Intimate Deception (10 page)

“I hear the Marquess and Marchioness of Wedgewood are hosting a dinner and musicale on Wednesday next.”

Her switch in topics confused him. “Yes. I received an invitation this morning.”

“How fortunate. Invitations to the marchioness’s affairs are quite coveted.” She set down her pitcher and locked her gaze with his. “I’d make sure to attend.”

He nodded his understanding.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Raeborn, I’m expecting a caller.”

“Of course.”

Genevieve walked him to the front door and took his hand. “Don’t be angry with her, Raeborn. There was no other choice for her.”

Vincent hoped the expression on his face concealed his true feelings. What he felt was not anger as much as fear. And he knew it would not go away until he knew for sure she was not carrying his child.

He turned to bid Genevieve a final farewell and was surprised when she squeezed his hand.

“Don’t be angry if she refuses your help, Raeborn. She has never had the luxury of having someone to rely on. I doubt she will find the thought appealing.”

She held his hand a moment longer, then released it.

He couldn’t let her words be the last between them. “Then she will have to get used to the idea. If she is carrying my child, she will have no choice but to accept my help,” he said, and turned to walk down the steps.

The near week he had to wait before Lady Wedgewood’s dinner seemed an eternity, but Wednesday finally came.

Vincent arrived early and scanned the halls of Wedgewood’s town house, watching every maid and female servant helping with the marchioness’s dinner and musicale. He wasn’t interested in the guests who were in attendance, nor in who would provide the musical entertainment. He was
only interested in observing the steady stream of female servants who came from the kitchen area with trays of food and drinks for the guests.

So far, none was the woman Genevieve had called Grace. The woman who’d offered him her virginity two weeks earlier.

When dinner was announced, Vincent conversed with one of the female guests as he escorted her into the formal dining room, but he couldn’t remember one word she spoke. He was too busy scanning the area for anyone in Lady Wedgewood’s employ who matched the woman he remembered, the woman with hair like golden silk, the woman with round, full breasts.

Vincent shook his head to clear it and took his place near the head of the long dining table. The memory of the woman Genevieve called Grace haunted his memory day and night. No matter how much he ordered his brain to forget her, he couldn’t. Her searching gaze and tender touch refused to abandon him.

He reached for his glass of wine and took a healthy swallow.

The dowager Countess of Eversely was seated to his right, but he had a difficult time carrying on a conversation. Although he’d always enjoyed visiting with her, tonight he couldn’t concentrate enough to pay her the attention she deserved. He was too busy watching every female servant.

But none of them was the woman who’d given him her body nearly two weeks earlier. The woman who’d clung to him when he entered her and cried out her release when she reached her climax.

Vincent swiped at the sheen of perspiration on his brow caused by the memories of her lying naked in his arms and attacked the braised beef tips on his plate with a vengeance. He couldn’t allow himself to constantly relive the memories from that night. He couldn’t allow the woman who’d given him her virginity to consume his thoughts the way she did. It wasn’t normal. In all the years he’d gone to Genevieve’s, he’d never given any of the women with whom he’d lain a second thought.

Yet he hadn’t been able to think of anything or anyone except the delicate woman called Grace since that night.

Vincent reached for his glass of wine and took another swallow.

When the meal was over, he didn’t accompany the men to the library to enjoy the customary brandy and cigars. Instead he loitered in the halls, searching for the small, blonde serving girl that Genevieve had promised would be here. She wasn’t. She wasn’t anyplace he searched. When he had looked in every conceivable place, he finally gave up his search and made his way to the music room. He’d resume looking for her when the performance was over.

He slipped into the music room through a side door and took the first empty chair against the wall. The room was crowded since the evening’s entertainment had already begun, making it impossible to glimpse the performer. But Vincent recognized the selections immediately.

The pianist was in the middle of the first movement of Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata
. He remembered someone remarking that one of Lady Wedgewood’s sisters was quite accomplished and had agreed to play for them tonight.

If the performer was truly one of her sisters, she was indeed very good. She’d captured the haunting sadness of Beethoven’s first movement to perfection. He would have to compliment her when she finished.

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair to listen. Her playing was flawless as she captured the drive and dynamic shifts of the second movement. When she finished, Vincent smiled. Beethoven would have approved of her interpretation of the first two movements. The real test of her talent, though, would come with the third.

Raeborn waited, then smiled in appreciation as her fingers flew over the keys. The lady was good. More than good. He was not an accomplished musician himself, but he recognized talent. And this lady had it in abundance. He would make sure to seek her out later. After he found Grace. After he gave the deceiver the set down she deserved.

He wondered what it would be like to see her again. To talk to her, a perfect stranger of the working class, after he’d shared such intimacies with her. He dreaded the thought. He wasn’t used to making love to women who did not freely give their bodies to men as a means of earning a living. The thought of taking an innocent’s virginity rankled him, and he became furious with both her and Genevieve all over again.

