Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (26 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Lessons From a Scarlet Lady
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The problem was, Robert was afraid Damien was exactly right. He was experienced enough to know when a woman was interested, and Rebecca was too inexperienced to hide it. More than once he’d caught her watching him and seen the quick turn of her head coupled with the stain of a blush in her cheeks.
He should find it amusing, but he didn’t, especially because the only reason he’d caught
her
watching him was because
he’d
been watching her.
“My own reservations aside, it’s impossible and we both know it.”
“Not at all.” Damien smiled. “It’s a challenge to be sure, but impossible? Nothing is impossible. If Badajoz could be taken, this is a mere skirmish. Though I do admit this black mark against you isn’t ideal for an approved courtship.”
If Robert even
wanted
to court anyone.
“We have nothing in common,” he objected. “She’s an innocent, marriageable young lady, and I can’t even remember what the term innocent means.”
“You and Rebecca have a deep mutual love of music.” Damien rubbed his jaw. “Damned if I’m not jealous of that. Think of how many evenings you could pass discussing it and playing together—”
“We aren’t passing any evenings,” Robert snarled, against his will sounding like a surly child. Carefully, he calmed his tone and said more reasonably, “Look, this unfortunate interest will pass. It’s like catching a chill. I don’t want those either, but they run their course and you move on.”
“Is this like any other
chill
you’ve caught?”
It wasn’t, but then again, he’d never been interested in someone like Rebecca. All the other times he’d just been playing at passion—and played with, for that matter, though he’d never thought of it that way before. There were no promises, no expectations above the usual casual ones. Those liaisons were simple. This was not. He clipped out, “I don’t see the point in discussing this further.”
“I do.” His brother rose. “Just wait here. I’ll be right back.”
 
