Tempy sighed, remembering to use the practiced pout that Mme Le Clair had taught her. "I suppose this will force me to reexamine my opinion regarding all things French. Perhaps they have some merit to them after all."
Lucien's eyes twinkled at her back-handed compliment, but Miss Beaumont's eyes narrowed at the slight.
Lucien cleared his throat. "Tempy, there's someone I'd very much like you to meet. If you'll do me the favor of accompanying me, I'd like to introduce you to the Earl of Penworth."
This had been their prearranged signal to leave. Mme Le Clair had been worried that Tempy might overstay the moment once she had the upper hand, and she had insisted that Lucien remove her from the situation at the appropriate time. Tempy nodded very slightly to let him know she recognized the signal and then smiled broadly to Ernest. "I do hope you'll excuse us."
"Certainly," Ernest said, looking appropriately impressed at the mention of the influential young earl.
Lucien held out his arm and Tempy slipped her fingers around it, gazing up into his eyes as she did so. Her hand rested delicately upon his arm, and she allowed him to escort her away from the stunned couple. Tempy glided as she moved. She did not saunter or rush. She insinuated. But inside, it was all she could do not to howl her triumph at that moment.
Even though Tempy didn't glance back, she could easily overhear Clarisse's hissing, scolding tones and Ernest's murmured sounds of protest. A slow smile of satisfaction spread across her face. What she'd give to hear the tongue-lashing Ernest must be receiving right now.
14 - More Lessons?
Lucien glanced down at Tempy and liked what he saw. Especially the smile on her face. It was slow and seductive and eminently satisfied. Even though she maintained a sedate and steady pace as she crossed the casino, he could feel the exhilaration radiating from her. It almost made her float across the room. Lucien wondered if her feather-light hold on his arm was the only thing that kept her tethered to the ground.
"Try to contain your jubilation," Lucien murmured. "You're vibrating with it." He glanced back at the couple. "They're watching us."
"Then I'll turn that to our advantage," she said, beaming up at him.
The jolt that hit Lucien took him by surprise, but he was even more startled by the surge of envy he felt for that pretty-boy, Ernest Lipscomb.
Suddenly, they were standing directly in front of the Earl of Penworth. Lucien greeted him with a smile and introduced Tempy, but then he dropped out of the conversation and used the moment to observe Mr. Lipscomb.
Lucien had to admit, Lipscomb had a style about him that certain women preferred. That combination of an athletic build and glossy blond hair often attracted women like bees to clover, and apparently Tempy had developed a fondness for that man's variety of honey. But there was something about him that Lucien didn't like. Some weakness of will that showed in his overly pretty features.
Or perhaps the twinge of envy he'd felt a few moments ago was affecting his judgment. Either way, he no longer wanted to be in the same room with the man.
At an appropriate lull in Tempy's conversation with the earl, Lucien made their excuses and led her away. She never looked back at Ernest Lipscomb and his detestable "French tart," but Lucien could sense that her attention was focused on the couple.
"Our friend will be anxious to hear about what just transpired," Lucien said as he made his way toward his office door.
Tempy nodded and looked up at him again, delivering another one of those gazes that hit him like a thunderbolt. If Mme Le Clair could see her now, she'd be proud of what she'd created.
As they crossed the casino floor, Lucien took one last opportunity to glance back at Mr. Lipscomb. The man was watching their progress across the room with a strange expression on his face. He appeared both confused and deflated, and his attention was fixed upon Tempy.
Just as he knew she'd hoped.
So why couldn't he feel more pleased with her success?
Lucien turned the cool brass knob of his office door and pushed his way inside. Mme Le Clair awaited them, looking triumphant. Her telltale flush and broad grin were dead giveaways.
"I couldn't resist. I watched it all from the doorway," she announced. She took both of Tempy's hands in hers. "You were perfect. I couldn't be more proud of you."
Tempy appeared to glow under her praise. "Do you really think so? That's what I thought too, but I wasn't certain."
