Never Tempt a Rogue: A Rogues' Rulebook Novella (5 page)

“You won’t allow yourself a single dance?” He had to hear that she intended to refuse every man, not just him.

“No one else has asked me.”

It wasn’t quite the reassurance he sought, and didn’t please him as he expected it to. He looked across the room at the line of young ladies, mentally marking those his aunt would expect him to dance with. All the anticipation he’d felt for days seeped out of him on a heavy sigh.

“Amelia is the reason,” Felicity whispered. She’d taken a step toward him, so close her arm brushed his. “She was quite…preoccupied with you before we arrived. It wouldn’t be right for me to dance with you when I’ve admonished her not to do so.”

He sighed again. So she was one of those women. Good. Dutiful. Honorable. Just the sort of lady a viscount should marry, if he strove to be a proper sort of viscount.

Alex still thought the title fit as uncomfortably as new boots. And rather than striving to be good and honorable, he merely wished to be alone with Felicity Beckett, to gently remove those rosebuds from her hair, and kiss those lips that tempted him no matter how often she glared at him.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Might we speak a moment, Miss Beckett?” Lady Forsythe moved with the stealth of a cat, and approached just as silently.

“Yes, of course, my lady.” Felicity jumped at the sound of her hostess’s voice. In truth, she’d been jumpy all night. Between Lord Lindsay’s tempting nearness, worry for Amy, and the sight of Thomas gliding around the ballroom twice with Lady Louisa, she was ready for the night to end so she could indulge in a hot cup of a tea and a few chapters of
Jane Eyre.
And the etiquette book. She had to continue with the etiquette book.

“Your cousin is quite a success this evening.” The elegant older woman claimed one of the chairs set along the back wall of the ballroom, where Felicity had taken root. She tipped her chin toward where Amy danced the third set with a young marquess who beamed at her through every step of a lively waltz.

“Amy seems to light up every room she enters.” It was true, and despite her worries, her cousin had behaved impeccably throughout the evening.

“I’m so glad she’ll have an opportunity to dance with Lord Lindsay.”

“Beg your pardon, my lady?” If Felicity had been sipping that hot tea she’d been dreaming of, she would have choked. As it was, her next breath constricted in her throat as if she’d swallowed a boiled sweet too quickly.

“Much of what you may have heard about my nephew is wild exaggeration.” Lady Forsythe indicated a chair next to her, implying she wished for a quiet conversation that others might not overhear.

Felicity could hardly refuse her hostess and settled into the chair, turning it slightly to ensure a view of the dancers.

“You may have heard,” Lady Forsythe continued, “of an awful book with which Alexander is associated. Youthful nonsense, and many of the incidents recount the scandals of his friend. As I understand it, Alex was merely the writer of the piece.” The lady flicked open her fan and began flapping it under her chin. “Not that I’ve read any of it.”

“Nor I, my lady.” Even a young lady with secrets of her own to keep wouldn’t dare admit reading
The Rogues’ Rulebook.

“My desire is to reassure you as to Lord Lindsay’s character, since you seemed reluctant to allow him to dance with Miss Huntingdon. I must admit to arranging matters so that he could do just that.” Lady Forsythe rose from the chair and pointed with her fan toward the center of the ballroom.

The tall figure of Lord Lindsay drew everyone’s attention as he took Amy in his arms. Felicity bit her lip and nodded when Amy glanced back at her. All of the girl’s confidence had evaporated. She appeared more nervous and uncertain than she’d been all evening.

“I would prefer him matched with a lady of more consequence.” Their hostess spoke quietly. “He never expected to inherit the title, you see, and does not yet comprehend that his choices have narrowed considerably.”

Felicity kept her eyes fixed on Amy. Lord Lindsay whispered to her, and whatever he said made her smile and blush.

“Although I must admit they make a fine couple.” Lady Forsythe made the pronouncement loud enough for others to hear, then snapped her fan closed and glided away.

The lady was right. Amy and the viscount made such an appealing pair that others had stopped dancing just to watch them. Every head in the ballroom seemed to be turned their way, and the light of the largest chandelier in the center of the ceiling cast a highlighting glow down on their heads.

