A Hint of Seduction (22 page)

Lynette smiled and relaxed. “All right, I believe you. Now tell me what you know.”

Catherine took a steadying breath. “I have proof Lord Chatwin was not thrown from his magnificent horse, and it was not a ghost riding the animal in the park. The woman was flesh and blood.”

Her eyes rounded. “You know who she is?”

“Yes. I was the lady riding his horse.”

Doubt showed in Lynette’s face and her eyes. “You? Are you sure?”

Exasperated Catherine said, “Of course I’m sure. I was there.” Catherine stopped. Saying that made her sound as silly as Lynette.

“I wouldn’t admit to this if it wasn’t true.”

“Perhaps you are trying to get your name mentioned in the column.”

“No, that’s not true. In fact, I was hoping Lord Truefitt would find a way to get the straight story without using my name. I have no desire to show up in his column.”

Lynette nodded. “All right, go on.”

“I only want Lord Truefitt to know I was the one riding the horse so he will stop writing about it in his column so everyone will stop teasing Lord Chatwin about a ghost.”

Lynette’s lovely green eyes widened even further with surprise. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

Catherine gasped. “What? No. Of course not. How absurd. I know he is unattainable.”

“Good. He has broken many young ladies’ hearts. All of them were sure they could win his.”

“I understand that.” Catherine wasn’t prepared for how empty she felt when she admitted that. “I simply feel guilty that his fine reputation is being ridiculed when all he did was help me when I needed it.”

Lynette didn’t look convinced and the truth of it was Catherine wasn’t convinced herself, but she didn’t have time to argue the point with Lynette or search her inner feelings.

“So tell me, how did you come to be riding on his horse?”

“It’s rather a long story.”

“I’ve got time and I want to hear it all.”

“But I don’t have that much time,” Catherine said, glancing at the door. “Vickie is waiting for me so we can go to another party.”

“Then quickly tell me what happened.”

Suddenly Catherine wished she had something to drink. Her throat was dry again. She felt desperate to clear John’s name no matter the cost to her own. She had no intention of telling Lynette exactly what happened, only as much as she wanted her to know.

Catherine told the story, making John out the hero who assisted her and let her borrow his horse.

“My goodness!” Lynette exclaimed. “Your horse almost collided with Lord Chatwin’s. How dangerous. Were you harmed?”

“No, but it was frightful. If not for both of our riding skills, the horses would have smashed together and been
injured or killed, not to mention what would have happened to us. As it was, my mare, who was not as well-schooled as Lord Chatwin’s, panicked and tossed me off, then ran away.”

“Leaving you there alone with Lord Chatwin.”

Catherine cleared her throat. “Yes. And he was a perfect gentleman. I told Lord Chatwin that I needed his horse so that I could get help for our groom.” She tried not to worry about not telling the story the exact way it happened.

“What did he do?” Lynette urged her when she had stopped for a moment’s breath.

“Lord Chatwin of course offered to do the proper thing and ride for help, but he didn’t want to leave me alone in the park, so we decided that I should ride his horse and get help as quickly as possible.”

“That is a fascinating story. Why didn’t you want anyone to know?”

“Lord Chatwin suggested we not tell anyone about it because he didn’t want it to in any way blemish my reputation as this is my first Season and the incident was truly innocent.”

Lynette’s face softened and she smiled wistfully. “He is a true gentleman.”

“Yes, that is why I can no longer allow this outlandish story of a ghost to continue. There is no ghost. But having only been in London a few weeks, I have no idea how to get the story to Lord Truefitt so that he might write about it. Lord Chatwin would never speak up and tell the truth of what happened, so I must even if it damages my reputation.”

Lynette smiled the most satisfied smile Catherine had ever seen anyone wear, and suddenly she knew that she had done the right thing. The true story needed to come out.

“Do not worry, Catherine. I will see to it that the real story comes out and that your name will not be listed. And I will make sure that both you and Lord Chatwin are considered heroes.”

“Both of us? But I did nothing but take his horse. That is, when he offered it.”

“And help your groom.”

“Oh, yes, right. Thank you for doing this,” Catherine said.

“No, my dear Catherine, thank you, and remember our deal that you tell no one you spoke to me about this.”

“I won’t forget.”

Lynette reached out and took hold of Catherine’s hand. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I have one other very dear friend who once trusted me like this. Her name is Millicent. She’s the wife of Lord Dunraven. He’s the married one of the Terrible Threesome. Have you met Millicent?”

“No, I don’t believe I have.”

Lynette smiled. “I’ll see that you do. I think you two will become good friends.”

Fourteen

I
T WAS THE
warmest day of the year so far, and John felt every degree of temperature, but his hotness had nothing to do with the hat on his head, the gloves on his hands, or his intricately tied neckcloth. It was all about Catherine Reynolds.

He’d been in a perpetual state of heat since he first glimpsed Miss Catherine Reynolds’s blue eyes, and it had only gotten worse when he’d tasted her passion. He took hold of Catherine’s hand and helped her step up and into his phaeton. She sat on the seat cushion and arranged the skirts of her French blue carriage dress as he climbed up beside her.

