by Alyson Chase
He was as affected as she.
“Do you think—”
A scratch at the open door ended her question, and it was probably for the best. Nothing good could come from what she was about to suggest.
Nothing except good, sweaty tupping, she thought with regret.
John straightened, dropping his hands from her body. “Yes?’ he asked the footman.
“Lady Mary Cavindish is here to see you, my lord. Shall I show her in?”
“Straight away. And send up refreshments, as well.”
Missing his heat, Netta turned.
John rocked up on his toes, his eyes crinkling at the corners, looking much too happy to see this visitor.
All of her remaining warmth seeped away. “Who is Lady Mary Cavindish?” If her voice was waspish, it couldn’t be helped. She plucked the book from her head.
“A very dear friend,” he said, “and someone who I thought could help you with your lessons in deportment.”
She tapped the book against her thigh. A female friend who had the grace, elegance, and intelligence to assist her in becoming a lady? Netta narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t wait to meet such a friend. To have earned the earl’s approval, the woman must be something special.
She probably had a bosom up to her chin.
An older woman with ivory hair peeking from her lace cap and spectacles perched on her nose toddled into the room.
Or not.
“Auntie May!” John swooped down on her. “How lovely to see you again. You are looking as beautiful as a dew-flecked rose.”
She raised her cheek for his kiss. “I won ten pounds off you at whist just last week. Such an effusive greeting is hardly necessary. Neither is such flattery appropriate.”
He patted her hand. “Where you are concerned, flattery is always appropriate.”
The older woman shook her head, but the soft skin of her cheeks was decidedly pink. “Tosh. Now, what am I doing here? Are you finally going to call in your loan on my club?”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “You wound me. I would never do anything so boorish.” He winked at the woman. “Or so unprofitable.” Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he led her across the room to Netta.
“May I present Miss Netta Dudley.”
Dudley? Netta wrinkled her nose.
“Miss Reed?”
Netta tapped her finger against her lips before shaking her head. Her character really didn’t feel like a Reed.
He sighed. “We’re still working on the name. Meet Netta. Netta, this is Lady Mary, or Auntie May to those of us who used to run through her gardens chasing Sheba, her long-haired cat.”
Lady Mary hooted. “How my cat hated you and Marcus. I’d forgotten all about that.” She peered about the floor. “Speaking of cats, where’s yours? This is a new dress. I don’t want your beast ruining it.”
“She’s outside in the gardens.” John settled Lady Mary on a velvet chair. “Your skirts are safe.”
Remembering her act, Netta dropped into an inelegant curtsy. “Good afternoon, Lady Mary. Hhow wonderful to make your acquaintance.” She looked to John and frowned when he wobbled his hand from side to side. That enunciation had been just shy of perfect.
Lady Mary cocked her head. “What are you up to, Johnnie?”
Johnnie? Netta swished her skirts back and took the seat opposite the woman. “Yes, Johnnie. What are your plans?”
He draped himself on the settee, his coquelicot-colored jacket a perfect match for the stitching running through the gold damask sofa. He stabbed a finger in Netta’s direction. “If my instruction has taught you anything, it is that you do not get to call me by my given name.”
“But you call me Netta.” She widened her eyes, trying and failing at looking innocent. She gave up the attempt and smirked. “Surely it is only fair that I use your Christian name, as well.”
“I like this one.” Lady Mary jabbed a finger at Netta. “She’s not like those beef-witted women who usually hang off of you.”
“Yes.” Summerset pressed his lips together. “But she still maintains all the sauce even without the meat. She has yet to learn that a little impudence goes a long way.” He inclined his head, like the king to a subject. “You may call me John when we are within these walls.”
“How kind of you.” Netta gritted her teeth. Truly, the man was too much. If one could measure impudence, his would exceed that of anyone in England.
“Now, Auntie May, I have a project for Netta and I need her to appear as refined a lady as a princess.”
