Lady Rogue (23 page)

"I think I just might.  You see I have some acquaintances who have a country estate in
Norfolk.  It seems there are only three famlies with the name Landon in the entire  area.  Care to make a little wager as to whether your Miss Landon is among them?"

"A wager?  You kn
ow I don't gamble, Ollie."

"M
mm?  I say this oh so proper young woman is an actress, hired by someone out to nab my Aunt's fortune.  A Drury Lane darling."

"An actress?  Preposterous!"

"If you don't think so, then as they say at the track, ‘put your money on it’.  I say she is not from Norfolk and her name is not Landon.  Will you make a bet?"

"All right, I will!
But you are really going too far, Ollie. Just because you can be devious on occasion is no reason to see such perfidy in others.  Really!  You bloody well can be a trial at times."

"Trial or no
, I'm going to prove just what a fine friend I can be by stopping you from making a ghastly mistake, old boy.  Marriage to Dawn Landon indeed!"   Scribbling with his pencil, Oliver made a few calculations, grinning all the while.  "You say you are brave enough to wager, eh?"

"If that will prove something to you about my trust in the young woman, then yes.  I believe her to be exactly who she says she is."  Flinging his hat across the room, Garrick sprawled in his chair.   "But you are hardly in a position to put up any money for so foolish a venture as a bet, I would say.  You hav
e very little money left."

"A
h, but I have my matched pair of bays.  Beautiful horses.  Against your carriage?"

"Are you serious?  You must b
e mad, Ollie.  But just to make you see the foolishness of your ways, I'll agree.  I've always wanted two such splendid race horses."

"And I have always had my eye on that leather-padded vehicle of yours.  It would be perfect for seductions.  Agreed?"  He held out his hand and Garrick took h
old of it in a firm handshake.

"Agreed.  Though I hate to fleece a friend.  But if losing will teach you a lesson...."  Unrolling a current drawing, Garrick bent his head to work, trying to put the matter out of his mind.  Ollie was just a bit jealous, that was all. Had Dawn Landon been batting her eyelashes over Ollie it would have been a far different story.  And perhaps he was afraid that a woman would come between their
camaraderie.  Oliver was always espousing the advantages of bachelorhood and the pitfalls of being wed,  but there were also benefits to matrimony.

Smiling, Garrick thought of how pleasant it would be to return home after a day at work to find Dawn standing in the doorway to greet him.  After they were married he'd send her flowers every day just as he had this morning.  And tonight he'd invite her to the theatre again,
The Beaux Stratagem
was playing at the Lyceum, a delightful tale he was certain she would enjoy. He hadn’t been with her for six days. Six days! It seemed a lifetime. Certainly that was a sign of how much he cared.  He'd never longed for a woman's company so fervently before. He ached to be with her, to relish her smile, to touch her again.  The very anticipation made him feel like a young boy.  Perhaps love did make one ageless.

A soft tap on the door interrupted Garrick's musings and he rose to answer the knock.  A young boy he recognized as being from Margaret Pembrooke's house stood in the doorway.  Hope soared in his heart.  It was a message from her.  No doubt she w
as thanking him for the roses.

"I'll take that, Dickon," he said, rewarding the lad with a shilling for his trouble.  With trembling fingers he turned the envelope over only to know extreme disappointment when he saw it was for Oli
ver instead.  "For you, Ollie. Although it doesn't look like your Aunt's handwriting."

"Let me see!"  Oliver tore the note from Garrick's hand.  Loosening the wax seal with his pencil
, he opened it with a flourish.  "My, my, my , my.  It appears my invitation has been accepted."  He patted Garrick on the arm with an air of bravado.  "My condolences, old chum.  It appears you have a bit of competition for your lady fair, whoever she turns out to be.  Ah, this should prove interesting."

"What do you mean?"  Garrick's brows shot
up as he snapped the question.

