“For one stolen kiss? Well, I might as well go one further and confess that it wasn’t the first time he kissed me.”
Micah’s eyes flickered with genuine anger. She suddenly felt a bit faint. Her stay was on too tight. Don’t tell me you didn’t kiss Rose before you married her,” she scoffed, letting out a little indignant snort to better accentuate her meaning.
“Aye,” he said, color flooding his cheeks, “But I did marry her, didn’t I?”
“Not before breaking her heart first. I suppose,” she paused, “I suppose you and Lord Tisbury share that much in common.”
“Nothing of the kind,” Micah said. “I am nothing like Tisbury.”
“I think you are. You are both cut from the same cloth. Both of you are quite the studious and serious fellows, but you have a bit more of a dangerous and capable air about you. I know that you would be able to protect Rose, and me.”
“And you doubt that with Lord Tisbury?” her brother asked softly.
“I fear he’s just a fop,” she said, sighing. “I used to think…I used to think that he could do anything…now, now I do believe he is just a pampered aristocrat.”
“You don’t exactly have hoi polloi blood in you, dearest sister of mine.”
“Aye, but I wasn’t born a lady, and I was quite happy with being Miss Lydia Radcliff, before I was elevated to a lady by courtesy, and maybe, maybe that’s not enough for Lord Tisbury. Earls before him have married daughters of dukes.”
“Rubbish. Richard doesn’t think that way. He cares not a jot for any of that.”
“Mayhap. Alas, I can no longer pin my hopes on Lord Tisbury. He might have been my hero once upon a time, but my life has taken a different path, hasn’t it?”
Richard listened from a safe distance.
His heart dropped into his gut hearing what Lydia thought of him. For the first time in his life, he felt like he wasn’t up to snuff—and contemplating the fact that she thought she wasn’t good enough for him. Had she gone to Bedlam?
He was the one who felt completely unworthy. Had he always given the impression that he was a bit of a twiddle poop? If he had, he was going to burn that reputation with gusto. It was time to show everyone what he was truly made of. No more would he hide the person he had once been.
Lydia was about to get her hero.
ydia’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.
She had chanced to look back behind them and had caught Richard standing in the shadows. Had he heard what she’d said to her brother? And if so, what would he do about it?
As soon as she waltzed into the ballroom, she felt all eyes go to her. The ballroom was filled with sharks. Most of the older ladies in attendance were equipped with jealousy glasses. The beautiful lorgnettes were a lovely accessory that most of the women in attendance carried, just as they carried a fan. With their jealousy glasses they could spy on everyone tonight and gossip about what they saw and heard upon the morrow.
Lydia dared to look through those assembled for James Newson and found him without much trouble. He was surrounded by a gaggle of silly girls, all tittering and hanging on every word he uttered. He did cast a striking silhouette in his smart duds, but his charm had started to wear rather thin on her. Was his charm something he had been born with, or something he used as an act to get whatever he desired? What had she seen in him? Did he have any character traits she could admire?
Sharply inhaling a shallow breath, she hesitated. Should she go and seek out his attention so she could break the news to him? Her heart wasn’t in it tonight. Sighing heavily, she started to make her retreat before any other male animal approached her and asked her for a dance. Her spirits had taken quite the tumble. She wasn’t up for anything else tonight. Why had Lord Tisbury kissed her? It had only reminded her of the first time their lips had locked, and both times he had turned her world upside down. Why tempt her only to make her realize that what she wanted could never be?
Richard would never rise to the challenge. He would take the easy route. He always did.
“My son looks quite dashing tonight, but then, he’s always been a handsome fellow, and he isn’t aware of how fine he is, which is quite attractive, wouldn’t you say?” Beatrice Lovett, Countess of Tisbury asked, as she joined her. Lydia stifled a groan. As much as she liked Lady Tisbury, she didn’t feel like conversing with her and using Lord Tisbury as their subject.
“He does, indeed.”
“Oh, there he is now. Coming toward us. I do believe he just might ask you for the next dance, Lydia, darling. Pray, do indulge the dear boy.”
