Once Upon an Accident 02 - Lessons in Seduction (9 page)

That one thought had cost him more sleep than any other.

Trying to move away from his proprietary thoughts about Lady Cicely—which seemed to vacillate between aggravation and arousal— Douglas studied the others in attendance at The Historical Society meeting. He was unimpressed. Did she really enjoy these engagements?

This particular monthly meeting was being held by Lady Ballston, a meticulous leader in the bluestocking circles. Douglas repressed a shudder. Intellectual study was not his forte and while he didn’t disdain the study of history, gatherings such as these caused memories of Eton to rush back into the front of his mind. Damned if he wanted to remember that hell.

“Surprised to see you in attendance, Your Grace.”

He turned and found Bridgerton studying him with sharp interest.

“Why is that?”

The earl shrugged. “I had not noticed your interest in this particular study before now.”

“Lately I have found myself remarkably intrigued by history.” He turned his attention back to the door. It had taken plenty of coins to get one of his stable lads to frequent the kitchens of the Ware household. He was not going to miss his chance to corner Lady Cicely. He had stopped short of sending a missive to her, for he was sure it would not go unnoticed by others in the Ware’s employ. Haunting her doorstep would not work either. This public venue would do nicely, however.

Today, she would not escape him. He would make bloody sure the woman explained her actions the other night. He relished their meeting.

“Hmm. I heard a delicious rumor about you.”

Douglas did not look in Bridgerton’s direction when he said, “Is that so?”

“Yes, I heard that you had trouble remembering the steps to the waltz at the Fredrickson’s ball the other night. I remember you being distracted, but forgetting steps? That is unheard of.”

The sarcastic tone caught Douglas’ attention and he turned to face the other man. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Nor do any of the people saying such foolish things. Are we clear?”

“As long as you understand that your interest in history should be on an intellectual level only.”

The warning in Douglas’ voice needed no explanation. He saw the way Bridgerton had looked at Cicely at the ball. It had not escaped his notice that the other man had danced a waltz with her either. Knowing that it was rumored the earl’s mother was pushing for a wife did not make Douglas any happier. Cicely would have to explain her behavior the other night before he would let her even consider an offer from Bridgerton.

“Do not worry, Bridgerton. I will not…intrude on your enjoyment of the genre.”

When Bridgerton raised one eyebrow, Douglas realized how threatening his voice had turned. Before either of them said anything more, a rise in excited murmurs drew their attention to the entrance of the room. In droves, men and women pressed in on whatever was causing such a commotion.

“What is it?” Bridgerton asked.

“I don’t know.” Even at his height, Douglas could not see what the excitement was about. Both he and Bridgerton started walking to the door. When a rather large woman stepped out of the way, the sight before him made every thought of Bridgerton and a possible offer dissolve. He briefly felt lightheaded and thought that every drop of blood must have left his brain and moved south.

Standing in the arched entryway was Cicely, but not the woman he had known before. This was a beautiful, voluptuous goddess.

The first thing that drew his attention was her hair which was decidedly shorter. It barely reached her shoulders and now had a slight wave. The new style showcased her strong jaw and high cheekbones, giving her a more feminine look, less severe, softer.

As his gaze moved down her body, he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. The delicate layers of her day gown draped her curves, which there were—if he did say so himself—many more than he remembered. In the years he had known her, Cicely had always worn the pastels of a young debutante that had made her appear sallow. But the dark shade of pink she now wore, and the more mature style, lent an air of sensuality to her appearance he had never seen before. It brought out the golden highlights in her hair and the rosy undertone to her complexion.

“Holy Christ,” Bridgerton muttered. “Where the hell did that figure come from? An utter crime to keep that under wraps.”

Anger shot through Douglas and he gave Bridgerton a ferocious look.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Bridgerton.”

Bridgerton rocked back on his heels, studying him, while Douglas tried to ignore the earl. “So, that’s the way of it, hmmm? You truly do have an interest in, ahh, history.”

