Indeed, no one’s virtue would be compromised from this one kiss, though there might be exaggerated rumors. If I knew Lady Dunlop, she would quell those by continuing until every gentleman had kissed every lady.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “If he stops in front of you, offer your hand. It’s the ladylike thing to do.”
Mary snorted. “Ladylike, indeed. I’d like to see her stop him in front of one of the gentlemen.”
I nearly burst into giggles at the thought. My, that would be an image. I could just imagine the face Beaufort, for instance, would make. But no, Lady Dunlop had specified that Warren would kiss a lady, and I had a sinking suspicion of who that lady would be.
I eyed Lady Dunlop as she poised her hands over the keys. She appeared the very image of innocence, but she’d been forcing Warren and me together at every opportunity. What had started at his cousin’s prodding had been taken up by Lady Dunlop when she’d seen some spec of an inclination on his part. Never mind that I loathed the man. Lady Dunlop was too busy envisioning marriages sprouting where none would flourish. And Warren was too egotistical to see that I dreaded his company.
As he stopped by the door to the sitting room, Lady Dunlop pounded on the keys. The loud, discordant notes formed only the smallest semblance of music. I cringed. My hands rose to cover my ears before I forced them by my side. I couldn’t possibly be so rude.
However, moving to the opposite side of the sitting room, that I did posthaste.
Warren strode into the throng with quick strides, his face mottled with the pain of the music. The music softened. Everyone in the room gave a collective sigh.
I glanced over my shoulder. My stomach curled into a knot at his approach. A tingle plagued the tips of my fingers, as if every nerve in my body sang at the expectation of his kiss. Not a real kiss, I promised myself. If it would bring an end to the hideous music, I’d bear a chaste kiss with grace. The music grew ever softer. It halted as he reached me. I stretched out my hand.
Warren looked from me, to the spinster with the sour face who happened to be standing beside me. He took a step toward her, but Lady Dunlop struck the piano keys once more. He hurriedly stepped in front of me once more.
The spinster sidled away, her chin high in the air. I hoped she wasn’t offended at Lady Dunlop’s matchmaking. I hoped Lady Dunlop wouldn’t see her left out; for all that she was a chaperone.
Warren took my hand in his. He used it to anchor me in place as he stepped even closer, chest to chest with me. His lips descended. My breath caught. Surely he wouldn’t kiss me on the mouth in the middle of this crowded room!
I turned my face to the side at the last moment. His lips brushed the corner of my mouth. I gasped at the sensation. Warren raised his free hand to bracket my face as he turned me, kissing me full on the mouth.
He held my head steady as he tried to deepen the kiss.
“No.” I thrust him away. I stumbled back so quickly I tripped over the settee. I staggered, my cheeks burning. We relived our stolen moment in the pastel sitting room—but this time, we had an audience.
I caught Warren’s gaze, held it. I didn’t dare speak a word out loud. My voice lodged in my throat. Kissing me in private was dastardly in itself. But kissing me in public?
Unforgiveable.
I brushed past him and dashed out of the room.
His heavy sigh overpowered the murmurs of the group. “Miss Wellesley…”
I didn’t want to hear it. I barreled down the hall toward the back, and the freedom that beckoned outside. So what if the rain poured out of the sky in buckets, the storm whipping drops of it into the glass panes of the door? At least he wouldn’t follow me.
“Rose—”
As he brushed my arm, I stumbled. His grip firmed. It kept me upright but anchored me close as he spun me to face him. I fought him off and backed up a pace, desperate to put some space between our bodies.
“How could you?” I clenched and unclenched my fists. I refused to touch him, even to do violence. I held my ground.
He raised his eyebrows. The glimmer of a lantern, burning low with oil, washed across his face in a yellow glow. One half of his mouth rose in a smile, as if he hoped I’d join him.
He was sorely mistaken.
“It’s perfectly all right. Expected, even.”
My mouth dropped open. “What’s expected?”
