‘The ladies’ retiring room,’ she said faintly. ‘If you could escort me there, I am sure I will be fine.’ She raised a limp hand and pointed down a corridor that the servants had not bothered to light.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, confused. ‘I would have thought...upstairs, perhaps...’
‘I have been here before,’ she assured him. ‘I know the way.’
He did not question further, but shepherded her in the direction she had suggested, towards the perfect spot.
When they drew abreast of it, she reached across his body and gripped the handle, turning it and giving a sharp, sudden tug to open the door beside him. At the same time, she staggered into him, pushing him off balance and through the darkened opening.
He had time for one brief, surprised curse as he realised what was happening. Then he grabbed her by the shoulder and carried her body along with his. They lurched together over the threshold, as the door slammed shut behind them.
Chapter Seven
It had been a grave miscalculation.
Amy had had a vague recollection of the Middleton house, from previous visits. The door she’d thought she was choosing opened on to a small card room. It was well away from the rest of the house, but hardly uncomfortable.
Perhaps she should have turned right instead of left. The door she’d actually opened was for a cupboard. Now she was wedged chest to breast with Benjamin Lovell, in a space that was never meant to hold one person, much less two.
There was a moment of silence in the darkness punctuated by the sounds of their laboured breathing. Then he said in a low voice, so near to her ear that she could feel his breath moving her hair, ‘Why, Miss Summoner, I had no idea you cared.’
Her own breath hissed out between her teeth as she stifled a dozen possible responses, all of them caustic. But it was her fault that they were here. It would only make things worse to snap at him.
Carefully, she fumbled for the door handle behind her, preparing to back out into the hall. Then, if possible, she would find a way to pretend this never happened. Her fingers closed not on metal but on his hand, which was wrapped around the handle and holding the door shut. She jerked her hand away. Even through her gloves, the nearness of his skin was dangerously exciting.
Amy unclenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe slowly through her nose instead of her mouth. That did no good at all, for it flooded her senses with the intoxicating scent of the man beside her. She had not noticed his cologne when they had been in public, for it was subtle. Now she was drifting on a cloud of lime and laurel that was as soothing as it was intriguing.
She took another breath, through her mouth this time, and did her best to ignore it. ‘Do not flatter yourself, Mr Lovell. You know my reason for trapping us here.’
‘Really, I have no idea,’ he said in a dry voice. ‘Enlighten me.’
There was nothing to do but be honest. ‘I did not wish you to sit beside Belle. The place was saved for someone else.’
‘And rather than allow her to tell me so, you took it upon yourself to lock me in a closet,’ he said, making her plan sound all the more illogical.
‘We are both in the closet,’ she reminded him. ‘And the door is not locked.’
Behind her, the door rattled but did not open. ‘On the contrary.’
‘It cannot be,’ she whispered, praying that he was wrong.
‘Why not? That was the fate you planned for me, I’m sure. You planned to lock me in here. Then I would have to hammer on the door, interrupting a performance and embarrassing myself in front of my friends, all because you did not wish me to sit next to your sister.’
‘I did not intend...’ It was a lie. That was exactly what she had meant to have happen. Even if the man was a puffed-up bounder, she should have found a way to put him off that did not involve his total humiliation.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last. ‘Not that it will do any good in the current situation.’
He sighed. ‘Too true. I suppose we will both have to call for help. If we are loud enough, they will hear us over that canary they have screeching in the main room. Someone will come and open the door. It will cause the devil of a scandal when they find us together. But I am afraid it cannot be helped.’
‘Please, do not.’ She raised a hand to cover his mouth. This was far worse than letting him speak to Belle. What had she been thinking to allow herself to be trapped by him?
He took advantage of the opportunity to nip her fingers. Rather than painful, the pressure of his teeth through the white kid leather was shockingly pleasant. Hurriedly, she pulled her hand away again. ‘Stop that.’
‘Do not do this. Do not do that.’ He tsked. ‘Did you not wish to ruin my chances with Arabella? Being caught playing hunt the squirrel with her sister would most assuredly do so.’ In the darkness, she imagined his mocking smile.
‘I did not mean to do it by ruining myself as well.’
‘Are you sure? If you wish to trap a husband, there is no quicker way to do it than to force him into such a compromising position.’ The hand that had been holding her arm was stroking the bare skin between sleeve and glove. Suddenly, she felt as light-headed as she had pretended to be a few moments ago.
‘For the last time, I do not wish to wed anyone. Most especially not you.’
‘Then perhaps this is the sort of dishonourable liaison you spoke of on Bond Street. Maybe I am the one in need of rescue,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘It would be better for both of us if we were discovered immediately.’ His hand stroked down her arm until her glove pooled at her wrist. Then he continued to her fingertips to pull it away, leaving her hand bare.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, though she was sure she knew. Even worse, she did not mind.
‘Taking a forfeit,’ he said, raising her hand to his lips again. ‘You might think it amusing to play childish tricks with me, Amelia. But I am not some green boy put on this earth to be the butt of your joke. If you play games with a man, you must prepare for what will happen when you lose.’
