She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened again. “I will not,” Caroline said, although her expression belied her words.
…
Alex hadn’t really meant to rile Caroline. But as Melanie and Vanessa descended on them and he took the opportunity to excuse himself, he thought maybe her wrathful glare was more because he’d left her to cope with the two women.
What was he even doing here? He’d been out of sorts ever since seeing Inis’s hand this morning. He should have known she’d sneak out to the stables the first chance she got. The physician had assured Alex the open bite was not festering and the weeping was probably the best thing to keep necrosis from happening. Inis had smirked at that. He was torn between shaking her shoulders for having such a cavalier attitude and kissing her senseless in relief that she would be okay—not that she would appreciate either action.
The doctor had ordered bed rest and keeping her hand elevated for the rest of the day, but Alex had doubts she would do as she was told. Which was why he should have stayed home. He would have, except that Evans had reminded him turning down the Earl of Lockwood’s invitation wasn’t practical when Alex was expecting Caldwell to invest in his latest enterprise. Besides that, Elsie and Fern had offered to take turns staying with Inis. So here he was.
Alex saw Miranda making her way toward him, and he quickly changed course toward the male-dominated billiard room. Unfortunately, since actually running would seem both cowardly and somewhat obvious, not to mention awkward to do amidst the crowd, she caught up with him before he could get to safety—and sanctuary.
“My lady,” he said with a slight bow.
She tapped his arm playfully with her closed fan. “Why so formal, Alexander? I believe I gave you permission to use my given name.”
“This is a formal setting, is it not?”
She shrugged, causing one sleeve to slide off her shoulder. She made no effort to tug it back in place. “How about an informal stroll on the veranda?”
“With this crush, I expect it is quite crowded as well.”
She slanted a look at him. Given that her eyes had a natural upward turn, it gave a catlike expression to her face. A very intense-looking cat. She moved nearer, and Alex caught the scent of her overly sweet, flowery perfume. Funny how he’d never noticed how cloying women’s perfume was before. Inis always smelled of soap…and sometimes a bit of horse and hay. Scents he didn’t mind at all. He took a step back.
Miranda took a step closer. “Are you trying to be coy, Alexander?”
“Not at all. I am simply observing proper etiquette.”
She trailed her fan across his chest. “Since when have you been concerned with being proper?”
He resisted the urge to shake the damn thing off. The ivory blades of the fan were tipped in gold and sharp. “I would not like to create a spectacle this evening.”
Miranda waved a hand. “I suspect the Marquis of Kendrick has already taken care of that by being present.”
Alex looked across the room to where Kendrick stood. A bevy of debutantes surrounded him with a great deal of eyelash batting and fan fluttering going on. Caroline might have a point. Dressed mostly in black, the marquis did look a bit dangerous, but only because he was as much a rake as Brice and Alex, and not because of the taint of suspicion over his brother’s demise. As if to prove the point, Kendrick said something that made the girls twitter and giggle and brought disapproving looks from their mothers who hovered along the nearby wall. He turned back to Miranda. “One disturbance is enough for any party.”
Miranda smiled, looking like a feline who’d just discovered a bowl of cream. She leaned forward to give Alex a full view of her plunging décolletage and made a purring sound deep in her throat. “I suspect we would not be disturbed if we sought an empty bedchamber upstairs.”
“It would be rather ill-mannered of us to presume on the hostess by using one of her bedchambers,” Alex said.
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “Are you planning to pleasure Vanessa later?”
Alex was so startled, he almost lost his composure. He was quite tempted to tell Miranda that it wasn’t any of her business who he took to bed—or when—but she continued on.
“Of course, it really does not matter,” she said, smoothing her features and placing a hand on his arm. “You are quite virile enough for two women in one night. Just let me be the first.”
Why would this woman not take a hint? She knew—all the members of that ridiculous R Club knew—that he only paid one visit. He had never promised any of them anything beyond once-in-a-lifetime lustful pleasure. To underscore that, in case anyone chose not to think he was serious, the card he sent with the negligees always said the same thing: Savor the memory. Memory. Not hint of a future.
“I decline the offer, my lady,” Alex said as he removed her hand. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am late for a billiard game.”
He turned and left before she could reply. Enough was enough. And he had definitely had enough of Miranda Locke.
…
Miranda stared at Alex’s retreating back, not believing he’d actually turned and walked away. From her. How dare he? None of her lovers had ever refused her.
She snapped open her fan furiously, not caring that a portion of the lace tore in her haste. She slipped out one of the French doors onto the veranda. The chill of the early spring evening air did little to cool her heated face or the rage that consumed her.
The veranda was empty, not crowded. Light only spilled out through the doorway, leaving the farther recesses dark and perfect for trysting. The fact that Alex had refused to come out here made her even angrier.
She wanted Alex more than she had ever wanted any man. No, she corrected herself, she had a physical need for him. She awoke in the middle of the night, a sheen of sweat covering her fevered body, the area between her thighs hot and wet. Her nipples would be hard as pebbles and pinching them brought little relief. Nor did her hand when she pleasured herself. Her body reacted spontaneously, only to have the throbbing, pulsing sensation at her core return while her breath was still ragged. Her skin felt as though bugs were crawling over it. She would bring herself to climax again and sometimes several more times, only to have the aching need for Alex’s cock to be buried deep inside her return. With Alex, she could experience la petite mort. No one else had ever taken her to that height. Only Alex had.
