The Rake's Midnight Lady (3 page)

‘I am not married! And I am not here for…’ She stopped abruptly but he continued to smile at her in that hateful way. Abbey was furious at his assumption. As if any woman of breeding, married or not, would attend such an event!

 
‘Then tell me why you’re really here. I am sure I will be enthralled to hear the reason.’ And there he had her because that was the one thing she could not tell him. She stared up at him, wide-eyed and speechless because to admit her identity was surely admitting to her purpose in his house. And she simply could
not
betray Cecile, who had been so good to her. ‘Then there is no help for it,’ he muttered, head descending once again, ‘for I find I must kiss you again, mystery girl.’

The second kiss was even better than the first, although he did not press himself against her this time much as she yearned to feel the hard pressure of his body against her own again. Instead he took possession of her mouth completely, no teasing softness this time but a driving hunger that would not be denied. Her lips parted beneath the onslaught and he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, demanding a response she did not hesitate to give him. The room, the world, disappeared beneath the insistence of his kiss and Abbey was transported into a sensual world where feeling suspended commonsense and she lost herself completely.

This time it was Hanwood who ended it. Seizing her arms roughly, he pushed her away with a curse. ‘Enough!’

Abbey blinked at him, bewildered, wanting more. It was as if a kind of fever had come over her, she thought dazedly. ‘Why did you do that?’ she demanded, although it was unclear if she meant the kiss or the fact that he had stopped.

‘Because I do not seduce ladies of quality, no matter how much they provoke me,’ he retorted, an edge to his words. It gave Abbey a small thrill of satisfaction to see that he was just as aroused as she. No matter how shameful her behavior, his indifference would have left her feeling as if she were entirely at fault.

She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. Every minute spent in his Lordship’s company was dangerous although it seemed the main danger was from herself! ‘I must go!’

‘Not before you tell me your name!’ he snapped.

Abbey moistened her lips and was disconcerted when he hungrily followed the movement of her tongue. Somehow, she had managed to pierce Hanwood’s famous calm. He had a reputation for remaining cool no matter what and yet he seemed seriously ruffled now. ‘Selena Bascombe,”’ she lied. The name tripped off her tongue effortlessly. It belonged to an extremely stuffy aunt back in Derbyshire who owned a grossly obese pug. Hanwood’s eyes narrowed, obviously trying to place the name.

‘The only Bascombes I know are in Derbyshire,’ he said slowly.

Abbey’s heart sank. It was all very well to make things up, but she’d forgotten that a man like Hanwood could well have a passing acquaintance with her mother’s wretched family. ‘I believe there are some Bascombes in Derbyshire,’ she admitted cautiously, ‘But my family belongs to the
Yorkshire
Bascombes.’

One corner of Hanwood’s mouth quirked upwards. ‘A branch I am not acquainted with.’

She managed a little shrug. ‘Well I suppose you cannot be expected to know
everybody
.’

‘You are in town for the Season?’

Really, Abbey thought with a touch of hysteria, it was a conversation she could have expected to have at any respectable party. Anyone overhearing would never guess that only moments before he had been kissing her senseless. ‘Indeed I am.’

‘Then perhaps it would be best if I –‘ He broke off when the door burst open and what appeared to be a crowd of people fell into the room. It was obvious that most of the gentlemen were very drunk while the ‘ladies’ that were draped over them were hardly in a better state. Hanwood swung about, clearly impatient with the interruption.

‘Really Tris, what
have
you been doing?’ Harry, the Marquis of Bedford demanded plaintively. ‘You cannot be expected to do a bunk at your own party. Not the thing at all.’

Hanwood could cheerfully have throttled his oldest friend. His business with the mysterious young woman was far from over. Before the night was through, he had every intention of knowing a great deal more about her and no subterfuge on her part would stand in his way. Besides, this was hardly the kind of thing a respectable female should be witnessing and he knew a sudden, overwhelming urge to protect her from this new intrusion. ‘Damn it Harry!’ he said, exasperated, ‘I am sure you have entertainment enough without me standing by holding your hand.’

‘Yes, but delightful little Mary here is going to dance for us and I knew you would not want to miss that.’ He indicated the sultry brunette who was clinging to his arm, giggling. As the night had worn on her clothing had come off and now she was clad in only her corset and pantaloons, full breasts spilling out of the tightly laced stays.

Hanwood winced. Outrageous as the mysterious intruders behavior might be, making her way into a gentleman’s house, she must be a long way from being used to such things. He moved forward to usher the group out of the room. ‘Really Harry, go and amuse yourself as you will. I will join you when I can.’

‘Yes, but what are you doing in here?’ Harry demanded, ‘And who was that bit of skirt that was in here with you? Rosie is miffed about something. What have you been up to in here?’

‘Never mind what I –‘ He broke off as his friend’s words penetrated, swinging around.
Was
, indeed. His beautiful stranger appeared to have taken advantage of the diversion and fled. Hanwood strode across to the open French doors and stepped out onto the flagged terrace but the moonlight garden was bare of any living creature.

His nocturnal temptress had disappeared without a trace.

Chapter Three

‘I really do not think you have any reason to be nervous,’ Cecile murmured, glancing around the crowded room. It was the first engagement that Abbey had attended since her encounter with Hanwood almost a week before and she was in a flutter of nervous anticipation. Still, it would look most odd if Abbey begged off from the Marchioness of Embrey’s ball; it was one of the most anticipated of the season. ‘This isn’t Hanwood’s sort of thing at all.’

