In Bed with a Rogue (13 page)

Sebastian needn’t have bothered speaking since Lady Norwick was obviously deaf to his words.

“Sir Jonathan Hackberry is set up in the drawing room. He recently returned from an expedition abroad and his work is fascinating.”

“Yes, fascinating is the word.” Eve made the appropriate responses and smiled graciously as if she understood Lady Norwick’s babbling.

“What do you know of his work?” he grumbled to his sister. Eve scowled in return.

They passed through the double doors into a grand drawing room, and his gaze landed on a drum that stood nearly as tall as Lady Norwick. He was vaguely aware there were others in the room, but an assortment of circles covered in tanned animal skin and scattered on a table demanded his attention.

“What is all this?”

Lady Norwick flicked a hand toward the circles. “Those are frame drums, my lord. They are quite ancient and came all the way from Mesopotamia.”

“They are well-traveled, aren’t they?”

Helena’s soft chuckle behind him warmed his insides. He turned toward her, the light she had sparked in him coming out in a smile.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Have you agreed to help Sir Jonathan Hackberry? He needs a gentleman to give us a demonstration, since ladies are too suggestible and mentally fragile.” There was an edge of sarcasm in her tone, but she maintained her pleasant expression. “I would think those qualities would make us good subjects for an altered mental state, but alas, the method only works on males.”

“I should think so, Lady Prestwick. It is common knowledge gentlemen are even
more
suggestible and mentally fragile.” He crossed his eyes, earning her laughter. “Very well. You’ve convinced me to stay. The ladies must have a demonstration.”

Lady Norwick clapped. “Marvelous, Lord Thorne. How brave you are.”

More
like
daft
.

The countess excused herself and crossed the room to greet a new arrival, Lady Lovelace. Celeste met his gaze and grinned like a cat that had stumbled across the cream unattended. For once, her mother-in-law wasn’t at her side, which left her free to play. And from the sultry look Celeste gave him, she was ready to play with him.

Weeks earlier he would have obliged her, but he could barely spare her a thought today. When Helena was near, he was drawn to her like an ocean wave to land. The light-green dress she wore flattered her golden-brown locks and brought out her eyes. Her bottom lip was moist as if she had just licked it.

Helena cocked her head at an angle, her fingers toying with the silver pendant around her neck. “You are staring,” she murmured.

“I am.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she shyly averted her gaze. “Well, you should stop before someone misinterprets your bad manners for interest.” Even though she delivered a reprimand, there was amusement in her tone. Her gaze traveled slowly over him, her lips curling contentedly. His blood heated and there was a tightening in his lower belly.

“Now who is staring?”

His body screamed interest and it was mutual. The faint impression of taut nipples poked through her thin muslin dress. His mouth watered at the thought of sampling them.

A succession of sharp raps on a drum broke his Helena-induced trance. He inclined his head in her direction. “I believe that is my cue, Lady Prestwick.”

Sir Jonathan Hackberry came forward to introduce himself and shake Sebastian’s hand. The baronet wore no gloves, and his browned skin bore deep grooves, even though he couldn’t be any older than Sebastian. “I cannot thank you enough for volunteering to be my assistant today, Lord Thorne. The ladies are an eager audience.”

“Mesopotamia, eh?”

The gentleman puffed out his chest, preening like a peacock. “Uncovered them near the Tigris. Of course, the region is better known as the Ottoman Empire now. Please, come have a seat.”

He led Sebastian to a Chippendale chair and urged him to sit. “I need you to have an open mind, my lord. Concentrate on the beat of the drum and allow your spirit to wander wherever it wishes. You shouldn’t be caught off guard if you feel yourself floating above your body.”

Sebastian nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself in time. Clearly Sir Jonathan Hackberry was one of those—uh, what were they called again?
Oh, that’s right. A crackbrain.
Sebastian had met several on his grand tour.

Eve slipped into a seat beside Helena and clasped hands with her. “I cannot believe he agreed. How marvelous.” His sister’s excited whispers carried on the air. Both women looked at him with expectation shining in their eyes. In fact, every woman seated in the semicircle seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen.

Never let it be said Sebastian was a disappointment to women.

***

Helena found the content of Sir Jonathan’s lecture interesting. His monotone voice, however, was becoming tedious. She shifted position on her chair and leaned closer to pretend attentiveness out of regard for their hostess.

