Carnal Deceptions (14 page)

“I do appreciate all he’s done,” Tess said as she scrutinized the men in the room. The man who had come to her rescue earlier still seemed to be eyeing her from across the room, and the smile that had at first struck her as charming seemed altogether insincere now. Of course, the man had to be Sloan.

Lady Stadwell seemed to realize that Tess had already picked him out of the crowd. She grabbed Tess’s gloved hand. “My nephew was correct. My plan was ridiculous. I

was not considering the danger you would be in. Please, Tess, let’s not give it another thought.”

“The heartache he’s caused both of us is worth the risk.” Tess gave Lady Stadwell’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “You needn’t worry, I will give him no occasion to injure me further. And I will see that he does not leave any other ruined lives in his wake.” Tess shot a look in Sloan’s direction. He appeared to be deep in conversation with an elderly couple. His expression constantly shifted, alternating from raised eyebrows to quirked lips to a toothy grin. He appeared to be fascinated by every word the couple uttered. “I assure you the beast is at this very moment searching out his next victim.”

Lady Stadwell’s pale eyes looked near to tears. “This is all my fault. If I had not put the notion in your head—”

“Pray, do not torture yourself, Lady Stadwell. You have been nothing but kind and generous toward me. The choices I make are my own.”

“My nerves. I am sure I will not be able to swallow one bite at the table this evening.” Lady Stadwell pressed her hand against her waist.

“You will make yourself ill. I won’t do anything foolish. You have my promise,” Tess assured her. But truthfully, she was not feeling completely sure of her own actions. When it came time to seduce Sloan, she was not completely convinced she would have the stomach for it. The only man who had ever touched her intimately was Lord Marcliffe, and she could not imagine anyone except him ever touching her.

As soon as Lady Stadwell’s attention was diverted by an acquaintance, Tess disobeyed her wishes and left her side. Tess wandered to the pianoforte and plucked a booklet of music from the stand. She peered at him over the top of the pages. And when he sensed her notice, she dropped her lashes in a slow, flirtatious fashion. She managed to catch his eye twice more before dinner was announced. Tess was certain her tutor, Lydia Midwinter, would be proud.

The expected invitation was made. “May I be so bold as to escort you to the table, Miss Starling?” The silky voice came from behind. Sloan crooked his arm in offer. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the sleeve of his coat. It made him frighteningly real. She forced a smile as they followed the others into the dining room. This was it. The opportunity could not have presented itself more easily, and yet she wanted to dash from the house and run into the wet night. With a gallant flourish, Sloan pulled out her chair. Ignoring the grumbling of the man for whom the hostess intended the seat, Sloan plunked

down beside her. Tess didn’t dare look in Lady Stadwell’s direction because she knew her vexation would be great.

Hoping for courage, she took a long sip of wine and then another. “How is it that you know my name? I am at a disadvantage, sir, for I do not know yours.”

“I fancy myself quite the researcher. If I find something that interests me, I am quick to learn all that I can about it,” he said.

“So this evening I have become the subject of your research?”

His smile was greasier than the dressed pigeons on the platters. “In a sense. I am William Sloan. I once did business with a Viscount Starling. Are you related?”

Hearing her father’s name from his lips made her want to slap him. She set down the goblet in fear she would snap the delicate stem. “He was my father.” Her words were barely audible.

“Yes, sorry to hear about him. I’d heard he'd suffered a reversal in fortune.”

Tess wanted to scream. The gall of the man talking about her father as if he had not been the reason for his suicide. His callousness only served to reinforce her resolve.

“I understand you are a house guest of the Earl of Marcliffe.” The man was a wizard at prying. No doubt he’d gleaned all the important bits of gossip with one stroll around the ballroom. “Did he appoint himself your guardian?” A sinister twist of his lips defined what was meant by the word “guardian”.

Her cheeks reddened at his insulting suggestion, particularly because there was truth to it. She had so very nearly become the earl’s mistress.

His eyes widened in mock innocence. “I meant no disrespect, I assure you,” he lied smoothly. “I only thought, because of your orphaned state, that Marcliffe had taken you under his wing.”