‘I thought you said everybody would be here!’ Abbey knew she was being foolish – she could hardly hide in her aunt’s house for the rest of her stay in London! – but the idea of meeting Hanwood again after their last encounter was simply too humiliating to be borne. Not only had she breached every tenet of polite society by being alone with a man, but she had allowed herself to be kissed, not once but twice! It was all very well to plead she’d had little choice in the matter. In her heart of hearts Abbey might have been able to absolve herself of that first kiss, but the second? Why, she’d practically asked him to do it! The memory of it had warmed her cheeks over and over again through the passing days, especially her behavior leading up to it. And while her unfortunate behavior gave her more than one uneasy thought, it was the memory of his mouth on his and the feel of his body against her own that had kept her awake at night.

The only comfort was that he had not known her identity but if she were to meet him… Abbey shuddered at the thought.

‘Hanwood hates that kind of thing. Edward says he tires of females casting themselves at him in the hope that they will capture his attention.’

‘What a curse it must be to be so eligible.’ Abbey responded viciously, making her cousin’s lovely blue eyes widen.

Inevitably, Cecile had learned of her cousin’s antics; not all of them, of course but she had had to know that her letters had been retrieved. She had been both aghast at Abbey’s actions and relieved that Hanwood could no longer use her billets to convince Edward’s two other trustees to tie up his fortune for another twelvemonth.

Abbey, while delighted to help her cousin, could only hope her rashness had not left her compromised. While it was comforting to know that she had a comfortable dependence in the country to fall back upon when the heady delights of London palled, it was quite another thing to run back to Derbyshire with her reputation in ruins.

A week fretting indoors had left her pale but she had done the best she could, wearing the new apricot satin that Cecile assured her looked very well on her. Cecile herself, angelically fair, had worn sky blue, which served to bring out the blue of her eyes, while her golden curls shone like a halo. Despite Abbey’s conviction that she would be overlooked at such a crowded affair, both girls received a deal of attention when they entered the main ballroom, their coloring a natural foil for the other, darker chestnut against pale gold.

Abbey took a step forward then faltered to a stop when, looking across the room her glance clashed with the one person who she had wished above everything not to meet. For a dreadful moment the room seemed to shift and tilt around her as the sudden heat that infused her body, slowly drained away leaving her chilled to the bone.

She watched Hanwood’s mouth curve into a slow, satisfied smile.

Hanwood stood on the edge of the dance floor, surveying his surroundings without favor, wishing he hadn’t given in to the compulsion that had ridden him for nearly a week now. His grim introspection was interrupted by a voice at his elbow.

‘Hanwood! What the devil are you doing here?’ Viscount Mountford, resplendent in scarlet satin and sporting a fashionably high collar that made it hard for him to turn his head, raised a quizzing glass and surveyed Hanwood with astonishment. ‘I did not think to see
you
here tonight. Not your kind of thing at all.’

‘How delightful to see you too, Freddy,’ Hanwood replied with more acerbity than the comment warranted. He was annoyed, both with the crowd and his own idiocy. Freddy was quite right; the Embery ball was not something he would normally have attended but over the past week he had found himself doing all manner of things he didn’t usually do including look for a girl with a pair of bewitching eyes.

‘Come to think of it,’ Freddy continued on, oblivious to the acid in his friend’s voice, ‘You’ve been out and about at these affairs a damn sight more than usual of late. Finally decided to come up to snuff, eh? Who’s the lucky lady?’

It took a moment to realize that Freddy was suggesting that Hanwood must have finally decided to choose a wife. ‘Why? Who do you fancy for the role?’

Freddy blinked, then turned to survey the room. ‘Well the Cheadle chit is quite exceptional.’

Hanwood turned to look at the Season’s Beauty, an extraordinarily lovely girl who had been enjoying enormous popularity since emerging from the schoolroom. ‘She’s a little young.’

Freddy cast him a look of mild astonishment. ‘My dear boy! She is eighteen.’

‘Perhaps I mean stupid, then. Have you stood up with her? She has no conversation.’

‘With those looks and ten thousand a year she don’t need ‘em.’ Freddie protested, ‘Don’t want beauty
and
brains Tris. You want a conversation go to your club or talk to your mistress.’

‘You are such a romantic, Freddy.’

‘Well what about the Margate filly then?’ Freddy demanded, catching sight of Cecile Margate as she stepped into the room. He frowned, remembering. ‘Oh wait, isn’t that the one young Edward is entangled with? Don’t see why you object. There’s no money in the family but the girl’s of good stock and is as pretty as a picture.’

‘Edward stands to inherit fifty thousand a year and he has yet to reach his majority. Everybody knows that Margate is in deep water financially. He would love to see Edward offer for his daughter. Perhaps my ward does care for the girl but he has seen nothing of the world. It’s ridiculous to tie himself to the first chit who casts a warm glance in his direction.’ Hanwood said shortly, glancing towards the young lady in question. He stiffened, staring incredulously at the girl that accompanied her.

His midnight beauty!

Freddy continued to talk, oblivious of Hanwood’s sudden distraction. ‘My dear fellow, a man’s got to marry sometime. Why not when he’s young enough to enjoy it? Too cynical, that’s your problem old man.’ At his Lordship’s silence, Freddie turned and raised an eyebrow.

‘That girl,’ Hanwood said abruptly, ‘The one beside Cecile Margate. Who is she?’