Invitation to Seduction.html

by Lorraine Heath

  “Splendid! The challenge is made, the wagers accepted. Tomorrow afternoon our skills will be put to the test,” Farthingham announced.

  She glanced toward Weddington, discovered his gaze riveted on her. He lifted his wine goblet and offered a silent salute.

  Dear God, she found herself praying for a torrential rain.

  Chapter 10

  Charades. Richard found it ironic that Farthingham was so fond of the game when it seemed his entire life was little more than an elaborate charade.

  Trust Farthingham to bend the rules until they were unrecognizable. No teams, no competition really. Everyone simply striving to guess the answer so one might have a turn at standing before the others and making a fool of oneself. Amazing really that everyone tried so hard to accomplish just that feat.

  Richard sat on one end of a sofa with Lady Priscilla bouncing beside him, as though she thought jiggling would stir up her thought processes to the point that she could determine the title of the serialization that Anne was miming.

  Pickwick Papers.

  Kitty was in the chair beside the sofa, her brows deeply furrowed in concentration. He admired her ability to focus so intensely when those around her were shrieking like the inmates at Bedlam. Even Farthingham and Montague were quite beside themselves, fidgeting as though they suddenly found themselves covered in fleas.

  “Pickwick Papers,” Kitty said.

  “Yes!” Anne cried, before shaking a finger at Richard. “You knew what it was long before she announced it, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly.

  “If he knew the answer, he would have spoken up,” Farthingham said.

  “Why give the answer when the reward is to have to stand in front of everyone and behave like a jackanapes?” Richard asked.

  “The reward, my dear fellow, is to beat the others with your sharp wit.”

  Richard grinned. “I did.”

  “So you say,” Kitty said.

  “Are you questioning my word, Miss Robertson?”

  She blushed prettily. “No, Your Grace. It is simply that I would have thought your competitive nature would force you into demonstrating your superiority.”

  “So you acknowledge that I am superior?”

  Her eyes flashed fury. “No, I acknowledge only that you believe you are.”

  “I have an idea,” Farthingham said. “Another wager.”

  Kitty laughed lightly, causing his heart to rejoice in the sound.

  “I think you have enough wagers going, Nicky,” she said with obvious amusement and affection.

  Farthingham raised a finger. “Hear me out. I believe everyone will agree that of all of us with the courage to test the answer aloud, Kitty is the most skilled at guessing correctly.”

  Anne, Lady Priscilla, and Montague bobbed their heads.

  “Excellent! Here is what I propose. The four of us”—he pointed to Anne, Lady Priscilla, and Montague—“shall each perform one pantomime. Kitty and Weddington will be the only two eligible to guess the answer. Should Kitty guess correctly more often than Weddington, he shall have to stand before us and perform a pantomime to the best of his ability—which I fear is sadly lacking and is the true reason for his hesitation to call out the answer.”

  “And if I give more correct answers than Miss Robertson does?” Richard asked.

  “Kitty shall take a turn about the garden with you, allowing you to be spared our theatrics while we continue to play and are relieved of your sour disposition.”

  “I accept.”

  “No!” Kitty cried. She twisted around to face Farthingham. “You can’t make a wager that requires me to do something if you lose.”

  “But I won’t lose, my sweet. I have absolute confidence in your ability to beat that rapscallion. He claims he always knows the answer, and yet we’ve seen no proof.”

  She looked quickly at Richard before turning back to Farthingham. “It would be entirely inappropriate for me to take a walk with him in the dark garden when you and I are so close to announcing our betrothal.”

  “If he makes any untoward advances, you have but to scream. I shall come to your rescue.”

  “You’re making light of my concerns.”

  “Of course, I am. Weddington is a gentleman and my friend. I trust him completely. The garden is lit by gas lamps. You will be perfectly safe. Although, honestly, I don’t believe I will lose the wager. Trust me, my sweet, and have as much confidence in your abilities as I do.”

  Richard felt the competitor within him unfurling as her chin came up a notch. She slid her gaze over to him, challenge mirrored in the sea green of her eyes.

  “I do trust you, Nicky. With all my heart. Let the games begin,” she said.

  With a mere bowing of his head, Richard acknowledged the gauntlet tossed. He wondered how she would feel if he informed her that her trust was misplaced. The irony of trust was that it worked on many different levels. She trusted Farthingham, Farthingham trusted Richard.

  Unfortunately, Farthingham’s was not a trust Richard was willing to breach, which meant he played the larger, more important game with an unfair disadvantage.

  Kitty trusted Farthingham. She truly did, but obviously he shouldn’t have trusted her. Or at least he shouldn’t have trusted her skills at charades. Fighting not to press her arms across her chest and bunch them up beneath her breasts, she slowly walked through the garden alongside Weddington.

  She simply couldn’t believe he’d won by calmly revealing the answer—sometimes only a mere syllable before she did—as though he found the entire exercise tiresome. He’d been at a decided disadvantage because everyone had cheered for her to win, had played to her, had encouraged her to shout out the answer before Weddington could.

