by Emma Wildes
“Let us say I refuse to let my life be ruined by someone else’s devious and vicious actions. If the enemy is mine, he or she did not care about ruining you in the process. If the enemy is yours, they cared little about how it might affect me.” He lifted a brow, gazing at her steadily. “Thwarting the culprit will be my pleasure.”
Though he was certain she was too innocent to catch his carefully hidden innuendo, he was wrong. Her eyes widened a fraction and she glanced away quickly, a small swallow rippling her slim throat. She said woodenly, “Since you all seem in agreement, I don’t suppose my arguing further will make a difference. What time will you arrive this evening to pick me up, sir?”
Chapter Four
The weather was beautiful for October, warm, sunny days, and cool, chilly nights, the roses all still blooming, the trees holding their leaves like misers. All the doors to the terrace from the ballroom were wide open to the night, the stifling air inside occasionally relieved by a whiff of flowers from the darkened outside gardens. Inside, the crush of well-bred, well-dressed guests danced, ate, and--Christa realized with acute embarrassment and dismay--gossiped endlessly.
She and the infamous Andrew Carlton’s illicit romance was the obvious favorite topic of conversation. Her father had been absolutely right, for the pointed stares and whispers were too obvious to miss and she’d seen more than one man in the assembly staring at her with open, appraising speculation that was both shocking and mortifying. It seemed being mistress to the ton’s most hot-blooded rake made you very interesting indeed.
“Here you are.” Helena, the Countess of Wenton, married to Andrew’s equally handsome identical twin brother, edged next to her, smiling politely at a passing acquaintance. “You know it will not do, my dear, to cower in a corner. That makes it look like you have something to hide. I think the general consensus is that you and my audacious brother-in-law are an unlikely but romantic couple, and that Andrew finally pursued the wrong young woman if he wanted to continue his licentious lifestyle.”
The countess wasn’t actually more than a few years older than she was herself, but somehow managed to look both regally self-possessed and incredibly beautiful with her glossy auburn ringlets and enviable figure, her pregnancy still cleverly hidden by the cut of her gown. Eyes the color of melted silver gazed at Christa with both sympathy and concern. Christa managed to say with only a hint of bitterness, “I did not quite believe my parents that what happened would be of such interest to everyone, but apparently it is. And I am not even allowed to tell the truth, but instead they want me to let everyone believe we truly were caught in some sort of tryst and accidentally locked inside Lord Landry’s cellar.”
Lady Wenton plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray held by a liveried footman and said calmly, “They have a little more experience in being bloodied by the ton, so trust how they wish to handle this. Andrew especially has suffered the rumors, for while he is not a saint, neither is he quite the disreputable rake he is painted. In fact, I have seen with my own eyes that women pursue him more than he does them--and who could blame them after all--he is undeniably a handsome and charming man. Perhaps not quite as handsome as Adam, but still rather wickedly attractive, wouldn’t you say, Lady Christa? Here, drink some of this.”
Taking the glass of wine, Christa laughed, a hiccup of sound, remembering the startling resemblance between the Carlton twins from the carriage ride over. “I think you might be a fraction biased, my lady. They look exactly alike as far as I can tell. Do you mean you can actually tell them apart?”
There was a flicker of something in the lovely Helena’s eyes and she said demurely, “Well…if they are together, yes. Apart, sometimes not. I have been fooled. However, though they are very different in personality, they are both fine men. This may not be of your choosing, but you are lucky to be marrying Andrew.”
“That is just my problem with this…situation,” Christa confessed, sipping the champagne obediently. “I don’t know him at all.”
The orchestra struck up a new tune, a slow lilting waltz. The countess elevated one russet brow and said, “Perhaps not, but you have spent more hours alone with him than I ever did with Adam before we were married. Surely you got to know each other a little, trapped there together.”
Recalling how she had sat on his lap and fallen asleep so easily in his arms, Christa flushed, taking another convulsive sip. “I slept mostly.”
