Punishing His Ward (20 page)

Not that he would have allowed anyone
other than himself to waltz with her, not dressed as she was this
evening. It would be too much temptation for any man.

"Miss Bryant!"  An eager young
buck, whose name escaped Wesley, came bounding up to grasp her
hand.  Annoyance flashed through him as Cynthia giggled and
accepted the overly flourished bow her young courtier made.
 It was a poor imitation of a true rake's elegance.  "I
was hoping you'd attend this evening.  May I claim the first
dance?"

"Her first dance is mine," Wesley said
sharply, gaining a look from his mother.  To his surprise she
didn't say anything, just raised her eyebrow at him before turning
and walking towards the corner where her contemporaries and Lord
Vernier were sitting.  Cynthia looked up at him, obviously
surprised and a little wary of his tone.  

The idiot in front of them wasn't at
all perturbed.  "The second then, Miss Bryant?"

"Of course, Harry," she said with a
smile and Wesley nearly snarled at her use of the twit's given
name.  The young man brightened even further at the intimacy
and bowed; after taking a second glance at Wesley he
scampered. 

Cynthia poked him in the side with her
fan.  

"Ow.  Gently there, baggage." He
rubbed the spot where she’d poked him, even though it hadn’t been
particularly hard, hoping to make her laugh. Instead she frowned up
at him.

"Why were you so mean to poor Harry?"
she chided him.

"Poor Harry's an idiot and a
coward."

"Running away from you
when you're scowling like
that
 is a sign of intelligence,
not cowardice," she countered.  "In fact, I think I'll follow
his example."

As she moved to pull away from him,
Wesley grabbed at the hand that had been resting on his arm and
yanked her back against him.  "I claimed the first dance and
the musicians are about to start."

She scowled up at him; unlike 'poor
Harry,' she didn't look the least bit intimidated by his dark
glare.  Of course, that was one of the things that he liked
best about her, even if it would occasionally be more convenient if
she was. Still, he wouldn’t want a wife that always turned and ran
the moment he glared. He needed a wife, like Cynthia, who was made
of sterner stuff.

"I don't want to dance with
you."

"Too bad."

Feeling unaccountably cheerful all of
the sudden, Wesley pulled her towards the dance floor.
 

******

Avoiding her guardian was proving to be
more difficult than Cynthia had anticipated.  Not only did he
have an eagle eye, but all of the gentlemen who danced attendance
on her seemed to have some kind of understanding with him which
included returning her to his presence at the end of every dance.
Normally she would have been returned to the Countess, as her
chaperone, but everyone seemed to understand that the Earl was
standing in for the Countess this evening. She didn’t know where or
how anyone had received that impression, but every single gentleman
had somehow received the unspoken message.  The worst part was
that the dances themselves had ceased to be interesting, whereas
standing on the Earl of Spencer's arm made her tingle all over.
 Which was exactly the kind of situation she wanted to
avoid.

His over-protectiveness aside, his
indifference to her was as rampant as ever.  The low neckline
she was wearing had gotten a glance of disapproval rather than
interest, unlike at the last Assembly.  And now he was
scowling practically every time that she looked at him, other than
the first dance when he'd taken great joy in forcing her to dance
with him after he'd been so rude to poor Harry. Then he’d been
remarkably cheerful, as if pleased with himself for thwarting her.
The only reason she hadn’t snubbed him was that she hadn’t wanted
to make a scene.  She realized that he probably didn't like
her using Harry's given name, but the young man was harmless and it
made him so happy when she did even if it wasn’t entirely
proper.

From the impatient shifting of the
Earl's feet whenever she was on his arm, she deduced that he'd
rather be anywhere else.  Although at least his mother wasn't
throwing overly young beauties at his head at the moment.
 Perhaps that was why he was being so overbearing with
Cynthia; if he was performing his duties as her guardian, his
mother would leave him alone.

