Just Perfect (2 page)

He glanced at Diane and was stunned to find her gaze almost predatory as she spied him. If he was wary before, he was definitely on guard now. Since when was that girl on the hunt?

She narrowed her gaze, saying something to the Talbot sisters he couldn’t comprehend, then made her determined way over to him. Keeping his expression pleasant and impassive, he cast about for anything to occupy himself. Leed danced with his lovely wife, Michelle, and Kane with his Rebecca. No escape there, then. Choking back the glass of sickeningly sweet punch, he set the glass down on the nearest tray and turned.

“Lord Chester!” he heard her call.

Damn.
Too late.
Fixing a smile on his face, he turned again and faced the girl. “Good evening.”

“Are you not dancing tonight, Lord Chester?”

“I have danced, yes.”

She peered up at him, waiting for something. A flash of gold caught his eye then, movement on the other side of the dance floor. A flick of his gaze showed Constance was headed his way. He barely had time to register how pretty she looked before a wave of relief crashed over him.

“There you are, Diane,” he heard her say in that soft, husky voice of hers.

His lungs seized, then he took in a slow breath. “Constance,” he said with a bow.

She gazed at him for a heart-stopping moment, then she turned to face Diane. “Your father has been looking for you.”

Diane’s eyes rounded and she bobbed a quick curtsey to him and hurried in the direction Constance indicated.

Unable to keep a smile from his lips, he stepped back and felt satisfaction when she took a step in his direction. He didn’t think she was aware of it, but she swayed toward him as he leaned away. It was like a dance, but more intimate somehow. His blood began its slow simmer.

“I thank you for my rescue,” he said, his voice low.

“Rescue?” She blinked long lashes and peered up at him, her gray eyes dancing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed softly. “Was her father even looking for her?”

She waved a slender hand. “Oh, her father is always looking for her. I vow she’s going to give him even more gray hairs with her behavior before she finally settles down.”

“Well, I thank you all the same.”

She tilted her head, unconsciously allowing the candles burning above to cast her features in gold. He felt desire pound through him as his body hardened.

“I want to dance with you, Constance,” he said.

Her full lips parted as her silvery eyes sparkled. “A dance, Lord Chester? I believed your feet were rooted to the floor tonight.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t danced at all.”

He arched a brow. “You’ve been watching me?”

Her porcelain cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “I’m only going on information my cousin Sarah gave me.”

He knew she was dissembling, at least a little bit. “You’ve been watching me, Constance. Admit it.”

Her fair brows snapped together. “Are you baiting me?”

He laughed again. “I’m a gentleman. I would never elicit a young lady’s discomfort.”

She blew out a breath. “What is it you would elicit, then?”

How he longed to tell her just what he’d like to bring forth in her exquisite body. He’d love to stroke her skin, taste her flesh, feel her body grasp his shaft as he wrung cries of pleasure from her perfect lips.

Her yellow gown hugged her form, modest in cut due to her status but nonetheless fetching. Her creamy skin, dewy looking and delectable, made his fingers itch to touch her.

“Don’t tempt me, Constance.”

Her pupils dilated. “Am I tempting you, Lord Chester?”

She did that sway again, coming dangerously close to him. He could smell her, a scent like lilies that caused him to harden.

He glanced up to find that no one was paying much attention to them, instead jockeying for their own positions in and out of the dance. One of the first parties of the season and already the social maneuvering had begun. He was in no humor to jump into that particular fray at the moment.

He took her gloved hand in his, an innocent move should anyone observe, and tugged her closer. “You know full well what you’re doing,” he said.

She gasped as he moved her swiftly out of sight, tucking the two of them into an alcove. Thick potted plants hid the way they’d come and there was no escape for her save through him. He braced his feet apart and crossed his arms. And he wasn’t moving.

“Lord Chester!” She gasped. “What do you mean, dragging me in here?”

He watched her eyes as emotions swirled through her, both indignation and titillation. The girl was something other than what she presented to the world. Something else entirely.

“Constance, you’ve been begging for a kiss since that night at Leed Manor.”