“For you to kiss your fiancé.”
My head spun before I recalled that silly proposal he’d given me two nights ago. Pretend we are engaged.
I think not. I stepped closer. I dug my finger into his chest. “I am not your fiancée.”
“No?” He raised his eyebrows. “You feel like you are when we kiss.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
This close, the heat of his body beckoned to me. It would be so easy to lean into him and forget for a moment that I was angry with him.
“Kiss me and find out.”
I almost did. My head was tipped back to meet his and when I raised myself on tiptoe, his breath teased my lips. My mouth tingled with expectation. Then I recalled that he was Lord Warren Hartfell, the perpetual thorn in my side. I stepped back.
“No.”
His eyes slid shut. He gave a strangled groan. “Rose, please.”
“We aren’t married, Warren. We aren’t engaged.”
He met my gaze, his blue eyes glimmering in the light from the nearest lamp. “Would you have me if I asked?”
“No.” The word slipped out on instinct. My mind reeled. Was he proposing to me? We grated on each other’s last nerves. It would be a horrible union.
He grimaced. “Then why bring it up unless you’re fishing for a proposal?”
My back stiffened as I drew myself up. “I do not need to fish for proposals. I receive plenty. Men beg me to accept their hands.”
Something hot and urgent crossed his face. For a moment, I mistook it for anger. When he stalked toward me, it wasn’t the gait of an outraged man. It was the prowl of a predator as it cornered its prey. I gritted my teeth and held my ground. He couldn’t scare me.
He stopped inches away from me. “I’m begging you now. Kiss me.”
Not again. When I kissed him, I forgot about propriety.
“I dream about you every night.”
My lips parted at his hoarse confession. Did I affect him as strongly as he affected me?
“I wake up aching for you, Rose.”
The breath gushed from my lungs. No man had ever admitted anything so scandalous to me. I should be embarrassed or offended. Instead, a throb gripped me. My mouth, my breasts, between my legs. I craved the feel of his body against mine.
“Kiss me, please.”
I rose onto my tiptoes, tangling my fingers in his hair as I pressed my mouth to his. He guided his hands over my shoulders to the small of my back, using his touch to urge me nearer. He kissed me back fiercely, passionately, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands splayed over my back, holding me tight.
This. This was what I yearned for. The hot crush of his body to mine, the silky feel of his hair beneath my hands, the masterful thrust of his tongue.
I gasped as I came up for air. “You never take what you want. You always wait for me to initiate…this.”
“I’m not in this for a fleeting moment. I want you to choose me. No one else.” He moved his mouth to my neck, nibbling. Waves of tingles washed over my body. I couldn’t think.
A man cleared his throat.
Warren and I jumped apart. I squinted into the shadows, but the lamp left me half blind.
The man said, “Lady Dunlop requests your presence in the sitting room once more. But, uh, I suspect she’ll be happy if you decide to stay out a few moments more…”
Beaufort. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized his voice. He spun on his heel, striding with purpose to the sitting room. I clapped my hand to my mouth, staring after him in abject horror.
He’ll tell. And then what? Horrifying scena
rios presented themselves in succession, dizzying spirals leading to Warren and I on the altar—or him married to the fiancée I didn’t believe he had, and me destined never to find love.
I had to stop Beaufort from telling. I’d bribe him, if I had to. Though with what, I didn’t know. He was as rich as Croesus.
I brushed past Warren. He tried to curtail my movements with a hand on my arm. Even that simple touch ignited me, but I pushed those confusing emotions aside. I retreated from him.
“We have to go back,” I said. “We have to salvage the situation before Beaufort tells the whole world.”
Warren chuckled. His long, loping footsteps vibrated through me as I trotted toward the sitting room. My heart lodged in my throat. Why wasn’t he panicked?
“We’re in the country. Who will he tell?”
“Anyone.” My voice was shrill. I pressed a hand to my fluttering heart, trying to calm it. “The post comes to the country, too. One letter is all it will take.”
