An Invitation to Seduction (4 page)

She removed her spectacles and offered her undivided attention. “Of course, dear.”

He sat in a nearby chair, leaned forward with earnestness, and held her gaze. “Those are various invitations to an assortment of dinners and balls.”

“Yes, dear. I’m well acquainted with invitations.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“And I am
well acquainted
with the gentlemen of London. I am also well aware that it is their wives who yield the real power when it comes to the social scene.”

His mother smiled. “I always knew you were a smart lad.”

“Not so smart. I need help in determining which of those I should accept.”

“Splendid. As you can well imagine, I am only too eager to offer my assistance.” She placed her spectacles back on the bridge of her nose and reached for an invitation. “I shall determine which parties shall be attended by the ladies who will make the best selection of a wife.”

He wasn’t searching for a wife but revealing that would no doubt dim her enthusiasm. He cleared his throat. “I am only interested in balls and dinners which are hosted by people who are most likely to entertain Americans.”

She stared at him, her large, round eyes blinking rapidly behind her spectacles. “Pardon?”

“Which parties would an American lady most likely attend?
That
is what I do not know, what I need your assistance in ascertaining.”

Leaning back in her chair, his mother held the invitation with one hand while flicking its corner with fingers from the other hand. “Would you care to explain your reasoning?”

“Not particularly.”

“Has this anything at all to do with Farthingham?”

Now it was his turn to stare. “Farthingham? Why ever would you think that?”

“You two have always been most competitive, and not only when it came to sports and games. Since he’s apparently decided to take an American as a wife, I thought perhaps you’d decided to outdo him by finding one who has more beauty and wealth at her disposal.”

“My request has nothing at all to do with Farthingham. And I care little about her beauty and absolutely nothing about her wealth.”

“Then why have you developed a sudden keen interest in Americans? It seems most odd when you were listing all their unattractive points to Anne only last week.”

“I’m not interested in
Americans
. Rather
an
American. One lady.”

“So you already have a particular lady in mind? This revelation is most interesting. If you were to tell me her name, I could make inquiries.”

“I’m not exactly certain by what name she might be known.” And he wasn’t going to admit that he knew so little about her that he only knew her as Kitty. “Besides, I prefer to be subtle in my endeavors to locate her.”

“Subtle? Men are subtle when searching for a mistress.”

He heaved an impatient sigh. “Mother, all I need to know is to which balls she is most likely to have received an invitation.”

“I had so hoped you’d finally decided to search for a wife.”

“Well, I haven’t. And I’m not entirely certain that I’m searching for a mistress either.” Frustrated by the direction taken by their conversation, he came to his feet, strode to the window, and gazed out. From that vantage point, he saw his greenhouse, already displaying riotous colors in bloom. He had a man who saw to the flowers when Richard wasn’t in London, but when he was in res
idence, he preferred to tend to the delicate plants himself, many gathered from different parts of the world.

When it came to women, he’d always remained true to England, never desired the exotic. He pressed a hand to the window casing and bowed his head. “I only know that it is imperative that I find her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Will you help me?”

Something of his desperation must have shown on his face because his mother suddenly looked as lost as he felt.

“Yes, of course.” She placed the tray on her lap and began quickly to look over each invitation.

He returned to the chair, unable to reconcile his tension over so simple a matter or this driving need he had to find Kitty. He thought of her day and night, relived their fiery kisses, and heard the constant echo of her parting words. He wasn’t even certain what he would do once he found her—but find her he would. He was not one to give up the chase simply because the quarry had no wish to be found.

“I should think Ravenleigh’s ball would be a good place to start,” his mother said, holding up a gilded invitation. “His wife is American, you know.”

“Yes, I believe I do recall hearing that.”

“They have developed the habit of opening their home to any and all Americans, particularly those from Texas.”

“Texas,” he repeated. He thought of her slow drawl, the way she’d not been content simply to be known as an American, but had felt a need to be more specific, to identify her precise origins.
Texas
.

His mother nodded. “Ravenleigh’s wife comes from somewhere in the state. Her accent is most grating on the ears, but other than that she is most likable.”

