by Allison Lane
“Heathenish books ought to be banned,” grumbled Parker. “Putting ideas into girls’ heads.”
He had tried to return to the topic of Chloe’s betrothal, even going so far as to explain that he had just become guardian to five girls and was looking for hints on raising them, but Lady Parker obviously suspected his motives. Despite the fact that he had never even met Miss Parker, they acted as though he were trying to seduce her.
He finally gave up and excused himself. He could do Sophia no good if the Parkers left London to protect their daughter from unsuitable influences.
Which brought his thoughts full circle to his reputation. The Parkers must believe every exaggerated tale about him. As did Diana. While it was true that he had cut an impressive swath through the demimonde in his youth, it had never been as wide as rumor reported.
Of course, since returning to London, he had been every bit as wild as during the first months after leaving Warwickshire. He frowned. There was no connection. Granted, his earlier excess had been a reaction to Diana’s attempt to lure him into parson’s mousetrap. But his recent lapses were merely habit triggered by his mother’s pressure.
Fustian! scoffed a voice in his head. You want her and always have.
“That’s absurd,” he muttered. But it wasn’t. How many times had he prevented his hand from reaching out to touch her? He had awakened night after night, stiff with longing despite liaisons only hours earlier.
Lust.
It burned hotter than ever, sharpening his senses until he could barely refrain from ripping off his clothes. And hers.
But what was wrong with that? His brain was still mired in Warwickshire. She had been young, chaste, and too high-born for dalliance. But that was no longer true. She was a widow in a society that ignored discreet liaisons.
He had been stupid to avoid her, stupid to hold her at a distance. He needed her too badly – in his arms, in his bed. And she needed him. He could see it in her eyes.
She would fight him, of course, but he would win in the end. He’d seduced her before. And this time nothing stood in the way. Her widowhood removed all the barriers. An affair would put an end to his unsatisfactory public liaisons, allowing his reputation to return to something more dignified. She would be able to put her marriage behind her and learn the joy of making love with a young, virile man. And the fact that she was barren would be a blessing.
It was perfect. So perfect that he could hardly wait to begin. But he must, he admitted even as his groin strained for release. Discretion was mandatory. He could not draw attention to them – which meant waiting until they returned to London to actually bed her.
But he could set the stage so there would be no delays. An apology for his ham-handed behavior would be a good starting point. It might be enough by itself to make her fall into his arms.
CHAPTER SIX
Diana arrived in the drawing room as George administered an unobtrusive but deliberate cut direct to Charles. Did he know that Charles and Chloe were in love? Or did he object to sharing the room with a reputed rake? In that case, he should be even more incensed to discover Nicholas’s presence.
Charles opened his mouth as if to protest, but quickly shut it, apparently realizing that discretion would serve him better in the long run.
Chloe was not so even-tempered, though. She was already heading for George, the fury in her eyes evident to anyone who chose to look.
Diana glanced around as she hurried to cut Chloe off, relieved to see that the other Parkers had not yet come down. Fewer than half the guests were present. Most had missed George’s actions, and none were yet watching Chloe. “Don’t make a scene,” she hissed.
“But—”
“Your cause will not be served by drawing attention either to yourself or to George’s behavior. And it will be ruined by linking your name to Charles’s. Take a deep breath, then tell me what happened. I only caught the end of it.”
“There was no end.” Another hiss made Chloe lower her voice. “George walked in, spotted Charles, and deliberately cut him dead.”
“Could Charles have done something to annoy him?” murmured Diana. “They’ve not met in town that I know of. Did they quarrel at school?”
“I doubt it. George attended Harrow and Cambridge; Charles went to Eton and Oxford. And I can’t imagine where they might have met in town. George stays home unless he’s escorting me.”
Good heavens! The man sounded even more boring than Chloe had claimed. Did he not visit his clubs? Weymouth must be delighted to have an heir who avoided every conceivable vice while assiduously carrying out his duties. She shuddered.
“Could he have learned of your intentions?”
“I doubt it. He walked with me in the gardens this afternoon – at Mama’s insistence. He surely would have said something if he suspected – especially considering our discussion.” She blushed.
“What did he say that was so embarrassing?” She guided Chloe into a corner where they would be less likely to be overheard.
“I found out why he despises his parents.”
“He is the one who began the feud?”
“I think so. He was quite vague about the details, so much of this is guesswork.”
Diana nodded.
“It started last time he visited home.”
“Why did he sign the betrothal agreement then?”
“He had already done so. You might recall that he had planned to remain at Hutchings Park with his parents until our marriage, and only then move to Eastbrook Manor.”
“There was some talk of that, but when he left, we all assumed that the gossip was wrong. After all, he had just inherited the Manor and had never seen it. It made sense to ready it for his bride. Of course, we also expected him to visit home occasionally – to see you if nothing else.”
She nodded.
“His failure to do so started tales of a family feud.
“For once, speculation was right.”
“So why did he leave so suddenly?”
Chloe again blushed. “His parents have always seemed as straight-laced as mine, but they are not. He heard his mother entertaining a family friend in her bedchamber.”
