A Warriner to Seduce Her

by Virginia Heath

  His step slowed briefly and a part of her hoped he would ask her not to leave yet. The silly female part of her which was easily swayed by biology. The part that adored the fact he had singled her out for his attentions among all the other ladies this Season. That same part deflated with disappointment when he made no mention of her leaving. ‘I can’t even say he’s doing it because he cares, Fliss. I suspect he is throwing you at Redditch for his own gain, yet for the life of me I cannot fathom why. There are plenty of wealthy and titled fish in the sea of Mayfair, most of whom don’t smell like feet.’

  ‘As you said, he is obsessed with barges, an area in which the Earl of Redditch is a very big fish. I believe I am merely the bait on the hook.’ Something Fliss decided right then she needed to clarify with her uncle. Had he really dragged her all the way down the entire length of the country just to tempt a business associate? ‘The man leers and ogles me shamelessly, something my uncle is happy to condone because he is so keen to supply those dull barges.’

  ‘Your uncle is a wealthy man and must have many business interests. Maybe something else will suddenly occupy him and distract him from his current fixation with barges. What else does he invest in?’

  A laughable question. ‘How should I know? As Uncle Crispin barely speaks to me at the best of times, he’s hardly going to wax lyrical about his stocks and shares over tea.’

  ‘But you must have some idea? What business, for example, was he discussing in the park this morning? Who are his other business associates?’

  ‘In case it escaped your notice, I was rudely expelled from the phaeton because he wanted to talk business. He didn’t introduce me to any of the gentlemen he spoke to. Whatever it is he does, he does it very covertly.’ Which was a worry.

  They had reached the pavement where a line of hackneys waited to pick up the tourists. Jake took his time inspecting all the interiors until he found the cleanest and, to her body’s consternation, lifted her into it. His big hands easily spanned her waist and the heat of them seared through the woollen coat and dress, through her stays and seemed to brand her bare skin beneath. It did odd things to her pulse. Because it took him a minute to apprise the driver of their destination and settle himself in the seat next to her, the rapid knocking of her heart lessened—right up until the moment she felt his hard thigh rest against her softer one. As he appeared unaffected by the contact, stretching out his long legs and crossing both his arms and his booted feet comfortably, Fliss let it pass. There was no point in lecturing him about propriety when this whole outing was vastly improper, yet he had been a perfect gentleman all afternoon. Why, he hadn’t bothered flirting once. Something which she bizarrely found rather insulting all of a sudden.

  The carriage lurched forward and they watched the Tower shrink through the window in comfortable silence before he turned to her, looking devilishly handsome and more than a little inquisitive. ‘What makes you say his business is covert?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just a feeling.’

  ‘Most feelings are based on a suspicion of some sort.’

  ‘True.’ She angled her body to be able to look at him fully. He was a man effortlessly at ease and the casual, informal way he was lounging suited him even if it did make her skin warm at the sight. ‘This morning, for instance. He was being very secretive. And the men he discussed business with didn’t seem to be very happy with what my uncle had to say to them.’ A common occurrence, apparently. ‘Perhaps that is why he chose to apprise them of it all in Hyde Park. Less chance of a scene with so many others looking on.’ Another worry. It suggested a deviousness about her uncle which didn’t sit right.

  ‘Rotten Row is an odd place to meet to talk about business, I’ll grant you, not when most men tend to discuss it at either their club or in the privacy of their own study.’

  ‘Uncle Crispin doesn’t tend to work in his study. From what I can make out he prefers to work in his dressing room. At least that is where his secretary and solicitor tend to be directed when they come to call.’ Another odd thing when her uncle had a perfectly good study crammed full of expensive objects to impress. Or were most of his business associates so unsavoury he didn’t want them in the main part of house? The only one she had seen had sneaked out the back in the dead of night. ‘Although he did meet one man in his study recently. I only know this because my bedchamber is directly situated above it and it’s rare to hear anything coming from that quarter—but I was awake.’ Thinking about Jake. Fliss made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and almost drowned in the fathomless depths, until the carriage bounced awkwardly, shaking her out of the spell and sending Jake sideways.

