A Season of Ruin (7 page)

You're behaving like a child
. Still, he couldn't help but indulge in the innuendo, made even more salacious because Lily remained oblivious to it. “Did you say you'll help me? I'd be delighted to have an extra hand to help soothe the, ah, pain.”

“Yes. It will be difficult for you to do it yourself. You can't see it very well.”

On the contrary, it was making itself quite visible. He felt a grin spread over his face. “I have done it myself before, on occasion.” On countless occasions, if the truth were told.

Lily looked puzzled. “How many black eyes have you had?”

Robyn's brain registered the reference to his eye, but his cock, which had gone from a twitch, to a surge, to leaping in anticipation, remained unconvinced. He'd completely forgotten about the throbbing in his
eye
.

She turned toward the kitchens. “I think cook has some salve in the stillroom.”

At that point, nothing could have stopped him from
following her. He did take off his coat to hold it in front of him, a nod, at least, to propriety. Surely she wouldn't notice the state he was in? She was an innocent. How much could she possibly know about the male anatomy?

“Sit here,” she said when they reached the stillroom. Robyn sat obediently on a stool while she fiddled with some jars in a cupboard. “Ah, here it is. Betsy gave me this when I cut my leg on some thorns in the rose garden.”

Robyn adjusted his coat to cover more of his lap.
Do not think about Lily rubbing salve on her bare leg . . .

Her fingers, slippery with the salve, gently touched his eye. She moved closer to get a better look until she was standing almost between his legs, her breasts displayed temptingly under his chin.

He kept his gaze straight ahead. Perhaps this hadn't been such a wise idea, after all.

She wasn't trying to tease him. She hadn't any idea his body grew more desperate with every stroke of her fingers against his face. She was so close, yet he couldn't touch her. She touched him, but so lightly, with just her fingertips, and only on his face. His hands were mere inches from her waist. The slightest tilt would bring his head against her neck.

He'd engaged in every kind of debauchery, but he'd never experienced anything more erotic.

Ah, God. It was torture of the most exquisite kind to sit here, surrounded by her scent while her soft fingers stroked him. He opened his knees a bit wider before he lost control and snapped them closed so she was caught between them.

Almack's wasn't his punishment.
This was
.

“Why did Lord Pelkey hit you?” She dipped back into the salve and he felt her fingertips against the swollen skin under his eye.

Robyn sat as still as he could and tried not to pant. “He didn't—he was—”

String a sentence together, you fool.

“We were boxing. At Gentleman Jackson's.”

Lily's brow furrowed with distaste. “Boxing? I can't understand why boxing appeals to gentlemen. It's so uncivilized.”

Uncivilized? She had no idea. He was on the verge of downright savagery. “Men
are
uncivilized. Even gentlemen. That's the very reason it appeals.”

Her delicious pale pink lips settled into a tight, disapproving line, but instead of cooling his ardor as they should have, those severe lips made him want to kiss her. Kiss her until they softened, and opened, and he could slip inside.

“Speaking of savagery,” he said, though they hadn't been, “what did Alec say when you told him about Mrs. Tittleton? I'm surprised he didn't black my other eye.”

Her blue eyes met his for an instant before she went back to her ministrations. “I didn't tell him. He doesn't know anything about it.”

Ah. So she thought to appeal to his honorable side, did she? Her mistake. He didn't have one. “I'm shocked at you, Lily. However will you make sure I behave myself and do the proper thing
now
?”

He tried not to notice the way her fingers brushed close to his ear as she tended to the outer edges of the bruise. Bloody Pelkey. He did have fists the size of roast beefs. It felt as if Lily were touching him everywhere.

She cocked her head to one side, considering this. “Why don't you just do the proper thing anyway, and leave Alec out of it?”

Robyn snorted. “What fun would that be?”

She'd begun to work on the inside corner of his eye, but her hand stilled at his mocking tone. “I don't see why you'd draw the line at disappointing Alec, in any case. You don't hesitate to disappoint your sisters. What's the difference?”

Well, then. She knew him better than he thought.

In truth, there
was
no difference. He broke promises. He disappointed his sisters. He disappointed Alec. He
disappointed his mother. God knew he'd done nothing
but
disappoint his father.

