Rogue's Lady

by Julia Justiss

  There was no reason to feel this keen, deep-seated sense almost of—outrage at discovering Miss Antinori’s favor rested on her cousin. Surely he wasn’t coxcomb enough to believe he alone could bring a smile to those mesmerizing lips. After having shared a single stroll through a ballroom and one carriage ride, he could hardly have any claim over her, nor could he accuse her of deliberately throwing out lures to entice him.

  Though enticed he certainly was.

  Just because she responded to Will—and she did respond to him, of that he was certain—didn’t mean she couldn’t harbor a tendre for Lynton. The man was a distant relation she’d known and probably admired from childhood. Lynton possessed fortune, breeding and he was a handsome military hero, too—the very stuff of a young girl’s dreams.

  Had Miss Antinori encouraged him only to pique Lynton? If she had, Will didn’t really blame her. Though somehow he couldn’t make himself believe that.

  Not that it mattered. Conveyed in one look was all the evidence he needed to persuade him to take Lucilla’s excellent advice and find another lady to charm.

  And yet…something simmered between them when he was near Miss Antinori, something beyond mere attraction—something she felt as strongly as he did. Will would bet the last of his dwindling stack of guineas on it.

  So, how to proceed? If he looked at it from a different angle, his discovery of Miss Antinori’s inclination for Lynton made it easier for him to continue pursuing her. Not even he was chuckleheaded enough to lose his heart to a girl who was pining for another man. Then too, if Miss Antinori’s hopes were fixed on Lynton, Will had no chance of winning her hand and disappointing Lucilla, who wanted a more conventional bride for him.

  By maintaining the connection, he could obtain the lessons he needed in the proper deportment around young maidens, amuse himself in Miss Antinori’s engaging company—and annoy Lynton. Which, in addition to the innate enjoyment Will would derive from it, might assist the lady by spurring on her disapproving suitor.

  His mind made up, Will turned his horse toward home and urged him to a trot. Refusing to admit he had any reasons other than those he’d just detailed for deciding to continue his acquaintance with Miss Antinori, he set his mind to savoring the possibility of seeing her again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A WEEK LATER, ALLEGRA SAT in the carriage beside Rob on their way to Lady Harrington’s musicale. He had initially been uneasy about allowing her to attend a musical event, concerned that her appearance at such a function might remind the ton of her father’s profession. But then Mrs. Randall, who usually meekly agreed with whatever pronouncement Rob made, ventured to disagree.

  “I understand—and indeed share—your concern, dear Lynton, but I most particularly desire to attend. So I asked Lady Lynton, whom I’m sure you must agree possesses an impeccable knowledge of the ton, her opinion on the matter. She assured me that at so large a gathering, Allegra will hardly be noticed.”

  She could well believe Sapphira had said exactly that, Allegra thought acidly. But ’twas another proof of Rob’s kindness that he put aside his own misgivings so as not to deny his timid cousin the pleasure of being present at an event she’d expressed a strong desire to attend.

  Gazing admiringly up at Rob, so handsome in his elegant evening coat and crisp white cravat, Allegra admitted she was anticipating the evening as well—particularly with Rob at her side.

  Since her drive in the park with Rob, she’d attended three small dinner parties and been called upon by several gentlemen, activities only mildly more amusing than shopping or paying morning calls. Growing up surrounded by professional musicians, she’d had the pleasure of listening to practices or performances almost daily. Not until she came to London into the silent isolation of tending her dying uncle did she realize how great a part music played in her life. With the resources of the metropolis now available to her, she hoped tonight’s event would be the first of many musical evenings.

  Lord Tavener had called as well, though she’d acceded to Rob’s wishes and refused his invitation to drive. The rather stilted conversation produced by her other gentlemen visitors made her appreciate all the more his teasing wit—and regret having to turn down his tempting offer.

  Perhaps she would see Lord Tavener tonight, she thought and felt an immediate kick in her pulse. Having his clever and amusing commentary on the performers and personages present would add further luster to what promised to be a wonderful evening.

