“Jack?” she prompted softly, when he made no response to her final words.
He blinked, her voice apparently jarring him out of his thoughts. “I beg your pardon, Lady Haughton, and hope I have not offended you by my precipitousness.” His tone was distracted, as though his mind were not on his words.
“I gave you leave to call me Nessa, remember? I'm not at all offended, and do hope we can remain friends.”
The smile he gave her was rather twisted. “Friends. Of course.” He studied her for a moment, consideringly, then leaned toward her. “Very good friends, perhaps?” His voice was now low and suggestive.
Nessa felt a shiver of mingled alarm and excitement. But surely, this was what she'd been hoping for? “That… that might be pleasant.” Though she tried for a seductive tone, the words came out rather high and breathless.
Jack drove on for a few moments, and Nessa realized that he was guiding the phaeton down one of the less-traveled side paths of the Park. Again, that curious mixture of fear and anticipation coursed through her. What might he be intending?
A minute or two later, he pulled the horses to a halt. They'd rounded a bend and trees now screened them from any onlookers. Transferring the reins to one hand, he turned toward her.
“I'd like to be your very good friend, Nessa.” With his free hand, he reached out to gently—so gently—stroke her cheek. A wild jumble of feelings assailed her at his touch, so unlike any touch she'd experienced before.
Unconsciously, she leaned into his hand. “I… I should like that, Jack.” Again her voice trembled, defying her control.
Stroking again from temple to jawline, he then curled his fingers at the nape of her neck and drew her, again so gently, toward him. For just the barest second Nessa resisted, then became pliable under his touch, swaying forward until their lips were only inches apart.
“I should like that, too,” he said softly. Tilting his head slightly, he brought their lips together.
His kiss was not precisely demanding, but it was very thorough. He began by gliding his lips along the outer edges of hers, then delicately explored her lips with the very tip of his tongue. Finally he pressed his mouth firmly upon hers, and she felt her own soft and yielding beneath his. And then it was over.
Nessa realized she was breathing very quickly. Lord Haughton had never kissed her like that! His infrequent kisses had been either dry, fatherly pecks or wet and unpleasant—the latter during their occasional couplings. Lord Foxhaven's kiss was something else entirely.
And most pleasant.
She smiled up at him and thought he looked startled for a moment. “Is that how a rake kisses?” she asked. “I suppose there is something to be said for experience.”
He was undeniably startled now. “Lady Haughton—Nessa—you are a woman of continual surprises.” His hand, still on the nape of her neck, tightened there for an instant, as though to pull her to him again—but then he released her.
“I should take you back to your sister's. The fashionable driving hour is nearly over.”
Nessa tried to hide her disappointment. “Certainly, if you think it best, my lord.”
He gave her another lingering look that set her pulse, only beginning to slow, into another gallop. But then he turned his attention resolutely to the horses, taking the reins again in both hands. “There should be a place to turn around just ahead,” he said, flicking the pair to a trot.
They drove back to Upper Brook Street in silence but Nessa scarcely noticed, her mind was so busy. Had this been but a prelude to a future seduction, or had her kiss disappointed him into abandoning the idea? She wished she had the courage to ask but could think of no remotely delicate way to do so.
Certainly she had not been put off by that kiss, so much more enjoyable than the quick one she'd stolen at the masquerade. If that was a sample of what a notorious rake could do, perhaps she should peruse the entire catalogue of his skills. She shivered naughtily at the thought—one no gently bred lady should have allowed to cross her mind. But it appeared she might never have the chance to do more than think about it.
“Here we are, my lady,” said Jack, pulling the phaeton smartly to a halt in front of the Creamcroft house. Jumping down, he came around to help her from the carriage, then escorted her to the door. Frantically, she tried to think of some way to appease her curiosity.
“Will I see you again, my lord?” she finally asked in a rush, just as he plied the knocker. The door was opened immediately by the vigilant butler.
“Most assuredly, my lady,” he replied, to her vast relief. “I've never been one to surrender after a single setback.”
