Never Trust a Scoundrel (18 page)

She shuddered even imagining the consequences. His family would think her the worst sort of woman, and she'd never recover her standing with them. Much as Daniel made her feel safe, forcing him into marriage had never
been her intention. And he probably wouldn't marry her anyway, leading to a schism with his own family.

He was coming behind her, moving closer and closer. She was pushing long fern leaves out of her way and heard him doing the same. She could swear she felt his breath on her neck, and she walked as fast as possible, afraid to run for fear she'd trip and fall headlong into the shrubbery.

The path curved away from the house, deeper into the conservatory. Never had she been in one so large, but trust a duke to have only the best. The moon cast strange shadows, and she almost thought Daniel had somehow gotten in front of her. Why hadn't he caught her by now?

The path suddenly ended where the glass met in a corner. She'd missed a turn somewhere. The view must be spectacular for the path to end here, but at night, there was only inky blackness outside.

She gave a start as she felt him come up behind her, crowding her forward until her hands pressed up against the cold, moist glass.

“It's been days since I've touched you,” he murmured hoarsely.

She felt the length of his body all along hers, especially the thrust of his hips into her backside. “Only two days!” she whispered, grasping the threads of her composure.

“Two days too long.”

He nipped at the point where her shoulder met her neck, and she bit her lip to hold back a groan.
But her shuddering body surely told him what he needed to know.

“Daniel, please, don't. Not here.”

“Don't you remember how I can make you feel?” he whispered, licking along her ear.

The glass was cold against her cheek as she moaned, closing her eyes. She would never forget a moment of his interruption of her bath, the way his hands played her like she was his instrument.

She felt a sudden draft at her feet and realized those hands were fisted in her skirts, lifting them.

“Anyone could walk by outside and see us!” she hissed.

He was ignoring her. She felt his hands on her bare thighs, her skirts and petticoats rising in a bunch on both sides of her waist. She felt his hips, and the bulge of his erection against her backside. Her drawers were little protection against the heat and hardness of him.

His hands came around her torso and cupped her breasts, kneading them as if the corset weren't there. And though she couldn't feel the exquisiteness of his fingers on her skin, the powerful envelopment of his big hands made her moan.

She was falling under his spell, and she had to stop him before he turned his life upside down for her. It was one thing to be pursued in the night, when it was just between them, but now she could not forget who else would be affected.

“Your seduction won't work, certainly not here,” she gasped.

“I find it daring.” He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. “The chance of scandal brings a certain excitement.”

“This isn't a scandal, it's my life!”

Her silly voice revealed too much, too much pain and confusion and despair.

T
he heat of passion had overtaken Daniel's mind, consuming all rational thought—but there was something in Grace's voice that he couldn't ignore. She was trembling beneath his touch, her body so soft, a welcome respite and resting place to the aching hardness that was his erection.

But he let her skirts fall, separating himself just enough from her body until she was safely covered again. He reluctantly lowered his hands, circling her waist from behind and just holding her for a moment, comforting her with his touch, because he didn't know the right words.

He remembered that she had seen Baxter Wells today. All the memories she'd probably tried to forget had flooded back to her, along with her fears of being thought a desperate woman out to seduce a rich man.

Daniel didn't like that another man had hurt her, had probably taken her innocence. Daniel had thought he was the first to show her passion, but now he knew differently. She'd been used and
discarded, and he could only imagine that part of her blamed herself. A woman was too vulnerable in matters of the heart.

Her pain made him want to do violence to the man who'd used her. His body stiffened with it, for she now stirred uneasily, where only a moment ago she had rested like a wounded bird in his arms.

“Shh,” he murmured against her hair.

She hadn't lied to him—she'd told him she wasn't so innocent, but he had not understood. How could he ask her about it, when she'd never trust him enough to tell him something so personal, so painful?

He realized that he wanted her trust, but didn't know how to achieve it. He wanted her to freely tell him her secrets, all of them. Instead, she equated him with Wells. Could he blame her?

“Let me go, Daniel,” she said quietly.

He stepped away, and she turned to face him. She gave him a searching look, and he wondered what she saw. He made no amusing comment, did not give her his famous half smile. He just wanted her to see…him.

There was a vulnerability, a stillness to her features that moved him. He thought he could look into her emerald eyes forever.

By the devil, where had that foolish thought come from?

He cleared his throat. “I'd show you back to your room, but I imagine you don't want to be seen wandering the corridors alone with me at night.”

“And you shouldn't want to be seen alone at night with me either—especially not at Madingley Court.”

He arched a brow. “You make me seem like I quiver at the sound of my mother's voice.”

