To Seduce a Bride (20 page)

There was laughter in his eyes, but a challenge, too.

A challenge Lily had no intention of taking up.

Not for the first time she voiced a silent oath at the vexing, tempting Lord Claybourne—on this occasion for using the lure of incredible carnal pleasure to try and persuade her to accept his hand in marriage.

“I suppose I will just have to suffer then,” Lily declared, moving away from him again in a fit of pique before bending to retrieve the blanket and her discarded stocking. “But I will say one thing: This absurd game cannot be over soon enough for me!”

Chapter Ten

I see now the incredible lure of having a tender lover.

—Lily's reflections to herself

“I believe we should call it a draw,” Fleur announced the following afternoon after hearing the tale of Lily's unexpected swim in the lake. “What do you think, Chantel?”

Lily saw Chantel give Lord Claybourne an apologetic smile. They had gathered in the courtesans' sitting room in order to judge his performance, but Chantel was so softhearted that she never liked to disappoint anyone, particularly handsome noblemen.

“Regrettably I agree, my lord,” Chantel murmured. “No points should be awarded to you or taken away in this instance. You managed to inveigle Lily into your boat, but she fell overboard while under your care. And she did not require your assistance to save herself. Furthermore, you escorted her to Danvers Hall so she could change her gown, but you also benefited, in that you were provided with dry clothing. Have we summarized the facts correctly?”

“I would call that a fair assessment,” Heath said mildly—much to Lily's relief. She had almost expected him to mention his amorous exploits in his coach. When he met her gaze, she knew he was remembering that scandalous incident and was very glad that he held his tongue.

And in truth, there was nothing more to report about yesterday that might affect the outcome of their game. For the remainder of the afternoon, Heath's behavior had been perfectly unexceptional and circumspect. They had changed their attire at the Hall and returned to Freemantle Park to rejoin the garden party.

Of course, Winifred had been eager to learn any juicy details when she privately pressed Lily to be more accommodating to his courtship. But only under pain of death would she have confessed to their passionate tryst.

It was bad enough that Winifred still took every opportunity to push her in the marquess's path. When Lily had sounded out the wealthy widow about possibly helping Fanny with her friends' debt, Winifred, in yet another obvious attempt to play matchmaker, had quickly declined, saying that Lily should apply to Lord Claybourne for the funds—which she most certainly was not willing to do.

“So, my lord,” Fleur said, bringing the judgment to an end. “I believe your total points to date are seven. You still must earn three more.”

“Perhaps this will improve my score,” Heath said, reaching for a side table to retrieve the package he had brought with him.

When he handed the package to Lily, who sat beside him on the settee, she took it warily. It was wrapped with expensive gilt paper and tied with a ribbon.

“Oh, a present!” Chantel said with delight. “It looks like a book of some type. Do open it, Lily.”

Lily removed the ribbon and wrapping to uncover a leather-bound book.

“What is it?” Chantel asked. “A volume of sonnets?”

“No,” Lily answered as she read the title. “
Travels in the South Sea Islands
by George Wilkins.”

“I thought you would prefer this to sonnets,” Heath commented. “Wilkins is a member of the Royal Society and a protégé of Sir Joseph Banks. His recollections of the native cultures in the Pacific make for some very intriguing reading.”

Chantel looked puzzled. “Why would Lily care about the condition of heathens in some foreign sea?”

Heath's amused gaze met Lily's again. “Because she claims to be an adventurer at heart,” he answered.

“Is that true, Lily?” Chantel queried in a tone that expressed dismay.

Lily smiled. That tone was the same one her mother had regularly used when lamenting her daughter's thirst for adventure. “I am afraid so, Chantel. But you needn't worry; it isn't contagious. How did you come upon this book, my lord?”

“Wilkins is a colleague of mine. And I am honored to call Sir Joseph a friend.”

Lily couldn't help but be impressed, although her friends didn't recognize the significance.

