To Love a Wicked Lord (14 page)

“Surely, even though you don't know her you can see that my grandmother is changing under our very eyes.”

“She's becoming more free with her speech,” he said. “But she's not acting strangely. We'll take her to places where she'll be considered merely eccentric. The French believe all the English are that. And then, with your permission, we'll take her home. Unless you want to go on? I would accommodate you with that, but I greatly fear that this peace of ours is fragile. I wouldn't want us to be caught here, trapped in a web of politics.

“Now,” he said with more force, “as for Noel Nicholson?” His expression grew serious. He spoke low. “I have heard some things. Nothing tangible but enough, and from so many sources, that I begin to believe them. Your Mr. Nicholson is said to have been seen heading eastward, toward the Alps, and Italy.” He held up a hand. “It seems to have been on purpose. No one is traveling with him. No one seems to be pursuing him or guiding him. He eludes capture, and conversation. I'm sorry,” he added, looking at her closely, “but whatever his difficulties, it appears that he doesn't want
to come home again—if England is his home.”

Pippa nodded. She felt very weary. “If you think he isn't in danger…”

“I'm certain he's not, except, of course, from you and your family.”

“And not even that. Then so be it,” she said on a sigh. “I'd love to know what happened to make him flee, of course. But I don't think it had to do with me.”

“Neither do I,” he said, watching her.

She drew a deep breath. “So what I will do is go home, explain to grandfather, have a notice put in the papers ending the engagement, and go on with my life.”

She didn't add that she didn't have great expectations for that life. A jilted lady wasn't considered a great catch. If her grandmother were deemed worse than eccentric she feared her fate would be sealed. She'd probably live on with her grandparents until she herself became an eccentric.

His voice was soft, as though he was reading her mind. “Forget dull sorrow,” he said. “We'll enjoy Paris while we can. I won't stop making inquiries. I may yet find out what happened to that wretch, stupid, and blind ex-fiancé of yours.”

She managed a smile.

“Now eat up your sorbet—Uhm, I mean syrup.
Your grandmother said it was expensive.”

That made her laugh, and he kept her laughing until their waiter had cleared the table.

Maxwell looked up from her at last. The dining room had cleared out. “Come,” he said to Pippa. “Your eyes are growing heavy and I'm enough of a conceited ass to think it isn't due to my conversation. No, no, don't apologize. That makes it worse. It's been a long day for you. I'll see you upstairs and then again in the morning. It bids to be fair. If you like, I'll show you Paris in the springtime.”

“I'd like that,” she said simply, rising and taking his arm.

They went up the stair and then down a winding corridor. Her maid followed at a dutiful pace and then disappeared into Pippa's room as they reached her door. Pippa and Montrose were left standing together in the dim light of a single flickering wall lantern. She realized she still held his arm, took her hand back, and wondered what to say now.

It wasn't dark enough to disguise the fact that he was staring at her. Darkness had no way of hiding the lovely scent of lavender and sandalwood that he wore. And Pippa swore she could feel the warmth of the man radiating toward her even though they weren't touching.

He leaned toward her and then stopped himself. “A kiss to see me through the night?” he asked softly.

She couldn't answer. She simply leaned in toward him.

This kiss was both more satisfactory and more frightening for Pippa than the others she'd shared with him, because it was like sharing their desire and their needs. She opened her lips against his and breathed in the taste of dark warm red wine and spices on his breath, and then the strange and welcome intrusion of his tongue against hers.

He gathered her closer, and she felt her breasts tingling even though they touched nothing but his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. That was, they did until his hand cupped a breast and she felt the delicious prickling rise of her flesh all the way down to her toes. He seemed to know, and she heard him chuckle as he deepened their kiss. And then the next one, and the next.

It took a while until she let herself realize that the top of her gown was down to her waist, and her breasts uncovered except by his warm hands. She was not so inexperienced that she didn't know it was his arousal pressing into her as she clung to him as though he could hold her from the current of longing threatening to sweep her away.

It took will power, but she breathed deep and stepped back. He immediately dropped his hands. She drew up her gown and then went straight back into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I don't know what to say,” she whispered in confusion. She was embarrassed and aroused, sorry and yet thrilled.

