A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) (4 page)

The mention of her own mother caused Araby’s throat to constrict. She’d spent enough time gossiping with her friends this evening. She could ill afford to be diverted from her most important mission – finding Lord Iredale and securing two dances with him tonight. At least one of them had to be a waltz. Araby excused herself and discretely set about her mission.

An hour later, her dance card successfully completed with Lord Iredale’s name secured for two waltzes later in the evening, Araby took the arm of her partner, the son of a viscount, for the opening waltz. They never made it to the dance floor.

Out of nowhere Michael Lassiter swooped in from the side capturing her arm and expertly guiding her into position on the floor before either she, or her partner knew what he was about. All the young man could do was look on in befuddlement from the edge of the crowd.

“J...just what do you think...you’re doing?” Araby sputtered in outrage.

The usurper gave her an insolent grin. “Waltzing,” he returned, “with you.” He swept her into a turn, giving her no time to pull away. If she tried to disengage now, she’d likely stumble and make herself a laughing stock. Clearly he'd counted on her pride enforcing her cooperation throughout their dance.

“This is not your waltz, sir. Please return me to my real partner at once.” She didn’t raise her voice, but rather let her tone drip over him like an icy rain.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied, clearly enjoying himself as her cheeks heated with helpless anger. She'd completely lost control of the situation and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Who are you?” she demanded although she’d already garnered every piece of worthwhile gossip the ballroom had to offer about him.

“Now, Araby, you know exactly who I am,” he said as he gave her another teasing smile. “You’ve already asked your friends and anyone else you could think of about me.” She glared up at him, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. No doubt her color advised him that he’d guessed correctly. He tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer as he leered at her. No one had ever dared hold her so intimately during a waltz. “I’m certain they told you all about Andrew Lassiter’s long-lost older brother,” he said, “the pirate.”

“The scapegrace second son is more like it,” she snapped. “I’ve no doubt you gained your wealth by all manner of disreputable means.”

His teeth gleamed in contrast against his tanned skin, his smile taunting her with the fact that he knew she'd found him intriguing. “I see you've successfully completed your investigation.” She continued to glare at him as she felt her cheeks flush for a second time. “I made a considerable fortune through theft, murder, abduction; every despicable act that can be committed on the high seas and then became filthy rich on the London Exchange,” he said confirming what she’d already heard. “I’m considered ruthless and I don’t have a shred of conscience. There was also that unfortunate incident with the niece to the empress of China, or was it a baker's daughter in Bangkok. It's hard to keep all of one's misdeeds straight, particularly if most of them never occurred in the first place.” His grin, both insolent and devastating, pulled at her heart. “The rumors do strike fear in the hearts of misguided innocents, though, and that comes in quite handy.” He gave her a sinister look and she felt her breath catch as he swept her into a fast turn, his cool, silvery gaze never dropping from hers. She wanted to pull away from him, but the pace of the waltz and her near breathless state made her clutch his shoulder more firmly. He noticed and smiled knowingly.

“Are you afraid, my dear?” he asked and she felt his voice slide over her. Her body roused in awareness of the man who held her – no mooning adolescent boy, but a man, stirring and potent. “You don’t need to be, as long as you’ve done nothing to give me offense,” he continued pleasantly. “You haven’t cast any of your witty slurs in my direction, have you?” He gave her a pointed look as he dropped all signs of warmth from his smile and his tone. “Nor at any of my family, I should hope.” Araby glanced away from him. “Ah, then perhaps we do have an issue between us. Tell me, Araby, just how much of a cock teaser have you been with my brother, Drew?”

Chapter Three

Araby’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Most young ladies would never have heard that disgusting term, let alone have any notion of what it meant. Then again, most young ladies didn’t have to contend with the crude, drunken ravings of a stepfather like hers. Michael Lassiter’s presumption and rudeness infuriated her. Had there been any way of extracting herself from his grip and leaving the floor with even a modicum of dignity, she would have done so by now. The man was no gentleman. Pirate, indeed. She couldn’t believe Drew had gone crying to his brother about what she’d said. That was not the way things were done and she’d make her displeasure clear to that
 
boy
 
when next they met. Arabella staunchly refused to meet her partner’s pale, gray eyes. The last time she’d attempted it she found him staring down at her decolletage as if judging the size of her...her.... Would this waltz never end?

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Michael Lassiter chuckled and pull her even more snugly against him. He sought to make a fool of her. “Do you have any idea who I am?” she demanded in a tone she imagined to be both cold and regal. It had no effect on her partner.

“If you’re mean your identity, I should hope so. I’ve called you by name at least twice. If you’re referring to your notoriety, again, the answer is yes. You’re a passably pretty girl with more popularity than brains who wreaks havoc among young men lacking either the common sense, or the experience to avoid a little schemer like yourself.”

She gasped. “You, sir have crossed all boundaries of good society. Return me to my friends at once.”

