An Innocent Proposal

by Helen Dickson

  “You—you have a beautiful house, Lord Dunstan,” remarked Louisa in an attempt to draw the conversation away from gambling.

  He shifted his gaze back to her. She had the look of a girl, but he felt she was a woman in every sense of that meaningful word, and yet she seemed incredibly unsoiled. She possessed a poise and dignity that was absent in most of the women present, and she was sexually elegant and extremely desirable in her crimson dress, bearing no resemblance to the rather prim young woman he had encountered in St Paul’s Church two months earlier and more recently at Mr Brewster’s bookshop.

  The moment he had looked into her eyes she had assaulted his senses and he had become determined to possess her. But who was she, he wondered, and why hadn’t he seen her before if she was Fraser’s mistress? And was she as unfamiliar to Charles Meredith as she would have him believe? After seeing them together in St James’s Park, he was beginning to doubt it.

  “Thank you. It would give me great pleasure to show you around later—if you like.”

  “Why—yes. I’d love to,” she replied.

  He left to greet more of his guests who continued to arrive, but Louisa had the impression that his attention never left her.

  Chapter Four

  Louisa watched Alistair move among his guests, thinking they were like mere shadows in his orbit. Handsome and distinguished, he seemed to dominate the company, and the ladies around him gazed at him provocatively from under fluttering eyelashes and pouted their crimson lips, every one of them alluringly seductive. But his manner towards them was curiously cold, despite his smile, which puzzled Louisa. When dinner was announced he came back to them, and with a courtly gesture offered her his arm, the pull she exerted on his gaze so strong it was as if she had called his name.

  “You don’t mind if I escort Miss Divine into dinner, do you, Fraser?”

  “No—no,” spluttered James, unable to object even if he wanted to, experiencing the first stirrings of unease at the attentions their illustrious host was paying towards his sister. “Of course not.”

  The moment Louisa placed her hand on Alistair’s arm he was surprised by the leaping, wolf-like passion of his response. Eyebrows went up and lips twisted, and sly, secret smiles were exchanged behind fluttering fans as they passed by on their way to the dining room.

  “I am pleased to see you have lowered your sword, Miss Divine, and honoured Dunstan House with your presence this evening,” Alistair said, bestowing smiles to right and left as they moved towards the dining room, while keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” she answered, smiling softly. “However,” she said, looking obliquely up at him from beneath her thick fringe of dark eyelashes, “my rapier may be sheathed, Lord Dunstan, but I will have you know that it is every bit as sharp and lethal as it was the other day.”

  With slightly raised eyebrows he glanced down at her, his gaze and his crooked smile drenching Louisa in its sexuality and bringing an attractive flush to her cheeks.

  “I do not doubt that for one moment. It will make the play between us all the more exciting. I would like to apologise for my rudeness when we met in Mr Brewster’s bookshop. Clearly you are a stranger to Lady Bricknell’s parties and may not have known the type of ladies who attend them.”

  “It very soon became evident to me, and you were quick to assume I was one of them. But I must tell you that you have the wrong opinion of me, Lord Dunstan,” she said with a slight haughtiness. “I may have been at Lady Bricknell’s party, but I am no harlot.”

  Alistair’s blue eyes seemed to burn down into hers. “You say that and yet you flaunt yourself in public in the company of the most notorious rake in London—a man who boasts his conquests and who is not ashamed to tell the world that no woman has ever denied him.”

  “And how was I to know that?” she said, springing quickly to her own defence. “I told you that we had not met before the evening at Bricknell House. Before that night I had never heard of Sir Charles Meredith, let alone of his dubious reputation. And when you saw us together in the park it was not as it seemed. We met quite by chance—and he can be extremely persistent. If you had taken the trouble to look before so rudely walking away, you would have seen I was with Mr Fraser.”

