Some were desperate enough to approach him, a man with high rank and wealth, but a reputation few could equal, and none surpassed. That, plus the circumstances of his birth, kept most away. But not all.
Chin high, a supercilious smile firmly in place, he walked up the stairs and into the main room. People stared. A few gowns swished as their owners turned around to quit his presence. His hostess came forward, either to greet him or tell him to leave. Really, it could be either.
She curtseyed in return to his bow. “Welcome, your grace. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
He allowed one eyebrow to climb infinitesimally. “Thank you, my lady. I’m glad I dropped in.” As if he’d plummeted down here from the heavens.
The lady appeared to smile, and the movement of her brow echoed his. He loved a woman with a sense of humor. “I’m happy you landed unharmed. Allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Lady Eliza. She will make her debut in next year’s season, but she is currently in London to order her wardrobe and attend a few social events.”
Appropriate revenge, to settle him with a girl fresh out of the schoolroom. He prayed Lady Eliza wouldn’t giggle.
He was doomed to disappointment. As he bowed over the young lady’s trembling hand, he distinctly heard it. Her parents smiled at them indulgently. Why were they welcoming him, even allowing such a demon close to their delicate flower?
Nothing came to mind. He had no choice but to try to converse until he recalled their circumstances. They could be desperate, bankrupt or merely naive.
“Will we see more of you in the season?” her ladyship asked. “We usually spend most of our time in the country, but with Eliza’s debut imminent, we have come to town.” She unfurled her fan slowly, a teasing gesture. Although she wore her hair powdered, glints of dark curls hinted at her true hair color. Her face paint wasn’t too extreme, and she had large gray eyes. No doubt she was an accredited beauty from her grace and confidence.
No, he hadn’t had her. He’d have known that gesture anywhere. “Possibly,” he admitted. “I rarely think that far ahead.”
The quartet of musicians in the corner struck up for a country dance and Adrian faced the inevitable.
He bowed to the young lady and asked her to make up a set with him. He would do the pretty and move on. The earl would probably pay him a visit tomorrow, but Adrian was too old a hand to allow anyone to trap him into marriage. And by then he’d have more details about the family and exactly why they greeted him so warmly.
Lady Eliza who, under her layers of silk and corset would be a waif of a child, placed her hand on his arm in exactly the correct manner and allowed him to lead her into the dance. Rather like a wolf guiding a lamb away from the flock.
Still, she danced prettily. The part arrived where they had to separate and move on to another partner. Adrian gave a sigh of relief, until he saw who was waiting for him.
He stiffened. Would she reject him? He wouldn’t blame her. The last time he’d seen Lady Livia Shaw, she’d been glaring at him from the safety of her carriage as it drove away. Pasting a smile on his lips, he waited for her to turn and walk away.
She did not. “Charmed to see you,” he said as they hopped from foot to foot in the dance like cats trying to avoid hot stones. Graceful cats, naturally.
“Yes.” She didn’t glare at him.
“I thought you were avoiding me.” He wouldn’t blame her. As usual when confronted with a scandal, he didn’t confirm or deny it to anyone. He’d attended Parliament, he’d dropped in on Whites Club, and said nothing to any of the men who’d confronted him. That had only fanned the embers.
“I need to talk to you.” She took his arm for the promenade to her next partner in the dance.
He raised a brow. “Can it be that you want a repeat of what happened? I am only too eager to oblige.”
Her eyes glazed and her delectable mouth settled into a bland smile, but before that happened, he caught a glimmer of her unguarded expression. She wanted another kiss. He’d seen that particular expression too often to imagine it. “Outside in half an hour.”
His short laugh told her what he thought of that notion. “In the gardens? My dear, it has been raining all day. The gardens will be a mud bath. I have no intention of ruining my appearance even if you do. Not that. Excuse yourself and head for the ladies’ room. I’ll find somewhere.”
She shuddered and turned on one foot to greet her next partner but threw a parting remark over her shoulder. “If you like your meat young, by all means court Lady Eliza, but be warned, they’ll make you settle the earl’s debts. He’s a devil for the horses.”
Ah. “Thank you for that.” They preferred the country, they’d said. Including, no doubt, steeplechase betting and buying ruinously expensive horses. Not his circuit, which was why they had not rung any bells with him.
“You’re welcome.” Suitable words to move on to.
Getting rid of Lady Eliza took more effort than Adrian had imagined. On the brink of telling her parents that selling their daughter was worse than any—well, most—of the things he’d done, they peered over his shoulder and spied someone else entering the ballroom.
Ivan Rowley, son of the Earl of Leverton and wealthy in his own right. Also, Livia’s cousin, one of the so-called Emperors of London. The troops were, no doubt, gathering to protect one of their own. Adrian suspected that, above all, was the reason why the Emperors had become so predominant in every field they entered, and so powerful. They were close.
If Adrian pursued his attraction to Livia, unless he was careful he would find himself one of them. The prospect did not appeal. Adrian preferred the kind of club he could leave whenever he chose. He had lived his life alone and he was happy to continue to do so. His one incursion into intimacy had ended in total disaster.
