Her gaze rested for a moment on Lady Foxworth, and she marveled at how the woman had managed to finagle the seating so that Captain Wainright was close enough to observe her behavior but far enough away that he couldn’t hear her conversation when her voice was lowered. According to Lady Foxworth, a mere mention of Lucy’s seating preferences to Lord Vanburton had been enough to make the marquess insist on the changes, most likely because he was now seated next to Lucy. Lady Foxworth sat directly across from him, between the captain and Lord Aster.
It was the perfect arrangement, for the captain would see Lucy’s face each time she turned toward the Lord Vanburton. More important, her aunt, seated at the opposite end of the table, wouldn’t be able to see Lucy’s face at all. Neither would Eleanor be able to see that Lucy had shrugged the shawl off her one bare shoulder.
Lucy reached for the comforting feel of her locket before remembering she hadn’t worn it. She had only herself to depend on for courage, then. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Lord Aster with what Lady Foxworth called a “come hither” look, determined to begin. He offered back a small smile, curious interest in his eyes. She let her gaze travel to his mouth, but then couldn’t carry through with the plan and glanced away, feeling decidedly foolish. Perhaps Lord Aster wasn’t the best man to try that on, and besides, she felt as though she were betraying Sara.
She glanced back at the earl to find him studying her with a lazy smile and a knowing expression, and she battled the blush that would surely come any moment. He knew what she was doing; she was sure of it. She would leave him out of the business and make do with Lord Vanburton, whatever Lady Foxworth might say about it.
Glasses clinked, conversations rose accompanied by laughter, abated, rose again. Through it all Lucy breathed in and out, in and out, counting one-two-three with each breath. As Lady Foxworth had predicted, the captain’s eyes seemed glued to her, and her flirtatious attempts were evidently enough to annoy him, for he had motioned to the footman to refill his wine glass twice already.
Her eyes caught his and he leaned back in his chair to stare at her, unmindful of his dinner, his smoldering gaze burning a trail from her bare shoulder down to the bodice that molded her breasts, where his gaze lingered for more than a moment. Recognizing his look as the same he had bestowed upon her when she was in a state of undress, Lucy felt her face grow warm. But Lord Vanburton was asking her a question, and so she forced herself to concentrate, giving him her most engaging smile.
A flustered Lord Vanburton stopped mid-sentence and started over again. “I’m so pleased you will tour the grounds tomorrow, Lady Louisa. I don’t believe I know another young lady who takes such an interest in horses and land and farming.” As he began to talk about his stable, Lucy let her gaze drop to his lips, parting her own lips just a little, as Lady Foxworth had instructed.
Lord Vanburton stammered and nearly fell into his plate. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice to an intimate level, and she leaned closer to him too, tipping her head to the side as she’d been told to do. She gazed at him as though his every word was worthy of parchment and then let her gaze drop again to his lips.
She felt, rather than saw, the captain’s piercing stare. She could only pray that Isabelle Foxworth’s plan was working.
Derek seethed behind a determined mask of nonchalance. From the moment they sat down to dinner, Lady Louisa had acted like a whore, flirting with every man except him.
She hadn’t spared him a single glance, for she couldn’t keep her eyes off Lord Vanburton, and for God’s sake, what was this business with the man’s mouth? It was just a mouth—a perfectly ordinary mouth. No, actually, it was a little uglier than an ordinary mouth, a little softer than an ordinary mouth.
As he more closely examined the man and his mouth, he could see it wasn’t an ordinary mouth at all. In fact, that mouth made him sick.
He narrowed his eyes when Lady Louisa parted her lips as though she was actually thinking about being kissed by that mouth. Obviously, the girl would let anyone kiss her. She had no shame at all.
Deciding to end such nonsense, he leaned forward to ask her a pointed question, forcing her to at least acknowledge his presence, something she had thus far managed to avoid.
“So, tell us, Lady Louisa, where is your estate located?” he asked loudly, not caring that he’d interrupted her conversation with the idiot beside her.
