Regency: Rakes & Reputations (Mills & Boon M&B)

by Gail Ranstrom

  “Did you ask me to walk with you for the express purpose of taunting me, Mr. Hunter?”

  He sighed deeply and turned her down a path that branched to their right. “We are a bit past formalities, Eugenia. When we are alone, at least, would you call me Jamie? Or James, if you’d like.”

  He had made her name sound like a caress or a sigh. She’d never really cared for her name until that moment. “If…if you’d prefer. But if you did not want to talk to me about what happened in the Albermarle gardens, why did you ask to walk with me? Now your sister thinks …”

  “That I am courting you? Precisely. As will everyone else in our party. And, with luck, the news will spread like wildfire throughout the ton.”

  “You…you want people to think that? But why?”

  “You have refused to stay at home and avoid places and situations where you might encounter trouble. Since I cannot stop you, this is my best chance of protecting you.”

  She halted beneath a lantern at a fork in the path and withdrew her hand from his arm. “I do not recall asking for your protection, Mr. Hunter. And, had you asked, I would have refused.”

  His voice carried a slight chill when he answered. “Not an option, Eugenia.”

  He had put himself directly in her path. Would people talk as freely to her now if they thought she was intimately connected to James Hunter? She rather thought not. This little charade of his would render her completely ineffective. “We must halt this ridiculous rumor at once!”

  She turned back the way they’d come but had not gone more than a few steps when he caught her by the arm and pulled her down an unlighted path to the right. When they were quite alone and could not possibly be overheard, he halted and turned to face her.

  “We will do no such thing, Eugenia. To the contrary, you will support the fable. There is no escape from it. I intend to dog your every footstep until you are gone back to Belfast.”

  “You have no right!”

  His handsome face settled into hard lines. “Would you rather I take this matter to someone who does have the right? I believe my brother Andrew and perhaps Devlin Farrell are your nearest male relatives. Do you really think they would look more kindly on your activities than I do?”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Care to make a wager on that, Eugenia?”

  Good heavens—he would! From the look on his face, argument would be useless. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. A show of defiance would gain her nothing, but perhaps they could reach a compromise. “I shall do nothing to contradict you, then, but when you are not present—”

  “You, Eugenia, will not contradict me. I will always be present.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That I intend to be at every function you attend. Furthermore, I shall escort you and your party home each night.”

  “Are you mad? People will be expecting a marriage. At the very least, an announcement. One of us will look a jilt when I return to Ireland.”

  “I shall take the blame. I have no intention of causing you or your reputation harm. But you must see that you have left me no other recourse to keep you safe from your own recklessness.”

  Trapped. She was trapped and she would be hard-pressed to make any progress finding Mr. Henley now. With James at her elbow every time she left the house, who would confide in her? Why, how would she even meet with Miss Race and Mr. Metcalfe at the Morris masquerade? This was intolerable.

  She looked up at him in the moonlight, aware for the first time that they had ventured down one of the “dark walks.” Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the strains of an orchestra playing a waltz. Nearer, the call of a bird disturbed from its nest startled her. If James had meant to find privacy, he’d succeeded.

  He looked down at her and slipped his arm around her waist. “Eugenia, it will not be so bad. I promise.”

  How could she ever make him understand? Frustration surfaced as she looked into his eyes and her deepest fear slipped out unbidden. “Perhaps it is already too late to save me….”

  “Not while you still breathe, Gina.” His lips were soft and beseeching as they touched hers, as if making a request or waiting for permission to do more.

  She responded in a way she hadn’t known she could, and she realized just how badly she’d wanted this—this closeness, this intimacy, this deep and poignant longing. She surrendered to it, sinking against him with a little moan.

  His arms tightened around her, one hand winding through her hair and making a fist, holding her immobile and unable to turn away. Unnecessary, since she’d lost the will for resistance long ago. She wanted to find what lay at the end of this.

