“I’m sorry. Please accept my apologies,” he said, all politesse and unimpeachable decorum. But his hooded gaze and the way his mouth twitched at the corners told her he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry a’tall.
Elizabeth had no doubt the viscount knew it was he she’d been searching for. He’d heard her. Heat flooded her face. She could only imagine what he thought of her.
Her mother had also warned that her impetuous nature would one day land her in a heap of trouble. Trouble of this sort must follow the viscount about like a starving mongrel in search of table scraps.
Truly, if she had a mite bit of sense where he was concerned, she would return inside now that her curiosity had been quenched. She’d seen him, spoken to him, touched him even; that should be enough. And if she were lucky, he’d never discover she was a member of the same Smith family his father had paid one thousand pounds to quiet her parents’ cries for his brother to redress her sister's honor.
“I-I didn’t expect to find anyone out here.” Elizabeth nearly groaned in dismay at such an obvious lie. At affairs such as this, gardens weren’t merely a floral feast for the eyes but also provided a haven for lovers seeking privacy from the crush, and tall and dense foliage proved the perfect shield to share a kiss and other such intimacies.
Lord Creswell continued to study her with slumberous eyes. Silence dragged along at a tortuous pace and with every second that ticked by, Elizabeth’s discomfort climbed. She wished he would say something.
Finally, he smiled a slow devilish grin, his gaze drifting from her face to her neckline before dipping lower. He paused there, lingering long enough to offend—if a woman would be offended by the lustful stare of a handsome man. Slowly, he lifted his regard back to hers. “And I hoped you were looking for me.”
A wave of arousal, the likes of which Elizabeth had never known, washed over her. She went from warm to burning hot in the span of seconds.
“I came out for some air.” Her voice was breathy and uneven.
Liar. The silent rejoinder was brutally swift and damning.
The word remained unspoken but was there in his too knowing eyes and the soft laugh that rumbled from his throat.
“How utterly remarkable as I too came out for…air. I think it would be prudent if we took air together. Would that please you, Miss Smith?” He advanced a step. He now stood close enough for her to make out dark stubble beginning to shadow his jaw. His shoulders blocked the gaslight illuminating the terrace.
Did he truly believe she would take air with a man she’d only just met?
But of course he did, and she could hardly blame him given her actions. There were names for women like that.
Elizabeth Ann Smith?
No, despite what he thought or how it might appear, she was not that type of woman even if the temptation to throw off the rigid strictures of society acted upon her like a virulent disease.
Elizabeth affected an airy sophisticated laugh, attempting to hide what she prayed wasn't too obvious; that she was unaccustomed to the kind of flirtatious banter he no doubt excelled at. “My lord, we are taking air together.”
“No, not yet but I’m sure we will soon.” This time his tone did not tease. His expression sobered as he eyed her mouth with more than avid interest.
Elizabeth felt as if a fire had been ignited inside her. However, the other part of her, the daughter of Richard Smith with his rigid moral code and God-fearing ways felt compelled to say something. Indeed, something that would convey a bit of umbrage at his cheek. A young lady in her position would not be aroused by such provocation. In fact, she would be quite outraged. They were strangers after all.
“My lord,” she began, “I really must take—”
“Derek. Lord Derek Creswell. But then I’m certain you know precisely who I am. And I would like to know you, Miss Elizabeth Smith.” The velvet smoothness of his voice strummed her senses like the premier virtuoso of seduction.
Elizabeth’s mouth snapped closed.
He knew her name. More importantly, he had inquired about her.
Swallowing was made all the more difficult with the complete obstruction of her throat. Her heart began to beat double time.
He watched her as if he liked nothing better than to have his wicked way with her. Her nipples peaked and the place between her thighs grew moist in her own wicked response. But no matter how tempting the offer in his eyes, she could not encourage him. A union between them was impossible.
A small step backward began her retreat as her mind strived for clarity, focus and sound reason. She could not permit this.
