The Danger in Tempting an Earl (9 page)

Lucien clenched his fists, recalling how Crossby had once declared that any woman could be had with a bouquet of roses. Lucien had challenged the statement by saying that he knew of at least one who’d rather have wildflowers, and Katherine’s name had been mentioned in that context. “My understanding is that you married him rather quickly,” he said.

Katherine nodded. “Our courtship was quick, but such is often the case these days. I didn’t have my sights on anyone else and neither did he, so when our parents discovered how well we were getting along with each other, they encouraged us to marry.”

“I’m sure your parents were especially pleased by the match you made.”

“I believe so. They always hoped I would marry a lord, so when Crossby’s intentions became clear, they urged me to accept, so I did.” She took a breath and relaxed her shoulders. “But what about you? I’m sure you must have seen some wonderful places during your travels.”

Lucien took a sip of his wine. “Crossing the Alps was a spectacular experience.” He shook his head at the memory of it. “The beauty there is so enormous that it surrounds you, draws you in and leaves you utterly breathless. Italy was remarkable too, the Roman architecture unlike anything you’ve ever seen in England.”

Katherine leaned forward. “Did you see the Colosseum?”

“I did,” Lucien said.

“Oh, it must have been a magnificent sight,” she sighed. “I’d love to visit it myself.”

“Perhaps you will,” Lucien said, deciding to add Rome to the list of potential destinations for their wedding trip.

“I’m not so sure,” Katherine said. “My intention is to become a companion to a lady who’s never set her feet outside of England and who I doubt has any intention of ever doing so.”

“So much more reason for you to marry an adventurer,” Lucien suggested. “You know, I can see you as the wife of a privateer, sailing the high seas and such.”

Katherine rolled her eyes, but her words, “We’ll see,” were promising. She raised a rolled-up pancake to her lips and took a tentative bite.

Averting his gaze, Lucien looked at the lake and considered jumping into it. If there was ever a time when a cold swim would be more than welcome, it was now. Frustrated, he rose to his feet and went to check on the fishing poles. He’d ventured down a dangerous path, he realized, one from which he dared not veer, even as it challenged his tightly reined sense of control.

With his back turned toward Katherine, he took a deep breath and expelled it, deliberately pushing the tension out of his body. He needed to relax, to calm the blood that pumped so furiously through his veins each time she spoke, fluttered her eyelashes or puckered her lips. Christ, how he longed to throw himself on top of her, to declare himself her humble servant, to love her . . . pleasure her . . . fulfill her every desire, as he’d wanted to do so often over the past years that the mere mention of her name set his insides aflame. He loved her, yes, but by God if he didn’t also lust after her like a youth who’d yet to know a woman’s touch.

On a heavy sigh, he looked over his shoulder at the spot where she was sitting, delicately licking some jam from her fingers after finishing her pancake. Feeling his restraint grow taut, Lucien returned his attention to the lake and to the fishing lines that pierced the surface. One of them squirmed, rippling the water.

“It appears you’ve caught a fish,” Lucien said as he picked up Katherine’s pole and started to reel in the line. A small ide emerged, wriggling from side to side. Crouching down, Lucien carefully held the tiny fish in his hand and began prying the hook out of it.

“Poor thing,” Katherine murmured.

Her words drifted over Lucien, startling him with her closeness. He hadn’t realized she’d gotten up and come toward him; he’d thought she’d still been seated at a comfortable distance from his aching heart. It was all too much, the force with which she drew him. He felt a muscle twitch in his cheek in response to the strained expression he forced into place as he desperately sought to keep his feelings for her at bay. And yet her voice beckoned with its sweetness, allowing him no choice but to turn his head and look up at the woman who stood beside him. His gaze traveled the length of her legs, past the spot where he knew her thighs to be, to her belly and the rounded softness of her breasts. Abruptly, he rose, almost knocking her sideways in his haste to regain some of his crumbling composure.

Being the gentleman that he was, his arm reached out instinctively to steady her. “Forgive me,” he said. “That was terribly clumsy of me.”

Her eyes, which had been focused on the fish, met his for the briefest of moments before traveling down to the spot where his fingers still rested against her elbow. He withdrew his hand, apologized again and began to busy himself with freeing the fish—anything that would calm his racing heart in the wake of what he’d just seen in the depths of those haunting green eyes: confusion twined with fear. But beneath those emotions he’d glimpsed something else—something he’d been dreaming of for years: raw, unfettered desire.

The fish squirmed between his fingers as he unhooked it, offering barely a splash as Lucien tossed it back in the lake. Drawing a deep, fortifying breath, he stood for a moment just staring at the water, allowing himself the luxury of reveling in his progress. It was much too soon for him to act on his feelings for Katherine, but there was no harm in congratulating himself on his efforts, for it was clear to him now that she was no longer indifferent to him . . . that something in her regard had shifted.

