by Cheryl Holt
“I predict I can stir that sort of hot emotion all over again. Shall we bet on it?”
He was smiling down at her, still gorgeous, still thin and dapper, and still smart enough to desire her—even after so much time had passed.
“We don’t need to bet, Charles,” she told him. “I’m positive we can stir quite a bit of emotion—and some passion too—with no effort at all.”
“That is the answer I was waiting desperately to hear.”
He lifted her off her feet, tossed her onto the bed, and followed her down. In two seconds flat, it seemed as if they’d never been separated a single minute.
Simon peeked down the deserted hall, then slipped into Penny’s bedchamber. He spun the key in the lock so no one could bluster in after him.
She’d continued to refuse to tell him where her room was located, but she’d claimed—if he could figure out where it was on his own—she wouldn’t complain if he snuck in. How could a fellow ignore a dare like that?
He hadn’t even had to bribe a footman to spill the beans. As she’d headed to bed, he’d simply tiptoed after her, with her being too naïve to glance over her shoulder to see him standing there. He hadn’t entered immediately, but had had to dawdle until her maid left.
Her suite was just as grandiose as he’d imagined it would be. The outer room was a sitting room, and there was a bedroom behind it. The whole place was packed with fussy furniture in varying shades of pink. He wondered if the color was a holdover from when she was a child and had liked a frilly décor.
He hoped it wasn’t a recent choice. If he managed to attach himself to her—which he had every intention of doing—the feminine ambiance would drive him batty.
A few dolls were perched on a shelf, but then, she was only eighteen. Maybe she hadn’t matured quite as much as he’d assumed. The notion was disheartening. Then again, if she remained so juvenile in her tastes and habits, it would be much easier to coerce her into debauched conduct.
He went over and leaned against the door jam, and he studied the bedroom with a jaundiced eye. He was only twenty himself, but due to his shocking upbringing, he felt a hundred years older than her.
Even though he was a young man, he’d loafed in many beautiful women’s bedchambers. The rooms always fascinated him, and he learned many tidbits he could use to persuade them to give him things they shouldn’t.
His opinion of the fairer sex had been skewed by his growing up around Libby and Fish. They weren’t ordinary females, so there’d never been a bedroom like this in any of their homes. Normally, they were busy performing in the evenings, earning an income to keep a roof over their heads. They didn’t huddle by the fire at night, knitting shawls or embroidering pillowcases.
With his father, Harry, having directed their every step, they’d moved constantly too, traveling with circuses and acting troupes, so they’d never had the space to accumulate many possessions. If they filled up a wardrobe, it was usually with costumes necessary to play their parts.
There was a dressing room in the back, and Penny was in there and humming to herself. He waited right where he was, his amusement spiraling as he debated over how she’d respond when she saw him.
Finally, she strolled into view, and he was delighted to report that she didn’t scream with alarm.
“Simon Falcon!” she quietly scolded. “Why are you in my bedchamber?”
“You told me—if I could determine where it was—that I’d be welcome to visit you.”
“I wasn’t serious!”
“Weren’t you? Are you sure about that?”
“I’m reasonably sure.”
She frowned, her consternation clear. As with most girls, she’d never met a man like him. He was tantalizing her with thoughts of how her life could be, rather than how it was. She was destined to marry Lord Barrett, that disgusting roué who’d just been lifting Libby’s skirt.
If Penny didn’t wind up betrothed to Lord Barrett, her father would shackle her to another tedious aristocrat just like him. Didn’t she deserve better? Wouldn’t Simon be better?
He was spurring her to start asking herself that question. Every person in the kingdom would vehemently insist he wasn’t better by any standard, but he was keen to have her suppose he was.
He sauntered over to her, and she stood her ground. She was no shrinking violet, and he preferred females who were bold instead of timid.
“If you’re caught in here,” she said, “how will I explain it?”
“I locked the door.”
“Yes, but my maid might come back to check on me.”
“Will you let her in? Should I leave? Is that what you want?”
He grinned a cocky grin, being certain she wouldn’t send him away, and if she did? He’d try again on a different night. He had all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, and he’d continue tormenting her until she couldn’t resist.
She assessed him forever, her moral inclinations at war with her reckless ones. According to rumor, her father had had a wild side when he was young. Had she inherited any of his wicked habits? So far, she hadn’t exhibited many dissolute tendencies, but it was early.
“No, I don’t want you to leave,” she ultimately said.
“Of course you don’t.”
“But I’m not convinced you should stay either.”
“You’re conflicted about what’s best, so I will have to help you decide.”
“Let me guess,” she scoffed. “You’ll persuade me that it’s best if you tarry.”
“I’m betting I won’t have to work very hard.”
He dipped in and kissed her, just a quick brush of his lips to her own. He’d kissed her before, and she’d reveled in it. He’d reveled in it too, and he would be thrilled to walk down the decadent road they appeared bound to travel.
“You’re going to get me in so much trouble,” she said as he drew away.
