Suzi Love
Page 14
In colouring, he favoured the St. Martin men, dark hair and eyes. Studying him more closely, she discovered that he not only had Cayle’s height and breadth of shoulders but his air of proud self-assurance as well. Eyes that were nearly as black as Cayle’s regarded her steadily, waiting for the moment she finished her perusal of his form and looked up to connect with his gaze once more.
• • •
The gentleman waited in amused silence until Laura completed her inspection. Watching her, Winchester concluded this was no simpering or blushing miss inspecting him so carefully. Her eyes were not quite as dark as his but more the brown of an oak nut. Her regard was shrewd, as if she was studying some rare species of animal and must remember every detail to be later copied into a science manual. Neither did she have the brazen look of the married women who pursued him at these affairs, Sybila being a case in point. She was the reason he himself used the gardens as a means of escape until such time as he would have performed his duty and could reasonably excuse himself.
He’d next visit either one of his clubs or the house of his mistress. Despite the fact that he was bored with his current mistress after only a single month, the prospect of being trapped by Lady Sybila, and he used the term lady loosely, was even worse. As an older brother to several sisters, all coming of marriageable age, he performed his duty for the first half of most evenings by escorting them to the numerous balls and soirees they routinely received invitations to because of their revered family name and titled connections. Now the chit had finished her scrutiny, she seemed even more desperate to escape. On her dramatic features, he clearly read her indecision as to whether she would be rude and push past him or if she should return to the ballroom before her absence was noticed.
He couldn’t help himself. He taunted her simply to see how she would react. “Indeed, quite a dilemma. Do you try to slip by me without coming into contact with any part of my body, a scandalous interaction considering we’ve not been introduced, or do you abandon whichever gentleman awaits you beneath the terrace? An agonizing choice. Which is it, my dark beauty?”
She gnawed her pouting bottom lip while she considered the impasse he’d deliberately generated. By now, she was running out of time. Whoever awaited her would become impatient.
“Damn,” she repeated, louder this time. He raised a brow in question.
“Sir, I require your assistance for the next hour. But you may not ask any questions.”
Good gracious. The chit actually thought to give him orders. Of course she had no idea of his identity, or of his reputation. His father had raised him to believe that the females of his family were to be cosseted, whether they appreciated his efforts or not. For the most part, his sisters chafed against what they called his excessive meddling in their daily lives and often chastised him for being conceited and overbearing.
But as they were family and he loved them dearly, he accepted that women should be allowed claim a modicum of control over their own lives. He would be the first to accede that his sisters were all extremely intelligent women. Mama had insisted upon it. She’d reviled weak willed women, believing all young ladies should have enough nonce to arrange their own lives to some extent.
As a kindness, he allowed his sisters the illusion of making their own decisions yet, behind the scenes, the reins remained tightly in his own gloves. Which, by the unwritten code of ethics of his immense family, was how it should be.
Amazed yet intrigued at the brashness of this girl, he countered, “You expect me to render assistance to you, a young lady I have not been formally introduced to, without you volunteering any information to me?”
“Yes, exactly. Now, come along. We have no time to waste.”
Taking his arm, she attempted to move him from his intractable stance in the doorway. Irritated and frustrated, she glared up at him once again.
“Sir, you’ll need to move. Quickly. Before he escapes.”
“Before whom escapes from where? I’m going nowhere without at least that much information.”
“Very well,” Laura snapped. “A gentleman slipped a note to me in the ballroom but I was unable to identify him or give chase.”
“Give chase?”
“Yes. It would be unseemly for a woman to rush through a crowded ballroom without an escort. But with you on my arm, it will pass for a leisurely stroll with an acquaintance.”
“Ah, but we’re not acquainted.”
“Oooh! You are the most difficult man I’ve ever met.”
“Careful, my lady, if you want my assistance you may want to temper your contrariness.”
“My contrariness? You’re the brute who refuses to budge an inch.”
“Ah, now I’m a brute?”
She smiled up at him with overdone sweetness, even going so far as to flutter her eyelashes. “My good sir, would you be kind enough to escort me for a stroll around the room.”
“Good God! You look even more dangerous when you are trying to sweet talk me.”
“I’ve no need to sweet talk anyone. Ever.”
He hid a grin. She was probably correct. With her looks and her determination she probably had half the toffs of the ton following her around like lap dogs. “It’s high time you learned. Tell me your name at least or I’m not moving.”
Bowing his head to hide his amusement, he waited while she held an inner debate. Obviously, the time factor won the argument for him as she acceded to his request with a sigh of reluctance. A gloved hand flashed out at him. The chit couldn’t be more haughty if she tried and he was sure she wasn’t trying to be irritating but showing her natural nature.
“I am Lady Laura Jamison.”
Memory assailed him. “Ah, of course you are. The middle one of the Jamison sisters.”
Faltering a little at his unexpected recognition, she inquired, “You know of my family?”
“I do. I’m second cousin to Sherwyn. We used to visit your house with him. I remember a trio of hoydens — ”
“Hoydens!” Dark eyes glinted with menace as her nose rose higher in the air. “My sisters and I were merely a trifle energetic in our youth.”
