11
Adrian hated the concert. He sat beside Lady Stratford in the music room at Smithfield Park, but he couldn’t enjoy the music or Lady Stratford’s company because he was so distracted by Miss Colbrook and his brother.
She and Edmund sat a few rows in front of him, behind Madeline, Cecelia, and the Duke of Dulverton. Edmund hadn’t left Miss Colbrook’s side except to bring her refreshments, and he was constantly leaning close and whispering to her. Worse, she didn’t seem to mind Edmund’s attention. She laughed frequently, as if she were enjoying herself. And the way she was dressed tonight...
When Adrian first saw her in the new gown, her beautiful curves draped in burgundy silk, her hair soft around her face, he was so stunned he’d made a fool of himself in front of his entire family. She’d transformed herself into a glamorous beauty.
All because of Edmund.
The set ended and the audience applauded. People shifted in their seats or stood to stretch their legs while they awaited the next performance. Edmund and Miss Colbrook rose and faced one another. She spoke and while Edmund listened, he glanced quickly at Adrian then gazed back at her, a sly grin on his face. Adrian recognized that smile. Edmund wore it whenever he met a woman he was interested in a dalliance with. Adrian curled his hands into fists.
Miss Colbrook finished speaking and sat, but Edmund remained standing. As she bent to retrieve her reticule from the floor, Edmund stole a glance down the bodice of her gown.
“Damn him,” Adrian muttered. He would put a stop to this right—
“You seem quite distracted this evening, Lord Wareton,” Lady Stratford said, pressing his arm gently.
“Not at all,” Adrian lied. He watched Edmund sit again and lean close to Miss Colbrook. Too close.
Miss Colbrook smiled and nodded at some comment of Edmund’s before turning back to watch the musicians resume playing. Her hair sparkled from the jeweled hairpins she wore tonight. She’d never worn jeweled hairpins before that Adrian could recall. She’d never worn a gown so fashionably low. Too low, in his opinion. Even from here, he could see almost half her breasts, her beautiful, shapely br—
“Your brother seems to have you quite distracted.” Lady Stratford smiled coolly. “Or is it not really your brother that has you at sixes and sevens?”
Adrian tore his gaze from Miss Colbrook. Perhaps he was jealous, but it was more than that. He was concerned for Miss Colbrook’s safety. Edmund couldn’t be trusted. Adrian would be equally concerned if his cousin or sister were in danger from a rake like Edmund. Wouldn’t he?
“It is just Edmund,” Adrian said quickly. “He drives me mad when he acts like this.”
“He has been behaving like a perfect gentleman since his arrival,” Lady Stratford said.
Perfect gentlemen did not steal glances down ladies’ bodices, Adrian thought. However, she had a point, Edmund had been less trouble than usual.
All the more reason why Adrian was suspicious. Edmund must be very interested in Miss Colbrook, to not be distracted by other ladies. More than a few pretty young ladies had cast admiring glances at Edmund since they’d arrived, but Edmund seemed strangely uninterested. Generally, Edmund went for the more flamboyant women with questionable reputations, those more like himself, whose behavior would generate the most gossip. Miss Colbrook, even as glamorous as she looked tonight, was still an entirely respectable bluestocking. It was very odd.
“Is it possible that he is truly smitten with Miss Colbrook?” Lady Stratford asked. She traced one elegant finger in a small circle on his sleeve. Normally he would enjoy her flirtations, but tonight Edmund and Miss Colbrook were ruining everything.
“No,” Adrian said. “Edmund never wants more than a dalliance. And if by some miracle he did, it would take someone more...striking than Miss Colbrook to snare him.” Surely it wasn’t possible Edmund truly was forming an attachment to her? That would be horrible. Horrible beyond words.
Lady Stratford stilled her finger on his arm. “Why? Do you not think she is beautiful?”
“Tolerable. When she is being pleasant.” Miss Colbrook was beautiful. Seeing her in that dress made it indisputable.
“Tolerable?” Lady Stratford laughed and squeezed his arm. “Come, you can be honest with me. Next you will claim she has no wit.”
