Aubrey shot her an engaging grin. “I know exactly what you mean. Perhaps if we joined forces we could think of something appropriately infuriating.”
“Join forces,” Lucy echoed, delight surging through her. “Of course. That’s it! If he was carrying you off in a huff he could hardly plague me, could he? Not only that, but with you to escort me, I could ride about town without worrying—”
Aubrey’s brow wrinkled in confusion, a lock of lightly powdered gold hair tumbling across it. “I beg your pardon?”
Lucy dimpled and gave Aubrey her most dazzling smile. “My dear Mr. St. Cyr, I believe you have just fallen desperately in love with me!”
Aubrey’s eyes went saucer-wide, and he tugged at his neckcloth as if it had just become too tight. “Miss Blackheath, you’re very beautiful and—and I appreciate your defending me, but… we barely know each other.”
Lucy gave a merry laugh. “You don’t think I mean it—really! It would all be a game of pretend. The perfect way to avenge ourselves against the wicked earl!”
“The earl? But how?”
“Think of the possibilities!” Lucy said with fiendish glee. “Your brother dislikes me immensely, an emotion I intend to see grows deeper with time. And he treats you as if you were a child—ordering you about, interfering in your affairs. How do you think the earl of Valcour would react if his precious heir were to fall into a grand passion with an American girl who delights in nothing more than thumbing her nose at English society?”
“He would be… appalled.” Aubrey’s eyes twinkled, his mouth spreading in a slow smile. “By God, I might fall in love with you at that!”
“It won’t be difficult at all, I promise you!” Lucy said, leaning close and giving him her most adoring look for dramatic effect. “You can be very useful to me, and I—well, I shall use all my skill at stirring up devilment on your behalf! Now, I have a secret appointment to keep, and not much time to get there. Your brother has threatened to keep watch on me and go tattling to my guardians if I so much as breathe in a way he does not approve.”
“Pah! He would. There is nothing more loathsome than someone who carries tales.”
“But if you take me out into the garden and become… impassioned beyond reason… I would wager that his lordship would forget all about tormenting me in his eagerness to snatch you out of my clutches and escort you home!”
Aubrey scowled. “I don’t think I like that. Being hauled away—”
“He’ll hardly drag you through the ballroom by the seat of your breeches,” she cajoled. “After all, he has his precious dignity to consider, even if he doesn’t bother about yours. The agreement is that I will help you infuriate your brother if you will be useful to me. And I need you to be useful at once.”
Lucy laid a pleading hand on the sleeve of his coat.
“Please, Aubrey. I can’t tell you why I need to escape him, but it’s imperative that I do. I know this isn’t the best scenario for you, but there will be plenty of other times you will get to come away triumphant. I promise you that my help in thinking up mischief to bedevil him will be well worth a few moments of discomfort now.”
Aubrey regarded her for long seconds and then nodded. “I do believe you are right.”
“Good!” Lucy said with an eager glance around the room. “Now take my arm and look all glaze-eyed and besotted, or no one will believe we’re enchanted with each other.
Aubrey chuckled. “But I am enchanted, Miss Lucy. Your so beautiful eyes are like stars in the heavens. And your lips—I shall die of want if you don’t allow this humble pilgrim to taste—”
“Ridiculous boy!” Lucy giggled. “No one can even hear us! You have to wait until your despicable brother is near.”
“I’m just getting in practice,” Aubrey said, his eyes taking on a most satisfactory glow, his mouth a soft smile.
He guided her through the room, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm and cradled like a treasure against his side. He dipped his golden head until Lucy’s nose was bare inches from his, her fluttering eyelashes seeming to hold him in thrall.
As they neared Valcour, who stood talking to an elegant lady in saffron brocade, Lucy trilled out a laugh like silver bells and gazed up at Aubrey with blind adoration, moistening her lips with her tongue.
She had the satisfaction of hearing Valcour stumble over what he was saying. At that moment Aubrey had the brilliance to lift her other hand to her lips. But Lucy’s eyes clung a moment more to the exquisite beauty. The woman wasn’t touching Valcour, but there was a kind of possessiveness in her gaze, a sultry promise in her smile.
