Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 53
“It is only juste, as I have spent many years learning about your country.”
Something about him turned her back into the shy schoolgirl she’d been before her parents had changed her whole world. While she was well-traveled and highly educated, Drake gave the impression he’d seen and experienced more than was possible, given his youthful appearance.
“What brings you to my fair city?” he said, lapsing back into English.
“Oh, to escape the dreaded heat of India.” It was an effort to keep a straight face, particularly when the marquis willingly continued with the farce.
“Is the land as wild as I have been told?” he asked, appearing equally serious.
It had been a while since she’d enjoyed such an enjoyable exchange. “There are parts still untraveled!” When he only stared, she continued, “—and I will not go on about the inconveniences of outsmarting the monkeys who seek at every turn to rob you of your food.”
“From France to India and now England? I dare say, you must be appallingly exhausted after such feats of bravery!”
As they continued round the dance floor, she allowed herself to laugh. “I assure you that it takes more bravery to enter a crowded ballroom than to face down a lion determined to steal my boots and gnaw on the leather.”
“Lions? Gnawing on your boots?” he said with bewilderment. “I do agree, I would rather face a whole den of tigers than one marriage-minded matron.”
“What always helped me was my ability to scale an elephant and make off before any harm was done.” She was enjoying her outlandish tale as much as it appeared he was.
“I must remember to request your counsel when I travel next.”
“I would be more than happy to guide your expedition.” She paused before continuing. “That is, if I am not indisposed at the time.”
“I am sure you will find the time to help a friend. But might I inquire why you’d be indisposed?”
“Well, I may be exploring the colonies at that time.”
“India? The colonies? By heavens, you put most English gentlemen to shame with your geographical exploits.”
Lorelei forced herself to stop the banter, recalling the reason that she was here this eve. Their conversation, while amusing, did not suit her main objective. “I fear I am not as well traveled as I appear, though I did have the pleasure of visiting India in my youth, and do plan to sail for the colonies someday.”
“As long as ‘someday’ is not today.” He increased his hold on her, bringing her closer to him as they danced. “Back to my original question.”
She’d completely forgotten how their conversation of exotic lands had started. “Which is?”
“Why are you in London, Lady Lorelei?”
While he asked one question, Lorelei expected the answer he sought was to another one altogether. “Not to find a husband, if that is what you wish to know.”
“My suspicions about you were correct: you are the forthright kind.” He looked at her appreciatively, and she relaxed once more. “And I must say, I am very disappointed to hear you are not on the market.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I find myself with a lot to offer one such as yourself.” When she continued to stare, a smirk on her face, he continued. “You see, I am titled, wealthy, handsome…and dare I say, charming?”
“Oh, you are very charming.” Lorelei wanted to laugh but held back, not wanting to offend him. It was not that she feared hurting Drake’s feelings, only how it would appear to others around them. “You will be happy to know, if I were not here on a political errand with my father, I would find you quite suitable.”
She should rein in her flirtatiousness with the marquis and focus on an introduction to Chastain, but she was unable to stop herself. It was the first stimulating conversation she’d had since her departure from France. In her mother country, her parents’ ever-changing residence was always open to educated men and woman who enjoyed discussing the evolving regime from King to Directory to the man who it appeared would be their next leader, Napoleon Bonaparte. Though the topics might bore another young lady, she found any subject with the potential for debate highly interesting. She’d usually been clever enough to persuade her father’s associates to her way of thinking.
During one such conversation, she had even devised a method for solving the horrid stench from the crowded and polluted Paris streets—yet her father called her plans idealistic in nature, no more than the easily dismissed musings of a woman.
No one here in their rented London household spoke to her, and the men who came to see her father avoided her, knowing she was committed to a higher cause and thus not open to their advances. As any woman would, she enjoyed the marquis’ undivided attention.
Though they hadn’t discussed any subject of great import, his intelligence was clear in his wit.
The music stopped, signaling the end of their dance. “Thank you for restoring my wounded pride. May I request another dance later in the evening?”
“I am sure that would cause gossip of the worst sort, your lordship,” she said formally, dropping in a shallow curtsy. “But as I do not much care what society deems proper, I would entertain another turn about the floor with a dance partner as skilled as yourself.”
“Until then.” He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her fingers. After several long seconds, he released it. “May I escort you to your chaperone?”
Looking up, she noticed several sets of eyes on them, some couples stopped in mid-promenade to take them in, though she expected the gawking had more to do with the marquis than herself.
“Oh, that will not be necessary.” Lorelei’s father was close, she could feel his stare. She needed an introduction to waylay his scolding over straying from their plan. “I find myself parched. Would you be so kind as to escort me to the refreshment table?”
She’d handed her last glass to a passing servant before taking to the dance floor with Drake. Their walk would force them to pass by Lord Chastain, not having moved an inch since she and Drake—Andrew, as she now thought of him after their brief conversation—had taken to the dance floor.
