To Love a Wicked Lord

by Edith Layton

  “How charitable,” Pippa commented.

  “Tolerably so,” Maxwell answered. “He did help us, because one thing is made clearer. Your Noel is a practiced seducer, and I don’t mean just of females. He has a way of convincing people that what he’s doing, whatever it is, is the right thing to do. That talent is a gift to a rascal, whether he’s planning to steal your jewels, run off with your wife, or swindle you out of your legacy. He could be a spy, a lothario, a thief, or a bigamist,” he added. “He has all the talents he needed for any of those professions. It’s what he actually is that interests the government, and where he is that influences your life. I mean to find out both things, and soon.”

  Maxwell paused by another arbor, this one of white roses. He reached into a waistcoat pocket, took out a small silvery implement, and snipped off a rose. He sniffed it. “It contrasts with your gown; even here there’s enough light to see that. You can wear it in the ballroom. It doesn’t smell half so alluring as you do, though. But wait,” he said, applying the implement to the stem. “Roses have thorns, and you don’t need any more. There,” he said, bowing and offering her the flower. “Coals to Newcastle, I suppose. But a gesture of my appreciation of how you look tonight. So then: beauty to the most beautiful.”

  She took the flower, buried her nose in it, and was glad the night concealed her expression.

  “Now I have to say good-bye again,” he said softly.

  Her head shot up. “Why?”

  “Because I must find your Noel. He isn’t in London any longer. You must stay here and wait, like patient Griselda, or whatever her name was. I’ll bring him to you.”

  “Not likely!” she exclaimed, standing tall as she could. “You thought that poor little man was Noel, didn’t you? Ha! He was nothing like. That only proves you can’t find him unless I’m there to identify him. You’ve been trying to be shut of me since I left home, but I tell you that is ridiculous. I’m the key to finding him; you can’t get him without me. And I’m getting tired of all these attempts to jettison me, all these false farewells, because you know very well how important I am to your success.”

  “Tired of my farewells?” he asked, stepping close to her. He bent his head and put his lips on the side of her neck.

  She shuddered, but didn’t move. She could feel his smile as it blossomed.

  “Why, Pippa,” he whispered as he placed small, light kisses down her neck. “I really do think our good-byes are the best part of our arrangement. Cold, are you?” he asked as she shivered. “Mmm, I can easily warm you.”

  “I know you can,” she said, stretching her neck upward. “But you know you shouldn’t.”

  “But this is just a sweet farewell,” he said softly as he put his arms around her.

  He held her close, but lightly. Their bodies touched. She didn’t move away and, scarcely realizing what she was doing, wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted to be closer to him. He smelled better than the rose, his lips were softer than its petals, and though she wore scarlet, he was the one who blazed in the night. She thought he contained all the warmth in the world in his arms. She needed to be closer to it.

  He smiled, and bent his head. “No shame attached at all in friends bidding each other a sweet farewell,” he said as his mouth came closer to hers. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?” he asked in a husky voice.

  He kissed her and she sighed into his mouth. His hands were warm on the silken softness of her gown; he cupped her breast as his mouth silently promised everything. His lips, warm and dry, then grazed against her neck, making her feel chilled and warmed at the same time. She relaxed though her senses awoke, her arms tightened around his neck as she threw back her head. She was utterly at his command—until he drew back to look at her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and then her gaze sharpened.

  She lost her wits in his embrace, but they never went far. She’d heard what he’d said belatedly, through a blur of sensual arousal and deepening excitement. But she finally listened to what she’d heard.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To France,” he said and bent to her again. He gently pulled her closer. It was, he thought, like trying to pull the rose arbor closer. She’d become wooden. “What?” he asked on a sigh.

  “I can go to France,” she said.

  “Your grandmother would let you, I suppose,” he said. “But I won’t. It could be dangerous.”

  “We are at peace and have been since Amiens. That’s almost a year,” she said.

  “Behold me shocked that it’s lasted this long,” he said.

  “There are thousands of English persons in France now,” she said. “I read the news sheets and the magazines.”

