Surrender to the Devil (13 page)

“If it would please you, I shall accept my punishment without complaint and even applaud when it is over, although I must confess that having you near will make it bearable.”

“You’re well practiced when it comes to flattering a lady.”

“I must admit that I excel at the gentlemanly art. However, do not make the mistake of thinking that I don’t mean the words I speak.”

“You must want what you…want very much to sit through opera.”

“Quite honestly, Miss Darling, taking the picnic this afternoon with you was the most enjoyable time I’ve had since returning to England. I wished only to extend it, so here we are.”

He had no idea if his words pleased her, because something just beyond them caught her attention and she smiled. He turned in the direction and saw Marcus Langdon—Claybourne’s cousin and once heir to the title—bearing down on them with Lady Charlotte Somner, daughter to the Earl of Millbank, at his side. The man favored Claybourne very little. Sterling suspected it had to do with him having a childhood of ease, while Claybourne had grown up in the criminal world.

With his silver eyes reflecting as much merriment as his smile, Marcus Langdon approached and bowed low. “Your Grace.”

“Mr. Langdon. Lady Charlotte.”

Lady Charlotte beamed up at him. “Your Grace.”

“And Miss Darling.” Mr. Langdon took Miss Darling’s hand and brought it up for a kiss. “What a pleasure to see you both here.” He turned toward the lady at his side. “Lady Charlotte, allow me to introduce Miss Frannie Darling.”

Lady Charlotte didn’t acknowledge the introduction. Rather, she gave her full attention to Sterling, her smile growing brighter. “Your Grace, I can’t tell you how lovely it is to see you here. You must join us for dinner some evening and regale us with tales of your travels.”

Langdon appeared flummoxed by his lady’s rude behavior. “Lady Charlotte, you’re familiar with my cousin, the Earl of Claybourne. Miss Darling is one of his dearest friends.”

“So, she’s one of those people, is she?”

Before Sterling could champion the lady at his side, she said, “And which people are those, Lady Charlotte? Those who care about the poor and indigent of our society? Those who see the criminal justice system as anything except just?”

“Those who carry the dirt of the streets on their skirts. If you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the ladies’ toilette. Standing here has made me feel dreadfully unclean.” With that, she spun on her heel and marched away.

“Oh, my goodness,” Langdon stammered. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Darling, Your Grace, I had no idea—”

Miss Darling touched his arm. “Don’t concern yourself, Mr. Langdon. It’s unfortunate that some have a very low opinion of me, but I assure you I don’t lose sleep over it.”

“But still, my cousin—”

“Shan’t hear of this incident from me.”

He nodded, seemingly relieved, and Sterling realized he might have had concerns about dealing with Claybourne’s wrath. Having suffered through a visit from Dodger and Swindler, Sterling hardly blamed him.

“You’re most gracious, Miss Darling,” Langdon said.

“I’m nothing of the sort. You can’t be held responsible for another’s actions. Enjoy the opera.”

“You as well.” He nodded at Sterling. “Your Grace.”

Then he walked away to find the rather unpleasant Lady Charlotte, who, Sterling thought, would find herself falling out of favor with Mr. Langdon. A pity for her, as Sterling had heard the rumors that Langdon was now employed by his cousin at a very advantageous salary.

“Do you get that often?” Sterling asked quietly, turning his attention back to Miss Darling.

“No. Because I stay away from the aristocracy as much as possible.”

“We don’t all behave as abominably.”

“Not all, no. But a good many. May we find our seats now?”

“Would you rather leave?”

“Absolutely not. I may be bloodied, but I can still carry a sword.”

“You’re quite remarkable, Miss Darling. I’m quite honored to be with you tonight.” Extending his arm, he welcomed the feel of hers entwined with his.

“We’ll see how you feel tomorrow, when rumors have had a chance to spread.”

“You’re quite the cynic when it comes to the aristocracy.”

“No, simply a realist.”

Her words jarred him. Had he not said the same to Catherine?

He escorted her toward the stairs, grateful to realize that with her on one side of him, navigating the other was not nearly as difficult. “At my sister’s wedding, when your friends circled around you, that’s what they were seeking to protect you from, the unkind regard of others in attendance.”

