Potent Charms (29 page)

"It seems he needed one."

"He might not appreciate your intervention. I, on the
other hand, applaud you. He deserves a woman with your
strength and kindness. As his friend of many years, I ask
you not to abandon him just yet."

"To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I could even if I
wanted too." She paused, sorrowful. "In my heart, I know
he's capable of love and wants to be happy."

"A habit of self-preservation, I fear. Trust me when I say
some of his actions are justified others are caused by
years of expectation. One day, hopefully soon, he will recognize his good fortune and accept what you so generously
wish to offer. I pray you shall give Stephen a good deal to
think about over these last few weeks." He grasped her
elbow and led her toward a group of people seated in chairs beside the fireplace. "Come join us for charades, after
which you can play cards, billiards, or, if you like, retire
early."

She settled beside Winston as Lord Renoke stood before
the group, executing a ghastly impression of what Phoebe
thought might be the Prince Regent riding a horse. Winston whispered a suggestion in her ear, eliciting a burst of
laughter. The gathered players blurted their assumptions,
one lucky soul guessing Napoleon at some battle or other.
Several people took a turn, Phoebe included, while others
simply watched. As Lady Ashby assumed the floor, prepared to take a turn, Winston moved to stand beside Elizabeth. Lemmer quickly snatched the empty seat, prompting
Phoebe to inch further to the edge of the settee.

Leaning close enough so that his breath, which smelled
of onion and a touch of mint, fanned her cheek, Lemmer
said, "You have neglected your duties this eve, Miss Rafferty, and ignored me, yet you bat your lovely lashes at
others. You are quite naughty."

"I can do whatever I like."

"Once my ring sits on your finger, you will behave quite
differently."

Phoebe jerked to one side, checked her reaction and
simply straightened her spine. Maybe if she ignored the
man he'd simply leave her be. She focused on Lady Ashby,
who slid back and forth across the floor with her head tilted
majestically.

Lemmer applauded Lady Ashby's efforts, as did several
other people. He chuckled with some sort of perverse satisfaction and whispered for Phoebe's ears only. "A silly
game, charades. Grown men and women behaving like
utter fools. What is becoming of our society?"

She hated his conceit, his high-and-mighty attitude.
"The game is harmless and fun."

"I admit, you did quite well with Pride and Prejudice"

She tried to concentrate on Lady Ashby, who now pretended to kneel on the floor, her head cocked oddly. Unfortunately, Lemmer's presence proved an unnerving
distraction. Phoebe's mind was a blank.

"As a matter of fact, I believe pride is something of
which you have an abundance. I look forward to eradicating that flaw."

She was full up with his possessive remarks. This man
would not ruin her evening. "No matter what you think,
you shall never have such an opportunity." Hesitant to
stand too abruptly and cause any sort of scene, she rejoiced
when someone shouted the correct answer to Ashby's pantomime. Applause and laughter erupted. Thankfully, the
game was over.

Winston stood, clapping his hands together. Slowly, the
room quieted. "My friends, a light repast shall be served
shortly in the salon. Best remember we have a fox to hunt
tomorrow bright and early. Until then, there are cards or
billiards, and if some of you wish to retire, Lady Payley
and myself bid you good night."

Phoebe stood. Lemmer stepped boldly in her path. He
nodded politely toward a passing couple as they left the
room, then spoke sweetly to Phoebe. "Retiring so
quickly?"

"Actually, Lord Eaton invited me to play cards."

"You cannot avoid me forever, my dear."

A small group, which included Elizabeth and Winston,
circled toward the door. Winston halted beside Phoebe. "Is
there a problem?"

"Not at all," cooed Lemmer, backing a more discreet
distance from Phoebe, his smile one of false humor. "I was
simply telling Miss Rafferty I intend to show her my
appreciation by bringing her the fox tail tomorrow."

A few gentlemen chuckled at the bold statement, adding
their opinions on the matter. Soon the conversation gathered the attention of others in the room and much to
Phoebe's annoyance, wagers were placed with her affection as the prize. She looked desperately to Elizabeth for
help.

Clearing her throat, Elizabeth said, "Excuse me, but I
believe Miss Rafferty should have a say in all this."

