To Seduce a Bride (14 page)

“Just think how hot and sweet it would be between us, bright-eyes.”

Her heartbeat hammering in her throat, Lily swallowed hard. She doubted she would be able to think of anything else.

His eyes tender, he reached up to caress her cheek. “That should give you something to ponder until we meet again. Shall we ride tomorrow morning?”

A shaky laugh escaped her; she couldn't help herself. How could he remain so calm and unaffected when she was in such turmoil?

“I cannot ride tomorrow morning,” she said. “I am scheduled to teach an early class to our boarders. There is less than a week before the soiree, so they must make use of every moment to practice their social graces.”

“Perhaps tomorrow afternoon then?”

“You may come for tea.” That way she would have company to protect her from being alone with him.

“As you wish.”

With one more tender smile, Claybourne lifted her fingers to his lips for a farewell kiss, then bowed himself out, leaving Lily standing there dazed, her body still thrumming, her knees weak.

Sinking into a chair, she brought her fingers to her throbbing lips. She had wanted Claybourne's enthralling embrace to go on and on. Yet the emotional aftershock was even more powerful than the physical. Not only could she finally envision what passion with a man could be like, for the first time she actually found herself craving it.

At the realization, Lily half laughed, half moaned, and lowered her forehead to her hands. She certainly wouldn't tell Fleur and Chantel how his lordship's kiss had affected her. They were likely to award him even more points for his prowess.

And while his easy success made her again question the wisdom of playing the game, she renewed her resolve to finish it. Her pupils needed Lord Claybourne's help in attracting potential patrons to the soiree next Monday.

She would just have to be stronger, Lily decided, shaking her head at her own weakness. Already she was struggling against the urgent desire to throw herself into his arms and let him teach her the exquisite pleasures she was missing. But she was not about to let that irresistible man drive her to reckless behavior. He would
not
make her lose her head.

Even so, the sooner she convinced him she wasn't the right bride for him, the sooner she could be free of his alluring temptation.

Chapter Seven

Today's contretemps vividly reminded me why I never intend to marry.

—Lily to Fanny

Smiling, Lily watched as her three favorite pupils practiced the fine art of subtle flirtation with Fanny. Lily had come to know several of the boarders fairly well, and these three in particular—Ada Shaw, Peg Wallace, and Sally Nead—had applied themselves so diligently to their lessons that they deserved extra guidance.

Ada was an actress with a propensity for bawdiness, which Fanny was endeavoring to tone down. Peg, on the other hand, was a ballet dancer who was painfully shy and had to be coaxed into attempting even the mildest banter with a gentleman. And Sally, also an actress, was a delightful minx—a little plain in appearance but lively and clever enough to attract notice.

Sally, Fanny believed, stood the best chance of landing a wealthy patron at Monday's soiree.

Lily ardently hoped they would all be able to improve their situations significantly. For their sakes, she wanted the upcoming evening to be a success. And knowing how hard their lives had been put her own troubles into prospective. Because of them, Lily reminded herself, she was willing to suffer the persistent Lord Claybourne and his unnerving courtship.

The small class broke up just then, with Ada and Sally excitedly chattering as they rose to leave the drawing room.

Peg, however, tarried long enough to say shyly to Lily, “Thank you again for buying our gowns, Miss Loring. I've never owned anything so beautiful.”

Lily felt her heart swell at the girl's simple gratitude. She herself had little interest in what she wore, but the blue lace confection that Fanny's modiste had created for Peg emphasized her blond delicacy to perfection.

“You look lovely any time, Miss Wallace, but you are perfectly stunning in your new costume.”

Peg blushed at the compliment and curtsied before following the other pupils from the room.

Watching her go, Lily repressed a sigh. They addressed each other by their surnames so as to increase the girls' self-esteem, an attribute that was sorely needed. Peg had been a lady's maid before embarking on a dance career with the Royal Opera, and she found it difficult to break her old habits of subservience. And while her beauty truly was remarkable, a stylish gown would go a long way toward presenting the image of an alluring Cyprian.

Lily had spent her own funds outfitting all of the twenty-two students in the academy with proper evening gowns. And Fanny's modiste was working unflaggingly to have their costumes ready by Monday. Since the girls had attended a final fitting this morning, however, it had decreased their much-needed practice time on social conversation. Hence, the special private sessions with Fanny and Lily.

