The Heart of a Hellion

by Jess Michaels

  He shifted. “Perhaps both, depending on the mood.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of her lips again. “Hmmm, yes, a great deal depends on the mood.”

  She held his gaze a moment and then pivoted away again. She lifted up on her tiptoes to see a shelf just above her sightline and her dress shifted against her backside. A very shapely backside at that.

  He glanced at the fire. Why was it so blasted hot in here? That could not be good for the books. It certainly wasn’t good for his constitution.

  “And what about you?” he asked, hearing how low and rough his voice was in the quiet of the room.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Reading is a favorite pastime for me, as well. Perhaps that means we’ll encounter each other here often during the party. We can…compare books.”

  He drew in a long breath and tried to find a modicum of decorum and calm in the face of the hurricane that was this woman. He was an investigator, sent here to do just that. He couldn’t forget it just because a wildly attractive woman batted her exquisitely long eyelashes at him and gave him a come-hither look.

  So what could he deduce about Selina Oliver? Beyond her beauty, beyond her intoxicating charm. She was bold, that was one thing. Brash, he supposed some would say, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It was a playful boldness, at least on its surface. But as he gazed deeper into those lovely eyes, he also saw something…else. Something more purposeful.

  As if this dance she was dancing had meaning beyond flirtation. And suddenly his interest became not just about her scent or the warmth of her or the directness of her attraction, but about what it was exactly she was trying to achieve by approaching him.

  He thought of the disappearing blue gown earlier in the parlor. Hers, he was more and more certain. And that made him wonder about those motives all the more.

  He cleared his throat and straightened up. “Any time you’d like to compare books, Miss Oliver, I am at your service.”

  She arched a brow. “Then I look forward to it.”

  Oh yes, this conversation and its deeper meanings were far too risky. He needed to draw her toward some other topic. Perhaps one that would let him see more of the real woman beneath this flirtatious façade he didn’t fully understand.

  “I was sorry your brother couldn’t join our party,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie.

  Just as he suspected, her expression shifted. The playful minx faded away and a second side to her emerged. A little anxious, much softer, just as intriguing.

  “Nicholas?” she said, and nodded. “Yes, I wish he had come, as well. But his injuries…”

  Derrick frowned as he recalled Gillingham’s heavy limp when they’d seen each other in London. The expression of pain on his face. “Yes, they were grave. We thought we’d lose him that day.”

  She flinched. “We’ve thought that a few times since his return, to be honest. Though he does seem to be healing, at last. He is much better than he was even six months ago.”

  Derrick saw her concern. The one he shared. And he stepped closer without thinking. “He is as strong a man as I’ve ever known. I believe he will continue to recover.”

  She gazed up at him and nodded slowly. “Thank you for that. It helps to hear it.”

  Her voice and expression were genuine. He could see her deep fear for her brother’s future, her pain for what he’d suffered in the past and even now. And for a moment, he longed to take her hand. He flexed his fingers at his sides so he wouldn’t do something so foolish.

  He needed to stay on task.

  “Well, it’s been a pleasure to see you, Miss Oliver,” he said. “But I should—”

  She raised a hand. “Do not run away on my account, Mr. Huntington. I promised Katherine and the other ladies that I would join them for drinks before we all gather for supper, and I am already fashionably late. I will see you tonight, I hope.”

  He nodded. “Indeed. Until then, Miss Oliver.”

  “Until then,” she repeated, and turned away. He watched her as she went and at the door she turned and sent another saucy smile toward him before she glided from the room.

  He sank into the closest chair after she did so and dragged in a breath of the air she’d stolen when she entered the room. The woman was…fascinating. He could very easily read most people. It was why he’d taken so well to this profession. And though he caught a glimpse now and then of the realness beneath her façade, most of the time Selina Oliver was utterly unreadable.