Hildegard, wearing her ever-familiar pinched expression, chose that particular moment to interject. "I find the
idea satisfactory enough. After all, my niece is looking for
a husband. This is somewhat like a jousting tournament.
Men have always found a means to display their esteem for
a particular young lady. This is no different."

No different? Phoebe had no desire to be anyone's prize,
leastways not Sir Lemmer's-and certainly not at the
expense of some poor fox. She found herself wondering if
this was a scheme Lemmer and Hildegard had orchestrated
with their heads tucked together earlier in the evening. If
so, to what end?

Well, try as they may, they'd see how difficult it was to
manipulate her. "Begging your all's pardon. But there are
other lovely ladies in attendance as well. Shouldn't they be
included?"

Elizabeth placed her hand on Winston's arm as if to
remind the audience that she possessed his full support in
whatever she chose to say. "A splendid idea. I do suggest
caution. Society often has large ears and long memories."
She fixed a pointed look on Lemmer. "I'd hate to think a
harmless wager might endanger someone's reputation."

Lemmer shook his head in agreement. "Of course not."

"In that case," Elizabeth explained, "the gentleman who
reaches the fox first shall have the opportunity to select the
young lady of his choice as a dinner companion, with a
maximum of two dances at the ball."

"And what if a lady happens to win?" asked an older
matron.

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Phoebe, then
grinned. "Then I suppose she would have her choice of
companions."

Laughter accompanied by a few ribald comments were
volleyed back and forth across the room. One man promised to choose his wife, which sparked another bout of
jokes. One older wife announced that if she won, she
intended to choose a younger, more vigorous dancing partner. The men howled. The women giggled. The overall
idea obviously appealed to everyone. Everyone except
Phoebe.

Winston nodded in approval as others in the room
expressed theirs. "It seems our hunt tomorrow has a purpose. May the fox be fleet of feet, but not too much so.
Coming, Phoebe?"

"In a moment. I wish to have a word with Sir Lemmer
first." She had every intention of wiping the smug expression from his face. She waited for the crowd to disperse,
then lifted a brow, taunting him just the way Dee had taught
her. "I don't understand your game, but don't underestimate
my ability to play as well. I'll rejoice at your loss
tomorrow."

"But I intend to win, after which you will find it impossible to ignore me and Lord Badrick shall not be able to
interfere. Heed my words, Miss Rafferty. I said this before
and repetition is ever so boring, but Lord Badrick will not
have you."

"I would never presume to speak for Lord Badrick. Only
he knows his mind. I, however, know I shall never marry a
pompous, self-indulgent little rodent like yourself. Good
night."

"Of all the miserable, low-down marsh rats." Phoebe
yanked the pins from her hair and massaged her scalp. "He'll rue the day. Yes, indeed." She hurled one shoe
toward the balcony door.

"For the love of Mary, watch out," muttered Stephen as
he limped from the shadow, rubbing his shin. "Had I
known the extent of your temper, I would have made my
appearance downstairs."

"Stephen? Are you all right?" She stopped in her tracks,
narrowing her eyes and placing her hands on her hips.
"What are you doing in my room?"

Sweet mercy, she looked magnificent in her fury. He
briefly wondered about the apparent anger, but found his
thoughts quickly drawn to the creamy skin of her bosom.
Having loosened her curls, Phoebe's hair cascaded about
her face in a fiery waterfall. Having purposely avoided her
for the past several days, he had arrived later than planned
with no desire to daily with his peers. He'd come directly
to his room. Shortly thereafter, he'd found himself in hers.
Waiting.

Considering the lustful thoughts swarming in his mind,
he decided he would have been wiser to wait until morning. He tossed the balance of his brandy down his throat. "I
came to see how you fared and to say good night."

"Good night."

"I'm truly sorry to be so late."

"Lands alive. I'm not the least bit concerned that you
chose to arrive eight hours after the party began, although
you might have saved me from antagonizing a couple of
rude old men. And maybe, just maybe, I could have
escaped a game of cards with Lord Eaton, who happens to
find my accent a trifle annoying, though he is willing to
overlook it for my sake and marry me all the same. And,
had you been here, Sir Lemmer might not have goaded me
into riding that infernal fox hunt tomorrow."

