Читать книгу A Little Bit Sinful - Adrienne Basso - Страница 10

Sebastian hurried down the hallway, paying scant attention to his surroundings. He passed beneath a gilded archway, then cursed under his breath when he realized he was standing in the duke’s ballroom, surrounded by a sea of grandly dressed people.

It seemed as if no one had declined the invitation for this party. The large room was overflowing with guests. Which was hardly surprising, since the duke was related to many of the most influential and wealthy families in England. Anyone who was anyone clamored to be a part of tonight’s festivities.

Sebastian’s initial hope that the distraction of the crowd would ease his black mood was quickly dashed. His face felt tight, his eyes hard. Slowly, he unclenched his fist. He could feel himself trembling inside, shaking with rage and disappointment.

I must control myself! A pair of French doors leading to the gardens was close. Without hesitation, Sebastian stalked outside, snatching a glass of champagne from a passing footman. Never breaking stride, he downed the liquid in one long gulp, hoping the action might help calm him.

Alas, it did not. Sebastian’s anger felt like a raging river, swollen to the edge of its banks with nowhere to go. He needed to leave, to go somewhere private, where he could be alone to release this scalding rage that threatened to consume him. Where he could drink until he was beyond feeling, beyond sense.

Vengeance is for God to decide. That was what his grandmother had repeated to him time and again when she had made him promise to leave the earl alone, to forgo any revenge. Had she been right? Should he turn the other cheek and forget?

For years he had taken his need for revenge and buried it deep inside himself. Could he do it again? Could he bury it so far, so deep that he never needed to face it? A vision of his mother’s lifeless body invaded his head. Sebastian felt a tightness growing in his stomach as he struggled to close his mind to the memory.

Oh God, Mother, why did you do it? Was your pain truly so unbearable? Did you not realize how much I loved you, how much I needed you, how much I would suffer with your death?

Sebastian felt wetness on his face and realized it was tears. Christ! He was blubbering like an infant. He wiped them away irritably with a shaking hand, then began walking again, consumed by his need to get away. Though he was outside, the air felt as if it were closing in on him. His evening shoes were grinding against the crushed stone pathway as he hastened to the garden wall, searching for an exit. But there was none to be found.

Sebastian grimaced and glared at the solid brick wall in front of him. Tipping his head, his eyes scanned and assessed the imposing stone that apparently enclosed the entire garden. It easily stood ten feet tall, with decorative ironwork adorning the top. Damnation! It was too high to scale in his tight-fitting evening clothes, and even if he somehow reached the summit, those sharp, lethal-looking iron points would surely do irreparable damage to his clothing. Or his manhood.

Would that not be the perfect ending to this disastrous night? Walking through the duke’s ballroom with a tear down the middle of his breeches and his arse hanging out for all to see?

Sebastian turned, took a few steps, then paused. Pivoting on his heel, he hurled his empty champagne goblet at the wall. The sound of shattering glass brought him a fleeting moment of satisfaction, yet did nothing to solve his dilemma. He was still trapped. In more ways than one.

With a grunt of frustration, Sebastian eyed the brick again, debating whether he should take a chance. But for once, common sense ruled. There was no help for it. He’d have to go back inside the house and through the ballroom in order to take his leave.

The duke’s servants had lit torches in strategic points throughout the garden and lanterns were scattered in the higher trees. They twinkled like stars and enhanced the romantic mood. Sebastian could hear snatches of muted conversations as he wound his way down the various stone pathways. Fortunately he did not stumble upon any romantic trysts.

He had no sooner stepped back inside the crowded ballroom when he was waylaid by Lady Agatha and the Dowager Countess of Ashland. If not for the friendship the two older women had shared with his grandmother, he would have snarled at the pair and sent them on their way. Yet even with his temper still simmering, he found he could not be so rude.

“I see that you are not dancing, my lord,” Lady Agatha said. “In deference to your recently departed grandmother, I am sure. ‘Tis such a heartfelt and respectful gesture. You do her memory proud.”

“Indeed.” The dowager countess bobbed her head enthusiastically in agreement. “However, as I recall, her greatest wish was to see you married to a suitable lady. It might be a more fitting honor if you set yourself to accomplishing that task by seeking out the company of a few of the eligible debutantes in attendance this evening.”

Lady Agatha pounced on the suggestion. “It might. The countess and I would be pleased to assist you.”