As they walked the perimeter of the room, Andrew peppered her with questions about her trip from France, how she liked his wonderful city, and if she had plans to travel to Bath after the season ended. Lorelei gave him as many noncommittal responses as she could muster in an attempt to give him no useful information about herself or her family, while still hoping to keep his interest. She was pleased to note that their continued conversation had caught Chastain’s attention.
The duke, her original intended target, stepped into their path as they drew close. She’d seen the look on his face before from other suitors, and prided herself on her ability to distract men from their own base thoughts upon meeting her for the first time. This night, she’d only planned to gain an audience with him, possibly pique his interest, and hope for him to call upon her soon.
“Drake,” Chastain greeted them and turned a slight bow in Lorelei’s direction. “My lady.”
Lorelei couldn’t believe her good fortune. She’d been in the room less than thirty minutes and now stood face-to-face with Chastain. She could only imagine her father’s reaction as his child, a mere female, had gained an introduction before him.
Her mind whirled with the possibilities of gaining more ground than they’d planned for this evening, perhaps even a private conversation.
“Lord Chastain, may I introduce Lady Lorelei.” Drake’s words sounded guarded and not at all happy. “Her family is new to London.”
Chastain smiled, a smirk that could only be described as smug. The pair had appeared to be friends earlier, but something about the way they now assessed each other led her to believe otherwise. She hoped that played nicely into her plans, which as yet were limited.
She coyly eyed Chastain from lowered eyelids as she curtsied. “Lord Chastain, I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
The marquis moved closer to her side.
Her words gained the response she sought. “The honor is my own, Lady Lorelei. Drake and I have been friends for more years than either of us can count.”
The tension that had shadowed the trio moments before was alleviated, and both men smiled as they chatted about inconsequential topics.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Drake said as he again settled Lorelei’s hand in the crook of his arm. “We were just on our way for refreshments.”
“I find myself in need of another glass, as well.” Chastain turned toward the table several paces behind him, not to be dismissed. “I shall accompany you.”
“That would be delightful, my lord.” And exactly what Lorelei had hoped he would say. She needed to find a way to speak privately with him without insulting Drake. While she very much enjoyed the marquis’ company—and he was extremely pleasing to the eye—she had other matters on which to focus.
With sherry in hand, they moved toward the terrace doors. She knew the darkened gardens would be a perfect spot for a quiet conversation.
“Lady Lore—”
“Ah, there you are, my daughter.”
Her father’s voice sounded behind her, and she turned to greet him. His icy stare chilled her faster than the cold winds that moved across the English Channel.
“Father, may I introduce the Marquis of Drake and Lord Chastain, his dear friend.” If her father’s thought was to steal Chastain away before she had an opportunity to speak with him, he had underestimated how badly she wanted to impress him. “These fine London gentlemen were explaining to me the marvels of England’s unpredictable weather patterns. A lady must be prepared for showers every time she leaves her home. How tiresome!”
“Very true, Lorelei.” Her father turned to Chastain. “My daughter is very interested in London culture.”
Her father, the Comte of Epernon, had never been a man with tact. He was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted, at no cost of time or money to himself. But London was not France—and his foreign title meant little to the ton. Even if her father failed to realize this, Lorelei knew at least that much.
“Father, please!” Regretfully, she slipped her hand from Drake’s arm and moved to Chastain. “Now is not the time for dreaded government talks. I believe Lord Chastain was about to escort me to the terrace for a spot of fresh air.” She gave her father a pleading look, hoping he’d take the clue and keep Drake occupied.
“Very well, but please bring her back after she cools down a bit.” He finally acknowledged the marquis. “Your lordship, I believe they have finally opened the card tables. Would you care to join me?”
Drake gave her one last lingering look before bowing and wishing her a wonderful evening. He’d wanted to stay and dance again, she could sense it, though he was too much the gentlemen to deny Chastain.
She watched her father and the marquis walk side by side to the card room. Though his back faced her now, the memory of Drake’s stare lingered. Never had a simple look dug so deeply, making her question the consequences and lasting cost of her mission. There was nothing left to do but allow Chastain to guide her outside and into the cool night air.
Chastain, while every bit as well dressed as Drake, lacked something. From where her hand rested on his forearm, she did not feel the tight, corded muscle of a man who spent hours at his fencing club, and she suspected he did not possess the sculptured legs of a skilled horseman, as she’d been told. His tailor should be commended for the fine cut of his coat, which no doubt covered what he lacked beneath.
It was truly a shame that the marquis was not the man she sought, for after only a few short minutes in his presence, her interest had been significantly piqued.
But her word was her bond—and her allegiance lay not with her own needs and wants, but with what would garner her family approval from the man many said would take control of France. “Shall we, Lord Chastain?”
“Without further ado, my lady.”
They walked arm in arm toward the terrace door. All the while, Lorelei refused to glance over her shoulder.
Chapter 2
Andrew stopped outside the card room and dared a glance in the direction from which he’d come. He regretted it immediately, as he was helpless to do anything but watch Chastain escort the enchanting Lady Lorelei out to the terrace and the secluded gardens beyond.