  “Unfortunately, yes, you do. But you don’t know the news behind that news. I do,” he said. “Napoleon will never be content with this peace nor, for that matter, will England. It’s simply a regrouping, a gathering of forces and plans, and may be over at any moment. When the peace fails, which it will, what a lot of hostages France will have! And how nicely that will help finance their next attack on us. It will be more difficult to get an Englishman out of Paris than it was during the revolution. Heads will roll again, I fear. At least, that’s what they will count on us remembering. As if we could forget,” he muttered.

  He faced her squarely, holding her shoulders. “You want to beggar your grandfather by having him ransom you and your grandmother? I wouldn’t care for that even though I don’t doubt she’d love the excitement of it. No,” he said, shaking his head. “You stay here, I’ll go. This time I’ll find the right Noel if I have to chase him to China. I’ll find him and return him to his homeland. And this time I don’t have to grab any fellow at random. Seems our poor wronged clerk was also an impressively good artist. What do you think of this sketch? He says he can do even better, and I don’t doubt he will when he’s not shaking with fear.”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a paper. He unfolded it and held it up to a lantern’s light.

  Pippa gasped. It wasn’t Noel to the life, but still and all, it certainly was Noel.

  “Exactly,” Maxwell said with satisfaction, folding the paper and putting it back in his jacket. “A good thing we have it too. And whether you believe me or not, it’s good for you too. Putting a foot wrong in England is a very different matter than doing it abroad. My mother was a Frenchwoman, and I have relatives who survived the Revolution; I still have connections there.”

  “Jolly for you,” she said, raising her chin. “My grandfather is world famous. He has correspondents everywhere. My grandmother and I will be treated like queens.”

  “You do remember how they treated their queens, do you?” he asked with too much amusement to suit her.

  “Yes, I do,” she snarled. “But I won’t stay behind. I come into your arms too easily, I know that,” she said, lowering her gaze. “And don’t think I’m pleased with myself for it. I’m not. I’ve never done that before, and I must stop it now. You have a way of making me stop thinking, but I can change and I will. If you think I’ve been making a dead set at you, you may bury that thought. Your kisses are very fine, but a lady may enjoy them without being willing or even eager to share her life with you. Or even her bed,” she added loftily, though she was sure her face was now the color of her gown.

  “It’s not entirely my fault either,” she tried to say airily. “It may be that you and Noel are both in the business of seduction.”

  He took a step back. Even in the inconstant light, she could see his thin nostrils flare.

  “Isn’t that always the case?” she remarked to the rose she still held. “Tell a female that she kisses very well, and she’s supposed to be flattered. Tell a male that he might make a business of it, and he’s insulted.”

  “I never told you that,” he said. “Nor would I.”

  She shot him a look that was best concealed by the darkness. “You’re saying I don’t kiss very well?”

  “Oho,” he said, coming close
to her again, holding her around the waist so that their bodies touched. “Innocence indeed, you stepped right into that, did you?”

  Before she could answer, he kissed her again, and then she couldn’t answer.

  “Even if this is your idea of farewell,” she managed to say as he moved his head and gently tugged the puffed sleeve of her gown down and began brushing kisses across her shoulder and collarbone, “it isn’t good-bye. I hope you realize that. I may not see you in France, but to France I shall go.”

  “So why,” he asked softly, raising his head, “are you allowing me this splendid good-bye?”

  “Why,” a loud voice declared, “indeed?”

  They sprang apart.

  Lady Carstairs stood there, her gold gown glittering in the darkness like the flaming torch the angel flourished when he threw Adam and Eve out of Eden.

  Pippa pulled up her gown. “He’s going away again, Grandmother, and again, he insists we cannot go with him.”

  “Oh well,” Lady Carstairs said. “I could understand your vexation in Bath, even in Brighton. But now that we are in London, my love, let him go. There’s such fun to be had here, why should we depart?”

