With a moan of pure pleasure, she wrapped her arms around his neck, crushing her breasts against his broad chest, fanning the flames of her already spiking passion.
He tore his lips from hers. “Tess.” His voice cracked.
“What?” Her head was swimming, her body aflame.
“The carriage has stopped. We…have…to stop.”
She blinked as reality crashed into her consciousness like an icy spray. Quentin had once told her that a man could only refuse a willing woman if he was repulsed or if it would be too bloody awkward to get rid of her come morning.
Tess’s cheeks burned. She’d been more than willing. And if Heath’s roaming hands were any guide, he’d hardly been repulsed. What was it, then? The scandal business yet again? Did he believe, as so many others did, that she was the cause of men’s ruin? Or was Heath Bartlett simply too worried about his precious reputation to be with her?
Whatever his reasons, she felt injured and the fool.
Heath stood and quickly moved to the opposite cushion as if she’d singed him.
Gritting her teeth, Tess willed her emotions to cool. The man couldn’t wait to get away from her! She didn’t care. Why should she? The kiss was unimportant. It was an odd, isolated incident. They had nothing between them. Hell, the man was courting another woman, and an eminently respectable one at that!
She turned away, blindly staring out the window. Talk about a lapse in judgment!
“I’m sorry, Tess.”
Blast the man for apologizing! She’d be damned if she ever showed him how badly she wanted him. Had wanted him. It was in the past, better left forgotten. She had to stop her hand from rising to her lips, knowing the lie for what it was. She’d never forget that kiss. But the memory would always be tempered with the shame of knowing that he didn’t truly want her.
A swell of injured pride swept over her. He’ll never have the chance to touch me again. Never!
He raised his hand as if in offering. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, well, neither of us did,” she lied, adjusting her bonnet and not meeting his eyes.
“But—”
“Don’t say another word. It’s best forgotten.”
“Tess—”
Squinting, she pasted on a smile. “We’d better go inside before anyone begins to wonder. You don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. I know how important your pristine reputation is to you.”
The muscle in his jaw worked and his hands holding his cane clenched. “Now hold on one minute—”
Tess rose. “We’d best be on our way.”
The door creaked open and the stool was set. The footman stood waiting outside. She disembarked, glad that her back was straight, her head held high.
He stepped down behind her. “You go inside. I need to walk.”
“Whatever suits you.” She sniffed.
“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he offered, as if to soften the blow.
She didn’t even bother to turn. “Oh, yes, at the Countess’s ball.” Her tone sounded icy even to her own ears. Striding up the stairs, she didn’t even grant him a backward glance.
“Until then,” he called.
But she pretended not to hear.
Chapter 10
Sitting before the oval mirror, Tess watched as her maid Anna entwined her hair into intricate coils atop her head. No floppy bonnets for her tonight. She wasn’t going to hide herself as she usually did for fear of being judged poorly by the ton. She felt reckless, like a horse too long in the stable yearning to race the wind.
Whenever she considered the reason for this sudden onset of rebelliousness, her anger grew and she worked to push every thought of Heath Bartlett from her mind. She tried not to think of his ribbons of dark hair, his magnetic cocoa brown eyes, or his delectably brawny shoulders. She forced herself not to recall how sweet he’d tasted or how hard he’d felt. She definitely didn’t want to think about how desperately she’d clung to him. Never that.
“Is it too hot in ’ere, ma’am?” Anna asked. “You seem flushed. I can open a window if ye like.”
Clearing her throat, Tess felt her cheeks warm. “No thank you, Anna. I’m fine.”
There was little use in thinking about Heath; he truly had to be relegated to her past. She was now free from the guilt for his father’s sacking, and he was merely an applicant at the society, nothing more.
Perhaps that little kiss was a good thing. A reminder that she was twenty-four, not dead, and it was time for her to get back in the game. It had been two years since she’d been with a man. Two long years that she’d used to cool her ardor and douse any lingering yearnings for a man.
