Lord of the Rakes (17 page)

“Congratulations on your engagement, Miss Rayburn.” Philip took Fiona’s hand with perfect politeness and bowed over it. “I wish you very happy.”

“And this is her friend and maid of honor, Lady Caroline Delamarre.”

“Lady Caroline.” Caroline was sure her face was blushing redder than the damask wallpaper around them as Philip took her hand. But he did no more than bow, as precisely and politely as he had for Fiona. She met his gaze as he straightened, attempting with her look to demand to know what exactly he was doing here. Philip returned nothing beyond a polite smile.

“But Mr. Montcalm and I have already met,” Caroline said, striving for a casual tone.

“Have you?” Suspicion tinged Harry’s words.

“At Mrs. Gladwell’s ball. I told you about it, Harry,” put in Fiona quickly. “You never listen to me.”

“Not fair, Fi, and not true. Harry Rayburn,” he said, introducing himself to Philip, and the men bowed to each other.

“How are you enjoying the opera, Mr. Montcalm?” inquired Fiona before any sort of uncomfortable pause could descend.

“Very much, Miss Rayburn. Our prima donna is in excellent voice tonight.”

It was unbelievable. Caroline had come to think of Philip almost as a magical being, someone who appeared, exquisitely aroused and ravished her, and vanished. But here he was, mixing with her friends and acquaintances, conversing effortlessly about operas past and present. He appeared perfectly at ease with the company, and his display of impeccable manners and good humor caused even Harry to let down his guard.

“Don’t tell me you actually listen to the music, Mr. Montcalm,” Emma Westbrook was saying. “I was given to understand that gentlemen only attended the opera at the insistence of their womenfolk.”

“That is not entirely true,” Philip replied placidly. “Some of us attend in order to stare at the pretty dancers.”

Emma greeted this remark with a little shriek of delight. “You are shocking, Mr. Montcalm!”

“My apologies. But in answer to your question, despite being impeded by the natural defects of my masculinity, I do actually enjoy the music. Are you enjoying it, Lady Caroline?” He turned to her.

Caroline came to herself with a start. “Enjoy . . . ?”

“The music. Are you enjoying the music?”

“Yes, it is beautiful,” she replied. “I am surprised you are here, however.”

He raised one shoulder. “One must do something with one’s time in town. There was no place else I cared to be tonight.”

Except with you.
She understood the words as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud. How on earth was she to respond? Should she be afraid because he was following her? Angry, because despite his reminding her that she could damage Fiona’s reputation, he was standing right here? Again?

At the same time Caroline was aware of a growing unhappiness. There was a gulf between her and this polite, public Philip Montcalm. She could not take his arm or speak to him in a familiar fashion. She could not look on him with heat and glad affection, the way Fiona looked at James. She did not dare let her gaze drift along his body in an admiring fashion. Her need for him might show in her expression, and that in turn might raise questions she could not answer.

It was impossible, but somehow, in the middle of this crowd, with Philip right next to her, she was lonely. She wished he would go. She did not want to see him when she could not touch him, and could not speak to him in the free and easy way she enjoyed.

But when he turned his eyes back toward her, a shock ran through her. He saw her misery, and he understood. There was a sympathy in his gaze, and more. Philip was lonely, too. He also wanted more than this polite distance, but he would not breach propriety. That understanding made her breath catch in her throat.

Caroline mustered her decorum and turned toward Harry, intending to bring him into the flagging conversation, but she saw movement in the crowd, and her words died on her lips.

Lewis Banbridge was shouldering his way through the crush, heading directly for them. There was an elegant woman on his arm, and the sight of that woman drained the color from Philip’s cheeks.

“Eugenia,” he breathed.

“M
y word, Montcalm, there you are!” cried Banbridge with brittle cheerfulness. Philip forced a smile onto his face. “And . . . I say, if it isn’t Lady Caroline as well.”

“Mr. Banbridge,” Caroline replied with icy courtesy. Philip was certain she heard the predatory purr in Banbridge’s voice as well as he did. “How do you do?”

“Very well, thank you,” replied Banbridge with a fond, false gaze at Eugenia. Eugenia ignored this. Her attention was entirely fixed on Philip. Philip raised a brow at her, and leveled his best cool stare. Eugenia did not even flinch.

“I must say, I am shocked at how you neglect your neighbors now that you’ve come to town,” Banbridge was telling Caroline. “I’m sure I’ve seen you at several gatherings, and yet you’ve scarcely deigned to speak a single word to me.”

He laughed, but none of the Rayburns or Westbrooks seemed inclined to join in. Indeed, the glances between Fiona and her brother looked almost alarmed.

Caroline smiled, but did not reply. Instead, she looked pointedly at Eugenia.

“I’m so sorry,” said Banbridge smoothly. “Where are my manners? Lady Caroline, Mrs. Warrick. And I believe you know Mr. Montcalm.” He turned with Eugenia still on his arm so that now she and Philip were face-to-face.