Heat crept up his neck and burned the tips of his ears. He’d not blushed like this since his episode with Dottie the upstairs maid, and he would be damned if he admitted to it now. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Wonderful, now he sounded like a spurned woman. How much lower could he sink in a span of minutes?

Bridgerton chuckled. “Indeed? Then you will not mind if I call upon her?”

“I would advise against it, if I were you, Bridgerton.” Anyone within listening distance would note the steel in his voice, the implied threat.

Bridgerton offered Douglas a sardonic smile. “I would say that I will not be your only competition.”

With a glance, Douglas could tell that Bridgerton was correct. Men were already pressing closer. Like wolves scenting fresh blood. Not one of them had paid her a bit of attention just days ago, but now they were all acting as if she was the latest attraction at Vauxhall. A look of sheer panic passed over her face and he realized that Cicely might be close to losing control.

Even as angry as he was, he did not want her to embarrass herself.

Without another word to Bridgerton, Douglas made his way in Cicely’s direction. He’d save her from the slavering fools, and then they would have their chat. She’d run from him once. He was not going to let her slip from his grasp again.

Cicely curled her fingers into her hand as her throat closed and her heart rate increased. A chill sliced down her spine even as her head began to spin. She had thought she would be ready for this. Anna had told her she would cause a stir, but Cicely found the interest too much.

The urge to turn in the opposite direction and run as fast as her pink-kid-slippered feet would carry her almost overwhelmed her.

She felt Anna give her a reassuring squeeze on her elbow before moving away in the direction of Dewhurst. Even though she knew her cousin was present if she needed her, she couldn’t help feeling a bit abandoned. Afloat in a sea of curious onlookers. People who whispered about her when she was just beyond earshot. Those same individuals who only grudgingly accepted her into their circles now spoke with warmth in their voices.

Cicely reminded herself this was for her own good. She tried to take in air in measured pulls, not gulps. True, she wanted to learn how to work through this fear, but she didn’t think she could accomplish it overnight.

“Lady Cicely.” She turned and found Lord Oglithorpe talking directly to her newly exposed bosom. “I understand you recently discovered a very interesting diary.”

She looked at the older gentleman who licked his dry, cracked lips and sighed. His comments confused her because she had tried talking to him a week ago about the diary and he had rebuffed her. “Yes, I have. I am still unsure of its authenticity, however.”

“Lady Cicely.”

Douglas’ deep baritone drifted over the crowd and for a moment she did not react. She couldn’t. She was frozen in alarm. She had not realized he was in the room before this, and in and of itself that was a singularly odd occurrence for her. However, it was also odd for him to attend a meeting. As far as she knew, he’d never before expressed an interest in the society.

Heat infused her entire being as the memory of their last encounter came rushing back. Crystal-clear images, sounds and tastes assaulted her senses. The memory had never been that far from her mind, but every now and then she could convince herself that it had been a dream.

A rather delicious, decadent dream, but a dream nonetheless. When she turned in the direction of his voice, she found him standing closer than she expected. Their bodies brushed. Her pulse jumped and another wave of warmth threaded through her.

She curtsied. “I did not know you attended our small gatherings, Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise.”

The feral smile he granted her as he bent to kiss her offered hand sent her nerves into a serious bouncing snit. “There are many things you do not know about me, Lady Cicely.”

His voice had dipped, the tone slightly suggestive. A few of the gentlemen coughed to cover their chuckles and many of the women giggled. Cicely gave him a frown to let him know her feelings, though understanding she was somewhat stuck in the situation. He still held her hand, and pulling away and marching off in a huff would serve only to draw more attention to her. Lady Cicely Ware did not cause scenes, nor did she blush readily when a man flirted—mainly because none had done so before now. Since she was already doing the latter, she decided it best not to do the former.

The audience watching the byplay had not dispersed—and would not until Douglas and Cicely moved on from this ridiculous scene. As they continued to stand there, the buzzing of the crowd grew and she attempted to hurry the conversation along.

