A Most Indecent Gentleman

by Bronwyn Scott

  “Yes. My lady is in the retiring room mending a tear in her hem.” Jocelyn didn’t miss the implication that at least Amery knew who his woman was before he’d kissed her.

  “I wouldn’t be so proud of that, if you’re the one who put the rip in it,” Jocelyn put in wryly. “You’re going to need dancing lessons.”

  “We weren’t dancing.” Amery laughed, unfazed by the jab. “Do you want to know what we were doing when her hem ripped?”

  “No, absolutely not. Now, if you’ll excuse me? I believe my lady is about to leave.”

  Jocelyn shouldered his way through the ballroom with the most speed politeness allowed. It wouldn’t do to look in a hurry even if he was, even if he wanted to run out into the foyer before she could leave. But speed would only draw attention and that would be counterproductive if he caught up to her; when he caught up to her.

  He reached the door, waving off a footman’s offer to fetch his cloak, just as he spotted her, one foot on the bottom rung of the carriage steps. She’d moved quickly once she’d left the ballroom. “Wait!”

  She turned toward the sound out of reflex, giving Jocelyn enough time to sprint down the steps and take her arm. “I cannot in good conscience let you leave without knowledge of your name?”

  “And why is that?” Cassandra Burroughs had her composure back, once more the woman from the hallway.

  “A gentleman does not kiss a woman without first knowing her name.” Jocelyn infused his tone with just the right touch of gallantry, his eyes lingering on her face, searching for signs of duplicity.

  “Very pretty. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Only those with whom I’d like a second chance. May I take you for a drive tomorrow, weather permitting?”

  “Myself permitting would be better. It hardly matters what the weather permits,” she rejoined, deliberately taking her arm from his grasp as if to demonstrate she was her own person. She mounted the steps. “A carriage ride? Really?”

  “What is wrong with that?” Jocelyn let himself flirt with the minx.

  “Nothing. Which is exactly my point. I would have expected something more from a man who offers kisses in gardens at the risk of a public scandal.”

  Jocelyn leaned forward, foot propped on the second step. “I would have expected a name from the woman who accepts those kisses.”

  “Cassandra,” she said shortly. No last name, no other identifier. It was a confirmation that Channing’s information was correct. She wanted to keep her identification hidden. She was working for her uncle, whether under duress or familial loyalty or some other reason, he could not yet tell. “And yourself?”

  He chose his first name, not his last name, not his title. “Jocelyn,” he replied with a friendliness that temporarily escaped him. He hadn’t wanted Channing to be right. “How shall I call on you?” This would be interesting. How would he pick her up for a drive if she meant to obscure her association with Lord Burroughs? She couldn’t allow him to tool up to the curb of the town house.

  “I have an appointment with my dressmaker. You may pick me up from there at three o’clock.” She fished out a card from her reticule with the dressmaker’s address and handed it to him.

  He kept her hand and bowed over it like a man who suspected nothing. “I shall enjoy getting to know you much better.” He let her go and watched the carriage pull away, starting to see this task as he did so many other things, as a game of strategy.

  Tonight, Cassandra Burroughs would go home feeling victorious for all her efforts. She’d found him, engaged him and even acquired a second meeting. She and her uncle would be very pleased with the night’s work. Little did they know that their cat was already out of the bag and that the hunter had just become the hunted.

  This little game of cat and mouse was growing more interesting by the moment as it developed its angles and layers of play. Jocelyn would do this for Channing, but he would also do this for himself. As with all good games of chance, there was something at risk. He needed to know it hadn’t all been artifice on her part, that the woman he’d encountered in the hall, the woman he’d danced with and kissed in the garden really did exist, that she wasn’t a facade created simply for Burroughs’s ruse. And if she was? Well, then, may the gods of love and fate have mercy on her because no one duped Jocelyn Eisley.