Rowley offered him a cold nod. In return, Adrian smiled warmly enough to make his lordship widen his eyes. He ambled across the polished wooden floor, his dance partner leaning heavily on his arm and greeted him. Rowley’s persistent expression of cynical amusement deepened when he saw who Adrian was escorting.
Adrian handed Lady Eliza off to him and tipped him a wink as he left. Rowley’s muttered, “You’re welcome,” would be heard by nobody else. Adrian had done business with him in the past and, despite his family, liked the scoundrel, but had no compunction in handing him the poisoned chalice.
Even if Livia had not told him of Lady Eliza’s family problems, he’d have extricated himself as soon as he could. The girl had no brains, and that giggle would drive him to Bedlam in a week.
Clashing with Livia again would come as a relief after spending half an hour with the child and her parents.
Adrian wandered aimlessly around the room, threading his way through the guests, exchanging the occasional word with people before slipping out through the as-yet thinly populated supper room.
The ladies would have a bedroom set aside for their use. Knowing how these houses worked, Adrian climbed the stairs and found a nearby powder room with little trouble. Better still, it had a jib-door of its own, a hidden servant’s door where he could make his escape if he needed to, plus a door to the guest bedroom beyond. Better to have two exits than one—a strategy he’d learned the hard way.
When he heard the rustle of silk, he opened the outer door slightly, and peered through. Sliding the door open, he silently beckoned to her, crooking his finger like a demon tempting his victim into his den. Which, he had no doubt, she would be thinking.
Nevertheless, after a cautious glance over her shoulder she came to him.
The powder room barely held them, so she had to enter sideways because of the width of her skirts. Not as wide as the walking sofas of ten years ago, but still too large for comfort. He liked her in neater hoops. They would suit her more, echo the curve of her hips instead of distorting them unnaturally.
The lack of all light except
that cast by the moon gave them an even deeper sense of intimacy. Of romance.
No, not romance. Flirtation with a little teasing, perhaps another kiss. A little dalliance and he’d be on his way. But he wanted to know why she wished to talk to him tonight when she should rightly be avoiding him.
Her scent overpowered him. His instincts told him to throw his head back and suck it in, feed off it like a hungry dog. His visceral response shook him, especially the wave of raw lust that swept through him before he quelled it ruthlessly.
“Thank you for meeting me,” she said primly.
She made him smile. He spread his hands and murmured, “We should be fine as long as we keep our voices down. But if we’re discovered, we’ll have to do something about this meeting.”
She sighed. “I know. That’s why I didn’t want to be seen in your company again.”
His smile turned wry. “Thank you for that.”
She touched her fan to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. But you don’t want a lasting arrangement any more than I do, do you?”
“No.” Why would she not want a lasting arrangement? She was perhaps a little old in the tooth by society standards, but she hadn’t seen thirty yet. Besides, men would crawl over broken glass to belong to her family and have control of her dowry. He didn’t care about those, but he’d love an hour in bed with her in some secluded place somewhere.
“You’d better tell me what this is all about before I ravish you where you stand.”
She glanced around doubtfully. The room held a long, low table, a large pounce-box and brush, a wig stand and a single chair. Probably had a chamber pot somewhere, but he didn’t choose to search for it. He had better things to look at. “You couldn’t do it here.”
Stifling his laugh took effort, but he managed. “Is that a bet? Because I take all wagers where making love is concerned.”
The delicate flush that rose to her cheeks looked good enough to eat. “I would not know about such matters.”
Something about what she said roused Adrian’s interest. What exactly did she know? Her response to his kiss had been eager and she had definitely kissed a man before. “I could teach you.”
“No, you could not.” Ah, that intrigued him and again, he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. After all, a young unmarried lady would know little of what he could get up to in cramped powder rooms. She tapped his knuckles with her fan. “Never mind about that now.”
The slight sting roused him, sending his desire for her higher. Never one to reject a challenge, Adrian perked up, like that unruly part of his anatomy also showing interest. “Tell me, sweet one. Why did you arrange this tryst?”
Ah, there came that flush again. Enjoying the sight, he listened to her request. “I lost a brooch that day. I didn’t realize it was gone until I got home. It is not a valuable thing, but it has great sentimental value.” She swallowed. “It was my grandmother’s. It’s round, engraved with her initials, with a bit of scrollwork around the edge.”
“I see.” A brooch? Disappointment hit him. That was all she wanted? But he would behave like a gentleman. That would be the best way to draw her in, and he fully intended to do that. “How big is it?”
“About an inch. It’s of little value.” She lifted her face, her eyes swimming in tears. “I’ll pay a great deal to have it back.”
Now was his chance. If he behaved true to type, he’d demand a night in her bed as his reward. And from the expression on her face she’d give it to him. “Did your grandmother mean a lot to you?”
“Yes. That is—yes.”
She was about to say something else. That hesitation spoke volumes. This demanded research. “Is it a family treasure?”
