Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) (12 page)

She clutched at her stocking, her eyes filled with terror
. “Of course I can’t. You shouldn’t even mention such things.”

“Good God, woman, your ankle is swelling up right before my eyes, and you’re quibbling over whether or not to remove your stocking
? I can assure you it would
not
be the first time I’ve seen a woman’s leg. But, if you insist, put your foot in the water with your stocking on.”  He gathered her in his arms and carried her toward the pool’s bank, lowering her to the grass beside him.

Without a word, she tentatively lowered her injured foot into the water, gasping as her stocking-clad skin broke the surface
.

“There, how’s that?” he asked after a moment of silence
.

“Cold
. Better.”

“Good
. Leave it there for a few minutes. It’ll reduce the swelling and numb it a bit.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself
. “However did you bathe in this water? It’s positively frigid.”

“I find it refreshing.”  It
was
cold. Despite his threats to the contrary, he never would have emerged from the water in her sight, not with what the cold did to his body–it certainly wouldn’t have showcased his assets to their best potential. Of course, now that she sat beside him, her body brushing enticingly against his and the delicious curve of her ankle bared to his gaze, warmth was flooding to his nether regions, almost uncomfortably so. Before long he’d have to cool himself off again or his arousal would become evident.

“When do you leave for London?” she asked conversationally, jarring him from his lustful thoughts
.

“In two days’ time
. I’ll stop briefly in Hertfordshire to visit Mrs. Tolland’s brother and arrive in Town shortly thereafter. Just in time for the resumption of Parliament following the Easter break. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, and his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the swell of her breasts
. “I’m just making polite conversation.”

“And do you expect to come to Town yourself?”

“I’m not certain. I’d planned to join my mother there midsummer, but now I’m thinking it might be good for Emily’s spirits if we traveled there together as soon as possible. I shall speak to Cecil about it.”

“Hmm, a fine idea
. I’m sure she would prefer it to remaining here alone while her husband spends time in Town. You’re a good friend to Mrs. Tolland.”

“It would seem we have that in common, Lord Westfield
. She admires you greatly.”

“Yes, well, perhaps,” he replied uncomfortably
.

“Why does my pointing out your kindness to Emily make you uncomfortable?”

“Why the impertinent questions?”

“That wasn’t the least bit impertinent.”

“Why haven’t you married, Miss Rosemoor?”  The question continued to burn in the back of his mind.

“I told you
. No one suited.”  She looked off toward the horizon, her features hard.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you wish. I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“Perhaps you’re hoping for a love match?”

“Of course not. I’m a sensible woman.”  She swirled her foot in the water, sending an arc of ripples to the far side of the pool.

“Here, let me see.”  He reached for her foot, pulling it from the water
. “The swelling’s down a bit. How does it feel?”  He cradled it in his lap, massaging it.

“Much improved, thank you
. That’s not necessary.”  She tried to pull her foot from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold.

“Do you fear my touch, Miss Rosemoor?”  He continued to massage her ankle with his thumbs.

“You’re talking nonsense again. I’m not afraid of you, Lord Westfield.”

“I think you are
. I think you fear that I might kiss you again, and that you might like it.”

She gasped as he released her foot and moved toward her, his mouth slanting toward hers
. He heard her rapid breaths, saw her eyes widen, her pupils dilated. He softly brushed his lips against hers, his erection straining against his breeches’ flap. With a groan, he took her mouth with his, his lips crushing hers, his tongue boldly seeking entrance.

He felt her hands move against him, as if she were going to draw him closer
. And then he felt himself tumbling backwards, right into the cold water below with a splash.

His feet found the sandy bottom and he came up, sputtering in indignation
. Miss Rosemoor sat on the bank watching him, her arms folded across her breasts, a smug smile on her face. “And you thought I couldn’t resist your charms,” she called out. He glared at her as she rose on unsteady legs and retrieved her discarded boot, limping as she went.

Blast it; he couldn’t let her walk home, not in such a state
. Her ankle would never hold out. He quickly gained the bank and climbed out. Without another word, he came up behind her and lifted her off her feet. His clothes sopping wet, he silently carried her back through the woods and right into the Tollands’ front hall, a trail of water dripping in his wake.

