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Authors: Who Will Take This Man

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BOOK: Jacquie D'Alessandro
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Pie. This evening she smelled like blackberry pie. His favorite dessert. Her turquoise gown accentuated her extraordinary eyes, and while the garment was undeniably modest, it still offered a teasing glimpse of cleavage. His gaze settled on her full, moist lips, and he swallowed a groan.

Bloody hell, so much for keeping things in their proper perspective and his suddenly nonexistent ironclad control. Dancing with her definitely fell into the category of “very poor idea.” Yes, he’d wanted to hold her in his arms, but he had not considered what sweet torture it would be. It required all his concentration to hold her at the proper distance and not yank her against him and bury his face against her tempting skin. To taste her lips. Her lips…God. He gritted his teeth, and counted furiously to himself, one-two-three. One-two-three.

After their third trip around the floor, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I believe you told me a Banbury tale, my lord. You’re a very fine waltzer.”

He lost count, faltered, then trod upon her toes. She gasped.

“Dreadfully sorry, my dear. You were saying?”

She glared at him. “Lord Greybourne. That little display was very much like the sort of tricks young boys play, a topic I am well versed in. If you think to fool me with such carryings-on, you are destined for disappointment.”

“I would never step on your toes on purpose, Meredith.” Her eyes widened slightly at his use of her Christian name. “However, I must confess I did recently learn the basics of the waltz.”

“How recently?”

“This afternoon. I commandeered Catherine and forced her to teach me so I wouldn’t disgrace myself this evening.”

“She made no mention of this to me.”

“I asked her not to. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I…see. Well, she did an admirable job. You’ve quite got the hang of it. So well, in fact, that you need not waste any more time dancing with me. Lady Penelope is standing by the punch bowl. I suggest you partner her first.” She steered him toward the punch bowl with a purposeful gleam in her eye, and he, just as purposefully, swung her in the opposite direction.

“I believe you are leading, Meredith. That is the gentleman’s prerogative, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I’m trying to get us to the punch bowl,” she said in a hissing whisper.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Tongues will wag if you don’t stop dancing with me.”

“Tongues are already wagging about me, so I cannot see that it matters. Indeed, further speculation would no doubt only add to my ever-growing mystique.”

“You are impossible! A quick turn around the floor is one thing, and I appreciate it, as it lends to my credibility that you clearly still have confidence in me and my match
making abilities. However, the reality of the situation is that you are a viscount, and I am the hired help, and this dance is quickly approaching the time past what is proper.”

Annoyance skittered through him. “You are my
guest
.”

“If you insist upon looking at it like that, fine. Then you will recall that you also have more than two dozen other guests to whom you must now pay attention.” She lowered her gaze for several seconds, then looked back up at him with an expression that nearly stilled his heart. “Please.”

That single, softly spoken plea, combined with the knowing, imploring look in her eyes, told him that more lay behind her request than simply duty to his other guests. Did she find being this close to him as distracting and unnerving as he found her nearness? Was she suffering the same discomfort and longings as he?

Bloody hell, he certainly hoped so. He hated to suffer alone.

But neither could he ignore her request. There were duties he needed to perform for the duration of this party. But this party would eventually end…

With a resigned nod, he steered them toward the punch bowl.

 

“You must tell us, Lord Greybourne, what you think about”—Lady Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper—“
you know what
.”

Philip stared at her, certain he’d misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, yes, do tell us,” urged Lady Henrietta, with a flirtatious giggle. “Everyone is afraid to talk about
you know what,
but we understand that
you
harbor no such fear.”

Philip looked at their expectant faces and inwardly shook his head in stunned disbelief that two such innocent-looking creatures were asking him to discuss
sex
. “I’m afraid it’s not proper for me to do so.” He swal
lowed a laugh at how prim he sounded. Wouldn’t Meredith be proud of him?

“We promise we won’t tell,” vowed Lady Emily.

“Not a word. Ever,” seconded Lady Henrietta.

Understanding suddenly dawned. “You want my opinion as an
antiquarian
?”