He shrugged. “Alec holds my purse strings. I wish I could claim some more honorable reason, but there it is.”

“Yes, well, as you said, men are uncivilized.”

He couldn't take any more of her stroking without leaping on her. He grasped her wrist and jerked her hand away from his face. Her pulse leapt against his thumb, and he couldn't stop himself from pressing his lips against the soft skin there, just for a moment, before he released her. “Ladies, too, on occasion. After all, it was
you
who struck
me
last night, if you remember.”

Color surged into her face. “I remember you deserved it.”

Ah, he did love to tease her. He didn't know any other woman who blushed so delightfully. Or blushed at all, come to think of it. “I remember it was worth it.”

She placed the stopper in the jar of salve, pushed it down tightly, and set it back in the cupboard, each movement calm and deliberate, then gave him a reproving look. “Perhaps it would be best if we both forgot it entirely.”

She turned on her heel, but before she could make her grand exit, he stopped her with a low chuckle. “Oh, love. It's far too late for that.”

The lemonade at Almack's did taste like water. Lily hadn't tried the cake, but she knew it would crumble to dust in her mouth, even if it wasn't as dry and stale as rumor claimed.

“You look lovely tonight, Lily,” Lady Catherine said for the third time. She patted Lily's hand. “That color brings out your eyes.”

Lily smoothed a fold of her pale blue gown between cold fingers. “Thank you, my lady.”

She'd blushed to the roots of her hair when she'd caught sight of her reflection in the looking glass this evening, but Charlotte only laughed and insisted she wear the gown so the gentlemen could admire her “devastating bosom.”

Well, Charlotte needn't have bothered. Devastating bosom or not, Lily had spent the entire night languishing on the side of the room with Lady Catherine while Charlotte and Eleanor danced.

Her very first ball in London, at Almack's no less, and she was a wallflower.

Poor Lady Catherine looked rather puzzled, as if she couldn't understand why Lily hadn't yet been asked to dance. Evidently Lady Catherine hadn't read the scandal sheet. She was the only person in the room who hadn't. For all their sophistication, it seemed the
ton
wasn't above a peek at Mrs. Tittleton.

Voucher or not, Lily was being soundly shunned.

Frizzle-haired Miss Thurston stood not ten paces away, but she hadn't acknowledged Lily with so much as a word or a nod the entire evening. She whispered and giggled to her friend behind her fan. The friend darted appraising glances at Lily, whispered back to Miss Thurston, then both young ladies erupted into malicious laugher.

Lily turned away. She ran a careful finger over the fan clutched in her hand and wondered how she'd ever thought she could manage in London society.

“I can't imagine where Robyn is,” Lady Catherine fretted. “It's so provoking!”

“He must be delayed,” Lily said for the sixth time in less than two hours.

It had become quite the theme of the evening, trying to imagine where Robyn was. For everyone except Lily, who did her best
not
to imagine where he was. He wasn't
here
, so what did it matter?

“I'm certain he'll turn up any minute,” she added, though in truth she thought it far more likely they wouldn't see Robyn for days.

She should have known he'd never appear tonight. She'd suspected as much, but to suspect a thing and truly
believe
it . . . well, if they were the same thing, she wouldn't be choking on bitter disappointment with each sip of weak lemonade.

For all his carelessness, she hadn't really believed Robyn would toss her to the
ton
like a lamb to ravenous wolves.

A guest voucher, or “stranger's ticket,” had appeared for Lily at the town house late that morning. Charlotte and
Eleanor amused themselves for quite some time with speculations about how Robyn had managed to secure it.

Lily had been stunned silent when the voucher arrived. Was it possible Robyn would turn up to escort her tonight, after all? Perhaps Delia was right. Perhaps they did all underestimate him.

She'd lingered over her looking glass for quite some time that evening while Betsy, Charlotte's lady's maid, brushed her hair until it shone. Betsy had pinned the heavy waves to the back of Lily's head and nestled a thin silver band in the gleaming locks to hold it away from her face.

None of these efforts were on Robyn's behalf, of course. She wasn't such a fool as to primp and preen for a capricious man like
him
. She knew better than that, which was why her heart
hadn't
sunk into her slippers when she finished her toilette and came downstairs to find only Rylands, the butler, standing guard in an otherwise empty foyer.

