Wicked Pleasures

by Helen Dickson

  Despite herself Adeline smiled almost shyly. ‘Me, too—at myself, I mean.’

  Looking down at her, Grant felt his conscience choose that moment to reassert itself for the first time in weeks, by reminding him that he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her that night at Westwood Hall. How it had come about no longer mattered. He’d subjected her to public embarrassment and censure. Compounding all of that by robbing her of her virginity was inexcusable, but the weak protest of his conscience hadn’t been enough to deter him.

  Looking at her now—different in her new finery and elegantly styled hair, yet still the same Adeline Osborne underneath it all, despite everything—he thought she was the most alluring woman he had ever met.

  ‘You—will help Lettie, won’t you?’

  Grant looked down into those beseeching green eyes. Slowly he nodded. Adeline smiled at him. His brain captured the moment in a flash. He wanted her, and neither his conscience nor anything else was going to deprive him of having her again. Only the next time he would make sure he was in full control of all his faculties.

  Drawn by the depths of her eyes looking into his, by the soft fullness of the lips slightly parted to reveal moist, shining teeth, and unaware of the passage of time, he made a move towards her. But Adeline turned away from the threatened kiss. The spell was broken.

  ‘I fear I have kept you from your appointment for far too long. I think I’d better go.’

  ‘Yes, I think you better had. I’ll come down with you.’

  ‘No, you needn’t. I can find my own way.’

  ‘I insist. Besides, I have an appointment to keep.’

  ‘You’ll be late. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Better late than never.’

  They had just stepped out of the lift when Adeline’s attention was drawn by a slight disturbance in the foyer. A woman had entered. In a shimmering gown of saffron-coloured silk with crimson trim, her dark hair pinned and curled beneath a fashionable, elaborately feathered headdress, she was stunning. Like everyone else, Adeline could not tear her eyes off her. When the woman’s gaze searched the crowd and came to rest on Grant, Adeline frowned, disquieted.

  It was Diana Waverley—the woman she was now certain had been at the Phoenix Club.

  Chapter Seven

  Pinning a brilliant smile on her face, Diana crossed towards them.

  When Grant saw her he stiffened and stood absolutely still, aware and wary. His face was blank, all emotion withheld by an iron control, and then, conscious that Adeline was by his side, watching him, with a lazy, sardonic smile he stepped forward and lifted Diana’s hand to his lips for a brief kiss.

  Diana looked up at him with a questioning frown. ‘Why, Grant. I did not think I would have to come looking for you. You cannot have forgotten our appointment.’

  ‘Diana! I apologise. No, I did not forget. I had an unexpected matter of considerable importance to take care of.’

  Diana gave Adeline no more than a brief glance—as if she were of no consequence—before settling her gaze once more on Grant. ‘Yes, so I see.’ Immediately her attention flew back to Adeline and she gasped. ‘Why—goodness me! If it isn’t Miss Adeline Osborne! How nice to see you again,’ she said, the tone of her voice and the cold look in her eyes belying her words. ‘I do apologise. I hardly recognised you. How changed you look.’ She was angry. This was not what she had planned. Not at all. Expelling her breath in a rush of frustrated impatience, she looked up at Grant with a questioning frown.

  ‘Your apology is unnecessary,’ Adeline said. ‘In fact it is I who should apologise to you for keeping Grant so long.’

  ‘Really?’ Diana smiled as her gaze passed over Adeline. It was not a pleasant smile, it was a malicious smile, and instinctively, with the feminine intuition that recognises what is in another woman’s mind, Adeline knew that Diana considered Grant her property, and was telling Adeline to keep off.

  ‘Grant and I were—’

  ‘Stop it, Adeline,’ Grant was quick to retort. ‘There’s absolutely no need to explain to Diana.’

  ‘Well, since I have just observed the two of you coming out of the lift, I can only assume that Grant has been entertaining you in his room.’ When she looked at Adeline her feelings were transparent—the emotions of jealousy and dislike were hard to mask when they lay so near the surface. ‘I am sure it is none of my business, but perhaps it’s not something you should choose to bandy about in public.’