And he would again.
He couldn’t deny that what they’d shared was wild, carnal passion and desire. How could he deny that? How could he not want to experience it again?
She yanked at the loose strings where the fan had torn, unraveling the lace further. An image of the red-haired hoyden seared through her mind like a hot iron poker. Inis. Was Inis the reason Alex was not seeking her bed? Why he would want such a scrawny, plain little thing, Miranda couldn’t fathom, but there was no denying the harlot was staying in his home. Was she sharing Alex’s bed every night as well?
Miranda clenched her hand around the fan and heard several of the ivory blades break. It was a satisfying sound. Did human bones make the same sound?
The Irish hussy needed to be gotten rid of. Once she was gone, Alex would have no excuse not to come back to her. Once she had him back, she would use every trick she’d ever learned to keep him there. Perhaps she would even rent a flat somewhere so they could meet more often. She’d simply tell Charles she was off doing charitable work every week. He wouldn’t question that. It wasn’t even really a lie. She would be doing charitable work…only the charity would consist of herself and Alex.
But first things first. She’d have to have Fern execute the next ploy a little sooner than she’d intended. And then, nothing would stand in Miranda’s way.
Miranda cracked the rest of the fan’s blades and smiled. Yes, indeed. What a satisfying sound.
Chapter Thirteen
Inis looked at the vast array of silverware, china, and crystal on the dining room table late Tuesday afternoon and sighed. Her ne
xt lesson appeared to be understanding table settings. Now that the spider bite was healing, she wanted very much to be in the stables, working with Goldie rather than sitting at an elaborately set table—though void of food—with Caroline and Alex.
“It looks complicated,” Caroline said, “but the arrangement is quite practical. You basically start with the outside silverware and eat your way in.”
Inis knew that since her mother had explained it all years ago, and her uncle insisted they use formal settings at least once a week whether there were guests or not. Still, she had to play along. She had led them to believe she was a poor, uneducated orphan.
“It may take me a long time.”
“I doubt it,” Caroline answered. “I suspect you are a quick learner when you apply yourself.”
Alex gave Inis a sharp look she pretended not to notice. He was probably wondering if she were deliberately going to dawdle at learning because she didn’t want to face Society. He would be at least half right. Her original plan to never let that happen wasn’t realistic. Sooner or later, she would be spotted and perhaps recognized. If that happened before Alex had his revenge, he would not send her to America. And a fate worse than hell awaited her in Ireland.
“I will try,” Inis said and picked up a spoon. “What is this used for?”
“Soup. It is almost always the first course,” Caroline said. “The smaller, thinner spoon is for dessert. There will be a third if a pudding is served. The forks on the other side are for the second and third courses, most often a small serving of fish or game followed by a more robust helping of venison, pork, or lamb. The heavier knife is for slicing the meat, of course, and the small one on the bread plate is for spreading butter.”
“It sounds confusing. One of each should be enough.”
Caroline pasted a bright smile on her face, which made Inis feel a little guilty over her deception.
“What helps is to remember that as each course is removed, you allow the footman to take that silverware with it.” Caroline demonstrated by placing the soup spoon in the empty soup bowl that sat atop two more plates and nodded at Alex, who assumed the role of footman and took the dish. She placed a fork on the first plate to indicate she had finished the course, and Alex removed that, too. “You see? The silverware dwindles down, so it is fairly easy to know which piece to use next.”
Inis frowned. “And why do we have five glasses?”
“The large one is for water, the flute for champagne, the two rounded ones for red and white wine, and the smaller one for sherry.”
Inis rounded her eyes. “Do ye intend to land a person in a stupor then?”
Caroline’s smile became more determined. “Of course not. The glasses are only half filled.”
“Seems a waste to me,” Inis said. Caroline gave a silent sigh, which edged Inis’s conscience.
“Different wines are served to complement the different courses,” Caroline said and looked to Alex. “Perhaps we should actually have food and drink for this lesson.”
“Is this necessary?” Inis asked, making herself sound dubious. She turned to Alex, too. “I thought ye wanted to make me attend your brother’s ball, not a dinner.”
Alex smiled at her. “Perhaps attendance at several dinners, soirees, and perhaps the theater could be practice runs.”
She looked down at the table so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the panic she was feeling. She couldn’t attend multiple events. Someone would surely recognize her. If her uncle got word of her whereabouts, her game—and Alex’s—would be over.
“Ye said ye would nae force me to attend such things.”
“I agreed not to push you until you are ready. That is why Caroline is here,” Alex replied. “George hosts an elaborate ball for the Prince Regent and his cronies in May. Presenting you to the Prince will be the ultimate achievement.”
Inis felt her eyes widen. Sweet Mary and all the saints. The Prince Regent? Every duke in England would probably be in attendance. And her uncle knew most of them. At least one or two of them would recall that the Duke of Kildare had a red-haired niece, especially if they’d heard she was missing.