Every muscle in Lydia’s body tensed. She was caught between making a scandal and bolting from the ballroom like a skittish mare, or she could stay the course, come what may. She couldn’t do it, and yet, she was loathe to refuse him with his mother looking on. She knew better than to incur her wrath. Lady Tisbury was cleverer than she let on and could make Lydia’s life a misery if she so choose. Lydia’s time spent as her companion had revealed that much to her. No, Lady Tisbury was better as an ally and a friend.
Before she knew it, Richard was before her, and giving her a gallant bow. She returned it with a quick curtsy. “May I have the next dance, my lady?” he asked, his voice peculiarly deep, and his eyes, goodness, she could stare into his gaze for eternity.
“Yes, of course you may,” Beatrice said, giving Lydia a conspiratorial wink, and canceling out her ability to politely decline his invitation to dance. Before she knew it, he had swept her out to the dance floor.
“I see that Mr. Newson is quite popular amongst the ladies. Perhaps he has another lady in mind to marry, should you set him free from his attachment to you.” There was undeniable mischief in Richard’s eyes, almost as if he was sharing some secret joke with her.
“I have no sway over him, sir. He is free to do as he wishes.”
“Oh, but I think you do. You have more sway over men than you know, Lady Lydia.”
She bit her lip at the sound of him being so formal with her. She supposed she deserved it. She was insisting on using formalities with him.
It was best not to engage him any further. She would simply give him the silent treatment and endure what time she had to spend with him until the quadrille was over.
“You were never lovelier, my darling, why you quite eclipse the other women with your beauty,” he continued, still attempting to lavish her with compliments she didn’t consider to be genuine.
Dash it all. She couldn’t remain silent. “You, sir, must stop throwing Spanish coin my way. It is most unbecoming for a gentleman such as yourself. You must take haste to be mindful of your words.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Do you think I am paying you untrue flattery?”
“Yes,” she said. “I believe you would do anything to butter me up.” She looked away from his penetrating blue gaze. His dark brown hair was mussed up a bit, most likely from him raking his hands through it. Oh, what she would give to be able to put her own fingers through those glorious tresses.
“No, indeed, I would not. You are a diamond of the first water. You make everyone else look dull in comparison.”
She was so irritated with him, she felt like stomping off the dance floor in a huff. “Why…why would you pay me all of these compliments now?” As they switched partners once again. The other couple were the rather unfortunate Mr. Newson, and the lady he had asked to dance. He looked quite astonished to see her dancing with Lord Tisbury. Unnervingly enough, he did not look at all jealous, although his figure seemed a bit more stiff than usual and one corner of his mouth kept twitching, though he remained silent.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Richard asked innocently, seemingly unaware of the young man. In fact, she didn’t think he had noticed him yet. All of his attention seemed pinned on her.
“You didn’t seem to care about me when you were courting the former Miss Duffy.” She couldn’t help herself. She darted a quick nervous look in Newson’s direction and then settled her gaze back upon Lord
Tisbury. Her words hit Richard with the force of a lash. Good. It was a sore subject for her, and one that had to be addressed if they were ever to move on. She’d brought it up several times, and yet, for each of those times, he hadn’t seemed contrite enough, and all she could think of was that he had ignored her in favor of a woman he barely knew, and that woman had little to no regard for him. He had done her a disservice. She felt as if he’d almost been disloyal. The thought that he would chase after another woman but he wouldn’t chase after her, made her see red.
“How many times must I say it, before you believe it? I was a damn bloody fool. I lost my senses, and…I shall rue my actions evermore, but…but…I won’t continue to apologize for them, and you must not expect me to,” he said in a low husky growl that sent another dangerous shiver through her. He looked about him, as one of the figures ended. She took that moment as her opportunity to escape.
Throwing caution to the wind, she dashed through the ballroom, and had to stop abruptly before she collided with Alex. Her blood was running cold in her veins. Alex was at the ball.