  ‘I do believe I’ve found the worst-sprung hackney in all of London.’ To prove his point they rattled over a series of cobbles with such intensity that Fliss had to set her jaw hard to stop her teeth from clattering together. They turned on to a blessedly smoother road and both simultaneous let go of the seat. ‘Who was the man?’

  ‘I don’t know. A nasty sort.’

  ‘Oh, dear. What about him made you think he was nasty?’

  ‘His manner. He was very...’ How best to explain the odd chill she had experienced when she had watched the altercation in the garden? ‘Threatening. The pair of them argued.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Why does it matter?’

  ‘I’m simply curious. I did warn you I was a nosy fellow.’

  He said it with such nonchalance, but his pupils constricted. Fliss was sure of it. He was lying. It gave her pause. ‘Why don’t we change the subject? All this talk about my uncle is spoiling what has been a thoroughly lovely day.’ If her instinct was correct, he would try to direct the conversation back to her uncle.

  * * *

  He’d pushed her too far too quickly. Her brows had set in a straight line like a barrier. Fliss was too smart to blindly impart personal family information without questioning why a virtual stranger would feel inclined to ask. He and Lord Fennimore would just have to make do with the interesting snippets she had let slip so far. And they were interesting. How had the mystery man got into Rowley’s house late at night when Leatham had all entrances on close watch? At least they knew why Flint had never found anything in the study. They hit more painful cobbles which made him wince. ‘Let’s talk about Sister Ursuline’s. That sounds scarily like a convent.’

  Her golden brows twitched, a sign she suddenly doubted herself, but she was searching his face a little too intently for comfort. Thank goodness he’d had the wherewithal to stop probing when he had. ‘It is a convent of sorts, although Sister Ursuline is the only nun in residence, but it’s not attached to any church. It’s a boarding school for wayward girls.’

  ‘And how did you come to be a prim and proper schoolmistress in a school for wayward girls?’

  ‘I grew up there.’

  ‘You were a wayward girl?’

  ‘I prefer precocious. I’ll admit to being a precocious girl. After my mother died, that is, and I was all alone in the world. Sister Ursuline’s is my home so it was a natural evolution to go from being a student to a teacher when I became old enough.’

  That all sounded rather sad and lonely to Jake. While his own parents had had little involvement in his rearing, at least he’d always had the strong and loving bond of his three brothers growing up. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were an orphan.’ One Crispin Rowley had left all alone until it suited his plans to claim her as kin.

  ‘I wasn’t an orphan.’ Her face changed. Acceptance. She wasn’t bitter or angry, merely matter of fact, then a tiny nerve twitched in her brow line and Jake saw the matter-of-fact acceptance was an act. It bothered her. ‘My father outlived my mother by another decade, but he was ill equipped to be a parent and, as I have just admitted, I was a tad precocious, so I was sent away. As it turned out, his decision was for the best as I doubt I’d have grown into the woman I am today without the guidin
g wisdom of Sister Ursuline. She has been both a mentor and a surrogate mother to me all these years.’

  ‘Your father abandoned you!’ The sudden surge of anger at yet another example of shocking fatherhood made his voice louder and more forceful than Jake would have liked—but it was an honest emotion and one she seemed to appreciate. She patted his hand and smiled wistfully, trying to hide the pain in her eyes.

  ‘He did—but practically upon birth. I rarely saw him growing up so his loss in my life was hardly a great deprivation. You should also probably know that I had a very happy life at Sister Ursuline’s. I had friends and a nice place to live. She might be a nun, but she is not a conventional one.’ The wistful expression changed to one of mischief as she grinned. ‘She took Holy Orders at the age of forty-two and only after a scandalously successful career as a courtesan.’

  ‘A courtesan?’ Jake hadn’t expected that and the bark of laughter surprised him.

