And why? What possessed him to act so abysmally?
Ah yes, the dream. She had walked out of his life and into the arms of another. Did he really believe she would do such a thing? Was it possible? He frowned as color flooded her cheeks.
No. No, he did not. She had showed him nothing but kindness, and he behaved like…well, like his father. It was unforgivable.
“We were on our way to the lake,” announced Caroline. “I’m sure you have somewhere important to go, Lord Landis. Please don’t let us keep you.”
He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but she just smiled coolly at him and waited. It appeared he was being dismissed. He deserved it, without question. He looked once again at Nivea still cringing at his presence, and he sighed. “Yes, I’m off to the club.”
He wanted to say more. He wanted to apologize. He wanted her to look at him and smile as she had always done. Seeing her so uncomfortable in his presence made his chest ache. But most of all, he wanted her to make him feel happy again.
But there was nothing he could do. Not with her sister glaring at him. So, he tipped his head and murmured, “Good day.” Tugging the reins, he started his horse up the path.
Chapter 36
“Yes, there is a woman,” Dare choked out, unable to look at Joseph as he confessed the truth.
He had walked through the door at White’s and, spotting Joseph, almost had turned to leave. His thoughts were in turmoil and he didn’t think he could face the man. But sitting there, the man seemed so content and serene, Dare felt…jealous.
How had his friend managed to transition from dandy to husband, and yet appear so satisfied?
Was it really possible?
Without making a conscious decision, Dare stalked over to him and dropped into a vacant chair. At Dare’s proclamation, Joseph looked up at him, startled. Then he waved to the steward to bring another glass and waited for his friend to continue. Unsure how to begin, he shifted in his chair, damned uncomfortable.
“Don’t look so distraught. We’ve all been there. How can I help?”
Dare ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. This woman…she affects me. I don’t want her to, but she does. I can’t stop thinking about her. I have tried staying away, but it’s no good. Then I see her, and it’s still no good.”
“And does she return the sentiment, this woman of yours?”
“No. At the moment, she hates me. With good reason.”
“I see. What did you do to her?” Joseph leaned forward.
Dare buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I said some horrible things to her, and now she is disgusted by me.”
“You need to apologize,” Joseph said simply.
He growled with annoyance. “No. It won’t matter.”
“Of course it would matter. That’s the only thing you can do if you want to get her back.”
He slammed down his fist. “Don’t you see, I don’t want her. I just want to stop thinking about her!”
Joseph gave him a level look and repeated, “If she makes you feel this way, then you want her. You have to apologize.”
That was not possible. Dare knew there were no words that would earn him absolution. “No.”
Joseph snorted.
“I can’t.”
“You must. If you wait too long, she may realize you’re nothing but a pompous, arrogant ass and turn to someone else.”
“What?” Dare slammed his chair legs back onto the ground.
“Well, you are a pompous, arrogant—” Joseph started with a grin.
“That’s not what I meant.”
The thought of Nivea with another man—soothing him with her touch, entrancing him with her scent, her soft blue eyes, full of passion, gazing into his—it made him furious. His dismay was eminently apparent to his friend.
“I know. The thought is galling. That is why you must apologize. The bigger the accusation, the bigger the apology needs to be. So, who is it and what did you say to her? Just how rude and boorish were you?”
There was no way he could admit who it was. Nivea. The woman they all agreed was a plain, plump wallflower. His best friend’s sister. Or formerly best friend’s sister, which made it even worse.
In absence of a response, Joseph continued, “It would make it easier for us to plot your strategy if I had a clue as to your intended. A young miss would require flowers, a picnic, sweet-talking her mother. An older woman will be more expensive—jewelry, a visit to a modiste, followed by a trip perhaps.”
“Neither,” Dare ground out.
“Surely not a barmaid or demimonde?”
“God, no!” Dare barked. What could he say? Nothing. There was no way he could make Joseph understand. He barely understood it himself. “Never mind.” Dare scraped back his chair. “I will figure it out.”
“All right. I’ll be here if you change your mind. Oh, and don’t forget about my birthday celebration on Friday. Everyone will be there,” Joseph called after him. “Maybe you could bring your secret lady friend.”
At the sound of the fool cackling, Dare growled and stormed out.
Friday morning, Dare awoke, humming with excessive energy. Loathe to admit it, he was nervous about the evening. Joseph’s soirée promised to be quite an endeavor. The Horshams were sure to be there. He would have to make peace with them. All of them.
He’d missed William’s companionship more than he’d ever thought possible. He had taken him for granted all these years, just assuming the fellow was a comfortable stand-in, but after spending time with Graves, Highstone, and the other dandies, he found himself irritated by their prattle. Although William’s conversation could not be construed as sparkling, he would never be accused of prattling.
And then there was Nivea. He could simply not deny the his attraction for her. He needed to set things right between them, whatever that meant.
He had not desired another woman since his return from Vincent Hall. That was particularly troubling. Maybe if he could bring her to bed a few more times, he could get her out of his system. This evening could provide the perfect opportunity. He would lure her into a quiet room, beg her forgiveness, and charm her into a quick tumble. Then he could finally move on.
