Wicked Surrender

by Jade Lee

  She was touched despite her intentions. She didn’t even fully trust him in this. She still feared that it was some twisted attempt to seduce her. And yet his expression and his words felt earnest. So much so that when he extended his arm to her, she went to him easily, touching her gloved fingers to the sleeve of his beautiful coat.

  “You do look most handsome,” she commented.

  “Not nearly as divine as you,” he returned. Then he maneuvered her easily around Seth and the others as they went to his phaeton.

  The carriage was beautiful, tall and freshly painted. It bore no crest, but the boy who served as tiger moved smartly in his obviously new uniform of green and gold. He pulled the matched pair of chestnuts forward, bowed with excruciating correctness to her, then dimpled prettily when she smiled at him.

  “Oy, miss,” he began but was cut off by Brandon.

  “Silence, Hank. Servants are silent.”

  The boy flushed and dipped his head, tugging on his forelock as he did. Brandon stared hard at the child a moment longer, then turned to hand Scheherazade up into the phaeton.

  “I apologize,” he murmured. “I have only just hired him. He is still young.”

  She glanced past his shoulder where Hank stood holding the horses’ heads and simultaneously brushing some dust off his new uniform. “Where did you find him?” she asked.

  “Hmm? Oh. Bad pickpocket.”

  She stilled to look closer at his face. “You hired a boy who was stealing from you?”

  “Me? No, no, he was stealing from a drunken sot, but doing it so awkwardly that I could tell he wasn’t a professional.”

  “You hired a street boy,” she repeated quietly, startled by the casual kindness in him.

  He laughed, the sound lighter than she expected. “Well, I needed a tiger, didn’t I? Would hardly be proper for me to take you out to Hyde Park without a servant to play chaperone.”

  She didn’t respond as he was helping her onto the high perch. His hands were large, his forearm pleasantly solid where she gripped him as she climbed. There was nothing at all sexual in his touch, and yet she felt him with sensitized awareness. Her back tingled in an expanding circle from his hand. And her bottom tightened just with the knowledge that—for a brief moment—her rear was eye-level with him. Then she was sitting down, quietly marveling at the new seat cushion.

  Brandon leaped up beside her, grabbing the ribbons in a competent grip. Those too appeared new, and she turned to study the equipage more closely.

  “How new is this phaeton?”

  He flashed her a grin. “As new as my tiger. Couldn’t bring you out in a shabby, old thing.”

  She tilted her head, completely flummoxed. “Are you trying to impress me?”

  He sobered slightly. “I’m trying to show you that I value you. I respect you.”

  “By buying a new carriage?”

  “And taking you to Hyde Park in it. Yes.”

  She didn’t answer. Despite all logic, she was impressed. And pleased. She settled back into the cushions and tilted her head back so the sun could touch her face beneath her hat. The head piece was new as well, but unlike her dress, it was an annoyance. The ribbons fluttered about her left ear and her head felt hot, but propriety demanded that she keep it on.

  “Did you paste your skin?” he asked in a low voice as his tiger jumped in behind them.

  “Yes,” she murmured. Her skin was an unfashionable light bronze color and even included a few freckles. No one noticed inside the darkness of the playhouse, but out in the afternoon sun? She had resorted to paste.

  “At least it doesn’t smell as horrible as my grandmother’s,” he commented dryly as he started the phaeton moving.

  “Whores always know the best cosmetics. They have to be beautiful and not smell for their customers.”

  She was startled by his sharp bark of laughter at that. Her eyes shot open and she straightened in her seat, a blush heating her face.

  “My God,” she blurted out. “I am so sorry for saying such a thing. I cannot imagine—”

  “No, no!” he chortled. “I was afraid that Kit had squelched all your spirit.”

  “Kit? Of course not! He is a delightful companion.”

  “But an indifferent lover?”

  She stiffened in her seat. “You go too far,” she accused even though she had been the one to take the conversation in a scandalous direction.