  ‘Yes, indeed. She was gently bred, but exceedingly wayward. So wayward her family despaired and eventually threw her out. But Sister Ursuline is indomitable and made the best of her situation. She was mistress to some very powerful men and accumulated a small fortune on the back of it. Money she used to build her school and help other spirited girls avoid making the same mistakes she did. Girls who would also have been abandoned if she hadn’t have provided their families with a suitable institution to send them to, to help them curb their wayward ways.’

  ‘While I respect your Sister Ursuline for taking on the burden, a part of me cannot help feeling angry that those families have abdicated their responsibility.’ Like hers. And exactly like his parents, although they were at least there in body if not in spirit.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, but that doesn’t detract from the awful reality. Sister Ursuline’s has provided the love and guidance missing in many a precocious girl’s life. Mine included. I suppose I was a difficult girl, but Sister Ursuline helped me to control my impulses without weakening my spirit. She taught me to be self-sufficient, resilient and resourceful. Three skills a woman alone in the world needs more than any others. It was an honour to be able to give something back and I enjoy being a teacher.’ She shrugged and he realised she had been in the exact same boat as the girls she now taught. Her own kith and kin had offloaded her elsewhere and then had quickly forgotten about her. Both her father and her uncle had abandoned her. All his brothers despaired of Jake’s rakish way of life, but they would never cast him out. He was loved. Always had been. He also had always had a proper home to anchor him, one that drew him more and more with each passing day away. What must it feel like to have no one? Was it any wonder Fliss was fiercely independent? She’d had to be. She’d made the best of the poor hand life had dealt her, just as he and all his brothers had, but she had done it all alone from the tender age of ten. The knowledge humbled him.

  ‘Sister Ursuline sounds like a wonderful person.’

  ‘She is. As you would expect for someone with such a colourful history, her stories are hugely entertaining, and because of her background her advice is relevant. She speaks from practical experience and is sympathetic to human weaknesses. Perhaps sometimes too sympathetic as she is prone to forgive most when they have not proved their worth. Of course, very few know about her past outside the walls of the school, so I would ask you to keep it a secret, but she was a wonderful person to grow up with. I admire her tenacity and her outlook on life. She has a great sense of fun and an annoying habit of seeing the good in all people. I suppose that comes from the depth of her faith, which sadly I do not share. I am neither as trusting nor as forgiving.’

  ‘Not a bad thing in this day and age.’ Although a very bad thing for a rake like Jake. Seducing Fliss was proving to be a challenge because of exactly that. ‘Beware those wolves in sheep’s clothing.’ Which was exactly what Jake was; an uncomfortable truth that was leaving an increasingly bad taste in the mouth.

  She turned and stared at him. ‘Thank you. Sister Ursuline says I am in danger of becoming a cynic, but I think caution is prudent when dealing with new people. I find few who live up to my high expectations.’

  ‘Spoken like a true cynic with the highest of expectations.’

  ‘Unlike Sister Ursuline, I have realistic expectations. Some people can’t change, or won’t, and it’s better to accept that about them than hold out futile hope they will improve. If calling a spade a spade makes me a cynic, then I am one and gladly so. It is quite possible to still like a person and be mindful or wary of their character flaws. Let’s take you, for example. I dare say a blossoming friendship between a scandalous rake and a schoolmistress from a convent is unconventional, but because I recognise and accept your flaws I can still thoroughly enjoy your company while remaining gloriously immune to your obvious charms.’

  A comment which certainly put Jake in his place, although it was probably not meant to. She had called him a philanderer on their first meeting, a label which grated but was deserved. Something this canny, ill-treated northern lass was obviously very mindful of. He should be grateful that she at least liked him despite that glaring character flaw—but he wasn’t. ‘My obvious charms will grow on you.’ Or at least he hoped they would. Regardless of King and country, he still wanted to seduce her for himself. Fliss was becoming an itch which he couldn’t scratch. ‘I am famously irresistible to all women.’

  Chapter Ten

  Bouncing in a hackney through the city

  ‘And yet here I am, resisting you.’ One wheel hit a pothole and she groped for the strap to steady herself as it bounced out, forcing Jake to watch certain parts of her bounce as well. ‘Gracious, this is a dreadful carriage!’

