Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den)

by Ivy, Alexandra

  The blue eyes widened, as if considering his position for the first time. “Yes, I suppose that is true. No one would be foolish enough to believe you consider me a desirable flirt.”

  A reluctant laugh was torn from Hellion. “You are very blunt.”

  A measure of amusement touched her dark countenance. “Yes, I suppose I am. Like you I prefer to avoid complications. Unfortunately, it is not a trait that is much admired in a female.”

  “No, I suppose it is not,” he agreed, reluctantly accepting the ridiculous, unwelcome pang of sympathy for Miss Middleton. What would she do if he refused to help her? Return home? Or worse, approach another gentleman who might take unfair advantage of her obvious naiveté? “You are quite set upon this scheme, Miss Middleton?” he abruptly demanded before he could halt the words.

  Her features hardened before she gave a firm nod of her head. “I wish to wed this Season, Mr. Caulfield. I do not believe I could endure another London Season. In truth, I would rather face the gallows. If that means offering you five thousand pounds to make me noticeable to eligible gentlemen, then so be it.”

  His full lips twisted. “You have no assurance that my meager attention will provide you the opportunity that you seek.”

  That smile that seemed to glow from her very heart abruptly returned. “Any investment is a gamble. I am willing to take the risk.”

  “You are a unique woman, Miss Middleton,” he said softly.

  “Then you will accept my proposition?”

  Hellion paused.

  He should tell her no.

  It was not that he truly feared being labeled a fortune hunter. It had merely been a convenient excuse. After all, there was little shame in choosing a wife that would bring wealth to a family. It was, in fact, expected of many gentlemen, even if delicacy prevented mentioning such a boorish subject.

  And heaven above knew he was in desperate need of the blunt. Still, he was far too cautious to take her words at face value.

  A young virgin was always trouble.

  Marriage trouble.

  “I will consider it,” he at last conceded.

  “Thank you.” She briefly laid her fingers upon his sleeve before offering a small curtsy. “I must return before I am missed.”

  With swift, rather inelegant motions she had turned to make her way back up the stairs to the balcony. Hellion’s lips twitched as he watched her retreat. She moved like a stable boy, he acknowledged wryly. And yet . . .

  For all her lack of grace and traditional beauty, there was something about her. A vibrancy of spirit. A purity of purpose. And a passion for life that an experienced gentleman knew would be echoed in the bedchamber.

  Ah, yes. She would be no passive mouse to close her eyes and bear the touch of a man. She would be a willing recipient who would give as much as she would take.

  “A most intriguing proposal.” A voice drawled from behind him.

  Turning about, Hellion regarded Biddles as he leaned negligently against the trellised arbor.

  “You heard all?”

  Biddles negligently removed a rose petal clinging to his shocking-pink coat. “But of course.”

  “And your thoughts?”

  “Five thousand pounds could provide a certain measure of comfort.”

  “As long as Miss Middleton is to be trusted.”

  The long, pointed nose twitched. “You have reason to believe that she is lying?”

  Hellion briefly glanced up to watch Miss Middleton disappear into the ballroom.

  “Not at all, but after having been hunted by desperate maidens and marriage-mad mamas for the past ten years I have learned to err on the side of caution.”

  “Most wise,” Biddles murmured, although there was a glimmer of amusement in the pale eyes.

  “I would prefer to assure myself that Miss Middleton is precisely who she claims to be.”

  “Ah, and how do you propose to do that?”

  Hellion folded his arms over his chest, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Oh, not me, my dear Biddles. You.”

  Biddles gave a vague blink. “Me?”

  “If there is a secret to be discovered concerning Miss Middleton you are precisely the man to ferret it out.”

  Biddles lifted his hand to press his fingers to his chest in mock surprise. “Why, Hellion, I am wounded. What could a fribble like me discover?”

  Hellion gave a short laugh. This man was the most devious spy England had ever produced.

  “I have no doubt that you could discover the size of her slipper to her favorite color within the hour. What I wish to know, however, is if her fortune is as large as she claims, if she has any scandals in her past, and if she has confided in her friends a desire to have me as her husband.”

  “You believe this to be a trap?”

  Hellion grimaced.

  The problem was he did not know what he did believe.

  Miss Middleton fell into no recognizable mold.

  She was bold, intelligent, and clearly capable of taking command of her life. She also managed to strike a cord of sympathy within him that he was not at all certain he wished to acknowledge. It would be sheer folly not to take the proper precautions.

  “It would not be the first trap I have encountered.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” Hellion retorted with sudden resolution. “I want a secret.”

  Biddles stilled, his nose twitching. “A secret?”

  Hellion’s smile twisted. “My friend, you should know me well enough by now to realize I never bet upon a hand without holding the winning card. I desire a means of controlling Miss Middleton should she prove to be untrustworthy.”

  Without warning Biddles threw back his head to laugh with delight. “What a devious mind you possess, Hellion. It is no wonder I am so terribly fond of you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, April 21st, 1814:

  P.S. Dearest Diar y,

  I have come to the unmistakable conclusion that maidens possess an uncanny fascination for those gentlemen who are utterly unworthy of their regard.

