The Wedding Trap (26 page)

The beautiful voice of the opera singer soared through the room, lithe and majestic as an exotic butterfly floating on a silken breeze.

Yet Eliza scarcely heard the perfect notes, her thoughts tuning out the aria, just as they had tuned out all the elegantly attired ladies and gentlemen seated around her inside the Fitzmarions’ ballroom.

All she could think about was Kit.

Kit’s words. Kit’s kiss. Kit’s undeniably provocative invitation. Even now, hours later, her heart still fluttered in wonder and astonishment. Had he meant it? Did he really wish to experiment—with her? To give her—what had he called it?—more lessons in love?

From the enthusiasm of his kisses there in her bedchamber, she rather thought he did mean it. She could scarcely credit that dashing, debonair Lord Christopher Winter might actually desire her.

After so many unnoticed years and unrequited dreams, she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the notion, telling herself she must be imagining what he’d said, cautioning herself to stop being a ridiculous ninnyhammer, and put the whole thing out of her head. But improbable as circumstances might seem, she knew she hadn’t conjured the interlude, the blue and purple bruises that mottled Kit’s cheek and jaw proof enough of that.

So then, what was she to do?

Say nothing and go on as before?

Or say yes, and take him up on his tantalizing offer?

Her body tingled at the thought, simmering both with nerves and with something else, something darker, the kind of urges that had led her to this pass in the first place. Yet what a delightful pass it was if it meant sharing further intimate pleasures with Kit.

How far might he take those pleasures? How far would she let him? How far did she dare? And if it was true that he wanted her, desiring her with the same interest and depth of passion he displayed with his other ladyloves, what then could she expect?

Would their interludes amount to nothing more than a mild flirtation? A few innocent kisses and caresses shared in some dark, quiet corner, rushed and playful, meant only as a dalliance? An instructive tease, as it were?

Or might his new interest in her lead to more, lead deeper? Was it possible, with the right incentive, that he might come to care for her? He liked her already—she felt confident of that—but could he love her? If she tried hard enough, could she make him want her, need her so much that tumbling into love would be the easiest, most logical next step?

And what of marriage? Family? She still wanted those things intensely. Should she race after Kit in the hopes of catching him, or resume her original quest to make a solid, achievable matrimonial alliance?

Fear of failure made the blood cool in her veins. But even as she shrank away from the idea of taking this risk, she knew she could not let it go. Just as she had decided to put aside her fears and her shyness this Season, she knew she must pursue this chance no matter the potential cost.

And honestly, how could she say no to the chance to have more love lessons from Kit? Only a fool or an ice princess would refuse.

Despite her preoccupation, she weathered the remainder of the evening with an aplomb that apparently satisfied everyone’s expectations, and drew no attention to her distracted musings. Once again at home, she drew off her cloak and handed it to the waiting footman with a murmur of gratitude.

Hearing all of them in the hall, Kit emerged from the salon where he had been entertaining himself with what he said was a deuced dull game of solitaire.

“With this face,” he remarked, “I thought I ought to stay in for the evening rather than risk scaring all the ladies.”

Violet cooed and clucked over him, while Adrian asked a pair of salient questions to confirm that Kit hadn’t landed himself in the boughs over some dispute. Reassured by his brother’s innocent explanations, the four of them repaired to the family drawing room for a light late supper. Violet excused herself soon after to go look in on the children. Adrian followed a brief while later.

Eliza remained, slowly sipping her tea. She gazed across at Kit, feeling abruptly nervous in a way she had not felt around him in a very long time.

Now that the moment was upon her, she didn’t know what to say. “How are you feeling?” she blurted in a soft voice that sounded tremulous even to her own ears.

He gave her a quiet look, then carefully touched a pair of fingers to his battered cheek. “Not as badly as I would have done, I think, had I not had your cures.”

“You used the raw beefsteak, then?”

“Exactly as promised. I told you I would.” He smiled gently.

Her heart kicked hard in her chest, quickening at the devastating flash of his sensuous lips and straight, white teeth.

