A Common Scandal (14 page)

“Well.” Nate took a deep breath. “That’s good. You’re... You’ve been quite a surprise to me, but a pleasant one.”

“I’m a surprise to most people once they get to know me,” Julia said. “But I think we understand each other very well, don’t we, Mr. Smythe?”

Did they? Did he have an understanding with Julia Harrow? He must, mustn’t he?
She
thought they did. They had an understanding and from there it was just a short step to an engagement. He only had to speak the words.

“I...”

As they rounded a corner in the garden, the French doors leading to the drawing room came into view. Amelia emerged on the arm of Mr. Cheadle. What in blazes possessed her to come out here with that louse? He didn’t trust Cheadle as far as he could throw him, especially not alone with Amelia, considering his previous blatant attempts to accost her.

He quickly steered Julia to the left, around a cluster of rose bushes, as Amelia and Cheadle descended the stairs and headed out into the garden.

“It’s getting rather late, don’t you think?” he spat out.

“Yes, it is,” Julia agreed with some relief. “These late nights are a bit unusual for me. I think I’ll go up to my room now.”

Considering they’d been on the verge of declaring themselves, Julia seemed quite content to leave him, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Cheadle was dragging Amelia out into the gardens at this very moment. Nate led Julia up the steps to the French doors and bid her a brief farewell as she disappeared back into the drawing room. When he turned back to the garden, Amelia and Cheadle were nowhere to be seen. Anxiety flared in his gut. He wouldn’t put it past Cheadle to compromise Amelia in some way in an attempt to force her hand. And while the girl might be determined to wed a title, it would be Cheadle over his dead body. Even that wet dishrag Radwill was preferable.

He started down the central path into the garden, listening to any rustle or whisper. He turned to the left when he heard a hushed feminine giggle. The path immediately narrowed and grew dark. He was perhaps twenty-five yards from the house, but he might as well be alone in the middle of the Downs, as secluded as this corner was. A few steps farther and he heard a masculine voice softly shushing the woman. His pulse pounded in his ears. If he found Cheadle laying his hands on Amelia, so help him, he couldn’t answer for what he’d do to him. His face was heating with rage and his hands were clenched into fists as he rounded the hedge and spotted two figures pressed close on a bench in the tiny clearing.

“Oh!” The minute the woman spotted him and cried out, shooting to her feet, he knew it wasn’t Amelia. “Mr. Smythe, you startled us! Me! You startled
me
,” Kitty Ponsoy stammered, waving her hands in front of her face.

The gentleman at her side rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “Taking a turn in the garden, Smythe?” Will Thistlethwaite, not Cheadle.

“Something like that. Kitty, Evelyn was looking for you a moment ago,” Nate lied easily.

“Oh dear. I should go find her then. If you’ll excuse me.”

She hurried away in a flurry of rustling silk taffeta. Nate eyed Will.

“I say, Smythe,” Will said with a smirk. “Let’s keep this between blokes, eh? If word of our little assignation gets round to Lord Watting, he’ll be dragging me in front of a vicar before I can blink and I can’t have that, can I?”

“I suppose not, especially if it was only a bit of flirting,” Nate said, implying a question with the statement, and perhaps a bit of judgment, too. “No harm was done, correct?”

Will scowled slightly. “Right. No harm. Cigar?”

Nate waved him off. “No, thank you. I need to be off.”

“In search of Lady Julia?”

“Lady Julia. Exactly.”

“Best of luck.”

Nate grimaced at his crudeness. Ever since his fortune had elevated him, he was continually astounded by displays of ungentlemanly behavior and bad manners from men who were supposed to be far above him. He backed out of the leafy alcove and headed into the darker recesses of the garden to find Amelia.

Chapter Twelve

“Miss Wheeler, perhaps we could sit.”

“Did you see any of the others out here?” Amelia twisted her hands together and looked back and forth along the darkened garden path. Mr. Cheadle reached for her elbow to guide her to a bench but she slipped past him.

“There’s no one else here. Please, sit. This bench is quite nice.”