She gave a ragged sigh. “You know I believe nothing of the sort. Good night.”

She stepped around him and started up the path.

“Don't veer left, or you'll end up at the door outside.”

She hesitated, looking at him over her shoulder. “You must be very familiar with the layout of the conservatory.”

He shrugged. “That's why I was able to hunt you into a corner.”

“Did you hide here when you were a child?”

“Of course.”

An expression of sadness and softness came over her.

“Grace, do not make more of it than it was. All little boys like to hide. It gives us a feeling of control. But not little girls?”

“I couldn't hide. Who would have looked out for Edward?”

Now he felt like his eight-year-old self was a coward. He'd had no one to take care of but himself—and his mother. He'd done all he could.

“Good night, Grace.”

With a nod, she turned and marched away, her back straight.

 

The journey back to London took most of the day, and Daniel allowed Grace to have her peace. Even when Ruby dozed, and he could have enjoyed himself teasing Grace by trying to lift her skirts, he didn't. Consequently, she gave him many suspicious glances as he kept his expression bland.

When she insisted he leave her off in the alley behind her town house, he did so, giving her an intimate smile that promised more. He held up four fingers. Her brows lowered in confusion.

He mouthed, “Four days left.”

By lanternlight, he saw her understanding, the blush that followed, and the way she lifted her chin in defiance. He was still confident—but so was she.

Though she didn't know it, he followed her until she was inside, even saw her reunion with her brother through the windows. He returned home, and although it was the dinner hour, he had his investigator send over his report. Daniel settled down at his desk in the library, a brandy in his hand.

There were two men who'd played with him and Mrs. Banbury on that fateful night. The first, Clive Radford, had been on his way north, and was still in York. Most likely, he was not the man they were looking for. The second gambler, Horace Jenkins, was a man of some property in Hertfordshire who'd come to London for the Season. When he was in town, he rented a room at his club and conducted his business efficiently. His only habit—one Daniel shared—was a liking
for games of chance. There was nothing here to implicate him as anything more than a man who thought himself in love with a woman he didn't have the courage to court. There wasn't even any proof that he was the one watching the Banbury town house, but even making that assumption, the man had done nothing suspicious except run away when chased.

But…Daniel had always trusted his instincts, and something about this seemed wrong. Jenkins might be shy, but if Daniel was being objective, Grace was hardly the kind of woman who could turn a man of property away. Her dowry was small, and her relations were not noble. So why didn't Jenkins simply ask to be introduced?

Daniel decided to continue having him followed just in case he did something suspicious. If he had the chance, he would offer Jenkins an introduction to Grace and gauge his response.

 

When Beverly came to call in the afternoon, Grace watched her friend's expression when she saw the refurbishing that had been done in only three days. Though the town house was small, there was now an elegance to it, with framed paintings of endless landscapes that somehow made each room look larger. There were new draperies in the main rooms, and several new pieces of furniture that accented the best of their well-made older pieces. Even the dining-room sideboard now had several new silver platters and tureens on display.

“Grace, how lovely,” Beverly said, when they finally settled in the drawing room. “You'll be ready to accept the attentions of any man.”

“Or any Society matron,” Grace added.

“I would normally say that I'm so glad you were able to put your own touches to the place.”

Grace winced.

“But of course, you were not involved with this, because neither you nor your brother has the money for such expenditures.”

Grace sighed.

“It was Mr. Throckmorten again, was it not?”

“It was. How could I refuse? It is his home, after all.”

“Which he could easily wait to redecorate—
if
he can claim it.”

“Thank you for not saying
when.
”

“Is he simply trying to soften your regard for him?” Beverly asked, eyes narrowed as she thought. “Or—oh please, Grace, tell me you did not lose the challenge, and you're already his—”

“Mistress?” she interrupted with a shocked whisper. “Of course not. But…it is getting more difficult.”

Beverly patted her hand. “Of course it is, my dear. He is a handsome man, with a reckless charm that even I, a married woman, find attractive. And now he's using his wiles—decorating, for heaven's sake!—to recommend himself to you.”

“As if his kisses weren't enough,” Grace added with a sigh.

“Ah, you've let him kiss you.”

She covered her face. “I can't bear how you're looking at me, Beverly! Your sympathy is too kind. This should be easy! But why can't I resist him?”

“Surely your attempts to redeem him have had some effect in keeping him away from you.”

“Not much. He is a very determined man.”

“A gambler always is.”

“I don't think he's used to failure. I'm a…a challenge, and I'm resisting.”

“And so you're saying that you yourself have nothing to do with the attraction?”

