by Eva Devon
She smiled up at him. “Of course. I’m neither aristocrat nor plebeian. I am a creature all of my own.”
Adam threw up his hands with a sigh and left them to it, crossing the room to his beautiful young wife.
“And what is that?” Ellesmere asked, laughing.
“A ship’s captain.”
“You’re serious?” Ellesmere queried, gazing at her as if she was some bird which had flown half-way around the world only to find herself in the wrong garden.
“I am. I’ve lived my entire life upon islands and the seas.” And she wondered if, for all his beauty, he was a bit of a codfish, for now his mouth had fallen open.
But if she did not act boldly, she knew that she would soon be much like blood in the water, and all the sharks would come swimming.
“Does such a thing bother you, my lord?” she asked, tilting her head back to better look at him.
“Not in the least,” he said with good grace as he held out his hand. “Would you care to dance, my lady captain?”
“Indeed, I would.” She slipped her gloved hand into his. “Thank you so much for asking, my lord.”
With practiced ease and as if it was second nature, he led her onto the floor. He paused then winked. “I say, a lady captain does know how to dance?”
“A jig, a reel, a waltz, good sir,” she said merrily, “and I shall follow you about the room.”
He looked slightly startled but curious. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”
“Are you?” she asked. “You look a trifle alarmed.”
“I promise I am not,” he said with a rich laugh. “Your enthusiasm for life is refreshing.”
“Oh dear,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Have I overdone it?”
“No,” he assured with surprising warmth. “I find I quite like it. I think you’re rather remarkable, but I have to admit I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“How lovely of you to say,” she returned as the music began and he swept her about the room. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you either.”
He gazed down at her doubtfully. “Truly?”
She nodded honestly. “You seem to be most kind, and you are also a lord. In my experience, lords are almost entirely impossible.”
He choked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t you think so?” she asked cheekily. “I find most aristocrats to be absolutely intolerable.”
He gazed about the sparkling, candle-lit room. “Then, may I ask what you were doing at a ball, surrounded by them?”
“Of course,” she agreed. “I’ve been invited to stay by my brothers, and, well, I have a particular interest here tonight.”
“Do you, by God?” He said, blinking.
“Yes,” she affirmed as they glided across the floor in quick steps.
“May I inquire as to what or whom it is?”
“The Earl of Rutherford,” she replied without any attempt to hide her interest.
Again, Ellesmere coughed. “Oh dear,” he said.
“Oh dear?” she queried. “Why oh dear?”
“Well, you know,” his brow furrowed. “He is a bit of a scandal.”
She gave him her most winning smile. “Am I not a bit of a scandal myself?”
“Well, I suppose you are,” the Earl of Ellesmere confessed, clearly bemused.
She gave a nod. “Then, he and I are perfectly matched.”
“My dear lady, you do speak in merry ways.” He stared down at her as if she was still a complete marvel to him, one which he would never understand but admired. “And I wish you the very best, but I am glad that it is not I, you are in London for.”
“Oh, my dear Lord Ellesmere,” she said kindly as they twirled about, narrowly avoiding other couples. “I can see that you and I are not a match, but I can tell that you will be a glorious catch for some young lady.”
“Dear Captain,” he said with sudden seriousness. And then he rushed in a great flow of honesty, “That’s what I keep being told. It’s rather difficult because I keep hoping eventually I’m going to find the right young lady, but no one ever seems to be the one, and I don’t understand it. Have I the appearance of an ogre? Do I not have a fortune? Do I not have a title? Am I so very appalling?”
She gazed up at him sympathetically. The poor fellow was pouring his soul out to her. And she wished she could assist him in some way, for she had not met such a good-hearted man in some time.
Suddenly, he gaped, his eyes widening with shock. “My God. How did you do that?”
“Do what, exactly?” she asked.
“You’ve caused me to profess my deepest concerns to you,” he breathed. “And I have known you but a moment.”
“It is a skill that I possess,” Cleo confessed.
It was true. Ever since she was a small girl, people had felt compelled to share their thoughts and fears with her.
“Sometimes, all I have to do is look at a person, and they tell me everything within their head.”
“How terrible,” he said. “Forgive me.”
“It can be a bit of a trial,” she said. “But with you, I don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” he said, still clearly mortified by his transgression.
A silence fell between them for a moment, and she decided not to allow it to pass. After all, it did not seem fair that a man as good-natured as Ellesmere could not find love.
“Perhaps I can assist you,” she finally said, “in the finding of your lady?”
“I doubt that,” he said with a scowl. “I think fate has decided I am to marry without love as my ancestors have done for hundreds of years.”
“Goodness,” she replied. “What a demoralizing thought. Do not give up, my lord. Love could be waiting around any corner.”
“Do you think it’s waiting for you?” he asked sincerely.
“For me?” she blinked then said cheerfully. “I’m not interested in love, my lord. Now waltz me around the room. It’s time for me to do what I came here for.”
Still appearing shocked that his clearly English self had confessed so much to her, Ellesmere did as she asked.