She might be distracted trying to locate Nate in the darkness but she wasn’t so far gone as to sit on a bench in a secluded alcove with Cheadle. He must think her a simpleton.

“I’m quite restless this evening. Perhaps we’d better walk.”

Without waiting for Cheadle’s reply, which was surely a protest, she set off at a clip down the path deeper into the garden.

“Miss Wheeler, I assure you—”

“Hush. Do you hear voices?”

“I hear nothing.”

“There it is again. Someone is whispering.”

“Miss Wheeler—”

But Amelia hurried toward the voices before Cheadle could stop her. Now the voices were quite distinct. Whomever it was thought they were whispering, but they were doing a very poor job of it. There was a great deal of shushing, giggling and rustling of clothes. A vision of Nate pulling Julia into his arms rose up in her mind. Nate holding Julia’s waist, Nate lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers, Julia surrendering herself to him...

No. Not yet. Not at this house party where she’d be forced to see it all every day. When they’d left and she was back in London, away from him, he could press his suit with Julia. Then it would be a mere line in the Society pages of the paper. “Lady Julia Harrow to wed Mr. Smythe of Portsmouth.” She’d be able to retreat to her room and react as she wished. If they announced their engagement at this house party, she’d be forced to smile and wish them well. No doubt she’d be pulled into the gossiping circle of young ladies to debate dresses and flower arrangements and wedding breakfasts. What a horror. Despite what had passed between them, Nate was not destined for her. She knew it. But she wasn’t ready to see him tie his future to another woman, not right in front of her eyes.

She pursued the voices around two more turns in the path, certain at any moment she’d burst upon Nate and Julia locked in an embrace. Her heart pounded and her ears roared. Please, not yet, she begged to the sky. From up ahead, just around the corner, came another feminine gasp, one slightly breathy with pleasure. It was a sound she herself had recently made in Nate’s arms. She felt sick and still she couldn’t stop. Maybe she should see it with her own eyes. If she saw Nate with Julia, maybe her own mad obsession with him would end. Either way, she would find them.

Bursting around the corner, she indeed found a couple in a passionate embrace. In the dim light, she registered a bare leg and a male hand on an exposed breast before both parties gasped and fell back. It was clear at once. Evelyn and Tony Batchelder. Evelyn leaped to her feet, which allowed her skirts to fall back in place, while she attempted to pull up her bodice. Tony cleared his throat and smirked. Good Lord, he was buttoning up his fly. Amelia dropped her eyes to the pavement, cheeks scalding with embarrassment.

“Well, this is damned awkward,” he drawled.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Amelia muttered, stumbling back. Evelyn looked hopelessly flustered but in a moment, she regained her equilibrium.

“Mr. Batchelder, what do you mean taking such liberties with me?” she cried in false outrage.

“I only take what’s freely offered, Evie.”

“Oh!” she cried, then turned and shoved past Amelia, storming back toward the house.

Tony took his time getting to his feet. “Do you have an assignation scheduled, Miss Wheeler? Shall I leave you the bench? It’s a bit chilly out here but it’ll get the job done. Worked for Evie, anyway.”

Amelia grimaced. “No, thank you. I’m going back in.”

“Suit yourself.” He fished a silver cigarette case out of his jacket pocket. “Do you mind? Or would you like one yourself? You look like a girl who likes to break rules, eh, Amelia?”

She raised her chin, as imperious as a queen. “You don’t know me well enough to make such an observation, Mr. Batchelder. Good night.”

Picking up her skirts, she fled down the path toward the house. She turned aside, however, before she reached the terrace. She couldn’t go back in yet, not to flirt with Radwill and dodge Cheadle. And since Nate and Julia weren’t to be found in the garden, they were probably back in the parlor. She couldn’t face any more of them tonight, either.

Tony Batchelder must have stayed behind, as she could no longer hear him. No one would miss her if she stayed outside a few minutes longer. Frankly no one would miss her until they needed to marry her money.