“I’ll start there then, but if you’d recommend a few
other parties where I can make an appearance if the lady doesn’t attend Ravenleigh’s, I would be most grateful.”

“You’re quite determined to find her, aren’t you?”

His answer was succinctly given, leaving no doubt as to his intent or his determination. “Yes.”

Not only to finding her but to possessing her as well.

S
he drew his attention the moment she glided through the doorway at the top of the stairway. She looked as though she not only belonged, but as though she owned the ballroom and every heart within it.

Even from his place on the opposite side of the room, near the French doors that led on to the terrace, Richard could see the sparkle in her green eyes—although the shade was but a memory—and the soft smile she bestowed on her host and hostess, the Earl and Countess of Ravenleigh.

Her upswept hair was wreathed with pale pink roses. He would have thought the color would have clashed with her red hair, but she had the ability to appear at home in whatever she wore—even when it was nothing except that in which she’d been born.

The sight of her caused him to wonder if Anne’s babblings about love might contain a thread of truth, because he swore his chest expanded with Kitty’s radiance.

And just as quickly it collapsed.

I’m soon to be married
, she’d said.

Yet, he’d read no announcement of her betrothal in
The Times
. Not for a Miss Kitty anything.

Although the announcement could have been made months before he was searching for her name, months before he knew she existed, before she’d stumbled into his life. He’d taken a chance coming to London, hoping if she was an American there for the Season that she would travel in the same social circles as he. And he was probably a fool for holding out any hope at all that he could entice her away from her betrothed—whoever he might be.

A man and woman, both elegantly dressed, walked behind her. An older couple. His initial thought at their proximity to her was that they were her parents, but although both were turning silver, it was obvious that at one point their hair had been dark. They seemed to belong with Kitty, so he supposed it was possible that Kitty’s coloring could have come from a relation a generation or so back. Certainly not unheard of.

Evidently of good breeding, she would make an outstanding duchess. His mother would be tremendously pleased. Anne as well. Perhaps she could borrow some of Kitty’s gowns—if she did indeed have two hundred stuffed in her wardrobe.

Not that any of the qualities he’d touched upon just then truly mattered to him. He’d decided by the seashore that he would have her. Had he not seen her at this affair, he would have prowled every soiree in London. As Anne had mentioned, he was one of England’s most eligible bachelors, and that status provided him with invitations into every home of prominence.

Gracefully, Kitty strolled away from her hostess and began to make the rounds. It quickly became obvious to him that she was known to a good many people, that she was not new to the social scene. He cursed himself for
tacitly avoiding his social obligations as long as he had. It was quite likely that he could have claimed her before another had captured her fancy.

I’m soon to be married.

How soon? To whom? And what would it take to undo it?

Two years had passed since Farrer Herschell had introduced a resolution in the House of Commons to abolish lawsuits involving breaches of promise regarding marriage. The exception being where money was involved. Richard had yet to hear of a marriage between an American and an aristocrat that did not involve money, a complication that would make his pressing his suit that much more difficult. But then he’d never been one to turn away from a challenge. Truth be told, he preferred it when winning was not too easy, because he tended to appreciate the victory that much more.

“Good God! Weddington, is that you?”

With a great deal of reluctance at the intrusion to his thoughts, Richard turned his attention from his quarry and presented a broad, glad smile to his friend of many years. “Farthingham. How have you been?”

“Well. Very well indeed. I can’t quite reconcile the idea of your being here. I suppose your mother must be quite beside herself with hope that you’ll take a wife this Season.”

Richard gave a slight shrug. “If she has hope, it is only because she’s heard the rumor that you are to marry.”

Farthingham gave a devilish grin. “I daresay it is not rumor but fact.” His smile evolved into one reflecting pride. “She’s lovely, Weddington. I have to confess to considering myself quite fortunate that she favors me. She could have her choice of gentlemen, don’t you know.”

“So, it is not money alone that draws you to her?”

Farthingham grimaced. “I hope that rumors regarding my financial straits aren’t going about as well.”

“Does she not know?”

