“Yes. Lady Esther looks lovely, does she not?”
“Would you laugh out loud if I said I have eyes only for you?” Another twirl, and once again they brushed up against each other, but this time he did not release her.
She groaned. “That was terrible.” Then seeing his slight smile turn into a full grin, she joined him, and they both laughed.
“I see I am not impressing you with titillating conversation. Perhaps we can continue with our chat from your cousin’s wedding.”
She glanced away. “Hmm. I’d rather not, actually.”
He looked down at her and moved his lips so close to hers she was afraid he would kiss her right there on the dance floor, with the entire ton watching. Her heart sped up, but he stopped within inches of her lips. “As far as I am concerned, that conversation was unfinished.” His mint-scented breath wafted over her.
“And what was unfinished about it?”
“Admittedly, I do not know you very well—certainly not as well as I intend to.” His words brought gooseflesh to her skin, the deepness of his voice flowing over her in waves. He held her mesmerized, as if they were the only two people in the room, others’ voices fading as he continued. “I have spoken to Her Grace, and she had nothing but good things to say about her beloved cousin.”
His words broke the spell he’d had her under. Her back stiffened, and she drew herself away from him, as far as he would allow her to go, which wasn’t much. “I do not like that you have discussed me with other people.”
He shrugged as if it were no great matter to invade her privacy that way. “I was most anxious to learn more about you.”
Honestly, the man’s smugness was unparalleled. “Why?”
“Because I know you feel the attraction between us, and your statement about not wanting to encourage any man who did not possess a title did not ring true. From the little I’ve gleaned from those who know you, and what I saw of you at the wedding, you are not a superficial woman. I have spent quite a bit of time with women of the ton. There are those who are firm in their convictions about marrying only a title—sad that—but you do not strike me as that type of lady.”
He leaned in closer. “The duchess told me when you were both young girls you waxed poetically about how you would marry only for love. What changed? Do you not hunger for love or passion anymore? Has the idea of a lofty title become so attractive that you no longer want what the young Miss Suzanna Blake desired?”
…
Giles watched Suzanna carefully. Ordinarily, he would dismiss out of hand a woman who told him she would not encourage any man who did not hold a title. There were far too many of them in the ton, but also a good number of ladies who wanted money—which he had in abundance. Hence his popularity with the ladies, despite his lack of a title.
It hadn’t been something that bothered him overmuch. His elder brother, Eric, had always been the heir, his brother, Richard, the spare, and Giles was happy to be comfortably removed from the title. He and his brothers were good friends, supporting one another, rarely any animosity among them. Frankly, Giles preferred his life. No duties to a title, to numerous estates, or to Parliament.
He’d had an excellent education and had been granted a nice estate by his maternal grandparents, along with a generous settlement. Known for his so-called Midas touch, he’d invested the money wisely and had trebled it.
He enjoyed the typical well-placed bachelor’s life, and one day he would settle down, take a wife, and fill his nursery. He’d always assumed he could have any woman he wanted. There certainly had been enough pushed in his direction.
Now—for the first time in his life—he craved someone who was not going to come easily.
Miss Blake chewed on her lower lip for a while then tossed her head. “I find a man with a title much more to my liking.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
Her eyes snapped at his blunt observation. “Sir, how dare you call me a liar!”
“Again, my apologies, Miss Blake. Perhaps I should reword that. Let’s say, I refuse to believe that.” He pulled her closer than he should. “Is that better?”
She sucked in a deep breath, which caused her breasts to press up against his chest. Even through all the layers of clothing, the heat from her flesh seared him. She must have felt the same thing, because her face flushed, and she jerked back as if burned. “No, that is not better. But I prefer not to have this conversation at all.”
“Very well. The conversation is closed. For now. However, I will call on you at Lord Montford’s townhouse.”
“Fine,” she huffed, “if you wish to make this a battle of wills.”
