by Stacy Reid
Her traitorous eyes sought out the Earl of Blade. Just looking at him made her body feel incredibly alive, every sensation felt keener…sharper. Surely she must be afflicted to even be attracted to the wretched man.
“I want whatever attentions I garner to be from my own efforts, Francie, and if you insist on traversing such paths, I will ask questions as to where you were earlier that has left your lips looking as if they have been thoroughly ravished.”
Francie froze, her fingers fluttering to her lips. “You mustn’t breathe a word, Livvie. But it is the most glorious thing…he has asked me to marry him, and I am desperately in love.”
“You are engaged? To whom? Oh, that is wonderful. Will an announcement be made tonight?”
She gripped Livvie’s arm with strength. “You must not say a word, it’s a secret. I cannot tell you his name as yet, but I will soon, I promise you.”
Livvie tugged her closer to the potted palm away from the crush. “Why is it a secret?”
Her friend’s eyes glowed with happiness. “Tobias may not approve…but I am in love, Livvie. I never thought I would be so fortuitous to be given the chance to marry the man I have the utmost respect and love for.”
Love.
Her heart clenched in acute yearning and the realization jolted her. As if they had a will of their own, her eyes sought Lord Blade’s powerful dancing frame. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot and her breath hitched at the weak feelings that assailed her. Livvie’s breathing went from uneven to erratic at the awareness that she was rather taken with London’s coldest earl.
Chapter Seven
Tobias released a giggling Lady Phoebe. Without giving him time to recall his breath, her mother descended on them, glowing.
“My lord, what a fine form you were in after not having danced for so long,” the Duchess of Salop said loudly. “Of course, you and my daughter looked wonderful together. So elegant and full of charm.”
The young lady released a squeal of high-pitched giggles and blinked her eyes at him so rapidly, for a moment he wondered if she was trying to dislodge an object stinging them. “It was a pleasure, Lady Phoebe,” he murmured, bowing over her raised hand. Her eyes widened in delight, while cunning glowed in the duchess’s gaze.
He bowed again. “If you will excuse me, ladies, duty calls.”
“Of course.”
They reluctantly shifted and he made his way over to his sister and Olivia. He tried to reassure himself that as the unofficial host of the ball, it was his duty to lead her to her first dance. But in truth, he wanted to be closer to the vexing beauty and there was a need in him to dance with her even once, before relinquishing her to the bevy of suitors that would soon be flocking to her side for the rest of the Season. Many watched her with uncertainty, no doubt remembering who her father was and commenting on her lack of dowry. According to his mother and sister, if he were to be seen dancing with Olivia, her chances for a good catch would drastically improve.
As he drew closer to his sister, her voice filtered to him.
“Oh, Livvie, I love him so much. I am so frightened to tell Tobias. What if he does not approve?”
My sister is in love? With whom? He had not taken notice of any particular gentleman paying his addresses. Certainly his mother would have informed him. This was her first Season, and she had yet to be presented to Queen Charlotte, or even to attend Almacks and be launched into the ton.
“In love, Francie? What have I warned you about such sentiments?”
She gasped and twirled around, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Tobias!”
But it was Olivia he watched. For a second, pleasure lightened her features before she smoothed her face into a blank mask. Surely she had not been happy to see him?
“Lord Blade,” she greeted coolly. “Why am I not surprised you do not believe in love?”
“Love is a ridiculous notion that only inspires the foolhardy.”
Francie looked crestfallen, and Olivia narrowed her eyes. “So what do you believe in?”
“Power, tangibility, and logical reasoning.”
“Oh, you poor man,” she gasped a bit dramatically, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “No wonder you are so wooden when you dance.”
He arched a brow. “Wooden?”
She gave a tiny sniff of scorn. “Yes, I observed you with Lady Phoebe earlier and you were so…so…bland and uninspiring. Though you commanded her movements through the waltz, you exuded icy restraint and none of the flare and passion that comes with such a thrilling and provocative dance.”
