He knew Titian’s works by heart. ‘Hours’ was no exaggeration. He’d spent days, in fact, staring up at The Assumption of the Virgin over the high altar of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari.
Riordan’s hand began to itch. He wanted to clear the room and whisk Maura upstairs. He wanted to work on his painting. Thoughts of Maura in his studio took hold: images of her with her hair down, images of her positioned just so on his sofa. He spent the remainder of the meal arranging and rearranging Maura mentally in his head, sometimes with clothes, sometimes without, while congratulating himself on making adequate conversation with Lady Helena.
‘You’ve travelled, then?’ Lady Helena seemed impressed or thankful that he’d finally given her something to talk about. At the moment, Riordan didn’t care. He was too busy staring at Maura.
*
It wasn’t until Aunt Sophie rose and gathered the ladies for tea in the drawing room that Riordan realised he hadn’t been entirely successfully in capturing Lady Helena in his web of charm. What she said next was meant to be overheard by those nearest them.
‘This has been most enlightening, Lord Chatham,’ Lady Helena said coolly, rising to her feet as Maura passed. ‘It’s always interesting to see what a man will do when left to his own devices. I hope you find time to enjoy your, um, painting.’
The dinner party wrapped up quickly after that. Many of the guests would move on to the balls getting underway at other mansions in Mayfair that evening, Riordan included. He was expected at the Dalforths’ rout, although the entertainment held less appeal than it had before. He wondered briefly if Maura would go with him, but he knew she would not. He’d already pushed her far enough tonight with the party. Her reluctance to attend had been puzzling. Who wouldn’t want to sit at such a fine table if given the chance? Whatever her reasons, her reluctance had been genuine and he felt a twinge of guilt for having coaxed her into it.
He wanted to talk with her. He wanted the party dismissed and the house quiet. He wanted to thank her for the evening. But there was no chance. Baron Hesperly and his daughter were also headed to the Dalforths’ and had offered to take him up in their carriage, an offer he couldn’t refuse under the watchful eye of Lady Helena without raising her nascent suspicions. Riordan could barely manage a discreet nod in Maura’s direction before he was bundled off with the baron on one side and his daughter on the other. The daughter was already looking dejected over being separated from the Marquis’s son who was headed off to another destination. Miss Sussington would be disappointed further to know that destination happened to be an apartment of rooms in Piccadilly owned by an Italian opera singer. The baron could wallow in disappointment, too, shortly, once Riordan informed him Miss Caulfield was definitely off limits. He only hoped the good baron wouldn’t make him explain the reasons for that because Riordan didn’t think he could.
Chapter Twelve
Goodness, the house was quiet! Maura let the odd stillness settle around her.
Aunt Sophie and Uncle Hamish had been the last of the guests to leave. She’d served her purpose as a twelfth and now she’d been abandoned. What had she expected? That Lord Chatham would take her on to the balls and routs? That she could actually accept if he’d asked? There was no question of going. Risking such a thing was begging to be discovered.
Maura lifted her skirts and began the climb to her room with a wistful sigh.
She’d had a wonderful evening, dressed up in a pretty gown, eating from a delicious array of foods. The chocolate ice cream at the end had been an absolute hit, sure to secure fond memories when the guests thought of the new Earl of Chatham. He’d most assuredly been the earl tonight, that wicked smile of his honed to urbane perfection as he turned his charms on each lady in turn, herself included.
He’d shown a surprising amount of tact and good manners tonight, apart from the staring, which she could only pray had not been noticed. But she could not say he’d been polite. There was nothing polite about him. He radiated a sensuality, a wickedness that went far beyond anything politeness could cage. But he’d been heart-stoppingly handsome doing it. The women had been hard pressed to keep their eyes from him. He’d been elegant in black, his evening clothes a perfect foil for the deep-crimson waistcoat he wore and the diamond-and-onyx stick pin that winked in his cravat like an expensive flirt—a veritable symbol of the man himself.
