Whitney startled her by gripping her arm. “Dearest, I think you’re wrong about what no longer having wife would possibly do to Sin.” Whitney’s gaze left Audrey’s face and moved to where her husband had been looking earlier.
“Don’t tell me your latest suitor for me is here,” Audrey grumbled, irritated her friend was not squarely on her side when it came to Trent.
Whitney’s hold on Audrey’s arm increased. “Don’t be upset with me. I would have warned you, but I was afraid you’d do something rash like flee.”
Foreboding swept across Audrey’s skin, leaving gooseflesh all over her body and the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “If you tell me Trent has returned and is here and you failed to mention it, I’ll scream.”
“Do so softly, then. Your Lord Thortonberry approaches from the right, as you said, and Sin is coming up fast behind you.”
Audrey whirled around and froze. The dreams of Trent that had haunted her and teased her had not done her memory of him justice. Or was it possible he’d become more beautiful in his time away? She laughed nervously. Beautiful was really an odd word to describe a man, but no other word would do. Trent strode toward her, clad head to toe in black. His thick tawny-gold hair contrasted strikingly with his inky clothes. His hair was longer than he’d ever worn it, touching his shoulders and blowing back with the force of his stride. The closer he came, the more erratic her pulse grew.
Five feet. Four. Three. Two. One. She gulped and gulped again. The emotions she’d worked so hard to suppress, the ones she’d thought she had firm control over, broke through the surface of her mind and threatened to drown her in longing. He stopped in front of her, all vital, raw male power, illustrated by the way his broad shoulders strained against the expensive material of his jacket. The shadow of golden beard on his cheeks gave him an even manlier aura if that was possible. His full sensual lips, curled in the sardonic smile she remembered so well. He took her arm, which hung limply at her side, and drew her hand to his lips.
Her mind screamed at her to pull away but she was slow, made sluggish by the shock of seeing him once again. His warm lips pressed against the thin material of her gloves. No silk could hold back the heat that burned within him. She felt singed. Claimed. And foolish. Damn him. With a quick jerk, she tugged her hand away. “I see being shot in the arm did nothing to dim your presumptuous nature. In the future you should make sure a lady doesn’t mind you kissing her hand.”
“Ah, but I knew you wouldn’t welcome my kisses and I was determined to give you one, one way or the other.”
He smiled lazily, his gaze raking over her ever so slowly and giving her the distinct impression he was undressing her with his mind. Blasted fiend. His gaze lingered for a moment on the deep V of her dress that she had argued showed to much of her attributes. His eyes met hers before he turned to Whitney. “What’s the meaning of this?” He actually waved a hand at Audrey’s décolletage. A searing blush, if you could describe the heat of what she was feeling as simply a blush, covered her face, chest and neck. Wonderful. She was splotchy and the entire ton would know it thanks to the very insistent Madame Marmont for refusing to bring the neckline of this gown up to a more respectable level.
Whitney gave Trent the most innocent wide-eyed look. If Audrey wasn’t so confused, angry and flustered, she would have laughed at her friend’s obvious ploy. Whitney let out a long huff, then spoke. “You said have a new wardrobe created for her to ease her transition back into Society, and that’s what I did.”
Whitney’s words rang in Audrey’s ears. Trent had been the one to commission the dresses she was wearing? The hats. The gloves. The unmentionables. She blinked at him, her heart racing with the revelation. “You were the one who paid for these gowns.”
His gaze pierced her as he nodded. “Yes. I knew you probably wouldn’t be able to afford new gowns and I wanted to make things a bit easier for you when you returned to Society from your mourning period. I asked Whitney to order the gowns and let you think they were from her.”
She furrowed her brow. “But I thought they were from Lord Thortonberry.”
A cold expression settled on Trent’s face and turned the warmth in his green gaze to iciness. “Why would you think that?”
Audrey glanced at Whitney, who looked positively sheepish. “Why did you have Madame Marmont lead me to believe the wardrobe came from a man?”