  He grabbed his own strap as the tired, corroded springs did little to stop the shoddy road surface rattling his bones. ‘You’d think in a city as rich as this one they could manage to make a decent road... Ah, look! We’re passing St Paul’s.’ Jake put his hand up to point, then instantly used it to brace himself on the seat as they rumbled along possibly the worst stretch of road in the whole capital.

  As she stared out at the massive cathedral in wonder, he took the opportunity to move closer, ostensibly to point things out, but more because the sight of one of England’s greatest edifices reminded him that he was supposed to be seducing vital information out of her. ‘Did you know it is the fourth St Paul’s to sit on the site? The first was built over a thousand years ago, some time after the Romans left.’

  ‘Really?’ Her head whipped around to grin at him, then quickly returned to the building. ‘You truly are a font of knowledge on the history of London, Jake.’ It was the first time she had used his name and he liked the sound of it on her lips.

  ‘Everybody knows this building was designed by Wren, but few know he was still designing it even as it was being built. Especially the dome. He wanted to create the dome without any visible supports inside. You should see it. It’s a shame we have run out of time today as I would love to show you around it. We could climb up to the top and whisper at each other across the gallery.’

  ‘I’d love to.’ She turned her head and he recognised the instant she became aware of his close proximity, because she unconsciously licked her lips and looked down at her hands. ‘I’d have to bring Cressida and Daphne, of course. Today has been highly improper.’

  If that was intended as his cue to move back to his side of the seat, Jake skilfully ignored it. ‘Hardly improper. I’ve been a perfect gentleman. Why, I’ve barely even flirted.’ But there were other ways to flirt which required no words and his eyes were currently gazing deeply into hers. ‘But we have laughed a lot, haven’t we?’ Humour was another excellent way of cutting through a lady’s defences. Jake had laughed a few into his bed in his time, too. A goodly few.

  She smiled at him and began to relax in the seat. ‘It has been a perfectly lovely after—Ooh!’ The hackney lunged to the right and tilted, sending Fliss sliding across
the bench towards him. Jake only just caught her before they both slammed into the side, her forehead bashing against his chin and making him cry out.

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ As she looked up at him, her spectacles were dangling at an odd angle on her face. The engaging sight did a great deal to alleviate the brief, sharp pain of bone hitting bone. Because she wasn’t looking through the lenses, she instinctively leaned nearer to see if he was hurt. ‘Are you bleeding?’

  ‘No. No, I’m fine.’

  A lie. Being so close to her was playing havoc with his senses. That perfume—fat summer roses, fresh air and sunshine—so uniquely her and divine. Those stormy-green, short-sighted eyes. The honey-gold hair. Those damned erotic spectacles which haunted his dreams. Everything made his body yearn and his heart pump. Her fingers touched his lip. If ever fate had presented him with the perfect opportunity to kiss her, this was it. Yet he hesitated, feeling suddenly awkward.

  ‘Are you sure? I gave you quite a clonk.’ And now she was torturing him. The sensitive skin tingled beneath her gentle touch, her face inches from his as she studied his mouth.

  ‘I have a very hard head.’ Gentlemanly good manners dictated he didn’t tell her which part of him was currently harder. Jake stifled the groan. His fingers went to the spectacles and righted them, then simply stared at her mouth.

  Longingly.

  He wanted to kiss her. Desperately wanted to kiss her. Slowly he moved his face closer, watched her lips part. Was she game?

  Perhaps.

  Her eyes drifted to his mouth again. She didn’t move away.

  Good grief, why was he lingering? His mission dictated he should jolly well get on with it... The bad taste and the uncharacteristic guilt churning in his gut made him sit back instead. She deserved better. Honesty at least. A sobering thought for a man who made a living from lying. ‘I have a very stiff upper lip.’ As well as a stiff bulge in his breeches. ‘I’m sorry for my appalling choice of hackney...still at least it’s an adventure. Of sorts.’