Artfully Wicked ('Pon Rep' Regency Rogues Book 1)

by Virginia Taylor

  “Which one?”

  Her heart sank. She had given him the opportunity to say he was engaged elsewhere. “I will be at the Terrington’s with Rose and Della.”

  He stood, his gaze slightly hooded and his hand out to help her up. “I hope they have a library.” His mouth curved into a delicious smile.

  CHAPTER 10

  Langsdene cursed himself for removing his coat, though Winsome was very sweet about helping him don the garment again. He helped her with her hat, making sure she looked as lovely as she had when she had met him this morning. As usual, his conversation with her amused him and encouraged him to misbehave. While he tried, not very hard, to keep on the conventional path, she delighted in leading him astray. The slight loosening of her hair could be put down to riding. When he delivered her back to her parent’s house, he doubted anyone would see a thing amiss.

  As he watched her ride into the lane that led to the mews, his body ached with a new craving. Lying with her beneath him on the couch did not sate him. Although he realized he couldn’t fully make love to her, these short sessions in libraries only served to keep him on edge. In a way, her licentious behavior mystified him. If she had thought to compromise him, she could have done so at almost any time. However, she appeared not be interested in marriage.

  His damned insecurity about her had begun to haunt him. He seemed to have her full attention but as soon as he became serious, she diverted him yet again. He could certainly meet her at various functions. As an eligible earl, even if he hadn’t received an invitation, and he usually had, he wouldn’t be asked to leave. This way, he could continue to live in her pocket, but he had hopes of marriage. And the sooner, the better. Had he been even half certain she would accept him, he would have asked to speak to her father this morning.

  The real fear of her refusing him was ever present. She had a loving family, her independence, and appeared to enjoy a comfortable allowance. Everyone adored her. She could have taken her pick any time during the past ten years. Apparently, she was content to stay single. Also apparent was the fact that thus far she had allowed no man to go farther than he. Would he care if she had? He would need to be a damned hypocrite if he did, after being, he presumed, the first to dally with her.

  When he entered the Terrington’s crowded ballroom he wondered how he would find her, but he spotted a graceful female in a rose colored domino who could only be Rose. Sir Ian was easily recognized. Beside him, the lady in a gold cape and mask was bound to be Winsome, who never minded standing out from the crowd, be she looking dowdy or smart. Tonight she had taken the smart guise. He moved through the crowds and landed on her left side as a gallant in a dark blue cape took her hand for a waltz. “Good evening,” he said to Rose, watching Winsome glance back at him as she walked back onto the floor with the other chap.

  “Good evening, John. You are being most sociable of late.”

  “I had no idea what I was missing.”

  “I’m sure you kept yourself busy managing your estates.”

  “I did, Rose, yes.”

  “In between gambling with your friends, and choosing superlative mistresses.”

  “What do you know of my mistresses?” He frowned at her.

  She blinked. “First hand, nothing, but you have to admit that the newspaper made much of your, um, recreational activities.”

  “I’m sure you are aware that even the most faithful of husbands also had, and I mean past tense, mistresses.”

  “And yours is also past tense?”

  “Mine has been past tense for some time. As you know. You have been presenting aspirants to my title for the past few months.”

  “You haven’t glanced twice at any of ‘em. I despair, John. Such a waste of a very fine man.”

  “Do you think I would make some willing damsel a good husband?”

  “I can’t imagine why not. If you unbent a little, you might see someone in front of your very nose.”

  He smiled at her reference to Winsome. If her hint was sincere, then she had no idea he already fallen for her friend. “Perhaps I will ask for your advice. At whom do you think I should be looking?”

  “A woman of intelligence with a marvelous sense of humor. She would relieve you of your seriousness in a trice and put a smile on that handsome face of yours.”

  “Winsome?” He tried to sound surprised.

  “Is she not deliciously entertaining?”

  “She certainly entertains me. I’ll wait here until she returns and try to book her for the cotillion.”

  “Not a cotillion, John. She will be laughing with everyone but you. Wait for a waltz and then you will have her full attention. One thing I can say for you is that you waltz divinely.”

  “Thank you, Rose. I’ll take your advice.” And so that he looked as if he hadn’t given Winsome a thought, he asked a new debutante onto the floor for the interminable cotillion. As soon as he had Winsome in his arms, he spirited her off to the library, where she fitted comfortably against him. Momentarily, her cloud soft hair pressed against his cheek before he turned her head and covered her mouth with his.

  He didn’t lock the door. He kissed her again and made another assignation to ride with her the next day.

  CHAPTER 11

  Winsome didn’t mind where John chose to kiss her, but the meeting in the Terrington’s library did not take her any closer to being his lover. Although he had shown clear signs of arousal when he took her into his arms last night, he did not suggest a place for a more intimate meeting. Although she would like to, she couldn’t invite him to share her bedroom. Mama would be scandalized. She couldn’t meet him in a hotel. He was too well known.

  Since his servants had proved to be discreet, the only possible place was his town house. Which he did not offer. Therefore, she rode out with him the next morning, hoping to discuss the matter. “Am I to be forever an untouched spinster, my lord?” she asked in a wan voice as they entered Green Park.