“Shall we pack up and head back?” he asked. “I feel a chill coming, and I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” Tilting his head, he looked at her as she stood there beside him.

She frowned, then nodded. “Yes. I suppose we ought to.” Her words, slightly breathless, reflected her bewilderment.

Lucien smiled as he went to retrieve the picnic basket. Things were most assuredly progressing as he had hoped, and as long as he persisted with the right amount of patience, he had every confidence that Katherine would soon be his.

“M
ay I call on you again tomorrow?” he asked her later as they drove up the driveway toward Cresthaven. “We could have that race we discussed and finally settle the matter of who is the fastest.”

“Then I suggest you choose your horse carefully,” she said with a smile, “and consider the stakes.”

“Oh, believe me, Kate, I’ve been considering the stakes for a very long time,” he murmured.

She looked at him, all wide-eyed and with that same bewildered fear she’d made him privy to at the lake. “What are you saying?” she asked.

“That I know you well enough by now to realize that you’ll never allow me a moment of peace if I happen to lose—not when I’ve told you you’ve no chance of winning.”

“Oh,” she said as they pulled up to the front steps.

Jumping down, Lucien rounded the carriage and helped Katherine alight. Was it just his imagination, or did she actually gasp when he seized her about the waist? Determined not to give himself away yet, he released her as soon as she was on the ground and offered her a gallant bow, while a footman fetched the picnic basket and fishing poles. “It was a pleasure seeing you again,” he said.

“Likewise,” she said.

There was a pause that felt like a hesitation, as if she intended to say something more, but when she didn’t, Lucien wished her a pleasant afternoon, climbed back up onto the seat and whipped the horses into motion. It had been a productive day for him in terms of steering his relationship with Katherine in a new direction, though there could be no denying that he would have to use restraint where she was concerned. She wasn’t ready for his advances yet, and if he rushed, he’d only succeed in scaring her off. This he felt like a certainty deep within his bones.

Something had happened to her in the time they’d spent apart, something that she was attempting to hide, though her smiles failed to mask the fear and pain within her. Whatever it was, Lucien meant to uncover it, because however much he wanted to make Katherine his, he wished to see her happy so much more.

Chapter 8

“M
r. Goodard! What a surprise,” Katherine said, setting her book on the table as she rose to greet her unexpected guest the following afternoon. She’d been expecting Lucien, who was supposed to arrive at any moment, and had decided to wait for him in the parlor, where the light was particularly good at that time of day.

“Lady Crossby,” he said. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, but I couldn’t stay away after our conversation the other evening. You seemed distressed by what I said, and I haven’t felt comfortable about it since. I hope you’ll accept my apologies.”

“Of course I will, though I daresay there’s nothing for you to apologize for. If I appeared distressed in any way, it was only the result of my own folly.” She studied him a moment. He was a striking man—tall and handsome, with honey-colored hair and deep blue eyes. “Since you did come all this way, though, I do hope you’ll stay for tea. Lord Roxberry will be joining us as well.”

For a spell, it looked as though Mr. Goodard might decline, but then he nodded, slapped his gloves against his thigh and strode further inside the room. For a man who’d appeared in complete control of himself on the few occasions she’d seen him, Katherine couldn’t help but notice that he seemed mildly uncomfortable. “Please have a seat,” she offered, gesturing to a chair clad in gray and lilac damask silk.

Sweeping aside his coattails, he accepted her offer, although his posture remained remarkably stiff. “May I ask for your advice, Lady Crossby?” he abruptly asked, surprising her twice in the space of five minutes.

“Certainly, Mr. Goodard.” How curious! They’d only recently become acquainted with each other through Louise and Huntley, so she found it odd for him to seek her opinion on anything.

A maid entered with a tray holding a teapot, cups and a plate full of triangle-shaped sandwiches. As soon as she had once again departed, Katherine reached for the teapot and poured them each a steaming cup. “Milk and sugar?” she asked.

“Just sugar. One spoonful if you please.”

She handed him his cup, and he accepted it with a polite “Thank you.”

Picking up her own cup, Katherine sat back against the sofa and waited for Mr. Goodard to enlighten her. He was biding his time, it seemed, which only made her all the more curious about the subject.

“Lady Crossby,” he eventually began, then paused. For several seconds he just sat there, peering at her in a most discomforting way. “Considering your friendship with Roxberry, I thought you might know . . .” He took a breath and eventually blurted, “Are you by any chance privy to his plans for the future?”

“Sir?”

