The Ugly Duckling Debutante_FINAL-3 (4 page)

“Of course. Is there anywhere I may escort you?”

The bedroom perhaps?
He shook his head to get rid of the sinful thought.

She looked nervously down at her feet, and then shrugged. “I don’t really know if that is the best idea. I’ve been told I should be careful with whom I associate.”

“Ah yes, the ruined reputation rumors rear their ugly heads.” He knew it was a valid concern for any young debutante, but surely this woman wasn’t launching into society. She had to be somebody’s mistress. Yes, that was it. He took another look at her hair and dress. Confound it! How had he not seen it before? Of course she was someone’s mistress. She was foreign! Nobody in the
ton
had a complexion that dark.

“Where is your protector, sweet?” he drawled, not at all embarrassed of the husky tone his voice had suddenly taken. Surely a woman of this type was accustomed to this sort of attention.

“My protector?”

“Yes, the man who… Well, the gentleman who pays for your protection and other things.” He waved his hand in her direction, waiting for her coy response.

“Sir, I do not know what you mean.” Her eyes took on a fiery glint. “I assure you I’m here with my aunt.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” The mask on her face shook as her face fell into a tight nod. “Furthermore, it’s entirely improper for me to be discussing such things.”

“Because you’re a lady?”

“Exactly.” The innocence of her answer made his knees go weak. If she didn’t belong to anyone, and she truly was accompanied by her aunt, then he was flirting with danger. Yet he couldn’t curb the impulse to reach out and touch her smooth skin. As his fingers reached the delicate curve of her neck, she stiffened.

Yet he continued, determined to feel. The air seemed to still between them as his fingers gently caressed the delectable area. Her sigh was all he needed to press further. Allowing his body to close the distance between them, he brought his other hand to her shoulder and pulled her closer.

“I should be going,” she whispered, but her eyes never left his. The invitation was easy to read. She was as entranced as he was.

Praying someone would stop him before he thoroughly ruined the girl, he paused, then without any further thought, he brushed his lips against hers. The response he received was undeniably innocent, weakening his grasp on reality. He pulled loose a few tendrils of hair, rubbing them between his fingers. It was like spun silk. And his mind swam with the mere thought that all he need do was compromise the poor thing, and he could spend the rest of his days and nights running his fingers through her hair.

His nagging conscience was the only thing keeping him from pushing further, for the poor girl seemed to be melting in his grasp. And then her back stiffened.

He recoiled, expecting a slap. Instead she gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth and let out a whimper so pitiful he wanted to be shot on the spot. Really, somebody should have held a gun to his head for taking such advantage.

She looked blankly at him then shuddered, “I don’t know what came over me. I apologize, my lord.”

Perfect. Now she was apologizing for being attacked. He was an absolute cad.

“I must go, I’m—” She turned away breathlessly, then glanced back. “I’m terribly sorry, I—” Her hand rested on her heaving chest making his knees go weak all over again. “—must be going. I apologize. Please don’t tell my aunt. Please don’t tell anyone.”

And before he had a chance to speak, she was running down the hall into the ballroom, and Sir Belverd was bellowing toward him like a prize bull. “Who was that delicious creature, Renwick? You wouldn’t happen to be…
cavorting
around with the girl?”

A blinding anger burned though Nicholas unlike he’d ever experienced. How dare anyone try to ruin the poor girl’s reputation!

Apparently you just tried
, nagged his inner voice. He shook out the thought and slapped Belverd on the back. “Imagining things again, old man? I’m celibate, remember? And, need I add, extremely competitive?”

Belverd chuckled and followed him into the ballroom. Though he searched, Nicholas never found the girl again, and that night she plagued his dreams. He had to get out of London before he went crazy. A trip to the country was just what he needed.

***

He awoke the next morning with a blinding headache, thanks in part to the beautiful siren who played in his dreams all night long. Whiskey would have been a good breakfast, except Lady Fenton, his distant cousin, was apparently already waiting for him in his study. What she could possibly want, after all these years, was beyond him.

Nicholas bounded down the stairs as loudly as possible, disregarding his own cranial pain, because Lady Fenton was the second loudest person he had ever known. He always took great personal pleasure in making her eardrums ring as badly as his own did whenever she addressed him.

“Ah, my dear boy. How are you?” Lady Fenton greeted him with a façade of kindness and kissed him on the cheek as if they had been in constant association since the incident.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, cousin?”

“Straight to the point, I see.” She twisted an innocent handkerchief in her skinny hands. The unfortunate object of her frustration would be lucky to make it out of his study in one piece. “I need your help.”

Had he been drinking, he would have spit out the liquid in a coughing fit. Help? She needed help? Since when did Lady Fenton need anything? It was always
he
who had needed her, until that dreadful day when they had chosen to discontinue their association outside of
ton
events. “How may I be of service, my lady?”

“A favor.”