  “I could hardly call you untouched.” A smile of sardonic amusement crossed his face. “You have certainly been touched and I hope we can start where we left off.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “But when, may I ask?”

  “Judging by the expression on your face, I was expecting you to add my dear man.” He smiled lightly. “Do you have any more invitations to masked balls?”

  “Not as yet. Do you?”

  “I don’t believe I was invited to the last.” Although he used an arrogant tone, his expression quizzed her. “I never let the matter of an invitation stop me when meetings in libraries are at stake.”

  Her mouth tickling with a smile, she took her horse through a grassy patch that led toward the open area lately used for balloon ascensions. Wheel rims etched out the ground. Farther away, trees marked the gray skyline. “If I had realized I would be attending balls this year, I would have persuaded Mama to hold one. Normally, I don’t accept invitations to anything but the lightest entertainments, like Rose’s musical evening.”

  “Nor do I. We’re an unsociable pair.”

  “We’ve both missed having a season or two, but each for opposite reasons. I couldn’t bear the thought of putting myself on the marriage market and you had other interests.”

  “My reason was the same as yours. It’s one of those misconceptions of youth, that marriage is the end of a pleasurable life.”

  She nodded. “In some cases that is true. I’m glad to say that my parents are happy together and my younger sister is very much in love with her husband. When you look at Rose and Della, you see women who have made the right choices.”

  “Many in society marry for wealth and position. The marriages survive, but many a man takes a mistress on the side.”

  “While his poor wife remains in the country breeding children.” Something she would never be blessed with, being too old. Her younger sister was twenty-five and the doctor had already told her she would be lucky to conceive, having tried for four years without success. The prime time, her sister ha
d said, was between sixteen and twenty-two, though of course some women remained fertile much longer.

  Mama had produced Winsome at the age of nineteen and Hestia two years later. No other children had followed. Having missed her opportunity did not cause Winsome concern since she had never intended to marry. If she somehow managed to bed John, and fate gave her a baby, she would simply retire to the country and suddenly appear again a year later with a child some relative or other had bequeathed to her. She had enough money of her own to give a child a reasonable enough inheritance to make him or her acceptable in society. Other people had done so without causing more than a raised eyebrow or two. And of course, she was known to be an eccentric. “It seems to defeat the idea to marry and spend your life searching for illicit affairs.”

  “If I had a wife, she would not be sequestered in the country, nor kept short of money,” John said, the expression on face serious. “For I certainly intend to keep my vows.”

  She reached out a hand and touched him on the arm. “I’m sure your choice would love you to the end of her days. You are a good man, John, and a worthy suitor for anyone.” But not her, of course, though she greatly desired otherwise. She hoped she would last with him for a while, but no one could predict the length of a love affair. Which reminded her. “We are wandering off the main subject. We can’t continue to meet in libraries. We need somewhere else.”

  His gaze connected with hers. “I want to spend a night with you, Winsome. Are you able to lie?”

  She had been lying by omission to him this past week. “It would be difficult.” She forced a mournful sigh. “I would need a very good reason.”

  “Is making love with me a good enough reason?”

  Until now, that had been her only reason. Her breath shortened. “Only if I am granted more than half an hour of your time.” She hoped she appeared more composed than her heartbeat indicated.

  He drew up his horse and reached out for her reins, stopping her. “My mother lives in the Langsdene country residence, so I can’t use that, but I have another little property in Kensington which is vacant at present.”

  “John! You shock me. Are you offering the house you use for your mistresses?”

  He had the grace to glance away for a moment. “The place would have been scoured from top to bottom. You would only need to say you were visiting someone or other to be able to meet me.”

  “I think I could manage that. I could use Rose or Della as an excuse. When?”

  “Can you manage tonight?” He sat absolutely still, his gaze large on her face.

  “Telling a lie takes a while to manage. Perhaps we could stage a kidnapping.”

  “Winsome, you are not serious?”

  She laughed. “What a shame I haven’t been asked to a country party. I hear all sorts of debaucheries happen in country houses.”

  “I can get you an invitation to Danton’s house party,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning with concentration. “He asked me to come down tomorrow, but I said I was otherwise engaged. I’ll let him know he should expect another two guests and then you can tell your parents that you’ve had an invitation. I will offer to take you with me. That saves any lie-telling.”

  “How long are you staying? Jane will need to pack for me. I assume my parents will approve. Of course they will. They always want me to go husband-hunting.”

  She barely had time to turn her horse back onto the path before he decided to hasten her home to speak to her mother.

  “Tomorrow?” Mama said, with a frown at her embroidery. She appeared to have begun on a leaf. Poor dear. She must have been horridly bored for the past few days to have completed so much. “That’s very short notice, Lord Langsdene. I’m not sure Winsome can pack in that time.”

  “Of course I can, Mama. Because Jane will do so for me. What time will you call for me, John?”

  “Early. Eight or nine. We will want to arrive in time for the evening’s entertainment. Now the weather is on the change, many will be leaving London. I believe my cousin will have a full house.” He bent courteously over her hand, and left, presumably to warn Danton he would need to prepare an extra room or two.