His sister groaned lowly. “I can see you both are about to start and my nerves do not have the willpower to deal with it tonight. I daresay old married couples bicker less.”
“Good God, Francie, strike the notion from your thought. This is the second time you have made such an utterance and I assure you it is in poor form,” Tobias said.
“I am off to procure some refreshment,” his sister said, flouncing away.
Tobias suppressed his smile at Olivia’s affronted expression. He moved closer to her. “So you were watching me earlier.”
“I was observing Lady Phoebe,” Olivia said frostily.
“Were you now?”
Her eyes flashed a warning, and he knew she would not hesitate to administer a scathing set down.
A smile curved his lips. “You look very beautiful, your mother and father would be proud at your transformation.”
She blinked, and then blinked some more. He waited for a scathing retort to fall from her lips, something along the lines of the miraculous nature of him paying her a compliment. But…she only blinked once more. Was he really so harsh in his dealing with her that a simple compliment would render her speechless?
“Have I truly rendered your waspish tongue speechless, Lady Olivia?”
Her lips curved into a wide smile. “I will pretend you did not nullify your compliment just now and offer my thank you very graciously, my lord.”
Tobias dragged his gaze from her mouth. Sweet Christ. Her lips were wide and full, shaped sensually, as if they were made to be debauched. They begged to be kissed, thoroughly.
She touched his arm lightly. “Ask me to dance.”
Her slight caress sent his heart pounding against his ribs, and he wanted to roar at the unexpectedness of his reaction. “You had to ruin it,” he said drily, striving to appear unaffected by her closeness.
She gazed at him with intense curiosity in her green eyes. “I did nothing of the sort.”
“You were well comported and glowing with reserved beauty, and you had to ruin it by asking me to dance. Ladies do not ask gentlemen to dance. You had best remember, or you will soon have your name on the lips of every gossipmonger from the ton.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I certainly did no such thing. I told you to ask me to dance. Vastly different,” she muttered, but a flush had bloomed on her cheeks, and if he was not mistaken, that may have been contrition in her eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord. I knew better, your mother gave me a most severe lecture before we came down and it seems I forgot one of the most important of her lessons.”
“Which was?”
“I must not be bold at all, nor shall I speak of the fact that I paint, swim, and fence. I think I am not to speak of my interests at all.”
Tobias was nonplussed. “Then what are you to converse about?”
She frowned, as if trying to recall the lessons. “Whatever the gentleman I am with wants to speak of.”
He froze, remembering the myriad of women—from the more seasoned to the young debutantes he’d held discourse with in the past. They had always appeared vapid, with no original thoughts, only listening to anything he uttered, while giggling and batting their lashes. Many young ladies had tried to charm him by acting featherbrained.
“Good God,” he muttered. “Are you saying that is a tactic young ladies use to make themselves more appealing?”
“Yes.” She laughed lightly. “I must perfect the art of nons
ensical conversation and ensure I am not deemed to be too intelligent. I must never prattle on about the things I like.” Her lips turned up in the familiar mocking smile. “I wonder, what shall I do with a suitor who has no interest in me?”
“Run from him or your life will be painfully boring.”
She sobered, staring at him with an intensity that was unnerving. “Thank you. I never expected you to say that.”
“Then I have been more of an insufferable buffoon than I realized.”
Her eyes widened and then she laughed, a full, rich sound that made his heartbeat accelerate. “Will you ever forgive my unruly tongue, my lord? It was beyond the pale for me to hurl such insults at you.”
“Forgiven.”
Her pouting lips stretched in a sweet smile. “How charmingly generous.”
Her mouth should be outlawed. Damnation. What right did she have to be in possession of such tempting lips and to intrigue him so effortlessly?
“My lord?”
Tobias frowned. “Yes?”
“I…I had asked a question.”