In her opinion, as far as she could see, Ellesmere was a good and kind soul. However, the poor fellow had yet to truly understand himself, and she knew that was exactly why he had yet to find the perfect match. She hoped he did learn exactly what he needed or wanted in this life soon, for good, kind souls should find other good, kind souls.
It did not always happen that way, though, much to her sadness.
Her mother, at one time, had been a good, kind soul who thought she’d found another good, kind soul.
Anne Donnelly had been most mistaken, and the affair had gone terribly awry. Cleo hoped such a thing did not befall Ellesmere.
She would hate to see such a lovely man tarnished.
As the music came to a close, the Earl of Ellesmere, with perfect grace, managed to stop directly in front of the Earl of Rutherford.
“Well done, my lord,” she whispered up to him. “What remarkable timing. I appreciate it greatly.”
Ellesmere bowed. “The least I could do after you listened to me so graciously.”
“I shall listen to you anytime you wish.” She gave him a slight curtsy, an acknowledgment she would not have usually given. But she had not hat to tip. “You are a lovely speaker.”
Ellesmere’s lips parted in a positively boyish grin, and his cheeks flushed at her compliment. “Good God,” he said. “How the devil do you do things like that, lady captain?”
“Oh,” she said. “I have my secrets.”
“Magic?” he asked with a bow.
“No,” she said. “Something far worse, but I shan’t confess.”
With that, Ellesmere led her off the dance floor right up to the Earl of Rutherford.
Without a word, Ellesmere departed.
So, it was standing by herself, head high, shoulders back, brow arched that she accused, “You, sir, are absolutely terrible.”
R
utherford stood stock-still in his stunning evening clothes, looking impossibly handsome.
He put a gloved hand behind his lower back, bowed, and intoned, “Why, thank you. No one could have paid me a greater compliment.”
She tsked. “Of course you would take such a thing as a compliment.”
“How could I not, coming from a person such as you, who abducts people?” he pointed out, even as his eyes began to warm as he let his gaze linger over her. “You think I’m terrible? I must be bloody marvelous.”
She let her mouth fall open in pretend horror. “It is you, sir, who are the nefarious one! You wagered I would not be able to linger in the ton, and yet, it is you who have avoided me. How are we to play this game if you are not to be a participant?”
“Point to you,” he said, his lids half-hooded. “But I have been giving thought to our rules.”
Her heart sank, and she suddenly realized how much she wanted this. . . him. “You wish to forfeit your wager already?”
“Never,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the crowded room. “But I don’t wish to be confused about what is transpiring here.”
“Oh,” she said, relieved. “Marvelous. The same as I.”
He stood imperiously, as if nothing could shake him. “We should have our ground rules, don’t you think?”
She wet her lower lip. “Agreed.”
His eyes flared at the sight. “Come out to the garden, and we can discuss it.”
“You shall never win me so easily, my lord,” she countered “I shall not head into the bushes with you. First,” she said, “You must convince me that I should follow you into the garden alone.”
“Convince you?” he echoed. “You wish me to seduce you on the floor?”
She leaned in and whispered, “A lady always wishes to be seduced. Now dance with me and convince me to come away with you.”
Without another word, he held out his strong, white-gloved hand, “Whatever you require, Captain. Whatever you require.”
Chapter 9
Rutherford fought the illusion of perfection in his arms.
It had to be an illusion. Nothing could be so perfect. Could it?
Bloody hell, the way her body felt against his. . .
He might as well be the stone to her flint. She curved against him with absolute ease. His hand grazed her waist as if his palm was meant to cup her ribs. Their fingers entwined easily, and he adored the way the silk of her gown felt against him.
Her breasts almost brushed his chest, and she cocked her head back, giving him a merry grin as they waltzed about the room. It was a slow waltz, not like one from Vienna. They were able to take their time in great, swooping twirls and turns.
“You are very good at this, my lord,” she observed.
“A great deal of practice, you know?” he replied.
Her eyes sparkled with interest. “You like to practice things?”
“Of course I do.” He turned them in the opposite direction, easily making their way down the long floor. “How else does one become accomplished at them?”
“Oh, I thought you’d be the sort of person who insisted they were perfect the first time they tried something.”
He shook his head. “Perfection isn’t possible, and no one can achieve it the first time they try something.” He turned her under his arms, rotating them slowly. As he gazed down at her, he said, “Endeavor is really what gets one through this life, and learning from one’s mistakes. Trial and error.”
“Trial and error,” she echoed, as her fingers clasped his, her breasts rising and falling at the exertion of the dance. . . Or his nearness. “Is that how you feel?”
“Of course it is,” he said easily as he turned her again, this time, locking them in an intimate embrace. “Why wouldn’t I? One must continually try to improve oneself.”
“Ah,” she all but purred. “A man who is not an arrogant fool.”
He laughed at that, savoring the feel of her body so close to his. “Precisely. Even though I am correct a good deal of the time. Especially in regards to a man like Lock.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes narrowing though they glimmered with amusement. “I knew you would not be able to resist mentioning that.”
