If Fredrick coerced more than one dance each evening with Lucy, Riel would discourage that suitor, too. Choosing to dismiss him with less provocation would raise Lucy’s ire, and she’d likely dance with him all the more, just to spite Riel.
How, then, to discourage Jonathon, whom he felt was the worst of the lot? Unfortunately, unless Jonathon made a misstep, or Riel found proof that he was a rake of the first order, he could do little. But he would watch the wolf every minute, that was for certain.
Woe to the rake if he laid an inappropriate hand upon Lucy, or tried to lure her into the garden. Riel’s fists tightened, relishing the thought of dusting that self-satisfied, aristocratic nose until it spurted blood.
Meanwhile, Riel would bide his time. And he’d ask Lucy to favor him with her last dance each evening. Riel couldn’t deny that he wanted it for purely selfish reasons. But it did make a statement, too. One he wanted Jonathon Warrington to heed. Riel was guardian over Lucy, and Warrington would have to come through him to get her.
* * * * *
More tea parties, soirées, fêtes and balls whirled by. Lucinda enjoyed them all. Riel had humbly asked if she would allow him a dance at one ball, and at the next he again asked for the last one. She wasn’t sure why she gave it to him. Especially since she wanted to spend as little time as possible with him. That one, wild moment last week when she’d wanted him to kiss her continued to haunt her, and that would not do. It would not do at all.
Jonathon continued to sign for two of her dances each night; one of which often included the supper dance. She continued to grant the stocky Fredrick one dance, and Timothy often asked for one, as well. The two young men always signed Amelia’s card, too. She was glad her friend’s dance card was almost always full.
So far, Fredrick had behaved himself, but it did seem that he danced a might too closely to her friend tonight. Unseemly. She’d also noticed Fredrick lurking at the punch table for long stretches while others danced. Was it because he couldn’t get a partner? Or because he enjoyed the spiked punch too much?
While Lucinda enjoyed herself, and nightly discovered new ways to encourage interesting conversational paths with her dance partners, it was turning out to be more work than she’d expected. All of the men loved to talk about themselves. Only a few asked about her interests. She found this frustrating. While she did need a husband, she didn’t want a self-absorbed bore. Where was her dream man? This evening, one man had preened the entire dance, another sniffed constantly, and another droned on and on about topics of no importance to her at all.
Boring, boring, boring! Where were the exciting men? She averted her eyes from Riel, who danced across the room with a redhead. True, he agitated her. But she wanted romance, not disturbed feelings.
Why hadn’t she found her future husband yet? Where was the heart stopping romance? Why hadn’t she fallen in love?
As usual, Jonathon was the best candidate of all, but right now he danced with a pretty brunette—a Lady Annabelle, she believed—who laughed up at him. Lucinda could not feel jealous. It was just the way Jonathon was. He was as a bee to honey. All women loved him. No wonder she liked him, as well.
Currently, she danced the cotillion with young Timothy Fenwick. Only once had he stepped on her toes this evening. She scanned his face. He wasn’t bad looking in a tall, blond-haired, puppy dog sort of way.
Frustrated with her lack of prospects so far, Lucinda blurted, “Do you find it boring?”
His brows flew up and he accidentally stomped on her toe. “Sorry!” His ears turned beet red. Steps jerky, he directed them both back into the rhythm of the dance. “Boring? Do I find what boring?”
“All of this.” Lucinda sketched a dramatic hand about the room. “You are a man.” Well, barely. “You probably don’t look on balls as women do. But I’ve been to six balls this Season, and five last, and it is always the same. I dance with the same men. Those men talk about themselves, and then we switch partners and it begins again. Where is the excitement?” she implored, not really expecting an answer.
Lucinda struggled to ignore the truth. She did feel prickles of excitement—but with only one man—Riel.
What if he had kissed her the other night?
Lucinda shivered and then blinked, horrified. Had she lost her mind? She must scourge all thoughts of her guardian from her head.
Timothy offered a small smile. “I try to step on one less toe each night. That’s all the excitement I can master right now.”
