Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 17

As was usual now, she settled to her "poetry" while Clara and her aunt went over future invitations. For the first time, however, she found it difficult to write. The thoughts and emotions that jostled in her head were too powerful to be put into mere words, and some too wicked by far.

She recorded the superficial events of the St. Raven ball and a few foibles of the ton-but then she saw a way to meet in the afternoon. She still wanted to visit the exhibition of household inventions at Beech's Tavern.

She rang the bell, praying Hannah would come. She did. Probably the maids knew that Clara was with her mother.

"Hannah, can you get a letter to Lord Wyvern for me?"

Hannah looked alarmed. "You don't want to be doing that, miss."

"Doing what? I simply want him to escort me somewhere."

"You'd be better avoiding him, miss. They say his father was raving mad."

Lucy had forgotten that, and his behavior last night came to mind. Not insane, however, except with the particular insanity of love. She wondered if the previous earl might have been driven mad by his beloved fleeing into the arms of another.

"There, see," Hannah said, seeing her hesitation.

"Nonsense. There's nothing deranged about the present earl, and you must do as I say."

"If you insist, miss. And if his place isn't too far."

With frustration, Lucy realized she had no idea of Wyvern's direction. He was staying with Lord and Lady Amleigh, but where was their house? She thought it had been mentioned when her aunt had read about his arrival, but at that time she'd not thought such a detail important. She could ask, but her instincts demanded secrecy, especially from her aunt and cousin, who had no discretion at all.

"Never mind, Hannah. I've thought better of it."

"Thank the Lord for that, miss!" Hannah lowered her voice. "They say belowstairs, miss, that he's a smuggler."

"What nonsense! His mother took up with a smuggler after she left her husband, the earl."

"Such goings-on. I never heard the like back home."

"True enough. Don't gossip about what we've just discussed or I'll send you back there."

"Not sure I'd mind, miss. Things are different here. But you can trust me."

When Hannah had left, Lucy considered those words. Things certainly were different here, and she was out of her place. Could she live her life inside the fairy circle, even for love?

But he's not part of Mayfair or the ton.

He was David, the simple country gentleman who flew a kite, who bought books about agricultural improvement, who spoke with her as an equal.

Yet Lord Wyvern existed.

Who is the real man?

Her journal sometimes helped her clarify her thoughts, so she sharpened her pencil and sat to write.

The Peasant Earl?

He's not a peasant.

The estate manager turned earl?

That's the truth, but it Doesn't feel like truth.

Could the estate manager cow A lord and a well-born gentleman So effectively?

Born a scandalous b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Employed as a servant.

How can he be the man he is?

He is a mystery.

Too mysterious to be safe.

Lucy looked at the words, knowing they were true, knowing she should break the contract and keep her distance. Her behavior last night had been so foolhardy! It had been exciting, but precisely because it had been dangerous. Because he was dangerous. To her sanity, but in other, poorly understood ways.

When Clara came in to say they must change for their morning calls it was a relief. The mindless social round was just what she needed to quiet her wildly spinning mind.

When she didn't encounter him anywhere she made herself be glad, and when they set off for Drury Lane that evening she hoped he wouldn't be there. When her hopes were fulfilled, she sank into gloom, but no one would notice. The whole evening was devoted to an epic poem based on the story of Job.

She'd have much rather endured more Sebastian Rossiter, though love poetry wouldn't suit her mood, either. All very well for her to intend to avoid the Earl of Wyvern and all his mysteries and danger, but the wretched man had no right to avoid her!

Tomorrow, Wednesday, would be Almack's, and she finally had admittance to the select ball. He'd better be there to do his duty.

She entered Almack's fretting. Would the patronesses have raised the portcullis for him? He was an earl, but with a tainted background from both parents. She needed Wyvern to be here, not least so she could tell him what she thought of him for breaking their contract.

She needed to berate him, but she also needed his attention. Their two dances at the d.u.c.h.ess of St. Raven's ball hadn't entirely turned the trick, especially with no further evidence of commitment. She was still being pestered by Outram, Launceston, and a few others. She excused herself to speak to Lady Vandeimen.

Maria had Miss Florence at her side, who was cheerfully dealing with a number of suitors of her own.

"I hope you're enjoying Almack's, Lucy," Maria said.

There was no point to pretense here, for Maria knew her well. "I've enjoyed other a.s.semblies more."