  Chapter Eight

  God help him, Jamie knew better. Gina wanted nothing to do with him, she’d made that clear enough. But when she looked at him with those doe eyes, when he saw the spark—half question, half plea—in her eyes, he had responded without thinking. When she’d fit herself against his body, his own had hardened with his long-suppressed need.

  Her lips parted with a sigh and he teased her tongue, relishing her boldness mingled with timidity in the way she tasted him and in the sweetness of her moan. He’d been afraid she would turn away so he held her tight, preventing her from slipping away from him. He needn’t have worried.

  From the moment he’d seen her tonight in her ivory gown with the daring décolletage, he’d been longing to do this very thing.

  His fingers were tangled in her hair and he pulled her head back, the better to kiss her. The better to nuzzle his way from her earlobe to the hollow of her throat. He nudged the ivory ribbon around her neck aside and kissed the little line of thickened tissue where she’d been nicked by Daschel’s dagger. He could not see that scar without remembering that horrible moment before he’d swept her from the altar when he’d feared she was dead.

  He was afraid she would protest at his recognition of her wound, but the sweet vibration of her sigh against his lips nearly drove him wild with desire. Where? Where could he take her? He could not soil her gown on the grass and return her to the fireworks. Nor could he whisk her from the gardens and take her to a private inn, no matter how much he wanted to. But he couldn’t let her go without tasting just a bit more because, when she came to her senses, she would never let anything like this happen again.

  He edged his kisses lower, this time nudging the lace of her bodice out of his way and freeing one rose-peaked bud. She shivered, but he did not take pity on her yet. Instead he captured that little bud between his lips and circled it with his tongue. It hardened and formed a taut bead that tasted vaguely of sugared cream and made him hunger for more.

  She made a whimpering sound and cupped the back of his head, pressing him closer and whispering something that sounded like his name. What wild music that made in his mind. He nipped gently in response and her hand tightened through his hair.

  He relished her unpracticed responses, knowing she’d never done anything like this before. Whatever had been done to her the night of the ritual, whatever she had felt that night, could have been nothing like this. She was too surprised. Too caught up in the madness that possessed them both.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly and her heartbeat hammered against his lips. He knew the signs. She was his for the taking, and he was painfully capable of doing just that. Desperate to do it, in fact. But this was Eugenia. Stunning, brave and principled Eugenia. How could he disregard her wishes or sate himself at her expense? How could he risk loving her, knowing her, only to have her leave him?

  A chill went through him and he slowly separated himself from her, straightening and steadying her until she could support herself again. “I…I apologize, Eugenia. I shouldn’t have done that. I know I’ve said that before, but you have my oath it will not happen again.”

  She blinked, as if trying to recall where she was or what they’d done, blissfully unaware that the deepened pink of one areola still peeked above her décolletage—a temptation that nearly undid his good
intentions. She winced as he sighed and reached out to tug the fabric upward.

  Even through the deepened twilight he could see the stain of a blush rise to her cheeks as she turned away from him and struggled to put herself to rights. “You should not start something you do not intend to finish, Mr. Hunter.”

  Finish? Everything inside him begged to finish what he’d started. But her accusation…was it a rebuke for stopping? Or for beginning? He wanted to reassure her, and he touched her shoulder in what he hoped she would interpret as support. “Eugenia, my concern was for you. You cannot know what a man—”

  She shrugged his hand away and turned to face him, her eyes burning like dark coals. “This is precisely the point, is it not? I cannot, but I should.”

  “What—”

  “Never mind, Mr. Hunter. It is my problem and has nothing to do with you.” She smoothed the hair he’d tangled and tucked it back into the ribbons.

  He wanted to tell her that anything to do with her was his concern, but he knew that would only make her angrier. He was saved the necessity of a reply by a reverberating boom, the first of the fireworks.

  She jumped, startled by the sound. “We should be getting back before your sister comes looking for us.”

  “Eugenia, about the matter we discussed …”

  She took several steps back toward the path. “Our ‘courtship,’ Mr. Hunter?”