  That should have warned him off. Should have done a great many things. But instead it made him throb for her all the more. Made him want to peel off all that pretense, along with her gown and her underthings, and mount an exploration of all that was beneath.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Find a lightskirt if you need relief. Get yourself together.”

  With those words said, he pushed back to his feet and returned his attention to the books on the shelves. Only he could no longer seem to find focus for the titles.

  And he had the strangest feeling that stealing his focus was exactly what Miss Oliver wanted.

  Chapter 4

  The ladies had all gathered in the large parlor near Katherine’s study, and it was a jolly group, on the whole. Everyone was beautiful in their finery, friendly in their conversation, and there were jewels galore for Selina to admire. And covet, though she refused to allow her attention to be drawn away from the necklace she was here to steal.

  Apart from everything else? Well, that was harder. Her encounter with Derrick Huntington in the library replayed over and over in her mind. She’d intended to play a little with him, flirt with him and set him on his heels. She thought she had succeeded in that.

  And yet she didn’t feel fully satisfied by the meeting. There had been moments when he’d almost effortlessly pulled away the mask she wore. Moments where she thought he could…see her.

  If he could do that, he was a dangerous investigator, indeed. And she’d have to work hard to keep him off her scent if she decided to follow through on her plans for Lady Winford’s jewels.

  “Miss Oliver?”

  Selina pivoted and found that Katherine’s friend, the Duchess of Sheffield, had approached her. Selina smiled in welcome, both because the duchess seemed so kind and also because Selina had a keen interest in the lady. After all, her quarry had been invited to this party for the sole purpose of her husband’s potential assistance to the Duke of Sheffield.

  “Your Grace,” Selina said. “Oh, and please, just Selina. Miss Oliver sounds so strange to my ears.”

  “Helena,” the duchess said with another of those pretty smiles. “I also struggle with the formality.”

  It didn’t surprise Selina. After all, Helena was rather famously American. That was how it was said, too, in good circles when she wasn’t around. American, like it was a disease the lovely woman carried. She’d also been rumored to have once been hardly more than a servant.

  It seemed Katherine, Robert and their group were fond of collecting outsiders. Which made them very likeable to Selina, even if she could never truly be part of their special circle. She was a bastard, after all. And a wild one, at that. She could never be fully accepted.

  “It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Helena said with a truly welcoming smile. “Katherine always speaks so highly of you.”

  “Does she?” Selina said, arching her brow as she gazed across the room to where her sister-in-law stood with the Duchess of Crestwood and a few other ladies. “I suppose I’m surprised she speaks of me at all.”

  Helena tilted her head. “Of course she does.”

  “Well, she is a wonderful woman,” Selina replied, and meant every word. “I’ve become very fond of her.”

  “I know she was thrilled to have you join the party,” Helena continued.

  Selina glanced at Helena. This was a perfect opening to discuss Lady Winford. After all, the countess was their shared quarry. For Helena, the woman represented a hope for the future for her husband. For
Selina…well, the necklace…and a little bit of comeuppance for bad behavior.

  “Of course, it’s not yet a complete party,” Selina said, and watched Helena’s gaze flicker to the door, almost as if she were anticipating the arrival of Lady Winford even now.

  “Yes, the Earl and Countess of Winford, our latecomers,” Helena said, and her hands clenched at her sides.

  Before Selina could respond, Katherine and the Duchess of Crestwood approached together. “What are you two discussing so seriously?” the Duchess of Crestwood asked as she slid an arm through Helena’s and squeezed.

  Helena smiled up at her. “The party, Meg. And how wonderful it is already, with such friends to be met. I’m so glad we could do this, Katherine. We love seeing you and need to do it more often.”

  “Actually, we were discussing the friends yet to come, Your Grace,” Selina said.

  “Meg,” the duchess corrected her. “To my friends and family, I’m just Meg. Robert and my Simon are practically brothers, so you follow the line of that, my dear.”

  Selina felt heat flooding her cheeks at the kindness of both duchesses. They were so easy and kind, so welcoming without any hint of ulterior motive. She had not expected it, but it was…nice.