He gave her a slow smile, feeling so alive in her presence that all the confusion and doubt he’d felt in her absence vanished. “But I was correct. Was I not?”
“I confess, you were.” Her lush lips parted in a pleased smile. “My sister, Calliope, is delightfully happy in the arms of the man she loves. He did turn up as you said, professing his admiration and adoration of her for all eternity.”
“You see,” He said, overjoyed though he did not let the extent of his pleasure show. “He just needed a little push.”
“I cannot agree,” she countered defiantly with a shake of her head, which caused her coiled blond hair to tease her long neck. “He needed to be kidnapped and then given a little push.”
“I confess, this is possibly true,” he acquiesced.
“There,” she crowed triumphantly. “You confess I am correct as well.”
“We are both right. Does that satisfy you?” He wondered how hard she’d had to fight over the years to keep her independence when confronted by an inherently male-led world. How often had she been cast down or dismissed? He doubted she allowed it often.
“I suppose it does.” She winked up at him. “For now.”
That wink. That devilish wink! It was so out of keeping with the ladies of the ton he almost did not know how to comport himself. He loved that it felt as if she was sharing some secret with him.
His gaze lifted momentarily, and he caught sight of the countless guests standing along the wall. . . Staring. Staring at both of them with eager interest.
The ladies gossiped behind painted fans. The gentlemen looked far more jolly as they sipped their wine and studied Cleo’s stunning form.
He was tempted to growl at them all. Jealousy. Damnation. It was not an emotion he’d ever been given to before. But suddenly, he felt a burst of need to roar at them all that she was his.
It was. . . unexpected.
“Now,” he finally said quietly. “It seems as if you’ve taken the ton by storm.”
She did not bother to look but rather replied easily, “You’ve noticed.”
So, she was aware of the effect she had on everyone? Of course she did. When one was as unique as she, how would one not notice?
“I noticed you the moment you came in the room,” he whispered as the music came to a close.
“Then, why did you not make your way immediately to me?” she queried, her stunning gaze searching his face. “I thought you would, considering our wager.”
“Oh, I didn’t wish to seem too eager,” he said. “That’s the worst thing with ladies, is it not?”
She laughed, a deep, bold sound. “I felt much the same! But I say now. . . No more games, my lord. We both know we desire each other, do we not? Or do you wish to behave as others do in such affairs?”
His heart did the strangest thing. It tightened as if the idea of playing a game with someone so remarkable as she, was beyond comprehension.
“No, Cleo,” he said frankly. “I don’t. I don’t think that would be wise at all. But you do lead a merry conversation, and I cannot help but love to dance with you in phrase as well as on this floor.”
Her gaze grew serious. “I’m glad you feel that way, for life would be awfully, terribly boring if we didn’t have a merry turn of phrase.”
The music began again, and much to his surprise, neither of them seemed to question that they should simply dance again. They had not left the floor. And now? He was leading her into the counts of another waltz, not giving a fig if the entire room spoke of it for the next month.
“You’re not very much like your sister,” he observed, stunned that twins could be so similar and yet so very different. Both were bold and independent, but Calliope had not seemed so determined to remain alone and unanchored as C
leo.
“But we are a perfect match for each other, her and I,” she pointed out, swaying easily to the music. “We are like two halves of one coin.”
“Will it be difficult to be away from her?” he asked.
For the first time, he saw a hint of doubt in her eyes and noticed the slight tightening of her throat as if she was trying to swallow back a profound wave of emotion.
“It will be very difficult,” she confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper before she cleared her throat and said with more confidence. “I adore my sister, and we’ve never truly been apart.”
“I can only imagine being so close to someone,” Rutherford replied, thinking of his isolated and lonely childhood, spent mostly with tutors in a quiet room in the west wing of his family estate.
“You’ve never been close to anyone?” she asked, clearly surprised by his statement.
He drew in a long breath, determined not to pity himself. “No,” he confirmed evenly. “I never had siblings, and my parents—”
“Your parents were unkind,” she said with a gentle firmness that shook him.
“Don’t say that,” he replied, a muscle tightening in his jaw. His reaction to her own kindness shocked him. As if somehow, just her simple words could wrench open a door he’d thought firmly closed. “I don’t wish you to pity me.”
“I don’t pity you,” she assured. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wish you could have known the sort of affection I have known. You see, my mother, and myself, and my sister, we were all very, very close.”
“And your father?” he asked carefully, realizing that a woman like Cleo would not leave the man out without intention.
“We will not speak of him,” she said tightly, her lips pressing into a line before she bit out. “An absolute rat.”
“We mustn’t talk of rats, especially not tonight,” he said grandly, wondering how their conversation had wandered into such depth and intimacy so soon. Was he not supposed to be seducing her? This? This was not a typical seduction. . . But he realized a meeting of two souls.
Andrew hesitated then said, “But if you’d ever like to discuss said rat, know that I’m willing to share secrets about my father as well.”
