The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  He looked down at her and Carlotta smiled back at him briefly before she looked away, suddenly shy and awkward. As if to distract him, she pointed up at the chandeliers.

  ‘When all those candles are alight this room will glow. Can you imagine how elegant it will look, with all the ladies in their finest gowns?’ She sighed. ‘I wish I could see it.’

  ‘Perhaps you will.’

  She laughed. ‘Perhaps! I will creep up to the windows and press my nose against the glass one night.’

  The thought made him angry. ‘That is not what I meant,’ he growled. ‘You should be in here, dancing with all the other young ladies.’

  ‘Do not frown, sir. I do not want you to pity me.’

  ‘No, of course not, but I am determined you shall dance here.’ He put down the candlestick and opened his arms to her. ‘Come.’

  ‘You are nonsensical!’ She laughed, but did not resist as he took her hand and began to lead her around the room, humming a tune.

  ‘Do you waltz, Miss Durini?’

  ‘No, sir. I have never learned.’

  ‘Well, the gentleman holds the lady like this.’ He drew her towards him, pushed her cloak off her shoulders until it hung like a train behind her and slid one hand beneath it to rest on her back. Immediately her body tensed. A tremor ran through him as her breasts pressed again him, separated from his skin by only a few thin layers of silk and linen.

  ‘I have been told the waltz is considered by some to be improper,’ she remarked. ‘It certainly feels very daring, to be standing so close.’

  She looked up at him, smiling shyly, and suddenly he could not breathe.

  ‘Well, sir, what next?’

  ‘This.’

  He placed his fingers beneath her chin, tilted up her face and kissed her, very gently. She gave a faint sigh when he lifted his head, but did not move away. Tension crackled between them. Carlotta leaned against him, a tiny movement, but it was enough. With something very like a groan he swooped down on her again and his kiss this time was much more urgent. She responded, her lips parting in surrender to his demands and her body melting against him. His arms tightened. He nibbled gently at her lip and in response she put her arms around his neck.

  Together they sank to their knees and he lowered Carlotta to the floor. She clung to him as he stretched out beside her, his mouth moving slowly, sensuously, over her lips while one hand slid to her breast. Luke felt her tremble, her back arched. A pulsing wave of desire swamped him. His fingers tore at her shirt, pulling it free from those soft, clinging breeches, then his hand was on skin, caressing the gentle curve of her waist. He ran his fingers over her stomach and she drew it in, gasping. He covered her face with kisses, drinking in the sweet taste of her, a taste of summer flowers and new-mown hay. His senses reeled. He had known many women, but never had the urge to possess and protect been so strong. She moaned softly and his touch faltered. He was overwhelmed with tenderness. She was such an innocent, it was important not to hurt her, not to frighten her. He knew the heady heights that love-making could achieve, but for her it would be new, strange and bewildering. Suddenly he was aware of their surroundings, lying on the cold, hard floor. By God it was not even his house!

  He raised his head and stared down at her. Carlotta gazed up at him so trustingly and with a sudden, startling clarity he knew it would not do. This was not how he would show his love to Carlotta.

  ‘This has gone far enough,’ he muttered, almost to himself.

  He got to his feet and held out his hand. Her brows contracted and she looked at him with bewildered, frightened eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  His smile was strained as he pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Not you, sweetheart.’ He brushed his lips against her mouth in a fleeting, butterfly kiss. ‘You are everything I could wish for, but this is not right, not here, on the bare floor of an empty house. You deserve so much more than that.’ He looked towards the window. ‘I think the rain has stopped. We must get you home.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Carlotta did not move.

  ‘I thought you were going to teach me to waltz.’

  She sounded so lost that he had to stifle the temptation to take her in his arms again. He reached out to pull her cloak back over her shoulders.

  ‘I am no saint, Carlotta.’ He bent to pick up the candlestick.

  ‘You are not angry with me?’

  He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss into the palm. ‘No, love. I am not angry with you.’

  No, he had not been angry with her then, but now, as he led Carlotta on to the crowded dance floor, it occurred to him that he had been wrong about her; even then she had been trying to catch herself a rich husband.

