Seduce Me Please

by Nichole Matthews

  “Shhh…Chester,” Piper whispered with humorous inflection in her voice. “I cannot believe you are acting like such a snob.”

  “You don’t know even half of the rumors bandied about the clubs,” Chester quickly whispered back.

  “I know nothing of him at all,” she retorted. “Which is exactly how it can remain as far as I’m concerned,” she murmured, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirts. “Lord Perceval, Mr. Fulton.” She forced a smile as both gentlemen stepped into the salon.

  Stopping just inside the door, Fulton tensed noticeably before he bowed elegantly to all in the room. “How completely fortunate to arrive at a time when you have a house full of esteemed guests.” His voice was nasal and insinuating. His lids descended low over his beady eyes as he quickly hid any hints of annoyance brimming in their depths.

  “Delighted to see you again, Lord Perceval, Mr. Fulton.” Piper proceeded to pour tea for both gentlemen. “Milk or sugar, gentlemen?”

  “No thank you, my lady.” Fulton shifted his hooded gaze around the room, holding out a bouquet of fragrant lavender. “For you.” He bowed low over Piper’s hand. Turning to Agnes, “Had I realized you would be here, Lady Agnes, I would have procured a second bouquet for you as well.”

  Agnes smiled prettily from her seat.

  “How kind,” Piper replied in a pleasant tone, attempting to thrust away the quakes of disquiet that threatened when she looked into the dark empty pools of his eyes.

  “Actually,” Fulton drawled in an expectant voice, pulling a chair forward he sat down beside Piper, taking possession of her hand. “How lovely you are looking today, Lady Piper. I was hoping we could fill in the afternoon with a drive around the park. Please say you will join me?”

  Piper gingerly pulled her hand out of Mr. Fulton’s moist grasp, darting a look about the salon to verify that his overzealous groping was not seen by the rest of the room. He looked so incredibly eager and sincere that she hated to hurt his feelings, but she shook her head regretfully. “What a pleasant diversion you have offered, Mr. Fulton, but I fear that Agnes and I have a previous appointment.” She replied in her customarily gracious manner.

  “Yes, Mr. Fulton,” Agnes concurred. “What unfortunate timing.”

  “Indeed, terribly disappointing,” Fulton replied stiffly, a muscle pulsing in his cheek. “Perhaps another time?” He knew bloody well that the ladies previous appointment was nothing more than a frivolous jaunt to the haberdashery. His self-control was being severely tested waiting for a private meeting with Lady Piper. He must use more restraint if he expected to fulfill his actual purpose for being in London. And there was no question that he could not fail. He gritted his teeth to stifle any untoward outbursts. He would have to wait for a more opportune time. He was given no choice and he would not fail. Sipping his tea, he gazed about the room with world-weary eyes. When this was over, he vowed, he would never set foot in London again.

  “Perhaps.” Piper granted a small, prim smile upon her suitor, and then glanced towards Chester seeking his support.

  “Your immense popularity has not escaped my notice while I’ve been in London, and I was advised that you were the perfect guide to oversee my sightseeing endeavors while I was in Town,” Fulton eagerly explained.

  Piper’s teeth ground together uncomfortably. “Of course.” She smiled thinly. “I would be happy to give my opinion.”

  “Are you in Town for the full season, Fulton?” Chester cut in. He could practically hear Piper’s teeth grinding together.

  “A few weeks at least,” Fulton said dulcetly. “Until I’ve concluded my business.”

  “Business?” Lord Perceval said the word with noticeable disdain; his lips pursed revealing his palpable disapproval to be consorting with someone so obviously beneath him. He was a heavy-set man with a round baby-face, double-chin, and a corpulent frame. Not the fine form that most young ladies hoped for. He had only one thing going for him as far as the marriage mart was concerned; the ladies desire to be a marchioness obviously must outweigh her need of an attractive spouse.

  “What sort of business?” Agnes chimed in, her curiosity superseding her manners.

  Fulton shot Agnes a curious look, before responding to Lord Perceval’s clear attempt to insult. “Nothing so vulgar as trade, Lord Perceval.” He grinned but his eyes remained empty slits. “I’m only in London to meet with my father’s solicitor.”

