He’d never met anyone as bad at communicating with people as Cassius. The only difference was her fear of the people was evident. In this one conversation, he’d learned a great deal about Lady Vita Castella.
She was a terrible liar.
Her fear was rooted in making a blunder of herself, not with the people themselves.
As Jeremy continued to try and coax her with poet words, he could see she possessed a resilient mind.
Remy had known soldiers like her. Usually, if given a shotgun, their aim was better than most.
Jeremy reached his limit. “Well, for a sprained ankle, you’re walking very well. Perfectly even.” He’d decided to call her out.
Remy waited for what the girl would say.
“Thank you,” she replied evenly.
She would not be dancing with Jeremy Warren tonight.
Jeremy was stunned.
Remy grinned and had to suppress a laugh behind a hand.
Jeremy looked up and glared at him and then his gaze narrowed, and he grinned. “Lord… Dunn. Have you been introduced to Lady Vita Castella?”
* * *
It was the introduction Vita had been waiting for and yet feared most.
As Lord Jeremy said her name, she slowly turned toward Lord Dunn.
She backed away, slipping on her dress.
Jeremy was there to grab her, but Dunn moved faster.
“Are you all right?” Dunn’s large hands squeezed her hips and held her firmly in place. Vita thought that if she were to give him all her weight, she would stay upright and in place. That was how hard his hold was.
“Is it the ankle?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes,” she rushed to say.
“I’ll escort you to a chair,” Jeremy said.
“I’ve got her,” Dunn replied.
Vita had yet to look at Dunn’s face. His voice was a bark, rough and obstinate.
“I can help,” the young lord said.
“I said, I’ve got her.” Dunn placed his hand on her back. “This way, my lady.”
She walked in the direction his palm pushed her. They went past many open saloons. He opened a door and there was a balcony.
No one else was around.
Vita ran for the open air. The quiet grew as Dunn closed the door behind him. She clung to the iron rails and tried to slow her breathing. She was nervous about her company but far too pleased away from the crowd.
“Your ankle seems to have healed itself once again.”
She turned to face him and swallowed. The balcony was well lit and faced the main street. The lamppost illuminated them both, but with her back to the street and him standing close to the door, she doubted anyone below could make out their identities.
“The pain... comes and goes.” She kept her hands on the rail.
He stayed by the door, and she was finally looking him straight on.
Her eyes rounded at the sight of the scar through his eye. “How did you get that?” she asked before she could stop herself. Then she closed her eyes and chastened herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Does your apology mean you don’t wish to know?”
She looked at him again and watched him pull a dark hip flask from his pocket. He drank, tilting up his strong chin and exposing his throat just over his cravat. She watched the liquid work its way down the tanned skin of his throat.
He lowered the flask and wiped the corner of his lips with a gloved finger.
The entire action had been… thrilling to watch. He was a lord, yet everything about him said otherwise. The way he moved, the piercing way his dark eyes watched her.
He looked angry at her, but she didn’t think he actually was. His expression wasn’t much different than it had been inside.
She’d studied him while he’d stood against the wall. The degree with which his brows were pinched was the same. The muscles in his hardened face barely moved.
He could almost be a statue, yet for the fact that he moved faster than any man she’d ever seen.
“Usually, when a man asks a question, the lady answers,” he said, gaining her attention.
Had she been staring again?
She blinked and searched her mind for his question. “Yes, I do want to know what happened.”
“Maybe it was a bear or the blade of a highwayman.” He took another pull of his flask. “I never tell anyone the truth.”
It only made him that much more intriguing.
∫ ∫ ∫
0 5
* * *
“I have a scar, too,” Vita said.
“Do you?” He squinted. “Where?”
She realized then the direction this conversation was going and hesitated. The scar was on her belly. It was nothing compared to his, but it bothered her sometimes. “I never tell anyone the truth,” she decided to say, giving back what she was given.
Something lit his eyes, and she thought he might smile, but his mouth remained flat.
“Do I frighten you?” he asked.
“No,” she lied.
“You jumped when I tried to take your hand inside.”
Oh, was that what he was trying to do?
His lips did curve then. “What did you think was my intention?”
“To… hurt me.” Or touch her in other ways.
“Is that the sort of man you think I am?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
They were getting closer to the topic she wanted to discuss. Just how dangerous was he and what were his intentions for Van Dero?
What did he know about Van Dero?
Yet her tongue was tied, and she didn’t know what to say.
“Your father must have warned you not to be alone with men,” he said when she didn’t respond. “Have you ever been alone with a man?”
“Yes!” Finally, something she could answer. “I was alone with Lord Jeremy once last winter.”
“What happened?” Dunn sounded interested.
