Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  As usual, some faces he did not recognize.

  Straightening his shoulders, Ben strode toward the liquor cabinet to fortify himself before jumping into the fray to converse pleasantly with people who might be useful to him and Clemson sometime in the future.

  A single shot? No, he tipped the decanter again and filled his snifter past the halfway mark. As he raised the glass of aromatic amber liquid to his lips, movement at the door caught his attention.

  He saw rich, mahogany-colored hair that had been swept into a perfectly braided coronet once again. It could not be her. Could it?

  And then she turned, the elegant gold lace of her dress swirling as she did so.

  Good God, it was her.

  What in the hell was a lady of her ilk doing at such a house party?

  An elbow nudged Benjamin. “I’ll not think her brother knows you’re here.” Ben barely registered the speaker as one of the first investors he and Clemson had once relied upon.

  Her brother? What on Earth? “And who is the lovely lady’s brother?” Benjamin’s eyes drank her in. Miss Amy Fairchild accompanied her. The two clasped onto one another as though they shared a long friendship.

  Miss Fairchild’s eyes searched the room, but stilled when they landed upon Ben. And then she smiled like a cat who’d eaten a canary. She tapped Miss Dubois upon the arm. In that moment, conflicting instincts warred within him. Ought he to make himself scarce? God, no. He wanted to talk to her again.

  He would explain.

  She obviously wasn’t as opposed to new wealth as he’d thought. Not if she’d accepted an invitation to Elysium Fields.

  At Miss Fairchild’s urgings, Miss Dubois glanced in his direction, swept past him, and then swung back immediately to meet his gaze.

  That same awareness zinged between them. Her silver-blue eyes widened at first and then warmed along with her welcoming smile. Then, of course, the confusion.

  What was a Baron doing at one of the Fairchilds’ parties?

  They’d both know soon enough, for Miss Fairchild had taken hold of her friend’s arm and now led her in Ben’s direction.

  He swallowed hard.

  Time to face up to his falsehood.

  He didn’t care. He’d happily confess. For he hadn’t lost her, after all. She was here. By God, he’d get a second chance to kiss her. His gaze landed on cherry-colored lips as she approached the spot where he stood. He licked his own and ignored the twitch in his groin.

  Even more beautiful than he remembered. Even more enticing.

  “Benjamin!” This from Miss Fairchild. “Have you met Miss Claire Dorrill? And Claire, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. Benjamin Peabody of Peabody Enterprises. I’m certain the two of you have a great deal in common.”

  Miss what?

  Ben nearly sputtered as he processed Amy Fairchild’s words. A great deal in common? She could not be.

  And yet. He’d seen such silver-blue eyes on one other person.

  He nearly laughed at such glorious irony. Only fate would toss this in his lap. Twisted fate.

  Despite learning she’d lied about her name, he still wanted to taste those cherry lips.

  In fact, the urge had just grown stronger.

  When he’d thought her a lady of the ton, she’d been a distant possibility. But now…

  She was the sister of a man he and his brother despised—utterly off limits to him. He’d venture to guess he might even be risking his life by pursuing her.

  And he didn’t give a fig.

  Ethan Dorrill was nowhere to be seen, and this gel just batted her eyelashes at him for the second time that day.

  Ben bit his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes. Damn himself to hell, he’d kiss those lips before the end of tonight’s festivities. This was a house party, after all. If Ethan Dorrill didn’t want his sister exposed to the likes of him, he damn well oughtn’t to have sent her to Elysium Fields.

  “Miss Dorrill.” He bowed deeply over her outstretched hand. “’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  ****

  It was him.

  All the turmoil of the attraction she’d felt for him earlier that day came rushing back as those blue eyes pinned her in his gaze.

  “Mr. Peabody?” She could hardly believe it. She ought to be giving him the cut direct. She ought to slap that smile off his face and exit the library with a flourish.

  This man.

  Her brothers hated him. The Peabodys had been a thorn in the Dorrills’ side for as long as Claire could remember.

