This Rake of Mine (24 page)

Miranda rose from her seat, her mouth opening to deny this charge as well, but apparently the Langley sisters were undaunted even by the threat she'd made before dinner of a month's worth of detention knitting nappies for the Orphan Society for even the slightest infraction.

"Oh, yes, Jack," Tally called out from the bench at the pianoforte, "Monsieur Guise, our dancing master, once declared Miss Porter's skill worthy of the Paris Opera."

An opera dancer! They were comparing her to an opera dancer? Why not just declare her a highly sought after Cyprian and be done with their attempts to push her into his arms?

For his part, Lord John grinned. "Fancy that! I've always had a fondness for opera dancers." He shot Felicity and Tally a saucy wink. "But there is only one problem, Miss Langley," he said, scratching his head and glancing around the room.

"What is that?" Felicity asked, all anxiousness to provide whatever element would promote Jack's attentions.

"A place to dance," he told her. "How could I ask your esteemed teacher to dance without the proper space?"

Felicity's eyes widened in horror as she realized that she'd forgotten one very vital component in her plan. She quickly recruited Pippin to assist her with moving the furniture.

Miranda gazed heavenward, wishing the girls to perdition.

Oh, they were incorrigible, but she knew just how to ensure they never did this again. Oh, yes, by tomorrow evening she would know exactly how many times they were able to write
I will not play matchmaker
between Thistleton Park and Lady Caldecott's. She didn't care if it took every blank page in Felicity's
Chronicles
.

Even worse, Jack appeared to be willing to go along with the girls' plans, for he was helping them rearrange the room. Their sense of mischief obviously appealed to him, devilish rake that he was.

"I have just the music," Tally said, sorting through the sheaves in front of her. "That is, if you are of a mind to try something a little different. The Duchess and I learned this dance just before Father sent us here for school."

Miranda was already shaking her head, even as Jack was saying, "Splendid! How do we start?"

Felicity came forward. "You need a partner, milord," she said, nudging him none-so-delicately toward Miranda.

"Yes, of course. How rude of me," he declared. Clearing his throat with a dramatic air, he then bowed low, as if he were being presented to royalty. When he rose, he said, "Miss Porter, will you do me the honor of partnering me in the next dance—" and glanced over at Tally. "What are we dancing?"

"A waltz," she told him. "Nanny Birgit taught us how when Father was attached to the Viennese court."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it," Jack admitted.

"And neither am I," Miranda added quickly, hoping that would be the end of it. She could well imagine the sort of dance one of the girls' questionable nannies had taught them.

Tally waved off their protests. "It is quite simple, and an enormous favorite all over Bavaria and Austria. Why it isn't danced in England, I am at an utter loss." She glanced at her music and straightened the pages, before nodding to her sister. "Felicity, show Jack how to hold Miss Porter."

"Hold me?" Miranda protested, backing away from this folly until she was greeted by the solid wall behind her.

Jack held out his hands to her. "Come now, Miss Porter, there is nothing to fear in a simple dance from the Continent, is there?"

It wasn't the dance that had Miranda terrified. It was those three simple words that had her quaking in her sensible shoes.

Hold Miss Porter.

Jack found her panic almost amusing. Really, did the woman think he was going to ravish her right here in the music room before her students and Birdwell?

Well, he probably shouldn't answer that considering his conduct earlier in the day. But really, how scandalous could this waltz be if two young misses not out of the schoolroom knew the steps?

He completely forgot who he was dealing with.

Felicity came forward, all business. "Now you must take Miss Porter's hand, and hold it up," she was saying, catching hold of her teacher's fingers and pressing the lady's palm to Jack's.

It being the country—and Thistleton Park at that—Miss Porter had not stood on ceremony and had forgone her gloves.

So her bare skin pressed against his.

It had been ages since he'd held a woman's hand, let alone a bare one, and the experience caught him unawares.

His fingers curled instinctively around hers, protectively and unhesitantly. He realized he was holding her hand like he had found something precious, something thought long lost.