"Lemmer is here?"

"He came with Lord Wyman. And he remains as con ceited as always. That man plays a game of sorts and I
have the uncomfortable sensation he makes his own
rules. I don't know what he plans, but I refuse to be
tested."

Heaven help him, but he needed to hold her, to taste her.
His hands itched to touch her. If he hoped to sleep at all
tonight, touching her was definitely out of the question. He
moved to her side. Pulling her against his chest, he felt her
relax instantly, invoking a surge of pure male satisfaction.
It felt wonderful to hold her in his arms, enough so that he
almost forgot his good intentions and that Lemmer was at
Payley Park. "Tell me exactly what happened."

She remained within the cocoon of his arms and
explained the wager in great and animated detail. When all
was said and done, Lemmer's game and its final outcome
remained a mystery. Whatever he planned, it certainly
wasn't above board. "All will be well. Wait and see." He
bent his head to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "I've
missed you."

She pushed away and crossed to the wardrobe. "Tell me
about a foxhunt."

Dumbfounded, he balanced the emotions that warred
with his body. By George, he'd been experiencing a tender
moment and she concerned herself with foxhunts?
"Excuse me?"

"Tell me about a foxhunt."

He recognized the fire in her green eyes, the way she
pursed her lips and nibbled her thumb as she methodically
considered something he knew she shouldn't, something
that would likely keep him awake all night. Her devious
mind was hard at work. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing." She practically skipped to a chair and sat like
a pupil waiting her next lesson. "I wish to know what to
expect tomorrow."

Balderdash. He would have to watch her closely. He occupied the chair opposite her. "Very early this morning,
the game boy shall find the foxholes and cover them to prevent the animal from returning to his den. Hence the fox
shall be forced to seek cover above ground. After breakfast, the field will assemble and"

"The field?"

"The riders, all of us grand and noble folk, along with a
dozen or so yapping hounds and Winston's huntsman, the
man in charge of the animals. We shall all depart from the
stable yard at what's deemed an appropriate hour and give
chase until the dogs roust a fox in a thicket or bramble
bush. Then off we go, riding like lunatics over hill and
dale. Everyone tries their best to remain seated in their saddle until the hounds trap the fox and subsequently kill him.
The first man to arrive is awarded with the tail or paw as a
trophy."

Judging from the frown on her face, Phoebe possessed
no appreciation for the longtime tradition. A shudder
racked her shoulders. "That poor animal. The sport sounds
barbaric and not the least bit fair."

"Nevertheless, it is a time-honored tradition. Normally
we avoid hunts in the spring, but the local farmers have
been losing chickens."

"What if the fox escapes?"

"T'would be highly unlikely, but everyone would return,
sip their tea and discuss all the reasons they turned up
trump.

"And no one wins the wager." Beaming, she marched to
the door that led to the balcony. "Thank you, Stephen. You
had best go now. Tomorrow's events sound quite exhausting."

The blasted female had dismissed him, actually
requested he leave and he had waited for her until midnight. By golly, he'd have the last word before he left her to
her own devices. With very deliberate footsteps, Stephen cornered her and, using his entire body, pressed her against
the cloth-covered wall. Her eyes locked with his. She swallowed, then cleared her throat.

His every nerve ending trembled with a heightened
awareness, yet he made no move to kiss her. When he felt
her pulses pound like a drum throughout her entire body,
then and only then did he let his mouth descend. He captured her lower lip between his teeth and suckled gently.
Swallowing her gasp and then her sigh, he possessed her
mouth completely, endlessly.

A gentle knocking at the door snapped him back to reality. Lifting his lips from hers, he kept his hand on her chin,
studying the dazed look in her eyes and feeling a deep
masculine pride." 'Tis likely the maid. I will go now, but I
shan't sleep a wink for fear of what you contemplate. I'm
warning you. No nonsense tomorrow. Let Winston and me
worry about Lemmer."

Other than his uncomfortable state of arousal, he felt
quite pleased with himself. If she trembled like this after a
simple kiss, imagine how she would react after he introduced her to lovemaking.