Lady Be Bad

by Megan Frampton

  Just so she would know where his brother was also, she tried to lie to herself, but she couldn’t quite manage that, even inside her own head.

  Bother. She liked Lord Alexander; she wanted to speak frankly with him about all sorts of things, including mythological stories of gods and demigods doing reprehensible things, the joy of athletics, and the glee in making someone groan through a pun.

  “He’s over there, your Lord Carson,” her mother said, poking Eleanor in the side and pointing with her fan.

  “I see,” Eleanor replied, even though of course she couldn’t.

  Lord Alexander hadn’t seemed to mind when she wore her spectacles; why would it be so terrible for her to do so in public? It would certainly make things less . . . fuzzy.

  Although if she were to see things more clearly, perhaps she’d decide she didn’t want to be where she was at all. She was already close to wanting that now, even with her poor eyesight.

  “Your Grace, Lady Eleanor.” The ladies turned at the words, and Eleanor was able to see it was their hostess, Lady Linden, an elegant woman whose appearance hid her gentle manners and kindness.

  “Thank you for the invitation, my lady,” Eleanor said, offering a brief curtsey. “It is a pity it is looking to rain.”

  Lady Linden waved her hand in dismissal. “Ah, rain. The curse of the London hostess, but at least there is plenty of room inside. I will be surprised, my lady, if you are not asked for every dance. You are looking remarkably pretty this evening.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanor said, smiling in satisfaction as she gazed down at her gown. Cotswold, prodded by the extremely supportive twins, had agreed to let Eleanor add some color, in the form of ribbons, to her cream-colored gown. Eleanor had chosen burnished gold ribbons to put in her hair and at her waist.

  The color was remarkably close to Lord Alexander’s hair color, but she hadn’t thought of that when she’d chosen them. Of course not.

  The ribbon in her hair brought out the golden highlights in her own brown hair, making it look more lustrous, while the ribbon at her waist brought attention to her curves. With any luck, she might be able to persuade Cotswold to let her wear a light pink in a few months.

  Just in time to get betrothed, eventually to be married, and therefore be able to wear whatever color she liked.

  “Good evening, Your Grace, Lady Eleanor.” Lord Carson’s amiable tone snapped her out of her vision of entering her marital prison cell in a peacock-blue gown.

  “Good evening, my lord,” her mother replied, waving her fan. “I was just remarking to Lady Linden that it is a pity that the rain is coming, but that is the price we pay for living in the world.”

  “Exactly so, Your Grace,” Lord Carson replied, sounding as though he knew what the duchess had meant. Was that a positive or a negative attribute? “I am hoping that Lady Eleanor will be able to spare a dance with me this evening? You are looking in excellent health, my lady. It seems your ride with my brother did not unduly affect you.”

  Not in any way I can possibly say, Eleanor thought.

  “Yes, thank you, my lord. A dance would be a pleasure.”

  “And I will follow my brother’s lead and ask you as well.” Lord Alexander—because of course he was there, standing beside his brother, towering over him like an outsized . . . tower.

  “Thank you, yes,” Eleanor replied, keeping her gaze directed to the floor. She couldn’t see the floor, of course, but it was safer for her to not see the floor than to not see him.

  The music struck up, and Lord Carson’s hand entered her field of vision. “May I claim my dance now, my lady?”

  She looked up at him, wishing that the sight of him made her heart race in any kind of way. That she didn’t anticipate having an average and dull life with him in their respective prison cells.

  That her family didn’t require her to enter into prison so soon after entering the world.

  “Yes, thank you, my lord,” she replied, taking his hand.

  Alexander felt his chest tighten as he watched Bennett take Lady Eleanor onto the dance floor. He wished he didn’t feel this need to—to claim her, that he wasn’t absolutely certain that he knew her best among all the people here. And he barely knew her at all, but he did know her somewhat. He knew she had a temper when provoked, he knew she enjoyed bad puns, and he knew she wanted to be overwhelmed. That nothing in her life thus far had given her the excitement she craved.

