“My imagination doesn’t go that far. I didn’t give you a single thought. What are these lessons of which you speak?” Her brow wrinkled, and she scrunched her nose.
Jaclyn was in his arms on the dance floor and noticed the difference in style and how Halifax held her, and that the effect was not the same. She floated with Wolferton, but she danced with Halifax—like the difference between lightning and a lightning bug. She sighed with impatience for the dance to end.
“Surely you’ve not forgotten and are just acting the coquette. I held you in my sight since you arrived. There is a small room near the ladies’ salon. If you go past it, the door will be half-opened. I’ll be there to start your education about the art of a kiss.”
Her mind reflected more on Wolferton’s comments than Halifax’s vain words. “Lessons? Oh, I didn’t know you took me seriously.”
“I take everything you say to heart. After this dance, meet me there. Otherwise, I’ll have to whisk you away to somewhere more private. Camille will be busy with one of my friends, and Wolferton will be in the gentleman’s room with my other acquaintances. You see, I’ve planned everything for you. All will be secluded.”
Jaclyn stopped. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She played with fire and now would be burned. Yet, she remembered specifically retracting her request when Halifax said he’d be gone for a few days. The blackguard had full intent to drag her into a situation that could be disastrous. She realized the silliness of her ways and became frightened. She scanned the room for Camille but couldn’t find her. Wolferton was in conversation with some gentleman.
What was she to do? Run. Where could she run? What excuse could she justify to Wolferton if he found out of her indiscretion. Damn Halifax, who seemed much too possessive with his words and demeanor.
The music ended. Halifax escorted Jaclyn to the ladies’ salon. “There is important information you should know about your benefactor.” She pulled her arm away from him in anger and gave him a look that would scare the dead and entered the ladies’ salon. Soon after, she departed to locate the room where Halifax waited.
Jaclyn hesitated at the door, but then she firmed her back and took hold of the knob. The door opened fast. Halifax clasped her wrist and yanked her into the room where she almost tripped. Jaclyn struggled against him, so he left the door ajar.
“Ma cherie, shall we start our instruction? I’ve arranged for some fine wine chilled to perfection to relax you.” He pointed to the settee.
Her movement was not to the divan, but to the safety of the fireplace, away from him.
“It’s normal to be nervous. Nothing will happen to you that you don’t want. I am merely the instructor. Now come to me, my pet. May I pour you wine?”
Jaclyn firmed her shoulders. “I am not your pet and you will not instruct me in any subject.” She moved away to allow more space between them while her eyes scanned the semi-dark room.
“I am not here for any amorous intentions, Halifax. I demand to know why you persist in telling me salacious untruths about my guardian, and what you hope to gain from such lies. I refuse to listen any more. You are a scoundrel and a wicked man. I’ve a mind to tell Wolferton about your schemes. You are so low you wouldn’t make a ripple under a rug. No, do not come any closer. I warn you.”
She shouldn’t have come, but it was time she settled things between the scoundrel and herself. He advanced toward her menacingly. Jaclyn reached for a heavy candlestick on the mantel. “I warn you. Go no farther.” With both hands, she raised the weapon. Her feet braced ready to strike him if necessary.
“Do you really think you can thwart me with a mere piece of brass?” he mocked.
Though Wolferton engaged in a conversation with a politician, he saw Jaclyn streak by him and away from the party, her face in a determined expression, a woman on a mission, and apparently unaware of his presence. Ever vigilant in all things that concerned Jaclyn, Wolferton followed. Along the way, he grasped his sister’s arm and dragged her with him, not caring that the acquaintances appeared shocked by his actions. Before Camille could question him, Wolferton placed a right finger to his lips to his sister.
“Be silent. Let’s see what this is about.” They paused and listened just outside the door.
At the sound of her angry words, Wolferton pushed the door completely open. In a flash, Jaclyn moved behind the drapes with the candlestick in hand. He surmised she did not see him and most certainly did not wish discovery in a compromising situation.
Halifax had his back to the now open door. His hands clenched at the sight of Wolferton.
