"Miss Lamont, I cannot. You must understand. I… no. I made a mistake, one I am lamenting—" Graham forced himself to say it, knowing it would hurt her, but he saw no other way.
"Let me ask you a question. Would you have compromised me?"
"Pardon?" He sounded like an idiot.
"Well, would you have?"
"No," he answered, trying to figure out where she was going with the leading question.
"Because…" Her eyebrows rose.
"Because you're an innocent!" He spoke in exasperation, too loudly, for another couple waltzing with them shot him an irritated glance.
"Which is exactly why you sent me off on my way and didn't ever want to see me again?" she spoke softly.
"No, but—"
"But all that changed when you found out who I was," she finished.
"YES." She finally understood!
"Why? And don't give your age as a reason."
"It is a good one — reason, that is. I am quite a bit older than you. But your guardian, the duke, would call me out. It would be pistols at dawn if he knew even the tamest version of what happened earlier this evening. For heaven's sake, Bethanny, he wanted me here to protect you!"
"From?"
"From men like me," he enunciated.
"Oh." Her lips held the shape of their word then slowly spread into a grin, which turned into a musical laughter that was even more alluring than he'd thought possible.
"You have to admit, that is quite amusing. Ironic, actually." Her face was lit up in a beatific smile.
"I do not see the humor."
"Pity, because it is indeed quite hilarious."
"I'm glad you're enjoying the moment."
Her face glowed with her restrained laughter, causing her to be even more breathtakingly beautiful. And then, unable to control himself, he grinned.
And that grin began to spread till it was dangerously close to a smile.
"Ah, see. It is amusing," she spoke through a small laugh.
Graham cleared his throat.
"Nevertheless." He glanced away, trying to control his wayward emotions.
"Nevertheless," she teased.
"Are you mocking me?"
"Yes." She nodded once.
"I — you're…"
"Enchanting," she finished, her gaze twinkling with mischief. She was dazzling, captivating, and… no longer dancing.
Graham paused, his brow furrowed as he glanced around.
No one else was dancing either.
"I thought we should stop and not draw attention. You seemed to be… sensitive about that prospect," Bethanny whispered, her lips barely restraining her mirth.
When had the bloody music ended?
"Don't worry, my lord. We only danced a few moments longer than the music. I'm sure no one else noticed."
"No one else?" Graham asked, slightly panicked at his lack of attention to anything but the lovely woman — who was completely off-limits — in front of him.
"No, just… me." She raised a daring eyebrow and smiled.
Damn the girl.
He'd be angry if he weren't so intoxicated by the luscious tip of her lips and the desire it provoked.
Of course, that was what got him in this mess in the first place.
Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was the absolute desirability of Miss Bethanny Lamont.
Now if he could only be so certain of his ability to resist that temptation.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bethanny's grin continued to grow as she lay on her bed and relived the evening of her debut. It had been a smashing success, but more importantly, Lord Graham had most assuredly noticed her.
And had kissed her.
She touched her lips, still in a wide grin, and closed her eyes, remembering the exact flavor of his kiss, the slight abrasion of his barely discernable beard against her skin, and the masculine scent of spice mixed with soap. If she breathed softly, she could almost smell it again.
She sighed.
The only other time she had been close enough to bask in the masculine scent that was Lord Graham had happened inadvertently and quite some time ago. Berty — being Berty — had stolen one of her ribbons and run off with it. Bethany had caught her red-handed and pursued her, chasing her down the hall, past the stairs and to the front door. Of course Berty had known that Bethanny wouldn't dare burst through the front door as she had. It simply wasn't done, for a young lady to behave in such a way, especially one living in one of the most sought-after addresses in Mayfair.
But just before Berty had made her escape, she had glanced over her shoulder at Bethanny and stuck out her tongue.
The hoyden.
