Never Trust a Scoundrel (8 page)

Every eye turned to her.

“The estate was in the family for hundreds of years,” said Lady Putnam, looking down her nose. “Mr. Throckmorten is taking advantage of a young man's misfortune. How else do you think the man became so wealthy?”

Grace backed down, knowing that a dinner party was not the place to cause a scene. She needed the help of these people. But Daniel was only making it harder for her to improve his standing in the eyes of the
ton.
Why did he keep doing such things?

“Miss Banbury, you seem very interested in Mr. Throckmorten,” Mrs. Radburn said.

Again, Grace felt herself the focus of the ladies.
“I do not know him well,” she said. “We have only danced together once.”

“You should be very careful,” Lady Putnam said with condescension. “He is a man who takes what he wants.”

“And you assume that because of his association with the earl?” Grace asked.

The younger ladies looked with fascination between Grace and their elders.

“You do know he has”—Lady Putnam glanced at the younger women around them—“female friends.”

Grace inclined her head. “But has he ever harmed a
lady's
reputation?”

“Only when she was foolish enough to agree,” Mrs. Radburn said to Lady Putnam.

Grace said, “I have spent several hours in Mr. Throckmorten's company. I believe that he is not the man people assume, and I know he will prove it to you.”

Mrs. Radburn leaned toward her, her head slightly wavering with her age. “Miss Banbury, I do believe that in your innocence, you've decided to champion Mr. Throckmorten.”

There were titters of laughter all around, and Grace met Beverly's worried gaze.

“Every young lady needs a project,” Lady Putnam said.

Their open laughter was amused rather than cruel, and Grace just smiled. But she'd planted the seed that she meant to plant, and she would be curious to watch it take root over the next few days.

 

When Grace returned to the town house later that evening in Beverly's carriage, she searched the street for any lingering men before she got out, but saw no one. Perhaps Daniel was worried for no reason. The lights were ablaze in the town house, so Edward must be home.

And she found herself…disappointed.

She told herself she should feel relieved that Daniel couldn't use the dark of the night to press home his seduction. She'd been beneath him on a bed just last night, she reminded herself. She didn't really know him well; if he'd wanted to force her to do whatever he wished, he could have. She'd once trusted Baxter Wells, after all.

She found Edward in the library, reading a book on railways, of all things. When he claimed to be thinking of investing, she did not want to discourage him. To her surprise—and relief—he didn't even have much to say about his dinner with Daniel. Surely they could not have talked about her.

After wishing her brother a good night and getting an absent grunt in return, she went up to bed and found that Ruby had already prepared a bath. Soon Grace was alone, steeping in a warm bath. But she couldn't relax.

Was Daniel in the house even though her brother was home?

She felt exposed in her own bedroom, as if Daniel would have the nerve to invade without her permission.

Of course he'd do that if it got him what he wanted.

He'd find her naked, and she'd be trapped. Would he be able to see under the water? Would he lift her to him regardless of how wet she was? Her mind betrayed her as she thought of two naked bodies, entwined and writhing.

She remembered that feeling, had thought she'd convinced herself that it had been so wrong, that only when married would she be tempted again—until Daniel, and now he was all she could think about, even in her bath. She finished quickly, dried and dressed in her nightgown, but still he didn't come.

She told herself that she was only disappointed to be denied another opportunity to prove that he could not seduce her.

But she was only deluding herself.

D
aniel overslept. He washed and dressed quickly with the help of his valet, then rode to the park, because it was too late to surprise Grace at her stables.

As he watched her ride toward him and saw the look of relief that she quickly masked, he couldn't keep the satisfied smile from his face.

Part of his strategy was in the element of surprise, and he wanted her to think about him when he wasn't there. But the strategy had turned around on him, for he found he'd missed seeing her last night. He wondered what she'd been feeling lying alone in bed.

And then he'd wondered about her bedroom—and the bed itself. Although this was a challenge between them, he'd found himself more and more distracted by thoughts of her, by concern about what to do to make sure he won the challenge. For now that he'd set himself on this course, he didn't intend to lose.

For a man in command, he felt a bit adrift,
pulled along by currents he'd set in motion but could no longer so easily control.

Maybe he would have to look at that as part of the challenge.

She rode up beside him, and he let himself admire her flawless seat upon a horse used to taking a man's command. She wore a jaunty cap perched to dip toward one eye, as if she were a gentile pirate. And he wanted to ravish her.

He noticed that once again, the few riders on the lane were watching them. Grace either didn't notice, or didn't mind.

“Good morning, Grace,” he said in a low voice.

She dipped her head, and the feather in her cap bounced. “Good morning, Daniel. Did you have a late night? I hope you didn't lose too much.”

He chuckled. “So you think gambling could keep me away from you?”

“It is a passion of yours.”

“But it holds no candle to the passion I feel for you.”

She didn't break their shared gaze, but there was a light blush across her skin, and he wondered how far down it went.

