If only Freddy trusted her enough to know she would never ask for such a concession if it wasn’t vital. And trusted her enough not to ask why. Then again, she didn’t trust him, either. Men like Moreau and Freddy used people to get what they wanted.
She glanced around. If she was going to meet him before he got impatient and left, it would be best to go before Nicky and Gabe left the dance floor. She smiled at Granby, took his hand for a backward pass across the set and deliberately stepped on her gown’s train. The hem tore beautifully.
‘Bother,’ she said.
Granby stared at her blankly.
‘I tore my lace,’ she explained. ‘I’ll have to pin it. Excuse me.’ She dived through the other dancers, making for the door, in her haste brushing the arm of a tall girl in regulation white.
The young woman gave her a hesitant smile. ‘Is something wrong?’
Nom d’un nom, now she’d have to be polite or risk causing a stir. ‘Someone stepped on my gown.’ She pulled at her skirt. ‘I can’t see, but I think the lace is torn.’
The girl stepped closer, peering down. ‘Yes. There is a long strip hanging by a thread.’
Minette gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I thought so. I was on my way to pin it.’
‘Would you like help?’
Oh, now one of these snooty English mademoiselles decided to be kind. They usually ignored her as an upstart émigrée trying to steal all the best men on the marriage mart. This one looked a nice young woman, like someone she might have liked to know better. Too bad circumstances demanded she turn her offer down. ‘Merci, but I think I can manage.’ She hurried on her way.
The library was only a few doors down from the ballroom, according to a footman, and it wasn’t long before she was slipping inside a room lit by one candelabrum on the round central table.
Standing beside it, Freddy’s lean, almost saturnine face looked thoroughly devilish. A very handsome if austere devil. Her heart gave a little kick. Most unnerving, when he always seemed so utterly indifferent. Except when they’d kissed. Heat rushed upward, engulfing her face. Thank goodness for the gloom.
She closed the door.
‘Well?’ he said, his voice low and menacing. ‘Who is this person who knows of Moreau’s new identity?’
The demand in his voice brought a hot rush of temper to the surface. ‘I will tell you when you agree to let me question him.’
‘You can do so and welcome, once we have him in chains.’
She folded her arms over her chest. ‘If you capture him, you mean. You let him get away once. And without my help you will lose him this time, too.’
His face became even more haughty. ‘Are you proposing that I drive you around London chasing shadows? Gabe may be my friend but he isn’t a fool. He won’t allow his ward to be seen alone in my company.’
‘We could pretend to be engaged.’ It was an idea she’d had in the night when she’d recalled his words at the hell about Gabe insisting they marry. It had seemed like the perfect answer. Then. Now, from the look of horror on his face, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it.
‘Have you lost your reason?’ His expression changed, became harder. ‘Or is it a title you are after?’
Hot anger raced through her veins. As if she would do anything so dishonourable. She struck out at those dark, mocking eyes, her fingers curled into claws, and found her wrist caught in long, strong fingers. Slowly, inexorably he forced her arm behind her back and loomed over her, forcing her to bend back. His breath was a harsh sound in his throat. Her heart raced wildly as she gazed at his beautiful, cruelly smiling mouth inches from hers. ‘No?’ he murmured with soft menace. ‘Then perhaps it is another kiss you seek.’
She froze. Lord help her, but she did want him to kiss her. And more. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. As if sensing her weakness, her racing pulse, he brushed his mouth across her lips. Recklessly, she kissed him back, twining her free hand around his neck, though she had no need for balance he held her so firmly, so powerfully within one arm. She could not resist the hard, strong feel of his chest against her breasts or the pressure of his thigh between her legs. Such a sweet, painful ache.
She parted her lips to the flick of his tongue and revelled in the way he stroked the inside of her mouth. So stirring, so exciting. So achingly perfect.
He released her wrist and held her close while his mouth and tongue worked their magic. His hand went to her breast, his thumb seeking the hardened peak. A groan rumbled up from his chest.