Emily looked up from her needlework in surprise as he carried Jane into the salon and deposited her, now almost as wet as he was, onto the blue sofa.

Emily rose, her needlework still clutched in her hands. “What on earth?”

“Don’t ask,” Jane muttered.

With a nod to Emily, Hayden turned and strode out, bristling at the sound of feminine laughter behind him.

“Enjoy your time in Town,” Jane called out gaily, just before the front door slammed shut behind him
.  

Chapter 10

Mayfair, London

“Isn’t this lovely, Emily?”  Jane smiled at her cousin, who stood by her side holding a flute of champagne in one hand and looking happy and relaxed for the first time in ages
. “Her Grace throws the most lavish balls.”

Emily reached over to squeeze her hand in reply
. “Coming to Town was a brilliant idea. I’m so glad you talked Cecil into it.”

Jane looked around the crowded ballroom, filled with the
ton
’s most fashionable ladies and gentlemen, and sighed appreciatively. The Duke and Duchess of Falmouth’s annual ball was perhaps the most sought-after invitation of the Season. She knew she had her close association with the Mandevilles to thank for their presence there. Already Lucy and Emily had become fast friends, and their first few days in Town had passed much too quickly, a pleasant blur of rounds of calls, dinners, and soirees. Now that she was here, in familiar circumstances and enjoying the Season as she always did, Jane would be very sorry indeed to return to Derbyshire in a month’s time.

“Jane, Mrs. Tolland,” a voice rang out through the crowd, and Jane looked up to see Lucy headed their way, her husband, Lord Mandeville, in tow
.

“I thought I’d never push my way across the room,” Lucy huffed
. “What a crush tonight.”

“Isn’t it?” Jane replied
. “You look positively radiant, Lucy.”

Lord Mandeville reached his wife’s side and bowed
. “Miss Rosemoor, Mrs. Tolland. A pleasure, as always.”

Jane curtseyed in reply
. “Why do you suppose it is that whenever Mandeville enters a room, it suddenly appears smaller?”  The ladies laughed easily. Jane had once teased Lucy that Lord Mandeville wasn’t so hard to look at, and it remained true. He cut a fine form indeed in his dark dress coat and perfectly knotted cravat. He was tall, dark, and imposing, and yet he gazed at his wife with such evident adoration in his indigo eyes that he set hearts aflutter wherever he went. Every woman wanted to be worshiped the way Lord Mandeville worshiped his wife.

“Where is Mr. Tolland tonight?” Lucy asked, her emerald eyes luminous in the candlelight
.

“He went off to the refreshment room some time ago
. I expect he’ll eventually find his way back,” Emily answered.

“If you ladies will excuse me one moment, there’s someone I wish to speak with.”  Lord Mandeville raised his wife’s hand and placed a kiss on her palm before striding off, the crowd seeming to part for him as he made his way through
.

Jane turned toward her friend with a smile
. “So, Lucy, tell us the latest
on-dits
. Which debutante are they calling this year’s
Incomparable
?”

“Without a doubt it’s Miss Dorothea Upshaw
. A very sweet-tempered girl. Have you made her acquaintance?”

“I don’t believe we have,” Jane answered.

“Who are her parents?” Emily asked.

“The Viscount and Viscountess Pemberton, from Surrey
. I’m sure they’re here tonight.”  Lucy rose on tiptoe and peered over Jane’s shoulder. “There, that’s Miss Dorothea dancing the Scotch reel with Sir John Astor. The lovely blonde in pale rose. I had the pleasure of speaking with her last week at Lady Stanley’s luncheon, and I confess I was surprised by her intelligence. Perhaps the tastes of the
ton
’s gentlemen are improving at last.”  

“One can only hope,” Jane replied with a grimace
.

At once the lively music quieted, and then struck up again with a waltz
.

