A Game of Persuasion: Extended Prologue for the Art of Ruining a Rake (The Naughty Girls Book 3) (10 page)

But Roman merely frowned over his shoulder, not bothering to look at the men, let alone warn them off. “Lord Felton, do you by chance know this dance?”

The young man blinked and then bowed halfway, recovering. “I’m the fleetest foot in Shropshire, my lord.”

Roman continued his assiduous study of Trestin. “Good. Take Miss Lancester for a turn. I’ve some business to attend.”

Before she could protest, Roman handed her off and cut the company.

She glared daggers at his retreating form. How dare he slip away and leave her with these—with these infants!

“That’s a quid for me,” Felton said to Kinsey, elbowing the latter. “Easier than I expected, what.”

Lucy turned to glower at the two men who’d interjected themselves into what had been until then a good show. “You
wagered
on me?”

Lord Felton laughed. “Suppose you could see it that way. Really, the bet was on Montborne. The way he’s monopolized you these last few nights, I expected him to put up more of a fight.”

She scowled as she found Roman with her eyes. He was at her brother’s side now. As irritated as she was, she had to admit this
was
where the evening had been headed. He’d been only moments from abandoning her for Trestin; Lord Felton and Lord Kinsey had only spurred him along.

She stood straighter and tried to school her expression into something more grateful-looking. Even if they’d come only to rile Roman, it was preferable to flirt with Lord Felton than no one at all.

“Shall we dance, then?” she asked, careful to keep from sounding too eager.

Lord Felton shrugged. “We could stroll in the garden until the next set forms. Whatever the lady prefers.”

Oh, that was most assuredly forward of him. And yet, what was more likely to make Roman jealous? A well-chaperoned dance or a private turn through the courtyard?

She glanced at her brother again. Trestin was glaring at Roman. Roman was scowling back. Good. Neither would remark on her absence until it was too late—if they noticed at all.

Mustering her brightest smile, she turned back to Lord Felton. “I’d be delighted to see the gardens, my lord.”

“Very good, Miss Lancester.” This time when he passed one of the glasses of lemonade to her, she took it. Next he offered his arm. As they made their way to the open doors, she caught a glimpse of her brother through the dancers.

She craned her neck to see better, looking over her shoulder to find Roman as Lord Felton escorted her to the terrace. There. Roman was fair and dashing beside her darker-featured, more somber brother. The two men were walking not toward her, but toward a dark-haired woman in a low-cut gown.

Lucy placed her hand on the doorframe and arched backward to see them as Lord Felton attempted to pull her through the double doors.

Trestin was smiling at the enticing woman, though his eyes betrayed his misery. He bent over her hand. The lady smiled, then trailed her other hand along Roman’s sleeve.

To Lucy’s relief, Roman turned and walked away.

Chapter 6

LUCY MADE SURE to call on Celeste for another lesson on the day of her and Delilah’s come-out. After all, Roman had promised to pay court to her tonight. Too, Lord Felton had held her hand rather earnestly as he’d led her through Lady Melbourne’s moonlit garden, and Lord Kinsey had also asked for a dance after her stroll.

She’d returned home at the end of the night feeling quite successful, even if Roman hadn’t erupted in a fit of jealousy, much to her disappointment.

Celeste met Lucy in the drawing room. As usual, she wore a simple yet expensive frock, and her thick, auburn hair was pulled back into a loose chignon. Her tired smile matched the dullness of her eyes.

No matter how she pretended, she still missed Trestin. Lucy clenched her fists. Roman! He ought not have introduced Trestin to that—that
woman
. Lucy didn’t doubt for a moment the raven-haired sophisticate dripping with jewels was exactly the sort to kiss a married man behind a potted plant.

“How are you faring today, my dear?” Celeste asked, grasping Lucy’s hands and squeezing tightly. As if Lucy were the one who needed comforting.

Lucy forced her glower away and replaced it with a bright smile instead. It wouldn’t help matters to describe what she’d witnessed the night prior. Better to focus on that which was within her control.

“Most wonderfully, actually. Lady Melbourne’s ball was marvelous.” Lucy’s lips curved into a satisfied little smile as she recalled how wonderful she’d felt basking in the attention. “I’ve never experienced the like of it.”

Celeste raised one elegant eyebrow, seeming genuinely interested to hear Lucy’s tale. “Oh? Did something interesting occur?”

Lucy sank onto the sofa as her hostess turned and went to the bellpull. To Celeste’s back, she said, “Well, Roman spoke to me, for one. I did enjoy that, even if he isn’t prepared to declare his undying devotion to me. But it was Lord Felton and Lord Kinsey who made the night one I’ll never forget. I think Lord Felton was particularly charmed.”

Celeste returned and seated herself on the sofa beside Lucy. “Oh? Did you fancy him in return?”

What she seemed to be asking was, “Is your little obsession with Roman in the past?”

Lucy shook her head vehemently, for no man could ever replace Roman in her heart. “But being courted
was
delightful! I’ve never had a beau before. Just the one kiss behind the church gate, which was really rather silly. I suspect Kit’s friends dared him to do it. This was much, much better. Lord Felton was attentive, and ever so kind. We even strolled in the gardens.”

Celeste’s eyes widened. “Lucy! Lord Felton might have tried for more than a kiss!”