Silence stretched on between us. Eventually, Warren said curtly, “I’ll speak to him. Convince him to keep silent.”
Relief weakened my knees. “Thank you.”
I passed my hands over my face, trying to compose myself.
For all that I had kissed men before, I made doubly and triply sure never to be caught doing it. It was a cardinal sin in the eyes of the ton. Never mind that half the young ladies did the same thing with their suitors.
But Warren wasn’t a suitor. He was only an annoyance. How could I have let him goad me into something that reckless? And out in the hall, for anyone to see.
With a hand on my shoulder, Warren guided me into the sitting room. He stepped in behind me.
Lady Dunlop stopped the music. “Ah, Miss Wellesley, Lord Hartfell. Kind of you to join us again. We’ve made a change to the rules. The gentlemen must now kiss their partners on the cheek or the hand, to prevent the offense of the ladies. I do hope you’ll forgive me for not introducing the rule sooner.”
My cheeks heated like a furnace as every eye swerved toward me. Thrusting up my chin, I stepped farther into the room, away from Warren.
Beaufort cleared his throat. He stood in front of a pair of gentlemen. He indicated them with a hand. “I do hope this is not an indication of whom I must kiss?”
“Oh, dear me, no.” Lady Dunlop clasped her hand to her bodice as she laughed. She set her fingers to the keys again, pounding out a punishing tune.
But there was a gleam in her eyes as she rested her gaze upon me once more. I feared her matchmaking attempts were far from over.
Chapter Seventeen
Rain poured down in sheets, preventing the party from emerging outdoors. Lady Dunlop heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I had such a lovely day planned for us, too.”
That convinced me, more than anything, that I was grateful for the rain. Whatever she had planned, I wanted no part of it.
She turned away from the window, her hands clasped over her chest. “Well, there’s nothing for it. We’ll have to play a different game instead.”
No one dared groan at her this time. Not after the example she’d made of Warren last night. She clapped her hands, summoning a serving girl who arrived with a tray full of folded papers. “Pass them out, please, dear,” she said with a smile. “See that everyone gets their papers.”
The young woman did as she was told, weaving among the throng as she offered papers from her tray. By the time she reached me, there was only one slip left on the women’s side of the tray. I picked it up and unfolded it. It read Katherina Minola.
Lady Dunlop announced, “Everyone has been given a different character. The character whom that character is in love with during their book or play is the person you will be paired with for the festivities today.”
I sighed heavily. Across the room, Warren raised an eyebrow and flashed me his sheet. On it, written in clearly legible, thick black ink, was the name Petruchio. My match. The papers appeared to be handed out randomly, but I should have known better than to believe it. I flashed him my paper. He grinned.
Nothing about this situation made me happy.
Lady Dunlop continued, “Once you have found your partners, we will be playing Proposals. Gentlemen, it is your aim to propose to your partner by the day’s end. Ladies, you will want to do your best to keep the gentleman from coming to the point. The first man to successfully propose wins.”
Mary puckered her mouth in distaste. “What of the women? Don’t we have a chance at winning?”
“Certainly,” Lady Dunlop said. She said it so smoothly, I’d have thought she’d planned it that way, if not for the momentary panic in her eyes.
“At the end of the day, the woman who has eluded her suitor’s proposal will win.”
Mary flashed her teeth in a sinister smile. “Perfect.” Her tone warned that the unfortunate man to partner her had better not even try to propose—Pachycaul, as it turned out. I hid a smile as he approached her. With luck, she’d convince him he never wanted a wife, let alone me.
His stance was filled with trepidation. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket and muttered, “So. I hear you’re fond of loo.” His brown hair fell forward onto his forehead as he craned his neck down to meet Mary’s gaze.
I expected her to cut him down for speaking to her, but to my surprise, her eyes lit up. With a broad smile, she latched onto his arm. “I am. Do you prefer three or five card?”
