by Lauren Smith
She bit her lip. “Oh dear, you’re grinning again.”
“Hmm?” He realized she was right, but he couldn’t stop.
“You worry me when you look like that. Like a wolf looking at a rather plump rabbit.”
His smile widened. “I do like my rabbits plump.” He offered her a playful smirk and won a heated blush from her.
The door to the drawing room opened, and dinner was announced. Vaughn tucked her arm in his with a chuckle.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Remember our time in the library. Whenever I drink from my goblet of wine, I shall be thinking about how you taste.” He felt a shiver ripple through her. That would keep her occupied this evening, because he planned to drink a lot of wine.
The couples convened in the dining room, their voices bouncing through the corridors. Darby House seemed to always be a place of life and delight, no matter the time of year. The gold lamplight glowing on the shimmering evening gowns painted a pretty picture amidst the fine furnishings. There was a lively elegance to it all that spoke of money spent, but spent well. It was nothing like his parents and how they would have run the home.
When his older brother, Edward, had died, the loss had broken his parents’ spirits. They had never been deeply in love as a married couple, but they had shared a love for their eldest son that bound them together in grief. Vaughn hadn’t been given much thought before his brother’s death, and after his passing he became only a forced interest. His father had retreated to his club, and the debts soon began to mount, while his mother withered away day by day, sometimes spending hours in Edward’s room, clutching a miniature portrait to her breast.
The servants moved like ghosts in the gloomy, quiet house, and Vaughn had no strength in him to fight his parents’ plans to turn their home into a mausoleum for their dead son. Instead, he’d obtained a bachelor’s residence on Jermyn Street and stayed there until they died. It had left him with a bittersweet ache for the beauty and the warmth he felt here at Darby House. His desire to secretly win Perdita’s hand was growing, but he now doubted his ability to give her a warm and happy life she deserved. He hadn’t been raised by sensible, loving parents like she had, and he wouldn’t know the first thing about making a life like that for her.
“Now you are frowning,” Perdita teased, mimicking his scowl.
He couldn’t resist a gentle laugh. “I am. Deep thoughts always make me frown.” He buried his dark thoughts and added in a low whisper, “I think we should meet tonight. The library after midnight?”
“Agreed,” she answered back, just as quietly.
They entered the dining room, and there was no more opportunity to speak privately. Vaughn escorted Perdita to her seat at the far end of the table before he walked back to his own. He was seated near Perdita’s mother.
Damnation. He couldn’t see Perdita’s face, the various decorations on the table blocked his view. A large stuffed pheasant’s colorful feathers flared out as though it was ready to take flight. Vaughn could just see the curve of Perdita’s neck through the dip of the back of the bird’s wings.
Dinner wasn’t going to be as enjoyable as he had hoped. He looked toward the elderly gentleman who sat to his left. He had a better view of Perdita.
He nudged the older fellow. “Excuse me. Would you mind trading places with me?”
The old man’s face turned ruddy as his eyes darted quickly to Mrs. Darby and back to him. “Trade places?” he blustered. “Good God, man, the lady of the house is right there beside you. The sanctity of a lady’s table seating is the cornerstone of our empire!” He announced this so loudly it drew surprised gazes from the ladies and gentlemen nearby. Even Perdita was staring at him, worry creasing her brow.
Vaughn rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Cornerstone of the empire? For God’s sake. There was nothing like public mortification in the middle of a Christmas dinner to shame even a hardened rogue like himself. He was half tempted to find the nearest Christmas pudding and shove his face into it to avoid the stares. The elderly man was still watching him.
“What the devil would make you demand to swap seats, young man?”
Vaughn almost choked. Young man? He hadn’t been called that in years. Hadn’t felt like that in years. He was twenty-seven, not some boy fresh out of school. He cleared his throat.
“I merely hoped to have a better view of a certain young lady.” Damn, why did he feel flushed all of a sudden?