She found a bench, one of cold, hard stone, but it would do, and it was set into another leafy alcove, like the one Evelyn and Tony had been in. These people, so full of their own importance because their families held titles, and yet they behaved little better than dockside denizens, when all was said and done. Rapid footsteps grew nearer on the path leading to the alcove. She groaned. If it was Cheadle, she would pitch a fit. Drawing her skirts in around her feet, she made herself as small as possible in the dark, hoping he’d pass by and miss her.

“Amelia...where are you?”

She let out a relieved breath. “Oh, Nate, thank heaven.”

He sprinted around the corner of the box hedges, squinting into the dark. “Where is Cheadle?”

“Hopefully gone back inside by now.”

“Did he...” Nate’s hands were fisted at his sides and she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen such a wrathful expression on his face. “Did he...take liberties?”

She sputtered a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the unladylike sound. “Lord, Nate, you sound like an old woman. No, he did not
take liberties
. No doubt it was on his mind, but I escaped before he could corner me like a hare, and, um...I had another encounter.”

His eyes narrowed as he slowly advanced into the little leafy alcove with her. “What sort of encounter?”

“I stumbled upon someone
else
taking liberties.”

“Wait...you saw them, too?”

“You weren’t there. Who did
you
see?”

“Kitty and Will Thistlethwaite. Who did
you
see?”

Amelia laughed again. “Evelyn and Tony Batchelder. And rather in flagrante, to be frank. I think things had progressed a bit further than Evelyn intended, judging from her reaction. She’d best watch herself. Tony’s a dog.”

The murderous expression in his eyes cleared and Nate dropped his head forward, letting out a relieved chuckle. “Well, this garden has been put to work tonight.”

“It’s a veritable den of sin out here.”

“How’d you escape Cheadle’s grasp?”

“I lost him somewhere in the hedges. He couldn’t keep up with me.”

Nate sat down on the bench next to her and stretched out his extraordinarily long legs. “There are few men who could.”

“At least I’m rid of him for now.”

“What possessed you to come out here with him anyway? Radwill’s inside, you know.”

Amelia looked at the ground, grateful the darkness hid her blush. She’d never,
ever
admit to Nate that she’d come out here because of him. It was too humiliating. “I was talking to his friend, Mr. Morley, who is rather ghastly. Even a walk in the garden with Cheadle seemed preferable to spending another moment in conversation with that man. I honestly don’t understand why he’s here with Cheadle. They seem to hate each other and I can’t imagine under what circumstances they formed an acquaintance.”

“For all you know Cheadle owes him money or Morley gets him his opium. The aristocracy can get up to all sorts of unsavory dealings with the wrong people when they’re desperate, and you told me he’s broke.”

“The way he’s been sniffing around me so doggedly is proof of that.”

“Amelia,” Nate said, his voice growing serious. He sat up and angled his body toward her. “Be careful around him. If he’s that desperate, he might go to unpleasant lengths to pressure a woman into marriage.”

She snorted. “I’d like to see him try.”

“You can take care of yourself better than any woman I know, but all the same, don’t let yourself get in a position where you’d have to. You’re far safer with Radwill. He’d never have the gumption to attack anyone. And as you pointed out in your mercenary glee, he’s not nearly as desperate.”

Amelia bristled. “Radwill is none of your concern. I’ll thank you to keep your pithy observations on his virility to yourself. Where is Julia, anyway? You came out here with her. Don’t tell me you’ve misplaced her. The poor thing might be lost all night in these hedges. Who knows what she could stumble upon.”

Nate scowled at her. “She went in. She was tired.”

“Your scintillating conversation couldn’t captivate her any longer?” Amelia smiled serenely, loving the way temper made Nate’s eyes flash.

“Our conversation was fascinating, for your information.”

“Yes, the two of you do seem to chatter on tirelessly about your shipping ventures.”

“She’s interested in my concerns, which I think speaks well of my chances with her.”

“Well, I’ll have you know I’ve given Radwill leave to use my Christian name.”

“I’ve been calling her ‘Julia’ for two days.”

“Then I suppose we’re both getting exactly what we want.”

A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and the imperfection of it, combined with his perfectly tailored evening suit and his raffish features was causing a pleasant sort of pressure to bloom in her chest. Heavens, just sitting near Nate made her pulse race.