  “Oh,” Agnes cried. “Has your father passed away?”

  “Agnes!” Piper chided, hastily shaking her head.

  “A sad tale indeed, my lady,” He shook his head forlornly, his eyes lowered. “But nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dear.” Fulton smiled. “It has been some years since my father’s passing. Merely some dull family business that I cannot put off any longer.”

  “My condolences,” Piper said her voice warmly sympathetic. Her own loss still so fresh in her mind, she understood how devastating it could be to lose ones father.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Fulton responded. “You are too kind to even deign to speak of it.”

  Perhaps she was being too hoity-toity, just as she accused Chester? Perhaps she should just pick one of her many suitors and be done with it. A love match was a rare commodity in the ton and she wasn’t getting any younger. There was not a thing wrong with Lord Perceval. He came from a good family of long-standing and he only wanted the same from a marriage contract as every other gentlemen of her acquaintance. On the other hand, Mr. Fulton rubbed her entirely the wrong way. He made her uncomfortable and she had no desire to be caught alone with him under any circumstance. Besides, there was something about his beady little eyes that seemed to turn cold in a flash, causing her to shudder. They appeared as empty black pools in his face, and whenever he smiled there was none reflected in their depths.

  “And just where would your home be, Fulton?” Lord Perceval inquired disparagingly, flicking a non-existent speck of dirt from his coat sleeve.

  “Shropshire.”

  “Is this just a short stay in London?” Chester inquired. “Or are you here for the entirety of the season?”

  “Yes, it is but a short visit. A few weeks perhaps.” Fulton shrugged. “Once I have concluded my business, I fear I must return home.”

  Chester gave a nod and redirected the conversation. “Have you had a chance to attend Vauxhall?”

  “No, I have not had the pleasure; I have seen little of London.”

  “I adore Vauxhall!” Agnes gushed. “Dancing under the stars.” She pressed her hands to her heart. “So romantic!”

  “It would be a shame if you returned home without a single account of seeing the magnificent sights London has to offer.” Piper began ticking off a list on her fingers. “The Tower, Vauxhall, Gunter’s, Tattersall’s...” Piper grinned at Chester. “Just ask Lord Portland. As a gentleman you cannot visit London without touring Tattersall’s.”

  Lord Perceval gave her a quick glance, a glimmer of something akin to excitement in his eyes. “Perhaps we can make up a party for Vauxhall? I have a box.”

  “Marvelous!” Agnes clapped her hands looking at Piper with a delighted twinkle in her eyes. “I do so love to watch the fireworks.”

  Drat! Piper was torn. She truly enjoyed Vauxhall Gardens, but she positively did not want to spend any more time with Mr. Fulton or Lord Perceval than was necessary. Slumping on the settee, Piper tried desperately to mask the long sigh that escaped.

  “What a delightful notion, Lord Perceval.” Piper’s smile false, her lips stretched tightly in what she could only pray was not a hideous grimace. “I cannot conceive of anything more charming than a party to Vauxhall.”

  Miss Harris chimed in, “Wouldn’t it be delightful if we could arrive by boat?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  …I miss Poppy desperately.

  Piper’s journal

  7 June

  THE TWO YOUNG LADIES stood on either side of Miss Harris, linking their arms before they strolled gaily down Piccad
illy.

  “How was I supposed to know his father was dead?” Agnes frowned, peering around Miss Harris to direct her comment to Piper. “We know nothing of the man.”

  “Vauxhall?” Piper groaned. “What a party we will make you, me, Chester, Mr. Fulton, and Lord Perceval?” She swept her arm wide in agitation. “My heart fairly leaps in anticipation.”

  “Perhaps we can add a few more to the party to make it more exciting?”

  “I certainly hope so.” Her lack-luster reply wasn’t lost on Agnes.

  “Don’t distress yourself, my dear.” Agnes smiled. “Between the two of us we will surely be able to think up something entertaining.”

  “Peyton has returned to Town, perhaps he would be game to join our party.”