  And now she stood before one of them, flustered and blushing as he raised her hand to his lips.

  Good heavens! She’d nearly allowed him to kiss her earlier today. If it hadn’t been for Elmer…

  Claire took a few deep breaths to prevent herself from fainting as Mr. Benjamin Peabody’s lips lingered on the silk of her glove. Was he swirling his tongue on the fabric? Moist heat penetrated the silk and sent a bolt of sharp need straight to her core.

  “We meet again.” He had yet to release her hand as he arose and stared boldly down at her.

  Claire raised her brow and forced a look of disdain. After all, she’d only misled him by using a different name. He’d claimed to be a blasted baron!

  “Have we met before then? For the life of me, I cannot remember ever meeting you before, Mister Peabody. Although, you do slightly resemble the Baron of Jester.” As she spoke the false name he’d given her, she could not believe she’d fallen for it. She’d been so overwhelmed by his looks and charm that she’d not paused to question the validity of such an absurd sounding title.

  The Baron of Jester, indeed!

  “Ah, I’ve been told there is a resemblance between me and the magnificent gentleman.”

  Blast and damn, he would joke with her about his blatant lie. And double blast and damn, she had to fight the urge to laugh along with him.

  Tilting her head to one side, she pretended to regard him stoically. “He’s quite the handsome fellow, you know. Now that I look closer, I must say, you pale in comparison.”

  Mr. Peabody threw back his head and laughed heartily, drawing the attention of nearly every other person in the room.

  Claire ought to be irate. She ought to throw her sherry onto that pristine cravat of his. But how could she with jellied bones and a brain that had turned to pudding? This man. What could she do to resist him?

  The grin she’d been trying to contain escaped as she met his eyes.

  So handsome.

  Such fine looks ought to be against the law.

  The two of them just stood there. Smiling at one another like a couple of imbeciles.

  “I owe you an apology.” Both of them sobered at his words. He leaned in and spoke softly, “When I came upon you and your maid this afternoon, I did not intend to mislead you as to my identity. It was just that—”

  “I called you ‘my lord,’” Claire cut him off. “I just assumed—”

  “And I assumed you to be a lady,” he completed her thought. “How very lowering of me. I ought to have guessed you were not when you first ventured to speak intelligently.”

  “Ahem.” Amy cleared her throat in a subtle attempt to remind the two of them of her presence. “We’ll be going in for dinner soon.” Amy patted her on the arm and moved away toward the other guests.

  In that moment, Claire became aware that several sets of eyes watched them curiously.

  Lord Jester—no, she corrected herself—Benjamin Peabody was not a person she ought to smile and flirt with. He was one of the infamous Peabody brothers, and the Peabody brothers happened to be her brother’s most hated rivals.

  Claire forced herself to step back. She could not betray her brother. Not after all he’d done for her.

  Oh Lord, Ethan would be livid if he discovered a Peabody resided at Elysium Fields. He’d likely lambast Mr. Fairchild if he knew.

  Fixing her gaze upon her hands, which she now clutched together, she began some sort of explanati
on. “My brother—”

  “Ethan Dorrill,” he supplied.

  Claire could not help but return his regard. His eyes tugged at her. “Yes,” she confirmed. “He—”

  “Would not be pleased to know we were speaking.” The understanding in his voice made this even more difficult. And again, their gazes locked.

  The pull of their attraction—yes, this was attraction—was nearly too much for Claire to resist. His eyes drew her in. His shoulders beckoned protection.

  No man had ever affected her so powerfully. What would it be like to kiss him? To feel his arms around her?

  “No, he would not.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” So very sorry.

  He searched her gaze carefully and then turned his head to stare at the wall of shelves filled with hundreds of books. “There is little chance of a truce,” his jaw tightened as he agreed with her assessment. “But…” he began.

