Every Time We Kiss

by Christie Kelley

  “Because there is always the possibility that he and Miss Sheldon won’t suit. Or her father might decide not to let Blackburn court his daughter.”

  “Very well, then. What has you so concerned about Miss Whitmore?” Sophie asked softly.

  “She and her mother were too agreeable. They know all about him and were willing to put aside his reputation for an introduction.” Jennette frowned. “It makes no sense.”

  “Hmm, I haven’t heard of any rumors regarding the girl. Perhaps after three Seasons, they feel Blackburn would be their best option before she’s on the shelf.”

  “I just cannot believe that, Sophie.” Jennette reached for her teacup. “He is not received and therefore anyone he marries takes the chance that she will be scorned unless her reputation is sterling.”

  “What do you think is the reason, then?”

  Jennette looked away. “I fear she might be with child and trying to trap any man she can.”

  “Very well, then. I will attend and I’ll try to perform a reading on her.”

  Sophie picked up her teacup and sipped as she thought. Getting Jennette and Blackburn together might be more difficult than she’d imagined. She needed an accomplice in this mission. Someone who knew them both. And as much as he would hate her for asking again, there was only one perfect man for this mission.

  “I can usually sense a pregnancy. May I bring a guest with me tomorrow?”

  Jennette’s black eyebrows rose in question. “Of course. Anyone I might know?”

  Sophie smiled. “Yes, but just a dear friend of mine.”

  Matthew couldn’t help the frown from forming on his face as he picked up a glass of sherry from the refreshment table. Lady Cantwell’s invitation to dinner shocked and pleased him. He had no idea how Jennette managed to wrangle an invitation out of the oldest and most eccentric matron in the ton. But he supposed he would have to thank Jennette for it.

  After seeing the truth of her shopping habits thrown in his face this morning, he had no desire even to speak with her. John had told him that her father and brother spoiled her. Her actions today only confirmed his assumption that she was frivolous and spoiled.

  He watched her as she spoke with Lady Cantwell. Jennette’s blue eyes flashed with what looked like anger but she smiled at the older lady. Lady Cantwell glanced over at him and then back at Jennette. Finally, Jennette nodded.

  Lady Cantwell moved away from Jennette and ambled toward him. The older woman pressed heavily on her cane as she walked. He had no idea how old she was, but he would guess somewhere in her mid-eighties.

  “There you are, my boy,” she said as she reached his position. “I wanted to welcome you to my little party.”

  Little party? There had to be at least fifty people here tonight. His own dining room wouldn’t seat half these people.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he replied and then bowed over her ancient hand.

  She tilted her head and sized him up. “Perhaps the gossips have been wrong about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I see nothing that would make you unwelcome amongst us. In fact, I believe somewhere beneath that scoundrel mask is a gentleman.” Lady Cantwell made her declaration and moved on toward another guest, her cane tapping a slow rhythm as she left.

  “She is a widow. Perhaps you can charm her in the next two weeks.”

  Matthew slowly fisted his hands. “Good evening, Lady Jennette.”

  “Lord Blackburn,” she replied with a nod. “However did you get invited here?”

  He whipped around to face her directly. “What do you mean? You arranged this, not me.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “No, I had nothing to do with your being here.”

  “Then…how?”

  She shrugged and smiled as if trying not to laugh. “Maybe Lady Cantwell is after another husband.”

  “Do be quiet,” he whispered. He glanced at her burgundy-velvet gown and wondered if it was part of the collection she had bought today. “Fetching dress, by the way.”

  “Thank you. I do hope no one notices that it is last year’s style.”

  “I’m quite certain no one but you would notice such a thing.” Try as he did, he couldn’t keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

  “Then you really do not understand women, my lord.”

  “Of course I do.” He took a sip of his sherry before continuing, “God forbid you wear a gown more than once. Heavens, someone might remark about it!”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “You pompous, arrogant…man.”

  “Spoiled, little b—”

  “Well now,” Lady Selby came up to them both. “I do believe I need to speak with you, Jennette.”