She shook her head in denial even as she licked her luscious lips. “Lord Chester …”

He pulled her close, thinking only to make her admit her desires, but once he touched her, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Take it, love,” he rasped, his mouth so close to hers. “Take that kiss.”

A soft intake of breath, a softening of her in his grasp, and he felt her lips on his at last. She was so sweet, so tentative, he leaned against the wall behind him and let her take the lead for a moment. He held her as she nibbled on his lips, her tongue moving hesitantly against him.

He grabbed her tightly then, cupping her round bottom and pulling her flush up against his aching body. Surely he would scandalize her, for she couldn’t miss his rigid cock pressed against her soft belly. To his delighted surprise, her hands stole up to the back of his neck and she arched toward him. Unable to resist her invitation, he brought a hand to one breast and cupped her. She fit him perfectly.

“Lord Chester.” She sighed into his mouth.

“William,” he softly corrected.

She flicked her tongue over his lower lip and smiled. “William.”

His name on her lips, her voice breathy and low, made him throb. Turning, he settled her on the chaise set in the alcove and plundered her mouth. Her hands clutched at him as she placed teasing kisses on his throat. This wasn’t the shy girl she showed to society. That was certain. This was the sensual woman he’d sensed almost from the start.

He couldn’t withstand the pressure much longer. Burying his face in her cleavage, he breathed deeply of her lily scent and dragged his tongue over her flesh. She shivered at the contact.

He dipped a finger into her bodice, teasing a rigid nipple where it strained against her stays. She made a sound of need, raw and low. He withdrew his hand to steal beneath her skirts. Her gasp stilled him and he looked up to find her eyes staring into his.

“William, what are you doing?” she asked.

His hand moved up her thigh, just where her stocking ended and her silky skin began. He smiled down at her.

“Forgetting myself, apparently,” he managed to say.

He reluctantly withdrew his hand and smoothed her gown, grateful he hadn’t noticeably wrinkled it. Risking a glance at her face, he saw her color was high and her breath still coming fast. Unable to resist, he kissed her again.

When he finally pulled away, she gazed up at him for a long moment. “I must go,” she said at last.

Yes, she must. Yet her hands were still up around his neck. He leaned back and shifted, his body aching, and gently slipped from her grasp. She gazed down at her hands, seemingly at a loss over what to do with them. He had a few suggestions. The thought of her cool satin gloves wrapped around his aching shaft made him curse under his breath.

“Go,” he said, urging her to her feet. “It won’t do for anyone to see us leaving together.”

She stared at him, apparently uncomprehending.

“You’re flushed, Constance. If anyone were to see how you affected me as well, there would be little question about what we did in here.”

She stood and looked down at the chaise, then gave a shiver. “What we
almost
did, Lord Chester.”

With that cool utterance, the intimacy of the moment was shattered. He inclined his head and she hurried from the alcove. Shifting, he tried to ease himself into a more comfortable position.

*    *    *

Constance all but ran to the ladies’ retiring room. Oh, what she had just done!
Almost
done, she quickly corrected herself. She brought a trembling hand to her lips, casting a gaze about to make sure no one paid her any undue attention. As usual, she managed to escape notice.

Lady Constance Bridges, the late Earl of Bridgewater’s daughter, was just as she should be at the moment. A young lady slightly fatigued from a vigorous dance with a proper gentleman. Pity she was far from that. She was a woman on fire for a man who’d been anything but proper in that alcove.

She closed her eyes, unable to keep from reliving every blessed moment she’d passed with Lord Chester—William!—in that closed space. He’d given her the lead, let her kiss him if she wanted to, and she’d taken it willingly. He tasted as good as she’d suspected, warm and smooth and slightly spicy, like his scent she’d caught since first making his acquaintance three years ago. She hadn’t known what she’d wanted then. How could she? She’d just come out, with little experience and no nerve to speak of. He’d been what he presented himself to be, an affable gentleman who was always friendly and achingly perfect.

