To Seduce a Scoundrel (17 page)

“Apparently I do if you think I should remove Finchley from consideration. He seems perfectly acceptable to me. Just yesterday I saw him in the park and we had the most diverting conversation about his latest purchase at Tattersall’s—”

Christ, maybe she did need him. Or someone anyway. “I take your point, however, I can’t be the one to help you.”

“What’s wrong with Finchley? I’d like to know.”

He was careful to keep his voice low. “He’s an idiot. For one, he’s far too interested in my mystery woman.”

“But surely that will die down after what Saxton did to that boy who wrote Lydia’s name in the book.”

“Perhaps. If anyone can keep scandal to a minimum it’s Saxton or his father. But just as they can tamp it down, others can stoke it. Every moment we spend together is a moment we risk your reputation.”

She was quiet, which allowed him to be painfully aware of her proximity again, of the heat emanating from her delicious body. And also of the distance that really stretched between them, regardless of how close they now stood. He could dream of her the rest of his days, but he could never, ever have her.

“You should go,” he said, while the dark recesses of his mind thought of how he could raise her skirts, lift her against the wall, and slide into her.

Her hand found his cheek in the darkness and stroked his jawline. “’Tis a pity things aren’t different. If you weren’t who you are…”

He grabbed her hand and pressed a hard kiss to her gloved palm. “Go. And if I had to pick one of your suitors right now, I’d choose Allred. From what I can discern, his reputation is sterling.”

“Are you giving me permission to kiss him now?”

Jealousy cut through him. “Yes.” He forced the word through the tight muscles of his throat.

The space around him moved, and he felt her lips against the side of his mouth. He held her close a moment and spoke softly against her ear. “But don’t be cruel. Don’t kiss him if you don’t plan to marry him. He’ll spend the rest of his life cursing his loss.” He felt her shiver, but ruthlessly pressed himself back as far as the closet would allow.

“Oh no, Allred,” she said at full voice, which nearly sent him into a panic. “I’m supposed to be dancing with him.”

She cracked open the door and peered outside. “It’s clear.” She threw a glance over her shoulder, but he couldn’t read her eyes. Then she was gone.

He pulled the door closed and immersed himself in darkness once more. He rested his forehead against the door and took deep, even breaths until his cock relaxed and the sexual tension in his body dissipated. Somewhat. It never went away completely these days, and he could only hope a return to fighting would improve his condition. Just three more days.

After another moment, he opened the door and stepped into the corridor, coming face to face with Booth-Barrows who was on his way from the ballroom. One of his dark brows made a slow climb up his forehead as he contemplated Ambrose. Ambrose gave him an equally studious stare. They communicated more silently than they could ever have hoped to with words.

Booth-Barrows,
I saw you at Lockwood House
.

Ambrose,
And I saw you
.

They both inclined their heads and went their separate ways. Ambrose had decided he’d best walk the direction Booth-Barrows had not, which meant he was headed back to the ballroom. Just as well, since he figured he should dance with another debutante who wasn’t Philippa.

Who to choose? He scanned the wall next to where he entered and immediately saw one of the girls who’d been with Philippa at Lady Dunwoody’s. They hadn’t been introduced, but what did he care? He made his way to her.

“Good evening, I believe we met the other night, Lady…?”

She blinked up at him with pale sea-green eyes. They reminded him of the water surrounding the Roseland Peninsula back home.

“Miss Cheswick,” she supplied. “I’m not sure—”

“Would you care to dance?” While he didn’t frequent London balls, he was certain of her wallflower status by the way her eyes lit.

“I would, my lord.” She dipped a brief curtsey and then he led her onto the dance floor.

The line for the dance was forming, and it was the devil’s luck—or his own—to find himself standing next to Lord Goddamned Allred who was partnered with Philippa.

She looked flushed and lovely. Her delectable lips formed the slightest O of surprise at seeing him, but she quickly masked it by shooting Miss Cheswick a questioning look. Miss Cheswick simply shrugged and gave a mildly bewildered smile. He was glad he’d asked her to dance above anyone else. He only hoped his attention wouldn’t solidify her wallflower status.

The music started as Allred nodded at him. “I say Sevrin, is it true you’re to fight in Dirty Lane on Friday night?”

