Her Notorious Viscount (13 page)

But Jane stopped her restless movements as he entered and smiled at him as if nothing had transpired at all. Except, as he closed the door behind him and moved a step closer, he saw a flicker of desire and wariness still in her eyes.

Which gave him a bit more pleasure than it should have.

He cleared his throat. For his own sanity, he needed to regain a little distance. A little control.

“Last night I went to the underground,” he said with no preamble.

Jane’s expression changed instantly. The desire faded away, and wariness became a fear of a deeper sort. Her spine straightened with anxiety and anticipation.

“And?”

The word sounded torn from her throat with effort, and Nicholas fisted his hands at his sides. So much hope was a dangerous thing.

He motioned her toward the nearest comfortable chair, but she remained standing. With reluctance, so did he. A gentleman did not sit in a lady’s presence. Ridiculous rules.

“Although most of my sources did not come up with any new information on your brother’s whereabouts, there was one woman who told me she thought she saw someone who resembled him. But it was over a year ago and she couldn’t be certain.”

Jane’s hand came up to cover her lips as she gasped out a sound of joy and pain at once. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, and she stared at him without speaking for a long moment.

“Oh, Nicholas!” she finally breathed as she moved toward him. “This is wonderful news!”

He frowned. She was so lit up with joy, and it was a pleasure to see her happy. But he knew very well that what he had uncovered was barely anything. It was likely a dead end. And though he had started out with the intention to mislead Jane, seeing her like this now, he couldn’t do it. He had to let her know that her hopes should not be so high.

“Jane, it is hardly news at all. The woman said she knew a man who looked
like
your brother. Marcus was not so uncommon-looking. And this woman is no stranger to drink. She could have meant a hundred other men, a thousand.”

Her joy didn’t fade at all. “Or she could have meant Marcus. Nicholas, I have been searching for over a year, desperate to find any scrap of news about him. This is magnificent, for at least it is something. Some hope!”

There was that wretched word again.

She moved even closer, pressing her palms against his forearms and smiling up at him. He stared at her, nearly in his arms, but somehow it wasn’t memories of what had transpired a short time ago in his bed that moved him. It was something else entirely. When he looked at her, he thought of summer. Warmth and light, lazy laughter.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Then she rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

She pressed her mouth to his a second time, and that was just about all his tense body could take. Before she could pull away, he slipped his fingers around her shoulders and held her firm, deepening the kiss. She gasped against him, but then her arms came around his shoulders, her body molded firmly to his, and she clung to him as if he were a lifeline.

Nicholas had never been a clumsy boxer. He prided himself on finesse, both in and out of the ring. And yet today, with Jane, his fingers felt thick and awkward, his body not quite in control. And his mouth was bruising, demanding against hers.

Despite her inexperience, she didn’t seem to care. Her breath came in pants between desperate, heated kisses, and her fingers clenched in fists against the fine wool of his new jacket over and over again.

This was a bad thing. His resolve and wavering gentlemanly instincts had been tested once today. He did not think he would succeed at this second test of his willpower. Especially when Jane was as lost in the strange pull between them as he.

He was ready to lay her down on the settee when there was a light rap on the door behind them.

Instantly they broke apart. Jane rushed to the other side of the room, pausing before the picture window that looked out over the grounds behind the town house. Her shoulders lifted and fell with the labor of her breathing.

With a groan, Nicholas wiped his mouth and called out, “Enter.”

The door opened, and to his surprise it was his cook who stood there. A smile softened Mrs. Fieldframe’s normally harsh face as she said, “My lord, your luncheon is ready.”

“Luncheon?” he repeated in confusion. Then he recalled Jane’s mention that she wished to review supper manners. “Yes, thank you.”

Jane turned from the window, and now her face was utterly composed. Only the slight redness of her swollen lips revealed her true state.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fieldframe. I will serve Lord Stoneworth today for this first practice.”

Mrs. Fieldframe gave Jane a nod, as if she were lady of the house and had some power over the servants. “Yes, miss.”

Then the cook was gone, leaving the door open behind her. Nicholas let out his breath in a sigh, partly out of frustration that he was not going to be alone with Jane. And partly out of relief for the same.

“Shall we dine, my lord?” Jane asked, approaching him cautiously, as if he were a beast who could strike.

“Indeed, my dear,” he drawled, holding out an arm for her to take. “I suddenly find myself famished.”

Jane fidgeted with her place setting, totally ignoring the soup that was steaming in the bowl before her. Although it smelled divine, she couldn’t even think of eating it. All thoughts in her mind had been replaced by heated memories of Nicholas’s touch. She had allowed it not once, but
twice
in less than an hour.

It should have been shameful, and yet it was thrilling to recall his hands on her, in her, teasing and coaxing out a release so powerful that every other pleasure faded.

“Jane?”

She started, brought back to reality by Nicholas’s deep voice. He was staring at her, his expression cloaked.

“Shouldn’t you be eating?” he asked, one dark brow arching slowly.

She nodded. “What I
should
be doing is teaching. My apologies for my distraction.”

“It is quite all right, I share the source, do I not?” he asked in that low, seductive drawl that seemed to crawl under her skin.

She shivered, but chose to ignore the statement. He was only saying it to get a rise out of her.

“First, I must say that your new clothing is lovely. You look very nice in it, Nicholas.”

