Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (5 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Lessons From a Scarlet Lady
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“Handsome, wealthy, and the son of a friend of mine,” her father interrupted firmly, his gaze holding a flinty look. “Dance with him. He’s thoroughly besotted with you and has asked for your hand in marriage twice.”
Why she would encourage a man she had no intention of ever marrying was a reasonable question, but she declined to argue. Instead she murmured, “Very well. I can spare a dance.”
“You might want to reconsider his suit. I am in favor of the match.”
She didn’t, couldn’t, and never would it be a possibility. Rebecca didn’t say a word.
Her mother gave her a reproving look as they clattered along the cobbled street. “You
will
have to choose at some point.”
And since many young ladies her age were already engaged or wed—her two closest friends, Arabella and Brianna among them—she needed to make up her mind. She well understood her parents’ position on the subject. Rebecca
had
chosen, actually, but it was a wildly impractical, impossible, entirely scandalous selection.
No one knew about her secret infatuation.
The mansion glittered with lights, and the long line of carriages in the circular drive gave an indication of the popularity of the event. They alighted finally and were ushered inside amidst the other arriving guests. Immediately Rebecca scanned the crowd in the well-lit ballroom, unable to help herself. Would
he
make an appearance tonight? He attended most of the prestigious entertainments because his brother was a duke, and . . .
There he was.
So tall, so masculine with his nicely chiseled features and light brown hair that always managed to look well-groomed and yet endearingly tousled at the same time, his face lighting in an animated smile as he greeted a friend. Lord Robert Northfield was a charming rogue, suave, sophisticated, and as uninterested as any man could be in a marriageable young miss. Which, Rebecca thought with a sigh, left her out in the cold. A certain part of her wished she wasn’t friends with Brianna so she would never have had the opportunity to meet the Duke of Rolthven’s youngest brother, but another part—a treacherous one—was glad she had.
Falling in love could happen in an instant, Rebecca had discovered. One look, one fascinated moment in which he bent over her hand and brushed her with one of those legendary smoldering looks . . . and she was lost.
Her father, at the moment at her side, would be horrified if he could read her thoughts. Robert had, she needed to face it, a wicked reputation. A very wicked reputation for enjoying cards and women, and not in that order. As respectable as Colton might be with his political influence and grandiose fortune, his youngest brother was just the opposite.
Her father disliked him intensely—he’d mentioned the Duke of Rolthven’s younger brother with bitter derision more than once—and she had never dared to ask why. Maybe it was merely his notoriety, but she suspected there was more to the story.
Even as she watched from across the crowded room, hoping no one noticed the direction of her stare, Rebecca saw their hostess sidle up and touch Robert’s sleeve in a gesture that was both playful and intimate. Rumor had it Lady Hampton had a distinct preference for wild, handsome young men, and the Duke of Rolthven’s brother certainly qualified. The two duels he’d fought already didn’t enhance his respectability.
When it came to Lord Robert, the only signs of respectability were his family name and his brother’s prominent place in society.
Yet here she was, hopelessly fascinated. It
was
hopeless too, because even if by some miracle he ever noticed her, overcame his infamous aversion to marriage, and approached her, Rebecca knew her father would never allow it.
Too bad she didn’t write romantic novels instead of composing music. Then she could pen a melancholy tale about a bereft young heroine who pined for a handsome, sinful lover.
“Miss Marston. How delightful to see you. I was hoping you would attend.”
The interruption tore her gaze from the sight of Robert Northfield leading Lady Hampton onto the floor for a waltz, his head bent as he listened to whatever the brazen woman had to say, a faint smile on his face over what was undoubtedly clever flirtatious banter.
Were they lovers? Rebecca wished she didn’t care, didn’t speculate over something that was essentially none of her business, because Robert didn’t even know she lived and breathed, and if Lady Hampton wanted to look at him with that particular brand of possessive longing, there was nothing Rebecca could do about it. . . .