“I’m not planning on it.”
“It’s a large house, but it’s a small house too. The servants always know everything that’s occurring. There’s no way to keep an affair a secret.”
His grin widened. “Is that where I am with you? Are we having a secret affair?”
She sighed with disgust. “I’m about to become betrothed to Lord Barrett, and my father has promised me that he will be the perfect husband. Yet if I carry on with you, and we’re discovered, my reputation will be ruined, and I’ll likely never marry.”
Simon waved away the comment. “Why would you be so eager to wed Lord Barrett? He’s so much older than you.”
“My father claims that’s beneficial, that an older husband can guide a young bride in a good direction.”
“That’s nonsense. Barrett is stuffy and stodgy, and you’re so vibrant and vivacious. He could never love or understand you. You’d suffocate as his wife.”
“You can’t be sure of that, and I shouldn’t listen to you about it. You make me doubt my father, and I’m very fond of him. He wouldn’t steer me wrong.”
“Wouldn’t he?”
The query hung in the air between them, and it had the desired effect. She glowered at him, quite ferociously too.
“I’ve upset you,” he murmured, and he kissed her sweetly, tenderly, keeping on until she relaxed against him.
“You bewilder me,” she said.
“Aren’t you yearning to live happily ever after?” he asked.
“Isn’t everyone?”
“Would you really be happy with Lord Barrett? Be honest with me.”
“I barely know him, so I can’t imagine if I’d be happy or not.”
“You’re only eighteen.”
She bristled. “Don’t cite my age as if I’m a child. How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“You’re not exactly a wise old elder.”
“I simply mention it becau
se I’ve seen more of the world than you. I’m certain you have a very romantic view of marriage.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You expect to have the wedding of the Season, then you’ll retire to Barrett Manor, and eventually, Lord Barrett will fall madly in love with you. It’s how girls picture these things.”
“First off, I’m not a girl, and I’m not deceived about my future.”
“I apologize. You’re a young lady who’s anxious to be a bride, but might I suggest that you have some skewed ideas as to how matrimony will unfold with Lord Barrett?”
“Why couldn’t he fall in love with me? It could happen.”
Pity slid into his expression, and he scrutinized her in a gentle way, as if she was precious and might break into a dozen pieces if he wasn’t careful with her.
“Should I confide a secret about him?” he asked. “Could you bear to learn a hard truth?”
“I’m not sure,” she tentatively replied, “and how would you have learned any of his secrets? As far as I know, you’re not acquainted with him.”
“That’s as may be, but I’ve unearthed one tidbit that’s shocking. Would you like to hear it or not?”
She debated, then said, “I’d like to hear it.”
“He loves someone else.”
She gasped. “Who is she?”
“I probably shouldn’t name names.”
“No, no, now that you’ve blurted out the news, you have to tell me who it is.”
His pitying expression grew remorseful. “I’m sorry, but it’s my cousin, Libby.”
“Miss Carstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Oh . . .”
“Even if he weds you, I don’t believe he intends to give her up. Could you live like that? I realize it’s common for men of his class to have mistresses and second families, but I deem it to be horrendous behavior. It seems so . . . duplicitous to me.”
She staggered over to a chair and sank down, and she studied the floor. He hoped he hadn’t wrecked Libby’s sojourn at Roland, hoped Penny didn’t demand their immediate departure, but he didn’t think she would. If Libby left, Simon would go with her, and Penny wouldn’t want that.
“It’s not a mystery why he would love your cousin,” she said. “She’s so exotic and beautiful. What about Miss Carstairs? Does she return his affection?”
“Unfortunately, yes. She’s always had scoundrels circling her like vultures, but she’s never been interested in any of them—until Lord Barrett came along.”
“I see.” She pulled her gaze from the floor and settled it on him. “Might my father have discovered their affair? Might he be aware of it, but he pursued the match anyway?”
“They’ve been very discreet, so he couldn’t have found out.”
“If Lord Barrett proposes after all, and I asked Miss Carstairs to part with him, would she?”
“She might oblige you. She’s a kind person, and she never likes to hurt anyone, but Lord Barrett is quite determined about her. He might not be willing to end it, and he’s such a wily character. He’d make it difficult for her to break it off.”
“He’s that besotted?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“What should I do? What would you recommend?”
“At the moment, you can’t really do anything, can you? You have a house full of guests.”
“I can’t exactly call off the party and send them home.”
“No, you can’t, and there’s no guarantee that Lord Barrett will forge ahead. I mean, he might figure out that you’re completely incompatible. But if he doesn’t change his mind, you could have a word with your father. You could explain that you have changed your mind.”
“That announcement wouldn’t go over very well, and what would happen to me then? My father would have to find another candidate. It might take forever, and I was so eager to marry this year. All my friends are having weddings. I want to join in the fun.”