  Adeline took exception to the slur. Diana’s tone, lightly contemptuous and at the same time more than a little suspicious, made Adeline’s hackles rise. However, although she was still seething inside from Diana’s machinations at Westwood Hall, she faced her with well-feigned assurance.

  ‘You’re right, Diana, it is none of your affair. So kindly watch your tongue,’ Grant admonished sharply. ‘Now you are here we will have luncheon. Adeline is just leaving. I will see her out to her carriage and then I’ll be with you.’

  At that moment the concierge approached Grant and drew him aside to speak to him on a trivial matter, but it meant he left Adeline alone with Diana.

  ‘Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you at the Charing Cross Hotel, Adeline.’

  Absently Adeline noted that rubies like droplets of blood dripped from Diana’s ears and neck. Adeline’s flesh turned to ice when she met her stare. That Diana Waverley hated her was plain.

  ‘I came to see Grant on a family matter. Make of that what you will, Diana. I have apologised for keeping him from his appointment with you, but it really was important and could not wait.’

  ‘So was his appointment with me. Still, it’s not too late. We can take care of our business just as well here as at my house. Unlike you, I ceased to consider my reputation a long time ago. I have known Grant for a long time, and I know him about as well as any woman can.’

  Adeline met her eyes. ‘Then we are not so very different. I may not have known him as long as you have, but I have known him just as well.’ Her smile was meaningful, and they both knew she was referring to the night Diana had tied the scarlet ribbon to her door.

  White-lipped, Diana glared at her, knowing she had been caught out. She was reminded that instead of acting like the prim and proper miss she had assumed Adeline Osborne to be, and alerting the whole household to the embarrassing fact that Grant had entered her bedchamber uninvited, she had quietly taken full advantage of the situation—and enjoyed every minute of it, too, no doubt.

  Adeline added coolly. ‘How is Paul, by the way? I believe you know him just about as well as any woman can, too. You know, Diana, I have much to be grateful to you for. I am well rid of him. You may have missed your chance for snaring Grant, but I am sure you will find Paul amenable. I wish you well of each other. Good day. Please tell Grant I can find my own way out.’

  Diana felt her cheeks grow hot with the sting of defeat. The reality of what Adeline had said hit her with all the force of a hammer-blow. Her dream of Grant asking her to be his wife had faded to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. She watched Adeline’s trim figure leave the hotel. How that little bitch must be laughing at her fate.

  After Adeline had left Diana with Grant at the hotel her imagination ran riot. Her emotions were so confused that she felt they were choking her—protests, recriminations, accusations, all were tumbling about in her mind. They were to have luncheon, Grant had said—where, she wondered? In the hotel restaurant or in Grant’s room? An image of the bed she had seen—big and comfortable, a veritable erotic pleasure ground for lovers—entered her mind. Thinking of them in it, and what they would do, made her blood run cold. The shock of it all triggered off some sleeping thing inside her, bringing to life and revealing to her the true state of her heart.

  So much for Grant’s declaration that he never gave second chances, and that what there had been between him and Diana was over, for it was as plain as the nose on her face that he was undoubtedly sharing the favours of that woman with Paul. Perhaps Grant found such a situati
on entertaining—a bit of fun with no hearts broken—but what he was doing was highly immoral in her opinion. He was just like everyone else—enjoying his little dalliances and flirtations—but she would not be one of them.

  However, because she had approached him about Lettie it was inevitable they would meet again. Whatever happened, she vowed she would never again lose her composure as she had in the past, when he had confused her to such a degree that she scarcely knew right from wrong. From this moment on things would be different. She would be completely imperturbable and polite. She was no longer the innocent young girl he could hurt and seduce for his own amusement.

  Adeline spent the rest of the day at home, glad to have some time to herself. The London house was large and imposing, and reflected her father’s taste to as great a degree as Rosehill did.

  The following morning she was debating on whether to go to Stanfield House, in the hope of seeing Lettie, or take a quiet stroll in the park, when Anthony Stanfield arrived to take her up on her offer of a fencing bout. At first Adeline stared at him in confusion, and then recalled she had indeed invited him over.

