After Dark with a Scoundrel

by Alexandra Hawkins

  With Frost watching over his younger sister, Dare saw his chance to pay his respects to Mrs. Randall. If the lady was agreeable, perhaps they could discuss their friendship someplace private, without the prying eyes of the ton observing them.

  And away from Regan’s watchful, hurt gaze.

  Dare pressed his fingers to his eyes and groaned. He was a grown man. What he did, and whom he chose as his companion for the evening, was no one’s business but his own.

  He did not want to hurt Regan. By God, it was the last thing he desired. However, if Dare was leaving her innocence and affection for another gent to claim, then he had every right to drown out his own misery in the arms of someone else.

  Banishing the image of Regan from his thoughts, he thought instead of Mrs. Randall. Touching his jaw thoughtfully, he realized that he needed to shave and rang for a servant. He would focus on the lovely possibilities the evening had to offer. Even if he had to lie to himself to do it.

  * * *

  Frost was a tolerable escort. Unlike Dare, who hovered around her most of the evening like a possessive suitor, her brother seemed content to chaperone her from afar. Once he had silently warned off any potential admirer in the ballroom, her brother disappeared for several hours. Regan assumed that he and his friends had adjourned to the library for brandy and cards.

  Or he was dallying with his current mistress.

  In any event, Frost’s private business was not Regan’s concern.

  Despite her brother’s notoriety, several gentlemen asked her to dance. She displayed her dancing skills with pride, and even Lady Pashley nodded, offering her unspoken approval. Regan did not require the marchioness’s support. Not when the lady’s praise appeared to be more condescending than flattering.

  All in all, it was a grand evening at the Trussells’. Hunter, Vane, and Saint had emerged long enough from the card room to dance with her. At her urging, the gentlemen even danced with Thea and Nina. Lady Karmack looked almost apoplectic when she saw her youngest daughter dancing with various members of the Lords of Vice. Her sharp gaze immediately alighted on Regan, for she knew who was responsible for the mischief.

  As she waited for latest dance partner to return with a glass of lemonade he had offered to procure for her, Regan saw Dare enter the ballroom from one of the side doors. When had he arrived at the ball? Perhaps, upon his arrival, he had avoided the ballroom, and joined Frost and the others in the card room.

  Regan brightened when she saw Dare look about the room. Was he searching for her? Smiling, she contemplated how to politely dismiss her dance partner when she saw his gaze fix on someone. A grin stretched across his face as he started to cross the room.

  Regan’s heart constricted, and she gasped in pain as Dare bowed gallantly in front of Mrs. Randall.

  Good grief! Was Dare really the gentleman with whom Mrs. Randall had expressed a desire to form an intimate connection?

  And she had told the beautiful widow to be bold!

  Regan pressed her hand against her abdomen and tried to fight down the nausea churning in her stomach.

  “I think they make a charming couple. Do you not agree?” Lady Pashley literally purred in Regan’s ear.

  Regan started. She hadn’t heard the marchioness come up beside her. It was difficult to conceal her displeasure as Lady Pashley’s sleeve brushed Regan’s arm. Dare’s sister-in-law was the last person that she wanted to confide in. “To whom are you referring?”

  Lady Pashley was too intelligent not to see past Regan’s feigned ignorance. “Hugh and Mrs. Randall. Rumor has it that half the gentlemen of the ton have been sniffing around the lady’s skirts since last season when she came out of mourning. She had refused all respectable and not-so-respectable offers until she was introduced to our Hugh.”

  Regan internally cringed at the notion that she had anything in common with the marchioness. “I was not aware that Dare was acquainted with Mrs. Randall.”

  Lady Pashley’s smile reminded Regan of a very hungry cat. “Oh, I have been watching their awkward courtship since long before your unexpected arrival in London, my dear. As a married woman, it is rather sweet to watch others fumble about as they work up the courage to take what they want.”

  “So you believe Dare plans to marry Mrs. Randall?”