  While he’d delivered each answer in an infuriatingly subdued, arrogant tone. Damn, but she hated losing; she especially despised losing to him. Regrettably, she realized that her attitude was going to make it even more difficult to play honorably the following day. She truly had no desire for him to benefit from her skills, but for her to lose purposely…once again she cursed Farthingham for placing her in such a deplorable position.

  “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll play poorly tomorrow so Lord Farthingham will receive your yacht?” she finally asked into the silence.

  “The possibility of your playing poorly had not entered my mind, Miss Robertson.”

  “You have my permission to call me Kitty.”

  “Only if you will call me Richard.”

  She glanced over at him, in the shadows of the night. It seemed most of their intimate encounters took place when neither was clearly visible. She couldn’t decide if that placed her at an advantage or a disadvantage. “I was under the impression that most aristocrats went by some nickname derived from their titles. But neither you nor Farthingham seem to have adopted that tradition.”

  “My father was known as Weddy by his intimates. I had no desire to inherit his nickname when I inherited his title.”

  “Because you disliked him?” she asked speculatively. As competitive as he was, she could well imagine him displaying the same sort of competitiveness toward his father.

  “Because I loved him. I respected him, admired him, and would have preferred never to have had occasion to inherit his titles.”

  An impossibility unless his father had outlived him. Having recognized a tinge of sorrow and regret in his voice, she wondered if he would have indeed preferred that outcome: his father outliving him. “How did he die?”

  “Arrogantly.”

  His hands were clutched behind his back, and she considered that perhaps he held them to prevent himself from touching her. “You can’t leave me with such a simple answer.”

  “I can if I so choose. However, no harm would come from your knowing.” He sighed as though something inside him needed to be released, a gate opened or a wall torn down. “We’d taken a yacht out with a crew of six. A storm came up, but we did not turn back to shore. We thought we could
control the sea, he and I. But the sea cannot be tamed. He died. The ship sank. The crew and I made it to shore.”

  He recounted his tale as though he’d memorized the details and facts, one after another, to be delivered on command, like the poems she’d had to recite in school.

  “The first morning I spotted you, standing on the shore, facing the sea, I thought you appeared defiant,” she said quietly.

  “The sea terrifies me.”

  She almost stumbled over her feet. His words were the last she’d ever expected him to utter. She couldn’t imagine this strong, virile man being frightened by anything. But with his statement, she now comprehended why he was so willing to wager a yacht, and she found a bit of her discomfort with the wager slipping away. “Then it seems you won’t mind losing a yacht to Farthingham.”

  “On the contrary, I mind a great deal. Should he manage to win the wager, I shall simply replace my yacht with another.”

  “But why? If the sea terrifies you—”

  “Because it terrifies me. It is the very reason that I swim in it each morning when I am in residence near the shore. It is the very reason that I take my boats out on the water. I refuse to allow my fears to control me.”

  She heard the passion shimmering through his voice, so different from the telling of his father’s death. He captured her attention, her interest in ways that he shouldn’t. Even at that moment, she found it difficult to remember that Farthingham was inside the house, in the parlor, playing games with his friends.

  Weddington cleared his throat. “I have never shared my fears with anyone. I trust you to be discreet with the knowledge.”

  “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “So you are not like Lady Priscilla, prone to passing gossip around with the ease that one might a calling card?”

  “I’ve never cared for gossip.”

  “An admirable quality in a woman.”

  They strolled along, the silence easing between them. She was always amazed that Farthingham, who had so little wealth, still managed to give the appearance of a man with money at his disposal. He continued to employ gardeners and servants. Not as many as some in his position, but enough to run his household with efficiency. And the fragrance that was fading with the night reminded her of what she’d not done.

  “I’ve been neglectful in properly thanking you for the lovely flowers you sent,” she finally managed to say.

  “They were my pleasure to send.”

  She gnawed on her lower lip. “And your penance? Your mother thought they came from your greenhouse.”

  “She has always been far too wise. She was quite impressed with you, Miss Robertson.”

  “Kitty.”

  “I have decided the informality would not be wise.”

  It seemed that mother and son were equally wise. And it was time that she must be so as well. “On another matter, I must decline your kind offer of the use of your box—”

  “The offer has already been made, and Farthingham has accepted.”

  “You told Farthingham?”

  “Of course.”

  “And how did you explain your offer?”

  “I told him that I’d never seen a woman enjoy the opera more.”

  “You’re amazing. You deliver lies when they suit you.”

  “I spoke true. I have never seen a woman enjoy the opera more, not even Anne. I did not say it was the reason I was offering my box. My offer merely followed my comment. Should he conclude that my comment was the reason for my offer, so be it.”

  Laughing, she stopped walking, not at all surprised that he did the same and faced her. “You are weaving a tangled web, Your Grace.”

  “I am well aware of that, Miss Robertson, in ways that you cannot even begin to imagine.”

  “What would happen if you released your hold on your hands?”

  “I would take you in my arms. Why did you tell Farthingham to delay your announcement until the end of the Season?”

  “I’m self-centered. The newspapers contain too much gossipy news right now. Our announcement would not receive the attention it rightly deserves.”

