The Debutante's Ruse (4 page)

Her thoughts halted abruptly and jumbled together as she felt him slide his hands down her arms. He tugged insistently at her fingertips, pulling away her gloves and draping them over his knee.

“I can’t wait.” The deep timbre of his voice was gruff with want.

He brought her bare hand to his lips. Isabella’s lashes lifted, and she watched through slitted eyes as he began to press featherlight kisses on her open palm. When he gently laved her wrist with his tongue, her whole body stiffened in pleasure. A sweet ache pooled in her upper thighs, and he looked up with knowing, lusty eyes. He dragged the tip of tongue down the lines of her palm and took her index finger in his mouth, lightly nipping its tip with his teeth before suckling at it tenderly.

No,
she thought, her eyes widening,
I cannot give in.
If she let him take what he wanted from her, she would have no leverage with which to ensure his silence. The risks were too great. He must never catch her. Isabella eased her hand away, regret coloring her eyes.

“I
will
catch you, Miss Hennessey,” he promised.

Henry leaned back and gave her room to replace her gloves and smooth her trembling hands over her clothing. Isabella swallowed nervously and disguised the tremor that raced up her spine with a haughty toss of her head.

“You can
try
,” She challenged as she turned to stride away.
But you must fail
, she added to herself silently.

They left the brothel quickly, pausing only to bow deferentially to the madam. And when they reached the edge of Wan Chai, Jia Li hailed porters. Henry graciously offered her his hand as she stepped into her palanquin before seating himself in his. Isabella gratefully took the moist towel that Jia-Li offered her. She carefully dabbed at her face, removing as much of the dust and grime as she could. A day in Wan Chai could be harsh; a day in the market and red-light district was downright dirty.

But it was a tradition she had sworn to uphold since her mother’s death. Though she had been told that her father had loved her mother despite her humble origins, he had not found it in his conscience to provide for her family after her death. So, honor-bound, Isabella descended into the village below to offer money to her mother’s impoverished relatives.

And after her mother’s small, secret stash of funds had run out, Isabella had resorted to thievery. It had been the only way to collect money, and Isabella had no qualms about stealing from corrupt English socialites. But her grandmother’s health was continuing to deteriorate, and there were only so many risks she could take without getting caught. She hoped that Jia-Li had been able to acquire information about potential marks that would be easy and relatively risk-free.

The porters lifted her chair and began to weave their way up the steep track back to her home in Victoria Peak. Isabella sighed and perched her dainty chin on her fist. She loved and hated Hong Kong; it represented the two halves of herself that were at constant war—her English sensibilities and her fierce Chinese heritage.

When they reached the steps of Mountain Lodge, Henry took her hand as she stepped from her sedan chair. But, as she turned to leave, he did not relinquish his hold on her fingers. She turned to shoot him a warning glare.

“You overstep your bounds,” She cautioned, arching a brow.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “I only wish to ask for the favor of your presence at tomorrow’s piano recital at the Austin Arms.”

“You have not earned a favor.” She pulled her hand away, offering him a coy smile. “Catch me, and you can have whatever pleases you.”

Chapter Five

Isabella sat in the recital hall at the Austin Arms, her spine straight and her eyes fixed on the pianist. Her fingers were tightly woven together in her lap, and the anger thrumming through her veins stiffened her muscles.

The room was abuzz with gossip; someone, somewhere, had let it slip that she may have captured the young Lord James’s attentions as a candidate for marriage. She suspected that her ambitious brother had instigated the rumors, and she mentally cursed him for causing her to become the absolute center of attention. Since the moment she had arrived, she had been on the receiving end of many a stare and whisper—some curious, others envious and one or two even downright hostile.

But only one person stirred her blood to furious fire—and unlike the others, he had been quietly smug the entire time. She fumed inwardly that the insufferable Lord Henry James had managed to coerce her brother into dragging her to the recital and afternoon tea, ruining her day’s plans. She’d refused him the day before not only because she found teasing him irresistible, but also because she’d already had plans to come to the Austin Arms—except that she’d originally wanted to slip in unnoticed through the study window and leave with Sir Edward’s collection of jade jewelry.