  “I have my reasons for not acknowledging Charles Meredith, Miss Divine. It was unfortunate that you were with him at the time and bore some of the brunt of my rudeness. Had you been alone it would have given me great pleasure to introduce you to my sisters, but my older sister’s abhorrence is almost as great as my own where that gentleman is concerned.”

  “I see,” said Louisa, feeling curiously relieved on being told that the woman was not romantically involved with him but was his older sister, and absently surmised that the little boy she had seen belonged to her.

  “But how was I to know you are cast in a different mould to the rest of the women who were at Bricknell House that night?” Lord Dunstan went on. “I went too fast in my conclusions and I apologise, but knowing nothing about you I had no reason to think otherwise, and you cannot blame me for making you an offer—even if you are apparently attached to someone else. You are an extremely attractive and desirable young woman.”

  “Come, now, Lord Dunstan,” Louisa said, her voice under control—almost thoughtfully calm as she slipped into the part she had set herself. “Isn’t that what every gentleman says to a lady he’s propositioned?”

  He gave a lift of one eyebrow and smiled down at her. “Wit as well as beauty,” he said softly. “I like that. Fraser’s a lucky man. No wonder he wants to keep you all to himself. My offer was turned down, as I remember—unless—you’ve reconsidered it?”

  “Yes, I have,” she replied as he held her intent gaze, his own as uncompromising as she could have wished for.

  “It still stands, you know,” he said, “You will want for nothing. I can be generous—as you will discover.”

  “I see. Then, knowing that, I shall think about it a little more over dinner,” she said, her dimples appearing as she tilted her head to one side, smiling demurely, with eyes as warm and bright as a brightly plumaged bird, astonished at how easy it was to play the coquette.

  There was no time to say more as they walked towards the table. The large dining room was lavishly decorated and adorned with huge baskets and vases of flowers. The long table, which was a delight to the eye, sparkled and shone and was laid out like a fabulous work of art. Spread with lace, it almost bowed beneath the weight of china and crystal and ornate silver. A myriad of candles flattered the complexions of the ladies—especially the older ones who were finding it increasingly difficult to camouflage the tell-tale lines of age with powder and paint. But the warm light made Louisa’s creamy skin glow, emphasising her youthful skin and giving an added warmth to her amber eyes.

  The soft music of fiddles drifted in from a room beyond. Halfway down the table, Louisa was seated next to James and across from Timothy, whose attention was occupied throughout the meal by two pretty young women on either side who flirted with him outrageously, one of whom he found fascinating, with ravishing blue eyes and a mass of raven-black hair. The food was exquisite and there seemed to be gallons of wine and champagne, of which the guests imbibed far too freely, Louisa observed with distaste, their behaviour becoming louder and more uninhibited as the meal progressed.

  Observing the man at the head of the table, she saw that his expression was one of cynicism and disdain as his eyes moved over the gathering, as if all present were beneath his condescension, which puzzled Louisa. These people did not seem his type. They hung around him, eager to incur his favour and influence, the sort of acquaintances she would have imagined a man of his stamp would have gone out of his way to avoid.

  As the general mood began to lighten only he seemed unchanged. He surveyed the undignified scene with a mocking and cynical air of amusement. A glass of claret was beside him and Louisa strongly suspected that not a single drop had touched his lips. Not f
or one moment did he relinquish his dignity. His eyes were as hard as iron but, when they collided with hers, hidden beneath she saw a sudden spark and could read a leashed sensuality. She experienced a quiver of alarm about the powerful feelings that passed between them like an invisible current.

  Louisa ate little, having no appetite and having to force the delicious food between her lips, too nervous to be hungry, and yet those watching her would not have guessed what was going on behind her serene exterior.

  Little did she know that Alistair was giving her the same scrutiny that she was giving him, noticing that like himself she wasn’t drinking, that her glass remained half-full and untouched, and when the footman offered to fill it she placed her hand over the rim. She had lovely hands, he noticed absently, with long fingers, and he tried to imagine what they would feel like in caressing mode.