  Chapter Five

  Early afternoon at Argosy House, Channing’s headquarters for the league, was the quietest time of the day. Everyone was out on assignments. Today was no exception. Jocelyn had the usually noisy drawing room and Channing all to himself, the latter being a rarity these days.

  “You will be careful, won’t you?” Channing idly held up a snifter and swirled the brandy to catch the light. But Jocelyn didn’t miss the concern behind the casual tone.

  “I’m always careful.” Jocelyn sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, content for the moment to have his friend’s undivided attention. These days, Channing spent his time with Amery DeHart.

  Jocelyn supposed he was a bit jealous. Once, they were inseparable. They’d started the league together, each for different reasons. Those differences hadn’t mattered back then. They were starting to matter now. Instead of bringing them together, those differences were pushing them apart. Channing had a business to run and he, well, he was just running. In the early years, the league had been a place Jocelyn could run to, a place that had fulfilled his need for excitement. Now, it had become one more thing he was running from as he looked for the next great adventure, the next thrill that would keep him alive. Whatever those thrills were, they weren’t here anymore. Other than his long-standing friendship with Channing, there was no reason to stay.

  “Well, stay careful.” Channing put down the brandy snifter and met his gaze. “We can’t have you compromised into marriage here at the last. What do you think you’ll do after this?” It was the first time they’d ever addressed his leaving, and yet Channing had known what was in his heart. It was one of Channing’s many gifts. He could read people at a much deeper level than their superficial behaviors.

  Jocelyn shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He knew what others wanted for him; his father, his mother. But those dreams weren’t his dreams.

  “Time to settle down and find a nice girl?” Channing smiled, but there was sadness behind it. Jocelyn knew, as the others did not, Channing had thought he’d found a nice girl last Christmas, but she had chosen his brother instead.

  Jocelyn laughed. “I wouldn’t want a nice girl.” He thought of Cassandra Burroughs with her saucy wit and curves. If he were to settle down, it would be with a woman like that. He might not have Channing’s depth of perception when it came to others, but he knew himself well enough to know he didn’t want a marriage where his nice proper wife stayed at home waiting for him to return from his adventures. He wanted a partner who would share them with him, someone with whom he could build a collection of memories together.

  “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Channing gave him a long, considering look. Jocelyn felt in those moments, Channing saw all of him, every piece of him, from the ridiculous poet-dandy to the serious man inside who wanted to embrace life, but, after fits and starts full of short-lived thrills, knew he was still waiting to do so.

  A horse’s harness jingled outside, the signal that Jocelyn’s phaeton was ready. “I need to be going.” He would have liked to have stayed, to have talked more with Channing, maybe even reminisced a little about the early days when the league had been fresh and new and the women, too, and the risk of springing the parson’s mousetrap a lure too great to resist. That had always been the excitement for him. As an earl’s heir, he, more than the others, had to follow the gentleman’s code. If he was caught, he’d have to pay in the most permanent of ways. Maybe in those memories, he’d capture a bit of the old spark.

  Channing rose with him. “Take care, old
friend. I appreciate you doing this for me. I understand, I truly do. When the bubble’s off the wine, it’s time to move on.”

  Hearing Channing say it made it official, and the idea of something new just over the horizon, even if he didn’t know what the something was, put a special spring in Jocelyn’s step as he leaped up to the high seat of the phaeton and turned his team into the traffic of Jermyn Street. He had this last thing to do and then he’d set out to meet his destiny. There was no question now of Cassandra being that destiny since she’d turned out to be Burroughs’s niece. But his destiny was out there and he’d find it. Or it would find him.

  * * *

  Cass stepped out of the dress shop promptly at three, just in time to watch Jocelyn pull up to the curb in a splendid racing phaeton. A grin spread across her face. She should have known a drive with Jocelyn would be something out of the ordinary.