“Of course I do,” said Eugenia in her sweetest tone. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Philip.”

Eugenia was certainly at her finest this evening. Her gown was an elaborate creation of silver tissue and cream silk. Together with her carefully styled butter-yellow curls and pale eyes, it made her appear positively sylphlike. The fact that the gown was cut exceedingly low and the fact that she was sporting the new fashion in formidable French corsets underneath did nothing to lessen that effect. Sapphires and diamonds decorated her white bosom, combining with the daring neckline to naturally draw a man’s eye where she wanted it to go.

Philip looked at this beautiful and willing woman, whose skills he knew quite well, and he felt nothing but cold.

“Good evening, Mrs. Warrick.” He bowed over her hand. “I’m sorry if I appeared elusive.”

“Well, that always was one of your most captivating characteristics,” Eugenia replied, letting her gaze drift boldly across his body. “After all, one cannot expect the Lord of the Rakes to be so commonplace as to be taken up by just anybody.” She said this last directly to Caroline.

“Well, Harry.” James Westbrook handed his glass to a passing footman. “It’s high time we got the ladies back to the box, don’t you think?”

“I was just about to say the same,” said Banbridge. “Come along, Montcalm, we’ve saved you that seat.”

Philip had to work to keep the surprise off his face. What on earth was Eugenia up to? This couldn’t possibly be Lewis’s doing. Eugenia smiled brilliantly, confirming his suspicions. She’d had Banbridge come over here specifically to back him into this corner. If he refused now, he’d make a spectacle of himself in front of all the Rayburns and Westbrooks. Not to mention Caroline, who was very obviously not looking at him.

“I was so delighted when you said you were going to be here, Mr. Montcalm,” said Eugenia. “It’s been simply ages since we’ve seen each other, and we used to be
such
good friends.”

Philip barely spared her a glance. His awareness was centered on Caroline. He watched her silent struggle for distance, for detachment, and saw her fail to find them. Something inside him twisted hard.

It was Miss Rayburn who intervened. “Oh, are you promised to Mrs. Warrick, Mr. Montcalm?” She blinked her big, blue eyes innocently. “Had I known, I never would have invited you to join our party!”

Philip noted how Fiona trod on her fiancé’s foot, in case he hadn’t caught her meaning. Westbrook, not being a slow man, picked up the thread at once. “As I said, we’d be glad to have you, Montcalm, but if you’re engaged . . .” He waved the words away.

Philip knew he should go. He was making things difficult for Caroline. Miss Westbrook, for instance, was watching this exchange with narrowed eyes, already wondering what was going on. As for Eugenia . . . she was staring daggers at Caroline. Her jealousy was as palpable as it was distasteful, and hypocritical. This did not lessen the danger of it. If she chose, Eugenia could make Caroline’s remaining days in London extremely unpleasant. He should be strong and controlled for both of them and take himself out of here.

But just then Caroline raised her warm, summer-brown eyes, and Philip saw in an instant how very much she did want him to stay. That was all it took.

“Sorry, Banbridge. Mrs. Warrick,” he said. “But as you see, I’ve already accepted an invitation for this evening.”

“How very disappointing,” said Eugenia, pushing her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “But I’m sure you’ll have a delightful time with your new friends.”

Fortunately, the gong sounded, indicating the performance was about to begin. The crowd around them began its ponderous movement toward the doors. Harry Rayburn held out his arm for Lady Caroline, and Philip paused to bow to Westbrook and Eugenia before he turned to join them.

 • • • 

Anger seethed in Eugenia Warrick’s blood as she watched Philip take his leave.

He didn’t even look back. He walked away with that vulgar country chit, and he didn’t so much as look back once. How dare he treat her this way? Parading his latest conquest in front of all the world, letting everyone think
he
had left
her
. He did not seem to understand that her relationships ended on her terms, no one else’s.

“Well, that’s that, I’d say,” murmured Lewis Banbridge as he attempted to steer Eugenia toward their box.

But Eugenia was not in any mood to be guided. “That is
not
that. Who is this Lady Caroline? Does she think she can waltz in with the country mud still on her shoes and take whatever man she chooses?”

Deep down, Eugenia suffered from the uncomfortable awareness that she had misplayed her hand with Philip Montcalm. She had been so certain she had done what no one else could. She, Eugenia Warrick, had tamed the Lord of the Rakes. She had submitted to each one of his sexual games, feeding his need to control, to dominate. She had played him with all her carefully acquired skill until she had seen the genuine affection in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

But before she told her dearest friends of her success, she had decided to put it to the test. She let Philip find her with a young rival. She thought he would be jealous, and heartbroken. She had intended to let him stew in his feelings for a day or two, and then welcome him back to her bed. There, she would make him understand he was entirely hers, no matter who was on top.

