Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy)

by Stephie Smith

  He was stunned by her natural beauty. The translucent glow of white skin kissed by pink, the contrast of dark hair pulled up and back in a cascade of soft, silky waves, and the innocence of wide eyes graced by arched brows as gentle as doves’ wings made her seem totally vulnerable and completely untouchable at the same time. He knew that approaching her was improper, but he couldn’t stop himself. And then he remembered he didn’t have to obey the dictates of English society.

  He was, after all, an American privateer.

  With each step, there was a fresh assault to his senses. The girl’s gown was but a mere blush of color and he knew it signified her purity. But she needed no such symbol. No one could look upon her and not realize instantly that she had never known the touch of a man.

  But dear God, she was ripe for it.

  The soft glow of her skin, the full, slightly parted lips, the graceful curve of her neck that gave way to a fuller curve of young, firm breasts just waiting to be suckled… A moan escaped him as he stiffened with arousal.

  The girl’s eyes were entrancing, an amazing shade of blue—the startling blue of the cornflower fields at Dorrington Hall—and fringed with long, black lashes. There was no doubt he could lose himself in those eyes. They were so beautiful and huge and… scared.

  Scared? She was scared? Her reaction baffled him, but even as he pondered her expression, he realized she must have heard the rumors or at the very least some of the whispers now circulating through the ballroom. From every direction he heard the words seduction and plunder and fortune being bandied about. If she believed even half of what she must be hearing, she could swoon. Judging from the look on her face, it was entirely possible that she might.

  Lucy stood frozen in place. The most magnificent-looking man she’d ever seen was headed straight in her direction. He had a splendid build from head to toe, displayed to perfection in expensively cut, form-fitting clothes.

  Tall and undoubtedly strong, he moved with uncommon grace, yet he exuded a dangerous sensuality quite unlike any gentleman she had ever seen. She knew he must be the American captain that Sara—indeed, all of London—was gossiping about.

  He commanded a certain respect simply by his countenance. It wasn’t merely his physical attributes that were so captivating, though his wide shoulders, narrow hips, and trim waist were certainly exceptional ones. It was more his demeanor, the power simmering just beneath the surface. He looked to be a man who knew what he wanted and if need be, took it, though it was hard for her to imagine him being refused anything he desired.

  His face was bronzed and handsome, his jaw firm. His features denoted intelligence, determination, and more than a little arrogance. But it was his eyes that captivated her. His eyes were arresting, their intensity searing. He branded her with his stare.

  Lucy’s heart hammered harder with each step he took in her direction. She couldn’t swallow, wasn’t even certain she was breathing. Her legs were paralyzed and trembling wildly at the same time, and she wondered what had come over her while she sought to master her emotions and her body. Never before had she reacted in such a manner to a man, but then, never before had she seen such a man as this.

  Her mind was whirling. It was unbelievable that he would approach her this way, though there could be no doubt it was his intention. Had he no manners whatsoever? They had not been introduced! It was unthinkable. Her reputation would be in shreds. Even as the thought formed, she realized the irony of it since ruining her reputation was what she wished to do.

  He stopped but inches from her, his tall presence overpowering. She caught the faint scents of wood-spiced cologne and starched linen and something else that she knew was his scent alone. His eyes were ravenous, as though he’d hungered for her all his life and was now determined to sate that hunger. For the first time in her life, Lucy thought she might swoon.

  “May I have the pleasure of a dance?” His voice, seductive and melodious, caressed her even as his eyes ravished her. With a start she realized his eyes were gray—or were they silver? Who in the world had silver eyes?

  She knew she should turn away or at the very least, drop her gaze, but she could do neither. Instead, she had an illogical desire to reach out and touch him, to assure herself that he was real. What in God’s name had come over her?

  A voice startled her, drawing her from her jumbled thoughts.

  “Ladies, what a pleasure to see you again. May I present Captain Derek Wainright to you? Captain Wainright, may I present Lady Louisa Barrick and Lady Sara Wharton.”