  He jumped down from the high seat with athletic grace, the sun glinting off the blond gold of his hair, and her heart did a little dance while her mind scolded, reminding her he was not her destiny, but that other part of her wished he was—hypothetically speaking. Pragmatically speaking, she knew very well what kind of destiny was in store for girls like her who flirted with men like him and it wasn’t a very pretty one. The Jocelyn Eisleys of the world flirted with girls like her because they could. They didn’t marry them because they didn’t have to. Last night’s kisses were proof of that.

  “You’re prompt. I like that. I thought I’d be cooling my heels for at least a half hour.” He was taller and even more handsome by daylight. Most men weren’t. Daylight often exposed what the moonlight could soften. However, Jocelyn Eisley was in possession of no flaws in need of hiding. In fact, he might be male beauty personified in the light of day, dressed as he was in buff breeches and a deep green coat that highlighted the jade of his eyes. She was already having trouble concentrating.

  “Do you have packages inside?” Jocelyn gestured toward the dress shop.

  “No, everything is being sent home for me.”

  “Then let me help you up and we’ll be off. You can put your foot here on the wheel rim. It’s a bit of a climb.” Jocelyn handed her up and he was right, it was a climb up to the high seat, especially in skirts. Cass settled into the seat and admired the view. Height had its advantages. Then she looked down and wished she hadn’t. Her stomach lurched. Height had its disadvantages, too! She clutched the rail as the carriage rocked under Jocelyn’s weight.

  Jocelyn settled beside her, his leg resting lightly against her skirts in the small space. He laughed at her grip on the rail. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” He clucked once to the horses and turned out into the Bond Street traffic. Cass took comfort in that traffic. It was most welcome if it kept their speed down.

  The respite didn’t last long. Jocelyn tooled them through town and then out of town, the traffic ebbing to a mere trickle until they were officially in the countryside where the road was wide and empty. “Ah, we’re free!” Jocelyn exclaimed with a deep, exhaling breath. “Now we can give the horses their head and see what this rig can do.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.” She was just getting used to the high rocking motion of the seat at this more sedate pace.

  Jocelyn winked. “I’ve been racing these for ages. They hardly ever turn over.”

  Racing? Oh, fabulous. She couldn’t imagine going any faster than they were right now, but there was no backing down. The Jocelyn Eisley her uncle had described would not be interested in a squeamish girl who shied away from such a dare. For that matter, she wasn’t interested, either. She understood Jocelyn was daring her now with that half smile and that gleam in his eye. She would take that dare.

  Cass gripped the rail and met that half smile with one of her own. “Well, as long as they hardly ever turn over, I suppose we’d best see what these wheels can do.”

  “Take my arm, it can get bouncy.” Jocelyn grinned and crooked his elbow. She slipped her hand through, appreciating the muscled firmness of him beneath his coat. There was a measure of confidence in knowing such muscle stood between her and certain disaster.

  “Ready?” Jocelyn turned all his attention to the reins. He gave them a slap against the horses’ backs. The horses leaped into action and she promptly forgot everything else.

  She forgot to be frightened, forgot she was several deadly feet off the ground, forgot that axles and wheels could be snapped by even the smallest piece of misplaced debris on the road, forgot she was down to her last chance to make a decent match, forgot that she rode beside her uncle’s sworn enemy. She was flying down the empty swath of road, the autumn breeze in her face, pulling at the ribbons of her bonnet. There was only exhilaration and freedom and the thrilling power of Jocelyn’s arm beneath her touch as he handled the reins with expert calm.

  Life coursed through her and she let a laugh of utter release bubble out and catch the wind. They took a bend in the road and she whooped with delight, Jocelyn laughing out loud with her. She was almost disappointed when he drew the phaeton to walk and let the horses breathe.

  Cass rested her head against his shoulder, gathering her own breath. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked thoroughly mussed, her hat and hair askew, her cheeks in high color. “Oh, my, the ladies of Dorset would be scandalized if they could see me now.”

