Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Lucy snuck a smug glance toward her brother, who pulled at his cravat, knocking it askew. He didn’t deign to contribute to the conversation. Instead he said, “I think we’ve been delayed long enough. Ladies, if you’ll allow me to escort you to the carriage?”

  Felicia was relieved to finally be underway. Although she was accustomed to drawing attention to herself, in this instance, she wouldn’t mind a moment or two of respite. Even if she had to spend that time in Lord Gideon’s company.

  7

  “I can’t believe you don’t have any luggage!”

  Giddy gritted his teeth. If he hadn’t heard the same exclamation fifteen or sixteen times since they’d all bundled into the closed carriage, he might not have been quite so annoyed at the proclamation.

  The woman to his right, on the other hand, seemed perfectly in control of her emotions. If she resented the comment, she didn’t show it. Her smile lit the interior of the carriage as she answered, yet again, “I have luggage, but I sent it on to the abbey.”

  “But we’ll be stopping for the night,” Lucy protested yet again. “You won’t have a stitch to wear tomorrow!”

  Giddy turned his gaze swiftly toward the tiny open window opposite the door. If he peered at Miss Albright, he might imagine her without a stitch on. He was acutely aware of her presence next to him as it was.

  Confound it! Why did F. Albright have to be a woman? His manly instincts warred with his mind as his subconscious churned, trying to decide what to make of her. It didn’t help that her moods were as changeable as the wind. She could be demure and polite one moment, and in an instant change to teasing and a bit lewd, considering the company. Unfortunately, just as he’d feared, his mother and sister had taken a shine to her. Charlie was curled in the corner of the carriage, asleep, and so hadn’t had time to pass judgment.

  Miss Albright leaned forward, that teasing side of her emerging once more. She’d unbuttoned her spencer, displaying the ample cleavage beneath. Seated so close to her, he couldn’t avoid catching a glimpse or two of her charms.

  With a teasing mien, she said, “Never you worry, Lucy. I promise not to come to the carriage wearing not a stitch.”

  Lud! Even staring at the passing terrain wasn’t enough to banish that image.

  The frustrating woman added, “What I’m wearing now will work quite nicely.”

  It would work nicely on the floor of his bedroom. Giddy gritted his teeth. He silently listed all of F. Albright’s infuriating qualities alphabetically. It helped only moderately. After all, the woman was currently seated beside him. Whenever the carriage jolted along the road, her thigh pressed against his, a fleeting touch. When she batted a strand of hair over her shoulder, it brushed his sleeve. And she smelled…

  Well, actually, he couldn’t smell her at all. Even after changing clothes, the musk of that vial still clung to him. The noxious stench was the only thing keeping his attraction to her in check. Every time he inhaled, he was reminded of her machinations with Lucy. What had she poured onto him? Thus far, it hadn’t had any adverse effects, but it was deuced irritating.

  She toyed with a strand of her hair. Slowly, she trailed her fingers along its length, tracing the column of her neck at the same time. Did she realize she was doing it? Most likely it was yet another gesture meant to addle his brain. If not for the musk cloying to his person, it might have worked.

  Perhaps he ought to bathe in the stench, just to ensure his thoughts of her remained hardened. In his defense, he hadn’t expected F. Albright to be a woman, let alone a beautiful one.

  A beautiful woman with a brilliant mind and an annoying personality.

  Jolting him from his thoughts, Lucy said, “What will you wear to bed? Giddy, you must give her one of your nightshirts.”

  He was a foot and a half taller than Miss Albright. She would swim in any article of clothing he lent her. Not to mention, he didn’t wear a nightshirt, so he had none to give.

  He was loathe to admit that aloud, however. He didn’t want Lucy to get even more alarming ideas. Instead, he arched an eyebrow and said, “If you’re so adamant on her having one, why don’t you offer one of your nightgowns?”

  “I don’t think she’d fit…”

  Gideon frowned at his sister. Lucy was taller than Miss Albright and undoubtedly weighed more. Their figures were different, but Lucy’s clothing would undoubtedly fit her better than anything Giddy offered. Not that he intended to offer anything at all.