He drank a swallow of brandy.

“Kit?”

“Hmm?”

“I have been thinking…about what you said.” She ran her fingers along the material of her skirt, pleating the fabric between her knuckles in spite of the fact that the dress had no pleats.

“About what?” His eyes twinkled like gemstones of green and gold.

Was he teasing her or was he really not sure?

She trembled, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “You know. What you said earlier about…experimenting…if I wanted to.”

His eyes flashed again. “Ah, yes,
that
thing. And?”

Her fingers pleated faster. “And well…I…” She stared at her shoes, unable to meet his gaze. “I think…that is…I…”

“Eliza. Look at me.”

Compelled by his command, she obeyed.

“Don’t be shy,” he said. “You have no need to be, not with me. Not ever with me. Now, say what it is you wish to say.”

She exhaled, the tight muscles of her shoulders and neck relaxing. Kit was right, with him she had no cause to feel shy, especially considering the intimate nature of the step she was about to take.

Forcing up her eyes, she met his gaze. “I have thought about what you said, and yes, I want to.”

His eyelids drooped slightly, a lambent light deepening the color of his irises. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yes. When can we begin?” Suddenly she was breathless.

His lips curved in a wry smile. “I wish I could say right now, but that would be far from wise. Why don’t you retire for the evening while I consider the best way to proceed.”

“Oh,” she said, mildly deflated. “All right.” After a moment, she rose to her feet.

He did so as well, as politeness dictated a gentleman do. Only it clearly wasn’t politeness that made him step near, nor what urged him to cup her cheek inside his palm and bend down to kiss her. Eliza quivered in delight as he tenderly crushed his lips to hers, stealing her breath and her willpower in the same instant. Suspended in his embrace, she was his to compel, his to command. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she let him have his way.

Slowly, reluctantly, he eased back. “A little taste to tide you over,” he murmured, feathering her cheek with a last, lingering caress of his fingertips. “Sleep well, little wren.”

Eliza shivered, knowing that tonight she wouldn’t be sleeping at all.

What in the saint’s name am I doing?
Kit wondered after she had gone.

When exactly had he decided to seduce Eliza Hammond? He wasn’t sure he had ever actually made the decision, not in a rational, logical sort of way. He had simply made the impulsive suggestion of giving her love lessons and she had accepted. Now that she had, he couldn’t say he was the tiniest bit sorry.

Desire yawned inside him, his senses still heightened from their brief kiss. If a simple kiss could render such a response, just think where a truly passionate encounter might lead.

He shouldn’t want her, he knew. Propriety and prudence warned that he ought to rescind his offer and tell her there would be no lessons. But when had he ever been prudent? Hadn’t he always believed that risk was the very spice of life? The thing that put vigor in the blood and brought satisfaction to the soul?

And considering the provocative little book he’d found in her possession, he knew she was ripe for a bit of risk herself. Who better than he to provide a measure of relatively innocent dalliance? Unlike her current array of suitors, he genuinely cared about Eliza. He would be careful to keep things light and playful, cautious to take their encounters no further than they ought. They would both enjoy themselves for a time, then part as friends.

What he was planning to do with her, he told himself, was not so much different than the flirtations he’d engaged in with lots of other girls over the years. A few stolen kisses and touches had never harmed anyone, and they wouldn’t harm him or Eliza.

Really, when he considered the matter, he was protecting her. If she asked another man to help her “experiment,” the fellow might take advantage, might misinterpret her guileless nature and use her in ways she would not understand until it was far too late.

And what of Brevard, who claimed an interest in marriage?

Kit raised his glass of brandy to his lips and tossed back the remains in a single, sharp-tasting gulp. He set down the glass with an audible
click,
his hand tight at his side.

He wasn’t going to think about Brevard, he decided, carefully stretching the muscles in his neck to relieve the sudden tension that had collected there. If—and that was a big if—the viscount decided to give up his bachelorhood and offer for Eliza, the matter would be dealt with then. A notoriously elusive catch, Brevard might well decide to withdraw his interest—he’d been known to before—and move on to new territory. For now, Kit would concentrate on himself and Eliza, he wouldn’t worry about Brevard or any of the rest.

