by Golden Angel
Dressed in a pale turquoise gown with gold edging that picked up the golden tints in her hair and dipped even lower than the pink dress she'd worn to the last Assembly, Cynthia was absolutely resplendent. Wesley had been surprised that his mother hadn't insisted on a fichu to cover up all that creamy breast flesh - she was nearly bare to the nipple! - but the Countess hadn't even looked twice. While it was the current fashion for certain ladies in the capital, Wesley certainly hadn't noticed any young misses dressed like that. Although, he also had to admit, that he didn't often look at the young misses.
Still, he couldn't stop himself from looming over Cynthia as he led both her and his mother into the room, one on each arm, and glaring at one of the young gentlemen who nearly stumbled over his own feet when he caught sight of Cynthia. The brazen chit just smiled and waved her fan, gently stirring the brunette curls that were resting on her shoulder. Wesley had to resist the temptation to reach out and wind a curl about his finger. He counted his blessings that at least Cynthia wasn't allowed to waltz, and wouldn't be unless she was taken to London.
Not that he would have allowed anyone other than himself to waltz with her, not dressed as she was this evening. It would be too much temptation for any man.
"Miss Bryant!" An eager young buck, whose name escaped Wesley, came bounding up to grasp her hand. Annoyance flashed through him as Cynthia giggled and accepted the overly flourished bow her young courtier made. It was a poor imitation of a true rake's elegance. "I was hoping you'd attend this evening. May I claim the first dance?"
"Her first dance is mine," Wesley said sharply, gaining a look from his mother. To his surprise she didn't say anything, just raised her eyebrow at him before turning and walking towards the corner where her contemporaries and Lord Vernier were sitting. Cynthia looked up at him, obviously surprised and a little wary of his tone.
The idiot in front of them wasn't at all perturbed. "The second then, Miss Bryant?"
"Of course, Harry," she said with a smile and Wesley nearly snarled at her use of the twit's given name. The young man brightened even further at the intimacy and bowed; after taking a second glance at Wesley he scampered.
Cynthia poked him in the side with her fan.
"Ow. Gently there, baggage." He rubbed the spot where she’d poked him, even though it hadn’t been particularly hard, hoping to make her laugh. Instead she frowned up at him.
"Why were you so mean to poor Harry?" she chided him.
"Poor Harry's an idiot and a coward."
"Running away from you when you're scowling like that is a sign of intelligence, not cowardice," she countered. "In fact, I think I'll follow his example."
As she moved to pull away from him, Wesley grabbed at the hand that had been resting on his arm and yanked her back against him. "I claimed the first dance and the musicians are about to start."
She scowled up at him; unlike 'poor Harry,' she didn't look the least bit intimidated by his dark glare. Of course, that was one of the things that he liked best about her, even if it would occasionally be more convenient if she was. Still, he wouldn’t want a wife that always turned and ran the moment he glared. He needed a wife, like Cynthia, who was made of sterner stuff.
"I don't want to dance with you."
"Too bad."
Feeling unaccountably cheerful all of the sudden, Wesley pulled her towards the dance floor.
******
Avoiding her guardian was proving to be more difficult than Cynthia had anticipated. Not only did he have an eagle eye, but all of the gentlemen who danced attendance on her seemed to have some kind of understanding with him which included returning her to his presence at the end of every dance. Normally she would have been returned to the Countess, as her chaperone, but everyone seemed to understand that the Earl was standing in for the Countess this evening. She didn’t know where or how anyone had received that impression, but every single gentleman had somehow received the unspoken message. The worst part was that the dances themselves had ceased to be interesting, whereas standing on the Earl of Spencer's arm made her tingle all over. Which was exactly the kind of situation she wanted to avoid.
