Rogue's Kiss (Scandalous Miss Brightwell Book 2)

by Beverley Oakley

  “Lord no, Antoinete!” Fanny squeaked as she stared at the revealing piece of silk and feathers her sister held up. “Do you want Thea to gain a reputation for being fast and loose?”

  “No, that’s only the way I’m supposed to pretend to act.” Thea blushed as she met with defiance her cousins’ shocked looks. “Clearly I’m supposed to appear demure but behave in quite an altogether different way.”

  Fanny nodded admiringly as she also stood up and withdrew something from the trunk at the end of the bed. “That’s exactly right, Thea. And now here is what I propose you should wear in order to strike just that well-balanced note.”

  So Antoinette did wear her daring little ensemble and Thea trembled to think her cousin had thought it suitable for her. Beneath Antoinette’s dark satin cloak lined in scarlet, she wore…

  Thea died a little death inside. What if the breeze was to flap it open causing the whole assembly to see the tiny sparkles that covered Antoinette’s nipples? As for the rest of her, only a tiny white swansdown triangle nestled at the juncture of her legs.

  Even Fanny had been scandalised.

  “You are not wearing that!” she’d raged, but Antoinette had been unmoved. “No one shall know except the man who is answered in the affirmative when he asks what everyone asks at a masquerade: ‘Do I know you?’ ”

  Now, as the music grew louder as they proceeded up the steps of the grand venue for that night’s entertainment, she touched Thea’s arm. “Fanny was right,” she conceded. “You make a very lovely milkmaid. Your innocence is like a halo and a lot of men are attracted to that. Not the ones I like, though.”

  “Indeed, Lord Quamby—” Thea began before realising her mistake.

  Antoinette gurgled, “Oh, silly girl. No, I’ve the loveliest gentleman I met last week with whom I have a secret assignation, so I’m afraid Fanny will have to keep you in check.” She levelled a mock-severe look at Thea then giggled as they were ushered through the front door. “Oh, do make sure you have fun, Thea. If you don’t, it won’t be our fault.”

  And then suddenly she was gone, swallowed up by the crowd, while Fanny and Thea, flanked by Lord Fenton and Aunt Minerva, made their regal entrance; meanwhile Bertram, who’d arrived having greased himself with more than a thimbleful, stumbled in their wake.

  “You will promise me a dance, Cousin Thea?” Lord Fenton asked. Thea recognised the kindness in his voice, which was in such contrast to the slavering longing Thea saw in his eyes when he beheld his wife.

  And Fanny had only just had a baby. They’d been married a year and he still looked at her like that. Thea’s legs felt wobbly just thinking about being married to such a handsome man who looked at her like that.

  The ballroom was already well populated by the time they elbowed their way into the centre of the room. Aunt Minerva, dressed in black with a sweeping white ostrich feather in her white toque, cut quite a dramatic figure. In fact, Thea had never seen her look so imposing. And the glint in her eyes was something she’d never seen before. For once her aunt carried herself like a sashaying coquette, her chin raised and her glance expectant as she scanned the room.

  Looking, no doubt, for a handsome elderly gentleman with greying hair and a monocle: Mr Granville, the rejected suitor whose heart she’d supposedly broken.

  “How will he know you, Aunt, if you’re wearing a masque?” Thea had asked, but her aunt had told her not to be stupid.

  “He said I must give him a sign,” she’d said.

  “A sign?”

  “He wrote another letter. Now please don’t be so impertinent as to quiz me further.” Dismissing Thea with a wave of her hand, Aunt Minerva scanned the crowd. “I’m sure Fanny needs you more than I do, my dear. I can look after myself perfectly well.”

  Fanny and Thea exchanged looks at that and Fanny quickly took her wrist and pulled her away. “Now you must make sure you and Aunt Minerva don’t cross paths again, for I can tell that the moment your aunt finds herself disappointed she’ll need you to bolster her sense of superiority.”

  Obediently, Thea followed Fanny through the throng, which parted to let them by, many of them, Thea noticed, looking more than interested at the unusual contrast they made, for Fanny was dressed as an exotic creature from the orient, in voluminous orange chiffon pantaloons with matching tunic, her dark hair cascading down her back.