“Miss Marston?”
Rebecca jerked her attention away from the striking couple on the dance floor with a dismal sinking feeling. A beaming Lord Watts stood in front of her, wispy mustache and all. “Oh, good evening,” she murmured without enthusiasm, earning a frown from her father.
“Dare I assume you will consent to a dance?” The young man looked irritatingly eager, and his pale blue eyes held an imploring light.
If only his eyes were a deeper pure azure, framed by long lashes, his hair not the color of pale straw but instead a vibrant golden brown—if instead of a rather weak chin, he had clean-cut masculine features and a seductive mouth that could curve into a mesmerizing smile.
Even then, if that was all true, he still wouldn’t be Robert Northfield.
“Of course she will,” her father said smoothly. “Rebecca mentioned earlier she was looking forward to just that. Didn’t you, my dear?”
Since she had never been one to tell falsehoods, she simply smiled. Or she tried. It might have come out more as a grimace. It was going to be a long, dismal evening.
 
“You seem distracted.”
The implied intimacy in Maria Hampton’s comment grated a little, and focused Robert’s attention once again on the woman in his arms as they whirled across the floor in time to the latest popular tune. “I am tired, actually.”
“Oh, I see.” Maria smiled, a salacious gleam of interest in her green eyes. “Do I know her?”
“There’s no ‘her.’ ” Robert replied, irritated. “Or well, I suppose it is due to a woman—but not what you are thinking right now.” He swept her into a turn and felt a sardonic twist touch his mouth. “It was my grandmother’s birthday today.”
Maria, all vibrant red hair and luscious full curves, looked puzzled. “So?”
“So,” he explained softly, “I rose at dawn and rode quite a distance to make sure I could be at the family estate for luncheon in her honor.”
“You?”
“Is it such a surprise I would make the effort?”
At least Maria didn’t patronize him with a simpering denial. She merely said, “Yes, darling, it is.”
He didn’t suppose he could blame her for her view. Given Robert’s reputation, London’s gossips would be surprised to learn that he adored his grandmother. Despite the aftereffects of a little too much wine the night before, he’d made the journey gladly. Colton, of course, had already arrived at Rolthven with his lovely wife in tow, and Brianna had looked particularly fetching in a day gown of sprigged muslin adorned with tiny pink rosettes, her flaxen hair caught up simply with a twist of matching pastel ribbon. In direct contrast to the insinuations in the paper and the whispers over her scandalous attire of the other evening, she was dressed in the style of a fresh, innocent schoolgirl. But Robert did notice two interesting things.
The first was Colton seemed to treat her a little differently. Robert wouldn’t go so far as to say that he was attentive, but his older brother appeared more
aware
of his wife. Second, she was not quite as shy, as if she was getting a sense of the power of not just her beauty, but her intellect. As Colton had pointed out, he had not selected some vapid chit just to get an heir.
It was hard to put a finger on the cause of her greater aura of confidence and poise, but very interesting just the same.
Jostled by a dancing couple who had evidently imbibed more than their share of wine, Robert broke from his reverie. At the moment, his brother’s marriage was not Robert’s deepest concern. What he really wanted was to escape the predatory clutches of Maria Hampton. Since politesse wasn’t really working to his advantage, he needed to change his tactics. It wasn’t that he didn’t find the lady attractive—she was striking in an overblown, voluptuous way, with fiery hair, pale skin, and a lush body—but unfortunately he was rather good friends with her husband.
Robert was aware enough of his own reputation, but one thing he did not do was bed the wives of his friends. Even if they were couples who had mutual understandings when it came to infidelity, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea. Casual liaisons were fine—he preferred them—but not if they could potentially damage a friendship he valued.
So since he wasn’t going to oblige the lovely Maria, no matter how much she pouted, he needed a diplomatic escape route.