She could feel Henry’s amused gaze on her back, and she refused to turn around to give him the satisfaction of her notice.

Engrossed in her irate musings, Isabella barely registered that the recital had ended and that the other members of the audience were clapping enthusiastically. Recovering, she quickly lifted her dainty hands to add to the applause before it petered out. Her brother rose quickly, pulling her up with him as he tucked her arm into his.

“That was a lovely recital,” Arthur turned and said to their host, Sir Edward. “A brilliant performance.”

“I am most delighted that you enjoyed it.” Sir Edward nodded heartily, beads of sweat forming at his brow. He turned to Isabella and grazed her forearm with pudgy fingertips. “And I am so glad you decided to come, Miss Isabella. I had thought you were not planning to attend.”

“Women change their minds at a drop of a hat, don’t they?” Arthur chuckled.

“Yes, don’t they?” Isabella parroted blandly. “I am glad I came.”

Arthur steered her toward the tea table with Sir Edward trotting along to keep up with their brisk pace. She smiled almost pityingly at Sir Edward and sighed slightly.
The poor man.
She knew that Arthur had set his sights higher than Sir Edward, the son of a mere baron. It was uncomfortably obvious to all—except the poor Sir Edward—that Arthur was keen to secure marital ties for her with the son of a duke.

Her mind having wandered back to the duke’s son, Isabella glanced around the room to look for him. She had expected him to accost her immediately with his flirtatious antics and maddening double entendres as soon as the concert ended. But instead, he seemed content to meet her eyes from across the room. Isabella suppressed the shiver that threatened at the base of her spine as she realized that he was circling her, much like a cunning beast of prey. And though she silently snarled at him with her glittering green eyes, she was met with nothing but his pleased predatory gaze as he moved easily through the room.

And now that she saw him from afar, she could not deny his masculinity: long-and lean-limbed, broad-shouldered and possessed of a devastatingly handsome smile. Catching her eyes upon him, he winked and offered her a flash of perfect white teeth. Heat blossomed in her lower abdomen as she began to wonder if she had perhaps underestimated her opponent. A traitorous corner of her mind began to wonder what he might demand from her should she lose their bet. She doubted that he would expose her to the authorities; no, he would likely submit her to more pleasurable punishments. She paused and let her lids flutter shut as she reached the tea table, unwittingly allowing herself to imagine long fingers pulling at the laces of her corset, large hands skimming her bare flesh, muscled limbs parting, pushing—

“Isabella?”

Arthur’s voice startled her from her indecent reverie.

“Yes?” She tried to keep the irritated snap from her voice.

“You seem flushed,” He commented, concerned. “Shall I fetch water for you instead of tea?”

“No, thank you,” Isabella answered with faint smile, “I’m fine, Arthur. But I do think I will have a sweet before getting tea.” She nodded amiably at Sir Edward. “It is a lovely spread.”

“As you wish, of course,” Arthur shrugged. “You do have an incorrigible sweet tooth.”

Isabella threaded her way through the crowd, offering demure smiles and polite comments when addressed. When she finally reached the dessert table, she pretended to peruse the many decadent cakes and pastries while taking a few moments to still her rapidly beating heart and wild imagination. When her brother finally turned his back, she seized her chance. Steeling her resolve, she slipped away.

* * *

Henry watched as Isabella disappeared around the corner.
Clever girl,
he thought to himself as he slowly sipped his drink. Vanishing at a party where he was in attendance was practically a blatant invitation for him to chase her, and he considered his options. Where to look first—a closet, a study or perhaps a guest room? Henry hid a sultry grin behind another sip of liquor. He would give her a few moments to begin stealing, and then he would also slip away to catch her in the act. He swirled his drink as he imagined what would happen next. He would take his time, slowly building the same burning ache in her that she had inflicted upon him until she begged him for release. He hoped she’d chosen a target that was far removed from the main reception hall or he’d have to help her mute her cries of pleasure.