He was right. It had been foolish of her to push this man to the point of anger. Even more foolish to become trapped with him in a situation that could lead to ruin for both of them. Suddenly, she was all too aware of the size of him and the feel of his body, hard against hers. She should at least have the sense to be frightened. Instead, she held her breath, eager to know what came next.
He pressed his mouth to her palm and she felt the tip of his tongue following the lines on her skin. She had once been to a gypsy who claimed to read one’s future there. It had been nonsense, of course. The old woman had proclaimed her destined to a long and lasting love based on an unbroken wrinkle of skin.
But now, Mr Lovell was running his tongue along that very line, his lips creating a gentle suction. His teeth were teasing the flesh that the fortune teller had called the mound of Venus. She had hinted at a carnality that Amy and her school friends could not understand, though they had giggled over it at the time.
But today, she was sure she knew what had been meant. The pressure of those straight white teeth made her bite her own lip to keep from crying out.
She should do the sensible thing and pull her hand away, with some cutting remark about his unwilling attention. But she made no effort to move. It must be shock. Nothing more than that. She should not be enjoying this.
He took her inaction as permission to take more liberties. His other hand came up to cradle hers to his mouth and he bit down hard enough to make her jump. Then he turned it slightly, settling his lips over the web of skin between thumb and forefinger.
She gasped and yanked her hand away. ‘What was the meaning of that?’
‘I should think the meaning plain enough,’ he said, in a voice that was annoyingly calm. ‘As long as we are trapped in a cupboard together, we might
as well find a pleasant way to pass the time.’
‘You flatter yourself if you think I am enjoying this,’ she said, though her breath came in gasps that proclaimed she lied.
‘Then I must be doing it wrong.’ The hand that had been on the door handle was now cupping her bottom. ‘Is this better?’
Infinitely so. But Lord knew what would happen if she admitted the truth. ‘If you need a woman to correct your technique, there are houses full of them in Covent Garden. I suggest you go there and leave proper young ladies alone.’
‘I am not normally prone to such assignations. I certainly do not indulge in them at public gatherings. I am very conscious of my reputation.’ He sounded puzzled by the statement, as though he needed to make the sort of maidenly assertion she could not think to make. ‘Apparently, I’m more conscious of my rep than you are of yours.’ This was followed with a pinch that made her jump forward, pressing herself even tighter to his body.
‘I know perfectly well that this is improper,’ she said. She put her hands flat on his chest, meaning to push him away. Instead, the fingers of her ungloved hand found the opening of his shirt, dragging a nail along the bare skin. ‘It was never my intention to be in here with you.’
He sighed. ‘I suppose that is as close as I will get to an apology. You must give over these attempts to separate me from your sister. I will meet her eventually, you know. And speak to your father as well.’ Their lips were separated by a bare whisper of air. She could feel the imminent kiss, like the flutter of a moth’s wing against her face.
‘I only mean to forestall you until a worthy gentleman makes his move,’ she reminded him. Perhaps, once he knew he had lost, things might be different between them. Or perhaps they would change right now. She opened her mouth, ready to yield.
But no kiss came. ‘A worthy gentleman?’ The air around him seemed to chill with a dangerous silence. ‘What, exactly, is it about me that you find objectionable? Is it my character? I make sure that it is exemplary. Is it my birth? Because that does not seem to bother the rest of London.’
It was because she had thought him cold and demanding, when she’d overheard him at Almack’s. He had been anything but cold, a moment ago. And under certain circumstances, demanding could be quite nice. ‘It is more than that,’ she said, searching for an explanation that did not insult. ‘A match between you would be disastrous for all concerned.’
‘You mean it would be a disaster for you,’ he said. ‘Since you are so free with your opinions of my character, let me enlighten you as to yours. When she marries, you intend to hang on your sister’s skirts and burrow into whatever home she makes like a tick on a dog’s back. Since you know I will not allow it, you cannot abide me.’
He thought of her as a parasite on her sister’s happiness? And just now, she had been ready to... ‘How dare you.’
‘How dare I?’ he said in a tone of mock outrage. ‘With complete confidence, Miss Summoner. It is the common view of society that you are nothing more than a frustrated spinster. You had a horrible Season and no man would have you. Now you mean to spoil your sister’s come out as well.’
‘I am not frustrated,’ she retorted, before she could stop herself. She owed this man no explanation. ‘My Season was not horrible.’ It had been a sometimes delightful lesson in what men expected from women. She had survived it informed but unscathed. But her sister had a desirable body, a docile temperament and no understanding of the consequences of flirtation. If they were not very careful, she would not be so lucky. ‘And Belle should not be out at all.’ She bit her lip, for she was dangerously close to speaking the truth.
‘Jealousy,’ he said, satisfied.
‘I am not jealous.’ At least, she hoped she wasn’t. It was not as if she had sought out Ben Lovell’s attention. But why did life seem so much more exciting when she had it, and so disappointing now that she knew what he really thought?
‘That is a shame.’ He rested a finger on her cheek like a Judas kiss. ‘If it is not that, then I must assume that, based on what you have heard of my past, your problem is nothing more than snobbery. In my opinion, pride is an even greater sin than envy.’
