The Debutante's Ruse (2 page)

Chapter Three

Lord Henry James was restless, and the lingering memory of the strange encounter in the corridor wasn’t helping.
Who was she?
The question plagued his mind as he scanned the crowded ballroom.

Earlier, he had instinctively pulled the mysterious woman behind the curtains to hide the evidence of his latest indiscretion from prying eyes—but the mere memory of her jasmine perfume was more intoxicating than any fleeting pleasure he’d ever known. If he closed his eyes, he swore he could still feel the curve of her waist under his hands and the swell of her breast against his.
And those green eyes…

A soft, feminine giggle reminded him that he was already in the midst of a conversation.

Henry looked down and smiled indulgently at the small group of blushing debutantes fluttering around him like naive butterflies. This first set of hopeful husband-hunters had been the bravest at the governor’s summer ball, flocking to his side immediately. A cursory glance around the crowded ballroom had revealed the thoughts of every aspiring colonial socialite: that the fourth son of the Duke of Exeter would be an excellent catch indeed.

The bitter thought tightened his throat as his father’s stern warning echoed through his mind.
Find a wife,
he tells me.
Henry almost sighed, and glanced in the direction of his host, the Governor of Hong Kong. He was rumored to have a daughter—and Henry knew nothing would please his father more than having connections to eastern trade.

A featherlight touch to his arm surprised him, and he turned to see a beautiful woman standing at his elbow. There was a coy lilt to her pink lips, and she rested the tip of her folded fan on her chin. With blond ringlets and blue eyes, she was beautiful—though in a typical, traditional sort of way.

It mattered little. Hers had been a bold move, one that stretched the limits of protocol even by colonial standards, and he welcomed the break from strict politesse.

“Fancy another drink, my lord?” She invited with a sly smile.

“Offering drinks to strange men, are we?” He rejoined, his tone teasing.

“My good sir,” she replied, flicking her fan open with a quick snap of her wrist, “I’m sure the Lord Henry James is no strange man.”

“I’m touched by your faith in me.” Henry turned on his charm and reached for her gloved hand, pressing it lightly to his lips. “And what is
your
name, pray tell?”

“Miss Caroline Wilkinson,” she said with a barely decent curtsey, “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Lord James.”

He offered her his arm. As she lightly placed her hand on his forearm, he turned to the young women who were casting baleful glances at Caroline’s smug expression.

“Begging your leave, my ladies,” Henry said with a disarmingly kind smile, “But I must take this opportunity to quench my thirst.”
And curiosity,
he mentally added.

“Miss Wilkinson,” Henry asked lightly, “Do you happen to know anything about the governor’s young daughter? I’ve heard such rumors.”

“Oh,
her
,” she snorted disdainfully. “That would be Miss Isabella Hennessey. And that is not even her full name.” She continued, her saccharine voice spiteful. “Her father gave her the most dreadful Chinese name as well: Isabella
Lee
or
Lap
or something equally atrocious. And do you know why?” She covered her mouth with her fan and leaned in close, her voice an exaggerated whisper of horror. “They say she is of mixed blood—the result of Governor Hennessey’s indecent marriage to a Chinese woman. Isn’t that simply scandalous? Of course, the woman’s been dead now for a decade. Poor man,” she added with a sympathetic shake of her head.

“My Lord James!”

Henry turned to see the governor’s son striding toward him, a strikingly beautiful woman on his arm. Henry paused, his eyes glued to her mesmerizing form. There was an almost regal tilt to her chin, and her posture proclaimed her confidence. Even her daringly cut evening gown added to her mystique. Unlike any other dress, her gown was made of bright red exotic silk—from bodice to train. The bold color served to highlight the pale luster of her skin, the fullness of her scarlet lips and the midnight sheen of her dark curls.

“Lord James, my father is honored that you have graced us with your presence.” Arthur greeted him with a wide smile. “I thought you might have been too tired from your long journey at sea to join us.”

“I wouldn’t miss this opportunity, and I assure you, Mr. Hennessey,” Henry replied graciously, “The pleasure is all mine.”

“I do not believe you have met my sister,” Arthur said, his hand lightly skimming his sister’s bare shoulder. “Miss Isabella Lei Hennessey.”