Oh, my very dear Miss Blake, this is truly a battle and it has only just begun.
…
The next afternoon, Giles stepped from his carriage and climbed the stairs to Lord Montford’s townhouse. A liveried footman opened the door and bowed when Giles presented his card. “They are gathered in the drawing room, Mr. Templeton. I will announce you.”
The entrance hall was well done, nothing at all ostentatious. Black and white tiles stretched from the door as far as he could see. Muted silk paper covered the walls of the entire entranceway. A bust of some man—no doubt a pompous ancestor—rested on a pillar next to the staircase, staring with vacant eyes in his direction.
Once he’d handed over his hat and cane to the footman, he was led up the stairs where the sound of subdued conversation led them to the drawing room.
“Mr. Giles Templeton,” the footman announced, then he stepped aside so Giles could enter the room. There were five ladies and two gentlemen, as well as Miss Blake, in attendance. An older woman, whom Giles knew to be Lady Montford, sat on a settee near the window.
At least eight vases of flowers graced the room. He hadn’t sent flowers, because he knew everyone else would. He preferred to wage his campaign in person, and not rely on a few posies to do the job.
“Good afternoon, Lady Montford, Miss Blake.” He bowed and took the seat near Lady Montford that Lord Pomeroy had vacated, announcing he would be on his way. Two of the other ladies left with him, and Giles hoped they would all leave so he could have some time alone with Miss Blake. Lady Montford sat, watching the group as if she expected one of the men would hop up and ravish her charge at any moment.
“Would you care for tea, Mr. Templeton?” Miss Blake touched the teapot in front of her. “I am afraid this one is cold; I can send for more.”
“No. Don’t trouble yourself. I had a late luncheon.”
“If you’re sure?”
He grinned. “I am quite sure.”
“I say, Templeton, did I hear that Lord Loverly had escaped his prison hold and is wandering about London? Isn’t he the traitor the Duke of Bedford brought back from America?” Mr. Davis leaned forward on his seat, his eyes bright with excitement.
Too bad the man didn’t know Miss Blake would have no use for him, since he was only the fifth son of the Earl of Devlin.
“Yes. He has apparently escaped, but I doubt very much if he is running around London. He would be stupid to do such a thing with everyone on the lookout for him.”
“Yes, true, I am sure.” Davis turned his attention to Miss Blake. “I would be certain to have a footman accompany you, along with your maid, for the next few days. One never knows what a desperate man will do.”
“I hardly think it necessary to frighten the ladies, Davis. Lord Loverly is most likely on a ship headed back to America.” Giles regarded him with contempt. What was wrong with the man that he would say something like that in mixed company? But then, Davis had never been graced with an abundance of common sense.
Within the hour, the rest of the guests announced their intention to withdraw, leaving only Lady Montford, who was fast asleep in the corner, Giles, and Miss Blake. The departing guests spoke in hushed tones to keep from waking their hostess.
Miss Blake glanced at Lady Montford with a soft smile. “I’m afraid my cousin does not sleep we
ll at night, so she catches little naps during the day.”
“I understand. She is a lovely lady. Perhaps to keep from disturbing her, I could offer you a stroll in the garden?” He hurried on when it appeared she was about to refuse to go without her chaperone. “It would be unkind to awaken her.”
“Very well. I would enjoy taking the air, myself.” She stood and smoothed her skirt. “Do you think I need a pelisse?”
“No. It was quite comfortable when I arrived.”
They entered the garden through the French doors in the drawing room. It was a short walk down the stone steps to the brick pathway through the newly planted flowers. Winter had finally loosened its grip, and the promise of spring was evident in the light green budding leaves on the trees.
Giles and Miss Blake walked arm in arm along the pathway, remarking on the fine weather, and avoiding any conversation that would lead them back to their stalemate. Finally, Giles had enough. He stopped their movement forward, turned her to face him, and took her hands in his. “I wish to court you, Miss Blake. I want to speak with your father and receive his approval.”