  Lucy jerked her gaze from the American captain to see Lord Aster standing beside him. Where the earl had come from she had no idea, but judging from the harried look on his face, he must have raced like the dickens to reach them in time for introductions. A moment passed before she realized that Sara, whose face was lit with excitement, would not break convention and speak first, being the younger of the two girls.

  Lucy forced her mind to the moment. Trying desperately to gain her voice, she began with a croak. “Yes, Captain Aster… I mean, er… Lord Wainright… Oh, my goodness.” Her voice gave way to embarrassed silence as her face flushed with heat.

  The orchestra began to play, and before she could think or say a thing, the American folded her arm over his, guiding her onto the dance floor. She knew the eyes of every guest were upon her and consequently she stumbled, stepping soundly on his foot.

  The privateer raised a dark brow, his silvery eyes glinting with amusement. “I hope you don’t mean to trod on my toes throughout the dance, this being my first one and all,” he drawled with a slight accent. “I do need to keep them in good order for the rest of the night.” He smiled down at her, all roguish good looks and easy manner, as she stared up at him, tongue-tied. “Come now. I can’t be as bad as all that,” he went on. “I won’t ravish you here on the dance floor, whatever you may have heard of me. But if I did, you just might enjoy it.”

  Lucy gasped. Of all the impudence! Just who did he think he was, this American privateer? How dare he speak to her in such a manner. She glared at him and summoned her iciest tone. “I doubt if you were to ravish me on this floor that I would enjoy it, Captain. I am hardly an exhibitionist, and I prefer to take my pleasure in private.”

  There. Let him think about that. Of all the arrogant conceit. But wait; she mustn’t anger him, not if she wished to be caught in a compromising situation with him next week. Confound it! Why couldn’t she think straight?

  “You’re a woman after my own heart,” said the privateer, “but I would never have imagined that you were thinking what I was thinking.” He dropped his gaze, and she followed it to see her breasts fairly bursting from the neckline of her gown with every agitated breath.

  “Oh!” Lucy said as she snapped her head upright. “You… you…” She was aghast. Did the man actually believe she wished to be alone with him, or was he only pretending to mistake her meaning? As she put her mind to a retort, she realized he was maneuvering her closer and closer to the terrace doors.

  She tried to think. An unlit terrace with a privateer might be exactly the thing. Or should she create a scandal by leaving him on the dance floor? No, that wouldn’t be scandalous enough to deter Lord Harlech from marriage, but it might cause her aunt to cancel further invitations, especially the invitation to the country party. Oh, for goodness sake. She had no idea how to go about this scheming. If only he would stop looking at her as though he planned to gobble her up, she might be able to decide. “Sir, please do not think—”

  “That’s the good thing about me,” he said. “I try not to think at all. I just do.” With that declaration, he drew her through the open doors and onto the darkened terrace.

  The moment they were hidden from the others, he pulled her into his arms, his lips capturing hers in a devouring kiss that left her weak and wanting more. The kiss gentled as his lips strayed to the softness of her cheek, her neck, her ear, his breath warm and urgent against her skin. He groaned, his hands slipping down to
cup her bottom, lifting her up, rocking her gently against him. A thrill coursed through her, a thrill that began in her most private area and quickly spread throughout her body. The kiss turned passionate as the privateer once again claimed her lips, running his tongue lightly between them, until she parted them, seeking to give whatever it was that he sought.

  Lucy’s entire body was a mass of delicious shivers and she surrendered to them. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life. She knew her behavior was scandalous, and she didn’t care. She wished he would take her, there, then, not knowing exactly what that meant but knowing that whatever it was, she wanted it. Badly.

  From behind them came the sound of a man clearing his throat. The sound barely registered with Lucy, her mind ignoring its meaning, until the privateer released her, sliding her down against his full, hard length. Warmth flooded Lucy’s body, pooling deep in her belly, and she fought him, trying to hold on, pressing herself against him, not wanting the tantalizing sensations to end.