Lady Mary huffed. “With Princess Caroline as an example, no refinement is necessary. The daughter of a butcher could show more quality than her.”
John pursed his lips. “Fine. To appear as a gently born woman of tender years if you prefer. I’ve been training her but I’d like to start the testing process. That’s where you come in.”
“Am I to understand that she is not of the upper class?” she asked.
“That is correct.”
Netta bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. How easily he was fooled. That small victory was enough to take the sting out of being discussed as though she weren’t in the room.
“And what is it you’d have me do?” A servant entered carrying a tea tray, and Lady Mary pointed to the low table in front of her. She picked a sweetmeat from a bowl. “Take her about to teas and afternoon calls? Make sure she blends in?”
“Correct again. You are so wonderfully clever, Auntie May.”
The woman shot John a look. “If you wish to give her the appearance of propriety, then why, pray tell, would you send her about with me? You know I’m a square peg in the ton’s round hole.”
John smiled. “And that’s why I adore you. But while you might be seen as…eccentric, you still have the credentials our kind cares about. I can’t think of anyone more suited.”
Lady Mary poured cups of tea, handing one to Netta and John before taking her own. “My nephew’s wife refused you.”
“Marcus and Elizabeth are in Bath.” John at least had the grace to look abashed.
“And the wives of your other friends?”
“Why bother wondering about what might have been when I have succeeded in obtaining the use of your unparalleled services.” John rested his elbow on the armrest and propped his chin on his fist. “Do I have your services, Auntie May? It would be ever so helpful to me.”
“Of course.” She narrowed her eyes and smiled. “For another quarter point knocked off my interest rate. I want my club turning a profit in two-months’ time.”
“Done.” He sat forwards, resting his arms on his knees. “Where will be your first stop?”
“I don’t know.” Lady Mary frowned. “I’ve avoided making calls for a good two months now. My reappearance with a new companion on my arm will raise eyebrows. She is supposed to be acting as a lady’s companion?”
“I think I’ll make her the daughter of an old friend of mine. A young lady I selflessly agreed to show around London.” John ran his gaze up and down her body. “I won’t mind if she raises a few eyebrows. I want people to wonder about her. Just not for the wrong reasons.”
Netta stared back. So he wanted her to cause a minor stir. Why? He still hadn’t condescended to inform her of his plan. “Wha—"
“She’s a little old to be an innocent debutante.” Lady Mary pulled a small flask from her reticule and poured a splash of its contents into her tea.
Netta plucked up the sugar nippers and dropped three lumps into her own cup with a bit more force than necessary. Tea splashed onto the saucer. She was not yet four and twenty. She sniffed. Hardly on the shelf.
“She’ll be new and shiny.” John fluttered his hand through the air. “I want her to be a little mysterious, making people want more of her. Making men want more from her.”
Netta paused, the cup half way to her mouth. Proper, refined, retiring, alluring, and mysterious? Th
at was a tall order, even for an actress as skilled as she. “I don’t—”
“She certainly has the attributes to catch the eye,” Lady Mary said.
Netta followed the woman’s glance down to her bosom. Her décolletage was rather striking, if she did say so herself. It made up for the softness of her stomach.
The older woman nodded. “I’ll do what I can, but most of the effort will be up to her.” Lady Mary turned in her chair to face Netta. “What do you think, child? Shall we make some trouble? What say I pick you up tomorrow afternoon?”
Netta raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I get to speak now?”
“When,” John drawled, “have you ever had an issue getting a word in edgewise?”
Only around John and Lady Mary. It was highly irritating. She could understand a little better now why her mother had chided her as a child to hold her tongue and let other people speak.
“In that case, John, I must decline.” She set her cup onto the table and leaned back. She cocked her elbow on the back of her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Going about the ton acting like your trained monkey isn’t part of the terms of our arrangement. You wanted me for one distraction. One. A singular event.”