He was having difficulty following the conversation. His concentration was centered on her mouth. “A question?”
“Are you well, Tobias?”
Pleasure punched through him. He liked the sound of his name on her tongue. He would not mention her slip in referring to him with such intimate familiarity. “Will you honor me with the next dance, Lady Olivia?”
She favored him with her brilliant smile. “I…yes, thank you, my lord.”
The strains of another waltz commenced; he led her onto the dance floor and swept her into the rousing dance. She moved with energy and a hint of recklessness in her movements. It brought to mind the energy and passion she would bring to bed play.
Good God. He almost stumbled at the unwanted thought.
Not quite trusting himself to speak, Tobias made no effort to converse as he moved her around the floor. As he twirled her, he didn’t feel wooden or uninterested, like he had with Westfall’s sister. Olivia swayed in his arms, sensuous, yet innocent in her movements, a most appealing combination.
“So, my lord, what are your interests? I’ve been at Grangeville Park for almost eight weeks and I daresay the only thing I know about you is that you enjoy swimming and riding. You disturb the fishes every morning at seven…I have a clear view of the lake from my chamber,” she admitted with a rueful half smile.
It was Tobias’s turn to blink. When had a young lady ever asked him about his interests and seemed so genuine? He sent his mind into his past with alacrity and was flummoxed to find the answer to be never. And she watched him as he took his morning swim. The knowledge had a disturbing effect on his heart. It sent it racing in the most unwelcome and frustrating manner. “Must we converse, Lady Olivia?”
She flushed. “Why yes, it is polite and expected that when one is dancing, some polite discourse should take place.”
His lips twitched. “I see.”
“And it’s quite wonderful we are not…sniping at each other, isn’t it?” she asked tentatively.
It was. Although, Tobias did not think it was prudent to admit to such a notion. If they were pleasant to each other, might it not lead to other things? Because even now, the interest that glowed in her eyes as she stared at him was not innocent, and it stirred a primal desire in him to see her stripped and laid bare before him. “It is quite refreshing.”
She beamed at him approvingly, then the audacious lady winked. Winked. He suppressed the smile, for the last thing he wanted her to believe was that he approved of her audacious behavior. They spun in silence for the remainder of the waltz and he was grateful for it. The dance came to an end, and he bowed. “Thank you, my lady. Please enjoy the rest of the ball.”
Disappointment crossed her face before she attempted a smile. “And I thank you, Lord Blade.” Her curtsy was elegant and unfortunately gave him a peek into her décolletage. The soft expanse of thin flesh stretched over her chest and collarbones begged to be kissed. It was disquieting to know it was his lips Tobias imagined pressed there, inhaling her scent and introducing her to pleasure.
With a tight smile—and tightening front trousers—he walked away. As he turned, he spied a shock of almost-white blonde hair that belonged to only one woman of his acquaintance. His mistress. Tobias froze, scanning the graceful lines of her neck and shoulders. He moved through the crowd intent on reaching Lady Arabella.
The lady turned and their eyes met across the span of the ballroom.
God’s blood.
“Lord Blade, I have been seeking an opportunity to speak to you about the housing project you are working on with Lord Westfall and my husband. I am keen to hear of the progress of its development and what precipitated the idea,” the Duchess of Wolverton murmured at his side.
Impatience bit through Tobias, and he strangled the useless emotion instantly. “Are you interested in contributing?”
“I am. I think it is wonderful you and Westfall have taken such a keen interest in championing the poor and suffering children of London. I understand the marquess has a vested interest, but what is your motivation?”
The duchess was daring to so boldly hint at Westfall’s bastard daughter, whom he had rescued recently. She completely distracted Tobias from his intention to pursue his mistress and demand an explanation.
“Shall we take a stroll on the terrace and discuss your charity work, Lord Blade? I’m sure Wolverton will join us,” the duchess said with a smile.
“It’s best if we retire to the library.”
