Nicole Jordan (9 page)

Solange shrugged, affecting the common Gallic gesture. “Then I wish you
bon chance
. You will have your task cut out for you, I don’t doubt.”

At her change in tone, Julienne glanced over her shoulder to see Dare moving her way. She felt her heart leap. “Promise you will not leave me alone with him,” she said quickly.

Her friend frowned. “If you seriously mean that, then
naturellement
, I will not abandon you, but Wolverton is nothing if not persistent. Perhaps you should hear what he has to say and get it over with.”

After a moment, Julienne let out her breath in a sigh. “I suppose you are right.” She didn’t want Dare to think she was cowering from him, or that their passionate encounter four nights ago had affected her in any but the most superficial way.

Squaring her shoulders, she slipped into her role of popular actress and swept across the room to meet him.

An expectant buzz suddenly flowed around the room when she reached Dare. Julienne knew they were the object of all eyes, so she refrained from snatching her hand away when he bent to kiss it.

His tongue flickered over her fingertips, so fleetingly she might have imagined it—except that awareness flashed in those wicked green eyes, reminding her of the last time he had kissed her fingers.

She quivered at the memory. She could still feel the heavy pressure of his loins against her own, still feel his deep penetration—

Exorcising the provocative image, Julienne shook herself. Dare was deliberately trying to unsettle her composure, as usual.

Withdrawing her hand, she managed an effusive greeting for the benefit of their audience. “Ah, Lord Wolverton…the brightest new talent of Drury Lane. I did not expect to see you here. I was certain you would be practicing your lines for our next encounter.”

Dare’s eyes sparked with amusement. “I wished to speak with you, Miss Laurent. I have been unable to get close to you with the impenetrable throng of swains around you.”

“As it happens, I have been desirous of speaking to you myself.” She smiled brightly. “I know much of London waits with bated breath each night to discover what new farce you will enact, but perhaps you might contain your exhibitions until
after
the scheduled performance. Edmund Kean is rather vexed with you for upstaging him, I fear.”

“If it will please you, Miss Laurent, I shall certainly attempt to do better.”

“It would please me very much indeed.”

He placed a hand over his heart and offered her another gallant bow. “I live to make you happy.”

With a glance at her nearly empty wineglass, Dare asked if she would like more sherry. When she nodded distractedly, he steered her toward the refreshment table and then to one side of the crowded room so they could have a measure of privacy.

“At last,” Dare murmured.

“Why are you here, my lord?” Julienne asked without ceremony, although she lowered her voice to avoid being overheard by the nearest bystanders and preserved a pleasant expression on her face in keeping with their declared rivalry.

“As I said, I wished to speak to you. I was told I might find you holding court here, and I thought it would be easier to separate you from your gallants.”

“Well, you have found me, but I would appreciate it if in future, you would refrain from undressing me with your eyes in public.”

A slow grin spread across his lips. “But admiring you is a favorite pastime of mine,
ma belle
. And you must give me some credit. I’ve been totally discreet. I haven’t told a soul that a few nights ago you were crying with passion in my arms.”

Julienne nearly choked on her sherry. Cursing herself as she tried to regain her breath, she sent him an accusing frown. She was forever being caught off guard by his audacious remarks.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right, my love?”

“I would be far better if Solange never had admitted you.”

“I noticed her glancing at me. Can I flatter myself that you were discussing me?”

“I don’t know that you could call it flattery. She was telling me of some of your more outrageous pranks.”

“And warning you to beware the dangers of the infamous scoundrel, Dare North?”

“Actually, no. Solange counts herself among the ranks of your admirers.” Julienne gave him a thoughtful look. “Perhaps you might consider her as a candidate in your search for a mistress. She is available at the moment.”

“I want no other mistress than you, love.”

“I am
not
your love. You already have more than enough of those.”

“Jealous?” he drawled with a genial smile.