  Excitement bubbling up, she turned to Rob. “What musical groups will play tonight? Soloists? Ensembles?”

  “I don’t know. I expect there will be some of both.”

  “There might be a chamber orchestra and perhaps some dancing after,” Mrs. Randall inserted.

  “An orchestra? Oh, that would be a treat!” Allegra felt her already giddy spirits rise further. “I suppose they might begin as wind or string ensembles before combining to perform as an orchestra.”

  Rob cleared his throat. “Allegra, I’m sure I hardly need remind you that if you happen to be…acquainted with any of the performers, you must not converse with them. A nod of acknowledgement, perhaps, but no more! Indeed, it would be best if you contain your enthusiasm and appear to be only mildly entertained, as any well-bred maiden would.”

  Allegra’s soaring spirits fluttered downward. What if Mark Harden, who had often played first violin when her papa was concertmaster, happened to be one of the musicians? Must she cut this man who had often teased her as a child?

  Not that Harden, doubtless knowing the rules of society as well as Rob, would feel slighted if she did not speak to him. She didn’t really stand on terms of intimacy with the man; Papa had always kept his family at a distance from the other performers, especially as she grew older. Still, an anger she could scarcely restrain bubbled up at the notion that she must mask her enjoyment, pretend to be just another society maiden who found music “mildly entertaining” and considered conversing with a musician beneath her. She pressed her lips firmly together to keep from returning a sharp comment.

  Yet this was the society she was attempting to enter, she reminded herself. Only the stark truth that she would have to embrace his world if she wished to marry Rob kept her from telling him here and now that if she must pretend to be someone she was not—and live that lie forever—it might be better for her to abandon the idea of a presentation.

  Had Sapphira anticipated her quandary? Allegra wondered suddenly. Was this why Rob’s stepmother, notably uninterested in the enjoyment of anyone save herself, encouraged Mrs. Randall’s desire to attend this event? Had that been the real meaning behind the odd comment Sapphira had tossed her as they passed on the stairs tonight, that she trusted Allegra would doubtless find at the musicale a convivial group with whom to converse?

  Rob must have taken her lengthy silence for modest, quiet and pretty-behaved agreement, for he leaned over to pat her hand. “Don’t worry, Allegra. Letitia and I will insure that only presentable gentlemen are allowed to approach you. As long as you confine your remarks to a general mention of the performances, those gentlemen will pronounce you a well-brought-up lady—and a lovely one.”

  With a growing sense of incredulity, she realized not only did Rob not recognize the repressed anger beneath her silence, he thought she was worried—and ashamed!—that someone in the ton might remember she was Emilio Antinori’s daughter.

  It took all the control over her temper developed after a tempestuous youth to avoid snapping that she was proud, not ashamed, of what Papa had been, and that ’twas ludicrous for the members of his precious society to think less of her for being the daughter of a cultured, intelligent man whose genius far outshone them all.

  While she ground her teeth to keep from speaking, the carriage swayed to a stop.

  “Be a good girl and I guarantee the evening will be a success,” Rob advised, giving her nose a tap before he exited the vehicle.

  A good girl? she thought angrily as Rob handed them down from t
he carriage. He’d consider her “good” as long as she appeared demure, agreeable—and did everything she could to conceal whose “girl” she really was. Though Rob’s advice was only sensible in view of her circumstances, she could not prevent herself from feeling more irritated with him than she’d been since his return.

  He led them toward a columned front door flanked by flambeaux and staffed by half a dozen servants who were assisting the arriving guests. After handing over their cloaks and greeting their hostess, Mrs. Randall preceded them into the ballroom, where chairs had been arranged. While her chaperone claimed places for them beside Lady Maxwell and Mrs. Anderson, two of her widowed friends, Allegra scanned the assembled guests.

  If Lord Tavener were here, she could discuss the music with him. Not only had he already broached the forbidden topic of her parentage, he alone among the ton members she’d encountered seemed to think no less of her for being a musician’s daughter. Indeed, a musician himself, he’d heard her father play and admired his genius.