“Oh, yes. Truly. We know all the girls from the very best families.”

“We most certainly do. Mark my words, we could find you a suitable bride in a fortnight. Tell me, Lord Benton, do you prefer a lady with light or dark hair?”

Sebastian felt a tightening in his gut. The urge to reach out with both hands and place them around Lady Agatha’s wrinkled neck was almost overpowering. But that would leave the countess free to continue talking. Perhaps he could bang their heads together?

“‘Tis a most generous offer, ladies,” Sebastian replied. “Having someone else procure a woman to please and entertain is something men fantasize over. I will most definitely call upon you if there is ever a time when I feel incapable of accomplishing the task on my own. Or if I lack the sufficient coin to pay for the pleasure.”

Knowing he had gone too far, Sebastian forced himself to smile in order to leave the impression he was joking. Too bad he wasn’t.

Still, his scandalous, improper remarks produced the desired effect. Lady Agatha and the countess went mute. Sebastian hastily bowed, then made his escape.

He was forced to take a meandering path through the crowd as he headed toward the exit. He did not pause to speak with anyone, though several people attempted to engage him in conversation. One particular set of ladies approached him with open, encouraging smiles, but the expression on his face must have conveyed his turbulent frame of mind, for they gave him a wide berth.

Yet as they passed him one woman snapped open her fan, then raised it to her lips to hide her comments. Disparaging remarks, judging by her frowning brows. About him, Sebastian was certain. God Almighty, would this evening never end?

He continued to move through the crush, his spirits rising slightly when he caught sight of the large, open archway leading out of the ballroom. At least he could finally see his way out. But the crowd seemed to be growing and he quickly found himself pressed close behind two chattering females, one in a gown of vivid green, and the other in an ensemble of subtle blue.

“Who is that insipid-looking redhead over there near the potted fronds?” Green Dress asked. “I’m sure I’ve never seen her before.”

Blue Dress tugged at the dangling ribbon around her wrist, raised the attached quizzing glass up to her eye, and peered through the lens. “Oh, I met her earlier. ‘Tis the Earl of Hetfield’s daughter. Straight from the country, by the look of that outfit.”

The Earl of Hetfield’s daughter! Sebastian’s head whirled so quickly he felt a wrenching pain shoot through his neck.

“My heavens, it is such a dreadful gown. Does she not own a looking glass? Truly, one would expect more from Lord Hetfield. How can he allow her to be seen in public? ‘Tis an embarrassment.” Green Dress shuddered, moving her hand over the silk of her own skirt, as if to assure herself that she was in a superiorly fashionable garment.

“She has a pretty sort of face, I suppose, but honestly, what was the earl thinking bringing her to Town after the Season has begun?” Blue Dress asked. “All the competent, fashionable dressmakers have been booked for weeks working on their clients’ wardrobe. My maid told me that Madame Claudette nearly doubled the price of each garment when the earl insisted the gowns he ordered be ready as soon as possible.”

“Did he pay it?”

“Judging by the dress his daughter is currently wearing, one must assume he did not.”

There was a catty giggle, followed by a tsking sound of disapproval. What a pair of harridans! Sebastian could almost pity the poor girl, but her connection to the earl made that an impossibility. She was the daughter of his enemy.

“Who is that dowdy female standing beside her?” Blue Dress asked. “Though a bit long in the tooth, she still looks too young to be a chaperone.”

Sebastian did not bother waiting to hear Green Dress’s reply. The Earl of Hetfield’s daughter, eh? He had not known the earl had a daughter. His heart started to race. Anxiously he crossed the crowded ballroom floor, eager for a better look. Merely out of curiosity, he assured himself.

His eyes moved to the potted fronds. Bloody hell. A pretty sort of face? The young woman standing in the soft candlelight took his breath away. Her hair was a cascade of amber curls artfully swept up to bare her neck, her skin the color of rich cream. Her features were perfectly formed, perfectly proportioned. She had the ethereal, classic feminine beauty that transcended time, the kind of beauty that poets wrote of, that drove sane men to rash acts.

She appeared fresh and innocent and slightly nervous. He could detect her nerves by the way her head was constantly turning every which way as she took in the scene around her. Every few moments she would turn toward the woman standing beside her and say something. The subsequent answers given invariably made her smile. Interesting.

Sebastian was surprised she was not surrounded by a bevy of eager young bucks, each clamoring for her attention. Fashionably dressed or not, she was easily one of the most attractive females in the room.