‘You are too quick to assume the worst in me, Mr Lovell. It is not conceit that keeps me from helping you. It is that...’ How could she explain without ruining her sister’s chances with another? ‘Belle is a special.’
‘And I am not,’ he finished for her, wilfully misunderstanding. ‘You think I am all right for a tussle in the dark, of course. But not good enough to marry your sister.’
‘We are not...tussling,’ she said. Not yet, at least.
‘Well, let me inform you of the truth, Miss Amelia, since you are so quick to assume you understand me. Despite what people might think, my birth was as legitimate as yours. Perhaps my pedigree would not be to your liking. But I have come far in life and mean to go further still. I will do it with or without the help of your family. At the very least...’
He reached behind her and she heard the click of a door handle that had apparently been unlocked all along. ‘I have the sense to discover facts for myself and not assume the worst, just because I was told something by another. Good evening, Miss Summoner.’
And with that, he was gone, leaving her to retrieve her fallen glove and slink off to the retiring room to regain her composure.
Chapter Eight
In the carriage on the way home, Ben stretched his feet in front of him, staring at the toes of his boots as Templeton yammered on about the evening from the seat opposite.
‘Normally, I prefer lighter fare. A sprightly tune on a decent pianoforte. Something that one can hum the next day. But tonight’s soloist wasn’t half bad.’
Ben grunted in response. When he’d finally made his way to the music room, he had been too wrapped in his own thoughts to notice the entertainment.
‘It is a shame you missed the first few songs. There was an absolute cracker with high notes that rattled the windows. It was in Italian, I think. I had no idea what she was saying. But still...’
He doubted Templeton had heard a word of what was sung, being far too preoccupied by the lovely lady at his side during the performance. From his seat in the last row, Ben had watched the pair of them, heads tipped towards each other, bobbing in time to the music.
The only saving grace of the evening was that there had been no repeat meeting with Amy Summoner. Miss Arabella had needed to depart immediately after the concert because Miss Amelia had taken ill at the beginning of the evening and stayed in the retiring room so as not to spoil her sister’s enjoyment of the music.
Ha! When he’d heard the excuse, he’d wanted to shout to the whole room that, unless being green with envy was a debilitating condition, Amy Summoner was as right as the rest of them. She was simply hiding in the retiring room, waiting for the best time to reappear and ruin her sister’s evening.
And his as well. His sole purpose in going to the event was to court the sweet and innocent Miss Belle. Instead, he’d spent the whole evening brooding over a woman who was as tempting as Circe and twice as dangerous. What had he been thinking to shut himself up in a cupboard with her? He’d have been safer climbing into the tiger cage at the royal menagerie.
‘Of course, if I had spent the evening making my own music, I doubt I’d have missed it.’ He looked up to find Templeton staring at him with a knowing smile.
‘What the devil are you talking about?’ he said, daring the man to answer.
‘You were absent from the room for several minutes after we arrived. I assumed it was because of a clandestine meeting with a member of the fair sex.’
‘Do not talk rot.’ Under his bluster, he felt the beginnings of panic. Who else had noticed his absence? What conclusions had been drawn?
Templeton took a deep breath. ‘So the lingering scent of cologne I detect mean
s nothing?’
Ben gave him what he hoped was a quelling glare. ‘If you smell something, it is probably that bay concoction I picked up from Floris.’
Templeton gave another sniff. ‘Definitely not. And it is not the lavender scent that Miss Arabella wears. I think what I smell is called Florida Water. Imported. Light, but exotic.’
Ben deepened his glare. ‘Since when have you become an authority on ladies’ colognes?’
Templeton raised his hands in denial. ‘Not an authority, dear fellow. The scent is distinctive. Few wear it. In fact, only one woman I can think of.’
It was a warning then. If he walked about London reeking of Amy Summoner’s cologne, no one would believe his sincerity in courting her sister. ‘If you are speaking of Miss Amelia, she most likely spilled it on me during one of her many assaults upon my person.’
‘I am sure that is it,’ Templeton agreed with a smirk. ‘But would it be such a bad thing if it were else? She is Lord Summoner’s daughter and you are intent on marrying into the family. Your affections are not still fixed upon Miss Arabella, are they?’
‘Have I given you reason to think otherwise?’
Templeton shook his head in amazement. ‘I should think the fact that you have spent no time with the girl, in public or private, is an indication.’
‘It is not for want of trying. Her perfume-spilling sister is doing her best to prevent it,’ he said. ‘Once I have got her out of the way, it is only a matter of time before I win Belle’s favour.’
‘I see.’ If Templeton saw anything, his tone implied that what he saw was something quite different from Ben’s vision of the future. ‘As long as you are not wasting time with flirtation. It would reflect poorly on you if you were romancing one girl while seeking to marry another.’ It would be even worse if the girls were sisters. Templeton did not have to say it for his meaning was plain.
‘I know better than to do that,’ he said, wishing it was true. Perhaps a peer could risk playing such dangerous games. But a man with no real rank and a dubious past might destroy his future trading kisses in closets.
The Wedding Game Page 6