Leaving both Nessa and the butler to wonder what on earth he meant by that remark, he bowed, then walked briskly back to his phaeton.
~ ~ ~
“I TELL YOU, PETER, the easiest course by far would be to compromise her so that she has no choice in the matter. I would never have believed a widow with five years of marriage behind her could be such an innocent.”
Lord Peter, stretched at his ease before the fire in the Foxhaven House library, sat up to eye him with alarm. “Jack, you haven't already—that is—surely not in the Park?”
Jack laughed at him. “Of course not. 'Sdeath, Peter, I didn't think you believed all of those stories about me! It was damned tempting, however, I must admit. She seems surprisingly willing to enter into an affaire.”
Peter regarded him with interest. “So what stopped you?”
Jack frowned and flicked an invisible speck from his well-fitted tobacco-brown pantaloons. “Do you know, Peter, I'm not quite sure. I nearly crossed the line, thinking to force her to wed me in that way, but I've a profound dislike for changing my battle strategy without proper planning. Didn't expect her to refuse an honorable offer, you see.”
Peter blinked. “You mean to say you made her an offer in form? So soon? And she actually refused you?”
“Things were going exceptionally well,” Jack explained with a sigh. “She had let down her guard—she's really quite animated when away from Lady Creamcroft's influence, you know. We'd agreed to use each other's Christian names. The moment seemed propitious.” He stared moodily into the fire.
“Did she give a reason for her refusal? Has she formed an attachment for someone else?”
Jack's head snapped up. “No, of course not! In fact, she said that she was resolved against marriage, period. To me, or to anyone.”
For some reason, Peter seemed almost pleased. “She is but a week out of her weeds,” he reminded Jack. “Perhaps, given more time…”
But Jack shook his head. “Time is something I don't have. Wellington has requested my presence in Paris—and I've more than half a mind to go. But if I cannot secure Lady Haughton first—”
“You'll never have a prayer of becoming respectable,” Peter finished, “or of securing the balance of your inheritance.” He frowned. “You needn't go, surely? You've sold your commission, and as Foxhaven you certainly have no need to jump to Old Nosey's bidding.”
“True enough,” Jack agreed. “But to know Wellington thinks highly enough of my abilities to ask… I find myself reluctant to disappoint him.”
Peter thought for a moment. “Perhaps you could go to Creamcroft directly in the matter of his sister-in-law? Is he in a position to give consent to a match?”
Jack snorted. “Of course not. She is of age, and quite well placed, as I understand it. And even if he were, it seems an underhanded way to do things. Wouldn't augur well for future happiness, I shouldn't think.”
“I suppose that's true,” Peter agreed with a grin. “But compromising her ain't the answer either, Jack. The whole point, as you recall, was to elevate your respectability—not to lower hers.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Why do you think I stopped short of seduction this afternoon?” Jack had been asking himself that question ever since.
“You'll just have to persuade her, then. Woo her more conventionally—flowers, drives, poetry, that sort of
thing.”
“Poetry?” Jack laughed. “Not my style, I assure you. Besides, as I said, there's no time. No, it'll have to be blackmail. I see no other way.”
Peter's jaw dropped. “Blackmail? What on earth can Lady Haughton have done to warrant that? Going so abruptly from blacks to colors ain't quite enough, in my opinion. Besides, everyone knows of it already. Surely old Haughton didn't do anything that you could hold over her head?”
Jack merely smiled and shook his head. “To be effective, I'm afraid it must remain my secret, Peter—and I still have some research to do on the matter. You'll know soon enough whether it works. Either there will be a betrothal announcement within the week, or I shall be on my way to Paris.”
“And perdition,” Peter muttered. “Whatever your scheme is, I hoped for your sake it will be successful.”
“Oh, I think it will.” For now Jack had a weapon—one that should give him just the leverage he needed.
~ ~ ~
IMMEDIATELY AFTER entering the main ballroom of Hightower House that evening, Nessa resumed her campaign to convince her sister to waltz. Not only was she convinced it would do Prudence a world of good, it was also a way to distract her own mind from the disturbing events in the Park that afternoon.