“It seemed,” he said, his voice a little rougher than usual, ”that you were saying yes. I was too glad of it, I suppose. But we can't, my dear. Not here, and not now.”

She was too honest to pretend she didn't know what he meant. But surely he could feel her cheek growing hot against his neck.

“But soon, Pippa?” he asked softly, pressing light kisses on the rim of her ear. “We can make it soon if we can find a place and the time.”

She was too honest to lie to him or to herself.

“No,” she said. “Yes. I don't know. Perhaps. It may be.”

I
don't know a thing about you,” Pippa said suddenly, staring at Maxwell sitting beside her as they drove down the avenue in a jaunty open carriage. “Not really. I know all about Versailles now, thanks to you. And the Cathedral de Notre Dame as well, and even about Charlemagne, so you've obviously been well educated. But where? And where do you live when you're not chasing criminals? What of your family? Your tastes? Who are you, Lord Montrose? I don't know!”

He laughed. “I asked you to make love to me, not marry me! No! Don't jump!” he cried, catching hold of her arm as she tried to stand and get to the end of the long seat. “Not from a moving carriage. I'm sorry. What I said was careless, rude, and unfair. Of course, you're too well bred to make love to a strange man. Although many well-bred women love to do that, I promise you.”

“I'm leaving,” she said through clenched teeth. “As soon as this carriage stops, wherever it stops.” Her face had grown red as the new blown roses in the park they'd just driven past.

“And I'm not going to make love to you,” she said in a fierce under voice. “I only considered it because I was carried away by your kisses last night.”

She glanced at the stone-faced driver in the seat in front of them. “Are you sure he doesn't speak English?”

“Yes. He's Parisian. He thinks everyone speaks French, and dreams of the day when everyone will. Look, I'm sorry I offended you. But come to think on, my dear, it seems to me that you don't bother to get to know your would-be lovers or would-be husbands very well, do you? You didn't know much about Noel. And now you say you don't know me. It's not necessary, of course, to know one's husband these days. Or one's lovers. But you're intelligent. Why should this be?”

She sat still. Her look of consternation faded as one of dawning wonder replaced it. She looked very fine this morning, he thought. Her petal pink walking dress, striped with spring green, made her skin radiate light. A tiny tilted straw bonnet let the sunlight gleam on her fair hair. She was
lovely in a very commonly English sort of way, or so he'd thought when they'd met. There were whole villages filled with glowing fair young English maidens who looked like her. But not quite, he'd realized, because her looks were animated by her wit, her charm, and her boundless curiosity. Her eyes were blue, but never bland. They were the blue of an ever-changing sky. Even that didn't account for her appeal for him. Her face and form were lovely; it was her intelligence and personality that made her beautiful, and unforgettable.

She was courageous too. Most young women of social standing would have withdrawn from Society if their wedding date had been set, their fiancé gone off into oblivion and everyone knew. But she was publicly hunting her lost fiancé, and if she could be believed, was doing as much for his sake as her own. Whatever her reasons, she knew that she was flying in the face of Society.

Bright, brave, and beautiful. The more he knew her, the more impressed he was. She called to him, mind and body. In fact, that beautiful body was calling to him more each hour. But he was wary. She was still a mystery, perhaps even greater the more he got to know her. Why would such a gifted woman still be so determined to find a man who had rejected her? In fact, why was he still on the
wretch's trail? Or was it that Noel was too involved with her for her to give up the search?

“You know?” she asked, looking at him with surprise, and interrupting his thoughts. “You're right! I never got to really know Noel, did I? Or you, for that matter, or any man since I reached adulthood. But when I was a girl my best friend was Richard, the gardener's boy. We were of an age, and we played in the fields and daydreamed in the haymows, compared warts, and skipped stones on the pond together. All that changed when I got older and was forbidden to play with him anymore.

“Then, I don't get to meet many men of any sort, actually,” she said as though to herself. “They came to visit Grandfather and were only polite to me. At home I got invited to parties and dances, and I knew everyone there. All the men of the proper age for me were deemed to have improper breeding by my grandfather. Anyway, now they are already married, or else they're insufferable. There are seldom new faces, which is why Noel so entranced me, I suppose. Even so, since the debacle with Noel, I'm not asked anywhere. Am I engaged: a jilt or a cast-off? No one knows where I fit any more than I do.