"A complete triumph. You have him so off balance he has no idea what's happening to him. He's exactly where you want him." Madame tilted her head to one side in a contemplative gesture and gave Lucien a conspiratorial look. "We should celebrate. Whiskey?"
"No," Lucien said. "Champagne." He called for a bottle and was pleased when Boothby returned within moments, carrying a silver tray. On it were three champagne flutes and a rather large silver wine cooler. The wine cooler was a tall, urn-shaped container with two ornate side handles, and it was filled with ice. Nestled in its embrace was a dark green champagne bottle.
Boothby offered to pop the cork, but Lucien shook his head and began twisting the wire holding the cork in place.
"Will you be needing anything else?" Boothby asked.
Lucien grinned at him as the cork popped from the bottle and went flying toward the ceiling. It bounced off with a soft sound and fell to the carpet where it rolled to a stop at Tempy's feet. "We'll be fine. Don't worry about us," he said, and waved Boothby from the room.
Lucien poured champagne into the glasses and passed them to the ladies.
He watched as Tempy held her glass up to the light, examining the lines of bubbles rising to the top of the glass. Had she never had champagne before this? He cleared his throat. "We should toast."
Tempy's face brightened. "Yes. A toast. But to what?"
Madame raised her glass. "To success."
"Success," Lucien repeated, and touched the rim of his glass against the others. The crystal emitted a bright ringing sound as the champagne flutes bumped against each other.
Both he and Mme Le Clair took sips from their glasses, but Tempy quickly drained hers.
"There's a lesson we never addressed," Madame said tartly. "Ma petite, you must sip champagne. Never drain the glass that way. Lucien, refill her glass so that she can try again."
Tempy held out her champagne flute and Lucien refilled it.
"First, you must hold your glass at the stem. The heat of your hand on the glass will warm the wine, and you want to avoid that."
Tempy nodded pleasantly and adjusted her grip on the glass.
"Good. Now, I'd like you to take a small sip. Taste the wine. This is an excellent bottle, and you need to learn to savor the flavors."
Tempy nodded again, and took a liberal swallow.
"No, no, dear. I said a sip."
"I'm so sorry. It's just that this is so delicious."
"Of course it is," Madame said. "Lucien has always kept an excellent cellar." She turned her attention back to her lesson. "Now let's try that again. Take a sip. A small one. What's happened to your wine? Lucien? Refill her glass."
Lucien chuckled. "You need to slow down a bit, Tempy, or you'll wind up with quite a headache." Despite his words, he filled her champagne flute for a third time.
She sighed. "Two glasses of champagne can't be so terrible. I see people drinking it all the time in the casino."
"Yes," said Mme Le Clair. "But not an entire bottle within the space of ten minutes. Moderation is the key." She sighed. "I think we should stop this particular lesson now. We can try again another time."
"That's probably wise," Lucien commented. Tempy grinned at him like a naughty child who had just escaped from her governess, and then finished off another glass of wine. "Perhaps we've had enough lessons for today."
Mme Le Clair gave a disappointed sigh. "That's too bad. Tonight would have been perfect for a particular lesson I had in mind." She frowned. "I'm afraid that given the circumstances, we'll need to reschedule it for a time when the three
of us can meet again."
Lucien tightened his grip on the stem of his wine glass. "The three of us? Why would the lesson require my presence?"
"Because it requires a kiss."
Lucien felt his smile freeze on his face. "What are you proposing?"
Mme Le Clair lifted her hand with her palm up. "Nothing life-shattering, I assure you. I simply wanted to ensure that our young friend understands the difference between the peck on the cheek a daughter gives her father and the kind of kiss a woman bestows upon a man."
Lucien glanced at Tempy, wondering what she thought about the proposed lesson, and what he saw surprised him. She wasn't blushing or looking away. No. Tempy's eyes were wide and wondering, as though Mme Le Clair's words were making her think of things she'd never before considered.
As he watched, her gaze flitted toward him. When she began examining his mouth as though she were considering kissing it, he felt a rush of warmth radiate outward from his chest. She lifted her glass to her lips and sipped, staring at him all the while. When had she refilled it again?
