Wicked Wager (15 page)

“I don’t think ‘like’ is the right word. I’m sure it’s all the fashion, but still…” A muscle twitched in his jaw. A moment later he jerked his gaze away and took her arm to guide her down the hall after the footman.

****

Bloody hell! She looks like a Cyprian!
Marcus could hardly control his dismay. Considering what she’d worn the day before, he should have expected this. But no one had seen her in that gown except the servants. Now she was on display for all of London society. The thought made him grit his teeth as they climbed the stairs to the ballroom.

He told himself there were undoubtedly women here wearing much more scandalous attire. Madame Dubonet catered to the most fashionable of London women, so there was really nothing improper about the dress. And Penny did look stunning. Once again the modiste had managed to make the most of Penny’s natural beauty. The blue color made her skin look like ivory silk and set off her eyes. The tight, low-cut bodice highlighted the perfect shape of her breasts and her elegant neck. And the narrow column of the skirt emphasized her long legs and clung to her delicious little bottom. She looked like a wet dream come to life. Merely the sight of her made him yearn to find an empty bedroom and spend the rest of the evening ravishing her.

But he could hardly do that. She was his fiancée, not his mistress. While a number of sexual liaisons would undoubtedly take place in the bedrooms over the course of the ball, they would be between married women and their lovers. It would be completely inappropriate for him to do the same thing with the young woman who was to be his wife.

Besides, she’d said she was looking forward to this ball, and it would be inconsiderate of him to interfere with her enjoyment of the event. With that thought in mind, he sought to ignore his body’s response and follow through with his proper role.

They reached the ballroom. Marcus gave their names to the footman and led Penny into the room.

****

She’d never seen so many candles. Two huge chandeliers and several candelabras arranged around the room cast a brilliant light on the assemblage. Everyone was beautifully attired in shimmering silks, sheer muslins, and sumptuous woolens. Jewels sparkled on necks, fingers, wrists, and earlobes while feathers adorned exotic-looking headdresses. Penny wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she felt positively underdressed. At the same time, she was relieved to discover her gown wasn’t the sheerest or most low-cut in the room. Not by any means. She would blend in quite well. Of course, blending in wasn’t part of her plan. To arouse Revington’s jealousy, she needed to attract the interest of other men.

In grave tones, the butler announced them: “Mr. Marcus Revington and Miss Penelope Montgomery.” A few people turned their way, but many others continued on with their conversations.

Revington led her through the throng, nodding politely and occasionally stopping to introduce her to someone. Penny found herself clinging to his arm for dear life and telling herself to smile.
Smile and nod. Don’t think about the fact you’re an awkward, gawky miss from the country. At this moment you’re Revington’s fiancée, and he appears to be acquainted with many of the guests.

Despite her admonishments to herself, her heart seemed to be fluttering in her chest like a trapped bird as she responded to the people they met. There could be no doubt she was being shrewdly evaluated, her importance quickly assessed. Several women narrowed their eyes, as if seeing her as competition, which meant she must appear reasonably attractive. But the majority of the women glanced at her briefly and then looked away. The men were a bit more positive. Many of them gave her interested or even frankly lustful looks.

She tried to take note of which men seemed likely prospects to help her carry out her plan. Unfortunately, most of the men they encountered were either elderly or very young. She could hardly expect Revington to become jealous of a man old enough to be her grandfather, or a spotty-cheeked boy, either.

She finally felt a spark of hope as they neared a tall fair-haired man who was openly perusing her body.

“Hello, Charles,” Revington greeted the man in cool tones.

“Marcus,” Charles responded. “And who is this beauteous creature?”

“My fiancée, Miss Penelope Montgomery.” Revington seemed to force the words out, as if being civil to this man was a chore.

“Charmed, Miss Montgomery.” Charles bowed, his gaze lingering on her décolletage. He turned to Revington. “Getting leg-shackled, are you, Marcus? Well, well. I suppose if a man must lose his freedom, it should be to a luscious chit like this one.” Once more, he looked at Penny, his green eyes so intent, she felt herself blush.

