Ambrosia pulled her hand back, discreetly wiping it against the drapes of her gown. “I apologize, but my motives were purely self-serving since I had no idea that Your Grace would be in attendance tonight. I was simply feeling a bit warm and thought the cool air would provide some relief. But I am curious as to what brings you out here? Specifically, to this balcony? After all, there are so many you could have chosen.”
It was a pointless question, since she already knew the answer.
He held his arms up in front of his chest. “You’ve caught me. I saw you leave your box and followed you. And please, none of that Your Grace business. I’ve told you a thousand times to use my given name.”
She raised a challenging eyebrow. “As I have asked you a thousand times to please refrain from using mine.”
Lord Kenning laughed a bit too boisterously and leaned casually against the railing with his ankles crossed, boldly allowing his eyes to pour over her. Ambrosia shivered and pulled at the bodice of her gown in a futile attempt to shield her chest from his blatant ogling.
Lilly’s intuition had indeed been correct—the dress did garner her extra attention. But she was most definitely not going to thank her for it.
The night sky was devoid of stars and very few sparingly placed candelabras provided the only source of illumination. Even in the dim glow, the resemblance to his younger sister, Amelia, was staggering. His was the masculine form of her beauty, standing a full head taller than her, with a purposefully developed athletic physique. But he was far more clever than his sister and knew how best to use his striking looks most advantageously, never hesitating to leverage his appearance to get whatever it was that he wanted.
And that which he wasn’t given willingly, he always managed to take.
Ambrosia was well aware of the risks and knew it best to make her exit before tempting fate any more than she already had. “It was lovely seeing you again,” she said politely, “but I really must return. It was foolish of me to come out unescorted and my parents will be looking for me soon.” She gave the briefest of curtsies before swiftly walking toward the scarlet curtains leading back to the lobby.
James reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could get very far.
“Stay a bit longer. I don’t have the pleasure of visiting with you much since I left my parent’s home and I’ve come to miss seeing your lovely face. Please, just a few minutes more?”
Ambrosia could feel her nostrils flare in response to his choice of romantic rhetoric. “As I have told you before, my friendship with your sister and our familiarity hardly give you leave to take such liberties. Now, if you would be so kind as to release me.” Her voice was stern and her body calm.
But under the cool veneer, she was concerned.
Ambrosia looked down at his fingers twisted around her wrist. She had always managed to defend herself against his unwelcome advances with little more than a few choice words. But tonight he seemed more determined than he had in his youth.
Time had made him brazen.
Lord Kenning didn’t let go. Instead, he used his firm grasp on her arm to pull her close against his chest. “You’ve always played so coy. Tell me, Ambrosia, when are you going to find a husband and marry so that we may have a proper relationship?”
Even in the midst of unsolicited seduction, she was still being lectured about marriage!
She scowled. “I am certain that you and I have two entirely different definitions of propriety. But I can assure you, any semblance of relationship we have will never change—no matter what my marital status.”
At that moment, the long velvet drapes separated and a dark figure stepped out to join them on the balcony.
“That is one of the most promising remarks I’ve heard in a long time,” came a familiar voice.
The Earl of Bristol moved into the light. “My apologies, for startling you both. Am I disturbing anything?” He smiled lazily in the way men so often did when they thought they were being clever. “Shall I come back later?”
James abruptly let go, causing Ambrosia to fall backward. Luckily, she was able to catch herself on the railing instead of tumbling to the ground.
“Duncan! Amelia told me you had returned to London.” He embraced the man, slapping him firmly on the back.
Lord Bristol returned the gesture. “Yes, I saw her at the ball. I’m still quite awestruck over what a lovely creature she’s grown into.”
Ambrosia felt the slightest twinge of jealousy. Never-mind the dear girl didn’t have one intelligent thought in that pretty head of hers. Disappointingly, that was never what men noticed first, if ever at all.
“Yes, she certainly has. And she’s found a fine match in Lord Middlebury. The man is worth a fortune.” James hesitated a moment before gesturing toward Ambrosia. “Forgive my rudeness—this is one of Amelia’s dearest friends, Miss Ambrosia Tisdale.”
Lord Bristol nodded. “We’ve already met. Twice, actually.”
Ambrosia felt unwelcome heat creep across her cheeks. The insolent man was even more handsome than she remembered.
Tonight, he wore a burgundy waist coat with his black tailcoat and trousers, yet all she managed to see was the vision of his shirtless, sculpted chest.
“Miss Tisdale and I have not seen each other for quite some time and were taking a few moments to get . . . reacquainted.”
Duncan looked from Ambrosia to James, then back to Ambrosia where he took the liberty of making an obvious appraisal of her. “I see.”
Mortification.
Of course he would be the one to find her. There she was, dressed like a Cyprian. Unescorted, with a man, on a dark balcony, in a most compromising position.
Utter humiliation.
She briefly considered hurling herself over the railing, but the height was too insignificant to do anything more than rumple her dress.
No, there would be no easy way out.
“Lord Bristol! It’s delightful to see you again.”