“I am surprised that in all the time we have known each other, you never mentioned an interest in history.”

His smile widened and he slid his fingers over her palm to the small bit of skin visible between her glove and sleeve. As the tips of his fingers slipped into her sleeve, her breath caught. The boldness of the action spoke of his reputation as a rake. Douglas finally released her hand and a shiver of heat rushed over her flesh from the spot his fingers had caressed.

“I find myself interested in history of late.”

He took her hand again and placed it on his arm. Her body still vibrated with a delicious hum. She swallowed.

Chatter started out slowly, then rose as they spread out through the room, passing from one group of attendees to another. Cicely wanted to scream. If people thought he was courting her, they would pity her when he dropped out of sight. And he would when he figured out that there was nothing he could do to deter her from her goal. He was only paying her mind to keep her from her plan. He had no interest or inclinations of any sort other than perhaps protecting her, which was sweet, but unnecessary. She had Sebastian watching over her. He was more than enough.

“Then you are indeed in luck today. Lord Oglithorpe is going to present an interesting paper on the Roman Empire.”

Douglas’ face paled and the muscles around his mouth tightened ever so slightly.

“Would you do me the honor of letting me escort you to your seat, Lady Cicely?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

She knew he would try and seat them in the back, away from others so he could browbeat her. That was fine by her. She was ready to let him hear a few of her complaints as well. As she stepped up beside him, he took a light grip on her elbow and led her to the third row. Surprised by this, she moved in front of him and seated herself. When he had settled in next to her, she leaned closer to him. Drawing in a deep breath, she caught a whiff of his cologne. Douglas did not douse himself in cologne, as many of the gentlemen did to hide their body odor. There was an undertone to his scent, but mostly what captured her attention was the undeniable smell of Douglas. Something so basic, so very masculine.

There in the middle of the Ballston’s parlor, she wanted to bury her nose against his neck and sniff.

Again, another blush rose up over her cheeks and she had to resist the urge to cover her face in embarrassment. Really, where did these kinds of ideas keep coming from? Up until she had formulated her list of men, Cicely had never had such lascivious thoughts.

“I would really like to know what is going on in that brain of yours to cause such a blush.” He spoke in a pitch only loud enough for her to hear, and even knowing that, she blushed harder.

“I have no idea what you are speaking about.”

He snorted, this loud enough for others to hear. Lady Featherstone, one of the older and most conservative of Society members, twisted in her chair to give him a look of remonstration for emitting such a rude noise. Douglas made no sign that the sound had come from him, just stared at the woman. When the matron had turned to face the front of the room again, Cicely said, “Really, Your Grace, I think that this action is unnecessary. Could we not do this some other time?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze locking on hers. Hard, unbending, she knew the expression well, had witnessed it only days earlier. It was his ducal stare, the same look he had given Lady Featherstone. This time it was she who snorted. Lady Featherstone’s back straightened, but she did not turn around.

“You might want to reign in your behavior,” Douglas said, his voice filled with more disapproval than the look Lady Featherstone had sent him. Irritation filled her. Irritation with him, with society rules that stuck her on the shelf, and finally, irritation at herself because even knowing what an ass he was, she still wanted another kiss.

“I believe,
Your Grace
, that at my advanced age, I can decide how I would like to act in and out of public.”

He said nothing, but she did not miss the flare of heat in his eyes.

Even knowing it was because of anger and not desire, her body warmed, her heart doing a nice little jig. Nervously, she licked her lips again. His gaze dropped to watch the action. When he made eye contact once more, they had darkened even further.

Suddenly she could not seem to draw in a deep breath. Her clothing felt too tight, her skin as if it were ablaze. Douglas seemed to notice her condition because his own skin flushed. She watched, fascinated at the movement in his jaw. Two muscles shifted back and forth while he ground his teeth. For a moment, everyone surrounding them melted away as she found herself mesmerized by the heat in the depths of his grey eyes. The tinge of blue around the outer edge seemed to darken the longer they stared at each other.