“There you are, Halifax.” Wolferton sauntered into the salon with Camille beside him. Again, he called on his military experience to calm the giant emotion within him that wanted to kill Halifax with his bare hands, slowly, until the scoundrel’s life’s breath dissipated. He thought to challenge the blighter to a duel, but that would involve ruining Jaclyn’s reputation. Nonetheless, he vowed Halifax would live to regret this moment sometime soon. With a quick scan of the room, he saw the wine with two empty glasses on a table next to the settee, and beyond that, two satin slippers that peeked out under the bottom of the drape.
“I see I might have interrupted plans of yours, Halifax. Since the lady-bird has not arrived as yet, would you be kind enough to go to the gentlemen’s rooms to ask the attendant if anyone has found a watch engraved with my name? I seem to have misplaced it.” Wolferton’s voice would have frozen a lake in springtime. It was not a question, but a command, and Halifax had no choice but to obey.
“Of course, if my lady arrives, pour her some wine. She’s not a lady-bird but someone respectable.”
Wolferton stood erect, his eyes locked to Halifax’s, daring him to give him a reason to pummel his face. “By the bye, old chap, the next time you attempt to divert my attention, it should be done with friends whom I trust.”
Camille clung to her brother’s arm. He turned to her and gently removed it. “I’m waiting, Halifax. Patience is not one of my virtues.”
Halifax snorted and left with a smirk on his face.
After a long, tense moment, Wolferton said, “You may come out now, Miss Moreux. We are about to leave.” He went to the drape and pulled it open, retrieved the candlestick, placed it on the mantel, and extended his arm to a sheepish, red-faced Jaclyn. With an icy demeanor, he asked, “Have you had occasion to practice bashing a man for his advances?”
She grasped his hand. “No, but I’m told that there’s a first time for everything. This…this farce is not what you think.”
Wolferton placed his protective hand over hers. His other arm went to his sister, and they all exited the salon. There was no sign of Halifax. “The evening is over, sister. I’ve decided to depart since I encountered a significant problem.”
He led Jaclyn and Camille to the foyer where the porter fetched their garments.
As they dressed, his sister asked, “I’m not sure what I just witnessed.” She placed an arm around the younger woman. “What lies have you been told that would cause such anger in defense of my brother?”
Jaclyn appeared frozen. Before she could answer, Wolferton spoke. “Our coach is here. Ladies, if you please, I seem to have acquired an extreme headache. We can discuss this matter in the privacy of our home. And I will need a stiff drink. Once again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After The Ball Is Over
With dead silence during the ride, Wolferton and his two ladies departed the coach. Halbert opened the townhouse door and took their cloaks and accessories.
Wolferton walked to his study door with heavy footsteps, then turned. “Camille, I’m about to have a few strong drinks. After Miss Moreux has explained the circumstances to you, perhaps you both would join me. I’m most interested to hear her fairytale.” He slammed the door.
At the liquor side-table, he poured a healthy four-fingers of cognac and fisted the glass tightly. He walked to the base of the stained-glass window to toast the Guardians. “This e
xchange should be of interest to you both. I look forward to your reaction.”
The moonlight lit the background. Between sips, he spoke to the images. “This could have been a ruinous mess. Jaclyn is a handful to control. Perhaps I approach this in the wrong way. Halifax is charming, a liar, a cheat, and a licentious rake intent on seduction. Tempted as I was to challenge him, a duel would raise questions. My role is of protector, defender of her virtue, and the man who wants to marry her off to someone else. You are my witness. I will kill him if he harms one hair on her head. My life is inconsequential since my conscience continues to remind me as if the emphasis is necessary. She has a future while I have a past. It’s an impossible relationship though I find myself intrigued with the potential, for the legend would indicate that she is predestined to belong to a worthy duke. Dare I hope I am that man?”
The wolf’s eyes winked a bright blue in response.
Wolferton paced to the fireplace and back. “How would I handle this if we were at war and I needed to eliminate a dangerous enemy? In wartime, to kill is honorable. In peacetime, it is murder despite the fact the scoundrel deserves such for his callous disregard of me and mine. Do I feel this way because I consider Jaclyn as more than my ward and have come to regard her as my possession?” The apparition wolf’s mouth flickered. “So you agree I have my motives confused?” Eyes blinked twice.
