Let Sleeping Rogues Lie

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Stoneville held up his hands. “Fine. There’s a bevy of beauties over at Mrs. Beard’s place that I’ve been eager to try out—”

  “Not that kind of nitrous oxide party, damn it. The other kind. One with people of a certain…stature.”

  “The boring kind?” Stoneville complained. “I never went to those affairs when you held them. Well, except the ones attended by those chaps from the Royal Society. At least they know how to enjoy themselves.”

  “So invite them.” He thought a moment. “She’d like that.”

  “She who?”

  Anthony blinked. But Stoneville would have to be told about Madeline eventually. He just didn’t need to know the truth. “My…er…cousin. I’ve been promising for years that if she ever came to town, she could attend one, and now she’s holding me to my promise. That’s why I need you to host it.”

  “Ah. Is she pretty?”

  Gritting his teeth, Anthony glared at his friend. “Do you ever ask any other question about a woman?”

  “Don’t care about the answer to any other question. So, is she pretty?”

  “Pretty enough, I suppose.” If he even hinted to Stoneville that he had feelings for Madeline, the man would flirt with her just to torture him. “But very dull—the bluestocking type. She has a scientific interest in nitrous oxide. Wants to see its effects on people.”

  Stoneville guided his horse past a barking dog. “She could see its effects on whores just as well as on the Royal Society sort.”

  “She’s my cousin, damn it. I don’t want her exposed to such a thing.” Alarmed by the glint of calculation in Stoneville’s eye, he added hastily, “And she’s married, too. To a…er…parson.”

  Stoneville’s eyebrows arched high. “You have a cousin married to a parson? Why have I never heard of her?”

  “I’ve never heard of your cousins, so why would you have heard of mine? She’s a distant country cousin.”

  “Is her husband coming to the party?”

  Damnation, he shouldn’t have invented a husband. But no unmarried woman would risk her reputation to attend such a party. Even a married woman would think twice. “Her husband isn’t in town. She’s staying with her friend and wants to live a little while out from under his thumb.” He brightened. That was quite good. Perfect explanation.

  “Wants to live a little. I see. Definitely your cousin.”

  Uh-oh, that look was back in Stoneville’s eyes. “Stay away from her,” Anthony growled. “She’s a respectable woman.”

  “Whatever you say.” A half smile played over Stoneville’s lips. “And I can’t stay away from her. Someone’s got to introduce her round, and since you’re in hiding, that leaves only me.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. Damnation, this got worse by the moment. He couldn’t have too many people speculating about his country cousin, or they’d soon find out she was a fabrication. “Don’t introduce her as my cousin, or they’ll say I corrupted her. Just…don’t introduce her at all. Bring her out after the party is in full swing, and everyone will be too drunk on nitrous oxide to care who she is.”

  “Someone is bound to ask, and—”

  “Damn it, handle it however you must. Just be careful what you say. Now, will you throw the party or not? I need it for this Saturday.”

  “This Saturday! But I’ve got plans.”

  “Have I ever asked you for a favor before?”

  Stoneville sighed. “No, can’t say as you have.”

  “And have you ever asked me for one that I haven’t given you?”

  Stoneville knew better than to answer that. He still owed Anthony money for the last favor. “Oh, very well, I’ll host the damned party.”

  “And you’ll invite the right sort of people?”

  “Yes, though I can’t promise they’ll all come. Faraday is off somewhere, Barlow went to visit friends in Yorkshire, and Lady Davy has been keeping a close eye on our friend Sir Humphry.” Sarcasm laced his voice. “She doesn’t let him step out of the house for fear he’ll seduce some hapless female admirer.”

  Lady Davy was a good example of the sort of wife Anthony intended to avoid—paranoid and tyrannical. “Do you really think he beds them?”

  “Hard to say. With all the bluestockings who used to follow his every lecture, swooning at his pearls of wisdom, I wouldn’t be surprised. He may have retired from lecturing, but he’s not dead, you know.”

