Minx

by Julia Quinn

  “I see you’re enjoying your time together,” Dunford drawled.

  “Oh, very much,” Belle returned, snatching the book before Henry managed to drop it into an antique spittoon.

  “Very much, my lord,” Henry echoed. “I’m supposed to call you ‘my lord,’ I’ve discovered.”

  “I would that you meant it,” he muttered under his breath. Such obedience from Henry would be a boon, indeed.

  “Not Baron or Baron Stannage,” she continued. “Apparently no one uses the word ‘baron’ except when talking about someone. Bloody useless title, I think, if no one knows you’ve got it.”

  “Er, Henry, you might want to curb your use of the word ‘bloody,’ ” Belle felt obliged to point out. “And everyone does know he’s got the title. That’s what this is all about.” She motioned to the book in her hand.

  “I know.” Henry made a face. “And do not worry, I won’t say ‘bloody’ in public unless someone has severed one of my arteries and I’m in danger of bleeding to death.”

  “Er, and that’s another thing,” Belle said.

  “I know, I know, no mention of anatomy in public, either. I’m afraid I was raised on a farm, and we are not quite so squeamish.”

  Dunford took her arm and said to Belle, “I’d better get her out of the house before she burns it down from boredom.”

  Belle bid them both a good time, and they were on their way, a housemaid trailing a respectable few feet behind them.

  “This is most odd,” Henry whispered after they had reached the edge of Grosvenor Square. “I feel as if I am being stalked.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” He paused. “Are you truly enjoying yourself here in London?”

  Henry thought about that before answering. “You were right about making friends. I adore Belle. And Lord and Lady Worth have been most kind. I suppose I didn’t know what I was missing by remaining so isolated at Stannage Park.”

  “Good,” he replied, patting her gloved hand.

  “But I do miss Cornwall,” she said wistfully. “Especially the clean air and the green fields.”

  “And Rufus,” he teased.

  “And Rufus.”

  “But are you glad you came?” Dunford stopped walking. He didn’t realize it, but he was holding his breath, so important was it to him that she reply in the affirmative.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I think so.”

  He smiled gently. “You only think so?”

  “I’m afraid, Dunford.”

  “Of what, Hen?” He stared at her, his eyes intent.

  “What if I make a cake of myself? What if I do something beyond the pale without even knowing it?”

  “You won’t, Hen.”

  “Oh, but I could. It would be so easy.”

  “Hen, Caroline and Belle say you’re making great strides. They know a great deal about society. If they say you are ready to make your debut, I assure you, you’re ready.”

  “They have taught me so much, Dunford. I know that. But I also know they can’t possibly teach me everything in a fortnight. And if I do something wrong . . .” Her words trailed off, and her silvery eyes glowed large and luminous with apprehension.

  He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms, to rest his chin upon her head and assure her that everything would be all right. But they were standing in a public garden, and so he had to content himself with saying, “What will happen if you do something wrong, minx? Will the world fall apart? Will the heavens crash down upon us? I think not.”

  “Please don’t make light of this,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

  “I’m not. Hen, I only meant—”

  “I know,” she interrupted, her voice wobbly. “It’s just that—well, you know already I’m not very good at being a girl, and if I do something wrong, it reflects badly upon you. And Lady Worth and Belle and their whole family, and they have been so kind to me and—”

  “Henry, stop,” he implored. “Just be yourself. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

  She looked up at him. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally nodded. “If you say so. I trust you.”

  Dunford felt something inside of him lurch and then fall into place as he stared into the silvery depths of her eyes. His body was swaying closer to hers, and he wanted nothing more than to rub his thumb against her pink lips, warming them for a kiss.

  “Dunford?”

  The soft sound of her voice brought him out of his reverie. He quickly resumed walking, his pace suddenly so fast that Henry practically had to run to keep up with him. Damn it, he swore at himself. He had not brought her to London just so he might continue seducing her. “How is your new wardrobe coming along?” he asked abruptly. “I see you’re wearing one of the dresses we purchased in Cornwall.”

  It took Henry a moment to reply, so confused was she by the sudden change of pace. “Very well,” she replied. “Madame Lambert is finishing up the last-minute alterations. Most should be ready by early next week.”

  “And your studies?”

  “I’m not certain that one could call them studies. It certainly doesn’t seem a terribly noble endeavor to memorize ranks and orders of preference. I suppose someone ought to know that younger sons of marquesses rank below eldest sons of earls, but I do not see why it has to be me.” She forced her lips into a smile, hoping to restore his good humor. “Although you might be interested in the fact that barons rank above the speaker of the House of Commons, but not, I’m afraid, above sons of marquesses, elder or younger.”

  “As I ranked below them when I was a mere mister,” he replied, thankful that conversation had been steered back to the mundane, “I won’t torture myself over the fact that they are still above me, so to speak.”

  “But you must adopt an air of lordly imperiousness the next time you encounter the speaker of the House of Commons,” Henry instructed with a smile.

  “Silly chit.”

