“What parks have you visited?” the dark-haired one who looked like the youngest of the four queried.
To her left, the one with light brown hair said, “You must take a carriage in Hyde Park.”
“You should let us take you,” said the blond twin she was beginning to perceive was the leader of their merry band.
Emily glanced at him sharply. “I beg your pardon?”
“Provide escort, he means, Miss Cavell,” the gentleman with the brown hair and blue eyes said, this time to the right of her.
When had he switched positions with the other one?
She glanced over her right shoulder. Which one was he? Macestone, Wilderspin, or Ashenhurst? Just keeping an eye on all four of them was making her dizzy.
“It is very generous, but I have family in town,” she replied.
Lord Boone looked at her with a guileless expression on his face. “Wouldn’t your family be pleased that you are making new friends?”
“Of course they would. That isn’t the point,” she protested. “Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must return to my friends.”
“Tarry with us awhile longer,” the blond she decided was Lord Ashenhurst entreated. “The ballroom is too crowded for a decent conversation. Why don’t we adjoin to the gardens?”
“A splendid idea,” his brother said, moving to stand beside his twin. “It would give us more time to persuade you that our intentions are honorable.”
A sudden hiss and sputtered curse from behind made Emily spin around. The action revealed several unpleasant facts. First, she noted that two of her companions had liquid dripping from their faces and hair, and, second, there was an unexpected tug on her skirt. She glanced down and noticed that someone had used fishing hooks and line to tie several old shoes to the hem of her skirt.
This was nothing more than a prank. She glared at the two who had been standing behind her. “How could you!” she said, trying to decide if one or both deserved her anger.
Neither one of them was paying attention to her. In fact, all four of them were looking at the balcony above them. Puzzled, she lifted her gaze—and her lips parted at the sight of Lord Chillingsworth.
“How careless of me,” he said, not sounding very apologetic. “Someone might have gotten hurt if the glasses had slipped from my fingers. It would have been tragic if those handsome visages had been scarred.”
Lord Boone elbowed his brother. “Do you know who that is?” he whispered.
“Quiet,” his brother ordered, staring boldly at the gentleman who had interrupted their fun.
“It’s Chillingsworth,” replied the dark-haired Lord Macestone. “Very few men have the courage to face him in a duel or in the ring.”
“Ah, I see my notorious reputation has reached the ears of you reckless puppies,” Lord Chillingsworth said silkily. “Then you know I have little patience for fools. Apologize to Miss Cavell, and I expect to hear humility in your voices.”
All four gentlemen spoke together.
“We beg your pardon, Miss Cavell.”
“No offense, miss. It was just a small prank.”
“My apologies.”
“Our sincerest regrets, Miss Cavell.”
Lord Chillingsworth’s smile widened. “There now, that wasn’t too difficult to swallow. Less so than a man’s fist, hmm?” He disappeared from view, and Emily realized to her dismay that the earl was heading for the stairs.
It must have dawned on her male companions as well. The two behind her brushed by her without saying a polite farewell and ran for the nearest door.
“Come on!”
Lord Boone glanced warily at the stairs. “Another time, Miss Cavell. Are you coming, brother?”
Emily was startled to see his twin was staring at her. “I was sincere about the ride in Hyde Park. Preferably without Chillingsworth.” The blond’s smile turned into a sneer when he saw the earl. He followed his brother and friends out the door.
Lord Chillingsworth did not quicken his long stride as he descended the stairs. To Emily’s consternation, instead of pursuing the young gentlemen, he walked up to her. Without being asked, he crouched down and carefully removed the fishing hooks from her skirt. Good grief, Emily had forgotten all about them.
He cast a wintry glance at the empty doorway. “I hope you are not one of those weak-minded females who faint at the first glimpse of blood,” he said, probably regretting that he had let the pranksters off so easily.
“Why do you ask? Are you planning to shed any on my behalf?” Until she had arrived in London, there had never been any need for anyone to come to her defense, and this gentleman had done so twice.
Lord Chillingsworth shoved the shoes, hooks, and line under the nearest chair. He stood. “It’s tempting, but the prank was harmless. And at their age, my friends and I were—” He did not finish his confession, but instead he offered her a smile that was meant to charm her. “Never mind. I will not bore you with old tales. Why don’t I find you another glass of wine, eh?”
He seemed determined to remain at her side. “Why? You dumped the contents of your glass on Macestone and Wilderspin, not mine.”
“Macestone and Wilderspin were their names? Good to know.”
While she did not appreciate being the target of their prank, she wished them no ill will. Something inside her warned her that Lord Chillingsworth was not as generous. “You are not intending to do anything to those young gentlemen?”
“Me? Not at all. I am just taking an interest in the season’s latest litter of brash puppies. That footman with the tray of wine is wandering about upstairs. Shall we seek him out and find you a glass?”
“Hmm.” He was attempting to distract her. However, Emily doubted he would share his intentions about the young lords. “I told our hostess that I would follow her into the ballroom.”
“And yet, here you are with me,” Lord Chillingsworth said, steering her in the opposite direction. “A more exciting choice, do you not agree?”