  “Where has Peyton been keeping himself?” Agnes queried innocuously. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “I believe he has been rusticating in Kent for the majority of the season.” Piper rolled her eyes. “Hosting lively house parties with a few of his so-called friends.” Peyton was trying to make his name known throughout England as a profligate rake using the estate he had inherited from their grandfather as his den of iniquity. “Grandfather would have an apoplexy if he knew what Peyton was about.” Piper snickered.

  Agnes glanced around surreptitiously, before questioning, “One of those types of house parties?” Her eyes round as saucers, her bottom lip caught excitedly between her teeth.

  “Agnes, dear, you know that we are not supposed to know of such depraved things.” Piper grinned sheepishly. “Besides, I don’t want to think about my brother doing those things.” She visibly shuddered. “If half the tales told are true. Lord, have mercy!”

  “I find your conversation somewhat difficult to follow, girls.” Miss Harris raised her brow inquiringly. "Pray enlighten me. What type of parties are you referring?”

  “Hunting!” Both girls giggled, rushing to assure Miss Harris as they exchanged rueful glances.

  A blank look came into Miss Harris face. “Oh,” she said with a wrinkled brow. “Is it that time of year already?”

  “You know men, obsessive about their sports.” Piper squeezed Miss Harris’ arm affectionately. Once again she and Agnes exchanged a glance, smiling at each other.

  “Speaking of hunting, look who is coming!” Agnes whispered gleefully. “Goodness, they are both so handsome!” She breathed, her hand pressed to her bosom as she waited for Piper’s reaction.

  “You consider every man handsome, Agnes. You should learn to be more discriminating…” Her discourse quickly died when she looked up and met his eyes for the second time that day, spellbinding eyes. She couldn’t look away, watching as a small smile curved his lips, as if he knew exactly what sensations he evoked with just his look. Drat! Her breath caught, hot sensations streaked through her. He was perfection intensified by sensational innuendo. The muscles of his powerful thighs sculpted by the tight fit of his buckskins were shown to great advantage on horseback and even more so when one wasn’t looking through a window. His exquisite chocolate riding coat molded to the magnificent muscles of his chest, shoulders, and arms like a second skin. The color emphasized his golden looks. He was like a gilded statue. Shimmering in the sunlight, it almost hurt to look at him. Her eyes widened as they clashed with his golden gaze. One of his brows arched as his chiseled features softened into an expression of easy charm making her feel quite weak in the knees. She hastily averted her eyes battling to keep the lingering thoughts of desire away. She was acting like a wild wanton and he represented everything that was trouble and temptation in one convenient bundle.

  But just as she was sure the gossiping dragons never tired of imagining the outcome of Rockwell’s fate over the summer, neither had she.

  Was he married?

  Why was it when one wanted to know something everyone’s lips were sealed? Not a single tongue wagging. It seemed to be the best kept secret of the ton, she sighed rather robustly.

  Hell and damnation! He was obviously a weak man. He couldn’t help himself. His eyes followed the trio of ladies as they strolled down Piccadilly beneath their frilly parasols. She’s back in Town. The one in the middle was the same miniature dark haired goddess that he had lusted after all last season and stared at through a picture window this afternoon. If he didn’t learn to control his libido, and quick, this jaunt through town with Seymour was going to be decidedly uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassing. A slight grimace formed, his jaw hardened, shifting in his saddle to ease his uncontrolled desire.

  Damn! The rumors of his depravity must be true.

  He felt the corners of his lips tip up with his absurdity.

  The color of her morning dress, similar to that of a ripe summer melon, heightened the delicious glow of her alabaster skin. She radiated such innocence. A truly frightening concept. His eyes raked over her again, starting at the top of her charming bonnet and ending at the tips of the tiny half-boots peeping out from her skirt. His fingers itched to touch her skin. He clenched his hands into tight fists instead so startled by such a strong reaction to her presence.

  Mouthwatering.

  Forbidden.

  Innocent.

  Forbidden.

  Delicious.

  Forbidden…

  All ideas that should have him turn tail and run, but instead another smile played on his lips as he continued to watch her float along the pavement towards Hatchard’s, as if she were perched upon the fluffiest of clouds.

