Desperate and Daring 01 - Desperate and Daring (5 page)

Fallon watched her go in a peculiar calm. Very little riled him these days, but Miss Heather Everly inspired a sort of rabid curiosity in him. It was such a shame, a bloody damn shame, and yet it wasn’t the first nor the last time a young woman would be foisted onto a decrepit aristocrat for the sake of money. The poor girl looked as though she were sentenced to the gallows. Should he be insulted on the old duke’s behalf? Fallon snorted as he took his seat behind the desk. He sat back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head. Damn but her lips were soft. Like a feather brushed against one’s skin.

She was determined, he’d give her that much. The kiss was a bold move on his part, but he couldn’t help it. She reminded him of home. He leaned forward in his chair and resumed his message to be sent to the Foal and Mare first thing in the morning. It was fortunate Lady Endervale found him charming enough to participate with the guests. His youth and looks were an advantage he never tired of. Signing with a flourish, he sanded the paper and folded it. He sealed the missive and then stood. It was still early, but it would be pointless to join the other guests if Miss Everly were not in attendance. She was, after all, his purpose for being here. Tomorrow, he would have to recover the ground he lost and find a way to earn her trust. He would need more allies in the household, a maid or two, even Lady Endervale herself. It shouldn’t be difficult. As curious as he was about Miss Everly, the guests were equally or more so about the Duke of Ablehill. The questions were never ending, their eyes bright with interest about a man no one cared to personally know, but only gossip about.

Fallon blew out the lamp and headed for the billiard room. He wanted to get a feel for the gentlemen in the house, and their views on Miss Everly.

Fallon reached the billiard room as gentlemen were removing their jackets in preparation of a game. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one looking for a little distraction.

“Good evening.” He stopped as he entered.

“Calder, old boy. Do join us.” Lord Jonathan Rigsby waved him over. He received polite nods from Mr. Hughes and Sir Stanley, but Lord Draven stood back in the corner and drew from a cigar.

Fallon entered and removed his jacket. “You’ve already even numbers, but I’d like to watch if I may.”

“Nonsense. Do take my place. I like to watch.” Lord Draven’s deep voice said from the corner. The glow as he pulled from the cigar lit his eyes eerily.

“My thanks,” Fallon said tentatively.

Lord Rigsby handed him a stick and took the first shot. There was silence except the sound of balls knocking together followed by curses.

“You’ve already sunk half the balls,” Sir Stanley grumbled.

Lord Rigsby smiled triumphantly. “We’ll take stripes.”

They continued to play in comfortable silence, the clink of balls, tumblers, and shuffling feet filling the room. Fallon enjoyed it immensely. He had been secluded for so long he forgot what it felt like to be surrounded by others, particularly others his own age of similar pursuits. Particularly, the pursuit of women. He thought about how to phrase a question to get answers without revealing overmuch.

“So what’s the old man like,” Lord Draven’s dark timber interrupted.

“Beg pardon?” Fallon said after he finished his shot.

“The duke,” Draven said flatly.

Fallon cut his eyes to the side before turning to sip from his glass. “The duke? I suppose the easiest answer is that all the rumors are most likely true.”

Chuckles rumbled throughout the room.

“He’s looking for a wife?”

Interesting
, Fallon thought. “Aren’t we all?” he said with sarcasm.

“Those of us that can afford one,” Draven answered.

Fallon smiled at the barb. He expected to be reminded of his place. And often. “All men of great holdings need heirs.”

“Not I, at least not yet. I’ve no wish to be leg shackled anytime soon.” Rigsby laughed.

“Then why attend this party?” Fallon asked in curiosity.

“My mother. She has other plans for my matrimonial state.”

More chuckles.

“It’s not a bad lot. It was a pleasant view from where I sat at the dinner table,” Mr. Hughes added.

Bingo. Fallon kept his face impassive as he moved around the table. “Which view was that? I dare say I had a pleasing vista as well, but I’m merely a seat filler for the duke.”

“Miss Everly.”

“Oh, yes, she was entertaining, and beautiful,” Sir Stanley agreed.

Fallon felt his fingers tighten around the stick. “Oh, really?” He felt eyes on his back.