  Whatever he spoke about, his comments would be intelligent and amusing. Most likely he’d follow up his observations with some outrageous remark designed to make her blush and reprove him. Then, after appearing to listen closely to her reprimand, he’d deliver another teasing comment that would have her blushing—and laughing—again.

  She smiled at the memory, realizing how much, in trying to please Rob by avoiding Tavener’s company, she’d missed their exchanges. Despite the need to guard herself from his sensual appeal, she had to admit she felt more at ease around him than with anyone else in London.

  Certainly more relaxed than she was while trying to impress Rob—who smiled indulgently and tapped her on the nose. Not since her hoydenish youth had she been so tempted to slap him.

  But after a thorough inspection of the assembled crowd she had to conclude, with a sting of disappointment sharper than she liked to admit, that Lord Tavener was not among the guests. Shortly after, the music began.

  A string quartet—mercifully, its members all unknown to her—performed first, giving a masterful rendition of a Mozart violin concerto. As the graceful chords soared over her, Allegra felt her agitated spirits begin to calm. By the end of the first movement, her irritation had dissolved as she lost herself in the glorious interplay of melodic themes. Loath to hear the last note, she clapped enthusiastically after the quartet finished—until, with a little frown, Rob reached over to stay her hands.

  “There will be an intermission before the next group begins,” Mrs. Randall said hastily to cover the awkward moment. “This would be a fine time to introduce Allegra to more of society. Lynton, might you fetch us a glass of wine while you discover which suitable gentlemen are present?”

  “Excellent suggestion, ma’am. I’ll go at once.” After bowing, Rob walked off.

  Just as well that he left, Allegra thought resentfully, since she was once again feeling out of charity with him. Her interest wandering from the conversation between Mrs. Randall and her two friends, she was gazing across the room at the cornice carving of winged cherubs, defiantly humming the last musical theme, when a familiar voice startled her.

  “At last I find you alone,” Lord Tavener said, inclining his head toward her chaperone, apparently too engrossed in her conversation to have noticed his approach. “If I may be so bold?” He indicated the chair beside her.

  Her spirits leapt in anticipation. “I should be delighted,” she said. As he seated himself, the heat and scent of him, shaving soap and warm male, washed over her, quickening her heartbeat and causing her breath to catch.

  “You must allow, there has been precious little private chat during my morning calls. How are you to instruct me if we never have a chance to talk?”

  Allegra felt her cheeks warm at his reproof. “I am sorry, my lord. I have missed our conversations.”

  “Not half as much as I! Obviously I have not been amusing enough, since I’ve been unable to convince you to drive with me again.” Leaning closer, he murmured, “It’s your fault, you know. ’Tis nearly impossible for a man to think of something clever while his senses are being assaulted by the beauty of the lady beside him.”

  He fixed on her that intense look that always made it difficult for her to breathe. As if his brilliant blue eyes could truly emit fire, she felt the skin of her cheeks, her lips, her throat heat as his gaze traveled slowly downward.

  Never before had she been so conscious of the bareness of her chest and shoulders, the upper curve of her breasts above the décolletage of her gown. When his gaze halted there, she felt the nipples concealed beneath their covering of azure blue silk swell and burn.

  “My lord!” she protested. “You are gazing inappropriately. Again.”

  He jerked his eyes up. “Sorry! But you have no idea what that tiny ribbon of black lace trimming the edges of your sleeves and bodice does to a man.”

  “For shame, Lord Tavener!” she said severely. “’Tis mourning lace.”

  “My point exactly. I am trying to be proper, but you distracted me. Again.”

  She could not help it; laughter bubbled up, dispelling the sensual tension. “I see it still requires much work to make you a fitting companion for a gently bred lass.”

  “As I have already admitted. So, you will drive with me again? Or have you irritated Lynton sufficiently that you intend to renege on our agreement?”

  Surprise and dismay flooded her as guilt pricked sharply. “Irritated Lynton! Why would you think such a thing?”

