The Passionate Love of a Rake (9 page)

She looked up and met his gaze about the rim of her bonnet and offered him a restrained smile. “I will be fine, my Lord, if you would
just
escort me home.”

Robert eyed Jane with uncertainty, taking her hand then helping her up into the high seat of his curricle. He could feel her fingers trembling. She was nervous and agitated, and he would swear there was something more to this he did not understand. One minute she’d been brushing him off, the next asking for his assistance. “
She’s vulnerable.
” Sparks’s words echoed in Robert’s head.

Did Lady Rimes know something no one else did?

He walked about the curricle then climbed up to sit beside her.

She was balanced on the edge of her seat, her back rigid and her fingers clasped over her reticule on her lap. Her profile was half-hidden behind the rim of her bonnet as she faced forward. All he could see was her pursed lips.

His groom passed up the reins then returned to stand on the plate at the rear.

Jane’s teeth clasped her lower lip as she kept looking ahead.

Robert faced the street and saw a vehicle disappearing about a corner further along. He flicked the reins, got his animals underway, and saw her fingers lift to her brow in the periphery of his vision.

Her head turned to look at the shops on the other side of the street, leaving him with a view of the back of her bonnet.

He felt frustrated, and if he were truthful with himself, a little riled. He waited for a gap in the flow of traffic then turned the team, taking them off Oxford Street, away from the bustle and hum, on to Bond Street.

Once he’d negotiated the turn, he glanced at her again. She was still silent and apparently intending to ignore him for the whole journey.

“
Is
something wrong, Jane?”

He did not remember this quiet, stubborn woman at all.

She did not answer.

The silence was filled by the sound of the horses as their iron-shod hooves struck the cobble, their whinnies and heavy breath, the creak of leather and jangle of the metallic tack, the rattling approach of other carriages passing, and the occasional shout from street vendors.

“Jane?” he pressed again at length, drawing the carriage to a halt, waiting to turn into a side street which would lead them back to Grosvenor Square.

He sensed her look towards him as he negotiated the turn.

“Nothing is wrong. I didn’t sleep well, that is all.”

Why would he swear she had picked that moment to respond simply because she knew he would be distracted? There was something more. He was certain of it. More to the point, he did not think it was anything to do with him, otherwise, why would she have suddenly requested his escort?

Glancing across at her, he saw she was facing forward again.

“You know, Jane, if there
is
anything wrong, you only need tell me and I would help.”

She looked at him then, meeting his gaze and appearing uncomfortable, and yet desperate, as though she wished to believe him but did not.

Reluctantly, he broke the silent communication, turning his eyes back to the street.

The next moment he had chance to look across, she was facing forward again, her thoughts, he would swear, somewhere beyond him and the street.

He made no further effort to break the silence, concentrating on the short drive to Lady Rimes’s address.

As the phaeton traced about the iron railings enclosing Grosvenor Square’s central garden, Jane finally piped up, “I suppose I should at least offer you some refreshment for your kindness, my Lord.”

Robert glanced at her before pulling up. “Not if it is purely out of obligation.”

Once the groom had taken the reins, Robert climbed down and came about the phaeton to help her descend. When her fingers gripped his, they were no longer shaking. It was only more evidence that he had not disconcerted her, but something else had.

It was a strange feeling that transferred from the senses in his hand to his gut as he helped her down – compassion, longing, need. Or just pure hunger? He had no idea. It was nothing he’d felt before.

Once she was on the ground, her fingers gently tugged for freedom.

He did not let go, waiting for her to lift her face so he could see beneath her bonnet.

She did not.

Quite deliberately, he would guess.

After a moment, he let her go.

Without a word, she hurried up the steps, deserting him, but then she stopped as the door opened, and looked back as though she’d just remembered he was there. “You are welcome to come in if you like?”

A mocking smile broke his lips. There was absolutely no predicting the woman. Well, he was willing to take whatever crumbs she threw him today. “For a moment only. If you are certain?”

She gave him a sharp nod and went inside.