She cocked her head. “Or the passion you feel for a bold challenge.”

“You look like a bold wench this morning.” He swung his horse about, and they rode side by side.

“A wench? I am so flattered by your high praise.”

“You don't need high praise. You know that you're lovely.”

“But now I know that you consider me a wench.”

“Someday soon,” he promised. “But no, I was not gambling last night.”

“Then perhaps you were hiring servants for my other home in Hertfordshire.”

He smiled at her. “Would you like me to?”

She didn't smile back, and her voice turned cool. “I didn't ask for your help. Edward is very upset.”

“So he told me.”

She studied him. “Did he tell you to cancel their services?”

“No. He didn't like the thought of you being alone in the house.”

“Because someone was watching it.”

He said nothing.

“Is that why you hired the Woodleys, Daniel? Are you worried about me?”

“I'm worried about my property.”

Her smile formed slowly. “I don't believe you. And I don't believe you're particularly worried about some man on a street corner. This is all part of your seduction. If you think that feeling taken care of will make me more partial to you, you're mistaken.”

“Then are you refusing their services?”

Her smile turned wry. “No. I am not that foolish. I tell myself that the Woodleys will keep the house in good condition until—and if—we hand
it over to you.” She leaned toward him from her saddle. “But really, I like their company and their service. And as long as no one knows you're paying for it, then I'll be practical and accept.”

“Your brother believes I'm pitying him.”

“Oh, I think not. Such emotion wouldn't be worth your time.”

He smiled.

“Did you enjoy dinner at Lady Standish's?” he asked. “I had another dinner to attend that forced me to send my regrets.”

“I hope it was worth it,” she said lightly.

He saw the curiosity in her eyes, knew she would not directly ask him his business. And it was none of hers.

But he was beginning to realize that seducing Grace Banbury was not going to be simply physical. She was bound by proprieties, by an upbringing that didn't encourage a woman to share intimacies with a stranger. She probably felt confident in winning the challenge because she couldn't imagine submitting to a man she barely knew.

So he would have to allow her to know him. It was an…unsettling feeling.

She was watching him now with those eyes that shone with intelligence, with purpose. She thought she would only have to delay him, to outwait him, to win. He wanted to be the winner, even if it meant sharing more with a woman than he ever had before.

He was far too competitive, he knew, but he
wasn't about to stop now. Not when winning her was becoming all he could think about. Even the innocent movement of her body as she rode the horse was distracting.

He said, “The dinner party I attended was hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Lionel Hutton. He is a director in the Southern Railway company.”

She gave him a surprised, searching glance. “Oh?”

“I'm an investor in the company, and I'm considering being a director myself.” He paused, and then added, “It is my latest scandal.”

“One of many, I am sure,” she said dryly.

“How could I top almost working for a living, something a true gentleman would never lower himself to do? I could take Mr. Hutton's hint and marry his daughter.”

“It would certainly be a step up for a railway director's daughter to marry the grandson of a duke.”

“I believe that's what they were thinking,” he said dryly. “And her dowry is quite impressive.”

That was a mistake. Surely Grace had little or no dowry. But she only smiled, as if she weren't offended.

“According to the ladies at the dinner party last night,” she said, “you have another new scandal.”

He tapped his chin. “Let me think. There are so many.”

“The new earl of Martindale?”

“Ah, the land recently released from entailment. He needed money more than land.”

Her smile faded. Had she thought it wasn't true?

Martindale had come to him out of trust, because although he needed the money, he'd asked Daniel to hold on to his land for him, rather than sell to an unscrupulous buyer who wouldn't eventually sell it back. And Daniel would honor the request.

She believed his motives the worst. People usually thought so of him—he'd noticed it from the time he first went to school. And he'd always played upon their beliefs, enjoying the scandalous reaction to whatever he did.

But he was pursuing Grace for the basest of motives. She should learn not to think well of him, or she'd be disappointed.

“Are you busy this afternoon, Daniel?” she suddenly asked.

He glanced over at her in surprise. “Nothing pressing.”

“Would you like to attend a picnic with me?”

Now that was an interesting idea. He immediately began to think of ways he could lure her away from whatever party she was asking him to join. Romance hidden behind trees could be exciting.

“I would be happy to attend,” Daniel said.

He saw her relief and wondered why she would think he wouldn't want to be with her—considering that he was attempting to seduce her. Up to this point, he was proceeding slowly, allowing her imagination to engage her as well. But perhaps it was time to pick up the pace.

“You may call for me at noon,” she said, and then glanced at him with amusement. “You do have a carriage, do you not?”

“I do. And you will be pleased with its privacy.”

She arched a brow and looked away. “This event is in the middle of the day, sir.”

“You'll be surprised what we can do in the middle of the day,” he said, thinking about secret gardens even as he wondered where the picnic would be held. He would let her surprise him.