Either way, she didn't appreciate his
looming presence.  Half of the fun of Assemblies had been
sneaking off and enjoying some illicit kisses with some undeserving
gentleman.  But with her guardian watching over her so
closely, it was proving to be impossible.  Besides which, his
mere presence had apparently scared off the usual rogues that would
tempt her.

He was the biggest, most powerful, most
authoritative male in the room and not afraid to use his heft to
achieve what he wanted.  And damned if that didn't make her
body feel warm and excited all over.  

"Blast," she muttered under her breath
as her current dancing partner led her right back to where her
guardian was standing next to Lord Hyde.  Unfortunately there
was no escape for her, Eleanor hadn't been feeling well and so
hadn't come tonight.  Lord Hyde was only here to back up Lord
Spencer.  As the center of both their attention, she felt
hemmed in and trapped. It wasn’t at all pleasant.  

With barely a glance at her, the Earl
took her back on his arm and settled her at his side, while he and
Lord Hyde continued their conversation.  Her presence
encouraged several other men to join them, but none of them were
very interesting; just the kind of staid, boring young men that the
Earl probably thought she should marry.  But next to him they
all looked unrefined, unexciting and thoroughly unbearable.
 At least if he asked, she could tell him that all of them
bored her beyond belief. Then again, since meeting him, it seemed
as if every man was becoming boring.

Cynthia tried to tug her hand away and
the Earl turned his head to frown at her.  She smiled sweetly,
insincerely, up at him.  "Excuse me please, I need to visit
the lady's retiring room."

He hesitated and then nodded, releasing
her.  "Come right back."

Inwardly fuming, Cynthia didn't bother
to respond, she just walked away as quickly as she could without
looking like she was running.  The smile she pasted on her
face seemed to fool the young gallants around her, who all allowed
her to pass on her way to the retiring room.  At least there
she could have a moment to herself, no need to deal with
aggravating men!

There were several other young ladies
in there, tittering and gossiping.  Not surprisingly they were
all in alt over the presence of the handsome Earl of Spencer.
 Cynthia recognized Miss Whyte, who was embellishing greatly
on the Earl's interest in her and his promise to seek her out next
Season.  

“Spencer’s the most
divine
dancer,” Miss
Whyte was gushing to her friend, fanning herself delicately. “And
so very handsome. I do believe his mother prefers me over any of
the other young ladies here… she
specifically
told me that she would
look for me next Season.”

Blech.  If the Earl actually
married that simpering ninny... What was the Countess
thinking?!

Well it wasn't Cynthia's business
anyway.

Feeling even more sour, Cynthia
splashed some water on her face and tidied her hair before sighing
and stepping back out into the social whirl. At least she had the
most interesting dress of all the young ladies present, although
she did have to watch out deeply she breathed.  Ninnies in the
retiring room, an overbearing stuffed shirt in the ball room...
where could a girl go to have some peace of mind around
here?

Looking around the room for her
guardian, Cynthia saw to her surprise that he was out on the dance
floor again, his mother watching smugly from the sidelines.
 Well that was something, anyway, not that dancing would keep
him from hovering over her between sets.  She also didn't like
the little pit in her stomach that seemed to grow as she watched
him dancing with yet another beautiful young lady.  This time
next year would she be in London, married to someone who wasn’t
nearly as exciting or interesting, and forced to watch the Earl’s
courtship of some simpering debutante? It seemed likely. It also
seemed like a scenario that would motivate her to tear her hair
out.

"Cynthia..."  A male
voice whispered to her side. “Cynthia…”  She looked over to
see Mr. Carter standing by one of the columns, obscured from view
of the dance floor.  
Probably hiding
from the Earl
, she thought with some
despair. Still handsome, but his appeal had definitely lessened
since the last time she’d seen him.

Still, at least he was fun, and she did
like the way he kissed. Besides, flirting with him would mean she
could distract herself from watching the Earl dance with young
misses and dwelling on her future.  Smiling brightly at him,
she glided over to where he was standing, enjoying the way his eyes
traveled over her gown and lingered on her nearly exposed breasts.
 "Hello Mr. Carter."