He said nothing. Miss Colbrook did indeed have an excellent wit; he could hardly deny that. She’d skewered him enough with it of late.
She was clever, no denying it. But even the cleverest woman could lose her sense when it came to men, and Edmund had been a bad influence on dozens of women to varying degrees—and those were just the ones Adrian knew of.
The music ended and applause echoed throughout the room. People slowly rose from their chairs and began milling about.
“Lord Wareton,” Lady Stratford murmured, gazing over Adrian’s shoulder. “Look. Your favorite neighbor. And I thought he wasn’t supposed to be here?”
Adrian turned. Sir Neville stood just past the doorway to the hall. Madeline stood beside him, chatting, but Sir Neville’s stare kept returning to Edmund and Miss Colbrook.
Bloody hell. Sir Neville must have returned early from Taunton. Adrian looked to Edmund, who was just noting Sir Neville’s presence. Edmund’s flinch was visible from across the room.
Sir Neville scowled at Edmund. He then turned his gaze to Adrian and made his way towards him.
“Lord Wareton,” Sir Neville said as he stopped before him. “Lady Stratford.” He never even looked at her, but kept his gaze riveted on Adrian. “May I have a word with you, Wareton?”
Lady Stratford politely excused herself.
“How unexpected to see your brother here,” Sir Neville said grimly.
“He surprised us all with his visit,” Adrian said.
Sir Neville glanced across the room at Edmund and Miss Colbrook. “Seeing him brings back many memories.” He shifted his glare to Adrian again, and his dark eyes narrowed. “But it is not always good to stir up the past, is it? I am a patient man, but even I have my limit. I might have to revisit matters that you’d prefer left alone if you—or your brother—push me too far.” He paused and added more quietly, “I never could decide who was the worse libertine. Perhaps I will finally have to. Always tempting to choose the weaker target though, isn’t it, Wareton?”
Adrian struggled to keep his face impassive. Sir Neville knew. The bastard knew he was protecting Edmund.
Sir Neville nodded curtly. “Lord Wareton.” He gave Adrian one final scowl and spun away.
Adrian felt a knot forming in his gut. He should never have let Edmund attend. He had to get him out of here.
Anna smiled at Mr. Sinclair, well aware that Lord Wareton glared at them from across the music room. How arrogant of him to treat his brother so harshly after his own outrageous behavior. He was conceited and unkind and an utter scoundrel.
And she still cared about him far too much.
She’d even enjoyed the anger that flashed in his eyes as he watched her with his brother. Savored the fact that he was distracted from enjoying Lady Stratford’s company. Until she realized that Lord Wareton likely wasn’t so much jealous of her as he was angry with his brother. There was long-standing resentment between them, anger that she sensed was growing increasingly dangerous, and not just for them but for anyone unlucky enough to be caught too close. Like her.
She’d also begun to suspect that Mr. Sinclair flirted with her not because he was enamored of her, but simply because it upset Lord Wareton. Mr. Sinclair’s own mood seemed to improve with each scowl and dark look from his brother.
But when Sir Neville stepped through the door, Mr. Sinclair abruptly stopped flirting and suddenly seemed eager to speak with the Dunbury sisters. She was dragged into conversation with them for several minutes, with no chance to ask Mr. Sinclair what was going on. As Agnes and Angeline finally left to get refreshments, Lord Wareton strode over and dragged Mr. Sinclair away.
When Mr. Sinclair returned a short t
ime later, he looked uncharacteristically somber.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“I have developed a fearsome headache,” he said. “I believe I shall return to Wareton for the evening.”
She frowned. “You were fine a few moments ago. Tell me what is wrong.”
“Please, Miss Colbrook,” he said, his expression grave, “do not press me on this. Now if you will excuse me—”
“I shall go with you. I have a headache as well.” She could interrogate him in the carriage. There was definitely something between him and Lord Wareton beyond ordinary sibling rivalry, and she wanted to know what it was. In a way, they were dragging her into the situation by using her to fight over, so didn’t she have the right to learn the truth?
