Regency Debutantes (36 page)

‘Amanda.’ The name rolled lazily off his tongue.

Kathryn descended back down to earth with a crash, all her dreams shattered in an instant.
What am I doing letting him kiss me? It’s not Kathryn Marchant that he holds so tenderly, but another woman altogether. If he knew the truth …
‘No!’ Her whisper was loud and urgent. She thrust herself back from him.

‘What the…?’ His puzzlement was palpable.

‘No!’ she said again, louder this time and with quiet determination. She tried to move away. But she had reckoned without Lord Ravensmede.

He stepped closer, backing her up against the wall. ‘What’s wrong? Was the diamond bracelet not to your liking?’ One large thumb drizzled slowly down her cheek to brush against the soft cushion of her mouth. ‘Come, Amanda, we’re both hardened players of this game.’

Kathryn’s heart thundered in her chest, her pulse leaping at her throat. Her whisper was loud against the hiss of silence. ‘You’re mistaken, my lord. I am not…’

Ravensmede halted her words with an ardent kiss. ‘Am I then mistaken in that? Or in the fact that your kisses are the sweetest I’ve ever tasted?’ His hands slid over her shoulders as he pulled her to him. ‘Trembling like a virgin, Mrs White? Did
I not know just how determinedly you had courted my attention, your timidity might be believable.’ He made to kiss her again, but was thwarted by Kathryn’s wriggles and succeeded only in planting a chaste kiss upon the tip of her nose.

The time for speaking was past. Kathryn knew she had but one opportunity for escape and she created it with a sudden exclamation. ‘My lord, there’s someone at the window!’ When Ravensmede turned to look over his shoulder, she bolted and ran for the door. Blood pounded in her temples and her breath shortened. Movement sounded behind her, but she did not look back, just kept running. Her fingers reached forward, the tips touching to the cool brass of the doorknob before their contact was severed. A strong arm wound around her waist and yanked her back against a wall of solid muscle.

‘What the hell is this about, Amanda? You’ve been flirting with me for months, practically begging me to visit your bed, and when finally I agree you flee as if the very devil is on your heels. Let’s resolve this matter once and for all, madam.’ He waited with patience, but did not loosen his grip.

A thousand thoughts whirled through Kathryn’s brain. Plans to escape, words of excuse, fear and panic, but through them all she knew her time had come. There was no alternative other than to let him see the truth and await his reaction. Dear Lord, if there was any other way! She steeled herself to the task, to the revulsion and anger she knew that she would see in his face. There could be no further prevarication. She ceased her struggle.

‘An explanation, please, if you would be so good, Mrs White.’

‘I did not mean for this to happen, my lord.’

She allowed Lord Ravensmede to turn her in his arms, knowing full well it would be the last time ever she would feel his touch. The shadow had lightened a little, but as she looked up she could see nothing more than the dark outline of his face, and was thankful that it was so. ‘I am not Mrs White,’ she said simply.

Silence stretched between them.

Abruptly he pulled her across the room to stand before the glass doors. Moonlight captured his stunned features, proclaiming the perfection of each contour, every plane. Dark eyes glittered incredulously, raking every fibre of her being until she thought she could stand his silent scrutiny no more. She stood stiff and erect, her pride holding all else in check.

‘I am Miss Kathryn Marchant, the cousin of Miss Lottie Marchant.’

No reply, just the soft sound of his breathing, and the continued pressure of his hands around her upper arms.

A tremble set up in her legs. ‘I only sought some…somewhere where I could be alone.’ The words were stilted, awkward. ‘I did not know that…that the room was to be used by another…others,’ she corrected.

Still he did not speak.

‘What has occurred here has been a mistake. I beg that you’ll speak of it to no one. If my aunt was to hear …’ She could not finish what she had started.

His voice rumbled low, little more than a whisper. ‘Why did you not speak earlier? Inform me of my…error?’

A hot blush flooded her cheeks. ‘I tried—’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Not very convincingly.’

‘I could not, my lord.’

‘Could not, or would not, Miss Marchant?’

She quailed beneath the intensity of his stare.

‘You play a very foolish game…a downright dangerous game.’

The touch of his fingers burned where they contacted the bare skin of her arms.

‘Don’t tell me you have not heard of my reputation?’ he mocked, then glanced away as if there was something he could not quite fathom. When his gaze slid back to hers there was something in it that caused her heart to race even faster.