He snorted at his own absurdity. She would probably not even acknowledge him, little yet raise her skirts for him.
But if she did…if he could get her to listen to him. If he could once again get her to smile at him, her wide, generous mouth tilting up in delight as he swooped down for a kiss, feel her shiver with anticipation as he nuzzled her neck.
He relaxed at the thought of being in her presence. Was it possible he could once again find serenity in his life? Dropping his head into his hands, he cursed, “God’s blood, when did I become so maudlin?”
In need of a distraction, he retreated to his study to review his financial accounts. After a half hour of calculating the same figures over and over again, he slammed the book shut. Normally, he found working with numbers soothing, but today he was unable to concentrate.
He should do something physical. Perhaps a round of fencing with Joseph. Surely, the helpless sot would be eager for a chance to escape the mayhem at his house as they prepared for his party.
Happy to have a plan, he called for Spartacus to be brought around and headed out.
“I’m sorry, Lord Landis. Lord Duxbury is not at home at the present time,” informed the butler when he rapped at Joseph’s door.
Damn, where was the fool?
He was on the verge of leaving, when a female voice called out from the parlor, “Carrick, has the florist arrived with my arrangements?”
“No milady. It is Lord Landis.”
Briar appeared in the hallway. “Oh, Landis, we weren’t expecting you. I’m afraid Joseph has gone out with the children. They were getting underfoot and he agreed to help them feed the birds.” She smiled indulgently. “They should be back in a few minutes. Would you care to wait?”
As he had nowhere else to go, he bowed and
crossed the threshold.
Briar drew near and whispered, conspiratorially, “Actually, I sent him away so I could prepare for the party. He was getting underfoot just as much as the children.”
“How are the preparations going?” he inquired, politely.
“Quite well. We have musicians, a sumptuous dinner planned and—oh, you have to see this. It will be the talk of the season.”
She grabbed his arm and dragged him in front of a door just off the dining area.
“We have a new chef who is enamored with pastries. When he mentioned he’d like to do something special, I agreed, never imagining this!” She threw open the doors and pulled him inside.
Tables lined three sides of the room, covered in desserts—large and small pastries, white and chocolate confections, sugared baskets of flowers and fruits—there were treats everywhere. In the middle of the room stood an enormous three-story cake, elaborately decorated in swirls and twirls of colorful icing.
Briar giggled. “It’s quite amazing, isn’t it? I wasn’t certain about it, but chef described it with my girls in the room, and they insisted we go forward. They have been so infatuated by the designs, the chef had to bake them each a little cake to eat.”
He took in a deep breath to respond and froze. The most luscious scent surrounded him. It was delicious. Arousing even. The response was surprising, since he’d never had much of a sweet tooth. He had seen women go into throes over desserts, but he rarely gave them a second thought. He took another inhale and felt his skin flush. The scent. It was intoxicating.
Briar didn’t notice and continued to extol on the chef’s elaborate preparations. “He said he discovered a new process. He takes an exotic vanilla bean and soaks it in brandy to bring out a stronger flavor, then he…”
Vanilla! That was it. The room smelled of Nivea. After filling his lungs with the scent, his groin tightened. He could picture her under him, tied to his bed as he unbuttoned her gown.
“The icing is a special blend of…”
He couldn’t focus on her words. Image after image of Nivea slammed through his brain—her whimpering at his touch in the cabin, pressing him to her breast once he’d been shot, moaning in pleasure as he buried himself into her in his bed. It was enthralling.
This was the smell he’d been craving. Not the exotic, contrived smell at Madame Amora’s, but the sweet, delicious scent of vanilla, of Nivea.
His manhood began throbbing, pressing against his breeches. He could barely breathe. Running his hand through his hair, he was surprised to find it shaking. Oh, good God, this was ridiculous. He had to get away, now, before Briar noticed his obvious state of arousal.
“I’m certain our guests will be…”
“I have to go,” he choked, stopping her in mid sentence.
She gave him her usual bemused expression. “Excuse me?”
“I have to go. I forgot. I have to—to—” Oh, he was stuttering like a school boy, glancing around for some sort of excuse. “I have a surprise for Joseph’s birthday. I must check on it.”
Her face lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. What is it?”
“I can’t tell you. It would ruin the surprise.” He tried for a charming grin, but feared it came out more like a grimace. He had no idea what he would be getting. None, whatsoever. He just knew he had to get out before the smell of vanilla made his arousal embarrassingly evident.
Unperturbed, Briar walked him to the door. “Well, I’m certain Joseph will be pleased. I’ll let him know you were here.”
Barely able to contain himself, Dare bowed and rushed out onto the street. As soon as the door closed, he inhaled large gulps of fetid London air. Ahh, that was better. God in heaven what had happened in there? Obviously he had gone too long without a woman.
Far too long.
And because of his lapse into lunacy, he now had to come up with a present for Joseph. Damnation, he had no talent for that sort of nonsense.
