All's Fair in Love and Seduction (2 page)

Situated at the rear of the estate, the ballroom stretched the entire width of the main house with the dance floor taking up a third of that acreage.  A refreshment room conveniently adjoined the dance floor and four sets of French doors opened out onto a stone terrace. The private garden beyond was said to be one of the most beautiful in all of London.

The last they had seen Catherine, Sir William Kingsley had come to claim her for a dance. The set had finished some five minutes ago but as London was experiencing a July devoid of the rain that sometimes plagued the summer month, perhaps he had taken her outside for a stroll. 

“She must have—” Charlotte began but broke off when she saw Lord Alex approaching. Apparently, women were rendered speechless in the presence of gentleman with excessive good looks—particularly the ones they happened to be in love with.  

“Charlotte.” From his lips, her name was a greeting, a familiar address…and something more. His head dipped in a bow but his eyes never left her.

Charlotte stood momentarily mute, transfixed as her blue eyes drank him in. And not in huge gulps but in savoring sips, as if she’d learned not to gorge herself. Elizabeth could have been a piece of furniture for all the attention the two paid her. 

Then as if remembering Elizabeth's no doubt unfortunate presence and his own usually impeccable manners, Lord Alex shifted his focus smoothly to her. “Good evening, Miss Smith. I hope you're enjoying yourself.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’m having a fine time.” How fortunate Charlotte was to have captured the affections of such a man for it was obvious her friend’s feelings were duly returned. 

“Alex.” Charlotte’s belated greeting sounded like a breathless sigh, her pleasure as transparent as the polished crystal glasses used to serve the wine and champagne. 

For several seconds, very little could be heard above the haunting notes of the waltz and the collective rumble of three hundred guests. The small circle they had formed in the back of the room fell into the kind of silence that brought about a lot of throat clearing and fidgeting of fingers and toes. Inclined to the latter on such occasions, Elizabeth found herself smoothing the lace edge on her blue satin skirts.

“My friend has abandoned me for the greater outdoors.” Lord Alex broke the thick silence, motioning with his head toward the gray London night beyond the terrace doors. “And suddenly I found myself surrounded by dewy-faced debutantes.” 

Elizabeth noted the imperceptible stiffening of Charlotte’s form. Pleasure faded from her eyes. “So you are using us to escape.” Her tone made it an indictment, her pursed lips a rebuke. 

Lord Alex’s smile faltered and his brow furrowed, clearly taken aback by her charge. Before he could open his mouth to ask the nature of his transgression, Elizabeth excused herself, pleading heat, thirst and hunger, any of which would be true. She hurried away with no true destination in mind just the knowledge that she was superfluous to any situation with Charlotte and Lord Alex in each other’s company. 

Mr. Peter Finley was the next name on her dance card but before she returned to the floor for the next set she could use a breath of fresh air. Well it wouldn’t be terribly fresh. This was London after all. But it would have to do until she returned to the much cleaner Wilton air.

My friend has abandoned me for the greater outdoors.
 

The statement taunted her…lured her as she escaped the ballroom and stepped out onto the lit terrace. What she was doing was foolhardy, her actions putting her vaunted mental acuity under question. 

But, she reasoned, she was one of the many Smiths in a city teeming with Smiths, Smyths and Smythes. With her widowed sister living in Dorchester and her parents in Wilton overseeing the renovations of their new residence, what reason would the viscount have to connect her with them? 

None. 

So what possible harm could come from a chance encounter at a party hosted by the estimable Lord and Lady Windmere? 

No harm a’tall.

A rash of gooseflesh appeared when the cool night air struck the skin of her upper arms. Elizabeth gave an involuntary shiver as she took in the long stretch of the terrace, which sat as desolate and silent as the Yorkshire moors. She had expected to see Lord Creswell there in a wide-legged stance, a cheroot in his mouth and a trail of gray smoke rising up to mingle with the equally gray London air that settled above the city like a dark shroud. 

