But rather than being irritated, he discovered his smile widening at her disregard for his opinion. She challenged him in a manner he had never before experienced.
Hearing a faint chuckle at his side, Hellion reluctantly turned to discover Biddles regarding him in open amusement.
“What is so humorous?” he demanded.
“Merely that you are quite convincing in your role as a prospective suitor. I have never seen you so . . . eager.”
For the first time in a decade Hellion was forced to battle an urge to blush.
“Five thousand pounds can make any gentleman eager,” he retorted with a defensive stiffness.
“As you say.” The amusement remained annoyingly intact. “Shall we join her?”
“We?” Hellion frowned. He might dearly enjoy the company of Biddles, but not when he possessed an opportunity to secure a moment alone with Miss Middleton. “I do not need you to hold my hand. I am quite capable of conducting a flirtation without your assistance.”
Biddles gave a derisive sniff. “As appealing as the notion of holding your hand might be, dear Hellion, I was thinking more in terms of charming Miss Halifax. I have reason to believe that she harbors a suspicion of my intentions toward Miss Middleton.”
Hellion chuckled at the hint of pique in his friend’s voice. “Biddles, anyone of sense harbors suspicion of you.”
“Very amusing,” he retorted dryly. “I fear her wariness may prove to be a hindrance to my investigations.”
“Ah. And you hope to charm her suspicions away?”
Biddles made a wretched attempt to appear humble. “Well, it is one of my finer talents.”
“Along with modesty,” Hellion mocked. “Let us go.”
Not bothering to wait for his preening friend, Hellion moved with purposeful steps toward the woman who had settled in the shadows of a corner.
More than one hand reached out to attempt to detain him but he easily shrugged them aside, his gaze never wavering from that dusky, elfin countenance. He was almost at her side before she at last sensed his approach and turned to regard him with wide eyes.
With his most potent smile Hellion reached to bring her fingers lightly to his lips. “Miss Middleton.”
He convinced himself that a telling shiver raced through her at his touch, but there was nothing to detect upon her tranquil countenance.
“Mr. Caulfield, what a delightful surprise,” she murmured.
“A delight, indeed.” He stepped closer than precisely proper. Instinctively his blood heated at the warm, spring scent of her. “I had begun to give up hope you would make an appearance.”
With a tiny tug she freed her fingers from his grasp. “I fear I became involved with negotiations for a plot of land and was quite late in returning home.”
He arched his brows in genuine surprise. “You left me waiting while you haggled for a parcel of land?”
That smile that illuminated her entire face abruptly appeared. “It was a very important parcel of land.”
“Shrew,” he chided, although he could not prevent his own lips from twitching. This woman appeared to be an expert in deflating a gentleman’s pride. Thankfully he possessed more than his fair share of arrogance. His gaze swept over the tiny features, easily noting the strain she was battling to hide. “You seem tense. Is anything the matter?”
She gave a grimace, her gaze covertly shifting toward the gawking crowd across the room.
“Everyone is staring at us.”
His brows lifted. “Surely that is what you desired?”
“Yes, of course. It is just . . .”
“What?”
She gave a restless shrug. “I suppose I have been relegated to dark corners for so long that I find it unnerving to be the subject of such unwavering interest.”
“You will soon become accustomed,” he assured her, regaining command of her hand so that he could lay it firmly upon his arm. “Shall we take a turn about the room?”
There was a momentary pause before she was sucking in a deep breath. “Very well.”
In silence they moved from the shadows and strolled at the fringe of the room. Even Hellion was aware of the shocked gazes that followed their movements and the sudden twitter of disbelief that fluttered through the air. His attention, however, remained firmly upon the stiffly held form at his side.
“Miss Middleton,” he murmured softly.
With obvious reluctance she lifted her gaze to meet his own. “Yes?”
“We are not marching into battle. A stroll should be a slow, elegant affair, not a mad dash.”
“Oh.” She awkwardly slowed her headlong rush. “Sorry.”
“And I do wish you would smile,” he continued, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into her ear. “My attentions are supposed to bring you delight. At the moment the guests could be forgiven for believing that I have given you a sour stomach.”
She gave his arm a sharp pinch. “There is no need to be rude.”
He abruptly covered her hand with his own, giving her fingers a retaliatory squeeze. The shrew would have him black and blue if he were not careful.
“Smile, Miss Middleton,” he commanded.
Pulling back she offered him a wide, patently false smile. “There. Are you satisfied?”
“Now you appear foxed. Or daft.”
“Why you . . .” The eyes more gray than blue at the moment flashed with a dangerous fire before she unexpectedly gave a reluctant chuckle. “Mr. Caulfield, you really are the most aggravating of gentlemen.”
“The most?” He offered her a teasing smile. “Well, I suppose I should take pride in excelling at something.” He paused, considering how best to ease her lingering nervousness. “Tell me of this parcel of land you desire.”
She regarded him in startled surprise. “You cannot be interested?”
He shrugged, wondering if he should be offended by her obvious belief he had no interest beyond the frivolous. Of course, she would not be far wrong, he ruefully concluded. Thus far he had done precious little to improve his mind, or his fortunes.
