Too Wicked to Wed (4 page)
His worry was short-lived, as Suzy laughed. “I might as well still be running an inn, for how often Hogshead Harry and Spotted Dick spend the night at the Close. Why do you ask?”
“I would like to find out what they know of a cardsharp who goes by the name of DeWinter. Medium height, heavyset build, light brown hair.” He went on to give a few more physical details. “And an accent that rolls in and out like the tide. Until recently he may have been working on the other side of the channel—mayhap in Antwerp or Amsterdam.”
“As it happens, Drew and I are returning home on the morrow. I should be able to send you an answer within a few days.” Bemusement left behind, she was now all business. “Any other particulars that would prove helpful?”
The earl pursed his lips. “A good point. Any information on who he has worked for in the past. And more importantly, who might have contracted his services within the last few weeks.”
Suzy maintained a thoughtful silence as the violins raced to an echoing crescendo. “Do you mean to say that someone has tried to stir up trouble at The Wolf’s Lair?” she asked.
“He did more than try,” admitted Connor. “He picked my pocket clean. Not only that, in creating a diversion at the tables, he also afforded an accomplice the opportunity to sneak into the back office and rob the safe.”
Her eyes widened. “Who would instigate such an attack?”
“At this point, your guess is as good as mine.” His gaze began a slow sweep of the room. “Apparently someone is of the opinion that an old dog’s teeth have grown dull from disuse.” The earl was about to turn away when his head snapped around for a second look at the arrangement of potted palms. A sharp intake of breath was followed by a muttered oath. Despite the dim light and the overlapping fringe of fronds, the pale profile and twist of wheaten curls was all too recognizable.
“Hell and damnation,” he repeated under his breath.
Suzy, now alert for any hint of danger, leaned in closer. “More trouble?”
“In spades,” came the gloomy response. “Whoever named Luck a lady was a bloody idiot.”
Desperate for a few moments of solitude, Alexa glanced around, then hurried past the withdrawing room for ladies and turned down a darkened side corridor. With its heady swirl of silks and scents, of lights and laughter, the ballroom had suddenly become too oppressive to bear. Every glittering, gleaming detail seemed a mocking reminder of how dull she was.
How different she was.
Alexa pressed her palms to her cheeks, feeling the hot humiliation burn through her thin kidskin gloves. Spotting a set of arched French doors up ahead, she quickened her steps and slipped out to the gardens. The small terrace was deserted, its decorative urns and slate tiles shrouded in shadows cast by the torchieres on the balcony and the full moon overhead.
Drawing in a great gulp of the cool night air, she choked back a sob. Oh, stop indulging in self-pity, she scolded herself. What had she expected? To dazzle the gentlemen of London with her beauty and brilliant intellect?
Hah.
With a wry grimace, she blinked the beads of moisture from her lashes. She was a rough-cut bit of country quartz compared to the perfectly polished jewels of the
ton
. To imagine that—
The click of the door latch was followed by a grunt of surprise.
Alexa whirled around. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be out here alone—” she began, and then stopped short on seeing who it was.
“
You
,” growled the Irish Wolfhound. “You seem to have a habit of straying to places where you shouldn’t go.” A breeze ruffled his hair, and the swaying twists of ivy cast a pattern of light and dark across his chiseled face. He looked fierce.
Forbidding.
Alexa lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “I needed a breath of fresh air, and a garden terrace is a perfectly respectable place for me to be.” She exaggerated taking a look around. “Or were you hoping to sneak a quick tup with one of your lightskirts?”
His lips thinned. “You have a saucy mouth, Lady Alexa Hendrie. Take care that it does not get you into trouble.”
“It already has—on more than one occasion,” she said defiantly. “If you recall,
you
kissed me.”
“I have kissed a great many women,” drawled the earl.
“And I wasn’t very memorable?”
A quicksilver flicker of moonlight flashed beneath his dark lashes. Then his eyes were once again as hard as blackened steel. “What do
you
think?”
She felt a flush steal over her face, and was furious with herself for asking such a stupid question.
Idiot.
Of course he wouldn’t remember kissing an awkward country miss. As for her own recollection of the moment…
“Thank God for that,” answered Alexa with a mock shudder. “Seeing as I, too, have expunged the unpleasant interlude from my mind.” She paused for a moment. “Not that it required much effort, I might add.”
“Indeed?” A dark brow shot up. “I was under the impression that you were paying rather close attention to the experience.”
“You flatter yourself, sir. Be assured that, as kisses go, your performance was quite forgettable.”
“Forgettable,” he repeated softly.
“Completely,” she assured him.
“Well, then perhaps you need a reminder.”
Alexa gave an involuntary gasp. “You wouldn’t
dare
.”