  “True.” The man had a certain charm that women responded to, facile though it might be. And considering how browbeaten Davy was by his wife, Anthony could hardly blame him if he did occasionally stray. “Invite him anyway. You know how much he likes his nitrous oxide. He may exert himself to come.”

  And Madeline would be delighted, no doubt, to meet the very chemist who’d experimented with nitrous oxide so famously. Assuming she wasn’t lying about that article of hers, which might be a large assumption.

  “Any other demands for this party?” Stoneville asked. “Preferences for food, type of wine, cushions—”

  “Very funny,” Anthony said. “Let me know the time as soon as you’ve arranged it.” He reined in his horse. “Now I have to go. I’m dining with friends.”

  It was a lie, but he wasn’t in the mood for Stoneville right now. Something in the man’s careless manner rubbed him wrong, which had never happened before. Anthony felt as if he were watching himself the way he was just a year ago, and what he saw unnerved him.

  Then a thought occurred to him. “Stoneville, do you remember that bacchanal we had at Eton, the one that got us in trouble?”

  “Remember it? I’ve been living it ever since, whatever chance I get.”

  Anthony rolled his eyes. “Was it ever gossiped about outside your family? Did anyone mention it to you, or—”

  “Don’t be daft. My father would have had their heads. He spent a vast deal of money and pulled a great many strings to keep it hushed up. Don’t you remember how obsessive he was about keeping up appearances?”

  “Yes.” Anthony stared off across the field. “As was mine.” It still made no sense that Madeline had known of the bacchanal. He’d never heard a whiff of scandal about it in Chertsey.

  It was possible the servants had talked, and God knows villagers loved to chatter. Still, with Madeline being so reticent to reveal things, who was to say she hadn’t lied about that?

  His eyes narrowed. There was one way to find out. Nitrous oxide had the interesting effect of making one more honest, if not terribly coherent. Though everyone reacted differently, he might learn more if she were under the influence.

  All he’d have to do is convince her to indulge, perhaps after the party was over and the guests were gone. How hard could that be?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dear Cousin,

  It seems my “impressionable young girls” have been secretly reading a book that explains physical relations between the sexes. Miss Prescott confiscated it, but I daresay any minor flirtation they witnessed between the viscount and his former paramour pales by comparison. I swear, sometimes girls can be frightening.

  Your alarmed relation,

  Charlotte

  No indulging in the nitrous oxide at the party tonight.

  Madeline decided that much after three days of Anthony’s odd behavior at school and a day at home dealing with her father.

  Anthony clearly had some plan up his sleeve, something beyond seduction. Another woman might have been lulled into complacency by his gentlemanly behavior since the outing, but not Madeline. She didn’t trust him one whit.

  Well, not much, anyway. All right, so he could be rather…wonderful at times. During their spirited discussions about science, he never dismissed her opinions as those of a “mere woman.” He showed her the utmost respect around her pupils. And his behavior to the girls was downright admirable—gentle but not weak, firm but not harsh. Miss Dalton would be very lucky to have him for a guardian. He’d even found a cook for the school.

  A pity that he excelled a
t being a rakehell. And that even his rakish qualities appealed to her. She would have to be very careful not to land in his bed, especially since she’d spent the last three days reliving that cursed lesson in seduction.

  She wasn’t fool enough to let the man seduce her again. No, indeed. No more kissing, no more caressing…no pleasuring him with her hand.

  Or her mouth.

  With a blush, she reached for the slim volume of harem tales in her apron pocket, the one she’d now read cover to cover. With her blood running hot, she reread the part about a woman bringing a man to “raptures of joy” with her mouth. It sounded absurd—Madeline had never witnessed animals doing such a thing.

  Yet the very idea sent a delicious tremor along her spine. Having Anthony reduce her to a quivering mass of “rapture” with just his mouth proved it could be done. Also, it would preserve her innocence if she should happen to—

  She closed the book with a snap. What was she thinking? She must never attempt such a thing. It could only lead to more recklessness. Besides, she didn’t understand how it worked. The dratted book didn’t explain the mechanics.

