The Passionate Love of a Rake (3 page)

The woman’s friend laughed and her fair skin coloured. She flicked open her fan and wafted air across her face. “Last summer, he made me an offer at Vauxhall. Unfortunately, before I could agree, my Charles arrived to drag me away. Even I would consider adultery for a man like that.”

“He has every woman dangling from his hook,” the third woman chimed up across the room, “with his insufferable refusal to let any affair stretch beyond a single night. He is playing with us. It is his little game. He knows he entices us all to win him for more. He sets us one against another, challenging us to break his nomadic ways. Barrington is a wicked taunt, and yet, such a handsome and skilled one none of us can refuse.”

Another round of laughter, then the women began to rise, preparing to return to the ball.

“That will do, Gail,” Jane dismissed the maid, rising too, eager to accompany the women rather than walk alone. “Thank you,” she said in apology for her haste to the maid’s lowered head as the woman bobbed a curtsy. Then Jane turned and followed the other women from the room, two steps behind.

“I know if I had captured his attention, I would not have lost it for the world, and your Charles would do nothing even if you succumbed to Lord Barrington’s attentions. All the men are afraid of him. Rumour has it he killed someone,” the first woman confided to her friend, with a tap of her fan on her companion’s arm.

The third woman leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “I heard he currently favours Lady Baxter. He has been following her for nights.”

At the foot of the stairs, Jane left their trail to re-enter the ballroom via the route she’d used to leave it. A few moments later, she was weaving through the crush and glancing about, looking for Violet. When Jane reached the front of the crowd, her eyes scanned the dancers and the people at the edge watching. She did not spot Violet. Instead, her gaze struck the tall man who she’d sought to avoid before confronting Joshua. He leaned forward to speak into the ear of his partner, and his hair fell across his brow. The action was so familiar.

Robert
.

Yet the hungry look he bestowed on the slim blonde as his head rose was foreign. His hand slipped from her waist to discreetly brush the curve of her breast.

He was so familiar, and yet, in other ways, it was like looking at a stranger.

“You set your mark high, Jane, if you aim for the Earl of Barrington as your first conquest.”

Jane’s cheeks heated with embarrassment as she spun about and faced Violet.

“I was not … ” Jane began then realised her denial probably made her appear guilty and halted. “I was looking for you.”

“While enjoying the view?” Violet’s eyebrows lifted as she laughed.

Despite their friendship, Jane had not shared her current, or former, woes. She did not wish to burden Violet with her problems. No one in the
ton
was aware of the history between the Dowager Duchess of Sutton and the Earl of Barrington, and it was far better left that way. What little had passed between them had been long ago, and only Robert’s younger brother was left to comment on their friendship. Their parents were long deceased, and Edward, Robert’s brother, had known nothing of their short affair.

“Jane, I have never seen you look so intently at a man before,” Violet said, her eyes turning to Robert. “But heavens, do not look now, for I think the feeling is mutual.”

Instinctively, Jane’s gaze swung back and met his. It was locked on her, reaching through the scores of dancers, capturing her in a steady observation which seemed to question her existence.

“I said,
do not look
,” Violet whispered in Jane’s ear as Jane found herself transfixed.

He was so astonishingly handsome. It was in the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his brow and his nose. He made her knees feel weak just as he’d done when she was younger. At fifteen, she’d followed him as though he was the sun to her flowering womanhood, but she had not realised his full potential then. Now, it was blatant.

She could not tell what he thought of her. There was no hint of emotion in the dark eyes holding hers. His face was blank and unsmiling, yet his gaze did not leave hers as he followed the steps of the dance, crossing with his partner.

“My, my,” Violet whispered. “There is quite a spark between the two of you, isn’t there?”

Jane tore her gaze away and looked at Violet. “Do not be ridiculous. He is merely staring because I am the only woman in the room wearing black. He probably thinks me improper.”

“The Earl of Barrington?” A short bark of laughter left Violet’s throat. “He is not shockable. He is scandalous. A titled gentleman can get away with murder, and
he
often does.” Violet’s brows lifted again, and Jane understood the implication. After all, she had read the frequent rumours of illicit affairs and forbidden duels which constantly surrounded him.