  He wished he didn’t know so quickly just what type of excitement he could provide.

  The duchess kept up a steady monologue beside him, nothing that required him to do more than murmur a few “yes, Your Grace”s or “of course, Your Grace”s. His toe tapped to the music, his whole self yearning to go and thrust Bennett out of the way and take her in his arms.

  But that was not what his father wanted, and more importantly, it wasn’t what Bennett wanted. What the family needed. Because Bennett didn’t actually want her. He just needed her as a means to an end, a way to prop up the family’s fortune.

  He didn’t think the Duke of Marymount would want to dower his daughter quite so well if she wasn’t marrying the heir to the title. Wasn’t marrying the responsible one who hadn’t spent most of his life in the pursuit of pleasure. Namely his, although he was glad to share his pleasure along the way with whomever happened to be with him at the time.

  Although—? No, he couldn’t even think of that.

  The dance ended, and he tried not to be quite so glad when Bennett and Lady Eleanor returned to where he and the duchess stood. There was something different about Lady Eleanor tonight, something that seemed not quite so pale and indistinguishable as the night he’d first met her, just another female in the cluster of virgins. Her cheeks were pink from the exertion of the dance, and her eyes sparkled, even though he knew she couldn’t see everything in the room, which made him wonder just what she could see, and how close she’d have to be to something to see it clearly.

  Not something he should be thinking about at all.

  “That was lovely. Thank you, my lord,” Eleanor said, inclining her head. She looked over at Alexander, a clear question in her gaze, and he stepped forward, holding his hand out.

  “And this is my dance, is it not, Lady Eleanor?” Alexander asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied, hesitating only a moment before taking his hand and letting him lead her out onto the dance floor.

  The music struck up, not a waltz, damn it.

  “I have to ask,” she began, only to be separated by the movement of the dance, “why it is,” pause as he bowed to another lady in the set, this one a petite woman who stared up at him as though he were going to crush her, “that your brother,” pause, this time to bow to the tiny woman’s partner, an equally small gentleman who looked equally terrified, “has time to,” and then Alex couldn’t stand it any longer. He took her hand and led her off the dance floor, walking swiftly to the doors that led out onto the terrace.

  “But—“ she began, only to stop speaking as he dropped her hand to shut the doors behind them. “It’s beginning to rain,” she pointed out, moving to the door.

  “Wait,” Alex replied, taking her wrist in his fingers. Moving her beyond the doors so they couldn’t be seen. “This could be another one of your overwhelming experiences—have you ever done this?”

  “Been outside in the rain?” she said in a dubious tone of voice. “We live in England—rain is a constant.”

  “No, not that,” he replied, now wishing she weren’t quite so clever. “Spent time outside in the rain when there is nothing keeping you from going back in. When you relish the feeling of it, savor the moisture on your face, the fresh, clean scent of the rain tickling your nose.”

  She tilted her head and peered up at him, squinting. Of course, she couldn’t see clearly. “You are right. I have never done that.” She kept her gaze on him for a few more moments, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll stay out here in the rain, but if it starts to rain very hard, I will have
to return.” She glanced down at her gown. “I cannot risk what it might do to my reputation if I get soaked.”

  “So you can relish the feeling of it within moderation,” Alexander replied with a grin.

  “Yes, that,” she said, returning the smile.

  The rain was only a light sprinkling, and they stood side by side in silence, both of them lifting their faces toward the sky.

  If anyone but Bennett had ever paid attention to him in his family, his love of the rain would have become a family legend. But only Bennett noticed, and he just shook his head whenever Alex deliberately went outside during a storm. There was something so powerful about what nature could and would do to the world’s inhabitants, something that couldn’t be controlled no matter how much prestige and money a person had.

  “This is nice,” she said in a surprised tone of voice. He glanced over at her; she had her eyes closed, her face still lifted. “I have never done this before. Usually my mother is fussing about umbrellas and wet boots and overly curly hair. I’ve never just been out in the rain without purpose.” Now she opened her eyes and looked over at him, a delighted expression on her face. “Thank you.”

