – it is ridiculous.” How easily he turned her into a stammering idiot. She glared at him. “If you’ll excuse me, the Deering’s have arranged a lovely day and I don’t wish to see it spoiled.” She made to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip.

  “The only thing spoiled here today, love, is you. We need to have a conversation.” He led her firmly down the steps into the formal garden, unmoved by her protests. As Arabella increased her struggle to be free of him, he increased the strength of his grip. He took an abrupt turn down a side path leading into a secluded section of the gardens. There they would be hidden from view by a high laurel hedge. Arabella's heart skipped a beat. It was scandalous behavior and if they were discovered she could be ruined, yet short of screaming, she had no way to stop him. That would positively ruin her. He knew where he was going as if he’d used this spot before. She remembered old gossip connecting Michael Lassiter to their hostess, Amanda Deering, Countess Delafield. Rumor had it that she had been Lassiter’s lover. An appalling idea, in Arabella’s opinion. The woman was thirty-three, if she was a day – virtually a crone.

  He spun Arabella around quickly and caught her other arm in an equally tight grip. Oddly, she felt no real fear, as when her stepfather grabbed her. Instead, she felt that peculiar stirring below her stomach and she fought the urge to lean into him.

  “I told you to leave Drew alone,” he said, tightly. “You can carve your initials on as many other hearts as you like – I don’t care – but you will leave my brother's alone.”

  Arabella lifted her chin. “Drew is very fond of me and I find him...delightful. It’s a harmless enough flirtation.”

  He gave her a shake. “The hell it is. You enticed him at the Esterly’s ball last week and then sent him away as if he were a dog who’d fouled the carpet. You humiliated him by inferring that he's no better than a bastard – all because I left you standing in a ballroom. He's the son of an earl and who are you but the step-daughter of a baron known for his drinking and excessive gaming. By God, if you were a man I’d be justified in calling you out.”

  Arabella looked away from him too ashamed by her treatment of Drew to defend her own birthright as an earl’s daughter. He was right. She’d acted more like Seaton’s get. Certainly she’d been angry with Drew’s older brother for leaving her stranded after their at waltz, but it had been more than that. Drew had also angered her. He was too observant by half and his observations could be her undoing. He’d come dangerously close to revealing part of his speculations to Bennet and his crowd. To teach him his place and to drive him away, she’d lashed out at him. In truth, the depth of her own spite had shocked her. Drew was a sweet boy, genuinely kind and honest. His only crimes against her were being too astute and being a third son. She'd treated him despicably.

  “Well, well,” Michael said, releasing her. “I had no idea you could look ashamed.”

  Arabella quickly schooled her features. No one must ever know why she'd spoken so to Drew. “This isn’t shame,” she stated coolly. “This is boredom. You are tiresomely predictable, Mr. Lassiter. Your brother’s behavior at the Esterly’s grew presumptuous and I was forced to admonish him, nothing more.”

  “You led him on and you know it.” His eyes narrowed. “You think his behavior was out of bounds, do you? I think you need to be schooled in the definition of the word, ‘presumption.’” He swept her into an embrace, bending her backward over his arm. In a flash his mouth covered hers with a harsh and demanding kiss. His lips ground against hers seeking conquest rather than response. She tried to twisted away, but he held her fast. Her bonnet fell back from her head and the only thing that prevented it from falling to the ground were the ribbons tied under her chin.

  Gradually, the pressure of his mouth upon hers changed, grew gentler. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips, teasing for entrance into her mouth. When none was granted, Michael gently nipped her lower lip. Arabella gasped in surprise and he quickly claimed his advantage by gliding his tongue past her lips and into her mouth. It wasn’t a ruthless thrust, but more of a gentle insistence – a teasing stroke that promised so much more. Arabella gripped his shoulders, raising her mouth to his. She mimicked the movements of his tongue with hers, pressing her lips and her body against his. The flutters she'd felt moments ago moved down her body, becoming stronger, making her restless for something she couldn’t define. He drew her closer and changed the angle of his tender assault on her mouth. The world receded, and time held its breath. These were the kisses of dreams, Arabella thought, the sort of kisses you read about in tales of great passion, but never truly believed you'd experience yourself. His hand moved from the back of her head as he cupped one of her breasts. Without conscious thought, she arched against him as his fingers skillfully traced the area were her nipple lay sedately hidden beneath layers of fabric. She felt it pearl in response to his touch and her cheeks flushed, knowing he could feel it as well. This was wrong, it was forbidden and she needed to stop him, but forbidden fruit tasted the sweetest of all. She felt a sharp tug of need at her core. What was happening? Her body longed to surge against his, to press and rub and for a brief instant she obeyed its command.