“I suppose,” she said slowly, so deep in her
thoughts that although she was looking at him she was obviously not focusing on him. “Meeting new men has been difficult for me. I reckon it's because I came to think of males as a different species, harder to communicate with because they were more important than women.”

She turned a shining face to Maxwell. “I'm shy with men!” she blurted. “Imagine that! Or at least I'm so respectful that it banishes any thought of equality, so I don't dare ask anything except for stupid questions about the weather and such. I don't know how to be friends with a male, not since I was a child. I never realized it!”

“And this pleases you?” he asked.

“Oh no! But it explains me. And that's something. I'm so glad I didn't call after you when you left last night,” she said impulsively, reaching out and touching his hand.

He blinked. “You wanted to?”

She ducked her head and quickly withdrew her hand “I confess, I think I did. I don't know if I really would have, though. But what folly! I almost married a man I didn't know, and to compound matters I wanted to…be close to another male I also didn't know.” She frowned. “We're so bounded by rules, how does an adult female get to know a male in this world of ours?”

“Most men talk about themselves, endlessly,” he said, sitting back.

“You don't,” she countered. “Neither did Noel.”

He thought a moment. “I suspect he had something to hide,” he finally said. “As for me, I wanted to entertain you and didn't think I was the most fascinating topic. And remember, all this isn't about me anyway. I was merely a hireling. Still, I shouldn't worry were I you. Marriages in the ton aren't usually based on knowledge of one's mate. Certainly, love affairs seldom are. Marriages are arranged, or the participants have known each other since childhood. Love affairs begin and end with mutual physical attraction. Whatever it's called, that's not love.”

“You're right,” she said seriously.

“There's only one thing I wonder about,” he said slowly, unused to confessing his inner thoughts to a woman, especially one he mistrusted. “Why did you decide to chase the wretch from here to kingdom come?”

“I thought he might be in danger,” she said. “His disappearance wasn't like him. But now I see I didn't really know what he was like. I'll have to be more circumspect in future. And at the same time, I have to learn to be more straightforward with gentlemen.” She frowned again. “And no matter
what I discover about Noel, whether he was kidnapped or waylaid on the road, or off to visit his aged mother, or to sell secrets to the tsar, one thing is certain. It's over. I'll officially end my betrothal to him. Immediately.”

“Thus ending our relationship immediately?” he asked innocently enough.

She sat up. “No, of course not. I don't want to be abandoned in Paris. Anyway, I can't dismiss you even if I want to. I must write to grandfather, tell him my decision about Noel and why I made it, and have him put the notice of ending the engagement in the papers. Then, I suppose, he can let you go. But you will see us home, won't you?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, and fell still, obviously thinking about the future.

Maxwell laid his head on the back of his seat, and tilted his high beaver hat over his forehead as though he wanted to avoid getting sunlight in his eyes. But he hoped to encourage her to speak more, and more frankly. All the revelations she'd spoken of had doubtless been brought on by what he'd said. She'd been insulted and tried to defend herself, but as she spoke she heard herself revealing some long-buried truths that surprised her.

He thought everything she'd said about herself
was true. He hoped she'd go on and learn even more about herself. She could, the mood was upon her. But from long dealings interviewing other tight-lipped persons, like suspected spies and traitors, he realized she'd speak more only if she stayed in this curiously confiding mood and kept on talking. Once she had time to think and digest her thoughts, she might deny them again; and she wouldn't speak more if he kept watching her.

So he sat back, his body stretched out, hat brim shadowing his eyes, a perfect picture of an unconcerned gentleman at ease in the morning sunlight.

“So,” she mused after a moment, as he'd hoped, “actually, there's no more reason for me to be here, is there? I don't have to find Noel. In fact, I don't want to find any husband until I know how to deal with men.” She was silent for a moment and then blurted, “But I do so want to stay here a little while longer. Please, don't tell Grandmother about my decision? I want—I need to see a bit of the world before I return to England.”