“What I mean to ask is whether or not you’re aware of any interest he might have for a certain lady.”

“May I ask which lady you’re referring to?” Katherine asked. “I would hate to draw my own conclusion in case it is wrong.”

He set his cup on the table and picked up a sandwich instead. “It’s Lady Julie.”

Katherine stilled as she considered this. She really wasn’t well enough acquainted with Mr. Goodard to be having this sort of conversation, but she also wasn’t opposed to the idea of him courting Lady Julie. Lord Rockly’s daughter was all wrong for Lucien, so if another gentleman could take her off his hands, that would be splendid. It would also allow Katherine a bit more time to consider a better match for her friend, since she wasn’t convinced that the other ladies she’d chosen were perfect either. “Am I to understand that you are making your inquiry because you have developed a tendre for the lady yourself?”

It was a bold question, considering their brief acquaintance, but Mr. Goodard didn’t scoff at it or walk away. He held his ground, and in doing so, he heightened Katherine’s opinion of him. “I cannot lie to you, my lady. She has me completely smitten—however demeaning that might be for any gentleman to admit.” He chuckled, perhaps to hide his embarrassment.

“And you wish to know what Roxberry’s intentions toward her are?”

Mr. Goodard inclined his head. “I merely wish to know if I would be wasting my time in pursuing her.”

“Surely that is for Lady Julie to decide.”

He chuckled. “Quite so, though I must admit it would ease my mind greatly if I didn’t have to compete with a man like Roxberry.”

Katherine frowned. “I hope you’re not criticizing him, for if you are—”

“Rest assured, my lady, I was doing quite the opposite. What I mean is that I do believe he’s sent many a female hearts aflutter on numerous occasions, handsome, charming and . . . titled that he his.”

“I’m sure you have your own merits, even if you do lack the title. Indeed, if I were to choose, I would choose character above title any day.”

Mr. Goodard’s expression grew somber. “You speak as though from experience,” he said.

Her heart skipped a little in her chest. She forced herself to smile. “It’s just my opinion. But, regarding your question, I fear it would be wildly inappropriate of me to speak of my friend’s confidences to anyone. Good heavens, whatever must you think of me to imagine that I would?”

“Rest assured, my lady. I hold you in the highest regard.” He sat back against his seat. “But we both saw how cozy they looked with each other at the ball, whispering together and dancing not one but two sets. If you ask me, it’s quite apparent that Roxberry has set his sights on Lady Julie. So much so that I daresay you won’t be violating his trust by discussing it.”

“It’s a matter of principle,” she said, “and if Roxberry’s regard for Lady Julie is indeed as apparent as you say it is, then I don’t see the need for you to question me about it.”

“You are right, of course. Please forgive me.” He took a sip of his tea. “But I do believe I was correct in surmising that you disapprove of his choice, for indeed you did not look the least bit happy when you saw them having that little tête-à-tête at the ball.”

“Good grief,” Katherine gasped. “You really are every bit the scoundrel.”

He inclined his head and smiled broadly. “So they say.”

“I ought to ask you to leave.”

“And yet you’re too polite to do so.” He set his cup on its matching saucer. “Not to worry, though—I’ll see to my own departure, though I would like to offer you a bit of advice before I go. If you will permit?”

She wasn’t sure if she ought to allow such forwardness from a renowned rake, but curiosity got the better of her and she nodded.

“Be honest with him, Lady Crossby. If you think Lady Julie is wrong for him, you should tell him so, as his friend. He values your opinion.”

Katherine couldn’t help but doubt Mr. Goodard’s sincerity. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re only trying to win Lady Julie for yourself?”

“Well, of course I am,” he said, surprising her with his candor, “but that doesn’t mean I cannot look out for everyone else’s best interests at the same time.”

Katherine felt the urge to roll her eyes, but she refrained. “The only person’s interests you’re looking out for, sir, are your own.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he pressed. “Tell me that you’re happy on Roxberry’s behalf.”

“I . . .” Oh, what was the use? It was as if this scoundrel knew of the turmoil she was suffering through—the doubt and confusion.

Understanding flickered behind his eyes. “You cannot, can you, my lady? Indeed, if I am not mistaken, you think he would be better off with someone else entirely . . . someone like . . .”

No. Surely he wouldn’t.

“ . . . you, perhaps,” he finished.

Katherine’s mouth dropped. She stared back at Mr. Goodard. Eventually she shook her head. “No. No, that’s not what I was thinking at all.”

“Forgive me, Lady Crossby. It was impertinent of me to suggest it, but it does seem logical.”