As if reading Lily's thoughts, Fanny shook her head as soon as they were alone. “I'm certain Sally will be ready by Monday, but I wouldn't vouch for any of the others.”

“I know,” Lily agreed. “But they are oceans beyond where they were a few short weeks ago.”

“True. You have done a remarkable job, Lily.”

“Much of the credit goes to you, and Tess as well. And Basil has been a tremendous factor in improving their diction.”

Fanny instantly grimaced at the mention of Basil Eddowes. “I suppose so, but he has contributed to our cause with extremely poor grace.”

Lily couldn't help but smile at her friend's complaint. “You only think so because you two are always at loggerheads.”

“That is hardly my fault,” Fanny said darkly. “Basil is critical of my every effort because of the ‘sinful' life I lead. It is beyond irksome.” She made a scoffing sound. “I should give up my livelihood simply because
he
disapproves? What does he know? He is a lowly law clerk, for heaven's sake. I have noblemen fighting for my favors. I don't require
his
approval.”

Hearing the disgruntled resentment in Fanny's tone, Lily tried to offer some consoling words. “Basil adores you, he always has.”

“Well, he has a fine way of showing it. Just this morning he accused me of putting too much emphasis on beauty. And him as tall and gangly as a scarecrow. If I looked a fraction as homely as he does, I would starve to death.”

“I think perhaps he is envious of your patrons,” Lily said thoughtfully.

Fanny stared at her. “I don't believe it,” she stated flatly. Then less strongly: “I would never take Basil on as a client, even if he could afford to keep me, which he can't. I enjoy men who make me laugh, and Basil certainly does not. Now, if he had an ounce of Lord Claybourne's charm, I could better deal with him.”

Lily's brows drew together at the leading comment. “What are you saying, Fanny?”

“Just that I think you should at least consider Claybourne's proposal of marriage.”

It was Lily's turn to grimace. “Did Fleur and Chantel press you to coerce me?”

“No, not at all. But I must say I agree with them. There are significant advantages to you becoming Claybourne's marchioness.”

Her exasperation rising, Lily narrowed her eyes on her traitorous friend. “It amazes me that you would take their side.
You
never wished to marry.”

“No…” Fanny replied slowly. “Our childhood in Hampshire was so deadly dull that all I could think of was escape. I wanted to be wild and gay, to fill my life with excitement and pleasure, not settle down as some fat squire's broodmare. But I sometimes wonder if I made the right decision. I do get lonely at times, Lily, despite the gaiety. And having a husband and family might be the antidote to my doldrums. At least marriage is looking more and more appealing as I grow older.”

She was entirely serious, Lily realized with astonishment. Yet Fanny's possible change of heart regarding matrimony had nothing to do with
her.

Lily shook her head. “Being lonely is better than suffering the pain my mother endured all those years of marriage.”

“You might be happy with the right husband.”

“I don't intend to risk it. Now, may we
please
change the subject?”

Smiling ruefully, Fanny obliged. “Very well. Do you mean to attend Lady Freemantle's garden party on Saturday?”

“Yes…even though Lord Claybourne will likely be there and Winifred is sure to throw us together. I want to see my sisters. It has been over a month since I've even laid eyes on them. And now that his lordship knows my location, I have no reason to keep away from home.”

“Lady Freemantle kindly invited me,” Fanny disclosed. “So would you like to ride with me in my carriage?”

“Yes, indeed,” Lily replied, “since I have no transportation of my own here in London—”

Just then Ellen the maid hurried into the drawing room, wringing her hands on her apron in obvious agitation. “Beg pardon, Miss Irwin…Miss Loring…but I think you should come at once. There's a gent in Miss Delee's sitting room who won't leave. Mister O'Rourke is his name.”

Her face paling, Fanny jumped up and made for the door, and Lily immediately followed her. Mick O'Rourke was the gaming hell owner to whom Fleur and Chantel owed thirty thousand pounds. Most likely he had come to demand the return of his money, and to possibly renew his threat to send them to debtors' prison.

“What will you tell him?” Lily asked as they quickly mounted the front staircase in the entrance hall.

“I don't know,” Fanny said worriedly. “I will have to implore him to grant us a little more time, since we don't have the means to pay him just yet. And once I explain our plans for the soiree, perhaps he will be amenable. Mick always was an astute businessman.”

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they hastened down the corridor. Lily was directly on Fanny's heels when they reached the sitting room. But what she saw when they entered made her blood run cold.