  Pippa knew Maxwell wore a detestable smug smile. Even if she couldn’t see it in the scant light she could imagine it. Again her grandmother had caught her in his embrace, and again, she hadn’t defended her honor, raised an alarm, or seemed shocked. Pippa’s breast rose and fell in a deep, resigned sigh. She supposed that aspect of her grandmother was gone forever. But she was fairly sure another one hadn’t.

  “Grandmamma,” Pippa said, “he goes to Paris.”

  There was a shocked silence. Her grandmother’s head went up like a hunting dog on a clear scent. “Paris?”

  “Yes,” Maxwell said. Then told Pippa, “Clever girl to have figured that bit.”

  “Where else were you going to hunt Noel?” Pippa asked sweetly. “Where would one expect to find a fellow escaping from England and looking for friends, if his past actions are any guide? Did you suppose he’d hurry to Provence? The forests of Anjou? Give me credit for some wit.”

  “Actually, I may have to go to those places too,” Maxwell said. “It appears he also pursues an elusive prey.”

  “Paris,” her grandmother said again, tasting the word. “Of course. Of course we shall go!” she cried. “That is where the world is now. How clever of Noel to have thought of it. I think much better of him now. But,” she added, shaking a gloved forefinger at Maxwell, “I am not pleased that you constantly seek reasons to say good-bye to my granddaughter, my lord, and so fulsomely at that, when it’s clear you’re not leaving us.”

  “I am,” he said staunchly.

  “Perhaps,” Lady Carstairs agreed amiably. “But we come with you.”

  Chapter 12

  She forgot one thing,” Maxwell said as he leaned against the sloop’s railing and watched the bustling dock.

  “You think so?” His companion, a fair-haired and well-dressed young gentleman, looked at him curiously. “Seems to me like the dame has taken everything but her carpets. But then, you know her better than I do.”

  They both stared down at the wharf, where there seemed to be a parade passing through. Footmen, sailors, and all manner of menial servants were following the directions of a grand lady who was ordering them as they carried boxes onto the ferry bound for France.

  “I have to,” Maxwell commented. “But all I meant is that Lady Carstairs seems to have forgotten her trumpeter. She’s done everything else but have fanfares blown at her departure to alert the immediate world to her leaving England, bound for Paris.”

  “Her poor granddaughter,” the other gentleman said.

  Maxwell looked at him sharply. “I detect more lust than sympathy in your tone, Cyril,” he said. “The younger lady is humiliated, embarrassed, and apprehensive at this venture, as she should be if she has any sensibility. And she does. She is, after all, the reason for the journey. And that reason is predicated on her fiancé having left suddenly, without explanation. She was jilted, abandoned, and left in the most uncomfortable lurch. Is she engaged to marry? Can she become engaged to another now? So certainly she’s anxious and her grandmother’s behavior shocks her. But I’m the one who should comfort her. Hands and mind off Miss Phillipa Carstairs, if you please.”

  His companion threw both hands in the air. “Done. I’d no idea. She’s replaced her errant fiancé already, has she? Caught, are you? Understandable. She’s lovely. And an affair with a female who was about to trip down the aisle doesn’t carry the same, shall we say, danger, as with one who doesn’t know men. It’s like a romantic association with a widow; there’s no ruination in question. The lady is experienced and so cannot be compromised. Clever fellow.”

  Maxwell’s answer was a well-placed right fist to Cyril’s face. The gentleman tumbled to the deck, and Maxwell stood, fists up, bracing himself for another blow.

  The scuffle on shipboard stole everyone’s attention from Lady Carstairs’s passing parade.

  When the victim staggered upright, Maxwell dropped him with another fist to the chin.

  The deckhands and sailors were fascinated, calling encouragement to the fallen gent. But the altercation didn’t last long. When the gentleman got to his knees again, Maxwell offered him a hand that wasn’t a fist and helped him to his feet. Then he offered him a clean handkerchief for his nose.

  “Let’s not squabble,” Maxwell told him softly as his victim blotted his streaming nose. “Talwin sent you to see me off and report back to him, not to engage in a battle. My apologies. All is forgiven?”