  As suddenly as he’d swept her into his arms, he righted her and let her go. Arabella swayed on her feet and he reached out to steady her before turning back towards the main part of the garden. He paused briefly in the entrance between the laurel hedges and looked back at her with a derisive smile. “Now that was presumption,” he said, then left her staring after him.

  Shaking, Araby righted her bonnet and lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. Oh, goodness. That was nothing like Freddy Pomeroy’s sloppy kiss at the end of last Season, all wet and rubbery. Michael Lassiter’s kisses we
re...fire, magic, and her body mourned the loss of feeling him pressed against her. There was a dull throb lingering between her legs in that secret place, the one she sometimes touched in the dark of night. She laid her palms against her flaming cheeks. He knew the effect he'd had on her. Damn him, he knew. Dear lord, but Michael Lassiter was a dangerous man. She heard Katherine call her name and hurried towards the opening in the hedge.

  “I’m here,” she said, giving her bonnet a final adjustment before rejoining her friends. She smiled brightly at Katherine’s pointed look. “Aren’t the gardens lovely?”

  “What happened to you?” her too observant friend asked.

  “Nothing,” she answered quickly, “nothing at all. I was simply enjoying the little side garden here.” She indicated the entrance through the hedge.

  Sarah peered at her. “You look at little scattered, Araby. Was there someone else with you in there?”

  “Iredale?” Katherine asked in a rush. “Did he propose? She grabbed her friend by the arm and steered her further into the gardens before resuming her interrogation. “Is that why your mouth looks so....satisfied?”

  “Gracious!”Araby touched her mouth in alarm. “Does it look funny? Swollen?”

  “Perhaps a little rosy,” Sarah offered, “and a little plumper than usual. That’s all. How exciting, a proposal!”

  Araby blushed. “It wasn’t Iredale,” she murmured. “And there certainly wasn’t any proposal.”

  “Who was it?” Katherine whispered.

  Araby studied her feet. “Michael Lassiter,” she confessed. It was no good trying to hide anything from Katherine. She was relentless when determined to have an answer. “He heard about what I said to Drew at the Esterly’s ball and he was furious. He wanted to teach me a lesson.” She felt her cheeks turn to flame.

  “Lesson! Anyone could have seen you, Araby and if they had, you’d have been ruined.” Katherine exclaimed. “Given the man’s reputation, I seriously doubt he would have offered you marriage. Not even the earl could make him do the proper thing.”

  “I don’t blame him for his anger. What I said to poor Drew was unforgivable.”

  Katherine, make a derisive sound. “And he’s left you alone since then, hasn’t he? The fool could have gotten himself hurt or worse. You know that. He was ready to charge in like a knight with no real understanding of the danger he poses to you, or to himself. No one comes between the baron and his plans without paying a price,” she said grimly. Araby shivered. She knew that well enough. “Remember Damaris Kingsford,” Katherine continued. “She was terribly lucky and it was only fear of reprisals from my family that kept him from striking me that day in your parlor.”

  Sarah touched Araby’s arm gently. “Surely, there’s something your father’s family can do to ensure your and your mother’s safety? Perhaps if we appealed to your uncle he’d help you.”

  Araby shook her head. “No, I’m afraid my uncle has been quite clear on the subject. I spoke with him last year, you see. He grudgingly offered to let me stay with them, much to my aunt’s displeasure, but he said there was nothing he could do for my mother. Not that he truly wishes to do anything. She embarrassed the family, you see, with her hurried marriage to Seaton and my uncle says that as she made her own bed, she must now lie in it.”

  “That’s rot if I ever heard it. Your uncle is an ass,” Katherine stated.

  “I agree,” Sarah added. “Perhaps if Katherine’s mother and my parents....”

  Katherine gave a derisive snort. “If my mother knew anything about Araby’s true situation she’d forbid our association. That's why I've never said anything to her. She’d certainly never offer her help in any event.”

  “Still, there are laws in this land and a man can’t continually beat his wife without answering to someone for it,” Sarah cried with feeling.

  “Yes, he can,” Araby and Katherine answered in unison.

  “As long as he never uses anything thicker than his thumb,” Araby continued faintly. “The baron has very thick thumbs.”

  “Someone powerful enough....” Sarah began, but Katherine cut her off.

  “Araby's uncle is a earl. He knows and he won’t do anything for fear of causing a scandal. No one wants to believe this sort of thing happens and if they do run across it, they turn the other way. It’s easier to believe that a man’s wife and children are being justifiably chastised than to accept that a gentleman of the realm is in reality an absolute monster.”