“A lady, you say?” The old man lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “Empire be damned.” He poked Vaughn. “Out of your chair, boy.”
Vaughn glanced toward Mrs. Darby, seeking her approval.
“I’ll allow it,” Mrs. Darby said. She smiled a knowing little smile before she turned to the guest on her other side to engage him in conversation.
Vaughn hastily exited his chair and switched with the old man. When he sat down, he glanced toward Perdita. She raised one hand to cover her mouth, no doubt hiding a smile. Even from across the vast distance of the dinner table he could see that darling twinkle in her eyes, and it made him feel…giddy. He grinned, feeling like a damned fool, but oddly, he didn’t mind. Vaughn reached for his glass of wine and took a sip. Perdita blushed, and he chuckled. Perfect.
“Nice to see young love,” the old man commented. “Everyone seems to assume that when you’re my age we forget what it’s like to be young. You’d better hold on to her, my boy.” The older man’s tone turned wistful, and he tugged on his cravat.
“Oh, I’m not in love. I barely know her.”
“Balderdash. Love doesn’t require you knowing everything about her. Sometimes love is part of the mystery. Especially for men. Women will always have their secrets, the little twinkles in their eyes, the hidden smiles that make us wonder just what it is they are thinking about. My Arabella is still quite the mystery, and we’ve been married fifty years.” He nodded toward an older woman who sat close to Perdita. Her loveliness hadn’t faded with time, and Vaughn could still see the attraction.
Vaughn was tempted to argue that it wasn’t really possible to love someone you didn’t know, but Mr. Darby stood up with a glass in his hand, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Thank you for joining my family for Christmas. It’s so lovely to have guests during the holidays. It warms my heart to have my house full of people.” His thanks were followed by a murmur of agreement by the guests. “And tonight, I have some wonderful news. I’m delighted to share with you all that my daughter, Perdita, and Lord Darlington are engaged. I would like to propose a toast—to Lord Darlington and my daughter, Perdita.”
The guests echoed his toast and drank to it. Perdita sipped her wine, her head down, but she was red-faced. Vaughn was tempted to do the same. Everyone at the long table stared at them as the news settled in. It was one thing to be invited to Darby House for a party, but to be announced as Perdita’s intended was going to cause ripples in the various social circles. He’d expected that, of course, even counted on it, but watching it occur before his eyes in a roomful of people was both embarrassing and fascinating. He wasn’t sure what he ought to do, so he resorted to his usual behavior and flashed a cool smile at the curious faces turned his way.
“And finally, to remind you all,” Darby said, clearing his throat, “tomorrow night, we shall have the ball.” This second announcement did the considerate job of distracting the ladies, who all murmured in delight at the coming dance. Many of the young men in attendance grinned eagerly, and the dinner began.
Vaughn paid little attention to much else over the next two hours. His focus was on Perdita. He loved to watch her. There was something enchanting about the way her eyes lit up as she talked. She was an animated creature, but there was no falseness about her, no shallow vapidity like far too many ladies her age tended to display. She was both genuine and honest. Her words were always well chosen and truthful.
A gentleman beside her made her laugh, and Vaughn grinned at the sound. A pang of jealousy
followed. He wanted to be the man who made her laugh like that.
“Someone’s not happy you won the fair lady,” the old man on his left muttered. His words dragged Vaughn’s attention away from Perdita.
“What do you mean?”
The man nodded down the table. “That fellow at the far end. He looks quite put out. Did you steal his sweetheart, I wonder?”
Of course it was Samuel Milburn who was glowering at him, his black eyes filled with rage, his mouth a thin line. Vaughn had been so focused on Perdita that he’d forgotten the whole reason he was here: to save her from that bastard.
“Actually, I didn’t steal her. I rescued her,” Vaughn responded truthfully.
“Did you, now?” The old man chuckled before he took a sip of his soup.
“I did,” Vaughn affirmed, his focus still on Milburn. That man would bear watching over the next few days. He was the sort of man who would seek revenge if his plans were foiled—which meant his threatened blackmail might yet come into play. He only hoped Mr. Craig was making some progress on that front.