  How did a woman fit such a large appendage in her mouth without choking? Why was having his penis in the woman’s mouth pleasurable for a man? Yes, a mouth was soft and wet like…like a woman’s inner passage, but the presence of teeth so very near a man’s tender parts couldn’t possibly be pleasant. Although Anthony had used his teeth to good effect on her own tender parts.

  She groaned. Bad enough she spent half of every night replaying what they’d done; she mustn’t do it during the day as well.

  “This way, sir,” came Mrs. Jenkins’s voice through the kitchen door, “we’ve got some nice soup for you.”

  Madeline shoved the book into her pocket just as Mrs. Jenkins and Papa came through the door.

  “I don’t want to eat, I tell you,” he complained, as Mrs. Jenkins led him to the table. He pulled his arm from her grip. “Leave me be! I’m not hungry.”

  That was why his clothes hung on him. “Come now, Papa, it’s barley soup, your favorite.” Madeline ladled it into two chipped china bowls and carried them to the scarred oak table. “And you know how I hate to eat alone.”

  Scowling, he sat down, gazing into the bowl as if it held the answers to combating his misery.

  She glanced over to where Mrs. Jenkins waited in the doorway. As soon as he lifted his spoon, Madeline gave a tiny nod, and the woman slipped out.

  “Where’s she going?” he snapped, taking Madeline by surprise.

  “To tidy up,” Madeline lied. If he realized that the woman was pressing Madeline’s satin evening gown in the adjoining room, her plans would be ruined. He might demand answers, and she’d be forced to reveal the truth.

  He glowered down at his soup, then stirred it. “I don’t know why you hired that female. She’s trying to kill me with all her walking me up and down the road. She always needs something from the costermonger and orders me to go with her.”

  Madeline was about to say that exercise was good for him, when he lifted his spoon, then froze with it midair as he gazed out the kitchen window. A chill swept over her. His vacant stares were more disturbing than any tantrum.

  “Though perhaps she’s got the way of it,” he said in a faraway voice. “It might be best if I died.”

  Madeline’s stomach roiled. “That’s not true, Papa.”

  His spoon dropped into the bowl. “Your life would be better without me. You could live and work at the school, have some beau to squire you about—”

  “Don’t be absurd.” She grabbed his hand, which lay cold and clammy beneath her fingers. “I’d rather have you alive than any beau.”

  “It would be so easy to manage,” he murmured, still in that eerie voice. “I’d only need some laudanum to mix into my sleeping draught, and I’d slide into—”

  “Don’t say that, Papa,” she hissed, jumping to her feet. The very fact that he would mention laudanum, which he’d always disapproved of, sent her into a panic. “Don’t you dare even think it!”

  He blinked. Then his gaze met hers, vaguely surprised. “But I am such a trial to you. It would end your suffering. And mine.”

  “It might end yours, but it would increase mine threefold.” Her voice shook as she laid her hand on his shoulder. “Promise me you won’t consider laudanum or any other…” She couldn’t even say it. “Promise me you won’t leave me.”

  He looked as shaken as she felt. “Very well.”

  “Swear it! Swear you’ll never consider such an awful thing.”

  “I swear,” he said, then covered her hand. “I swear, my little Maddie-girl.”

  Her breath caught at the endearment. He hadn’t used it in months. “Good.” When he squeezed her hand, then turned to eating his soup, she was able to breathe again. Pray God he kept his word. Anything else was unthinkable.

  As she sat beside him again, she said, “This will pass with time, you know.”

  He grunted in answer.

  It would pass. With any luck, tonight would signal the beginning of that.

  Unfortunately, much as she hated to leave just now, she had no choice. “Papa, I need to go to the school tonight to balance the account books.”

  She abhorred lying to her father, but he would never let her attend a nitrous oxide party, no matter what famous chemist she meant to meet there. He would certainly not approve of her going alone with a rakehell like Anthony.

  Focusing on her soup, she strove to sound casual. “Mrs. Jenkins will keep you company. I thought it might make a nice change. You can play cards.”

  He frowned but made no protest. She almost wished he would. But he was too absorbed in his own misery to notice anything odd in her life. Why, he hadn’t even asked how she would get home after dark.