“Do you know him?” Lucy was intrigued by the idea that Celeste would know a fledgling like Lord Felton by name. More to the point, how
well
did she know him?

Celeste waved away the question. “I know
of
him. And I know men. He could have taken advantage of the privacy. Then where would you be? A woman has very little, without her reputation.”

Lucy’s face grew hot. Partly because she wouldn’t have minded kissing Lord Felton, if only for the slim chance that Roman would see her doing so. Partly because Celeste was right to be concerned, drat her. Even if Lucy didn’t want to admit it, she’d been in a precarious situation. Kissing Lord Felton was one thing. Being caught by anyone but Roman was an entirely different matter.

“We were safe enough,” Lucy mumbled. “It’s all beside the point, anyway. What matters is that he approached me. I didn’t think my efforts to engage Roman’s attention would be appreciated by anyone else, but Lord Felton took it upon himself to make an introduction. Eligible bachelors don’t usually strut out of the woodwork and attempt to charm me.”

Celeste nodded, as if this wasn’t surprising at all. “Men are always watching. If Roman has been speaking to you, then they’ve seen it.” She leaned forward, her expression one of concern. “But they are more interested in you, and how you comport yourself with him. They must think you receptive to certain advances, when before, you seemed shuttered.”

“I am not
flirting
with them
—
”

“You don’t need to, not if you are playing coy with Roman. Any number of silent messages may be communicated via your posture and expression, even if you are not aware of them. I beg you will have a care.”

Lucy considered this, intrigued to think her body could move in a language men understood. “Roman says men are always on the lookout for a woman who is free with her favors.”

Celeste’s ivory skin blanched. “I’d ask what sorts of conversations you’re having, but I don’t want to know. He’s correct, to a point. It would be more accurate to say men are always searching for a woman who piques their interest. Easy conquests are just that. Men are often more intrigued by a woman who holds herself apart, as a prize to be won.”

Lucy considered this. “What about a woman who is both?”

Celeste shook her head slowly. “A woman either is or isn’t obtainable before marriage. Oh, Lucy, I do wish you’d reconsider. This life… It’s not worth it.”

“But I shall never marry, and I’m not looking to become a…” Lucy didn’t mean to offend Celeste. It was an odd relationship they had—not quite friends, not quite equals. Celeste was older and wiser, yet Lucy was the one Society stamped with approval. “I don’t mean to be
too
free with my favors. I simply want to experience living
,
before I’m old and gray.”

Celeste’s laugh was hollow. “One is never too old to enjoy pleasure. But age can indeed be very lonely, once the vigor of youth has passed. Dearest”—she clasped her hand over Lucy’s—“I don’t want to see you turned out of Society. Roman isn’t worth it.”

Lucy looked levelly at her. “What about Trestin? He’s not the only man in the world—a fact you know well—yet you pine for him, knowing he is unable or unwilling to fulfill your heart’s desire. He is not without choices, himself; he is here in London to seek out a wife from the hundreds of young ladies brought to show. Yet all he thinks about is
you,
though your reputation makes you entirely unsuitable for his purposes. I believe,” Lucy turned her entire body to face Celeste, “there can be such a person as you describe. One who is worth giving up every scruple, every moral in the book. You want it to be true just as much as I do.”

“The difference is,” Celeste said slowly, “I
would
marry your brother. If Roman were your one true love, rather than a passing itch, you’d do anything to be his wife.”

The truth cut straight into Lucy’s heart. Not because Celeste was right. But because Lucy knew loving a person and being able to live with them were two very different things.

“He’s not matrimonial material,” Lucy said, knowing she wasn’t, either. “There are reasons I can’t be shackled to him, not the way he is now. It would be detrimental for both of us. But I will not give up on him entirely. I must have my night with him.”

Celeste patted her hand, her entire being seeming to wilt, as though she deeply regretted her role in Lucy’s plan. “Making love to him won’t change him.”

“I know,” Lucy said, grateful for Celeste’s support, however reticently it was offered. “But it will almost certainly make me feel better.”

LATER THAT EVENING, Lucy waited impatiently on the edge of Delilah’s bed for her sister’s maid to finish outfitting Delilah for their come-out. Butterflies had kept Lucy from napping that afternoon. They just as furiously kept her from waiting calmly in the moments before she, Trestin and Delilah departed for the ball their mother’s cousin, Lady Ditsworth, was hosting in their honor.

As Delilah checked her sleek coiffure yet one more time for errant strands, Lucy tapped her slippered foot against the carpet. “You look stunning, goose. What would it matter if you didn’t? You can tell Mr. Conley you appeared flawless all night and he’ll never know.”

Delilah caught Lucy’s eye in the mirror. “Why must you remind me of horrid things?”

Lucy felt instantly contrite. It seemed she was always saying the wrong things—she must learn not to blurt out the first words that came to mind. “I
do
wish your Mr. Conley could attend. It would mean so much to you.” She knew how desperately
she
longed to have Roman dancing attendance on her on her special night.

Delilah flashed her a look of utter misery.

“You really do look like an angel,” Lucy said quickly, wishing to distract her sister from the unfortunate circumstance of being unable to share her life with the man who loved her. “We have the same coloring, yet you look breathtaking in white and I look…” She held up her arms as explanation. “Somehow, I fail to resemble an utter goddess.”