Glancing in his direction for hardly a second, Lady Louisa turned her worshipping look back to Lord Vanburton before she replied, “Stonecrest is little more than a two-hour ride north of London.” She gave the young man a sweet smile. “Have you ever been to the village of Chelton? I should hate to think you were in our neighborhood without calling upon us.”
Derek ground his teeth as the marquess puffed up at the way Lady Louisa not only included him in her answer, but actually made him the subject of the discussion.
“I’ve never been,” the lord replied, waving his arm in a ridiculous, airy manner, “but I should like to visit. Tell me something of the place.”
“Yes, tell us something of the place,” Derek added in a stony voice, lifting his empty glass so that the footman behind him would take notice of the fact that it needed refilling. “I’m sure we’d all like to visit.” He glared at Lord Vanburton and received a superior look in return. He wanted to leap across the table and pummel the fool, but he held his temper in check.
As Lady Louisa told them of Stonecrest, Derek noticed that with each question she answered, she seemed to glow a little more until she quite radiated happiness and contentedness. Anyone could see how much she loved her manor, its lands, and the people who cared for it. Yet, though she spoke to them all, Derek couldn’t help but feel her words were meant for Vanburton, and the longer he watched her flutter her long lashes and bestow her engaging smile, the angrier he became.
The girl had no morals at all to be monopolizing a bachelor in such a manner. Where the devil was her aunt, anyway? Had the woman completely lost her mind, allowing her niece to behave like this? If Lady Louisa were his sister, by God, she wouldn’t be staring at a young man’s lips as though eager to pounce on them.
No wonder the girl had been locked in her bedchamber. If her behavior tonight was any indication of her moral standards, he was surprised her uncle hadn’t locked her in her room and thrown away the key and chopped down the damned tree that afforded her escape.
Angrier with each passing minute, he motioned to the footman for more wine, and then drank the entire glass straight down before standing up so abruptly that his chair fell backwards. Without even a glance to the chair or the footman who sprang to right it, he excused himself from the dinner table and strode from the room. The gaming would begin soon, and he had more important matters to think about than a silly young woman who wished to practice her flirting skills. Or perhaps her aim was to be the next Duchess of Bellingham.
Either way, he would put her out of his mind. She was a waste of his time.
Chapter 9
The captain’s breathing was deep and even, much more so than her own. Lucy waited, ready for the moment he might awaken, when she would be forced to play the seductress, and she prayed he’d consumed enough drink to muddle his mind.
She shrugged off her cloak and stood shivering in her shift, and still there was no movement from him. She lifted the coverlet, released a breath, and then slipped into bed beside him.
Her entire body was shaking and she tried to calm herself, realizing that her trembling was as likely to be from the cold as from nerves. The country evenings were always chilly, and he had not lit a fire. Nor had he bothered to have his bed warmed. The only warm spot was the one where his body lay.
He was halfway on his side, facing in her direction, and she moved nearer to his warmth. They would be discovered at any moment—Lady Foxworth was seeing to that—but in the meantime, she didn’t wish to freeze to death. She inched closer, facing him, and was just about to relax when he reached out and grabbed her, pu
lling her hard against him.
“Pamela, don’t go.” His words were slurred.
Lucy froze, appalled. Not only did he think she was someone else, but with her thinly clad body pressed against his, she had a feeling—a very distinct feeling—that he was completely naked. She lay unmoving. He, however, did not do the same.
His hand slipped lower until it cupped her bottom. “Ummm, you feel good,” he murmured.
She was trapped in his embrace, with his chin resting on her head. Panic seized her, and she fought against the urge to leap from the bed, instead concentrating on her breathing, forcing her body to relax. As before, his scent was alluring, reminding her of the kiss they had shared, and it wasn’t long before panic ebbed as excitement took its place.
He shifted his leg and draped it over her hip, pulling her flat against him. “So good,” he said again, nuzzling her head.