Of course, he had looked far finer out of the well-made clothing that now accentuated every strong movement of his body. She squeezed her eyes shut as the thought flitted through her mind. She should not keep thinking of that!

When she opened her eyes, Nicholas was staring at her.

“Thank you,” he finally said softly. “I am glad you approve. At least the wretched hours being poked and prodded by that horrid tailor are worth something now.”

She forced herself to remain focused. It was her only hope. “They are and they will be worth so much more. When you enter a room wearing fine things, the
ton
much more readily accepts you as one of them.”

Nicholas snorted out a sound of disgust. “If it is only the clothing that makes a man, then it seems I can do whatever else I please, as long as I do it fashionably.”

She shook her head. “It is only a first step. The first impression you make will be favorable when you enter a room dressed as you are, but you must still live up to that impression. Everywhere you go, people will be watching. Especially you, Nicholas.”

He smiled. “Because I am so dashing and handsome.”

She couldn’t help but smile back, even though he wasn’t taking her seriously. “No, you oaf. Because you are infamous.”

“Mmmm.” He sprawled back in his chair and sipped his wine slowly. “The infamous Nicholas Stoneworth. I rather like it.”

“But your family does not,” she said softly, thinking of Lady Bledsoe’s joy that her wayward son was going to return to the fold.

He straightened up. “No.”

After a moment of awkward silence, he swept up his spoon and took a gulping swallow of his soup. Jane’s eyes went wide as he bent over, eating with steady, purposeful slurps. He wasn’t an animal, to be sure, but he was a man who was bent on eating, not making an impression.

“Slower,” she urged, ignoring his glare. “Dinner parties are the perfect place to make polite conversation. You will be seated next to others based upon your importance and theirs. And you may also be seated next to eligible young ladies. I assume that is what you want.”

Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat as she erased the idea of Nicholas making love to one of those other young ladies. Of him doing to someone else what he had done with her.

“It is what I need.” He scowled. “Very well.”

He slowed his eating, and she smiled. Reluctant as he was, he did listen. And when he straightened up and didn’t glower, he actually looked like a gentleman. A dangerous one, but one nonetheless.

“Today I am serving,” she continued before she took a spoonful of her own soup. “Normally a footman would do that duty. He would come in and serve from your left, then remove the dish and not return until the next course.”

Nicholas swallowed and said, “What if I want more?”

She shrugged. “It might be possible to signal a passing servant, but unlikely. Once you have a serving, that is what you get.”

Nicholas frowned. “Great God, these people. No wonder they are so starched and dull. Is there
no
pleasure in their ranks?”

Jane pushed feebly at the memory of the pleasure that had washed over her less than an hour before.

“No wonder the men turn to whores and the underground,” he continued. “At least there they can be human. What do the women do? Diddle the footmen?”

Jane’s eyes went wide. “This is not dinner conversation!”

He shrugged one shoulder, but did not continue with his rant against the lack of pleasure in Society. “It simply seems like a waste of good food. If one doesn’t enjoy life, what is the point?”

Hesitating, Jane pondered that question.

“Or is that not good dinner conversation, either?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from each word.

Jane shook her head. “I think, actually, that might be very good dinner conversation. It might shock some, but if you could avoid making references to whores, there are many men and even women of rank who would love to debate the concept of pleasure versus propriety with you.”

“Really?” he sounded less than convinced.

Jane set her spoon down and rose to her feet. As she gathered the bowls in preparation for fetching the next course, she said, “You know, you are a snob, just as you believe those of your rank are. Perhaps you’re even worse!”

Nicholas stared at her in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“You make the assumption that everyone you meet in Society will be stuffy, dull, and stupid. In actuality there are many men and women who are bright, amusing, and open-minded.”

“Name one,” he challenged her, arms folded.

She didn’t hesitate. “Your brother.”

Nicholas stared at Jane as she finished the last bite of the deliciously poached apple Mrs. Fieldframe had presented for dessert. She sighed with delight, and his gut tightened. There was no point denying how much he wanted this woman. Still.

But there was something else. He was beginning to respect her, too. She was a quiet, firm teacher, not allowing him to stray off the course too far, but still willing to smile when he amused her. Whatever had happened in her personal life, no matter how far in position she had fallen, no one could say she was not a lady.

Plus, she had insight. When she reminded him that his brother wasn’t the kind of man he now ruthlessly pictured when he imagined those of his rank, it had shamed him. With two words,
your brother
, she had knocked him from the perch he had insisted upon taking since his return to Society, looking down at those who cared about straight cravats and the advantages of a claret versus a port.

If he wanted this to work, for his brother’s sake, for his nieces’ sakes, he had to try harder.

“We will review all of this further,” Jane said, waving to the empty dishes. “I realize it is a lot of information to take in during such a short period of time.”

“You are a good teacher,” he said softly, leaning back in his chair.

She blushed, the same bright color she had reached when at the heights of physical pleasure, and once again Nicholas was pleased he had a tabletop to cover his lap. Somehow he doubted a raging erection would be considered a compliment by the lady.

“Tell me more about your cousin,” he said, wishing both to remain seated and to uncover a bit more about the man she hated so deeply.

Nicholas remained unconvinced that Patrick Fenton might not be somehow involved in Marcus’s disappearance. If he was truly the villain Jane believed him to be, there might be something more sinister lurking beneath the surface.