Bethanny remembered the anger that had simmered at her sister's brazen behavior, and simply, the audacity of Berty sneaking into her room — again — and stealing a ribbon when she had millions — or at least close to that amount — of her own…
Enough was enough, so Bethanny narrowed her eyes and raced to the front door, peeking out through the side window. Sure enough, Berty was skipping along merrily, no longer concerned about her irate older sister. She began walking around the side of the block.
With a sinister laugh, Bethanny rushed to the servants' entrance out back. Quickly, she passed the startled servants and burst through the heavy wooden back door — after all, back doors were an entirely different variety and very acceptable to burst through — and turned the corner in hot pursuit of her sister, sure she'd intercept her readily and before anyone saw her outlandish behavior.
Of course, the only person she intercepted was Lord Graham, who was coming to visit her guardian, the duke.
Bethanny didn't have a moment to react; rather, she plowed into a black coat covering a very firm back and landed on her seat with a loud groan.
She leaned back and closed her eyes.
Perhaps if she pretended to faint, whomever she'd just accosted would forgive her for such a blunder.
But then she heard a familiar chuckle. "You might as well open those brown eyes of yours, Miss Lamont. I know you're quite awake," Lord Graham's voice called softly.
Inwardly Bethanny sighed with both humiliation yet delight in hearing his voice.
At least she could count on him not to hold her behavior against her… though it certainly wouldn't assist her efforts in helping him see her as more than a little girl.
"Bethanny! Are you hurt! Oh Bethanny!" Berty's voice called a moment later, shrill and afraid. "Oh, Lord Graham, this is all my fault! I stole her ribbon, and she was surely looking for me! Oh, why did I do it! Blasted thing." Berty choked.
Bethanny continued to keep her eyes closed. At least her humiliation had one silver lining: revenge on her sister.
"Ah, so you're the culprit," Lord Graham scolded in a stern manner.
Bethanny almost opened her eyes at his tone, then caught herself, curious as to what he was up to.
"Bethanny? Please answer me! I'll never take your ribbons again. I swear it." Berty was kneeling over her now, patting her forehead and grasping her hands.
"She's quite injured, I'm afraid," Lord Graham added solemnly.
Bethanny wanted to roll her eyes but didn't; rather, taking secret delight in his playing along.
"Is she? What are we to do?" Berty lamented then gasped. "I know! In my picture books, the prince always kisses the beautiful girl to wake her! You're not a prince, but…" she paused, as if regarding him, "but you are a lord, so perhaps that is similar enough for it to work! You must kiss her!"
"Pardon?" Lord Graham asked in a confused tone. Bethanny could hardly blame him; it was a rare day that Berty didn't confuse her, and she was her sister!
"Kiss her! Oh, please kiss her, and I know she'll wake up, and then she can forgive me, and I'll never take her ribbons," Berty explained succinctly, as her young mind saw all the puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.
"Er, I'm quite certain that is not how it works," Lord Graham argued.
"How would y
ou know? Have you tried it?" Berty asked impatiently.
"Actually… no," Lord Graham answered.
"Then you have no experience from which to draw a conclusion. Or at least that's what Carlotta tells me… frequently," Berty grumbled.
"Ah, a wise woman."
"You're wasting time! Kiss her!" she demanded.
"I cannot simply kiss—"
"Yes, you can! Kiss her! There's no one around, and I'll not tell a soul. After all, this is—"
"Your fault, I know."
"Yes."
Lord Graham sighed.
Bethanny secretly bit the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. She'd have to thank her sister later.
"What if we just ask her—"
"No! That will never work!
"You're quite opinionated for one so young," Lord Graham added.
"So I've been told. Now kiss her!"
"Very well, keep a sharp eye out, though. I'll not have some fop say I'm accosting your sister."
"Yes, sir," Berty immediately agreed.
Lord Graham's breath tickled her ear as he bent down. "I do hope that ribbon was made of gold, Miss Lamont." He chuckled then kissed her cheek. His lips were warm and soft, just brushing the corner of her cheekbone. It was lovely, sweet, and, at the same time, so melancholy, because though he was close enough to share the scent he wore of warm spice and peppermint, he was only there out of coercion of her sister.