“I suppose we are,” he snapped, leaning over her to make his point. “I hope you’ll be very happy with that lapdog you’re marrying. Tell me, Amelia, do his kisses set you on fire?”

“Oh, do shut up. As if I’d tell you about his kissing.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed as it seemed to occur to him that she might have actually kissed Radwill. Amelia let the moment play out, happy to torment him for a bit with the thought. It was only fair, as she’d been tormenting herself not half an hour ago imagining Julia in Nate’s arms.

It nearly pained her to give voice to her imaginings, but she was desperate to goad him further. She used any ammunition she had. “And Julia? Have you had as much luck skulking understairs with her as you’ve had with me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Amelia leaned in until their faces were inches apart. His expression in the dim light was ferocious. Her heart fluttered with glee. She hadn’t felt this alive since...well, since the last time she’d sparred with Nate. “Don’t tell me she’s a cold fish, Nate. Doesn’t she touch you like I did?” She couldn’t resist reaching out to rest her hand on his thigh.

“Amelia...” His voice was a low, warning rasp and although some sensible part of Amelia knew she should take care, the larger part of her quite liked him like this. And she quite liked the feel of his long, hard thigh under her fingers. She slid her hand up a few suggestive inches.

“Doesn’t she like you to touch
her
?”

“You know she wouldn’t allow it.”

“Not at all like me,” she said with a careless shrug.

“No,” he murmured. “Not at all.”

Amelia leaned in again, until he could feel her breath on his mouth. His lips fell open. His breathing had grown labored and his eyes hooded. It was a glorious feeling, knowing she’d unsettled him to such a degree. “Too bad for you,” she whispered against his lips. She made to draw back but Nate’s hand shot out, gripping the back of her neck and holding her still.

“You’re playing with fire, Amelia.”

“Don’t I always? Maybe I like the heat.”

“You might get burned.” They stared at each other across the few inches separating them. This was the point at which she should retreat to safety and respectability. But she felt like she might go mad if Nate didn’t kiss her this instant, right or wrong.

“Better than freezing to death.” She gripped his lapels in her fists and pulled him to her, his mouth crushing down over hers. For a moment, she thought she might have been wrong about playing with fire, because this fire threatened to consume her the instant they touched. Nate’s hands found her waist and pulled her up against his chest and she blissfully let the fire consume her. The world fell away, her existence contracting to Nate and how she felt when he touched her—his hands, his lips, the long, strong length of his body leaning over her.

His hand, so large it nearly spanned her back, slid up between her shoulder blades until his fingers tangled in her hair, angling her face to better receive his assault. The first two times they’d kissed, she’d been enthusiastic, but new at it. Now she knew what she wanted. She knew how to kiss him, how to touch him to get him to make her feel the way she wanted. And oh, how she felt. It seemed impossible a mere meeting of lips could be felt over every inch of her body. Her heart pounded as desire knotted low in her abdomen. Her thighs felt oddly exposed, even under all her skirts and petticoats. Every part of her seemed to strain toward him, wanting to be touched by him. His kisses, as intoxicating as they were, weren’t nearly enough.

Nate seemed to feel the same way, since he rapidly left his restraint behind, pressing her back against the bench until she was nearly lying down underneath him. His hand reached down and found her knee, even through the layers of her dress, and lifted. Suddenly he was closer, hovering over her, nearly between her thighs. She could feel his intent, and the promise of where this could lead, and she
wanted
it. Her desire for him was nearly a living thing, unfurling and snapping inside of her.

With one hand, she gripped his hair. The other cradled his face, tracing the strong line of his cheekbone, down over his hard jaw and down his neck to the collar of his shirt. There was too much between them. Starched cotton and silver shirt studs, silk and wool and countless layers of finery when all she wanted was him, bared to her exploring hands. What would his chest feel like? And those broad strong shoulders? She wanted to run her palms down his back, the strength and shape of which had barely been hinted at beneath his suits. And she wanted to run her hands lower, over his bottom and around front to
there.
She wanted to touch every part of him, and she wanted his hands on every part of her. Her skin tingled with longing but she was buried underneath heaps of fine clothing.