“Who is that woman?” she whispered as Aubrey led her through the wide-flung doors to the garden.
“Camilla Spencer-White. My brother’s… er…” he stammered to a halt, flushing.
“His mistress?” Lucy provided, leveling at the woman a curious stare. She was stunned to feel an uncomfortable wave of something akin to jealousy sweep through her.
“You aren’t even supposed to know such ladies exist!” Aubrey choked out.
Lucy crushed the astonishing sensation and made a face. “It would be hard not to, the way you men flaunt them.”
“Not Dom. You’d think he’d want the whole world to know of the liaison. God knows I would! It would turn every man in my club green with jealousy. But no. He’s above all—damnation, you got me talking about it again!”
“I only mentioned mistresses at all because I find your brother confusing. With a woman so beautiful as that hanging on his sleeve, you’d think he could find more interesting ways to spend his time than meddling in my affairs.”
Aubrey guffawed. “You are the most extraordinary girl,” he said. “Don’t tell me you are the one woman in England who is immune to my brother’s fascination.”
“I barely notice him at all!” Lucy protested. “It will be a cold day at Hades’s fireside when my head is turned by a magnificent set of shoulders,” Lucy said then paused. “Or a fine set of legs. And I suppose his eyes are rather remarkable. All dark and dangerous and—” Lucy stopped. “But none of that signifies when weighed against his monstrous arrogance, his tyrannical temperament, his—”
“I’m so glad you’ve barely noticed him at all.” Aubrey frowned. “Before you go into further descriptions of attributes you haven’t noticed, why don’t you tell me where you would like the two of us to become impassioned.”
“Near that lovely wall. My gown will stand out against it, and the light from that lantern will fall on our faces.” She stopped, giving him a quizzical look. “I trust you do know how to kiss, don’t you? I’ve not had a great deal of experience.”
“I do well enough!” Aubrey laughed aloud, and Lucy was glad to see that the misery of the hour before had fled from his face.
They reached the wall, and Lucy slanted a glance toward the house. Valcour had wasted no time, already positioning himself near the window, and even from the distance she could feel his displeasure as if it were a physical thing.
Aubrey turned to her, his mouth quirking in a smile. “A captive audience already, eh, madam?”
Lucy made a great show of taking one of the white roses from her hair. She leaned forward until her breasts brushed the front of Aubrey’s frock coat and then drew the blossom across his lips.
“Ouch! Damnation, the thing has thorns!” Aubrey burst out.
“You’re supposed to be dazzled,” Lucy hissed.
“But I’m bleeding!”
“Don’t be an infant! Take me in your arms at once!”
Aubrey did so, a little awkwardly.
“Closer. Pull me closer and tip my face up to yours.”
“You could teach my brother a few things about giving orders, I vow,” Aubrey said, doing as she bid. “Steady, girl. He’s watching.”
With that, Aubrey clutched her against him so tightly her ribs were in danger of being crushed. His open mouth planted itself on hers with such force it drove her lips into the sharp edges of her teeth
.
Instead of drawing him closer, she shoved at his chest.
“Let… go!” she struggled to say. “Can’t… can’t breathe—”
But Aubrey had warmed to his part as passionate suitor. He only clutched her more tightly, kissed her more energetically, his hands roving up and down her back, his breath coming in raspy gulps.
Lucy could only pray the earl of Valcour would come storming into the garden before his brother suffocated her to death.
Chapter Five
Valcour glared across the dance floor to where Lucinda Blackheath stood, Aubrey leaning close to her as if lost in rapt enchantment. The boy was captivated. Laughing. The stoic misery that had been on his face from the minute they’d entered the room that night was gone, driven away by a pair of sparkling blue eyes.
If Aubrey had been distracted by any other woman present, Valcour would have been glad. Determined cheerfulness was exactly what was needed on an occasion like tonight.
But Lucinda Blackheath was disaster in hair ribbons, and letting her anywhere near Aubrey was the same as flicking a burning brand into a keg of powder.