Trent let out a soft expletive beside her but said nothing more. Whitney tilted her chin up. Audrey recognized the gesture. It was the one her friend used when she’d decided she was stubbornly right, no matter what. Whitney drew her shoulders back. “Because I assumed you would conclude they came from Sin and possibly make you a little less angry at him when he returned a widower from France.”
She turned to Trent. “Are you a widower?” Dear heaven, she wasn’t supposed to care. It didn’t change a thing, yet when he nodded, she couldn’t deny the bubble of happiness that expanded in her chest. She was a fool when it came to him. She pursed her lips and tried to think of an appropriate, impersonal response. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”
Trent quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t be.”
Audrey felt her lower jaw drop open. “You don’t sound very sad for a man who just returned from confirming the wife he thought was dead, then learned may well be alive, is truly and actually dead. Or is it that she might resurrect again?” Audrey gasped and covered her mouth. Why on earth had she said such an awful thing? Thankfully, Trent did not look devastated. He appeared amused. Still…she lowered her palm. “I’m terribly sorry. That was uncalled for, no matter our past.”
He touched her elbow for a brief moment, and the heat of his touch seeped into her skin and awakened a longing in the pit of her belly. Her muscles cramped and her heart thumped slow and hard. She couldn’t breathe properly until the moment his fingers fell away. He stepped a bit closer, so the heat radiating from his body surrounded her. “She is truly gone. I’m not as heartless as you must think.”
“I think any man who doesn’t seem to mourn the loss of his wife is indeed heartless. Then again, knowing you as I now do, it shouldn’t surprise me.”
Trent’s jaw tensed. Audrey counted the rapid beats of his pulse. He raked a hand through his hair before speaking. “You’re just going to have to trust me and let me prove to you I have a heart.”
“Trust you!” Audrey laughed and was about to blast him with her anger when Lord Thortonberry arrived by her side, looking as irritated as she felt.
He held the glass of punch he’d gone to get some twenty minutes prior out to her. “I’m sorry I took so long. He”―Lord Thortonberry shot a scathing look to his side where the Duke of Dinnisfree had saddled up to him―“detained me with ridiculous inquiries and refused to let me take my leave.”
“Say, that’s rather rude,” the Duke of Dinnisfree exclaimed with obvious mock indignation before exchanging a glance with Trent.
Audrey’s anger heated more. She didn’t know what Trent was up to, but whatever it was she suspected it somehow involved the duke keeping Lord Thortonberry occupied. Audrey gritted her teeth. She was upset with Lord Thortonberry for lying to her, or rather omitting the truth. The man had never really said he’d bought her the gowns. He just hadn’t denied it when she’d assumed it. But she’d hear what he had to say for himself later. In private.
She owed him that after everything else he’d done for her. As for Trent, if he thought he could simply appear back into her life and smile that dazzling, rakish smile at her and she’d swoon at his feet and do whatever he wanted, he was even more pompous than she’d previously known.
Glaring at Trent, she spoke. “I will never trust you again.”
The pain that stole across his features and hardened them further almost took the wind out of the set-down she had in her mind. She had to press on. If she allowed him close to her, she was afraid of what would happen. “Do not seek me out in Society. Do not buy me things. In fact, forget you know me.�
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His eyes glittered dangerously as if he might explode at any moment. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat. Perhaps she should have told him those things in private? It was eerily quiet around them, despite the fact that she saw people dancing so knew music had to be playing. No one spoke as Trent stepped so close to her one would have thought he was about to embrace her. Her stomach knotted and her head swam. He leaned down and pressed his lips close to her ear. “I could never, for even a second, forget I knew you. Your image dances in my dreams, toys with my thoughts and makes me contemplate doing things I swore I never would.”
She inhaled sharply at his silken words but somehow managed to force herself to step away. Trembling, she slipped her arm into Lord Thortonberry’s. He glanced at her with hooded eyes yet pressed her elbow close to his waist. “Do you care to dance?”