  He bowed slightly in acknowledgment. “I see we are back to proper topics. Very well, shall we discuss the weather? I could regale you with all the details of my horses or this lovely carriage.”

  “All of it is quite fine,” she returned stiffly, though secretly she wished she could pull off her gloves to feel the fine fabric of the cushion. “I had not expected the weather to be this sweet today.”

  “Last night’s rain has made for a beautiful afternoon,” he returned, though his attention was obviously not on their conversation. Neither was hers, for that matter, as they were just nearing the outskirts of Hyde Park and the crush of vehicles ahead.

  “Whenever you wish to leave,” he said under his breath, “just tell me and I will turn the horses.”

  “And what?” she murmured as she looked beyond at carriages, horsemen, and strollers all clogged together. “You couldn’t move beyond a foot. Is it always like this?”

  He turned to study her profile. She could see him out of her peripheral vision, but she didn’t twist back to face him. The way he looked at her was so dark, so serious, it made her uneasy. What was he thinking?

  “You have never been here before, even to look?”

  “At the fashionable hour? Never,” she lied.

  “Why not? You are practically humming with excitement. You have wanted this for a very long time.”

  She looked back at him then, startled at his perception. “How could you know that?”

  “It is no secret, Scher. You want to be among them.” He gestured dismissively at the crowd of fashionable elite. “Surely you have stood at the edges and watched? When you were young, perhaps? I would wager when you were a child of no more than ten or eleven.”

  “Nine,” she confessed before turning away. “I came the first time on my ninth birthday. Pappy brought me; he was an actor in the troupe. We dressed up in our finest clothes. He bought me an ice at Gunters, and then we strolled straight through the park pretending to be German royalty with terrible English.” She giggled at the memory. “It was the best birthday I ever had.”

  “You did not come back again?”

  “Every year until he died.”

  “Were you always German royalty or did that change?”

  “Every year was different. Once we were scholars, another year religious reformers.”

  “And now you are here as yourself. You must tell me which you prefer.”

  She looked back at him. There had been no malice in his tone, but she knew the answer he expected. Slights directed at fake royalty were one thing. Insults to herself were quite another. But it didn’t matter, they were here now. She was determined on her course. And as if on cue, Brandon pulled up alongside their first titled peer.

  “Hello, Marcus,” Brandon greeted with false cheer. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  The man smiled genially in response, his eyes vague enough that Scheherazade wondered how he kept a steady hand on his ribbons. Fortunately, the horses kept a plodding pace as the man laughed with good cheer.

  “I am always here, Brandon. Wouldn’t miss the exercise for the world.”

  “Lord Barstaff, may I present Miss Martin? She is my cousin Kit’s fiancée.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Scheherazade said warmly. “Your son Jeremy has exactly the same smile. Quite handsome.”

  He arched a brow then lifted a quizzing glass to inspect her more closely. “You know Jeremy, then? I didn’t realize he was making the polite rounds.”

  Scheherazade faltered. He was right, of course. She had not met Jeremy in anything resemb
ling a polite setting. Fortunately, Brandon was able to smooth the way for her.

  “Ah, but I believe Jeremy and Kit are good friends.”

  “Ah, yes, Kit Frazier. Fine boy, fine boy. Engaged you say? Well, felicitations, Miss Martin. I suppose there’s no hope that you would want Jeremy instead, is there? The boy could use a pretty gel on his arm.”

  That he could. Jeremy was cursed with a rather unfortunate skin condition. “You flatter me, Lord Barstaff.”

  “Well that’s what one does with pretty girls, eh wot?”

  Scheherazade laughed happily, her shoulders and her breath relaxing with the sound. This was not so hard. Trading pleasantries with gentleman was something she’d learned to do when she was four.

  “Viscount Blackstone! My goodness, it is you!” cried another voice from the opposite side. “I told Bea here that it could not possibly be you, but look, it is! And in a beautiful new carriage!”

  “Miss Smithson and Lady Bea,” Brandon said as he turned to the oncoming carriage. No one else would be able to tell that Brandon had tensed, but Scher caught an underlying coldness in his tone as he added another greeting. “Ashbury.”