Isabella inclined her head, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. He discreetly scrutinized the smoothness of Isabella’s pale skin and the doe-like slant of her eyes. It was indeed possible, he thought, that she was of mixed parentage. But in his eyes, it lent an even more exotic flair to her already elegant appearance.

Henry slipped his arm away from Caroline’s to lift Isabella’s dainty hand for a light kiss. As he pressed his lips against her gloved knuckles, he caught a glimpse of her expressive emerald eyes and the mystifying play of emotions that skated through them.

As for Isabella, she was reeling from a sudden wave of dizzying recognition. Though he wore a dashing dinner suit, there could be no doubt: the Lord Henry James was her mystery rescuer. When he took her hand, her head felt light; when he bent to kiss her hand and looked up into her face, she thought her knees would buckle. She felt the same pressure as before building in her lower abdomen and thighs, and she was certain that she could feel an electric tingle humming in the air between them.
This is madness
, she thought as she battled the urge to swoon.

“The rumors about your loveliness were not exaggerated, Miss Hennessey,” Henry said as he reluctantly relinquished her hand.

She arched a thin, aristocratic brow. “Do tell,” she said in a rich, melodious voice, “Where have you managed to hear rumors about me?”

“My dear,” he answered with a light chuckle, “You can’t keep such beauty hidden in your own home.”

“Isabella,” Arthur explained, “Lord James has been staying in the guest wing of Mountain Lodge for several days now. He only just arrived.”

“Is that so?”

“Such a unique name you have, Miss Hennessey,” Henry remarked, “Does it have some meaning in the local tongue?”

The young debutante glanced away modestly, a fetching blush dusting her porcelain cheeks.

“The name
Lei
means ‘little flower’ in her mother’s language,” Arthur supplied when Isabella didn’t answer. “We tease her often.”

“Now, now,” Henry corrected, “It is an appropriate name for such a blossoming young woman.”

Caroline sniffed delicately and hid a scowl behind her fan, catching everyone’s attention.

“Why, Miss Wilkinson,” Arthur turned to kiss Caroline’s hand, “You look absolutely lovely, tonight—wouldn’t you agree, Lord James?”

Caroline Wilkinson preened, and Henry nodded his agreement—but her smile soon turned to slight sputtering as Arthur continued speaking.

“Surely, you wouldn’t mind if I claimed Miss Wilkinson for the next waltz, Lord James?” Arthur said with a sharp smile. “And of course, you wouldn’t mind accompanying my sister, would you?”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur skillfully pulled Caroline away, steering her toward the dance floor.

“My brother is a shameless matchmaker.” Isabella sighed and turned guarded eyes to her companion. “Do forgive him.”

“Not at all,” Henry replied with a light smile. “For once this type of maneuvering seems pleasant.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“A dance with a beautiful woman who isn’t obviously jostling for social position is unusual—and refreshing,” Henry said casually as he led her onto the dance floor.

When the first strains of the waltz began, Henry dipped into a bow and Isabella sank into a curtsey. Then, they began to sweep across the polished floors with practiced grace. Henry felt his interest flare as Isabella brazenly met his eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and he could feel her pulse quicken as he held her hand.

“You seem quite taken with me,” he commented playfully.

“You assume too much,” she huffed softly, pink darkening her cheeks even more.

Henry chuckled as he lifted her hand to allow her to twirl effortlessly. When she stepped back into his arms, he put his hand at the small of her back and guided her across the ballroom. A line creased his brow as he molded his palm to the curve of her waist. Not only was he struck by a sudden and inexplicable familiarity, he was also surprised by the spark of desire ignited by the simplest of touches. His fingers tightened against the gentle swell of her hip, and he leaned in slightly to inhale deeply.
Jasmine
, he thought with a jolt of recognition.

The sights and sounds of the ongoing ball faded as Henry studied his dance partner. Curling the fingers at her lower back, he gently drew a line up her spine. Her fingers flexed against his shoulder, and she could not repress a shiver of delight. He let his fingertips skirt the border of her bodice, barely skimming her bare skin. Then he dragged a blunt fingernail over the sensitive skin of her shoulder blade, and she let out a soft, feminine gasp. Pleased gray eyes slanted downward in time to catch sight of the panicked embarrassment flooding Isabella’s face. He smiled.

“I see that you are unusual in more ways than one, Miss Hennessey.” He said as his hand slipped down her back, stopping to rest at the top of her pert bottom.