Surely he jested. Of course, he had no idea she now knew he’d lied to her about buying the gowns. She shook her head. “Would you mind helping me find my aunt? I wish to leave. I feel a megrim coming on.” That was the absolute truth.
He nodded and with a farewell to Whitney, Audrey turned with him away from a glowering Trent. Her head hurt. But her heart… Blast her heart. Despite having told Trent to forget he ever knew her, she couldn’t forget that he’d worried enough about her he’d commissioned a wardrobe be made to ease her way back onto Society. If she were a foolish woman that might be enough to inspire her to hope the man actually did love her and simply didn’t realize it yet.
Of course, she was not so foolish. His not telling her he had once been married could be explained away by the fact that he’d thought his wife dead, and from his reaction it seemed the marriage had been painful. But the marriage had also been secret, according to Whitney, and Audrey couldn’t fathom how the man could ever explain that. Not that she cared. She didn’t. She was curious, of course, but that was different than caring.
By the time she and Lord Thortonberry found her aunt and settled in their carriage, Audrey’s head was truly pounding, so there was no acting involved when she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She could feel Lord Thortonberry staring at her from across the carriage, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when he spoke.
“Do you think you’ll be well enough tomorrow to still attend the unveiling of Lord Lionhurst’s newest piece of art?”
Audrey tensed and slowly opened her eyes to find her aunt staring at her inquisitively. She wasn’t about to confront Lord Thortonberry about why he’d lied to her, with her aunt watching on. “I promised Gillian I would be attending, so, yes, I’ll be going. Why don’t you call on me at ten? I’d like to speak with you on a matter.”
He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but she refused to be pulled into the discussion. Once again, she firmly closed her eyes, delighted to realize if she wasn’t looking at Lord Thortonberry she was truly hardly thinking of him. It was too bad she couldn’t say the same of Trent. His ruggedly handsome face and laughing, secretive eyes danced in her head. It was all she could do to hold in her moan of annoyance.
After Audrey stormed away from Trent, he excused himself and departed from the ball as quickly as possible. He headed straight for the Sainted Order. Once there, he made a few discreet inquiries about Thortonberry with some of the demireps who were willing to talk for blunt, got the information he needed that proved the man had paid for their services in the past week, and then Trent went straight to the next hellfire club to see if Thortonberry had been there as well.
Six hellfire clubs, three pleasure halls and four long hours later Trent fell onto his bed, exhausted yet more alive than since the night he realized Gwyneth was not at all who she seemed. Thortonberry had been a busy lord these past two weeks. He had stuck to the same pattern all week of not visiting the hellfire clubs until after one in the morning. Apparently, that was well past Dinnisfree’s bedtime. If Trent’s calculations were correct the man had paid for the services of twenty demireps. That was more than one a night. Trent closed his eyes and grinned. Tomorrow he would make Audrey his and ensure she knew just what sort of man Thortonberry really was.
The next morning at precisely ten, Mr. Barrett, graciously serving as footman so no one who happened to call would know they were desperately poor by the lack of even a simple footman, appeared in her study door and announced Lord Thortonberry’s arrival. Her stomach clenched as Lord Thortonberry entered the room and smiled broadly. She nodded to Mr. Barrett to take his leave―and the coachman or rather footman―at the moment, quickly did.
Lord Thortonberry strolled toward her, and taking her gloved hand, kissed it as had become customary for him. She’d spent all morning fretting about how to confront him and had decided she simply had to brave it and ask him the truth.
He seated himself on the settee and motioned for her to sit by him. She hesitated before doing so. Lately she’d grown more and more comfortable with such intimacies with him, but now that she knew he’d purposely let her believe something that wasn’t true, she felt awkward. Still, she would give him the benefit of hearing why he’d lied, before she threw him out of her house. Once seated, she turned and faced him.
He reached for her hand, and she pulled away. A frown creased his brow before he spoke. “You look beautiful this morning.”