  “Blackstone,” returned the ladies’ sullen companion. He was driving the carriage and looking rather disgruntled to be there. At least he was until he caught sight of Scheherazade. Then his eyes widened and he stiffened all the way from his belly to the top of his head.

  He clearly wanted to voice some objection, but it was too late as Brandon made the introductions. “May I present to you Miss Martin. She is my cousin Kit’s fiancée.”

  Scher smiled as warmly as possible to the trio of exquisitely dressed people. She knew of them, of course. Lady Bea and Ashbury were brother and sister, the only children of a highly political earl. And Miss Smithson was clearly a wealthy virgin on the hunt for a husband.

  “Really!” gasped Miss Smithson. Apparently she only spoke in exclamation marks. “Mr. Frazier engaged? How delightful!”

  Lady Bea smiled sweetly and leaned forward to extend her hand in greeting. “How lovely to meet you—”

  “Sorry, must be leaving,” interrupted her brother as he slapped his sister’s arm down. Lady Bea gasped at her brother’s rudeness, as did Scheherazade, but that was nothing compared to the venomous glare the man shot at Brandon. “New titles are always cheeky. I’ll not forget that you introduced my sister to a madam!”

  He clicked his tongue at his horses, but there wasn’t a lot of distance for them to go. Their carriage moved forward only a few feet. Beside him, the ladies mouths had dropped open as they stared at her.

  “I’m not a madam,” Scheherazade said as firmly as possible, but it did nothing to cover her flush of humiliation. It was ridiculous, but she hadn’t expected someone to accuse her so baldly and loud enough for other carriages to hear. She thought that respectable people didn’t even say those words in polite society.

  Meanwhile, Brandon released his own sniff. “And I am insulted that you would say such a thing about my cousin’s fiancée!”

  “Say what you want,” Ashbury returned. “But I know you, Lady Scher.” The way he said it made it sound like he bedded her every night.

  She stared at him, wondering if he had ever come to the playhouse. Probably. Most young bucks about town did eventually, but he wasn’t a frequent visitor.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Ashbury, but I have no recollection of you at all. Do remind me, please, how we met before?”

  As banter went, the sally was rather good. It implied that either Ashbury’s sexual prowess was completely lacking—something that no young buck would admit—or that he was wrong about her identity. In the Green Room it would have drawn a bit of laughter. But out here in the fashionable throng, it only produced shocked stares.

  Ashbury arched a brow at her, then reached into his pocket and flicked her a half crown which rolled onto the boards at her feet. “Perhaps that will jog your memory,” he sneered, then he turned his back on her.

  She stared down at the coin at her feet. It was covered by her skirt, but she knew it was there. She looked back up at the carriage, only to see the two other ladies gasp and turn their back on her. The cut direct.

  “Mind your horses, Ashbury!” Brandon snapped loudly even though all the animals were well under control. “You should not drive when so deeply in your cups. Imagine confusing my cousin’s fiancée with . . . well, with one of your set.”

  An excellent retort, Scheherazade thought miserably. Unfortunately, she could already see it would not work. Lord Ashbury was clearly not in his cups. And yet it was nice that Brandon had made the attempt to defend her. She had obviously not made good work of it.

  It was a difficult minute or more beyond that as the carriages inched in opposite directions. Scheherazade didn’t dare look behind them at the Ashbury carriage, but when she turned her attention to Lord Barstaff, it was to meet his confused frown before he too looked away.

  Searching for somewhere else to look, she slowly scanned the nearby crowd. Everyone was staring at her, many of them whispering behind their hands. She could almost see the news of their confrontation moving through the park as one neighbor leaned over to discuss her with another.

  Meanwhile, a pair of horsemen rode forward. They couldn’t move quickly, of course, but they were clearly headed directly toward them. Scheherazade released a breath of relief. They were young men she knew well. Two gentlemen of modest means without titles. They were regulars at the playhouse and friends to Kit.

