My Fair Temptress (15 page)

“Most of them.” She shrugged.

“You’ll be considerate of his character, will you not?”

She looked startled. “Of course. I understand that men of his age are…”

While she hesitated, trying to be kind, he started laughing. “You’re a dear, dear girl.” He leaned down and with his mouth stirred the soft downy skin behind her ears. When she bent her head to accommodate him, his lips caressed her hairline. He took advantage of every movement, using each sweet yielding to make way for another wave of glory. He touched her face, her neck. A silver button rested in the base of her throat, and he found his fingers toying with it, opening it. Another button lay below that, and he opened that one, too. The baby-soft skin of her cheeks was softly tan; here the skin was paler, creamier, untouched by sun. He stroked her, exploring that tiny vee of flesh, and that one little liberty caused passion to rampage through him.

Swiftly he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons, opening them almost to her waist. Reverently he slid his hands beneath the material and parted the edges. Her undergarments were plain white and utilitarian, but he didn’t care. It was the body beneath them that made his blood race. Her corset pressed up on her breasts, her chemise covered them, but in the sunshine, the material was almost transparent. He could see the glow of her skin and the darker shape of her aureoles and nipples. Cupping the sweet flesh, he moved his hands in slow circles and watched as her nipples tightened. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight, but he knew she watched him, lids heavy, and she made no move to stop him. The silence was profound; he couldn’t hear birds or insects, he could hear only the panting as they breathed.

And he couldn’t resist any longer. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He wasn’t going to take her. But he wanted, needed to taste her. Putting his mouth to her breast, he sucked on the nipple through the cloth. He drew it into his mouth, savoring the moment, the woman, the pleasure. Somehow he knew he’d never forget this moment in the sunlight and the fresh air with the scent of roses and of Caroline rich in his nostrils.

As he used his tongue on her, soft moans sounded from her delicately parted lips. Her head fell back against the wall. Her eyes closed. Her palms pressed tightly against the stone as if to restrain herself from touching him, and she trembled with need.

And he had to stop. It wasn’t fair to use this girl, who had struggled so desperately to make a living, just because he couldn’t maintain control of his own impulses.

Gathering her into his arms, he rested his cheek on her head and spoke into her hair. “I can’t wait until the Lawrences’ ball.”

“Good. You want to go meet the ladies.”

“Mum consulted me on your gown. I can’t wait to see you in it.” It was true. For the first time in his life, he was in the position of knowing just what a lady was going to wear—and anticipating her appearance. It was an odd feeling, almost proprietary, as if he were a husband.

“I’m not going,” she answered coolly, but she allowed him to hold her.

“Of course you are. You have to supervise me.”
You have to be there to charm de Guignard and Bouchard.

“The gossip my presence would inspire would be disastrous for you and your cause.”

“My cause.” He was deadpan.

“Your father wishes you to be married, and you’ve said you wished it also.” She disentangled herself from his embrace. Today, in this light, her eyes were the color of the green sea on a sunny day, and they ruthlessly considered him. “Is that not true?”

Of course it wasn’t true. Jude had other plans on which to concentrate. The discovery of the Moricadians’ plot. The instruction of his father as to the correct way to handle an adult son. But he knew that no matter whether he told Caroline that he wished to marry or not, she would still do her best to find him a mate, because she’d told him what she wanted—she wanted to take her sister to France to live with their mother’s family in peace and happiness. And she would do everything to succeed.

He wouldn’t marry simply to help her fulfill her dream; but after all this was over, he would reward her adequately. “I need my teacher at my side to tell me why the ladies resist my charms.”

“They can’t resist your charms.” Her smile softened her refusal. “Not when you flirt with such marvelous subtlety. I predict you’ll be a resounding success.”

That night in her room, Caroline opened her lesson journal and read her entries. Week 1, Week 2…and that was divided into days, and after each day she had listed the lesson and afterward divulged her thoughts on Huntington’s progress. At last she got to

Beneath that, she wrote:

Then, with an honesty that eased her troubled conscience, she added:

With a sigh, she shut the journal and blew out the candle.

J
ude dawdled in the foyer, listening as Nevett’s voice rose and fell behind the closed door of his study—mostly rose—and Jude grinned. He’d played an awful trick on Caroline, but he needed her at his side again.

Unfortunately, Jude’s amusement led Phillips, on guard by the door, to let loose a nasty smile. “I knew she would get above herself, sir,” the butler said smugly. “She’s that sort of female.”