Chapter Three
Suzanna stared at Mr. Templeton with her mouth agape. Had she heard him correctly? He intended to ask Father’s permission to court her? She took in his tight lips and realized the man was serious.
“To say I am speechless is quite the understatement. Beside the fact that I already told you I do not wish to marry a man without a title.” Goodness, that sounded so churlish. But to imagine Mr. Templeton approaching her father, asking for permission to court her, brought her to the verge of panic. If Mother thought she was encouraging Mr. Templeton enough that he would make the trip to their country estate to seek approval, she would rise from her sick bed and descend upon London with a vengeance.
“As you’ve said. However, I plan to change your mind.” If anything, his stance grew more determined as he placed his feet apart and crossed his arms.
“That seems somewhat arrogant.” She sniffed. “I don’t believe I can be persuaded to change my mind.”
He shrugged. “I gather it won’t be easy. However, I intend to court you and win your hand. Be aware that I rarely fail any endeavor I set my mind to.”
“Oh, please. You make this sound like a threat. We are barely acquainted.”
“Call it what you wish. However, I agree, we are barely acquainted. I believe that is the purpose of courting, for a couple to get to know each other better. To see if they suit.” He reached out and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Do you deny the attraction between us?”
Heat rose to her face, and the now familiar flutters in her middle when she was near him returned with a vengeance. “As a sheltered young lady, I have no idea of what you speak.”
He leaned in and murmured in her ear. “Miss Blake, I have never courted a young lady of the ton, but I am quite familiar with the signs of attraction. If you insist on your ignorance of such matters, I am happy to inform you that you are as attracted to me as I am to you.”
She drew back. “Oh, you egotistical scoundrel!” She quelled the desire to stamp her foot like a child.
Instead of being insulted, he grinned at her. “Miss Blake, you wound me. How may I place myself back into your good graces?”
Honestly, it was hard to stay mad at the man. He took nothing seriously, and she found herself smothering a laugh. “You may start by promising you will not make the trip to Dorchester to speak with my father.”
He bowed. “Very well. I will wait. But as you’ve been warned, when I put my mind to something, I do it with the full intention of winning.”
She shook her head, and they continued their walk. Mr. Templeton’s remark about the attraction between them was true. She was sheltered from things having to do with relations between men and women, but she could read. She and her cousin Patience had scoured the library in their grandparents’ home one summer, looking for anything that would answer the questions they were asking each other.
Not only had they found a book to answer their questions, it had raised speculation as to how a person could twist their body into such awkward positions.
Mr. Templeton slowed their steps as they neared the patio door. “I would like to leave you with something to think about regarding my intentions, which I assure you are honorable.”
She viewed him with narrowed eyes. What was he up to now? “And what is that?”
His large hand cupped her chin and held it lightly. “Just a small token of my esteem.” Before she could absorb that remark, he lowered his head and placed his lips on hers. Soft, warm, moist. She had fantasized about her first kiss, and that was the last complete thought she had.
Mr. Templeton wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his rock-hard body. He nudged her lips with his tongue, and once she parted, he swept in, his well-practiced skills bringing her untried senses to life. Never had she felt this way before.
The light scent of brandy and mint from his warm mouth eased her, while his wicked tongue touched all the sensitive parts of her mouth, creating havoc with her body. Her clothing felt restrictive, the tips of her breasts tingled, and the place between her legs grew moist and heavy.
He moved her head into a different position and took the kiss deeper. With her heart pounding in her ears, her thoughts spun, and she clung to his arms as if he were a beacon in a storm. Now she fully understood why innocent young ladies were protected from the rakes of the world. She was in danger of sliding to his feet in a puddle and offering him whatever it was he wished.
Slowly he pulled back and looked in her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body languid. Surely her face was flushed, and her heart thumped a cadence, as if she’d dashed over the hills at her country estate. She didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing that Mr. Templeton seemed to have a hard time gaining air himself.