“Fine.” Trying to keep his voice calm, he went to sit at his desk. “What would you like me to do?”

“My niece is in town for a while, and I’m to launch her into society. After last night, I realize she is in dire straits to acquire etiquette and an ability to interact with the people of the
ton
. Frankly my dear, without your help she’ll more than likely follow some young man down a long hallway and ruin herself. She’s quite innocent, you understand, and has spent the whole of her life in the country.”

A smirk played on Nicholas’s lips. How odd that a similar occurrence happened last night to a young lady at the masquerade. It would be good to keep those two away from each other considering they were both so trusting.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and the room seemed tense with unspoken sentiment. Things which had been hidden in the chasm between the two of them for years threatened to explode into the silence. He couldn’t very well deny his cousin after all she had done for him. “I sense this is not so much a request as instructions for when to arrive at your residence?”

“I would never force you to do anything against your will, Nicholas, but I would be most grateful if you would agree to my request.” Her demeanor expressed an uncharacteristic solemnity which spoke volumes to him. It was important to her and within his power to grant. How could he say no?

“Shall we say this afternoon?” he questioned.

With that, Lady Fenton pushed out of her seat and clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Nicholas! Thank you!”

Ordinarily, no one dared to utter his Christian name. Lady Fenton was the only exception, but she hadn’t resorted to using his name in years. It pained him to hear it flow so easily from her lips now, when in the past it had been uttered as a curse.

“I will have her ready. Oh, and Nicholas?” she added as she walked toward the door.

He lifted his head in feigned annoyance.

“Do try not to fall in love with her.”

His bitter laugh should have been answer enough, but the strange look in her eyes gave him pause. So he added, “Believe me, marriage is the last thing I want from anyone.” Of course she would know that. She knew everything. How long would the sins of his past haunt him?

Sadness seemed to wash over her face, and she nodded numbly. “This afternoon then, Nicholas. I’ll see myself out.”

Nicholas went straight to his liquor cabinet and poured a brandy. Unfortunately the familiar sting of alcohol did nothing to squelch his churning stomach. How could he have been so stupid?

He had kissed the girl!

In a darkened hallway.

Without a chaperone.

Blast! He slammed his empty cup onto the table, and for a moment, contemplated allowing his head to follow suit.

After all he had been through—would he never learn? Weren’t his past mistakes enough to keep him from pursuing any type of woman? Let alone one who reminded him so much of his mistakes. The same innocent kisses, the same captivating laughter—all the things which led him down the path of destruction. The path which forever changed his life.

At least his tutelage of Lady Fenton’s niece would be a welcome distraction. Hopefully now he wouldn’t be spending his nights in sensual torture thinking about what he could have, or would have done had he found that beautiful creature the night before.

No, he was better off alone. The sooner he moved on with life, the better. Plus, who was to say the chit his cousin had taken under her wing wasn’t going to be at least mildly amusing? One could only hope.

Chapter Four

After two days in her aunt’s house, Sara had arrived at three conclusions. One, the viscount never showed his face unless it was mealtime. Two, her aunt had more money than she knew what to do with. And three, there was absolutely nothing to do in this God forsaken house. She asked if she could go for a walk, but apparently proper young ladies did not walk about unchaperoned.

Not that her parents had minded in the least that Sara went for walks on a regular basis. In hindsight, it was probably in hopes that someone would kidnap her and relieve them of the burden of having to feed an extra mouth.

Negativity really wasn’t her forte, but being as bored as she was, she couldn’t help it. Her aunt hadn’t any books either! What was one to do? Sit and sew? She would probably poke an eye out. Her parents hadn’t wasted any time or effort on her education. Everything she knew was from watching her sisters’ lessons and reading. All in all she was self-taught. She had no talent to speak of, therefore had no music to practice or pictures to draw. The only highlights of her country life had been daydreaming in the fields, walking, and writing her own stories—all of which, according to aunt, were unacceptable.

She let out a long sigh as she slowly descended the stairs, hoping to pass away time with her methodic walking. This day was to be the beginning of her high society training with the mysterious cousin. All morning her aunt drilled her on the finer points of how to walk with her head held high, smile behind a fan, eat with the right utensils, and curtsy like a courtesan. She would inevitably explode from sheer tedium. What she wouldn’t give for a field to run barefoot in and a novel to keep her warm at night. She felt incomplete without the written word; although, it was good for her to study Scripture more lately. It was like a balm to her wounded soul, especially considering the events of the previous night. How she had managed to get herself in that predicament was beyond her. She had already been compromised after her first night! If her aunt ever caught wind of the incident, she would be furious!

Just then, her aunt’s booming voice echoed through the hall, mingling with the unmistakable low voice of a man, which sounded like warm honey. It was deep and velvet. Just listening to it felt like a caress to her heart. She braced herself for their meeting, knowing that one look at her and any man with such a voice would most likely flee, or worse—he would pity her.