Timothy was a nice young man. So earnest and awkward, and sweet, too, really. What would he know about romance, or the things her friends in the finishing school had squealed over after lights out? Certainly, none of those things were happening to her. Of course, they did not happen on the dance floor, but out in the garden.
A plan so wicked that Lucinda almost stamped on Timothy’s toe raced across her imagination in living color. She nearly gasped with horror…and delight.
What better way to banish Riel utterly from her thoughts? Not to mention learn if the excitement she’d always dreamed of could exist? It would infuriate Riel, to be sure, but did he need to learn about it?
And Timothy would be the perfect choice to fulfill this most illicit of endeavors.
Impulsively, Lucinda fluttered her hand before her face. “La, I am so hot. Do you find it warm in here?”
“Yes. Why don’t they open the windows?”
“The matrons are afraid of the night airs. They fear taking ill, because then they might miss the next soirée. And all of the juicy gossip, too.”
He snorted.
The music slowed, and Lucinda tugged on his arm. “Will you come with me? I’d like to take a stroll in the garden, but I’m afraid to go alone.”
“Well…” One brow raised a bit. Clearly uncertain, he glanced across the room to where his mother and sister sat.
“Only for a moment. Please,” she cajoled, and felt like a wicked, wicked girl as she did so. Knowingly luring him to a slippery path.
“All right,” he agreed at last. “But only for a moment.”
She grinned. “Thank you.” Taking the arm he offered, she accompanied him out the French doors to the garden paved with stones. It was a large garden, and thick groves of trees bordered the winding pathways. Lucinda urged him toward a dense clump.
Timothy said, “It’s a bit chilly. Do you want your wrap?”
“No.” Lucinda did not feel cold at all, for apprehension and excitement washed by turns through her, leaving her feeling both warm and cold at the same time. Once they were hidden among the trees, she stopped and folded her arms.
Timothy uneasily glanced back at the French doors, which were still barely visible. “Perhaps this isn’t the best idea. If someone saw us, they might get the wrong impression.”
“No one will see us.” Lucinda crept further back into the foliage. With a frown, he edged toward her. “Timothy, I’ll tell you the truth. I asked you out here for a reason.”
“A reason?” Uncertainty edged those few syllables.
“I want to conduct an experiment. An experiment only, so don’t get any other ideas.”
“What sort of an experiment?” He sounded suspicious, as well he might.
“Have you ever kissed a girl, Timothy?” She felt quite certain he hadn’t.
“No. But…”
“Would you like to?”
In the semi-darkness, a blush darkened his face. “Lady Lucinda, I do not think…”
“We’ve known each other all of our lives, Timothy. Right?”
“Yes…”
“And we can trust one another.”
“I thought so, but…”
“Timothy! All my life my friends have giggled about…kissing,” she said in a low voice. “I want to know what all the excitement is about. Dancing is fun, but over and over again, it is boring. I want to know if that’s all there is to romance. If that’s all there is between a man and a woman. Don’t you?”
He hesitated
, and she could tell he struggled to choose the right thing.
“Just one kiss,” she begged. “And only for a second, if that’s all you want. I just have to know.”
“One?” Uncertainty roughened his voice.
“One. And please don’t think I have a thing for you, Timothy, because I don’t. You’re safe. That’s why I chose you.” And almost like a brother, but she didn’t say that, for fear of offending him.
“One kiss, and we’ll forget it ever happened?”
“Yes! Exactly.”
Still, he hesitated a moment more. “We shouldn’t. But maybe just once won’t hurt.”
“Good!” Excitement and apprehension prickled through her nerves. She swiped perspiring palms across her dress and took a hesitant step toward him, at the same instant he took one toward her. She giggled, and he chuckled nervously. He looked down at her, as if gathering the courage for what he must do.
Perhaps she should make the first move, since she was the older woman. Lucinda tilted her chin and pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure if this was how it was done, but it seemed as good a start as any.
Chapter Eighteen
Riel saw Lucy head out to the garden on young Timothy Fenwick’s arm. Depositing his dance partner into the arms of the next on her list, Riel slipped outdoors.