"Your new guardian must be very strict,
poppet," he said, putting his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her
head up.  Cynthia's breath caught in her throat; he wouldn't
really kiss her here, would he?  Where anyone could see?
 Although that was part of the excitement of Mr. Carter, he
was so often doing exactly what he was not supposed to.  "I
haven't seen you in an age."

"He is quite a nuisance," she said with
a little sigh, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. Nuisance wasn’t
quite the word for it, but it was true in many ways.  Mr.
Carter smiled, that rakish grin that used to set her pulse
pounding.  Now she felt a small tingle of excitement, but
compared to the Earl's occasional smile, Mr. Carter's no longer
seemed so special.  

"Would you like to take a walk
outside?" he asked, releasing her chin and offering his arm.
 "There are some lovely flowers out on the terrace that we
might… admire."

Cynthia glanced at the dance floor
where it appeared her guardian was fully occupied with the young
blonde woman who was simpering up at him.  Giving Mr. Carter
her brightest smile, she wrapped her hand around his elbow.
 "I would love to."

******

"My Mama told me that Spencer House is
one of the most beautiful on the coast, with a lovely little folly
done in the Grecian style, and acres and acres of land as well as
being so close to the sea that you can go bathing on a daily basis!
Not that I would ever do such a thing," she said, tittering in a
way that made Wesley’s ears hurt.  

Despite the fact that Miss Durand was
speaking of his own estates, Wesley hadn't been able to get a word
in edgewise since they'd started dancing.  Instead, he just
listened as the chit described every bit of his own lands to him,
in the excitable terms of her youth and her mother's ambitions.
 Recently arrived in Bath, Miss Durand and her parents had
been forced to shorten her first Season due to Mrs. Durand's
health.  The matron had been ecstatic to discover an eligible
nobleman in Bath and he'd overheard her telling the Countess that
perhaps it was fate, rather than her health, which had forced them
to quit the capital a week early.

As a gentleman, Wesley just gritted his
teeth and danced with the chit, counting down the measures of music
until he could escape.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the
dark hair of his ward exiting the retiring room and stopping to
speak with someone that he couldn't quite see.  For the most
part she'd been remarkably well behaved during the evening,
although he knew that she was chafing under his close watch.
 But he'd found himself feeling remarkably possessive.
 

That feeling of possessiveness,
combined with his short-patience for seeing her dancing with other
men, and his even shorter patience for young ladies like Miss
Durand, had pretty well convinced him that he should have Cynthia
as his bride.  Even if it meant giving up his bachelorhood
before he'd originally planned.  At least he wouldn't have to
spend torturous Seasons in the capital while his mother threw all
sorts of empty-headed and title-hungry young harpies at his head.
 And he could satisfy his lust for Cynthia.

Tomorrow he would speak to his mother
and then he'd propose.  Well.  First thing he'd visit the
shops and buy a ring, then he'd speak to his mother and then he'd
propose.  Ladies expected a betrothal ring.  Just
thinking about it made the unstoppable flood of Miss Durand’s words
more bearable; he just let them wash right over him while he
planned.

He didn't expect Cynthia to balk.
 And if she did, well she was obviously ripe for seduction, he
would have no trouble bringing her around.  The frisson of
attraction between them was mutual; it shouldn't be any hardship to
convince her around to his way of thinking.  In fact, part of
him almost hoped she needed some persuading.  Even if she
didn’t, then they could certainly do some celebrating and he could
discover whether her lips were as sweet as they looked.

Glancing over her way again, every
muscle in his body tensed as he saw her walking towards the doors
on the arm of the man she'd been speaking with.  Wesley didn't
recognize him, but he knew the type immediately.  After all,
like recognized like.  It was impossible to mistake that
elegant walk, the confident swagger, and the impeccable dress with
just the hint of dissipation as belonging to anything other than a
true rake.  And, like a true rogue, he'd waited until the
opportune moment while the guardian was involved in a situation he
couldn't extricate himself from and the young lady was
unchaperoned.