Rebecca glanced up, startled. Damien Northfield’s offer was most unexpected.
“Just a short walk,” he said in his mild way. “Your mother can come with us if she’d like. I was unable to escort you the other evening and would like another opportunity, if I may.”
Her mother smiled in delight and waved them on. “A short walk alone would be fine, of course.”
Of course. Her mother would love to see them go off alone. The idea of a developing romance was firmly planted in her head, but the real question was why Damien would encourage it. So far he seemed nothing but amused by the matchmaking attempts, though perhaps he wouldn’t think it so funny if he hadn’t already guessed her infatuation with his brother and so felt safe enough.
In the end, Rebecca inclined her head in acquiescence, more out of curiosity than anything. She needed to ask him a favor anyway, so this would be a good time.
He had something in mind. She was beginning to realize he
always
had something in mind. The minute they stepped outside the door of the drawing room, she took in a breath to make the request she hoped he would agree to, but he turned and gently touched his fingertips to her lips. He said in a low voice, “No questions. Not yet. Just come along.”
Puzzled, Rebecca let him lead her off the terrace and around the side of the house. “Lord Damien—” she began as they rounded the corner. It was dark, the house lit against the night, and the air smelled like rain for the first time since their arrival.
“Here.” He stopped and turned. “The bush is inconvenient, but not an insurmountable obstacle. I’ll lift you over it.”
“What?” Rebecca stared, not sure what on earth he intended. The evening breeze brushed past and stirred her hair.
“I’ll assist you.”
What he indicated, she discerned, was a long window, open despite the cool evening, the draperies inside billowing in the moving air. “My lord, I’m not sure what you mean.”
He glanced at her, the spilling light doing nice things to his chiseled features. “Miss Marston, let me boost you inside this window. Then I will stand outside and look nonchalant for a short while before I demand you rejoin me. That is about all I have to say on the matter until I deliver you safely back to the drawing room. What happens between now and then is entirely up to you.”
“I’m—”
“You are wasting time. Talk to him.”
He took her arm and urged her toward the open window, stepping through the bush himself and then turning to grasp her waist and lift her so she could sit on the sill. Since he seemed so determined, Rebecca obediently swung her legs over, modestly clutching her skirts to keep them in place before she slid into the room.
And saw
him
.
Robert, sitting in a careless sprawl in a chair by the fireplace, holding a glass of brandy and staring at her as if she was some kind of apparition. He muttered an imprecation she didn’t quite catch as he set his glass on a small, polished table with a definite click. He surged to his feet. “Is this the type of thing Bonaparte has to deal with? I pity the little Corsican, I really do.”
The room was shrouded in gloom. And empty except for the two of them. In short, they were alone, she realized, which was exactly what she had planned to ask Damien to help her with in the first place. Both elation and panic seized her at once. It was well and good for Lady Rothburg to tell her to use her wiles to tempt Robert, but something else entirely to be faced with the immediacy of the daunting task. He was scowling also, which could hardly be a good sign.
“We—we went for a walk,” Rebecca stammered out, less than glib as usual in his presence. “Your brother then insisted on lifting me through the window.”
“Well, I insist on lifting you back out.” Robert came toward her, his handsome face taut and set. “Of all the interfering, meddling, intrusive . . . well, words fail me. Damien is worse than some well-meaning, matronly aunt.”
Damien was like a benevolent fairy godmother—in an utterly masculine way, of course—and Rebecca needed to gather her wits and make the most of his gift.
It was as if time stopped and the scene crystallized, everything coming clear at once.
This was it. Her chance. Their chance, actually.
You Know What He Wants. . . .
Robert wouldn’t be angry if he wasn’t taken off balance. If he had no feelings on the matter, she imagined he would simply be amused and puzzled as to why his older brother would shove a young woman through a library window. Besides, what he’d just said implied he understood why Damien was interfering, and that meant they’d discussed it.
Discussed
her
.
The surge of hope held her locked in place, her heart beating a sudden slow slam in her chest. “I missed you this evening,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
That halted him only a few feet away as effectively as if someone had struck him. An undecipherable emotion flickered across his face. After a moment, he said quietly, “Missed me?”
“I meant I wish you’d played with me again. You have a very skilled touch.” Her voice was hushed.
He made a low sound, something between a groan and a cough.
Play the vixen. Even the most inexperienced woman can do it, for nothing entices a man like a woman who desires him in the same way he does her.
Lady Rothburg encouraged boldness, but it was easier said than done.
“Did you wish you were with me?” She couldn’t help the note of shyness in her voice, but for the first time since she’d first seen him across that crowded ballroom over a year ago, she realized—no, she
knew
—that things were not as hopeless as she had assumed.
Well, that was true if she allowed herself to forget about her father for one brief, liberating moment.
“This is not a good idea, Rebecca.” Robert shook his head, but he looked strained.
“This?”
The helpless gesture he made with his hand was not the movement of a polished rake but of a frustrated young man. “You here. Us here.
This.
”
She took a step toward him. Her knees felt a bit odd, as if they might decide to stop working altogether. “Why not?”
“It would imply something significant, and you don’t need that connection, not with me.” He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair, ruffling the thick strands in a way she’d always secretly longed to do.
“What if I wished for the connection?” That was bold beyond belief. Lady Rothburg would definitely approve.
“Don’t say that.” The statement would have been more effective if he hadn’t taken a physical step backwards, as if the distance would help emphasize his words. “My misguided brother seems to have come to the conclusion we have an interest in each other. We need not act on it.”
Rebecca said nothing, just continued to look at him. He was struggling. Not arguing with her, but with himself.
“If things were a little different,” he went on, his azure eyes glittering, “then I admit he could be right, at least as far as I am concerned. I think you’re a very beautiful girl, and exquisitely talented.”
“I am not a girl.” She said the words carefully, not combative, but unwilling to let him see her as anything but a woman. “I am almost twenty-one. Old enough to know my own mind,” she added softly.
Robert seemed lost for words. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Of course. My apologies if I offended you.”
“No offense. I just wanted to make my position clear. Did I succeed?”
“A little too well.” His breath came out in an audible exhale that sounded like frustration. “Don’t do this to me. I am trying to avoid temptation. Which, by the way, is a new exercise. What did Damien say to you?”
Rebecca smiled. It took some effort to look serene when she was shaking inside, but she did her best. “That I should talk to you. Tell me, how different do things need to be?”
“What?”
“You just said ‘if things were different,’ your brother would be right. What can I do?”
“Nothing.” He stared at her, his mouth tight. “I can’t offer you anything, so whether Damien is right or not, it doesn’t matter. Your father has a mistaken perception of me.” Speaking a little too forcefully, as if trying to convince himself of something unpleasant, he continued, “And that doesn’t even really signify anyway. I don’t really wish to marry. At twenty-six, I’m not ready. I like my life as it is.”
So much for that fleeting sense of triumph. Her throat felt suddenly tight. “I see. You make your position very clear, sir.”
His eyes glittered and his voice was hoarse. “Rebecca, you had to crawl through the window to be alone with me for a few minutes. How do you think your parents would react if I came calling, hat in hand? Besides, I don’t call, not in the sense we are talking about. You aren’t at all like . . .”
When he stopped, obviously at a loss, she supplied delicately, “All the other women?”
She could swear that even in the illumination of only one small lamp in the vast space of the Rolthven library, his face took on a dusky color. “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes. I don’t normally pursue eligible young ladies for the exact reasons I just gave you.”
Maybe not, but he’d just spoken of marriage, even if he’d said he didn’t wish it. And the way he looked at her was telling, especially since now she’d read the book. Desire was a powerful force, yes, but there was more than that between them. She didn’t have the same turmoil he did. She knew what she wanted.
“My parents are not completely immune to my wishes, though they are becoming less and less sympathetic with each passing day. They want me to be happy. Surely that counts in our favor.”
He stiffened. “The implication I have anything to do with your happiness is ridiculous.”
How little he knew. Since they were being honest, maybe she should just tell him everything. What did she have to lose? She said quietly, “The day Brianna met Colton, I met you.”
This time, he was the one who took a step closer and stared down at her, his eyes narrowed. “That was months ago. Last year, if I recall. We were introduced, no more. Rebecca, don’t tell me you’ve . . . I mean, all this time—”
“I just did.” Her voice trembled as she interrupted. He was close enough she could smell the hint of his cologne and clean linen. “I haven’t married . . . because of my feelings for you.”
There was a silence. Finally he rasped out, “I am going to strangle my brother.”
 
He was going to kiss her.
Then
Robert was going to throttle his interfering brother.
But first, the kiss. The one he should have stolen that night in the garden, the one he’d sell his soul to the devil for right now.
She knew it, too. Women had unerring instincts when it came to predatory men. Robert could tell by the way her eyes widened and her breath quickened as he stepped closer, his hand touching her waist. She tilted her head back and her lashes drifted down that very meaningful distance that indicated willingness and desire. It was a signal he recognized easily, even if she didn’t know she gave it.

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