by Claudia Dain
“Lord Ashdon,” she choked out, her heart hammering, “please. Stop.”
“I have finally rendered you speechless?” Ashdon grinned gently and said softly, “I had not thought it possible, Caro, and all it took was a king’s fortune in pearls.”
“Pearls of the imagination,” she said with a soft smile, teasing him.
“I have an active imagination, especially when I look at you.”
“Yes, I should say so.”
“Tell me, Caro, how long is your unbound hair? Will it cover the pearls of my imagination?”
“It covers my ears and would hide the pearls you gave me.”
“But will it hide the pearls I will give you? Strand upon strand, reaching down to your—”
“Lord Ashdon!”
“Breasts?” he said, in spite of her warning. Anne was looking at a particularly ordinary patch of grass. The footmen were talking quietly between themselves and taking turns looking at the horizon.
“Lord Ashdon, really!” she said, crossing her arms over her breasts to smother their sudden tingling.
“I must know, Caro. I must know how long the strand must be. I would not have you wear pearls that are hidden in the dark masses of your curls.”
“My hair is not curly,” she said, instantly regretting how prim she sounded.
“Wavy, then? And to your . . . shoulders?”
“Is this any way to talk?”
Ashdon shrugged and grinned. “I’m having a good time. You?”
“I think you enjoy tormenting me.”
“I think you’re right,” he said on a laugh. “Just answer my question. Let this one thing, the length of your hair, be something free of my imaginings. Please, Caro. Please.”
His voice, so solemn, so sweet, so sensuous, ripped past all her moral training and the rules of etiquette to impale her on desire. The desire to please him. The desire to best him. The desire to drive him mad.
“Please?” she echoed. “I cannot refuse you when you are so polite, so earnest, Lord Ashdon.” She leaned closer to him, caught the scent of him, felt her stomach drop another degree, and said as provocatively as she could, “My hair falls to my breasts, Lord Ashdon, where it curls most delicately. If you would give me pearls, which I surely hope you will, they must fall to here,” and she drew a seductive line across the tips of her breasts with a fingertip.
She had the exquisite pleasure of hearing Lord Ashdon groan.
“Oh, look,” Anne interrupted. “Is that not the Duke of Calbourne?”
It did look so, though why Calbourne should be walking about Hyde Park at this unfashionable time of day was beyond comprehension. Before she could gather her composure to greet the approaching Calbourne, Ashdon took her by the arm and said in an undertone, “And if I get you the pearls, what will you give me?”
“You will get to see me wear them.”
“As I see you in my imagination?”
Naked? Hardly.
“As far as they fall, then yes,” she said. He would never be able to afford a necklace of any length. Why, he would be doing well to afford her a pearl choker. She would be more than happy to show him her neck.
“As far as they fall,” he murmured, his blue eyes gleaming like a cat’s. “And will I get to touch you as far as they fall?”
A trickier proposition. She was not certain that she could trust Lord Ashdon to touch her neck without seducing her completely. In fact, she was completely certain that he would do just that, and that she would likely let him.
“Certainly,” she said, putting her trust in Ashdon’s poverty and abysmal skill at gambling.
“You are a sharp businesswoman, Lady Caroline,” he said, stepping away from her and looking for all the world like a gentleman of the best of manners. Liar. “I shall endeavor to meet your price. Most heartily endeavor. How shall I find you?”
Oh, this was tricky. He must continue to think that her mother was against all contact, when of course the very reverse was true. Deceit was such a nuisance, requiring so much planning and remembering.
“Find Anne, Mrs. Warren, and she will find me,” she said.
“Mrs. Warren? Yes, that will serve most well,” he said. It sounded suspicious to her, but in what regard she could not determine.
“A fine gathering!” the Duke of Calbourne said as he joined them. “Is there an occasion or am I just lucky?”
“Just lucky,” Ashdon said crisply.
“Lady Caroline,” Calbourne said on a bow. “Mrs. Warren. A man is lucky to fall upon two such lovely companions in his wanderings.”
“You wandered into Hyde Park?” Ashdon said. He was being somewhat rude and certainly abrupt. Caro could not think what was wrong with him, he’d been so pleasant just moments ago.
“Yes, I did,” Calbourne said with a cheerful grin.
He was such a jovial man, was Calbourne. Caro had always liked that about him. Pity that Ashdon was so severe in his aspect, though, to be honest, she found Ashdon’s severity rather beguiling. It made her want to make him laugh or make him angry or make him insane with desire, to just make him react, to break free of his solemn self-control in any way, for any cause. Well, no, truly, she wanted to be the cause. If she was going to lie to Ashdon, the least she must do was remain honest with herself.
“By way of White’s?” Ashdon asked with a bit of a scowl. Really, this was rude even for Ashdon and completely out of bounds, to question a duke that way.