He warmed to the topic and they began to discuss the sort of games of chance that weren’t usually played in mixed company. Baffled at her friendliness toward him, I looked away.
Warren hovered at the end of the room, his gaze latched onto me. He seemed eager to participate in the game. Maybe too eager. Had he developed feelings for me, against all odds? Flutters erupted in my chest at the prospect, but I tamped them down. This was only a game.
Avoiding a proposal worked best when not in the room with the man who intended to propose. I knew this for a fact, having dodged more than one suitor’s proposal over my three years on the marriage market.
But Lady Dunlop conspired to make that impossible. She started by entertaining a lengthy brunch and tea right there in the sitting room, despite the fact that chairs had to be toted in for everyone to sit. Then, she proceeded to launch into another game while in the middle of the first.
“We’ll play Partners,” she said. “I can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”
I can. I bit my tongue. If I uttered the words aloud, she’d single me out for an even greater torture.
“I beg your pardon,” Daisy said, “but I’ve never played Partners before. How do you play?”
Lady Dunlop smiled fondly at Daisy. “Why, it’s very simple,” she explained. “You already have your partners. Just line up in a row around the room, and I’ll come and ask each lady a question. But,” she added, holding up a finger. “The lady may not answer. The gentleman must answer in her stead. No matter what he says, she cannot refute it or answer for herself or she forfeits the game. After I’ve completed all the ladies, I’ll come down the line again and ask every gentleman a question, which the lady must answer. Does that sound simple enough?”
Daisy nodded vigorously. “It sounds like such fun.”
“Good,” Lady Dunlop said. “Then make a line around the room, everyone, let’s get started.”
Warren and I exchanged a glance. A gleam lit his gaze. His answers for me would be atrocious. Two could play at that. I flashed him an equally devious smile. His smug look slipped.
When we found positions, we stood nearest the door, on the left. Daisy, Francine, and Mary were scattered across the room with their partners.
Daisy brimmed with happiness, partnered with Lady Dunlop’s nephew again. I narrowed my eyes. Surely the hostess didn’t have designs on nurturing a romance between them? If he hadn’t grown tired of her enthusiasm by now, he might be her one true love. They were both too young to marry—Daisy especially. By the end of the party, she w
as destined for heartbreak.
I shook my head. Every woman is crossed in love once or twice before marrying. I’d console Daisy when the party concluded…that was, if she didn’t have to console me because of my lack of success in finding a husband. After the excitement of this party, she’d never be persuaded to delay her come out for one more year.
A throb started in my forehead. I rubbed small circles over my temple. I had time, albeit less of it with every passing moment.
Once Lady Dunlop finished shooing the gentlemen and ladies into the line with her hands like stray geese, she began the game. She started with me.
“Miss Wellesley,” she said congenially. “What do you think of your partner?”
Warren lightened his voice in a horrible parody of a woman’s. “Oh, Lady Dunlop, I think he is the best, most charming man ever to live.”
As sniggers erupted around the room, I glared at him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t finished.
“I would spend all my time with him, if I could. In fact, if he only asked, I would m—”
I stumbled, falling against his side with all my weight. His word turned into a grunt as he caught me. I didn’t know if his declaration counted toward the proposal game, but I didn’t want to find out.
I smiled serenely as Lady Dunlop moved to the next couple in line. Her mouth twitched as she withheld laughter.
Warren sidled closer to me. “You did that on purpose,” he muttered.
“Of course I did.” I kept my gaze on the room and my smile fixed in place. I moved my lips very little, lest Lady Dunlop accuse me of interrupting the game. I shuddered to think what she would do if she caught me talking. Lowering my voice, I whispered, “I can’t very well have you propose to me.”
“Why not? I thought that was every young woman’s wish.”
I snorted. The couple beside us turned to stare at me. Lady Dunlop had already moved through two other couples. My cheeks burned. I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.
“Try telling that to Mary.”
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 18