Lucy’s bright yellow skirt flashed to his left, and he followed quietly. Did he want to catch them in the act?
The act of doing what? Lucy had shown no interest in that young pup.
At last he spotted them, through the branches of a low tree. Lucy and Timothy stood toe to toe. Shock swept through Riel. His heart began to pound in slow, heavy beats in his chest. Timothy stooped toward Lucy and awkwardly bumped her nose.
Riel couldn’t seem to move, but his hands clenched into fists.
Another clumsy adjustment, and then Timothy kissed Lucy.
Hot emotion seared Riel. Jealousy. He couldn’t deny it. A fist closed around his heart. How dare that young villain? He’d teach him a lesson, and box his ears, too!
Timothy jerked back, his face flushed, and clearly embarrassed. Disappointment flickered across Lucy’s face.
“Perhaps…perhaps I’d best be going,” Timothy said, and bolted.
Tense with possessive rage, Riel watched him go, trying to make sense of what he’d just seen. And then the truth hit him.
He relaxed. Timothy wasn’t the aggressor. Lucy was. Why didn’t that surprise him?
Lucy had snared the boy in one of her impulsive schemes.
Why? Did she long for excitement? Riel smiled then, a thin one, and his heart kicked faster in a grim sort of anticipation. If she did, he’d be glad to provide it. In fact, an equally impulsive take-down might be just what Lucy itched for.
* * * * *
Lucinda felt disappointed as she watched Timothy flee. Her first kiss. It had felt moist and tepid. What was exciting about that? Especially after risking her reputation to sneak into the garden to do it.
“Was it worth it?” Riel spoke behind her.
Shocked, she spun. “Have you been spying on me?”
“Watching over you is my job.”
“Well, even though it is none of your business, the kiss was quite…nice.”
Riel smiled, and his teeth gleamed white as he moved out of the shadows. “Nice. I hear no conviction in your words, Lucy.”
“It was perfectly pleasant,” she insisted. Or, it would have been if one enjoyed kissing a warm wash cloth. Surreptitiously, she wiped her lips with the side of her hand, pretending to yawn.
“So, young Timothy failed to impress you.” Something intensely dark and dangerous simmered in his black eyes, belying his calm words.
“Young? His ability to kiss has nothing to do with being young. It was perfectly adequate.”
“Adequate. I would feel I’d failed, if a woman found my kisses adequate.”
Lucinda rolled her eyes to the heavens. “What do you know of love?”
“Love? You are in love with young Timothy?”
“What if I am? What do you know about that finer emotion? I’ve noticed you never dance with the same woman twice. And who knows how many affairs you’ve had in the past.”
“Perhaps I have not found the right woman.”
“Keep searching,” she mocked. “And then maybe all of your practice kisses might do you some good!”
Riel moved closer; a large presence in the moonlight. “Was that a practice kiss with young Timothy, Lucy? An experiment?”
Lucinda struggled to deny it, but would not lie. “What if it was?” she said at last.
“So, you plan to sneak out into the garden with other men, and compare their kisses.”
“No!” she gasped, shocked, despite herself. “I’m not a hussy, Riel. How dare you think that? Not that it’s any of your business, but Timothy was my first kiss.”
He moved closer, and his face fell into the shadows. “Your first kiss. Was it all you had hoped?”
Lucinda looked away, wishing he would leave her alone. It made her feel uncomfortable, how close he was. A raw, palpably dangerous emotion radiated from him. Butterflies danced in her stomach. “It was not quite what I expected,” she admitted. “Perhaps I should take a page from your book and find another person to kiss, so I can compare.”
“Perhaps a man of experience.” Surprisingly, he did not object to her outlandish suggestion.
She stared at him. “You agree I should find another man? An…an experienced man and…and compare his kisses to Timothy?”
“I would have to approve the man. I must be sure you are safe.”
“Why don’t you just lurk in the garden and spy on us?”
He ignored this. “Do you agree, then, to this course of action?”