“I warned you about your mouth—that’s exactly the wrong thing to say to a lecherous libertine.”
Don’t.
She stared at the sinuous curl of his smirk.
Don’t think about the hot, brandy-spiced taste of his lustful lips. Don’t think about the hard, steel-chiseled press of his sculpted muscles.
“Don’t…” she stammered.
Too late.
With a wicked gleam in his gaze, the Irish Wolfhound seized her shoulders and drew her close. Then his wanton mouth was on hers, teasing a terrible, tingling lick of heat inside her. Fire sizzled from her scalp to her toes—and to hidden places she wasn’t even aware existed.
This time, his kiss was slower, softer. He suckled her lower lip, his teeth gently nipping the swell of her flesh. Alexa shivered as the earl traced his fingertips along the arch of her neck and framed her face between his palms. Surrendering a tiny moan of pleasure, she opened herself to his delving demand. The slide of his tongue inside her was wildly sensuous. Her pulse began to skitter, her knees began to quake.
Strangely enough, the soft, suckled sighs were not all hers. The Wolfhound’s breath tickled her cheeks, and within its gossamer flutter seemed to float a sweet, sweet whisper.
She tried to make sense of the sound but the earl’s hands were moving—from slope of her shoulders down the curl of her spine, their touch sending shivering sparks spiraling through her belly.
Oh, oh, oh.
This was too wicked—too wonderful—for words.
Overpowered by all the new sensations, Alexa needed a fraction of a second to realize that the earl had released her and moved back a step.
Sucking in a breath, she sought to steady her shaky legs. Every bone in her body seemed to have melted into mush.
“I trust you won’t need another reminder to stay within the confines of Polite Society,” said the earl, now sounding thoroughly bored. “As you see, danger lurks in every crevasse and corner of London, ready to devour any innocent who makes the mistake of straying into the shadows.”
Turning on his heel, he descended the stone steps and disappeared into the mist-shrouded garden. A moment later, Alexa heard the
clink
of an iron gate open and close as he let himself out to the street. A swirl of silvery vapor danced silently through the ivy vines, serenaded by only the plaintive song of a nightingale and the faint whisper of a violin.
I
f looks could kill, that poor knight would have expired ages ago.”
Making an effort to smooth the scowl from her face, Alexa glanced up from the chessboard. “Sorry. I suppose I have not been very pleasant company.”
“No,” agreed her cousin Henry. “In fact, you have been quite rotten company.” He nudged his pawn into the space vacated by her bishop, promptly putting her king into checkmate. “And on top of it, you have been playing like a pea-brained widget, when you normally rout me in less than a quarter hour. What’s wrong? I would have thought you would be enjoying the chance to experience a Season in London.”
Why must everyone keep reminding me of that?
Her fingers lingered on one of the ivory figures, then brushed it from the board. She must push aside her odd mopings. Along with the unaccountable daydreams about a certain roguish gentleman. It was only in the pages of a Minerva Press novel that a heroic white knight came galloping in to sweep a lady off her feet.
And the Earl of Killingworth, with his distinctly off-color looks, could hardly be called lily white.
“It’s not that I miss moving mountains of manure or digging miles of drainage ditches. But…” Her nebulous discontent was maddeningly hard to explain. “But with Sebastian away in the army and Papa uninterested in mundane matters like money, it fell to me to keep the estate from crumbling into ruin. And strangely enough, the duties proved interesting.”
Henry made a face.
“I found the challenges fulfilling,” went on Alexa. “However, now those responsibilities rightfully belong to Sebastian and Nicola.”
“Seb and his bride would be wise to hire you as their head steward,” joked Henry. “How you managed to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse is beyond me.”
“That’s because I read books on crop rotation and seed hybrids—”
“Ballocks to books!” exclaimed her cousin. “I say that’s exactly the trouble. You’ve been in harness too long. It’s time to kick off the traces and have a little fun here in London.”
“You forget that gentlemen are accorded a great deal more freedom than ladies,” she muttered. “I might as well have taken the King’s shilling, for all the rules and regulations that regiment my life. At least I would be getting paid for the aggravation.”
Henry laughed. A year her junior, he had shared many a youthful escapade, tagging along on the heels of her brothers, so he was used to her tart candor. “That bad, is it?”
“The drawing rooms are stifling in every sense of the word.”
“Sounds as if you could use a breath of fresh air. What say you to a ride in the park?”
“Where propriety dictates we proceed at a sedate walk?” She shook her head. “Lud, what I wouldn’t give for a rousing gallop across the moors.”
“I know how you feel.” Still in the throes of sowing his wild oats, he had narrowly escaped being sent down from Oxford for a schoolboy prank. “Pater has felt obliged to tighten the leash—and the purse strings—of late and it’s deucedly annoying to feel…”
“As if you can’t breathe?” she suggested. “Ha!” A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “At least you do not have to submit to a corset and endless evenings of dull dances and prosy bores.”