  With all the pleasure of someone walking to the scaffold, Carlotta accompanied Lord Darvell onto the dance floor. His hand beneath her arm was stiff; indeed, she thought his whole body was rigid with disapproval. She summoned up all her courage to help her through this ordeal. Anger came to her aid. What right had he to disapprove of her? When they took their places in the set she put up her chin and gazed steadily at some point over his shoulder. The music began; they held hands, moved forward until they were almost touching, the delicate flowers of her corsage trembling within an inch of his waistcoat. She must concentrate on her steps and forget her partner. There was no need for them to talk, after all. However, she soon discovered that Luke had other ideas.

  ‘Why did you change your name to Rivington?’ he asked her suddenly.

  ‘It is in deference to my aunt and uncle. They have been very good to me.’

  ‘And perhaps you are ashamed of your origins.’

  ‘I am not! It is not unusual to take the name of one’s benefactor.’ She almost snatched her hand away as the dance parted them. Insufferable man! He was determined to think badly of her. Carlotta’s head came up: she would not court his good opinion.

  Luke fought down his anger. Damnation, one could not have an argument in the middle of a ballroom. The movement of the dance took him past his partner and he almost laughed aloud at the fury of her look. One had to admit those dark eyes flashed magnificently when she was angry. It seemed she planned to ignore him for the duration of the dance, but he would have none of it. The chit should learn that she must at least show him society manners.

  ‘How are you enjoying London, Miss Rivington?’

  ‘Very well, I thank you.’

  He waited, and when she did not continue he raised his brows. ‘Is that all? Have you no praises to heap upon the entertainments and the shopping to be had in town?’

  ‘If I did so, you would write me down as a thoughtless, frippery creature.’

  ‘You would prefer me to think you sullen, and above being pleased.’

  ‘I do not care what you think of me,’ she told him in a low voice.

  Luke growled with frustration. Blast it, why should the chit anger him so? He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Be careful with your scowls, Carlotta,’ he hissed as they parted again. ‘The wind may change and you will never smile again.’

  Carlotta reined in her irritation. All around her the dancers were laughing and enjoying themselves. It would not do to let the world see she was arguing with her partner. As they came back together she said sweetly, ‘Thank you for the timely reminder, my lord. Because you cannot help your temper, it is no reason for me to lose mine.’

  His smile was as false as her own, but his eyes glittered dangerously. She sought for something commonplace to say.

  ‘We are very fortunate with the weather, are we not? It is warm enough to make fires unnecessary, yet still cool enough to make dancing a pleasure.’ He did not reply. She thought he looked very much as if he was grinding his teeth. Carlotta raised her brows. ‘Come, my lord. When I go to such trouble to converse, surely you can make the effort to respond.’

  ‘Since we are now at the end of the dance I am spared the necessity.’

  She put h
er fingers on his arm and allowed him to lead her off the floor. ‘We are both spared,’ she muttered. ‘We need no longer be polite to one another.’

  ‘I noticed no politeness, Miss Rivington.’

  Carlotta’s eyes narrowed, but there was no opportunity to reply, since they had reached Lady Broxted, who was deep in conversation with her hostess. Lord Darvell left them without a word, but to Carlotta’s relief her aunt did not appear to notice. Instead she caught Carlotta’s hand and pulled her closer.

  ‘My dear, we are discussing the most delightful scheme. Mrs Price informs me that Madame Saqui is performing at Vauxhall next week and we are minded to get up a party—what do you think of that?’

  ‘Madame Saqui?’

  ‘She is a rope walker,’ explained Mrs Price. ‘Quite a sensation. She first performed at Vauxhall last year and was so successful that she had been retained.’

  ‘Well, Carlotta, would you like to see her?’

  ‘Very much, Aunt, thank you.’

  Mrs Price clapped her hands.

  ‘Then it is settled. We shall all go together. And I shall find two young gentlemen to accompany us, for I am sure you and Julia will enjoy yourselves much more if you each have a handsome escort.’ A commotion at the door caused her to look up. ‘Now, who is this come in at this late hour? I had not expected anyone else to turn up—good heavens, it is Ainslowe and his new wife!’