His over-protectiveness aside, his indifference to her was as rampant as ever. The low neckline she was wearing had gotten a glance of disapproval rather than interest, unlike at the last Assembly. And now he was scowling practically every time that she looked at him, other than the first dance when he'd taken great joy in forcing her to dance with him after he'd been so rude to poor Harry. Then he’d been remarkably cheerful, as if pleased with himself for thwarting her. The only reason she hadn’t snubbed him was that she hadn’t wanted to make a scene. She realized that he probably didn't like her using Harry's given name, but the young man was harmless and it made him so happy when she did even if it wasn’t entirely proper.
From the impatient shifting of the Earl's feet whenever she was on his arm, she deduced that he'd rather be anywhere else. Although at least his mother wasn't throwing overly young beauties at his head at the moment. Perhaps that was why he was being so overbearing with Cynthia; if he was performing his duties as her guardian, his mother would leave him alone.
Either way, she didn't appreciate his looming presence. Half of the fun of Assemblies had been sneaking off and enjoying some illicit kisses with some undeserving gentleman. But with her guardian watching over her so closely, it was proving to be impossible. Besides which, his mere presence had apparently scared off the usual rogues that would tempt her.
He was the biggest, most powerful, most authoritative male in the room and not afraid to use his heft to achieve what he wanted. And damned if that didn't make her body feel warm and excited all over.
"Blast," she muttered under her breath as her current dancing partner led her right back to where her guardian was standing next to Lord Hyde. Unfortunately there was no escape for her, Eleanor hadn't been feeling well and so hadn't come tonight. Lord Hyde was only here to back up Lord Spencer. As the center of both their attention, she felt hemmed in and trapped. It wasn’t at all pleasant.
With barely a glance at her, the Earl took her back on his arm and settled her at his side, while he and Lord Hyde continued their conversation. Her presence encouraged several other men to join them, but none of them were very interesting; just the kind of staid, boring young men that the Earl probably thought she should marry. But next to him they all looked unrefined, unexciting and thoroughly unbearable. At least if he asked, she could tell him that all of them bored her beyond belief. Then again, since meeting him, it seemed as if every man was becoming boring.
Cynthia tried to tug her hand away and the Earl turned his head to frown at her. She smiled sweetly, insincerely, up at him. "Excuse me please, I need to visit the lady's retiring room."
He hesitated and then nodded, releasing her. "Come right back."
Inwardly fuming, Cynthia didn't bother to respond, she just walked away as quickly as she could without looking like she was running. The smile she pasted on her face seemed to fool the young gallants around her, who all allowed her to pass on her way to the retiring room. At least there she could have a moment to herself, no need to deal with aggravating men!
There were several other young ladies in there, tittering and gossiping. Not surprisingly they were all in alt over the presence of the handsome Earl of Spencer. Cynthia recognized Miss Whyte, who was embellishing greatly on the Earl's interest in her and his promise to seek her out next Season.
“Spencer’s the most divine dancer,” Miss Whyte was gushing to her friend, fanning herself delicately. “And so very handsome. I do believe his mother prefers me over any of the other young ladies here… she specifically told me that she would look for me next Season.”
Blech. If the Earl actually married that simpering ninny... What was the Countess thinking?!
Well it wasn't Cynthia's business anyway.
Feeling even more sour, Cynthia splashed some water on her face and tidied her hair before sighing and stepping ba
ck out into the social whirl. At least she had the most interesting dress of all the young ladies present, although she did have to watch out deeply she breathed. Ninnies in the retiring room, an overbearing stuffed shirt in the ball room... where could a girl go to have some peace of mind around here?
Looking around the room for her guardian, Cynthia saw to her surprise that he was out on the dance floor again, his mother watching smugly from the sidelines. Well that was something, anyway, not that dancing would keep him from hovering over her between sets. She also didn't like the little pit in her stomach that seemed to grow as she watched him dancing with yet another beautiful young lady. This time next year would she be in London, married to someone who wasn’t nearly as exciting or interesting, and forced to watch the Earl’s courtship of some simpering debutante? It seemed likely. It also seemed like a scenario that would motivate her to tear her hair out.