  “I am perfectly happy to sleep in my shift.”

  “It takes two days to reach Tenwick Abbey. We’ll be sleeping overnight in an inn.”

  He had already mentioned this fact to Miss Albright, as had Lucy. Did she think repetition would change the irascible, obstinate Miss Albright’s mind? The sky would rain shillings first.

  Miss Albright hid any irritation with a demure expression and a calm statement. “I don’t see how that signifies.”

  “It signifies because if you wear the same clothes and shift for two days, you’ll smell.”

  Mother gasped. “Lucy! Don’t be rude.”

  Antonia, perched on Mother’s wrist, helpfully added, “Shut your gob, Lucy.”

  Ignoring the bird, his sister wrinkled her nose. “It’s true. We’ll be stuck in a coach with her.”

  “You’re stuck in a coach with Lord Gideon and he smells,” Miss Albright countered with a sweet smile. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, the motion all but veiled by her thick eyelashes.

  Giddy rolled his eyes and pretended to look out the window. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for that, Miss Albright.”

  “Stop that, both of you,” Mother said, drawing herself up. Unlike Gideon, who had to hunch in the carriage to avoid banging his head on every jolt, his mother still didn’t near the solid roof. She offered her finger to Antonia, who traced the shape of her glove by taking the digit gently between her beak.

  At the reprimand, Giddy felt heat climb up his neck. His ears burned. Would she make him apologize to Miss Albright? She was the one who had instructed Lucy to spill the chemical on him.

  Instead of demanding an apology, Mother primly said, “I will not hear of this formality. You and Felicia will be under the same roof for weeks—”

  Don’t remind me.

  “—I won’t have you poisoning the air at home. Lud, you’d think we were at one of the ton’s stuffy balls…”

  That was what had her so riled? “You want me to refer to her by her Christian name?”

  Felicia didn’t say a thing, but the purse of her lips was agreement enough for him. They couldn’t possibly hope to conduct themselves in a professional manner if they were referring to each other as intimately as family. Just the thought of speaking her name aloud made him suppress a shiver. “Felicia” was a name to be whispered in bed, not snapped in anger or frustration over her comportment and antics.

  Mother, unfortunately, had a different idea. She raised her eyebrows, looking even more imperious than Morgan did. More ducal, even, than Father had when he’d been alive. Giddy had only been fourteen when Father had died, but in that short time, he’d learned to cherish his father’s praise over his superior schoolwork… and avoid his wrath. Mother had a quieter anger that had always made him shake like a leaf in the wind.

  In a steely voice that belied her serene mien, she said, “I won’t hear of anything else from the both of you.”

  Gideon exchanged a glance with the woman next to him. He offered her a weak smile. They could resume referring to each other properly once out of earshot. Most of their time together would be spent in the orangery, in any case.

  Finished with her exploration of Mother’s finger, Antonia lifted her head and pronounced, “Get off your rump, Lucy!”

  As Giddy roared with laughter, his sister drew herself up.

  “When on earth did she learn that?”

  He laughed so hard, he couldn’t breathe. The first time for Antonia to repeat that particular phrase couldn’t have come
at a more opportune time—it took the focus away from Giddy and Felicia.

  Glaring daggers, Lucy groaned. “Giddy!” She kicked him in the shin. “This is your fault.”

  He wiped the moisture from his eyes and shifted to alleviate the sting in his leg. Turning to address Felicia, he said, “You should try to teach the bird a phrase or two while you stay with us. It’s great fun.”

  Her eyes twinkled, but her voice was demure when she said, “I couldn’t possibly settle on what phrase to teach her.”

  “Shorter is better,” he advised.

  Directly across from him, Charlie stirred, rubbing her eyes. “What’s all the ruckus about? Are we stopping for lunch?”

  “Not yet,” Mother informed with a fond smile. She leaned forward to peer around her daughter, seated in the middle.

  Lucy lamented, “Giddy taught Antonia another dreadful thing to say!”