Robert told his groom to wait with the horses then jogged up the steps and lifted his hat from his head.

“Your Grace. Sir.” The butler bowed to them both then held out a hand for Robert’s hat as Jane untied the ribbons of her bonnet.

She handed it to the butler then undid the buttons of her spencer.

In a gallant mood, Robert took the garment from her shoulders, his fingers accidentally brushing the skin above the neckline of her gown.

She shivered as she’d done the other night.

It sent a sharp knife-thrust of desire into his groin.

Ignoring it, he handed the garment to the butler.

All this black
was trapping the vibrant Jane he’d known beneath it, sucking the colour out of her. She was a mere shadow of the real Jane. If he could peel it all away, as he’d done the other night, would she be free of what bothered her?

“Selford, Lord Barrington and I would like tea,” she ordered of the butler. “We’ll take it in the drawing room. Is Lady Rimes at home?”

“Her ladyship is, Your Grace. Lady Rimes retired to her chamber an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Selford. Do not disturb her on our account then,” Jane acknowledged before moving on. “My Lord.” The call was for Robert to follow.

Watching her in a place she felt at home was different again, but Robert felt like a bloody lapdog trailing after her. Still, he could enjoy the view, the slimness of her bare arms beneath the short, puffed sleeves of her day dress and the snug fit of her black muslin bodice. The way the material hugged the curve of her breasts and waist. Her black hair was simply dressed in a neat coiffeur, pinned back from her face, apart from a few wispy curls which had escaped to brush her brow.

She led him upstairs and along the hall to a pink room, heavily perfumed by a vase of roses in full bloom, then pointed to a chair. “Do sit down, my Lord. Is tea suitable? Or would you prefer something stronger? I could ring if you’d prefer brandy.”

He took a step towards her. “Nothing, Jane, except to know what I’ve done to upset you. Why were you hiding from me today? You have no right to hold a grudge, you know. I admit, I may have pressed you a little fast the other night, but … ” He left the sentence there, prompting for her explanation.

Her expression slipped from diplomatic Duchess to the new wary,
vulnerable
Jane, and her fingers clasped together before her waist. She glanced towards the window when she spoke. “You have not upset me.” When her gaze returned, the Duchess was back. It hit him with the strength of steel. “It is just that … ” She stopped, swallowing back her words, then began again and threw her words at him instead. “For heaven’s sake, Robert, it is hardly five weeks since Sutton died.”

His eyes scanned her face wondering what the hell was going on, and his hand touched her arm.

She moved back.

“But you are in London, regardless, Jane, and attending entertainments.” She could hardly claim to be really mourning Sutton, no matter her blacks. She was flouting convention. How did she expect him to take that explanation? Her behaviour hardly said she had been devoted to the man.

She turned away and walked across the room. “I am visiting a friend, nothing more. I did not come here for the season or the entertainments.”

He caught a glimpse of her figure through the loose folds of her gown as she moved, the fabric brushing her hips and thighs. When she turned back his eyes lifted first to her bust, then to her face.

“So you do mourn him then?” he pressed, not moving, letting her run if that was what she wished. Taming her would be like training a mare to the saddle, a step forward and then withdraw. Giving her time to grow accustomed to each stage.

She sought refuge behind a sofa across the room, her fingers gripping its back. “In a fashion. But it is none of your business.”

“No?” He did step forward now.

“No, Robert.” She held her ground.

“Then explain exactly why you came home with me the other night, and why you then changed your mind?”

She sighed as if irritated by his question.

He continued walking forward.

She did not move, although her eyes followed him with a steady look.

“I did not change my mind. I had not intended to … ” She stopped, blushed and glanced upwards, as though the ceiling, or God, could give her the words. Clearly, something had as she refocused her gaze on him, the hardened Duchess again, daring him to challenge her and argue. “All I wished to do was talk. I did not mean to hurt you then or now, but I do not want to commence a flirtation with you. The other night was a mistake.”

“So you told me yesterday.” His voice was a mocking growl. He was annoyed despite himself. “But I think you are
unhappy, and I do not believe you are grieving. So why
are
you miserable?”