With a nod, she acquiesced and they departed the ballroom. Tobias signaled to the duke, and he made his way toward them. Half an hour later, Tobias had secured the added patronage of the Duchess of Wolverton, and she assured him she would bring more support from other members of the ton as a fundraiser. Westfall would be pleased to know she was interested in building a school for the orphans, and she was bold enough to want them to receive a tailored education that would allow them to obtain respectable positions and advance their prospects.
Tobias reentered the ballroom and scanned the occupants. Though he searched for his mistress, his eyes found Olivia first. She was dancing a quadrille, and she was smiling. Satisfied she seemed contented for the moment, he did a quick search for Arabella. Through the crush he spied a flash of white blonde hair. He was wading through the crowd toward his mistress when a footman intercepted him and handed him a piece of paper. Tobias flicked it open.
My Darling Tobias. I am sick to heart at the displeasure I saw on your face earlier. I had to come, to see you. I’ve missed your lips, your touch, and your pleasures. I secured an invitation through my good friend, and I have been most discreet. Do you remember our scintillating adventures at Lady Beechman’s house party? I would have you in a similar manner tonight. I will either be in your bed, the linen closet on the second floor of the west wing, or the gazebo. Please let me make it up to you. I am your willing prey…hunt me, my darling, and claim your reward.
Your lady A
The footman who had delivered it stared straight ahead.
The anger snapping through his veins was unnerving in its intensity. Tobias had no mood for one of Arabella’s sexual escapades tonight. Damn her stubborn hide. What game was she now playing? To think she would flagrantly disregard his position on the matter. The fact that his mother was not wailing and demanding an explanation from him meant she must not yet be aware his mistress was currently under the same roof as her.
Knowing Arabella, she would truly remain hidden until he came or a servant discovered her and some nonsensical commotion would ensue. He should grab hold of her and throw her out on her damn backside. He had no time for deceptive and manipulative games. He would end their liaison. Tonight.
Chapter Eight
Livvie slipped up the stairs, relieved to escape the crush of the ball and even more excited to return to her book. Though it was after one in the morning, she would read at least a chapter or two before
retiring for the night. With a soft sigh, she reached the landing and paused as she swore she saw Tobias strolling down the hallway. Her heart leaped. His chamber was on the other side of the manor. What was he doing in the west wing? Should she engage him in conversation?
Dancing with him had been so thrilling. Disappointment had pierced her when the waltz had ended and he had drifted away in the crowd. Stupidly, she’d wanted to remain in his arms and enjoy at least another dance. Several times, his mouth had curved into a smile that made her want to lean in and lick his lips. No doubt if she acted on the desire in private it would confirm all the unladylike ideas he had about her.
Livvie hurried along the corridor to catch up to him, and slowed her steps when she saw him pause at the door of a linen closet. Instinctively, she flushed herself against the wall and stepped into a pocket of shadows. She frowned when he looked left, then right, before opening the door and slipping inside. What was he doing? Livvie was intrigued.
Maybe she had been mistaken that it was Tobias. She hurried to the door and lifted a hand to knock. She bit her lip, feeling silly. So what if the earl wanted to hide himself away in a linen closet? It was his house. What was worse was the desire she had to enquire if he was well…or if he wanted company. Not to be in the closet but company to talk. Making a decisive decision, she knocked once on the door. “Tobias?”
Then she held her breath.
There was no answer. Feeling ridiculous, she turned to leave. The door was wrenched open and an arm circled her waist and pulled her into the darkened room. Before she could squeak, a hand clamped over her lips.
“What are you doing here and why would you send me such a note?” It was the rough annoyed voice of the earl that prevented Livvie from turning and raising her knees to his man parts. It was truly Tobias. In a linen closet? No doubt he had intended an assignation. A shocking thing for sure. He was so coldly arrogant and proper she had not expected that. She bit down hard against his palm and felt gratified to hear his pained curse. His hand lifted from her mouth.