It was the first time he’d seen her wear the color blue, and it made her eyes all the more startling and gorgeous. She seemed to match everything including the clear blue sky that for the first time in months didn’t have a white or gray cloud anywhere in sight.

He was going to have a hell of a time keeping his hands to himself. Already he wanted to touch her soft cheek and feel the firmness of her breasts again.

She looked delicious enough to eat with a spoon. His lower body stirred with an awakening that he knew he was going to have trouble keeping under control the entire afternoon.

Catherine popped open the lace-trimmed parasol that matched her dress before waving good-bye to Mrs. Goosetree who stood in the doorway of her home watching them. John picked up the ribbons and then pulled the brake handle. He was eager to be away from the watchful gaze of Catherine’s domineering sister.

As they drove down the street, he realized he liked the fact that of all the young ladies in London Catherine was the one sitting beside him on this glorious spring day. He was looking forward to spending a couple of hours alone with her.

“Did you see the Marquis last night?”

John didn’t know why that question was the first one out of his mouth except that it had been on his mind since she’d told him she planned to see Westerland at a party last night.

“Yes.”

That was all she was going to say?

“Did you dance with him?”

“As a matter of fact I did.”

John’s stomach knotted with that same feeling he’d experienced before whenever he thought of Catherine with Westerland. He didn’t want Westerland even touching her when dancing.

“Did you take a walk with him on the terrace or somewhere else?”

Like to a private room somewhere in the house.

He looked over at her. She was staring at him, surprise showing clearly in her lovely face and eyes.

“Yes. How did you know?”

I’m a man.

The only answer he gave her was a shrug. How could he admit that he knew every man wanted to steal a few kisses from a woman as beautiful and as charming as she. The problem was that because of Society’s strict rules concerning proper behavior, most of them didn’t have the courage to do it.

Did Westerland?

John didn’t know.

“Did the Marquis tell you we strolled on the terrace after our dance?” she asked.

It was an experienced guess.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Oh.”

“Oh. Is that all you have to say?”

John clicked the ribbons on the horses’ rumps, and they picked up their pace. He knew he sounded annoyed, and he was. He didn’t understand it, but he knew he didn’t want Westerland anywhere near Catherine.

“I’m not sure what else you expected me to say,” she said.

“How about he kissed me or he tried to kiss me.”

He heard her laugh softly, and he loved the sound of it as it wafted past his ear. It couldn’t have aroused him more if she’d laid her hand on his leg.

“Well, I could say that.”

He jerked his head around to look at her, and she smiled sweetly at him. They hit a bump in the road and bounced on the seat. Catherine had to hold on to the armrest, but he didn’t slow the horses.

“But if I did it wouldn’t be true. Lord Westerland was a perfect gentleman, and he didn’t even try to kiss me.”

“Truly?” John asked.

“Yes.”

A milktoast just like I thought.

John smiled at her before turning his attention back to the road. “Good,” he said and should have let the conversation drop with that, but being the man he was, he couldn’t stop there.

“Would you have let him if he had tried?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Catherine?”

“All right. I suppose I would have. It would have been educational.”

He slapped the ribbons on the horses’ rump again, and they went even faster through the streets of Mayfair.

“Educational? Excuse my cursing, Catherine, but how in the bloody hell would kissing him be considered educational?”

She twirled the handle of her parasol in her hand, and without looking at him she said, “I would then know if his kisses made me feel the same way yours do.”

“And how is that?”

“My legs go weak beneath me, and I find it difficult to catch my breath when you kiss me.”

That lifted his spirits. She made him feel the same way. “In all confidence I can say his kisses would not make you feel that way.”

“How would you know about his kisses?”

“Because I know every man kisses differently.”

“And ladies have told you this?”

“Yes,” he answered truthfully.

“Do all ladies kiss differently, too, or do my lips feel the same as every other lady you’ve kissed?”

John hadn’t expected this question, and for a moment he didn’t know quite how to answer it. Just remembering his few moments alone with her in the closet had his manhood stirring to life again.

Finally he gave the only answer he could. “A gentleman doesn’t talk about the ladies he has kissed, but I will admit your kisses are different from all the other ladies I’ve kissed.” John chuckled and breathed a little easier. “You are a diamond like no other, Catherine. I have never had such a frank discussion with a proper lady before.”

“Well, sir, I’ll be twenty-one in the not too distant future. As you are aware, I got a late start and I’m not getting any younger.”

“At twenty you are hardly old.”

“Do you consider yourself old?”

“At thirty-one? No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason in particular.”

John pondered that. There must have been a reason she mentioned it, and it must be the fact that Westerland was six years younger than he. He knew young ladies didn’t like to be married off to older men, but damn—was he considered an older man at just past thirty?

Did she consider Westerland more dashing, more handsome than he? Did the younger man appeal more to her than he did? Is that why she wanted Westerland to kiss her? And when the hell did things like age start bothering him? He was not lacking for female companionship with the older ladies or the Season’s debutantes.