“You came here looking for me.”
His statement stopped her in her tracks and her mouth opened to launch a reflexive denial. A blatant lie.
He countered by taking several steps forward, forcing her behind the towering hedgerow lest he run her over with his powerful body. He stood inches from her. Her eyes were level with the top silver button of his waistcoat. They were now out of sight should any of the guests venture onto the terrace. Elizabeth tipped her head back to look into his face.
“Miss Smith, let us be honest with each other, shall we?” How he managed to coax and command in the same breath, she didn’t know but his tone did both. “I have watched you…watch me…for many weeks now. You want this as much as I do.” His silky voice not for the weak or faint of heart. Ladies who easily succumbed to the vapors would have been a puddle at his feet by now.
Mesmerized, Elizabeth stood mute, inhaling his musky scent and fighting the weakness stealing over her limbs and making sawdust of her will.
His head began a slow descent giving her time enough to halt the whole thing before it went too far. “Would you like me to kiss you, Miss Smith?” He spoke softly and his voice lulled.
And for a moment she was lulled into believing that she had some control in this situation. That he had given that back to her.
“I-I do not make it a habit of kissing gentlemen I do not know—I mean a’tall.” She didn’t exactly push him way. She said precisely what a young lady of her rank ought to say but felt no satisfaction in it. Instead, it left her deprived, denied and wanting.
He chuckled softly. “Well there must be a first time for everything.”
The viscount possessed a sensual allure so powerful and intoxicating it rendered her willing and eager to experience everything he offered. She leaned in, pure need driving her. But before the distance between their mouths could be bridged, he halted and pulled slightly back. “I will not take what you will not give freely. What do you want? You only have to tell me,” he coaxed, his breath mingling with hers.
Elizabeth blinked several times before his handsome face came into focus.
Devil take him!
They had been doing perfectly well on the course he had set. Now, fully aware of the folly about to take place, she had no choice but to refuse him.
As if he sensed the turmoil roiling within her, he slid his hands around her waist, strong and possessive, so very familiar as if they hadn’t spoken for the first time just that evening. “Will you deny us both?” With his words, the roughness of his voice and his proximity, her battered resistance collapsed in total defeat. She wanted this just as much if not more than he did; had wanted him in some fashion since she’d first laid eyes on him.
She shook her head and before she could take another wispy breath, his mouth was on hers, claiming her wholly.
Derek Creswell may be a lord by birth and a gentleman in appearances and comportment but his kiss told her there was nothing remotely proper about him. He was carnality at its most sinful.
This was no soft and tentative kiss of new lovers but one so sensual and hot, it reverberated through her right down to the soles of her feet. His tongue traced the softness of her lower lip before plunging inside to coax hers into a delicious love play.
Plowing her fingers through the thick vibrancy of his hair, Elizabeth twined her hands around his neck, and tipped her head back wanting nothin
g else but to submit and feed the hunger pulsing inside her. Her tongue worried his full bottom lip. A groan of pleasure rumbled from his chest as he took the kiss deeper, drugging her into mindlessness.
He pulled her closer at the same time she pressed for more contact. The hard thrust of his erection prodded heavily against her belly. A rush of moisture pooled between her thighs. Elizabeth briefly broke the kiss and let out a ragged moan. Clutching her backside firmly in his hands, Lord Creswell angled her hips so he could fit his erection where she was wet for him, ached to be filled by him. Pleasure stole her next breath and she gasped, wanting only to push against him without the encumbrance of skirts, petticoats and stays.
The click of a door was the same as spraying cold water on two particularly amorous dogs. They sprang apart, Elizabeth wrenching herself from the warmth of his arms, her breath coming in short halting pants, her body still thrumming with unquenched desire.
A young girl’s tittered laughter filled the air. She was quickly hushed by a male voice and then all went silent but for the click of footsteps on the flagstone, until even that was no more. Fear of discovery made Elizabeth unwilling to chance a glance around their leafy shelter to ensure they were alone. Instead, she peered up at the viscount.
