Lady Be Bad

by Megan Frampton

  “Bennett lent me his curricle for our drive since I didn’t think we would want to be cooped up in my carriage. He said to pass along his regrets that he couldn’t join us.” Lord Alexander accompanied his words with a wink, a sly acknowledgment that Lord Carson had never had the intention to join them, since he was far too busy with whatever he was busy with.

  What was he busy with, anyway? And if they were to be married, would that busyness continue? Would she ever see him?

  Why did she have so many questions? She’d gone twenty-one years without having more than the usual amount of questions, and yet here she was, apparently now a walking question mark.

  “Allow me, my lady,” Lord Alexander was saying, holding out his arm.

  “Are you certain?” she said, peering at the curricle. It looked very fast. And tall.

  Rather like Lord Alexander, to be honest.

  “You did say you wished to be overwhelmed,” he said in a low tone, low enough that she knew Cotswold couldn’t hear, no matter that she was probably straining her ears at that very moment. As he spoke, he took her hand and looped her arm through his. “It is difficult to be overwhelmed with an audience,” he added, tilting his head in her maid’s direction.

  Why did that sound so . . . scandalous?

  Because it was him, and she knew things about him. Things that no young lady should know about a gentleman. So why did she ask him the overwhelmed question?

  But she knew that already. Because she knew he did know about . . . overwhelming things, and she just couldn’t seem to stop the words from leaving her mouth. And now what must he think of her? What did she think of herself?

  This really was a situation of her own making. She hoped it wouldn’t lead to her undoing as well.

  She allowed him to assist her up into the curricle, which was, indeed, quite high. She heard her breath hitch as she looked down—and down some more—to the ground. Which she couldn’t see very clearly, given how far away it was and how difficult it was for her to see.

  She wished there was some dispensation for wearing her spectacles when she was in the company of a man who definitely would not be marrying her at any point in the future.

  But there was not.

  Just in case, however, she’d brought her spectacles along. She had gotten adept at slipping them on when nobody was looking at her, which was depressingly frequent. But then she could see everyone not looking at her, which was better than the alternative.

  He vaulted up beside her, his leg only a few inches away from hers on the small seat.

  “Unless you have any other ideas, I thought we would go for a ride in the park,” he said, taking up the reins and setting off.

  “That doesn’t sound very different from what I have done before,” Eleanor replied in what she knew was a prim tone of voice.

  He leaned over slightly, enough so that his shoulder brushed hers. “Oh, but you haven’t experienced the park with me before, my lady.”

  She swallowed hard at the feelings that comment engendered. She should not be so absolutely and entirely thrilled to be seated beside him. It wasn’t as though he truly wanted to be there; she’d made it a point so that he could persuade her to say yes to his brother.

  But she was absolutely and entirely thrilled. And it wasn’t just because of him; for one of the first times since she’d made her debut, she was without a chaperone. The weather was surprisingly pleasant, she had yet to be forced into a marital commitment, and then, yes, there was him.

  His presence wasn’t the only thing that made her thrilled, but it definitely helped. She couldn’t see being nearly this enthusiastic about going for a ride in the park with her cousin Sir Reginald, for example, a gentleman whose only conversation was about hunting and his dogs.

  “I understand your brother is very busy”—doing heaven knows what—“but what do you do with your time?” she asked, then felt her eyes widen as she realized she knew one of the things he did.

  Thankfully, he didn’t reference his choice of reading material in his reply. “I am of not much use to anybody,” he said in a remarkably cheerful tone, considering his words. “I lounge about, I drive in the park”—at which point he gestured to the horses—“I encourage my brother to stop taking everything so seriously, and I gamble on occasion.”

  “You and I have much in common, then,” Eleanor replied. He glanced over at her, a wry grin on his face.

  “You gamble as well?”

  She couldn’t suppress the burst of laughter that emerged from her mouth. His grin grew wider, and his eyes warmed.

  Oh dear.

  “No, I do not gamble.” Although this bargain they’d made was a gamble of sorts, wasn’t it? Show me enough fun for a short period of time so I will agree to marry your average brother and have an average life without regrets.

  Not really a gamble she wished to make, but here she was anyway.

  At the very least, she could put it on her list.

  “I could take you to a gambling den. If that is the sort of overwhelming experience you’d like.” She felt his gaze on her, her cheeks heating at the scrutiny.

  Her lips were suddenly dry, and she darted her tongue out to lick them, his eyes narrowing at the movement. He snapped his head back around again and she felt the loss of his regard like a tangible thing.

  This was not at all the type of thing she should be feeling. Not with the brother of the man whom she’d told “not yet.”

  But—“A gambling den?” That sounded quite overwhelming, and precisely the kind of adventure that she was longing for. Well, both longing for and dreading. It definitely belonged on the list.

  “Yes. There are a few that are respectable enough for a lady such as yourself, provided we disguise your—your . . .” and his fingers waggled in the air as he tried to find the word. Her mind hunted frantically for what he might possibly be trying to say, only all of the things she thought of—gentle breeding, naïveté, virginity—all sounded dismissive and far too blunt.