He hadn’t spoken very loudly, but his voice carried to Philippa, whose head snapped in his direction. Her eyes widened, and he could fairly see the questions trying to tumble from her mouth.

Ambrose nodded. He was a bit surprised Allred would broach this topic in front of ladies in the middle of a dance. “It is.”

“Shame I’ll be at Benfield. I would’ve liked to see you. I’ve heard tell you were quite the contender a few years back.”

“So some say.”

A couple danced between their lines.

“Don’t be modest, man.” Allred gave him an admiring smile, which made Ambrose more uncomfortable than he already was watching Philippa with him. “I recognize a superior sportsman when I see one. You’re obviously quite fit.”

The whole while they conversed, Philippa clearly strained to hear. When they reached the top of the line she stepped out with Allred, but nearly stumbled as her gaze was still pasted on Ambrose.

This wouldn’t do. He sent her a stern glare as he took Miss Cheswick’s hand.

Philippa pursed her lips, but shifted her attention to Allred with a smile. A captivating smile that sent an envious stake straight through Ambrose’s gut.

“I’m pleased to hear you’ll be at Benfield, my lord,” she said. And now Ambrose was the one hanging on her every word. “I so look forward to His Grace’s annual party.”

Allred smiled dashingly, damn the man. “His horse flesh is a wonder to behold.”

“Most definitely. My father has a stallion from His Grace’s stud. He’s going to breed him this year.”

Horses
. Which normally wouldn’t interest Ambrose at all—he despised thinking of the creatures, wrapped up as they were in his own transgressions—but from her lips, they became as fascinating as the strategy of boxing.

“We shall take a ride on Friday,” Allred said. “I can’t resist sampling Holborn’s finest mounts.”

She nodded demurely, flirtatiously. “I should be delighted.”

And suddenly it became imperative that Ambrose attend that infernal house party.

This obsession with a woman he could never have was becoming troublesome. But going to Benfield would allow him to verify her safety, he reasoned. Surely no one could fault him for doing
that
.

Afterward, he’d beat the Irishman to a pulp and recruit Ackley to be Jagger’s champion. Then Philippa would truly be out of his hair, and they’d have absolutely no reason to cross paths.

How disappointing that sounded.

Philippa worked very hard to concentrate on her conversation with Allred and on the dance—a typically easy endeavor that had become nigh impossible with Sevrin dancing behind her. With every turn and tip of her head, she saw him and remembered the way he’d fitted so deliciously against her just a quarter hour ago. How he smelled of sage and sandalwood and man, and how she regretted not kissing him in that closet.

How could she possibly kiss someone else now?

She looked at Allred. With dark russet-colored hair and bright hazel eyes, he was pleasing in his regard, but he simply didn’t spark the sensations that a mere glance from Sevrin ignited into a full conflagration.

She shook her head and tried to focus on what Sevrin had told her. He’d reminded her countless times in word—and in deed because no gentleman would have kissed her like that—that he was an unrepentant scoundrel unworthy and unwanting of her company.

Fine
.

And he was right. She shouldn’t want his help. She should’ve run as far away from him as possible, and she certainly shouldn’t have risked being caught alone with him. If only he hadn’t written that provoking note.

It didn’t matter. She had to marry, and Sevrin was nowhere in that equation. He was correct that Allred was her best choice, and she resolved right then to pursue the match with everything she had. It was that or embrace spinsterhood.

The dance came to a merry conclusion. Philippa was a bit out of breath from the last series of turns. Allred—the consummate athlete—was an excellent dancer. Sevrin, she noted, was every bit as skilled. More importantly, Audrey was smiling giddily. Philippa couldn’t remember the last time her friend had danced. She covertly watched Sevrin as he led Audrey from the dance floor. He could’ve danced with anyone in the ballroom—or no one. Yet, he’d chosen Audrey. For a man who swore he wasn’t a hero, he certainly performed his share of chivalrous acts.

Allred drew Philippa away and she had to turn from Sevrin. “I confess I’m quite looking forward to Benfield now that I know you will be there. Are you staying for the entire party?”

The party was due to last four days. “Yes.”

“How fortuitous.” He gave her hand a squeeze as he wrapped it around his arm.