  Jennette’s eyes flashed at him. “Avis, I think we can talk later. You are interrupting my conversation with Lord Blackburn.”

  Lady Selby smiled at both of them as she hooked her arm with Jennette. “Yes, I am, before you two cause a bigger scene than you already have.”

  “Oh, please, Avis. How many times did I break you and Banning apart from your arguments?”

  Lady Selby’s lips twitched in obvious humor. “Yes, you did, many times. And see how we ended.”

  Lady Selby looked over at Matthew with a little smirk. Oh dear God, he thought. The woman probably thinks he and Jennette were arguing because of deep-seated desire for each other. Complete and utter nonsense, he thought. After seeing Jennette’s true colors today, he would squash down any ardent feeling he might have for her.

  The only thing he needed Jennette to do was find him a bride. Any woman would be a better option than the frivolous, self-absorbed woman walking away from him.

  Jennette stood next to the potted palm with her arms over her chest in what she knew was a very un-ladylike posture. And she did not care. She wasn’t spoiled.

  “Lady Jennette, please at least try to look like you are enjoying my party.”

  “I apologize, Lady Cantwell.”

  The older woman leaned on her cane and then scanned the room until her gaze landed on Matthew. “He is a—”

  “Pompous, overbearing, arrogant—”

  Lady Cantwell’s cackle interrupted her tirade. “I was about to say a handsome devil. Handsome not in a pretty way, but with an air of danger about him. He reminds me a little of my third husband. Now he was a man….”

  “Lord Blackburn? Hardly. His hair is highly un-fashionable. He could almost put it in a queue. His clothes are wrinkled and at least two years out of date.”

  “Lady Jennette,” Lady Cantwell started, “I do believe Lord Blackburn should escort you into the dining room.”

  Jennette’s mouth gaped open. “I—I—”

  “I am the hostess of this little gathering.”

  “But, Lady Cantwell, he is the man who killed my betrothed,” she argued.

  “Accidentally, if my old memory serves.” Lady Cantwell’s brown eyes flashed with something akin to humor. “It is far past time for that incident to be buried.”

  How could Lady Cantwell find anything about this situation amusing? “Yes, it was an accident. Still, most people don’t understand that and—”

  “And you shall do exactly as this old lady tells you, miss.” Lady Cantwell smiled and patted Jennette’s hand. “Stop worrying about what other people think of you. Life is far more enjoyable that way.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jennette closed her eyes as Lady Cantwell slowly walked away.

  “I was told in no uncertain terms that I am to escort you into dinner.”

  She opened her eyes to see Matthew staring down at her with contempt in his eyes. “Yes. She informed me, too.”

  “Shall we?” He held out his arm to her.

  She nodded and linked her arm with his. Inhaling the tangy smell of sandalwood, she shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  Unable to tell him that his nearness caused such tumultuous feelings in her belly, she nodded. “It is a chilly night.”

  “Yes, it has been a dreadful year for weather.�
�

  At least the weather was a safer topic of conversation than her shopping habits, or his overly long, chestnut hair. She had to get her traitorous desires under control. Why couldn’t she have felt this way about John? He at least had loved her. Matthew didn’t even like her. He thought she was nothing more than a spoiled brat. At least she hoped he’d been about to say brat and not the other “b” word.

  “So I hear there is to be a literary salon at Lady Elizabeth’s home tomorrow night,” he said while they walked down the hall to the dining room.

  “Yes.”

  “Very good.”

  “Is it?” Jennette asked with a strained tone to her voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seemed quite pleased with Miss Sheldon last evening. Did you call on her today? Do you plan to court her?”

  He glanced over at her with a strange little smile and her cheeks burned. She sounded like a jealous shrew.

  “So many questions.”

  “You could try to answer one of them,” she replied tightly.

  “Then the answer is no.”

  “No, you didn’t call on her? Or no, you don’t plan to court her?”