  “Elkhorn has seen the baron strike my mother. He merely laughed and when Lord Ambrose saw the baron strike me, he smiled.” Her friends startled by her last disclosure. “It was after a rout where I’d brought Damaris to tears,” Araby explained. “He probably thought the baron was punishing me for my behavior. He was actually punishing me for failing to secure Jules Wentworth for the supper dance. Drew is the only one who’s noticed that I occasionally wear an over jacket on a warm day. He figured out the cause and look how I’ve rewarded him for his concern.” Araby felt tears of shame prick her eyes.

  Sarah wrapped on arm around her shoulder as Katherine took her hand. “You’ve kept him out of harms way, Araby,” Katherine said. “If he tells his suspicions to anyone, even his brothers your stepfather will make certain Drew suffers even more than you and your mother. He’s promised it. That boy can’t keep you safe. As much as we all hate this, your best solution is to marry Iredale, or someone even richer and more powerful than him, someone who can keep the baron in line.” Araby nodded bleakly. Her friend was right. There was no other answer.

  “To that end, my dear,” Katherine continued, “you must stay away from scoundrels like Michael Lassiter. I have it on good authority that he never forgets a slight.” She arched one eyebrow and looked at Araby meaningfully. “He’s also left a trail of broken hearts behind him.”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about on that score,” Araby said, hurriedly, “I have every intention of staying out of his path.”

  “Good,” Sarah added. “We have enough to worry about with Rafe Kingsford skulking around.” She reached up and cupped her friend’s face. “Let’s go and join the others at the lake and forget all these worries for today. Iredale will make an offer. If not today, then soon.”

  Araby smiled gently, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. Yes, he would propose because she was prepared to do whatever was necessary to ensure the match.

  ***

  Michael scowled at the swans skimming gracefully over the surface of the lake. The situation with Drew infuriated him, however, the memory of kissing Araby Winston angered him far more – correction, his response to her kiss and to her lush body angered him more. She was a passionate piece, he’d give her that. Michael threw a pebble into the lake. It had taken all his will power to stop himself from doing more with the girl. Had she been more experienced she would have seen how their kiss had effected him and understood the near desperation in his retreat.

  “Careful, Lassiter, you’re likely to bean one of Delafield’s swans with your next stone and kill the thing. Then they’ll be the devil to pay.” Rafe Kingsford leaned against a tree smoking a cheroot and watching him with mild curiosity.

  “Hello Kingsford. I didn’t know these sorts of affairs appealed to you.”

  Kingsford ground out the cheroot on the tree trunk and gazed around at the assembled guests. “They don’t.”

  “Care to tell me what brings you here then? I doubt you’ll find any of the demimonde in attendance. There’s nothing but virtue and marriage-minded mamas as far as the eye can see.”

  “If that’s the case, Lassiter, why are you here. I don’t think you’re angling for a wife any more than I am.”

  Michael grinned. “Very true. I’m here for business reasons, and you?”

  Kingsford’s sweeping gaze came to a complete halt and narrowed as if he’d spied his quarry. “As am I – personal business.” Michael didn’t like the coldness that came into the man’s face and when he turned to see who had gar
nered such a look he wasn’t surprised to find the Furies standing on the bank surrounded by a sea of gentlemen.

  “I imagine they were most unpleasant to your sister,” Michael said blandly.

  Kingsford jaw clenched. “As I said the other day....”

  “I know, ‘it’s a private matter.’ Lord Ambrose has asked me to meet with him concerning Lady Arabella. I may be wrong, but I think he believes that I might have a grudge of my own against her.”

  Kingsford looked at him with real interest. “Because of your younger brother.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I believe he thinks so.”

  Kingsford turned back to look at Araby. “That one is no lady. She’s vicious clear through and you’d do well to send your brother as far away from her as possible before she destroys him.” He turned back to Michael. “You are a close friend of my new brother-in-law, so you will no doubt learn all there is to know about what happened to my sister, but for the time being let me just say that while I’ve never caused harm to a woman in my life, I intend to make an exception – correction, three exceptions.”

  Michael came to stand by the tree, his own eyes narrowing as he took Kingsford’s measure. “I’m sorry to hear that. Though I’ve no particular love for any of them, I’d remind you that they’re just girls. They are young and very foolish, but that’s all. They can easily be controlled without doing harm to anyone.”

  “Speak to Jules and then tell me your opinion, Lassiter. In the meantime, watch your brother.” He eased away from the tree and headed for the group. Michael watched as the Furies and their chosen escorts headed down a path that ran along the bank towards a Grecian-style folly. He knew remembered it folly quiet well having met Amanda Deering there on a number of occasions. Kingsford headed the same way and Michael wasn’t certain why he decided to follow at a discreet distance. Perhaps it was the other man's ferocity when it came to Araby Winston, or perhaps it was the memory of her ripe, full mouth and her luscious breasts luring him. In any event, Michael knew himself to be a fool for getting involved.