“Energetic! You created mayhem everywhere you went.”
Narrowing her gaze, she fixed him with her dark stare, one obviously intended to make grown men quake in their boots. He ignored it. “And now that you’re past your youth, you still don’t seem to behave as a well-bred young lady should.”
“Ah, I now remember the uncouth family members Cayle used to have tagging after him. You’re the infamous Earl of Winchester. Your scandalous exploits haven’t improved with age, my lord.”
Hiding his annoyance at being known for a few slightly scandalous escapades when he was younger, he felt a change of subject necessary before she had the audacity to speak of other topics he’d rather leave in the distant past.
“So, to return to your urgent problem, you need me as a decoy while you hunt for an unknown man. What was in the note he gave you?”
“I can’t tell you that. Trust me when I say that it’s a matter of life and death to not only my family, but yours as well.”
“Now, I’m intrigued.” He considered the matter for a moment before making a decision. “Very well. You’ll call me Richard and we’ll stroll the room and if asked, we’ll say that my cousin reintroduced us, as we’re old family friends.”
“Thanks goodness you are finally over your obstinacy. Becca must be warned that one of the men who’s been following us, threatening her, is right here amongst us. In this room.”
Placing her hand lightly on his arm, she once again urged him forward. He could never remember being led around by a female in quite the same way before. Usually it was he who did the leading, on his terms, in his own time. But this elfin creature demonstrated gigantic assuredness as she marched him around the perimeter of the dance floor, made a rapid assessment of the figure of every gentleman and with a few muttered words passed on.
“Far too short. Too fat. Too limp.”
Being led around the room like a boy in short pants was such an unusual occurrence for him, he decided it was the most fun he had encountered at a ball since he and his cousins had added six frogs to the punch. The incredible beauty on his arm seemed totally oblivious to the envious looks flashed in his direction from practically every gent they passed. Nor did she seem to notice the waves of annoyance and almost hatred emanating from most of the young ladies present.
Richard had never a met a debutante like her. Far from preening like a peacock as most were taught to do from birth, this vision of loveliness remained unaware of the impact she created, or of the people around her. Her whole mind was focused on locating the man who’d slipped her a note, so he concluded that the matter must hold great urgency. Her tiny, gloved hand grasped his whilst her silken skirts swished as they strode, legs in a matching rhythm pressing close together. If it had been any other young woman, he would’ve made idle chitchat, produced an inane smile, and been secretly bored to tears. But with the lithe body pressed close to his side in their hurry, he’d no time for conversation, no time to do anything but obey her silent commands.
The audacious chit towed him through the crowd like a rowboat on a rope. He may not be as highly ranked as his cousin Cayle, a duke, but earls were customarily afforded more deference than this hoyden seemed prepared to show. He idly wondered if her father, also an earl, was shown this sort of disrespect by his wayward daughter.
A woman clinging tightly to the arm of a known rake would normally indicate to onlookers that they were in the midst of already enjoying a torrid love affair, or that the aforesaid rake was grooming the lady for his forthcoming seduction. That the man either knew, or was about to know, the woman intimately. But Laura Jamison gave no more thought to him than she would the stone pillars they were rushing past. He was a male body of large enough dimensions to clear a path for her and propel them around, or through, the multitude of people and acres of petticoats and skirts in the fastest possible time. And she appeared oblivious to the horrified stares they were attracting from people in the chattering groups they were forcibly disrupting.
Male friends, no doubt in search of an introduction to the exquisite creature on his arm, tried to attract his attention. If he wasn’t moving fast enough to suit her purposes, she gripped his arm like a vice and urged him forward. Suddenly, she stiffened and came to such an abrupt halt that he took two steps forward before stopping an arm’s length from her. Her gaze was fixed with intent upon the back of a tall, thin gent engrossed in conversation with a mixed group of socialites.
She whipped her attention back to him to ask in a fierce whisper, “Do you know him?”
When his answer was not forthcoming in a timely enough manner, she stepped around in front of him. Her jutting nipples grazed his coat buttons as she peered straight up at him, a cross look creasing her brow. He nearly gasped aloud.
“Hurry, you slow top. Do you recognise that man?”
She poked a hard finger in his chest bone.
“Ouch!” Richard rubbed at the sore spot and dragged his gaze upwards from the sight of such lush cream breasts threatening to burst from their constricting fabric as the tiny whirlwind heaved deep breaths. At least she released his arm from her death grip as he swivelled to study the man she was watching.
“I believe that is Lord Kinsley. He was at Eton with me.”
“Excellent. You can introduce us. I need to get closer to see if he is the man who pushed the letter into my hand. It was dark, yet I’m sure I can recognise him. If not by sight, then at least by smell.”
“Smell?” he enquired. Did she really mean she was going to sniff the man? Knowing the Jamison girls as he did from past experience, he believed she would actually do it.
“Yes, I have a very sensitive nose and I’ve been training myself to distinguish smells in able to identify things, or people, more accurately.”
“Pardon my ignorance on the nuances of scents, but how will smelling people help?”
“I’m testing a theory that gentlemen put out different aromas. Well, women do to, but I’m naturally concentrating on the male species.”