After they’d found their way to his box and taken their seats, she said, “When I was much younger and lived in Claybourne’s residence, Luke’s grandfather arranged an afternoon tea in the garden with a few of the girls my age. They arrived in coaches and carriages and they were so beautiful. Their laughter was soft and sweet, so very different from the harsh laugher in the rookeries. I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, I’m going to be like them.’

“They hurt me that day without touching me. They taught me that words can slice like a knife. They wanted to know about life in the rookeries, and I made the mistake of telling them that I slept with Luke and Jack and Jim. And sometimes at night, I still slept with Luke. They made it into something ugly. It was really rather innocent. To lie in the circle of someone’s arms while you sleep can be very, very nice. But I never slept with them again. Never told them why. Those girls took that from me. And I let them.”

While she recited the facts without emotion, still he knew she must have experienced a world of hurt. She possessed a kindness that went beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. He couldn’t imagine her intentionally bringing harm to another person. He was ashamed to admit that he knew several acquaintances would see her as a bit of sport.

“Tell me who they are and I shall see that matters are put to right,” he told her.

She gave him a whimsical smile. “It was long ago, Your Grace. And I do not hold a grudge. Although I must admit that sometimes, I miss having someone to sleep with.”

Reaching out, Sterling trailed his gloved finger along her bare arm. “We could remedy that. Tonight if you like.”

“I suspect, Your Grace, that you want to do a good deal more than sleep.”

“You should take it as a compliment, Miss Darling. Since returning to England, I’ve not propositioned one lady.”

“On the surface, admirable.” She gave him an impish grin. “But then I suspect you don’t consider all women ladies.”

“Very few, in fact.”

The lights were doused, and Sterling cursed the darkness. Even the lights that illuminated the stage did not push back the shadows in his box. He couldn’t clearly see Miss Darling. He could only smell the sweetness of her, memorize the shape of her silhouette, and become increasingly aware of the warmth of her body so near to his.

Leaning near her, he whispered, “Rest assured, I do consider you a lady.”

“One you wish to bed.”

Tugging off his glove, he skimmed his finger along the shoulder exposed when her shawl fell slightly. “That is not an insult. I’m very particular.”

He was near enough that he heard her swallow, before she said in a low voice, “As am I, Your Grace.”

Stilling his caress, he sat back. She wasn’t going to come to him easily. Fortunately, he enjoyed a challenge.

Halfway through the opera, Frannie decided to be merciful and suggested that they leave. She wanted to avoid the press of people, and she wasn’t able to truly enjoy the performances, as she was well aware of Greystone watching her rather than the performers. She wasn’t bothered by his perusal. Truth be told, she was quite flattered that he seemed unable to take his eyes off her, but she was finding it difficult to relax, wondering where dinner might lead.

When the coach pulled into the wide circular drive, she caught her first glimpse of Greystone’s residence. She’d always thought Claybourne’s house was magnificent, but this was monstrously large and unbelievably elegant. The coach door clicked open and Greystone gracefully exited before extending his hand to her. Shoring up her resolve, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her out of the coach. Glancing around at the grandeur, her hand on his arm, she followed him up the wide sweeping steps, with the sudden realization that Catherine had once lived here. She and Catherine were friends now, so in a way it was like being invited into a friend’s home.

A friend who had a very charming and dangerous brother.

Inside, as he escorted her through the hallways, she fought not to gawk at the portraits, but she could see him in the faces of so many of his ancestors. How wonderful it must be to know from whom he came, while for her she knew nothing more than that she existed. Someone—she had no idea whom—had given birth to her. Had she been married? A servant? A lady? Had someone loved her? Or was it as Frannie feared: was she the result of a violent encounter her mother hadn’t wanted, and so neither had she desired the child?

Greystone led her into a small room that seemed out of place in such a large residence. It contained thickly padded chairs and a sofa. Near the fireplace where a fire lazily crackled was a small lace-covered round table. The flames from strategically placed candles flickered, casting most of the room in shadows except for the area where they would dine. The draperies were drawn open to reveal a lantern-lit garden. In the corner of the room, a man stood silently holding a violin. Her heart gave a little flutter. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected. Dinner formally served in a large dining room, the way she’d eaten every night when she lived at Claybourne’s. She’d certainly never expected anything with such romantic overtones. She knew Greystone wanted her in his bed, but this hinted at something more than a hasty mating.