“You know, my lord, you suffer from a vastly inflated belief in your own fascination. Have you nothing better to do than bedevil me?”

“To be truthful, I would far rather make love to you. Shall I whisk you away from here? We have yet to find a real bed.”

His eyes danced with laughter, and Julienne found herself torn between unwilling amusement and the urge to box his ears.

“Do you never think of anything but carnal gratification?” she asked in exasperation.

“Occasionally. On Wednesday mornings, during my regular fencing match at Angelo’s Salle. Sex can prove a grievous distraction then.”

She rolled her eyes. “One would think your lust had never been satisfied.”

“Only when I was with you,” he replied, his tone abruptly turning serious.

She felt a distinct shock at his admission.

“You managed to do what no other woman has ever done before, Jewel,” he said as she stared at him.

“And what is that?”

“Bring me to the point of obsession. Despite my every instinct for self-preservation, I cannot stop wanting you.”

Julienne arched an eyebrow and took another sip of sherry, managing an attitude of cool disdain.

To her relief, Dare’s tone lightened. “Do you know, love, you play the role of ice maiden well, but it has the opposite effect of the one you intend. Your coolness makes a man burn for you all the more. Dares him to try melting you.”

When she merely pressed her lips together, refusing to respond, he glanced around the crowded salon. “I confess surprise to find you among this den of Royalists. Most of the émigrés here are eager to see Louis XVIII on the throne. Do you share their political leanings?”

That particular question she didn’t mind answering. She had neither the time nor the inclination to be drawn into the intrigues and rivalries of the French exiles. “I try to avoid politics as much as possible. I come here primarily for the literary discussions.”

His glance returned to her, holding both doubt and amusement. “I never would have taken you for a bluestocking.”

Julienne’s gaze narrowed in real annoyance at the hint of mockery in his tone. “What is wrong with being a bluestocking? If a woman has a brain in her head, if she is well-read or interested in the world, she deserves to be scorned? A female can only be lauded if she is idle, beautiful, and feather-headed?”

“Not at all. I have immense respect for intelligent females. I consider them one of life’s greatest pleasures. Why do you think I am so keen on gaining your companionship?”

He was trying to provoke her, of course, but still it stung to be jeered at for her interests. “You always did consider your intellect superior to anyone else’s.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “Never to yours. Your scintillating wit was one of the qualities I most admired about you. I took as much pleasure in your brain as your beauty.”

Discomfited again by the turn of conversation, Julienne stared down at her wineglass, but Dare apparently wasn’t finished.

“I have numerous faults,
chérie,
but you may absolve me of judging a woman solely for her appearance. If I mistakenly gave you the impression that I’m averse to bluestockings, it is merely because they are usually trying to convert me to more serious pursuits. Forgive me?”

Julienne hesitated, knowing she had overreacted. In all fairness, she couldn’t deny that Dare had always admired intelligence and wit in any of his acquaintances—women included—despite his complete irreverence for anything studious or sacred.

“Very well, I will absolve you of that fault, among your many. It is just that you are so proficient at provoking me, I constantly feel compelled to defend myself. You are continually thinking of new and clever ways to get under my skin.” She raised her glass in salute. “I suppose I should commend you on your inventiveness.”

“I think you just paid me a compliment.”

“I will endeavor not to let it happen again,” Julienne said dryly.

His grin flashed with charming brilliance, and she had to catch her breath at the beauty of it.

“To be truthful,” she said swiftly, trying to change the subject, “I am not considered a bluestocking in this crowd. Rather I am something of a traitor.”

She caught his start of surprise and wondered at it. “A traitor?” Dare repeated slowly.

“I am disdained because I am in trade. Most of these good
aristos
would rather starve than work for a living.” She forced a smile. “I am only allowed into their hallowed presence because of Solange. She championed me because of her childhood friendship with my mother, but I am merely clinging to the pretense of genteel respectability.”