Lady Catherine, Ellie, and Charlotte came down the stairs after Lily. “Have you seen Robyn, Rylands?” Lady Catherine asked. “Is he waiting in the carriage?”

Rylands gave a stiff bow. “No, my lady. Mr. Sutherland left early this morning for his club and hasn't yet returned.”

“Oh, no,” Charlotte moaned. “He's gone to White's? Why, he could be there for the rest of the night! Or anywhere in London, come to that.”

He could be locked in a dark room with Lady Downes, sampling the charms he'd had to forgo the other night. Or sampling the charms of any willing female in London, come to
that
. Wherever he was, his plans didn't appear to include a ball at Almack's.

“He
did
get the voucher, Charlotte,” Ellie reminded her sister. “He promised he'd be here.”

Lily stood quietly, but under cover of her skirts, her hands clenched into fists. He hadn't promised anything of the sort. He'd been very careful
not
to promise, in fact. He'd said he'd
procure the voucher and he'd done so, and that was the last of the miracles they'd witness tonight.

Blast the man
. It infuriated Lily to stand there and look at Ellie's hopeful face and know Robyn wouldn't come.

“Surely we can wait another few minutes?” Eleanor said. “I'm certain he'll be along.”

They did wait, for another twenty minutes. Lily tried not to squirm in her satin slippers as they all waited for Eleanor to get tired of standing in the foyer with her eyes fixed on the door.

“Oh, bother!” Ellie exclaimed at last, throwing her hands up in the air. “Shall we send a note round to White's and hope for the best?”

The chances that Robyn was still at White's were slim, indeed, and all of them knew it.

Lily gathered her skirts into her hands and started toward the door. She'd had quite enough of this. “Send the note, by all means, but we needn't wait for a reply. We'll go without him.”

Eleanor and Charlotte exchanged glances. “Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait?” Eleanor asked, fixing Lily with a meaningful look. “Robyn
particularl
y wished to escort you to your first ball at Almack's.”

Lily shrugged with a carelessness she couldn't quite feel. She had no wish to brave the
ton
without an escort after Mrs. Tittleton's perfidy, but neither would she allow Ellie's and Charlotte's evening to be spoiled, and she couldn't bear to wait here another minute.

“So he will. He's sure to arrive at Almack's in no time.” She met Ellie's eyes with a look that asked:
How bad can it be?

Eleanor's return glare looked rather forbidding.
Quite bad, indeed.

Lily hadn't any opportunity to change her mind, however, for Lady Catherine spoke up then. “Of course Lily's right.
He may even be there now,” she added, with the confidence only a fond mother could feel.

Eleanor gave Lady Catherine a skeptical look, as though she wondered if her mother had actually
met
Robyn. “Very well.”

Off to Almack's they went, and now they were there with no possibility of escape, Lily began to see how right Ellie was. As bad as it could be was quite bad, indeed.

“I can't understand it.” Lady Catherine flapped her fan to and fro. “I thought for certain he'd be here by the time we arrived.”

Lily's head began to throb. She didn't want to think about Robyn anymore, and she'd rather chew glass than spend the rest of the evening discussing him. She gestured to the dancers, hoping to distract Lady Catherine. “Look, my lady. Charlotte and Lord Atherton dance beautifully together.”

They did. They looked well together, too. Perhaps Charlotte would marry him.

Someone
should.

A half hour earlier, Lord Atherton had set out across the ballroom, his eyes fixed on their corner of the room. Lily held her breath and did her best not to look too eager when it became clear he was headed in her direction.

Perhaps he hadn't read Mrs. Tittleton? Proper gentlemen didn't pay attention to gossip, did they? Surely Lord Atherton wouldn't believe such vicious—

He stopped in front of them and bowed correctly. “Good evening, Miss Sutherland.”

Charlotte curtsied. “Lord Atherton. This is my dear friend, Miss Lily Somerset.”

Well, that was the introduction out of the way, at least, and now perhaps—

“Miss Somerset.” Lord Atherton bowed. His cool blue eyes swept over her and then as quickly dismissed her. He
turned back to Charlotte before Lily had a chance to say a word, and held out his hand. “Miss Sutherland, will you favor me with a dance?”

