The Worldly Widow (3 page)

That she was part owner and director of Bailey
'
s Press was not generally known. To the world, she was a lady of fashion with nothing in her head but the next rout, ridotto, ball, or masquerade. She enjoyed the social whirl. She was the first to admit it. But she took far more pleasure in the challenges that the business world presented. She
'
d turned Bailey
'
s Press around till it held its present position of eminence in the publishing world. It tickled her fancy to observe, on almost every sofa table in the most prestigious drawing rooms in Mayfair, a novel or diary or biography which Bailey
'
s had published. That she had to conceal the extent of her
involvement with Bailey
'
s from the high sticklers of the ton or face public censure seemed totally nonsensical, in her opinion. It was, however, the way of her world. A lady might include any number of commercial interests in her holdings as long as she turned over the management of those same holdings to some enterprising male. But to be the driving force behind a thriving business could easily spell social ruin. It was an unwritten code that only a fool would think to trespass with impunity. Annabelle was no fool. She endeavored to keep the two milieus in which she was at home entirely separate. And she had succeeded.

Without warning, from the opened doorway a masculine voice interposed, "Monique, my little pigeon, I
'
ve brought you that trinket you so much admired.
"

Miss Dupres
'
s face lit up with pleasure. "Dal!
"
she cried out, and crossing the room at a run, threw herself into the arms of the intruder.

Annabelle
'
s heart lurched. She recognized the man as the dark and brazen stranger from the hotel. With great presence of mind, she edged away from the couple and turned her back on them, staring fixedly into the drawn shades at the windows.

"Diamonds,
"
breathed Monique, and Annabelle surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder to see the gentleman fasten a thin rope of those gems around the lady
'
s wrist.

"Now you can thank me properly,
"
he said with a lecherous smirk, and suiting action to words, he brought his head down in an open-mouthed kiss that had Annabelle
'
s toes curl inside her little high-heeled boots. What effect such an embrace might be having on the other girl Annabelle could scarcely imagine. She wished only that the floor beneath her might sink and she with it.

The minutes passed. The kiss continued with unabated passion. That she should continue as a spectator in such a scene of depravity was unthinkable. Marshaling every ounce of her composure, Annabelle put her head down and made a beeline for the exit. She had almost gained the threshold when strong masculine fingers closed round her arm and brought her up short.

"Not so fast, my lovely,
"
that hateful voice said. "Who hav
e
we here?
"
And before Annabelle knew what he was about, the gentleman had removed her bonnet and sent it sailing across the room.

As it came to rest atop the bust of some female Greek deity or other, Annabelle observed its bright plumage bend and buckle. Her own feathers were no less ruffled. She knew that her mouth was opening and closing as if she were a fish on a hook, hut to find words of sufficient condemnation with which to scorch the libertine
'
s ears was temporarily beyond her power.

Her chin was grasped firmly and her head turned up toward the light. "So we meet at last,
"
he said. There was laughter in his voice.

Annabelle went as rigid as a statue as cool gray eyes made a thorough inspection of her person, coming to rest finally on the hatbox in her hand.

"My God,
"
he said, "you
'
re one of the new girls! I can
'
t believe my
luck! You can start right this
minute,
ché
rie,
and I
'
m buying all of your time, I don
'
t care what it costs.
"

The dark head descended and Annabelle
'
s pulse accelerated in alarm. "Make yourself scarce, Monique,
"
were the last words he threw over his shoulder before taking possession of Annabelle
'
s reluctant lips.

A sound of muffled laughter came from the other girl just a moment before she made her exit. Annabelle heard the soft click of the door and felt the betrayal all through her shocked body. While she had thought to offer that
…
that
Phyrne
the hospitality of her home out of a sense of obligation, she, Monique Dupres, had acted the part of procuress! Annabelle had known for a very long time that there was little justice to be had in the world. She took no satisfaction in having her conviction proved correct yet again.

"P
l…
please,
"
said Annabelle brokenly, but the gentleman
'
s experienced lips were already soothing away her objections.

Stunned into immobility, Annabelle remained passive beneath the pressure of that exploratory embrace. After a moment, the stranger raised his head and observed her expression. "Open your lips,
"
he commanded. Annabelle mutely shook her head.

As a deterrent, it was totally ineffective. She was hauled roughly against him, her head captured by unrelenting fingers as his mouth claimed hers with an aggressive passion which left her trembling. There was an element of flagrant masculine dominance in that kiss which Annabelle yielded to almost by instinct. When she realized how easily she was succumbing, she marshaled her defenses. In her right hand she still clutched the ribbons of Monique
'
s hatbox. She carefully let it drop from her fingers and brought both hands up to tug at his hair. He released her mouth, and Annabelle took instant advantage to wedge both hands against his chest. They were both breathing heavily, but for different reasons.

"Cad!
"
she sputtered. "Get your hands off my waist.
"
It was a voice that would have shocked Annabelle
'
s employees. For Mrs. Jocelyn to lose her temper, even in the most trying of circumstances, was unheard of.