Gulping nervously, she looked up under hooded lids at him. He was dressed like a stylish rake, and though he was catching the attention of quite a few young ladies, her heart was not sent into a rapid dance. To her shame, she only had eyes for Richard.
Richard had pursued her, and she felt him come up beside her.
“Lord Tisbury,” Alex spoke first. “Fancy meeting you here. I came with my brother, Viscount Astley—he’s here somewhere, but he seems to have disappeared into the crowd. I’d appreciate it if you declined mentioning the events of the other night. My brother disapproves, although my father, the Earl of Ravensbourne finds it vastly entertaining.”
She felt quite faint hearing Alex talk of his father and brother. Seeing him as The Honorable Alexander Mandeville, made it oh so real for her. She’d realized who he was earlier, but having him in front of her as not just the boxing champion Alex Mandeville but as a member of the ton, a member of her new world made her a little weak in the knees. Oh, how daft she’d been. She should have known straightaway. She should know more about the ton, but she was so out of her element in this world. Oh, how she yearned for her quiet life back when she was just Miss Lydia Radcliffe, daughter of a country vicar. Dash it all, she had been brought to Point Non Plus. It was all up to Richard now, and whether or not Alex would recognize her as Jamie. Her pulse quickened, as Alex’s gaze finally found her. He studied her in an intimate way. She could tell he quite liked what he saw, and wanted to be introduced to her posthaste.
“Ah, Lady Lydia,” Richard said easily. Lydia started to count the seconds where Richard was silent, and Alex was curious. He knew something was amiss, but she hadn’t seen recognition dawn across his visage yet. “Allow me to introduce you to The Honorable Alexander Mandeville. Mandeville, allow me to introduce you to Lady Lydia Radcliff, her brother and I are old friends.” Richard looked ready to elaborate, and Lydia found herself holding her breath, praying he would not say anything that would damn her.
“Your servant, my lady,” Mandeville said, his eyes sparkling as he gave her a gallant bow. She returned his bow with a curtsy, all the while feeling as if she was going to melt into a puddle onto the floor. The ballroom had become suddenly stifling, and sweat started to gather at her brow. She required fresh air. Yes, the cool night air would rejuvenate her spirits.
“Lady Lydia and I shall soon be wed,” Richard said. Lydia gasped. Did he know what he was doing? Of course he did. She was starting to discover that Richard was cleverer than the ton believed. He cultivated the charade of seeming like he was daft and lazy and yet—he was anything but. In that regard, he was quite possibly the most dangerous lord in the beau monde.
And yet, his scandalous declaration had sent her pulse racing, her heart beat so loud she feared that Alex could hear it, and her legs were turning to jelly. She had to escape. She couldn’t continue on this perilous course. Her reputation was in jeopardy, and she kept fearing that Alex would declare, ‘Jamie is that you?’
Silently, she turned and fled. Running as if her life depended upon it, and perhaps it did. Life as she knew it could come crumbling down around her. If the gossips found out about her nocturnal activities she would be ruined, her name would be smeared for years to come—even if Richard did marry her, she would be continually reminded of her follies during her youth. She knew full well that her dramatic performance was bound to set a few old biddies’ tongues wagging. It didn’t behoove her to look behind her, she already knew Richard chased her. She could feel it in her bones. Racing out to the gardens, she stopped to catch her breath. He finally caught up with her and regarded her at length. Moonlight illuminated his features, along with the torches that had been lit to bathe the grounds in bright light. Why was she out of breath, and he wasn’t? Clearly, he was in better physical condition than she had originally believed.
“Do you think he knows?” Lydia asked softly, keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard.
“Mandeville knows a great more than you give him credit for. He’s not a dunderhead, Lydia.”
“What do you think he’ll do if he discovers that I am Jamie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think he’ll expose me and make me a pariah within the ton?”
“That would hardly earn you that sort of reputation. Honestly, Lydia, you do have an overactive imagination. Besides, Mandeville isn’t that sort of person.”