“But she is unofficially claimed, is she not?” Draven’s voice said from the shadows.

Fallon briefly looked over his shoulder before turning back to the table. “So it would seem. But the duke has yet to meet her, and I gather she might choose otherwise if she knew she had the ability.” He looked up at Hughes and Stanley. They both looked uncomfortable.

“Tis unfortunate about the lack of dowry,” the dark voice said.

It was like a devil on Fallon’s shoulder. He felt the urge to flick it off. “Is that such a hindrance?”

“For some.”

Fallon again felt the gaze boring into his back. What was Draven’s angle? Hughes and Stanley kept their eyes averted and downcast. “A boon for the duke then. He is always pleased to get what he wants, especially if he feels it was taken from someone else’s hand.”

The dark voice rumbled with laughter behind him. “A man after my own heart. Perhaps he would like a little sporting competition?”

At this, Fallon turned slowly and peered into the dark. “Sporting, you say?” He let the sarcasm settle into the silence.

“Yes, sporting,” Draven finally answered.

Fallon didn’t detect any malice. Perhaps Draven was a good sport. “Do you intend to pursue Miss Everly then?”

“That is the game, isn’t it?”

Fallon loosened his grip on the stick lest he break it. “Is it? Would you intentionally mislead her or is your interest genuine?” The tension was getting thicker now, but Fallon wasn’t about to encourage this rake to toy with Miss Everly.

“Draven, you’re sucking the fun from the room again. May we continue playing? All this talk of marriage is making me itch.”

Wary laughter was heard from Hughes and Stanley. Stanley took his turn, almost ending the game.

“This room stinks. I’m getting some air.” Draven pushed away from the wall and left the billiard room, a cloud of cigar smoke trailing him. The door clicked shut behind him.

Fallon wanted to groan. The last thing he needed right now was an enemy in the house. The others looked around hesitantly. “My apologies if I have overstepped.”

Rigsby shrugged. “Draven likes tension. He enjoys playing the villain. Think nothing of it.” He took a shot and won the game.

“Be that as it may, I think I will retire. Enjoy your evening.” He bowed to them and departed. The halls were dark as he headed to his room, moonlight streaming like glowing ribbons through the windows. He thought of Miss Everly suddenly, wondered if the same moonlight would be shining on her sleeping form or if her curtains would be shut tightly against the night. He shook his head. He had no business wondering such things.

*

Draven pushed out the back door and cursed colorfully as he crushed his cigar beneath his foot. It was bitterly cold, the sky clear, the moon bright. He pulled another cigar from his coat pocket and bit the end.

“Whose there?” a woman’s voice gasped.

Draven squinted into the darkness. “Tis I, Lord Draven.”

“Oh.” A cloaked figure stepped out from behind a tree. “Good evening, Lord Draven.”

Draven smiled and bowed. “Lady Anabelle.” She was covered in a dark cape, hood up, one glowing pale ringlet falling down over her shoulder.
What was this?
He wondered curiously.

“I can’t help but wonder what you would be doing out here. Alone?”

“Just gathering my thoughts.”

He snorted. “In this cold?”

“You don’t believe me?” she returned tartly. She was slowly walking towards him.

He was blocking the only way back into the house. He widened his stance. “It’s hard to believe.”

“I was not here waiting for you, if that is what you mean.”

Draven could feel laughter rumbling in his chest, but he only smiled. “No, not me, but perhaps another?”

“How dare you say such a thing?” Her tone was as frigid as the air around them.

This time he did laugh, and he believed her. Such righteous indignation! “Then what, may I ask, were you thinking about?” The question surprised him as much as it clearly surprised her.

“I—it’s none of your business, now is it? I would like to go inside if you would please step aside.”

“But we’ve only just begun conversing? And on an honest level no doubt. No drawing room drivel when one’s breathe crystallizes the air and the moon makes your fair skin as smooth as whipped cream.”

She was silent, her lips slightly open, her eyes unreadable in the shadow of her hood. But he knew he had shocked her. He let the silence stretch, eager for where it would lead. “Well?” It was a challenge. She would either withdraw or parry.