  He sat transfixed, equally puzzled by her as she was by him. From beneath hooded lids he observed how she conducted herself with dignity, speaking little to those around her, content to observe the scene with what he thought to be a critical eye, seeming to despise the company and the meaningless chit-chat it engaged in. She remained unmoved, as if none of it had anything to do with her.

  But when she turned her warm amber eyes on him they trailed over him provocatively, languorously, conveying a message, and yet there was innocence in every look and line of her perfect body, which, he thought with cynicism, was all part of the act. Yet it was the first time in years that a woman had invaded his imagination—not since…But as he was about to let his thoughts wander and resurrect the past angrily he thrust them back into the dark, secret corners of his mind, unwilling to allow them to intrude into the present.

  Later, when people began drifting into the card room, where tables had been set up and the clack of rolling dice could already be heard, Louisa was relieved to see James, under the watchful eye of Timothy, in conversation with a group who preferred to converse and imbibe of more liquor, for the present abiding by his promise to her not to be drawn into the card room.

  Feeling anxious and impatient for the evening to be over so they could return home, she looked to where Lord Dunstan was standing with a group of gentlemen, regarding her from across the room, his handsome face hard and predatory. Taking a deep breath, and with a docility that astounded her, for in a situation such as this she should have been trembling all over, never having purposely sought a gentleman’s attention before, she moved towards him, feeling that now was the time to confront him.

  Alistair watched her come closer. She was a breathtaking vision in crimson satin, and looking as dangerous as a suppressed tropical storm. He noticed that when she walked her steps were light, and she had an unconscious swing to her body, a natural grace, the material of her dress fluid and glowing with darting shafts of light and moving with her, making one imagine her rounded hips and her long slender legs beneath the flowing skirts. She was too exquisite to be flesh and blood. Feeling the blood pounding through his veins, he drew a long, quivering breath as he watched her.

  “Good Lord!” said one of his companions softly. “She cannot be real. Where in God’s name did Fraser find her? Where has he been hiding her? Every male here tonight is dreaming of an alliance with her. Do you suppose she might be looking about for someone more exciting than Fraser to warm her bed? What an exquisite creature.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Alistair softly, without taking his eyes off her. “And I, gentlemen, intend getting to know her better. Excuse me.”

  Quickly he moved across the room to meet Louisa. His warm, embracing gaze fell on her and she felt ravished by it. She felt her heart tilt, as if it was more than prepared to be lost to him.

  “You promised to show me your house, Lord Dunstan,” Louisa murmured. “Would now be convenient?”

  “I haven’t forgotten, and I think now would be as good a time as any.”

  With a look towards Timothy, who had been watching her closely since the end of supper—a look that told him she was leaving the company for a while and he was to keep a close eye on James—she allowed Lord Dunstan to escort her from the room. Without speaking, they crossed the hall and entered another room, passing through it onto a wide terrace.

  It was the middle of August and an ocean of stars dappled the sky, the glow of the moon drenching them in a warm light. Roses clambered profusely over the stone balustrade, giving off a heady, intoxicating perfume, and causing Louisa to breathe in their fragrance. Alistair paused beside her, and in the sombre light examined the lines of her face as she looked out over the darkened garden, startled once more by her beauty, which was almost a physical sensation. He marvelled at the fine-boned modelling of her face, the creamy hue of her skin and the fluidity of her gestures. With her hair arranged to allow soft tendrils to play around the clear lines of her face, she looked at once ravishing and vulnerable.

  Louisa turned and met his eyes questioningly, the sheer, concentrated power of his presence disturbing her, making it more difficult for her to regard him as an enemy. “I thought you were going to show me the house, Lord Dunstan?”

  “The house was not what I—nor you, for that matter—had in mind. Am I right?” he said, now that he was alone with her finding her even more compelling as they examined each other carefully.

