The Russian's Tenacious Lover (11 page)

The secretary hesitated, wavering between the reservation induced by his position and the desire to speak freely. “Well, you could always employ a matchmaker, sir,” he suggested.

Rostislav frowned. “Matchmaker? You mean one of those infernal busybodies who try to hook people up?”

He’d known one or two of those. In fact, at the last party he’d hosted some older woman answering to the name Rose Beckham had tried to link his lot to some Duchess or other. A cross-eyed middle-aged specimen that hadn’t blown him away, to be honest.

“I hear Rose Beckham’s services are most satisfactory, sir,” Rupert informed.

He snorted. “Rose Beckham. I know that blasted woman. Tried to set me up with some spinster last month. No, thank you. I want a wife, not a museum piece.” Then he sighed, knowing Rupert always knew best when it came to these matters. He waved an impatient hand. “Set it up. But tell this Beckham woman to keep it discrete, will you? No need to announce my intentions to the world.”

“Of course, sir. Very well, sir,” intoned the secretary before taking his leave.

“Oh, Rupert!” he called before the doors closed.

The secretary popped his head back in. “Yes, sir?”

“Tell her I want a virgin this time.”

“Pardon, sir?” said Rupert with pretty astonishment.

“You heard. Tell her I want some young ingénue. Inexperienced. Easier to mold, you understand. Make her do my bidding. Listen to my every word as if it’s the gospel.” He harrumphed. “Sick and tired of women arguing all the time and telling me what’s what. I will have a servile woman this time, Rupert, or I won’t have any. Tell her that, will you?”

“Of course, sir,” said Rupert, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. “A servile young British virgin. I’m sure it can be arranged, sir.”

“Then arrange it, man, and don’t stand there goggling like a damn fool. Get cracking!”

“Absolutely, sir,” assured Rupert. “Cracking right now.” And with those words, he retreated, leaving Rostislav to wonder at the sparkle of amusement in the secretary’s eye. Could it be that the man had a sense of humor after all?

Then he rejected the silly notion. Of course not. Everyone knew that the British stiff upper lip never faltered.

CHAPTER 20

“There’s no reason to be annoyed,” Glynis said as she buttered her toast with a touch of hauteur.

“Look, I’ve apologized already for what happened earlier,” Thomas repeated. “I really don’t know why Jenn has gotten it into her head that I’m supposed to be her lover. I can assure you bedding the girl is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Well, I really don’t mind a bit,” she continued frostily as she sipped from her cup of tea. “Get it out of your system as it were.”

Thomas reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, yanking it fiercely. “Ouch!” she cried, wincing. “Tom, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m telling you the girl means nothing to me, Glynis. Can’t you get it into your thick head that she’s an absolute nobody?”

“Who’s a nobody?” the girl under discussion said as she walked in on their little tête-à-tête. “Oh, banoffi pie,” she added as she saw the spread Maybelle had put out for the afternoon tea. She scooped up a generous piece of pie and took a nibble. “I just love banoffi pie, don't you guys?”

 
Then she stared pointedly at Tom’s hand still clutching Glynis’ wrist. “I see you insist on harassing our hostess, Tom. I suggest you leave well enough alone. Don’t you agree, Glynis?”

“Wholeheartedly,” hissed Glynis through gritted teeth as she stared daggers at the offensive male in their company.

Thomas released her wrist and sat back, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “All right, all right. I surrender. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again.” He eyed her closely. “At least not now.”

“Sounds like you’re off the hook, Glynis,” commented the teenager. “But then again, Mr. Spencer is known for his carnal predilections, aren’t you, Tom?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” grunted Tom darkly.

“Oh, puh-lease. We’ve all heard of the illustrious Shadow ringing up the women by the dozen, haven’t we? How many is it that you’ve bedded, Tom? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“Millions,” returned Thomas dryly.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” murmured Glynis as she bit into her toast again, savoring the taste of marmalade. It was true. The rumors of the illustrious Shadow taking the time to bed the lady of the house in between pinching her jewels had become part of folklore. And now the handsome burglar sat in their midst, busily inching his way into the hearts and beds of the two women present. The man wasn’t merely a rake and a thief, he was a Casanova and a breaker of women’s hearts as well. Exactly the kind of man her daddy had always warned her against. And to think she’d almost fallen for him. For his dark good looks and his liquid eyes, his silvery tongue, and his hot kisses.