  “I believe I’m quite scandalising everyone here but you’ll be my foil. Oh look, here’s someone who wants to pay their respects. Good evening, Mr Bramley.” Fanny nodded and fluttered her eyelashes. “Goodness, how original, you must be the tenth domino I’ve seen tonight.”

  “I am here to observe, which is what dominoes do.” The young man looked haughty and as if he wished to pass on by, but was compelled to remain. “You cut a daring figure as ever, Lady Fenton.”

  “I do, don’t I, Mr Bramley?” Fanny simpered and Thea was struck by the artificial merriness of her reception. “We haven’t seen you in a while. Lord Quamby was saying it just the other day. But I’m very much looking forward to seeing you at the christening of Lord Quamby’s heir. Little George is a fine, robust little chap, like my Katherine. I’m sure you’re dying to see the babies.”

  “Simply dying to, yes, Lady Fenton.”

  Thea stared. Good Lord, were those beads of sweat that had popped out on his forehead? Remembering what the cousins had told her, she felt Fanny was treading a fine line with her taunting. She tugged at her sleeve to go and Fanny relinquished the fun she was having and nodded in dismissal.

  “Have a pleasant evening, Mr Bramley. Miss Huntingdon is here, I noticed. I’m sure she’d be only too happy to be asked to dance.

  “Oh, she’s already danced two sets with Mr Grayling. I don’t think I’ll get a look-in.” Pushing his chin into the air, he bowed and left while Fanny turned to reassure Thea.

  “He said it on purpose.” Fanny looked severe.

  “What?”

  “No doubt he’s pretending he knows Mr Grayling thinks you utterly the most charming young lady in Bath. Yes, that’s it. Mr Bramley is very stupid in some ways but he’s clever when it comes to discovering a person’s weak spot. Just remember that. You mightn’t know him very well but he’s a very dangerous enemy.”

  The trouble was, when they arrived at the edge of the dance floor, Mr Grayling was indeed accompanying Miss Huntingdon in a Scottish reel. Thea could tell it was Miss Huntingdon by the colour of her hair and the shape of her face, together with the too-slender frame, despite the fact they were a blur as they galloped by in the midst of the energetic dance.

  The fact it was Mr Grayling was only too apparent by the bare chest she saw beneath the snowy sheath of linen, a ripped pirate’s shirt with a cutlass at his waist and a pair of tightly moulded black pantaloons that buttoned at the knee and brought back memories of her stolen glimpse of him by the pond. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists.

  “Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve,” Fanny whispered. “Let him still think you’re a challenge.”

  “I am still a challenge!” Thea responded, affronted that Fanny should think she’d roll over as clearly Antoinette believed she ought. “But he mightn’t even know me in masquerade.”

  “Oh, I think he will.”

  The words were barely out of Fanny’s mouth before Mr Grayling materialized in front of them as the music came to an end. Yet, instead of bowing before her, it appeared he’d not even noticed her for he quickly disappeared into the crowd.

  “Don’t you let that trouble you when Miss Huntingdon is right here. Besides, he’ll want to see you alone,” Fanny said, patting her shoulder and leading the way through the large ballroom and into another room, where several tables against the far wall were occupied by revellers deeply occupied by the cards and dice.

  A couple was dancing close in each other’s arms in a distant corner and Thea stepped back, the scene too louche for her. If Aunt Minerva were to witness such scenes at Lady Clover’s masquerade, she’d wh
isk her niece out as quickly as she’d whisked away the bonbons Dr Horne had surprisingly delivered by proxy the night before.

  “Why, there’s Mr Granville,” Thea said suddenly, pointing to one of the whist players. He was at a table with several other gentlemen and it was clear it was he, despite the fact he wore Oriental robes and a masque that covered half his face.

  “He had a box of bonbons sent to Aunt Minerva last night. You’d already gone to bed, Fanny, but she was in transports.”

  Fanny’s look of scepticism did not need to be translated into words.