Leaping up onto his horse, he flicked the reins and darted out into the street. He would ride around and pray an idea came to him. As he passed the park, a flash of color caught his eye. It was a gentleman driving a curricle, wearing a coat of lemon yellow, silver buttons flashing in the sun. It could only be Joseph.
What a jacksnape. Imagine if everyone dressed as he. The result would be ghastly. Appalling.
Then it hit him. The perfect gift!
Chapter 37
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Dare gaped.
“No. I absolutely refuse. I will not let you ruin my reputation with this preposterous request.”
Dare stared at his tailor in amazement. The man had never talked to him like that. “Francis, be reasonable. It is just one outfit. Your reputation could not possibly be tainted that easily.”
“No.” He stood immobile, arms crossed in defiance.
Dare decided to take another tack. “Let us pretend it is a masquerade. I will simply be assuming another’s persona for one evening. It will be amusing.”
One look at Francis’s expression assured Dare there would be no possibility of amusement coming from that quarter. Well, Dare couldn’t very well push the man. He was, after all, his favorite tailor. “Fine,” he exclaimed with a flick of his wrist. “I will find someone else to accommodate me.”
Without waiting for a response, Dare exited the shop and headed down the street. Locating a smaller establishment a few blocks down, he went inside and explained his desire.
The tailor gasped at him in dismay. “Impossible!” he cried. “I cannot create what you wish by this evening.”
Dare glared at him. “Surely, you could come up with something suitable. I will pay you handsomely for your effort.”
“My lord, I would love to assist you, but a request such as this would take four days at least. We are a small shop and simply do not have the resources. If you allowed me till the end of next week, perhaps…”
“No, it must be this evening.”
The man held up his hands with a shrug. Dare was on the verge of berating the man for his incompetence when he had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Do not concern yourself, sir. I know just where to go.”
Glancing up at the sign, Dare gave a nod of satisfaction. LeFleur’s Emporium for Discriminating Gentlemen. Yes, he was fairly certain Joseph frequented this shop.
When the man flounced out of the back room and gasped appreciatively at Dare, he knew he’d come to the right place. Dare assumed his most imposing posture and got right to the point. “I have a special request for you. I believe you are familiar with Lord Duxbury.”
“Oui, monsuier. ’E is one of my favorite customers.” The man beamed.
“Today is his birthday. To help him celebrate, I would like to procure an outfit…for me…that is more in keeping with his fashion.”
The man paused for a moment, and then his eyes lit up.
Alarmed, Dare held up a restraining hand. “Not one of his more extravagant creations. I would just like something a hint less…restrained than my usual attire.”
The man nodded with a grin. “Yes, milord.”
“And I would need it completed”—he paused a beat—“for tonight.”
The man’s mouth dropped in alarm. He quickly snapped it shut and narrowed his eyes in thought. “Tonight?” Circling Dare with measured steps, he evaluated his form, seeming to take special note of his broad shoulders straining the fabric of his charcoal grey jacket. “An outfit for tonight that is daring, yet restrained, hmmm…” He returned to face front, crossing his arms and tapping his chin with his long slender fingers.
“You are not the usual shape for such clothes, non? This fashion is more tailored for a man less…how you say…solid. They are usually more effeminate, no?
Dare shrugged, uncomfortable at the man’s intense scrutiny. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was on the verge of withdrawing the request when the tailor suddenly clapped his hands. The eager glint in his eye sent a cold shiver down Dare’
s spine.
“Ah, yes, Pierre has just the thing! Wait here, s’il vous plait, I will return.”
He flew into the back room and emerged a moment later with a coat the color of grape hyacinths.
He held it up and explained, “This was specially designed for a certain gentleman of larger proportions. His lady friend had a penchant for purple, and I created several suits for him during their…ah…how you say…association.”
He shrugged. “The relationship recently ended and he no longer requires the jacket. I think it is quite large enough to fit your physique with very little alteration.”
He removed Dare’s jacket and helped him into the coat. “We nip it in at the waist here and we shorten it like so.” His hands tugged at the fabric briskly.
“Ah, then we add this…” He darted over to a chest of small drawers and pulled out a handful of buttons and gewgaws, and skipped back. Pursing his lips, he held up the various options for consideration.
Feeling quite embarrassed, Dare just stood there trying not to flinch…until the Frenchman let out another squeal. “Mon dieu! Pierre, you are a genius. Why did I not think of it sooner?” He sashayed back into the storeroom and returned dragging an assistant with a monstrosity of color over his arm.
“Come. We will create the perfect look for a friend of Lord Duxbury. Nothing too extravagant, I assure you,” he said with a smirk. “Except for the price, no? Such a rush job, it will cost you, comprenez-vous?
“Oui, je comprends. Just make sure it is ready for this evening.”
“Oui. Oui my lord.”
Chapter 38
Lord and Lady Duxbury were greeting late arrivals to the party when Dare made his entrance. Briar was conversing with an elderly gentleman and Joseph was standing idly by. As Dare approached, Joseph gave him a vague smile before gasping in surprise.
“Landis! Good God, is that you? What are you wearing?”
Dare to Love Page 23