“Adrian will be even more angry with me if you leave too.” Mr. Sinclair’s eyes narrowed as he glanced across the room at his brother. “He’ll be furious,” he muttered, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
“So? I am going with you.”
He smiled. “Shall I meet you in the carriage?”
A few moments later, after making the appropriate apologies and informing Madeline that she was returning home, Anna hurried into the foyer. Two servants swung open the doors and she stepped out into the cool air. She descended the stairs and a footman helped her into the waiting carriage.
When Mr. Sinclair didn’t follow right away, she peered out the window. He stood at the bottom of the steps, speaking with a servant from the house. The man seemed to be insisting that Mr. Sinclair return inside. Mr. Sinclair looked towards the carriage and held up one finger, then turned and bounded up the stairs. The servant followed quickly behind him. The doors shut and Anna waited, watching the footmen stand like statues beside the steps, the lanterns flickering on their gold and crimson livery.
After a moment she lay back against the seat and closed her eyes. All evening she had tried not to look at Lord Wareton, and now when she shut her eyes, his image filled her mind. He looked terribly handsome tonight, as usual. His dark coat and breeches flattered his muscular figure, and the candlelight brought out the golden highlights in his hair. Even while glaring at her and Mr. Sinclair all evening, Lord Wareton had looked so compelling, she’d had to force herself not to dwell on the memories of their kisses. For days now, she’d obsessed about the delicious heat of his mouth and gentleness of his touch.
She must stop thinking of him.
Immediately, his face formed again in her mind, his eyes glittering at her as they had just before they kissed under the tree, his lips curving into a seductive smile—
Footsteps sounded on the stairway, and she opened her eyes and sat up. The door opened and the devil himself stepped inside.
12
Lord Wareton removed his hat as he fell into the seat across from her. The coach suddenly seemed too small and close.
“Where is your brother?” she asked.
“He is staying.” As the carriage jerked forward, he stretched one arm out across the seat.
“Why are you here and not him?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted him to admit it.
“Because you should not be alone with Edmund.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is a rake.” There was no shame in his voice, no acknowledgement of his own guilt.
“A rake?” she said. “He seems to be a perfectly charming and respectable gentleman.”
“He cannot be trusted.”
“You being an excellent judge of untrustworthy behavior.”
“A family trait,” he said dryly. He dropped his arm from the back of the seat and leaned towards her. “And you are encouraging him,” he added, glaring at her, “dressing like that.”
She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, covering her low neckline. If she didn’t know better, she would swear jealousy burned in his eyes. The triumph she’d felt when she first walked downstairs that evening and seemed to stun him with her appearance had been fleeting, but now... No, he was merely being protective, much as he would be with Cecelia or Madeline. He looked at her with anger, not desire. His fury was all about his brother, not her.
“I assume this sudden transformation means you are interested in suitors again?” He drummed his fingers on the seat beside him. “If so, you must realize that Edmund is the last man who can be brought up to scratch.”
“You think simply because I am civil to him, because I do not scowl and yell at him as you do, that I wish to marry him?”
“I must warn you that it is highly unlikely he has honorable intentions.”
“Your hypocrisy is astounding,” she said. The motion of the carriage pushed her forward until her knees nearly brushed his. Her shawl fell open as she clutched the edge of the seat to keep herself from sliding further. “Whatever his faults,” she added, “he can be no worse than you.”
Lord Wareton leaned forward from the shadows, the moonlight through the window revealing his narrowed eyes, his sensual mouth. He stared at her, his anger transforming into something far more unsettling.
“Perhaps you are right.” The sudden softness in his voice sent a shiver through her. “Perhaps I am no better than Edmund.”
He reached out and gently uncurled her fingers from the edge of the seat. Her heart pounded.
“I wish you had dressed that way for me,” he said, the arrogance and anger suddenly gone from his voice, “not for Edmund.”
“I did,” she whispered, too stunned to lie.
In one swift motion, he pulled her across the carriage. He wrapped one arm around her and cradled her face with the other. He kissed her so quickly that she couldn’t have protested even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t.