She’d purposely chosen one of the gowns that had been made by Madam Marmont. “Thank you. This is one of the gowns you purchased for me. I can’t tell you again how much I appreciate what you did.”
Lord Thortonberry squirmed on the couch and appeared vastly uncomfortable. Audrey smiled grimly. At least lying bothered him. “Tell me,” she continued ruthlessly, “what made you decide this particular shade of green would look good on me? I’m assuming you chose all the colors for the gowns. Or did you give Madame Marmont the freedom to decide?”
Lord Thortonberry tugged on his collar as perspiration dampened his brow. “I’ve never actually met Madam Marmont.”
“Really? How odd. Did you correspond with her by letters, then, to decide on my wardrobe?” The blasted fiend could squirm and sweat all he liked. If he intended to sit here and continue to lie to her, she would take vindictive glee out of making him regret it.
“I―” Lord Thortonberry stopped talking, threw up his hands and sighed. “I didn’t purchase the gowns for you.”
Some of the tension reverberating through her drained away at his regretful look. “I already know,” she admitted. Her face heated a little as his eyes narrowed.
“Then what’s this about?”
“I wanted to see if you would finally tell the truth and I wanted to watch you squirm.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “You’re full of surprises, Lady Audrey.”
She pursed her lips. He wasn’t off the hook, by any means. “As are you.” Her tone was purposely chiding. “I trusted you totally and you lied to me. Why?”
Smiling sadly, he caressed her cheek. “Because I’m human. Because I saw how happy the gowns made you when they arrived, and when you assumed I’d purchased them, I wholeheartedly wished I’d thought to do so. And because I detected you were on the verge of telling me we could never be more than friends. Am I right?”
He was right, but what to say? The purchasing of the gowns had helped her make up her mind to consider him, though he didn’t inspire the passion she wished for. “Perhaps, but I didn’t agree to let you court me simply because I thought you’d bought me a new wardrobe. You’d been there for me and shown me loyalty, kindness and caring. I greatly admire those things.”
“And now?” he asked. “Do you wish to send me away?”
She didn’t know. She still needed to marry soon, and despite his having lied to her, he was the best candidate, if he cared for her the way she thought he truly might. “I’m not sure. I want to believe I can trust you.”
“You can.” He clutched her hand with both of his.
With a firm tug, she pulled away. “We shall see. I’ll still see you, but I may need a little time to sort
out how I feel.”
“You can take all the time you need. I’ll wait, but there’s something I must say to you.”
“Go ahead,” she said cautiously.
“I saw the way you looked at Davenport last night. I know you still care for him.”
“I don’t.” Her response rang hollow in her own ears.
“Come now,” Lord Thortonberry chided. “Who isn’t telling the truth now?”
Embarrassment heated her from her scalp all the way to her slippered feet. “I don’t wish to talk about him.”
“Neither do I, but permit me to say one more thing to you.”
She nodded, though it was reluctant.
“I don’t think you’ll ever forget him.”
Audrey bristled and started to interrupt, but he gently pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t get upset.” His voice was pleading. “Not being able to forget him is one of the things that makes you so special. You gave him a piece of your heart. You loved him. You shouldn’t forget him. But I want you for myself. If you’ll give me the chance, a real chance, I think you’ll find there’s a piece of your heart you could give to me.”
Was he right, or was she willing to believe anything, grasp at what he was saying, because she had to marry very soon? Conflicting emotions battered her, and she wasn’t certain how to respond. Before she could decide, Mr. Barrett entered the room. She was relieved and agitated. She’d have to speak with him about knocking before he presumed to enter a room. “Did you need something, Mr. Barrett?
“You’ve another caller, my lady.”
Audrey furrowed her brow. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Who would come this early in the morning? No one had the audacity to do such a thing but― She gasped and scrambled to her feet, hoping to rush Mr. Barrett out the door before he said―
Dancing With A Devil Page 23
