An Inconvenient Arrangement: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Three

by Callie Hutton

Fortunately, they arrived at the Sterling Townhouse before things got more absurd. Dante climbed out first and turned to assist Miss Sanford. As they walked up the steps, he asked, “When is our next event?”

  “I gave you a list.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I know. However, might you allow me this little misstep and tell me?”

  She turned toward him as they reached the top step and the front door opened. The same anachronistic butler stood there. “Good afternoon, Miss Sanford.”

  “Good afternoon, James.” She turned back to Dante. “Tomorrow evening there is a ball at Mr. and Mrs. Lenard’s home right outside of London. I will check again to make certain the Ambassador is attending before I waste your time.” She softened her words with a slight smile. “Good day, Mr. Rose.”

  He was beginning to believe this entire assignment was a waste of his time.

  The following evening, Lydia studied herself in the looking glass on her dressing table. She backed up until she could see her entire body. The deep blue satin gown fit her perfectly. The neckline was sufficiently low enough to cause interest, without being immodest. Of course, as an older single woman, most likely considered on the shelf, she had some freedom in what she could wear.

  Her maid, Alice had arranged her hair into an intricate style with pearls woven throughout. She turned one way, then the other, assessing herself and when she realized what she was doing, she groaned and stepped away from the mirror.

  She had never spent so much time on her attire when she’d attended these events. Not that she didn’t care about how she looked, but never before was she so particular.

  A knock on her bedchamber door made her start with surprise. Why were her nerves so frazzled tonight? This was just another assignment out of the dozen or so she’d done before.

  “Yes.”

  Alice opened the door and stuck her head in. “Mr. Rose has arrived. I put him in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you, Alice. I will be right down. Please offer Mr. Rose a drink.”

  “Yes, Miss Sanford.”

  She slid her gloves on, picked up her reticule and shawl and left the room. She took a deep breath outside the drawing room and nodded for James to open the door.

  Mr. Rose stood in the center of the room, sipping on a brandy. She offered a bright smile and demanded her heart to slow down. It did not listen.

  He was dressed in formal black except for his silver waistcoat and silver and black striped necktie. As usual, part of his hair fell forward, and he pushed it behind his ear. He studied her over the top of his brandy snifter, those blue piercing eyes going from her feet to her head, leaving a wake of heat in its path.

  “I will not comment on your looks, Miss Sanford lest you chastise me again. However, is it acceptable if I mention how lovely your brain looks?”

  The laugh burst forth from her mouth before she even gave it a thought. The man was a scoundrel. “Thank you, I think.”

  He sauntered across the room, like a predator toward its victim and took her hand in his, turned it over and placed a soft kiss there. She felt the heat through her glove.

  Oh, he was good.

  “May I pour you a drink before we leave?” he said, his eyes still boring into hers.

  “Yes.” The word came out like a frog had taken up residence in her throat.

  This nonsense had to stop. The man was a known flirt and philanderer. She would not permit him to use his wiles on her when there was an assignment to conduct. She said, “Actually, no thank you.” She swung her matching blue satin shawl around her shoulders and raised her chin. “I believe it is time we left.”

  The look on his face told her he knew exactly what she was about. “Of course.” He downed the brandy, and before he could move to her side, she hurried from the room.

  She gritted her teeth at the sound of his chuckle.

  She’d managed to pull her libido under control by the time the carriage came to a rolling stop in front of the Lenards’ home. Since it was a longer ride with the residence located outside London proper, they’d spent part of the time with her describing the Ambassador and his assistant.

  With this being a larger gathering than the garden party, it was important for them both to know for whom they were searching.

  They followed the crowd in a queue as they made their way from their carriages to the house. Lydia had just turned to ask Mr. Rose a question when a woman walked up to them. “Dante, darling. I heard you attended Lady Benson’s garden party, but I told Miss Howard I would not believe Mr. Dante Rose would attend a ton event unless I see him with my own eyes.”