“A male friend, I suppose.”
“Yes. Incensed at her disloyalty – and appalled at her sinful conduct – he rushed to the village to fetch his father, expecting that Lord Weymouth would properly chastise her and call the friend out.”
“He didn’t?”
“George never spoke to him. Weymouth was spending the afternoon with his mistress. It must be a long-standing arrangement, for the woman has lived in the village for thirty years and has half a dozen children.”
“Not Mrs. Landers!”
She nodded. “George fled. He could not reconcile his parents’ behavior with their lifelong exhortations on honor and duty, so he left home. He swears he will never return to such an immoral house, but he still intends to honor the contract his father forced him to sign.” She sighed.
“What a prude.” Diana was shaking her head, unable to understand how George had survived ten years in public schools if he thought like a Methodist.
“Surely you don’t advocate infidelity!”
“Not at all.” Chloe had that much in common with George. She was still young enough to believe in absolutes. “But my own standards do not prevent me from understanding other people. Until recently, all marriages in our class were arranged.” Chloe cringed. “My own was arranged, you might recall. Like your parents, I came to love my husband, and would never have considered breaking my vows even if I had not. But the Weymouths are different. Their relationship never warmed beyond public civility. And neither pays more than lip service to fidelity – like most of society.”
“George will never condone such behavior. You called him a prude, but that is too mild. He believes his mother should be incarcerated and his father shot. He also thinks that no woman of any age or status should spend even a moment alone with a man. We are far too weak-willed to
resist temptation.”
“Heavens! Does he plan to lock you up?”
“Who knows? But do you see why I cannot wed him?” Chloe wailed, only barely keeping her tone soft enough to remain private.
“Yes, he is certainly not the man of your dreams. But perhaps we can use his rigidity against him. Your mother was singing his praises during tea, so I doubt I can change her mind. George is so like your parents, they already view him as a son. But if he were to take you in disgust, they might reconsider.”
“Eloping would certainly assure that.”
“But it would also damage Charles’s career and ruin both of your reputations. I think we should start with something less drastic. Teach George that you will be a constant source of annoyance. Let him see your real character – though not all at once; too big a shock could have unpleasant consequences. Start by letting him know how much you love London society.”
“That will merely convince him that he should remove me from town as soon as possible.”
“Not if you do it right. I am not suggesting that you suddenly start raving about town. But we are currently in the country. Remark that the Harrisons are wonderful hosts, then temper your words with a more favorable assessment of one particular London gathering. The next time you talk, say something like, ‘I can’t wait to escape Mama’s censorship. I look forward to reading Glenarvon.’ Or name the intellectuals you wish to entertain, or the lectures you’ve missed on scientifics and inventions, or mention how fascinating you found Lord Harrison’s discussion of Greek tragedies, but that you personally prefer Shakespeare.”
“Greek tragedies?”
Diana chuckled. “If you haven’t yet held such a discussion, hie thee to Harrison’s side right now. He is obsessed with Greek drama. I doubt George paid any attention to the subject in school.”
“I see what you mean. I should introduce one of my interests into each conversation, then gently disagree when he criticizes my words.”
“Exactly. Prove that you are not the meek, silent girl your mother has demanded you be. But be careful not to push him too far. You want to gradually increase his fear of wedding you. But he sounds quick to judge and even quicker to punish. Don’t make him determined to whip you into line.”
Chloe moved off in search of Lord Harrison.
“Lady Bounty! I had not realized that you were to be part of this group.”
Diana smiled at Lord Justin. “You skipped my last soiree.”
“Not from disinterest. I was devastated to miss speaking with Constable, but my aunt fell down the stairs that afternoon. She will recover, though it was rather uncertain at the time.”
“Lady Wembley?”
He nodded.
“I had heard, but I didn’t realize you were with her.”
“It is fortunate that I was. My uncle is worthless in a crisis. Will Constable remain in town for a while?”
“Not at this time.”
He sighed. “I had hoped to commission a painting. But enough of that. I’ve wanted to ask for weeks and can no longer resist. How do you happen to know Woodvale? And why did you never mention it before?” The complications and uncertainties surrounding the Woodvale title had been on-dits for nearly a year.
“I hadn’t made the connection until I saw him, and I never really knew him anyway. He spent a summer with one of our neighbors many years ago.”
“Your first youthful tendre perhaps?” He was smiling, but his curiosity was obviously piqued. What interest did he have in their acquaintance?
“Sorry to disappoint you. I was little more than a child in those days and had too much else on my mind. My father was very ill and died soon after. We didn’t socialize much.”
“Forgive my curiosity, my lady. His shock on seeing you again was more than a minor meeting many years ago should warrant.”
She forced a light laugh. “We all know his reputation. I suspect that he had planned to seduce the new widow, but was surprised to recognize someone he last saw as a child. Perhaps it reminded him of the passing years. Why don’t you ask him?”
He frowned, obviously dissatisfied with her response.
“Has Harrison introduced you to his grandson yet?” she asked, ruthlessly changing the subject.