While Chantel cowered on a corner of the settee, a ruggedly built, ebony-haired man stood menacingly close to Fleur, clutching her arm and growling down at her. “I have been lenient so far, woman! I gave you extra time, an entire month. But my patience is at an end. I want my money now, or Fanny will answer to me.”

Fleur, however, only raised her chin imperiously to stare O'Rourke down. “You ill-bred oaf, I would not give you the time of day! You will not get a single halfpence as long as you continue to behave in this boorish manner. I demand you leave at once!”

His face mottled with anger. “You dare to call
me
ill-bred?”

“Yes, you brute!”

In response to her aspersion, his grasp on Fleur tightened and he twisted her arm behind her back hard enough to make her cry out.

“Mick, please! Let her go!” Fanny exclaimed in alarm.

But Lily didn't stop to plead or even to think. Rage welling up inside her at seeing her friend's pain, she lunged across the room in three strides and began pummeling O'Rourke's back with her fists. And when he abruptly released Fleur's arm and turned to face Lily in startlement, she aimed a blow at his jaw, connecting with a powerful enough impact to make him stumble backward.

“What the bloody devil…?” he exclaimed, raising his arms to protect his face.

“Don't you dare hurt her!” Lily declared furiously, still attacking with flailing fists.

Yet when O'Rourke saw the size of his opponent, he stopped retreating and stood his ground, easily blocking her blows.

Realizing her disadvantage in size and strength, Lily hastily glanced around her for a weapon, her gaze alighting on a thin bronze statue of a naked Aphrodite on a nearby table.

Picking it up, she brandished it at O'Rourke. “Get out! Get out of this house this instant!”

When he took a threatening step toward her, his eyes narrowing dangerously on her, Lily swung the statue at his shoulder and managed to hit him squarely on the joint.

O'Rourke gave a shocked yelp of pain and fell back again, clutching his shoulder.

“Get out, I say!” she repeated in a fierce hiss.

He held up both his hands defensively, but his tone remained belligerent. “No one tells Mick O'Rourke what to do, Missy.”

“
Now!
I mean it!” Lily demanded again, raising the statue to swing again.

Practically grinding his teeth, O'Rourke brushed past her and stalked from the room.

Fanny immediately went to Fleur to offer comfort, while Lily followed O'Rourke to make certain he left the house entirely.

He stomped down the corridor, his fury obvious, but as he started down the flight of stairs, he called over his shoulder, “You haven't heard the last of me! Prison will be the least of their worries, I promise you.”

Wrath vibrated in his tone and in Lily's retort as well as she moved to the head of the staircase, still wielding her statue. “We will find your money somehow! But you are not welcome here!”

“I am leaving, you bloody madwoman,” he blustered, “but you'll regret this, no mistake.”

It registered on her that Lord Claybourne was mounting the stairs at the same moment and had paused halfway up, arrested by the commotion. But she only had eyes for O'Rourke.

Lily stood there watching as he bounded down the lower steps and flung open the front door, then fled outside to the safety of his carriage.

When he finally was gone, her gaze shifted blindly to Claybourne. He looked taken aback to have seen her drive O'Rourke from the house, yet it was hard for her to focus on him since she was so enraged, she was shaking.

Then just as suddenly, her rage left her and her knees went weak. Reaching out, she grasped the balustrade with her free hand to keep from falling.

In three strides, the marquess had sprung up the remaining stairs and caught her about the waist to steady her.

“Sit,” he urged, guiding her down to sit on the top step.

Having no strength left, she obeyed, even though she wanted to protest when he settled close beside her. But she seemed to have lost her voice. Her breath was coming in short gasps, while her body still trembled.

He waited as she tried to gather her composure, although he pried the statue from her grasp and set it on the carpet.

By then several people had gathered below—boarders and servants alike—and Claybourne gave them all a dismissive look as he said tersely, “You may go about your business.”

His order instantly cleared the entrance hall, leaving Lily alone with him.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

“He was hurting Fleur,” Lily rasped.

Muttering a sharp invective under his breath, he glanced sharply down at the front entrance door, as if he wanted to go after O'Rourke himself. But all he said was, “And you came to her rescue.”

“Yes.” She had leapt to Fleur's defense a moment ago, just as she had her mother all those years ago. Except that then it had been her father who had acted the brute, cruelly using his greater male strength against a smaller, weaker woman.