The young ladies exchanged a baffled look, then said in unison, “Yes.”

Well, it probably wasn’t strictly proper, but at least these two showed some interest in his study of ancient cultures. Clearing his throat, he began, “The male phallus was frequently depicted in hieroglyphs as a symbol for male virility.”

Lady Emily’s eyes widened to saucers. Lady Henrietta’s mouth dropped open.

Warming to his subject, he continued, “The erect penis, especially, was often used in ancient drawings. While in Egypt I discovered some particularly fine examples—”

“Is everything all right?” asked Meredith, joining the group.

Before he could reply, Lady Emily said in a strained voice, “I need to sit down for a moment.”

“I do, as well,” whispered Lady Henrietta. “Please excuse us.” Arm in arm, the two young women beat a hasty retreat.

“Good heavens, what did you say to them?” Meredith whispered.

“Damned if I know. They asked for my opinion regarding ancient sexual customs—”

“What?”

“I was as surprised as you, believe me, but they insisted. Wanted my opinion as an antiquarian.”

“They actually asked for your opinion about…”—she cast a furtive glance around, then lowered her voice—“about
that
? What exactly did they say?”

“They asked what I thought about
you know what
. I’d
barely begun my explanation, which was purely scientific in nature, I assure you, when you arrived.”

Her eyes widened and all the color leached from her face. “Dear God. They must have been referring to Lord Pickerill’s upcoming surprise birthday party.”

He said the only word that came to mind. “Huh?”

“Lord Pickerill’s party. Lady Pickerill has been planning it for months and it’s the latest
on dit
—besides you. In the hopes of keeping the plans secret from Lord Pickerill, the soiree is being referred to by everyone as
you know what
.”

Annoyance skittered through him. “Well, that is not what
you know what
means.
You know what
refers to sexual matters. At least it did when I left England ten years ago. Who in God’s name is making these bloody rules?”

Her eyes all but spewed smoke. “The more pertinent question is, what would possess you to discuss such a topic with proper young ladies?”

“You told me to mingle. So I mingled. And you’re
still
not happy. Has anyone ever told you that you’re very difficult to please?”

“I prefer to call it simply expecting decorous behavior—”

“I’m certain you do.”

“—which unfortunately seems beyond you a good portion of the time.”

“Well, since I seem to have committed such an undecorous
faux pas,
we can only be grateful that you happened along when you did. Otherwise I no doubt would have shown them the sketches I’d drawn of the hieroglyphs I was discussing.”

“Yes, we can only be grateful.” She drew a breath. “All right, remain calm—”


I
am perfectly calm. You, however, may require a dose of laudanum.”

She shot him a glare clearly intended to incinerate him where he stood. “There
must
be some way to cast a posi
tive light upon this. If not, dear God, I can see the headline in
The Times
:
Cursed, Impotent Viscount Caught Showing Indecent Sketches to Ladies of the Ton.

He glared right back at her. “The sketches depict ancient glyphs and are not indecent, nor did I even show them to the young ladies. And for the last damn time, I am
not
impotent.”

Although she clearly recognized his anger, she didn’t step back. Rather, she lifted her chin another notch. “Fine. But what we need to concentrate on now is fixing this situation before Lady Emily’s and Lady Henrietta’s mouths run amok and ruin everything. Our best recourse is for you to squelch any rumors before they start, and the best way to do that is with flattery.
Lots
of flattery. Talk your way around the room, commenting on how both young ladies are so very intelligent and their conversation so stimulating. Applaud their curious natures.” She raised her brows. “Do you think you can do that?”

“I suppose, although I fear it will prove a strain to think of
lots
of flattering things to say about those two nincom—”

“Lord Greybourne. You will recall that the purpose of this evening is to find you a suitable bride—not to scare off every eligible young woman in the room. Now go undo the damage that you’ve done. And
please
behave yourself.”

Before he could reply, she glided away, regal as royalty, leaving him gnashing his teeth. He watched her leave the room, her gown swaying against her feminine curves. Damn annoying, dictatorial, autocratic, infuriating woman. A slow smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t wait until this damn party was over so he could tell her exactly what he thought of her.