Behind a six-tiered stone fountain where water trickled from the mouth of a playful dolphin, the garden landscaped into a maze of lofty hedgerows, shrubs of honeysuckle, and neat rows of yellow daisies and red roses.  Toward the back of the property, three large elms offered shade to a white gazebo. 

The scent of honeysuckle competed with the dank air and tonight was winning handily. Elizabeth inhaled the sweet fragrance deeply into her lungs as she ventured to the edge of the garden.

Slowly, she looked around and rolled up onto her toes in hopes of spying the viscount’s dark head above the first hedgerow. But for the buzz and chirps of nocturnal insects and the leaves rustling in the breeze, Elizabeth concluded she was quite alone. 

“Where did he go?” she muttered to herself. Disappointed, she came down hard on the heels of her satin evening shoes. 

“Were you looking for someone in particular?” drawled a deep masculine voice from behind her.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth spun around so quickly she lost her footing and stumbled headlong—well actually breast-first if she was striving for accuracy—into the hard wall of a male chest. Large hands shot out to steady her, his hold firm yet gentle on her arms. Elizabeth snatched her hands away from his chest and took a hasty step back.

Surely, fate would not be so cruel…? She peered up and encountered the arresting blue-green eyes of Lord Creswell.

Fate had a most unfortunate sense of humor.

“My lord, you frightened me.” Surprise may have caused her to stumble but it was the man who left her breathless.

And it wasn’t just his masculine beauty; she’d like to think she wasn’t that shallow. No, it was more than that. He had an aura of confidence about him—some might say arrogance—that drew women with the same pull the sun exerted on the Earth.

“I’m sorry. Please accept my apologies,” he said, all politesse and unimpeachable decorum. But his hooded gaze and the way his mouth twitched at the corners told her he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry a’tall.

Elizabeth had no doubt the viscount knew it was he she’d been searching for. He’d heard her. Heat flooded her face. She could only imagine what he thought of her.

Her mother had also warned that her impetuous nature would one day land her in a heap of trouble. Trouble of this sort must follow the viscount about like a starving mongrel in search of table scraps.

Truly, if she had a mite bit of sense where he was concerned, she would return inside now that her curiosity had been quenched. She’d seen him, spoken to him, touched him even; that should be enough. And if she were lucky, he’d never discover she was a member of the same Smith family his father had paid one thousand pounds to quiet her parents’ cries for his brother to redress her sister's honor.

“I-I didn’t expect to find anyone out here.” Elizabeth nearly groaned in dismay at such an obvious lie. At affairs such as this, gardens weren’t merely a floral feast for the eyes but also provided a haven for lovers seeking privacy from the crush, and tall and dense foliage proved the perfect shield to share a kiss and other such intimacies.

Lord Creswell continued to study her with slumberous eyes. Silence dragged along at a tortuous pace and with every second that ticked by, Elizabeth’s discomfort climbed. She wished he would say
something
.

Finally, he smiled a slow devilish grin, his gaze drifting from her face to her neckline before dipping lower. He paused there, lingering long enough to offend—if a woman would be offended by the lustful stare of a handsome man. Slowly, he lifted his regard back to hers. “And I hoped you were looking for me.”

A wave of arousal, the likes of which Elizabeth had never known, washed over her. She went from warm to burning hot in the span of seconds.

“I came out for some air.” Her voice was breathy and uneven.

Liar.
The silent rejoinder was brutally swift and damning.

The word remained unspoken but was there in his too knowing eyes and the soft laugh that rumbled from his throat.

“How utterly remarkable as I too came out for…
air
. I think it would be prudent if we took air together. Would that please you, Miss Smith?” He advanced a step. He now stood close enough for her to make out dark stubble beginning to shadow his jaw. His shoulders blocked the gaslight illuminating the terrace.

Did he truly believe she would
take air
with a man she’d only just met?

But of course he did, and she could hardly blame him given her actions. There were names for women like that.

Elizabeth Ann Smith?

No, despite what he thought or how it might appear, she was not that type of woman even if the temptation to throw off the rigid strictures of society acted upon her like a virulent disease.