“I don't know,” Grace whispered, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

“Well then, it's a good thing he's a gambler.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because otherwise I think you'd succumb to his charms far too easily.”

“Beverly, I—” But she broke off because she knew her friend was right.

“He doesn't seem to want to marry, Grace,” Beverly said gently. “Or at least his intentions toward you are not honorable. I don't want you to get hurt. Unless of course”—she paused, her head tilted in thought—“you decide to set your sights on marrying
him.
”

Grace could only gasp. “But…then I would be a woman out to entrap a man! I would never do that because I've been accused of it once too often.” At Beverly's confusion, Grace said quietly,
“I thought I was in love once before, and in the end, my suitor thought I was trying to…force him into marriage.” She left out the truly humiliating details.

“I cannot believe such a thing! Surely he did not know you well.”

“I didn't think so either, after that. But I met Daniel's family, and I learned that the duke is concerned about my intentions toward Daniel and warned his whole family.”

“The duke is a protective sort of man, my dear. Family is everything to the Cabots because so often it is them against the world. You cannot fault him for worrying about his cousin—his heir, after all.”

“I know.”

“But truly, Grace, can you not look on this logically? If your reservations about his gambling are gone—”

“I didn't say that.”

“Well did he display any compulsion to gamble these last three days?”

“No…although he and Lord Wade did challenge each other to a boat race.”

“The Blind Baron?” Beverly said in surprise.

Grace felt confused. “But he's a viscount.”

Beverly waved her hand airily. “The barony is one of his titles, and people can be so cruel. But I am glad to hear he's doing well. Getting married, too.”

“I met Miss Shelby. She was his grandmother's companion.”

“So you see, I am certain she was a woman accused of trying to trap a blind man. Yet are they happy?”

“Very—and very much in love.”

“Then just because one party decides to initiate marriage doesn't mean it can't end well.”

“Oh, Beverly, my head is spinning.”

“You must make a decision, Grace. I was going to put marriageable ladies in his path, after all.”

Grace hesitated. “Wait a few days,” she finally said in a small voice. “I'll think about what you've said.”

“That's my girl. By the time of the Madingley Ball—only a few days past the end of this challenge of yours—you'll be able to tell me what Mr. Throckmorten is to you.”

After Beverly had gone, Grace sat like a lump on the sofa, her mind full of conflicting thoughts. Daniel didn't want to marry—yet he was obviously attracted to her. They had no trouble conversing with each other, and she found him very humorous—which was dangerous, because it was so appealing.

And never did she feel forced in his seduction. When she asked him to stop, as she had last night, he always did. In some ways he respected her. He could have tossed her and her brother into the streets.

But was all this a good basis for a marriage? Could she love a man she had never thought she could trust? When the allure of her seduction was gone, would he not turn back to gambling,
which had provided the exciting risks he liked to take?

But it all came down to—love. Did she love him? And did she want his love in return? Or was she as his family and Baxter had painted her, a woman who would settle for security over love?

 

When Grace saw Daniel at Lord Hammersmith's dinner party that night, she looked at him with the eyes of a woman considering marriage. He didn't know what she was thinking because he met her gaze openly, smiled, and turned away, safeguarding her reputation. If only he knew the crazy thoughts whirling about in her brain.

Marriage.
Marriage!
To Daniel Throckmorten, rake and gambler and scandalous child of a scandalous family.

She couldn't even imagine how to go about such a thing. She didn't want to give up on their challenge; she needed that violin for Edward and his future chance at marriage.

Edward had escorted her to the dinner, and now he gave her arm a squeeze before going off on his own to speak to two young ladies. Grace couldn't pay attention to him, so busy was she with her dilemma.

When the challenge was over, did she just continue to encourage Daniel's visits, hoping something tender flourished between them?

As she watched him across the room talking to an elderly widow, she knew her own tenderness toward him had already happened. She found
herself making excuses for his gambling, telling herself he could be like most normal men and stop it when he wanted to.

But he'd competed in a game involving the right to marry her—how was that being in control?

She moved through the drawing room, talking and being drawn from group to group. At last she and Daniel stood in the same crowd of five guests. She couldn't help but notice the speculative glances one elderly lady kept giving the both of them.

Grace's stomach began to tighten with nerves. Her plan had been for everyone to notice Daniel's attention to her, to assume that he was finally ready to marry. Of course, she had not meant that he might marry
her,
but now she was only confused.

During a lull in the conversation, the elderly lady, Mrs. Walker, turned to Grace and said, “Miss Banbury, I was disappointed when both you and Mr. Throckmorten could not attend my breakfast two days ago. And neither of you attended Lady Thurlow's ball that same night.”