  Claire’s heart lifted at that one word. For only a moment. Ethan would never countenance her mingling with any of the Peabodys. Even if one of them did happen to be tall and blond, with the most incredible eyes…

  “I’m sorry,” she spoke to her heart as much as she did to him. “I—” She glanced around in something of a panic. “We— Um…I ought not to be seen with you.” She forced her feet to take her a few steps farther away from him. And then, “Excuse me.”

  Chapter Five

  Just Friends

  Claire determined to avoid Benjamin Peabody. She would ignore the feeling he invoked in her. Ignore this aching desire…

  Lust…likely... She ought to admit it could only be lust.

  She knew the word. She’d simply never experienced the sensation so acutely. This overwhelming need to lose oneself in another person. A person she knew nothing about. In fact, what she did know about him ought to repel her.

  Unfortunately, when she sat down for the long, drawn out meal the Fairchilds never failed to provide, Mr. Benjamin Peabody sat down directly beside her.

  She couldn’t very well stand up and move to another end of the table, now could she?

  Why was he doing this to her? The moment he dropped into the chair beside her, the most inappropriate physical sensations engulfed her once again. She pressed her thighs together and tried to calm her breathing. “I thought we’d agreed to avoid one another,” she reminded him through gritted teeth.

  She would not turn to look at him.

  She would not.

  “I agreed to no such thing.”

  His voice sounded so matter of fact that she couldn’t help but turn to glare at him.

  She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to be annoyed with him, but the teasing glint in those mesmerizing eyes would simply not allow it. It took all of her self-control to contain her own delight.

  “He’ll be furious,” the words fell from her lips.

  At her admission, Mr. Peabody winked. “Why don’t you simply place all of the blame upon me? Tell him I refused to leave you alone?”

  Oh.

  Oh, this man was too much. So unlike any of the gentlemen Ethan had introduced her to.

  “Would it be forward of me to inquire as to what sort of a gentleman your brother does approve of?” he asked, almost as though he’d been able to read her thoughts.

  The opposite of you, she nearly blurted out. “Er… He aspires to make me into a lady.”

  “So, nobs,” Mr. Peabody commented as one of the ubiquitous footmen began serving the first course.

  Claire opened her napkin and set it carefully upon her lap. “Specifically, those in dun territory.” She spoke far too easily with him. It was just that he was so easy to talk to. He ought not to be. She ought to suspect him of trying to pry her brother’s secrets from her.

  But she didn’t.

  Even though he had lied to her already once before.

  “Odd that,” he spoke down to his soup. “I’d have thought he’d want you marrying somebody similar to himself. Hard working. Intelligent. Ruthless.” He chuckled ironically. “Somebody who would appreciate your background. Not somebody who would look down upon it.”

  Claire swallowed hard. These were her own thoughts. She’d attempted to explain all of this to her brother, to no avail. He was determined they be raised up into society.

  She shook her head. “He wants me to return to London after this party, but I cannot countenance being presented to yet another round of nobs. If I can convince him, I’ll visit my aunt.”

  “Do you enjoy the city?”

  “I normally do. But…”

  “The string of unsuitable suitors has stolen its appeal?”

  He understood. “And Aunt Lucy lives by the sea. Both she and her home always bring me comfort.” She didn’t know why she was telling him all this. “What of you? Do you enjoy the pace of the city?”

  He seemed to contemplate his answer. “For a spell. I’ve recently invested in my own property and hope to spend more time there in the near future. I don’t mind working with my brother at Peabody Enterprises but I prefer some independence. I look forward to improving on the efficiencies of land management.”

  Claire wished she had similar options. She would have been more than content to work alongside her brother at building his empire, but he’d insisted she take on a different role. He’d always wanted her to act like a lady when she’d love nothing more than to find some way to be productive. She was a Dorrill, after all!

  Claire wondered what he’d say if she asked to live on her own estate. Likely he’d laugh.