“We must talk of something,” he retorted, his eyes abruptly darkening. “Unless you would rather that I gaze at you in silence like a moonstruck looby?”
She gave a predictable shudder. “Good heavens, no.”
“Then tell me.”
“Very well. I am considering constructing a posting inn.”
He gave a choked noise. “You?”
Her smile was wry at his obvious dismay. “Well, I do not intend to cut the stones or lay the planking myself. I only intend to provide the financing.”
Alertly steering past the clutch of matrons regarding them with near trembling curiosity, Hellion forced himself to shove aside his natural prejudices. This woman had already proven that she was well out of the usual mold.
“Do you know anything of owning a posting inn?”
“I have done a great deal of research, but more importantly I have hired those who have actual experience.” Her expression became reminiscent. “My father taught me to pay for the best and then to stay out of their way so that they can do their job properly.”
Hellion discovered himself intrigued despite himself. He had always considered the business of trade rather sordid and fit only for those who possessed few ethics. He was a gentleman, after all.
But the sheer passion that Miss Middleton devoted to her work was irresistible. How would it be to care so deeply for something in his life? To be able to lose himself completely?
“So you provide the capital and then step aside?” he demanded. “That does not seem like my managing Miss Middleton.”
She cast him a wry glance at his accurate guess. “Not precisely. First I must make a detailed budget of what I predict might be the potential revenue of any investment I might decide upon. Then I determine the various costs from the initial investment to the daily cost of keeping the enterprise in operation. There are also the unexpected expenditures, such as repairs, acci
dents, and thefts. Once I have calculated the profit I must ensure that it is greater than my investment. There is little use in tossing money into a losing enterprise.”
“Gads, you make my head ache,” he protested with a startled laugh. “Surely you cannot enjoy such tedious tasks?”
She flashed him that enchanting smile. “It is far preferable to spending my days shredding the reputations of others or being tortured by my dressmaker.”
He deliberately drew her to a halt in the shadows of a nearby alcove. His hand lightly teased over the fingers upon his arm.
“There are other entertainments to delight a young woman,” he protested in smoky tones.
Her eyes swiftly narrowed in suspicion. “What sort of entertainments?”
“If you enjoy art I can always procure a private viewing of the Duke of Northumberland’s collection. Or we could visit the British Museum,” he retorted with mock innocence.
“Perhaps.”
“There are also the Tower and Westminster Abbey to visit. In the evenings we can attend the theatre and Vauxhall. Oh, and of course, Astley’s. That is not even to mention the endless celebrations that are being planned since the abdication of the Corsican Monster.”
She grimaced at his light words, not appearing at all impressed with the thought of being escorted about town on his arm.
“Now you are making my head ache. I should be exhausted by such a hectic schedule.”
He allowed his gaze to openly roam over her upturned countenance and down to the modest neckline of her gown. It took very little effort to recall the feel of her nipples as they had hardened against his thumbs. Suddenly his skin felt flushed with a disturbing warmth. He wanted to tug her through the nearby door and find a place of privacy. He wanted those lips eagerly exploring him and stirring his passions to raging life. He wanted to press her close to his body and allow his muscles to harden with pleasure.
Instead all he could do was move close enough to breathe deeply of her sweet scent.
“Ah, you prefer more relaxing entertainments?” he whispered in roughened tones. “Good. So do I. The mere thought of further exploring the taste of your lips holds infinitely greater appeal than a tedious night at the theatre.”
A delightful blush crept beneath her cheeks. “Sir.”
He gave a low chuckle, not missing the frantic pulse that beat at the base of her throat. She was not indifferent to him. No matter how she might wish to hide the truth.
“Now, my dear, you appear like a woman who is being properly flirted with. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are sparkling with maidenly confusion.”
“It is annoyance, Mr. Caulfield,” she crisply retorted.
“Not entirely annoyance, I think. I have not forgotten those sweet moans when I kissed you.”
She hardened her features as she took a deliberate step backward. “I believe you enjoy taunting me.”
His own smile faded at her sharp words. “There is a difference between taunting and teasing, my sweet,” he informed her firmly. “I do not mock your innocence, or the delightful discovery that you are not indifferent to my touch. It shall make our time together considerably more pleasant.”
Her expression remained wary. “More pleasant for whom?”
His blood threatened to boil as he considered all the various means of pleasing this woman. There were many, many means, all of them delicious.
And why should he not, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind? He would have to take care, of course. He would not forget that she was an innocent woman. A rather rare species for a man such as himself. But there were any number of ways to conduct a seduction without actually taking her virginity.
It would be his pleasure to teach her the delights of passion.
“For the both of us,” he swore in low tones. “That I promise.”
Anna hid her smile as Lord Bidwell minced beside her on their way to the refreshment table. His red coat and yellow waistcoat were perfectly suited to ensure his image of frivolous stupidity, and as the crowning glory he had produced a Chinese painted fan to slowly waft before his pointed nose.
For most people it would be easy to dismiss him as a twit. What gentleman of sense would ever prance about in such a fashion?