Maura closed the door to her room behind her and kicked off her slippers. She did wonder what he was doing now. Was he dancing with Miss Sussington? Or was he dancing with another lucky woman? It had been ages since she’d danced and, oh, how she loved to dance—the country reels, the long quadrilles, she loved them all. It was doubtful she’d be dancing any time soon.
Maura swayed a little and hummed a tune, enjoying the feel of her skirts belling and swirling about her legs. ‘Why, yes, dear sir, I would love to dance.’ She curtsied to an invisible partner. There was precious little room to dance in her chamber, but she managed a few steps of a country dance, laughing with her invisible partner.
*
Lucifer’s stones, who was up there with her? Riordan knew a moment’s panic. His first thought was that Hesperly had sneaked back, too. After all, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that if he found the rout tedious against the comparison of Maura waiting at home, Hesperly did as well. Whoever was up there with her, she was enjoying his company.
Behind the door of her room, Maura laughed, a light sound that conjured up images of her, head thrown back, slim throat exposed. A surge of jealousy took him. How dare she! It was beyond audacity to entertain gentlemen thusly, and she accused him of boldness? ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ he heard her say.
That was enough! Riordan pushed the door open with more force than necessary just to make his point. ‘Well, I do. What exactly is going on here?’ He scanned the room, expecting to see Hesperly’s form half-hidden behind the curtains. But there was no Hesperly present. Only a flushed, pink-cheeked-with-embarrassment Maura.
‘I was dancing.’ She held out the edges of her skirts as if in explanation. ‘It seemed too good of an opportunity to waste.’
It was his turn to feel foolish. It was what he deserved for measuring Maura by his own debauched standards. He might be the sort to sneak a companion up to his rooms—actually there was no ‘might’ about it, he’d done it on plenty of occasions—but Maura was above reproach in that regard. ‘I’m sorry, I heard voices...’
There were no adequate words without impugning her honour with an explanation of what he’d thought she was doing up here. ‘So, you were dancing?
Without a partner?’ He smiled, falling back on his charm as he stepped towards her. He took one hand in his and fitted his other hand at her waist. ‘I think we can remedy that.’ He whisked her into a brisk polka step in the hopes she’d overlook his less-than-generous misstep, and because he wanted to.
She had no choice but to follow his lead. ‘What are you doing home?’ she asked breathlessly, willing to let him sashay them out into the dark hallway, dancing them up and down the length of the hall.
‘I didn’t want to be there so I left,’ he said simply. It had been a rather frightening revelation that upon arrival at the Dalforths’ he had realised there wasn’t a woman in the ballroom he wanted to dance with. He wanted to dance with Maura.
‘The hostess will be put out.’
‘She wouldn’t be the first.’ Riordan laughed and swirled them for a return trip down the hall.
‘Shh, the children,’ Maura scolded with a half-hearted protest, but Riordan only slowed as they passed the nursery door.
‘More likely Baron Hesperly will be put out. He was quite taken with you.’ He chose his next words carefully. ‘Hesperly had all sorts of questions about you in the carriage. What do you think of that?’ He brought them to a halt, but he was unwilling to relinquish her. Both of them were breathing hard from their exertions, and the banister railing was at her back. She had nowhere to look but up into his face. She woul
d not be able to hide her entire reaction. If she fancied the baron’s attentions, he would see it.
‘The baron seems like a nice man,’ she responded with equal care. Perhaps she sensed the irrational anger that hummed beneath his surface at the thought of the baron.
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Nice? The baron’s manly pride would be wounded. No man wants to be thought of as nice.’ Envy over the baron urged him on, pushing him too far. He leaned close, his mouth at her ear. ‘Do you want to know why?
Nice men can’t pleasure a woman worth a damn.’ Not like me. I can pleasure you in ways beyond your imaginings. He let the implicit message lie between them, potent and provocative in the darkness of the hallway.
‘That is quite enough.’ Maura’s eyes flashed with green anger and disappointment. Disappointment in him, and it stung. ‘Your language is shocking and your implications even more so. Is this what you came home to do?’