The Earl of Hetfield approached and Sebastian’s mood turned sour. The young beauty turned, smiled, then affectionately patted the earl’s arm. He leaned close and whispered something in her ear. Her smile widened further.

A haze fell over Sebastian’s vision. The picture of a doting father with his daughter tore at something deep inside him. Here was the earl, free to indulge himself in parental affection while Sebastian’s mother was forever denied that joy.

Noting again with bitterness the apparent affection between the pair, a devious thought suddenly struck Sebastian. This lovely, innocent, virginal girl could hold the key to his revenge. The earl might not wish to defend his honor over a pair of cards, but he most certainly would risk all to save his daughter from ruin.

Sebastian was pricked by his elusive conscience, but only for a brief instant. This female was a means to an end and if it was the only way to achieve his revenge, then so be it.

His experience with females was almost legendary, yet Sebastian prided himself on the fact that he had always behaved like a gentleman. The various mistresses he had kept over the years had been amply rewarded financially and always treated with dignity.

The numerous affairs he had engaged in had always been with willing society women of experience who knew fully the consequences of their actions. They knew he would not marry them; indeed, often they were already married.

There had been several widows who had campaigned to be his viscountess, but he had made his views on matrimony very clear—he planned to stay single until he was at least forty. Even the constant badgering from his grandmother to take a wife had not altered this stand.

He had never outwardly lied to a lady, nor made promises he had no intention of keeping. And he most definitely had never seduced an innocent girl and then cast her aside.

There’s always a first time.

Many a duel had been fought to preserve or restore a daughter’s honor. Especially a young, innocent daughter. Sebastian grimaced.

Seducing the redheaded beauty would not be easy, since he would need to keep it a secret from the earl. After the incident this evening in the card room, Hetfield would naturally be suspicious of him. However, if he succeeded in ruining the girl in the eyes of society—and Sebastian was highly confident he would succeed—the earl would have no choice but to defend his family’s honor.

Sebastian gazed again at his pretty young victim. Something jabbed inside him at the thought of what she would suffer. The censure of many, the relentless whispers of the gossipmongers, a scandal that would forever plague her. Yet beautiful women, he reasoned, always seemed to find their bearing and achieve their goals. Some man would eventually marry her, despite her tarnished reputation, and count himself lucky to have such a lovely wife.

At least she would escape with her life, which was far more than his poor mother. For a split second he worried that rationalization was solely to ease his conscience, but just as quickly, Sebastian tossed it out of his mind.

The earl laughed loudly at something his daughter said. Sebastian’s lips also quirked upward, though his smile held no humor. His grandmother had been wrong. Vengeance was not for the Lord, but rather man’s work. Sebastian knew the only hope he had to bring some measure of peace to his life was to strike back at the man who had caused his pain.

And now he had found a way to do it.

Eleanor became aware of the intense stare of the man across the room as the third waltz of the evening was played. He strolled the perimeter of the ballroom, yet his eyes never wavered. There was a determined, methodic edge to his scrutiny that was slightly alarming, for it seemed to go deeper than polite interest.

Naturally, this attention was not directed at her, but rather at Bianca. No one ever noticed the moon when the sun was shining so brightly. Normally, interest in Bianca from a handsome man would be welcome, but Eleanor had not been impressed by any of the gentlemen who had pressed forward for an introduction this evening.

The majority had been older, some as old as their father. A few had a desperate air about them, two greeted her with a lascivious smile, another openly leered at Bianca as he held her hand too long. This would most certainly not have happened if the earl had been there to offer Bianca support and protection, but he abandoned them soon after they arrived. He had briefly returned to check on them and just as swiftly removed himself outside for a smoke.

Eleanor shuddered to think how Bianca would have managed without her. As it was, it felt like her lovely, innocent sister was a lamb thrown to the wolves.

Though she did not voice any distress, Eleanor could see that Bianca was very nervous. Not so much for herself, Bianca had confided as they entered the ballroom, but her younger sister was mostly concerned about disappointing or displeasing their father. She was anxious that she would inadvertently make a misstep or appear awkward.

It angered Eleanor to see how much her sister cared, especially when contrasted with how little concern their father showed in return. Eleanor sighed, trying to control her anger, knowing it would only serve to distress Bianca. Attempting to distract it, she looked about the room. And realized the same gentleman was still staring at Bianca.