  “Well, here he is, Lady Rockford,” Lydia said, her eyes narrowed, trying very hard not to sound as annoyed as she felt.

  “Oh, hello Miss Sanford. I didn’t see you there.”

  Clearly.

  To Mr. Rose’s credit, he placed his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. Lady Rockford took notice, her brows raised. “Is there a particular reason why you have deigned to join our gatherings?”

  “I find with Miss Sanford by my side they are not quite so trying.”

  Lydia almost swallowed her teeth. He was playing his part so successfully that Lady Rockford actually reared back. “Do tell.” She lowered her eyelids.

  Just then the queue began to move again, and she tapped him on his arm with her fan. “Just be sure to see me inside so you can add your name to my dance card, darling.” With a cold look at Lydia, she swept her skirts away and walked up to another woman in the line. They soon had their heads together.

  “Well done, Mr. Rose.”

  He looked down at her. “I hope you know how much that cost me.”

  “Oh, goodness. Whatever will the ladies of the ton do? They will probably cry themselves to sleep tonight.”

  “Only tonight, Miss Sanford?” His grin was infectious.

  She shook her head at his audaciousness. “If we are to be believed, I think it is time to drop the Mr. Rose and Miss Sanford. It is time we used Lydia and Dante.”

  He ran his finger around the inside of his neckcloth. “You are really going to put a dent in my amorous attempts once this assignment is over, Miss Sanford. Rather, Lydia.”

  She laughed. “I have every confidence that you will have no problems when released from this. You will return to your rogue ways, and the ladies will be more than happy to accept you back into their fold. Or bed.”

  Damn, but he enjoyed bantering with her. Lydia.

  Most of his past repartee with other women had been sexual in nature, a prelude to bedsport. In some ways it was refreshing to have someone poke a hole in his self-confidence. However, his highly honed bedroom skills told him despite what she professed Miss Lydia Sanford was attracted to him.

  There was no doubt in his mind that he was attracted to her. But she being unmarried and most likely innocent, he would not pursue that attraction. Her doting father would come down on him like a ton of bricks if she were compromised in any way.

  She seemed to think her father was worldly and forward-thinking, but he’d met enough men with marriage-age offspring to know before they passed from this earth, they all wanted their daughters to remain pure until settled and secure with a husband and home.

  With a daughter of Lydia’s age, the man most likely kept marriage settlements in the top drawer of his desk, ready to whip out and fill in the blank spaces at a moment’s notice. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Viscount Sterling had an undated Special License tucked in along with marriage settlements and the local vicar on call.

  Dante helped Lydia remove her shawl and handed it to the footman taking outer garments from the guests. Dante did an excellent job of stopping himself from kissing the back of her sleek neck where a few strands of hair rested.

  They made their way to the top of the stairs leading to the ballroom below. After the few other guests in front of them had been announced, Lydia handed her invitation to the footman.

  “Mr. Dante Rose and Miss Lydia Sanford.” The man’s
voice rang out over the rumble of conversation.

  They made their way down the stairs. Dante picked out quite a few of the gentlemen he knew as patrons of the Rose Room. He honestly did not pay attention to the women since he was now in investigation mode. But alas, once they reached the ballroom floor two women approached him.

  He never thought he would reach a point in his life when women approaching him became a nuisance. That, however, was precisely how he felt. He grabbed Lydia’s wrist. “Let me see your dance card.”

  He quickly filled in three spaces. Two waltzes and one quadrille. She took the card from his hand and gasped. “You cannot have three dances. That would be scandalous.”

  “Then we shall walk the perimeter of the room during one of them. I just don’t want to spend all night dancing. We have a job to do.”

  “Dante, dear. Please say you’ve saved a waltz for me.” Miss Adelina Grayson held her card out as did her sister, Miss Grayson.”