  “Meg.” She arched a brow. “I was just about to tell Helena that I am not particularly sad that Lady Winford and her husband have not yet joined us.”

  Meg let out a little sound of surprise, laced with just a touch of admiration at Selina’s candor. Katherine dipped her head, barely smothering a smile, and Helena blushed.

  “So direct!” Meg said with a laugh.

  Selina lifted a hand to her chest. “Too far?” she asked with feigned innocence.

  Meg shook her head. “Not at all. I find the candor refreshing. And I happen to agree with it. I’ve always found Lady Winford to be…cold.”

  “Cruel,” Selina whispered softly.

  Katherine jerked her gaze to her. “Lady Winford was cruel to you?” she asked.

  “Not to me directly…at least not yet,” Selina admitted. “But I’ve seen her do it to others, especially those she deems too unimportant to be able to fight back.”

  Helena shifted. “I admit, I have also experienced some of her bad ways. I’m so sorry that you felt compelled to invite her because of Baldwin and me, Katherine.”

  Katherine took her hand, and the warmth between the women was almost palpable. “No, dearest. I’m happy to help. Certainly, we all interact regularly with people who aren’t our favorite to spend time with. It is part of the world, unfortunately. And at least in this case, it could lead to some good.”

  That seemed to ease Helena’s worries a little, and she smiled. “By the time they arrive, it will only be a week left. And perhaps she won’t be so terrible this time.”

  Meg snorted. “You keep that faith, my dear, because you are too good.”

  Selina couldn’t help but smile at their sisterly camaraderie. She’d been alone most of her life. She’d grown close to three of her brothers to varying degrees, but she hadn’t met any of her half-sisters. She hadn’t truly experienced this kind of bond.

  “Now I must ask,” she pressed, pushing aside whatever longing she felt at that thought. “What do you think of our other new friends?”

  “New friends?” Katherine repeated. “Are you speaking about Mr. Huntington and Mr. Barber?”

  Selina nodded. “Yes.”

  “I met Mr. Barber briefly in the garden a short time ago,” Helena said. “He seems a very friendly man. We shared our common interest in roses. He gave me good advice on a problem I’ve been having with mites in my own little garden on our London estate.”

  Katherine shifted and Selina felt her slight discomfort. Selina hadn’t been able to eavesdrop long enough at the study window to find out if Katherine was aware of the men’s investigation, but now she had to believe the duchess was. But Robert and she were obviously keeping the truth quiet.

  “They are friends of Robert and Selina’s brother Nicholas. They served with him in the war. I believe Nicholas discovered they were spending time near Roseford, and asked Robert to include them. They both seem very decent men.”

  Selina nodded slowly. She wanted to get closer to the efficacy of Huntington and Barber’s investigation, which meant getting closer to them. Or at least one of them. Huntington, since the attraction between them was patently obvious.

  So it was time to throw a lure into the conversation and see if Katherine would jump for it.

  “Very decent, given the brief interaction we shared on the drive. And very attractive, as you’ll all see at supper. Mr. Huntington is uncommonly handsome, I would say.”

  Katherine’s gaze slowly shifted to Selina, and she pretended not to notice the interest in her sister-in-law’s stare. The calculations she was making. But Selina felt them being made, felt the desire to matchmake rising up in the duchess. She just hoped it was an itch Katherine wouldn’t resist scratching.

  But judging from all the duchesses’ faces as they changed the subject to something else, she would wager a farthing she would be seated next to Derrick Huntington that very night. Now she just had to figure out the best way to read him, and which way to play the game that had begun hours before.

  As Derrick entered the dining hall with Barber at his side, he drew in a long breath. It was a lavish room, beautifully appointed, with fine bone china and sterling silver utensils at each place. Other guests were already settling in at their seats, which were labeled by a sophisticated, swirling hand.