She didn’t know why this story came to her. It was likely because they both knew Lord Jeremy. “He’d come to call. We were setting up a game of chess. My father went toward his favorite chair and accidentally sat on a glass of wine Jeremy had mistakenly left there.”
“People make those mistakes all the time,” Dunn drawled.
“Well, Father stepped out. Then Jeremy commented on my perfume and asked to have a closer smell.”
Dunn’s eyebrows rose. “Did you offer him your wrist or something else?”
“Something else. I offered the bottle itself. You see, I had it on me, though I can’t remember why. I pressed it into his nose. He sneezed so hard that he hit his nose on the table.”
Dunn’s mouth fell open.
“There was blood everywhere,” Vita said. “Naturally, he excused himself. It was just before my father returned. Daddy looked at me as though I were to blame. Perhaps, I was.”
Dunn laughed, and she was startled by it. Then she settled against the rail and listened. She watched and watched. The laugh lines around his mouth and the tilt in his eyes made him quite attractive.
He was forced to wipe his eyes of tears. “Oh, I have to tell everyone that story, though I swear to leave your name out of it.”
She was thankful for that. “Oh, I remember why,” she said.
He took a breath to calm himself. “Remember what?”
“Why I had the perfume on me. Grandpa is known to fart. I would dab some on him to keep the smell at bay.”
He frowned. “You put perfume on your grandfather?”
“No, Grandpa was my dog. I named him when I was five.”
“Why name him Grandpa?”
She shrugged. “Daddy says it was because I thought both man and beast had the same habits. They were both quite loud and napped all the time.” The year Grandpa died— her real grandpa— her dog made her feel better.
Dunn laughed again. So much so that he was forced to sit down.
His laugh made him more normal and less mysterious
. He had a good laugh. It was boisterous and true. He held nothing back and gave himself over to the laughter.
When he was calm again, he smiled at her. “Do you have any other stories to share?”
“I don’t know. Ask the right questions and we’ll see what comes out.” Though known for her quiet nature, Vita’s mind was always working. She often thought about things to say but refrained from doing it, because she was afraid of the looks she would get.
Not everything she said made sense.
It had been her governess who’d encouraged the silence.
It was easy to talk to Milly. Lady Van Dero was one of the sweetest people Vita had ever met.
It was also easy to speak to her best friend, who also happened to be away on holiday.
Men were different. She’d known Jeremy for years and he’d rather that she didn’t speak at all.
She detested that.
Her father had also encouraged her silence, though not because she annoyed him in any way. She knew he loved her; he just knew she’d be more accepted if she kept quiet.
Dunn was likely one of the first gentlemen to tell her to go on and mean it, but it was because he had no interest in her past the present.
She wondered if he were married. It was possible, yet what woman would marry a man who was known as a fiend by Society?
The rumors about him mostly consisted of loaning money and then threatening the men and women who later didn’t have the means to pay him back. He was wealthy, severe, and he hated Van Dero.
It was all she knew about him.
He stood suddenly and started her way. His eyes were dark, his walk seemingly lethal. There was something positively male about him that she’d never experienced before. Vita leaned as far back as she could. The rail came up just below her waist so she was extra careful. She didn’t want to tip over.
His hand went around her and settled on her lower back. “Careful. Lady Belle had these rails lowered to suit her own small frame.”
He was close. She could smell the sweet fragrance of liquor on his lips. Mixed with the vanilla tones that were coming from his body, it was… very nice.
Dunn’s eyes were still warm from his earlier laughter. “Anyone of a normal height or taller could find themselves making a shortcut to the ground.” He pushed her away from the rail. “I brought you here so you could sit. Don’t you want to sit?”
She did, if only it would put some distance between them.
Yet she’d come to the party just for him, hadn’t she?
He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?
She sat on the bench.
He sat beside her and she fought to keep from showing her nervousness at his nearness.
He turned toward her. “If you wish, I could leave you here alone.”
She wanted that. This man, Lord Dunn, was too much for her mind to process. Why was he so intriguing?
Perhaps, it was his age, though she didn’t know how old he was. He was graying at the temples; there were lines in his face. It made him all the more attractive. She even liked the scar. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“How old are you?” She sighed again. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckled. “Here.” He pushed the flask into her hands. “Drink this. It’ll take your worries away and make you feel better.”
“I doubt it,” she said. “Wine makes me quite ill.”
“That’s not wine.” His voice seemed to match the night, dark and full of hidden mysteries.
“What is it?” She dared to hold his eyes.
“Brandy.”
She’d had brandy in her tea a few times, always when she was ill.
It had made her better then. Perhaps, it would make her better now.
She looked at the flask.
What if it were poison? Yet hadn’t he already saved her from injury and death on two separate occasions?
She took note that his mouth had been on the flask’s opening just before she mimicked his move and tossed her head back.