“The moment I arrived. He’s prouder than the father.”
Diana kept talk on the upcoming christening until she could move on to another guest. Chloe had finished with Harrison and was now speaking animatedly to George, whose forehead was creased deeper than she had ever seen it. Charles was flirting lightly with Lady Harrison. The Parkers and Weymouths were chatting seriously in one corner. Were they discussing Chloe’s dissatisfaction?
“The Parker chit is delectable,” Nicholas said from just behind her shoulder. “Half the gentlemen here have their eye on her.”
“Including you, of course,” she snapped, turning to meet his gaze. “Stay away from her, Woodvale.”
“Innocents never interested me – except one I met in Warwickshire. Miss Parker pales in comparison.”
Danger signals screamed in her head. He’d gone from angry to smooth in the course of an hour. His intent was clear even before she noted the heat in his eyes. He’d decided to seduce her – again.
Over my dead body. She deliberately let her gaze wander over his physique – from the broad shoulders under Weston’s superfine jacket, down the tight gray pantaloons that blatantly displayed his purpose, to his highly polished evening shoes. The emeralds glittering on his quizzing glass made his green eyes glow even brighter.
“I got all I wanted from you ten years ago, my lord. I find I’ve grown more particular with age.”
His eyes darkened dangerously, but she ignored them, turning away without another word.
Only then did she curse herself for issuing an open challenge – in more ways than one. A surreptitious glance verified that the tightening she’d felt when her gaze reached his groin had peaked her nipples. He would not have missed so telltale a sign.
Her mental expletives exhausted the collection Humphrey had uttered when Harry left him nothing but a title and a worthless estate. Then she added a few new ones.
* * * *
Nicholas glared at Diana’s retreating back. That certainly had not gone as he’d imagined. She had not allowed him time to apologize.
On the other hand, she clearly felt the same lust as he did. He could not have mistaken that reaction. The next time he approached her, there would be no audience. They needed to discuss this openly, like adults.
She might think she’d had the last word, but she was wrong. One way or another, he would get his fill of her. Only then could he sleep at night.
Sophia interrupted his planning.
“Did you talk to the Parkers?” she demanded the moment she had drawn him into a quiet corner.
“Yes, but it did no good. They suspect me of having designs on the girl myself. If I try to push, they will rush her into marriage. I think a better plan would be to talk to Weymouth. If he learns that she is likely to make Eastbrook miserable, perhaps he will pressure the Parkers into calling off the wedding.”
“When pigs fly!” She clamped her mouth shut, fighting for control. “They think George is too sober. Not ten minutes ago, I heard Lord Weymouth criticize him for being aloof. He claims that Miss Parker’s youthful gaiety will draw George out, and her enthusiasm will force him to enjoy society. He is furious that George eschews the clubs – which are nothing more than glorified gaming hells – and that he prefers sober conversation with people like Coke to socializing.” She sniffed.
“Didn’t I see you talking to Coke yourself?”
“Probably. His agricultural experiments are fascinating, as George agrees. So does Lord Weymouth, for that matter. But what business is it of his how George spends his time and money? What is wrong with disliking town?”
Nicholas raised his brows.
“Forgive my outburst. I am too frustrated for words. Talk to Weymouth if you think it will serve, b
ut don’t be surprised if it does no good. I still think the best course is to convince Miss Parker to jilt him. She would do it if you flirted with her. Every other chit finds your reputation appealing. Why not her?”
“From all appearances, both parties approve the match,” he pointed out gently, nodding across the room where Chloe was laughing with Eastbrook.
Sophia sucked in a sharp breath. “She cannot possibly like him. They are nothing alike.”
“Many people form odd attachments,” he reminded her. “And even more mistake their true feelings, eschewing good matches out of pride, or chasing bad matches because they offer a challenge. Perhaps you should examine your own feelings. Why do you believe Eastbrook might return your affection?”
Pain filled her eyes. “I just know.”
Women! “I have done as much as possible for today. I will watch Miss Parker and Eastbrook before I make any further moves. I would suggest you do the same.”
The butler announced dinner, giving him a chance to slip away from her.
He spent the rest of the evening observing his fellow guests. Miss Parker was seated next to Eastbrook. They were too distant to overhear their conversation, but their demeanor validated Weymouth’s assessment. Miss Parker spoke animatedly to both her dinner partners, drawing Eastbrook out of his shell several times. Lady Weymouth appeared pleased.
Lady Bankleigh had forced a clearly reluctant Langley to partner Sophia. They were seated across from him. Langley showed no interest in her, confirming his doubts about whether an offer would ever be made – Langley was capable of finding his own solution to the family money crisis. Sophia did not appreciate his disinterest. Was it pique or was she secretly hoping to wed him? The question simply would not go away.
Langley’s own intentions surfaced when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room. He immediately approached Diana, talking, laughing, and flirting. Lady Langley said nothing, but speculation blazed in her eyes. He clearly had no personal attachment to Sophia, and Diana was a better prize. His parents wouldn’t care who he wed as long as they didn’t have to support him.