  The blonde pouted. “Why does Antonia recall all of his phrases but none of mine?”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps because Antonia doesn’t much care to ask Freddie to make her an aunt. I suggest you direct your inquiries to Tristan instead.”

  At Felicia’s questioning look, he explained, “Tristan was married this spring to Charlie’s sister, Frederica.”

  “I see.”

  Lucy crossed her arms, sullen. “You’re turning my own pet against me.”

  The parrot had a keen interest in the conversation, for she shifted her position to groom one of her claws. In between nibbles, she offered, “Giddy smells like pickles.”

  The women rocked the carriage with their laughter. Gideon rolled his eyes. Although he didn’t smell his best at the moment, it certainly wasn’t reminiscent of pickles. “She obviously learned that from Phil’s parrot.” His words were overpowered by the raucous laughter. Mother’s arm trembled from the force of her mirth. The movement offset the bird, who flapped her three-foot-wide wings for balance. Suddenly, the space in the coach was made much smaller.

  “Here.” Lucy, in the middle, accepted her pet once more and held her in a more open space until the parrot ceased panicking. As the laughter died down, his sister whispered, “I like you again. Say more things like that.”

  He stifled the urge to kick her in the shin.

  Charlie, now awake, opened the reticule on her wrist and spilled the contents onto her lap. They consisted of a swathe of material, embroidery thread in various colors, and a needle. She selected the green thread and swiftly threaded the needle before holding the material taught between her index, middle finger, and thumb in lieu of an embroidery hoop.

  “That’s a fabulous idea,” Felicia said. She unearthed the handkerchief she’d been embroidering when he’d met her, along with a length of blue thread.

  Charlie smiled, trying to peer around the parrot. “You embroider?”

  “From time to time,” Felicia answered, her voice light.

  He hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the project when they’d first met. When he peeked over her shoulder to view the work in progress, he frowned. Along the edges of the handkerchief, Felicia worked on embroidering thin waves. The bulk of the handkerchief was complete, along with a yellow spiny creature along the bottom edge.

  “Is that a sea serpent?”

  A smile played along the edges of her mouth before she banished it. “It is,” she said, her voice serene and devoid of any trace of mirth.

  “It is…” Bizarre. Unique. Baffling. Quite like her, in fact. “… neatly done.”

  Mother leaned forward. “May I see, dear?”

  Felicia handed over the handkerchief without complaint. Upon viewing the piece, Mother nodded. She stretched across Lucy to show it to the two women seated next to her. They all seemed duly impressed, no one bothered by the unorthodox subject matter.

  “Very nice stitchery,” Mother pronounced as she handed it back. “What a shame you aren’t married yet. Men appreciate a woman with nimble fingers.”

  Blast, why was she looking at him when she said that? Giddy couldn’t care one way or another about a woman’s nimble fingers. Unless she meant… No, his mother could not be implying that he might appreciate Felicia’s talents in the marriage bed.

  He turned his head to peer out the small window. Unfortunately, the rolling green landscape, dotted with trees, looked much the same as it had an hour ago. “How long until we reach the inn for luncheon?”

  “Not far now, I imagine,” Mother answered. “Perhaps an hour or two longer.”

  Antonia squawked and pronounced herself giddy for pickles.

  Felicia shifted her position, her body brushing against his and igniting an unwelcome burn. From the sidelong look she gave him, he wasn’t the only one affected by their nearness.

  He suffered knowing looks from Mother and Lucy.

  The inn was not close enough.

  That blasted, bloody, bewitching perfume! In the closed carriage, squashed next to Lord Gideon, Felicia couldn’t escape it. The musky scent might be overwhelming, but the effects were no less potent for the dousing. Every time he adjusted his long legs or stretched his neck and shoulders, her attention arrowed to him once more. The heat of his body seeped through her clothes until it seemed to warm her, too. More than warm her, it made her burn. Goose bumps coalesced over her skin at inopportune times. If it wasn’t for the long sleeves of her spencer, she would have been helpless to conceal her reaction to him.