  “Who’d believe that Aunt Minerva has an admirer,” Thea persisted. “The last couple of days, I keep catching her in the drawing room as if play-acting the role of some lovelorn romantic heroine, staring through the window as she sweeps her hand across her brow muttering verse. I’d laugh if the sight wasn’t so truly tragic.”

  “You can’t mean it!”

  “On my honour. Oh! Look, it’s Mr Grayling again. Only this time he’s looking directly at us.”

  “At you, Thea. Oh my, that’s an invitation to ask the question that must be asked. I do love masquerades.” Fanny gave her a gentle push. “Do I know you?” she whispered. “Those are the magic words. Go over and say them.”

  “Alone?” Thea squeaked, resisting as she followed her cousin towards the saloon, where most guests were mingling. Beneath the chandeliers of many thousands of beeswax candles the brightly garbed revellers looked like precious jewels amidst the ranks of the mysterious, black-clad dominoes. The thought of entering their ranks was terrifying.

  Her cousin sounded impatient. “Shall I find Aunt Minerva, then? If she’s really smelling of April and May instead of that ghastly violet scent she drips all over her, you may well find yourself looking for a new home?” Fanny looked severe. “It’s time you looked to your future, Thea. Weigh up what’s in your heart and what you can do to garner the response you’d like from your charming Mr Grayling. He really is very charming, you know. Why, he helped me rewind a whole ball of yarn the other night when Aunt Minerva had you closeted in her room rubbing her feet. The poor man thought you didn’t want to see him, for you went straight to bed and didn’t even come down to say goodnight. You’re a faithful nurse, I grant you that. And if you can suffer yourself to massage smelly unguents into smelly feet, surely you can push down your aversion to some of the things men like to do when they have a woman to call their own.”

  “But that’s for after marriage,” Thea hissed. Tears came suddenly to the fore, swelling her throat and stinging her eyes. “I cannot compromise my reputation for an uncertain future. I will not be like that poor woman who had to give up her baby in the basket.”

  “Oh Good Lord, have you learned nothing? That only happens when passion completely overtakes one, and that’s not going to happen under this roof with all these people around.” Fanny reddened suddenly and stopped abruptly. “Well, it could happen here,” she amended, clearing her throat. “I’ll admit it happened to me and Lord Fenton in a pit of cushions during one of Lord Quamby’s balls, but that’s when we knew we were utterly made for one another, even though others like to infer I was simply a fortune hunter because we Brightwells are not in general blessed with papas who know how to keep their fortunes.”

  She gave Thea another little push. “Now weave your way through the room, Thea, and pretend you have no idea who he is. Your very rigid sense of propriety reassures me that you’ll not be tempted into doing anything that might result in a baby in a basket. Antoinette has already told you in graphic detail how that happens and you were quite revolted, but if you could just let him kiss you, I think you might find matters progress rather nicely from there. He’s the ideal catch, Thea, and he clearly has his sights trained on you. Show him that you’ll give him the loving kindness his first wife so cruelly denied him, at least. Here.” Snatching a coupe of champagne from a passing footman, which she pushed into Thea’s hand, Fanny left her.

  Reluctantly, but with every attempt at appearing at ease, Thea wove her way through the sparsely populated room and into the antechamber just beyond, where Mr Grayling had disappeared after leveling a very knowing look at Thea.

  Its smaller size made it less daunting, while the heavy festooning of gold and black satin and guttering wax candles added to the atmosphere.

  Mr Grayling was just inside, near the fireplace, pacing, but he turned immediately when he saw her and, after a sweeping bow, whispered, “Do I know you?”

  Thea tossed back her glass of champagne in just a few sips, and suddenly found the glass whisked from her fingers as, swaying, she replied, “I am the one.”

  “You are the one?” He quirked an eyebrow and chuckled.

  “I mean, yes, you do know me.” What had she said? Mortification made her turn her head away.

  “Well, my dear, if we’ve been safely introduced and you clearly are the one, let us take a stroll through his lordship’s long gallery.” He pointed upstairs. “We can look down upon the guests tonight. I think you might find it diverting sport, while I’d be most diverted to see your reaction to some of these outrageous costumes.”