Without another word, he took her by the arm and walked her from the garden back into the house. Her thoughts were still muddled, and it wasn’t until they reached the front door that she spoke. “Thank you for your visit, sir.” She barely heard her own breathless voice.
He bowed over her extended hand. “It has been my pleasure, Miss Blake. Might I expect to see you at the Andrews rout later this evening?”
She stared at him for only a moment, trying to digest his words. “Yes, I believe Lady Montford accepted for both of us.”
“Excellent.” He took his hat, cane, and gloves from the man at the door and hurried down the stairs, leaving Suzanna dazed and dismayed because of her mother’s edict.
…
Giles entered White’s and immediately spotted Hawk and Cam.
“Well, don’t you look like the cat who stole the cream.” Hawk eyed him over the rim of his brandy glass as Giles sat in the chair across from his two friends.
“I take it the bridegroom is entertaining his new wife this evening?” He sat back and rested his booted foot on his knee.
“I am sure any one of us would be doing so, had we been foolish enough to get ourselves leg-shackled. After all, there must be some reward for giving up one’s independence,” Cam said. “However, you have neatly dodged our question. What is it that has you looking so smug?”
“You might be correct to say I stole the cream.” He grinned and waved to the footman to bring him a brandy.
He wasn’t sure he’d stolen the cream, but he was certainly a bit closer to it after the kiss he’d shared with Miss Blake. She had never been kissed before. At least, not really kissed—maybe a fumble in the dark with an untried youth.
Her reaction had been all he’d hoped for and more. ’Twould be no time before he had her exactly where he wanted her.
“I assume this has something to do with the lovely Miss Blake?” Cam nodded his thanks as the footman placed a bottle of brandy on the table in front of him. “’Tis no secret you had a fancy for her at Bedford’s wedding.”
“You might say that.” Giles reached over and poured a healthy
amount of brandy into his glass. He took a sip, then leaning forward, dangled it between his knees. “I plan to marry her.”
Hawk choked, causing Cam to slap him on the back. They both stared at Giles, wide-eyed. “Marry her?” Hawk squeaked, still unable to catch his breath.
“Yes. I do. I know neither of you believe in love at first sight—”
Two very loud groans interrupted him.
Giles glared at them. “—but from the moment I set eyes on Miss Blake, I knew she was the one for me.”
Cam turned to Hawk. “Do you hear violins playing in the background?”
“Sounds more like angels singing, accompanied by a harp.” Hawk’s retort was followed by a huge grin that annoyed Giles even more than the two dimwits’ words.
“Or the rattle of leg shackles.” Cam seemed to recover himself first. “And what does Miss Blake say about this? Or have you not advised her of your plans?”
“I have not formally proposed, but I told her I intend to pay her my address. Most young ladies know precisely what that means.”
“Ho, knowing women as I do, I am sure you telling her must have gone over quite well.” Hawk shook his head and regarded Giles as if his brain had suddenly slipped out of his ear.
“I admit, there is some reluctance on the part of my soon-to-be bride, but I have plans to overcome that.” He was fully aware how arrogant that sounded, but he had no intention of losing Miss Blake.
“Care to share those plans?” Cam asked. “Just in case I meet a woman I barely know, whom I immediately decide to marry, and tell—not ask—her of my intentions. One likes to be prepared for all circumstances.”
Despite the ribbing of his two friends, he continued. “As a matter of fact, I will need your help.”
Hawk turned to Cam. “Here it comes.”
“Hawk, it is past time you held a house party. I know your mother and sister would love to have the opportunity to display their hostess skills.”
“Strange you should say that, since only yesterday m’mother cornered me to make certain I remembered to give her an accounting of the guests I wished her to invite to a house party she is hosting in two weeks. It seems she and my sister have been planning it for months, but I have been remiss in adding names to their list.”
Wagering for Miss Blake Page 3