Movement at the edges of the party caught Henry’s attention. Sir Edward loitered near the corridor that Isabella had taken, his beady eyes shifting nervously. Henry frowned and narrowed his eyes, muscles tensing, as the short man crept away.

Meanwhile, Isabella was hurriedly digging through drawers in the study, her mind racing. The jade jewelry had not been in its glass display case, nor was it hidden in the large mahogany bureau. The locks on the desk drawers had barely been a challenge, and she had soon rifled through their contents. But after checking, rechecking and even knocking on panels to check for secret compartments, she’d still come up empty-handed. She stifled a frustrated growl.

Isabella stood suddenly as she heard the doorknob turn. She spun around to face the grand window overlooking the gardens just as the heavy oak door whispered against the plush carpet as it slid open.

“Why, Miss Hennessey,” Sir Edward called out thickly, “I did not expect to find you here.”

Isabella swallowed nervously and turned, gently nudging the last desk drawer shut with her hip. She painted her face with a guileless smile.

“Sir Edward,” She said, tucking a curl behind an ear, “I’m sorry if I am not meant to be here. I was feeling a bit hot in the crowds and needed a moment alone. I do apologize if I have intruded.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Edward replied, pushing the door behind him closed with a definitive click. “I’m glad I found you.”

Isabella’s eyes went from the closed door and back to Edward, who was slowly pacing toward her. She spun around to look out the window.

“The view from your study certainly is captivating, Sir Edward,” she said, a knot forming in her stomach.

“It is, indeed.”

Edward reached her side and placed a hand on the desk behind her. She pushed away and stepped toward the empty glass display case, peering down as if curious.

“And what is this for?” She asked, running fingertips over the smooth pane.

“That was for my collection of jade. I acquired a particularly beautiful jade necklace, you know.”

Edward walked toward her, his eyes greedy.

“And where is it now?” She asked innocently.

“At the Hong Kong Club, as part of a temporary exhibit.”

He was suddenly very close, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her shoulder. Blinking, she flitted away toward another cabinet.

“What an honor for the gentlemen of the Hong Kong Club,” she said with a nervous smile, backing toward the door. “Well then, I seem to have recovered, so—”

“A moment, Miss Hennessey,” Edward raised his voice slightly and beckoned to her with an open hand. “There is something else I would like to show you.”

Isabella’s mind whirred as she watched the stout man turn to reach into a cabinet. Her stomach roiled at the thought of spending another moment in the room alone with him. But he was her host, and surely he would do nothing untoward. Reluctantly, she inched her way to where he waited expectantly, some treasure clasped behind his back.

“Closer, my dear girl,” He said with a chuckle when she hesitated, “I won’t bite.”

When she was finally close enough for his liking, he produced his treasure, holding it between them so she could admire it. And indeed, it was a fine piece. Isabella remembered to coo over his prize as she assessed its worth.

In Edward’s open palms lay a black lacquer fan inlaid with gold and mother of pearl. It had been carefully polished, and she guessed it would fetch a pretty penny. She took it and held it up to the light, admiring the way the pearl caught the light.

“It’s beautiful,” She agreed with a smile, holding it out for Edward to take back.

A cloud passed over his round face, and suddenly his sweaty hand closed around her wrist. Surprised, she dropped the fan. She tried to wrest her hand away, but found that under all his fat, Edward had a grip of steel. She twisted, but Edward, heavy as an anchor, pivoted on his heel and swung her into the cabinet so hard that her teeth rattled. He pushed in close, his face red and angry.

“Why do you scorn my gifts but shower him with favor?” He hissed, spittle flying onto her cheeks.

“Sir Edward,” Isabella protested, vainly pushing against his heavy mass, “Please, I don’t understand.”

