It was true that she did possess a forceful nature and habit of demanding that others bow to her will. It no doubt came from the fact that she had been thrust into her father’s position at such a young age. The grim battle to maintain control over her destiny was not an easy one. And one that she fought almost daily.
She gave a restless shrug. “It is difficult for me. I am accustomed to being in command.”
The elegant features abruptly softened at her reluctant concession. “Then perhaps it would be best for you to return to Surrey, my dear. No gentleman worth his salt will tolerate being led upon your leash.”
She abruptly stiffened at his words. “No, I cannot.”
His gaze narrowed at her sharp refusal. “Why? Is being wed truly so important? You have what most maidens only dream of possessing. Security, wealth, and an independence that is rare for a woman.”
Jane grimaced. In truth she was for the most part quite content with her existence. What woman would not be? As Hellion had pointed out she possessed a rare freedom for a woman. Why would she desire to burden herself with a demanding husband?
The answer was quite simple. Deep in her heart she knew that her father had been right. She was alone. Desperately alone.
“I made a promise to my father upon his deathbed. And indeed, I find as I grow older I desire to have a family. My home in Surrey is an empty place without my parents.”
There was a long pause as he considered the resigned determination etched upon her countenance before he gave a slow nod.
“I see.”
“Do you still intend to help me?” she demanded.
“That depends.” He stepped forward and placed his hand beneath her chin so that she could not avoid his glittering gaze. The faintest shiver raced through her at his warm touch. “Will you follow my lead? Will you allow me to decide how this flirtation is to proceed?”
Better prepared on this occasion Jane did not flinch from his touch. She could not, however, entirely control the beat of her unruly heart.
“Within reason.”
The aquiline nose flared with irritation at her refusal to hand over complete control, then, without warning, he gave a sudden laugh.
“Blast it all, you are a stubborn wench.”
She offered him a wry glance. “No, just wise enough not to give free rein to a notorious rake.”
A disturbing heat sparked to life in the devilish eyes. “My dear, surely you do not believe your virtue is in jeopardy?”
Her breath threatened to disappear entirely as a prickling awareness filled the air. “I believe you are a very, very dangerous gentleman.”
He smiled, slowly and wickedly, as his fingers moved to stroke the unsteady line of her mouth.
“And you, my sweet, possess curves that were meant to fit into a gentleman’s hands and lips that might very well drive me mad.”
It had been a simple matter to slip into the elegant town house.
Far too simple, Biddles acknowledged with a faint sigh as he busily rooted through the various correspondences that had been left in a drawer of a satinwood table. Since his return to London from the Continent his various skills had become sadly rusty.
And he had become wretchedly bored.
What the devil was the fun in attending social events to overhear the tedious conversations of French immigrants? Or even the handful of diplomats that had flocked to town? What was the pleasure in shadowing the occasional Napoleon sympathizers who did not possess the wits to keep their mouths shut when they were in their cups?
Even the few coded messages he had intercepted and then altered to confuse the enemy had been child’s play.
He desired a challenge. Something that would demand a true test to his undoubted intellect. Something that would put an end to his jaded apathy.
With another sigh Biddles glanced through a stack of letters that Miss Middleton had tidily stored in the desk. At least Hellion had provided some measure of distraction. Although it did not seem likely that the staunchly prim maiden would possess a dark, hidden secret, there was always the faint hope. He was all too aware that some of the most respectable members of society possessed shocking habits.
Some that shocked even him.
Discovering a packet that had been pushed to the very back of the drawer, Biddles removed it with a faint flare of hope. The heavy vellum was different from the routine letters from acquaintances in Surrey and the invitations to various events. Perhaps this would offer a measure of interest.
Glancing covertly about the peach and ivory room, Biddles nearly missed the soft tread of approaching footsteps. Someone was slipping toward the drawing room and taking great care not to be heard.
With swift motions he tucked the packet beneath his brilliant emerald jacket, but there was no time to close the drawer to the table before a young woman whisked into the room.
Biddles easily recognized the plump, rather pretty friend of Miss Middleton from the ball. His momentary unease faded. Just another frivolous maiden, he assured himself. Certainly no danger to his current scheme.
Then, rather astonishingly Biddles watched as her pale eyes carefully scrutinized the entire room, swiftly detecting the open drawer and his proximity to the table. There was even a hint of shrewd perception that glittered in that searching gaze.
“Why, Lord Bidwell, whatever are you doing here?” she demanded as she moved to stand directly before him.
Smoothly slipping into his role of a twittering dandy, Biddles offered an elegant bow. “Ah, Miss . . . Halifax, is it not?”
She did not appear remarkably charmed. “Yes.”
“A most delicious surprise.” He reached out to boldly claim her hand and lift it to his lips. The practiced motion allowed him a full view of her low bodice and the stunningly provocative fullness of her ripe curves. He felt an unexpected jolt of awareness. “I cannot tell you how often I have longed for our paths to cross.”
Expecting the fluttering confusion of most untried maidens, Biddles was surprised when she regarded him with a bland smile. “Is that so?”