  “You are entirely welcome, my lady. I am determined to allow you to experience as many new things as you can while we are agreed to our bargain.”

  “Yes, you most definitely are,” she replied.

  And then, to his surprise, she grasped his shoulders and pulled him down toward her for a kiss.

  She hadn’t meant to kiss him. What with his not being even close to a possible suitor for her, and his making it clear earlier in the day that he had initially judged her as being not very smart. Those two things alone should have stopped her, but somehow, with them standing together in the rain, the light from the ballroom casting a faint yellow glow onto the stones of the terrace, the feel of the rain on her face—everything blended together in a grand overwhelming of feeling, one that she could only savor through kissing him.

  Not that she knew any of this when she’d grabbed hold of his shoulders to lower his mouth to hers; she just knew that she was here, as was he, and the thing she most wanted to do was kiss him.

  His mouth was warm, warmer than the night air outside. His shoulders, the ones she’d first grasped at the bookshop where they’d encountered one another, were strong and hard under her fingers. She found herself gripping them, raising up on her toes so as to get better leverage.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, beginning to remove her mouth from his when he grasped her firmly around the waist and hauled her against his body, making it easier for her to stand on her tiptoes.

  His mouth returned to hers, the faint scratch of the stubble on his upper lip scraping her skin in a most delicious, enticing way. He was kissing her in earnest now, his lips nibbling at hers, his fingers splayed against her back.

  It felt intoxicating. It was the most feeling she thought she’d ever felt, of pleasure, at least; she had felt plenty when she had been the one to discover her sister Della had eloped.

  But this affected her body all over, making her want to squirm inside her skin. Her breasts were pushed against his chest—the chest she’d been admiring—and they felt tender and aching, somehow.

  And then he did the most unexpected thing, and slid his tongue into her mouth. She was so startled she nearly bit down, but then his tongue found hers, and he began to lick and suck on it, and she melted.

  She felt the muscles in her calves strain, but that discomfort was nothing compared to how the rest of her body felt. She reacted naturally, sliding her own tongue over his, widening her mouth to allow for as much contact as possible.

  And then he groaned, low in his throat, and the hand at her waist held her fast against him, so close she could feel how his breath rose and fell in his chest.

  The rain slid between them, a few drops running down her face as they continued to kiss.

  And it felt like she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t want to stop doing this. Ever.

  Until he leapt back, his hands dropping from her body, his expression aghast.

  “Dear God,” he said, shaking his head, “what have we done?”

  She couldn’t answer, not with her breath still coming fast and shaky in her lungs, not with the sting of his kiss still upon her lips.

  Not with how she wished he was anyone but who he was, and she was anyone but who she was so they could continue doing what they were doing, continue getting to know one another set on an overwhelming course.

  “I will return to my mother,” Eleanor said at last. She was relieved she could manage a reasonable tone of voice. “Thank you for the dance.” And she turned to the door as quickly as she could, twisting the knob and slipping back into the ballroom before she could hear what he might say next.

  Because if it was something such as, “This is the worst mistake I’ve ever made,” or, “I have to tell my brother,” or worse, “You are a terrible kisser,” she might just crumple down on the terrace floor and cry.

  Lady Eleanor’s Good List for Being Bad:

  Kiss someone who is not related to you who would be pleasant to kiss.

  Chapter 9

  Kissing her was clearly not going to persuade her to marry Bennett.

  Unless she loathed the experience so much she would do anything to avoid it occurring again. But judging by how she held him, how her body practically melted against his, and how quickly she learned what to do when his tongue entered her mouth, he didn’t think that was a possibility.

  But if there was a ranked list of Things to Do to Persuade Lady Eleanor to Marry Bennett, he’d be tempted to put “kiss her on a rainy terrace” as the number one entry. And a part of his mind was already strategizing how to topple that number one with an even more outrageously enjoyable adventure.