His eyes had a predatory look of a hunter on the scent of fresh meat. That hungry gaze of interest set the alarm bells clanging loudly in Eleanor’s head.

She shifted her position to stand protectively in front of her sister and for a brief instant his eyes met Eleanor’s across the room. An unexpected wave of heat flushed through her body. An odd reaction, surely, for though he was a handsome man, there were others in attendance possessing greater physical beauty.

He was tall, taller than most men she knew, with broad shoulders, muscular legs, and not an ounce of extra fat on his lean torso. His hair was dark and thick, his eyes the color of a stormy gray sky. The serene smile on his sensuous mouth softened the strong, bold lines of his face and enhanced his natural charm.

He was dressed in a black evening coat with black satin knee breeches, a gold embroidered waistcoat, a white shirt, and an intricately tied white cravat. He wore his clothes with a casual elegance that proclaimed him a man of great self-confidence and pride.

Eleanor scrunched her brows into a scowl, hoping to chase away his scrutiny, then realized his gaze was no longer on them. His eyes were darting about the crowded ballroom. Perhaps looking for his partner for the next dance?

A laughing group of guests stepped in front of him, and her view of him was gone. Shaking her head at her foolishness, Eleanor turned to her sister.

“Are you getting hungry? ‘Tis nearly time for the supper dance. If I remember correctly that means the food has already been placed in the dining room. If we go now we can avoid the crush.”

Bianca slowly shook her head. “I know you told me at these affairs the food is plentiful and lavish, but honestly, Eleanor, I couldn’t swallow a bite.”

“I understand.”

Eleanor patted her sister’s arm soothingly before noticing out of the corner of her eye that the handsome stranger was coming toward them. And he was not alone. Perched on his arm was a matronly woman dressed all in black. She was frowning in confusion as she took two quick steps to each of the mystery man’s one. Eleanor decided she had to be a relative. What other woman would tolerate such manhandling?

The pair was heading directly toward them. Eleanor opened her fan and waved it absently before her face, hoping Bianca had not noticed these two. She was already a bundle of nerves. The attention of this arresting gentleman might push her over the edge.

“Ladies, I am sorry to interrupt, but the viscount is most insistent that I make an introduction.”

Eleanor watched the older woman’s bosom expand mightily as she sought to control her rapid breathing. The delay caused the gentleman’s impatience to rise and he pressed himself forward.

“I am Benton,” he said, fixing Bianca with a steady look as he bowed.

“Such impertinence, Lord Benton!” the older woman beside him exclaimed, pressing a hand over her still-heaving bosom. “Have your manners gone totally missing? You hauled me all the way over here so quickly one would think we were fleeing a fire. The very least you can do is allow me to make the introductions. Properly.”

Lord Benton’s eyes flashed hard and dangerous, then settled into a contrite gleam. “My apologies, Lady Agatha.”

Lady Agatha harrumphed rather loudly. Eleanor would not have been surprised to see the older woman storm off in a huff, but then she noticed Lord Benton’s hand clutching Lady Agatha’s arm, preventing her escape.

With all eyes on her, Lady Agatha rose grandly to the occasion. “Now then, ladies, I would like to present Sebastian Dodd, Viscount Benton. These two enchanting creatures are the daughters of the Earl of Hetfield. Lady Eleanor and Lady Bianca.”

Eleanor and Bianca curtsied, the viscount bowed. Eleanor found herself gazing at his face, her eyes drawn to the strong line of his jaw, the firm, sensuous shape of his mouth. He had such marvelously appealing lips. She wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him, to squeeze those broad, muscular shoulders as his lips brushed hers.

“Lady Eleanor?”

Blinking in embarrassment, Eleanor inhaled a shaky breath. What was wrong with her? The viscount clearly had no interest in her. Besides, such improper, risqué thoughts about a virtual stranger were ridiculous—and very much out of her character. “I beg your pardon, Lady Agatha. I did not hear your question.”

Though Eleanor could have sworn it had been a female voice that was talking, it was the viscount who spoke.

“Lady Agatha and I were wondering why we have not seen either of you in Town.”

“Bianca and I usually reside at our home in the country,” she answered. “We have only recently arrived.”

“How fortunate. Your presence adds the beauty we were missing and will serve to elevate the Season to a spectacular level,” he said grandly.

Eleanor nearly rolled her eyes at the flowery sentiment. “London hardly lacks for beautiful women, my lord.”