Felicity clenched her hands so tight, her fingers dug into her palms. Her teeth ground against each other as she bit down hard enough to chip a tooth. Every muscle, ligament, and tendon in her body stretched tauter than the violinists’ strings. The violinists whose music rose in tempo as Lord Lindsay danced across the polished floor with Amy grinning up at him, her eyes glitteringly as brightly as the little gem-topped pins in her hair.

Felicity had failed her uncle. Amy would be more besotted than ever now. And Lord Lindsay lied. He’d promised to steer clear of Amy, and instead he was steering her skillfully around a ballroom. His hand enveloped her smaller one completely. His arm wrapped around her cousin’s back possessively. Their eyes were locked together as surely as their bodies, and that liar’s mouth of his moved, no doubt plying Amy with seductive promises.

He’d done nothing but speak nonsense since the moment Felicity met the man. Asking
her
to dance. What a fool she’d been to think on that request for days as yearning warred with duty to her cousin.

Weight pressed on Felicity, as if her gown was made of lead, her corset an iron cage. Turning toward the doors of the ballroom, she moved slowly, body fighting every step as she pressed through a cluster of couples preparing to dance the next set. A hand gripped her arm and she pulled away reflexively.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” The superior tone of Thomas’s voice hadn’t changed a bit. Nor had the fact he was the last person Felicity wished to speak to. He was a liar, and she couldn’t bear any more of those in her life.

“Leave me alone.” Felicity managed to break from his grasp and took another step toward the door. Just one, before stopping as if she’d bumped into a wall. Where was she going? Her feelings were meaningless. She was here for Amy, and abandoning her in the midst of an emotional whirlwind wasn’t what any self-respecting chaperone would do.

Pivoting on her heel and drawing in a deep breath, she started back toward the dance floor. There would be a break for refreshments between sets and she needed to check on Amy.

“I never dreamed you’d remain unmarried.” Thomas had sidled up to her as she made her way through the crowd. “Nor that you’d turn old maid and hire yourself out as chaperone to another man’s brood.”

“My choices, Lord Kenniston.” Felicity paused and swallowed hard, realizing she spoke at a volume no proper lady should in a social situation. More quietly she added, “And none of them are any of your concern.”

She strode away from him, scanning the room for Amy. Her cousin was nowhere in sight, but after a brief search, Felicity found her in the refreshment room with Lady Louisa. When a few sips of tepid lemonade did nothing to refresh her, Felicity left the two young ladies to their harmless chatter about fashion, hairstyles, and the next gentlemen on their dance cards. She made her way back to the ballroom to reclaim her wallflower corner. Clashing with Thomas had set her nerves on edge, and she craved a moment of solitude.

Many had exited the ballroom, though a few ladies hovered around Lord Lindsay. He laughed at one lady’s comment, flashing his wolfish smile, and Felicity found herself clenching her hands again. She’d tear her new gloves apart at the seams before the night was over.

The man looked so serene, laughing and smiling when he’d behaved abominably, doing exactly what he’d promised her he wouldn’t. He’d toyed with her emotions by requesting a dance, and now with Amy’s by gaping at her like a love-struck fool throughout their waltz. Yet here he was smiling at half a dozen other women in the same way, Amy apparently forgotten.

He deserved her anger as much as Thomas.

When the viscount extracted himself from the gaggle of ladies and headed toward the balcony doors, Felicity followed. A tiny internal voice, like a bee buzzing around her head, warned of the folly she’d find by seeking him out, but she didn’t stop until she stood behind him on the terrace.

“I’ve never put much faith in wishes.” He spoke with his back to her before turning to offer a devastating smile. “But I wished for a moment alone with you, and here you are.”

“Don’t smile as if you’re pleased to see me.”

“Oh, Miss Beckett.” He took a step toward her, limned on one side in moon glow and on the other by the warmer light filtering out from the ballroom chandeliers. “Meeting with you, sparring with you, has been the only pleasure I’ve had since arriving at this house.”

“You’re a liar.”

He jerked back as if she’d struck him with a whip rather than words.

“You promised not to dance with Amelia.”
You said you wanted to dance with me
. She left that bit unsaid, chastising herself for even thinking it. This two weeks wasn’t about her. Her uncle hadn’t bought her fancy dresses so that she could catch the eye of a viscount. He’d only prepared her to accompany Amy, and keep his daughter away from Lord Lindsay.