Elizabeth affected an airy sophisticated laugh, attempting to hide what she prayed wasn't too obvious; that she was unaccustomed to the kind of flirtatious banter he no doubt excelled at. “My lord, we
are
taking air together.”

“No, not yet but I’m sure we will soon.” This time his tone did not tease. His expression sobered as he eyed her mouth with more than avid interest.

Elizabeth felt as if a fire had been ignited inside her. However, the other part of her, the daughter of Richard Smith with his rigid moral code and God-fearing ways felt compelled to say something. Indeed, something that would convey a bit of umbrage at his cheek. A young lady in her position would not be aroused by such provocation. In fact, she would be quite outraged. They were strangers after all.

“My lord,” she began, “I really must take—”

“Derek. Lord Derek Creswell. But then I’m certain you know precisely who I am. And I would like to know you, Miss Elizabeth Smith.” The velvet smoothness of his voice strummed her senses like the premier virtuoso of seduction.

Elizabeth’s mouth snapped closed.

He knew her name.
More importantly, he had inquired about her.

Swallowing was made all the more difficult with the complete obstruction of her throat. Her heart began to beat double time.

He watched her as if he liked nothing better than to have his wicked way with her. Her nipples peaked and the place between her thighs grew moist in her own wicked response. But no matter how tempting the offer in his eyes, she could not encourage him. A union between them was impossible.

A small step backward began her retreat as her mind strived for clarity, focus and sound reason. She could not permit this.

“You came here looking for me.”

His statement stopped her in her tracks and her mouth opened to launch a reflexive denial. A blatant lie.

He countered by taking several steps forward, forcing her behind the towering hedgerow lest he run her over with his powerful body. He stood inches from her. Her eyes were level with the top silver button of his waistcoat. They were now out of sight should any of the guests venture onto the terrace. Elizabeth tipped her head back to look into his face.

“Miss Smith, let us be honest with each other, shall we?” How he managed to coax and command in the same breath, she didn’t know but his tone did both. “I have watched you…watch me…for many weeks now. You want this as much as I do.” His silky voice not for the weak or faint of heart. Ladies who easily succumbed to the vapors would have been a puddle at his feet by now.

Mesmerized, Elizabeth stood mute, inhaling his musky scent and fighting the weakness stealing over her limbs and making sawdust of her will.

His head began a slow descent giving her time enough to halt the whole thing before it went too far. “Would you like me to kiss you, Miss Smith?” He spoke softly and his voice lulled.

And for a moment she was lulled into believing that she had some control in this situation. That he had given that back to her.

“I-I do not make it a habit of kissing gentlemen I do not know—I mean a’tall.” She didn’t exactly push him way. She said precisely what a young lady of her rank ought to say but felt no satisfaction in it. Instead, it left her deprived, denied and wanting.

He chuckled softly. “Well there must be a first time for everything.”

The viscount possessed a sensual allure so powerful and intoxicating it rendered her willing and eager to experience everything he offered. She leaned in, pure need driving her. But before the distance between their mouths could be bridged, he halted and pulled slightly back. “I will not take what you will not give freely. What do you want? You only have to tell me,” he coaxed, his breath mingling with hers.

Elizabeth blinked several times before his handsome face came into focus.

Devil take him!

They had been doing perfectly well on the course he had set. Now, fully aware of the folly about to take place, she had no choice but to refuse him.

As if he sensed the turmoil roiling within her, he slid his hands around her waist, strong and possessive, so very familiar as if they hadn’t spoken for the first time just that evening. “Will you deny us both?” With his words, the roughness of his voice and his proximity, her battered resistance collapsed in total defeat. She wanted this just as much if not more than he did; had wanted him in some fashion since she’d first laid eyes on him.

She shook her head and before she could take another wispy breath, his mouth was on hers, claiming her wholly.

Derek Creswell may be a lord by birth and a gentleman in appearances and comportment but his kiss told her there was nothing remotely proper about him. He was carnality at its most sinful.

This was no soft and tentative kiss of new lovers but one so sensual and hot, it reverberated through her right down to the soles of her feet. His tongue traced the softness of her lower lip before plunging inside to coax hers into a delicious love play.