  Were the god’s at her mercy as well? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he found her irresistible. Possibly due to all that forbidden fruit nonsense, that unquestionably made many things difficult to resist.

  He snorted cynically; when had he developed into such a romantic poet?

  “Rock, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Seymour asked with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I am clearly not talking to hear my own damn self!”

  “Pardon me, Seymour.” Graydon slowly shifted his eyes. “You were saying something about Lansdowne’s something or other...” his voice slowly trailed off as he craned his neck to look over the crowd.

  With a chuckle, Seymour’s voice, one as if he were speaking to an absolute simpleton, “I said Lansdowne must sell Starling straightaway to pay off some debts. I recall, you had mentioned in the past that you’ve always admired his favorite mount,” Seymour repeated, his brow arching amusingly.

  “Yes, Starling,” Graydon echoed.

  “Not customary that something would capture your attention over the occasion to purchase a newly available prized mount with a superb pedigree.” He glanced around curiously. “Your head was so high in the clouds; I’m surprised you haven’t harmed any pedestrians. What has caught your attention so raptly?”

  At the precise moment they rode by, she lifted her vibrant blue eyes and caught his stare once more. Blue. He should have known. Crystal-clear blue, resembling a summer sky after a long needed cleansing rain. She looked directly into his eyes without faltering. A slight blush set roses in her cheeks as a shy smile curved her pink lips. Extraordinarily beautiful and a dimple, he didn’t stand a chance. Why hadn’t he noticed the flash of a dimple until now? If he was a smart man, he would pack up his household and head for the country today.

  Evidently he wasn’t a very smart man.

  Graydon touched the brim of his beaver hat, inclining his head as a wide smile spread across his face. She was the face he saw in his dreams and now his dreams would include a charming dimple. She was the lady of his most erotic fantasies and now he would be able to envision her blue eyes gazing passionately into his own, her plump, pink lips begging to be kissed.

  With one last lingering look, he forced himself to face forward. For no matter how hard he tried to avoid trouble, it seemed to aggressively search him out. Even the vow he had made to avoid all virgins at all cost just went up in smoke. The price of avoidance just increased exponentially in a matter of moments. She was the loveliest creature he had eve
r had the pleasure of setting his cynical eyes upon, and he had a feeling that if the moment arose he would offer all the gold in the entire world for a mere moment alone with her.

  Seymour greeted the gaggle of ladies with a nod and a grin. All the while whispering humorously to Graydon, “I can only presume that Ashford will be enormously pleased to find that you have basically made love to his beloved sister in broad daylight on Piccadilly.” Seymour shot his friend a slightly pitying look. “By the bye, her name is Piper.” He grinned. “And just in case you were staring at one of the other lovely women accompanying her, she’s with her dear friend Agnes, who is the little gray mouse and her companion Miss Harris.”

  “How kind of you to fill in the gaps,” Graydon replied mordantly. His brows rose quizzically. “Ashford?” Parker, Piper’s eldest brother was one of his oldest friends. How had he not known Parker was related to this goddess? “I didn’t know,” he murmured. His eyes narrowed fractionally as he twisted slightly in his saddle to steal one more look.

  Piper took a deep breath as she stepped into Hatchard’s intensely aware of Rockwell’s eyes on her back the entire way. Squaring her shoulders, she took a moment to compose herself after the unexpected encounter with the handsomest man she had ever seen in her life.

  “You look a little green around the gills,” Miss Harris said, ever oblivious to the goings on around her.

  Piper’s lips lifted in a fleeting smile. “I’m just exceedingly glad we’ve finally made our way through the crowded streets.” She wanted to move, but her knees felt weakened by the encounter. She feared she might embarrass herself by falling flat on her face if she attempted even one small step.

  “Indeed,” Miss Harris agreed. “I believe the overcrowding has much to do with my weakened constitution, as well. There are far too many people in London nowadays. Why, one can hardly move without bumping into someone. I remember when I was younger…” Piper couldn’t contain a smile as she watched Miss Harris continue muttering to herself as she moved further into the bookshop.