She did not answer. Aridity threatened to close her throat. When finally her words came they were nothing but a hoarse whisper. ‘Please excuse me, my lord, I must return to my cousin.’

‘Really?’ There was a lazy drawl in Ravensmede’s voice that did not match the glint in his eye.

‘Indeed, my lord.’

His lordship showed not the slightest inclination to withdraw his hands.

Beneath the magical glow of the moonlight her skin was pale and smooth as alabaster. Her hair was still pinned back, but some of the curls had escaped to dangle enticingly against her cheek and throat. One finger lifted a curl from her cheek, then slid down to trace the delicate line of her jaw. His gaze followed where his finger led, then meandered back to her eyes that appeared opalescent in the moonlight. Fringed with long dark lashes, glittering with unshed moisture, her eyes were quite simply beautiful. And contained in the stare that she returned him Ravensmede could see shock and guilt…and passion. She was playing with fire. Already the heat within him kindled.

‘Miss Marchant, someone should teach you …’ deliberately he leaned down and allowed his breath to caress her ear ‘.the perils …’ his lips hovered by the side of her face, so close yet not touching ‘…of allowing yourself …’ he closed the last small space that divided them until he felt his thighs brush against her skirts ‘…to be kissed by a rake.’ Her clean feminine fragrance filled his nose. Where their legs touched he could feel the slight tremor running through her. He watched her eyes widen, but she did not try to pull away. ‘Shall I, Kathryn?’ he exhaled the question in a soft breath. He looked at her a moment longer, then gently, insistently, covered her mouth with his, massaging her lips in a slow, sensual motion.

She tasted sweet and innocent…and completely alluring. Desire leapt. Their first kisses had not lied. He wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss, to drink in every last drop of her. Attraction scorched as hot as if he were the greenest of lads. He wanted to reach in and touch her as she had touched him. Temptation loomed large. And Nicholas Maybury, Viscount of Ravensmede, had never been a man to deny himself.

‘By the heavens, Ravensmede! You arrange an assignation with me then fill my place with another before I arrive!’ A woman’s shrill voice shrieked at full volume from the doorway. ‘You, sir, are a damnable scoundrel!’

He felt the girl jump within his arms, heard her sudden shocked gasp. It was with a great degree of reticence that he removed his embrace. ‘Mrs White, how very good of you to join us,’ he said.

The voluptuous young widow’s eyes slid towards Miss Marchant and narrowed further.

He sensed rather than saw the girl’s withdrawal. ‘Miss Marchant and I were just admiring the night sky.’

A derisive snort sounded from the beauty. She stepped fully into the room, leaving the door gaping wide behind her. ‘I know full well exactly what you and…Miss Marchant…were doing and it had nothing to do with the stars! Don’t take me for a fool, Ravensmede!’

‘I must insist that you’re mistaken, my dear Mrs White.’ He moved to stand between the two women, shielding Kathryn from the other’s view. Mrs White’s abundant bosom expanded before his very eyes, rising and falling with alarming speed. There was about her face a slyness that he had not observed before. He wondered that he ever could have mistaken one woman for the other, for in the clear moonlight there was certainly nothing of a similarity between them. Amanda White was tall with a curvaceous figure. Kathryn Marchant was not. And yet it was the smaller, slimmer woman in the unfashionable plain gown that he wanted; the woman whose eyes were cool silver, and whose lips were hot with untapped passion.

‘I know what I saw, sir,’ Mrs White said harshly. ‘Miss Marchant, indeed.’ Her head bobbed to look down upon Kathryn’s pale face. ‘My, how your standards have dropped if you have taken up with such a plain little specimen. You know, of course, that she’s nothing but a poor companion.’ Her pretty face hardened into malice as she stared. ‘But then gentlemen
will be gentlemen and have
whatever
they can from
whoever
will give it. It signifies nothing other than the perfidy of men in general. You, my lord, are no exception to the rule.’

Kathryn skirted Lord Ravensmede’s large frame and made for the door, but not before Mrs White had moved to block her exit.

‘You’re a trifle late in leaving, Miss Marchant. In fact, you never should have arrived. Scuttle back to your aunt, I’m sure she’ll be very interested in this evening’s activities.’ The widow laughed, a cruel and petty sound.