  As Mrs Price hurried away, Carlotta stood on tiptoe to see the couple at the door. Even from a distance she recognised James Ainslowe. He was not quite as tall as his brother, but he had the same nut-brown hair and an ease of manner that expressed itself in the charming smile he now bent upon his hostess. Carlotta could imagine him apologising for his late arrival, treating Mrs Price to the same glinting smile that Luke had shown her when they had been together at Malberry. The memory gave her an empty, hollow feeling inside. She instantly quashed it and turned her attention to Mrs James Ainslowe. She was a lively brunette with a generous figure that was shown to advantage in a low-cut gown of bronze broché silk and a matching jockey cap over her glossy curls. A gold tassel on the cap swung to and fro as she carried on an animated conversation with her hostess. Carlotta heard Lady Broxted’s smothered exclamation.

  ‘Is anything wrong, Aunt?’

  ‘I could wish they had stayed in Berkshire a little longer,’ muttered Lady Broxted. ‘What if they should recognise you?’

  Carlotta laughed at that. ‘That is not possible! They were on the Continent when I was at Malberry.’

  ‘You must be very careful, Carlotta, not to disclose your real name.’

  ‘I thought we had already agreed that, ma’am.’ She hesitated. ‘Would it be so very dreadful, Aunt, if it were known that my father was an artist?’

  ‘It would be embarrassing for your uncle, my dear, and for me. So much better that no one asks about your parents.’

  Carlotta felt a little tremor of unease. ‘Perhaps then it would be best if we lived a little more retired. Surely there is no need for you to puff me off quite so much.’

  Lady Broxted stared at her. ‘Do you not wish to go about, my love?’

  Carlotta hesitated. Looking into her aunt’s anxious face, she realised that her aunt’s pleasure in the balls and parties they attended was more than equal to her own and she could not disappoint her.

  ‘Yes, of course I do, Aunt, but I would not embarrass you for the world. Perhaps we could avoid Mr and Mrs Ainslowe…’

  ‘No, I am afraid that is impossible; they will be seen everywhere and you must be seen everywhere, too.’ My lady drew herself up to her full, if diminutive, height. ‘We must hope that your identity is not discovered, at least until we have you safely married. There is no reason why we should not carry it off. After all, there is no one here who knows you, is there?’

  Carlotta knew that this was the moment to confess the truth, but she remained silent. She watched Lord Darvell cross the room to greet the new arrivals and her heart sank. It was clear that Luke was on very good terms with his brother and sister-in-law; doubtless he would tell them all about his dalliance with the painter’s daughter. It seemed very likely that by the end of the evening all Lady Broxted’s hopes for her would be at an end.

  Luke gripped his brother’s hand. ‘James! When did you arrive in town?’

  ‘This morning. Adele was desperate to buy new gowns.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ cried his wife, turning from Mrs Price. ‘You were just as anxious to get to town. Luke, my dear, how are you? As handsome as ever, I see.’

  ‘And you are even more enchanting,’ replied Luke, kissing her hand. ‘How did you find the Court?’

  ‘It is beautiful; thank you for your efforts. Kemble told us you were at Malberry for weeks.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said James. ‘I really did not expect you to do more than look in on the place once or twice.’

  ‘Poor Luke,’ said Adele. ‘Was it very tedious for you?’

  Luke wanted to say that, surprisingly, it had been some of the happiest weeks of his life, but that would invite questions, and Adele was damnably perceptive. He dared not risk it.

  ‘I endured it as long as I could,’ he replied coolly. ‘However, I thought you would stay there longer.’

  Adele shook her head, sighing. ‘We have had nothing but each other’s company for the best part of a month.’

  ‘An ideal arrangement,’ murmured Luke, grinning, and earned for himself a sharp tap on the arm from Adele’s fan.

  ‘You may stop those knowing looks at once! James and I are very much in need of company before we murder one another.’

  ‘Aye.’ Her loving husband smiled. ‘So we thought we would come to town for a few weeks, then take a party back to the Court with us for the summer.’

