In Bed with a Rogue (7 page)

She folded her hands in her lap.

“There, now isn’t that better?” He relaxed against the seatback. “Just two old friends having a nice chat?”

“Perhaps
you’re
old,” she said with a saucy toss of her head and the hint of a teasing smile.

He laughed, feeling more at ease.

“Do you want to tell me the real reason you have called, Sebastian?”

He took another sip of his drink to stall. She would want explanations, and he wasn’t certain how to explain his curiosity about Lady Prestwick.

Obsession
is
more
like
it
.

Gabrielle sighed. “I do not have all day.”

“I need you to speak with your mother. I would like an invitation to Lady Eldridge’s annual ball this week.”

Her mouth formed a silent O.

“Since your mother is Lady Eldridge’s closest friend,” he said, “I had hoped she might speak with the countess on my behalf.”

“And you think Lady Eldridge’s ball is the best time to reintroduce your sister to Society?” Her wrinkled brow revealed her reluctance to help. “If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, perhaps a smaller venue would be more tolerable to Miss Thorne. Large crowds make her nervous.”

“
I
want to go,” he snapped.

He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath to contain his temper. He didn’t need advice from someone who’d met his sister only a handful of times, but he did need Gabrielle’s help. Opening his eyes, he forced a half smile. “As I was saying, the invitation is not for my sister.”

Gabrielle’s frown deepened. “Why, in God’s name, would you want to attend Lady Eldridge’s ball? You called her a busybody.”

He gritted his teeth. Leave it to Gabrielle not only to remember things he said weeks ago, but also to remind him. He could see he would get nowhere unless he told the truth. “Lady Eldridge has a cousin visiting from Scotland. I made Lady Prestwick’s acquaintance at the theatre recently, and I would like to further the association.”

She leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers in a manner her father used to practice. “The Widow Prestwick.” She emphasized the word
widow
as if that alone explained his interest. Did his former fiancée truly believe he would come to her for help in seducing a woman?

“Her marital status is one small part of who she is.” Not that he really knew much more about her—other than she was adept at protecting herself and had a penchant for midnight strolls in the rookeries—but he
wanted
to know more. And it had very little to do with wanting to tup her, although that would be acceptable too.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian. Whoever you wish to know better is none of my concern. I think it is wonderful you have an interest in Lady Prestwick. Mama has said such nice things about her.”

He scowled and Gabrielle chuckled.

“I will speak to Mama this evening. I’m certain she will be able to persuade Lady Eldridge to invite you.” She bit her bottom lip, her merriment fading.

He nodded in encouragement for her to say what was on her mind.

“Anthony and I were also planning to attend. We don’t receive many invitations, and I…” Her gray eyes shimmered and she blinked away tears.

He had known when she eloped with the earl her reputation would suffer, but he didn’t wish her ill. His smile was tight, even though he would like to put everything behind them. “It seems like the perfect opportunity to show the gossips there are no hard feelings between us, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not even with Anthony?” She looked so hopeful he couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“The evening will not end in fisticuffs. I can promise you that much.”

“Thank you, Sebastian. Considering everything that transpired, that is gentlemanly of you.” A sweet smile eased across her pretty face, reminding him of the reason he’d thought she might be the one for him. “Anthony misses your friendship. Maybe someday…”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

He and Ellis had a long way to go before Sebastian would call the earl a friend again, if they ever reached that point. Still, he had other matters claiming his attention, and fighting over something he couldn’t change would do him no good. It wasn’t until he left Keaton Place that he realized he wouldn’t change the past even if it were possible.

Six

Helena was ready to crawl out of her skin by the time she arrived at Olive’s annual ball. She had turned over every possibility in her head, and she had gained nothing but a throbbing at her temples. How could Lavinia be so close and yet completely out of Helena’s reach?