“You may return once our dance is over. Until then, you will smile and be charming or I’ll give the old dragons something truly scandalous to consider. They will tear you to pieces in tomorrow’s salons. Even the Incomparable Araby isn’t powerful enough to withstand their censure. Is that what you want?” He spoke the last in a silky whisper, as though his question meant something else entirely. Arabella felt a nervous flutter low in her stomach. She lifted her gaze to his and found his hard eyes staring back at her – part in challenge, part in promise, but what, exactly, was he promising?

“Why are you doing this?” Her words were hardly audible to her own ear, yet she knew he heard her with perfect clarity above the music and laughter swirling around them. A man like this missed nothing. The light from the chandeliers danced across his bronze hair bringing out various tones of gold and brown. Michael Lassiter was a handsome man and if only a portion of the rumors about him were true, he was not a man to cross. Arabella knew the dangers of taunting men who were capable of cruelty better than most people did.

“Because I can. I’m sure you, audacious little baggage that you are, understand what that means as you’ve said the same yourself any number of times. You’ve also played my brother for a fool.” He smiled graciously for the dancers around them, yet his eyes told another story. “You will stop toying with Drew immediately, or you will deal with me and you are not equal to the match, Sweetheart.” His endearment rolled over her, soft and intimate. The mysterious flutter came back a little stronger. Something low in her stomach pulled taut, something that felt wild and urgent.

His lips quirked up in a half smile, sensual and mysterious. He was right. He was nothing like the men who usually partnered her. Regardless of what he claimed though, she was experienced enough to recognize male interest and he was the naive one if he thought she was completely defenseless against him.

She stared him boldly in the eye. “That’s better. Now try smiling,” he said. She stepped on his foot as hard as she could. He never missed a beat as they continued to twirl around the room. “Spirit – I like that in horseflesh as well as in women. Are you certain you want to begin this game?”

“I am certain that I am safe from developing the slightest interest in a man who mentions women and horseflesh in the same breath.” She ground the words out at him through her fixed smile. “ Apparently you lost all your manners in India, Siam, or whatever godforsaken place you lived. I suppose it’s difficult to keep ones refinement when committing acts of piracy and treason.”

“Actually, I lived in both places, but I never committed treason. I acted for the benefit of Queen and country and the term is privateering.”

“By any other name.” She’d used her most cutting tone but to no avail. He threw his head back and laughed. To anyone watching, they were dancing and enjoying pleasant conversation. She could take solace in that, Arabella supposed, but he still infuriated her. This ballroom was her kingdom. She ruled here with absolute power unlike elsewhere in her life. He had no right to impose his will here where she was inviolate – to make something less of her.

The music ended. He dropped his arms and Arabella planned to deliver a cut that would make the entire room talk. She had no opportunity because Michael Lassiter abruptly turned and left her standing in the middle of the floor by herself. Araby felt the glances of the crowd turn from curiosity to amusement – not something she could afford to have happen. She steeled herself against her rising panic, then tossed her black curls and delivered a mischievous smile to the interested spectators as she left the floor. Let them think on that. Tomorrow night she would seek out Drew at the Salter’s route just to twist his brother’s nose. She’d show Michael Lassiter that he couldn’t dictate to her. He was nothing but a self-important second son and clearly no sort of a gentleman. Her breath quickened as she thought of his forcefulness. He might not be a gentleman, but he was certainly a very masterful man.

Suddenly, her stepfather, Baron Seaton appeared at her side. Although he smiled pleasantly enough, it only took one look at his glassy eyes to know he’d been drinking and that he was angry. To the casual observer he looked much like any father sharing a few words with his daughter between dances. The pain in Araby’s arm told a different tale. He escorted her through the ballroom and into a deserted hallway.

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there?” Her stepfather’s fingers bit mercilessly into her arm just above her elbow. He was careful. He knew where to grab and where to pinch so that sleeves or evening gloves hid any resulting bruises. “You’re supposed to be attending to Iredale, not mincing around with one of the Lassiter brothers.” His finger bit harder into the underside of her arm as he pulled her closer, his brandy-laced breath turning her stomach.

“I couldn’t help it.” Araby tried to free her arm, but Seaton was in no mood to let her go. “He just took the dance, what was I supposed to do, slap him? That would have certainly caused a commotion now, wouldn’t it?”

“Watch your mouth, or by God, I’ll make you sorry later.” He quickly looked around to make certain no one was nearby to hear their conversation.

She kept her tone calm. “I’m simply telling you that it wasn’t me. I did the best I could to get away, but when I couldn’t, I had to accept the waltz. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“All right. I don’t suppose there’s not too much damage done.” He released her arm and Araby quickly stepped away from him. “You just remember what you’re about tonight. I want an offer for you within a month and right now Iredale’s the most likely candidate. He’s got more than enough blunt to share.” The Baron narrowed his red-rimmed eyes. “Don’t you mess this one up, girl. I don’t care if you have to get caught with your knickers down, you get that offer.”

“I know what I’m about.” She forced coolness into her tone. It wouldn’t do to let him see her fear. It only made him meaner. Besides, he preferred thinking of them as partners in this hunt for a wealthy and powerful husband. “You forget that I want this marriage as much as you do.” He smiled then and reached for her arm. She turned her head away but didn’t fight him as he took possession of her arm once more. She knew better.