“Why naturally? Why only the male species?”
Her strange conversation was making his head spin and her exasperated tone made him feel like the performing baboon his sisters had called commands to at the Natural Science Museum. African monkeys had a hard time following conversations of young girls much as he did following this one.
“I’m investigating to see if gentlemen who are more passionate have a different scent to those who are staid.”
“And this will help, why?”
“No girl who has an ounce of passion in her soul wants to end up married to a man who is staid and boring. The marriage bed would soon become a chore.”
Richard considered himself worldly in the extreme, as most rakes were known to be, but the incongruity of such blunt speaking issuing from the mouth of this girl he assumed was an innocent, was impossible for him to reconcile. A quick glance showed him that they’d not been overheard, but just as she’d been oblivious to the looks of the people they passed, she was unconcerned that anyone may listen to their bawdy conversation. She obviously hadn’t been out in society long enough to understand that the main reason for these ridiculously overcrowded balls was to be seen and to see. To gossip with and gossip about. And to listen in on conversations in order to obtain more tidbits to gossip about the next day over morning calls.
The girl was a menace. Yet, an intriguing one.
“So, how do you rate my scent, Miss Nose?”
He treated her to his most winning smile, certain she would give him an encouraging answer, designed to flatter his ego. She inhaled briefly and her eyes widened, but she didn’t answer.
“Do I rate highly on the passion scale?” He felt a tiny shiver in his neck and experienced an unused to flicker of anxiety as he waited for her anticipated affirmative answer.
He was a confirmed rake, a notorious seducer of widows and willing wives. Naturally, he would rate far higher in comparison than the majority of the insipid young whips present tonight. So why was she not reassuring him immediately that his assumption was correct? His scent seemed to be totally unnerving her, yet not in a good way.
Instead, she gave a little shake of her head and looked straight past him to where Lord Kinsley moved away from the ladies he was with. Once again an imperative hand tugged on his arm and gripped his sleeve, dragging him along.
“I simply don’t have time to spend conversing with you. Introduce me to Lord Kinsley before he escapes.”
“He is hardly escaping.” But when he looked again, it did indeed seem as if Lord Kinsley had spotted Richard’s insistent companion and was hastening away from them. Spurred to action, he wove a path through the groups in front of them to arrive directly in the path of the departing lord.
Smiling broadly, he addressed the man as if they were the greatest of friends. “Lord Kinsley, it’s been some time since we met. Allow me to introduce my companion, Lady Laura Jamison.”
Laura extended her gloved hand so close to Lord Kinsley’s chest, he had no choice but to clasp it lightly and execute a slight bow over it. “Delighted to meet you, Lady Laura.”
To Richard’s ear, the words seemed sincere yet the tone held a distinct chill. Interesting, he thought. Perhaps little Miss Nose was correct. For some reason, Lord Kinsley seemed in a hurry to leave them, even now edging away as if seeking a quick escape. But the diligent Lady Laura was not about to let him escape.
Inching even closer, Laura kept hold of Lord Kinsley’s hand and leaned into his coat. And sniffed. Richard was horrified. Did the chit not understand the advantages of subtlety? Luckily, Lord Kinsley’s face was so far above Laura’s d
ark head that he couldn’t see what she was about. Reaching out, Richard removed Laura’s hand and placed it on his own sleeve, covering it with a firm hand when she tried to pull away. Laura looked up at Kinsley’s gaunt face and smiled. Not a nice smile. More of a sneer.
“My Lord, I feel we’ve met before. Someone bumped into me a short time ago in the hallway near the retiring rooms. Could it have been you?”
“Certainly not, my lady. A gentleman would stop to apologise if he had bumped a lady. I am a gentleman. I’ve been involved in a discussion of the inclement weather with a wonderful group of friends.”
Richard moved back slightly to reveal the group that Lord Kinsley had edged away from, recognising several of the ladies. He groaned inwardly upon recognising the more unruly elements of society that a young innocent like Laura Jamison should never encounter. At that moment, one of the women spotted him and welcomed him with a languid smile.
“Richard.” Jemima King purred as she reached for his hand and stroked his fingers between her two palms. “How unusual to see you still remaining at one of these gatherings after the fourth set of dancing.”
As she spoke, Jemima leaned forward far enough that her over endowed chest threatened to spring free of its inadequate holdings. The bodice of her gown was cut more than fashionably low, displaying for the men present an immodest amount of flesh. The rest of the group closed around Richard, forcing him to acknowledge them and gain an introduction to his companion. With great reluctance, he presented Laura. By the way she eyed the women’s attire and the caressing hands each in turn greeted him with, she recognised how close was his association with each and every one of them. He had no reason to feel embarrassment, yet under her scrutiny his face flushed and he had the ridiculous urge to run a finger under his now too tight collar.
“If you will excuse us, Lady Laura is anxious to find her family.”
This time, Richard rushed them through the crowd with little thought for decorum. Finding a quiet spot behind a potted palm, he turned her to him. “What did you think you were doing to Lord Kinsley? If you’d leaned any closer in your sniffing endeavour, you would have toppled onto his chest.”