Except for the slight ruffling of his hair where her fingers had played, Lord Creswell did not appear all that affected by the kiss. But a look down revealed his erection straining against his black trousers.
She’d felt that pressed against her but the visual evidence of his arousal heightened her own.
“I should not have permitted you to kiss me like that.”
“Then how should you have permitted me to kiss you?” he asked smiling. “Or perhaps the better question would be where.” His gaze dropped suggestively to her breasts and then drifted lower. And lower still.
Dear Lord, he can’t mean he would ever put his mouth there. The thought should have repulsed her but the heaviness at her center returned anew, growing slick under his heavy-lidded gaze.
“I didn’t mean for you to kiss me a’tall,” she said, her face fiery hot with embarrassment. What she spoke was the truth. She hadn’t followed him out here to encourage much less participate in him taking such liberties. She’d wanted to meet him face-to-face and finally satisfy the curiosity about him she had harbored for six long years.
“Is that so? Well, I look forward to our next…meeting.” He spoke softly and smiled almost gently, as if he was privy to something she was not.
Perhaps thoughts of all the things he wanted—intended to do with her.
Her faced burned. “I should go back. Missy must be wondering where I’ve got to.” She hesitated, waiting but unsure of what. Certainly not to see if he’d try to convince her to remain where they could share more of those mind-drugging kisses. Her wanton response spoke for itself.
“I will not keep you then.” He sketched a bow.
It was for the best.
“It probably would not be wise if we returned together. I will use the entrance on the side. Rutherford keeps that door open for these affairs. If you like, I shall go first.” He lifted his brow in question, now all gallantry and polished composure.
Elizabeth agreed with a little nod and watched as he disappeared, silent and sure-footed, into the moonless night. When she heard the last of his retreat, she turned on her heel, dashed a quick glance around before making her way toward the French doors.
And then another voice emerged from the dark. “Why, Miss Smith, what a surprise.”
Chapter Three
At the sound of the nasally voice of Lady Danvers, Elizabeth immediately went as still as prey sensing danger. Instinct told her not to turn around, but to run and hide.
But she knew she couldn’t outrun the reach of the dowager’s influence and hiding would merely bring out the gossip hounds, who could sniff out a brewing scandal in their sleep.
Perhaps Lady Danvers hadn’t witnessed anything untoward and thereby worthy of gossip, malicious or otherwise. Perhaps she was merely stopping her to exchange pleasantries. A perfectly lovely fantasy.
With a smile fixed in place, Elizabeth turned to confront the danger head on.
Oh Lud! Lady Danvers’ presence would have been bad enough, but to add to Elizabeth’s growing dismay, at her side stood Mrs. Albright, one of her mother’s oldest and dearest friend. Her raised brow and tight lips conveyed a mixture of shock and concern.
What on earth was she doing here? Her mother had mentioned her friend would be visiting with her niece in London for a spell in the summer but had never mentioned an acquaintance with her cousin Missy or James.
“Who was that with you?” Lady Danvers demanded, her voice ringing out haughty and shrill. Her eyes, a shade of blue not heralded by the poets, flashed triumphantly behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
When Elizabeth didn’t immediately respond—for she could not think of one face saving thing to say—the dowager flicked a gloved hand at her as she made a coarse inspection of her from head to hem and then back up again. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I realize this is your first Season, but in London society, country girls are expected to comport themselves better than barn felines. Loose morals have no place here.”
Elizabeth would have preferred to be cross-examined before the magistrate than suffer the dowager’s dressing down. Her world was crumbling down around her and she could do little to stop the destruction.
Opposite of the Dowager Countess of Danvers in every possible way with her small-boned frame and impeccable manners, Mrs. Abernathy appeared unwilling to convict Elizabeth without a fair hearing. “Lady Danvers, I’m sure you are mistaken. I have known Elizabeth since she was a babe. If you would give the poor girl a chance, I’m quite certain she has a perfectly logical explanation.”