“Of course she knows. She’s not only lovely beyond belief, but damned smart. Her father made his wealth in railroads and banking. Our solicitors have been hammering away at the settlement for close to a month now.”

“I’ll admit to being surprised to hear you were to wed.”

Farthingham averted his gaze, seeming to take great interest in all the goings-on surrounding them. “I have the regrettable misfortune of being the firstborn son. What choice do I have, except to take a wife? The family coffers are empty. It is my duty to see after the welfare of my family and provide an heir. My only hope of avoiding my obligations is to die and allow my younger brother to inherit.”

“And that alternative has certain disadvantages.”

“Decidedly so.” Farthingham’s face suddenly lit up. “Here comes my salvation now. I do believe you’ll find her to your liking.”

Richard turned, and everything within him stilled at the exact moment that the joy in Kitty’s eyes transformed from actuality to pretence. All the poise seemed to drain out of her.

“Kitty, my sweet,” said Farthingham. “Don’t let my friend’s stern visage put you off. He’s not nearly as frightening as he appears.”

Richard was suddenly conscious of the fact that he did not have Farthingham’s aristocratic features and blond coloring. Richard was as dark as a storm, his face weathered by the sea and regret.

“Kitty, allow me to introduce His Grace, Richard Stanbury, the sixth Duke of Weddington. And, Weddington, it is with even greater pleasure that I introduce to
you Miss Mary Ellen Robertson. Her dearest friends call her Kitty.”

Mary Ellen. He could have easily overlooked her announcement in the newspaper. He bowed. “Miss Robertson.”

“Your Grace.” She curtsied, a rosy hue working its way up her face.

“I believe I’ve mentioned the duke on occasion, haven’t I?” Farthingham asked.

Her gaze darted between Richard and Farthingham. Had he never seen her smile at dawn, he might not have realized how forced her smile was now.

“Yes”—she nodded quickly—“you mentioned him.”

“I hope he was not too unflattering,” Richard replied.

“On the contrary, Your Grace, Nicky thinks most highly of you.”

Nicky
. She’d wrapped a wealth of warmth around the name. A name Richard had never heard applied to Farthingham, not even in his most intimate circles. No doubt her pet name for him.

“I can understand now why he considers himself a man of fortune,” Richard said.

A fire sparked within her eyes. “If one does not measure fortune by its weight in gold.”

“Which I assure you I do not,” Farthingham interjected.

“I meant no offense,” Richard assured her. “Perhaps you’d honor me with a dance later in the evening.”

She angled her head triumphantly. “I fear, Your Grace, that my dance card is already filled.”

Sharp disappointment rammed into him, while Farthingham laughed, the resounding chuckle ringing with gratification.

“It seems I am not the only one who is won over by Kitty’s charms. Surely one dance is available,” Farthingham said.

She shifted her gaze to Farthingham. “I’m afraid not.”

“Then scratch someone’s name off your dance card, my sweet, someone of a lesser rank.”

“That would be rude. I won’t make another gentleman feel less worthy by casting him aside.”

“No one will be offended, no feelings will be hurt,” Farthingham assured her. “Weddington is a duke—”

“Which means nothing in Texas and absolutely nothing to me.”

That
sentiment was a complete surprise, but then Richard was coming to realize she was a constant source of astonishments.

“Miss Robertson, do you mean to imply that your interest in marrying Farthingham is not dependent on his title?”

Her delicate nostrils flared, and he saw the fury ignite her lovely green eyes. “I would marry Nicky if he were a pauper.”

“I
am
a pauper, my sweet.”

Regret washed over her features, as she touched Farthingham’s shoulder with slender gloved fingers. She smiled softly. “Not to me.”

He grinned. “Do you see why I adore her?”

“Indeed I do,” Richard said quietly.

“Allow Weddington to have my first dance, Kitty.”

She released a delicate bubble of laughter, an echo of incredulous disbelief. “Don’t be absurd, Nicky. Rumors abound that we are only days away from announcing our betrothal. People will expect my first dance to be with you.”

“When have you ever cared what people expected?”

“I have always cared a great deal.”