“Indeed.” Revington’s hand gripped her arm tightly as he drew her away.

“Who was that?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Charles Lambson.”

“I couldn’t help noticing that you seem to be…not on the best terms. Is there some reason you dislike him?”

“The man is an arrogant cockscomb. I’d advise you to stay well clear of him.”

Penny nodded agreeably, although she realized she must do the exact opposite. Regardless of Revington’s opinion of the man, he was the only one who’d shown serious interest in her, and she was running out of options if she was going to find a way to arouse Revington’s jealousy.

****

If that bastard Lambson didn’t quit gawking, he had half a mind to call him out! M
arcus took a deep breath and told himself to let it go. Lambson could gawk all he wanted. Penny was marrying
him
.

At the thought, he felt a stab of intense possessiveness. Penny was indeed a “beauteous creature” and he was very fortunate. If he could just get through the next few weeks, he’d not only fulfill his dream of owning property, but have the additional bonus of a beautiful and desirable wife. It was quite remarkable really. Few men, especially younger sons, were ever so fortunate.

But as he glanced at Penny again, a warning sounded in his head. He couldn’t allow himself to feel this warm glow of affection every time he looked at her. This was the response of a man who was close to being smitten. He had to put his emotions in perspective. What he felt for Penny was no more than simple gratification at his auspicious circumstances, and the normal response any man would have to an attractive woman. Her effect on him was no different than the one she had on Lambson, or any of the men here who had eyes in their head.

Maybe the only way to quell these intense feelings was for him to get away from Penny for a time. But if he was going off by himself, he needed to find some place where she’d be safe from the worst of the lechers in attendance. He’d take her to the refreshment room where he could pretend he was being solicitous by making certain she had something to eat and drink. As soon as she was settled with a cup of punch and a plate of food, he’d excuse himself and go to the library where the other men who were avoiding dancing and gossiping with the ladies were gathered.

****

The man was so predictable! Penny thought with a surge of irritation as she glanced around the refreshment room. Once again, he’d abandoned her. After handing her a cup of lemonade and gesturing toward the several tables spread with delicious-looking food, Revington muttered something about needing to track down someone regarding a business arrangement. Then he vanished.

But she shouldn’t be upset. Revington was giving her exactly the opportunity she needed. She finished her lemonade, then placed the cup on a tray held out by a footman and started back to the ballroom.

The musicians were playing, and she paused inside the doorway to watch the couples moving gracefully across the gleaming parquet floor. She searched the spectators gathered around the edge of the room, looking for Mr. Lambson. She finally spied him talking to an elegant dark-haired woman with white feathers in her hair. Watching the woman smile at Lambson and observing him smiling back, Penny wondered if she would have to find some other man for her scheme. But then Lambson looked in her direction and saw her watching him. He turned to the other woman, spoke a few words, and excused himself with a bow.

As Lambson made his way through the crowd, clearly headed her direction, her heart beat wildly. What in the world was she doing? She didn’t have a clue what to say to him. Besides, her plan would only work if Revington saw them, and at this moment he was nowhere to be found.

“Miss Montgomery.” Lambson took her hand, then executed a low bow. “I’m stunned to find you alone. A great beauty such as you should be surrounded by admirers. Whatever is your fiancé thinking, to leave you unattended?”

“I…he had some sort of business to attend to.”

“Ah, business.” Lambson’s green eyes bored into her. “How very like Revington, to put business before pleasure. But his loss is obviously my gain. Would you care to dance, Miss Montgomery?”

Although she’d done some dancing at the local village parties and knew the basic steps of country-dances and the quadrille, she was not skilled enough for such sophisticated company. “I-I’m not an accomplished dancer. I fear I’ll step on your feet.”

Lambson laughed, showing strong white teeth. “I doubt that very much. You strike me as a woman who’s far too naturally graceful to step on a man’s foot.”

“But even so, I worry I’ll embarrass myself.” She sought to smile winsomely. “Perhaps later in the evening, when there aren’t so many people watching.”

Lambson smiled back at her. “Of course. We’ll dance later.” He leaned nearer. “For now, perhaps we could find some quiet place to talk.”