She shook her head, giving herself the opportunity, he noted, to get rid of those tears. She didn’t want him to notice. He’d have to be blind not to. “It’s a personal piece. My grandfather had it made for her.”
“And it means a lot to you, I can see that.” But why? Something niggled at him, something that wasn’t quite right about her attachment to this piece of jewelry. For one thing, her grandmother would have had pieces. Surely Livia could claim another token, if she wanted one. What did this brooch mean to her?
The prospect of finding out exactly what lay behind her request intrigued him. He would take on the recovery of the brooch for that alone. Curiosity would be the death of him, his grandfather had always said. But what else was there to stave off the boredom of existence?
“Do you know where you lost it?”
She was so close he could see the gleam of gold beneath her hair powder, and the way her eyes, so heavenly blue, had a darker ring defining the irises.
She shook her head. “Either the cutpurse got it, or I lost it in your house.”
“I see.”
Unfortunately, that meant he would have to face his erstwhile mistress, a fate he’d prefer to avoid. Her tantrums wearied him. When Ophelia balanced her demands against her performance, he wondered how she’d managed to get half a year of his life out of him.
“I will pay you,” Livia said eagerly. “I have no desire to remain in your debt.”
“Then I will consider our dance the payment.” Good lord, where had that chivalric impulse come from? He should have asked her for something else. A dinner at her house, a sign of acceptance from the powerful Emperors.
“That is beyond kindness.” Her soft tones were most unlike the practical, bold ones he’d become accustomed to. “I would give much to have the brooch back.”
“I may have to contact you. I assume you wish me to write to you anonymously.” Of course she would.
“No. I have corresponded with gentlemen before.” That, by itself, was not shocking, although it would be if the letters were sent clandestinely. But he had a reason to write to her. He had a way in.
Now he needed to know if her guardians read her mail. “But not with someone like me. If your mother oversees your mail, she will not allow me to write, surely.”
“She does not. She trusts us.”
He almost burst out laughing. “Considering the history of your siblings, that is trust indeed.”
She shrugged, her smooth white shoulders moving inside the stiff silk of her ball gown in a way that made his mouth water. Could he slip that fabric away, and discover the pleasures beneath? But to do that would be to ruin her. He should not care. He never had in the past. But this time—he did.
“I suppose we are a scandalous family.” The melancholy made him want to draw her into his arms, and not for his usual purposes. “I am the last unmarried member, though. And likely to remain so.”
“Why would you think that? You are a lovely woman with much to commend you. Not every man wants a girl fresh from the schoolroom. I do not.”
She jerked her head up, meeting his gaze, her eyes wide and her light brown brows arched. “You? You’re looking for another wife?”
“Perhaps. I remain to be convinced, but one day I must. Either that or lose the estate to a distant relative. Personally I don’t object to that, but my other relatives might.”
“You have an heir?”
“A distant cousin. He is avidly awaiting my demise. But he has rivals. In that event the estate could be lost in legal fees. I’m doing my best to make that irrelevant by dispersing as much of my fortune as I can, but I doubt I can dissipate it all. So I must at least consider marrying and begetting an heir.”
She tilted her head to one side, but whatever she was about to say, whatever stricture she was about to impose on him was lost by the pressure of his mouth on hers. Unable to resist her a moment longer, he drew her hard against him and kissed her.
There it was, that taste that had haunted him since he’d punished her in the street. Still he couldn’t identify it, but he wanted more of it. He could sate himself on that alone. The notion o
f what the rest of her would taste like had kept him awake for several uncomfortable nights. Yearning for a woman, a particular woman, had left him many years ago, and here it was, back again. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Unfulfilled longing had its own rewards, but he had no desire to perpetuate the practice. He’d rather fulfill it another way.
This was much better. This being his lips covering hers, and her soft body cushioning his. Wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck, he held her still for his delectation. Living silk threaded between his fingers from an artfully arranged ringlet, enhancing his enjoyment of this lovely woman.
This time she opened her luscious lips for him when he passed his tongue over her lower lip. Plunging deeply, he moaned into her mouth, and met the vibrations of her responding sound. She tasted sweet, with a faint flavor of wine. He would gladly live off her forever.
No, not that. Alarm sparked, but he gave her no clue, drawing away gradually, and watching as she opened her eyes and returned to reality. “Yes,” he said softly, drawing his hand down, taking care not to disturb her elaborate hairstyle.
Her muscles, from being relaxed in his arms, tensed once more. “Was that payment?”
He was glad to hear her huskier, softer voice. Longing filled him, to take her through to the bedroom beyond, lock the door and ignore everything except the challenge of pleasuring her.
If he did, they were both lost. While he didn’t care for himself, being lost already, he didn’t want to bring that fate to her. “No. That was pleasure given and taken.”
Glancing down, Livia smoothed her skirts with hands that shook a little. “Thank you for helping me.”
Oh, he’d do much more than that. “I will do everything I can to retrieve your treasure.”
Since that was his way to retain contact with her, he’d take it.
Boundless (The Shaws) Page 4
