Suddenly, Gabriel threw back his head and laughed at something obviously witty that Lady Kensington had just said; the rich sound drifting over to where Triana stood frozen in place. She felt her lungs freeze in her chest, before common sense jolted her back to reality. A man like that would never even look twice at a woman like her.
It was just as well, Triana thought, with a tilt of her chin. She didn’t need any man interfering in her life, telling her what to do, or how to act. No matter how Chiltern appeared on the outside, he undoubtedly had a heart just as black as Wistenberry.
Bringing her glass to her mouth, Triana blinked when nothing touched her tongue. She quickly exchanged her empty flute for a full one, and was just about to lift the sparkling wine to her lips, when she heard her name being called. Withholding a groan, she realized that lady luck was obviously not on her side tonight, and what a laugh she must be having at her expense!
Doing her best not to grimace, Triana turned slowly, albeit a bit reluctantly, to face the earl. Lord Eastbury was sauntering up to her in what he must feel was a charming manner but what put her more in mind of a waddling duck.
Sweeping both of her hands into his, he bestowed a wide smile that boasted yellowed teeth. “My dear, Miss Abernathy!” He exclaimed, bestowing a kiss upon the top of each of her hands, making her thankful she wore gloves. “You look ravishing as usual.”
Barely able to keep from yanking her extremities away, Triana inclined her head politely, although her eyes narrowed slightly in the face of that leering grin and the emphasis he put on “ravishing.” She was not ignorant of the fact that he desired her, for he made that fact abundantly clear each time they were together — and it made her skin crawl. But with the endless hours of decorum she’d endured as a child drummed into her head, she managed a reserved nod and a cool reply. “What a pleasant surprise, my lord.”
Seeming to take her polite statement as encouragement and not at face value, he leaned closer. Quelling the overwhelming urge to pinch her nose against such a horrid assault on her senses, Triana silently resorted to holding her breath until he moved away.
One, two, three...
“M’dear, surely you know that I wouldn’t miss even a single opportunity to be in your company.”
… five, six, seven…
“Most notably a lady of your outstanding...uh...qualities.”
His gaze had dropped to her generous bosom mid-sentence, before returning to her face with a brief clearing of his throat, leaving no room for doubt as to what he considered her best feature. Triana was able to make it to thirteen before outrage at his boldness caused her to expel her lungs in a rush. How dare he eye me as if I were a slab of meat at market!
Enough was enough.
Knowing she was about to lose her temper and not wishing to make an unnecessary scene, Triana made a show of gingerly touching her forehead. Giving a dramatic sigh that would have made any actress on Drury Lane applaud, she said, “I truly apologize, my lord, but I fear I have the most dreadful headache coming on. If you’ll excuse me—”
She started to take her leave, but he was faster than she gave his heavy form credit for. Grabbing her elbow, he offered, “By all means, allow me to escort you.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before she was pulling her arm free. The weasel was always using any excuse to get her alone.
“No!” she exclaimed a little too emphatically, causing a few curious glances to dart their way. Lowering her voice, she added more quietly, but just as firmly, “Please don’t trouble yourself. I’m quite capable of managing on my own.” With that, she fled before he had a chance to argue further.
Knowing Lady Trenton would never allow her daughter to retire a moment before two o’clock unless it was an absolute emergency — even then figuring most any problem was negotiable — the time for debate was now past.
Triana was leaving.
But after an extensive search proved fruitless, Triana clenched her hands in frustration. Her mother had ostensibly disappeared, but she gained a certain solace in the knowledge that the countess couldn’t hide forever.
Chapter Two
Gabriel Wilde lingered near the entrance to the Kensington ballroom, using the lull from his arrival to glance around his surroundings with a watchful gaze. Although he wasn’t due to meet with his contact until midnight, he was still wary of anything that might appear out of place.
Thus far, no warning bells sounded in his head. It seemed to be a rather typical, society ball, with the wallflowers on one end of the room, the gossiping matrons along another, with everything else in between. If he had been a dandy, rather than the spy he was, he might have appreciated the beauty around him, the sprinkle of tiny prisms that were cast about the flower-filled setting from the three, massive chandeliers above. There was no doubt that the decorations had certainly been given to grand detail, but Gabriel knew that the ton thrived on the show as much as the attendance.
At that moment, a gaggle of simpering debutantes walked by and boldly eyed him with avid interest before their cheeks reddened and they scurried by, their white dresses trailing behind them like an innocent flutter of wings. With a sardonic twist to his lips, Gabriel knew he was being hunted as much as any grouse in the country, but he was merely doing his duty by being here. He wasn’t even in the market for a mistress at the moment, and certainly not some silly bride fresh from the schoolroom.
“Your Grace! I’m so pleased you were able to fit my modest gathering into your busy schedule!”
Gabriel slowly turned and bestowed an amused grin upon the older woman who’d come up and playfully tapped him on the shoulder with her fan.
Bowing low over her outstretched hand, he murmured, “Lady Kensington, I could not have lived with myself if I were to let you down, and I would not dare call a gathering of more than three hundred of my peers as simply modest.” He lightly kissed her gloved knuckles before straightening, but not before a lock of hair carelessly fell over his forehead.