Remembering Joshua’s earlier threat though, the thought of a gentleman being beyond the law was no comfort.

With his usual skill for timely appearance, she saw Joshua in the crowd behind Violet. He stood in the corner, arms folded over his chest, observing Jane with a scowl.

Wicked, indecent ideas began forming in Jane’s head. Joshua would hate it if she took a rake like Robert to her bed, and she would so love to rub it in Joshua’s face and prove his threats could not restrain her.

“Please, tell me you are not contemplating it?” Violet whispered, her voice dropping to a shocked tone. “I know he is rumoured to be quite brilliant in bed, but he is not a man to toy with. He has a reputation for being callous. I prefer a man who will at least pretend to pamper me a little, like Sparks. Your Earl goes out with an aim for seduction, takes what he wishes and walks away.”

“He is hardly my Earl, Violet. All I have done is look at him, and all he has done is look at me.”

Jane glanced back at the dancers and found the man in question still looking.

He was watching her intently with complete disregard for his dancing partner who, a moment before, had held all his attention. His actions certainly bore out Violet’s words.

Yet the Robert of old had been a kind and tender-hearted youth. Surely he could not be
so
changed? If she were to take up with anyone, Robert would be her obvious choice. Despite Violet’s warning, Jane still felt she could trust him. But his fixed stare was predatory. It stole her breath away and sent her heart kicking into a sharp beat.

“I think he is more than looking, Jane. He is busy eyeing up his next course. And
you,
my dear, should armour yourself, for if I am not mistaken, that man shall soon be on the prowl and at your door.”

Violet’s words should have scared Jane, but instead, she felt an unfamiliar stir of excitement and expectation.

“Come, I am of a mind to save you. Let us seek a glass of punch.”

Jane complied with Violet’s proposal, but as Jane turned away, she took one last look across her shoulder and faced that powerful gaze again. His eyes followed her movement like a hunting wolf.

She turned away, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine.

Robert’s gaze tracked Her Grace, Jane Grey, as she disappeared amongst the crowd. The only woman who had the power to disturb his equilibrium had just appeared from nowhere and was now walking away from him,
again
. He’d been on the path of Lady Baxter for days, and he’d been winning, but now, he’d probably need to regroup and start again, having ignored her for nearly the entire dance. Yet he simply could not draw his attention back to the luscious blonde with whom he danced. His thoughts had been captured by the singular, familiar beauty of the brunette across the room. Jane.

Lady Baxter had given him a rare opportunity for diversion by persistently refusing his attempts to persuade her. He’d been enjoying the chase. Yet now he’d seen Jane, it was like holding up a rock to a diamond. Jane’s superior beauty had always outshone every other woman in his head, and now he’d seen the reality again, he doubted any woman could ever appease the constant need in him for her,
for Jane
.

The melody of the dance ceased. Robert turned to Lady Baxter and bowed over her hand. “Forgive me.” He suddenly felt angry and frustrated. With no further explanation, he let her hand fall, then walked past her in the direction Jane had gone. If he was being obvious, he did not care.

He’d heard Sutton had died and realised the implication – Jane was free. Yet he’d not expected to see her in town so soon, not mere weeks after the man was buried, and he’d had no intention of denting his pride by seeking her out.

In fact, when he’d thought of her, and he would not even admit to himself how many times he had, he had always imagined his desire would be for revenge, not her. Yet here he was, acting like a dog, chasing after her bloody bones.

His superior height gave him an advantage when he reached the open double doors of the refreshment room. He spotted Jane easily. She stood at the edge of a table, holding a glass which she sipped from in between speaking. While he watched, Lord Sparks approached and bowed to Jane, but his attention seemed focused on the woman Jane was with, Lady Violet Rimes.