“Valcour?” Just the sound of Camilla’s voice was said to be more sensual than the intimate touch of the most skilled courtesan. Valcour barely noticed she had spoken. “You must stop scowling at poor Miss White.” Camilla gestured to the gawky girl who was staring at Valcour with the frozen terror of a baby rabbit trapped in the gaze of a wolf. “I think the girl is going to cry.”
“I’m not scowling at the chit,” Valcour scoffed.
“I know that. You’re scowling at your brother. Unfortunately, poor Miss White doesn’t have the benefit of that knowledge, and she is standing directly in your line of vision.”
Valcour gave Miss White a curt nod. But that only seemed to terrify the girl further. She spun in a cloud of puce satin and fled to her mama’s skirts.
However, Valcour wouldn’t have cared if the girl had summarily dived into the punch bowl at that particular moment. The earl was distracted by the sight of Aubrey taking Lucinda Blackheath’s hand, the girl’s infernal laugh trilling out across the room. She was obviously delighted. That knowledge alone filled Valcour with the same instinctive tension he felt when a particularly wicked storm was about to break.
But his irritation deepened further as Valcour’s gaze flicked again to where Aubrey was touching the girl. Something about the sight of that feminine hand in Aubrey’s and that bright smile the girl kept flashing knotted anger in the earl’s vitals until he had to grit his teeth against the ridiculous sensation.
“The ambassador’s ward is quite lovely, isn’t she?” Camilla observed. “Very young and fresh.”
“The girl is a curse,” Valcour gritted.
“I… see.” Valcour was aware of Camilla eyeing him intently. “Your dance was not enjoyable, then?”
“I didn’t dance with her for pleasure.” Valcour stopped, his brow furrowing as Aubrey led Miss Blackheath across the room.
She was looking at Aubrey as if she adored him, while Aubrey was so besotted Dominic expected him to trample over the other guests in their way. Miraculously, they managed to sail through the maze of people as if carried along on some mystical current they alone could feel.
Valcour watched them, his lips compressed, his gaze flicking to the doors leading to the garden. No. Surely even Aubrey wouldn’t be foolish enough to take the girl outside. He’d come to dampen an old scandal, not stir up a new one.
At that moment Lucinda tossed the golden curls that tumbled about that queenly little face, her fingers swishing the gown that shimmered like a river of silver. It clung to her tiny waist, cresting upward in waves of foamy white lace to embrace breasts that were delectably full.
Valcour felt a swift tightening in his breeches, a surge of heat in his blood. The girl was sweet temptation. But only a youth like Aubrey—wild, reckless, insane—would be fool enough to get tangled up in her snares.
But, then, considering Aubrey’s performances of the past few months, there could be little question that the youth was a fool. Valcour caught a glimpse of silver petticoats fluttering out the doorway, Aubrey barely a step behind.
The earl gritted his teeth, certain he wasn’t the only one who had noticed their exit. He caught a glimpse of the ambassador’s wife across the room, her face puckering with worry. The “friends” who’d been giving Aubrey no peace earlier had also noticed the couple’s clandestine departure, for they eyed the doorway with keen curiosity.
Damn Aubrey to hell, Valcour thought, glaring out the window. He was going to murder the fool.
Aubrey had wasted no time.
Lantern light picked out the silhouette of two ardent lovers turning to each other, catching each other in eager arms. The saucy hoyden of moments before seemed transformed by the moonlight into a sylph that whispered of fairy woods and enchantments, while Aubrey looked suddenly older. A man who wanted a woman.
Valcour’s muscles went rigid. Of course, it was only his fury at Aubrey making a spectacle of himself that fired Valcour’s blood with such unaccustomed rage. It was only the fact that the ambassador’s ward was clinging to Aubrey with a rapt attention that made Valcour’s chest tighten, his hands knot into fists.
“Valcour?” Camilla’s voice came to him as if from a distance. “Valcour, what is it?”
“I’m going to wring that boy’s neck,” Valcour snarled, then turned on his heels and stalked out into the night.
A cool breeze touched his cheeks, but his anger blazed hot as he approached the two lovers. It was even worse than he’d suspected. Aubrey’s hands were all over the girl, reddening her pale skin, rumpling her gown until it drooped over one creamy shoulder, revealing a glimpse of a shift trimmed in blue ribbon.