  She smiled warmly at them. At least these two would be kind.

  “What are you about?” Mr. Dempsey said to Brandon as soon as he was alongside.

  “Pleasant afternoon, Mr. Dempsey, Mr. Tully,” returned Brandon. “Please allow me to introduce my cousin Kit’s fiancée, Miss Martin.”

  “I’m honored to meet you,” she responded immediately, glad for the polite fiction that she had never met them. Unfortunately the young men flushed a dark red.

  “Lady Scher,” hissed Mr. Tully. “This really isn’t the thing. You really—”

  “This is Miss Martin’s first visit to Hyde Park,” interrupted Brandon. “She has confided in me that it is most exciting.”

  “Upsetting is more like,” returned Mr. Dempsey, his brow furrowed in concern. “Engaged to Kit, you say?” He heaved a sigh and turned away. “Never thought you were grasping, Lady Scher. And unfortunate that you’re helping her,” he said to Brandon. “Come on, Tully, there’s nothing to be done here but make things worse.”

  As they were on horses, the two men maneuvered easily down toward Rotten Row and away from the park. But they lingered long enough for Scheherazade to see Mr. Tully glance uneasily back at her. Twice.

  “He called me grasping,” she said under her breath.

  “You knew that would be said. And much worse.”

  “But not by my friends.” She looked up at Brandon. “I have known them since they first came to town. They are kind men.”

  “It’s easy to be kind when the world is exactly as it ought to be,” he returned. “But you are now upsetting that order.”

  She forced herself to smile at a nearby matron, who sniffed and obviously took great pleasure in giving her the cut direct. “I simply wish to get married, not overthrow any world order.”

  Brandon turned to her, his expression compassionate. “Sometimes the world is very cruel.”

  She had no answer to that, since they both knew it was true. And with that one shared look, she felt her world shift. Or perhaps not so much her world as her heart because she abruptly felt a kinship with Brandon deeper than anything she experienced with Kit. It seemed as if they were in this particular mess together. That he would stand by her side no matter what happened. For a woman who was perpetually on the outside looking in, this was so powerful it rocked her to her core.

  He must have felt it too. She saw his eyes widen and his nostrils flare. Then he surprised her even more as a wash of gratitude filled his expression. She had
no explanation for how she knew, but she did. He was grateful for her presence here beside him, when in fact, she was the one who needed his support.

  “Scher,” he said. One word, but it was filled with a longing that echoed through her soul. How could one whisper from him create such need in her?

  Feelings overwhelmed her, swamping her thoughts. She ought to tear her gaze away. She needed to find her balance again or risk throwing everything away in a blind rush of emotion. But how he called to her! His eyes, his touch, his very presence beside her was a temptation stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. Without planning it, she leaned toward him.

  He stopped her. He didn’t want to, she could tell that immediately. But with a flick of his eyes, he indicated everything she had forgotten: where they were and who was watching. Good lord, they were in the middle of Hyde Park and she had been about to kiss him!

  Scher spun away with a gasp of horror. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to steady. She scanned the crowd, not for any particular person, but as a way of reminding herself that every soul here watched her.

  “Are you looking for Kit?” Brandon asked, his tone excruciatingly neutral. “He’s over there.”

  She nodded but didn’t dare look back at him. So she scanned the crowd again until she found her fiancé. He was strolling the grounds with two young women, one on either side of him. His gait appeared strained, but his laughter rang clearly nonetheless. Obviously one of his companions had said something clever.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, though the words were inane. “I see him now.” Then she put on as brilliant a smile as she could manage and waited for her fiancé to look up to acknowledge her.

  And waited.

  And waited even longer.

  Chapter 7

  She’d been about to kiss him. Brandon was sure of it. She’d been about to kiss him right here in Hyde Park and he’d stopped her. Idiot! If he’d just let her do it, let her fall into his arms right here, then everything would be over. No more engagement with Kit. No more possibility of a respectable marriage. And with that question gone, she would be his mistress within a week.