In The Prince's Bed (6 page)

“Yes, any minute now I shall fall off my rocking chair and break a hip. And then where will I be?”

Mama frowned at her. “You’d best watch that clever tongue of yours, missy. Men don’t like impudent women, as my father should have told you when he was filling your head with all his nonsense about books and numbers.”

Katherine tipped up her chin. “Some men like a clever woman.” Lord Iversley seemed to, anyway. Not that his opinion mattered in the least.

“You mean Sir Sydney, I suppose. But he hasn’t offered for you, has he? So give some other man a chance. If you can’t bring Sir Sydney to the point, he won’t serve your purposes.”

Katherine set her shoulders. “You mean
your
purposes.”

Mama shrugged. “Yours. Mine. The family’s. Same thing.” She dropped her voice to the supplicating purr that had never worked on Papa, but still roused Katherine’s guilt. “I only want what’s best for all of us, dearest. Your brother simply
must
go toEton, and your sisters must be able to spend every season here in town until they marry—”

“
I
never did,” Katherine pointed out.

“Because you haveSydney. And we had no money for more than one season.”

True. And Papa had never wanted his wife and daughter to be in town while he was behaving like a bachelor.

Not that she’d minded all that much. Her quiet life inCornwallwas good enough for her… really, it was. And whenever she tired of supervising her sisters and remaking her gowns to save funds, she hadSydney to discuss poetry with. When he wasn’t dancing attendance on his mother, that is. He’s too much a coward to stand up to his mother.

A pox on that cursed Earl of Iversley, with his criticisms and sly remarks. Not to mention his inappropriate, unwise, and—dare she admit it—
thrilling
kisses, which had cast doubt on all her hopes for a future with Sydney. Even Mama’s cynicism had never managed that.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Stand up straight, Katherine,” Mama hissed. “Our hostess is headed this way. We’re lucky she invited us. All the best people come to her affairs and…”

As Mama droned on, Katherine cast a longing glance in the directionSydneyhad gone. If he would only hurry, she might escape the spectacle of Mama licking Lady Jenner’s boots… er… dancing slippers.

“… oh, dear, but she has that fellow with her, the rough-looking one.”

“Who?” Katherine followed her mother’s gaze to where their hostess was approaching with Lord Iversley himself on her arm. Oh no, not
him
.

“I don’t know why she’s so nice to that man,” Mama went on. “He’s probably her lover, some ill-bred army officer. But they usually wear uniforms—”

Katherine couldn’t imagine Lord Iversley in any uniform but a dressing gown, a cigar, and a brandy glass. Like in one of those prints from Papa’s scandalous book, where a man entertained a woman of questionable moral fiber.

The sort of woman who would let him kiss her— twice—on a gallery. Her heart began to pound. Surely he wouldn’t be so wicked as to reveal that, would he?

“You don’t have to dance with him, you know, even if he asks,” Mama went on in a low voice. “Really, I can’t see why Lady Jenner is bringing him over here.”

“Mama—”

“Hush, now, let me handle this.” She smiled brightly as Lady Jenner and the earl reached them. “Good evening, my lady. I was just saying how lovely your ball is. Especially with all your pretty cherry blossoms everywhere. I have always found cherries to be hard on the constitution, but the blossoms—”

“Thank you,” Lady Jenner interrupted coolly. “I’m so glad you like it.”

“I’ve always said that the best place for dancing is at aLondonball,” Mama babbled on nervously, “the best music and the best dance floor and the most accomplished ladies and gentlemen. Haven’t I always told you that, dear?” Her mother didn’t pause for Katherine’s answer because she didn’t require one.

“We get plenty of chances to dance in Heath’s End, mind you, but it’s not the same at those country balls, where the shopkeepers and farmers mingle with people of quality.” She shot Lord Iversley a mildly contemptuous look. “Though I suppose that even inLondonone can’t always avoid company of the wrong sort.”

Mama paused for breath, and Lady Jenner leaped to halt the humiliating flow of words. “Lord Iversley has begged an introduction to you and your daughter, and of course I was happy to oblige him.”