She found herself staring at his fingers, tapering off to slender tips, and wondered where those fingers had been all her life. She shook herself, and forced her mind back to safer topics of conversation. “Have you thought up a plan to get our pearls back?”
 

“Oh, I have,” Thomas told them with his customary smugness and self-confidence. “In fact, the wheels have already been set in motion.”

Her interest was piqued. “Have they now?” It was time to focus on the real issue at hand, she decided, and forget all about The Shadow’s passionate eyes and naughty hands.

Jenn leaned over the table, bringing her face dangerously close to Tom’s. She watched it with a weary eye. “What do you want me to do, Tom? Break into the safe? Distract this Mamykin character? What?”

“All in good time,” spoke Thomas as he poured tea into his cup and stirred a spoonful of sugar in the amber liquid. “Right now I want you to pick out the most enticing dress you can find.”

“Oh?” said Glynis, raising a single eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?”

“Tomorrow night, Rostislav Mamykin is hosting his annual ball at his Belgravia mansion. Your father, with a single phone call, has arranged for our small party of four to be invited.”

“That’s so cool!” exclaimed Jenn enthusiastically. “I went last year and had a smashing time.”

“Wonderful. I’m sure you will have a smashing time again this year. For you’ll be walking out with half a million of pearls in your pocket.”

Jenn grinned. “Cool!”

“Aren’t I supposed to walk out with those pearls?” Glynis inquired delicately. “After all, they are mine, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, my dear,” said Thomas, “and soon they will be again. Only it has come to my attention that Rostislav Mamykin is in search of a wife.”

“Oh?”

“And not just any wife. A little birdie has told me he wants a British virgin this time.”

Both Tom’s and Glynis’ eyes drifted to the only British virgin present. To her credit, Jenn had the decency to blush under their joint scrutiny.

“Who told you I’m a virgin?” she asked Glynis. Then she turned to Thomas, her expression altering to one of indignation. “Oh! You told her?” Thomas merely shrugged as Jenn raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Christ! I can’t tell anyone anything!”

“Don’t worry, child,” said Glynis in a motherly voice that became her well, “your secret is safe with me.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” muttered Jenn, then turned furious eyes on Thomas. “Don’t tell me I have to sleep with that horrible Russian! I won’t do it, I tell you! I won’t! I simply won’t!”

Thomas grinned. “What makes you think you have to sleep with the man? You merely have to entertain him for a while, that’s all. Fascinate him and keep him occupied. I’m sure you can do that without risking your virtue.”

“Entertain him?” she said doubtfully. “You mean like kiss him and stuff?” She screwed up her face. “Eww! He’s old!”

“Not kiss him, per se. Just chat with him for a while, display some of your feminine charms and keep him sufficiently occupied while Glynis and I sneak off to steal his pearls.”

“My pearls,” interrupted Glynis.

“Sorry. I stand corrected,” murmured Thomas.

Jenn still wavered. “I suppose I could do that. Though it wasn’t what I had in mind when I signed up for this. I thought I was supposed to be the one cracking the safe!”

“You can’t have it all, child,” said Glynis. “Welcome to life as a grown-up.”

The dirty look Jenn gave her was enough of a reward for Glynis, and she smiled sweetly at the teen.

“Rostislav Mamykin is the richest man in England, Jenn,” quickly interjected Thomas before blows were exchanged, “so I’m sure he’ll prove fascinating company.”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “Big deal. Daddy’s the second-richest man in England and he’s boring as fuck.” She crossed her arms angrily. “And here I thought being a thief was going to be fun. Talking to boring old rich guys is something I’ve been doing all my life!”

“Then I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job,” said Thomas lightly, and earned a stuck-out tongue from his young protégée.

“This sucks ass balls,” muttered Jenn.

As Glynis watched Thomas take a sip from his tea, his dark eyes casting their customary spell over her, she thought the girl had never spoken a truer word.

Being in love with Thomas Spencer really did suck ass balls.

CHAPTER 21

The dress was exquisite, Thomas mused as he watched it tumble and fall down Glynis Fox’s curves with perfect form. She’d chosen it for just this special occasion, he knew, and of course her choice had nothing to do with him. But the moment his eyes fell on her, he was a goner. The dress was elegant, yet sexy as hell, the green chiffon hugging her slender form and plunging deeply at the neckline, accentuating full breasts.