Whatever had bothered her earlier had clearly been pushed from her mind, something for which Andrew was grateful.
He hadn’t the faintest idea why he cared. She was beautiful, of course—tall and slender in her blue gown. But he hadn’t counted on her wit and intellect when he’d first seen her. A dance with a striking young woman was all he’d anticipated, but from the instant she’d spoken that had changed. He wanted more than a mere dance. He wanted to continue their conversation; to learn of all she’d done and where she had been in her short life.
Instead, he meandered about inside while Chastain had the pleasure of a few moments alone with her, which irritated him to no end. They’d been best friends since Benji had moved to England as a young child, the two attending school and university together and spending their seasons in London while their fathers fulfilled their obligations in Parliament, but still, Andrew was hesitant to trust him. After the early death of his father, the previous Lord Chastain, something had changed about Benji—he’d become more reckless, less wary of consequences. Their games had evolved from simple bets at White’s Gentlemen’s Club to risky investments in the shipping trade to even riskier ventures with women. Lots of women.
While Andrew had lived a rather untroubled existence thus far, he still cringed at how outlandish their friendly bets had become. It was no secret that both men appreciated the fairer sex—and what they could do for them—but Andrew had never set out to ruin his conquests. Toy with their emotions, perhaps. But Benji never shied away from it.
Damn Benji and his games.
And Lady Lorelei was not the type to be played with. What it was that made her different from others they’d occupied their idle time with, he couldn’t say yet. Possibly it was her sophisticated nature—she’d been privy to more than just England, had beheld exotic coasts, seen much more than Andrew could claim. She was not one to be trifled with. From the way she held herself, Andrew suspected she was used to doing the toying. One day, she would find a man who would treat her as she deserved to be treated: a lady of the first waters, a woman to be cherished and cared for.
Neither he nor Benji were that man. Both would seek to possess her for their own purposes, whether it was financial gain or carnal pleasure, yet neither of them could ever deserve a woman such as her. Though she presented herself as educated and well-traveled, he had no doubt that she was pure.
Part of him wished to be the man for her.
They were too old for this type of tomfoolery, but it seemed only he realized that fact. His mistakes of the past had been difficult to move past. Chastain could only keep at it for so long before his past came calling—as Andrew’s had ten years earlier.
Suppressing the memories—a woman shamed and a child he’d been forced to forget—he turned back to the card room. If he’d thought there was anything he could do to right those wrongs, he would have done so, gone to any extreme to prove he’d changed…for the better. But it had been made clear to him long ago that neither his attentions, nor his wealth and title, were needed.
But tonight wasn’t about dredging up the past or planning a new future, he reminded himself. He put the past where it belonged, behind him. Forgotten. He couldn’t change it. Nor could he go back in time and live up to what had been expected of him then, but now was different. He’d worked tirelessly to improve his standing, not cause any more heartache to others. Even though Chastain sought at every turn to pull him back into their philandering ways, Andrew resisted.
“Marquis?” A servant asked. “Will you be playing this hand?”
He looked up to see a full table staring back at him, awaiting his move. The men surrounding him tolerated him because of the title he held. He was unable to escape the legacy of goodness his father had left for him. It was a responsibility he’d been too young to accept and fulfill with any measure of success, nor had he wanted to in his youth.
He needed to shake off his absurd attraction to the woman. His life—that of a confirmed bachelor and semi-reformed scoundrel—wasn’t the kind one brought a woman into. The need to settle down and start a family was definitely not something he’d ever dreamed of, nor wanted—though Lady Lorelei was beauty personified, and her wit and intellect had him second-guessing the future he’d planned for himself. It would not take long for the rumors about him, most of them true, to reach her family, and then she would turn away from him, no matter how he felt about her. It would take work to convince her otherwise, and that was the exact reason he couldn’t further their acquaintance, whether he wanted her or not.
His thoughts were ridiculous and illogical. The Marquis of Drake, a previous rakehell and philanderer, did not fancy having any feeling other than lust for a woman. There was no other feeling he could be experiencing after a mere few moments of dancing.
But the need to protect her from Chastain and his less-than-noble intentions was strong, even though he knew they shouldn’t be based on his own feelings for her.
“Oh, yes.” Andrew reached into his coat and pulled several billfolds out, laying them on the table. “Please, deal me in. I am ready for a spirited game, gentlemen.”
The only man at the table he was unfamiliar with was Lady Lorelei’s father, the comte, but if his pockets held riches the likes of his fine suit, then Andrew would have a very fruitful evening indeed. Though it would be nothing short of appalling to set his sights on Lorelei’s father’s coin.
He needed to keep his mind on the game at hand and not the game Benji was playing on the terrace. Women were a luxury that he could not afford to possess, at least during hours before the midnight bell.
Andrew played hand after hand, winning more than he lost and managing to amass a sizable stack of money. The comte, alternatively, bowed out more often than not, claiming the cards were not in his favor. His folding didn’t unsettle Andrew. He much preferred not to best Lorelei’s father.