She blushed harder and leaned to pick up a copy of
La Belle Assemblée
from a low table, before dropping into a seat on the sofa. He knew she was trying to appear casual. She did not succeed.

“I am happy.”

She was not, her intonation was thoroughly unconvincing and her movement taut.

Occupying a chair opposite her, he answered, “
Liar
,” letting a lilting smile catch his lips to ruffle her feathers.

A blush painted her ivory cheeks, and her gaze popped up again, the purest emerald cloaked by long, dark lashes. “I am in no mood for your games, my Lord.”

“Robert,” he snapped, leaning forward in the chair, resting one elbow on his knee. “Do not try to hide behind formality, no matter your feelings. And I am not the one playing games. I took you to my house because you asked to go, and then you changed your mind and I brought you home. I offered you your winnings. You refused to accept them. You asked me to leave you alone at the bookshop, and I obeyed, but
you
called me back. It is not I playing games, is it, Jane?”

She was silent as she held his gaze, then she coloured up again and concluded. “I am in a difficult position, Robert. Please, do not make it harder?”

“
She’s vulnerable.”
Robert stood with a sudden need to understand her predicament and crossed the room to occupy the seat beside her on the sofa. Then he gripped one of her hands. “Confide in me, Jane. Something is wrong. I am convinced of it today. A problem shared is a problem halved, as I recall. What harm is there in telling me? What is going on?”

Her eyes met his, saline making them gleam in the bright sunlight streaming through the window, defining the emerald green like the jewel itself.

He was not, in general, a man of much depth. He did not seek to know people well, and he certainly did not wish to take on other people’s problems. But this was not just any other person. This was Jane. As he waited, earnestly willing her to speak, a sharp pain settled in his gut, the age-old need and longing he felt for this woman. He was like a starving man in her presence. Bloody desperate was what he was.

Her fingers pulled from his grip.

Even holding her hand made him lust after her; his groin was heavy. He thought she was tempted to tell for a moment, but then her eyes clouded and her gaze dropped.

Jane felt the intensity in Robert’s deep brown eyes silently urge her to speak, and daylight caught the lighter shades, turning them gold as she watched him. She couldn’t speak though; it was not fair to drag him into this, she’d hurt him enough once.

Her eyes dropped back to the magazine. “Nothing is wrong, my Lord.”

His knee touched hers, and she felt his muscle stiffen. Then he rose sharply and paced across the room. “
Liar
,” he said again when he stopped and turned back. His tone was sharp and condescending.

He was angry with her, and she could hardly blame him. She’d told him to leave her alone then called him back and imposed upon him to convey her to Violet’s.

And, of course, he had no idea she’d only done it to avoid Joshua. She’d told herself she’d invited Robert inside out of common courtesy, but she knew she had invited him in because, despite the fact this man was not her tender-hearted Robert, she still felt safer with him. She simply did not want to let him go yet. She just needed time to feel confident again.

He was watching her.

She looked up, her gaze skimming over his sculpted, tailored, slim, athletic figure. He was so infuriatingly handsome, despite oozing anger and arrogance. The magnetic pull exuding from him dragged her awareness towards him as his brown eyes challenged her, seeking every detail of her thoughts.

“
If
,” he began, his pronunciation expressing bluntly that he still thought her words a lie, “you think to dangle me, Jane, you are playing with fire, not a fish.”

He stepped closer, and sensing that he intended to lean over her, Jane thrust the magazine aside and stood, too.

It brought her up face-to-face with him, and he towered over her, merely a foot away. Her eyes fixed on his mocking smile, and a lead weight dropped from her stomach to the aching point between her legs.

She said nothing, and his fingers came up and lifted her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

“You are such a liar, Jane.”

His tone was no longer angry, but it held a cynical humour, and the pupils in his eyes had widened, large, onyx circles darkening his gaze with long, dark lashes defining it.

A warm ache settled somewhere in her chest then spiralled to her womb like a rolling penny when his lips lowered to hers, catching at them gently, a soft caress.