Recalling the mortification that had followed today’s kiss and the nightmare after her last affaire, Tess reminded herself that she didn’t need a man. But more importantly, men were more trouble than they were worth.
What was a hot, salacious kiss compared to having to actually talk to a specious man? She didn’t want to deal with those irritating male needs and pigheaded behaviors! Heath was a jackass. He thought that women didn’t have anything better to do than talk about men.
Or think about them, Tess added with chagrin.
With that final irritating thought, Tess once and for all barred Heath Bartlett from her mind.
I need to focus on tonight’s goals.
It was surprising that the countess would host a ball so soon after coming to London, but apparently she wanted to make a splash and quickly introduce herself to society. Tess wasn’t questioning her good luck; the ball was the perfect opportunity to search the countess’s home. First Tess would explore the countess’s chambers, and if there was additional time, the study, to look for anything odd or out of place that might give some hint of her activities. Additionally, the ball itself would prove interesting. Tess needed to see who attended and with whom.
Tess’s blood surged as excitement and anticipation rose within her. How could a man compare to this kind of thrill?
Memory of that kiss washed over her once more like a perfume that lingered.
Would she and Heath dance tonight? Unless appearing with a scandalous lady such as herself might be a problem for his oh-so-precious reputation? Inwardly, she harrumphed.
Well, it was his nature to be polite and she was chairwoman of the society’s membership committee, so he would probably ask.
Would she say no?
The power of that option was tempting.
But she knew she wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t stomach depriving herself of the chance for a dance. It had been so long since she’d attended a ball, and she pined for a whirl across the dance floor.
Not a waltz. It would raise too many eyebrows. There would be no thigh pressed to thigh, no hard body mere inches from hers. Oh, how she loved the feel of a hand in the small of her back, moving to a rhythm the body instinctively understood…
Nay, he would probably ask her for a country dance or a Scottish reel, not wanting to give her any false ideas. She withheld a snort. He should only be so lucky. Granted, he was inordinately handsome and had those astoundingly wide shoulders. And the man really knew how to kiss…
But really, who wanted to be with a man who prized propriety and status above all else?
She knew she was being a tad unjust, but it felt good all the same.
So they would be polite, distant, and dance not more than one very reserved and proper dance.
What kind of dancer might he be? He was so tall, his body strapping, and he carried himself with fluid grace. She bet he’d be a good dance partner. Really good. He’d be a great lover, too.
Tess’s mouth dropped open at the outrageous thought.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, she pushed the unsettling reflection aside and forced herself to face the cold, hard fact that Heath was practically engaged.
Would his fiancée-to-be, Miss Penelope Whilom, be present tonight? Tess found herself hating the lady without even a morsel of a reason. Tess and Heath would never be
. There was no future there, so why shouldn’t he marry his perfect English rose? Achieve his perfect career and the perfect life?
Because life was imperfect, as she well knew. Rarely did one have a chance for perfection, and usually it lasted barely a breath, evaporating into mist. Most people pretended otherwise, but Tess knew better. She liked being clear-eyed about the nature of things; it made the disappointments all the less upsetting.
The problem was, she wasn’t being very clearheaded about Heath, and his effect on her was beginning to cloud her efforts. She wasn’t so deluded that she didn’t see he was interfering with her investigation. She was so busy striving to focus on the countess and not on Heath, while trying to fulfill her duties as new membership chairwoman, while also endeavoring to keep Reynolds satisfied about the society so as to not do anything rash…It was convoluted enough to give anyone a ripping headache.
“Am I pulling too tight, ma’am?” Anna asked.
“Uh, no. It’s fine.” Tess lowered her hand from her temple.
“There, it’s done.” Anna straightened and stepped away. “Ye look lovely.”
“Thank you, Anna.” Tess examined the crown of crimson tresses coiled around her head, with pearls interwoven throughout. She particularly liked the curls softening her hairline. “You did a wonderful job.”