The first splash burned her throat. She released a cough.
He patted her roughly on the back. Tears burned her eyes, yet she managed to see when he reached for the flask.
She pulled it from his reach and shook her head. “No.” When she caught her breath, she whispered, “No, I want to try again.” She would not be defeated by the brandy.
Her governess had told her that when she was younger and it became apparent she was not like other girls. She would have to stand up for herself, even if the only person to challenge was in her head.
She had to try to be like other girls, practice her grace and etiquette.
And do it all in silence.
“Are you certain you want more?” Dunn asked.
She nodded and once the ache in her throat subsided, she tipped the flask to her mouth again.
It was better the second time but still burned.
The flavor that greeted her tongue was nice, however.
She handed it back to him. Her eyes were watery. He was blurry. She smiled, more to herself than him. Small triumphs.
He took it, but his gaze stayed on her. “I hope you didn’t drink it for me.”
“No, I drank it for myself.” She took a deep breath as a dizzy sensation set in.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“The pain in your throat should leave soon.” He looked concerned about that.
For a man who was supposed to be bad, he seemed rather… nice.
Their gazes locked, and they fell into silence.
And for once, Vita didn’t feel at fault for it.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“I hate parties.”
His mouth twitched. “So do I.”
“But I’m enjoying myself.”
∫ ∫ ∫
0 6
* * *
Vita was the strangest creature Remy had ever met.
As they sat on the bench, she was slightly crouched as though fearing to show her whole self. Her shoulder blocked the barest portion of her jaw. Her gold hair was fine and had already come loose from her near fall in the saloon. A lock cupped her cheek and curled just enough to touch the mouth that was somewhat parted as though poised to speak, but she didn’t.
He didn’t blame Jeremy or any other lord at the party for trying to get near her. She was an absolute dare. A challenge. A complexity that seemed to only grow more complex the more of her that was revealed.
Were Remy a younger man, a different man, he might have tried to capture this woman.
He tightened his fingers around his flask. He refused to take another drink because he was thinking about her mouth too much and knew his property now bore her essence.
“You know Belle?” Vita asked.
“I do.” Remy wondered if they were finally getting to the heart of why either of them had bothered to come.
But then she said, “Belle likes parties. I would think a man like you enjoyed them as well.”
“A man like me?” he asked. “What do you know about me?”
“I noticed the way the room respected you. There were people you passed who you said nothing to. They didn’t know you and yet they took note of you. Surely, every gentleman enjoys this.”
“My reputation precedes me.” He wasn’t speaking about Dunn but himself. He was a general. He’d prepared men for war and had led them into battle. He’d earned a title, a place in the House of Lords, and when he wasn’t working for Van Dero, he was at the palace, advising the royal family on their security measures.
“I had heard things,” she whispered.
“Clearly, not enough to keep you away from me.” That upset him. She would be more careful.
He should be more careful because he was enjoying her odd company far too much.
She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine. “I’m inclined not to believe anything that was said about you.”
It
was not lost on him that she was losing her hesitation to speak around him. He liked that.
She glanced at the flask, and he gave it to her. When she was finished drinking, she licked her lips.
The act was not carnal in itself, but Remy’s body burned with lust. He imagined all the wanton secrets he could unlock in her if given the chance. He wanted to be the one to introduce her to her complete sensual nature.
When she tried to hand the hip flask back, he rejected it.
“Keep it,” he told her.
Her eyes widened. “I can’t accept a gift from a man.”
She would be breaking that rule today. He would never put his lips on it again.
She was a child. At thirty-seven, he was old enough to have fathered her. Seventeen years and hard life experiences separated them. His thoughts shamed him.
“Don’t think of it as a gift. Think of it as payment for this wonderful conversation.” And one he was determined to bring to an end.
Van Dero was wrong about her. He sensed nothing sinister in her. She was a curious woman, but that was all.
Yet, why had she come?
Why accept Belle’s invitation when she’d rejected so many others?
Maybe she simply wished to meet the mysterious Lord Dunn.
He was glad he was pretending to be someone else, glad she would never know his true identity.
He stood.
“Wait.” She popped onto her feet and let out a shout when she began to fall.
Remy caught her waist and pulled her in.
They froze.
Age set aside, her soft feminine body aligned perfectly with his own.
The strings of a waltz began and drifted up from an open window below them.
He wondered if she could feel his heart knocking against her chest.
“The quartet is playing again,” she said. “You missed them. They were very good.” Her eyes were that wondrous combination of hesitant and bold. She didn’t look away but watched him from under her lashes.
Her tongue danced over her lower lip again.
His fingers dug into her gown as he fought to right his mind.
Let her go.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked instead, wanting a further reason to hold her.
A Knight to Dare: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 3