She made a small sound of longing, knowing the pleasures he could bring with his touch. Her head spun with the sensation of the kiss, the sensation of his hand languorously learning the shape of her breast and teasing at her nipple through the thin layers of fabric. Her insides became all liquid fire and exquisite tension.
She wanted...him. His hardness, inside her. She wanted the vast pleasure a man could bring to a woman, not the pale imitation she achieved in her lonely bed.
As if he knew her inner thoughts and needs, he backed her up until she was pressed against the book shelves. The hand at her back slipped down over her buttocks, his fingers rucking up her skirts, while his other hand continued to caress her breasts, attending to each in turn.
She trembled at the promise of delight. Shook with need as the cool air in the room hit her naked flesh above her stockings. The gown now bunched high behind her back, his fingers, those long clever fingers dipped into the crevasse between her buttocks, tickling and teasing and promising. He withdrew his tongue from her mouth, and she followed it, licking and tasting, tangling with his tongue. And then he sucked.
Her knees gave way at the salacious sensation rippling through her body. Her inner muscles clenched, squeezing and begging for the bliss his body could bring.
She wanted all he could give her and he knew it.
He widened his stance. Unable to resist, she reached between them, cupped him between the legs, found the hard ridge of his arousal and the softness beneath. She caressed him with all her skill, squeezing and rubbing until he groaned into her mouth.
Heady triumph shot through her as he broke free, his breathing as loud and uneven as hers.
He pushed one hand deep into the neckline of her low gown, his warm palm meeting bare, hot flesh, grazing across her thrusting nipple.
His other hand brushed her questing fingers away and cupped the hot flesh between her thighs. She rocked into his palm, increasing the pleasure of his touch tenfold.
So delicious. So unutterably, exquisitely pleasurable. Yet not nearly enough. She wanted him as she hadn’t wanted any other man since Pierre’s betrayal, perhaps even more. ‘S’il vous plaît,’ she whispered in his ear, and felt him shudder at the whisper of her breath across his skin. And the words. The words had such meaning. They spoke of mutual pleasure. Of pleasing. Of wanting.
And how she did want. It had been so long.
His hand left her body to tear at the buttons on his falls. ‘I want your breasts,’ he said thickly, as if he, too, warred with a hunger so great it could not be denied.
‘Ties at the back,’ she gasped, longing to feel his mouth and tongue hot and wet on her nipples.
He spun her around, his arousal now pressed against the dip in her buttocks, rocking into her, making her moan with each forward push of his hips, while his hands dealt with the laces of her bodice and then her stays. She reached behind her and cupped him, making him draw in a hiss of breath that caused her insides to quiver with blissful anticipation.
Bodice undone, he brought her around to face him, stepping aside to let the subdued light of the candle play over her breasts. Full and proud, the nipples, dark rose and hard with excitement, jutted towards him, seeking his touch. His gaze travelled to the juncture of her thighs. She knew he must see the evidence of her desire, even as she gazed in longing at his own readiness.
‘Lovely,’ he said, hoarsely.
She licked her lips.
He covered her with his body and
kissed her full and hard, while he took himself in hand in preparation for entry.
‘Oh,’ a female voice cried.
Freddy cursed, froze, looking down into her face. His eyes widened as if with realisation. He shook his head in disbelief and horror. ‘You little fool,’ he whispered. ‘What in the devil’s name have you done?’
Chapter Three
Why the hell hadn’t he locked the door? He should have guessed she’d do something to force his hand. A typical female trick. Freddy fastened his buttons and turned to face the intruder, shielding Minette from view as much as was possible. Behind him, he heard the rustle of the adjustment of clothing.
He glared at the young woman in white hovering on the threshold, light spilling in a wide arc into the room. A woman he didn’t know, of pale complexion and mousy brown hair. Fortunately the light from the corridor did not reach fully across the room, though the candle gave enough light to reveal their embrace, if not the details. ‘You required something?’