“Why, yes, actually I did stop in at White’s for a bit. Seems I just missed you,” Calbourne said, staring at Ashdon in a quite friendly manner considering the severity of Ashdon’s tone. Sometimes, like now, Caro was not completely certain she wanted Ashdon for a husband; he could be quite grim when he felt like it, and he seemed to feel like it rather too often.
“Yes, it would seem,” Ashdon said. “How fortunate that you found me.”
“Yes, well,” Caro said firmly, “you can have him, your grace. Mrs. Warren and I simply must continue on or my mother will send the dogs out for us.”
“You have dogs, Lady Caroline?” Ashdon said stiffly.
“Figure of speech, Lord Ashdon. Purely symbolic. No need to fear getting your fine breeches snagged on a dog’s sharp tooth today.”
“Looks to be your lucky day as well, Ashdon,” Calbourne said softly, still grinning. “Lady Caroline, Mrs. Warren, good day to both.”
“Oh, and Mrs. Warren?” Ashdon said. Anne turned to face him, her expression just shy of outright laughter. “Lord Dutton asked me to send his compliments. I believe he intends to call later today.”
“Thank you, Lord Ashdon,” Anne said. “You are most kind to relay a message that could surely have been brought to the house in the usual manner.”
And with that, Anne walked on, forcing Caro to walk on with her, which is not to say she would have stayed. Lord Ashdon and his talk of pearls had played with her composure quite enough for one day. If he wanted to torment her further, he would just have to make an appointment.
It was with that thought that she put Lord Ashdon completely out of her thoughts for what had to have been a full two minutes.
“YOU can’t get her out of your thoughts, can you?” Calbourne said to Ashdon as they watched the women walk out of the park by way of Grosvenor Gate.
Ashdon thought about lying, but then decided that there was no point to it, not with Cal.
“No, I can’t,” he said. “Which works out very well, considering that it has become my duty to ruin her as thoroughly and quickly as possible.”
“Westlin’s idea?”
“Who else?”
“You are being unusually forthright, Ash. Things must be at a terrible state.”
“I suppose that depends on how you define terrible,” Ashdon said, staring after Caro until she was lost from view. “By Westlin’s compass, I am right on target. By my own, well, I’m not certain that I have a compass where Caroline Trevelyan is concerned.”
“You’re in love with her.
” It was not a question.
“Don’t be absurd; I hardly know her,” Ashdon said sharply. “But I do know that she’s not the person my father thinks her to be, certainly not the kind of girl one goes about ruining for sport.”
“But this is about the mother, not the daughter, isn’t it?”
Ashdon nodded. “As to that, Lady Dalby isn’t quite what I expected either.”
“I gather that is the usual impression of her,” Cal said with a smile. “I’ve always found her to be both amusing and a bit frightening.”
“Where her daughter is concerned, frightening.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Ruin her,” Ashdon said softly. “What else is there for me to do?”
“There are quicker ways to ruin a girl than a chance meeting in Hyde Park,” Cal pointed out.
“Yes, there are,” Ashdon agreed. “The wrinkle is that I must make her ruination to be completely of her own devising, a case of blood will tell, that sort of thing. My father is quite firm about it. This idea of hers to become a courtesan fits right in, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Calbourne said as they walked the horses through the park. The sun was low and the wind was picking up. Abysmal time of day to be strolling about, but when did women and logic ever pair up? “And the pearls? He’s content to let you beggar the family to prove her bad blood?”
Ashdon looked at Calbourne askance. “You did hang about White’s for a bit, didn’t you? Run into Dutton at all?”
“Would you feel better if I said I beat it out of him?”
“Yes, actually, I would.”
Calbourne grinned and said, “He told me about the pearls, but why didn’t you come to me for them? You know I’d help you.”
“Would you, Cal?” Ashdon said, stopping to stare at him. “Would you help me ruin a girl in the name of revenge? ”
“It doesn’t sit well, does it?” Cal said.
Ashdon shook his head and said crisply, “And I wouldn’t have you share the experience. Stay clear, Cal. I’ll work this out.”
“With Dutton’s help.”
Ashdon shrugged. “If he can get me a strand of pearls, then yes.”
“You don’t worry about contaminating him?”
“Dutton? I don’t think he can be contaminated. Besides, he has his own games to play with Anne Warren.”
“IF he thinks he can play his silly games with me,” Anne said in a furious undertone as they hurried toward home, “well, he is in for a jolt.”
“Not Lord Ashdon,” Caro said.
“Of course not. Lord Dutton,” Anne snapped as they walked up the front steps.
“Lord Dutton? What sort of games is he playing with you?” Caro asked.
“The same sort of game that Lord Ashdon is playing with you,” Anne said as the footman opened the door for them. “Only I am not a willing participant, and that makes all the difference.”
“Oh,” Caro said, completely lost.
She blamed Lord Ashdon. If she were not spending so much time thinking about him and about his wicked eyes and his devilish mouth and his lascivious imagination, she would have a thought to give to someone else. As things stood, she did not. Yet with the way he made her feel, she cared not. He was a wicked man to make her cast aside all thoughts of Anne and what she was going through with Lord Dutton, though what Anne could possibly be going through with Lord Dutton was a mystery.