“Philip, have you never tried to induce Prudence to learn the waltz?” she asked her brother-in-law. “Surely you can convince her that it is not nearly so difficult or risqué as she seems to believe.”
Lord Creamcroft gazed fondly down at his wife. “Nothing would please me more than to waltz with her, but I have no wish to tease her into doing anything she finds objectionable.”
Prudence smiled her thanks at her husband, but Nessa chose to focus on the first part of his response.
“There, you see, Prudence? Nothing would please him more. Haven't you a duty to please your husband?” She knew that particular responsibility had been drilled as forcibly into her sister as herself.
“Oh!” Clearly Prudence had not considered the matter in that light before—nor, likely, had Philip ever spoken so plainly, without Nessa's prompting. “Is it true, Philip? Do you wish me to waltz?”
Lord Creamcroft placed an arm around his lady's shoulders and gave her a very discreet squeeze which nevertheless made her squeak. “Not if you don't want to, my dear. But should you ever wish to try it, I'd be more than agreeable.”
Prudence looked charmingly confused, but Nessa was distracted from this promising scene by the arrival of Sir Hadley and Amanda Leverton.
“Lady Haughton! How delightful to see you again so soon.” Miss Leverton accosted her. “I do hope you haven't had time to fill your dance card, as Sir Hadley most particularly wished to have a spot on it.”
Her brother stepped forward to agree, and to claim as many dances as she would grant him. Though Nessa had not yet been claimed for a single dance, having only just arrived, she allowed him but one—for now.
Other gentlemen were hurrying toward her by then, to renew acquaintances from the evening before or to seek introductions, rather to Nessa's relief. She wasn't sure whether it was Sir Hadley himself or Prudence's too-obvious approval of him which put her off, but she knew for certain she did not wish him to dominate her evening.
“Good evening, Mr. Galloway,” she said, half turning from the Levertons. “I see no card tables here, alas, so I fear we shall not have the opportunity of another victory.” She regarded the dashing young redhead with added interest, now that Prudence had indicated him as someone to avoid. Perhaps he would show her the wilder side of London life, if Lord Foxhaven—
She cut off that line of thought abruptly.
“Indeed, Lady Haughton, I had hopes of discovering whether you dance as well as you play at whist,” responded Mr. Galloway with a deep bow. A throat-clearing at his elbow made him glance over his shoulder. “Ah, yes. And I promised an introduction to my cousin, Mr. Gregory Orrin. Gregory, Lady Haughton. My claim for a dance comes before yours, however.”
In ten minutes, Nessa found herself committed for more than half the sets—though she kept the two waltzes free. She told herself it was because she hadn't yet enough experience with that dance to risk exposing herself or embarrassing her partner with a misstep.
Despite her inattention, the Levertons refused to leave her side, though Prudence and Lord Creamcroft were now chatting with other friends a few feet away. Perhaps Prudence felt the Levertons offered sufficient protection for the moment. Nessa might almost have suspected she'd arranged it with them.
“My dear, you must strive to appear less eager,” Amanda Leverton advised Nessa in an undertone during a lull in the conversation. “Try to cultivate an air of aloofness toward the gentlemen. 'Twill enhance your popularity, I assure you.”
“I thank you for your counsel to one so inexperienced as I.” Nessa glanced away before Miss Leverton could see the twinkle in her eye. Amanda, she had noticed, was engaged for but two dances thus far—one with her own brother.
The orchestra struck up the first dance then, and Sir Hadley stepped forward to lead Nessa onto the floor. Happily, it was a country dance, offering little opportunity for conversation. As they went down the dance, however, Nessa could not help noticing one or two details about her partner.
Though undeniably attractive and dressed both impeccably and respectably, Sir Hadley's coat showed faint signs of wear at the elbows and hem. The fit, while passable, did not speak of Weston or any of the other premier tailors in Town. Certainly, it was not up to Lord Foxhaven's standards…
Almost unconsciously, Nessa scanned the room. No, he was not here. Would she see him again, as he had promised, or had either her refusal or her subsequent behavior given him a disgust of her? Not that it mattered of course!