“Oh?” She feigned disinterest and glanced over his shoulder, her face tightening.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an affinity for skintight black silk, would you, my dear?”

Isabella nearly tripped on the hem of her skirt, but he held her fast as they spun in time with the music. Her stomach fluttered at the realization that he’d recognized her—and she had no idea what he planned to do.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a pointed glare.

“And I’m sure you do,” he quipped teasingly.

Isabella narrowed her eyes and studied his face, probing for a sign of his purposes. To her frustration, all she saw was an expression of mirthful amusement.

“Surely,” she sniffed, “You are only joking.”

“Yes,” Henry agreed, before dipping his head to murmur at her ear, “And no. Or must I remind you that you were hiding as well?”

When his lips grazed her earlobe, her breath grew shallow and her mouth dry—not only because she had been found out. The mere touch of his lips and the whisper of his breath against her bare skin made her skin tingle with goose bumps. He brushed the rough pad of his thumb over her wrist, grinning at her hammering pulse. Tearing her eyes away from his lips, she met his smoldering gaze. Her chest tightened and her limbs felt loose; she was sure she would melt if he were not holding her up.

Just then, the music ended. Isabella mustered all her poise and extricated herself from his grasp as quickly as decorum allowed. He followed her at a sedate pace, a smug smile painted on his handsome lips.

Isabella Lei Hennessey,
he thought with a smile,
the governor’s daughter, marriageable debutante, prospective wife…and mysterious, secretive vixen.
His eyes dropped to her subtly seductive gait. Was she a secretly licentious lover? Did she sneak out to frequent the infamous opium dens? He relished the idea of stripping back her demure façade to reveal her intriguing secrets.

“Daughter, you looked lovely in his lordship’s arms!” The governor approached with open arms and a wide smile.

“Father,” Isabella acknowledged in clipped tones, “May I please retire for the evening?”

“Nonsense!” Henry exclaimed, clapping his hand onto the governor’s shoulder, “The night is yet young.”

“Yes,” her father agreed, “And you two seem to be getting along wonderfully.”

“Well,” Henry replied, sending Isabella an enigmatic smile, “We do have at least
one
thing in common.”

Boisterous laughter interrupted Isabella’s sharp retort as Arthur drew near, Caroline and a pudgy man in tow.

“Well, Sir Edward. Miss Wilkinson?” Arthur was saying to his two companions, “Didn’t they suit each other perfectly?

Isabella resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her brother and father’s painfully obvious tactics. She sneaked a brief glance at Lord James, who seemed more amused than annoyed. He winked back. Caroline snorted behind her fan, and Sir Edward looked longingly at Isabella.

“And how are you enjoying your visit to Hong Kong so far, Lord James?” Arthur asked.

“It’s by far one of the loveliest places I’ve known,” Henry admitted, “So civilized compared to other colonies I’ve visited. And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve simply landed in another part of England.”

“Why, yes,” Caroline interjected, anxious to participate in the conversation, “If it weren’t for the heat and those dreadful Cantonese coolies, we could very well be in London!”

“I have heard it said that Hong Kong is Britain in miniature—with the comforts and entertainment that only the English could enjoy fully,” Isabella said quietly, her voice laced with ice, “But should you want a more authentic cultural experience, you have but to descend from Victoria Peak and into Wan Chai.”

“What a preposterous notion!” Caroline exclaimed suddenly, “Why go down into that dirty, savage village?”

“Now, now,” Henry said with a warm smile, “I would love to see the local scenery—especially if I had a knowledgeable guide.” He met Isabella’s vibrant green eyes. “You seem interested in the local culture as well, Miss Hennessey. I would be most glad of your company.”

“Do try to be hospitable, Isabella,” Arthur prompted, “Surely we can arrange for an afternoon stroll for the two of you.”

Isabella looked from her brother to Henry. They wore twin smiles, each eager for completely different reasons. Heat rose from her chest to her cheeks as she realized Lord Henry James was intent on toying with her and her secret—though he showed no interest in exposing her just yet. She calmly forced herself to breathe evenly and hold his eyes as a plan took root and grew.
Fine,
she thought with conviction,
two can play at this game.
She lifted her chin and met his infuriatingly pleased smirk with a pointed smile of her own.