Cecil reappeared at his wife’s side to claim her for the dance, and Emily took his arm and followed him onto the floor with a delighted smile
. Jane glanced over at Lucy, selfishly hoping that Lord Mandeville would remain engaged in his conversation a bit longer so that Lucy didn’t disappear as well, leaving her to stand there alone, without a partner.

“I wonder who was lucky enough to secure Miss Upshaw’s first waltz,” Lucy asked, rising up on tiptoe again
. “There she is, but I don’t recognize the gentleman. He’s uncommonly tall. I can’t quite make out his face. You look, Jane. You’re a good head taller than I am.”

Jane couldn’t understand Lucy’s sudden fascination with the girl, but looked nonetheless
. “Where? In rose, you said?”

“Yes, the pale rose crepe
. There.”  She cocked her head as a twirling pair glided by.

Jane lost sight of the girl in question, then craned her neck rather indecorously in an attempt to find her again
. “Wait, there they are. If they’d just spin back around so I could see his face. The backs of dress coats all look the same. Oh, there...”  Jane stilled, her breath caught in her throat.

Dear God
. It was Lord Westfield. She could only stare, open-mouthed, as Miss Upshaw tilted her head to one side and gazed up at him, her dimpled cheeks stained pink, her bow of a mouth curving into the most charming of smiles. Jane suddenly felt as if she might be ill.

“Well,” Lucy asked, reaching for her wrist
. “Do you recognize the man?”

“I...no,” Jane stuttered
. “I’m afraid I don’t.”  She looked around frantically as the waltz ended, seeking an escape as the dancers left the floor in pairs.

“Jane, whatever is wrong
? You’re acting so strangely.”

“Nothing’s wrong
. I’m just...I could use a lemonade, perhaps.”

Lucy peered up at her curiously, her brows knitted
. “Lucy,” Lord Mandeville called out, shouldering through the crowd. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”  He turned, and another man appeared at his side.

Jane’s stomach lurched yet again.

“Lucy, this is Hayden Moreland, the Earl of Westfield. Westfield, my wife, Lady Mandeville.”

Jane watched in horror as Lord Westfield took Lucy’s proffered hand, bowing and placing a kiss on her knuckles as she curtseyed
. Hurriedly, Jane ducked behind Lucy, prepared to flee.

“A pleasure, Lady Mandeville,” she heard Lord Westfield say
.

Wherever were Emily and Cecil
? Jane scanned the cavernous space, hoping desperately to locate them amongst the faces crowding toward the refreshment room. Purposefully, she dropped her fan and bent to retrieve it, glancing about nervously as she did so.

“Westfield and I went to Oxford together,” Mandeville offered
. “He’s my regular opponent at the fencing club, a fixture at White’s and an ally in Parliament, but until this year, I’ve not seen him actually enjoy the Season’s entertainments.”

Dear Lord, please don’t let him recognize my back
, Jane thought as she reluctantly straightened, still directly behind Lucy. She could not face him–not yet, not in this state of discomposure.

“Your husband has spoken highly of your talents,” Lord Westfield said, deftly changing the subject
. “Veterinary arts, he says, and I hear your stables are the finest in all of Essex.”

“I like to think so
. It
is
my passion,” Lucy replied, her voice full of pride. “Are you acquainted with my dear friend Miss Rosemoor?”  She felt Lucy turn, presumably looking at the empty space beside her. “Jane?” she called out.

“Miss
Jane
Rosemoor?” Westfield asked.

Jane had no choice but to turn around and step forward
. “Lord Westfield. What an unexpected surprise.”

He reached for her hand, and she obligingly raised it
. His eyes never left her face as his lips grazed her knuckles. Jane averted her gaze, her cheeks burning as she saw Lucy’s eyes widen with surprise.

“Then you’ve met Miss Rosemoor?” Mandeville asked.

“Indeed, I’ve had the pleasure.”  Hayden held her hand far too long before releasing it.

“Yes,” Jane added, finding her voice at last
. “We met this spring in Derbyshire. Lord Westfield is Mr. and Mrs. Tolland’s neighbor.”

“What an interesting coincidence,” Mandeville said.