He’d succeeded in irritating her and she was right. This was not what he’d intended when he’d rushed home from the Dalforths’. He’d wanted to talk with her. He’d wanted to tell her about his trip, about the man who’d died with him at his bedside. But now that he was back, he wanted to do more than talk. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to stake his claim, as irrational as it was. Nothing could come of that kiss, nothing permanent at least. He had to marry to save the children. But for now, he wanted desperately to know she was his. Not Baron Hesperly’s, nor any other man’s who’d looked upon her tonight. His. He was just starting to understand that her charm was something more than the sum of her beauty.
He cupped her jaw in the cradle of his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek, the anger leaving them both. He’d known women before who drew men to them, but Maura did more than that. She improved them.
Her eyes searched his, questioning, unsure of what happened next or what should happen next. There was good reason they should both beat a hasty retreat to their separate chambers. But Riordan had never been one for reason. He bent his mouth to hers. ‘I came home for this.’ And, heaven help him, because there might be an outside chance she could improve even him.
*
Two blond heads stared in rapt amazement from the crack in the nursery door.
Uncle Ree was kissing Six! This was going splendidly and they hadn’t had to do a thing. ‘I told you they’d fall in love by morning,’ Cecilia said smugly. ‘It’s just like the fairy tales.’
Ever the practical thinker, William frowned. ‘Isn’t that usually when something bad happens? Like the evil witch finds the princess, or the spell is about to end?’
Cecilia pursed her lips and thought for a moment. Her brother had a point there. ‘Well, those things only happen in fairy tales. This is real life, Will. We don’t have witches and spells. What could possibly go wrong?’
Chapter Thirteen
Riordan set aside the newspaper to meet his aunt’s horrified gaze the next morning. She’d come over the moment decency allowed and it took little guessing to know why. The society column had not been kind. A certain someone had wasted little time in tipping off the powers that be with regard to his dinner party.
He could guess who that was.
‘“Lord C—spent more time casting glances at Miss C—than he did paying attention to his higher-ranking and wealthier guests, all the more shocking given that Miss C—is none other than his latest governess. The attention was no small coincidence. Other sources report that Lord C—arrived at the Dalforths’ ball only to leave conspicuously early for home. Such behaviour causes one to wonder if Lord C—is really in earnest about catching a wife or if this is a cover for another of his notorious flirtations.”’ Aunt Sophie read out loud in case he hadn’t already committed the passage to memory. ‘We’re ruined and we’ve only just begun.’
‘Nonsense, I was ruined long before this and you’re already settled. This is nothing to you.’ Riordan dismissed her growing hysterics. It was ridiculous.
Society columns held no sway over him and society had made its mind up about Sophie and Hamish ages ago. It was Maura he worried about. She had been slandered the most with the least avenue for redress. And, of course, he worried about the Vales. This would be more grist for their mill, another example of how unsuitable he was to act as guardian for the children.
‘What we need, Aunt, is a counter-manoeuvre to dispel the rumour.’
‘It’s not a rumour, Chatham, it’s in print, in the paper!’ Sophie nearly screeched.
Riordan folded his napkin and set it beside his plate. ‘I will invite Miss Sussington on an outing, something with the children, I think. It will look very proper and very familial. Everyone will forget what they think they saw at the dinner party.’
Aunt Sophie perked up at the idea of a plan. ‘Your uncle is a member of the Royal Zoological Society. You could go to the zoo in Regent’s Park.’
Riordan nodded. The zoo was only open to members. It seemed Uncle Hamish had another useful function. Who would have thought? The zoo was perfect. The children would love it. ‘I’ll send a note right away.’ It was such a harmless venue it would surely convince the ton of his newfound staid ways.
Aunt Sophie paused. ‘Is it to be her, then? You’ve decided on Miss Sussington?’
Where was his dear aunt’s brain? ‘This is merely a manoeuvre,’ Riordan explained again patiently. ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s just for show.
Besides, how could I make my mind up so quickly? I’ve barely met her.’