"Why, it seems Your Miss Dawn Landon may not be yours after all.  You see she has just accepted my invitation to Lady Amanda Ashley's ball!"
             

Chapter Thirty-One

The crystal
prisms in the mammoth chandeliers glittered like a thousand diamonds, giving off a rainbow of glittering hues. The ballroom was a dazzling array of splendor. The flames of a hundred candles shone down on polished white marble, and she ralized that she could see her reflection in the smooth surface of the floor. Though Dawn had become accustomed to the grandeur of Pembrooke house, still she stood in awe.

Looking about her, Dawn's eyes touched on the elegance of the room.  Blue brocade couches had been  strategically pushed against the wall to enlarge the dance floor and giv
e those who didn't want to exert themselves a place to rest.  Velvet draperies fluttered in the breeze of the open window, revealing terraces where fountains, some in the shape of swans, spewed forth a stream of water.  There were so many potted plants placed about, both outside and in the ball room, that it nearly resembled Convent Garden.

"Lady Ashley certainly knows how to give a party, eh
what?"  Her escort was saying.

"Yes, she certainly does." Everything was perfect  except that Dawn was with the wrong man.  Oh, he was pleasant enough, this smiling nephew of Mrs. Pembrooke's, but he wasn't the man she longed for.  That man was standing across the ballroom alone, looking  so forlorn that she felt a twinge of regret for what she had done.  No matter what she might have planned
, she knew now she never could hurt him.

"Well, well, wel
l.  Let's introduce you to the
ton
, shall we?"  With a nod, Oliver pushed her  gently along.  She suffered through a maize of faces and handshakes as strangers scrutinized her, anxious to judge her by her speech and appearance.  Once these same people would have turned up their noses at her, now they were greeting her warmly, though prying into the wheres and whens and hows of her life.

"So you are a friend of Margaret Pembrooke's.  Such a dear, dear woman.  Tragic though, that accident that left her crippled.  How dastard
ly it must be to be helpless."

"She isn't helpless at all.  I've never seen a more independent woman."  Dawn quickly came to  her friend's defense.  Certainly they wouldn't have felt pity if
they could see the way the woman managed her household, wheeling herself about and taking charge of every detail.  "Margaret Pembrooke is  amazing.  There isn't anything she can't do."

"Mmmmm?  Well, yes......"  The gray-haired dowager looked skeptically at Dawn through her monocle, then flounced off, her large bosom
bouncing with every step.

D
awn felt tense and ill-at-ease, but she managed the rest of the introductions with skill and poise.  Tonight she was going to enjoy herself.  She would dance, laugh and be happy and put from her mind all thought of Garrick Seton.  And yet, if only he hadn't been there to taunt her with his presense, it would have been so much easier.  As it was her eyes seemed compelled to seek out his tall, handsome form, only to glance away when he returned her gaze. 

"Shall
we indulge in a dance or two?"

In the great hall the dancing had begun
. Dawn recognized the music as a polka.Hopefully her lessons would stand her in good stead, enabling her to move about with ease.  Before she could think more about it,  however, Oliver had caught her in his arms and was whirling her onto the floor.  Just as in her dream, she twirled faster and faster as faces sped by and colors blended into one another.  Only this time she was included in the dancing throng.

When the
polka ended,  Dawn found herself held within the warmth of another pair of masculine arms.  Then another and another man claimed her, each vying for her attention.  She should have been ecstatic, but she wasn't.  She could feel Garrick's piercing blue eyes and knew that he watched her.  In those moments she felt the pain of her longing to be with
him
.  What was the use of dancing?  She only wished it were his arms around her.  How could she laugh when it was his smile she wanted to see?  She struggled against the love in her heart, but she was powerless. When he was near her for even the briefest of moments, all was lost.  Even so, she forced herself to laugh and acted as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Garrick watched
her solemnly. Even in a room full of people she caught his eye over and over again. 
Beautiful
!

