One Moonlit Night (Moonlight Square: A Prequel Novella) (3 page)

“How do you mean?”

“Well, the whole thing’s insane, inn’t it?” he declared. “Who wants to end up locked in a cage with someone who despises you?” He scowled, pausing. “The earring we’re looking for belongs to someone in that situation. I would hate to see you end up like her. So take my advice—I’ll give it to you because you seem like a nice girl. If there’s not a man out there who wants to make you happy, then make
yourself
happy, and let ’em all go hang.”

Her eyes widened slowly.

“That’s what I’d do, anyway,” he added.

When she finally recovered from her shock at his defiance, she couldn’t help but scoff. “Well, all that’s easy for you to say. You’re a man. Lack of marriage doesn’t mean social death for your kind. For us, it’s…” She made a slicing gesture across her throat.

His eyes twinkled as he gazed at her. “You
are
a quiz, aren’t you?”

“I told you.”

He grinned. “I kind of like it.”

She eyed him distrustfully as a fond, quiet laugh escaped him, then he kept looking.

Unsure what to make of her new friend, she continued poking among the pansies, hellebores, and all the way back to the tall foxglove, very much hoping that she didn’t accidentally touch a spider.

They fell silent as they searched.

Suddenly, right at the base of the gazebo, Trinny spotted something shimmering in the dirt. She carefully reached between the cool, succulent leaves of some daffodils, and her fingers closed around the sharp edges of the jewel.

“Found it!” With a beaming grin, she picked it up and brushed the soil off it, examining the earring. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“Here.” But when she turned to offer it to him, Lord Roland wasn’t looking at the sparkly diamonds.

He was staring right at
her
.

Trinny instantly felt self-conscious. “What? Did I say something daft? Because I didn’t even notice if I—”

“No.” He tilted his head, studying her intently and making no move to take the jewel.

She eyed him. “Uh, what’s wrong?”

He spoke abruptly after a pause. “My lady, I know you’re not interested in me, nor do I want you to be, but after all you’ve been through, I think there’s something you need to know…and something I’d like to do.”

“What’s that?” she asked, puzzled.

“This.” He took her chin between his thumb and finger, and gently tilted her face upward as he leaned down, lowering his head.

Trinny gasped just a little as his lips alighted on hers. She went very still, her heart pounding loud enough to be heard in the Midlands. The light pressure of his warm, satin mouth became a caress, with the barest hint of a world of masterful skill beyond it.

Though brief, his gentle kiss left her dizzied on her knees beside him on the grass. When it ended, a long, dreamy second passed before she could open her eyes.

“Is this you chasing the wrong women again?” she breathed.

“No. This is me proving a point.”

She lifted her lashes and stared at him, slightly entranced. “What point is that?”

“Ah, you didn’t get it,” he whispered. “Let’s try that again.” This time, his arm wrapped around her waist; he pulled her firmly against his lean, much larger body, and his kiss deepened, coaxing her lips apart.

The earring dropped from her grasp. If it was lost again, well, so was she. Astonishment, perhaps, kept her from protesting while his tongue swirled in her mouth, enthralling her, and a hundred realizations eddied through her mind.

So this is what a rake’s kiss tastes like.
Liquor and danger and smoke, while the pleasant roughness of his day’s beard chafed against her chin.

Her hand slid up his chest to his shoulder, in search of something solid to cling to, for his embrace made her want to melt onto her back in the cool spring grass. She wasn’t even sure when she’d begun actively returning his kiss, seeking more of it, and trying things, instead of merely accepting its deep, luscious rhythm.

But then the
other
realization floated in.
Hmm, so this is why young ladies aren’t left alone with rakehells.

Ack! What am I doing?

When her senses came back in a rush, she nearly threw her neck out, pulling back violently, the dangerous taste of him on her tongue, the scent of his cologne on her clothes.

“How dare you?” she panted in rather feigned, belated outrage.

He arched a brow, his eyes afire, chest heaving.

“I mean—what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded a little less emphatically.

“My dear young lady,” he ground out, “if you still didn’t get it, you’re not a quiz. You’re an idiot.”

She huffed with still-dazed indignation. But when he rose from his knees and offered her a gentlemanly hand up, Trinny found herself briefly on eye level with the front portion of his tight pantaloons.

Good God!
All thoughts promptly flew out of her head.

Because the effect that their kiss had made on his…his person, she thought, was abundantly obvious. Indeed, it was right in front of her face.

And then, slowly, she got the point he had been making.

“Ohh,” she whispered, blushing scarlet as she whipped her gaze up to meet his uncertainly.

He stared down at her matter-of-factly, looking more amused than embarrassed that she had seen the great, manly swelling.

Well, the rogue had cause to look proud, she supposed, while he stood there waiting, hand outstretched, to pull her to her feet.

Trinny accepted his help but was still speechless.

Too abashed to meet his gaze, she busied herself dusting the bits of grass and dirt off her skirts.

Lord Roland bent down and picked up the earring from where she had dropped it. He straightened up, tossed it lightly, and caught it in his hand, then tucked the bauble into his breast pocket. He cleared his throat wryly and adjusted his nether regions, turning away.

“Well, then!” he said. “Good night, my lady. Nice meeting you.” With that, he went and collected his tailcoat from the railing.

Trinny marveled at his splendid composure, given her own quasi-hysteria. She was still standing there, at a loss, exactly where he’d left her, when he sauntered across the gazebo and looked down over the railing at her.

“Do you need me to walk you home?” he asked.

She shook her head dazedly, wide-eyed.

He searched her face, his own chiseled and princely in the moonlight. “You’re sure?”