She paused, eyeing Dare with all seriousness. “Your pursuit of me will only make their acceptance more difficult, do you realize?”

“Do you care so much for their acceptance?”

Julienne shrugged. “London can be lonely.”

His gaze lingered upon her face, examining her intently. “Even with all your courtiers vying for your favors?”

Her smile this time was even more fleeting. “How would you like to be considered nothing more than a trophy, desired only for your body?”

“You want an honest answer?”

Surprised that she did, she nodded.

“I might consider it a step up from being desired only for my wealth and title.”

At his suddenly grim tone, Julienne winced, remembering that Dare counted her among the ranks of greedy, title-hungry fortune hunters. She could well understand his anger at her, since she’d led him to believe she was no better than the countless other schemers who had pursued him.

After a moment, however, his dark expression faded and he shook his head. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Jewel. Instead I came to issue you an invitation. I am arranging a house party at my country house near Brighton, and I would like you to be my honored guest.”

“You cannot be serious?”

“Utterly.”

“And here I was just remarking on your cleverness.” Julienne smiled. “You must be particularly dull-witted, my lord, if you think I will agree to be your willing victim at one of your infamous orgies.”

He shook his head. “It won’t be an orgy, I assure you. Don’t refuse before you consider the advantages. I should imagine you would enjoy the respite. And the climate is definitely warmer than London’s. Come now, I am only asking for a week of your time, ten days at the most. I thought we could depart at the end of next week. It will give you time to prepare—”

“This is one of your tricks, Dare, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why would you devise a house party?”

“Because I can think of no better way to ensure I spend any significant amount time in your company. Frankly, I don’t relish chasing after you, begging for the crumbs of your attention.”

“But you mean to try to win our wager.”

“Of course,” Dare said blandly. “But it will provide you an equal opportunity to do the same. It could put you well on your way to winning. And to show what a good sport I am, I’ve already invited Riddingham, and I’m prepared to include any other swains you choose. Madame Brogard, as well, if you will feel more comfortable. She can serve as your protection. We can make up several carriages for the journey south next week.”

“It would comfort me greatly to have Solange there, but that is beside the point. I couldn’t possibly attend. My performance schedule at the theater will prevent me from being free except for a day or two—”

“I’ve spoken to Arnold, and he is willing to give you the time off. For a significant remuneration, of course.”

“You mean to tell me that you
bribed
him?”

“I merely offered to reimburse him for your services. He didn’t want to lose the income that your absence would entail. More important, he’s eager to placate his leading man. You were right about Kean being piqued by my upstaging him. Arnold is willing to let you go for a time if it means being rid of me.

“Come now, love, if it makes you feel better, you can consider it strictly a business proposition. You are an actress whom I will hire for a private performance. You can’t object to earning the fee I’m willing to pay.”

“How much?” Julienne asked curiously.

“How does a thousand pounds strike you?”

She couldn’t stifle a gasp. That sum was more than twice the salary she would command for the entire theater season, and that was after Arnold had renegotiated her contract to reflect her higher demand.

“I don’t intend to take no for an answer,” Dare assured her as she deliberated. “I will simply beleaguer you until you agree to come.”

She didn’t doubt his statement in the least, or his determination. If he continued to infuriate Edmund Kean, Dare could destroy the career she had worked so hard to build. Arnold would fire her long before he risked losing one of the most gifted actors England had ever known.

A sudden wave of bitterness swept Julienne at her powerlessness, and she had to strive to keep her voice from trembling. “You certainly have the resources to play God with my life, Lord Wolverton, but I have worked for
years
for the opportunity to perform at Drury Lane. If you ruin this for me, I
swear
I will make you regret it.”

He dipped his head slightly at her warning, but his gaze remained cool. “Then I have your agreement?”

“It seems you leave me no choice.”

He bowed in polite acknowledgement of her capitulation. “Then I will leave you to your literary discussions. I suspect I’ve caused you enough gossip for one afternoon.”