  ‘I’ll go away if it’s inconvenient, or you’re not up to it,’ Anthony offered, his expression telling her that he hoped she was.

  Adeline laughed and led him to the salon, glad of any respite from the quiet atmosphere of the house. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Fencing is just what I need right now, to draw me out of the doldrums. I’ll show you where the rapiers are kept and then I’ll go and change.’

  Shortly before eleven o’clock, Grant arrived at the house to see Adeline. When Mrs Kelsall opened the door and he asked to see Miss Osborne, the housekeeper raised her brows in astonishment. Few visitors came to Eaton Place when Mr Leighton was not in town, and suddenly two gentlemen had turned up within the same hour to see Miss Adeline. She didn’t approve of young gentlemen calling uninvited when she was alone, but since Miss Adeline had come to London there had been a change in her, an open confidence and self-assurance Mrs Kelsall had never seen before.

  ‘Is Miss Osborne at home?’ Grant enquired.

  ‘She is, sir, in the salon—fencing.’ Though Mrs Kelsall was fond of Miss Adeline, she never ceased to voice her disapproval of young ladies indulging in gentlemanly activities, and for them to wear trousers—which Miss Adeline insisted on doing—was quite shocking and unthinkable.

  ‘Then if you will be so kind as to direct me, I will introduce myself.’

  Grant opened the door to the salon, where the carpet had been rolled back. He entered quietly, unnoticed by the pair of duellists, their identities hidden by facial masks. One was evidently female. Her lithesome figure was clad in revealing dove-grey trousers and a white silk shirt, and she was fighting with the skill and address of an experienced duellist, moving with an extraordinary grace, as if movement were a pleasure to her. The other, a young gentleman, was not so skilled.

  Propping his shoulder against the wall, Grant watched with interest as they parried and thrust, moving ceaselessly about the highly polished parquet floor.

  After Adeline had left the hotel yesterday, Grant had sat through luncheon paying no more attention to Diana across from him than he had to the business proposition she had put to him. This had been completely out of character, for he always gave matters of business his whole attention, considering them with unfailing instinct and dispassionate logic and calculating the odds for success before he acted. The only rash act he’d performed in recent years was his behaviour with Adeline at Westwood Hall, and when she’d left the hotel he had set his mind to seeing her again just as soon as he could manage it.

  Folding his arms, with a slight smile on his lips, his unswerving gaze now watched her every move, feasting on the graceful lines of her slim hips and incredibly long legs, her whole form outlined with anatomical precision. Adeline was, Grant realised, a brilliant swordswoman, with faultless timing and stunningly executed moves. There was an aura of confidence and daring about her that drew all his attention.

  Still unaware of his presence, Adeline suddenly cried enough and whipped off her mask to reveal her laughing, shining face. ‘Very good, Anthony. You’re improving tremendously. We’ll fence some more tomorrow, if you like.’

  She was breathless and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes a brilliant dancing green. Her abundance of hair was tied loosely on top of her head, with riotous locks tumbling about all over the place. To Grant at that moment she looked like a bandit princess, vibrant with health and life. His eyes soaked up the sight of her, for which he was more thirsty than water by far.

  Anthony was the first to become aware of Grant’s presence. His face broke into a welcoming smile as he recognised Lettie’s brother. Taking off his breastplate and wiping his damp forehead with his sleeve, he crossed the room towards him and shook his hand. ‘Mr Leighton. I didn’t realise we had company. It’s good to see you.’

  ‘I was enjoying watching you. I didn’t want to interrupt such fine swordplay.’

  ‘As you will have seen,’ he said, turning towards his attractive partner, his adoring gaze and unselfconscious absorption not going unnoticed by Grant, ‘Adeline is more than a match. She has much to teach me.’

  Across the room, on hearing Grant’s voice, Adeline spun round, her heart giving a sudden lurch. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m glad. You are an excellent swordswoman, Adeline. Had you been aware of my presence you would perhaps not have performed so well.’