“That’s my little puss. She always knows what she’s about,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “You just continue to do as I say and we’ll come out all right. Just think how proud your dear mama will be of you.” He stroked her cheek. “Perhaps I’ll send for her, have her come back and stay for the rest of the Season. What do you think? I know how much you miss her.”

“No, please...I mean, the doctor says she needs her rest. I mustn’t be selfish, besides I have business to attend to. I’ll see her at the end of the Season.” His implication had been clear though. Bring Iredale up to scratch within the month or her mother would suffer – just as she’d always suffered for any of her own or her daughter’s transgressions, real or imagined. Sometimes Araby imagined she could still hear her mother’s screams from that first beating, the one that ended with the premature birth of her stillborn brother.

“As you wish, my dear. You know your happiness means everything to me,” Baron Seaton said softly, squeezing her arm gently this time, “because you’ve always been my good little puss.”

***

Michael chuckled as he left Arabella Winston behind. He could imagine the fury building in those beautiful, honey-colored eyes of hers. The Incomparable Araby, deliverer of so many cuts and setdowns had received one of her very own and he’d enjoyed delivering it. In fact, he almost wished he hadn’t scared her out of tormenting Drew. Educating the provoking little baggage would relieve the tedium of the Season. She was all regal hauteur and he felt a reluctant stir of admiration. Had she been older and no longer an innocent he’d have satisfied that admiration. He was still smiling when he reached the card room.

“Lassiter,” He stopped and turned in the direction of the gentleman calling his name.

“Lord Ambrose.” He bowed neatly to the older man.

“I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Lady Arabella.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Michael answered carefully. He didn’t lie, even when it benefited him, but he also didn’t want to harm the lady by revealing that she’d danced a waltz with him without proper introduction – not that he’d given her any choice in the matter.

“She is a singular young lady, but perhaps a trifle more caught up in her consequence than is good for her.”

Though Michael’s father had been friendly with Lord Ambrose, Michael himself had no more than a passing acquaintance with the man. Where he had strong opinions on Arabella Winston’s character, he had no intention of making them public knowledge. It surprised him that Lord Ambrose would attempt to discuss a young lady in such a public place.

“I trust my blunt speech hasn’t offended you, Lassiter. My ward, Damaris Kingsford, now Lady Arland, suffered most egregiously because of the young lady, you see. Far worse than anyone else. I know that your youngest brother is quite taken with Lady Arabella and I only speak of her because of our mutual concerns.”

“I take no offense, sir,” Michael answered carefully, “but I will not discuss a lady’s character lightly and never in public.”

“I understand your reluctance, Lassiter and it does you credit,” Lord Ambrose replied. “I invite you to call upon me to discuss certain information that would be useful to you. If you are amiable to the notion, sir.”

“ At your leisure, my lord,” Michael returned with a deferential bow. Lord Ambrose nodded, then left the card room. Michael watched him stroll regally through the assemblage and wondered into what sort of broth The Incomparable Araby had fallen.

***

Birdsong drifted through the trees in the early-morning quiet of Hyde Park. Most fashionable people were still in bed, but if one wished to actually canter, or indulge in even a mild gallop along Lady's Mile, or Rotten Row, then the hours between dawn and breakfast were your safest bet. No carriages rumbled along pathways seeking to displace a horse and rider. April was a delightful month, Araby reflected as she watched a light, morning mist rise from the Serpentine. By late summer the same mist would be replaced by a fetid odor, the result of hot weather and refuse. With luck she would be long gone from London before summer’s heat destroyed one of the city’s most charming areas.

Once she'd secured her engagement to Iredale there would be a lavish wedding to plan. Her family might not be of royal descent, but her social position guaranteed that the eyes of all fashionable London would be watching the planning of her nuptials. It was an exciting, though somewhat daunting, prospect. Araby smiled at the gentleman riding along side her. Leo Crispin, Lord Iredale was a handsome man. His blue eyes held both warmth and humor and attested to an even disposition. He always spoke calmly and with careful thought. She liked that about him. His smiles were gentle and he displayed kindness to everyone, even his servants. You could tell a great deal about someone by how they spoke to those in their service. Perhaps he would even make her feel safe after so many turbulent years.

“I love the early morning,” Lady Katherine sighed with contentment, “particularly when you can enjoy it amongst trees and grass.”

Viscount Danvers smiled happily at her. “I quite agree, Lady Katherine. I’m often up before first light at home just for the pleasure of watching the sun rise over my meadows.” Katherine gave him one of her genuine smiles, the kind she reserved for those few she truly cared about. During the past few weeks Katherine's reserve had warmed significantly towards Danvers. They were an unlikely match at first glance, but Araby supported any suitor who made her friend look so happy. She glanced back at Sarah, wondering what she made of this astounding transformation in their mutual friend. Sarah, however, was too busy attending to some drivel coming from the Earl of Reagan’s heir, Lord Phillip Marchwell.