  He chuckled. “You’re a passionate young lady. I do believe you weren’t telling the truth when you said you wouldn’t want me to ravish you on the ballroom floor.”

  Lucy’s ardor dissipated at the smugness of his tone; embarrassment and shame took its place. Lightning fast, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. His answering grin made her heart pound with fury.

  “It would appear I arrived just in time,” Lord Aster said. “Please forgive my associate, for his ignorance of society behavior.”

  The expression on Lord Aster’s face was kind, if a little sheepish. Behind him, Sara waited in the shadows.

  “We followed you out immediately,” he continued. “Let us hope no damage has been done. Lady Sara will escort you into the ballroom. If you’d like a few moments to recover, the captain and I will hurry around to the other side and make our entrance. Your reputation should not suffer on his account.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Lucy’s trembling voice was almost a whisper. She was still shocked by the captain’s actions and by her response, and she was desperately trying to shake off the maelstrom of feelings, to regain some control.

  The American bowed low and with a knowing look said, “Till we meet again, my lady. I’m sure we both hope that will be soon.”

  “Oh!” Lucy stamped her foot and turned her back to him.

  Sara was instantly at her side. “My goodness,” she whispered as soon as the men departed. “I suspect you’ve made quite a stir inside. I daresay there are men who will look at you differently now that you’ve been singled out by the infamous Captain Wainright. Come now, you must give it up. I must hear the details. How does he kiss? Was it wonderful?”

  Lucy stamped her foot again, infuriated by her response to the captain and by Sara’s questions as well. “Is that all you can think about?” she blurted out. “He-he stood here and took advantage of me, and all you can do is ask if his kiss was wonderful?”

  Lucy glared at Sara, realizing how ridiculous she sounded in light of her plan, but she was unable to quell her anger. Then Sara began to giggle and so did she as an almost hysterical silliness overtook her other emotions. Moments later they were both gasping for air.

  “You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted,” Sara said, wiping a tear from her eye. “He can’t be forced to marry you, and he certainly doesn’t care about your reputation. As you said, he’s the perfect pawn for your scheme.”

  Lucy sobered up at Sara’s words. In the back of her mind was a niggling apprehension. Somehow she didn’t think this captain the type of man to be used in anyone’s scheme. Quickly reviewing her sketchy plans for ruination, she tried to imagine any possible way they could go awry, but she could not foresee it. Still, the uneasy feeling persisted.

  “I don’t know, Sara. I’m worried. He doesn’t seem the type to be duped. And we never discussed the compromising situation in detail. Shall I be ravished by him or shall I devise a way to make it appear so?”

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to be ravished by the American, she thought. It was an experience she might never have otherwise, if she never married, and the man was very handsome and exciting. At least she would find out what all the talk—or rather, secrecy—was about.

  “What do you think? Must I let him ravish me?” she asked hopefully.

  Sara laughed as she smoothed Lucy’s hair into place. “My dear, you are a delight. We shall see. If you must be ravished, then you must. For now, let us go back inside. I fear Mama and your aunt are calling for the salts by now.”

  Chapter 5

  Upon reentering the ballroom, Lucy spied the captain on the other side of the room. He was deep in conversation with Lord Aster, and both men seemed tense. Before she could say a word to Sara, they were set upon by her aunt and Sara’s mother, whose stern looks foretold of scoldings to come.

  There was nothing left to do but dance with the never-ending stream of men eager to lead her to the floor. She would have been content to sit out the dances, if she could have sat near enough to hear a certain conversation involving a certain American privateer, for it appeared as though Lord Aster was taking the captain to task. As she looked on wistfully, she could only wonder if the conversation had anything to do with the captain’s scandalous behavior toward her. By the flustered looks Lord Aster cast in her direction more than once, she suspected it was so.

  Lounging in a shadowed corner of the ballroom, Derek was left in no doubt of Stephen’s feelings.