She favored poor Sir Hadley with a brilliant smile, causing him to miss his next step and earning him a glare from the young lady whose hand he had been supposed to grasp just then. Sir Hadley did not appear to notice.
Her next dance was with Mr. Galloway, and it was quite clear from Prudence's raised eyebrows that she did not approve. Nessa merely gave her sister a slight shrug, telling herself as she had last night that she would set aside time for guilt later on.
Mr. Galloway proved a bit of a disappointment as a dancer, however, his conversation far more practiced than his steps. Still, he flattered her at every opportunity, lightening her mood considerably.
“Having discovered you have two such talents makes me eager to uncover any others,” he said as he led her from the floor.
Nessa knew she should blush at such a statement, but somehow Mr. Galloway did not cause the same delightful confusion she felt when Lord Foxhaven used similar words. Still, she brought her fan into play, fluttering it between them in mock rebuff.
“La, sir,” she said, trying for a flirtatious tone, “Were I to fathom your meaning, I'm certain I should be quite shocked.”
“Shall I speak plainer?” Mr. Galloway asked, his eyes beginning to smolder.
A deep voice from behind Nessa said, “I'd advise against it. Shocking a lady is a far worse offense than confusing her.”
Nessa whipped around toward the speaker to find Lord Foxhaven regarding her with apparent amusement. Now her color did rise, as those shared moments in the Park that afternoon came flooding back.
He continued, speaking to Mr. Galloway rather than to her. “I know whereof I speak, believe me. Unexpected pronouncements may lead to equally unexpected results.”
Rather to Nessa's irritation, Mr. Galloway appeared intimidated by this new arrival. Dropping his arm from under her hand as though it had suddenly become hot as a poker, he bowed.
“Foxhaven. I must acknowledge you the authority in such matters. My lady.” Bowing again, he hastily decamped, leaving Nessa to stare after him in surprise.
“Is this how you intend to handle all rivals?” she demanded of Lord Foxhaven. “I presume you must be a crack shot, to have frightened poor Mr. Galloway so.” She could not help being nettled by that young man's
abrupt defection, after all the flattery he had heaped upon her during their dance.
Jack chuckled, exasperating her further, even while something within her thrilled at the sound. “I probably have that reputation, yes. And once a reputation is established, I have found, little action is necessary to maintain it.”
Nessa regarded him uncertainly. Was he trying to tell her he was not a rake after all? Or, at least, not anymore? “I should imagine that depends on how thoroughly one's reputation was established to begin with, and through what means, my lord.”
“My lord? I thought we were Jack and Nessa now—or have you reconsidered?” The look in his eyes, even more than his words, recalled to her again the events in his phaeton that afternoon—and the feelings that had accompanied them.
“Er, yes, of course. I mean, no, I haven't reconsidered,” she amended hastily, wondering if he alluded to his offer, as well their use of Christian names. As her disjointed response elicited further amusement rather than disappointment, she decided not.
His smile was knowing now, as though he divined the nature of her conflict, but he only said, “Good. I should hate to have to re-take the ground I had already gained.”
She had no idea how to respond to that, so turned slightly from him as though to observe the room, in an attempt to display that aloofness Miss Leverton had advised. What an abysmal failure as a flirt she was turning out to be!
“Are you looking for someone?” he asked, and she wondered if she imagined the slight edge to his voice.
“My sister,” she replied, only belatedly realizing she'd have done better to name another gentleman. She didn't want Lord Foxhaven feeling too secure of her, particularly if he intended a renewal of his “honorable” courtship. “I've been trying to convince her to waltz,” she added by way of explanation, as the orchestra struck up the opening strains of that very dance.
“Then allow me to do the same with you. 'Tis time for your next lesson, I believe.” Jack held out his hand with a smile and Nessa responded by placing hers into it after only the slightest hesitation.
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