Lucien cleared his throat. "Miss Bliss seems to have had entirely too much...excitement tonight." Upon seeing Tempy's disappointed pout, he couldn't repress the teasing smile that twitched the corners of his mouth. A few glasses of champagne made her positively incorrigible.
"In that case, I hope you won't mind if I leave you now. My friend has already sent his carriage to collect me, and I'm sure he's becoming impatient." She set her champagne glass on the silver serving tray on Lucien's desk. "Au revoir."
"Thank you for your help," Tempy said.
Mme Le Clair dipped her head in acknowledgment and then took her leave.
Lucien cleared his throat again. It was as though Mme Le Clair had just fired off a starting pistol and then suddenly departed, leaving them standing at the gates. Should he pretend he'd never heard her mention a kiss, or address the subject openly?
He needn't have worried, because Tempy took matters into her own hands. "I wouldn't mind just one more lesson tonight," she murmured. She drained her wine glass and then ran her tongue across her lips, causing the warmth in Lucien's chest to move lower.
"I'm not certain that would be wise, given the circumstances."
"But if we wait until a more appropriate time, Mme Le Clair might insist on watching us kiss and then critiquing us," she said, and stopped. "Me."
"No. It wouldn't happen that way. I can assure you of that. Kissing requires some privacy, and an audience would make anyone self-conscious."
"Then you agree with me," she said, and let out a huge breath. "Thank goodness. I was afraid it was me."
"You?"
She blushed. "That you didn't want to kiss me. I was afraid that you...that you might find me...you know." She looked down for a moment, but then she smiled and looked into his eyes. "But you don't."
She stepped closer.
The scent of her perfume--something floral and light--wafted toward him. He blinked slowly. Could this be happening? Could the single-minded Miss Bliss be focusing her sights on him? But what of Ernest Lipscomb?
To hell with Ernest Lipscomb.
Lucien closed the distance between them, keeping his gaze locked on Tempy's. Her eyes widened slightly as he slid his hand around her waist, pulling her against him. The length of her body pressed against his and her full skirts surrounded his legs in an embrace. She sighed softly and tilted her head back, closing her eyes.
He lowered his head slowly, wanting this moment to last. Her lips were pressed closed as she waited for his kiss. That, if nothing else, told him that she'd never been properly kissed.
He touched his lips to hers briefly, softly, letting her adjust to the feel of them, and then he kissed her again. A little more firmly.
Her lips parted slightly under his pressure, and his followed suit. He deepened the kiss, flitting his tongue against her lower lip. She jerked slightly in surprise, but then she relaxed and responded in kind. Her warm tongue tested his lip in a tentative taste. He darted his tongue against hers, and she responded by pressing her body closer.
He splayed his hand on her back and held her more firmly against him.
Tempy slid her hand behind his neck and entwined her fingers in his hair. The entire length of her body melted into his.
Holding her close with one arm, Lucien took a short step back, groping for the edge of his desk as he pulled her with him. He leaned back slightly, sitting on the edge of his desk, and then he pulled her between his legs. Having her pressed against his groin, even with those layers of petticoats between them, was an exquisite form of agony. If she were more experienced, he'd guide her hand down...but no. That would shock her. And this moment needed to be special.
He gently cupped her face in his hand and began tracing kisses along her cheek until he reached the hollow under her ear. She let out a soft sound of pleasure and tilted her head away from him, granting his lips access to that tender spot.
Tempy's breath quickened against his skin, and Lucien wanted to feel her heart racing as well. He slid his hand from the back of her waist and up along her ribcage, resting it just below her breast. He could feel her heart thumping against her corset, and a feeling of possessiveness washed over him.
He'd caused her to respond this way. Not her Ernest.
Never her Ernest.
He was certain of that.
Lucien wrapped his other arm more firmly around her and pulled her closer again, moving his mouth back to hers. Their lips and tongues met again as he slid his hand upward, tugging down the top of her bodice so that he could touch the soft, rounded mound beneath it.