He listened to the music, the fast, ferocious frenzy of the last movement fitting his mood, paralleling his irritation. The minute Lady Wedgewood’s sister finished, he was going to continue his search for the elusive maid. He couldn’t stand to go another week worrying about her. Couldn’t stand to have this loose end not taken care of.

The music intensified as the performer neared the end. The furor built inside him at the same rate. He would find her. Even if he had to go to Wedgewood and ask if he had someone in his employ by the name of Grace.

Raeborn anticipated the final note and sat forward in his chair, ready to make his exit. He would begin his search again before the guests headed for the door.

Lady Wedgewood’s sister struck the final chord and the guests erupted in applause.

Vincent rose and turned. He wanted to catch at least a glimpse of the woman who possessed such amazing talent before he resumed his search.

The lady at the piano turned toward the guests and bowed her head. The blonde curls she’d tied with a ribbon at the back of her head fell over her shoulders.

Vincent froze, unable to move. Lady Wedgewood’s sister was slender, with hair the color of burnished gold that captured the reflection of the candlelight. He remembered twining his fingers through hair that same color. Remembered seeing hair as thick and lustrous fanned out on the pillow as he loomed over her.

When she lifted her chin to look out at her admirers, he saw that her complexion was clear and satiny. He remembered touching that skin, running his fingers down her cheeks, pressing his lips to her face.

He stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty. She was the Grace he’d been searching for. He didn’t dare blink for fear that he’d lose sight of her.

As if her gaze were drawn to him, she turned. Their gazes locked.

Recognition was instant. Her fear palpable.

The air rushed from his body and he couldn’t breathe. Her reaction was similar.

The color drained from her face and she reached out a hand to steady herself against the piano. Her breasts fell and rose, then fell again as she gasped for air.

He stared at her, struggling to recover from the shock.

She held his gaze for several seconds longer, then turned toward the nearest exit and bolted from the room.

G
race ran down the hallway, desperate to reach the stairway before he came around the corner. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart thundered in her breast and her legs barely held beneath her. He was here. Heaven help her. He’d seen her. Recognized her.

She picked up her skirts to allow quicker movement. If she could make it across the foyer she could run upstairs and lock herself in her room.

Why, oh why, had she let her sister talk her into playing tonight? She should have known there was the slightest possibility the man Hannah had given her was a member of the
ton
. Someone who ran in the same circles as her sister and Wedgewood. Oh, why hadn’t she realized this possibility sooner?

Every muscle in her body trembled. What if he caught her? How could she ever face him after what they’d done?

She ran across the foyer and reached to clasp the railing on the bottom step. Nothing had turned out the way she’d intended. She’d known it was possible that her father would put her out but hadn’t really believed it would come to that. Just as she hadn’t considered she’d have to ask her sister if she might stay with her until she decided what she would do. And she never considered she’d come face-to-face with
the man to whom she’d given her body. Face-to-face with the stranger with whom she’d lain and done the things she had. Face-to-face with the man who’d touched her until she cried out to him.

Her face burned with embarrassment, and she raced up the steps as fast as she could. She would rather die than have to face him again.

“Stop!”

Grace froze with her hand on the railing and her foot reaching for the next step. She swallowed a small cry of desperation and squeezed shut her eyes. Heaven help her, she couldn’t turn around. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She couldn’t.

Gasping a shuddering breath, Grace placed her foot on the next step and pulled her body upward. She prayed her feet would carry her away from him. Prayed he’d let her go.

“I. Said. Stop.”

Grace stopped. For several agonizing seconds she stood with her back to him. Her chest heaved and her lungs burned, partly from exertion. Mostly from fear. She’d been aware of the power that emanated from every part of him the night she’d lain with him. Knew that even though he was the most gentle and considerate of lovers, there was a formidable force that hovered about him. He was a man to fear. A man to be wary of. A man used to dominating everyone around him.

She sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and turned to face him.

Her heart jolted in her breast. He was the most magnificent example of masculinity she’d ever seen. And tonight, dressed in his formal black jacket and white satin cravat,
he was breathtaking. The most handsome man she’d ever seen. And the most angry.

He stood with his arms stiff at his sides, his hands clenched into two white-knuckled fists. His long, muscular legs were braced wide, his broad shoulders raised, his chest expanded. Grace knew there was only the thinnest filament of control keeping the air he held inside from erupting in violent fury.

She tried to forget how beautiful he’d been naked. Tried to forget the masculine power he’d emitted. Tried not to think of how it had felt when he’d lain naked atop her. When he’d entered her, filled her. Taken her on a journey so incredible she still ached from the beauty of it. Instead, she looked him in the eyes and faced him bravely.

Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Her gaze locked onto the fiercest scowl imaginable, a look filled with fury and regret.

She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t battle him without losing.

She turned away from him, every muscle in her body screaming to escape. To race up the stairs and never stop running.

“Do not even consider it,” he said, his voice a low, deadly growl.

She swallowed hard and conceded. On trembling legs she turned toward him.