“Did you?” Jude’s grin cooled. “I would have said she was the sort of female whom I’ll be escorting to parties.”

“Only because she’s your governess,” Phillips said, with stiff daring.

“I would take it ill, very ill indeed, should gossip be spread beyond the bounds of this house about my governess.” Jude stepped close to Phillips. The butler was shorter, older, set in his ways, but in his faded eyes Jude saw a hint of meanness. “Any kind of gossip, but especially gossip detrimental to Miss Ritter.”

“Of course not.” Phillips pokered up. “I don’t gossip.”

“Nor should your minions.”

“Not a breath shall escape the household.” All trace of Phillips’s satisfaction was gone now.

“Good.” A silence fell in Nevett’s study.

Jude lost interest in the butler, for the door snapped open, and Caroline stalked out.

With a single glance, Jude knew he was in trouble now. “Miss Ritter, you look glorious this morning.”

Caroline’s morning dress of dark blue merino covered her from neck to wrists to toes. The skirt was wide, but not too wide, as befitting a woman of modest means, and she wore a white lace pelerine over her shoulders tied in a dark blue necktie.

She paid no heed to him or his courtesy, but stalked up to Phillips. With an indignation that made Phillips back away, she said, “I believe this would be a good time for you to go to His Grace and confess your sins.”

“Such effrontery!” Phillips snapped. Then, “What sins?”

“The sin of eavesdropping.” Still without acknowledging Jude, she strode into the library. He followed, and found her standing with her arms stiff at her side and her eyes hot and resentful. “You did it on purpose,” she accused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what?” As if he didn’t know.

“Behaved like a fool at the Lawrences’ ball and alienated every lady there.”

“Why would I do that?” Jude pretended a bland ignorance.

“So that I would be forced to go with you to Baron Atherton’s ball tomorrow night.”

Jude placed his fingers on his chest and sighed miserably. “I’m crushed that you can accuse me of such manipulative behavior.”

She caught her breath as if she wanted to blast him, then slowly let it out. She was too aware of her position as governess to give him the upbraiding he deserved.

He glanced out the open door into the foyer, where he knew Phillips stood, ears straining to hear their quarrel. If they’d been alone, would Caroline have felt free to shout at Jude? Perhaps. He hoped so. He rather enjoyed seeing his governess pushed beyond the bounds of propriety. Wonderful things happened there. Marvelous things, seductive things. Recalling them, he took a step toward her, to gather her into his arms and kiss her as she was meant to be kissed.

But she made a sound, a rough sound deep in her throat like of the type one uses to discipline a dog.

And, like a well-trained dog, he stopped. He adjusted his cravat. He asked, “What is our lesson for the day?”

“You’ll write letters of admiration to all of the ladies you met last night.”

“But I must have met a hundred.”

“Yes.” Caroline pointed to the desk. “Compose them there. When I return, I’ll read them, and I expect them to be in your best handwriting, and I expect them to be right.”

Meekly he seated himself at the desk and dipped his pen in ink. “As you wish, Miss Ritter.” He supposed this was a small enough punishment to get his own way.

Tomorrow night, Caroline would go to the ball.

“I’m apprehensive about facing the company.” As the luxurious ducal carriage jostled along in the line waiting to disgorge its passengers at Baron Atherton’s town house, Nicolette fussed with her ball gown.

You’re
apprehensive? Caroline thought incredulously.

“You’re my duchess,” Nevett said. “Why would you be fidgety about anything?” In the feeble lamplight, he looked amazed as only a man totally secure in his status could look.

In his position beside Caroline in the backward-facing seat, Huntington moved closer, close enough that his arm rested along the length of hers.

“I haven’t been out for so long. People will stare and wonder how we’re dealing with our loss.” Nicolette glared at her insensitive husband. “I hate being the center of attention.”

Huntington’s touch warmed Caroline; he seemed aware that
she
would be the center of attention, not the duchess, and that she stood in peril of being treated with the rapt cruelty allotted to a disgraced female.

“You hosted a tea only a few days ago,” Nevett reminded his wife.

“A small gathering of friends. It was almost completely appropriate for a family coming out of mourning. But this!” She gestured toward the brightly lit house, where carriages disgorged their fashionable passengers. “This is an ordeal.”