  Her sudden smile had a warmth to contend with the glowing sun slanting through the windows. ‘You are mistaken. I fence the same regardless of whether I have an audience or not. What has brought you to Eaton Place?’

  ‘I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you. I didn’t think you’d mind me arriving uninvited.’

  ‘I’ll leave you, Adeline,’ Anthony said, shrugging himself into his jacket. ‘I have to get back.’

  ‘That’s all right, Anthony. I’m glad you came for a practice bout. If Lettie’s at home, tell her I’ll be along later.’

  When she was alone with Grant, she looked at him askance. ‘Why do you smile?’

  ‘That young man’s in love with you—or if he isn’t now he very soon will be.’

  Adeline gasped and laughed awkwardly, embarrassed that such a thing could happen. ‘Really, Grant, your imagination runs away with you. Anthony and I are friends—good friends—and nothing more, so please don’t read more into our fencing bouts than there is.’

  His eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘There is none so blind as will not see, Adeline. Time will tell.’

  ‘You are being ridiculous. He’s only a young man.’

  ‘Exactly! He’s a man—and you, Miss Osborne, are an attractive young woman. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.’

  Adeline suddenly became embarrassingly self-conscious of the way she was dressed. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll just go and change. I’ll have Mrs Kelsall prepare refreshments and then we can talk.’

  ‘Not so fast.’ Grant quickly divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, rolling back his shirtsleeves over powerful forearms. Removing his cravat and shirt stud to allow more freedom, he began fastening himself into the breastplate discarded by Anthony. ‘I have a desire to test your fencing skills for myself. That’s if you’re up to it?’

  ‘I’m tougher than I look.’

  ‘So am I.’

  He was looking at her with just a gleam of mischief at the back of his impassive handsome face. ‘So you court danger, do you, Mr Leighton?’

  ‘All the time, Miss Osborne.’

  ‘Do you fence often?’ she asked, curious as to how skilled an adversary he would make.

  Grant was already crossing the room to help himself to one of the many fine weapons on display in a glass-fronted cabinet. ‘Not as often as I would like.’

  ‘In which case I imagine you’ll be a bit rusty,’ she taunted, with an innocent smile curving her lips.

  His
grin was roguish and the gleam in his eyes more so as his hand closed over the hilt of a weapon with a strong, slender blade. ‘Imagine anything you like, Miss Osborne,’ he retorted, flexing the supple blade between his hands before swishing the air in a practised arc, ‘but my infrequency at practice does not mean that I shall be complacent or clumsy, or in need of lessons in self-defence.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I don’t think this will take long.’

  ‘Planning to thrash me, are you?’ he drawled, one brow arrogantly raised.

  ‘Soundly,’ Adeline told him.

  Donning a face mask, he advanced towards her. ‘As a matter of interest can you see properly? Without your spectacles, I mean,’ he goaded.

  ‘My vision is only impaired when I try to read. Otherwise I can see perfectly well.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. But don’t ever complain that I didn’t warn you,’ he said with tolerant amusement. ‘Replace your mask and prepare to defend yourself, Miss Osborne, or I swear I’ll pin you to the wall.’

  The challenge to participate in a sport that was as enjoyable to her as riding a horse was much too tempting for Adeline to resist. With a vivacious laugh she replaced her mask and picked up her rapier. In one swift movement she was in the centre of the room, and Grant found himself engaged. Hidden from his view, a feverish flush was on her cheeks and a wild, determined light in her eyes. She moved skilfully, confident she could best him, but careful not to underestimate his ability.

  Grant was an excellent sportsman, and accounted an excellent blade, but he soon realised he had his work cut out as his slender, darting opponent left no opening in her unwavering guard. The bright blade seemed to be everywhere at once, multiplied a hundred times by Adeline’s supple wrists.

  After the initial thrusts Adeline accepted that beating Grant was not going to be easy. He fought with skill, continually circling his opponent, changing his guard a dozen times, but Adeline never failed to parry adroitly in her own defence.