He’d waltzed with his hostess two times already this evening, and had no intention of making it three. Fortunately, they were near the French doors open to the terrace when the music ended. Robert bowed and murmured, “Excuse me, my lady. I think a little fresh air is in order. Surely I will see you a bit later.”
Maria caught his sleeve. “I’ll come with you. It is quite warm in here.”
“You have guests,” he reminded her, gently removing her clutching fingers. He’d heard that husky tone in a woman’s voice many times before. “And while I understand Edmond allows you a great deal of latitude, let’s not embarrass him.”
Before she could protest further, he turned and walked away, hoping he looked bland and no one had noticed their momentary dissent. In his quest to escape, he collided with someone as he reached the open doors, a young lady who was also seemingly intent on leaving the ballroom with all due haste.
Well, if one had to bump into another person, it was always best (in his opinion) for them to be female, soft, and strategically rounded in all the correct places. The titillating drift of a sweet flowery perfume didn’t hurt either, he thought as he caught the young woman by the upper arms and steadied them both.
“I beg your pardon,” he murmured, looking down into a pair of wide, blue-green eyes that held a startled look. “Entirely my fault, I’m sure.”
“N . . . no,” she stammered. “It was probably mine. I was hurrying and not looking.”
The air outside smelled fresh and a nearly full moon poured broken light onto the flagstones as thin, ethereal clouds drifted by. Compared to the closeness of the ballroom, it beckoned like paradise. “I think we were both in a rush. After you,” he motioned.
“Thank you.” She walked out in front of him, her back straight.
He knew her, he realized, following her and admiring the graceful sway of her hips and the gleam of dark, shining hair. She was related to his sister-in-law. No, perhaps not . . . not some distant cousin, but a friend. What was her name?
Since it would be rude to simply walk away, he fell into step beside her as she headed toward the path that led into the vast, ornamental gardens. In the distance, a fountain spilled water in a musical spray of soothing noise.
Rose silk whispered over the stones and the young woman’s profile was outlined by the filtered illumination from above. A rather nice profile, Robert noted absently, still searching for her name and coming up blank. Tip-tilted nose, lacy fans for lashes, a smooth forehead, and a slender neck above shapely shoulders. And a nice bosom. A very opulent bosom, in fact. He had quite an appreciation of the female form and couldn’t help but notice the rounded fullness under the bodice of her dress. He cleared his throat. “It’s much cooler out here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she agreed almost inaudibly, her face still averted.
“The closeness of these affairs always makes me feel a little suffocated,” he murmured politely. Since Brianna had been part of the crop of last year’s debutants and this young lady was one of her friends, it wasn’t all that surprising he had only a passing acquaintance, but usually he was good with faces and names.
The woman continued to avert her face so he couldn’t clearly see her features. Her behavior was a little odd. She walked quickly, her hands lightly fisted in her skirts to keep the material out of her way as they reached the descent into the gardens. She nodded. “Suffocated is the
correct
word.”
She wasn’t referring to the temperature. He caught the implication easily enough from the faintest hint of disgust in her tone. Hence her hurry, hence their dual purpose in escaping the festivities inside. Robert couldn’t help it; he laughed. “There are different forms of suffocation, aren’t there?”
“Yes, there are.”
“Your lack of air is due to a persistent male, I’d venture to guess.”
She nodded in answer, sneaking a quick look at him for the first time.
It was fast, just a swift turning of her head, and then she abruptly glanced away. Her betraying gesture made him realize that he made this young woman nervous. There wasn’t anything vaguely flirtatious about their exchange—quite the opposite—and there was no doubt she recognized
him
even if he couldn’t recall her name.
Was he really painted so black that a young woman couldn’t walk ten paces in his company without worrying he’d tarnish her reputation? It was a sobering thought, especially since he was convinced she was one of his sister-in-law’s friends. What must Brianna think of him? Automatically he offered his arm at the top of the shallow stairs since the young woman seemed intent on the garden path. She hesitated for a moment and then put her fingers very lightly on his sleeve.

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