“Can you doubt me?”
“Oddly enough, I recall our paths crossing on numerous occasions, my lord. Could it be that you simply did not notice?”
Biddles gave a choked cough. Perhaps he had underestimated this woman. A rare occurrence, indeed.
“I would never be such a cad as not to notice a lovely young woman,” he smoothly countered. “Although I must admit that I had not until this moment noticed just how astonishingly lovely a woman you are. My dear, you quite take my breath away.”
Her brows slowly lifted. “Your breath? Why, sir, I do believe that you must be attempting to flatter me.”
Biddles discovered his gaze lowering to those soft, mouthwatering curves. “Not at all, I assure you. Rarely have I beheld such temptation.”
“Flattery, indeed.” Her smile hardened as she abruptly turned to regard the open drawer. “Were you searching for something in particular, Lord Bidwell?”
Biddles stiffened, the end of his pointed nose twitching as his gaze flicked back to her wide eyes. Well, well. There was definitely more to this chit than most.
He found himself regarding her with a decided interest.
“I merely seek paper and quill to leave a note for Miss Middleton. It appears she is occupied at the moment and unfortunately I must leave for an appointment.”
“A pity,” she murmured, clearly not believing his clever explanation for a moment. “Was it anything of importance you wished to discuss with Miss Middleton?”
“No, no. A trifling matter.”
“Perhaps I could give her a message?”
He slowly smiled, acknowledging her swift wits. “Just that I hope to see her at Lady Lanberger’s this evening. And you as well, my dear.”
Her brows arched. “And that is why you called?”
“It is surely as good a reason as any other?”
“If you say,” she grudgingly conceded.
“I
do, indeed.” He offered another, slightly deeper bow. “Now I really must be on my way. A gentleman’s day is so wretchedly filled with appointments and whatnots. I am sure you will understand my haste. Until tonight.”
Not waiting for her response he slipped from the room, then cautiously moved toward the back of the hall. He could not exit through the front door without explaining to the startled butler how he managed to enter in the first place. Besides, he possessed a rather fond preference for stealing through back doors.
He did pause, however, as he reached the servants’ chambers.
Miss Halifax.
Hmm. He might just have to keep an eye on that one. She was far more wily than most, and clearly suspicious of his arrival at Miss Middleton’s. It would never do to have her interfering.
Besides which, if he were perfectly honest with himself, she had intrigued him. Upon more levels than one. An unwitting smile curved his lips.
Suddenly his life did not seem quite so dull.
CHAPTER FOUR
From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, April 26th, 1814:
Dearest Diary,
Obsession with fashion among society has always struck me as being vastly absurd.
We condemn the notion of torture for even our most dangerous prisoners, and yet we willingly, nay gladly, subject ourselves to endless pain and discomfort in the name of beauty.
Gentlemen poke and stuff themselves into whalebone corsets that squeeze their innards and turn their countenances purple. They pad and stuff the coats that are always distressingly tight. Then, as a crowning glory, they waste the better part of the day in tying the perfect cravat that is destined to droop within moments of entering a crowded ball.
Women, of course, are even more foolish.
Not only do we devote more hours a day to changing our gowns than to actually wearing them, we need allow our evil maids to inflict bodily damage as they wrench unruly curls into obedience. As if that is not enough, we cannot seek our beds at night without smearing our faces with some vile concoction that promises smoother skin, fewer freckles, and a maidenly glow.
To think what could be accomplished if society devoted as much thought and effort to the betterment of England . . .
Well, perhaps not.
Considering the distressing lack of true intelligence among society it is perhaps best that they remain entertained with such frivolous pursuits. The betterment of England should not be left to someone who believes that all of life must halt until he achieves the perfect gloss upon his boots.
“Ah, Hellion. I presume that tonight is the night?”
Reluctantly wrenching his gaze from the door where he was watching for the arrival of Miss Middleton, Hellion offered his friend a distracted grimace.
“I would hardly have made an appearance at this tedious musicale if it were not.”
Biddles cast an amused glance toward the clutch of débutantes nervously pacing at the front of the narrow salon. It was well known among society that only condemned family members, desperate mushrooms, and those unfortunate enough to discover themselves without any other invitations attended such musicales.
“The arias will no doubt sound sweeter with the knowledge they are bringing you a tidy fortune,” he murmured.
“Perhaps not sweeter, but at least tolerable. Have you seen Miss Middleton?”
“So anxious, my friend?” Biddles demanded with a hint of amusement.
In truth, Hellion discovered that he was indeed anxious to begin this strange flirtation. A most peculiar realization.
Well, perhaps not so peculiar, he acknowledged as an unwitting smile curved his lips. During his last encounter with Miss Middleton he had been more than pleasantly surprised to discover that she was just as intriguing as he had initially suspected.
Not only was she intelligent, but also she was bold in nature and quite capable of facing the world without the slightest fear. There was nothing clinging or weak about this woman. And yet, there was a rather charming vulnerability beneath her brisk air of efficiency.