  “Why is that?” She could feel Jocelyn’s eyes on her. “Don’t they drive phaetons in Dorset?”

  “Not like that, they don’t.” Cass laughed. “London is a far faster world than Dorset, I think, in many regards.” Phaetons, men, gossip, all of it was faster, a reminder that she had to work fast too. It wouldn’t take long for word to travel and for Jocelyn to realize who she was. Then, all this nebulous magic would be over. He would despise her for betraying him or at least attempting it.

  “Speaking of fast things, I’ve heard the most incredible rumor.” Cass began tentatively, but she’d never get a better conversational opening than that. “I am wondering if you can verify it for me since you’re a man about town and I am merely a newcomer. It’s rather indelicate.”

  Jocelyn chuckled. “Ah, a juicy rumor, all the better.”

  “I’ve heard there’s a gentlemen’s group that hire themselves out to women for the sake of delivering pleasure.” Bold as she was, just saying the words brought heat to her cheeks. “Apparently, it’s something of a secret. Some people say it’s a fiction only, is it?”

  Her hand was still tucked through his arm and she felt the muscles beneath her fingers tighten. She’d struck a nerve here. She opted to babble on. “I think it’s too outlandish to be real, but delicious too.”

  “Delicious?” Jocelyn rejoined with a laugh. “No wonder you’re the scandal of Dorset.”

  “Well?” she prompted when it seemed he would turn the conversation away from the topic.

  “I cannot say. However, I will tell you this much, I’ve heard the rumors, too.”

  Quite the excellent piece of dissembling. There was no lie in his statement. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to confess immediately. She would have to try harder. Perhaps driving was too distracting, making it too easy for him to focus on something other than her. “The woods are beautiful this time of year.” She nodded in the direction of the trees off to their right, bright with their gold and red foliage. “They look perfect for a walk, don’t you think?” Oh, she was about to be very bad and it was going to be so very good.

  “Park over there.” Cass pointed out a spot close to where a path cut through the trees. “Your tiger can watch the team and we’ll walk a bit.”

  Jocelyn laughed as he parked the carriage. It was a sound she could get used to, it was so full of life, so robust, like the man himself. He threw the reins to his tiger. “You’re a little minx! You’ve got this all planned out, don’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduc
e me.”

  “Do you know better? Maybe I am,” he teased. Oh, this was such fun! He came around to help her down and she savored the feel of his hands lingering at her waist a moment too long, the laughter in his eyes as he swung her down, all part of the thrill of a chase where both participants wouldn’t mind being caught—eventually. That was part of the thrill, too, the wondering when. And who would catch whom?

  She shouldn’t like it so much but she did. She should have learned her lesson but she hadn’t. The truth was that the scandal in Dorset was the tip of the iceberg. It was remarkable only in the sense that this time she’d been caught in her indiscretion and not in the most pleasant of senses, either.

  Chapter Six

  The blasted minx was enjoying this! He was supposed to be scaring her away and here she was suggesting a walk in the forest alone with a man she barely knew. Jocelyn was starting to think now he’d misread her reaction over the kisses last night. She’d not run because those kisses had frightened her. She’d run because those kisses had excited her. Which meant his strategy was going to fail.

  That realization ought to have bothered him as they strolled in the autumn sunshine. Every surprise thwarted his goal to protect the league. But a large part of him wasn’t bothered at all. That part of him was thrilled to have met such a woman, thrilled to have this rare beauty walk beside him in the autumn forest, yellow and orange leaves over their heads and crunching under their feet. Still, he had his promise to Channing. Miss Cassandra Burroughs was not going to scare easily. He would have to step up his game, which wouldn’t be all that unpleasant to do.

  “This season suits you.” Jocelyn gave her a long look, taking in the deep green of her carriage ensemble. The jacket was tightly fitted and outlined the curve of her breast, the slimness of her waist in a manner the ball gown had hidden with its flowing folds. Desire struck him hard. She would be exquisite naked.