  “Now who weaves a tangled web?” he asked.

  She had to fight to draw in every breath, to stand her ground, not to run. “You terrify me.”

  “I would never harm you.”

  “You make me feel things…” She lowered her gaze.

  Then his gloved hand was below her chin, lifting her gaze back to his. “I have found it is better to face the things that terrify us, rather than retreat from them.”

  “I’m not retreating; I’m conquering—”

  “By Jove, you two are the slowest people on earth,” Farthingham called out.

  Weddington quickly dropped his hand. Kitty heard Farthingham’s footsteps on the path, his and others, and she wondered what they might have seen, what they might have thought.

  Turning, she forced herself to smile. He was still far enough away to be more shadow than man, and she could only hope that she and Weddington appeared the same to him.

  “Send me on a turn about the garden, and I could reach this spot and be back in far less time than it took the two of you to get here,” Farthingham said.

  “I was experiencing some discomfort in my back and had to slow my step to accommodate it,” Weddington said.

  If he was indeed one not to lie, then she realized that he was in pain, probably the reason for his stiffness.

  “You really should use your walking stick more,” Lady Anne said. “People who don’t need them use them all the time; no one would think anything of it.”

  “You’re quite right, Anne,” Weddington said.

  “Well, while you two were out here dallying around, Lady Anne had a scathingly brilliant idea,” Farthingham said. “She has invited us all to spend a few days at Drummond Manor for a respite from the whirlwind of the Season. I, for one, am all for it. What do you think, my sweet?”

  Drummond Manor. Lady Anne had mentioned her home the morning she’d visited with her mother. If Weddington’s yachts were nearby, then it must be where he’d been in residence when she met him. A dangerous place, a very dangerous place indeed.

  Kitty would have preferred to decline, but her mind seemed to have stopped functioning, and she couldn’t think of a single plausible reason not to accept the offer. Since she’d be announcing her betrothal at the end of the Season, she couldn’t very well say she needed to remain in London in order to meet a prospective husband.

  Besides, she felt Weddington’s gaze on her, almost sensed his unspoken challenge. “If it’s what you wish,” she finally forced out of her mouth.

  “Splendid!” Farthingham exclaimed. “All right now. Everyone follow me back to the parlor. I have the rules to a new game I think we’ll have some jolly good fun with.”

  He marched ahead with everyone following him. Kitty walked slowly behind the procession, Weddington at her side. She could have sworn she heard him grinding his teeth.

  “You don’t like parlor games,” she speculated.

  “Not particularly, no. Although I will admit that I was extraordinarily pleased with the results of charades.”

  “I wasn’t. I was looking quite forward to seeing you behave like a jackanapes.”

  He chuckled low. “Perhaps the opportunity will present itself at Drummond Manor.”

  “I doubt it. You strike me as a man who guards himself extremely well. What forfeit will you ask of Farthingham if I win the match tomorrow?”

  “I’ve not yet decided, but you may rest assured that whatever I choose will revolve around you.”

  Chapter 11

  “You don’t mind that I invited everyone to Drummond Manor, do you?” Anne asked.

  “Of course not,” Richard replied, gazing out the window as his coach rumbled along the cobblestone street. “It’s your home as well.”

  “You and Miss Robertson walked for such a long time. What did you talk about?”

  “She spent a good deal of time
describing the two hundred gowns in her wardrobe.”

  “She did not!”

  Smiling, he turned his attention to Anne. “No, she didn’t. We actually spoke very little. I don’t think she’s at all comfortable with Farthingham’s wager.”

  “He was rather bold to propose it.”

  “It is easy to be bold when you have nothing to lose and all to gain.”

  “Whatever will you ask him to forfeit?”

  Richard looked back out the window. “Something he holds dear.”

  “Something as dear as The Fair Lady is to you?”

  “The yacht is an object, Anne, easily replaced. I prefer to ask of him something a bit harder to come by.”

  “Which would be what exactly?”

  “I haven’t yet determined the exact nature of my request.”

  “You must have something in mind.”

  “Oh, yes, I definitely have something in mind.”

  “But you won’t share.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “I don’t know why you must be so secretive.” She sighed. “Prissy and Freddie seem to get along quite well. Do you think he has more than a passing interest in her?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Her father would never approve of a match between them. A playwright. And an unsuccessful one at that.”

  He heard no censure in her voice. She could completely understand Lady Priscilla’s father not approving of such a match, but she couldn’t comprehend Richard’s disapproval of her marrying a commoner. Amazing how she could view things differently when they didn’t apply to her. He wondered if Kitty was the same way.

  “For an American, Miss Robertson is quite levelheaded, don’t you think?” she asked.

  “Quite.”

  “I think she and Farthingham make a splendid couple. They complement each other. Together they are quite elegant. She is always dressed to perfection. I feel quite dowdy beside her.”

  “You are hardly dowdy, Anne.”

  “You only think that because you’re my brother. You can’t imagine how difficult it is to try to garner a man’s attention during the Season. I find it rather demeaning actually. I really prefer the more intimate occasions—like this evening. And I fear you’re not listening to a single word I’m saying.”