Instantly, her fan snapped open and began to flutter wildly as bright color rushed to encompass her face. “Oh my, you’re a rather flattering devil, aren’t you?” She gave a boisterous laugh. “But I fear we all knew you would be full of that arrogant charm if you even remotely took after your dear, departed father.”
He chose to ignore the remark about his sire, though he inclined his head and gallantly replied, “I do try, Lady Kensington.” After a scandalous wink, he excused himself and proceeded farther into the ballroom, leaving his hostess’ almost girlish chuckle in his wake.
Continuing his assessment of the occupants, Gabriel couldn’t help but clench his jaw at any mention of the former duke. He hadn’t been there when the old man had passed, nor bothered to return to Chiltern Hall for the funeral. Needless to say, it was a vast understatement to say that they had not parted on good terms, just as the rumor mills claimed. In truth, he wouldn’t even be in England right now if it wasn’t for the sake of his current mission. While assuming his birthright had been an eventuality, it had always hovered like a dark cloud over his existence. He had never wanted the dukedom — and in truth, he didn’t know if he would ever step into that role gracefully. Was it even possible to decline such a supposed honor?
He was just about to dismiss the crowd when something captured his attention. Immediately, a ghost of a smile touched his full, masculine lips as he watched the lively raven-haired lady, clad in a simple, but elegant, lavender gown, pop her head out of the throng every now and again, as if she were searching for someone. The spectacle she presented was almost comical, but he found himself intrigued, all the same.
He didn’t have to guess who she was. Travell had spoken of his sister often enough that Gabriel felt he knew her personally. And one would have to be blind not to see the family resemblance, although he had to say the viscount came out lacking in this instance. With that creamy skin and curvaceous figure any man would enjoy discovering, Gabriel was not immune to the fact Triana Abernat
hy was a lovely woman.
He could just imagine how beautiful she would be if she ever smiled.
But never one to mix business with pleasure, for such restraint had kept him gratefully alive over the years; Gabriel knew when to keep his distance from temptation — especially when the lady in question was firmly off limits for the lascivious images he had in mind.
A pity, to be sure.
Accepting a glass of Madeira from a nearby footman, he glanced around in an attempt to relocate Triana, but was vaguely disheartened when he didn’t see her again. Somewhat annoyed that this one bit of amusement had been taken away, he took a sip of the sparkling wine. Sensing a sudden presence beside him, he instinctively stiffened in response; although it was so fractional the action wasn’t visibly noticeable.
“So you’ve finally honored us with your presence, Your Grace.”
The familiar, sultry voice drifted over his shoulder as he slowly lowered his glass.
Lifting a lazy brow, he turned and met the green, assessing gaze of Cordelia Westchester, the Marchioness of Worthington. “My lady, it’s a pleasure. As always.”
He raised her hand to his lips and lifted his smoldering gaze to hers, peering through long, dark lashes. It was a seduction tactic he’d perfected in unbalancing the female opponent — a skill that had worked many times in the past. He wasn’t surprised to find it didn’t fail him now.
Lady Worthington’s full mouth turned upward at once into a self-satisfied grin, as a cat might wear after having filled its belly with tasty cream. “I’m glad to hear that, Your Grace.” She leaned closer, the scent of lilacs surrounding him as her voice took on an alluring quality. “I feared your affection for me was beginning to wane as I’ve been forced to see you in passing. You haven’t kept your promise to call since you gallantly escorted me home from Madame Tremaine’s shop.”
Gabriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he brought to mind the seemingly incidental encounter. Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I have been to your townhouse. You just aren’t around when I’m there. Aloud, he replied, “I’m afraid recent estate matters and a rush of invitations have taken up most of my time, but I intend to rectify the situation as soon as possible.” With a slow grin, he imparted, “I do hope my illustrious lady can find it in her heart to forgive my wayward behavior.”
Cordelia arched a delicate, blond brow. “Perhaps I like having you at my mercy,” she murmured.
He inclined his head, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Mayhap you should consider a fitting punishment for my negligence, then.”
“Indeed,” she stated with a wry curve of her lips before turning to leave. Pausing, she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes dancing mischievously. “I shall expect a waltz from you before the evening is out. Consider it an advance in payment.”
He touched two fingers to his brow in a silent salute as he watched her walk away, though it was for a completely different reason. Enjoy your power while you have it, Lady Worthington, for your time is running thin.
***
“I take it you haven’t been enjoying yourself this evening?” Amelia Abernathy’s pleasant voice drifted over to her daughter, who had finally tucked herself away in a distant, solitary corner of the ballroom, on the lookout in case Eastbury should decide to make another overture. Not to mention that from this vantage point, nearly hidden behind a large fern, Triana had quite an appealing view of the Duke of Chiltern as he conversed with Baron Nightingdon. Combined with the fourth — or was it fifth? — refreshing glass of wine she’d consumed while waiting for her mother to appear, her mood had only slightly improved.
Pausing to shoot her mother a disdainful glare over the rim of her flute, she muttered, “Is it that obvious?” And then she downed the remaining contents.