Lord Dutton was no stranger to the Dalby town house, and he was certainly no stranger to Anne. Why, when Anne had first come to live with them, Caro had been almost certain that Dutton had entertained Anne’s imagination quite a bit. But nothing had come of it and Anne had never said anything about an attraction to Lord Dutton, and that had been the end of something that had never really begun. All to the good, in her opinion, as Lord Dutton, for all his handsome looks and perhaps particularly because of them, was a bit of a scoundrel.
Caro was interrupted in her rambling musings by Fredericks, who said, “Lady Dalby would like you to join her for tea, Lady Caroline, Mrs. Warren.”
“Wonderful,” Caro said. “I’m chilled to the bone.”
“She’s not alone,” Fredericks whispered as he opened the door to the yellow salon for them.
She most certainly was not. Lady Louisa Kirkland, her aunt and chaperone, Mary, Lady Jordan, and Lady Amelia Caversham, daughter of the Duke of Aldreth and Lady Louisa’s cousin, all turned to look as Anne and Caro entered the room. It was quite close to being daunting.
Caro had never met Lady Amelia before, their social circles being wildly divergent, and she could not imagine what brought her here today. Or maybe she could imagine. London was a remarkably bad place to keep a secret. Suddenly, the pearl earrings dangling from her ears seemed to weigh a stone and she fought the urge to clap her hands over them in shame.
Sophia made the introductions, Anne and Caro sat upon the chairs that Fredericks provided for them, and there they sat, six women staring at each other in mute curiosity. Lady Amelia and Lady Louisa looked only slightly alike. They were both fair skinned, though Lady Louisa, with her curling red hair, was infinitely more so. Lady Amelia had lovely golden blond hair and sky blue eyes under dark blond brows. She was as beautiful as the rumors of her. Mary, Lady Jordan, sister to Louisa’s deceased mother, who had wed the Marquis of Melverley, looked slightly foxed. There was nothing unusual in that, sad to say.
When the silence bordered on discomfort, Sophia, predictably, took charge.
“How fortunate, Caro, that you are wearing the pearl earrings from Lord Ashdon. Aren’t they are as beautiful as I said they were, ladies?”
Caro, to her credit, lifted her chin and stared calmly at the ladies, who stared avidly back.
“We were, of course, talking of them, darling,” Sophia said serenely, smiling approvingly at Caro. “It seems the whole town can talk of nothing else.”
“How remarkable,” Caro managed to say.
“Yes, but things are slow in Town now, the Season just barely begun,” Sophia said. “What else to talk about but a broken engagement?”
Caro turned to stare at her mother, drinking in confidence from the amusement in her mother’s black eyes.
“Is it true, oh, forgive me,” Lady Amelia said haltingly, “I don’t mean to imply otherwise, but it is just so remarkable that you refused Lord Ashdon’s offer of marriage.”
To the awkward silence that remark engendered, Lady Amelia stammered, “Oh, I’m so sorry! That did not come out right at all. What I mean to say is that, it is rather remarkable, isn’t it? I mean, if Lord Ashdon had offered for me, I daresay I would have accepted him and gladly.”
Caro decided in that instant that Lady Amelia Caversham was a complete hag and that if Ashdon ever looked at her, she’d flay them both.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lady Amelia,” Sophia said soothingly. “Of course it’s remarkable, I thought so myself, and I daresay that Lord Ashdon thought so most of all. He certainly had no anticipation that he was to be refused, but my daughter has her standards and Lord Ashdon, unfortunately, does not meet them.”
Oh, well done, Mother!
“I believe we all have our standards, Lady Dalby,” Lady Louisa said silkily. Lady Louisa, for all that her lineage was impeccable, was a bit of a tough. “It is just amazing to the point of being unbelievable that Lord Ashdon would fail to meet Lady Caroline’s.”
“Yes,” Sophia said softly, her smile maternal, “we do have our various standards. Perhaps some could do with a bit of raising, but there you are.”
Anne cleared her throat at that remark and looked down at her lap. Caro wasn’t sure if Anne was trying not to laugh or not to vomit. It was into that congealed atmosphere that Fredericks opened the door and announced, “Lord Dutton is calling, Lady Dalby.”
“Oh, how nice,” Sophia said, taking in Lady Louisa’s flushed cheeks. “Can he be convinced to wait? I am engaged at present.”
“I believe he can wait, Lady Dalby, but he is cal
ling upon Mrs. Warren,” Fredericks said, staring at Anne.
The look that both Lady Louisa and Lady Amelia cast upon Anne was worth solid gold. Everyone and the chimney sweep knew that Louisa Kirkland was mad for Lord Dutton. It was equally well known that Lord Dutton was mad for his own amusement and little else. The daughter of a marquis hardly fit his bill of requirement.
All eyes in the room turned to Anne, who said casually, “Inform Lord Dutton that I am not at home, Fredericks.”