“Rather comfortably, as I understand it from what my husband saw. Speaking of which, where is Andrew?”
“Behind you.”
At the sound of the deep voice, Christa took in a breath and her champagne glass wobbled a trifle in her hand. Turning, she glanced up to see him looming over both of them, a half-smile hovering on his well-shaped lips. Tall, in black formal evening dress, he was both striking and masculine and when he smiled at his sister-in-law, the open affection in his azure eyes was evident. “Thank you, Helena, for tending to my intended, but I think right now Miss Hatton and I should make an appearance on the dance floor and exhibit our enraptured interest in one another. Please excuse us.”
Christa had barely enough time to hand back the champagne flute, his hand insistent at the small of her back as he urged her into the whirling throng. Her mother was right, she discovered in moments, he did dance beautifully. Though his name might be synonymous with seduction and vice, her vain and superficial mother had obviously come to the conclusion that it was a social triumph that her daughter had captured the most wicked, reluctant bachelor in England.
He swung her in a graceful arc, his hand strong and sure at her waist, the other lightly clasping her fingers with polite pressure. “I don’t believe there is a person here not watching us,” he said under his breath. “Perhaps you could endeavor to at least smile at me.”
She tried; a tremulous curve of her lips. “I’m sorry,” Christa replied in the same low tone as they moved through the other dancers, “but I am not used to all the attention.”
“On the contrary,” his blue gaze was direct, his mouth faintly smiling, “I suspect you are extremely used to being looked at, my lady, for your beauty is incomparable.”
She did not have to feign a slight blush. “Thank you. However, I meant all the lascivious interest in my possible fall from grace in your arms.”
“Which never happened,” he murmured, staring down at her as they moved. Then he leaned forward a fraction, his lips close to her ear as he murmured, “At least not yet.”
Her blush blazed hotly into both cheeks at his suggestive comment, which had no doubt been his intention, for he looked amused. Christa said tartly, “I imagine you are so used to women falling into your bed you make no distinction between us. I would not have done what everyone thinks we’ve done. I place a greater price on my virtue.”
The man leading her so fluidly through the flowing steps, elevated one dark blond brow. “If you mean I am not used to innocent young debutantes, that is perfectly correct, Miss Hatton. I simply implied that tomorrow we will be married, so the matter is out of our hands.”
And once they were married, of course, she would have to fall into his bed, no seduction necessary. As her husband, he had every right to expect conjugal relations. Christa lowered her gaze a fraction, looking at his chin instead of into his eyes. “I suppose it is,” she admitted, an unfamiliar flicker of excitement deep inside her stomach, his close proximity disturbing. The subtle scent of his cologne was intriguing and she unwillingly remembered all too well the easy strength of his arms and the steady beat of his heart under her ear.
She hadn’t even met this man until yesterday.
“The music is ending and you look very flushed. Here,” Andrew swirled her to the edge of the crowd and stopped by the open French doors, “it’s bound to be cooler in the gardens. Let’s step outside.”
Her instinctive response was refusal, for going outside with a gentleman was strictly forbidden by her father, but Christa realized with chagrin that her already damaged
reputation probably couldn’t suffer any more, and let him lead her out on to the flagstone terrace. He was right, too, the chilly autumn air felt good, the sky above velvety black and studded with stars, and she took a deep steadying breath. The events of the past twenty-four hours were so incredible she still felt as if she were about to wake from some fantastic dream.
There were several other couples taking advantage of the fresh air and semi-privacy and her escort steered her away from them, down a small flight of steps to the graveled path that led toward a large fountain, the tumbling water singing softly in the darkness. Christa murmured, “We probably shouldn’t disappear together again, though truthfully, I have no desire to return to the party.”
“We’ll only be a few, meaningful minutes, trust me. This,” Andrew Carlton strolled forward a few more feet still holding on to her elbow, stopping where a large ornamental tree hung shadows over the starlit path, “is probably far enough. We can still be seen from the terrace.”