Some of the countess’ joviality slipped. “Oh, come now, Triana! Surely spending a few moments with Lord Eastbury isn’t all that terrible—”
Triana closed her eyes. “Please tell me that you aren’t still encouraging him.” But she already knew the dreaded answer.
Silence prevailed, before the lady blurted sheepishly, “I might have merely mentioned your lack of dancing partners—”
Triana cut her off with a sigh of frustration. “Why will you never desist on my marrying him?” she pleaded in an almost accusatory tone.
Her mother’s expression became firm. “Is it truly that hard to guess? Really, Triana, do you honestly not have a bit of concern for your reputation?” She gave a haughty sniff.
“And so your answer is foisting that hideous toad on me?” Triana demanded, unrepentantly.
Lady Trenton gasped in indignation. “I simply think you should do your duty to our family the way Travell has and quit allowing yourself to be the laughingstock of the ton!”
The words stung, although they managed to spark Triana’s ire. However, the second she opened her mouth to retaliate to that harsh statement, the room began to spin. Swaying the slightest fraction, it was enough to make her mother take notice of the empty glass in her daughter’s hand for the first time.
Snatching it away, Amelia hissed, “You’re foxed!” With obvious disapproval in her tone and her blue eyes snapping ferociously, she continued somewhat ruthlessly, “Do you truly make it your goal to humiliate yourself at every opportunity? This is exactly the reason you need a man’s firm hand, in order to guide you along the right path. I shall speak to Travell about this, for such illicit behavior cannot continue!”
After darting a quick glance about to ensure they were still alone, the countess instructed, “I suggest you take some air while I make our excuses to the Kensingtons and have the carriage brought around. I fully expect you to join me in fifteen minutes’ time or trust me when I say I shall send Lord Eastbury to find you!” With that parting threat, she turned and stalked away.
Triana’s mood abruptly turned as sour as the churning in her stomach. How she longed for her brother’s saving graces at that moment, but he seldom left his study of late, not to mention attend a meaningless ball. And while Triana liked to believe her mother wasn’t truly nasty by nature, her lectures were becoming even more malicious.
Smacking at the fern in sudden annoyance, Triana headed for the terrace.
She stepped over the threshold onto the darkened veranda and lifted her face to the cool, evening breeze, hoping it would work as a balm to her battling frustration. She detected the scent of a coming spring rain, and breathing deeply — she frowned, having caught the faint aroma of something else mingling in the air.
Tobacco. Someone was smoking a cigar.
Triana realized for the first time that she might not be alone, so she started to turn and scan the area around her, but froze when a deeply, confident voice murmured, “Lovely evening, is it not?”
With a startled gasp, she spun toward the sound like a bee might seek out the sweetest honey and found… him. The Duke of Chiltern was leaning against the shadowed balustrade — a hint of an amused smile touching that glorious mouth. A ringlet of smoke swirled up from the cheroot he’d gently placed between two masculine fingers as he slowly rolled it back and forth. Never before had Triana imagined such a mundane action could be even remotely sensual, but she found her blood heating at the simple movement. Likely a side effect from the Madeira — although she had her doubts.
She swallowed nervously and allowed her gaze to drink in the glorious sight before her. She could almost feel those silver eyes boring right into her soul. Could he read her deepest, darkest thoughts? The idea that he could caused her to bite her lower lip in anticipation.
He noticed the action and, keeping eye contact, began to saunter closer; each step causing her breath to quicken. The dull wash of the moon illuminated his dark hair, giving it a sort of golden halo as he moved further into the light. He appeared, at once, both ethereal — and dangerous.
Gabriel — saint and sinner. Angel and demon.
His very presence seemed to envelop her as he took a slow, leng
thy drag off the cigar before expelling the smoke in a breathless, white cloud. It took flight and dissipated, but Triana’s eyes were riveted on those full lips. How would it feel if he kissed me? Passionate? Demanding, perhaps? Moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she suddenly yearned to find out.
“You know,” he began in a low, almost caressing drawl, “it’s been my experience that looking at a man that way will only lead to trouble.”
Triana’s heart jumped into her throat as her gaze snapped back to his, where she found those silver, glittering orbs carefully assessing her. For a single moment, she thought she saw… something there, but he smoothly turned away and flicked the cheroot over the railing and then faced her with a more somber expression. Executing a formal bow from the waist, he said, “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. Allow me to rectify that. I’m the Duke of Chiltern, at your service.”
Triana knew she should respond, but although she desperately tried to make her mind function properly, it was as fuzzy as a ten-year-old cat. Alcohol really was a terrible thing, especially when one wasn’t used to drinking it!
Without warning, the world began to tilt violently on its axis. Weaving unsteadily, she put a hand to her forehead and tried to speak. “I…”
He seemed to sense what was wrong, for his arm quickly shot out, the warmth and strength of those corded muscles a pleasing and welcome distraction to her rocking core.
God, no! She groaned miserably. This can’t happen now!
But it was already too late.
“I think I’m going to be sick—” Triana whispered miserably, abruptly wrenching free of his grasp. Stumbling to the far side of the veranda, she emptied the contents of her stomach all over the Kensingtons’ delicate rose bushes below.
Triana's Spring Seduction Page 2