Earlier that morning Fergus had returned after a night of prowling the East End with both good and bad news about her sister. One of the girls at a George Street brothel had been more than willing to talk once Fergus handed over a fat purse. She said Lavinia had worked there a short time, but she’d been traded to a fashionable brothel that catered to gentlemen of means. The girl hadn’t known which one, not that Helena would have allowed
that
to deter her. She was willing to search every one until she found her sister.

It was the
gentlemen
only
rule that presented an obstacle.

“Gentlemen,” she grumbled under her breath as she approached the ballroom entrance. She hardly considered any man who frequented a brothel a gentleman, but that was neither here nor there. She needed a man of good breeding and prestige, one who knew how to keep a secret. And she wasn’t convinced such a creature existed.

Blast!
Perhaps she should forgo the ball and return to the town house until she solved this problem. There had to be a way to gain access to Lavinia. Surely the brothels received deliveries, but could Fergus slip away unnoticed to question the women about her sister? It was far-fetched, but pursuing outlandish ideas had almost become commonplace for her.

As one of the footmen turned to ask her name, a thought occurred to her. Perhaps Olive’s husband knew a thing or two about visiting brothels. Her face heated. Approaching Lord Eldridge about the subject would require more gall than Helena had. Nevertheless, the idea was better than anything else she’d come up with today.

She spotted Olive several steps inside the ballroom engaged in conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Foxhaven and a young woman with ebony curls and exotic eyes. When the footman announced Helena’s arrival, Olive looked up with a welcoming smile. She gestured to her to join them.

Perhaps Helena could cut the night short if she first spent a little time chatting with Olive and her friends. She didn’t want to insult her husband’s cousin, but she was in no state of mind to enjoy a ball.

“Helena, how lovely to see you.” Olive grasped her hands and pecked her cheek. “Allow me to make introductions. You have met the duchess, and this is her daughter, Lady Ellis.”

The lady who had jilted Lord Thorne was stunningly beautiful. A pang of envy seized Helena, but she quickly banished the unwelcome sentiment. She couldn’t care less about Sebastian Thorne or whom he found to his liking. At least that was what she’d been telling herself all afternoon. Seven days in a row, he had come to her door requesting an audience, and he had been turned away each time. Today, however, they had seen neither hide nor hair of him. She hated to admit she had been disappointed.

Interest lit Lady Ellis’s gray eyes, and Helena had the impression the countess was taking her measure. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Prestwick. I’ve heard much about you.”

Before Helena could wonder what tales Olive had been spreading, a handsome gentleman with dark blond hair approached. Lady Ellis linked arms with him. “Anthony,
this
is Lady Prestwick.”

Helena could only assume the gentleman was Lord Ellis, given the lady’s familiarity. His blue eyes were kind and warm just like his wife’s. Olive introduced Lady Ellis’s husband and everyone exchanged pleasantries.

Even after the duchess excused herself, and Olive left to attend to her hostess duties, Lord and Lady Ellis remained at Helena’s side.

“Have you met anyone interesting in London?” the lady asked.

Helena blinked. “Interesting?”

She nodded, her dark curls bouncing slightly. “Yes, I found quite a few interesting gentlemen are in Town for the Season. Has one in particular caught your eye?”

“Uh…” Words abandoned Helena.

Lord Ellis smiled fondly at his wife. “Subtlety has never been your strength, love. Do you not recall our conversation in the carriage about minding our own affairs?”

“I recall it, but we never reached an agreement.”

“I am fairly certain we did, Gabrielle.”

She patted his arm and batted her lashes at him. “Now, dear husband, you mustn’t argue with me, or Lady Prestwick will think you are a terrible bore.”

He laughed and the affection in his gaze warmed Helena’s heart. She had no idea there were married couples who behaved this way. Lord and Lady Ellis seemed to genuinely enjoy one another’s companionship.

The orchestra began to play a waltz.

Lord Ellis smiled at Helena. “I believe that’s my cue to whisk away my meddling wife. I will keep her occupied while you find a place to hide.”