He’d picked her because she seemed the safest choice. She’d preferred the marquis’s son last night. If she’d set her cap in that direction, all the better. She’d be less likely to expect or want any further overtures from him. She would be a stop-gap until he found a woman he wanted to court seriously, although he couldn’t stall too long, not with the Vales waiting to pounce. Maybe his aunt was right. He should marry Miss Sussington and be done with it.
Aunt Sophie’s eyes narrowed in speculation. ‘Just as long as you assure me there’s no truth in this malicious gossip.’
‘I’m shocked you’d think that.’ Riordan tried to muster an appalled tone. For all her silliness, Aunt Sophie had her moments of shrewd insight, made all the more frightening because one never knew when they’d strike.
‘I’m not shocked I think it at all.’ Sophie pointed a finger at him. ‘I saw the way you looked at her last night. You weren’t fooling anyone. The paper’s proof enough of that. Just remember, once the wife is in, that pretty governess is out.
No decent woman would countenance her living under the same roof, not after this.’ Sophie gathered up her reticule and parasol. ‘I’ll leave you to think on all this, Nephew. I have calls to make. I need to salvage what might be left of your matrimonial expectations. Make sure you send the invitation right away.’
Riordan distractedly scribbled out a note for Miss Sussington and sent it on its way. Aunt Sophie was right and he hadn’t seen it. How could Maura stay? He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Even if the scandal hadn’t broken in the paper, the issue would still have existed.
The children would be devastated if she left. They were settling into a routine with her and Maura adored them. Cecilia had stopped breaking things. William was less withdrawn. Their lives, this house, were getting back to normal. And he was about to take all that away. It was the very last thing he wanted to do. It would ruin their hard-won stability. Riordan laughed to himself. She was rubbing off on him at last. Maura would be pleased to know the thought of ‘stability’ had crossed his mind, finally, after all her efforts to instil in him the importance of a schedule.
Fielding brought the mail, reminding Riordan he had work to do. There were other things that needed his attention besides Maura’s future. He would give her an excellent reference. She’d need one once she found out about the newspaper.
He could find a nice appointment for her in the country—maybe Merrick and Alixe could use her with their darling twin girls. Then he could still see her
on occasion.
Riordan winced at the direction of his thoughts. Giving up Maura sat poorly with him and it wasn’t only for the children’s sake. He didn’t want to give her up for reasons and intentions that were still an amorphous fuzz in his mind. He only knew he wanted her with him, with them. But what to do? How could he save her and the children, too?
He would start with a message to the newly returned Browning. He needed a copy of Vale’s financial statements, legally obtained or otherwise. Riordan flipped through the mail, looking for something suitable. He also needed to put in a decent appearance or two tonight. His hand stalled on a simple white note. Mrs Pendergast’s agency had deigned to write while he’d been in Sussex. Perhaps one mystery would soon be solved.
Riordan opened the note and scanned the lines, only to be disappointed. He’d hoped Mrs Pendergast would know something more about Maura Caulfield. But all Mrs Pendergast did was reiterate Maura’s skills and the date she’d registered with the agency—the very same day she’d come to work for him. The lack of information was unnerving, really. Paragons didn’t appear out of nowhere. Then again, he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
She’d come to him at a time when he’d needed her. But now there was no doubt she was driving him to distraction. He’d importuned her three times with hot kisses and more. Never mind that she’d returned those kisses with equal passion. A decent employer didn’t initiate those kisses to begin with. He’d never been decent in his life and it was deuced hard to start now. Last night had been the worst. He’d been possessive and angry because the baron had looked at her, because he had wanted to be the one sitting beside her at dinner watching the bodice of her gown. He’d seen her come down the stairs for dinner and the world had stopped for him. She had been beautiful in a way that surpassed the physical arrangement of her face with its delicate bones and angles. She was good and wholesome and pure, all the things he had stopped being years ago, and he’d wanted to lose himself in her. Oh, how he wanted.
How to Sin Successfully (Rakes Beyond Redemption) Page 12