Maria's lips twitched. "It's a marvel, isn't it, how something can be made desirable simply by limiting access? As you say, it's nothing out of the ordinary, and one meets the same people as at other events."

"Minus the cads and wretches."

"A t.i.tle can cover a host of sins."

"Is the Earl of Wyvern admitted?"

It slipped out. She hadn't meant to show her interest.

"He's not a cad or wretch."

"No, of course not," Lucy said, mortified. "Only t.i.tled and something of a scandal. Not himself, of course . . ."

She was becoming Silly Lucinda in truth. No wonder Maria was looking at her strangely.

"I believe he's pa.s.sed muster," Maria said.

"Of course he has. I only wondered because of his odd background."

"If odd backgrounds barred people from Almack's, it would be very thin of company. Ah, there he is."

Lucy turned and saw him entering with a couple who must be his brother-in-law and sister, for the resemblance to the lady was marked. Her foolish heart performed a few completely impossible acrobatics, and a few more when he came straight to her, bringing his companions.

He made the introductions and Lucy sensed that she was being discreetly inspected. What had he told his family? She should have added secrecy to their agreement.

"You are an example of n.o.ble forbearance, Lord Amleigh," she said. "Everyone admires your gracious surrender of an earldom."

He was dark haired and gray eyed, and the word "steady" came to mind.

"It was a tussle," Amleigh said drily, "but in the end matters were arranged as they should be. May I lead you out for the first dance, Miss Potter?"

"Alas, my lord, I'm promised." She sent Wyvern a look.

"Indeed," Wyvern said. "You are mine."

He was all danger and mystery, but Lucy was no longer sane. Almack's was magical at last, and she would enjoy her first dance in happy antic.i.p.ation of a kiss.

How?

Where?

When?

In the end it was quite easy. After their dance he strolled with her down a corridor toward the refreshment rooms, where there were very few people at that moment.

She went straight on the attack. "You have been very neglectful of your duties."

"Clearly we should inform one another of our plans. I didn't expect you to be a devotee of gloomy poetry."

"I think you should have been more ingenious."

"And I that you should have made yourself available to be served."

"I was at the poetry."

"And I was at the d.u.c.h.ess of Morbury's, which was much more amusing."

"I'm not paying you to be amused."

"Thus far, you're not paying me at all, despite being the proud possessor of thirty thousand pounds."

She fixed him with a look. "It's more than that, in fact. Good investments."

"Your father is a clever man."

"I'll have you know that I manage my money for myself."

He stopped to stare. "Do you, by gad?"

"For all your fanciful imagination, you seem to have difficulty in accepting unusual truths. I'm my father's daughter, remember, trained by him, but also with many of his abilities and talents. Do not be deceived by my appearance."

"Believe me, I haven't been since our first meeting."

His tone annoyed her. "But you disapprove of my having a brain and expertise? Or perhaps cling to the hope that you're mistaken?"

"Most men are afraid of clever women."

"That's absurd," she said. "Men rule the world."

"Beth Arden says that's because we daren't allow women any scope for their powers. We cage the lion."

"Lioness," she corrected. "You mean the Marchioness of Arden?"

"She's a follower of Mary Wollstonecraft. Rights of Woman and all that. I don't know if she believes women should be able to speak in Parliament, but she definitely wants women to be able to vote."

"And why not? Especially women of property."

"It would be the beginning of the end. Men would lose dominion over the earth."

"Nonsense." But it came out breathily, for he'd detoured into a small anteroom.

He drew her behind the door, where they couldn't be seen by anyone pa.s.sing and raised an expectant brow.

"Someone could come in," she said, suddenly nervous.

"Adds a little spice. But even if someone did, a simple kiss, lips on lips, would be naughty, not scandalous. Of course, if you wish to make more of it . . ."

"Seeking to taunt me into compromising myself? Perhaps you do want to marry my money after all."

"Perhaps I enjoy the spice of danger."

Alas, so do I.

She raised her gloved hand and drew his head down, going on tiptoe so she could press her lips to his. More than a peck this time, but not much more.

So tempting to linger, but she was not so foolish as that.

She settled back to earth and fussed with her gown, hoping to conceal how devastating that meager kiss had been. Not only on her. When she looked up there was fire behind his eyes.

She unfurled her fan and waved it, but turned so as to cool him. "Spicy enough?"