Lucinda felt acute trepidation. “Well, I…”
“Come with me. Look through the window. We will find the perfect man for your experiment.” Hand cupping her elbow, he urged her to a floor-to-ceiling window which afforded a perfect view of the swirling, dancing aristocrats inside. Lucinda felt very aware of his warm, calloused palm against her skin. Her heart beat faster when she realized how close he stood beside her. The fine cloth of his broadcloth jacket whispered against her arm, which he still hadn’t released.
His deep voice rumbled above her, “I see several of whom I would approve. What about Colonel Farley?”
Forcing her thoughts from his touch, Lucinda gasped out a laugh when she spotted portly Colonel Farley dancing by with the widow O’Hare. He must be sixty, if a day, and he still sported a full head of whitish yellow hair, including long, bushy sideburns. He pranced gaily from one foot to another, obviously enjoying himself, while poor Mrs. O’Hare hopped faster, trying to save her toes from being smashed.
“No, Riel. I will not kiss Colonel Farley.”
“Then let’s find you another eligible bachelor. Hmm. How about the Marquis of Silverlake?”
Lucinda giggled. “Even worse!” The Marquis reminded her of a cartoon caricature—tall and skinny with a beaky nose and receding black hair. Odd, to boot, if tales could be believed.
“I see you are discerning, after all.”
“Of course I am!” She felt insulted. “It must be someone nearer my own age. And nice looking would be a plus. What about Jonathon? He’s six years older than me and I’m quite sure he’s experienced. I’m sure he would be happy…”
“Not Jonathon.” Riel’s voice sounded harsh.
She glanced at him, surprised. “Why not? He and I are friends, and…”
“He has too much experience.”
“But isn’t that the point?”
“Jonathon is a rake.”
“He is not!”
“Lucy,” he said more gently. “I must approve of the man, or the experiment is off.”
“But you are only choosing old men! I would sooner kiss a fish.”
“A man nearer to you in age, then, and safe.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But experienced.”
/>
“I can think of one. Is ten years too much of an age difference?”
“No.” Lucinda’s heart beat faster. That was the span between herself and Riel. “No…that would be fine.”
“You agree to kiss this man, no matter who he is?” He drew her back into the shadows, away from the window.
“As long as he doesn’t have buck teeth, or smell like a toad.”
“You are sure?” He tipped her chin up with his knuckles.
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Who is he?”
“Me.”
Her heart charged faster. “I will not kiss you!” she scoffed, jerking free of his touch. “You…you’re my guardian and you annoy me no end. Not to mention,” she hastily added, “it would be inappropriate.”
“You have my offer. It is for one time only. How else can you conclude your experiment?”
“I…I don’t know,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Why not, indeed? She was crazy to even consider it! But hadn’t she wondered what his kiss would feel like? And perhaps he was right. Maybe he was the perfect choice. Older, but not too old. Experienced, but not a rake. She knew she could trust him, if nothing else.
Feeling as though she teetered on the edge of a cliff, she suddenly made up her mind. “Very well, then. Kiss me.”
“You are sure?” he asked again.
No, she wasn’t sure. Not at all. But she wanted him to. “Yes,” she said faintly.
One broad hand cupped the side of her jaw, and his thumb gently stroked the skin of her cheek. Lucinda’s mouth went dry as her gaze tangled with his dark one. Slowly, he came closer and her lips tingled in anticipation. His breath fanned those delicate nerve endings for an impossibly long moment, then, whisper soft, his firm lips touched hers.
Lucinda’s heart jerked at the warm contact. She heard a sweet roaring in her ears and then his mouth moved over hers.
Timothy hadn’t done this, she thought incoherently. Moments…or perhaps long minutes later…she felt a gentle nip on her bottom lip. When her lips parted in a soft gasp, he took the kiss far deeper than she’d ever believed possible. Lucinda whimpered at the velvet sensations, and her knees went weak. More sweet, intense moments passed as Riel demanded more, and she gave what he desired. Mindlessly, she gripped his shoulders for support. Fire shot through her as he claimed these liberties. Her head spun and she sensed, just out of reach, a place of stars and colors and light that only he could take her. If only she surrendered to him.
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