Miss Molly Robbins Designs a Seduction (14 page)

“Of course, my lord, to suggest there was anything more than that involved in your decision to stay away would be quite absurd.”

Carver stared hard at the other man, who carefully avoided his gaze. “Yes. It would.”

“She is merely a former lady’s maid.”

“Indeed.”

“A young lady you dismissed many times as plain, and perhaps even sinister in her manner.”

“There is something troubling you, Hobbs?”

“Not at all, my lord. Nothing troubles
me
.”

When Carver finally walked out and closed the office door, he heard his family’s solicitor whistling an extremely merry tune. It was the first time he’d ever heard Hobbs whistle. Clearly the man was feverish, or drinking too much too early in the day.

Please
do
not
let
him
be
here.

Molly was not sure which deity she prayed to. Was there a patron saint of seamstresses, she wondered?

For the concert at Vauxhall Gardens, she wore a muslin gown of robin’s egg-blue with a matching pelisse. It was simply cut, as were all her clothes, but Frederick Dawes had agreed the color was especially flattering, and the raised diamond pattern on the sleeves and bodice, while not too evident in daylight, would be picked out by the gas lamps in the park and give the material an added luster.

“You look very pretty tonight, Miss Robbins,” Lady Anne exclaimed, bubbling over with excitement as they left the carriage and walked to the grove between the pavilion and the orchestra.

Molly took this with a pinch of salt, since her young companion scarcely focused on one thing for more than a few seconds and seemed to think most things were “pretty.”

“And what lovely pearls!”

“They were a gift from Lady Mercy Danforthe,” she replied, raising a hand to touch the small earrings she wore tonight and then the single row of pearls at her throat. She’d never had an opportunity to wear them before and was still getting accustomed to them. But already her companion was chatting to Fred and looking elsewhere, the pearls forgotten.

They walked up a double flight of stone steps to the stately pillars of the pavilion. Molly barely had time to take in the colorful scene and admire the passing array of fashionable gowns before Lady Anne, craning her neck, gripped her by the elbow and said, “Let us walk this way,” and dragged her down again at a very purposeful pace. Molly would have preferred to stand a while and simply enjoy the parade of fashion, but her companion could not be still, of course, and Frederick went willingly with her bidding.

Molly began to wonder what the young lady was up to. Lady Anne was clearly on the lookout for someone. It would explain her reticence to be escorted by her brother or her governess.

Their feet crunched along a winding gravel walk, taking them away from the orchestra and onto a path lined by lofty trees that formed an arch overhead. Through them the gas lamps cast an intermittent, lazy glow, and Molly saw couples dawdling along, moving in and out of the shadows.

“I think we should go back to the pavilion,” she muttered, trying to retrieve her arm from Lady Anne’s. “Miss Forde is surely soon to sing.”

“But there is an obelisk in the meadow beyond, Miss Robbins. We cannot come to Vauxhall Gardens without seeing it. Surely, Mr. Dawes, you will agree.”

And then a heavier footfall joined them on the narrow, gravel lane, and they both spun around.

“Danforthe!”

“Lady Anne, I thought I recognized that bouncing, clumsy gait.” His eyes did not immediately go to Molly. He smiled for Lady Anne. “Does your brother know you’re rambling freely about, unleashed?”

The girl stuck out her small chin. “Yes. He said I could come if I had a chaperone, and since you recommended Miss Robbins to us in the first place, he trusts her. He said you have a very great opinion of Miss Robbins.”

Carver’s smile widened. “Don’t tell her that. It will only go to her head.”

Molly wondered how old one had to be not to suffer blushes, and she wished that year was beyond her now, even if it meant her hair would be gray. She’d always known he must have sent Lady Anne to her as a customer, but to have it confirmed at the top of the girl’s lungs and see Fred’s knowing grin from the corner of her eye was almost more than she could bear.

She felt duped by Lady Anne, who had flattered her into thinking she was wanted there for her companionship. Now her thoughts were thrown up in the air like a handful of jacks.

Introduced to Frederick, Carver shot the younger man a brief glance of disdain and sighed. “I thought your latest pet artist was that wet fellow with the red hair and weak chin, Lady Anne.”

She giggled. “Oh, Danforthe, that was Miles…poor Miles.” She put a finger to her lips and gazed into the distance for a moment. “He was very sweet, but not nearly as talented as he thought. I’m afraid his knees were much too knobbly.”