  The marchioness chuckled softly. “Heavens, no. Even the second son of a duke can do better than marry the widow of a lieutenant, nor would His Grace approve of such a marriage.” Lady Pashley placed her hand on Regan’s arm and guided her to the right so they had an unobstructed view of the couple. “Hugh’s interest in the charming Mrs. Randall will only last a few months. If they are not already lovers, they will be soon.”

  “How can you tell?” She was beginning to feel sick again.

  The marchioness gestured at the couple. “Little things, I suppose. Note how he has positioned himself so that no one can approach her without his permission. Hugh is clearly staking a claim. Oh, look, see how Mrs. Randall gazes shyly up at him? A clever lady appeals to a gentleman’s protective nature.”

  Regan’s eyes were beginning to sting. Lady Pashley was not exaggerating. There was an intensity to Dare’s stance. He was staring at Mrs. Randall as if she were the only lady in the room.

  “How did you become such an expert on courtship?” Regan asked numbly.

  “I am an expert on Hugh.” Lady Pashley smiled at Regan’s startled expression. “Do not look so surprised. Hugh is family. I do not expect you to know this since you were nothing more than a child; however, there was a time when I was forced to choose between Hugh and Charles.”

  And Dare had never quite forgiven her. His love for Lady Pashley had been grand and all-consuming; her decision to marry his brother had left Dare so bereft that he’d never since looked beyond sating his carnal needs with a legion of mistresses.

  Regan swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

  “You have a beautiful daughter, Lady Pashley, and someday you will be the Duchess of Rhode,” Regan murmured as she watched Mrs. Randall laugh at something Dare said to her. “You made the right choice.”

  “Hmm … one would think.”

  Regan did not respond. She supposed that in hindsight, a titled adulterous husband dimmed the lady’s appreciation for her good fortune. Regan gritted her teeth as Dare offered the crook of his arm to Mrs. Randall. Together, they strolled out of the ballroom.

  Dare had every intention of bedding Mrs. Randall this evening.

  Lady Pashley gave Regan a triumphant look. “I predict that Hugh will not be joining you and your brother at breakfast.”

  “Dare is a gentleman,” Regan lied as she struggled not to give in to her disbelief and rage. “He is probably escorting Mrs. Randall to her coach.”

  “What a charmingly naive explanation for Dare’s absence!” The marchioness clapped her gloved hands together in delight. “Do you honestly believe it?”

  No.

  “Yes,” Regan said fiercely. If she believed the worst of Dare, she would never be able to maintain her composure in front of Lady Pashley. “What right do you have to judge your brother-in-law so harshly? To accuse him as being a ruthless seducer without grounds?”

  The humor fled from Lady Pashley’s expression as she gave Regan something close to a pitying glance. “My dear girl, where do you think Louisa got the Mordare eyes?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Home.

  Regan had never been so grateful to see an evening come to an end. With her eyes closed, she remained seated on the stone bench on the terrace and listened to the sounds within the library that heralded Dare’s return. Her younger, impulsive self might have rushed to his side the moment Dare had opened the door.

  Her years away from London had taught her patience.

  How long had she been sitting there on the terrace? Long enough, she thought, for the cold stone to chill her. Regan had returned from the Trussells’ ball hours earlier with only a silent house to greet her. Not that she minded overmuch.
Frost rarely returned home until dawn, or at all. It was Dare who watched over her, deliberately allowing his evenings to intersect with hers.

  Until this evening.

  Oh, how she loathed Lady Pashley. Men were too easily fooled by a comely face. The marchioness knew exactly what she was doing when she revealed Dare’s interest in the attractive Mrs. Randall. Regan had not needed Frost and Vane to confirm Lady Pashley’s revelation. She had discreetly observed the widow as she and Dare exchanged pleasantries before they had left the Trussells’ ballroom together. Was it apparent only to another woman that Mrs. Randall was half in love with Dare?

  Unlike Regan, the widow was not bound by polite society’s dictates. She could take as many lovers as she desired as long as she was discreet.

  Was that why Dare had vanished from the ball as Lady Pashley had hinted? Had he spent the last few hours in Mrs. Randall’s bed?