“Is it?” he returned, his hazel eyes bright with wicked thoughts.
Ambrosia reminded herself that even in the face of certain adversity, a true lady always makes a graceful exit. And she was first and foremost a lady, even if her current predicament suggested otherwise.
Forced with no other option, Ambrosia used the only weapon available to her defense and wielded the storied Tisdale smile like a bayonet. It was something she did not often do, but with such a dilemma, it appeared there could be no other way.
“Yes, but it seems you have caught me at a most inopportune time. I was just preparing to return to my box. If you two gentleman will excuse me?”
Lord Bristol raised a pointed eyebrow. “So soon? But it looked as if you two were just getting started.”
She swallowed and pressed her lips firmly together to prevent saying something she’d most certainly regret.
“To get reacquainted, of course.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice.
She stood even straighter and looked down her nose at the two men. “Yes, well, the air has grown quite chilled. I’ll certainly catch my death if I remain out here any longer.” And there was a strong possibility that it would be self-inflicted. “Good night, gentlemen.”
Both men stepped out of the way. Lord Kenning bid her good night and the two men bowed. Ambrosia dipped into a superb curtsey, then proceeded in making her poised exit from the balcony. Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she caught Lord Bristol winking, but still managed to keep her composure.
Once on the other side of the curtain, though, her carriage crumbled. She steadied herself against the wall as she searched for breath.
It wasn’t the risk of ruination that overwhelmed her. She was, without a doubt, certain she could trust in Lord Bristol’s discretion. After all, he appeared to be quite good friends with Lord Kenning and the unwritten gentlemen’s code of conduct would never allow him to divulge what he had seen unless Kenning wished it so. Given his rank, not to mention his recent nuptials
, she doubted that would be the case.
Rather, it was the deluge of feelings pouring over her that suffocated her so. He had dared to speak to her so forwardly, so blatantly! Yet she hadn’t found herself insulted. Instead, it had rather interested her. Lord Bristol walked onto balconies as if he belonged wherever it was that he chose to go. A man like the Earl lived a life sans inhibition, not caring at all for society’s influence.
Her heart pounded against her chest. She wasn’t used to feeling so intensely.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
She shouldn’t have cared.
After all, he was just another libertine making his way through London for the Season. She hadn’t the time to consider some scandalized noble progeny. She had a husband to find.
Ambrosia sighed.
It did matter.
For some inane reason, this audacious man, with startling hazel eyes, had rendered her unremittingly curious. And she desperately needed this interest he had awakened inside her to become dormant again.
Chapter 7
“Not a button undone or piece of hair out of place. Looks like I interrupted right before any real fun started.”
James laughed. “I only wish it were so.”
Duncan, arriving late to the theatre, had recognized his friend’s voice while passing by the balcony on the way to his seat. Assuming the female voice had belonged to that of James’ wife, he’d decided to join them. When he’d opened the curtain, he was quite surprised to see Miss Tisdale locked in an embrace instead of Lady Kenning. Upon being found, James had only smiled. It was the kind of smirk that a child would sport after being caught sneaking cookies from the kitchen. The virtuous Miss Tisdale had remained straight-faced, with only a cherry blush painted across her cheeks revealing any embarrassment at being discovered.
She was not an incomparable by any means, but hers was a beauty that caught him off guard. Her chestnut-colored hair was gathered high upon her head and the squared bodice of her gown was cut particularly low, calling attention to an impossibly long ivory neck. The pale blue silk she wore complimented her much deeper blue eyes, which looked almost black in the glow of the candlelight. The gown was far more flattering than what she had worn the last time he saw her, so he was able to infer that though her figure was trim, she was hardly what one would call fragile.
Yes, physically, Miss Tisdale was exactly the kind of woman that piqued his interest.
But it was women like her that drew his contempt. Women that harped on virtue, then played loose when left alone with titled men, married or otherwise. She was the kind of hypocritical female that he consistently made a point to avoid. It was London’s gentlewomen that swore propriety and virtue—yet, he had only ever found truly honest women in its brothels.
Duncan raised a curious eyebrow. “She seemed eager enough. It seems my entrance may have foiled your plans.”
James shook his head. “You may have met her twice before, but you obviously know nothing about Miss Tisdale.”
“What else is there to know? You had her in your arms and I heard what she said to you.”
James returned to his casual stance, resting on the railing. “Timing is everything, Duncan. She had just finished giving me quite the dressing down when you appeared and I’m afraid you misconstrued her words. With all that aside, your arrival was probably for the best. Any longer and I’m sure she would have resorted to something more rash to escape me. Miss Tisdale does not take kindly to impropriety.”
Duncan felt a twinge of curiosity. He hadn’t dared entertain the idea that the girl might actually be all that she proclaimed.
That was precisely the reason he preferred the company of women he found in brothels to that of Society. There were no surprises. Unless, of course, you paid extra. Then, any number of surprises could be made available to you. But with a woman from Society, one never quite knew what you were getting. And if you dared to think you did, you were most certainly wrong.