Chapter Seven
Ignoring her fainthearted protests, Frost managed to get Emily up the staircase, relieve the footman of two more glasses of wine, and distract her with discourse about the Fiddicks, Katie, and the weather so casually that she seemed bemused to find herself seated next to him on the sofa.
The lady did not stand a chance.
Frost could almost pity her, but why bother when her proximity conjured other stimulating emotions.
“So Katie is happy with her new circumstances?” she asked for a second time.
“My dear Miss Cavell, I have no reason to lie to you,” he said smoothly. “However if you do not believe me—”
The lady wrinkled her nose as she took a sip of her sparkling wine. It was quite adorable. “Oh, I believe you. I must admit that I felt a tad guilty for leaving the girl in your care when I was the one who promised to help.”
“You did assist her,” Frost said bluntly. “You distracted her stepfather from selling her to a less compassionate soul until my arrival. It was enough.”
Miss Cavell laughed as she brought her gloved finger to her lips. She lightly stroked her lower lip. If she had been like the other women he usually spent his evenings with, he might have viewed the gesture as an invitation.
“Then Katie and I were most fortunate that you came along when you did,” she mused, her hazel eyes gleaming up at him.
“No, Miss Cavell, I am the fortunate one.”
She blushed, not misunderstanding his meaning. Alone in the informal parlor and devoid of distractions, Frost took a moment to study her. Emily Cavell was not a beauty in the classical sense. He had encountered and bedded ladies who were lovelier. Nevertheless, the lady was unique, and an educated eye would have described the combination of her features as striking. Her flawless ivory skin on closer inspection did not possess a single freckle. She looked him directly in the eyes, and the lack of coyness was both annoying and refreshing.
Had no one taught the chit how to flirt?
> She was tall for a female, but he was taller than most gentlemen at six feet, two inches; the lady had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. A long, narrow nose, not-too-full lips, and a stubborn chin gave the impression that this was a woman who relied on her intelligence rather than her looks.
“Are you not enjoying the wine?” he asked when she set her glass aside.
“Yes, but it’s early and my encounter with those young gentlemen proved that I need a clear head if I wish to get through the evening without embarrassing my family.”
“Your family is in attendance?”
She nodded. “My mother, my younger brother—you have already met Cedric—and his twin sister, Judith.”
“And what of your father?”
“Work has kept him from my mother’s side.” She hesitated. “He is a barrister, and the case he is working on requires all of his attention.”
“How fascinating,” he murmured, noting that some of the stiffness in her shoulders eased at his reaction. Had she been worried that he would have thought less of her because of her father’s profession? “So you are interested in the law as well?”
“Not particularly,” she confessed. “Besides, he has Ashley. My older brother is currently studying law so he can follow in our father’s footsteps. What about your family? Did they join you this evening?”
Very few people were courageous enough to mention his family. Her curiosity pleased him, so he decided to indulge her. “I arrived alone. My father passed away a long time ago, and my mother … suffice to say, she has not been a part of my and my sister’s lives for years.”
Her face pinched with sympathy. “Forgive me. It is unlike me to pry. I, too, have lost family. My sister. It has been five years, and I am still mourning the loss.”
The death of a beloved sibling might explain why they had never met until now. Had Emily buried herself in the country while she grieved for her dead sister? What she needed was someone to disrupt her comfortable world.
That someone was him.
“Now I must apologize for making you sad.” He reached forward, deliberately ensuring that his arm would brush against hers as he picked up her wineglass. “Here. Let us drink. A toast to family lost.”
“Very well.” Emily gave him a sweet, endearing smile as she accepted the glass he had handed her. She dutifully raised her glass. “To family lost.”
Frost touched his glass to hers. “And newly found friends,” he said, before drinking. They would become very good friends if he had his way.
And he could not wait to begin.
Impulsively, he leaned closer to kiss her. Women highly praised his kisses, and they tended to be more reasonable when he was pleasuring them.
At the first tentative touch, Emily whispered, “What are you doing?”
Not withdrawing, he whispered back, “Kissing you. Now cooperate.”
“I think not.” With no place to retreat, she slumped down to avoid his mouth and then rolled to her side so she could stand.
This was not the first time a lady had rejected his advances. During his thirty years, he had encountered a few reluctant ladies who claimed they had not enjoyed his kisses. Since they had gone on to marry his friends, he assumed that they had feigned their dislike out of respect for their husbands.
Telling the truth would have made their frequent gatherings rather awkward.
However, Emily had dismissed him without giving him a chance to prove himself. He set his wineglass down and staggered to his feet. “Why not? What harm is there in a kiss, Emily?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “It is Miss Cavell to you, Lord Chillingsworth. Granting you liberty to use my given name will only encourage you.”
“And what is wrong with encouraging me?” he asked in reasonable tones.
“Do you want me to make a list?” she replied, while positioning herself behind one of the chairs. “I appreciate what you have done for Katie, and rescuing me from those young—”
“Damn puppies!” he exclaimed with disgust. “You assume I am no better than those arses who cozied up to you for a prank. Someone told you that I am a Lord of Vice.”