  Not to him—her reaction to the perfume. There was no fighting it with logic. The ingredients were designed to burrow under her skin and elicit a chemical response in her body. If she’d ever doubted her own work, she did no longer. Had she been alone with him…

  Perhaps it was best that she not contemplate that eventuality. With the less-than-subtle comments from his sister and mother, they would be only too happy to arrange such a thing. Although Felicia had initially been shocked and pleased at their disregard for what others of the ton would consider propriety, at the moment, she could do with a bit more stiffness. At least that way, she wouldn’t suspect that they might encourage things that had best be left for the marriage bed—his, not hers.

  Felicia was no prude. She was no virgin, either. When she’d walked away from her life as a gentleman’s daughter, she’d realized that she could leave the constraints of society in the past as well. So long as she chose bed partners of a like mind and was careful not to become enceinte, she took her pleasure where she found it.

  Albeit, in recent months, that was nowhere. Her last lover had gotten too serious, wanting to marry her when Felicia desired nothing of the sort. She was an independent woman, a scientist unfettered by the constraints placed upon her gender, and she intended to stay that way. Even if that meant giving up the yearning she had for children and a family, it was worthwhile in the end. That yearning was entirely biological, anyway.

  Just like her attraction to the young, handsome Lord Gideon. If she could resist her body’s urge to create a child, she could damn well resist the urge to create that child with him. Once the perfume washed off his person, she would be able to think more clearly. And then she would remember what a stubborn man he was. It was a difficult thing to recall when he barely spoke a word throughout the carriage ride, except to return the quips shot to him by his sister.

  The carriage jolted, throwing her against Gideon as the horses veered off the road. Her left side was pressed against him, her body quivering from the intimate contact. The moment she regained her balance, she shoved as far away from him as possible.

  The abrupt movement roused Antonia, who exclaimed, “Let’s go for a walk!”

  Lucy groaned, rolling her neck as the carriage slowed and stopped. “That isn’t a terrible idea. I feel as though I’ve been shut away in here for centuries.”

  Although she’d taken turns with her mother in carrying the overlarge bird, her arms must be in agony from serving as Antonia’s perch. The blanket covering the women’s legs had seen better days, now littered with the parrot’s droppings. At the ve
ry least, the blanket had saved their skirts.

  The dowager disembarked from the carriage first, accepting the driver’s hand as he assisted her down the steps. Light from a lantern glowed golden, beckoning beyond the blazing red light of the sunset. After handing Antonia out the door to her mother, Lucy staggered out of the carriage. Charlie, bright-eyed now that it was no longer morning, followed after her, leaving Felicia and Gideon alone.

  When Felicia slid along the seat to the door, Gideon transferred his weight to the opposite bench. The thick, earthy scent of perfume cloying to him lightened somewhat with the distance. The carriage would have to be aired out, if Felicia hoped for the smallest pinprick of sanity tomorrow. Gideon thrust his leg out, barring her path to the door.

  “Allow me,” he said, his words clipped. “I’ll help you out.”

  “The other ladies managed perfectly well on their own. I think I’ll be able to do so as well.”

  When she tried to shove him out of the way, he stood—as much as the carriage would allow. A man of Gideon’s pronounced height had to bend nearly double. The position looked uncomfortable, and brought him entirely too close for her peace of mind. She eased back as irritation crossed his face.

  “Forgive me for treating you like a lady.”

  Although the light was dim and he blocked out most of it, Felicia leaned forward, bracing her elbows against her knees. Her spencer gaped open to show her cleavage. The irritation melted off his face as his gaze dipped downward. Gideon, for all his quick mind, was just as fallible as any other man to the display of skin.

  She tucked away a smile. “I don’t look like a lady to you?”

  Her voice was huskier than she intended, but she told herself that was all the better to tease him. A man like Gideon was evidently not accustomed to being teased, for color infused his cheeks and he averted his gaze.

  “A gentlewoman, then,” he said, his voice clipped.

  Apparently, he’d forgotten all about disembarking from the carriage, because he remained rooted in place, blocking the exit. Getting to her feet, Felicia brushed against him as she squeezed past. She meant for the contact to torture him, but it had the same effect on her.