And there was that kiss . . .
Whoever would have thought that a gentleman of his vast experience would be so completely caught off guard?
But he had been.
The kiss had been intended to teach the stubborn chit that he would not be treated as her salaried toady. He did not pander or fawn to anyone. Not even for the undoubted fortune that she offered.
Perhaps it was not truly honorable to use his skill at seduction to bedazzle the poor woman, but at the time he had been at the end of his patience. She would swiftly learn that he would not be bullied. Either he would be allowed to be in command of this flirtation or he would walk away.
Unfortunately she had neatly turned the tables upon him.
During that brief kiss that had been meant to place her under his spell of enchantment, he had stirred to life a most potent desire within himself. Her lips had been warm and so sweetly innocent. And her body had fitted with exquisite perfection against his own. Even now he could vividly recall the feel of those soft breasts and her fresh, clean scent that had reminded him of spring.
He gave a wry shake of his head.
A surprising woman, indeed.
Still, he was not about to admit as much to his friend, who was even now regarding him with a sly smile. It had been unnerving enough to feel sympathy for Miss Middleton. Now to realize he also felt desire was something he intended to keep well hidden.
The ruthless gentleman would make his life intolerable.
“The sooner this begins, the sooner it will come to an end,” he retorted in an offhand manner, wincing at the sudden screech of a violin. “And the sooner I can return to tossing invitations to musicales into the rubbish bin where they belong.”
“Yes.” That sly smile remained. “There is no doubt that it will be rather a trial upon you for the next few weeks. I do hope that your nerves can bear the strain.”
“A trial?”
“Well, you will be forced to endure the more tame social entertainments that are proper for a débutante, and of course, make the occasional effort to drive her through the park or call upon her at home.”
Hellion gave an indifferent shrug. “I am prepared to make the necessary sacrifices.”
Biddles lifted a lace handkerchief to dab at the point of his nose. “And then there will be all the tedious gossip that will haunt you. There are far too many gentlemen envious of your popularity, and vindictive females who did not manage to capture your elusive attention, not to stir rumors that you are so desperate for a fortune you must pursue a mousy chit who still smells of the country.”
Hellion’s lips tightened at the unflattering description of Miss Middleton. He felt an unaccountable urge to give his friend a sharp shake.
“I thought you approved of my accepting Miss Middleton’s proposal?” he said instead.
“But of course I do,” Biddles protested. “I simply desired you to be prepared for what is certainly to come.”
“You of all people should know that I have yet to concern myself with what others say about me.”
“True enough,” the smaller gentleman conceded.
“Do you have any further warnings?”
“Ah well, there is always the tedium of making conversation with a giddy, giggling débutante.”
Hellion couldn’t prevent his sudden laugh. Obviously Biddles had never spent any time in the company of this particular débutante.
“I can assure you that Miss Middleton is neither giddy nor does she giggle. In truth she is distressingly sensible.”
“A sensible female?” The pale eyes glittered with humor. “Surely you jest?”
“It does seem unlikely, but she is not at all the usual female.” Hellion smiled wryly. “Did you know she is in control of her fortune and personally handles her father’s investments?”
Biddles mused over the words for a long moment. “How terribly odd. Who would have thought such a thing from a mere mouse?”
“Egads.” Biddles shuddered with horror. “That is worse than a giggling maiden.”
“Actually, she is not so difficult to manage once you properly instruct her as to who is in command,” Hellion countered, his expression unconsciously softening with recollections of his delicious instructions.
“Indeed?” Biddles narrowed his gaze. “And what was the precise nature of these instructions?”
“Ah, now that is a matter I am not prepared to discuss with even you, my dear friend.”
Biddles chuckled but there was a hint of warning in his expression. “Just ensure your instructions do not land you in the nearest church, Hellion.”
Oddly Hellion did not even flinch at the warning. “I have full faith that you will keep such a hideous prospect from occurring.”
“Do not be so smug in my abilities, Hellion. Thus far I have discovered nothing of value.”
Something in his tone had Hellion raising his brows in surprise. “But you have discovered something?”
“Just some rather obscure contracts that I wish to pursue.”
“Contracts?”
Biddles shrugged. “It is all I possess at the moment.”
On the point of discovering more of these seemingly mysterious contracts, Hellion was halted as he felt a peculiar tingle arrow down his spine. He knew before he ever turned that Miss Middleton had entered the room.
Slowly shifting so he could view the door, he watched as she entered with a younger woman and a turbaned matron. A rueful smile curved his lips as he noted the plain blue gown and how her hair had been hastily knotted at the back of her head. Clearly Jane Middleton had not devoted her hours to dazzling him with her beauty, he acknowledged. He would wager his last quid that she had waited until the last moment to pull on a gown and dash from the house.
The realization should perhaps have been annoying. Without undue arrogance he was well aware that many women dedicated hours to their appearance in the mere hope of capturing his roaming gaze. He was, after all, Hellion.
Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) Page 6