Violet was not to Robert’s taste, nor did he think he was hers. They had rarely shared more than two words. Yet a renowned flirt was not the sort of woman he’d expected to see the Jane he’d once thought he’d known and loved, with. Yet
that
Jane was not the Jane who’d married Sutton.
That
Jane had merely been his fiction.

Did I ever know her?
He would not have thought for one moment the woman …  Woman? In honesty, now, when he looked back, she’d been little more than a girl. But still, that girl had callously tossed him aside for a man more than four times her age. How she'd lived her life since, Robert had no idea. For all he knew, she’d slept with every man in Suffolk.

What would he make of that? So many emotions seemed to be vying for control within him, he could not say whether the idea was gratifying, arousing, or disgusting.

Jane’s eyes turned towards him as her companion engaged Sparks in conversation.

He had forgotten how the ground could shift beneath his feet at just a simple look from Jane. He’d always thought her exceptionally pretty, even outstanding, with her unfashionably dark and sensual look. Yet now, she seemed to have truly grown into her beauty, her features were more mature, defined. The aura of it hung about her.

Holding her gaze, he gave her a lilting smile, not moving from his position at the open door. Would she come to him, or would she wait to see if he would go to her? He was an expert at this game of cat and mouse with women.

Unmoving, he waited for the next steps to play out as they would. It was her turn. He’d followed, and now she had to decide how she would react. His gaze lowered, following the line of her dress. She was slimmer than he remembered. The high bodice tucked beneath her breasts presented a clear definition of her smallish but beautifully lush bosom. There was ample to cup in his palm with little unneeded excess. A memory of his hands at her waist, her lips meeting his, sent a shaft of painful arousal to his groin. He had been almost as innocent as her in those days, even though he was the elder by three years.

His eyes met hers again. They were distinctly green, the colour of emeralds. He’d particularly revered their unusual shade in his youth as something individual to Jane. He’d seen no one else with eyes like hers then. Though now he’d travelled widely, he’d seen the same a few times in other women, but even so, when visions of Jane disturbed his sleep or threatened his waking thoughts, it was always those green, almond-shaped eyes which haunted him. Her broad, genuine smile had charmed him as a boy, too, and brought him to his knees at her feet when he was a youth. Well, he had learned his lesson there. He’d never made the same mistake again, never trusted another woman so openly.

She’d made no move towards him, and suddenly, he was in a mood to drag this out and not bend. He did not doubt for a moment that eventually she would be too intrigued not to seek him out. Disengaging his gaze, he turned away. He had lived without her for years; what did he care if she chose not to rush?

His feet carried him back into the ballroom, and his gaze searched for Lady Baxter.

“Robert.” Light fingers caught the sleeve of his black evening coat.

So she did intend to rush after all.

He turned back with a lazy smile, feeling incredibly smug to realise his skills had even worked on the ice maiden. When they’d parted, she’d held all the aces. Well now, the whole pack of cards was in his hands.

“Jane?”

When Robert turned to face her, Jane felt the floor drop away beneath her. If she had found his looks imposing from a distance, close to him, with that rakish smile lifting his lips, his handsomeness was devastating. It took her breath away. She sought to speak, but no sound came out. In his shadow, she was gauche.

“You had something to say to me, I presume?”

“Yes, I … ” Words erupted and then dried up. She shut her mouth and drew herself together. What had she come to say to him? She had just seen him turn away and knew she could not let him go without speaking.
Say something
. “I – I … ” She stopped again, then suddenly grasped control of her stray wits. “Could we go somewhere to talk?”

“Because you do have something to say to me?” His languid voice, his falling smile, and the suddenly intent look in his eyes implied she could have nothing to say he wished to hear.

She would not apologise to him. What had happened had not been her choice. She’d longed for him to save her even as she had said the words that turned him away.
He
had not come to her defence, and she’d hoped beyond reason he would come back, right up to the moment when she’d stood before the altar in Sutton’s small church, feeling bewildered and betrayed, and said, "I will."

Common sense returning, she dropped a slight curtsy in parting. “No, of course not. I was wrong to think we have anything to speak of. Forgive me for interrupting you, my Lord.” She turned away.