Carpe diem, he thought, ruefully acknowledging the fact that the short phrase was one of the few bits of Latin to have stuck with him since he’d completed his formal education. But he’d always found the expression apt.

And so seize the day—and Eliza Hammond—he would.

“Splendid rout, eh?”

Eliza smiled at her dance partner, a nice young man whose brown hair was already starting to thin at the crown despite his lack of years. “Yes,” she agreed, “it is quite festive. Our hostess has outdone herself with all the fresh flowers and the live fish pond in the center of the buffet table. It is quite the talk of the evening.”

“I know. I am fascinated by the engineering. A marvel what can be created these days.”

Eliza smiled again and let him talk, enjoying the fact that he didn’t seem to expect her to participate a great deal in the conversation. Once their dance concluded, he escorted her from the floor. Her small but loyal group of suitors gathered around at her return.

She was laughing at an amusing tale about a bird who had built a nest inside a hat display at a Bond Street haberdashers when Kit appeared at her elbow.

“Might I have a word?” he murmured near her ear.

She cast a glance upward at him. “Of course, give me a moment.” After listening to the conclusion of the story, she excused herself amid jovial groans of complaint from the other gentlemen. Laying a gloved palm on Kit’s black-clad forearm, she let him lead her away. Together, they began to stroll the ballroom’s perimeter.

“You have had so many social engagements these past three days,” he said, “I’ve scarcely caught more than a glimpse of you in passing, even at the townhouse. Rather than resort to sending you a note, I decided to take the direct approach and steal you away from your admirers.”

“I am sorry. I know I have been far too busy of late.”

“Not to worry. You’ve taken so well this Season you are greatly in demand, just as we had hoped you would be.” He paused and drew her away from an approaching couple, providing himself and Eliza with at least the illusion of privacy. “I wanted to talk to you about our discussion of the other evening. I assume you are still interested in pursuing the matter?”

Air suddenly squeezed from her lungs, leaving her abruptly grateful for the support of his arm. “Yes. I am still interested.”

He sent her an intimate smile. “We could always duck out into the garden now, but things can become deuced awkward sometimes when trying to return undetected.”

Could they?
she mused. But then, she supposed he would know all about such matters, considering the practice he’d had in the past. Biting the corner of her lip, she shook off the whisper of jealousy that sighed through her, reminding herself that finally she was the girl he would be leading astray.

“I was thinking,” he continued in a low voice, “of something a bit more leisurely for our lesson, something at home.”

“You mean at night in one of our rooms?” she whispered.

“No, our rooms are far too risky and far too much of a temptation. A lazy afternoon would serve our purposes much better. Mayhap you could find a reason to remain behind one day while everyone else goes out. Be laid low by an unexpected headache, perhaps.”

Gracious, she had never considered such a notion. How deceitful. How deliciously wicked. Her pulse beat like tiny hearts in her wrists.

“Yes, I suppose I could. But my maid will surely wish to dose me with lavender compresses and hot herb tea.”

“So let her dose you, then claim a quick recovery.”

“And after? Where shall we meet?”

His gaze locked with her own, his eyes deep and penetrating. “Where do you often go when you have a few spare moments in your day?”

“The library.”

“Precisely.”

“But won’t someone see us if they come in?”

“Not if we two are snugged up tight in the loft. The servants only go up there to dust and they won’t come into the room if they know you’re already in there.”

She gulped, anticipation warring with anxiety, making nerves do a high-stepping jig inside her stomach. For a long minute she and Kit continued to promenade, looking, she hoped, as if the two of them were discussing ordinary topics instead of boldly arranging a romantic assignation.

Vaguely short of breath, she stroked her fingers against the fine black material of his coat sleeve. “All of us are invited to a luncheon party in Richmond on Friday. I shall do as you suggest and plead an illness.”

“What if Violet offers to remain home with you?”