  He gave her a glimmer of a smile. “I saw you with Lynton in the park. The way you were gazing at him…well, it wasn’t a ‘cousinly’ look.”

  Allegra felt her face burn. She could deny his assumption—but she couldn’t bring herself to sully the relationship they’d built by playing false with him. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I…do care for Lynton. But you mustn’t think I encouraged you only to catch his attention! I truly enjoy your company.”

  His smile widened. “Thanks be to God! I shall not have to search my soul for some shred of honor powerful enough to compel me to stop calling on you. So, is the diversion working?”

  Encouraged that he had taken her confession so well, she found herself admitting, “For a while, it seemed to be. But of late, he only seems interested in introducing me to every eligible gentleman of his acquaintance.”

  “Perhaps you need to rattle him again by spending more time with me. Let me call tomorrow and arrange another outing—with Mrs. Randall accompanying us this time.”

  Perhaps they could be allies after all, just as she’d hoped. But honest allies now, both of them fully cognizant of the other’s goals. “So—you’re not angry with me?”

  His expression gentled. “I could never be angry with you.”

  Relief, surprising in its intensity, filled her as she met his gaze. Yes, he was temptation—he could not help but tempt, so powerful was the masculine appeal in every line of that lithe body, those feral eyes, the sensual lips.

  But something beyond the physical drew her to him. An intuitive understanding seemed to connect them—an intellectual bond she’d never experienced while conversing with any of the proper gentlemen to whom Rob introduced her. As if she’d known him most of her life, as she had Rob, rather than barely more than a week.

  Dare she let herself acknowledge that bond, despite the danger he posed?

  Even as she debated the wisdom of such a step, he placed his hand over hers. “Shall we be friends, then?”

  Any rational reply she might have made was lost as a tingling sensation, more arousing than brotherly, radiated from the pressure of his gloved fingers all the way to her shoulder. The familiar warning bells clanged in her head.

  Despite their clamor, Allegra didn’t want to pull her hand free. As if she were iron to his magnet, this simple touching of fingertips infused her with the desire to move closer still.

  Helpless to look away, she watched the blue of his eyes deepen as his expression changed to a focused inte
nsity she recognized all too well. Before she could force herself to break the contact between them, Tavener suddenly released her fingers and sat back.

  “Help me here,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m about to say something else inappropriate.”

  A guilty thrill of feminine satisfaction rippled through her at this confirmation of how much her nearness affected him—followed, for some unaccountable reason, by a deep tenderness.

  “You should say, my lord,” she advised, “‘I’m delighted that we are in agreement, and I shall look forward to calling on you tomorrow.’”

  He nodded, humor replacing the desire in his eyes. “Not precisely what I should like to say—but no more on that, so you may be easy. You see, already your instruction is bearing fruit. But I sense gentlemen approaching, doubtless your guardian bearing more worthy candidates to your hand. Shall I leave now, or linger and give him the pleasure of dismissing me?”

  She glanced behind them. Two men had indeed nearly reached them, but not escorted by Rob. Before she could ask Tavener to identify them, she sensed him stiffen.

  The gentlemen bowed before her chaperone. “Mrs. Randall, will you allow Tavener to introduce us to your lovely ward?” the tall blond man asked.

  Interrupted from her conversation, Mrs. Randall looked up with a start. One hand fluttered to her throat as she glanced from the smiling faces of the newcomers to Tavener’s forbidding one.

  “Though it would be more proper to have Lord Lynton present you,” Mrs. Randall replied uncertainly, “I suppose Lord Tavener might do so. Might he not, Lady Maxwell?”

  Thus appealed to, Mrs. Randall’s friend turned to inspect the blond gentleman. “You’re Wofford, Lady Martin’s grandson, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Indeed I am, ma’am,” the blond man said with a bow. “You know my grandmother?”

  “She was one of my bosom bows the year I made my come-out. Mrs. Randall, you may be quite easy about allowing Lord Tavener to present Wofford and his friend.”