Elizabeth could have kissed her, the dear woman. Mrs. Abernathy had always had a fondness for her and her sisters, bringing them treats on every visit with her mother.
“What possible explanation could there possibly be? It’s quite obvious they were doing a sight more than flower gazing. And don’t you try to protect her. You heard their goings on as clearly as I did.” The dowager folded fleshy arms across her ample breasts, refusing to budge an inch as she stood set to be jury and judge while wielding her executioner’s sword like she’d been going so all her seventy odd years.
Elizabeth met Lady Danvers’ disapproving glower without flinching. The Dowager Countess of Danvers was a formidable force in society, her influence wide reaching and much sought after. An unfavorable word from her lips would spell certain disaster for someone in Elizabeth’s position.
Anger began a slow burn at the woman’s arrogance.
What possible explanation indeed.
But Elizabeth wasn’t addled in the brain as to respond the way she wanted—the way she ought to—fully understanding the ways of London society. A healthy dose of fear settled in the pit of her stomach.
Think, think, think.
She must tell the blasted woman something before the gossip wheels began to turn in earnest and at record breaking speeds. If the dowager countess had her way, Elizabeth and the Smith name would be dirt before the evening closed.
“My sincerest apologies, my lady, if my behavior has been indiscreet. But in my excitement, I acted out of character.” Where she was going with this, Elizabeth hadn’t the faintest idea, but Mrs. Abernathy’s brown eyes widened and Lady Danvers gave a succinct nod, urging her to proceed. She now had their most focused attention.
“It’s not to be announced until the end of the Season, but given what you heard, I shall tell you. I would hate it if you walked away thinking the worst of me.”
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and threw herself at the mercy of an uncertain fate. “The gentleman had just asked me to marry him. I am betrothed—or at least I shall before the end of the Season.” Which gave her four weeks to perform that minor miracle.
A delighted smile, stretched across Mrs. Abernathy’
s face. “Oh my dear girl, that is wonderful. My, your mother never said of word of it to me.” She clapped her hands together in girlish glee.
However, the dowager wasn’t so easily fooled. She directed a level stare at Elizabeth that made her want to squirm. Acting was not one of Elizabeth’s talents but with her future resting in the hands of an unyielding and austere Lady Danvers, she summoned up every bit of ingenuity she possessed—which did not account to much—and smiled a foolish, giddy smile of a young woman with stars in her eyes and love in her heart.
“And to whom are you betrothed?” the countess asked.
“Unfortunately, I cannot say until the gentleman receives the blessing of my father. Which my father will grant, of course, as the gentleman is titled,” she added quickly, willing to say anything to remove the skepticism from the dowager’s eyes.
Lady Danvers glanced at Mrs. Abernathy before turning back to her. “A peer you say?” She spoke with enough doubt in her tone to offend.
The witch!
Although truthfully, Elizabeth acknowledged that before her father inherited his title, there was more a likelihood that money would fall from the sky than her marrying even a sir. But now it was indeed possible, especially with the one thousand pounds her father had settled on her.
Elizabeth drew back her shoulders and stiffened her spine. “Yes, my lady, a lord.”
In response, the dowager raised one over-plucked eyebrow and gave a soft, harrumph before saying, “I will be expecting an introduction before you go announcing it to all of London.”
If the woman had requested she deliver her the moon on a platter, Elizabeth would have gladly promised to do just that. But since thankfully, the dowager hadn’t asked the impossible, Elizabeth just nodded vigorously. “You will be the first to know, that I promise.”
“Make certain you do.” The unspoken threat of revealing all the dowager had heard and seen tonight all over London simmered between them. “And do make yourself presentable before you go back inside. It shan’t take a genius to guess what you have been up to.”
All's Fair in Love & Seduction (The Elusive Lords, Novella) Page 2