Farthingham winked and gave her a gentle nudge. “It’s more important that I dance the final dance with you. Be a sport. Weddington is a close friend. He’ll no doubt
serve as my best man once I get around to asking him. I want you to get to know him, and he you. Now come along. Your dancing with him will please me greatly.”

With perfect timing, the orchestra filled the ballroom with the strains of a waltz. The gentlemanly part of Richard knew he should make an excuse and tactfully retreat. The baser side that sought to control the sea held out his gloved hand. “Miss Robertson, if you’ll grant me the honor of a dance.”

She gave Farthingham a brittle smile before placing her hand in Richard’s. He was surprised to find it trembling as though she’d only just emerged from the cold waters off the Cornish coast.

He led her onto the dance floor, grateful when he reached its center that he could at last take her into his arms. When he looked down on her, fury met his gaze.

“You did not tell me you were a duke.”

“You did not ask.”

She scoffed. “I’ve never met a man of rank who did not wrap himself in it like a shroud.”

“You sound as though you disapprove of the nobility.”

“I disapprove of you—pretending to be what you are not.”

Within her eyes, he saw hurt mingling with the fury, battling and winning.

“I never pretended,” he assured her. “I might have omitted some facts—which I believe I am within my right to point out that you did the same…until the moment you dashed away, I was not aware that you were already spoken for.”

He heard his own fury lashing through his voice.

“I did not expect to see you again. I did not
want
to see you again.”

Again, the sharp prick of disappointment that he did not mean to her what she had come to mean to him.
“Smile. Farthingham is watching, and he is too clever by half. I would not want him to wonder why you look as though you are on the verge of weeping.”

It was an amazing transformation to watch, as though she buried every emotion she currently felt and replaced it with the fine veneer of civilization. He was so incredibly aware of her: the warmth that seeped through her gloves, her sweet flowery perfume that wafted between them, the rapid beat of her pulse at her throat. She was graceful gliding across the dance floor within his arms, and he was loath to think of her lying in Farthingham’s bed. While she’d angled her head and was smiling as though she was glad to be with him, her gaze failed to meet his, but seemed to have settled on his chin.

“Why didn’t you tell Lord Farthingham that you’d already met me?” she asked quietly.

“Why didn’t you?”

She lifted her gaze to his, her smile faltering. “I didn’t wish to hurt him. As you said, he’s clever. He would have asked questions that I have no desire to answer.”

“Farthingham and I have been friends for a long time. I have an enormous amount of respect for him, and I know him extremely well. He is not the man for you, Kitty.”

Although she stiffened, she continued to waltz with grace, but fire had returned to the green depths of her eyes. “Of all the arrogant…to presume to know who is and who isn’t right for me—”

“I do not who is. I only know that he is not.”

“You insufferable lout. You call yourself his friend, and here you are questioning his judgment—”

“Not his. Yours.”

She made a motion to move away from him, and he tightened his hold on her, keeping her in place. “You and I need to go someplace where we can talk in privacy.”

She shook her head. “No, we don’t. You’re right to question my judgment, but not where Farthingham is concerned. Rather where you are concerned. I showed extremely bad judgment in returning to that cove where I’d spotted you the morning before, worse in remaining once I realized you were there. Our time on the rocky coast is best forgotten. Farthingham is my future.”

Unfortunately for him, the final strains of the waltz drifted on the air, shimmered through the room, ending any opportunity he might have had to argue in his defense, leaving him with no excuse to continue holding her. As a gentleman, he had no choice except to release her and step back.

Because too much remained to be said, neither spoke as he escorted her back to Farthingham, who was grinning as though he’d recently won the America’s Cup.

“By Jove, you two hardly stopped chattering. Bodes well for a friendship developing, I should think,” Farthingham said.

“The duke and I have little in common,” she said softly, her attention on Farthingham.

“On the contrary. You should see his yacht. Kitty loves sailing, don’t you, my sweet?”

“I’ll love being your wife more.”

Farthingham beamed at her response, and Richard could hardly blame the man. Her devotion was quite convincing, and a part of him feared that it might also be quite honest and true.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Richard said, “I need to make the rounds.”

“Quite so,” Farthingham said. “It was good to see you again, Weddington.”