"Cynthia..." A male voice whispered to her side. “Cynthia…” She looked over to see Mr. Carter standing by one of the columns, obscured from view of the dance floor. Probably hiding from the Earl, she thought with some despair. Still handsome, but his appeal had definitely lessened since the last time she’d seen him.
Still, at least he was fun, and she did like the way he kissed. Besides, flirting with him would mean she could distract herself from watching the Earl dance with young misses and dwelling on her future. Smiling brightly at him, she glided over to where he was standing, enjoying the way his eyes traveled over her gown and lingered on her nearly exposed breasts. "Hello Mr. Carter."
"Your new guardian must be very strict, poppet," he said, putting his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head up. Cynthia's breath caught in her throat; he wouldn't really kiss her here, would he? Where anyone could see? Although that was part of the excitement of Mr. Carter, he was so often doing exactly what he was not supposed to. "I haven't seen you in an age."
"He is quite a nuisance," she said with a little sigh, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. Nuisance wasn’t quite the word for it, but it was true in many ways. Mr. Carter smiled, that rakish grin that used to set her pulse pounding. Now she felt a small tingle of excitement, but compared to the Earl's occasional smile, Mr. Carter's no longer seemed so special.
"Would you like to take a walk outside?" he asked, releasing her chin and offering his arm. "There are some lovely flowers out on the terrace that we might… admire."
Cynthia glanced at the dance floor where it appeared her guardian was fully occupied with the young blonde woman who was simpering up at him. Giving Mr. Carter her brightest smile, she wrapped her hand around his elbow. "I would love to."
******
"My Mama told me that Spencer House is one of the most beautiful on the coast, with a lovely little folly done in the Grecian style, and acres and acres of land as well as being so close to the sea that you can go bathing on a daily basis! Not that I would ever do such a thing," she said, tittering in a way that made Wesley’s ears hurt.
Despite the fact that Miss Durand was speaking of his own estates, Wesley hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise since they'd started dancing. Instead, he just listened as the chit described every bit of his own lands to him, in the excitable terms of her youth and her mother's ambitions. Recently arrived in Bath, Miss Durand and her parents had been forced to shorten her first Season due to Mrs. Durand's health. The matron had been ecstatic to discover an eligible nobleman in Bath and he'd overheard her telling the Countess that perhaps it was fate, rather than her health, which had forced them to quit the capital a week early.
As a gentleman, Wesley just gritted his teeth and danced with the chit, counting down the measures of music until he could escape.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the dark hair of his ward exiting the retiring room and stopping to speak with someone that he couldn't quite see. For the most part she'd been remarkably well behaved during the evening, although he knew that she was chafing under his close watch. But he'd found himself feeling remarkably possessive.
That feeling of possessiveness, combined with his short-patience for seeing her dancing with other men, and his even shorter patience for young ladies like Miss Durand, had pretty well convinced him that he should have Cynthia as his bride. Even if it meant giving up his bachelorhood before he'd originally planned. At least he wouldn't have to spend torturous Seasons in the capital while his mother threw all sorts of empty-headed and title-hungry young harpies at his head. And he could satisfy his lust for Cynthia.
Tomorrow he would speak to his mother and then he'd propose. Well. First thing he'd visit the shops and buy a ring, then he'd speak to his mother and then he'd propose. Ladies expected a betrothal ring. Just thinking about it made the unstoppable flood of Miss Durand’s words more bearable; he just let them wash right over him while he planned.
He didn't expect Cynthia to balk. And if she did, well she was obviously ripe for seduction, he would have no trouble bringing her around. The frisson of attraction between them was mutual; it shouldn't be any hardship to convince her around to his way of thinking. In fact, part of him almost hoped she needed some persuading. Even if she didn’t, then they could certainly do some celebrating and he could discover whether her lips were as sweet as they looked.