Mute, she nodded.

“All right, then, if you’re sure. Thanks for the help.” His lips twisted. “And the kiss.”

She bit her lip, for the word alone made her rather crave more of his mouth.

“Ciao, bella.”
He slung the tailcoat over his shoulder as before and strolled away.

Perhaps proximity to that man had clouded her mind, for it wasn’t until he was several yards away that she found her tongue and her wits again.

She walked around from the back of the gazebo to the front, brow furrowed, fists bunched at her sides. “I am not a charity case, you know!”

“Absolutely not. I believe you noticed how much I enjoyed that.”

A fresh burst of flame shot into her cheeks, burning in the cool night air.

“You didn’t have to kiss me just to make a point,” she called after him, taking care to sound indignant, though she was unsure herself if she was angry or secretly delighted.

She heard his wicked laugh in the darkness. “Oh yes, I did. Believe me.”

She refused to smile at his flattering jest, throwing up her hands. “Why can’t a man just
say
things? You know, with
words
?”

He cast an extremely roguish glance over his shoulder and merely called, “Go home! Your parents will worry!”

Oh, you cheeky thing,
she thought, shaking her head and trembling with confusion and excitement as he disappeared amid the park shadows.

Well, at least he got what he came for.
She, however, had got a great deal more than she had bargained for.

Egads, he’s right. I’d better head home.
She had lost all track of time and had no idea how long she had been out there. She blew out a steadying exhalation, then ran a hand over her hair in case he had mussed it.

Blazes, never in her life had she imagined she would ever be the sort of girl who engaged in passionate kisses with a stranger in—let alone
behind
—a garden folly. Yet she had to admit it had been exciting, and he had certainly cheered her up. But he had shown her something important in the process, too. Something that made her square her shoulders and lift her chin as she headed homeward.

Lord Roland had proved to her that, despite her lack of success in the love department—and after so much painful rejection had eroded her confidence—all hope was not lost. To be sure, he was not on the marriage mart himself, which was a little disappointing, but at least he had been totally honest about that. The important thing was that, oh yes, she had got the message quite clearly: She
was
beautiful. She
was
a desirable woman.

It was his own seductive way of telling her not to worry—some man out there would eventually want her.

After all,
he
did.

Though this was wildly flattering, not to mention a sweet, unexpected balm to her much-bruised heart, it lit a sudden spark of rebellion deep in her core. Maybe it was contagious, and she had caught it from him.

But honestly, if someone that delicious could genuinely want me, then maybe there’s nothing wrong with me at all. And if not, then why the devil am I putting myself through all this?

She paused mid-stride on the path home, as though struck by a thunderbolt.
Maybe the problem really was marriage, not her.

Oh, what a boon it would be to stop agonizing over it. Having her pride trampled continually, putting herself through this torture, all to win a prize she didn’t even want!

Hope soared through her, greater even than when Cecil Cooper had asked her to go out on a drive with him in his open carriage in Hyde Park. Maybe there
was
some way she could just embrace her spinsterhood and…what had the rogue said?

Make
herself
happy.

She shivered at the revolutionary notion, unsure. To her ears, it sounded a bit like giving up. It sounded like defeat. But to her heart, it felt like victory, and to her soul, it felt like freedom.

Stop trying to get a husband?

Her tears long gone, a tremulous smile spread across her face. Oh, to be free of that burden. To tell her parents she just couldn’t do it anymore, that she was stepping aside, giving up her privilege as the eldest to let Abigail marry her Freddie, and so be it.

Perhaps she’d taken leave of her senses, but what a relief it would be, not having to go through that anymore. Just to be left alone to discover who she
was
when she wasn’t trying to mold herself into whatever some eligible bachelor on Mama’s list wanted.

She bit her lip at the hopeful possibility, as dangerous and thrilling as Lord Roland himself. Of course, Mama would have an apoplectic fit…

But Trinny suddenly didn’t care.

It wasn’t Mama’s life.
She
wasn’t the one who’d have to suffer. Trinny shook her head in wonder as the moon shone down and the starlight danced on her skin.

I can’t believe it, but maybe he’s right. If those men don’t want me, let ’em all go hang.

Without warning, she threw her arms up in silent exultation and clenched her fists in freedom as a grin of victory burst across her face.
Yes, I’m going to do it.

To hell with them all!

Chapter 2

We Meet Again

T
he next time she saw him was ten days—or rather, nights—later. The tail end of April had given way to May, and the Season had started in earnest. Trinny was saying goodbye to her friend Felicity Carvel at only the second of the famous Thursday night balls held throughout the Season at the Grand Albion.

Her family never missed them, but this one was particularly special, given Abigail and Freddie’s big announcement.

Felicity glanced worriedly at the wall clock, then frowned at Trinny in concern. “It’s eleven, so my great-aunt wants to go. But I don’t feel like I should leave you.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she assured the regal blonde. Trinny smiled with determination that it should be so. “I’m happy for my sister. And as for me, this was the right decision.”

Felicity did not look entirely convinced. Her sea-green eyes were full of worry as she searched Trinny’s face. But then, the prim-and-proper Miss Carvel was always slightly worried about someone—if not the elderly dragon aunt she attended, then her swashbuckling elder brother.

The utterly delicious Major Peter Carvel—Danger Man, to the Glendon girls—had helped Welly crush Napoleon, and then, having survived the war, Major Carvel had promptly gone sailing off to risk his neck again. This time, he was on some exciting expedition exploring remote tropical mountain forests in India amongst the elephants and tigers, and, supposedly, mysterious tribes of headhunters who dwelled in the jungles far beyond the reach of the civilized Hindus.