“I think your grandmother would have me murdered if I suggested going home now,” he commented without opening his eyes.

“Do you think she's able to make any decision now?” she asked in smaller, worried tones.

“I think the lady is as competent as any other English person who is here,” he said. “She's changed, you say. I wouldn't know. She seems sane enough, if a little uninhibited, a bit unrestrained. She is. I think she's only reacting to being free and visiting old friends and places where she spent her youth. It makes her less likely to guard her tongue. But I don't believe she's disordered by any means.”

He was so attuned to her mood he fancied he could hear Pippa's heartfelt sigh even over the sound of the traffic and their horse's hoof beats. She said nothing more. He realized her confidences had ended and decided that it wasn't good for her to dwell on them.

He tilted his hat back. “Now let's talk about more interesting things,” he suggested, sitting up. “I'll stop being a tour guide and will tell you all about me instead of French history. We're almost at the end of our scheduled ride anyway. But your hotel is near a park. When we head back, what do you say we stop awhile and ramble before I take you back to Grandmamma?”

She smiled.

“And then perhaps,” he said, sitting up, smiling, and looking into her eyes, “we can think of where and when to meet again without any fuss or notice
so I can show you even more about myself?”

She stared.

He nodded. “Yes. Exactly what you're thinking. Darkness doesn't bring on lust. It only uncovers it. Why should we deny it?”

“Why?” she asked in horror. “Because I don't want an affair. I may have been drawn to you, I admit. I am, in fact, as if you didn't know. But no wonder! You're handsome, charming, and very experienced with females. And here I am as good as alone in a strange land, worried to bits about my Grandmother, disappointed in my traitorous fiancé, and feeling utterly abandoned. And you offer me warmth and comfort. I'll admit that. But the last thing I need now is to involve my heart again.”

He sighed. “If you recall, I never asked for that part of your anatomy.”

“Oh!” she puffed.

“It would have been a great comfort for us both,” he went on quickly. “But if you don't wish to make love with me, so be it. Please understand that I will likely be ready and willing to accommodate you if at any time you change your mind.”

“‘Will likely'?” she asked, her brows rising. “You have the effrontery to tell me that you mightn't want me, after all?”

“Never,” he said, hand on heart. “Only if I'm already promised to another lady of an evening, how could I promise you my instant readiness?”

“You are the worst rogue and roué I have ever met,” she huffed.

“How many have you met?” he asked.

She seemed to deflate. “Apart from Noel? Not any, at least that I knew of,” she said. “Oh, this is all nonsense. Let me go back to the hotel. I'll write to Grandfather, and explain everything to Grandmother, and we'll go home as soon as may be. I'm not fashioned for this sort of life. I can't swim in your waters.”

“Would you want to?” he asked.

She smiled a real smile for the first time in a while. “Sometimes, I think so. But understand I'm alone quite a lot and given to all sorts of fancies. Disregard it, please. And let's forget this conversation as well. I have no doubt you'd make a wonderful lover. But I need a friend now.”

He couldn't think of a clever answer. So he only looked at her and nodded.

 

“Go home? Now?” Lady Carstairs asked incredulously, her voice rising so high that the few others in the hotel's front salon glanced at them in curiosity. “Go home? Are you joking, child?”

“Well, not immediately, but say, by next week?” Pippa said, clutching her hands together. They'd found her grandmother in the front salon, waiting for them when they returned to the hotel. Pippa had decided it would be easier to confront the lady with her decision while Maxwell was still with her, so they'd sat down together.

“But it's Maytime, Grandmamma,” Pippa went on. “Think of how pretty everything will be at home. Think about how long we've been gone. Grandfather surely misses us, in his way. So now that I'm not chasing after Noel anymore, there's little point in our staying on here.”

“Who said we'd stay on here?” her grandmother asked in astonishment. “Italy is just beyond the Alps, Pippa. Roma! Venezia! Milan, and beyond to Austria, Brussels—I can't think of all the places we could go. Who says gentlemen are the only ones to have a chance at a Grand Tour? It isn't fair and never was. Go home? Are you run mad, child? Tell her, Lord Montrose.”