  “No, to both questions.”

  “You are the most frustrating man I have ever met,” she mumbled.

  They reached the dining room and strolled around the table until they found their name cards. Right next to each other. Matthew pulled out her chair and waited for her to take her seat.

  He moved to the chair on her right. She greeted the others near her, attempting to ignore his masculine scent. Several people glanced down the long table at them. Most of them had pity in their eyes at her plight.

  She did her best to keep her conversation with Lady Caroline, who sat to Jennette’s left. But with every bite she took, her gaze slid to him. She couldn’t help but notice everything, from his long fingers gripping the fork to the smile he gave Miss Colbert.

  A shiver raced down her arm when he accidentally brushed up against her shoulder. She hated these feelings she had for Matthew. Why couldn’t she control her reaction to him? No man before him had ever made her feel so off-centered.

  Not even the man she was supposed to marry.

  Chapter 6

  The invitation to Lady Elizabeth’s impromptu literary salon had been a pleasant surprise. He knew she was one of Jennette’s friends. He assumed either Jennette was holding something over her head or Lady Elizabeth knew of his problem.

  He actually hoped it was the former and not the latter. The last thing he needed was all of Jennette’s friends knowing his business. Clenching his fists in frustration, he felt the carriage roll to a stop. Someday this would all be over, his name returned to its proper position, his debts paid and his tenants safe. Then he could rebuild his wealth.

  The image of Jennette with all those boxes almost teetering out of her arms refused to leave his mind. He couldn’t imagine how much money she must have spent yesterday. Far more than he could ever afford, he ruefully thought.

  So the last thing he needed or wanted was a frivolous woman to spend money he didn’t have. He would ignore the rush of desire that overcame him every time she neared him. Overlooking her shouldn’t be a huge problem.

  Except, he couldn’t take his gaze off her at Lady Cantwell’s dinner. She’d entertained all the people around them, drawing them into polite conversation. At times, he even thought he saw her glance toward him.

  Inhaling deeply, he walked up the steps, pushed Jennette out of his mind, and wondered what type of reception he would receive tonight. An aging butler answered the door and held out his hand for a card. Matthew handed him the newly embossed card with his title.

  “Come in, my lord. Lady Elizabeth is expecting you.” The wizened man opened the door and waved him in. “They are in the conservatory.”

  Matthew followed the servant, admiring the white marble floor and paintings on the wall. Once his finances were in order he could restore his homes to their formal glory. One particular oil landscape was so alluring he halted his stride to take a better look at it. The scene of a river flowing through a hamlet was skillfully painted. He looked for the artist’s signature but only the initials “JMT” marked it.

  Hearing conversation ahead, he knew they had reached the room. He stopped as the butler announced him at the threshold.

  “The Earl of Blackburn.”

  No matter how many times he heard it, he would never get accustomed to hearing that esteemed name used to announce him. The scoundrel, the black sheep of the family, and the man who had ruined the family name.

  Lady Elizabeth turned and smiled at him.

  “Lord Blackburn, welcome to my salon.”

  “Thank you, my lady. I am very pleased to be here.” He bowed over her hand.

  He scanned the room until he found Jennette sitting near a large orange tree. Her maroon gown accented her pale skin and dark hair, but it was her hair that held his attention. Tonight her raven tresses piled high on her head had white pearls woven throughout. His fingers itched to remove every hairpin and every pearl until her hair flowed down her back. He shook his head to clear his maddening thoughts.

  Damn. He was attracted to the frivolous woman and every time he saw her, the draw worsened. This insane desire had to stop.

  Sophie Reynard sat beside her, holding her hand and whispering. Could Miss Reynard be the woman he was supposed to meet tonight? While of times she was seen in the company of Lady Elizabeth, Lady Selby, and Jennette, as the rumored bastard daughter of some unknown earl she would hardly set his reputation straight.

  He tore his gaze off the two women and looked around the room. Only about twenty people attended and he was acquainted with most of them. While no one had approached him yet, at least here he didn’t feel as if all were talking about him behind their fans.