“Do you think I had a choice? I haven’t had a choice since the day my brother died.” His voice cracked when he spoke of his brother, and instinct urged her to comfort him, as she would any grieving person.
No.
She’d followed him onto the terrace to vent her anger, not learn more about him or soothe away his grief.

He stepped toward her. “If I’d had a choice, I would have danced with you. If the damned rules that we’re all supposed to live by didn’t dictate who we must dance with and how many times, I would have taken you in my arms for every set.”

The sincerity in his tone began working on her, and heat burst in the center of her chest, seeping into her limbs like warm honey.

No.
She shook her head, denying his charm and enticing words.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise to you.”

His
I’m sorry
broke through her denial. She stopped shaking her head and looked up to meet his gaze. Thomas had never apologized, and he’d done far worse to her. And Thomas had never looked at her as Lord Lindsay did. As if she wasn’t just appealing to behold, but a fascinating woman.

She was far less interesting than other young ladies in attendance, who’d been acquiring accomplishments from the cradle, yet this man seemed to wish to know her. Not just for a heated tumble, but more. What she thought of
Jane Eyre
, what mattered to her, what she felt and desired.

Then again, perhaps it was simply the way his thick sable lashes intensified the molten pewter of his eyes. Had she learned nothing at all? After years of self-reproach, was she fool enough to be drawn in by a man’s pretty words and handsome face again?

“Will you forgive me, Felicity?”

Propriety dictated she chastise him for using her given name, but he said it with such care, as if he enjoyed every syllable. She’d failed often enough at propriety not to worry about such a small misstep now.

Lord Lindsay looked forlorn as he waited for her response, silently beseeching with a tenderness in his eyes that melted her insides.

“You were the only lady with whom I wished to dance this evening, and I have proof I thought of you before the ball.” He reached into his inner jacket pocket as he spoke, extracting a small square object and holding it out to her.

“I cannot accept a gift from you, my lord.”

“Nonsense. It’s a trifle.”

She took a step forward to grasp the edge of his offering and then retreated. In the moonlight, she could see it was a book, the tiniest little tome she’d ever beheld. Small enough to cradle in the palm of her hand.

“A collection by Edgar Allan Poe. He’s an American, quite lyrical and dark.” He pointed toward the tiny leather-bound volume. “I’ve found it’s the perfect size for concealment during a ball or endless dinner party. I thought to offer it to you this evening if you were in need of reading material.”

Teetering between trusting him and protecting her heart, Felicity found herself on the cusp of forgiveness. The man drew her. And now she held a piece of him in the palm of her hand. A trifle he’d called it, and yet he must have known nothing would soften her like the gift of a book.

Something in his gaze called to her, a sense that he had painful secrets too and wished to share them. But only with her.

Then, as if to remind her how ridiculous notions like that had led to heartbreak once before, the sound of Thomas’s voice echoed in the depths of the walled garden below the terrace. When she turned her head toward the sound of Thomas’s voice, Lord Lindsay peered out into the garden too.

Soon Thomas and Lady Louisa emerged from the foliage, arm in arm, whispering excitedly with each other.

Felicity instinctively withdrew toward the doors leading into the ballroom, and Lord Lindsay moved with her. Right in front of her, as if to block her from Thomas’s view. He was so near she could feel warmth emanating from his body, smell his spicy cologne.

As she studied the broad expanse of his shoulders, the waves of his bronze hair, she marveled at his interest in her. No man had so much as given her a second glance in four years. She’d come to believe all her passion had been used up. Wasted on a faithless man.

But Lord Lindsay had dredged up the last ember. Every time the man was near, he ignited reactions she’d expected to forfeit for the rest of her days. Her feelings for Thomas had built gradually over a long acquaintance, but the viscount had sparked her interest from their first encounter. Denying it and chastising herself changed nothing. She wanted him as she’d never desired any man. It was wrong and would lead to nothing. She must continue to deny it, for Amy’s sake, most of all. But here in the dark, with the firm line of his back sheltering her and his rich scent making her ache for a taste of his skin, she could admit it to herself.

Thomas lifted his head to gaze at the balcony, and suddenly Felicity wasn’t afraid he might spot her standing on the terrace with a notorious rogue as much as she feared becoming the old maid he’d accused her of being.