“I had no idea you were a poet, Lord Draven. I thank you for the pretty compliment. Now, if you would let me pass.” She took a step forward, now within arm’s reach.

Was it an invitation, or an attempt to force him to move? Only one way to find out. “Are you cold, Lady Anabelle? I’d be happy to provide needed warmth.” He watched the pale column of her throat swallow.

“I only wish to return indoors. There is plenty of warmth there.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun. I wonder… what color your eyes are in the moonlight.” He thought he heard her inhale.

“I wouldn’t know,” she answered calmly.

Draven considered his next move. She was a complete innocent with a pristine reputation. What could he persuade her to do? “Would you let me see?”

“You wish to see my eyes?”

“I do.” And he really did. Would this prim and proper miss transform into a moonlit goddess?

She hesitated. “And then you will allow me to pass?”

He nodded.

She sighed. Her breath puffed out between them like a silky cloud. She pulled back her hood, but the moon was behind her, her eyes still pools of darkness.

He shook his head then quickly took her arm and they switched places. “There.” He held her arm still and looked over her face. Her skin was luminescent in the light, her eyes sparkling and otherworldly. “Why, it’s devastating.”

“Devastating?” she said breathily.

The sound heated his blood. She was not unaffected by him. “You are so beautiful in the moonlight it almost hurts to look at you. What would it be like to taste you?”

Her arm tensed under his hand. Her eyes and nostril flared as she inhaled quickly.

“May I?” he asked. After all, he wasn’t a complete scoundrel.

She shook her head. “No, Lord Draven. You may not.”

“Why not?” he asked wickedly, the corner of his mouth curving up.

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“All the best sins aren’t.” He smiled fully now. “How can I convince you to be a little wicked, Lady Anabelle?”

“You can’t. Please let me go inside.”

He released her arm. “As you wish, but you will regret it.”

She had begun to turn, but paused and looked back at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You will never know what delights you are missing. The heaven that can be found in a single kiss. It is a shame, Lady Anabelle.” He let his tongue curl around the L in her name like a caress. She still only looked at him. Was she changing her mind? “Have I convinced you to sin? It almost seems too easy.”

Her eyes sparked at him and she turned up her nose. “Goodnight, Lord Draven.” She turned away with a whip of cloak and entered the house. Ethan chuckled. He felt like a satyr, tempting a maiden with wicked promises. She may have denied him, but she definitely would be thinking about him. That thought curled in his abdomen like a lick of flame around wood. He wasn’t normally tempted by virgins. What had come over him? He shrugged, felt the cold permeate his coat, and returned to the house.

Heather felt dazed as she followed Violet into breakfast. Her sleep had been erratic, the same dream occurring over and over. She dreamt of him, Mr. Calder, and the gentle kiss he had given her. But in her dream, she hadn’t been afraid—no, not afraid. Because in the light of day, she knew in her heart she could never be afraid of him. It was herself she was afraid of. In her dream, she kissed him back, without fear, without hesitation or thoughts of ruin. She had kissed him back because she wanted to. In her dream, he looked deeply into her eyes, his smile lighting a fire in her she had never felt before, and so she kissed him. Each time she dreamt of him, she kissed him.

And each time she kissed him, she would jolt herself awake. She was at odds with herself, torn between what she must do, and what she secretly wanted to do.

She quickly scanned the room as they entered, relieved to not see him immediately. Round tables had been set up informally, and guests could serve themselves from the sideboard. She nodded to those closest in greeting and went to make herself a plate. Taking a seat beside her mother, she sat down and accepted a cup of tea from a footman.

“Where are all the gentlemen?” Violet asked as she spooned eggs into her mouth.

“Riding, I’ve been told, but they shall return shortly for the games.”

“Games?” Heather asked.

“A scavenger hunt, then lawn bowling after luncheon.”

“Sounds delightful!” Violet smiled with excitement.

Heather smiled half-heartedly. She was happy to see Violet had regained her spirits but was having trouble finding her own. “When does the scavenger hunt begin?”

“After breakfast we will meet in the drawing room to wait for the gentlemen,” her mother replied.

“Why must we always be waiting for the gentlemen?” Primrose said in irritation.