For a moment, as he eyed her coming down the main staircase, he stood stunned, the hand that had stolen to his pocket in the automatic habit of reaching for the cigarettes he’d given up returning to flick a straying lock of black hair from his brow.

Dammit, she was gorgeous, and never more so than tonight. And that when he needed his focus and concentration more than ever. She was going to be a major distraction, he knew, and he felt his hardness twitch at the sight of her—the promise of her—the whisper of her sex as she sashayed past him, a smug expression on her lovely face, her blond curls dancing and catching the light from the ornate chandelier suspended high above. He reached out a hand, and twirled a wispy tendril of her golden hair around his finger, then let go as she walked past, clearly aware of the effect she was having on him and enjoying it.

He caught a whiff of her perfume and relished in the sensuous trace it left on his senses.

A sharp “Oy!” had him look up, this time to watch a second beauty striding down the stairs. Jennifer Crocket had done the most to accentuate her ample curves, her young bosom almost popping out of the silky dress she’d chosen.

Heads would turn and tongues would wag tonight, he knew, as he would walk into the ballroom of the Mamykin mansion with these two lovely creatures on his arm, and he briefly felt the luckiest man in the world. Then he realized the one he wanted was off-limits, and the one who wanted him didn’t attract his interest. Wasn’t this always the way? You want what you can’t have and don’t want what you can?

He smiled as Hugh Fox came ambling up from the smoking room, the smell of cigar lingering about him. The man had opted for a splendid tuxedo and was giving his daughter an adoring glance. “Loveliest creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon, darling,” he commented.

She smiled and pressed a happy kiss on the old man’s cheek. When she turned to him, the smile was abruptly wiped from her lips and so was his brief fling with happiness. Would there ever come a day when she would smile at him like that?

From the looks of her, he had the distinct impression there wouldn’t.

“I think we’ll be the talk of the evening,” remarked Hugh as he pressed a gentleman’s kiss on Jenn’s offered hand. “Don’t you agree, my boy?”

“Oh, I most wholeheartedly agree, Hugh. Londongrad won’t know what hit them.”

“Londongrad?” inquired Jenn with a frown. Then she got the pun, and she giggled. “Oh, right. Of course.” She hooked her arm through Glynis’, and said, “Let’s hit this party hard, bitch.”

Glynis, obviously not used to being called a bitch, blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Jenn with a pout. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but tonight we bitches have to stick together.” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “We’re on a mission now, so we better get our act together.”

“Sure… bitch,” sighed Glynis with a shake of the head, and joined her new best friend down the hallway, gliding with practiced ease across the checkerboard marble floor, the two men following in their wake.

“Are you sure you can pull this off, son?” inquired Hugh solicitously as Thomas eyed the backline of Glynis’ dress, the cream-colored skin glowing under the lamp light and sending an invitation to his heart, and his crotch. “Mh?” he replied, distracted. “Oh, the pearls? Sure. Sure. Piece of cake.”

Hugh gave him an ungentlemanly prod in the ribs. “Focus, my lad. Tonight you’re not Thomas Spencer the dauntless Casanova but Thomas Spencer the fearless thief, you hear?”

Thomas blinked, bringing his mind back to the more mundane aspects of the evening and the purpose of their endeavor. “Right, right. Of course, yes.”

Hugh grinned. “She’s quite a catch, isn’t she?”

“She is, sir,” agreed Thomas wholeheartedly.

The older man grinned. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

Thomas sighed, seeing no sense in denying the obvious truth. “I’m afraid I have, Hugh. And I’m also afraid it’s no good. Your daughter hates my guts, nor can I blame her.”

“Nonsense, Tom,” spoke Hugh. Thomas looked up at the sudden harsh tone.

“If you want her, you can get her. All you have to do is be a man and confess how you really feel about her. Can you do that?”

“I don’t—”

“Can you be honest for once in your life, Thomas?”

He gave the man his best smile. “I’m sure I can, sir.”

“Ah, bollocks,” Hugh said disgustedly, waving his hand in a throwaway gesture. “Never mind. Love is wasted on the young.”