“Blame Jude if you must.” Taking her hand, Nevett patted it. “It’s his fault we can’t stay at home of an evening.”

Caroline found two pairs of eyes focused on her and Huntington, and feared the duke and duchess would observe that they sat too close. So she looked at Huntington, also, and wished she hadn’t.

He had arranged his hair in a perfect, understated style. His profile was strong, his chin determined. He gazed at his father and stepmother through eyes that seemed both wise and wary—and he was a nightmare in purple and black.

Apparently Nevett had the same thought, for he said, “Son, you look like a bruise.”

Caroline fought a desire to burst into hysterical laughter. Clenching her gloved hands, she told herself sternly that her disquiet meant nothing. What happened to her that night, what was said to her, was of no importance. What was vital was keeping Huntington on a tight leash, introducing him to the proper ladies, getting him married…doing her job.

“I wondered about that, but my valet assured me I would be the most stylish man at the ball,” Huntington said in a fretful voice. “We should go back so I can don the sunrise neck scarf.”

“No!” The other three spoke in unison.

“Not the sunrise scarf. It’s preposterous,” Nevett said.

“Wh…what do you mean, sir?” Huntington sounded hurt.

Caroline smoothly interceded. “He means it would look like part of your bruise is fading.”

“We’re almost there,” Nicolette said. “I couldn’t get up the nerve to leave and return. Please, Jude, I think you look very nice.”

Nevett gave her an incredulous glance, then craned his head out the window. “By George, this baron fellow enjoys spending his money a little too much. His common roots are showing.” He pulled his head back in. “Sorry, Miss Ritter. I wasn’t referring to you.”

For the first time that night she moved from anxiety to amusement. “I didn’t take offense, Your Grace.”

“Good. You’re a sensible girl. No megrims for you.” As the carriage stopped, Nevett turned to his wife. “Nicolette, you should be more like Miss Ritter.”

“Oh, Nevett,” she said in despair.

“What? What did I say?” The door opened, and Nevett climbed out. He offered his hand to his wife. “That was perfectly reasonable.”

Alone with Huntington, Caroline assayed a smile. “Shall we?”

“Don’t worry.” Taking her hand, he kissed it. “I’ll be with you every moment, I promise.”

She ignored the strong desire to agree. “I don’t want you with me. I want you to flirt with the ladies.”

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“You’re being too agreeable.”

“I can’t make you happy.” He descended.

“Yes, you can.” Taking his hand, she stepped out of the carriage. “Find a bride. Marry before the end of the Season. That’s all I ask.”

Baron Atherton was from an old family with a minor title. He proved to have an aptitude for making money, and since he wasn’t adverse to spending lavishly, the ton readily forgave him. Tonight, along with his much younger, very pretty, and vapid wife, he stood in his foyer and welcomed all of London society to his spacious town house.

He cast a sharp glance at Caroline when Nevett introduced her, but said nothing. He was damned lucky to get Nevett there at all, and he knew it. The duke’s guest was acceptable…unless she caused another scene.

Nevett and Nicolette, Huntington and Caroline moved from the receiving line to the wide door overlooking the ballroom, and Nicolette took a long breath. “Here we go.”

Caroline took a long breath, too, and prayed to be unnoticed. She prayed that the evening would go well. She prayed they would indeed find Huntington a bride.

She frowned. But she wanted to find him the right bride. Before she knew him, she had thought any lady would do. Now she wanted a woman who would treat his costumes with humor, who respected his opinions, and who enjoyed his lovemaking. Of course, she wouldn’t accept a girl who giggled at him behind his back. And she thought it wouldn’t be appropriate if the girl was beautiful, or even too pretty…because Huntington wouldn’t like the competition for attention. Yes, he needed the right bride. Then she remembered her sister, and amended that to—he needed the right bride almost as badly as she needed the money.

As the duke and duchess strolled forward, Huntington gave Caroline a lingering glance. “You look lovely.”

She touched her modest neckline. “Thank you. It’s a lovely dress.” Made of nutmeg crepe, which matched her hair, it was decorated with rows of ruffles on the full skirt, and was far more luxurious than anything she had ever hoped to wear again.

“The dress doesn’t do justice to the wearer.” Huntington extended his arm for her to hold. “Shall we, my lioness?”

Caroline savored the glow his words brought her. Placing her hand on his, she said, “Indeed we shall.”

Walking down the steps, they entered into the fray.