“Anthony!” Despite Lady Ellis’s protest, she beamed at him. If ever a love match existed, Lord and Lady Ellis were living proof. The countess took Helena’s hand between hers. “It was lovely to meet you, Lady Prestwick. I hope we can speak again soon.”

“I would welcome your company anytime, Lady Ellis.” Awkward questions and all. The countess seemed the most genuine person Helena had met in London. It was refreshing.

She bid the couple a good evening then sought out a quiet place to think. No sooner had she turned her thoughts back to solving the problem of gaining access to her sister than a rich baritone interrupted.

“I thought they would never leave.”

Helena’s heart slammed against her ribs. She didn’t need to turn to know the baron had come up behind her. The air was heavier, more electrified when he was near.

“Lord Thorne, I didn’t expect to cross paths with you this evening.”

He moved closer, his body heat saturating her back and yet causing a chill to race down her spine. If she shifted an inch, their bodies would come in contact.

“The ballroom isn’t our usual rendezvous location, is it, angel?” he whispered, his breath whisking across her nape.

She could barely swallow. Pretending a calm she didn’t feel, she tossed an amused look over her shoulder only to come up short. His mouth was entirely too close. And tempting beyond reason.

An image of Sebastian Thorne’s elegant fingers grazing her cheek, sliding down her neck and along her collarbone before cupping her breast, and his lips nibbling the slope between her neck and shoulder made her legs tremble.

Blast!
If she swooned, she would never forgive herself.

“What is it you want, my lord?” Her voice had grown husky.

A small smirk played upon his lips. “I want my curiosity satisfied.”

She returned her attention to the dancers and shuffled a step forward to create a little distance between them. “I don’t take your meaning.”

“We both know what you have been up to, Lady Prestwick. You don’t want me to spell it out in front of witnesses. The
ton
does enjoy a good scandal, but not as much as I relish denying them pleasure.”

She wheeled around to face him. If she’d had doubts that he had been the one to warn her of the footpad’s attack, they were eradicated looking into his intense brown eyes. He knew her secret, or at least he knew one piece to it. How long he would keep it, she didn’t know. Perhaps she could buy his silence.

“Come to the town house tonight, but pleasebe discreet.”

She tried to sweep past, but he captured her elbow and guided her toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

“Dancing with you.”

***

The lady bristled as Sebastian led her into the waltz. It was the middle of the dance and he wouldn’t have long to hold her, but he would savor every moment.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “
Why
are we dancing? I already invited you back to my home.”

“And if we leave now, tongues will begin wagging. You have a reputation to protect, do you not, Lady Prestwick?”

A crimson blush spread across her face, and her lashes fluttered as she looked everywhere but at him. Tonight she wore a sheer robe trimmed in embroidered black ribbon over an ivory silk gown. Her attire was uncharacteristically demure for a widow, as if she shied away from drawing attention to herself.

Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I believe you can see the logic in remaining at the ball, madam. Enjoy the festivities. Dance with other gentlemen.” His voice thinned. He cleared his throat and pretended it meant nothing. “Later, you will depart for home and soon after I will leave as well, but only when I’m certain no one will link our names.”

Her gaze snapped up. “It sounds as if you have had your fair share of secret liaisons, my lord.”

He couldn’t hold back a grin. “What exactly did your invitation entail? I thought we were just going to talk.”

She turned a deeper shade of red and pressed her lips tightly together.

He didn’t push her to answer but drew her closer on the spin. Her sweet scent filled his head with memories of her soft breasts crushed against him when they had collided outside St. Saviour’s Church. She had smiled at him that day, dimples winking up at him. Her plump mouth ripe for tasting.

If she offered more than conversation tonight, he might forget about wanting answers, but only temporarily. The mystery of what she had been doing in Whitechapel was eating at him. If it were nothing more than a charity mission, there would be no reason for her servant to leave her alone.

The music faded; the waltz finished too soon. They still held each other, neither of them moving even as the other couples began filing from the dance floor. She glanced up with wide eyes. Her pink tongue darted across her lips. God, he wanted this woman. But a vulnerability about her held him in check.