“I disagree on your understanding of our terms.” He tilted his head, and the afternoon sunlight gilded his blond crown of hair. He looked like he wore a halo, but Netta knew better. “In return for payment, a very large payment I might add, you agreed to assist me in unspecified ways. I am now specifying.”
Yes, and specifying something Netta wasn’t able to do. Agreeing to bait a man was one thing. Even if John’s target was a member of the ton, the chances were great she wouldn’t know him. Her father rarely had friends visit.
Women were another story. She’d joined her mother in receiving her friends’ calls. She’d escaped from Society for a reason. It wouldn’t do to waltz back in now with naught but a false name as protection.
She scraped her teeth against her lower lip. But could a new name protect her? She’d run away before coming out. And she’d changed much from the awkward girl she’d been. There weren’t many aside from family and close friends who would recognize her.
She turned to Lady Mary. “Who do you propose,” she said, stretching out each word as though each syllable posed a hardship, “to pay a visit to on the morrow?”
“I haven’t called on Caroline Brennan for ages.”
“Isn’t she a member of your club?” John interrupted. “You must see her frequently.”
“But I haven’t called on her for a good while.” Lady Mary adjusted her spectacles and peered over the rims at the earl. “There’s a difference.”
Netta tapped her thumb on her cup. Should she ask about this club they kept going on about? She wasn’t certain Netta Pickle would care.
“I also owe a visit to that wretchedly dull woman, Lady St. John.” Lady Mary pursed her lips. “Oh, and the Dowager Marchioness of Mallen, I would think.”
John jerked from his elegant sprawl. “No.” His voice was hard, flinty, his expression more so. “You will not visit that woman.”
Lady Mary gave him a pitying look. “My dear boy, do you think because you refuse to acknowledge her presence that others do, as well? Tosh. The dowager marchioness might be completely lacking in finer feelings, but she has a good head on her shoulders. And if you want Netta to practice her polish, no other woman in Society would do so well. A trial by fire, if you please.”
“I do not please,” he gritted out. “That woman is malicious and vile, and I don’t want her within fifty feet of anything of mine, including Netta.”
Netta ignored the absurd possessive in John’s comment. She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Who is the Dowager Marchioness of Mallen?” The name was familiar. The current marquess was reputed to be something of a rake, or at least that had been his reputation six years ago. In her new life, Netta was no longer privy to the ton’s on dit.
“No one of import,” John said.
“His grandmother.” Lady Mary tutted. “I like holding a grudge as much as the next person, but you take your resentment to extremes. When is the last time you talked to her?”
John clenched then relaxed his hand. “It’s only been six and twenty years since last we spoke.”
A burst of laughter slipped past Netta’s lips, and John glared at her. She turned it into a gentle cough.
“People change,” Lady Mary said.
He looked away. “She hasn’t.”
A breeze shifted the gauze curtains at the open window, the rustling fabric sounding loud in the sudden silence.
“Well, it was only an idea.” Lady Mary gathered up her reticule. “We need not bother the dowager tomorrow. Two calls will be sufficient. Shall I pick you up at three?” she asked Netta.
She’d be more eager to agree if the Lady Mallen were still on the itinerary. What could a grandmother have done to her grandson to garner nearly three decades of neglect? If any man seemed least likely to hold a grudge, it was John with his nonchalance and careless disdain. She dearly wanted to meet the person who could incite such violent emotions in the earl.
But this was business, not her entertainment. Visiting with two women she didn’t know was a risk she was willing to take for four thousand pounds. Her heart beat a bit faster as she nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
John stood with Lady Mary. “She’ll be properly dressed and on time. Whether she will be ready remains to be seen.”
Irritation chased away her nerves. His lack of faith in her skills was most unjust. She was putting on the performance of a lifetime here and no one appreciated it. The fact that John didn’t know he was witnessing a dramatic interpretation of a street urchin becoming a lady was proof as to its excellence.