“Now, Prim.” Her mother adopted a lecturing tone.

Heather tuned them out as she stared down at her cup of tea. Would she have to face him? If the line up into dinner was any indication, she might not have a choice. She looked around the room at the other young ladies vying for husbands. They had choices that she didn’t have. They could pick from the assortment of gentlemen, choosing one who fit the mold suited to them. Heather had no choice, she only had the duke, and in the duke’s place was his steward.
A steward she wanted to kiss.

She looked down at her plate as her cheeks flushed shamefully. What was she thinking? Her dreams had been bad enough, she couldn’t control them, and now her thoughts betrayed her. She took a few bites of eggs and toast to preoccupy herself as pleasant chatter continued around her. When she finished, she dutifully followed her mother into the drawing room where Lady Endervale held court.

“I’ve received word that our esteemed gentlemen have returned. I’ve prepared a list of clues for each group. Now, with Mr. Calder in the dukes place, our numbers our splendidly even once more. Each group will have two ladies and two gentlemen.”

There were excited murmurs following this.

“To keep things… proper,” Lady Endervale smiled quite gleefully herself, “some parents have volunteered at stations along the hunt to offer clues and keep an eye on the festivities.” Lady Endervale turned as the gentlemen entered the drawing room. “Perfect timing! I was just about to announce the pairs.” Pulling a list from her sleeve, she began to announce names and groups began to gather together. Heather felt her name fall on the room like a knell as she was paired with—unsurprisingly, Mr. Calder. Lucy soon joined them along with Lord Draven. Violet looked mutinous as it became clear that she and Prim would be excluded from the activities.

“I’m sorry, Vi. You’ll have your turn soon enough.” Heather touched her shoulder.

“I don’t see why she cannot join us know. Would you mind, Lady Lucy, Lord Draven, if Miss Violet and Miss Primrose joined our party?” Fallon asked.

“It hardly matters to me,” Draven grumbled.

“I’d love their company.” Lucy smiled.

“I’ll will speak with Lady Endervale.” Fallon moved away.

Heather watched him in surprise as Violet grabbed her hand excitedly. “How kind of him.”

“Indeed,” Heather watched him stride over to Lady Endervale. At least she wouldn’t be alone with him. Her sisters would be a good buffer. She smiled her thanks as he returned and he caught her eye. It was a tentative smile, but none the less genuine. He had their list of clues in hand, and they gathered around him. Heather was closest to him, immediately on his left, and as she leaned in to peer at the list, she caught a whiff of shaving soap and man. For a moment, she simply stared at the paper, incognizant of the writing.

“Beware the stones across the path, if you should fall, you’ll take a bath.” Lucy frowned as she read the words.

“The folly,” Draven said from the edge of the group. He looked as interested as a toad at tea time.

“Right, the Folly then.” Lucy threw a glare Draven’s way but his eyes were on another group. “Let’s be off.”

Heather remained silent as her sisters skipped ahead with Lucy, followed by Mr. Calder. She was surprised by the looming presence behind her and turned to find Lord Draven holding out his arm. “May I escort you to the Folly?”

“Yes, thank you.” She put her hand on his arm and they followed their party out onto the terrace. Heather kept her gaze forward, her eyes pulling time and time again to the broad shoulders and back of Mr. Calder.

She was glad of her sturdy wool dress as the late morning had yet to give way to the warm afternoon sun. The man beside her was quiet, but she didn’t mind. The groups scattered in different directions, each list holding different clues.

“Quite diabolical of our hostess, isn’t it?”

Heather was caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”

He looked down at her and smiled. “To send us off hither and yonder, unchaperoned, unleashed.” He winked at her.

“There are chaperones placed throughout the grounds from what I understand,” Heather replied.

“Ah, yes, but with so much open space interrupted by hedges, mazes, walls, and gazebos, the possibilities for an experience rake are endless.”

Heather bit her tongue to keep a nervous laugh from escaping. She had very little experience with flirtation—if that’s what this was. “I wouldn’t know, my lord.”

“No, I suspect you wouldn’t, though you’re not exactly the target of her ladyship’s schemes given your association with the duke and… his steward.”