  She raced upstairs and told Jane, who began to ask awkward questions.

  Winsome sighed. “I don’t know the entertainments planned. Give me a day gown or two, and a few evening gowns. That should suffice for a week. And stop fussing. I will make do, I promise. And of course, my prettiest nightwear.”

  With the last words, she finally realized she had agreed to an irrevocable last step.

  CHAPTER 12

  Langsdene’s coach reached Mr. Richard Danton’s gray stone manor house in Surrey during the late afternoon. The country retreat sat behind a manicured lawn peppered with tall trees. In the distance, a newly constructed artificial lake reflected the wavering sunlight. The coachman off-loaded the various boxes outside an entrance made impressive by the addition of stone columns either side of the heavy oak door. The baggage duly carried in by Danton’s staff and up two flights of stairs, Barlow unpacked Langsdene’s trunks in a large room he had been allotted in the old wing of the house, next door to Winsome’s.

  For obvious reasons, Winsome had decided not to bring her dresser, but Lady Mary Danton’s hospitality was legendary. She offered her own to her guest, whom she clearly suspected was a ‘filler,’ brought to keep the numbers even. Her husband could have told her that Langsdene had asked for his room to be near Winsome’s but he had promised to keep this from his inquisitive wife, who was inclined to gossip.

  As soon as he had changed, John strolled down to the drawing room, greeting all and sundry. No more than ten minutes later, Winsome arrived wearing a flowing evening gown made in a citrus green silk, which appeared to reflect the changing color of her eyes. He made the introductions to Danton’s guests, an eclectic group, comprising three married couples about his age, an older couple who Lady Mary referred to as her aunt and uncle, and another couple who had brought with them a son a little younger than Langsdene and a pretty debutante daughter.

  Winsome’s grace, added to her sparkling smile, had her cozily settled into the group within minutes. The next few days augured well. Because of Langsdene’s scrupulous reputation, no one took his arrival with Winsome amiss.

  The evening meal lasted interminably, with dish after unnecessary dish presented. The ladies left the room. The wine flowed. When the gentlemen were finally considered well enough oiled, they joined their dearest ones in the drawing room again. Winsome had been gathered up by the older ladies, none of whom she knew, and all of whom she had instantly charmed with her ready wit.

  Young Sudbury stared at her with a starry-eyed gaze. “She is quite lovely, is she not?” he said to Langsdene. “She knows all about art but she ain’t prosy about the subject. I swear, if she told me those dashed boring paintings all over the place in Italy were scenes of gross debauchery, I would look twice and be convinced.”

  Langsdene relaxed. “She took me on tour of the Tate and I didn’t glance at my fob watch once.”

  “Worth getting to know, eh? What do you think of m’sister?”

  “I’ve barely spoken to her, old chap.” Langsdene sighed.

  Sudbury offered his opened snuff-box. When Langsdene refused, Sudbury took a pinch and sneezed. “The parents want a title for her. She’s pretty enough.”

  “She is indeed.” Langsdene had been offered pretty young ladies for the past ten years. He had nothing against beauties, but he hadn’t been ready for marriage previously. Now, he had his mind set on Winsome. He wasn’t quite as sure about her mind. Not once had she indicated she had tired of her single state. Although at least twice, she could have turned the conversation in that direction, she appeared to laugh off any idea that each meeting between them wasn’t more than a delightful assignation.

  Her deliberate avoidance of serious conversations between them indicated certain wariness on her part. Although not a particularly sensitive man himself, he noticed ho
w often she put him off discussing their relationship. If he was the problem, she could refuse to see him. She hadn’t. Apparently, his intentions were the problem. Up until now, he had assumed he could have her body, but he also wanted the rest of her. That being so, he needed to step lightly.

  Even now, she could change her mind about spending the night with him. Without a doubt, she risked more than he. One inconveniently opened door, and she would lose her standing in society. Until now, he had presumed if he made love to her, she would accept his hand, being unutterably compromised.

  Now he was wondering if she had been playing along, assuming he was bluffing. She appeared to be treating him like a challenge, testing him to see how far he would go. However, being a cautious man, he didn’t plan to risk losing her when he had found her again. Although her father might approve, Langsdene was unsure of the lady herself. He would find out tonight.

  Standing inside the doorway, he watched her fascinate an entire room of strangers, a talent he would never have, being far too arrogant and perhaps a little too serious. Winsome had changed the latter for him. He now saw the lighter side of life, one where a person could kiss and laugh at the same time, one where words that could be misunderstood were turned back and made humorous. This delightfully charming woman had completely besotted him.

  Finally, the ladies decided to retire for the night. The gentlemen were expected to keep drinking while they discussed land tenure, farming practices, and the latest political shenanigans. “You know a thing or two about Lord Liverpool’s ideas to apprehend all printers and writers responsible for blasphemous material. Are you for it or against it?” Danton idly asked Langsdene as watched his best brandy disappearing down the gullet of the unappreciative young Sudbury.

  “I’m not active in the House of Lords, Danton, but I believe the juries won’t risk the freedom of the press.”