  ”Older brothers.” She grimaced. “Does yours care who you associate with? It seems our brothers’ sole purpose in life is to squash one another in business.” Her own words once again reminded her that she oughtn’t be associating with Benjamin Peabody. She ought to be reticent in her conversation. Was that even possible with this man?

  She tentatively tested her soup. The Fairchilds’ cook tended to get rather creative, and she never quite knew what it was she might be consuming. As she frowned at a rather unusual looking morsel, a shiver skidded down her spine. His gaze felt as tangible as any physical touch.

  “You and I need not play the same game,” his voice became gravelly and deep.

  “What would you suggest we do then, Mr. Peabody?” She dipped her spoon into the soup again, afraid to read his expression.

  With a slight shift, his hand settled next to her wrist. If she moved less than an inch, they would touch.

  And then he reached out with his pinky and skimmed it across her skin.

  Barely a caress, but it sent waves of dizziness washing through her. He stroked his calloused fingertip back and forth across her softer skin in slow, sensual motions. The differences in texture mesmerized her. None of the other guests noticed his subtle motions, but all kinds of turmoil swirled around Claire’s thoughts.

  “Why don’t we set aside our differences for this evening?”

  “What about tomorrow?” she countered, finally meeting his gaze.

  “Take no thought for the morrow.” His eyes softened. “For the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” And then he charmed her by appearing embarrassed. “If I remember correctly.”

  “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” She’d endured many hours in church herself. “Very well then.” How could she deny him?

  It was only one evening, after all. What harm could there be in that?

  What harm indeed?

  ****

  Benjamin knew he was digging a hole of outrageous proportions flirting with Ethan Dorrill’s only sister, staring at her lips, imagining what they tasted like. What her skin tasted like. How she would respond if his hand could trail its way down her back.

  And other places.

  By the time the last course had been served, Ben surmised that the hole he’d dug was about six feet deep and formed in the shape of a coffin.

  Miss Claire Dorrill enticed him at nearly every turn in their conversation. She exhibited a clever sen
se of humor, wit and intelligence, but also compassion and a sense of honor. Her stories entertained him, and yet she listened attentively when he spoke.

  As much as they’d each made attempts at conversation with others around them, they always came back to one another. With a secret smile. An understanding glance.

  Ben wanted more.

  As much as he’d been drawn to her physically, aroused even, he found himself feeling a particularly unfamiliar sense of belonging in her presence. As though he’d known her much longer. As though meeting her had been destiny.

  As the meal concluded and Ben watched Miss Claire Dorrill exit the room with the other ladies, he could not help thinking he needed to rein in his emotions. He’d never been so captivated, bound, imprisoned by his own thoughts.

  Clemson would not be angry at his associating with Miss Dorrill. No, he’d encourage it. He’d want Ben to use her to extract information on their competitor. He’d be pleased at the conflict such an affair would cause Ethan Dorrill.

  Would Ben expect the same of Clem if he were in a similar situation?

  He didn’t think he would. Ben lacked his brother’s cutthroat ambition. He believed in winning through honorable means.

  Ben accepted a brandy and swirled the liquid in the glass.

  “You have a death wish, Peabody?” This from Lional Baskerville, a man who’d acquired his wealth through gambling. “Fine bit of muslin, though not sure I’d be willing to risk my hide over her.”

  The older fellow twirled his mustache around one finger as he regarded Ben curiously.

  “I’d no idea my daughter invited her.” This from Mr. Fairchild.

  Ben savored the warm liquid and allowed it to slide down his throat, into his chest and gut before answering. “She’s a delightful young lady. Ethan Dorrill has nothing to worry over, however. We’re all civilized humans, capable of setting aside our differences, aren’t we?” This with a look in Baskerville’s direction.

  He’d stand beside Ethan Dorrill in defending Claire, if need be.

  The thought brought him up short.

  What if Ethan Dorrill stood against him to defend her? Was any girl worth the trouble?

  The memory of how her lips had looked when she’d swirled the grape around the outside of her mouth hit him like a blow to the stomach.