“Ah.”

“He also had sweaty palms.”

“Tragic.”

“It was! Mr. Dawes, do walk with me. I should love to hear your opinion of these statues up ahead.”

Thus Molly was suddenly the object of Carver’s stern appraisal as he held out his arm. “Walk with me, Miss Robbins. It seems we are both superfluous to the people with whom we came.”

She squinted down the path to see whom he might have come there with, but the crowd was a blur in that muted light, and she could not recognize any faces. Her eyes were strained by sewing for so many hours, and she had not realized how badly they deteriorated until now. Carver, she thought glumly, would always be recognizable. Even if she was blind, she would know him if he approached. Her skin prickled at the sound of his deep voice.

“I must stay with Lady Anne,” she replied firmly.

He nodded. “We’ll both stay with Lady Anne. To watch her morals.” Molly looked askance and saw his tongue bulge against his cheek.

The lady in question had already skipped on ahead, dragging Fred with her, so Molly had no choice but to walk with the scandalous menace. “I had no idea Lady Anne Rothespur was a patron of the arts.”

“She’s not,” he replied. “She’s a collector of pretty things and of pretty young men to adore her.”

“Oh.”

“Girls of sixteen,” he muttered, grim, “cannot be trusted.”

She looked up at him. “The same might be said of some gentlemen who are no longer sixteen, your lordship.”

“I assure you, Miss Robbins, I can be trusted.”

Sighing, she finally placed her hand lightly on his arm. It was easier to do so. Less awkward than walking side by side, especially since he kept altering his pace and his stride, making it difficult for Molly to keep up without looking as if she’d imbibed too much punch.

“No argument to that?” he pushed softly.

Struggling to remember what he’d just said, she was distracted by the heat of his arm, the hard muscle beneath her hand and his sleeve. “I know you, remember? How is the baroness?” Aha. She was pleased with herself for that recovery.

“Well enough.”

She studied his fine profile as he looked away down the path after Lady Anne and Fred, who was laughing at something his companion had said. “Will you tell the Earl of Saxonby about this?”

“About his sister and your artist? That lanky, fish-faced boy?” He huffed. “It is nothing of concern. Lady Anne is madly in love with some new fellow every week. It never lasts. It is never serious. As soon as he paints her with a crooked nose or a squint eye, she’ll send him packing.”

Molly turned her gaze back to her feet.
It
is
never
serious.
No. Just like
his
affairs. “But Lady Anne’s brother has brought her to London to find a husband. He won’t be pleased to hear of her spending time with a young man like Frederick Dawes, who is amiable but not marriage material for the sister of an earl.”

“Lady Anne knows what is expected of her. Eventually she will find some portly fellow with deep pockets and marry him.” Carver added, “Some old chap who will never manage to keep up with her but will adore every curl upon her head. Hopefully, for his sake, he will be hard of hearing. Until then, she is like a child running rampant through a bakery, taking a bite of all the wares.” Before she could accuse him of being remarkably casual about Lady Anne’s behavior, he added softly, “No harm will come to her. She has me and her brother to watch over her. We always have, and we always will.”

“You are close to the Rothespur family.”

“Since boyhood. Then Sinjun lost his father not long after I lost mine. The misfortune of having little sisters to manage brought us closer.”

She supposed no one would dare misuse Lady Anne with those two gentlemen guarding her. Especially Carver, who could be very fearsome when he chose. After all, even Molly felt safe when he was beside her. Safe from everything but him, of course.

Shooting another shy glance upward, she said, “Just as you once watched over her brother? At school?”

“Yes.”

“You saved him from bullies.”

“Hmm.”

“That was a kindly act, your lordship.”

“Hmm.”

A little color had crept up over the high collar of his coat.

“You are reluctant, I think, to admit yourself capable of good deeds.” She spread her fingers a little over his arm, relaxing her hand.

It was a softening she regretted in the next moment, for he took advantage of the lapse. Suddenly he drew her into a shallow alcove between the trees and changed the subject. “Have you reviewed the amendments to our contract, Margaret?”

His eyes were pure silver, gleaming brighter than the gas lamps along the alley. The panther was poised to pounce upon the mouse. He had trapped her there.