Through the dimness Ravensmede could see Kathryn’s face, white as a ghost, her eyes huge and round, staring with a horror that even her controlled façade could not disguise. Such vulnerability, such innocence. In one fleeting moment her life had been ruined…and he was not without blame in the matter. It was one thing to have a little fun, quite another to allow the woman to suffer. He knew what would happen if Mrs White’s gossip was allowed to spread. Guilt flickered. It was not a familiar feeling for Lord Ravensmede, and it led to contrariness.

‘Miss Marchant,’ he said with more asperity in his tone than was necessary, ‘return to your family.’ It sounded cold and imperious even to his own ear. She walked towards the door as if heading to her own execution. ‘We shall continue our study in astronomy another time.’ And he meant it. Kathryn Marchant’s kisses had shattered the monotony of his boredom and awakened a long-forgotten part of him. Ravensmede had no intention of just letting her walk out of his life. But first, and more importantly, he had to deal with Amanda White. He waited until he heard the soft click of the closing door.

‘Mrs White, I apologise for the misunderstanding this evening. The situation, as I said, was one of complete innocence, even if it may have appeared otherwise.’

The widow said nothing, just looked at him with her heavy-lidded eyes and an expression of smug irritation.

Rose-scented perfume wafted to greet his nostrils. Overstated, cloying, like its wearer. Strangely he had not noticed it
before. ‘You’re a woman of some standing—’ that was certainly one way of putting it ‘—with a compassionate nature.’ There was nothing of those traits in the look she returned him, but Amanda White was above all a vain woman, and it was to this weakness that Ravensmede played. ‘I know that when I ask that you make no mention of this affair, you will indulge my request.’

‘Of course, Lord Ravensmede. Your request is my pleasure.’ Her pale eyes glittered coldly; a veil of insincerity covered her. She stepped closer, arranging her posture to exemplify the voluptuous curves of her figure. Rosebud lips parted as if in invitation. ‘But, first, have we not unfinished business to attend to?’

Lord Ravensmede looked at the woman before him, at the artfully arranged hair, and the costly silver-and-blue dress. Her generous bosom swelled, tempting, teasing in design. And then her cruel derisive words to Kathryn Marchant rang clearly in his mind, dampening any interest he may have had. Revulsion rippled down his spine.

‘I’m afraid that that can no longer be the case.’

The pale eyes narrowed.

‘This evening’s…incident…has no bearing on the matter. Circumstances have changed.’

The pouting lips narrowed to a thin line.

‘You’re welcome to retain the gift that I sent.’

‘Of course.’

Ravensmede said nothing, just allowed the silence to stretch to discomfort, and watched the widow’s anger and irritation grow.

Mrs White’s gaze broke first. ‘If that is all, Lord Ravensmede, I shall bid you good evening. There is suddenly a matter that I simply must discuss with the ladies.’ She turned to leave.

‘Not quite all, Mrs White.’

Her movement checked. Hope leapt. ‘My lord?’

Ravensmede could hear the deliberate reversion in her tone: from shrill annoyance to husky enticement. The ghost of a curve touched at his lips. ‘Gossip is such a vulgar pastime, don’t you think?’

She hesitated. ‘I cannot agree, sir.’ There was a furtiveness to her expression.

‘Allow me to persuade you otherwise—a banker’s draft for two thousand guineas to be delivered to your address tomorrow morning in exchange for your silence.’

Two thousand guineas!
Mrs White’s eyes bulged. And then she recovered herself. ‘I might consider it …’ she sniffed ‘…if the sum were perhaps three thousand.’

Ravensmede’s smiled a chilling smile. It was enough to make the hairs on the back of Amanda White’s pretty white neck stand on end. ‘Two thousand guineas,’ he said, ‘take it or leave it. Make your choice before the offer is withdrawn.’ He stepped towards her. ‘And should you choose wrongly, Mrs White, let’s just say you may find your own reputation a little the worse for wear.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘Would I do such a thing?’ He raised an arrogant eyebrow as if the very suggestion amused him. ‘I’m merely illustrating the rule of cause and effect. Gossip about Kathryn Marchant and you’ll not find a welcome at any decent house in London.’

Anger flashed in her eyes. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! You know nothing, Ravensmede, nothing that you could use against me.’

He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. ‘Perhaps, but everyone has something to hide, a secret. Consider yours very carefully. For should I have reason, I would discover it.’