“Who is Sir Joseph?” Fleur wanted to know.

Lily glanced over at her. “He is the president of the Royal Society, Fleur.” The Royal Society was a learned organization for the promotion of the natural sciences and had arranged various scientific expeditions around the globe over the past several decades. “Sir Joseph also once sailed with Captain James Cook in the
Endeavor
to explore the Pacific and the coast of Australia.”

“And you are interested in such things?”

“Well, yes. But I confess surprise that Lord Claybourne is.”

Beside her, Heath leaned back in his seat. “My friend Arden is an avid member of the Society, and I became involved at his urging. My chief interest is in exploration. I've helped fund three expeditions of research vessels thus far, including this most recent one of Wilkins's.”

Lily eyed him in admiration, recalling that her first impression of Heath had been as a bold adventurer and explorer. “I didn't realize you were interested in exploration.”

“There is a great deal you don't know about me.”

Fleur broke in once more. “I would say this gift is surely worth a point, Lord Claybourne, since it is quite thoughtful and inventive. A conventional courtier would have brought Lily poetry. It shows that you are attuned to her true desires.”

“I most certainly have her true desires in mind,” Heath murmured so softly that only Lily could hear.

At his deliberately provocative remark, she sent him a quelling glance and resolved to change the subject, not wishing to dwell on the disheartening fact that he now needed only two more points to win the game. “Thank you for the book, my lord. I shall be pleased to read it. Now would you care to report on your efforts to find attendees for our soiree tomorrow evening?”

“I count thirteen who have promised to make an appearance.”

Chantel clapped her hands together with delight. “That is capital, my lord! With your candidates as well as Fanny's, we should have nearly thirty eligible guests in attendance.”

Heath's smile was modest. “One of the candidates purports to be an old acquaintance of yours, Miss Amour. Viscount Poole.”

“My heavens! I haven't seen Poole for a donkey's age. His wife objected to his…er…liaison with me, so he gave me up.”

“He is widowed now,” Heath informed her.

“Yes, I had heard that.” Chantel gave a bemused sigh, as if remembering her colorful past. “Lord Poole always was one of my favorite courtiers. Not the most original lover but a jolly sort and by far the best poet. He regularly won the contests for my favors by composing sonnets for me, do you remember, Fleur?”

“I do remember.” A speculative look entered Fleur's eyes. “Perhaps you can turn his attendance tomorrow night to your advantage and renew your former association with him.”

“I will certainly try. But it will be delightful to see him again, in any event.”

“You will have to look your very best,” Fleur advised. “Age has not been our friend, as you well know.”

“Yes, but Fanny's dresser can work miracles with cosmetics and coiffures. And Lily has sprung for marvelous new raiments for me.” Chantel smiled at Lily. “I wish your own gown was half so fine, my dear.”

“I shall make do with a simple evening gown,” Lily replied. “Our pupils are the ones who must shine.”

She felt Heath's frown as he turned his gaze on her. “Surely you won't be attending the soiree?”

Her brow furrowed. “But of course. What did you expect?”

His frown never wavered. “The company will not be what you are accustomed to.”

“If you are concerned about the impropriety, I plan to come in disguise—a mask and turban—so no one will recognize me.”

“Even so, you don't need to be there.”

Lily's eyes widened at his obvious disapproval, until she realized that he was worried that his bachelor friends would think her among the muslin company. “But I must be there, my lord, to help our boarders if necessary. Surely you see that I cannot abandon them now? This soiree is far too important to their futures. Not to mention that a successful outcome of the soiree should help us to repay the debt owed O'Rourke.”

Heath didn't argue but sat silently regarding her. Uncomfortable with his penetrating gaze, Lily rose to her feet. “Thank you for the gift of the book, my lord, but if you will forgive me, I have another class scheduled in a few moments. Shall I see you at the soiree tomorrow evening at eight? Regrettably I won't have time before then, since we will be making preparations all day.”

“Till tomorrow at eight,” Heath said as he also stood.