  “I know. I probably should learn to behave with more gravity.”

  “Not with me, I hope. I like you the way you are.”

  That familiar giddy feeling returned. “I still do have a number of things to learn, however,” she said, glancing at him sideways.

  “Such as?”

  “Belle tells me I need to learn how to flirt.”

  “Belle would,” he muttered.

  “I practiced a bit on her husband this morning.”

  “You did what?”

  “Well, I didn’t mean it,” Henry said quickly. “And I certainly wouldn’t have done so if it weren’t completely obvious that he is madly in love with Belle. He seemed a safe choice to try out my skills.”

  “Stay away from married men,” he said sternly.

  “You aren’t married,” she pointed out.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Henry glanced idly in the window of a shop they were passing before replying. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it means I should practice on you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Oh, come now, Dunford. Be a good sport. Will you teach me how to flirt?”

  “I’d say you’re doing just fine on your own,” he muttered.

  “Do you think so?” she asked, her face a perfect picture of delight.

  His body reacted instantly to the radiant joy in her expression, and he told himself not to look at her again. Ever.

  But she was tugging on his arm, not to be denied, and pleading, “Won’t you please teach me? Please?”

  “Oh, all right,” he sighed, knowing that this was a most inadvisable idea.

  “Oh, splendid. Where shall we start?”

  “It’s a lovely day today,” he said, not quite able to put any feeling into the words.

  “Yes, it is, but I thought we were going to concentrate on flirting.”

  He looked at her and then wished he hadn’t. Hi
s eyes always managed to somehow slide down to her lips. “Most flirtations,” he said, taking a ragged breath, “begin with the inanities of polite conversation.”

  “Oh, I see. All right. Begin again, then, if you will.”

  He took a deep breath and said flatly, “It’s a lovely day today.”

  “It certainly is. It makes one long to spend time out of doors, don’t you think?”

  “We are out of doors, Henry.”

  “I’m pretending we’re at a ball,” she explained. “And may we turn into the park? Perhaps we can find a bench upon which to sit.”

  Dunford steered them silently into Green Park.

  “May we begin again?” she asked.

  “We haven’t progressed much thus far.”

  “Nonsense. I’m certain we’ll succeed once we get started. Now, I just said that the day makes one long to spend time out of doors.”

  “Certainly,” he replied laconically.

  “Dunford, you are not making this easy.” She spotted a bench and sat down, making space for him next to her. Her maid stood quietly under a tree ten or so yards away.

  “I don’t want to make it easy. I don’t want to do this at all.”

  “Surely you see the necessity of my knowing how to converse with gentlemen. Now please help me and try to get into the spirit of the endeavor.”

  Dunford’s jaw clenched. She was going to have to learn she couldn’t push him too far. He curved his lips into a wicked half-smile. If it was flirting she wanted, it was flirting she was going to get. “All right. Let me begin anew.”

  Henry smiled happily.

  “You’re beautiful when you smile.”

  Her heart dropped down to her feet. She couldn’t say a word.

  “Flirting takes two, you know,” he drawled. “You’ll be thought a lackwit if you don’t have anything to say.”

  “I-I thank you, my lord,” she said, working up her boldness. “That is indeed a compliment, coming from you.”

  “And just what does that mean, pray tell?”

  “It is certainly no secret that you are a connoisseur of women, my lord.”

  “You have been gossiping about me.”

  “Not at all. I cannot help it if your behavior makes you a frequent topic of conversation.”

  “Excuse me?” he said icily.

  “The women throw themselves at you, I hear. Why have you not married one of them, I wonder?”

  “That is not for you to wonder, sweetheart.”

  “Ah, but I cannot help where my mind wanders.”

  “Never let a man call you sweetheart,” he ordered.

  It took her a second to realize that he had broken character. “But it was only you, Dunford,” she said in an excruciatingly placating tone.

  Somehow that managed to make him feel as if he were a feeble, gout-ridden old man. “I am just as dangerous as the rest of them,” he said in a hard voice.

  “To me? But you’re my guardian.”

  If they hadn’t been in the middle of a public park, he would have grabbed her and shown her just how dangerous he could be. It was amazing how she could provoke him. One moment he was trying to be the wise but stern guardian, and the next he was desperately trying to restrain himself from taking her for a tumble.

  “All right,” Henry said, warily assessing his thunderous expression. “How about this. La, sir, but you should not call me sweetheart.”

  “It’s a start, but if you happen to be holding a fan, I strongly urge you to poke it into the bounder’s eye as well.”

  Henry was a bit heartened by the note of possessiveness she sensed in his voice. “But as it happens, I am not currently in possession of a fan, and what would I do if a gentleman does not heed my verbal warning?”

  “Then you should run in the opposite direction. Quickly.”

  “But just for the sake of argument, let’s say I am cornered. Or perhaps I am in the middle of a crowded ballroom and do not want to make a scene. If you were flirting with a young lady who had just told you not to call her sweetheart, what would you do?”