  Just then, Dare stepped out onto the terrace, startling Regan from her bleak musings.

  He seemed equally surprised to see her. “Why are you not in bed?” he demanded gruffly.

  Regan picked up the glass of brandy that she had set on the seat of the bench. “I thought a brandy would help me sleep.” She brought the glass to her lips and sipped. It was strong, but she was silently proud of the fact that she did not wince.

  “Did Frost see you home?”

  Regan took another sip of her brandy. “I am perfectly capable of summoning the coachman without Frost’s assistance.” Or yours.

  “Damn it, Regan! If your brother was unavailable, then you should have sought out Saint or Hunter … hell, even Vane would have sufficed.”

  “Do not be so tedious!” she snapped.

  The knowledge that he had just left the widow’s warm bed to lecture her on what he viewed as her reckless conduct was unbearable. Regan braced her hand on the wall and rose to her feet. She sucked in her breath as she staggered to catch her balance.

  Dare tried to snatch the glass of brandy from her hand, and missed when she jerked it away from him. “You are foxed.”

  Regan smirked at him. “A condition that I am certain you and the other Lords of Vice must be intimately acquainted with.” She strolled by him and into the library to prove that she was in control of her limbs. “Nevertheless, your opinion, as usual, is abysmally incorrect.”

  Before he could stop her, she downed the rest of her brandy. She set the empty glass on Frost’s desk with more exuberance than was needed. “The only overindulgence that I am guilty of is sitting in the night air too long.”

  Regan slipped into a low curtsy to prove that she had regained her graceful balance. “Now that I have had my brandy, I shall bid you good night.”

  Dare grabbed her arm before she could move away from him. “For God’s sake, Regan, what maggot has gotten into your brain this evening?”

  “Why do you care?” she said, the pain in her heart bleeding into her voice. “More to the point, why do you pretend to care?”

  “Pretend?” he echoed, puzzlement darkening his blue-gray eyes. “No pretense is necessary, Regan. I do care about you.”

  Not enough, she thought.

  Regan shrugged off his hand. “Why are you here? What happened? Did your widow kick you out of her bed?”

  Dare became unnaturally still at her question. “Who told you?” he asked tonelessly.

  “No one had to tell me anything,” she said, over her shoulder as she made her way to the door. “I saw you slip out of the ballroom with Mrs. Randall. When you did not return, it was apparent to everyone that seduction was your intention.”

  She had managed to open the door several inches before Dare slammed it shut.

  “Everyone?” he said, his brows lifting. “That many. And here I thought I was discreet.”

  “Perhaps you were careless in your eagerness,” she said waspishly. Regan tried to shove Dare’s arm away. “Step aside. You will not enjoy the consequences if you provoke me.”

  Regan sputtered in outrage when she found herself captured in Dare’s uncompromising embrace. “Never threaten a man with such a tempting offer,” he said lazily. “He just might be of the mindset to accept your challenge.”

  Very conscious that her backside was molded against his front, Regan struggled for her freedom. Dare was not hurting her, but he did not seem inclined to release her.

  “Blast you, Dare!” she seethed, hating how her breasts tingled and tightened at his nearness. No man had ever created such a need within her. And he just came from Mrs. Randall’s bed. Oh, it simply wasn’t fair!

  Dare chuckled in her ear. “Such language, Lady Regan,” he scolded. “And here I thought you liked my hands on you.” One of his hands slipped to her waist.

  Regan responded by ramming her elbow into his stomach.

  She heard a satisfying “oomph,” and Dare immediately released her. Regan whirled around to face him, her fists clenched at her sides. “You conceited scoundrel! Touch me again, and I will—I will—”

  The humor faded from his face, and his eyes became hooded. “Summon your brother?” Dare supplied when she could not come up with a suitable threat.

  “I do not need Frost,” Regan said fiercely, her eyes bright with tears. “I am furious enough to tear you limb from limb!”

  “I can see that.” His demeanor was amazingly calm as he faced her. “You’re jealous.”