A mischievous gleam came to his eye. “Want to cut loose for an evening?”
Alexa knew the sensible response was a firm “no.” She had not needed Sebastian’s words of warning to know that in London, the slightest breach of etiquette could result in a ruined reputation.
But then, a small voice spoke up in the back of her head.
To hell with the rules.
Why could she not enjoy one night free from the fetters of everyone’s expectations?
“What do you have in mind?”
Henry grinned. “There is to be a soiree of music and gaming given by a certain lady whose existence is not acknowledged by the
ton
. Having been a guest at her previous gatherings, I can vouch for it being a great deal more lively than your usual entertainments.”
“It does sound like great fun.” Though sorely tempted, Alexa allowed common sense to reassert itself. “But if you are planning to attend, the odds are that other gentlemen of our acquaintance will be there as well. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that my presence would go unnoticed. Or unmentioned.” She heaved a sigh. “Your conduct would be deemed youthful exuberance, while mine would be deemed an utter disgrace.”
Henry’s grin grew even wider. “Not if you, too, were to appear as a man.”
Alexa blinked. “You’re joking!”
“You have pulled it off before. Remember the time you dressed as a groom and came with us to the mill between Belcher and the challenger from Liverpool?”
Henry was right. It would not be the first time she had donned breeches and boots to accompany him to a gathering forbidden to females of her social standing. Yet going unremarked amid a frenzied throng of well-lubricated spectators screaming for blood was one thing. Masquerading as a gentleman at a Town soiree was quite another.
“There will not be nearly the distractions,” she pointed out. “The disguise would have to be awfully good.”
“I have a friend who is quite skilled in amateur theatrics,” said Henry. “I’m sure he can fashion a convincing rig.”
“I couldn’t…I shouldn’t…”
“Come, the risk is not so very great,” urged Henry. “The rooms will be dimly lit, and the other guests will be foxed.”
Alexa bit at her lower lip.
Her cousin then played his trump card. “You have always said that you wanted to test your skills against serious gamesters. Well, the card room will offer some very interesting opportunities for play.”
Did she dare stake her reputation on one night of hijinks?
In managing the estate, she had always been prudent, carefully assessing the risks before making a decision. And she had always erred on the side of caution. Now, with her own future in the balance, Alexa decided to throw caution to the wind.
“Very well—I’ll do it.”
“Ha! I knew you would come around!” Henry gave a whoop of delight. “I promise you, this will be a great lark. Who knows—with your nerve and your knack for numbers, you may even end up winning a hefty amount of pin money.”
“Ha!” she echoed, though in her voice the boyish enthusiasm was tempered by an edge of pragmatism. “Sometimes it takes more than nerve and skill to win.”
“Right.” Plucking the ebony queen from the checkered board, he tossed it up and watched it turn a slow, spinning somersault before catching it in midair. “Sometimes it takes a dash of luck. But you, my dear cuz, have always been a lucky lady.”
The numbers were proving perversely difficult to add up. Connor looked up from the ledgers, admitting that the difficulty lay not with the neatly penned expenses but with his own wandering concentration. He wished he might claim it was all on account of his sudden financial setbacks. However, as the figure in his mind’s eye began to take a completely different set of curves than the ones on the page, he was forced to set the book aside.
Hell, he had not been aware that Lady Alexa Hendrie had returned to London. That in itself should not be very surprising, seeing as he paid little heed to the everyday gossip of the
ton
. Yet he had experienced the oddest sensation the other night on seeing her sitting in the shadows. For an instant, the jolt of awareness was almost as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning.
More likely, he ought to be struck by a punch to the jaw!
The earl shook his head. Normally he would need no such overt reminder that a gentleman of his reputation was expected to stay well away from innocent young ladies. Sebastian Hendrie had not minced words in saying as much several months ago. Not that Connor blamed him. What conscientious brother would allow a notorious womanizer near his sister? But unlike many of the rakes who roamed in his part of Town, Connor had absolutely no interest in the pursuit of such prey. Despite the widespread opinion of Society, he was not lost to all notion of honor.
And besides, dewy-eyed inexperience in the ways of world bored him to perdition.
So why had he kissed her again?
Only a fool made the same mistake twice. He had enough down-to-earth problems without allowing quirks of fancy to take flight.
Connor traced the contour of his lower lip with his tongue. It was not the lingering traces of Scotch whisky and Virginia tobacco he tasted, but the tingling memory of her pliant mouth.
Still, he could not quite shake the thought of Alexa Hendrie from his head. Even seated in obscurity, she radiated a unique vitality, her strong, sun-dappled features giving her an aura of individuality among all the bland beauty. Even more intriguing was the spark of her sapphire eyes, hinting at an inner fire.