  ‘You will come, won’t you, Luke?’

  ‘Of course, Adele. That is, unless anything better comes along.’

  She gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘How I have missed your teasing! We have been abroad for so long, and everyone there was so serious.’ She tucked her hand in his arm. ‘Come, we have not seen you since Paris. One can never say everything properly in a letter, so you must tell me all you have been doing and then we will arrange for you to accompany me to Bond Street.’

  ‘Surely that is your husband’s duty.’

  She waved one gloved hand. ‘Alas, James has no eye for colour.’

  Luke began to back away. ‘I regret, Adele, that I have a great many engagements—’

  ‘Nonsense, you cannot be too busy to take me shopping.’

  He cast a despairing look at James, who merely laughed.

  ‘No use appealing to me, Luke. I’ve come to town for my own amusement. You are always at your ease with the ladies, you will enjoy yourself!’

  Chapter Three

  Lady Broxted emerged from the milliner’s shop and stopped, blinking in the sunlight. ‘Well, Carlotta, where shall we go now?’

  Following her aunt out on to the flag way, Carlotta gave a little sigh. ‘Must we go anywhere else, Aunt? We have bought so many gloves and shoes and hats that I dare not think what my uncle will say.’

  ‘Tush, child, what should he say? Broxted knows how it is in town. One’s gloves soon become soiled and the dirty streets quite ruin one’s shoes.’

  ‘And the bonnets, ma’am?’ asked Carlotta, regarding the hatboxes carried by a wooden-faced footman.

  ‘One can never have too many hats,’ opined Lady Broxted firmly. ‘Now, let us go in here, for, having seen how well you look in green, I am determined that you shall have a new silk dress for the evenings.’

  ‘Pray, ma’am, do not go in,’ begged Carlotta. ‘I have been sized up, measured and pulled this way and that until I am quite exhausted with it—’ She broke off, realising that Lady Broxted was not listening.

  Following her aunt’s intent gaze, she saw Mrs Adele Ainslowe approaching. However, when she observed Adele’s escort she was aware of a sudden feeling of breathlessness—her heart see
med to be fighting to escape her body.

  ‘Dear me,’ muttered Lady Broxted, ‘how did she persuade Darvell to come shopping with her? Mrs Ainslowe, Lord Darvell, how do you do?’

  Adele stopped and gave them her wide smile. ‘Good day to you, Lady Broxted, and this must be your pretty niece that everyone is talking of. Pray won’t you introduce us? I heard that you were at the Prices’ assembly, Miss Rivington,’ she continued once this office had been performed. ‘I am ashamed to admit that James and I came in very late, and there was not time to meet everyone.’

  Carlotta answered as best she could. She was very much aware of Luke standing behind his sister-in-law. She was also a little overawed by Mrs Ainslowe’s vivacity. She had thought her very good-natured when she had first seen her and now, at such close proximity, her impression was confirmed; she could see the humour twinkling in her green eyes. Adele was looking past her, taking in the parcels piled up in the arms of Lady Broxted’s hapless footmen.

  ‘So,’ she continued, ‘we are on the same errand, I collect. We have been shopping all morning. Poor Darvell is quite out of patience with me. Tell me, is that little Frenchwoman still trading at the end of the street? Madame Beaufaire, the milliner. I was always able to find something I liked there, but last Season she was talking of returning to Paris, now the war is over.’

  ‘Yes, yes, Madame Beaufaire is still there,’ replied Lady Broxted, adding with a triumphant little smile, ‘we have just purchased a new bonnet of leghorn straw from her for Carlotta…’

  Mrs Ainslowe laughed gaily. ‘Then you will be all the rage, my dear, and we shall all be looking daggers at you when you wear it! But this is your first time in London, is it not, Miss Rivington? Tell me how you find Bond Street.’

  ‘Exhausting,’ Lady Broxted answered before Carlotta could speak. ‘My poor niece is crying quits before we have completed even one side of the street, which is a great shame, because I did so want to visit the silk mercers of Covent Garden.’