“L-Lord Iversley?” Mama’s gaze met the earl’s amused one. “
You’re
the Earl of Iversley?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said with an odd note of irony. Executing a perfect bow, he added, “And I’m most pleased to make your acquaintance, madam.”

For once, Mama had the good sense to follow proper etiquette while introductions were performed. But when Katherine rose from a deep curtsy to meet the earl’s gaze, she realized she wasn’t safe yet. There
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
was no mistaking the humor glinting in those unearthly blue eyes. Oh, no. Surely he wouldn’t reveal—

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Merivale.”

Relief swept through her, followed swiftly by anger that he’d given her such a fright. She flashed him an arch smile. “I’ve heard so much about you that I feel as if I know you already, my lord.”

Lord Iversley cocked one eyebrow. “It’s not all bad, I hope.”

“No more than usual for a young man returned toEnglandafter traveling abroad.”

“Don’t you mean ‘cavorting’ abroad?”

Katherine winced. Why had she been foolish enough to taunt him? Mama gave a nervous titter. “Cavorting, is it? How clever you are, my lord, with your
bon mottes
.”

“
Bon mots
, Mama,” Katherine corrected under her breath. Mama thought any approximation of a Frenchword was good enough.

“No, your mother’s right,” the earl said smoothly. “I
am
being a clod. It’s wrong of me to assume you believe the gossip about me.”

Not even his clever play on theFrench
motte
for “clod” could banish Katherine’s mortification. She’d been the clod, mentioning his reputation when he’d been perfectly civil so far. “I don’t know what gossip you mean, my lord.”

“Don’t you?” Mischief glittered in his eyes. “But you just said—”

“I only meant that everyone was talking about you. But I… er… did not listen to any gossip. Or at least I tried not to listen.”

“Ah. So you’re admirable enough to mind your own business. I’m afraid I’m not. If people are so indiscreet as to speak where I can hear, I tend to listen. And tonight I’ve overheard a number of interesting things.”

She supposed she deserved that.

With a smirk at having won his point, he added, “Ah, but I’m forgetting what I came for. I was hoping to have the honor of your hand for the next dance.”

A new voice entered the fray. “Sorry, old chum, but Miss Merivale promised it to me.”

Katherine turned to findSydneystanding with two glasses of punch, his resentful gaze fixed on Lord Iversley. Goodness, this got worse by the moment.

“I beg your pardon, Sir Sydney,” Mama put in, “but I believe you’re confused. Katherine has already danced one set with you, and I know she agreed to let you have the last before supper.” Her triumphant smile grated on Katherine’s nerves. “It would be most improper for you two to dance more than that—what would people think? Why, you’re not even betrothed.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Sydneylooked positively apoplectic, while Lord Iversley looked as if he might burst into laughter. Katherine couldn’t decide whom she wanted to strangle more— Lady Jenner for bringing Lord Iversley over in the first place, Sydney for lying, or Mama for catching him in the lie. She settled her anger on the earl. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t much feel like dancing at the moment.”

A lady was
never
supposed to refuse a gentleman’s request to dance. Surely that would send him off insulted.

No such luck. If anything, he looked even more amused. “A pity. I wanted to tell you that interesting gossip I overheard. But if you’d rather we discuss it with your mother and Sir Sydney, we can sit this dance out.”

Surely he was bluffing. If he said anything about what they’d done on the gallery, it would reflect as badly on him as it did on her.

Iversley never met a rule he didn’t break.

She couldn’t take the chance. Besides, from the dagger glances Mama was shooting at her, she’d never hear the end of it if she turned him down. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”

IgnoringSydney’s wounded expression and Mama’s suddenly sunny smile, Katherine took the arm the earl proffered and let him lead her to the floor.

Plotting to seduce a woman is like planning

a military campaign. You must outflank

her at every turn until her only choice

is surrender.

—Anonymous,
A Rake’s Rhetorick

As Alec carried Katherine off to the floor, he reveled in the resentment festering on Lovelace’s face.
Too
bad, “old chum.” You had your chance. She’s mine now
. And for one of those new waltzes, too, which was even better.