“The frame drum emerged at the center of mystical religious traditions in the great civilizations of Mesopotamia, Anatolia, Greece, Egypt, Rome. Many of the relics uncovered in the excavation of these once thriving cities depict women as a priestess or goddess leading the religious ceremony through their drumming. Days of nonstop drumming and dance were intended to alter consciousness, to let go of earthly restraints so they could be one with their gods.”

Sir Jonathan moved behind the tall drum and stroked it like one would a lover. “This is a kettledrum and it was used for the same purpose.”

Suddenly, he smacked his palm hard against the surface. Eve jumped and cried out, then covered her giggle with her hand.

Helena exchanged an amused glance with Lord Thorne.

Sir Jonathan’s discourse continued between lively beats on the drum, his manner becoming less stiff.

“And this, dear ladies, is the frame drum I mentioned.” He hurried to the table, snatched a large round disk, and swung his head toward Lord Thorne. “Are you ready to demonstrate, my lord?”

With a half smirk, the baron nodded.

Sir Jonathan lifted the drum and knocked his hand against it. “This is called a thumb roll. Listen for the difference.”

There was a definite difference when he struck it a second time, although Helena didn’t know how to describe the sound. Wickie hadn’t thought it necessary for her to study music.

In rapid succession, Sir Jonathan tapped out a rhythm. It reverberated in her chest as if challenging her heart to match it. His drumming became more aggressive, but the rhythm stayed the same. Eve drew in a shaky breath beside her and eased to the edge of her seat. Helena didn’t know if the beat of the drum was affecting Eve, or if the attractive glow that had come over Sir Jonathan’s face accounted for her sudden interest.

Helena’s gaze strayed to Lord Thorne and lingered, enjoying a moment to study him while he was preoccupied. His eyes were closed and dark lashes fanned against his olive complexion. For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of wondering what it would be like with him sleeping in her bed.

Not the act of making love, but actually watching him in slumber. Never was one more vulnerable than when one slept, and succumbing to sleep in the presence of another required great trust.

Longing was a faint beat in her heart, gaining strength as she drank in his magnificence. His slender fingers rested casually on the arms of the chair. His broad shoulders appeared capable of holding up the world. His arms and chest a safe haven. Her longing grew more unbearable by the moment. She wanted to trust him in the worst way and believe he wouldn’t look at her differently once he knew she was seeking her sister and not a servant girl. But she was afraid, and her fear grew in proportion to how much she liked him.

Helena frowned at the low hum accompanying the drum. Eve clutched her arm. “It’s happening,” she whispered. The noise was coming from Lord Thorne.

Helena blinked, uncertain what to make of everything.

The drumming grew more vigorous; a fire ignited in Sir Jonathan’s eyes. Lord Thorne began to moan and sway on the chair.

Sir Jonathan stepped toward him, smacking his palm on the drum at a feverish pace. “Surrender your spirit, my lord.”

The baron moaned louder. He rocked and swayed.

“He is fighting it,” Lady Banner hissed.

With a cry, he pitched forward and fell on his knees. Everyone gasped.

But then Helena saw it, a tiny twitch at the corners of his lips. Lord Thorne, the scoundrel, was putting on an act. She sat back and crossed her arms to enjoy the show.

His eyes flew open and stared blankly at his audience. Murmurs traveled the small group. Sir Jonathan urged Lord Thorne to give himself over to the trance.

“No.” He flung his head to one side and then the other. “I can’t. I must fight it.”

“I told you he was fighting it,” Lady Banner declared, sounding proud.

Helena snorted softly.

“Don’t fight.” The drummer rushed forward, beating the drum with all he had. “Surrender, my lord. Let go of your inhibitions.”

Lord Thorne went still. Everyone shifted to the edges of their seats. Slowly, he rose, silent and unblinking. Sir Jonathan missed a beat, his mouth hanging open.

“It worked.” Eve gripped Helena’s arm. “He is in a trance.”

The excited murmurs grew louder.

“I’ve really done it!” Sir Jonathan sounded as surprised as Lady Norwick’s guests.

“What now, sir?” Eve asked in a rush.

A baffled expression crossed his face. “Um…”

“Dance,” Lord Thorne intoned. “Must dance.”