“In fact, it is on account of Miss Rosemoor that I’m here tonight, forced to endure such nonsense, is it not?” Hayden asked.

“Is it?” Jane asked crisply
. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

Lucy’s head swung back and forth, from Hayden to Jane and back again, her curiosity evident in her expression.

“How is your ankle?” he asked
.

“Completely healed, thank you
. And have you fully recovered from your unfortunate spill into the pool?”

She saw a vein throb in his temple
. “Indeed I have. If you’re not otherwise engaged, Miss Rosemoor, might I request your next two dances?”

Jane resolutely shook her head
. “I’m afraid–”

“She’s not been engaged,” Lucy cut in
.

Jane shot her a mutinous glare
. “Very well,” she murmured, reaching for his arm and allowing him to escort her toward the dance floor.

“How dare you speak in such innuendo before my friends?” Jane hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot
.

“I only spoke the truth,” he said as he placed his hand at the small of her back
.

“Yes, well...
. Have you ever thought perhaps there’s a time to simply hold your tongue? Now I’ll never hear the end of her questions.” 

“Lady Mandeville seems charming
. I’m amazed at her accomplishments. Does her husband exaggerate her talents?”

“Not in the least, I’m sure
. Lady Mandeville has a special gift with animals.”

“Fascinating.”

“I agreed to dance, not make pleasant conversation,” Jane snapped, feeling peevish. She fixed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. “And you’re holding me much too closely,” she added.

She distinctly felt him pull her closer still
.

Just to vex her
. Just as before, his touch made her heart race, her skin tingle. Every time she looked at him, she remembered the sight of him standing in the pool, bathed in sunlight, his chest bared to her curious eyes. She couldn’t erase the image of his broad back, powerfully muscled, and the visible swell of pale buttocks peeking above the water. Her legs went wobbly at the memory, and it was all she could do to remain steady in his arms. Her weakness angered her, made her ill-tempered. She had no reason to be cross with him, after all. He was perfectly free to court whomever he wished, to dance with every debutante in the room if he so desired. Hadn’t he come to London to do just that, to find an appropriate bride?

She allowed her gaze to flit to his face, recognizing the risk
. What she saw there took her breath away. His gray-green eyes bored into her very soul. She felt her heart skip a beat as she tore her gaze away. He looked at her now just as he had that day by the pool, just before he’d kissed her. She’d desperately wanted to return his kiss, to feel his arms around her, but she’d known she couldn’t. Even as the delicious taste of his mouth had tempted her almost beyond reason, she’d managed to come to her senses and do the only thing she could think of to prove that she was immune to his charms–shove him into the water.

Drawn back to the present, she took a deep breath and returned her gaze to his face
. Never before had someone looked at her with such unconcealed desire, such longing. It was positively indecent. As the orchestra’s last strains faded away, Jane pulled away, barely able to catch her breath as her heart pounded erratically.

“I believe I’ve engaged you for
two
dances, Miss Rosemoor. I suppose your friends would be curious as to why you quitted my company after just one.”

“Oh, very well.”  She reluctantly returned to his arms as another waltz struck up
. “Haven’t you some debutante to trifle with?”

“I thought we were refraining from conversation,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching
. No doubt he was enjoying this exasperating game.

Hayden gazed down at Jane, fuming in his arms as they glided about the room. He studied her face as she did everything she could to avoid looking at him. He’d pressed each and every one of her lovely features to memory these past weeks, summoning her visage before him whenever he closed his eyes. She was every bit as beautiful as he’d remembered. Her glossy hair reflected the warm candlelight, and her skin almost appeared to glow. Her eyes appeared a richer blue than he’d remembered, the flicker of the flames above reflected in their depths. He inhaled her intoxicating scent, reminding him of honey mixed with exotic spices–a far cry from the usual rosewater or lavender that always seemed to emanate from the fairer sex. Her touch, her scent, her warmth–her very presence–heightened his every sense, prickled his skin, set his blood afire. While he held her in his arms, he came more fully alive. The very idea disturbed him greatly, and he refused to allow himself to ponder the implications.