***

She was solemn, the lamplight barely enough to touch the side of her face as it tipped upward. “I have, sir.”

“And?” How cruel she was to make him wait. Carver’s hands found her waist through the soft fabric of her gown. He bent his head until his lips were almost upon hers.

“I cannot become your mistress. It is not the life I want for myself.”

He stared down at her, a castaway again.

“I am sorry if you are disappointed, sir,” she added. “I do hope we can continue as acquaintances, with no hard feelings.”

“Are you quite mad, woman?”

“Possibly.” She pressed a gloved finger to his lips. Then, having turned him down flat, she smiled, ducked out from the alcove, and walked onward, leaving him to follow. Her step was jaunty as she looked back over her shoulder, still smiling sweetly, and said, “Look how the trees arch overhead. It’s almost like walking down an aisle, don’t you think? Isn’t the music lovely, your lordship?”

So was she, he thought churlishly, quickening his stride to catch up. More than one pair of masculine eyes had turned her way as she passed them, and there was no mistaking the open admiration. Damn and blast. He’d arranged all this to get her to Vauxhall Gardens, and now he owed Lady Anne a new bonnet for this service.

“Miss Margaret Robbins.” He joined her, breathless. “What can be the meaning of running away from me?”

“Purely self-preservation, your lordship.”

So she
was
tempted. “I suppose that’s a start,” he muttered. Again he took her hand and tugged her aside. She gave a small yelp that went unheard by the younger couple, who continued their stroll up ahead. This time he held her more firmly in a niche beside a small fountain. “Acquaintances, Miss Robbins? Is that all you mean to offer me?”

“Is it not enough?”

“Certainly not. I’m a grown man, not a boy.” He would not be relegated to “friend” alongside Rafe Hartley and her artist neighbor.

She groaned and tried to slip out of his grasp. “Did you ask Lady Anne to bring me here this evening? Was this all
your
plan?”

He didn’t respond to that question. Didn’t need to. She was too clever not to know the answer. Although it was not his idea to invite that artist fellow along; that was all Lady Anne’s decision. “Miss Robbins, you must be aware of the honor I am willing to bestow upon you. Any other woman would—”

“I do not mean to be rude, sir, but yet again I must remind you that I am not like those
other
women
.”

He drew her closer. Margaret glanced anxiously down the path in the direction of Lady Anne, so he turned her face back to him again, made her look at him. “Let me be candid, Miss Robbins,” he said quietly, his fingers on her cheek. “I want you. I want you because you are not those women. I have need of you. Have you any idea what you’ve done to me?”

“Oh, I wish I knew what I’d done, sir, and then I could be sure to stop doing it.”

“Don’t push my patience, Miss Robbins. I won’t be toyed with.”

“That makes two of us, your lordship.” She tried pulling away again, but he kept her firm, his hand moving behind her head, fingers trying the neat pins that held her hair in place tonight.

“Perhaps I am still too subtle.” He frowned fiercely. “I intend to make you my mistress. I will give you a full wardrobe, a house in Town, complete with staff—anything you desire.” His other hand moved to the small of her back. “Carte blanche.”

She was staring at his mouth; her eyes were almost sleepy, confused. Finally she said, “I appreciate the frankness, your lordship, and the extreme generosity. But I could not possibly accept the post of your mistress.”

The smile which had begun to tug at his lips now wilted.

“I must ask you, sir, not to importune me again in such a manner as you do this evening. As you did when you came to my lodgings. It can do neither of us any good whatsoever.”

“You said yourself, Miss Robbins, life is short and pleasure hard to come by. Yet you deny yourself that pleasure now with me, out of a wasteful sense of propriety?”

“Someone in this town ought to be proper.”

“Unfortunately for me,” he muttered wryly, “it has to be you.”

She looked pensive. “Do you think it’s easy being a good person in this town?”

“I’m not asking you to be a bad person. If you were anything other than what you are, Margaret Robbins, I would not want you so very much.”

Her brown eyes widened, and he thought he saw a tear forming. How tempting it was not to throw her over his shoulder and run away with her, there and then. Instead, he must be satisfied with holding her trapped for as long as he might get away with it. He was surprised, in fact, that she had not wriggled away again yet or stabbed him with something sharp.

“But being with you would change me,” she whispered. “Would it not?”