  He bowed and took the cards, filled them in—no waltzes since his were already taken—and before they could start their eyelid flapping and giggling, he grasped Lydia’s arm. “I think I could use some champagne.” He left the two women and four others gaping as he walked away with Lydia on his arm.

  “I’m beginning to think having you escort me to these events so we can conduct an investigation is not going to work,” Lydia said.

  “It will work, my sweet. We just need to keep ourselves busy, walking, dancing, and visiting the refreshment table.” He steered Lydia toward the table against the wall filled with the warm ratafia and lemonade.

  Luckily, on their way, he was able to grab two glasses of champagne from a footman’s tray and passed one to Lydia. She took one sip and looking over his shoulder, her eyes grew wide. “Ambassador. What a pleasure to see you tonight.”

  Dante turned and looked into the eyes of the man they’d been searching for. A man who was stealing secrets from England and passing them along to Germany. Tall and robust to the point of straining his jacket buttons, the man irritated him with how his dark dangerous eyes looked Lydia up and down, the lust on his face unmistakable.

  “Good evening, Miss Sanford. You look lovely, as always.”

  Lydia gestured to the man. “Ambassador Schulze, may I present to you Mr. Dante Rose.” Dante extended his hand, which the ambassador accepted. “Ambassador. It is a pleasure to meet you outside of the club.”

  And keep your lustful eyes off Lydia.

  5

  Lydia cringed as the Ambassador took her hand in his and kissed the back. She quelled the desire to wipe it off and was grateful she wore gloves. She’d never spent much time in the man’s company and decided the worst part of this assignment was not dealing with Dante, but with having to insert herself into the Ambassador’s presence until they could discover the traitor passing information to him.

  “My dear, you must honor me with a dance.” The Ambassador reached for her dance card. Studying it for a minute, he said, “Oh, my good man,” he glanced at Dante, “you cannot deprive the rest of us from waltzing with this fascinating young lady by taking up both waltzes.”

  Lydia had not looked closely at her dance card but was happy to note that of the three dances Dante had filled in, he’d claimed the two waltzes. She answered in relief, “I am so sorry, Ambassador, perhaps one of the quadrilles?”

  He shrugged. “If I must.” He sounded generally annoyed as he took the small pencil dangling from the dance card and filled in his name. This was obviously a man who controlled his world quite well and was not happy when things did not go his way.

  She was torn between asking Dante to give up one of his waltzes in the name of the Home Office, or not, since she didn’t particularly want to spend twenty minutes that close to the Ambassador.

  Before she could decide, he offered a slight bow. “I must take your leave now, as there are people I must speak with. I will return for our dance.” He had the nerve to once again stare at her in such a way that made her skin break into gooseflesh.

  Lydia ran her palms up and down her arms. “I don’t like that man.”

  Dante took her arm. “That makes two of us. We must keep our eyes on him without seeming to. I suggest a stroll around the room in the direction he is headed.”

  They were stopped several times by women wanting Dante to put his name on their dance cards. It seemed every woman who approached them was looking for a waltz. Lydia had reached the point where she found their forwardness amusing. These women seemed almost desperate when Dante did not encourage them. And for that she was grateful.

  Another amusing note were the number of gentlemen who requested dances from her. Not that she’d ever been a wallflower, but rarely was her dance card filled for the night as the years passed, and she remained single. Tonight, every dance was spoken for.

  Perhaps her escort had something to do with it. Men’s need to compete.

  “It appears you are popular with the gentlemen, Lydia.” Dante placed his hand on her lower back and steered her toward the wall where bottles of champagne were being poured into slim crystal glasses.

  She grinned as they wove their way through the crowded room. “I have never been a wallflower, but over the years the requests for a dance did dwindle.”

  “Ah, the gentlemen learned you had no interest in pursuing a husband?”

  Lydia shrugged as she took the glass of champagne from his hand. “Perhaps. Not all gentlemen are interested in marriage.” She waved her glass in his direction. “However, as I grew beyond the blushing debutante age, the gentlemen were more interested in a dalliance.”