The rakehell Irish Wolfhound undone by a stolen kiss?
Damn.
Connor had lost count of how many women he had kissed. Of all of them, Alexa Hendrie should not be very memorable.
And yet she was.
Maddeningly so. Beguilingly so. He could recall in exquisite detail the shocked shiver of her lips, their initial resistance slowly softening, and the cry of outrage turning to a whispery sigh.
Against his will, he found himself thinking back to their first encounter, and how, for a fleeting interlude, she had opened herself to his intimacies. As if she somehow trusted him, though he had her pinned up against a wall, his body thrust ruthlessly up against hers. The tentative touch of her fingers twined in his hair, the shy flick of her tongue, the hesitant arch of her back—such innocence should have warned him to pull away.
He had meant to teach her a lesson about the perils that lurked in London if a young lady was too bold in bending the rules. Instead, in a moment of madness, he had forgotten all about rules. He had unbuttoned her bodice and rucked up her skirts, feeling a strange need to touch her breasts, to slide his hands over her smooth thighs. Lust did not begin to describe what had come over him. It was something infinitely more compelling. Urgent and yet tender, in a way that defied mere words…
Bloody hell. I’m not only a miserable poet but also a damnable fool.
Massaging his temples, Connor decided to fetch himself another bottle of brandy, no matter that he could ill-afford the drain on his dwindling supply of spirits.
To hell with the cost.
He had a feeling it was going to take more than a swallow to douse the strange flare of desire that had come to life inside him.
Peering up from beneath a high crown beaver hat, Alexa stared at the front door.
“Relax. Reggie’s idea of casting you as university student, newly arrived from Sweden, was sheer genius,” assured Henry. “All foreigners are looked on as eccentric, so any oddities will be excused.”
“Your friend has a diabolically vivid imagination,” she muttered, pulling the brim a bit lower. “Thank God we talked him out of the idea of turning me into an Indian nabob.”
“You would have looked smashing in a ruby red silk turban.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “Right. A perfect choice for someone who does not wish to attract attention.”
“We both agreed you had a point. This suits you much better.” Her cousin reached for the brass knocker. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is remember the few little mannerisms we went over.”
Before she could voice any further reservation, the door swung open, and her cousin hustled her inside.
“Show a bit of bottom,” he hissed, making quick work of handing their overcoats to the butler. “M’friend here prefers to keep his hat,” he announced with an airy wave. In a lower voice he added, “You know the Swedes—queer fish.”
The butler nodded gravely.
“Come along, Lars.” A tug to Alexa’s sleeve pulled her along into the hallway.
“Lars!” she muttered under her breath. “Did you have to choose a name that sounds so close to ‘liar’?”
“Put a cork in it,” he warned, as the babble of voices and clinking of crystal indicated they were fast approaching the main drawing room.
“Speaking of corks, I think I could do with a glass of champagne…”
Whether it was the wine or just the loosening of her nerves of their own accord, Alexa soon found herself feeling more at ease. Henry had been right—the other guests were too caught up in their own amusements to pay any heed to the new arrivals. The laughter was growing louder, and the conversation more animated.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a gentleman’s hand sliding down the bare shoulder of his companion—
“Ahem.” With a sharp cough, Henry pulled her away and headed for an arched entryway. “Shall we go have a look at the gaming room?”
“What’s the hurry?” Alexa paused as one of the musicians climbed atop a bowfront sideboard and launched into a lively country jig. As two men linked arms and begin spinning in a dizzying circle, she slanted a look around the room. “There don’t seem to be many ladies present.”
“To tell the truth, I don’t think that there are
any
ladies present.” Henry helped himself to more champagne, then refilled her glass. “If you get my drift.”
Seeing a buxom blonde mount a gentleman’s shoulders, her skirts frothing up around her thighs, Alexa gave a low snort. “You needn’t dance around the subject. If you mean that most of the females here are lightskirts, I would say that is fairly obvious.”
Henry nearly choked on a swallow of his wine. “As if you have ever set eyes on that sort of woman.”
“As a matter of fact…” Her mouth curled up at the corners. Henry knew nothing about her brief visit to a house of ill repute and she decided to leave it that way. Sebastian had once mentioned that her cousin tended to turn awfully garrulous when drunk.
“Oh, never mind,” she continued. “However, as you well know, my sensibilities are hardly those of a sheltered young miss.” Her gaze, still fixed on the dancing, caught the saucy wink that a raven-haired doxie was directing Henry’s way. “By the by, if you wish to pursue a more intimate acquaintance—one that might take you upstairs—don’t let my presence hold you back. I can find my own entertainments.”