  “Here I am,” Barber said, pointing to a seat. “Mr. E. Barber. Ah, and I’m next to the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield. I met her earlier in the garden. She is a lovely woman.”

  Derrick nodded. “Wonderful,” he murmured. “Then you’ll be happy. God knows who I’ll be placed by. Excuse me as I continue to look.”

  He left Barber to settle in, pleased as could be about his seatmates. Derrick looked along the seats, passing each name by until he came to the opposite side of the table. And there he was, Mr. D. Huntington. He glanced at the surrounding names. One was Mr. Grimes, a third son of an earl. A very good thing, as Derrick wanted to get to know the man a bit better. Grimes had access to Society due to his father and brother. There were some small rumors about a financial issue. He fit the bill for the Fox.

  But before he could formulate a plan to deal with the man, he noticed the name on the other side: Miss S. Oliver.

  He blinked and looked up just in time to see the lady approaching, a wide, almost triumphant smile curving those luscious lips.

  “Mr. Huntington,” she declared as she reached him. She gave him a pointed look, then glanced at her chair. He blinked and then pulled it back to allow her to sit. “Fancy meeting you here,” she finished.

  He eased into his place and reached for his napkin. As he placed it in his lap, he made note of that wicked twinkle in her eyes. The one that seemed to tug directly on his cock. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Of all the table placements in all the country…”

  She laughed, then glanced up in thanks at the footman who was pouring her a glass of madeira. Once Derrick had his own, she tilted hers toward him. “Then let us toast to the seating chart.”

  He had no choice but to do so. Their glasses clinked and they both sipped their wine.

  She set her glass back on the table. “Perhaps it wasn’t accidental, though.”

  “No?” he said, nodding to Mr. Grimes as he took his place. “Good evening.”

  Grimes sniffed toward him and grunted, “Good evening.” He immediately put his attention to the lady on his right.

  Derrick frowned before he let his attention drift back to Selina. “Why would we be placed together?”

  She leaned in and whispered, “Don’t you know? I don’t belong here either.”

  “You don’t think I belong here?” he said, watching her carefully. Although her expression wasn’t closed off, it didn’t reveal anything either.

  “I know you don�
�t,” she whispered, and winked at him.

  He pondered pressing her, trying to determine if her statement was pure snobbery or something she thought she knew for certain, but this was not the place. If their conversation were overheard, it could damage the cover provided to him by Roseford’s invitation and the explanation behind it. Later, perhaps, if they were alone…

  Although, looking at Selina Oliver, he did not think that being alone with her was a good idea. He generally avoided temptation. Losing control never led to anything good, at least not beyond a moment or two of pleasure. She was the kind of woman who snapped a man out of control with hardly a bat of her eyelashes.

  “Very well, so you think me out of place,” he said softly. “But how can you be? You’re the sister of the duke, after all.”

  That smile faltered just a fraction. Not enough that most people would have even noticed it. But he did. “Bastard sister,” she murmured.

  He raised both eyebrows. “So direct.”

  “You have no idea.” She sipped her wine, then arched her brow at him again. “But you aren’t, I don’t think.”

  “Direct?” he asked. She nodded. “You don’t think so?”

  He leaned closer despite the danger of it. He couldn’t help himself but to draw in a deep breath of her scent. Vanilla and cinnamon and sin. And goddamn but he wanted to…do things to her in that moment. He blinked at the inappropriate thoughts and forced himself to focus on his plate.

  “I know so,” she whispered, that low, husky voice taunting him.

  He gripped a hand on the tabletop and then gave her a tight smile. “If I have offended in some unknown way, Miss Oliver, I do apologize.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond, but pivoted his attention to Mr. Grimes instead. Better for it, too. Men like Grimes were the reason he was at this party, after all. Not to flirt with Selina Oliver. Not to think about all the ways he could remove that gown, including with his teeth. Not to ponder all the swirling desires he normally kept controlled.