To Tempt a Rake

by Cara Elliott

  Oh yes, the waltz was sinful. Seductive.

  It took her an instant to realize the music had stopped and the guests were applauding. A little dazed, she stepped back to catch her breath.

  “La, what fun!” exclaimed Lady Duxbury. She looked at Marco, her eyes overbright with champagne. “Now it’s my turn to dance with you, sir!”

  “I shall go sit with Charlotte,” said Kate quickly. “I don’t want her to feel that she must sing for her supper, so to speak.”

  “Indeed,” said Cluyne. “It is bit unfair that she must stay inside while the rest of us enjoy the evening. Perhaps instead of dancing, we should all take a stroll in the gardens.”

  “What an enchanting idea, Your Grace,” exclaimed the dowager countess. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of exercise myself, after such a splendid meal. And midnight is such a magical hour.”

  “I shall go inform Lady Fenimore of the change in plans,” said the duke.

  Rochambert gallantly offered his arm to the dowager’s daughter. “Would you care to take a walk with me, mademoiselle?” He winked at the countess. “We shall, of course, not stray out of sight of your maman.”

  Kate saw Von Seilig glance her way, but suddenly Marco cut him off. “Miss Woodbridge, shall we continue our pas de deux and take a walk to the statuary garden?” he asked. “The view overlooking the lake promises to be quite lovely in starlight.”

  Kate shot him a quizzical look but did not voice an objection.

  The Prussian politely offered to escort the dowager countess, and Tappan quickly followed with an invitation to Lady Duxbury. “An excellent idea, Your Grace,” he said as Cluyne returned with Charlotte on his arm. “A last walk around these lovely grounds before duty calls me away will be most welcome.”

  “What? You are leaving us soon?” Lady Duxbury sounded surprised. “But the party isn’t scheduled to end until next week.”

  “Alas, as I informed the duke several weeks ago, the Foreign Office requires me to leave for Vienna before the rest of you depart. I just received word that makes it necessary to depart on the morrow. Most of our delegation is already in place, and there is much work to be done during the preliminary negotiations.” Tappan inclined a bow to the rest of the guests. “Allow me to take my leave of you now. I shall be returning to my own estate this evening, in order to oversee all the last-minute details for travel.”

  The lady made a face, but the rest of the company offered their good wishes for his journey.

  “Indeed, I wish you and Lord Castlereagh good luck in creating a new Europe, now that Napoleon has been banished to Elba,” added Cluyne. He raised his glass. “To peace and harmony among all nations.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Tappan, returning the salute. The sentiment was seconded by all the other diplomats.

  “Yes, and now let us finish with politics and cap off this lovely evening with a moonlit walk,” said Rochambert. “Do all the ladies have escorts?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw the duke murmur something to Charlotte, who visibly hesitated before giving a curt nod.

  “Your fellow ‘Sinner’ looks a little nervous at the prospect of finding herself alone in a dark place with your grandfather,” murmured Marco as he led her down the steps to the gardens.

  “I doubt that she fears he will try to take liberties with her person,” replied Kate. “Whatever else his faults, the duke always behaves like a perfect gentleman.”

  “What makes you so sure that Lady Fenimore would be averse to his advances?” he countered.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Is it so impossible that your friend would welcome a kiss or caress? She lives by herself, now that her sister has married. I would imagine there are times when she is lonely.”

  Kate’s expression pinched. “I—I…” Gravel crunched underfoot. “I admit that the idea hadn’t occurred to me.” The furrow between her brows deepened. “But then, I haven’t been thinking too clearly about anything of late.”

  Marco looked about to make a clever quip, then seemed to catch himself.

  “Any particular reason?” he asked softly.

  The question took her by surprise. “W-why do you ask?”

  For an instant she was tempted to confide in him, to share her doubts and fears. Don’t be a fool, she chided herself. Men like Marco would only exploit a weakness.

  “So that you may discover yet another sordid secret to hold over me?” she quickly added. “I am not quite sure why you take such delight in tormenting me, Lord Ghiradelli.”