Then and there she swore that one day he'd kiss her because he wanted to.
Like a fairy princess, Bethanny fluttered her eyelashes dramatically and gasped softly for effect, then rose.
Berty was beside herself with delight and a constant beg of pardon was forthcoming for some time after.
Lord Graham simply winked at her and left, surely to meet up with his friend, the duke, but Bethanny was forever changed…
It was amazing to compare the past and the recent happenings just the night before. They were so different. Yet sadly, they carried one similarity: the melancholy spirit. While Lord Graham had certainly kissed her of his own will, he hadn't realized it was her. And once he had, he'd regretted it.
But that didn't mean that Bethanny had to.
Rolling over on her bed, she rose and padded across the wooden floors to her low-burning fire. Holding her hands out, she let the warmth seep into her skin. A knock on the door alerted her that Molly, her maid, was bringing the newspaper and warm chocolate she'd requested each morning.
Warm chocolate with heaps and heaps of sugar.
And a splash of milk.
It was more of a dessert than anything else, but Bethanny could think of no better way to begin the day than with something sweet.
"Miss? You're awake early. Did you not sleep well, then?" Molly asked kindly as she laid down the tray.
"Actually, I slept quite well." Bethanny offered her maid a welcoming smile and reached for her chocolate.
When the first hint of flavor touched her lips, she closed her eyes, relishing the texture and sweetness.
"Since today is your at-home day, miss, which dress would you prefer? The blue or green?" Molly asked as she withdrew two garments from the wardrobe.
"The blue… I think." Bethanny's eyes darted from dress to dress as she peeked over her cup of chocolate.
"Very good, miss. You're sure to have quite a few callers today, it being the day after your debut and all. I heard it was quite smashing!" Molly's hazel eyes danced with excitement.
"It was quite the crush," Bethanny answered kindly.
"And would a certain lord have asked you to dance, miss?" Molly's eyebrow arched in question, a teasing grin at her lips.
"Perhaps."
"Oh! I knew he would, miss! You're far too lovely for any gentleman to not be begging for a dance! Was it all you were wishing?" Molly turned aside from the dresses and happily strode to her mistress, beaming with joy.
"Oh, Molly!" Bethanny grinned. Placing her chocolate on the small table just past the fire, she spun in a small circle. "We waltzed, Molly! A waltz! Can you believe it? It was delightful! Even now, I break out in gooseflesh simply thinking about it!"
"A waltz!" Molly echoed with delight.
"Yes! But…" Bethanny's joy was quickly turning to a worry. "However, we… did meet earlier… and he didn't recognize me."
"Well, you have done your fair share of growing up, you have." Molly nodded.
"Yes, well… I don't think he was pleased that it was me." Bethanny bit her lip.
"Oh? And why are you thinking that, miss? I'm sure he was thrilled!"
"No, you see… he… he seemed quite… shocked actually, when he discovered who I was."
"Shocked by your beauty, miss." Molly spoke confidently.
Bethanny shook her head then bit her lip. How she loved Molly; her fierce loyalty was a rarity and all the more reason for Bethanny's friendship with her maid. That loyalty also made Molly utterly trustworthy, but Bethanny dared not speak about the kiss out loud. She wanted it to be a delicious secret, one that was only shared by one other person. Graham.
"I do believe he found me… pleasing to behold. However, I think, no, I know he was unhappy because… well… you see, while he didn't know he was speaking with me earlier, I knew it was him. And I didn't say anything about who I was, even though I knew he didn't recognize me," Bethanny confessed.
"Oh." Molly furrowed her brow and quirked her lips. "Then we'll just have to change his heart a bit, won't we?" She grinned mischievously. "Your cap's still set on the gentleman, is it not?"
"Oh yes," Bethanny spoke reverently.