“If I may be so bold, ye should wear yer hair this way more often. Ye look beautiful. Like a princess.”
Exhaling, Tess stood. “I don’t have much call for such elaborate coiffures. Most days I’m working.”
“That doesn’t mean ye can’t look yer best. My mama said every day ye should look yer best.”
Tess smiled. “She used to say the same thing to my mother when she’d fix her hair.” Suddenly a vision of her mother lying naked while Heath’s father painted overcame Tess, and she frowned.
How could Mother have been so condemnatory about my marriage when hers clearly wasn’t so trouble-free? Mother was very quick to lay blame in my direction when things started to fall apart in my union. How much culpability did she accept for her own marital trials?
“Shall I get ye the diamond necklace with the flower, ma’am?” Anna asked.
Tess blinked, shaking off the upsetting thoughts. “The necklace with the flower?” It had been ages since she’d worn the bauble. The necklace had been a gift from her parents upon her engagement to Quentin. She had been so happy then. So deluded. She’d thought that she was on the road to happiness, instead of the highway to ruin.
Turning to the mirror, Tess stared at the crimson-haired, blue-eyed lady looking back at her in the glass. She hardly recognized the foolish girl that she’d been then. And it was much more than the angles present in her once-plump face. There was a hardness in her gaze, a knowledge of the realities of a life no longer secure. She wondered if Heath saw the differences in her. He had to, and for some reason this made her sad.
She shook off the feeling. “Ah, let me have a look.” She went into the dressing room, opened her jewelry drawer, and examined the selection inside. Too gaudy. Too inconsequential. Not enough…
She bit her lip, wanting something that would complement the aquamarine muslin gown with tiny flowers stitched around the sloping neckline.
“What about that bird necklace?” Anna asked, pointing to the dark blue satchel containing George Belington’s jewels.
“Ah, no.” Tess was upset that Anna even knew of the pieces that were kept deep in the dark recess of the drawer. “You’re right. The diamond necklace with the flower will look well with this gown.”
Standing before the mirror once more, Anna helped Tess put on the necklace. “Very pretty, ma’am.”
Tess bit her lip. “This neckline is much lower than I’m used to. A fichu, perhaps…”
“Yer not showing nearly as much as most of the ladies these days, ma’am. Ye can do without.”
“Anna…”
“What? I say yers are better to look at. Show them off.”
A flash of defiance surged through Tess. “Very well then. I’ll be fashionable, if a bit risqué. Fitting, given my reputation.”
“You, risqué? I think not, ma’am.”
Tess looked up, surprised.
“Oh, I know what the tongue-waggers say, but they don’t know ye like I do. There’s nar a flighty, indecent bone in yer body.”
Somehow, Anna’s words made Tess feel better than any fancy gown or coiffure could. Impulsively Tess turned and gave Anna a quick hug. “Thank you, Anna.”
Gently the maid pushed her away. “Have yerself a jolly ol’ time, ma’am. It’s been forever since ye had any fun that I can recall. Show those fancy gents what yer made of. And if one of them is lucky enough, perhaps he’ll win the favor of yer charms.”
Standing at the top of the lofty staircase, Heath scanned the sea of colorful silks, muslin, and lace, looking for a familiar head of crimson curls. The crowd was thick and the air filled with expensive perfumes. Rose, musk, mint, carnation, French violet, and lily of the valley competed to overpower even the most discerning nose. And through it all, Heath longed for a whiff of lavender.
“Where is she?” he murmured aloud.
Stepping up alongside Heath, Bills peered through his quizzing glass down at the crowded ballroom. “I see her.”
“Where?”
“In the far corner.”
Heath could not discern Tess through the crowd, yet trusted Bills’s keen eye. But instead of immediately marching down the stairs and confronting Tess about that kiss, coward that he was, he turned to his friend. “Will you join me?”