He spoke to the golden-boy angel. “Is it possible I look for redemption in a beautiful chaste woman?” Stark eyes fluttered three times.
“I used to have a blackened heart, but now it is redeemed. I’ve erased my past to embrace my future. Such a dilemma, and I’m open to all suggestions.” He went to the liquor cabinet and refilled his glass. “I wish you could give advice instead of your silent gaze. Your inability to communicate in speech forces me to think and rethink, for I’m tired of living with this yoke of shame.”
A knock sounded. Wolferton went to the door, glass still in hand. Camille stood at the entrance with Jaclyn behind her. “May we come in, Radolf?”
He stepped aside, and with a mock sweep of his left hand, gestured to the seats in front of his desk before he closed the door. Wolferton took one last look at the stained glass, which stood in mute witness of any decision he made.
Jaclyn spoke first. Tears rolled down wet cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he planned a rendezvous. But Your Grace, part was my fault because I did suggest I needed help and instruction. It was many days ago.” Her hands kneaded her silk dress, her discomfiture obvious.
“May I ask the kind of instruction you had in mind?” He arched one eyebrow, a signature reaction of his, and held her wide eyes, but she lowered her gaze.
“ I-I-I…”
“Go on, Miss Jaclyn. I can hardly wait for your pronouncement. Bloody hell, what kind of instruction?”
“You’ve raised your voice,” Camille said.
The glance he shot his sister was one of storm gale winds pelting a barren shore.
“How to kiss.” She sobbed and reached into her reticule.
Wolferton arose from his chair as if propelled by some force, pounded his desk with such ferocity it shook the inkwell and his glass. The ink stain and all it represented brought a memory to light. Then he wiped the image away.
“Kiss? Why? Was it your intent to seduce him into some untoward action?” His breath exhaled at the vision in his mind, and he clenched both fists at his sides.
“No,” she whispered. “I needed experience.” Again, she moved back into her chair and averted his gaze.
“Are you some strumpet that you need to know this before your marriage? Have I harbored a wild light-skirt all these years?” He turned his back, eyed the stained-glass window—amber eyes turned black. Once.
“I don’t know what a light-skirt is.” She sobbed.
“It’s cant for a prostitute.”
Her saucer-eyed stare of horror tortured him. Control. He needed to control his anger. He would only succeed to push her away, which was not his intent. Control, old chap.
Jaclyn arose from the chair, went to him and kneeled. “I am naïve in the ways of men. I wanted to learn some female wiles.”
“You have a candidate in mind?” he asked in a voice so low, the sound tore at him.
“I cannot lie. It is for my future husband.” She lowered her lids to the carpeted floor averting her eyes from his. “Something inside me has a curiosity about the happenings between a man and woman. How will I know if it is truly love? What is lust? I’m confused.” Her voice cracked, tears riveted down her cheeks. “Why do I always feel ashamed of my actions and have to apologize? Is there a demon inside me? I’m afraid to look in the mirror, because I don’t see me reflected. Just an image that is a stranger to me. Don’t look at me. I’m mortified, tired of humiliation. Perhaps I should have stayed in the convent.” She swiped at the tears. “Don’t hate me.” Jaclyn placed her hand strongly over her month in a gag.
“Jaclyn, your body is developing…maturing…it’s natural.” Camille went to her and lifted her from her knees. “Come and sit again.”
“I’m getting old? Then no one will want me.” More tears streamed accompanied with sobs.
“Any man would want you.” Radolf didn’t realize he spoke aloud.
“You don’t.” She sniffled.
If you only knew how much I want you.
“I did not go to the salon with any such intent but to advise Halifax to stop telling me his lies about someone I care about very much. He made a supposition. Now I realize that if you and Camille had not sought me out, it would have been disastrous. How could I know he would…misunderstand?”
“He didn’t misunderstand. Halifax is a sly cunning fox. He baited you in the hope he could compromise you and then force you into a marriage, not only because you are beautiful, but you have a handsome dowry.”