“Little hussy,” He snarled, “Your virtue would be wasted on a brute such as that pampered little lord. I would give you so much more; I would adore you as a priceless diamond, a beautiful gem.”

“Please,” Isabella begged as she struggled in vain to gain leverage with which to push him off, “This is terribly indecent. If my brother—”

“Yes, indecent.” Edward pushed her further into the cabinet wall and pressed his forearm against her throat. “What would your brother do if he discovered this indecency between us? Surely then, he would see what needed to be done.”

Edward began to fumble with his clothing, and Isabella began to thrash anew, her heart filling with panic.

“Sir Edward, is that any way to handle another man’s fiancée?”

She recognized the imperious voice immediately, and when she turned to see Henry’s silhouette in the doorway, she breathed a sigh of relief. Edward stepped away from her to straighten his clothing.

“Fiancée?” He panted heavily. “I was not aware such arrangements had been made.”

Henry took a few slow steps into the room, and Isabella’s eyes widened at the cold fury that simmered just below the surface of his calm façade.

“And why would you be privy to the betrothal negotiations that I make with her father?” Henry’s deep voice was faintly mocking, his eyes hard. “You forget your place, Sir Edward.”

“And you forget yours,” Edward snapped, “This is my home.”

“You may fancy yourself a lord in this little colony, but may I remind you that you are not.” Henry stalked forward, his voice unflinchingly severe. “Do not forget who
I
am, lest I decide to inform the governor about this incident.” He stopped only to look down his nose at the snivelling man. “Now leave,” he barked, “So that I may attend to my fiancée’s well-being.”

Edward cast them both a spiteful glare before grudgingly trudging out. Henry followed to slam the door after him. He paused, his hand upon the door, and sighed deeply.

“My lord—”

“Call me by my given name,” Henry interrupted softly as he turned to look at her. “I would be more than a title to you.”

“Henry,” Isabella began again, weighing the name on her lips as she dipped her head in acknowledgement, “Thank you.” Her breathing hitched slightly when she thought of what might have happened. “Thank you,” She repeated in earnest.

Henry sighed again and leaned his back against the door, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. He shook his head, affection warming his eyes.

“You’re a foolish girl, Isabella.”

She stiffened and strode over to the mahogany desk, her fingers lightly trailing over the smooth surface.

“Foolish?” She raised a brow. “And also betrothed?”

“A very slight exaggeration, I assure you,” Henry laughed. “So, did you find what you were looking for?”

“No,” Isabella said disgustedly, “It wasn’t here. He moved it to—”

She stopped suddenly and treated him to a glare. Henry’s lips turned up into a smug smirk as the full-lipped pout she wore only made her all the more alluring. He pushed away from the door, walked toward her and planted his hands on the desk behind them, one on either side of her hips.

“I do believe I’m entitled to claim a prize, Isabella.” He said her name slowly, savoring each syllable.

“I think not,” Isabella scoffed, “You forget our terms. You have
not
caught me in the act of stealing.”

“True enough,” Henry conceded. He tugged at a tendril of her hair that had come free and wrapped it around his index finger. “May I claim some small token then—for
almost
catching you?”

He drew her lock of hair to his lips and then let it slide away across his fingers.

“What token?” Isabella asked, lifting her chin.

Henry leaned in to press his lips to the underside of her jaw and exhaled. His warm breath on her neck sent tingles of pleasure skittering across her skin.

“Just a taste,” he whispered, pulling away even as he cupped her face in his hands.

Isabella shyly lifted her eyes to his, and they were so close that she could see the blue flecks in his slate-gray irises. Her lashes fluttered as she examined the nuances of his masculine features: a strong chin, a square jaw and gray eyes that stole her breath. The air in the room was cool, but she felt a strange and sudden fire spread through her body at his touch. She was not frightened by his proximity—and now that she was pressed close enough to scent his masculine musk, she felt an electric thrill sing through the air.