  Marco turned their steps off the main walkway, choosing one of the smaller side paths that led along the walled rose garden. “My intention has been to tease you, not to torment you, Kate.”

  “Oh, is that so? Well, you do a damn good job at making the two seem one and the same.” Beneath the bravado, she was dismayed to hear a tremor of uncertainty.

  “If what happened this afternoon has upset you—”

  “I’m not upset,” she interrupted. “As you may have noticed, I wasn’t a virgin, so you need not worry that I’m going to kick up a dust over the matter.”

  He didn’t respond, save to fix her with a shadowed stare.

  “Do me a great favor and just… just leave me alone.” Snugging her shawl around her shoulders, she lengthened her stride and turned sharply through an opening in the boxwood hedge, heading away from the manor house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the pale wash of moonlight her slender silhouette looked very small and vulnerable as it was swallowed up by the darkness. After a moment of indecision, Marco followed at a discreet distance.

  The path looped around to the far edge of the formal grounds. Through the branches of an espaliered pear tree, he saw the back side of the conservatory, its pearly glass rising like a fanciful mirage from the night shadows. An owl hooted from the nearby grove of oaks, the ghostly echo sounding strangely plaintive as it floated in the breeze.

  He caught up with her at a small stone bench nestled within a screen of evergreens. Hands braced on the weathered granite, Kate was leaning back and staring up at the heavens. High overhead, the constellations glittered with the brilliance of faceted diamonds against a black velvet sky.

  She didn’t object when he sat down beside her.

  “I imagine you are an expert at navigating by the stars,” he murmured, after gazing in silence at the winking points of light.

  “Given a chronometer and a sextant, I can find my way to any port from the most remote spot in the ocean,” replied Kate in a small, unsteady voice. “It’s just when I reach land that I seem to have trouble getting my bearings.”

  “Look there,” said Marco, tilting his head back. “That’s Orion just above us. Follow the line of his belt and it points to the North Star. Ursus Major is close by.” He paused for a fraction. “So you see,” he added softly, “wherever you are in the world, familiar friends are there to help guide you on your journey.”

  Kate didn’t answer right away.

  Marco sat very still, recalling with a pang the long-ago nights of youthful stargazing with his brother. The heady excitement of wondering where life would take them. Somehow he had strayed far, far from those times.

  Could he ever find his way back?

  “That’s a very astute observation, sir.” When finally she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “You’re right—it should be easy. And yet, at times I can’t help feeling a little lost.”

  “You are not alone in that, Kate.” He slid his hand across the rough stone and found hers. “I think we all feel unsure of our place in the universe.”

  “Even you?”

  “Si, even me.”

  “That is hard to imagine,” she said wryly. “You always appear so self-confident, so supremely sure of yourself.”

  “As do you,” he pointed out. “Perhaps we have more in common than you imagine.”

  Kate gave a mock grimace. “I find it hard to think so.”

  �
�Then don’t. Think, that is. Sometimes it is good just to sit and savor the present moment.”

  Their fingers twined, and through the thin leather of her glove, the pulse of her heartbeat was warm and steady against his skin. The feeling was oddly comforting. Crickets chirped in the grass, and frogs croaked in the lily pond—the natural rhythms of the night in harmony with their own. A flutter of air wafted through the juniper needles, mingling the faint fragrance of pine with Kate’s own sweet scent.

  Strange how all he ever sought from women was a willing partner in physical pleasure, mused Marco. A fleeting joining of flesh. Yet Kate touched him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

  Which was probably just as well.

  Ye gods, that he, a practiced libertine and lecher, was turning sentimental over holding a lady’s hand—a gloved hand—was a sign that he wasn’t thinking straight this evening.

  He rose abruptly, breaking the connection between them. “We had better return, before Cluyne sends out a search party. Or, rather, a hunting party, with orders to pepper my hide with buckshot.”