“It’s a game we like to play-similar to cat and mouse,” James continued. “Only, Miss Tisdale sometimes refuses to participate and the game is quite dull when played singularly. I had hoped that the girl would marry by now and perhaps, well, never mind that. From what I’ve heard, she has about as much a chance of marrying as I do of staying faithful to my wife. This is her fourth Season.”
“Fourth Season? That would make the girl nearly three and twenty. Why, she’s practically on the shelf! Why would a lady like herself remain unmarried? My uncle tells me that the Tisdales are a fine family and I can detect no obvious fault in her appearance. Perhaps there’s some sort of gross deformity she’s hiding underneath those skirts?” It was doubtful. Duncan had thoroughly looked over Miss Tisdale enough times now that he could ascertain her figure was as close to perfect as any he had seen before.
“I’ll have you know the assets Miss Tisdale hides under her skirt are by far her least sought-after advantage. Though her father is only a Viscount, the Tisdales have always been one of parliament’s most powerful voices. Her family lineage is quite old and respected. But it’s the fortune behind the skirts that makes Miss Tisdale so damn desirable. I have it on good faith that her dowry is staggering, especially considering her misfortune of being one of four daughters,” James explained further. “Men have been falling over themselves trying to get at her wealth . . . and skirts.”
“So, what seems to be the problem? Why is she not married then?” Duncan asked, intrigued.
“She’s rejected every suitor. It seems no offer is good enough for Miss Tisdale.”
Duncan waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “As usual—another London gentlewoman holding out for the biggest purse and highest title. An anomaly, I’m sure,” he finished dryly.
“Of course she is. Would you expect anything more of the fairer sex?”
Duncan nodded. “So, why didn’t you make an offer?”
James shrugged nonchalantly. “Believe me, there was a time I truly contemplated such an action. But the estate’s finances were in rather dire straits when I came of age. Over the years, my father lost a considerable sum at the tables and leveraged more than he should have. How lucky for him that he had me to auction off to the highest bidder. The old man arranged my marriage long before Miss Tisdale was even on the market.” He took a deep breath. “I would have, though, if the choice had been mine to make.”
James cleared his throat, changing the subject. “How long has it been?”
Duncan reflected for a moment. “Roughly thirty minutes. Before that, I estimate about two years.”
“At your family’s estate in the north? The one you were exiled to?”
He smiled at the memory. “Those were some unforgettable times. Exile was good to me.”
James laughed. “The moments we were indeed sober enough to remember. More importantly, those were some memorable women.”
“But it looks like my days of debauchery might be through.”
James gasped and clutched at his chest. “Say it isn’t so?”
“How I wish I could. Uncle Richard feels my behavior may jeopardize the reputation of the Earldom. Apparently, you cannot be both depraved and respectable.”
“Of course you can’t, but it’s your dissolution that makes you so entertaining to be around.”
“Well, thank you for that.”
“I supposed it’s your brother’s fault. Terribly inconvenient, his dying so unexpectedly.” James removed a flask from his coat’s inside pocket and passed it over.
He obliged, taking a long drink before handing it back. “It appears that he made quite a bit of progress restoring many of the estates my father let go to ruin, but there is still much work to be done to restore our family’s wealth.”
James tapped his chin with his finger. “I had no idea things were so dire.”
“Nobody does. It is our great family secret. The Bristol title has an unfortunate lack of funds attached to its name.”
James nodded. “I could help you with
that. I’m not sure if your brother ever told you, but he and I were business partners on several occasions and I would gladly offer you the same advice on investments and such. We even shared the same solicitor for a time. I understand such a matter needs to be handled with the utmost discretion and you can be certain that I can be trusted to uphold your family’s secret.”
“Jason and I weren’t terribly chummy. After my father sent me to the country, we spoke very little. I believe my father thought I might actually sully his pristine reputation if I got too close.” Duncan looked out, into the gardens surrounding the theatre, then turned back to his friend. “I would gladly welcome any assistance. In fact, send your man over as soon as possible, for I want nothing to do with such things. I can’t be trusted with any coin or paper on my person for fear of spending it. But, my situation extends farther than simple finances.” Duncan reached for his friend’s flask and took another long drink before continuing. “Even though Jason led the life of a monk, our family’s name is still suffering the indignities of my parent’s scandal. My uncle wants honor restored and fears I will only make matters worse. I explained that it took years of dedication to cultivate my dubious reputation and will surely take twice as many to remedy the damage done, but he insists on gratification sooner rather than later.”
“You’ve never cared about what others wanted before, why start now?”
Duncan grew quiet, guilt hanging heavy in his throat. “My uncle took care of Jason and myself quite a bit growing up. When my parents would disappear for months on end, he would send for us to come and live with him till at least one of them returned. Even after my so-called banishment, it was Uncle Richard who still paid me the occasional visit. He did what he could to make certain we were cared for and, well, loved. I owe him as much.”
James tapped his finger to the cleft in his chin. “So, I am to assume that you need financial prosperity, respectability, honor, and security virtually overnight? That is your dilemma?”
Compromising Miss Tisdale Page 4