But Anna was far too perceptive to miss the shrewd intelligence in the pale eyes and the restless energy that flowed through his slender form.
He would make a dangerous adversary, she acknowledged with a tiny thrill of excitement. And a true test of her wits.
Waiting until they were well away from Anna’s foolish aunt, Lord Bidwell at last turned to regard her with a vacant smile.
“Tell me, my dear, have you known Miss Middleton for long?”
Anna assumed the rather foolish expression of most débutantes. “Oh no. We only met when she arrived in London for the Season.”
He fluttered the fan in a nonchalant motion. “You seem to be very close for such a short acquaintance.”
“Do we?”
“Yes, indeed.” He slanted her a sidelong glance. “Such a charming young lady.”
“Very charming.”
“And quite talented,” he gamely persisted despite her seeming stupidity. “I understand she possesses a most remarkable head for business.”
Anna batted her lashes. “Why Lord Bidwell, are you interested in learning the mysterious arts of trade?”
The pale eyes twinkled, as if sensing her deliberately vague responses. “Egads, no. What would a frippery fellow like me do with such knowledge? I far prefer to concentrate upon important matters.”
“Important matters? What sort of important matters?”
“The buckles of my slippers and the delightful new walking stick I am having commissioned. For a gentleman it cannot be stressed enough how vital a dashing walking stick is to his ensemble.”
“Of course.” Deciding it was time to rattle the clever little sneak with a dose of his own medicine, Anna came to a sudden halt. “Oh, look. It is Monsieur LaSalle.”
There was only the faintest of stiffness in the slender gentleman as he came to a standstill beside her.
“So it is. Are you acquainted with the gentleman?”
“No, but I have noted you always take a great interest in him.”
“Me?” The fan was abruptly snapped shut. “How absurd. I do my best to avoid the horde of French immigrants who have invaded London. They are so very provincial, you know.”
She met his mocking gaze squarely. She desired this gentleman to realize that she would not simply step aside and allow her friend to be injured.
“Then you did not meet with him in the library during Lady Hulford’s ball and then again in the garden after Mrs. Wallace’s soirée?”
There was a long shocked silence before Lord Bidwell narrowed his gaze in a dangerous manner.
“Have you been spying upon me, Miss Halifax?”
“I am merely observant, Lord Bidwell.” Anna tilted her chin, blatantly revealing a decided lack of fear at his subtle warning. “And quite devoted to Miss Middleton. I would not take kindly to any threat to her happiness.”
An emotion that was impossible to define rippled over the narrow face. Not anger, thankfully. Perhaps a measure of surprise. And even a hint of challenge.
Then quite unexpectedly a genuine smile curved his lips. “I see.”
“I hope that you do,” Anna retorted, a frown tugging at her brows. There was something rather disturbing about that smile. Almost predatory. “Now if you will excuse me, I must procure some champagne for my aunt.”
“But of course.” Lord Bidwell performed a flourishing bow as he raised her fingers to his lips. “I concede this skirmish to you, my dear. However, I shall be better prepared on the occasion of our next delicious battle. Until then.”
Anna forced herself to turn and walk away at a dignified pace. Her heart, however, was pounding at a rapid rate.
Dear heavens, what had she done?
It was one thing to bravely imagin
e herself matching wits with the sly, overly clever gentleman. To prove to him that she was equally swift of wit and quite dangerous in her own right.
It was quite another to realize she had managed to divert his attention from Jane directly onto herself.
Dicing with the devil, indeed.
CHAPTER FIVE
From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 12th, 1814:
Dearest Diary,
I have always known that society is fickle and even capricious. With whimsical indifference it can toast a maiden as a Diamond of the First Water upon one evening and the next proclaim her unbearably insipid. It will insist that Kemble is all the rage and then condemn him as being utterly inferior to Kean. It will have the entire Ton scrambling to procure Chinese furnishings then blithely declare only Egyptian will do.
It is all quite foolish.
And a testament to the sheer shallowness of human vanity.
Why a maiden who was once considered a near fright and stinking of the shop could even be suddenly cheered as an Original.
Ah, yes.
The ridiculous absurdity of society.
It was all marvelously amusing.
After weeks of being thrust into the darkest corners and seated at the far end of the table, Jane was suddenly in demand. No longer was she the forgotten wallflower. Indeed, all those who once condemned her as a drab, ill-bred maiden now rushed to claim she was all that charming. She could not enter a room without being surrounded by hopeful hostesses and eager gentlemen. Her foyer overflowed with invitations. And her afternoons were suddenly filled with various callers.
She was an Original. The latest interest of Hellion.
Which, of course, made all the difference.
Ah, yes. It was all vastly amusing.
Or at least it should be.
Jane absently nibbled her thumbnail as she studied the list she had just completed of the numerous gentlemen she had encountered over the past two weeks.
It was impossible to pinpoint the source of the unease that plagued her heart. She should be delighted. After all, her scandalous scheme had worked even better than she had dared hope. Upon the arm of Hellion she had been introduced to nearly a dozen eligible suitors. Not only eligible but charming, handsome, and even witty. Any one of them might prove to be a comfortable husband.
Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) Page 7