Her comment underscored how deluded she was about matrimony, and he was compelled to counsel, “You can’t pick a husband merely because you’re in a hurry to be a bride.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“You have to select the right husband. He has to be the type who will put you on a pedestal above all other women. Lord Barrett never would. You could never matter to him in any significant way.”
“I understand that now.”
“I’ll be here for the next week or so,” he said, lightening the tone of the conversation. “We can discuss the sort of spouse you need and deserve.”
“I wish I could wed someone young and handsome like you.”
She flashed a hot look that he felt clear down to his toes, and he was greatly encouraged by it.
“I’d marry you if I could.” He oozed regret. “I can guarantee we’d have a lifetime of pleasure and excitement.”
“You’re too far beneath me, Simon.” She sounded like the spoiled brat she was. “My father would never approve.”
“If a girl is clever, she can obtain what she wants. And haven’t we already agreed that your father doesn’t know who would suit you? Just remember that he picked Lord Barrett! He has no idea of the kind of man you require.”
“You might be correct about that.”
He’d planted enough seeds for one evening. He’d water them and watch them grow. He had ten more days to flirt with her. When she was so naïve, it was an eternity. Who could predict where they’d be when the party ended?
Simon was certain of one pertinent fact. He would walk away from the relationship much wealthier. She’d wind up as his wife or—if she got cold feet—he’d persuade her father to pay him to go away. Lord Roland would likely cough up a small fortune to rid himself of a cad like Simon.
In the interim, he was positive he’d scuttled Lord Barrett’s chances with Penny, so Libby’s road with Barrett was suddenly wide open. Simon nodded with satisfaction, delighted to have done her such a good turn.
He stuck out his hand and said, “Come with me.”
“To where?”
“To loaf on your bed of course.”
She blanched. “We can’t!”
“Yes, we can. The door is locked, and we’re alone. No one will stumble on us.”
“It would be wrong. It would be a sin.”
He chuckled. “It’s only a sin if we’re caught. And we’re not about to be caught.”
She didn’t move, and he clasped hold of her arm and raised her to her feet. He began kissing her again, and he kept on and on until her limbs were rubbery and her curvaceous front was pressed to his all the way down.
He thought she’d be a splendid bride. She was beautiful, elegant, and refined, and she was very rich too, and a rich girl was always prettier than a poor one. As he pictured her dowry money flowing into his purse, he scooped her up and carried her over to the bed.
She scowled. “I told you we can’t do this.”
“I know,” he arrogantly retorted, “but give me a few minutes to show you how much fun we can have, and I’m betting you’ll be glad I insisted.”
He dropped her onto the mattress and followed her down.
“What do you think of Lord Barrett?”
At the question posed by Lady Penny, Libby was stumped over what her reply should be. They were alone in the park, strolling arm in arm, their heads pressed together.
Penny constantly begged to chat and seemed intent on becoming friends, but Libby was torn over the notion of their socializing too intimately. She wanted to be closer to the younger girl, but she didn’t want to be closer too.
A picnic was about to be served on the lawn. Tents had been erected, chairs and tables arranged. The servants were bustling to and fro, anxious to ensure that every little detail was perfect. As the preparations had grown frenzied, Penny had suggested t
hey slip away for a few minutes, and Libby couldn’t have refused.
“Lord Barrett?” Libby said, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t really know him. Is it appropriate for me to offer a comment?”
“You’ve spoken to him on several occasions. What is your opinion of him?”
“He’s very . . . polite.”
“That’s not much of a compliment. How else would you describe him?”
“I doubt I could or should.” Libby frowned. “Why are you asking me about him?”
“I like you so much.”
“I’m flattered, and I like you too.”
“You’re so much older than me.”
Libby chuckled. “I’m not that old. Aren’t you eighteen? I’m only twenty-five.”
“You’re so sophisticated compared to me.”
“I suppose that’s a valid assessment.” Libby was responding carefully, not eager to engage in the conversation Penny was determined to have. “My upbringing was unconventional and nothing surprises me.”
“Just so, Miss Carstairs. And may I call you Libby?”
“I would like that very much.”
The snobby girl didn’t extend the same courtesy, didn’t request that Libby call her simply Penny, rather than Lady Penny, and she bit down a sigh. What had she expected? Every aristocrat she’d ever met had been extremely vain. Lady Penny was no different.
“You have a unique perspective that I don’t possess,” Penny said, “so I thought you might be able to give me advice I can’t get otherwise.”
“About what? About Lord Barrett?”
“Yes. My father and my aunt are pursuing a match between us, and the Watsons have been our neighbors forever. When Father told me Lord Barrett was interested in me, I never wondered whether we should marry or not. I simply assumed Father was correct.”
Libby felt as if she was tiptoeing across a bog, and if she took a wrong step, she’d fall into the muck and be swallowed whole. She had no business discussing Lucas Watson with Penny Pendleton.
“I’m sure your father knows what’s best for you,” Libby tepidly said.
“He doesn’t understand the kind of person I am. What if Lord Barrett turns out to be a horrendous choice? What then?”