She gave a little jump when Greystone’s fingers skimmed over her shoulder, as he slowly removed her wrap. He must have given some signal, because the soft strains of the violin began to float through the room.

“Easy, Miss Darling,” he whispered near her ear, coming from behind her, “we’re going to share only dinner.”

Nodding, she turned to face him. All his preparations made her more nervous because she feared she’d vastly misjudged exactly what he had in mind for her. If he romanced her, would she be able to walk away from his bed without feeling an immense loss? “You went to a great deal of trouble.”

“I went to none at all.” He gave her a devilish grin. “My servants, however, did. I take it you approve of their efforts?”

“It’s all exceedingly lovely.”

“I’m pleased that you’re pleased.” Lifting her hand, he began to peel off her glove.

“I can do that,” she said, breathlessly.

“I’d rather, if you’ve no objections.”

She shook her head, the pulse at her wrist jumping as his warm fingers trailed over her bare skin. She hadn’t even noticed him removing his gloves. It seemed he might be as light-fingered as she was. While she was not yet regretting her decision to join him tonight, she was well aware that he could be more dangerous than any of the men she might encounter on the street when she went in search of orphans.

When her hand was bared, he placed a light kiss on her fingertips before turning his attention to her other glove. She imagined him doing the same if he removed her clothing, kissing every spot that was revealed.

When he’d removed both gloves, he laid them on her wrap, led her to the table, and pulled out the chair for her, selecting the one that provided her with a view of the garden.

“The music is a nice touch,” she said as she took her seat, striving for nonchalance and fearing that she’d failed miserably. For him, she wanted to be sophisticated.

“I’m not fond of silence. In the jungles it’s a signal that danger is near.” He gave a nod and suddenly wine was being poured and food was being served.

“What’s a jungle truly like?” she asked.

“It’s hot. A lot of trees, plants, vines, monkeys tittering, insects chirping. Then suddenly everything goes quiet and you know a predator is near.”

“Were you terrified?”

“Invigorated, actually. It was challenging. Physically and mentally. We had guides, of course, but Lord Wexford—with whom I was traveling—and I would sometimes strike out on our own. Nearly got killed a time or two. Even that was thrilling.”

“You were thrilled by the possibility of being killed?”

“Sounds silly, I know, even reckless. My father wouldn’t have approved, but it was as though we were reduced to our most elemental struggle to survive. Victory was intoxicating.”

“Did you truly ride an elephant?”

“I did. And a camel, which was ghastly jarring. I thought I was going to lose all my teeth.”

She laughed. “I can’t even begin to imagine how different it all must have been from what we have here.”

“I have some sketches of my travels that I can share with you after dinner if you like.”

She was vaguely aware of a servant refilling her wineglass, her plate being removed, another brought in.

“You’re an artist, then,” she said, as she sampled the beef.

“Amateur, I assure you. Wexford is somewhat of a photographer, but he had a bit of difficulty getting creatures in the wild to remain still. He was able to get some rather nice landscapes. Now enough about me, Miss Darling.” He watched her over the rim of his wineglass as he took a long swallow. “I’m much more interested in hearing about you.”

“I fear after all your exciting travels, you’d find me boring.”

“I can honestly say that I’ve never been as intrigued by any woman as I am by you. The rapscallions who were with you today, Mr. Byerly in particular, had a bit of the devil in them. How did they come to be in your care?”

“If a child is arrested and Jim believes he can be turned about, he’ll bring him to me. The four today have seen the inside of a gaol. I want them to know life is more than the rookeries.”

He slowly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. It was comforting, mesmerizing as she gazed into his serious blue eyes. “I must admit to having an interest in children who are being led into criminal activity. They’re the most vulnerable. If they’re caught, their punishments can be severe, even when their crimes are hardly worth bothering with.” She remembered what Jim had insinuated. “May I ask you, Your Grace, have you ever stolen an apple?”