The girl, whose pallid face was clearly visible, gulped, her eyes round. ‘Oh, no. I was looking for someone. Miss Rideau. She had torn her gown and I thought to offer my pins. Someone said they saw her enter the library. Please, excuse me.’
She started to close the door. God. They were going to get away with it. He moved towards the door to lock it.
‘What are you doing here, Priscilla?’ A male voice. ‘The ballroom is at the other end of this corridor.’
The young woman turned to look at whoever had spoken. ‘I was looking for the withdrawing room, Papa. I missed my way.’
‘Not meeting someone, are you, my girl?’ The door swung back.
Freddy swallowed a curse as he faced an irate-faced gentleman. Lord Sparshott, if he recalled correctly.
‘Good God,’ the other man said, his face turning turkey red. ‘Priscilla—’ He halted, and Freddy knew the man had no illusions about what he was seeing.
Sparshott grabbed his daughter’s hand. ‘Come away. This is no place for a decent gel.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Freddy said, hoping like hell Minette had herself decently covered. ‘I am sure you and your daughter would like to be the first to congratulate Mademoiselle Rideau and me on our betrothal.’
The other man snorted and bowed stiffly. ‘My commiserations, mademoiselle. Come, child.’ He stalked off with his daughter in tow. Just before she disappeared she glanced back over her shoulder. Freddy had the distinct impression there was regret in her eyes.
He closed the door. Hell and damnation, there was no key. Had she planned that, too? He swung around to face her, to assess the full extent of the damage. Thank God she was decently covered, if a bit dishevelled. At a quick glance one could assume it was no more than a kiss they had been sharing in the dark. The dull throb of an arousal denied served to increase his fury.
‘You did it on purpose.’ He kept his expression cool, his emotions under guard. Now was not the time to express his anger.
‘I did not,’ she snapped back, her eyes flashing fire.
A fire he would like to have put to better use than an argument, but it was far too late. He was dished. Done up. Betrothed, when he had planned never to marry.
‘Turn around.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Are you going to—?’
‘No, I’m bloody well not. I’m going to see you properly laced and back into the ballroom. We have to break the good news to Gabe and Nicky before the gossip gets out of hand.’
‘Oh.’
Damn it, had that been disappointment he’d heard in her voice? That they wouldn’t finish what they’d started? His body twitched appreciatively at the very idea as she turned around and let him fix what he had undone. Hell and damnation, the girl had made him lose all sense of civility and reason. He should never have met her alone. It had been far too long since he’d taken a woman to his bed. Surrounded by women in the brothel had given him a distaste of coldly commercial transactions. And, if he was honest, seeing Gabe’s marital happiness had made him want more. No wonder the first brush of Minette’s skin against his palm had sent all his good intentions going up in the flames of lust. Because she was the one woman he had always wanted and could never have for the flick of a finger.
And now he was trapped. After years of him denying his unwanted attraction out of respect for Gabe, who knew of his vow never to marry. Who knew dalliance was all he ever wanted or needed. As Gabe’s ward, Minette deserved far better than he would ever be. And a far better life than he could offer. Finished with the buttons and lacings, he spun her round to face him. ‘You and your little friend have properly put us in the basket. There’s no backing out of this, you know. We are shackled for life.’
She lifted her chin, her eyes huge and roiling with emotion. ‘I didn’t plan it, you idiot. You kissed me, remember? And, besides, it will be forgotten in a week.’
‘It won’t. Of all people, you had to pick Sparshott’s daughter to help in your schemes. He’s one of the biggest sticklers I know. You can be sure he won’t let people forget, even after we tie the knot.’
‘Mon Dieu. You will stop saying I planned this. She saw my hem was torn and offered to help. I said no. She followed me of her own accord.’
‘A happy coincidence, then,’ he said, trying to bury his frustration. There was no sense in being angry. What was done was done.
She eyed him speculatively, as if she didn’t believe his resignation to his fate, and dug in her reticule. ‘You had better pin up my hem before we go back.’ She handed him some pins.