  Cyril nodded.

  “Then, no harm done. Everyone will think we’re just another pair of gentlemen brutes on our way to debauchery in Paris. But for the record, my friend, Miss Carstairs is honestly searching for her Noel. He must be something,” he mused. “And I’m trying to be merely a help to her no matter how tempting she is. Furthermore, I’ve no idea of how intimate their engagement was before it was broken. Nor do I want to know. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Cyril echoed in a soggy voice from behind the handkerchief. “But not comprehended, if you get what I mean. She’s a peach.”

  “That she is. But I promised to get that peach safely through her quest,” Maxwell said. “I may do things for our cause while I’m about it, but that was something I gave my word on.”

  “So be it,” the gentleman said. “Did you know you’re being followed, by the way?”

  “Tall dark fellow with a bad limp?” Maxwell asked. “Wearing shabby black clothing? Kept his face in his scarf and scuttled up the gangway, and disappeared into a cabin while we were disagreeing?”

  “You noticed.”

  “Never saw a worse spy, which means he isn’t one,” Maxwell said. “Probably escaping a debtor or a shrew. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “He could be pretending to be inept,” his companion said.

  “Aren’t we all?” Maxwell asked wearily. He became aware of his companion’s swollen eye becoming transfixed by something just behind him, and swung around prepared for the worst. He wasn’t prepared for the best thing he’d seen all morning.

  Pippa smiled at him. She wore a cherry-colored cape and a petal pink bonnet over her golden hair, which gave her face a lovely glow. “Good morning,” she said with a tiny dip of her bonnet. “Here we are, finally on our way. That is, if my grandmother is sure she’s packed everything. I vow, the only thing she seems to have forgot to bring is a trumpeter.”

  Maxwell grinned. “My thoughts exactly. Miss Carstairs, may I present Lord Graves? An old friend come to see me off.”

  She dipped her head again. “Good morning,” she said.

  The gentleman bowed. “My great pleasure,” he said. “But your grandmother doesn’t need a trumpet to get everyone’s attention if she has you by her side.”

  Pippa grinned. “I’m not in France yet and the compliments are already getting prettier. Thank you, my lord.” She looked up at t
hem with shining eyes. “France! I know I may sound provincial to you gentlemen, but the thought that I’m actually going to be in France soon is overwhelming to me. I never thought it would be possible in my lifetime.”

  “Neither did we. Just don’t get too fond of the place,” Maxwell said softly. “No one knows how long this peace will last. And, of course, if we find your Noel, you’ll be on your way home again shortly thereafter, with or without him.”

  She grew serious. “Have you heard anything about him?”

  He shook his head. “Too much and too little. Nothing to credit, at any rate. I didn’t mean to get your hopes up, only to warn you that our stay in France may be limited by things we don’t expect. But please remember whatever happens with the peace, and whatever we discover there, France is as far as we go.”

  “What?” a familiar voice cried. “But with the peace, what about Vienna? And Roma? Brussels? All the wonders of the Continent? I saw them on my honeymoon and want to see them again, and I think my granddaughter should too,” Lady Carstairs exclaimed as she came puffing up beside them.

  “Then she must travel with you and your esteemed husband someday, my lady,” Maxwell said smoothly. “Perhaps on a second honeymoon for you, or a first one for her if we find her lost Noel. And yes, I agree, she certainly should see all those cosmopolitan capitals. Except now is not the best time to wade off England’s shores. We go to France, and what I ought to have said is that France is as far as I go whether or not I find Noel. Our relations with Napoleon are balanced on the edge of a knife. It’s too much of a risk to go farther. Were I you, my lady, I’d reconcile myself to that. I mean what I say, and I doubt your husband would allow you to go farther on your own or with newly hired help.”

  “Oh,” Lady Carstairs said dismissively, waving one gloved hand, “why worry about that? He’s so far and we’re so near, what does it matter? It remains to be seen or heard.” She laughed. “Come along, Pippa. We’ve engaged a small cabin for the duration.” She turned and marched toward her cabin.