Four thousand pounds. Four thousand pounds. It was more than enough to repay a bruised ego. She brought the street back to her voice. “I’ll be ready. I’ll be the most right proper miss your lot has ever seen.”
He sighed. “Sometimes I despair of you.”
She smirked. Poor fool. His exasperation was almost enough to compensate for a lack of accolades on her performance. Almost. “Have no fears, kind sir,” she said her voice airy. “My behavior will be nothing but a credit to you and your teachings. Good day, Lady Mary.” She lowered into a curtsy fine enough to present to the king.
She looked up to gauge the audience reaction, and John hastily shifted his gaze from the spot where her bodice met her flesh.
Cheeks warm, she rose.
Lady Mary clapped the earl on the back. “This just might prove to be a superior form of entertainment. I can’t wait to see how it plays out.” She adjusted her cap and strode for the door. She waggled her fingers in farewell and disappeared.
John circled Netta, his spirals growing ever tighter. Ever closer.
“Shouldn’t you accompany your guest to the door?” Netta turned with him, keeping him in sight. She knew better than to turn her back on a predator. “Or do I now have to teach the instructor about manners?”
“Auntie May is family.” His shoulder brushed her own, and a shiver tickled her spine. “We don’t stand on formality with each other.”
“So your friend’s aunt is family but your own grandmother is taboo.” His citrus and pepper scent filled her senses. Her endless turning made her head go light. She inhaled deeply, letting the essence of him sink deep into her lungs. “How interesting.”
He stopped, his chest inches from hers. Lifting a strand of her hair from her shoulder, he slid his fingers down the lock. “Always looking for an angle, aren’t you? Trying to find the profit in every utterance.”
She lifted one shoulder. “It would be foolish not to in my position. And I’m nobody’s fool.”
“Is that so?”
She raised her chin. “You look at me and see a simple thief. But I’m clever. You’d best remember it.” It was as much of a warning as she could give him. Her deception was beginning to
curdle in her stomach like day-old milk. He most likely didn’t deserve her trickery. But her future was too tenuous to trust to the earl’s discretion. He could use the knowledge of her birth against her interests.
He could put her in danger even while believing he was doing the right thing.
He twirled his finger, wrapping her hair about it, and tugged. “You greatly misunderstand what I see when I look upon you. Perhaps it’s time we changed that.”
He was close, so close if she rocked up on her toes they could kiss. His gaze was unblinking, and she couldn’t look away. His breath caressed her cheek. The cool silk of his cravat soothed the heated skin above her bodice. “How do we change it?” she whispered.
His smile was slow to unfurl, but when it reached its full extent, her core clenched. And for the first time, Netta recognized how dangerous this man was. If even his smile could cloud her mind, what could he do to her when he used his whole body.
He leaned closer, nudged her temple with his nose and inhaled deeply. “How would you like to play a game?”
Chapter Ten
Christ, he’d never smelled anything so good as the woman before him. He’d chosen the soaps from Paris for their subtle bergamot odor. But mixed with the hint of licorice that wafted off Netta whenever she moved, her scent was intoxicating. And if she smelled like a treat, he couldn’t wait to taste her.
And taste her he would. He’d been playing the good earl for too long. No assignments from Liverpool with their promise of legally-sanctioned mischief to enliven his days. Getting his brother out of trouble. Again. Truly, he deserved some reward for his trials.
And Netta was one enticing reward.
Her alluring gaze narrowed, a small divot puckering the skin between her brows. He had never seen the equal to her eyes. The same striking violet color as his favorite waistcoat at the edges of her irises, darkening as they went inward to make her pupils look as deep as the midnight sky.
She was saucy one moment, a hard-nosed negotiator the next. Always watchful. He spared a fleeting thought to what in her past could have made her so wary. But such dull thoughts weren’t to be borne at a moment like this. Not when he could lean forward the barest inch and brush his chest over her puckered nipples. Not when she flicked her tongue over her bottom lip in a teasing invitation.