  The kitchen door cracked open, and Mrs. Jenkins nodded to indicate that the gown awaited her in her bedchamber. Madeline rose and took the bowls to the washbasin.

  “You didn’t eat your soup,” Papa said. “Are you well?”

  The question was so much like his old self that tears stung her eyes. She flashed him a watery smile. “I’m just not very hungry.” She walked to the door. “Why don’t you come sit by the fire in the parlor? I have to pack my satchel.”

  With a mute nod, he followed her. Once he was settled in his comfy chair, she knew she could safely leave him. He would sit staring for some time.

  As soon as she entered her room, she and Mrs. Jenkins sprang into action. They peeled off her day gown, then got her into the golden satin gown she’d brought from Telford.

  As Mrs. Jenkins began to fasten it up, Madeline said, “I appreciate your coming this afternoon to help me prepare for tonight and look after Papa. I know you probably went to some trouble to arrange it.”

  “Nonsense, what else would I be doing of a Saturday? It’s not as if I have suitors beating down my door, dearie.” Mrs. Jenkins fastened the last hook. “I’m pleased you’re finally attending a social affair, even if it is only a fellow teacher’s party. But if your friend can introduce you to Sir Humphry, it will be worth it.”

  “Indeed it will.” If Mrs. Jenkins knew that the “fellow teacher” was a notorious rakehell, she would worry, but Madeline dared not take the widow too much into her confidence.

  Mrs. Jenkins puffed out the cap sleeves. “Now, that’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  As the widow dressed her hair in the simple chignon they’d agreed upon, with sprigs of white lilac blooms interspersed, Madeline stared at her best dinner gown in the mirror. Her heart sank. It was almost too lovely. Of course she must dress appropriately for Anthony’s circle of friends, but she did wish she owned a gown a bit less…provocative.

  Odd how she’d never thought of this gown that way before. Though it was cut low enough to show her bosom quite effectively, that differed little from most evening gowns. Indeed, her only ball gown was cut exactly the same. She’d worn both of them without a thought in Telford.

  But now
she knew how dangerously thrilling it was to have a man admire her breasts, first with his gaze and then with his touch. Now she knew Anthony.

  “What time is your friend’s carriage calling for you?” Mrs. Jenkins carefully laid Madeline’s French cloak about her head and shoulders, completely encasing her in black glazed cotton.

  “In half an hour. But it’s not coming here. I’m meeting it on the outskirts of town. I didn’t want Papa to be suspicious of why I’m not walking to the school.”

  Aside from not wanting anyone in town, including Mrs. Jenkins, to know that she was going out alone with a man, she didn’t want to risk Anthony’s meeting Papa. Ever. There was a chance that Anthony might recognize him, and Papa would certainly recognize Anthony’s name if she had to introduce them.

  “That’s probably wise. You don’t want to get your father’s hopes up about Sir Humphry. Still, what about when you return?”

  “He’ll be asleep by then, and I’ll have my friend leave me here.” Actually, she intended to slip out of the party without Anthony’s knowledge and take a hackney home. It would cost her dear, but at least she’d keep her secret.

  “Well, if you’re walking to the edge of town,” Mrs. Jenkins pointed out, “then you’ll need pattens with your cloak. Can’t have you dirtying up your pretty shoes before you get there. I’ll go lay them outside, so your father won’t see.”

  Before Mrs. Jenkins could leave, Madeline squeezed her hand warmly. “You don’t know how much I appreciate the trouble you go to for me and Papa.”

  “Nonsense, it hasn’t been a bit of trouble, dearie.” With a kind smile, Mrs. Jenkins squeezed her hand back. “Besides, I never had children of my own to fuss over. This is the next best thing.”

  Tears clouded Madeline’s vision as she remembered Mama’s fussing over her.

  “None of that now,” Mrs. Jenkins clucked. “You just go off to your party and don’t be worrying about us. Your father and I will play cards until he dozes off, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t notice if you come in late. We’ll be fine, I swear it.”