Glancing over her way again, every muscle in his body tensed as he saw her walking towards the doors on the arm of the man she'd been speaking with. Wesley didn't recognize him, but he knew the type immediately. After all, like recognized like. It was impossible to mistake that elegant walk, the confident swagger, and the impeccable dress with just the hint of dissipation as belonging to anything other than a true rake. And, like a true rogue, he'd waited until the opportune moment while the guardian was involved in a situation he couldn't extricate himself from and the young lady was unchaperoned.
Looking around the room frantically, Wesley couldn't locate Edwin either.
"My Lord? Is everything alright?" Miss Durand looked legitimately concerned. Probably because he was swinging his head back and forth in a panic and his dance steps had slowed almost to a complete halt.
"Ah yes, sorry my dear," he said, giving her a tight smile. "I just saw someone I need to speak with as soon as possible."
"Oh." Miss Durand thought about this and then pouted up at him, in a way that she probably thought was attractive but made her look a bit like a fish. "I was so hoping that you might come and speak with my Mama and I. I'm sure she'd love to hear more about you."
Apparently Mrs. Durand knew more about him and his estates than he did, going by the information she'd imparted to her daughter. Not that he’d have accepted such an invitation even if she hadn’t.
"Perhaps some other time," he said shortly.
To his relief, his obvious distraction contributed to Miss Durand's pouting silence for the rest of the dance. He practically scooped her up off the dance floor and deposited her back with her doting Mama before dashing off towards the door he'd seen Cynthia go out of.
******
"Find a way to come out tomorrow and meet me," Mr. Carter whispered in Cynthia's ear, his hands sliding up and down her sides in a way that she found quite exciting as his palms brushed her breasts. Lips moved down her neck and she let her head fall back as she sighed with pleasure. The way he was touching her was almost enough to make her forget the Earl. "I'll make it worth your while."
"Perhaps. If I can manage it," Cynthia whispered back, her hands tightening on his coat as his palms cupped her breasts and squeezed. Some of his fingers were touching her bare flesh because her dress was cut so low and the sensation of skin against skin thrilled her. If he just dipped his fingers into the neckline then he’d be able to touch her bare nipple. It would be the most she’d ever allowed him, but she was feeling reckless and wild tonight, willing to tempt ruination.
Mr. Carter had her backed up against one of the outdoor columns, in the shadows and partly concealed by a large rhododendron. And if he wasn't as exciting as the Earl and didn't make her heart ra
ce as fast as the Earl did, he was still a very good kisser and right now she felt all swollen and tender in her breasts and between her legs. He was very good at making her feel very good. Perhaps she should risk a punishment to go meet him tomorrow... now that she knew it wouldn't get her with child, she was even more wildly curious about what it would be like to see his cock and even take it in her mouth.
Right now that portion of his body was firmly pressed against her lower stomach, a throbbing ridge that made her feel even more excited when she rubbed herself against it.
When he brought his mouth back to hers, Cynthia parted her lips eagerly, moaning a little as he squeezed her breasts tightly in his hands. His tongue explored her mouth eagerly, his fingers stroking along her bare skin and she was sure that at any moment he was going to slide his fingers into the top of her dress and touch one of her swollen nipples. The little buds were aching for attention.
Suddenly Mr. Carter was gone and Cynthia found herself nearly falling over as half of her support disappeared. Clutching at the column behind her, she stifled a shriek as she looked up to see the Earl, face red with fury, punch Mr. Carter. The gentlemen stumbled back and landed on his arse, holding one hand up to his injured face. Mr. Carter stared up at his assailant and Cynthia’s heart pounded, wondering what was going to happen. Would they fight? Would the Earl demand that Mr. Carter married her?
This was the first time she’d been caught in such a situation and she had no idea what to expect. And, she suddenly realized, she didn’t want to be married to Mr. Cater, even if the Earl did force him to offer. Having the two men in front of her, it was obvious which one she truly responded to, which one her emotions were tangled up in, and for a moment she utterly despaired.