She knew he was still asleep and probably dreaming, but that knowledge didn’t diminish the thrill that raced through her when he pressed his body to hers. She felt something hard against her belly, and she wished she could see what he looked like under the sheet, or better yet, that she could take advantage of the situation and explore his body. Well, perhaps she could.
She moved her hand beneath the sheet, but it seemed an impossible task to slip it between them, and after several unsuccessful tries, she gave up and slid it around him, deciding to touch him the way he was touching her. She knew her behavior was disgraceful, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself, didn’t want to stop.
His skin was warm. She ran her hand over his back, touching him, trying to memorize the feel of his muscles. Her fingers skimmed his naked buttocks, sending tingles up and down her spine, and she gave in to the temptation to squeeze one of his cheeks as he was doing to her. She felt what had to be his manhood rigid against her, pressing into her private area through her cotton shift. It was the most thrilling sensation she’d ever experienced. She was so excited she could not draw a breath.
Suddenly his entire body stiffened, and she knew he was awake.
“What the hell?” He moved away from her and reached for the bed table. Unable to find whatever he looked for, he cursed. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Whom might I have the pleasure of entertaining in my bed?”
The captain’s tone was cold, uninviting, and he didn’t sound the least bit sleepy or drunk. Terrified, Lucy said nothing. Then she realized she’d better speak up since she’d be discovered at any moment, though she was beginning to wonder what was taking so long. It wouldn’t do to spend the night in the captain’s bed and not be discovered; she hoped their hostess was on her way now.
“It’s-it’s Lucy… Louisa… Lady Louisa. You invited me here and so I c-c-came,” she said, praying he couldn’t remember the evening’s events.
“Lady Louisa?” He sounded incredulous. “Excuse my confusion, but I find it hard to believe that I invited you to my bed and can’t remember it. I find it even harder to believe that you came.”
Before she could reply, the door crashed open. The Duke and Duchess of Bellingham huddled in the doorway dressed in their nightclothes, each holding a candle.
Lucy cringed at the shocked looks on their faces, and a rush of heat engulfed her face. She wanted to hide under the covers, but it was vital that people see her.
“Oh, you poor, poor dear,” cried the duchess as she took in the scene. She glared at the captain. “I blame Lord Aster for this; he vouched for your character, you-you despoiler of innocents!” She jabbed her husband in the side, shrieking, “Do something! Are you just going to stand there?”
When the duke made no move—he couldn’t seem to force his unblinking gaze from the bed and its occupants—the duchess sprang into action. “Out!” she cried at her husband and at the crowd already beginning to gather. “The poor girl can hardly get dressed with everyone watching. Oh, dear… ” She clutched her own wrapping tight around her throat, with both hands, as if Lucy’s dilemma might be contagious.
Lucy tugged at the coverlet, wanting to pull it over her face, but it wouldn’t budge, so she turned away from the door and toward the captain. He sat up even straighter, causing the covers to fall to his waist, exposing his chest. Momentarily forgetting her predicament, Lucy gaped at the sight of the well-defined muscles and taut nipples, at the smooth skin covered with a sprinkling of dark hair. That strange quiver coursed through her private area again.
The duchess let out a gasp. “Oh, my poor, poor girl,” she said, coming forward with the rumpled cloak she’d picked up from the floor. “Sir, you must turn your head,” she said in a haughty tone.
The captain smirked. “Oh, I beg leave to differ, your Grace. If I’m to be blamed for seducing an innocent young woman, then I should at least get a good look at that young woman before she dresses.” He crossed his arms over his chest as though he hadn’t a care in the world, and, of course, Lucy knew he didn’t. What was one more indiscretion to a man whose very reputation was based on seducing women? The captain would doubtless see a rise in his reputation. She was the only one facing condemnation.
Lucy scrambled from the bed before anyone could make a move, grabbed the cloak from the duchess, flung it around herself, and fled the room. She forced her way through the guests lingering in the hall, while avoiding looking directly at them, and then ran down the passage, up the stairs, and back to her own bedchamber.