“I have not seen the earl since I arrived in town. I am visiting with his aunt, Lady Stadwell.” Tess swirled her fork through her food, too queasy to actually taste any of it. “Are you an acquaintance of the earl?”

“We attended the same university, but I soon learned that it was best to avoid his company. And I advise you to do the same. He has the honor of a highwayman.”

“If I happened upon a highwayman who resembled Lord Marcliffe, I’d welcome being robbed,” the woman next to Tess said with a laugh.

The man across the table shook his head. “Frightful wound he suffered in Spain.”

Soon, the number of enemy soldiers Lord Marcliffe had dispatched was bandied around the table.

“’Tis a pity how some of these lords rewrite history to suit their own glory.” Sloan followed his bitter words with a grin.

Lord Kempstone peered around his wife and frowned at Sloan. “Bad form, speaking of a man who ain’t here to defend himself.” Lord Kempstone’s timid-looking wife gave him a discreet nudge with her elbow, and he sat back in his chair.

Tess lowered her voice so that only Sloan could hear her and batted her lashes for effect. “Do you suppose all the valiant tales I’ve heard of Lord Marcliffe were the inventions of the man himself?” If she could betray the man she loved, then she might be ruthless enough to succeed.

“Sad but true, I fear. If you knew the man better, an intuitive girl such as yourself would quickly see through his lies.”

Tess brought a gloved hand to her throat. “Your compliment is most undeserved. While I do consider myself clever in some small way, I assure you, I am not keen enough to see through layers of deceit if they are presented as the truth.” With luck, by the end of the dinner, Sloan would be convinced that his newest conquest was the naïve daughter of a viscount. He raised his glass in silent toast to an elderly woman who was bedecked in sapphires and diamonds. Never had she met such a loathsome man.

The entire ride home, Lady Stadwell lectured her about the dangers of the scoundrel she was cozying up to, while Tess was preoccupied with the means she’d used to gain points with Sloan, siding with him against Lord Marcliffe, practically agreeing that the man could not live up to the legend.

Frustration from the long, tedious ride had set Tallon’s teeth on edge. It was a trip he could have made in half the time if not for his horse’s temperament. The clamor of London made Dante unmanageable. The instant the rented cab pulled up before the townhouse Tallon leapt to the street. He did not bother announcing himself at the door. Instead he walked around to the garden, unlatched the gate and entered through the french doors. He found Cyrus slumped in a parlor chair, snuffling in his sleep. The room was chill, the hearth grate empty. Tallon nudged Cyrus with his boot, and the big man shot to his feet.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you in town so soon, Major, sir. I mean, your lordship.”

Tallon smiled. After serving for so long as his sergeant, Cyrus found it hard to shake old habits of address. “My aunt, is she away?”

Cyrus smiled, his eyes crinkled in mirth. “Aye. And the lass ain’t here either. Went to the Gray’s for yet another ball.”

Tallon headed to his chambers and yanked fresh linen and a tailcoat and trousers from his wardrobe and tossed them on the bed. After washing away the dust and sweat of the day’s travel, he soaped his face and with unsteady hands he wielded a razor.

Pressing his fingers to the nick on his throat, he called down from the landing, “Cyrus, do me the favor. I’m cutting myself bloody.”

Cyrus thumped up the stairs. He took the razor with a chuckle and followed Tallon into the room. “You look as if you’ve murdered yourself.”

Cyrus slung a towel over his shoulder and wiped the blade clean on it. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he scraped the razor along Tallon’s jaw. “Never seen you this way, sir. You are in a lather over this one.”

“I have unfinished business with the chit.” To say the least. Unfinished business before the altar and unfinished business in the bedchamber, and not necessarily in that order.

Cyrus wet the towel and dabbed the blood from Tallon’s face and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Excellent.” Tallon stroked his freshly shaven face. He peered into the small mirror on the wall above the washstand and smoothed back his hair with dampened fingers. His hands still shaking, he turned up his collar and took the cravat from the bed.

“Would you go with wrinkled linen?” Cyrus plucked the cravat from his fingers. “Jane will see to your neck cloth. If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, you could use a valet.”

“Are you volunteering for the job?” “Perhaps.”

Tallon slipped on his waistcoat. “I don’t recall a Jane.”