And just like that, all of Lily's hopes burned to ashes.

He hadn't been precisely rude to her, but he'd looked right through her, as if she were one of Almack's gilt mirrors.

It seemed proper gentlemen did read the scandal sheets, after all.

Charlotte's face colored angrily, but Lily gave her a tiny frown and made a subtle gesture with her chin toward the dance floor to indicate Charlotte should dance with him. She could hardly refuse him, after all. It wasn't proper.

The evening had gone from bad to worse after that. The other gentlemen followed Lord Atherton's example, and Lily hadn't left Lady Catherine's side all night.

Just then Eleanor's partner delivered her back to Lady Catherine and ambled off to fetch her a glass of lemonade, leaving the three ladies alone.

Ellie's eyes sparkled and her cheeks were pink from her exertions on the dance floor. “My goodness! It's very warm in here, isn't it?”

Lily ran her hands up and down her bare arms. “Is it warm?”

The sparkle in Ellie's dark eyes dimmed. “Robyn hasn't arrived.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lady Catherine shook her head. “No, he hasn't, and it's nearly ten o'clock.”

Eleanor wrung her hands. “The doors at Almack's close at eleven. No one, not even the Duke of Wellington himself, is permitted to enter the ballroom once the doors are closed.”

Lily jerked her chin a notch higher. She didn't need the Duke of Wellington, and she didn't need Robyn Sutherland, either.

He could spend the rest of the season chasing Lady Downes around every desk in every study in every town
house in London. Delia had asked her to give Robyn a chance and she'd done so, just as she promised she would.

Now she was free to pursue her own ends. She needed a new plan, and once she got through this miserable evening, she'd devise one guaranteed to deliver the desired result.

One that didn't include Robyn Sutherland.

*   *   *

“Damn it, Sutherland! Hold 'er steady, will you?”

“She's as steady as she's going to get.” The trouble was the rest of the room had gone atilt. “Stop blathering, Pelkey, and take your turn, or give someone else a go.”

Lord Pelkey placed the end of his cravat between his teeth and leaned over the barmaid who squirmed in Robyn's lap, one of her plump legs extended, her skirts pulled to mid-thigh.

Pelkey took his time perfecting his position, for despite Robyn's threat, Archie wasn't in any condition to take a turn. He hadn't yet surrendered to unconsciousness, but it was a near thing. His lay with his head on the table, his eyes fixed on the barmaid's lifted skirts. He didn't seem to be aware of much else.

“Come now, sweetheart,” Lord Pelkey coaxed through a mouthful of starched linen. “Stay still, won't you?”

The barmaid gave a shrill laugh. “Go on, then, guv. Do it!”

It was both disturbing and fascinating, watching Pelkey twist this way and that in an effort to wrap the whole length of the cravat around the barmaid's leg with just his teeth. At one point his head was entirely engulfed by her skirts.

Which was rather the point, Robyn supposed.

Finally Pelkey crawled out from underneath the barmaid. He slapped the girl on her fleshy thigh. “Got it! You owe me five guineas, Sutherland.”

Robyn would gladly have paid Pelkey the five guineas just to get the barmaid off his lap. Mary's generous bulk
didn't do a thing for him, aside from cut off the blood circulating to his legs.

Or was her name Molly? He couldn't remember.

He also couldn't remember quite what he was doing in London's west end, drinking himself into a stupor with Pelkey. He hadn't intended to end up here; that much was certain. They'd started at White's, hadn't they?

Lord Pelkey dropped into a chair, grasped the barmaid's hand, and drew her off Robyn's lap and onto his own. “Can't think why you'd want the damn voucher to Almack's, Sutherland. Nothing but debutantes there.”

Ah, now he remembered. Of course. Almack's. London's great monument to vanity and social ambition. He'd promised to get Lily a voucher to Almack's.

Well, he'd got the voucher, and now he'd be rewarded for his good deed with another evening of watching Pelkey grope some giggling barmaid. Even bloody Almack's would be more entertaining than this.

Pelkey ran a hand comfortably up Mary's calf and under her skirts. “Debutantes and chastity, that is.” He shuddered, as if
chastity
were a filthy word.