Safely inside, she collapsed in a chair, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might be ill, just as the adjoining door opened. Her aunt, pulling on a pink robe, entered her room, a look of shock and confusion on her pale face.
“Lucy, tell me Mary is out of her mind. Tell me you haven’t spent the night in Captain Wainright’s bedchamber.” As Eleanor searched Lucy’s face, her look of disbelief changed to dismay. She dropped onto the nearest chair. “Oh, Lucy, how could you?”
As her pulse hammered in her head, Lucy sought to remind herself of the reasons she behaved as she had, but at the wounded expression on her aunt’s face, the logic of her reasoning diminished drastically. She opened her mouth to try to explain or to ask for forgiveness—she wasn’t sure which—but just then a knock sounded at the door and the Duchess of Bellingham entered.
“Lady Louisa,” the duchess said, crinkling her brow, “I do not understand how this happened. Surely he didn’t use force? After all, you were in his bedchamber.”
“No, your Grace,” Lucy replied in a whisper, unable to meet the woman’s gaze. “He did not force me. I w-went to him.” At the woman’s gasp, Lucy lifted her chin and looked the duchess in the eye, determined to carry the blame of her actions. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that he is so handsome and exciting. I couldn’t help myself.”
Lucy knew her every word would race through London like fire, for the duchess was a gossip. Having come this far, she must make certain her reputation was ruined beyond repair, for if Lord Harlech were to accept her still…
The duchess was speechless for perhaps the only time in her life. Sweeping herself up in a most regal manner, she lifted her chin. “Lady Callister, perhaps you should ask yourself how it happened that a young lady under your chaperonage could slip away and into a man’s bed without being missed for what surely must have been some time.”
“No!” Lucy jumped to her feet, almost shouting in a desperate attempt to avert blame from her aunt. Guilt flooded her as she realized she hadn’t sullied only her reputation, but her aunt’s as well. She would never have deliberately hurt Eleanor, and yet that’s exactly what she had done. Oh, why had she not realized how this could affect Eleanor?
“I tricked her. I-I told her I had the headache and asked that I not be disturbed. I dismissed my maid for the night and put pillows in my bed in case my aunt checked on me. She is blameless.”
The duchess drew back in shock. “Oh! Such willful deceit. Such… And to think my own son… Well, enough about that. I think it best if you pack and leave at first light. Perhaps one
day Lady Callister’s part in this affair can be overlooked. Only time will tell.”
Eleanor arose from her seat, her violet eyes glittering. “Whatever my niece has done and for whatever reasons, I would not wish to separate my reputation from hers. We will pack immediately and be gone before first light.
*****
By the time they arrived at Stonecrest, both women were exhausted. Neither had slept during the long journey home; they’d spent the entire time discussing Lucy’s scandalous behavior. Eleanor was deeply disappointed in Lucy and told her so.
Tearfully, Lucy admitted her scheme to Eleanor, who couldn’t believe to what extent her niece had plotted.
She never dreamed Lucy would do such a thing, but she realized now that she should have. All the signs had been there. The silence about her betrothal to Lord Harlech, her sudden desire to participate in social events, her obvious attraction to the privateer… now that was going to get her niece into trouble, and Lucy just didn’t realize it yet.
She told Lucy she may have schemed herself into marriage, but Lucy wouldn’t believe it. The very idea was preposterous, Lucy insisted. She would never marry an American privateer, and even the courts of England would support her on that.
Eleanor hadn’t been able to explain the reason for her apprehension, that she was almost certain the privateer was really the Duke of Dorrington. Regardless of the circumstances, the Duke of Dorrington would do the honorable thing, at least Eleanor thought he would. But until she knew the man’s identity for certain and the reason for his deceit, she could say nothing; his reputation had been ruined quite enough. If what she suspected was true, however, and the man was indeed Jonathan Wentworth, then her niece would have to lie in the bed she had sneaked into.
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