Vaughn spent the remainder of the meal dividing his attention between his dinner companions. The man on his left, Mr. Chatwin, was the one who had graciously switched places with him.
After dinner, the ladies returned to the drawing room while the men proceeded to the billiard room for port and cigars. Vaughn didn’t really wish to play, nor did he wish to smoke and converse with anyone. He was careful to slip out of the room once the others were sufficiently distracted.
A cold voice disrupted his walk down the hall. “I know what you’re doing.” Vaughn froze next to a marble bust of a noble lady and turned to see Milburn closing the door of the billiard room behind him.
He forced himself to relax, even though every muscle inside him was ready for a fight. “What, pray tell, is that?”
“You and that little fool. She thinks she can outsmart me by bringing you here. But I’m no fool. We both know you really don’t want to marry her. So what is she giving you? Sharing her bed wouldn’t be enough. It must be something else. Is she paying you? Whoring out for your services? I know you are desperate enough, but I still can’t believe you’d be such a pathetic man.” Milburn tsked snidely. “How far the Darlington name has fallen.”
Vaughn’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but there was no point in bashing the man’s head, even if it would feel bloody good. He drew in a slow, calming breath.
“You are mistaken. I am going to marry her, and I’m not desperate. It seems to me you are the desperate one. Are you angry she refused you? Maybe you shouldn’t have shoved your last mistress out a window. Or maybe it’s because you attempted to blackmail her. That tends to dampen any romantic notions a lady might have for a man. Unlike you, I don’t hurt women.”
“Oh, but you do.” Milburn countered, his voice quiet but clear in the hall. “We both know what kind of man you are. Does she know what you need? How you find your pleasure? Someone should warn the poor girl.” Milburn’s grin was so arrogant Vaughn actually took a step forward, ready to raise his hand against him.
Milburn opened the billiard room door. A couple of heads turned their way, wondering who was about to enter.
“Careful, Darlington. I wouldn’t want to see you thrown out of the house for brawling. Then no one would be there to comfort Miss Darby. Oh wait, I would. Go ahead, throw a punch.”
With a low growl, Vaughn lowered his fist and forced a smile.
“You’re hardly deserving of such attention. If you were any more beneath my notice, I’d have to check the bottom of my boot heel to find you.” Before he could let Milburn antagonize him further, he went upstairs to his room.
It was going to be a long wait until midnight. He would have to distract himself from thoughts of making Milburn bleed, instead picturing how he would enjoy spending time with Perdita beneath the kissing boughs in the hidden alcove of the library.
Chapter 8
Perdita waited for her lady’s maid to lay out her nightgown.
“Beth, would you be upset if I called you after midnight to undress me?”
Beth, a sweet girl with reddish-brown hair, glanced at her in surprise.
“Miss?” Beth never asked direct questions, but Perdita knew this was her maid’s way of inquiring.
“You remember what I told you about Milburn?” Perdita had confessed her fears a few weeks before.
“I do.” Beth took one of Perdita’s dresses and smoothed out the wrinkles before carrying it to the tall armoire.
“Well, I am to have a secret rendezvous with Lord Darlington tonight.”
“Miss…” Beth’s tone was full of reprimand. Her maid could say so much with one word.
“I know you don’t approve, but he is the only chance I see of escaping Milburn’s interest. We’re going to arrange for him to see us somehow. I hope that will dissuade him.”
Beth gave a huff of disagreement.
Perdita placed her hands on her hips. “What is it?”
“Miss, there’s no reason a man would want a secret rendezvous with you. Not unless he has a specific desire in mind.”
“Beth, he doesn’t want me, not in that way. Men like Darlington are excellent at playing the role of seducer, but that’s all it is. Playacting. I paid my price to him by arranging a meeting with Lord Lennox after the New Year. That is all Darlington truly wants.”