And when he looked into her eyes, he saw a wary light.

She felt it as well, and it frightened her.

Hell, it was unnerving him. It was the same demmed fire that had nearly driven him mad this afternoon at the folly. It was why he'd gone to great lengths to dress as a gentleman tonight, hoping that his old clothes would infuse him with a determination to behave like a man of honor and integrity.

Truly, he'd been a fool to think her some part of the rumored conspiracy swirling around him. The lady was nothing more than she appeared—a spinster ready to set herself on the shelf.

And that in itself bothered him. Not that it was any of his business, but it seemed a demmed waste of a lady well-trained in keeping a man utterly organized to see her spend the rest of her days in some lonely, tidy house. Look at Thistleton Park since she'd arrived… regular meals, clean rooms, a sense of order like he'd never imagined possible in this old pile of stones.

Though he knew that wasn't the only waste to seeing a lady like Miss Porter at her last prayers, for he suspected that as much as she would take the house well under hand, it would also make her the mistress of his nights…

"Now what?" he asked Felicity, hoping to get on with this dance and be done with it.

Felicity frowned at the pair of them. "You need to stand closer together."

Jack took a small step forward.

"Jack," Felicity complained, "you'll never be able to hold her from that distance." Not satisfied at all with the small step he'd taken, she put her hand on his back and shoved him toward her teacher.

Miss Porter's hand flew to his shoulder to steady them both, and they ended up standing as close as one might to a lover. Jack knew without a doubt why this waltz of Tally's had remained on the Continent.

And it seemed the bothersome little Duchess wasn't done with them yet. "Now, Jack, take your other hand and put it on… put it on Miss Porter's…" The girl cocked her head and stared at her teacher as if at a loss as to how to say it.

"Oh, bother," she finally said, catching up his hand and plopping it down on Miss Porter's hip.

Even as his grasp claimed her, the lady panicked beneath his touch.

"Felicity, I cannot believe this is how this dance is performed," Miss Porter protested. "Why, it is improper, indecent, and morally—"

With each of her protests, she tried unsuccessfully to extract herself from his grasp, but Jack held her fast. It was, he soon discovered, like trying to contain a flame.

Mayhap there was something to this waltz…

"But that is the correct position, Miss Porter," Felicity told her. "It was all the rage at the Viennese court."

"I would imagine so," Jack added, wondering with some bemusement what the patronesses of Almack's would say to such an arrangement of partners.

Then again, those hallowed halls would most likely overflow with every eligible, able-bodied gentleman in London if it meant being able to cavort so openly with your lady-love.

"Well, I hardly think—" Miss Porter continued to protest.

"Sssh," he told her, pulling her closer, until he had her up against him. "As a former teacher, I would think you would be open to learning a new dance."

"I cannot believe this is how this is supposed to be done. At such close proximity," she repeated.

Felicity bit her lip and eyed them. "I believe Miss Porter is correct, my lord. You have her too close."

Not as close as I would like
. He bit back the words before they came forth, and shocked his partner. It was enough of a jolt that he was even thinking such a thing.

Felicity eyed them once again, and this time she finally seemed satisfied with her arrangements. "Tally, are you ready?"

Her twin nodded and started to play a piece he thought was Mozart.

"Pippin, come help me," the intent matchmaker asked her cousin.

The two girls paired off, all serious in their determination to make this dance perfect. "Now follow us," Felicity ordered.

Jack squeezed Miss Porter's hand and winked at her, daring her to continue making such an indelicate face. "Come now, Miss Porter, have you never done anything imprudent in your life?"

Not counting this afternoon.

"One, two, three," Felicity was saying, starting to glide through the room with her cousin in tow. "One, two, three."

Before his partner could add another protest, Jack followed suit. Miss Porter stumbled at first, but he held her fast and towed her along.

At first they bumped and stumbled around the music room, colliding with Felicity and Pippin.

Tally stopped playing, and all of them broke into laughter, the girls' giggles delightful, but nothing more startling than Miss Porter's laughter.