  Although Lord Carson had said his brother was remarkably blunt. Goodness, there must be something she hadn’t even thought of that he was trying to avoid saying.

  “White gowns?” she supplied. “I do have other colors, I am certain I can contrive to look less of whatever it is you wish me to look less of.”

  That got a surprised snort from him, and she felt herself relax a tiny amount. Perhaps this wasn’t the most foolish, ill-considered thing she’d ever done. Maybe there was a chance that he would do what she’d asked, and then she’d settle down into marriage with his much less intimidating brother.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terrible.

  “We’re almost there,” he said after about ten minutes of silence. Eleanor had spent the time glancing about as the park’s gentle trees and rolling slopes gave way to a more ragged area, one where there were brown patches of dirt mixed in with the lush greenery.

  “I’ve never been to this side of the park before,” Eleanor admitted.

  He glanced toward her, a crooked grin lifting one side of his mouth. “I did say you’d never been to the park with me before, didn’t I?”

  And then that fluttery feeling returned, only this time it was accompanied by something that felt almost bold, roiling inside her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. There were no other carriages in sight, although a few groups of people were on foot in the distance. Not that she could make them out, but she could distinguish a clump of people from a clump of trees. Especially when they were wearing non-tree colors. It did feel exciting, actually, to be in a new place.

  And then he answered her question.

  “A cricket match.”

  “A—a what?” she said in a confused tone.

  “You have heard of cricket, haven’t you?” he asked, his mouth now turning down in what appeared to be dismay.

  “Of course I have”—because I’ve overheard the servants speaking of it—“but I’ve never attended a match before. I didn’t know
it was even called a match, honestly.”

  “Good, then. This is your first adventure,” Lord Alexander said in a curt tone as he turned the carriage toward a wide-open field where there were many non-trees running about.

  Alex felt wobbly and uncertain, something he hadn’t felt since he was shorter than Lady Eleanor. Or shorter even than one of her younger sisters.

  But she kept surprising him. Was she the lady he’d first met at the bookshop, the sharp, snappish one, or the female who’d been so demure at the ball—until she was not?

  He didn’t know which version he wished for; either she was intriguing, in which case he’d be intrigued, or she’d be a demure, modest wife that would be the partner it seemed Bennett wanted, which made Alexander angry, no matter how many ducal ducats she brought to the family.

  Ducal ducats. He glanced over at her, opening his mouth to share the joke, only to realize of course he couldn’t. For once, he could not be blunt and direct, because no matter what he was being blunt and direct about—either because he found her attractive and he wished to bed her, or because he found it abhorrent to consider she would be marrying his brother—the truth would not be borne.

  He’d have to get better at diplomacy, like his elder brother.

  “We’re here,” he said, pulling on the reins to stop the horses. They had arrived at the edge of a flat field, one showing the wear of frequent usage. There was a game ongoing, as Alex had known there would be, although he honestly had no idea why he thought taking Lady Eleanor to a cricket match, of all things, would be overwhelming for her.

  Just, perhaps, that he didn’t want to overwhelm her too much with, say, a visit to a gambling den. Or a clandestine interlude in a pleasure boat, all alone in the middle of the night.

  Thoughts of which were far too interesting and overwhelming, he’d have to say, to his body, which was reacting in a predictably male way to the idea.

  “This is—cricket?” she said, sounding skeptical.

  “What did you imagine it was? Unless you thought the actual insects were wandering about playing some sort of organized entertainment,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her as he spoke.

  She looked at him, her blue eyes wide, and then they narrowed and her words emerged before, he would guess, she had time to consider what she was saying. And the lady from the bookshop reappeared.

  “You seem to think I am so idiotic that I would possibly imagine that insects would be engaged in a sporting activity.” Her tone dripped with icy disdain, and he felt himself heat at the sight of her enraged. “I assure you, my lord, that simply because I have not yet had experience with things that I am not entirely stupid.” She glared at him, her eyes narrowing even more. “That is what you believe, isn’t it? That I am unintelligent?” She focused her attention on a small purse she’d brought along with her, opening it with shaking fingers. “I am many things, or not many things, depending on what your perspective is, but I am not stupid.” She withdrew a pair of spectacles from her purse and placed them on her face, settling the wires behind her ears. And then she looked at him again, raising her chin in a defiant pose. “As it happens, I am poorly sighted. That much is true.” And she resumed glaring at him from across the seat. “Likely you have misjudged my expression because I have a lack of vision. But since you don’t seem to think very highly of me in the first place, I might as well wear my spectacles so I can see your disdain.”

  He wanted to both applaud and kiss her all at the same time.

  The glass of the spectacles made her eyes appear even larger, and he could see the sheen of moisture in her eyes. And then felt horrible about himself. His derision had made this woman, a woman who only wanted to experience a bit of life before surrendering to what he knew—from the reports of the married ladies with whom he’d dabbled, so perhaps not a fair measure—was a life of thankless boredom, enhanced only by the prospect of illicit activity.

  Although he would not allow her to be illicit if she was married to Bennett.

  When she was married to Bennett, he corrected himself.