  His voice was incredible, of a depth and timbre that caressed Louisa’s flesh and brought a quiver to her limbs. She knew she would have to tread carefully, otherwise every preconceived plan would go out of the window. Never had she met a man like Alistair Dunstan, and—Timothy was right—she was in danger of getting out of her depth and forgetting the real purpose of her visit to Dunstan House.

  “Yes,” she admitted, fighting to calm her rioting nerves and maintain her equilibrium—to ignore the seductive tug of his eyes and voice.

  “Forgive me, Miss Divine, but I could not help noticing how quiet you were throughout dinner. I have the distinct impression that you do not find the company to your liking.”

  “You are observant, Lord Dunstan. Yet if I seemed quiet perhaps it is because I am a stranger among your guests. But what of you?”

  “Oh?”

  “I observed that you seemed critical of the company and I wondered why you bother to hold such lavish parties when you clearly hold every one of your guests in contempt—or is it that because of your contempt you can speak your mind if they annoy you?”

  Alistair looked at her hard for a moment, relieved to find she was not in the least intimidated or impressed by who he was, or the overpowering evidence of his great wealth. He saw how much her own person she was, her expression wiser than her years, a trace of wariness around her wide amber eyes. His smile was soft when he spoke.

  “You are very perceptive, Miss Divine, but I must tell you that I do not entertain often—especially not the sort of company present this evening. It just so happens that Lady Bricknell is an extremely good friend of mine—as was her late husband—and I have been promising her for some considerable time to return her hospitality and invite her and some of her friends—a few of them my own, I confess—to Dunstan House. But tell me, in your opinion, what sort of company ought I to keep?”

  “The sort whose conduct and behaviour is proper and conventional.”

  “But not nearly as much fun,” Alistair teased with a lazy, devastating smile.

  “Forgive me, Lord Dunstan, but you did not look as though you were enjoying yourself to me. You do not strike me as being the kind of man who would allow convention to dictate your every move, but such company does not enhance your dignity or your good name.”

  “And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Miss Divine?” he said quietly, meaningfully.

  Louisa had the grace to flush and drop her gaze, for it was a brutal reminder of what she was doing. She hated it. She was about to transgress from all her principles, and she was sick with horror and self-disgust. It was ugly and she was beginning to regret ever coming to Dunstan House, but thinking of Bierlow Hall, and
her fear of her much beloved brother being sent to Fleet Gaol, gave her courage and re-established in her own mind her determination to succeed. Lord Dunstan might take away her innocence and make love to her unresisting body, but these things would not reach her thoughts. So long as she remained mistress of these she could still hope to return to her life as she had known it.

  She raised her eyes, aware of the searching intensity of his gaze as she favoured him with a melting smile, which made Alistair’s blood run warm in his veins and the heat of it move to his belly.

  “If I were to find myself among such company no doubt I would be treated with contempt and condemnation, but at all costs I would try very hard to hold onto my dignity.”

  Alistair smiled, his eyes glinting with wry amusement. “I do not think my own dignity is at stake, and, even if it was, I fail to see how the company I keep would redeem it. And where my good name is concerned it, too, has been questioned on more than one occasion.” He moved closer. “So, Miss Divine, shall we get back to the matter uppermost in both our minds? Having had time to consider my offer a little more over dinner, do you accept?”

  “That depends on how generous your offer happens to be, Lord Dunstan.”

  “What have you in mind?”

  “Four thousand guineas.”

  Their eyes met and held, irresistible force colliding with immovable object. Alistair nodded slightly, his expression hard.

  “You set a high price for yourself. But four thousand guineas?”

  “Yes. No less.”

  Ah, thought Alistair as light suddenly dawned on him. Very clever. Realisation of what she was doing hit him like a hammer blow. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her with scarcely concealed anger. “Forgive me, but to my reckoning that is exactly the sum of Mr Fraser’s debt to me.”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded slowly, watching her intently, his expression coolly impassive. “So—you value yourself so little that you are prepared to sell yourself to pay off your lover’s debt?”