 

With the last of the guests finally gone and his home restored to rights thanks to the army of servants Catherine
had engaged and brought from her own home, Philip breathed a sigh of relief. He escorted Catherine down the cobbled walkway to the waiting carriage, followed by Bakari.

“The party was a success,” Catherine said. “Speculation and curiosity about you is rampant.”

“And I gather that is preferable to rumor and innuendo?”

She laughed. “Most assuredly. Um, Miss Chilton-Grizedale apprised me of the”—she coughed delicately into her hand—“
you know what
situation with Lady Emily and Lady Henrietta.”

“Ah. Well, fear not. Through gobs of insincere flattery I was able to divert a disaster.”

Amusement glittered in her eyes. “According to the rumors I heard, several of the young ladies are ‘cautiously smitten’ with you.”

“How excruciatingly complimentary.”

His desert-dry tone elicited a smile from her. “Considering how dire the circumstances were only days ago, we’ve made good progress. Did any of the young ladies capture your interest?”

“You could perhaps categorize me as cautiously smitten with one of them.”

“Indeed?” Her voice was ripe with interest. “With whom?”

He chucked her lightly under her chin, a childhood gesture he’d never outgrown. “If I told you now, Imp, we’d have nothing to talk about when I visit you tomorrow.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, a childhood gesture
she’d
never outgrown. “That’s beastly, Philip! I shall expire from curiosity before tomorrow.”

“Yes, well, you know what a beast I’ve always been.”

“Actually,
I
was the beastly one. But I’m glad someone has gained your attention. Father will be very pleased.
He’s been much improved in the past few weeks, anticipating your homecoming and wedding.”

“I’m glad.”

“Have you resolved your differences?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t wait too long, Philip. Even though he’s experiencing a number of ‘good’ days, he slips a bit further away every day. I’d hate for you to have any regrets, of things left unsaid, when he passes away.”

Sadness, guilt, and remorse reared their heads, glowering at him, but he bludgeoned them back. “Don’t worry, Imp. I’ll make things right.” Then, resting his hands on her shoulders, he said, “I’ve something to tell you. Someone broke into the warehouse this evening and ransacked several of my crates.”

Instant concern reflected in her eyes. “Was anything stolen?”

“I’m not yet certain. I don’t want to alarm you, but it’s possible this may be more than a simple robbery attempt. It might be more personally directed—at me. Promise me you’ll be extra careful and not go anywhere alone. Bakari will see you home.”

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. “All right. I promise. But what about you?”

“I’ll be careful as well.” When she expectantly lifted her brows to an imperious height, he added, “I promise.”

He handed her into the carriage, offering a wave and a reminder to expect him to visit her tomorrow. He then strode quickly back up the walk to face the only guest who remained. Just as he closed the door behind him, Meredith entered the foyer and their eyes met. His heart performed a crazy roll and he had to clamp his jaws together to keep from laughing aloud at himself and his strong reaction to the mere sight of this woman.

“I’ll escort you home after Bakari returns with the car
riage,” he said, crossing the marble-tiled floor. “May I offer you a drink while we wait? Perhaps a sherry?”

“Thank you. This time together will also afford us the opportunity to compare notes on the evening.”

“Er, yes, compare notes. That is exactly what I wish to do.”

“So you’ve reached some conclusions regarding the young ladies, then?”

“Indeed I have. Come. Let us retire to my study.”

Philip led the way down the corridor, then closed the door behind them. Leaning back against the oak panels, he watched her cross the room, his eyes drawn to the generous curve of her hips hinted at beneath her gown as she walked. His gaze wandered upward, resting on the vulnerable nape of her neck showing where her lustrous hair was upswept into a Grecian knot. Turquoise ribbons, the same shade as her gown, twined through her curls. God help him, she looked as delectable from the back as she did from the front. What had he called himself? Cautiously smitten? Not bloody likely. There was nothing in the least bit cautious about the feelings this woman inspired.

BOOK: Jacquie D'Alessandro
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