Her long
, dark, shining hair was swept up into an artfully arranged composition of curls, held in place by a double strand of pearls.   Only a few tendrils were permitted to escape,  at her temples, forehead, and in front of her earlobes, framing her lovely face to perfection.  Her dress was high-waisted, a filmy white satin, hemmed with a collage of brightly colored threads.  The  neckline was less than reckless yet revealed the twin mounds of her full breasts enticingly. Unlike the other ladies in the room who flaunted their jewels, she wore only pearls in her hair and pearl ear drops. 

She was a charming combination of virginity and sensuallity.  The most beautiful woman Garrick had ever seen or probably ever would, he thought, eyeing her with jealousy.   Every man there was certain to covet her.  Every man including himself.  And she was with
Ollie
.  Dear God how that hurt.  Oliver of all people.  His friend.  An attractive man, to be sure, but a philandering rogue and a wastrel.   

"Well, well, well.  If it isn't Garrick Seton.  I thought you had disappeared from the face of the earth."  Laying a  white-gloved hand on his shoulder, Stephanie Creighton positioned herself in his arms. Her diamonds gleamed like stars in the
light. "Let's dance, darling."

Though he really wasn't in the mood for
the mazurka, he didn't refuse.  He would maneuver himself so that he could take a turn at dancing with Dawn. He needed to talk with her, to find out why she had been avoiding him so blatantly tonight. Something was wrong, and he intended to find out just what it was.  He wouldn't give her up to Oliver without a fight. She'd responded to his kiss with passion, had not been immune to the magic that passed between them.  Why then had she accepted Oliver's invitation?  It was only one of the questions that demanded answers.

"Smile, Garrick.  This isn't a funeral, after all.  Oh, but it is good to see you again.  I assume you have been busy at the office and that is why I haven't heard even a peep from you?"  Stephanie smiled at him, lo
oking up through her lashes. 

"Yes, I've been very busy.  Th
ere have been a few problems."

"Yes, I know." She pirouetted, swirling in a turquoise rustle of skirts.  "Do you approve of my dress?"  Without missing a bea
t she came back into his arms.

"It's quite dazzling."

"Have you ever seen anything quite as exquisite as this gown.  It came all the way from Paris just for the occasion.  Lady Ashley always dresses so....so elaborately that I wanted to outdo her at least this time. But as you were saying....about your little problems.  I know exactly what has been going on."

"What do you mean?"  Garrick didn't like her knowing smile, it mad
e him uneasy.

"Why, I know that your dear partner was at a loss for money.  Because you are so very dear to me and because I wanted to protect you
, I interceded."  As the music came to an end, she took his hand and led him to one of the brocaded settes.  "You see, I invested in your firm, my dear.  It is
I
who own those stocks, in case you wondered."

"You?"  Garrick couldn't have been more stunned if she had slapped him.  "You bought them?"  He was unsettled by that knowledge.  Stephanie Creighton was not the type of woman who did anyone a favor.  There was a reason for her buying into his architectural firm that had nothing to do with kindness.  To get him in her power, he thought.  She knew how much his work meant to him, how diligently he had strived t
o make a success of himself.

"Yes.  I bought them." Her eyes strayed to where Dawn now stood in conversation with Oliver.  "Why, isn't that the young woman I saw you with at the opera?  I've heard it said that she is a guest of Margaret Pembrooke's.  Certainly the tongues are wagging.  I thought......"  Her laughter was soft.   "Oh, darling, of course.  You were escorting her as a favor to Oliver and Margaret Pembrooke."  She touched him on the tip of the nose with her finger.  "Then you are quite forgiven.  Though I must admit I plotted my revenge."  Throwing back her head
, she laughed huskily.

The laughter caught Dawn's attention.  Disturbed, she looked at Garrick and recognized the stunning blonde woman immediately as the one who had glared at her from the velet draped box at the theatre.  From the expression on the woman's face she adored Garrick Seton, and why not.  He was everything a woman could ever want.  The feeling that shot through Dawn as she watched them sitting side by side was torturous
, and yet by her own decision she had pushed him into another woman's arms.  A woman more of his own kind, one without a past to hide.  Even so, the thought gave her cold comfort. 