  He took her hand in his, noting how she drew her breath in sharply at the contact. Of course, the holding of hands wasn’t something gently bred young ladies generally did. Imagine if he did what he’d wanted to a moment ago; reached out to gather her into his arms, to press her lovely, curvaceous body against him as he kissed her senseless. Or senseful, actually. Since he now knew she was not without sense, she just wanted more.

  “I am truly sorry,” he said in a low voice, seeing her pulse flutter at her throat. “I didn’t mean to imply . . .” he began, only to have her withdraw her hand.

  “But you did.” She bit her lower lip. “You don’t have to show me anything if it is so unpleasant for you.” Her voice was flat, as though she were tired. “I just thought that if I could see what I would be missing, to experience it myself, even for just a short time, that I could . . .” And then she stopped, shaking her head and looking down at the ground. “Never mind.”

  “That you could what?” His whole self longed to take her hand again, to reassure her with his touch. Or perhaps the touch was to reassure him.

  “That I could do what my father wants me to. What my entire family wants me to, even though I barely know myself, much less your brother.” She lifted her head and gazed at him. “But you can take me back home, Lord Alexander. I believe you have overwhelmed me enough.”

  Her voice wavered, but her gaze didn’t, and he found himself admiring her spirit. That she understood what was likely to happen to her, that she accepted it as her fate, but that she was intelligent enough to know that there were other things out there—there were many people in their world who had no idea that other experiences were possible. Or if they did, they assumed the other experiences were lesser because they weren’t part of the rarified world they inhabited.

  She didn’t dismiss things because she didn’t know about them. On the contrary, she wanted to know what they were precisely because she didn’t know about them. She wanted to see them, in all sorts of ways, from the mundane act of seeing to the higher levels of understanding.

  “No, I won’t take you home now.” His refusal seemed to startle her, since she sat straighter in the seat and gaped at him as though she couldn’t believe he had said the words.

  He could well believe he’d said the words, given how accustomed he was to stating his thoughts without concern about the listener.

  “I brought you here to show you something I hope you’ll find enjoyable. Overwhelming, perhaps.” And he allowed himself to grin at her, hoping she would respond.

  Her expression wavered between anger and a glimmer of what he thought might be humor, and then she rolled her eyes—still behind her spectacles—and flung her hands up. “Fine. You can show me the cricket game.” Her tone was sulky, but not as dispirited as it had been a few moments before. “The game without insects,” she added.

  He vaulted out of the carriage seat and held his hand up for her to take before she changed her mind. She allowed him to help her out of the carriage, only clutching at his shoulder once as she descended.

  “You’re not going to attempt to explain the rules to me, are you?” she asked as they began to walk to the edge of where the players were playing.

  “Uh, no, of course not,” Alex replied, quickly revising his idea of doing just that.

  “I would not be overwhelmed, but I would be overwhelmingly bored. My sister Ida tried to tell me all about Galileo’s grand idea of something or another, and all it did was make my head hurt, and then I fell asleep. I did sleep quite soundly that evening, so perhaps I will ask you to come explain the rules of cricket while I am in bed.”

  It seemed she did not consider her words that well either, because now the last two words—in bed—hovered between them, making the silence edgily uncomfortable.

  “That is, I wouldn’t find you entirely dull if—oh, bother,” she muttered, walking more quickly toward the field.

  Alexander len
gthened his stride as well, suppressing a chuckle as he followed her.

  Lady Eleanor’s Good List for Being Bad:

  Ride in a curricle with a gentleman, provided the horses are not too large.

  Chapter 7

  It felt so freeing, Eleanor thought, to speak her mind. No wonder nobody wanted her to do it. It was as though she had unstoppered herself, and her emotions were tumbling out, her anger and frustration and interest and desire all mixing together in a passion-fueled torrent.

  And so far she had only rebuked Lord Alexander for implying she was stupid. Imagine what else she might say, if given the chance.

  She drew up at the edge of what she presumed was the playing field, aware that Lord Alexander was directly behind her. Conscious of him, even though he wasn’t in her direct line of vision.

  And speaking of vision, she could see. It was marvelous wearing her spectacles outdoors, being able to see the individual men scampering about, even if she had no idea what it was they were attempting to do. That too felt freeing, as though perhaps she could actually know where she was going instead of being shepherded about like a duke’s dutiful daughter.

  The duke’s dutiful daughter was only slightly less damning than the duke’s dull daughter, as she’d been referred to by that Lady Vale. The one who found Lord Alexander so entertaining.

  “So this is cricket,” she remarked as Lord Alexander came beside her. The players were all wearing white clothing—rather like a debutante, she thought wryly—that showed the various and sundry marks of dirt and grass. She turned to him. “And why did—?”

  “Alex!” a voice called out, one of the players trotting off the field toward them. It was a man who was older than Lord Alexander, a few streaks of grey at his temple, a full beard hiding the lower half of his face.

  Lord Alexander stepped forward, a grin splitting his face, and shook the man’s hand. “Charles, a pleasure. I hadn’t thought you’d be playing today, I assumed you’d be at the factory.” He turned to Eleanor. “My friend Mr. Powers here is a part owner of the Powers and Smith Railway.” He returned his attention to his friend. “Does this mean that British industry is grinding to a halt?”