  The tears that had been threatening to fall receded as her temper switched from seething to a brittle cold. “Your vanity is endless.” With her head held high, she marched away from him. “And you, Lord Hugh, can go to the devil!”

  What happened next was more reflex than fury.

  When Dare grabbed her shoulder and whirled her about, Regan’s fist came up and bashed him in the nose.

  “Christ!” Dare bellowed, stumbling back. He stared at Regan wide-eyed. “A bloody facer … by a female!”

  Horrified by her violent display, Regan rushed to Dare and touched him on the arm. “My God, I did not mean to hit you. I—”

  Dare pounced. There was no other word to describe the man who one minute was hunched over in pain, and the next had seized Regan by the shoulders and sent them both tumbling to the floor. Regan gasped at the feel of him pressed on top of her.

  “Not jealous, eh?” Dare grinned down at her, pleased by his own cleverness. “Such shameful behavior, Regan Alice.” He made a disapproving noise in his throat. “Spilling my blood over another female.”

  Relief gave way to exasperation. “Need I remind you that you are not bleeding?” The slight pink on his cheek proved that her fist must have given his face a glancing blow and missed his nose entirely. “What is shameful is pretending that I hurt you!”

  “Well, it worked, didn’t it? It put you exactly where I wanted you,” he said without a scrap of remorse. He shifted his legs against hers, making sure he had her effectively pinned. Regan’s breath caught at the intimacy of the position. “Now tell me more about your jealousy and this penchant for violence.”

  Regan grimaced as she brought her fingers up to cover her eyes. Despite his flirtatious teasing, her spirits plummeted. “I feel like such a fool.”

  Angling his body so the floor supported most of his weight, Dare peeled her hand away from her eyes. “On the contrary, you feel soft and rather lovely; though not all of you,” he said, rapping his knuckles on the boning of her corset.

  Regan laughed. “Let me up before Frost finds us.”

  “Impossible. I locked the door and took the key.”

  She glanced back at the closed door. Baffled, Regan met his clear blue-gray eyes. “When did—You did what?”

  “Despite the rumors you heard this evening, I had no intention of bedding Mrs. Randall,” Dare told her. He stared down at her. “How could I, when all I could think about is you?”

  And then he sealed his confession with a kiss.

  * * *

  Dare tensed, half expecting Regan to punch him again. He was learning that she had become quite un
predictable, and possessed a fierce temperament when provoked. A sane man would have scrambled off her and counted his blessings that she had not buried her sharp knuckles into his nutmegs.

  But he wasn’t sane. At least not when it came to this woman.

  He found her fascinating. Regan was a wild, spirited creature who not only challenged him, but also stirred a tenderness within him that he thought long dead. She was fully capable of arousing him, even when she was doing her best to kill him.

  Dare deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping hers. She made a soft, kittenish sound of pleasure that made him even hotter and harder. Although beautiful, he wanted to rend the dress that she was wearing with his bare hands. He loathed the barriers that kept him from exploring her body with his fingers and mouth.

  By God, he wanted to do more to Regan than just touch. Just as Dare had said, it was the reason he had not accepted Mrs. Randall’s soft-spoken invitation to join her in her private sitting room. On the drive to her town house, Dare realized that he wanted more than a willing woman who offered nothing more than a single night of pleasure.

  He craved a complicated, outrageous female whose innocence and notorious, protective older brother stood between him and his desires.

  But now he no longer cared about the risks.

  Dare was tired of fighting it. He wanted Regan.

  “I need to see all of you,” he said. He lifted her and immediately began to undo the glass buttons at the back of her dress.

  “Here?” Regan crossed her arms over the front of her bodice. Soon he had the laces of her corset loosened.

  “I cannot wait,” he said, his tone intense. The short sleeves slipped down her arms until the bodice of the dress collected at her slender waist. Her corset and chemise still covered her breasts, but not for much longer. “Lift your hips.”

  Regan’s dark blue eyes seemed fathomless as she stared up at him. “Are you undressing, too?”

  “Soon.” Dare tossed her dress and petticoat aside. Her stiff corset quickly followed, until she was wearing only her thin chemise and drawers.