His lips were velvet warmth, instantly melting away her anger. She returned the kiss, sinking against the wall of his chest. He smelled of shaving soap, cheroots, and midnight air. The clop of the horses’ hooves and rattling of the carriage seemed to fade. He stroked her hair as he held her mouth to his in a lingering, gentle kiss, a kiss that made her ache everywhere with a sweet, dull pain.
She wanted more. Needed more.
She shifted, turning until her breasts brushed against his chest. She heard his breath catch in his throat, and his arm tightened around her.
He deepened the kiss, gently parting her lips with his tongue, pressing into her mouth, warm and soft and delicious. He moved his hand from her head, and she heard him strip off his gloves. Seconds later she heard the gloves slap gently onto the carriage floor behind her.
He curled a hand around her half-bare shoulder as they continued to kiss. Soon he drew his fingers lower and caressed her skin above the low neckline of her gown, wickedly close to her breasts. Her corset suddenly felt too tight, her gown too confining.
His kisses grew more demanding.
As did hers.
She leaned back against his arm, allowing him more freedom to touch her. Gently, he cupped her right breast in one large hand, and she moaned softly against his mouth. Even through her gown and corset, his strong fingers enveloped her with a tantalizing heat. He slid his mouth away from hers, across her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, and down to the bodice of her gown, until he warmed the skin between the swell of her breasts with his lips.
He moved his mouth lower and she gasped. He kissed one breast through her corset and gown while he continued to caress the other with his hand. He circled her breasts with his mouth and fingers, warm and teasing, brushing tantalizingly close but never quite touching her nipples.
She never knew—she had no idea that she could feel such pleasure, and through her clothes no less. Willing him to touch and kiss the one part he ignored, she lifted her chest towards him.
At last, he pressed his lips against her left nipple where it jutted out against her gown. She cried out softly as his tongue swirled against her, dampening the silk. He groaned and moved his hand to her back, searching for the drawstring to her gown. Finally grasping the thin ribbon, he tugged it gently, slowly loosening her dres
s.
Then, abruptly, he stopped. He muttered a curse and let the ribbon slide from his fingers. To her amazement, he guided her head to his broad chest and slid both arms around her. His heart thundered against her ear.
“I am…close to doing the very thing I meant to prevent,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “When I am near you, I cannot seem to help myself.”
Neither could she. She could barely believe the liberties she’d just allowed him. To her shame, she’d not only permitted him to touch her so scandalously, but she desperately wanted him to continue. To pull down the bodice of her gown. To free her breasts from her corset. To press his mouth upon her bare flesh. And she wanted whatever might follow, no matter how sinful.
She should have pushed him away as soon as he kissed her. She should push him away now. Instead she kept close against him, her heart pounding as she struggled to calm her breathing. A brass button on his coat pressed softly against her cheek, a spot of cold amid the heat that surrounded her.
Senselessly, she felt safe, the safest she’d ever felt. How could she, lying in the arms of such a rake? What was wrong with her?
And yet, she had no doubt now that he wanted her, so why had he stopped? Why didn’t he try to take advantage of her further? If he did, she might be able to rekindle her anger towards him, but this restraint and unexpected tenderness as he held her was something she had no defense against.
“I cannot believe you still care for me despite what you think of me,” he murmured as he brushed his mouth against her hair.
At those words, the heat he’d ignited in her body dissolved. He must think she was so without scruples and so desperate for his attentions that she wouldn’t let anything keep her from him. And would he be wrong? Against all reason, a huge part of her desperately wanted to let him seduce her.
The horrible truth was that he was behaving sensibly while she wasn’t.
Yet even if he restrained himself now, for whatever reason, she quickly reminded herself she couldn’t trust him. Julia’s ruin was proof enough. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t despise him. Not when she saw how he cared for Cecelia and Madeline, and for the estate and its people. Even the way he treated his brother, harsh as it was, was clearly motivated by love. She couldn’t control her attraction to him, for willingly or not, she was drawn to him, and this latest embrace only made her more certain of the strength of her feelings.
Undone by the Earl Page 15