  Damn his mind, at least the part that had that sort of imagination.

  “There you are,” Bennett said, clapping his hand on Alex’s shoulder. The shoulder that could still feel the grip of her hand. “I was hoping you would join me in speaking to the Duke of Lasham about improvements for the working poor. He and his wife have been very involved in a variety of activities.”

  “You know I know nothing about anything, Bennett,” Alex said in his normal bantering tone, only now it felt edged with a hard, savage truth that hurt. Hurt himself only, but still. A hurt that burned inside.

  “You say that, and yet you are the person I talk to about everything,” Bennett replied, tugging on his arm to guide him to a corner of the ballroom.

  The opposite corner from where she stood, he couldn’t help but notice.

  “I don’t listen,” Alex said in a short tone of voice, his gaze still on her. Even from here, he could see her heightened color—not quite chaise-longue color, but a bright pink—and that she kept touching her mouth. It was likely bruised from his kiss, and even though he felt profound regret at it having happened, he also couldn’t help but be proud he’d affected her so.

  “Stop saying things like that,” Bennett continued, still exerting force to make Alex move. “You listen more than you know. You don’t give yourself enough credit, brother.” And with those words, Alex felt as though Bennett had inadvertently kicked him in the stomach, fresh from the betrayal of kissing Lady Eleanor on the terrace, guilty for doing it, and even guiltier for wanting to do it again.

  All while Bennett was complimenting him, saying he didn’t take enough credit for himself.

  If the credit was “who could be the biggest scoundrel of a brother while still having his brother admire him,” then yes, he would take all of the credit.

  They reached the corner where two people, a man and a woman, stood. The man was striking, an eye patch over one eye; his height not as great as Alex’s but his width was broader. His wife—since Alex presumed this was the duke and his wife—had a mischievous smile on her face, and her hand was tucked into her husband’s arm.

  “Good evening, Your Grace, Your Grace,” Bennett said to the pair. Both of the
m nodded, with the lady looking with quick, curious eyes toward Alex.

  “Allow me to introduce my brother, Lord Alexander,” Bennett said, gesturing to Alex, who bowed.

  “What is this bill you wish me to support?” the duke said bluntly. Nearly as bluntly as Alex spoke, which immediately made him like the other gentleman.

  “Goodness, Lash, allow there to be some semblance of niceties,” his wife said, rolling her eyes at her husband.

  “No, your husband’s directness is appreciated,” Bennett said, smiling. “As it happens, I am working on a bill to regulate more of the working conditions in the factories of London. There is a great need for funds to support those families who might be suffering hardship because the men of the family are injured or can’t work.”

  This on top of what he was doing for their family? Alex swallowed against the waging emotions of pride and shame he felt at hearing just how much his brother was doing—and what Alex himself had just done.

  “I’ve reviewed your bill, my lord,” the duchess said, “and I have a few questions.”

  Alex hadn’t lied when he told Bennett he didn’t listen; as the duchess peppered his brother with questions, he found his mind filled with recollections of how Lady Eleanor felt, and what they’d done, and whether or not he should tell Bennett, not paying attention to the conversation happening outside of his head.

  If he were an honorable person, he would tell Bennett. But then that would mean that Lady Eleanor would not even have a chance to marry Bennett because Bennett would—likely as not—withdraw his courtship of the lady. Not because Bennett was piqued, or petty, but because he would not want to force his suit on a woman who was not receptive. And Alex was fairly certain Bennett would define “not receptive” as “willingly kissing another man, in fact instigating the kiss.”

  He wouldn’t mind so much if their father had to curtail his lifestyle because the marriage didn’t occur, but their mother was already ill, and any change in her life would likely make her dose herself with even more laudanum. And Bennett himself would view his actions as having been a failure, when actually it would be Alex’s failing. His inability to keep himself from attempting to seduce an attractive woman, even though that woman was supposed to be off-limits to him.