Warning bells rang in her head. Revington had advised her to avoid this man, and her instincts also told her to be wary. Lambson’s manner was so practiced and smooth. No doubt he frequently sought out inexperienced women to seduce.

“I really shouldn’t wander too far from the ballroom. My fiancé expects to find me here.”

“Ah, your fiancé.” Lambson smiled sourly. “Typical behavior for Revington, you know. Goes off on his own at the first opportunity, but expects you to wait for him. Do you truly want to appear so dutiful and predictable?”

“I suppose not.” Penny pretended to play along. “It might be fun to worry him a bit.”

Lambson beamed at her. “Precisely.” He took Penny’s hand. “Come along then. I know just the place.”

Penny allowed him to lead her from the ballroom, telling herself she mustn’t let this cunning and manipulative man take her anywhere too isolated. He led her down the hallway, but when he started for the upstairs, she balked. “I don’t think I should leave the public areas.”

For a second, Lambson’s eyes gleamed with annoyance. Then he regained his poise. “Of course. I’m certain we can find a private place down here.” Still holding her hand, he led her back to the ballroom and through the crowd. Penny knew a surge of satisfaction. This was ideal. Someone was bound to notice them. Then when Revington came back and asked around…She repressed a smile, thinking about how angry he would be.

The next moment, she experienced a twinge of doubt. Her goal was to make him jealous, not irate. What would he think when he found she’d left with a man he’d explicitly warned her against?

As they reached the other side of the ballroom, Penny pulled from Lambson’s grasp. “If all you want to do is talk, we can certainly do that here.”

Again she observed a crack in Lambson’s aura of agreeable charm. “I thought you wanted to make Revington sweat a bit. Surely you’re clever enough to realize you can’t allow him to take you for granted if you want him to have any interest in you at all.”

“I do realize that. But going off alone with you is not the best means of gaining his regard.”

Lambson regained his silky-voiced charm. Gently retrieving her hand, he said, “You’re quite right, Miss Montgomery. But there’s no reason we can’t step outside for a moment. It’s so stuffy in here.”

Penny nodded and allowed Lambson to escort her through a doorway at the far side of the room. At the end of the hallway, a pair of wide double doors opened out onto a veranda. As they reached it, Penny let out a sigh. It was much more pleasant out here, with a soft breeze cooling her heated skin. She turned to look at the mansion, admiring the way the lights gleaming from the many windows contrasted with the velvety darkness all around.

It was a lovely, romantic setting. If only Revington were here, holding her hand in his firm calloused grip. She imagined his tall form beside her. His subtle scent of leather, wool, and maleness drifting to her on the night air. His strong arms around her and his mouth on hers.

With a shiver of longing, she sought to shake off the thought. The next moment, Lambson drew her tightly against his body and lowered his mouth to hers.

“Sir!” She jerked away. “I thought we came out here to talk!”

“You’re so lovely. I simply can’t resist.” He fingered a curl that had escaped from her chignon, then lightly caressed the nape of her neck.

Despite the gentleness of his touch, the determined look on his face filled her with anxiety. She should never have done this. If Revington found them, he would be enraged. He might even challenge Lambson to a duel. The thought of Revington dying or being injured panicked her.

“I must get back!” Penny twisted away. Lambson caught her wrist and pulled her hard against his body. She struggled. “Let go or I’ll scream!”

“Then what?” Lambson sneered. “Everyone saw you go out here willingly.”

She was trapped. He was much stronger. But that might not matter. Recalling something Tad had told her years ago, she stomped on Lambson’s instep as hard as she could.

He let out an exclamation of pain. His grip loosened; she whirled away and dashed through the double doors and down the hall. Behind her, he shouted, “Vicious little bitch!”

Near the entrance to the ballroom, she slowed and sought to compose herself. She must pretend nothing had happened. Pretend she’d never left with Lambson. Instead of entering the ballroom the way she’d left, she’d go around to the other doorway.

She moved swiftly, practically running. At the corner, she halted. Revington approached, a murderous-looking expression on his face.