  “Assumptions were made?”

  “I believe so. Word had spread that I was an independent, forward-thinking, intelligent woman, not interested in marriage.” She glanced up at him over the rim of her glass. “What would your assumption be?”

  “I see your point.”

  Just then the orchestra started up, a lively country dance. Mr. Berger, the man who requested the dance strolled up to her. He put his hand out. “My dance, I believe, Miss Sanford?”

  As she strolled away, she saw Dante moving through the crowd. She didn’t know if he was headed to a partner for a promised dance, or still keeping his eyes on the Ambassador. It didn’t matter since once the dance began, she was taken up with Mr. Berger attempting to converse while switching partners.

  Her partner’s face grew flushed with the effort of the lively dance and trying to ask her questions about her upcoming week. She dodged as many as she could since she did not wish to spend time riding through the park or strolling on his arm. She smiled a great deal and made motions of not being able to understand him.

  Hopefully, once the dance had ended he would be much too out of breath to continue to ask.

  Lydia, on the other hand was having a grand time. She’d always enjoyed dancing and her feet moving in time to the music always brought her joy. Dante apparently did have a dance partner since he was only four couples down from her and Mr. Berger.

  Dante looked at her. Their eyes met and she stumbled. Mr. Berger reached out and took her arm to steady her. She felt like a fool. She would never fall under that devil’s spell. She would never become one of the ladies who practically swooned when he spoke to them.

  She would not.

  She glanced back again, and he was staring at her, his lips in a slight smile. Stumbling wasn’t bad enough, now she felt a blush rise to her face. If she had to follow the Ambassador around twenty-four hours a day, she would do it to end this assignment.

  She sniffed. Miss Lydia Sanford did not make a fool of herself over a libertine.

  Dante tried his best to ignore Lydia and keep his eyes on his partner. Earlier, he’d followed the Ambassador around the room until the man claimed his own partner for the dance. Expecting to lounge against the wall until Lydia returned, he was nevertheless coerced into dancing with Lady Wilson’s youngest daughter, Miss Kathleen.

  The chit was barely out of the schoolroom, and he
was amazed that the woman had pushed them together. He would never let a daughter of his anywhere near a man with his reputation.

  His current problem was keeping his eyes off Lydia. He’d lost his breath when she’d entered the drawing room when he’d arrived to escort her to the ball. Luckily he was not in the middle of taking a sip of his brandy, or it would have spewed all over him.

  If he had to work with a woman, why did she have to look like Lydia? In fact, no woman who could read, write, and speak seven languages should look like Lydia. She should be pale and scrawny from spending all her time indoors translating documents. She should have thick spectacles perched on her nose and look old and wrinkled from bending over books, memorizing sentence structures, conjugating verbs.

  The dress his Home Office partner had worn to the garden party had been perfect for the setting and she’d looked wonderful. But this gown, this evening gown, had him ready to drag her back up to her bedchamber and spend the rest of the night in much more pleasurable pursuits.

  His mind wandered back to their conversation about the requests she’d received for a dalliance once it had become known she was not interested in marriage. Had she accepted any of the offers? Did he care?

  Yes, he cared. If she were open to a liaison, he would be more than happy to accommodate her.

  “Don’t you agree, Mr. Rose?” Miss Kathleen looked at him with worshipful eyes. Damn. Just what he needed, a girl barely out of nappies developing a tendre for him. Another reason he avoided these events.

  Too many times in his life he’d agreed to something, not really sure what it was since his mind had been wandering when the question arose. He would not fall into that trap again. “I apologize, Miss Kathleen, but with the music I don’t believe I heard you.”

  “I said riding in Hyde Park in the afternoon is such a lovely way to enjoy the newly arrived summer, is it not?”

  Thank the heavens he asked her to repeat her question. Images of him driving the young girl in the park while the entire ton looked on was enough to cause him to break out into hives.