“I don’t believe it’s anything of the sort.” She was lying to herself and to Mr. Goodard in the process. The worst of it was that the glint in his eyes made it clear that he was aware of it. Folding her hands in her lap, she straightened her back and looked straight back at him. “Very well. I must confess that I have considered it . . . fleetingly, of course . . . since the Kingsborough Ball.” Why on earth was she confiding in this man she barely knew when she’d scarcely admitted it to herself? “But considering all the gossip that was circulating about us that evening, I hardly think it surprising. Do you?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps not. Then again, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the two of you were to marry. In fact, what astounds me is the possibility that Roxberry would have an interest in any other woman at all.”

“You flatter me, sir, but I don’t believe his interest lies with me.”

“And if it did? Would you marry him if he offered?”

Katherine’s gaze drifted toward the window. It was sunny outside, with a slight chill—perfect weather for working in the garden or going for a ride. “I don’t believe I’d care to remarry,” she whispered. She returned her gaze to Mr. Goodard, who was watching her a little too closely for comfort.

“Well, so much for my plan,” he said. “I was beginning to think it would work out rather nicely if you could steal Roxberry away from Lady Julie so I could have her all to myself!”

Katherine wasn’t sure if she ought to have been amused or outraged by such a statement, but then Mr. Goodard laughed, and she felt herself relax. “You are a rogue, aren’t you? Now that I think of it, I’m not so sure I like the idea of a match between you and Lady Julie. If memory serves, you did quite a few deplorable things in your youth.”

“Hasn’t every man?”

He had her there. Even Lucien had probably gotten up to a bit of mischief back in the day, though she would have been too young at the time to have been aware of it. A knock sounded, and Carter appeared in the doorway. “Lord Roxberry has arrived,” he announced. “And he is accompanied by Lady Julie. Shall I show them in?”

The smile that had captured Katherine’s lips at the mention of Lucien remained plastered to her face as she numbly nodded in response. Daft. That was what she was. She suddenly realized how much she’d been looking forward to seeing him again and how annoyed she now was at the prospect of having to share his attention.

“Are you unwell?” Mr. Goodard asked.

“No,” she managed, even though she felt faint. “I’m quite all right, really.” Feeling restless, she rose just enough to reach for the flowers on the table, intending to busy herself with rearranging them, but her agitated state caused her to forget herself and she moved too hastily, knocking her knee against the table. The vase tilted and Katherine instinctively pitched forward, determined to catch it before it fell over completely and made a mess, but another hand shot out and grabbed it.

Katherine gasped. She knew she’d lost her footing in the midst of all this and that she would soon be landing on the table, most likely at the exact moment when Lucien and Lady Julie would enter. What could possibly be more embarrassing? She had the answer to that question soon enough when her downward progress was halted by Mr. Goodard. He pulled her back so swiftly that she went tumbling right into him. His arm came around her shoulders to hold her steady, and in his hand he held the troublesome vase.

“Thank you,” Katherine managed. She was just about to step back when a movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Looking toward it, she felt her face grow hot at the sight she beheld—Lucien and Lady Julie staring back at her with wide-eyed astonishment.

O
f all the things Lucien had expected to encounter upon his arrival at Cresthaven that day, this was most assuredly not one of them. Standing there in the doorway to Katherine’s parlor, he couldn’t help feeling like the biggest fool that had ever lived as his eyes settled on Katherine and Mr. Goodard, of all people. The man was a known rake, and the way in which he was holding her . . . it looked like an exceedingly passionate embrace. “Forgive us,” Lucien said, recalling that he’d brought Lady Julie along in the hope of stirring some feelings of jealousy in Katherine. By God, he’d ridden all the way to Kingsborough Hall to fetch the lady, fully aware that he’d promised Katherine he’d refrain from an immediate courtship so the two of them could spend some time together. It was pathetic, really, yet here she was looking disturbingly intimate with Mr. Goodard. “It appears we’re intruding on a private moment.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Goodard replied as he disengaged himself from Katherine and bowed toward Lady Julie. “Lady Crossby and I were merely discussing a conversation we had the other evening. I feared I might have upset her, so I came to offer my apologies.”

“I see.” Lucien noticed the vase in Mr. Goodard’s hand. “The flowers are lovely, by the way.”

With a broad smile and gleaming eyes, Mr. Goodard turned to look at Katherine, who still appeared mildly dazed. “Yes, I thought it a pity that they should go to waste.”

Lucien was finding it difficult to breathe. Hadn’t Katherine just told him that she had no intention of marrying or of becoming anyone’s mistress? She couldn’t have changed her mind, could she? “Forgive me, Mr. Goodard,” he found himself saying, “but as Lady Crossby’s friend, I must insist on knowing what your intentions are.” He felt Lady Julie’s hand upon his arm in a gesture of comfort. What a blow this had to be to her as well.