“How do you know?” Her forthright challenge obviously put him ill at ease. He had that look that plainly expressed he’d said too much and now wanted to take back his words.
“A gentleman always knows the character of another gentleman, and Mandeville has the character befitting a chivalrous knight of old.”
She snorted. “I doubt you’re that good of a judge. You have miscalculated a great many things in life, sir.”
“Aye. I have, and I have paid dearly for it. There is so much I wish I could go back and change.” Now his honest admission was giving her a fit of the blue devils.
Lydia chanced a peek at Richard. Illuminated by moonlight, his visage was more than pleasing. He looked more rugged tonight, handsomer than she’d ever seen him. He looked like a man, and not a foppish dandy. Swallowing thickly, she looked away from him, and leaned on a balustrade. “I think we should part ways, sir.”
“I would like to ask for another dance.”
“I don’t mean to part ways here at the ball, though that would be the best course of action, I meant—I meant I think we should pretend we’ve never met and become lifelong strangers to each other.”
He let out a primal guttural noise, and reached for her, pulling her to him. She attempted to resist, only to be pulled so she was a hairsbreadth away from him. He wasn’t brutal in his actions, his touch was gentle, and made it all the more painful for her to fight his advances. They were making quite a scandalous sight in her brother’s gardens, and were starting to earn attention from the other guests.
“Lord Tisbury, I beg of you to remember yourself. We are on public display.”
“I know,” he nearly growled. “And you, my love, are never going to drive me out of your life. I am here to stay, Lydia.”
“No. We are bad for each other, sir. We bring out the worst in each other.”
“And where did you get that foolish notion?”
“You turn me into a jealous little shrew, and I seem to be returning the favor. I saw the way you looked at Mr. Newson and how you regarded Alex, I mean Mr. Mandeville. You cannot bear to see me within arm’s length of another man.”
“I freely admit that. You are mine, Lydia.”
She jutted out her chin. “I belong to no man, sir. And until you can see that, you can never have me.”
“But you admit that I could have you, as long as I allow you to be your own woman.”
“I am no man’s chattel.”
“Quite right. You are no man’s chattel. If you belong to
me, I belong to you. I see it as a mutual arrangement.”
“You talk in riddles, sir.”
“I thought I was talking quite plainly.”
“I must insist. I cannot be swayed. Pray, leave me be, sir. It is time for us to part ways. You must leave me be, never to set eyes on each other again,” she implored softly, stubbornly looking away from him, to stare up at the moon and the stars. Silence met her plea, and yet, he hadn’t moved an inch.
“There is not a force on earth that could ever make that so, Lydia. You can be quite the trying little creature, but you are mine, and I shan’t ever leave you. I fully confess it. I was a damn bloody fool, I was the greatest fool of all, and there is nothing I can do or say to defend my reprehensible actions. I made quite the blundering bore of myself in that rather colorful debacle, didn’t I?”
Lydia kept looking away from him, afraid to even acknowledge that he had spoken. Oh, dash it all. She was no saint. Silence was not one of her virtues.
“If you could have thrashed Lord Chorley, why didn’t you?” she asked softly, wincing as she’d brought up something that Richard obviously didn’t want to be reminded of. “Why did you let him beat you, and make you look the weakling?”
It was time for them to have it all out between them, and finally be done with it. She wanted to know how he could have been so cruel to her. He had given her feelings absolutely no thought whatsoever, and while she had hoped for something more with him, she’d always thought of him as her friend, as someone who would shelter her in a storm. Realizing that he had paid her such little regard had been a shattering blow that she was still trying to overcome. Knowing she was not the center of his world when he was the center of hers, stung indeed.
The other lords and ladies who had escaped the somewhat stifling ballroom for the fresh air of the gardens were starting to stare. They’d obviously noticed something was amiss. Where was her brother? As her protector, he should be here, intervening on her behalf. Whenever she wanted Micah around, he was nowhere to bloody well be found. Dash it all.
Delightfully Dangerous (Knights Without Armor Book 1) Page 16