"You're a smart one, miss. He might have gotten his manly pride prickled a bit when he realized you were quicker than he, but I suspect that he'll come around, given the proper encouragement." Molly shrugged and went back to the dresses.
"Encouragement?"
"Well, yes, miss. With your beautiful coffee-colored hair and those bottomless brown eyes, I doubt he's missed what a beauty you are. Add to that your kind heart and smart wit, he'll not be able to resist. Besides," Molly smirked a bit before schooling her features into a polite smile, "he's not going to forget you, that's for sure. And that, miss, is half the battle already won."
"Why in the bloody hell do I have to call on her?" Graham was not in the mood to argue with his sister. In fact, he wasn't in the mood for anything other than swiping the French brandy from his study and drinking till sleep found him.
Because he hadn't slept a wink last night.
Not even a bloody minute.
Because each time he'd closed his eyes, she was there. Her deep brown gaze seared through him, igniting a passion he really wished would remain inexperienced. So, he'd open his eyes and stare at his ceiling, or the wall, or the fire — anything that would get his mind off her. Yet everywhere he looked, he'd grown bored with whatever it was he been gazing at — though it wasn't shocking. How interesting was a wall, really? He'd relived their kiss, which in turn, had reminded him of the soft press of her body against his, the warmth of her lips caressing his own, and the flavor.
Heaven help him, he couldn't forget the flavor.
It was honey and champagne.
It was desire and surrender.
It was unlike anything he had ever sampled before, and like an addict he was already craving more.
But that was exactly why calling on Miss Bethanny Lamont was a very bad idea.
"Bloody hell."
"You've already said that… much as I wish you wouldn't. What is it that has you in such a foul mood this morning?" his sister commented sternly, her gaze scrutinizing him in a way that made his feet itch with guilt.
That was the rub. He did feel guilty. Guilty, because he hadn't recognized her. Guilty, because even after he had realized just who she was, it hadn't changed the fact that he'd wanted her.
Badly. And still did.
And finally, he felt guilty because he'd been asked by his best friend to look out for her. When, in actuality, all he'd wanted to d
o was compromise her so that she'd be his. Which, in turn, would betray his best friend. And possibly cause a duel, and he'd be the one who deserved the bullet.
"Edward?" his menace of a sister asked impatiently.
"I'm tired."
"You're not that old."
"I feel that old," Graham replied, sitting and resting his head against the back of the chair.
"All the more reason for you to marry this season then. Am I correct? I never thought I'd see the day when my baby brother was too tired to chase a skirt."
"See here!" Graham's eyes blinked open rapidly, and he stood.
"No, no, you're right. You're simply getting on in years. Why, to be honest, I was thinking the very same thing last night."
"Pardon?" Graham asked skeptically, his expression turning to a deep frown.
"Last night," his sister hitched a shoulder, "when you were dancing with Bethanny. You did seem quite… fatherly."
"WHAT?" Graham felt his jaw drop.
"You were quite… stoic. I've never seen you act in such a way with such a beautiful woman. My only answer was that you felt decidedly paternal."
"Damnation."
"You're quite vulgar this morning. I'd thank you not to curse any more, my—"
"If you say ladylike sensibilities, I might lose what breakfast I ate." Graham rolled his eyes. "Father-like? Paternal? I don't even know what to say."
"I was simply offering my observations." His sister shrugged slightly then raised her hand and examined her gloves.
"Paternal."
"You're repeating yourself again."
"I can't quite believe you said it."
"Of all the things I've said in my life… this is what you cannot get over? Truly?" Her eyebrows shot up in shock and derision.
"Actually… yes," Graham grumbled.
"Then one must deduct from your response that your inclinations toward the girl went an opposite direction." A grin began to tip the upper corners of her mouth, a grin all too familiar to Graham.
He had been played. By his sister.
And he didn't think the morning could get worse.
"I have no idea what you're implying." He strode to the fire and tugged on his cravat.
"You might be dense, but you're not stupid, Edward. She is a very beautiful young lady."
To Tempt an Earl Page 6