“I think I would feel like Cinderella from the faerie tale.”
Caroline laughed. “Do not worry about that. This prince is not about to be searching for a woman wearing a glass slipper. He prefers his—”
“Never mind,” Alex interrupted. “All Inis needs to do is be congenial and charming with every earmark of a real lady. The Prince will be intrigued, and my brother will be taken down a few pegs when Inis is acknowledged even though she has no pedigree.”
“That might not be pretty,” Caroline said and looked at Inis. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Inis was only too aware that Alex was watching her intently. Was he still willing to give her a choice? If she said no now, he’d probably dismiss her from his employ completely. Then where would she go? She didn’t have enough coin saved up since she was repaying him for the wardrobe. He didn’t think her educated, so there would be no references for any position above chambermaid. If that. No one would hire a girl to take care of horses, and she couldn’t pretend to be a boy forever.
Beyond that, though, was something more important. Inis had given Alex her word she would help him with this scheme, insane as it was. She swallowed hard. “I agreed to it. It does nae matter what is said later. I will nae be here, because Mr. Ashley agreed to fund my trip to America when this is over.”
Several emotions flitted across Alex’s face. Relief? Gratitude? Confusion? Inis couldn’t really tell. Caroline looked surprised but didn’t comment, which was just as well. The situation was getting more complicated than the place settings in front of her.
…
“You are actually serious about presenting Inis to the Prince Regent?” Caroline asked Alex as he walked her to the door after they’d finished the lesson. “Teaching her enough etiquette to get by at several events is one thing. Having to converse with the Prince is quite another. With the Regent present, the atmosphere will be like attending Court. Every panderer in southern England will be there vying for his attention.”
“Precisely,” Alex replied. “All Inis has to do is impress him with impeccable manners for a minute or two, and I will escort her away.”
Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting all those wives who will also be seeking Prinny’s attention? I have been at Court and at Carlton House and Brighton as well, thanks to my father’s high-reaching aspirations. The wives are catty enough at regular events, but in the Prince’s presence, they are vicious. Inis does not deserve their kind of treatment.”
“I will be by her side. If need be, I can soon have the ladies clawing at each other.”
Caroline’s brow arched higher. “How would you do that?”
“The negligees, of course,” Alex answered, looking around to make sure none of the servants hovered nearby. “One subtle mention, and the ladies who have received them will start preening, and the ones who have not will start making snide remarks.”
“You really are a rake.”
Alex shrugged. “You said yourself that every married woman of the ton has heard about the negligees thanks to that silly club. Except for the rare, faithful wife, the rest of them want one, too.”
“Was that your intent when you started gifting your lovers?” Caroline asked.
“Those women are not lovers,” Alex replied. “You know better than anyone why I cuckold my damn brother’s friends.”
Caroline was silent a moment, her eyes brightening suspiciously, and he felt like a cad. “I am sorry. George insulted you as much as he did me.”
“Hardly,” Alex said. “What he did to you was totally dishonorable.”
She shook her head quickly. “I am just glad I found out how shallow the man is before…before I made more foolish mistakes. Well, I’ve told myself not to think of it, although I would not mind getting a bit of revenge myself.” She glanced at Alex. “Perhaps put a crack
in that porcelain veneer that Amelia wears like a shield of perfection?”
“Amelia takes care not to mar that image,” Alex said, taking Caroline’s coat from a peg in the entryway and holding it for her.
Caroline slipped it on. “It would really be fitting irony if Amelia were caught in a compromising position with another man, would it not?”
It was Alex’s turn to shake his head. “She would not do that.”
Caroline considered him. “You think she actually loves your brother?”
Alex laughed. “I doubt she knows the meaning of the word. Beneath that porcelain perfection, Amelia is made of cast iron. The only thing that matters to her is the title of duchess. She would not risk ruining that.”
“Taking a lover does not necessarily ruin wives,” Caroline said, “as you should very well know.”
“True enough,” Alex agreed, “but George is different. He has always been extremely fixated over his possessions. When we were children, he would not let anyone play with his toy soldiers or use his wooden sword or even ride his pony. When he made prefect at Eton, he had his first real taste of power. He liked the control.”
“He never could control you, though,” Caroline said softly, “which is why he took Amelia from you.”
“And he is welcome to her,” Alex replied, surprised that he no longer felt bitter about it. “George is a perfectionist. He has to have the best. No one can deny that Amelia is beautiful, but she is a possession. If she were to shame him in any way, he would probably discard her like he did his broken toys. And she knows it.”
“Then she had better mind her Ps and Qs,” Caroline said as she buttoned her coat and picked up her ridicule from a nearby chair. “Still, I would not mind seeing her get her comeuppance, would you?”
“I suppose not,” Alex answered as he opened the door for Caroline, “but I think we are the lucky ones.”
“You may be right,” Caroline said as she took her leave, but she seemed thoughtful.
…
“You do not have to look at me like I have taken leave of my senses,” Alex told Brice on Wednesday afternoon. He’d ridden over to his friend’s place to get a better look at the two mares Brice had purchased from John Adler. “These are really fine horses.”
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