He
was
perfect. Every naughty thing he’d done to her tonight had been everything she’d wanted. His lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth. His kisses on her breasts, his finger teasing her nipple. Only when he moved those clever fingers up her leg had she finally summoned the conviction to stop him. What if she hadn’t? Would he have touched her … there?

“Oh, my.” She breathed.

“What was that, Constance?” a woman asked.

Constance turned to find Lady Brookdale eyeing her closely. The pretty widow tilted her head to one side and for a moment Constance feared she knew everything that had happened between her and William. She felt her cheeks heat but smoothed her countenance of any giveaway expression.

“Nothing, Lady Brookdale,” she said with a small smile.

The lady nodded. “Nothing, indeed. This party is woefully dull, don’t you think?”

Dull?
Hardly.
“I suppose,” she answered.

“I saw you with Lord Chester earlier.” The widow’s eyes sparkled. “Handsome fellow, like his circle of friends.”

Constance could only nod her agreement.

“Pity Lord Roberts isn’t here.” Lady Brookdale pouted. “I daresay the evening would be anything but dull with his charming self about.” The provocative statement was accompanied with a glint in her eye. “I do hope he returns to town soon.”

Constance didn’t care if Lord Roberts brought his charming self to London or not, save for the fact that he was good friends with William. Roberts might be the most beautiful man in the
ton,
but she wanted more than that. She wanted strength and heat and kisses and caresses, and …

“Pity Lord Chester is so bloody perfect,” Lady Brookdale said.

Constance turned to her. “Why?”

The lady preened. “If he was a shade less than a paragon, perhaps I could tempt him into an assignation.”

Constance’s mouth dropped open. “Lady Brookdale!”

“Oh, I realize you are untried, but you must be getting tired of keeping up your own façade.”

“My façade?” Constance did a quick review of her actions tonight, as well as those in public this season. Nothing untoward, not a whiff of scandal, hung about her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lady Brookdale smiled indulgently and patted her hand before coming to her feet. “I know you don’t. Not yet. I daresay you will, however.”

“Lady Brookdale, I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“You run in their circle, my dear. Kane and Leed and Chester, not to mention the delectable Roberts. They can’t help but draw attention, dashing nobles that they are.”

With that, the lady swept out of the retiring room. Constance leaned back, sucking in a deep breath as she pondered everything the widow said. Was she in danger of ruining her perfect reputation, simply by being in William’s company? She was certainly in danger of ruin itself. That was true. Had anyone seen her wanton behavior in the alcove, she would spoil more than her lauded reputation. Her stomach clenched as the truth settled on her.

She was afraid her involvement with William would ultimately break her heart.

“What gentlemen did you dance with, dear?” Lady Bridgewater asked.

Constance eyed her mother, seeing the acute interest stamped on her face. She sipped her tea and picked up a piece of toast.

“Several, Mother,” she answered. “None more than two times, though.”

“Of course not.” Her mother sniffed. “Unless … was Lord Chester there?”

Constance managed to swallow around the tightness in her throat. Keeping her own face impassive, she nodded. “Yes.”

“And he didn’t press for more, Constance? Another dance, I mean?”

“He would never do so.”

“No.” Lady Bridgewater sighed. “I don’t suppose he would.”

Constance took another sip of tea, then carefully set the cup in its saucer. “What did you wish him to do? Debauch me on the dance floor?”

Her mother’s jaw dropped. “Constance! How can you say such a thing? I daresay you’ve been keeping company with Diane Plymouth for too long.”

Constance hid her smile. That
was
something that Diane would say, only the girl would probably add that she wanted to be the one doing the debauching.

“Nevertheless, the earl comported himself as he always does.”

“Yes, yes. The man is perfect.”

Constance recalled his lips on hers, his fingers on her skin, and silently agreed.

“So where does that leave you, dear?”

“Leave me?”

“You must have some inkling of the gentlemen who have paid calls and asked for dances,” her mother said. “Is there any one of them you can see coming up to snuff?”

Constance’s mouth dropped open. “You mean, ask me to marry them?”

“It’s high time you were settled. Decide which man you want and set your cap on him.”