Heather looked forward in what she hoped was a casual manner. Something about the set of Mr. Calder’s shoulders made her think that he could hear them. “I suspect you’re right. These games were not designed with me in mind, but certainly an advantage for you and the other eligible guests.”

“What a shame, Miss Everly. I find you quite,” he paused, “
eligible
.”

Heather should have been flattered, but she had the distinct impression she was being toyed with. She didn’t know how to respond without encouraging him further. She almost wished she could take her arm from his sleeve. She looked up, surprised to find him looking down at her with a teasing smile as they walked. He was handsome, with his dark hair and unusual grey eyes, elegant but masculine in his clothing and size, but he was not the kind of man she could ever love. He was a predator.

“Why, thank you, Lord Draven. That is kind of you to say,” she said lamely. She could tell by his eyes that his interest dimmed a tiny bit. She didn’t know what else to do. “But you see, I’ve set my heart on a duke, and you’re only a Viscount.” She smiled teasingly to soften the insult.

He smiled wickedly in return, clearly far from insulted. “Touché, Miss Everly. Well done.” They both looked forward and Mr. Calder had offered Lucy his arm.

“Perhaps Lady Lucy would find you eligible?” Heather mocked. She was beginning to enjoy herself now.

Lord Draven laughed. It was deep and raspy. “I am good friends with her brother. Gentlemen have rules about such things, and I don’t think I can sustain two heart breaks in one day.” He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. “You surprise me.”

“How so?” Heather was intrigued.

“You make yourself easy to overlook by blending so well with the demure English lady ruse.”

“Ruse?” It was Heather’s turn to laugh.

“When in fact, you are quite vibrant and lively. It’s a shame your charms will be wasted on a stiff old man when you could enjoy a stiff—” He stopped just as a looming wall of chest was suddenly before them in the form of Mr. Calder.

Heather squeaked in surprise. He had a fierce look about him as he stared at Lord Draven, and he looked very large and intimidating. Heather hadn’t realized he was a few inches taller than Lord Draven. He turned his gaze to her and it softened. “I have news of the duke I’d thought to share with you, Miss Everly.”

“Oh?” It was more of a breathy gasp as she took her hand off Lord Draven’s arm.

Lord Draven smiled, as if he were enjoying Mr. Calder’s intimidating display very much. “Well, I shall take your place with Lady Lucy then.” He turned and smiled at Heather. “It was a pleasure conversing with you, Miss Everly.”

Mr. Calder stepped aside as Lord Draven passed and then presented his arm to Heather. Heather looked back and forth in confusion as Lord Draven offered his arm to Lucy and they began to walk again. Mr. Calder made no move to continue walking.

“I hope he didn’t say anything to offend you, Miss Everly.”

Heather looked up at him, a little startled. For some reason, she expected him to use her given name, as he had scandalously done last night, and she was a little disappointed he hadn’t. “No he didn’t, we were merely chatting.”

“It didn’t sound like chatting, it sounded like flirting, and he is dangerous to you.”

Heather scoffed. “Do you mean to chase away my suitors in protection of the duke’s interest?”

“He is not a suitor, he is a rogue.”

Heather’s eyes widened as she looked forward. They were far from their group now but still visible. “We should keep up.”

He reluctantly began to move. Heather was still processing not only what he said, but also the way he said it. He sounded… jealous? That couldn’t be. Possessive? Perhaps. Did he view her as property of the Duke of Ablehill? She was suddenly angry. She was no man’s property, not yet anyhow, and if another man had interest in her, a younger man of suitable means to rescue her and her family, why shouldn’t she be open to that choice?

“I am under no contract with the duke. I can do as I please.”

He was silent for a moment. “That is true.”

“Then why are you acting as if I have behaved dishonorably?”

“There is nothing in your actions that bear scrutiny. It’s his actions I am concerned with, or more to the point, his motives.”

“Motives?” Heather laughed. “What motives could he possibly have towards me?”

“I’m not sure, but when I talked about you last night in the billiard roo—”

Heather yanked him to a stop and turned him to face her. “Why on earth were you talking about me with other gentlemen?”