  She slowly squared the hem of her kidskin glove. “Quite right. My grandfather is already annoyed at my disregard for the rules of propriety. I shouldn’t disappoint him again.” A look of vulnerability once again shaded her expression.

  “Kate,” he began.

  “You must stop calling me that. I don’t recall giving you permission to address me by that name,” she said coolly.

  Their camaraderie was gone just as quickly as it had come.

  “Formality seems a little absurd, given the intimacies we have shared, bella,” he said, resuming his usual sardonic drawl. “You are welcome to call me Marco.”

  “I am sure you have plenty of women willing to utter their undying admiration, sir.” She dusted her hands and got to her feet. “You don’t need me to flatter your vanity.”

  “Alas, I feel it shriveling by the second.”

  Her lips twitched. “Good night, Lord Ghiradelli.”

  At least he had managed to make her smile again. “I’ll walk with you back to the main walkway.”

  “There are no predators here in Kent,” she pointed out. “I shall be perfectly safe traversing the ducal lawns.”

  “Call it an attack of gentlemanly scruples, but I prefer to escort you to within sight of the terrace,” said Marco. “Tell your grandfather that I stayed behind to smoke a cheroot. It appears everyone has been enjoying a respite from the rules. I don’t think he’ll blister your ears with a scold.”

  “Ha,” she said under her breath. “He doesn’t need much of a reason to find fault with me.”

  His resolve to be distant and detached wavered on hearing the catch in her voice. Perhaps it was her damn perfume that was having such an unnerving effect on him.

  Whatever the reason, he found himself saying, “It is hard to believe that the duke would judge you so harshly. What more could he wish for in a granddaughter? You are beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely loyal to your friends, as I can well attest to. And you share his passion for plants.”

  A spasm of emotion flitted across her face, but in the shifting patterns of light and dark, it was impossible to read. “His disapproval runs far deeper. He disowned my mother for marrying against his wishes.” She drew in a deep breath, the tiny muscles tensing along the line of her jaw. “I am just a constant reminder of that rebellion.”

  “Perhaps he regrets his past actions. Have you tried talking about it with him—”

  “The duke does not talk,” she said quickly. “He pontificates. So the situation is rather hopeless. What’s the point of reaching out when I’ll only be rejected?”

  “For someone who sees most subjects with sharp-eyed clarity, you may have a blind spot in this particular matter.”

  Her mouth quivered, then pinched to a hard line.

  “People change,” said Marco softly. He was living proof of that.

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  For a moment, he thought he had overstepped his boundaries. Like him, Kate was a very private person and did not let anyone get too close. But after a step or two, she forced a tentative smile. “It’s kind of you to offer advice, sir. No matter that it’s for naught.”

  They walked along in companionable silence. Clouds were scudding in from the west, deepening the surrounding shadows. The breeze began to freshen and the rustle of the leaves muffled their steps. Mist rose in silvery tendrils from the tufts of ornamental grasses.

  “Let us cut around the conservatory. It’s quicker than following the perimeter path,” murmured Kate.

  As they passed close to the glass walls, a wink of light appeared within the jungle of dark foliage. It was gone in a flash.

  “That’s odd.” Kate stopped and tried to peer through the glass, but the moisture of the warm air inside had fogged the panes. “The place should be shut up for the night.”

  “Perhaps someone else is enjoying a private tryst,” said Marco. “You have to admit it is a rather romantic setting.”

  Her frown deepened in concern. “It’s not a playground for pleasure. There are a number of very delicate and very rare specimens in this section of the plantings.”

  “I’m sure no harm has been done. In all likelihood, it’s just one of the servants, checking that all is well before he locks the doors.”

  “Perhaps,” she answered. A swipe of her sleeve did nothing to clear the mist from the glass. “However, I will go check on it as soon as I return to the drawing room.”

  They were about to continue on when, up ahead, the latch to the side door opened with a soft snick. A figure emerged and moved swiftly for the cover of the rhododendron bushes.