Emily clutched the high back of the chair. Her gaze shifted from him to the doorway. “A Lord of—what? Did you say vice?”
He bit his tongue off before he apologized for a nickname he was not responsible for creating. “Yes. It is silly name I and my six friends have been stuck with since we were—”
“Uh, damn puppies?” Her lips pursed as she fought back a smile. “It is hardly a comforting recommendation to your good character.”
Was she teasing him? The realization gave him hope that he had not frightened her off. He slowly approached the chair she was using as a shield until they were face-to-face.
“What if I told you that we deserved it?”
“Then I would assume you and your rebellious cohorts were very bad boys,” she said breathlessly.
“Men,” he corrected. He pressed his right knee into the thick cushion of the chair so he could close the distance between them. “And yes, we have garnered a certain reputation with the ton. However, a few of us have become respectable. They have married and sired heirs.”
Emily had courage. Nor did she back away when his mouth was mere inches from hers. “But not you,” she said.
Frost shrugged. “Not much point. Someone has to maintain our notoriety. It might as well be me.”
His lips twitched in anticipation. He longed to pull her closer and silence her with a thorough, satisfying kiss. When he was finished, everyone would know what mischief the naughty wench had been up to.
“So this business about kissing me. Is this about securing your reputation?”
“Not precisely.”
“So how does this work? Do you spend your evening chasing after ladies? Is there a particular number? How many allow you to catch them?”
“No one is letting me do anything,” he muttered, unhappy with the direction of her questions.
Emily gasped. “Then you force yourself upon them.” She leaned closer. “There is a dreadful name for that sort of gentleman, you know. I am amazed Lord and Lady Fiddick granted you entry into their respectable town house.”
“You are cleverly twisting my words, Emily. No one is being forced, damn you!” he snapped, his desire waning into an urge to throttle her. “This is not about the ton or the nickname they gave us. Here and now, this is about me and you. Is it wrong of me to want to kiss you?”
Her cheeks warmed to a rosy pink at his declaration. “Yes,” she said, drawing away from him. “Because I am not my sister.”
Frost did not know how to respond to the nonsensical comment. He had never met her younger sister. “What the devil are you prattling on about?”
“Gentlemen filled the drawing room with flowers, wrote her poetry, and fought duels over her. She was a raving beauty every man longed to kiss. Not I.”
“I disagree. If you would stand still, I’ll prove it.”
“Ah, I see,” she said, nodding. “I am the first lady to spurn you.”
“No,” he said gruffly. “There have been others.”
“Hmm … too few, in my opinion. You have my sympathies, Lord Chillingsworth.” Emily patted him on the cheek and walked away.
The chit was leaving. Frost scrubbed his face. How had she turned the tables on him? Any other woman would have melted in his embrace and begged for him to kiss her again.
She set her empty wineglass down on one of the tables and headed toward the door.
“Wait. A moment, Miss Cavell,” he said through clenched teeth since it came close to begging.
Frost charged after her when she refused to halt. He caught up to her just as she stepped out of the parlor. He spun her about; she had to grasp his shoulders to keep her balance.
“We are not finished with our discussion.”
Emily glared at him. “Do you know the difference between you and the young lords that you threatened earlier?”
&
nbsp; “No. Nor do I care.” Snarling at her would not soften her disposition toward him. Where was the charm he was known for? He had yet to ask a single question about her hatred for Nox. Frost took a deep breath. “What is the difference?”
“Only a small one,” she said too sweetly. “Your pranks require more sophistication than theirs. Although I believe—mm—ph—”
He used his mouth to silence her. It was the smartest course, since the woman had the ability to castrate a man with her tongue. There were other, more tantalizing and pleasurable uses for the organ.
At first, Emily held her ground. She was as rigid as a board in his arms, and her mouth was as yielding as a threatened clam. Frost had stolen his first taste of her, and he regretted his rough handling. Almost. Her rambling explanation about her sister had revealed that the lady had not been kissed.
He was the first man to experience the passion she kept hidden.
His lips softened against hers and she drew in a ragged breath. Closing his eyes, he breathed in her scent. She smelled faintly of orange blossoms. He kissed her lightly, an unspoken apology for his anger. Emily’s response was as generous as her heart. Her lips, unschooled in the art of kissing, parted and beckoned for him to take more.
It was an invitation he could not refuse.
Slowly, he worshiped her mouth. He caressed the plump padding of her lower lip with his lips, using the tip of his tongue as a teasing whip to moisten his path.
When he lifted his head, he stared down into the fathomless depths of her hazel eyes. The green and gold rings glowed with the rising passion she likely did not recognize within her. Unfortunately, Frost was very aware of his body. He was aroused and feeling reckless. A part of him longed to drag her back into the small parlor and lock the door. The Fiddicks’ sofa would suffice as he kissed Emily in other delectable areas of her body.
It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but he released her and stepped back.
“Lord Chillingsworth.” Emily stared at him with bemused wonder in her gaze as if she had never truly seen him.
Twilight with the Infamous Earl Page 5