 

When Daniel called for her that afternoon, Grace stared at the closed carriage in surprise, wondering if he thought he'd have clandestine privacy with her in there. Then she watched his face when her lady's maid followed her down the stairs. She thought she glimpsed a brief tightness in his eyes, but he only nodded to Ruby, who eyed him with open curiosity. Grace used his distraction to quietly give the address to the coachman, who bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

Grace gave Daniel a bright smile, and he bowed to her. It was a bow of surrender, she knew, for she'd already taken the first victory of the afternoon. As if she'd go off in a carriage alone with him!

Even though a secret part of her would like to. Heavens, but she was enjoying herself.

“Mr. Throckmorten, this is my maid, Ruby,” Grace said. “She arrived from Hertingfordbury just yesterday.”

“Your house is getting more crowded by the minute,” he observed.

And he had been a part of that. Did he regret hiring the servants now?

“There are people on every floor at all times of the day and night,” Grace said brightly.

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

She knew she was practically challenging him to try to gain access to her home so easily, as he had the other night. Knowing his sense of competition, he'd try.

Daniel helped Ruby into the carriage, to the maid's surprise, and she settled into a corner and looked out the window, obviously trying to pretend she wasn't there. Then he took Grace's hand, and their eyes met for a moment.

He leaned a little too close. “She won't stop me for long,” he whispered.

She smiled at him, trying not to show him how, with just a touch and a word, he made her breathe too quickly, with too much excitement. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Throckmorten.”

In the carriage, he took the seat opposite her, and as they got under way with a jerk, she felt his gaze roam over her. She glanced at Ruby, who was looking pointedly out the window, and almost wanted to elbow the maid so that she'd watch Daniel. But that would be too obvious, so Grace forced herself to return his stare with one of her own. It was warm in the carriage, and she felt flushed even before she could feel his focus
moving down her body, lingering on her breasts as his mouth lifted at one corner.

She tried to be bold and stare at him the same way. His body narrowed from his wide shoulders down to his waist. Then, to her shock, he subtly spread his legs a bit, as if he thought she wanted to see—

Her wide eyes flew back to his, and he looked far too amused and knowing. Her cheeks felt hot, and it took all she had not to look away in defeat.

Instead, she lifted her chin and said, “Mr. Throckmorten, will you be attending Lady Barlow's musicale this evening? I hear her daughters are quite accomplished with both voice and instruments.”

“As to their talent, you heard incorrectly, or so I've been told. But no, I shall not be attending.”

“Surely the son of a famous composer would be invited to every musical event of the Season,” she said.

Was she mistaken, or did the mention of his father make his gaze a bit more…shuttered?

“I was invited.”

When he didn't elaborate, she said, “But you turned the poor lady down?”

“I do not attend musicales, Miss Banbury.”

“Why not?”

She thought he would cover himself with a flip remark, and was surprised when he regarded her seriously.

“Questions from the curious about my mother
still haven't gone away. Music is a painful subject for her. After my father's death, and her one musical composition, she never wanted to hear it again.” He smiled wryly. “I imagine you've already heard all the rumors.”

She nodded. “I have. And I'm sorry for what you suffered.”

“You mean what she suffered.”

But not him? she wondered, and then continued, “It is a shame that such talent is associated with sad memories.”

He shrugged.

“Did she forbid you from listening to music?”

He frowned. “No.”

This was becoming far too personal, but she couldn't help her curiosity. “What questions do people ask?”

He tilted his head as he watched her, and a faint smile hovered at his lips—but he wasn't trying to seduce her with his gaze anymore, which should make her feel relieved.

“She has not been to London in many years—”

“Since your father's death?”

A flash of surprise showed briefly in his eyes. “A good deduction. Yes, the questions and curiosity proved too much for her.”

“And all the memories they induced.”

He nodded.

She couldn't believe that he was talking like this to her. She wanted to shy away in politeness, feeling too intrusive on private emotions—

And she wanted to know everything about
this man, who would shun events because of his mother's painful memories.

Or his own? Was there truly a different man buried beneath the rake he showed the world? She should stop prying, but something she didn't understand drove her.

“And now the questions about your mother are too much for you?” she asked. “Surely they only admire her talent and want to know how she is doing.”

“Miss Banbury, these are the people who believed her a murderer,” he said with no emotion.

She stiffened.

“The sort of people who believe that a symphony is worth killing over.”

“People kill over less.”

She was assuming his mother innocent, but maybe she wasn't—did even he know the truth?

“Society loves to whisper, even when it is unwarranted.” She hesitated. “Yet, at the time you wouldn't have known that. You were only a little boy, who'd just lost his father tragically.”

To her surprise, she felt her skirts stir, and realized that he had slowly slid his toes under her hem.

Distracting her, she knew. Of course he didn't want to talk about his family tragedy. Or had he changed so much that those emotions were locked away, and he thought they no longer affected him?