At his touch on the top of her breast, Tempy gasped and pulled away. At first, Lucien's head followed her as he tried to maintain contact with her lips, instinctively needing that connection, but then he came back to himself, opened his eyes, and focused on her face.
Tempy stared back at him with wide, round eyes and parted lips. He gazed into her large pupils, mesmerized by them, and he wanted to fall into their depths. He tried to pull her closer, wanting her back in his arms, wanting her pressed against his body again, but she resisted.
Her mouth clamped shut in a frown, and she tugged at the top of her bodice, hiding her soft flesh away from him. "That lesson was quite edifying," she said in husky tones. "I'm afraid I learned more than I expected." A flush began to creep over her skin. "What would Mme Le Clair think? And Father?" Then she paled. "Oh, no. What would Ernest say?" Her hand flew to her face, covering her mouth. She turned away from him and hurried to the mirror next to the door.
Her words hit him like a slap to the face, and for a heartbeat he couldn't speak. He just gaped at her as she examined her reflection. He could see her face in the mirror, and the look self-reproach he saw on it made him wince. Then she hung her head.
Lucien pushed himself away from the desk and turned his back to her. The pain from her rejection swelled in his chest like a living thing and it wanted to howl. He could feel its hot, slavering breath as it opened its mouth to release its lament in a wail of loss.
But he wouldn't let it. He wouldn't give it voice. Instead, he pressed the beast back, forcing it into a corner of his soul until it had no place to go but into the box. He slammed the door shut on the pain, locking it away where it couldn't hurt him.
Behind him, he heard Tempy move. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I had no idea..." Her voice trailed off.
Lucien turned to one side, not quite facing her, but still, he could see her. The push and pull of his emotions kept him fixed in place, unable to approach her but also unable to turn away.
She was staring down at her hands, clenched tightly together like a sailor's knot. "I mean, I...I was taken by surprise," she said, stumbling over her words. "I d-didn't mean to put you in such an awkward position. It w-won't happen again."
He turned his head to stare at her fully as he tried to decipher the meaning of her words. Was she actually apologizing to him? For responding to their kiss?
Without looking at him, Tempy suddenly turned and fled through the door next to her and out into the casino's foyer.
Her action took him by surprise, and for an instant, he stood there, unmoving. Not quite comprehending what was happening. But at the click of the closing door, Lucien suddenly broke free of his lassitude and lurched forward, crossing the length of the room in four long strides.
He had to stop her. Had to speak to her. He couldn't let her leave thinking that she'd done something wrong. He yanked open the door, but she was already hurrying toward the exit. A large group of casino patrons who must have just arrived moved across his path, blocking his progress. He pushed his way forward, bumping shoulders as he wove through the crowd.
"Mr. Hamlin." Boothby seemed to appear out of nowhere at his elbow. The young man put his hand on Lucien's arm.
Lucien shook free. "Later," he said tersely. Every second counted. Every tick of the clock took Tempy farther away from him.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the Earl of Sherwood needs a word with you. He's quite insistent. I've been putting him off, but I dare not any longer."
"Sherwood?" Lucien puffed out an breath. "Tell him...I don't care what you tell him. I don't have time for this," he said as he continued pushing his way through the crowded foyer toward the door, and Tempy.
But now, directly in his path, stood John Snowden. Lucien looked over the man's shoulder, and caught sight of Tempy's skirts disappearing out the main doors as she fled to the street.
Lucien stopped short and let out a frustrated sigh. Her coach would be waiting, as planned, and she'd be driving away within seconds. Even if he ran after her now, pushing everyone from his path, he still wouldn't be able to reach her in time.
And John Snowden was staring at him oddly.
Lucien tamped down on his frustration. He could still fix this. They'd simply had a misunderstanding. All he needed to do was come up with a new plan.
But for now, he offered John Snowden a smile of greeting and reached out to shake his hand.
Gambling on a Scoundrel Page 12