“Your aunt hired her just this week. Chatters on a bit too much, enough to give me a blasted headache. But she’s an industrious sort.” Cyrus snatched up the top hat on his way out the door. “This could use a good brushing.

“Have the stable boy fetch the trap,” Tallon called after him.

The cold night air in the open vehicle lashed back his hair but did not cool the fervor in his veins. He tugged on his high collar, pulling it away from the sensitive skin of his throat. Barely keeping his mind on the road, he sped toward his destination. His rapid maneuvers through the chaotic streets brought him the ire of fellow drivers. But he was too busy rehearsing his speech to pay but passing notice.

The line of carriages extended the length of the street. Tallon dropped down from the trap and took his hat from the seat. He adjusted his neck cloth and strode with purpose toward the front door. Though uninvited, he was ushered in by the servant with an obsequious bow.

Tallon stood at the edge of the room and scanned the crowd, nodding absently at those who greeted him. It took him only a moment to spot her. Beadle was right about one thing. Her coloring was brilliant.

His aunt was suddenly beside him. She seized his arm and steered him toward the refreshment table. Laden with unappetizing fare and bowls of insipid punch, it was completely abandoned.

“She has demurred all overtures…except one,” Lady Stadwell said.

The words made his heart thunder in his chest. “Kempstone?” Tallon still possessed the porcelain snuffbox. He had no intention of returning it. If he wouldn’t accept payment for it, then Kempstone would get it back in shards.

His aunt’s mouth pulled into a sour frown. “Not Kempstone. He’s found himself a partner. Though he has a tendency of forgetting his mouse of a wife whenever Tess is present.” She signaled theatrically with her eyes that someone was approaching Tallon from behind.

A heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder. Tallon turned and found himself face to face with the golden boy. Sloan was attired like a gentleman, but there was something too slick, too oily about the presentation. His teeth gleamed in a boyish grin. “Marcliffe, I thought you hated these things.”

“Some nights more than others,” Tallon said dryly, though he thought a fist through the sparkling smile a more appropriate response. But he would not humiliate his aunt. She wanted Sloan’s misdeeds to be punished, yet she did not want a connection made between her and the man. Only a very tight circle of acquaintances knew that he had taken her husband for a small fortune.

“I heard you tired of that pretty little mistress of yours. Miss Sparkes, was it?”

What Tallon wouldn’t give to remove Sloan’s smirk permanently. “I suppose the fact that she is available makes her less interesting to you.”

Sloan’s nostrils flared. “Truthfully, I prefer something shiny and new.” The last was said in a hushed voice with an eye to Lady Stadwell. He moved to the table and filled two cups with punch. “If you will excuse me, Lady Stadwell,” he said with a dip of his head and hurried away.

The ominous tone of his aunt’s words finally registered.
Except one.
And then he watched as Sloan presented a cup to Tess. Her pale green eyes glittered up at him as though she were gazing at the stars.

Tallon’s hands curled into rigid fists.

“’Tis an act, nothing more. She means to catch him at something. She will not be dissuaded.” His aunt placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Pardon my indelicacy. Almost from the moment we arrived in London, he was intrigued. Once he had an inkling that you might be her benefactor, he was drawn to Tess like a magnet. Just as I had predicted.”

At that precise moment, Sloan looked over at him. With a self-satisfied grin, he raised a silent toast with the cup of punch. Tallon had never broken a man’s neck with his bare hands, but he thought now would be the perfect time to try his talent for it.

“I think it best you go home, Nephew.”

He removed his aunt’s restraining hand from his arm. “Not just yet.” “Miss Starling,” Tallon said as he approached.

She swiveled around and punch splashed out of her cup just missing his feet. She blushed to the tips of her perfect little ears, looking soft and kittenish and wholly adorable. She flicked her fan open and began fluttering it in front of her pink cheeks. “Your aunt has missed you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes seemed to plead with him not to give her away.

“It is nice to be missed,” Tallon responded.

He could feel Sloan’s agitation at the few words they exchanged.

Sloan shifted closer to Tess so that his arm grazed hers. “Your career as a soldier is still the talk of the town. We thought, Miss Starling and I, that perhaps your exploits were a bit overstated. I certainly cannot fault you, for what man would not make himself bigger than life to attract female admiration?”