It sparkled through the room with the same power as Mozart's tempting notes.

"Jack, that will never do. You must pay more attention," Felicity scolded.

"To what? Miss Porter or the furniture?"

His partner closed her eyes and shook her head, like any good teacher faced with a recalcitrant but charming student. However, the smile on her lips belied her unspoken protest.

"Just try again," Felicity urged, even as she nodded at her sister to start playing again. "Pippin and I will sit this one out and give you more room."

At the pianoforte, Tally took up the charge, the music flowing once again through the room.

Jack glanced down at Miss Porter—her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with mirth. Worse yet, a stray curl of red hair had come loose from her usually too tight chignon, and it begged to be tucked back into place… or toyed with.

He doubted she'd approve of either choice.

"Are you ready?" he asked instead. "I think it is expected."

"One more dance," she said, "if only to put an end to their meddling."

She said it with the certain knowledge that one dance could hardly be a danger.

He even shared her conviction, her resolve, for he had no place in his life for the tangle these girls were trying to wind around him and Miss Porter.

Yet for the rest of his life, Jack would look back at that one simple dance in wonder. What had it been? The seductive music? It had certainly fed his soul, seduced his senses. The blur of spinning around the room until the walls, and sconces, and furniture had seemed to disappear and it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

Suddenly he forgot… forgot his duty, his obligations. Dash, the lanterns that needed to be lit. It made him forget all of it. But it wasn't the music or the dance that wielded this magic.

It was the lady herself.

He'd never held a woman and felt so… so complete. It took his breath away.

And it seemed she had fallen under the same spell.

While she'd been coltish and stiff at first, ever so slowly she'd thawed until she'd whirled along with him, similarly lost in the magic.

Leave it to the Viennese to get to the heart of the matter—this waltz was nothing more than a seductive prelude.

His thoughts went from dancing, to enticing, to discovering what other charms Miss Porter had so aptly hidden beneath her poor gowns, to discover if her delightful laughter would turn to sensual purrs of rapture as he tempted her beyond her hallowed convent of decorum.

He swept her around and around, his desire for her growing with every note.

"So what do you think of their matchmaking efforts now?" he asked as he whirled her toward the far side of the room, well out of earshot of their eager audience.

She heaved a sigh. "I suppose I owe you an apology. I fear I've underestimated Felicity's determination."

"I would venture that you aren't the first to do so, and you won't be the last." Jack shuddered. "I pity London when she arrives for her Season. She'll have all the men at sixes and sevens, the matrons eating out of her hands, and all the rest of the young hopefuls praying for an invasion by the combined Continental armies to stop her determined conquest."

Miss Porter laughed. "She'll be Miss Emery's best advertisement."

He whirled her past the girls, Felicity and Pippin sitting on the sofa, both with satisfied grins pasted on their faces.

Jack leaned closer. "What do you think they would say if I were to kiss you?"

"Don't you dare, Lord John," she said, pulling back.

"Are you saying that for their benefit or for yours?"

"Both."

He leaned closer still and whispered seductively into her ear. "Are you so certain?"

She stumbled a little, and he had his answer.

And kiss her he would. Kiss her and draw her into his arms, his bed, his life.

Suddenly around him, he saw Thistleton Park shift and change. He saw it as it should have been all these centuries, a home filled with love and laughter.

Even as he found himself being lulled into such a tempting dream, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour. It clanged with a furor he had never heard before.

Hell, the demmed thing probably hadn't been wound in twenty years—for good reason—it was enough to wake the dead.

Yet it served as warning enough. This was Thistleton Park, home to the demented and those inclined to mayhem. With each chime it seemed all his crack-witted and misunderstood relations were howling at the accursed Fates who held them tied to this madhouse.

Including himself.

He stumbled to a halt and let go of Miss Porter like he was shaking himself out of a nightmare.

Marry some miss? He'd finally gone around the bend. It was bad enough to have guests at Thistleton Park, but a wife? She'd expect explanations for his comings and goings that he had no desire to divulge… not to anyone.