In some confusion, Christa stared up at him, his devastatingly handsome face a mask of chiseled light and darkness. And when he turned toward her and put his hands at her waist to pull her close to his lean body, she resisted for a moment, realizing his intentions as he lowered his head. “What are you doing?” she demanded in semi-panic, never having been kissed in her life. “You just said they could see us.”
“Exactly,” he said, his breath against her lips just a fraction before his mouth captured hers.
His mystifying answer was forgotten instantly as she felt whatever objections she had fade into oblivion under the warm, beguiling pressure of his mouth. When he gently forced her lips apart and slid his tongue inside to brush hers, Christa felt the world tilt and spin away. Her hands went to clasp his broad shoulders, and she relaxed marginally, her body drifting into his as his hold tightened. It was scandalous but pleasurable, and she found that when she willingly parted further, he deepened the kiss in a way that made her knees weak. His tongue plunged deep in sensual forays that made her shiver with an unknown longing, skimming her teeth, lightly licking the delicate corners of her mouth.
Irrationally disappointed when he broke away, she felt the light wisp of his breath on her cheek, his lips tracing the line from her jaw upward to her ear. “One more time, I think,” he said in that husky but enticing whisper.
By the end of the second kiss, she was pressed against him, her arms around his neck, her suddenly aching breasts flattened against his chest. An unknown heat pooled between her legs and she could feel her heart beating wildly. She was shockingly disappointed when he gently detached himself from her grip and smiled lazily into her upturned face. “That was a nice start, my lady, and most certainly when everyone hears we snuck out for a short passionate interlude, whoever perpetrated the little deception last eve will wonder if instead of humiliating whichever of us they meant to strike out at, they did us both a favor.”
“Very clever,” Christa managed to say with some degree of aplomb, though she was trembling.
After that kiss, she suddenly wondered the same thing.
****
“Your bluff seemed to work,” Adam drawled, rubbing his finger along the rim of his brandy glass, a thoughtful expression on his face. “As far as I could tell, though our acquaintances knew better than to say anything in your disfavor in my presence, most of London’s fashionable society believes you and the undeniably lovely Miss Hatton have been carrying on a secret torrid affair right under her dear father’s nose. No one will be surprised at a hasty wedding, and at a guess, will be counting the days, expecting a seventh month child.”
Andrew took a fiery sip from his glass and grimaced. “How charming.”
His brother raised a brow in an elegant arch, comfortably slumped in a chair by the fire in his study, jacket off, cravat discarded, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. “Actually, she is charming. I refer, of course, to Lady Christa. Look at it this way, at least whoever trapped you in that dank cellar for all those hours didn’t choose a homely young lady but instead a gorgeous, and at first impression anyway, enchanting girl.”
Sitting opposite, watching the flames lick the logs as the fire crackled, Andrew mused, “That very point is why I think this entire malicious machination was not aimed at me. Dunbarton declares his daughter could have no enemies, and that could be true, but if someone wanted to punish me, why inveigle a scenario in which I am forced by honor to marry one of the most beautiful young ladies of the ton? True, I hadn’t exactly planned on marrying in this fashion, but there are certain parts of the arrangement that will not pain me.”
With a low laugh, Adam said dryly, “I can imagine just what parts without any trouble, brother.”
“Fucking the duke’s daughter,” Andrew said cheekily, “will be my pleasure as well as my duty. If the price I have to pay is a wedding vow, I plan to spend a lot of time between her legs, believe me.”
Adam grinned. “I’m sure. However, back to our discussion, the only trouble with your theory is that not even I was sure you would consent to marrying someone you hadn’t actually compromised. In that light, the perpetrator may have counted on your resistance to the duke’s pressure.”
“And Christa would be ruined.”