  “Who was that?” Kate craned her neck but the dark shape had already melded into the foliage.

  “I am not sure. I didn’t catch a glimpse of the face,” replied Marco. “It might have been Tappan. And if it was, it isn’t any mystery why he was moving so quickly. I, too, would be fleeing from the clutches of Lady Duxbury.” He chuckled. “I doubt he escaped with his virtue intact.”

  She shot him a sour look. “Why is it that ever since the Original Sin in the Garden of Eden, men are always blaming women for their own weakness of the flesh?”

  “It was Eve who offered Adam the apple,” he replied.

  “Have you conveniently forgotten that the serpent was Satan? Who was most definitely male,” countered Kate.

  “You have a point,” conceded Il Serpenti with a grin.

  Pinching back a smile, she led the way through the shrubbery and regained the graveled walkway. The terrace torchieres blazed brightly, sending up plumes of pale smoke. “Good night, Lord Ghiradelli,” repeated Kate.

  The tone of dismissal was unmistakable.

  “Sweet dreams, Kate,” he murmured.

  Sweet dreams.

  Ha! What with the way her thoughts were tossing and turning inside her head, Kate didn’t expect to sleep a wink. She had always prided herself on being intelligent.

  But maybe she wasn’t so smart after all.

  Lifting her gaze from the gravel, she saw her grandfather pacing along the terrace railing. He looked pensive, and in the flicker of the red-gold flames, the lines of age on his craggy face appeared more deeply etched than she had noticed before.

  Had she been so sure of her own point of view that she had failed to see the full depth of his character? A stab of uncertainty caused her throat to constrict. Marco’s oblique criticisms concerning both Cluyne and Charlotte had served to point out her own glaring faults.

  She was so quick to anger, so quick to judge.

  No wonder the duke thought her a headstrong hellion. And if he—or any of her friends—ever learned the real truth about her…

  Thank God that Marco did not know the full story about her stay in Naples.

  “Katharine.”

  “Sir!” she replied, the word sounding more shrill than she had intended. “Forgive me if I am late in returni
ng. Lord Ghiradelli and I noticed a strange light in the conservatory, so we stopped to investigate. And then he wished to have a smoke by the lily pond, so I showed him the way.”

  His expression fell for just an instant. “I was not intending a rebuke.”

  “Oh.” Kate couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “I was simply going to remark that it is a—a pleasant evening, is it not?”

  “Yes. Indeed. Very pleasant,” she stammered. A look around showed that the terrace was deserted, save for Von Seilig and the two Spaniard diplomats, who were quietly conversing over their brandies by the French doors. “Where is Charlotte?”

  “Lady Fenimore said she was fatigued and decided to retire for the night,” replied her grandfather.

  “It has been a long day,” said Kate, a little nervous at finding herself alone with him when her thoughts were so confused. “I think I shall do the same. But first I shall just check that the conservatory door has been properly locked.”

  Cluyne frowned. “Simpson does that every evening.”

  “I know, it’s just that with moving the tea service and drinks table out to the terrace, it might have been overlooked.” She didn’t wish to mention seeing someone come out from the side door. It might only embarrass one—or two—of the guests. Not to speak of raising uncomfortable questions of why she and Marco had moved off the formal paths.

  “I shall send one of the footmen,” he offered.

  “No, no, I’ll do it.” Anxious to be alone with her thoughts, Kate hastened for the door. “It is on my way, and won’t take but a moment.”

  Her grandfather took several steps and then stopped. “Very well.”

  “I was just going inside as well, Miss Woodbridge.” Von Seilig set down his empty glass. “Allow me to accompany you.”

  Kate gritted her teeth in frustration. “Thank you,” she said curtly, brushing past him without slowing her stride.

  The colonel was quick to catch up. “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked quietly.

  “No!” Belatedly realizing that the two Spaniards were not far behind them, she lowered her voice. “Forgive me, sir. I assure you that it’s not you. I am simply tired and unused to entertaining so many people.”