The rest of the ball passed without note. After her dance with Allred, she’d tried to find Sevrin in the ballroom, but he’d disappeared. Later, she’d spoken with Audrey who’d waxed besottedly about dancing with him. He was so handsome and urbane and witty, and she couldn’t understand how he could still have such a bad reputation. Surely people could forgive him his past behavior if he was reformed?

But was he reformed?

Philippa had become consumed with this thought for the remainder of the evening. The real question was what he was reforming from. She sensed there was more to the story than simply ruining a girl and recalled that Lydia had been about to tell her. She looked over the ballroom for Lydia.

Her mother came up beside her. “Are you ready to leave, Philippa? I am.”

Philippa turned toward her mother, annoyed at being interrupted. “I’m not quite ready. But please feel free to go on without me. I can ride back with Father.”

“Your father has already left. Besides, I’ve a matter to discuss with you.”

Since “a matter to discuss” meant suffering a mountain of criticism, Philippa would’ve rather walked home. But alas, that wasn’t an option. “I suppose.”

Once they were ensconced in the carriage, Mother wasted no time launching her offensive. “You disappeared for a while this evening.”

Philippa’s breathing quickened. What did she know? “Yes.”

“I couldn’t help but notice your departure from the ballroom came directly after Sevrin’s. You assured me there was nothing between you.”

Philippa placed her shaking hands on the cushion beside her legs and hid them beneath the folds of her skirt. “There isn’t. I went to the retiring room. I’d no idea he left at the same time.”

Mother’s eyes flashed. “Don’t lie to me! Walter—that is, Mr. Booth-Barrows—saw you fleeing down the hallway just before Sevrin stepped from a closet. He is an exceptionally smart man, and he put one and one together. You’re Sevrin’s mystery woman. That is how you knew I was at Lockwood House.”

Finally
. Though she hated that her mother knew the truth, she was—in a peculiar way—relieved. She was also ready to defend herself. “I didn’t go there with him.”

“But you don’t deny being there with him.” She frowned deeply and folded her arms over her chest. “Tell me everything.”

Her mother’s outrage was more than a bit sanctimonious. “Including the part where I saw you go into that room with three other people? Good heavens, Mother, what’s happened to you? Why are you treating me like I’ve done something hideous when you’ve gone beyond the pale?”

“This is not about me! And you can’t compare our situations.” Her face was flushed and her light brown eyes spat fire. Philippa had seen her disappointed, irritated, frustrated, but never this livid. “What were you doing with him at Lockwood House?”

“I told you why I went there. I followed you. But I had no idea where I was. How was I to know you’d gone to a
vice party
? I went inside, and Lord Sevrin was kind enough to help me escape without my identity being discovered.”

“
Yet
! We’ve no idea how this will play out.” She sucked in a breath and pressed her hands to her cheeks. After a moment, she spoke more evenly. “Your tale might be believable if not for the fact that you were with him in the prop room.”

“Only so I could change into a new dress.” Oh, this didn’t even sound believable to her, but then the entire evening had been fraught with events one might expect to find in a novel instead of real life. And though it was the truth, inviting a known scoundrel to play the role of lady’s maid was scandalous regardless of the location. But she’d done the best she could, and she wouldn’t apologize for it.

Mother’s stern gaze brimmed with censure. “You’re ruined.”

She suffered a moment’s panic. Her chest felt tight, and she worked to draw a deep breath. “I’m not. No one knows.”

“Then it seems you’ve more than one reason to seek a hasty marriage. Mark my words Philippa, this will not remain secret forever. Someone else will figure it out, especially if you keep drawing attention to yourself with Sevrin. Dancing with him at Lady Dunwoody’s? Leaving the ballroom tonight in close proximity to him? These mistakes may yet prove fatal.”

“Forgive me if I find your counsel hypocritical, given your own behavior.” Even so, Philippa couldn’t deny she was treading dangerously close to indiscretion. She liked Sevrin, was attracted to him, would encourage his suit if he offered it.

Her mother sucked in a breath and then shook her head. “Your lack of respect is horrendous.”

“I’m happy to give respect where it’s due.” She narrowed her eyes, having had enough of her mother’s needling over the years. “For you to behave as you have after alternately ramming propriety and grace down my throat and ignoring me… It’s unconscionable. Would you at least do me the courtesy of leaving off being critical? I think we’re quite past that. Either way, I’ll no longer be your problem in less than thirty days.”