  “Yes. Perhaps I should have asked you if you are husband hunting.” He followed close on her heels, barely daring to breathe until he had the answer to that question.

  She laughed. “That is the last thing on my mind at the minute.”

  He exhaled with relief. “Then I cannot see what objection you could have regarding our charade.”

  “Your charade,” she corrected as she took the arm he offered.

  “You can make this as difficult as you please, Eugenia, or you can cooperate. What you cannot do is stop me. My course is set. And you might want to consider the benefits.”

  “There are benefits? For whom?”

  “If society thinks I am near to making an offer for you, my name may lend you some measure of protection.”

  She looked up at him through the deepening twilight. “Why are you so determined to carry out this scheme…James?”

  “I am responsible for you. Had I succeeded in capturing Henley …”

  She considered this as they entered the clearing and heeded a wave from Lady Sarah. “You most certainly are not responsible for me, but I…I suppose there can be no harm in pretending if you will try to use a bit of discretion. The less you flaunt it, the less there will be to explain when it ends.”

  “Agreed.”

  Gina glanced down at her décolletage to be certain everything had been put back in place. She was already humiliated enough and she did not want to rejoin their party betraying any sign of impropriety.

  That kiss, more seductive than the last, warned her not to become entangled any further with James Hunter. Indeed, how would she manage to coax information from young men if James was always lurking? How could she trace the only clue she had?

  She dropped her hand from his arm to smooth the fabric of her gown, trying to brush away any remaining trace of their indiscretion. Her fingers skimmed a small lump of metal dangling from the corset strings beneath her gown. The shape seemed to burn its impression into her skin. Thank heavens James had gone no further or he might have found the key Christina Race had given her. She must find the lock it fit.

  Standing on the steps of St. Mary’s Church as the bell rang the hour of twelve, Gina scanned the crowd for any sign of the street urchins Lilly had introduced to her. In the distance, she could see Nancy amongst the stalls of vegetable vendors. Soon she would rejoin Gina, and they would walk home.

  She felt conspicuous and realized meeting so openly with a street child would be noted by any of the family’s friends and acquaintances. She would have to think of a different place. Somewhere more private and less open.

  A small head sporting a dirty blue cap bobbed through the crowd in a direct line for her. As he drew closer, he waved and finally joined her on the steps. “Mornin’, Miss Eugenia.”

  “Good morning, Ned. Do you have anything for me?”

  “Not yet, miss. I been lookin’ though. I rounded up some o’ the lads and told ‘em to keep a look out. Promised a shilling to whoever brought the news.”

  Ned was a clever lad. The more eyes on the watch, the more likely Henley would be sighted. “Thank you, Ned. Is there some way you could send to me immediately when you have news? “

  “Instead o’ waiting until noon, y’ mean? I dunno. Could knock on yer kitchen door, I suppose.”

  “No!” Gina could just imagine the questions she’d face if a street child turned up asking for her. “I…I could meet you twice a day.”

  The boy removed his cap and swiped his forehead with the back of his arm. “Naw. Shouldn’t take us long to spot ‘im, but that Henley is a wily one. If ‘e catches us. An’ we gots bigger problems than that, miss. If you wants him real quick-like, I’m gonna need ‘elp. One of me mates thinks ‘e saw the gent goin’ into a gamblin’ ‘ell. I can’t get in some o’ the places ‘e goes. I know ‘e’s one fer the ladies, an’ I can’t get in those places either.”

  Gina’s mind whirled. She could not ask any of Henley’s peers without alerting James. And he was likely pursuing that angle himself. Aside from that, she could not know if they’d been in league with Henley, which would only land her squarely in more trouble. And she dare not hire a woman for fear of the danger that might befall her.

  No, apart from her own inquiries, her best chance of finding Henley lay with Mr. Renquist and this savvy urchin. But the threat of James watching her every minute would keep her from pursuing the matter. Unless she could find a way around him.