"One more dance, and then we'll have a glass of champagne.  Properly chilled o
f course,"  Oliver was saying.

Once more Margaret Pembrooke's nephew led her onto the floor.  Usually
Dawn loved music, but now it thundered in her ears, making her cringe.  She wanted to be far away from here, away from the sight of Garrick in that blonde beauty's company.  Oh, if only.  If only!

"My, my, you are stunning.  My Aunt obviously has ideas in mind for me and for you."  His cold, clammy hand squeezed hers tightly. "Not that I mind her playing Cupid, mind you. I'm intrigued and more than a lit
tle grateful."

"Your a
unt has been very kind to me."

"And now to me."  Skillfully he led her towards the shadows. "Your coming here with me tonight gave me hope that I have a chance of winning your heart?  Do I?"  As if to tempt her
, he lightly kissed her throat, but instead of sending shivers up her spine, it only made her blood run cold.  "Well?  Do I have a chance?"

Dawn didn't have time to answer.  Suddenly she was yanked from her partner's arms and found herself gazing up into a face as recognizable
as her own.  "Garrick!"

"If ever
a lady needed rescuing it seems to be now.  Excuse me, Ollie, I believe a dance with this very beautiful lady is long overdue.   Shall we?" His voice was low, a deep rumble, and held a tone that sent a quiver dancing down her spine. 

"Yes....yes, of course....."  His eyes were compelling, robbing
her of her will, her reason. 

For a long moment they stood just looking at each other as he held her hand.  One could have heard a pin dro
p, a clock tick, the world spin--it was so silent--as if all of the other people in the room had disappeared and she was  alone in the room with him.  At first he simply held her, then his strength moved her across the floor. 

He was a wonderful dancer, graceful despite his strength. Her feet barely touched the floor
. It was,as if she danced on air. She felt the strength of his chest against her breasts, the muscles of his thighs burning through her gown, the heat of his body enveloping her.  The contact was searing, evoking memories of the embrace they had shared at Vauxhall.  Being so close to him, with his arm around her waist, his mouth brushing her cheek, sent her senses spinning with  a mingled feeling of pleasure and alarm.  She was lost.  All her resolve had flown as quickly as leaves in the wind. 

Being so near Garrick made Dawn feel dizzy, so much so that she clutched frantically at his shoulder for balance. Slowly, vibrantly she was bound by the music's spell, a fragile silken thread that was woven about them. For just a
n instant she allowed herself to forget who he was, what she had been, what could happen if she allowed herself to love him, and gave herself up to the moment.  The look of passion in his eyes made her believe herself to be all the things she'd longed to be.  Beautiful.  Proper.  Alluring.  Desired.   The kind of woman a man like Garrick Seton could love.

His chin touched the top of her head.  She was so petite, he thought.  Fragile yet with an inner sense of strength about her.  He wanted to sweep her up in his arms, carry her off and never let her go.  Protect he
r from Ollie?  Yes.  And from the rest of the world he knew to be so cruel.  She was out of her element here.  These shallow people were not her kind but selfish and calculating.  What did she know of the games they played?

"Dawn......"  There were so many questions he wanted to ask but suddenly felt tongue tied.  "Did y
ou....did you like the roses?"

"Yes.  Thank you."   She wondered what he would think if he found out she had given them to the maid.  "T
hey were beautiful."

He heard the fabric of her gown rustle against her skin and felt a familiar flash of desire surge through him.  Just bein
g near her fired his passions. To Oliver she would be just one of many.  To him she was unique.  He had to make her understand.

"Why?  Why did you come here tonight with Oliver?"  His brows quirked up as he asked the question and
his voice betrayed his annoyance.
And yet I don't own her
, he reasoned
.  She had every right to accept the attentions of another man.