“You have nothing to say?” Wolferton turned to Camille in exasperation in a struggle for restraint.
“You’ve said it all, brother. This evening has been a strain on us. The night is late. Perhaps we should retire. Clearer heads will prevail tomorrow. Jaclyn has learned a strong lesson. Please remember they do not teach such etiquette in religious schools. They warn but do not explain. Any young girl would be curious.”
“You weren’t,” he retorted.
“Now you can read minds, brother?” This was said in a voice so crisp it would freeze fish to the bone.
Wolferton went to Jaclyn. “It is imperative that you understand that twice you’ve come close to ruination. The first was your venture out alone in a carriage with just your maid because you wanted to fly away. This more egregious situation of being found alone with a rake of Halifax’s reputation is even more serious. I…We’ve tried to understand that our societal rules may be new to you, but nonetheless, they must be obeyed. Tomorrow is a new day. I need time to think. Good night.” And not sure why, he gently kissed her forehead.
He made up his mind—if anyone were to instruct Jaclyn in the art of a kiss, it would be him, not Halifax. And sooner better than later, that was more than apparent. It also might have a delightful aftermath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Anguished Heart
Wolferton’s mind held myriad emotions of anger with Jaclyn for the disregard of her reputation. Oh, Jaclyn mine, did you intend to torment me at the thought of you in Halifax’s arms with his lips on yours? I know too well things that cause joy can also cause pain.
His jealousy of Halifax’s assistance in his ward’s mischievous inclinations wounded him. Yes, it was outright covetousness on his part. She was his, as if the fates decreed their long separation was a penance served and forgiveness given. Each letter of theirs over the past decade propelled them toward the end reward of love and passion. Such recognition caused pain to his lower body. That the unrelenting ache could heal with her simple touch became bewilderment.
The words in her journal professed love for him and begged for his return of her sentiments. It ha
mmered his heart to read such a beautiful phrase. Sensed in moments, it would take longer to absorb the assault on his beliefs. Like his namesake red wolf, he wanted to snarl and show his sharp wolf fangs. He prayed the fates would allow him to fight for Jaclyn’s love because he might show his worthiness. Wolferton wanted with all his heart not only to bed her, but to wed her…if it was at all possible.
He remembered a time when he blasphemed. “I have no God. He’s deaf to my pleas. Only the devil answers.” But somehow all was different now due to Jaclyn’s presence—a saint who wanted to sin with kisses and he, a sinner, who wanted to earn the virtuous female’s lips.
Most of all, the letter over his heart from his mother burned against his shirt. Would the contents demonize or canonize him with forgiveness? Would it contain something terrible but not about him? Its relevance would occur when he opened the letter, but did he dare to know the contents?
He dismissed this for the moment because he did have other intentions about Jaclyn. His mind occupied, he forgot his sister was also seated in the room and worked her embroidery with a ferocious needle. She stopped and gazed at Jaclyn and then her brother.
In self-admonition, the reality of any harsh talk on his part would drive Jaclyn straight to Halifax’s, or another’s arms. Paramount in his persona was not to forget this fact, so he repeated it to himself time and time again. With emotions now in control, he granted her a warm smile, the kind that used to make some women go over the moon for him. To keep her off guard was signature to his plan.
A shallow gasp escaped Jaclyn’s lips. “Is there anything I can do to amend my behavior at the ball? I had forgotten my mischievous suggestion. All of a sudden, everything went wrong.” She kept her gaze lowered, and her hands fidgeted with the ruffle of her bodice.
With a great deal of discipline, he placed his hand on the desk. “It is I who should apologize. Somehow, I was under the impression you were pleased with our plans for you. How would you feel about a departure from city life in London, and the three of us venture forth to my country estate in Hertfordshire? The country air refreshes and clears away cobwebs from the mind. We will not speak of suitors or marriage unless you wish. I, for one, don’t want to look at another such list of gentlemen.” He arose, walked around the desk, and took Jaclyn’s hand, and kissed it. “You are not required to come. Should you decide against the trip, we will not leave London.”
The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke Page 11