He offered her a polite bow before she turned away toward the door, although he didn't appear at all happy with her, Lily noted.

Yet his happiness was not her chief concern now—or at any other time, for that matter, she added mutinously to herself.

Her only concern now was holding a successful soiree so that her pupils could acquire new patrons who would care for them and give them better lives than they could ever hope for otherwise.

         

Heath was indeed severely unhappy with Lily's decision to attend Monday evening's event. He most certainly didn't want his future marchioness at such a risqué gathering, exposed to the blatant overtures of his friends and fellow bachelors.

Thus he arrived early at the soiree, prepared to keep a close eye on Lily.

He was restless and impatient, however, as he watched her mingle among the company. She had indeed worn a three-quarter mask, which concealed all of her face except for her mouth and chin, as well as an elegant turban to hide her lustrous hair. No costume could disguise her essence, though. She was vibrant and alive, pulsing with life and sensuality. Every man in the room noticed her—which was quite a feat, considering how much competition she had.

The soiree was an elegant affair, comparable to any glittering fete held at Carlton House by the Prince Regent's tonnish cronies. The drawing room was filled to overflowing. Every one of the young women on display looked and spoke like ladies, and Heath couldn't help but be impressed, knowing that Lily's “academy” had turned them into beauties worthy of becoming London's finest courtesans.

Fleur Delee and Chantel Amour looked on like proud mother hens. Fleur was garbed in scarlet silk and black lace, while Chantel was resplendent in purple satin and matching ostrich plumes, although he suspected her amethyst and diamond jewelry was made of paste.

For the first hour, Heath hovered protectively near Lily, but she moved from group to group, ignoring him. After that, she latched on to the elderly Lord Poole and spent the next hour laughing and flirting and drinking champagne with him.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the evening was barely half over when Lily was approached by a pair of eager young bloods.

Heath felt his fists clench when one of them kissed her hand, but it was only when Lily laughed up at the young man that he could take no more. In two strides, he was standing before her.

“Ah, there you are, darling,” Heath said through gritted teeth as he took her elbow and drew her away from the company.

When he would have led her from the drawing room, however, she pulled back, resisting. “What do you think you are you doing, my lord?”

“Taking you away from here.”

“You cannot. I told you, I must remain in case our pupils need me.”

“No, you will not. In fact, I forbid it.”

“You
forbid
it?” she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Yes,” Heath insisted, his fingers taking tighter hold of her upper arm. “You are coming with me, sweetheart.”

“Of all the arrogant, high-handed—”

Her sputtering faltered when she noted numerous pairs of eyes watching their altercation. Fuming in silence, she allowed Heath to escort her out of the drawing room and up two flights of stairs to the floor where her bedchamber was located.

The corridor was dimly lit by a single wall sconce, Heath saw, and her bedchamber wasn't lit at all, he discovered when he shut the door hard behind them. Yet since the curtains and windows had been left wide open, his eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight streaming into the small room.

Lily had ripped off her mask and whirled to face him, her hands on her hips. And judging from her expression, she was clearly irked by his possessiveness.

“You cannot tell me how to behave, Lord Claybourne! You do not own me.”

Her declaration only raised Heath's ire. He rarely lost his temper, but he could feel it turning flame-hot. “You are wrong, Lily. You
are
mine. And I won't stand for you carrying on with other men like the veriest trollop.”

“Carrying on?” Her voice rose nearly an octave. “What, pray, was I doing to warrant that unfounded accusation?”

“You have been simpering and flirting with Poole since he arrived.”

She looked half astonished, half infuriated. “Because I quickly determined he was the only man here who was safe for me to be with.” Her eyes narrowed. “You cannot possibly be jealous of Lord Poole! Why, he is old enough to be my grandfather. Moreover, he isn't the least interested in
me.
He spent the entire time reminiscing about Chantel's former glory days. He is quite smitten with her—and completely harmless to me.”