  He’d declared his intention to escort her home every night. But what if she did not stay at home? What if she met with Ned, instead? She’d sneaked out at night before and managed quite well before she’d run afoul of Mr. Henley. And she’d learned her lesson there—never again would she go anywhere with someone she did not know very, very well.

  “Ned, how late are you about at nights?”

  “Don’t usually sleep until dawn, miss. Some o’ my best pickin’s are in the wee hours when the gents are deep in their cups and not payin’ attention.”

  “Then would you meet me after midnight? I could help you. Perhaps I could disguise myself and gain entry to the places you cannot. I will reimburse you for your losses and also pay anyone else you think may help. But we mustn’t involve too many people. The more who know, the more likely our secret will get out.”

  He seemed to consider the matter for a moment, then brightened. “Aye. There’s a few I know ‘oo could ‘elp. An’ they won’t tell, neither. When do y’ wanna start, miss?”

  The Morris masquerade was tonight. She was attending with the Thayer twins, but she could beg a headache just before midnight, allow James to escort her home, then sneak away as soon as his carriage disappeared around the corner. But tonight she had important business. If fortune favored her, once she spoke with Mr. Metcalfe, she would have no need of Ned’s services. She would have all the answers she needed.

  But Gina had learned nothing if not to be cautious. “Tomorrow night, Ned? Quarter past midnight?” Wherever she found herself tomorrow, she would be sure to be home by then.

  “Aye, miss. I’ll wait for ye down the street.”

  “Stay hidden, Ned. The neighbors are a bit nosy.”

  The atmosphere in the Morris ballroom—indeed, in all the rooms the masquerade spilled into—was lively and gay. More than half the attendees wore elaborate costumes. Others, like Gina, wore bright colors in lieu of a costume and merely sported a mask or a domino. Her mask was crafted from silk sewn with yellow feathers and sparkling jewels to complement her bright yellow gown and she dangled a yellow feathered fan from her left wrist. Hortense had dressed as a shepherdess whi
le Harriett wore a nun’s habit. And James, who had arrived to escort them true to his threat, wore a domino with his usual evening attire. When he had delivered them safely to the ballroom, he’d excused himself to greet some of his friends in the billiards room.

  Under the protection of disguise, and relieved of the usual restraint of propriety, the gathering was rife with hilarity and spontaneity. And, unless Gina missed her guess, all were imbibing more than the usual amount of punch laced with alcohol, along with wine and ale.

  She wondered how she might find Miss Race in the crush, but removed her mask often enough to make certain Christina could find her. But, so far, not a single trace of a leper. Surely Mr. Metcalfe would not fail to come. Christina had told her how anxious he was to speak with her. She felt the key hidden in her bodice and said a quick silent prayer that her long nightmare would end tonight.

  “I do so love masques,” Hortense said, shifting her hooked staff to her other hand. “Though I do wonder how I shall dance with this thing.”

  Mr. Booth, another guest who had deigned to wear a domino rather than full costume, approached them with a rakish smile. “I have always had fantasies about dancing with a nun. You must have pity on me, Miss Thayer, and fulfill my dreams at last.”

  Harriett laughed in a way no nun would ever laugh, both seductive and pleased. “Granted, Mr. Booth. But mind your manners, sir. I have friends in high places.”

  Hortense chuckled as Mr. Booth led her sister away. “And Harri has always had fantasies about Mr. Booth. Two wishes satisfied with one dance.”

  “Let us hope that everyone’s wish comes true tonight.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Gina? What do you wish for?”

  Answers. The truth. “Happy endings,” she murmured.

  “Amen,” Hortense agreed. “And sooner would be better. But I think you need not worry over that. James Hunter has very obviously set his intentions on you. Any girl would be mad to refuse him. Charm, looks, wealth. What more could you ask? “

  What more indeed? “He has not proposed yet, Hortense, and may not. And should he, I have not decided what my answer will be.” There. That should cut short the wagging tongues of the ton and not raise any unrealistic expectations.