Grimacing, Freddy fell to one knee and worked on reattaching the delicate flounce.
The door opened to admit a grim-looking Gabe.
‘How very touching,’ he drawled, his expression as hard as granite.
‘Don’t be an ass,’ Freddy said, placing the last pin. He leaped to his feet, grabbed Minette’s hand and gave his friend a smile he did not feel. Although there was something satisfying in the feel of that small gloved hand within his palm, as if it belonged there. ‘We were about to come and find you and share our good news. You can be the first to congratulate us on our betrothal.’
The grimness around Gabe’s mouth did not ease. ‘I gather, then, that Sparshott did not offer his felicitations.’
Sarcasm. From his friend. They’d often disagreed, but they’d always had mutual respect. ‘It was a rather awkward moment.’
Minette’s hand quivered in his. His spine stiffened, the tension growing second by second as he prayed her temper wasn’t such that she would deny their engagement and send Gabe’s anger over the edge. He was a good friend, but when it came to his women he was very protective. Renewed anger simmered in his own veins. At her role in driving a wedge between him and a man he’d come to think of as a brother. He held Gabe’s gaze without flinching. ‘Well, aren’t you going to wish us happiness?’
Gabe blew out a breath and stuck out a reluctant hand. ‘Congratulations.’
The tension in his neck eased as he shook it. He glanced down at Minette and realised she wasn’t looking any happier than he felt. He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Gabe. Our passion got the better of us when we realised we both wanted this. We should have come to speak to you and Nicky right away.’
‘We will talk more in the morning. You will both come with me now.’ Gabe shot a glance at Minette. ‘We need to look like a family with joyous news.’
A bright smile appeared on Minette’s lips. ‘Bien sûr,’ she said gaily. ‘Très heureux. Is it not so, my dearest Freddy?’
‘Without question,’ he replied, with an equally false smile.
God help him, what a mess.
* * *
To Minette’s acutely sensitive emotions, it seemed as if the buzz of conversation ceased when she and Freddy entered the ballroom. But it resumed too quickly to be sure. She held her head high, showing not a scrap of shame on her face. The heat she felt on her cheeks was caused by her anger at Freddy’s assumption that she h
ad intended to trick him into marriage.
Why she would care so deeply about what he thought she didn’t know. This engagement was the perfect answer to her conundrum, so why did she feel so uncomfortable inside? The answer struck her in one of those odd flashes of realisation. Freddy’s reaction. His horror. Pain stabbed behind her breastbone. The pain of betrayal.
Nonsense. The whole thing was a horrible accident. One she’d find a way to put right.
Shackled for life, he’d said with such cold remoteness. Hardly. She would cry off after a time and that would be that. Not even a duke could force a woman into a marriage she didn’t want. This wasn’t the Middle Ages. And certainly she wouldn’t marry a man who thought he’d been tricked. A girl had her pride.
Sweet smiles and blushes were to be expected from a newly betrothed debutante, so all she needed to do at this moment was curve her lips and fool the world. The anxious look from her sister said it wasn’t working, so she surged forward and took both of Nicky’s hands in hers. ‘Wish me well, sister. His Grace has done me the honour of asking for my hand.’
If anything, Nicky looked even more concerned, but a warning glance from Gabe had her lips curving in the well-practised smile of a politician’s wife. ‘Dearest,’ she said, leaning forward to kiss each of her cheeks. ‘Are you sure?’ she whispered.
Always Nicky offered her support. And always Minette felt as if she’d let her sister down. She threw her arms around Nicky’s neck. ‘Positive.’ Later would come the recriminations and even later the disappointment of an ended engagement, but right now they would show a united front.
She stepped back and received Gabe’s blessing, a formal kiss on each cheek.
Her brother-in-law then shook hands with Freddy.
Nicky also held out her hand, and Freddy bowed over it with the manly elegance that always stole Minette’s breath.
‘You will be good to her,’ Nicky warned.
The Regency Season Page 4