  Thea’s fears dropped away. Fanny had all but suggested he’d drag her into another room and try to kiss her but here he was, suggesting something public he thought might entertain her.

  “That’s if your aunt won’t require you and send out a search party or make a loud announcement.”

  Thea giggled. “My aunt is occupied with her own amours tonight.”

  “Good God!”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth to see his genuine shock, nearly extending her other hand to clasp his shoulder in a gesture of overt familiarity as she might do to one of her cousins. Putting her state of unusual relaxation in his company to too much champagne, she nodded. A public promenade would be far safer than anything she’d feared. Not that she’d intended doing anything that might get her into trouble.

  Caging her hand on his arm, he ascended the stairs with her, his body close. Very close. When she raised her head in inquiry as they rounded a bend in the staircase, his hand suddenly clasped her waist. “I thought you were going to bump against the newel post.”

  Thea was acutely sensitive to his touch. His hand covering hers, the touch of his thigh, were things no one else could see or remark upon, but to her, such a physical connection was entirely foreign to her.

  And she liked it. The strange warmth and feeling of companionship with the man beside her was enveloping her like a cosy glove.

  She looked up at him and smiled and he, looking down, caught her expression and seemed surprised by it. Then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “What a comely milkmaid you make. The perfect picture of innocence.”

  She noticed he looked sad all of a sudden, then clasping both her hands in his, he suddenly whisked her up the last two stairs and behind a large roman bust at the back of the gallery, where there was little chance of being observed.

  There was no warning, no request or lead-up. Nothing to prepare her for suddenly finding herself enveloped in his arms, the warmth of his embrace pushing up from the tips of her toes to flood her entire body, so that her lips naturally parted to receive his kiss while her whole body responded with a great wash of feeling. Weak and suddenly needy, her knees buckled as he supported her in his arms while his kiss deepened, his tongue seeking hers.

  Her responses seemed taken to a new level. The languor was replaced by a deeper awareness, her palms tingled and the back of her neck prickled; her breasts were suddenly sensitive, as if they were crying out to be touched, and Thea pressed herself against him even more as she greedily took everything he was offering.

  It was he who broke away, looking down at her with a slight crease between his brows.

  “Oh, you didn’t like it?” she burst out before she could think of what one should say in such an instance.

  “Good Lord, it was the best kiss I’ve ever enjoyed.” Cupping her face, he looked i
nto her eyes. “What a delightful experience, Miss Brightwell. I had so hoped you’d come tonight, for it had come to my ears recently that masquerades were not something your aunt thought proper.”

  “Oh, now that my aunt has suddenly found herself an admirer she’s not keeping an eye out for me at all.”

  She realised how much like a schoolroom miss she sounded.

  But he seemed charmed. “Not keeping an eye out for you, eh?” He rubbed his chin. “I was going to take you downstairs now, but perhaps…” With a nod, he indicated a decoupage screen in the corner. “We’re a trifle exposed here and I rather fancy trying another variation on our …delightful kiss. Would you care to risk it? Remember, I am a conscienceless pirate and you are a young lady with your reputation to uphold. It would be very dangerous, which is perhaps why I ought to take you downstairs now.”

  “Oh, do let’s try it again.” Impulsively, Thea took his hand and pulled him towards the screen. “Just another quick kiss. We’ve already done it once so doing it again can’t make me any worse.”

  He looked amused. “That’s one way of looking at it, though repeating something does of course increase the risk of being caught.”

  “There’s no one nearby and we’d hear if they approached for there are three very squeaky treads on the stairs.”

  “What a clever girl you are to notice that.”

  “That’s because I’m always creeping around at home, hoping Aunt Minerva won’t hear me because then she’ll immediately get it into her head that she wants me to do something.”

  “That must be very tiresome.”

  “I’m used to it. The doctor says—” She broke off suddenly. She didn’t want to talk about Dr Horne and his long lectures about what she must do to facilitate her aunt’s ease in order to extend her life.

  Mr Grayling gripped her hand. “You mustn’t think about what the doctor says. Life is too short as it is. Let’s make the most of what’s left, shall we, for I’m quite simply dying to kiss you again.”