Except that was not what had happened. The man quite cold-bloodedly told her he was removing his things from their rooms. Then he compounded the outrage by turning her down flat in the public street. It was barely a day later when she heard—from Lewis Banbridge of all men—that Philip had taken up with this country creature with her money, title, and utter lack of refinement.

“There, now, Eugenia.” Lewis patted her hand where it lay on his arm, a gesture that was as infuriating as it was patronizing. “You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking piqued. Let me take you out of here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, but then she reminded herself that she had agreed to come to the opera with Lewis for more than one reason.

“Do you really know the family?” She jerked her chin backward, indicating Lady Caroline.
Lady!
she sneered silently. Caroline Delamarre might be the daughter of an earl, but she had no more proper breeding than a kitchen maid. Anyone could see that.

“As much as anyone,” Lewis replied. “The old earl was not a very sociable man, and he kept his women on a short leash. But I have made the brother’s acquaintance. He’s involved with the local hunt, you see.”

“I heard there was some old scandal.” Lewis was walking them toward her box, slowly. The corridor was empty. She could just barely hear the orchestra as it warmed up for the second act. “Something about the countess and another man?”

“That’s as much detail as anyone has. Whatever happened, it was well and truly hushed up years ago.” Lewis sounded genuinely disappointed, and Eugenia found herself looking at him with fresh eyes. Was it possible Lewis Banbridge had been considering blackmail to cover his considerable expenses?

“What’s surprised me is that Jarrett let his sister come up to town without him,” Lewis went on. “He never showed any sign of being any more liberal than his father.”

“Are you sure he’s let her?” asked Eugenia slowly. “What if she’s come up without family permission?”

“She’s bold enough.” Lewis peered at Eugenia from around his collar point. “Why, Mrs. Warrick, I believe you’ve had an idea.”

She had, and it was a delicious, cold idea. It would teach Mr. Montcalm and Lady Caroline that she was not one to be trifled with. “Lewis, what would happen if you were to write the earl and let him know his sister is gadding about the town with a most unsuitable man?”

Lewis glanced at his manicured fingers. He had fewer rings on than usual, Eugenia noticed, and that emerald pin he was so proud of was conspicuous by its absence. “He’d hit the roof, I expect. Demand her return to the country. It’s not really my business, of course.”

“But it could be.” Eugenia turned her slyest, most seductive smile on him. “And, if you proved to be of use to the brother, you’d be in line as a marriage prospect for that woman, and her fortune.”

“At the very least it will make things difficult for her, and perhaps cause her to have to leave town, which would in turn open your path to Mr. Montcalm.”

“Exactly.” Eugenia let her eyes flutter slowly. “I always knew you were a man of intelligence and insight, Lewis.”

But then it was that Lewis surprised her. “You know, now that I think on it, I’m not sure a letter will answer. Jarrett . . . Keenesford, that is, has a positive horror of making any kind of public scene. Oh, he’ll rail in private, but out where the hoi polloi might see? Never. I suspect that’s what’s kept him away from town so far. No, if he’s to be persuaded he’s got to drag his sister home, someone will have to go out there and inform him directly of the danger of her situation.”

Knowing how little Lewis Banbridge liked to put himself to any kind of effort, Eugenia sighed and snuggled up to him, making very sure her breasts pressed against his upper arm. “But you would do it, wouldn’t you, Lewis? For me?” She batted her eyes once more.

He smiled, letting her know he appreciated both gestures. “While I would love to be your white knight, Eugenia, such a journey, especially on short notice, requires money, and I’m afraid my funds are . . . precarious right now.”

Of all the effrontery! Lewis Banbridge thought he was using her. He invited her here, not so he could help her get close to Philip and his new bit of skirt, but so he could try to profit from it. Eugenia wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or outraged.

Well, she could go along with him for now and make him pay for it later. She kept very close accounts of those who had helped her, and those who had not. Besides, Mr. Banbridge was not the only one with cards left to play.

“Let us speak plainly, Mr. Banbridge. Your funds are more than precarious. The word about town is your creditors have gotten tired of waiting for payment. Being absent from town for a few days might very well be to your advantage.”

“But one must return sometime,” Lewis demurred.

“And if it became known you return engaged to an heiress with the full blessing of her brother the earl, it would greatly increase the patience of those same creditors, don’t you think? It might even allow those who know you personally to advance you something against your expectations.”

“You make an excellent point, Eugenia.” Lewis met her eyes and she saw they understood each other perfectly. “Very well. I am engaged.” He paused thoughtfully and added, “Do you know, it’s a shame you’re so set on Montcalm. I think you and I would get on rather well.”

She let him see her smile again. “Perhaps when I am done with him, I will come find you again.”

He kissed her hand, lingeringly and not without some intriguing expertise. “Do, Eugenia,” whispered Mr. Banbridge. “Do.”