  “I would accede to her wishes and bid her good night,” he said starchily.

  “You would not!” Henry accused with a playful smile. “You’re a terrible rake, Dunford. Belle told me.”

  “Belle talks too much,” he muttered.

  “She was merely warning me of the gentlemen with whom I must be on my guard. And,” she said, shrugging delicately, “when she named the rakes, you were near the top of the list.”

  “How kind of her.”

  “Of course, you are my guardian,” she said thoughtfully. “And so merely being seen with you will not ruin my reputation. That is certainly fortunate, as I do so enjoy your company.”

  “I would say, Henry,” Dunford said with deliberate slowness and evenness, “that you do not need very much more practice on how to flirt.”

  She smiled brightly. “I will take that as a compliment, coming from you. I understand you are a master of the art of seduction.”

  Her words made him extremely irritated, indeed.

  “However, I think you’re being overly optimistic. I probably do need just a bit more practice. To give me the self-confidence to face the ton at my first ball,” she explained, her face looking marvelously earnest. “Perhaps I might be able to enlist Belle’s brother. He is finishing up at Oxford soon, I understand, and will be returning to London for the season.”

  It was Dunford’s opinion that Belle’s brother Ned was still a trifle green, but he was nonetheless well on his way to becoming a rake. And then there was the annoying point that he was extremely good-looking, having been blessed with the same stunning blue eyes and marvelous bone structure as Belle. Not to mention the even more vexing fact that he would be residing under the same roof as Henry.

  “No, Henry,” Dunford said in a very low, very dangerous voice. “I do not think you should practice your feminine wiles on Ned.”

  “Do you think not?” she asked blithely. “He seems a perfect choice.”

  “It would be extremely dangerous to your health.”

  “Whatever does that mean? I cannot imagine that Belle’s brother would ever hurt me.”

  “But I would.”

  “You would?” she breathed. “What would you do?”

  “If you think,” he bit out, “that I’m going to answer that question, you are feeble-minded, if not insane.”

  Henry’s eyes widened. “Oh, my.”

  “Oh, my, indeed. I want you to listen to me,” he said, his eyes boring dangerously into hers. “You are to stay away from Ned Blydon, you are to stay away from married men, and you are to stay away from all of the rakes on Belle’s list.”

  “Including you?”

  “Of course not including me,” he snapped. “I’m your goddamned guardian.” He clamped his mouth shut, barely able to believe he’d lost his temper to the extent that he’d sworn at her.

  Henry, however, seemed not to notice his foul language. “All of the rakes?”

  “All of them.”

  “Then whom may I set my cap for?”

  Dunford opened his mouth, fully intending to rattle off a list of names. To his surprise, he couldn’t come up with even one.

  “There must be someone,” she prodded.

  He glared at her, thinking that he’d like to take his hand and wipe that impossibly cheerful expression off her face. Or better yet, he’d do it with his mouth.

  “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to spend the entire season with just you for a companion.” It was difficult, but Henry just managed to keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

  Dunford abruptly stood, practically hauling her up along with him. “We’ll find someone. In the meantime let’s go home.”

  They hadn’t taken three steps when they heard someone call out Dunford’s name. Henry looked up and sa
w an extremely elegant, extremely well-dressed, and extremely beautiful woman heading their way. “A friend of yours?” she asked.

  “Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott.”

  “Another of your conquests?”

  “No,” he said testily.

  Henry quickly assessed the predatory gleam in the woman’s eye. “She’d like to be.”

  He turned on her. “What did you just say?”

  She was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Lady Wolcott. Dunford greeted her and then introduced the two ladies.

  “A ward?” Lady Wolcott trilled. “How charming.”

  Charming? Henry wanted to echo. But she kept her mouth shut.

  “How utterly domestic of you,” Lady Wolcott continued, touching Dunford’s arm—rather suggestively, in Henry’s opinion.

  “I don’t know if I would call it ‘domestic,’ ” Dunford replied politely, “but it certainly has been a new experience.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” Lady Wolcott wet her lips. “It’s not at all in your usual style. You are usually given to more athletic—and masculine—pursuits.”

  Henry was so livid she thought it a wonder she didn’t start hissing. Her hand quite involuntarily clenched, forming claws she really wanted to rake across the elder lady’s face.

  “Rest assured, Lady Wolcott,” Dunford replied, “I am finding my role as guardian to be most informative and character-building.”

  “Character-building? Pish. How dull. You’ll soon grow bored. Come and call when you do. I’m sure we can find ways to entertain ourselves.”

  Dunford sighed. Normally he’d have been tempted to take Sarah-Jane up on her rather blatant offer, but with Henry in tow he suddenly felt the need to take the moral high road. “Tell me,” he said sharply. “How is Lord Wolcott faring these days?”

  “Doddering away in Dorset. As usual. He’s really of no concern here in London.” She gave Dunford one last seductive smile, nodded sleekly at Henry, and was on her way.

  “Is that how I am meant to behave?” Henry asked disbelievingly.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then—”