  His gaze fell upon Lord Somerton, who stood leaning against the wall, watching him. A smirk formed on Somerton’s lips as Matthew ambled toward him.

  “Now, I’m quite certain I have seen it all,” Matthew said with a grin. “A literary salon? There is no gaming here.”

  “I only attended as a favor to a friend,” Somerton replied in a quiet tone.

  “That must be some favor,” Matthew said.

  “You have no idea,” Somerton muttered.

  Before Matthew could reply, a soft cough from behind him stopped him.

  “Lord Blackburn, may I introduce Mrs. Whitmore and her daughter, Susan.”

  Matthew turned to see Lady Elizabeth with two other women in tow. He sketched a bow over each of the ladies’ hands. “It is my pleasure to meet you both.”

  “Perhaps you would do us the honor of escorting us to our seats,” Susan said, only to receive a slight elbow nudge from her mother.

  “I would be honored indeed.” He held out his arm and Mrs. Whitmore clutched it like a lifeline. After leading them the short distance to their chairs, he bowed.

  “Would you do us the honor of sitting with us, my lord?” Mrs. Whitmore asked.

  Matthew glanced around the room until he found Jennette. She frowned but gave him a quick nod in confirmation that Miss Whitmore was indeed the woman. Obviously, Matthew thought, Jennette must not know of Miss Whitmore’s reputation with certain men.

  “That would be lovely, Mrs. Whitmore.”

  He took the chair next to Susan and blew out a breath. While he never minded a good musicale, literary salons tended to bore him to tears. Sitting there, his attention followed Jennette as she took her seat near the front. Not once did she glance at him.

  Why did he care?

  He did not.

  He should be lavishing his interest on Miss Susan Whitmore. But Miss Whitmore, with her light brown hair and amber eyes, didn’t appeal to him. It wasn’t her looks. He’d heard three men boast about how she fell directly into their arms with very little encouragement. When he married, he wanted a woman who would remain faithful.

  As the first author rose to speak a
bout a poem, he felt Miss Whitmore’s leg brush against his. The cloying scent of her perfume circled around him like a vise, choking the breath out of him. He desperately wanted to move to a different seat. Instead, he sat trapped with her for the evening. While he couldn’t be choosy about who would be his wife, he and Miss Whitmore would never suit.

  The program dragged through the evening and as each author spoke, Miss Whitmore’s advances bordered on scandalous. She accidentally skimmed her hand up the side of his thigh. Luckily, no one noticed as her skirts blocked their sight.

  When the program finally came to end, he rose to excuse himself.

  “Lord Blackburn, would you like to take a turn on the terrace with me?” Miss Whitmore asked with a flirtatious smile. “Several other couples will be doing the same.”

  “I’m sorry, but I must speak with someone.” He bowed and walked away. He had no need to talk with anyone, but he did desire a moment alone with no nauseating perfume.

  He slipped out of the room and found the billiard room just down the hall. Closing the door behind him, he breathed in the clean scent of the room. A seat by the lit fireplace beckoned him. He leaned back into the soft leather and let his eyes shut. He really shouldn’t be alone in this room. Miss Whitmore didn’t seem the type of woman who would have any qualms about coming in here.

  The sound of the door opening slowly forced his lids upward. Expecting to see Miss Whitmore, he released a frustrated sigh.

  “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Well, this is a surprise,” he replied.

  “I had to warn you before…” She hadn’t moved from her position against the door.

  “Warn me about what?”

  “Miss Whitmore.” She took two steps closer. “I fear I made a huge error with her.”

  “Oh? And why is that, Jennette?”

  She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I can’t tell you for certain. But I think she was a little too eager to meet you.”

  He raised a brow in question. “So you don’t believe a woman might actually want to meet me?”

  “It’s not like that,” she protested, wringing her hands. “I—I do not trust her. I followed you in here because I thought she might attempt to find you alone and try to compromise herself with you.”