Her maid gave another disgruntled sound. “You are one of the sweetest and loveliest ladies I know, miss. He’d either be blind or a fool not to want you, and his eyesight seems to be just fine. I’m only asking you to take care. That’s all.”
“I promise.” Perdita knew Vaughn had enjoyed their time in the library and the woods, but she knew men like him. He could have his pick of ladies who knew what to do to please a man, and she could not possibly be interesting enough for him. Vaughn would have no designs upon her, not in the way her maid feared. She was a virgin, and he’d made it abundantly clear upon their first meeting that he didn’t seduce “innocents,” as he’d called them, yet he had said he might make an exception for her.
“I shall wait up for you,” Beth said, clearly unconvinced.
“Go on to bed. If I need you, I’ll come and wake you.”
Her maid frowned. “You shouldn’t have to come fetch me in the servants’ quarters, miss.”
“Stop worrying.” Perdita shoved her out the door. “Go on to bed now.”
When her servant was gone, she waited in her room, trying to pass the time until the appointed hour. She tried to read a book, but she couldn’t focus. Finally, she left for the library ten minutes before midnight. She was nervous and excited, but it was only because she was engaging in her second midnight rendezvous, not because she was excited to see Vaughn again.
When she reached the library, she ducked inside and began to pace, her slippers wearing paths in the carpet by the fire. At the sound of the door opening she turned, an eager smile upon her lips which quickly faded when she saw who it was.
“Finally, we have a moment alone,” said Samuel Milburn.
Perdita was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. All she could think was that he’d once thrown a woman out a window and that she could meet the same dreadful end.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, like a cat watching a mouse frozen with fear. Then he walked toward her. Perdita was torn between the desire to run and to hold her ground. This was her house, by God. Who was he to menace her in it? And by the dark look in his eyes she sensed running would only make things worse—and things were already very bad indeed.
Her heart pounded inside her chest, but she tried to remain outwardly calm.
“Darlington will be here in a few minutes. It would be wise of you to leave.” She took two slow, careful steps to place a tall armchair between herself and Milburn. The crackling fire and the ticking of the old clock above the marble mantle were strangely loud in the tense silence of the room.
Milburn wore no coat, a
nd made a show of rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. It was intimidating, not that Perdita could explain why. If Vaughn had done the same action, she would not have been afraid but rather excited.
“When I am done with you, he won’t care. He certainly won’t want you any longer.” It was her only warning. Milburn lunged for her, and Perdita, too terrified to scream, simply acted. She shoved the chair at him. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked and it toppled over, striking him in the knees. He crumpled onto it with a violent shout.
Perdita raised her skirts and ran for the door. But something snatched her ankle, and she fell. When she tried to scramble to her feet, she was pulled back to the ground. Pain shot up her right leg. She kicked out instinctively, again and again.
“Stop that, you little bit—” The hoarse curse turned into a grunt of pain as her foot connected with Milburn’s face.
She had only a few precious seconds of freedom, but her palms, slick with sweat, found no purchase on the wooden floor.
“Help!” she screamed, but a heavy weight came down on top of her, crushing her into the floor. Air rushed out of her lungs, and a hand dug into her hair, lifted her head up, then shoved it hard on the ground. Her forehead struck the wood floor, dazing her.
“Little bitch. How dare you,” Milburn growled, his body pinning hers down. His other hand slid toward her skirts, dragging them up.
Perdita’s head throbbed in pain, and she couldn’t breathe and couldn’t move.
The library door was only ten feet away, but it might as well have been ten miles. Her eyes blurred with tears as the horror of what was happening sank in. She dug her nails into the wood, the scraping sound an undertone beneath Milburn’s growl as he jerked her skirts higher and panted.
The creak of the library door opening did not stop him, if he had noticed it at all, but Perdita raised her head at the sound, praying someone, anyone would see.
“Help—” She tried to shout again, but her lungs were crushed and her vision was tunneling. She couldn’t breathe.