Sir Jonathan nodded. “Yes, that’s it. Dance is an integral part of the trance.”

“Play faster,” Lord Thorne commanded.

The drumming accelerated, and then as if given a directive straight from heaven, Lord Thorne threw his head back and flung his arms wide. He moved them in the air like undulating waves and twirled in a circle. Shaking his hips in a most improper fashion, he raised his hands above his head.

Jaws dropped. Sir Jonathan even stopped his drumming. A giggle sounded from across the room.

“Oh!” Eve released Helena’s arm and bolted from her seat. “Sebastian James Edmund Thorne, you are incorrigible. How could you?”

He cracked one eye and grinned. “You remembered the gypsy dance.”

“How could I forget when you never let me?” There was a touch of merriment to his sister’s hassled voice.

“The gypsy dance?” Lines creased Sir Jonathan’s forehead. “But I don’t understand.”

Eve smiled ruefully. “I am so sorry, sir. I know you were hoping for my brother to channel the spirits, but I’m afraid he only managed to resurrect a naughty little boy.”

Lord Thorne’s grin widened. “It was
your
dance, Eve.” Then he turned his charming smile on the other ladies. “Forgive me, Lady Norwick. I couldn’t resist teasing my little sister. When we were young, we saw gypsies at a carnival and Eve decided she wanted to join a band when she grew up. She forced me to watch her dance for weeks until our mother informed her ladies do not become gypsies.”

“And what a pity.” Lady Norwick joined Eve at Sir Jonathan’s side and patted her hand fondly. “I should think gypsy dancing more stimulating than watercolors any day. Bravo, Lord Thorne! This is the most entertaining salon we’ve had yet.”

Amelia Hillary, Lady Norwick’s close friend, gave him a standing ovation and the other ladies joined in. When the baron bowed theatrically, Sir Jonathan’s scowl deepened.

Lady Norwick was quick to notice and hurried to smooth his ruffled feathers. “And Sir Jonathan, upon my word, there cannot exist another drummer as exquisite as you. I was completely mesmerized. Another round of applause, ladies?”

Her guests complied, clapping with no less enthusiasm for the poor man.

He flushed a deep red and his scowl disappeared. “You flatter me, Lady Norwick.”

“Not at all, sir.” While Lady Norwick flattered him more, Lord Thorne approached Helena and Eve.

When Eve looked up at her brother with devotion, she reminded Helena of a puppy wagging its tail. “You are too silly sometimes, Bastian.”

He shrugged. “It’s worth acting like a fool to see you smile. Are you having a good time?”

“The very best. Thank you.” She pressed his hand between hers. “But I think Sir Jonathan’s feelings were hurt. I should go speak with him.” She wandered over to speak with the man and their hostess, leaving Helena alone with Lord Thorne.

“You love her very much,” she said.

“I would do anything for her.” The muscles in his jaw shifted, a sign of strong emotions he held in check. “She was all I had some days.”

Helena didn’t have a chance to ask his meaning before Lady Lovelace sidled up to him.

“Sebastian, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Are you following me?” She threaded her arm with his in a too-familiar gesture that made Helena’s stomach dive. Turning, Lady Lovelace gasped softly and covered her heart with her hand. “Oh dear! Lady Prestwick, I didn’t see you there.”

The widow boldly met Helena’s gaze with a defiant lift to her chin that said she had been perfectly aware of Helena’s presence and didn’t like her near her lover.

Lady Lovelace batted her lashes as if embarrassed, but no blush colored her cheeks. “I’m afraid you caught Lord Thorne and me at an awkward moment. I hope you don’t think me forward. It is just Lord Thorne and I are old friends.”

A bitter taste coated Helena’s tongue. “You should catch up then.” She spun on her heel and stalked toward the terrace door before she said something she would regret, such as telling the woman to take her hands off her man.

Thirteen

“Now, now. That wasn’t nice misleading Lady Prestwick,” Sebastian said to the young widow attached to his side like a leech. The other ladies had adjourned to the far end of the drawing room where refreshments were being served, giving him leave to speak plainly.

“How did I mislead her?” Celeste asked. “I simply informed her that we are old friends.”

“
Old
as in the past. I believe you were implying otherwise.”