  If a man is considered as steady in nature with proper manners he is swiftly disdained as a stiff-rumped fellow. If he is studious or inclined to deep thought he is a bore. If he is shy or retiring he is insufferably dull.

  But present a maiden with a gentleman who offers shallow charm to genuine regard, who prefers cards to her comfort and who is certain to break her heart, and she will flutter in anticipation.

  It is a sad statement upon the depth of the female heart . . .

  She would not swoon.

  Firmly placing one foot before the other Jane Middleton made her way across the crowded ballroom to her familiar seat in a shadowed corner.

  She was aware of the curious gazes that followed her deliberate progress and battled to keep her features unreadable. Of course, there was nothing she could do about her awkward blush, she acknowledged.

  Or her shaking knees.

  Or pounding heart.

  Or ghastly fear she had just made a complete and utter ass of herself.

  Without warning her lips twitched with her irrepressible humor. What if she had made a fool of herself? It would certainly not be the first occasion since her arrival in London.

  In the past month she had tumbled from one disaster to another, including spilling punch upon doddy old Lord Crocker when he had pinched her backside, and nearly maiming Mr. Smith during her one and only waltz.

  Her smile faltered as she edged toward the area unofficially set aside for the poor, misbegotten wallflowers.

  Spilling punch upon a gentleman or trodding upon his toe could hardly be compared to offering a veritable fortune to a notorious rake for use of his skills at flirtation.

  Finding her seat Jane abruptly sat down with a faint groan.

  Dear heavens, what had she done?

  Thankfully she had no opportunity to ponder the madness as a plump woman with a halo of golden curls a
nd mischievous blue eyes slid into the seat beside her and slapped her arm with an ivory handled fan.

  “Why you sly minx,” she said with chiding tones.

  Jane smiled with fond amusement. Miss Anna Halifax was her one and only friend in London.

  Unlike the other gaggle of wallflowers, Anna made no effort to scorn the other maidens stuck in the dark corners, as if she were somehow above the indignity of being relegated to the fringe of society. Indeed, she accepted her dreaded fate with a wry humor that eased Jane’s own frustration.

  If not for Anna, she was quite certain she would have fled for the security of Surrey within days of her depressing arrival in London.

  “Good evening, Anna.”

  “Do not good evening me,” Anna warned, her pale face alight with curiosity. “I want to know precisely what you are up to.”

  Jane blinked in genuine bewilderment. “I haven’t the least notion what you mean.”

  Anna gave an impatient click of her tongue. “Do not be coy, Jane Middleton. The entire room is whispering of your tryst with the delicious Hellion. I could just choke my aunt for dallying over her ridiculous turban and forcing me to miss the excitement. As if one turban is not as hideous as another. I demand that you tell me all.”

  Jane felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Never having been the object of gossip she had no notion just how swiftly it would sweep through a room. The realization was daunting and just a trifle unsettling.

  She shifted upon the cushion of her seat, finding it suddenly too hard for comfort. “There is nothing to tell.”

  The blue eyes framed by too pale lashes for true beauty abruptly narrowed. “On second thought I believe I shall choke you. Did you or did you not leave the room upon the arm of Mr. Caulfield?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “What did you hear?” Jane deftly evaded.

  “Oh, some silly nonsense that you tossed yourself at his feet and he was forced to remove you from the room to avoid an unpleasant scene.”

  It was precisely what Jane had expected. There could be no question of the rakish Hellion deliberately seeking her out and luring her from the ballroom.

  The sky was more likely to topple to the earth.

  Or pigs learn to waltz.

  Her lips quivered with wry humor. It was all so typical of her predicament since arriving in town.

  “I suppose it is not entirely nonsense,” she reluctantly admitted.

  Anna did not bother to hide her surprise. “What?”

  “I did approach him and request to speak with him.”

  The surprise remained, but a wicked hint of amusement sparkled in the younger woman’s eyes. “Jane, how deliciously naughty of you. I did not believe you possessed the audacity.”

  “Neither did I,” she readily admitted, not about to reveal that it had been mere chance that had led to her impulsive decision.

  If she had not been walking by that urn at that precise moment and overheard his stark confession of floundering in debt, the ludicrous notion would never have occurred to her.

  Certainly it would never have come to mind that he could be tempted to provide her assistance.

  His financial straights, however, was not a subject she would reveal to anyone. Not even her dearest friend.

  “What did you say to him?” Anna demanded, clearly delighting in the brief stir of excitement in their undoubtedly dull routine.

  Jane paused. She was unsure she wished anyone to know of her audacious stupidity. On the other hand, she was now familiar enough with Anna to realize she would not rest until she had learned the truth. The woman could be as tenacious as a bloodhound.

  “This must remain between the two of us,” she warned.

  Anna abruptly grimaced. “And who would I tell? My aunt possesses the wits of a slug and you are my only friend. Of course, there is my endless flock of admirers, but . . .”

  Jane gave a low chuckle. “Very well.”

  “Yes?” Anna obediently leaned forward, her round countenance set in expectant lines.

  “I offered Mr. Caulfield a proposition.”

  A scandalized delight abruptly appeared in the blue eyes. “Why, Jane, you are naughty. Very, very naughty.”