Then Katherine faced him, her lovely eyes glinting mutinously. Uh-oh, perhaps his gloating was premature.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She tossed back her pretty head. “I hadn’t realized you were so desperate for female companionship you’d resort to blackmail to gain a dance partner.”

“I merely asked you to dance,” he said, feigning innocence.

“And I asked you to leave me be.” Despite her sharp words, a blush stained her cheeks. The music started. Deliberately, he drew her into his arms far closer than propriety allowed for the waltz.

“You didn’t mean it.”

As she fell into step, anger turned the amber glints in her brown eyes to flames. “You are the most pompous, arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

“Ah, but I’m dancing with you, while your poet friend can only watch.”

No doubt the baronet was getting an eyeful, too. Katherine danced surprisingly well for a country girl, with a natural grace that compensated for any uncertainty about the steps. As she matched his rhythm perfectly, he wondered if she’d do the same in bed. The thought of her rising eagerly to meet his every thrust made him tighten his grip on her hand.

She flashed him an annoyed glance. “Sydneywas right about you.”

“Was he? What else did my old school chum tell you about me?”

“That you got away with the most outrageous behavior simply because you were an earl’s son.”

God rot Lovelace’s self-righteousness. Not to mention his selective memory. “Has it occurred to you that your friend Sydney might have his own reasons for not telling you the entire story?”

“Do you deny that your classmates atHarrowcalled you Alexander the Great because you were allowed to do as you pleased?”

“How do you know it wasn’t because they admired my talents?”

“Sydneysays you never studied, never applied yourself, and spent all your time getting into trouble with your friends.”

“While Lovelace spent all
his
time crying for his mother.”

A direct hit. She paled and dropped her gaze to his cravat. “There’s nothing wrong with a boy… missing his mother.”

“Perhaps not at first. But even in his third term, yourSydneywas writing his mother weekly. And receiving packages nearly as often.”

Unerringly she homed in on his resentful tone. “Didn’t your mother send you packages, too?”

He gritted his teeth. “I wouldn’t let her,” he lied, as he’d done so often atHarrow. “No boy with a spine wants his mother to coddle him.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The truth was, the old earl wouldn’t allow it. While Lovelace had feasted on marzipan and fresh apples and the occasional saffron cake from home, Alec had pretended he didn’t care about such nonsense.

“Is that why you dislikeSydney?” The sudden gentleness in her voice grated. “Because he got packages from his mother, and you didn’t?”

“Don’t be absurd. If I dislike Lovelace at all, it’s because he doesn’t appreciate life’s finer things.”

Her bristly expression returned. “Like wine, women, and song?”

“Like
you
. You deserve better than Lovelace, and we both know it.”

The startled look she shot him, followed by her softly murmured “Oh,” nearly unmanned him. He smoothed his hand from her waist to the tempting curve of her silk-sheathed back. A little lower and he could cup her fetching bottom. That would certainly shock all the matrons… and earn him a well-deserved slap.

He sighed. Wooing a woman had been a damned sight easier inPortugal. For one thing, there was no wooing with the sort of woman he’d known. A man could go straight to the swiving and forget all this dancing and chatter.

But if he wanted a wife, he must play by the rules. No dragging Miss Merivale off to the gallery, where he could lose himself in her honeyed lips again. Ladies preferred compliments. “I like your gown.”

She looked skeptical. “It’s not too red?”

Why would it be too red? “Of course not. It suits the theme of the ball.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Cherry blossoms are white.”

“Cherries are red.” He lowered his voice. “Like your lips.”

An inelegant snort erupted from her. “You must have found that one on page twenty-six.” When he blinked, she added, “Of some… er… book of flatteries.”

“Forgive me for not being as poetic as your precious suitor,” he snapped. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear my honest opinion of your gown.”

“You’re wrong—I much prefer sincerity to flattery.” Eyeing him from beneath lowered lashes, she said,

“So what do you
really
think of it?”

“That it’s the most erotic gown I’ve ever seen.” He swept his hand along the sash at her waist. “I love how it clings to your breasts and your—”

“That’s enough.” She blushed furiously. “You mustn’t say such things.”