A dark brow arched sardonically. "Whatever you desire, sweetheart,
"
he drawled, and immediately sank his fingers into the soft flesh of her bottom. The lower half of her body was dragged inexorably against hard, muscular thighs. As he ground himself into her, Annabelle
'
s shocked cry of outrage was swallowed by another long, drugging kiss.

She was weakening. She could feel it all through her body. Her taut muscles were becoming pliant as she strained against his hard length. She
'
d been attracted to him from the moment she
'
d set eyes on him. If she had ever been in ignorance of that fact, her body made her aware of it now. He was stirring senses which had lain dormant for years, evoking an ache deep within her which Annabelle had prayed never again to experience. No man since Edgar had had this effect on her. The realization brought her to her senses as nothing else could.

The man was an unprincipled rake! In the space of a few hours she
'
d caught him red-handed, quite literally, with two different redheads both of whom were years younger than herself. Good God, it was evident that the man could not help himself! Nothing in skirts was safe from him! Well, she had a wealth of experience in dealing with men of his kidney. If ever she had need of that experience, now was the time to draw on it.

She went limp in his arms. The bruising pressure of his grip
relaxed. In that instant she tore herself from him and caught him full across the face with the open palm of her hand.

His head jerked back from the force of her blow. Annabelle stood stock-still, knowing herself to be in the worst peril of her life.

"So,
"
he said in a voice strangely devoid of anger, "you
'
re not one of the new girls. Pity.
"
And he offered a conciliatory grin.

Her voice shaking with suppressed emotion, Annabelle said, "Kindly step aside, sir, or
I shall… I shall…"

Amusement lurked in the depths of the slate gray eyes he turned upon her. "Yes?
"
he murmured. "What exactly shall you do if I don
'
t step aside?
"

Annabelle had the good sense to remain silent, but she was far from conceding defeat. She had come up against an adversary who was worthy of her steel. It behooved her to deal with him cautiously, very cautiously. Her blue eyes gazed at him blankly, but behind that blind stare was a mind frantically casting around for a way of disarming her formidable opponent.

He observed each fleeting expression as it flitted across her face, waiting expectantly for her to make the next move. A casual observer could have told Annabelle that the gentleman was enjoying himself immensely. She was, at that moment, too preoccupied to notice.

"My husband,
"
she murmured, "my husband will kill me if he knows I
'
m here.
"

"A wise man,
"
was the dry rejoinder.

For an instant, anger blazed in her eyes. She suppressed it with a control he could not help but admire. She touched the tip of her tongue to
her dry lips. "My husband…
"
she began again.

He cut her off without compunction. "Mrs. Jocelyn, your husband did not accompany you to Paris. I know that you arrived with another gentleman—your lover, I suspect.
"

Speechless, she stared at him for a long interval. Her worst fears were realized. Her shoulders straightened. "How do you come to know my name?
"
she asked him coldly.

"I made it my business to discover your identity,
"
he told her.

"But why?
"

He shrugged. "You
'
re a beautiful woman. I don
'
t think much of your lover. Without conceit, I think I may say that I am the better man. As it happens, at the moment, I am in the market for a mistress.
"

Annabelle did not know whether she should laugh or cry or have a temper tantrum. He was like no other man she had ever met before. She looked into the steel of those steady gray eyes from which every trace of amusement had been erased, and a frisson of alarm danced along her spine. The man was deadly serious.

For a moment she considered telling him the truth, that she had been a widow for a number of years and that the gentleman whom he presumed to be her lover was merely a distant relative who had very kindly given her escort to Paris. But the wisdom of throwing herself on the mercy of such a man seemed highly questionable. Better by far, she thought, that he suppose she had a protector at hand who would look out for her interests.

Striving to give the appearance of being in command of the situation, she gave a low laugh and moved about the room, retrieving both bonnet and hatbox. Over her shoulder, she essayed, "Did you follow me here?
"

He had not moved from his position by the door, and though he permitted her the freedom of moving about the room, there was never any question in her mind that until he should decide to let her go, she was virtually a prisoner.

There was a slight hesitation before he answered, "Would you be flattered if I told you that I had?
"

She slanted him a look that spoke volumes. He caught that look and laughed.

"Let
'
s discuss it as we dine,
"
he said.

"
Thank you, no,
"
said Annabelle through her teeth, and did not take the trouble to elaborate.

Once again her chin was seized in those unrelenting masculine fingers and her face turned up for his inspection. She glared up at him, anger shooting from her eyes like
blue lightning,

"You
'
re not very wise, are you?
"
he remarked. In a long, lazy perusal, his gaze traveled t
he mutinous set of her features.
"It
'
s my surmise that you
'
re used to ruling the roost. You
'
ll discover that unlike your husband and former lovers, I don
'
t permit a woman to ride roughshod over me.
"

His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "I don
'
t wish to threaten you, but you leave me no choice. What would your lover say, I wonder, if he knew that we had an assignation here this afternoon? We might even fight a duel over you. Would that please you?
"