“Your already somewhat tarnished reputation would suffer also, just not as much. It is one thing to indulge in affairs with partners who are mutually as bent on disentanglement and casual pleasure, Andrew, but quite another to seduce and abandon the darling of a powerful peer. No decent hostess would receive you if Dunbarton denounced your honor and put pressure in the right places.” His brother looked thoughtful, his forehead furrowed. “It follows, then, that the person that sent the notes knew a lot about both of you. Can you think of anyone? A jealous lover, perhaps? One you dallied with and discarded?”
His eyes half-closed, Andrew snorted inelegantly. “You are as bad as Dunbarton. I do not leave scores of broken hearts in my wake, quite the opposite, you know that. The ladies I sleep with look for a simple game of physical distraction without ties. Unless the rules are clear going in, I don’t venture. They must be unattached or have an arrangement with their husbands. I don’t compromise on either point.”
“Commendable.” The heavy cynicism in Adam’s voice was echoed in his straightforward blue gaze. “And what about your new bride, Andrew, will you one day let her have an “arrangement” so you both can seek partners outside your vows?”
Andrew couldn’t help it, the image of his bride-to-be in his arms drifted back, her artless but enthusiastic response to his calculated kiss a nice surprise. A scowl came to his face at the implied criticism, much less the idea of sharing her favors. He shifted a little, muttering irritably, “Bloody hell, who are you, a priest? If I remember correctly, before you met Helena you weren’t exactly a virgin.”
“No,” his brother admitted, “but once I fell in love with her, I have never strayed in deed or thought. She is everything to me and not only do I desire no woman but her, but I would never betray her.”
A little stung, Andrew straightened slightly. Sarcastically, he said, “I am not quite as fortunate. This marriage is being thrust down my throat.”
His brother looked him intently, dangling his brandy glass in his long fingers. After a moment, he said quietly, “You have told me you envy me my happiness with Helena. As I can see it, fate or whoever the agent of this current situation might be has handed you a golden opportunity. In just hours you will wed a lovely, innocent well-bred young woman. Perhaps in the past you have perfected the art of keeping your sexual partners at arm’s length, leaving the moment there is the slightest hint of possession. However, if you would exert half that energy and charm to making your bride fall in love with you, I promise you will be rewarded beyond any expectations.” His brother added softly, “And who knows, perhaps you will fall in love with her as well.”
Chapter Five
“Mine!”
Helena watched as her darling young daughter, not quite two years of age,
gave an impressive exhibition of the Carlton temper, screaming in outraged fury as the forbidden object—which happened to be Adam’s pocket watch, was pried from her plump fingers. Wincing at the sheer volume of the protest, Helena murmured, “She’s like a magpie. If it is shiny and within reach, she takes it and hides it more cleverly than any footpad, Miss Davidson. Do you suppose we’ll be taking her tea cakes in Newgate Prison someday?”
With a slight laugh, the governess replied, “I don’t think once she’s older, my lady, anyone will be able to catch her. She’s too clever. Please apologize to his lordship, but I had no idea Lady Chloe was so devious.” Handing over the pilfered item, she looked contrite, both of them trying to speak over the din. Chloe, her face red and her russet curls in disarray, had flounced down on the floor and continued her vocal demonstration, now punctuated by the kicking of her little feet on the nursery floor.
“Adam is a little distracted today and thinks he misplaced it.” Helena cradled the watch in her palm, noting gratefully that the disturbance was over as quickly as it started, subsiding to small sniffles and the occasional wail. “Not that his daughter could do wrong anyway, he indulges her far too much. I’m afraid she’s spoiled and you have your hands full, my dear.”
“Not at all.” With gentle competence, the young woman urged a tearful Chloe off the floor, dusted off her embroidered dress, and crouched down to wipe the tears off plump cheeks with a clean handkerchief. “She’s a dear most of the time.” Straightening, she glanced up. “I understand that his lordship’s brother is getting married this morning, my lady. My congratulations to him and his new bride. I am sure she is very beautiful.”
There was some note in the young woman’s voice that caught Helena’s attention, and she said neutrally, “Yes, it’s rather sudden but we are pleased.”
“It is a surprise, I understand.”