  Jane once again shifted upon the cushion. Really, one would suppose that if she were to be condemned to the corner, a hostess could at least provide a decent seat.

  “Not that sort of proposition,” she retorted, perhaps more sharply than she intended. “A business proposition.”

  A measure of the delight faded from Anna’s face. “I knew that it was too good to be true. With you it is always business,” Anna complained. She found Jane’s fascination with handling her vast fortune incomprehensible. Jane on the other hand was never so happy as when she was contemplating a new investment. “What was the nature of this proposition? Coal mines? Silk? Spices?”

  Jane clutched her fan and stiffened her spine. “I offered to pay him five thousand pounds if he would strike up a flirtation with me.”

  Silence.

  For the first time since Jane had been introduced to the gregarious woman, Anna appeared struck dumb.

  She opened her mouth once, then twice before she could at last find her voice. “What?”

  Uncomfortably aware that she had managed to shock even this unshockable woman, Jane gave a restless shrug.

  “Anna, I am weary of being stuffed into dark corners and treated as if I carry the pox,” she said in unconsciously defensive tones. “I will never encounter a suitable husband unless I am allowed to mingle among the gentlemen. I had to do something. Even something desperate.”

  There was another pause as Anna considered her explanation. Slowly she gave a nod of her head.

  “And what better means of being thrust into the center of attention than to be the current interest of the most notorious rake in London?” she said, a smile spreading across her countenance. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.”

  Jane did not feel brilliant.

  Indeed, with every passing moment she felt more and more like a perfect dolt.

  Again.

  “I thought so at the time; now I begin to wonder if I have taken complete leave of my senses.”

  Anna waved aside her words. “Did he agree?”

  “He promised to consider the notion.”

  Anna abruptly sat back in her seat, appearing nearly as bemused as Jane felt.

  “Well, well. A flirtation with Hellion. What a perfectly marvelous notion.” She aimlessly toyed with her fan, then suddenly sent Jane a twinkling glance. “What is he like?”

  Unprepared for the question Jane discovered herself floundering.

  What was he like?

  Despite her skittering nerves, or perhaps because of them, she had been sharply aware of the man known as Hellion. Not just because of his masculine beauty, although that was certainly enough to steal the wits of any woman. In the moonlight his carved features had possessed an unearthly perfection and his hair had shimmered with silver satin. Even the dark eyes had taken on a sheen of mystery.

  But it had been more that slumbering danger that enshrouded him that had made her pulse leap and her mouth dry. There was no sense of peace in that lean countenance and those haunting black eyes. Instead, a restless power crackled about him. As if he were frustrated deep within.

  Suddenly aware that Anna’s gaze had narrowed in a speculative fashion at her hesitation, she gave a vague shrug.

  “He is handsome and charming, of course.”

  “That much I already know,” Anna pointed out in dry tones.

  “Very well. He is surprisingly intelligent and less vain than I would have expected.”

  “And wickedly seductive?” Anna prompted.

  A renegade tremor raced through Jane.

  Even knowing he possessed no interest in her had not prevented her own traitorous awareness. Just being near him had sent a rash of electric sensation over her skin.

  What would it be like if he had truly
desired her?

  If he had allowed those elegant, wicked hands to caress her? And he had kissed her with a hunger she could only dream of?

  A dark, forbidding excitement bloomed deep within her.

  One she was swift to crush.

  Had he touched her, she would no doubt have melted to a puddle of gibbering insensibility, she acknowledged with self-derisive amusement.

  “Oh yes, he is quite wickedly seductive.”

  Anna cocked her head to one side. “What are you not telling me?”

  Jane heaved a small sigh. There was no means to hide anything from this perceptive woman.

  “There is something . . . dangerous about him,” she conceded.

  “But naturally. Every successful rogue is delightfully dangerous. It is what stirs the female heart.”

  Jane gave a firm shake of her head. “Not just a danger to a maiden’s innocence, although I do not doubt that he is a master of seduction.”

  “You fear he might be of a violent nature?”

  “No,” Jane denied, not for a moment believing the man would harm a lady. “It is more a sense of a deeper restlessness. Beneath all his charm, I do not believe he is truly happy.”

  Anna gave a disbelieving snort of laughter. “How on earth could he not be happy? He is a gentleman endowed with wealth, position, and indecent power over society.”

  Jane discovered herself reluctant to share her odd awareness of Hellion’s vulnerability. It seemed an intrusion of his private self that he kept hidden from the world.

  “Perhaps it is merely my fancy,” she said in determinedly light tones. “After all, we only spoke for a few moments.”

  Easily sensing her reluctance, Anna sent her a teasing smile. “Did he attempt to kiss you?”

  Jane readily chuckled at the absurd question. “No. Despite the moonlight and beauty of the garden, he was not overcome with passion. Quite astonishing, is it not?”

  “No doubt he is allergic to roses,” Anna suggested.

  “No doubt. And there was, of course, a faint hint of a breeze.”

  Anna nodded wisely. “Ah well, there is nothing worse than a breeze to cool a gentleman’s ardor.”

  “Yes, indeed.”