Her hair was tumbling like a waterfall of gold over breasts whose tops swelled in plump mounds, crushed against the toile of Aubrey’s frock coat.
Valcour’s eyes narrowed to slits as Aubrey’s breathless moan was carried to him on the flower-scented air, in counterpoint to a pronounced whimper from the lady.
“If you intend to carry on much further, I’d suggest you retire to a bedchamber.” Valcour’s voice cut through the stillness of the garden.
The two sprang apart, Aubrey flushed and glaze-eyed, as if the girl had just clubbed him over the head. The girl turned pink as a peony. But her eyes held a saucy light that made Valcour want to shake her until her teeth rattled.
“D-Dom!” Aubrey stammered.
The girl was gasping with breathy little sounds. Valcour wanted to clamp his hand over her kiss-reddened lips to stop them.
Aubrey drew the girl into the protective curve of his arm. “You have no right to disturb us.”
“Perhaps you would like me to send out the servants with flambeaux, illuminate the entire garden so that everyone at the ball could witness your indiscretions, instead of making them a privy entertainment for those twenty or so guests closest to the windows.”
Lucy glanced at the panes of glass, a little daunted to see a number of strange faces peering out with undisguised interest. Her cheeks burned.
“Damn,” Lucy muttered. “I hadn’t thought…”
“That anyone would see you?” Dominic finished for her.
“Not anyone. Everyone,” Lucy flung back.
“Well, Miss Blackheath, let’s just say that the guests at the Wilkeses’ first ball now have something to discuss besides that duel a week ago.” Valcour leveled a glare at his brother. “Aubrey, I think it best if you take your leave. I’m sure Miss Blackheath will be heartbroken at the loss of your company. However, her guardians will be rejoicing that you are gone.”
Lucy could feel Aubrey seething with stubbornness, his chin jutting at a pugnacious angle, as if he’d forgotten that the entire purpose of this little display had been to bundle both St. Cyr brothers into a homeward-bound coach. “No!” Aubrey said. “I refuse to—”
Lucy jabbed him with her elbow. “Do as he says, my love. He can o
nly part us for a little while.”
“My love?” Valcour sneered. “You Virginians fall in love rather precipitously, I fear.”
“Exactly, my lord.” Lucy tipped up her chin, remembering her father’s words back at Blackheath Hall. “We careen into love like a runaway carriage hurtling over a cliff.”
Valcour raised a brow. “That is perhaps the most apt description of love I’ve ever heard, Miss Blackheath. Especially if my brother is involved.”
Aubrey trembled where he brushed Lucy’s side, and there was a world of hurt beneath the anger in his voice. “What, Dom? You think it’s impossible that someone cares for me? I’m a man made of flesh and blood, not of ice as you are.”
“A man would not have exposed his lady to social derision by dragging her into the garden as if she were a demimondaine. Now you will take your leave, Aubrey, before I do something we shall both regret.”
There was something frightening in Valcour’s eyes, something that left Lucy flushed and breathless. Her hands quivered a little as she reached up to touch Aubrey’s face. “It will be all right, my darling. Go now.” It sounded exactly like the sugary kind of rot the heroine of a melodrama might spout.
Aubrey clutched her hands against his heart. It was pounding so hard Lucy prayed he didn’t drop into apoplexies and ruin the entire performance. “Farewell, Lucy. For now.”
He stooped to pick up a single bruised rose—the one she had brushed his lips with before they kissed. Closing his fingers tenderly around it, Aubrey strode away with astonishing dignity, considering the fact that his neckcloth was askew.
Valcour turned to glare at Aubrey’s retreating back and Lucy smirked in triumph, waiting for him to follow his brother. Instead, the earl rounded to face her with the slow menace of a stalking wolf.
“Please go after him,” Lucy said in her most pleading tones. “I know you’re angry, but he’s suffered so much—”
“He’s suffered?”
Lucy gave a squeak of surprise as the earl’s hand flashed out, manacling her wrist. But instead of dragging her back into the ballroom, he charged down the garden’s overgrown path, deep into the shadows, where the moon threaded silvery fingers down through the leaves of the trees.
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