Bills blinked as if surprised, but then nodded. “Of course.”
As they made their way down the grand staircase and into the throng, Heath knew he was being spineless, but that kiss had shaken him to the core. Everything he thought he’d known about himself and the gentler sex had been tested by that innocent little kiss. Well, not so innocent. It had been searing hot—a salacious mix of spice and heat and lusty desire with the hint of pleasures too tempting for any red-blooded man to ignore.
Tess had ignited a lust in him that he’d hardly recognized. He’d wanted to take her, possess her, claim her as no man ever had before. A beast had roared up within him, one without a care for consequences or propriety or anything beyond bedding the fiery woman in his arms. The desire had been terrifying in its potency.
If the carriage had not stopped, if the driver hadn’t called out…it had taken every ounce of Heath’s self-control to leash that thunderous beast.
Heath couldn’t decide whether to feel thankful or thwarted.
Had it gone further…
It would have come to no good. I have Penelope to consider. Hell, my future to cement.
And Tess, well, she might be a thief… Although he was finding it harder to think of her as such now that he realized that she had been so guilt-ridden over his father’s sacking.
But that didn’t explain the nagging feeling in his gut that she was up to something. Then there was the money she’d needed for Mr. Pitts. And George Belington’s claims. Oh, it was all so jumbled!
Perhaps Tess was enthralling him, using her feminine wiles, of which she had many, to trap him. Did she somehow know about his investigation? Was she trying to distract him? Disarm him? Corrupt him?
The thought shook him to his bones.
He had to see her. Talk to her. Understand what she was about. She’d been so cold when they’d parted. So unlike the woman who’d been melting in his arms just moments before.
“I’ve never seen you this impolitic,” Bills noted beside him.
“What do you mean?”
“You just passed Lord Dresher and barely spared him a glance.”
Heath blinked. “Oh, I didn’t see him.”
“For the ambitious fellow that you are, you seem to be racing on the outside of the track tonight. Is anything amiss?”
“Of course not. I was simply thinking about our visit to the prison today. I hear that Gardener—y
ou know, the chap from our Henderson’s chambers days—that he’s doing free legal work for debtors.”
“Free legal work. Why?”
“To try to help those who can’t afford to help themselves. I thought perhaps to give a few hours of my spare time.”
“You have so much extra these days.” Bills’s tone was sardonic.
“I meant after the investigation is over.”
Bills raised a brow. “How very generous of you. I, for one, would rather spend my precious time at Tipton’s tavern. Joe and Winifred need my support, too.”
Heath lifted his head, scanning the crowd. “To each his own, my friend.”
“Bartlett, old chap!”
“Mr. Bartlett!”
“I say, Mr. Bartlett!” Three gentlemen approached. One was fat with a wild, curly blond mane, the second was thin, hawk-nosed, and had hair that reminded Heath of dirty wheat, and the third was short, ginger-haired, and had a face awash in freckles.
The ginger-haired man pressed his quizzing glass to his eye. “We must congratulate you, my friend! You broke the silken barrier!” The three men chuckled and shot one another knowing glances.
Raising a brow to Bills, Heath nodded. “Good evening, Mr. Brown, Mr. Newman, Mr. Heatherton.”
Mr. Brown licked his lips and smacked his hands together with a hollow-sounding clap. “We want all of the interesting details!”
“Don’t hold back on us now,” Mr. Newman chided, smoothing his white waistcoat over his stout middle. “I’ve been curious about that society for females since its inception!”
Mr. Brown snorted. “You have not. You didn’t even know it existed until I told you about Bartlett’s bet.”
“Since the inception of my knowledge of the place,” Mr. Newman corrected. “Now I cannot contain my curiosity.”
Motioning to Bills, Heath tilted his head. “Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Smith.”
“The other applicant!” Mr. Newman cried. “I’ve been wanting to make your acquaintance ever since—”
“My inception?” Bills smiled.
Sari Robins Page 10