  “There are enough women panting for you here that you didn’t need to choose a virgin to spirit away,” Stephen said, his face red with anger. “It’ll be a wonder if your actions don’t ruin Lady Louisa’s reputation. What the devil got into you?”

  Derek stiffened at the criticism. One thing he would never do was ruin a lady’s reputation. He gave a brusque nod toward Lady Louisa as yet another young man applied for a dance. “You can see for yourself her reputation is intact. Look at her… she’s the belle of the ball.”

  Indeed, the men were lined up for the girl, and she was enjoying the attention. He didn’t know why that irritated him, but it did. He wanted to stomp over to the young man leading her to the dance floor and shove him away. As a matter of fact, he wanted to fling the lad across the ballroom hard enough to bounce him off the other wall.

  He lifted a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman and downed it in one long gulp. Taking a deep breath, he forced his gaze from her. “Besides, it works into my plan. I’m supposed to be a rakehell and that’s a step toward establishing the fact.”

  “Rakehell?” Stephen glowered at Derek. “I hardly think you need be a rakehell to prove you’ll smuggle goods. It’s important to establish your lack of character, but only when it comes to business. I’m staking my reputation on your social interactions, and I won’t have you leaving the bodies of innocent young ladies in your wake. Lady Louisa’s been through enough during the past couple of years, and I won’t be party to any further suffering on her part.”

  Derek quirked a brow at Stephen’s last statement and then sighed. “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me. I forgot myself briefly, but it won’t happen again.”

  A memory of the girl’s soft body pressed to his flashed through his mind, causing an immediate physical response, and he gave himself a mental shake. Stephen was right. Lady Louisa was an innocent, and besides, he couldn’t afford to be diverted from his goal by his baser feelings. But as far as he was concerned, the episode had been fortuitous. He hadn’t told Stephen, but the name Barrick was mentioned in his father’s journal many times. As were the names Chelton and Summerfield. Especially Summerfield. He assumed the men were connected and now that he’d made Lady Louisa’s acquaintance, he could, perhaps, use her as a source of information.

  He glanced at Stephen to see him still watching Lady Louisa. “What do you mean she’s been through quite enough already?”

  “She’s had a bad time of it,” Stephen said, his scowl relax
ing. “Grew up without a mother, and then her father, Philip, was killed by a highwayman two years ago. They were very close; it devastated her. I don’t believe she made a single appearance last Season, though her mourning was over. I’m surprised to see her here, but I heard rumors her uncle wants her to marry.”

  “Her uncle?” Derek posed the question casually, even as a score of other questions came to mind. Did her father’s death have anything to do with his father’s death, which might have happened around the same time? Was her uncle a Barrick as well, and if so, which man had his father been referring to in his journal? His frustration flared. The cryptic manner of his father’s notes made logical deductions impossible.

  Stephen nodded. “He’s her guardian, though it wasn’t Philip’s wish. Two brothers couldn’t be less alike. Philip was a respectable man, once he got through his youth. Nathan, on the other hand…”

  “What about him?”

  “Where should I start?” Stephen’s voice was thick with contempt. “He’s vain, lazy, and has a sickening way of ingratiating himself with whomever will further his rise in society. No one had even heard of him until he inherited Philip’s title.”

  “Title?”

  “Earl of Chelton.”

  Chelton. One mystery solved. Barrick and Chelton were the same man. Or maybe not. It depended on the timeline in the journal and the date of Philip Barrick’s death. Chelton could be Philip and Barrick could be his brother, Nathan. Or Chelton and Barrick could be the same man—either of the men.

  “So Philip didn’t think enough of his brother to introduce him around to his friends?”

  Stephen snorted. “Philip didn’t even leave Nathan the guardianship of his daughter, so what do you think? The man has questionable morals. He was supposedly penniless and inherited nothing but the title, yet spends money as though he has an unlimited supply. Perhaps I’m being uncharitable. I have only a passing acquaintance with him; my words are based on gossip. I daresay you’ll draw your own conclusions when you meet him in the gaming room. He’s probably gambling as we speak.”