“Pretty, perhaps. Yet none quite as lovely as the two of you.” He spoke the words to her, since she had answered him, but it was plain to all that he meant them for Bianca. “I believe there are many gentlemen who will take umbrage with the earl for delaying your arrival in Town.”

“I have a suspicion that the earl is the type of man who keeps his most precious things hidden away, out of sight,” Lady Agatha interjected with a superior smirk.

Bianca lowered her head modestly. Eleanor smiled dimly, relieved that a female’s vapid smile was usually taken as a sign of agreement. Precious things! How preposterous. Why, if they knew the truth about the earl’s treatment of his daughters they would be appalled.

So tell them. A devilish urge of honesty was something that plagued Eleanor at the most inconvenient times. As much as she would have liked to dispel this myth about their father, it would hurt and embarrass her sister. Not to mention enlightening any of these people as to her father’s true character would be social suicide.

“Now that we have been properly introduced, I shall shamelessly beg for the honor of a dance,” Lord Benton said. “Lady Bianca?”

Bianca looked down at the viscount’s extended hand, then over at Eleanor. Heart fluttering with worry, Eleanor eyed the viscount suspiciously. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes told her he was too old for her gentle sister, the arrogance in his sensual smile bespoke of a sophistication way beyond Bianca’s comprehension.

But Bianca’s eyes were pleading with her to agree. She had promised herself she would be vigilant, yet not unreasonable with the men who paid court to her sister. So Eleanor nodded her head in permission.

Bianca’s face broke into a smile. “I shall be delighted to dance with you, my lord.”

In silence, Eleanor and Lady Agatha watched the pair walk away. “What can you tell me about the viscount?” Eleanor asked the moment the couple took their place in line for the quadrille.

The older woman nodded in understanding. “A handsome devil, is he not? And more than charming, especially when the mood suits him.”

“Unmarried?”

“Of course. I would not have made the introduction if he were a married man.” Lady Agatha lifted her chin and let out an offended sniff. “He has an old and distinguished title. The Dodds were royalists who fought beside King Charles and were rewarded handsomely for their loyalty when the throne was reclaimed. On his mother’s side he can trace his ancestry back to the Conqueror, though there is rumored to be some Welsh blood mixed in several generations ago.”

Lady Agatha’s tone implied that was not a desirable connection, but Eleanor dismissed it as insignificant. “I do not want a list of his pedigree, Lady Agatha. What of his character? Is he a good man?”

“Good? Why, he is good at many things. An excellent rider, a keen shot, a fashionable dresser, as you can plainly see. He runs with a bit of a fast crowd, though that part of his life is clearly changing. His close friend the Marquess of Atwood married last year and has settled well into domesticity.”

Eleanor had difficulty picturing Lord Benton doing the same. Still, it could happen. She digested the information thoughtfully. “So you believe it is Viscount Benton’s intention to follow his friend’s lead and marry?”

Lady Agatha shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I have heard nothing specific about Benton actively seeking a bride this Season. But a man of his years must be thinking about settling down and setting up his nursery. I know it was his grandmother’s fondest wish. What better way to honor her recent passing than to marry a suitable young woman?”

It was a skillful, yet evasive answer. What exactly was Lady Agatha trying to hide? Knowing she had only a limited amount of time to question the older woman, Eleanor considered the best way to get to the heart of the matter. “Tell me, Lady Agatha, would you encourage your granddaughter to set her cap for the viscount?”

The look of horror on Lady Agatha’s face was all the answer Eleanor needed. “Goodness me, Emily is such a sheltered, timid girl. I’m certain Benton would not look twice at her.”

“Bianca is equally young and naive,” Eleanor replied tartly. “I thank you for your honesty, Lady Agatha.”

“Good heavens, Lady Eleanor, I fear you have misunderstood my remarks,” Lady Agatha began, but she was silenced by the arrival of Bianca and the viscount.

They were all smiles, clearly having enjoyed their time together. Eleanor waited, curious to see what the viscount would do next. It would be exceedingly forward if he asked Bianca to dance with him a second time.

For one wild, impulsive moment she wondered whether he would solicit her for the next dance. Eleanor’s hand tightened on her fan. The very idea gave her a flash of excitement and she felt embarrassed for being so foolish.

“I usually ride in the park at the fashionable afternoon hour,” the viscount said. “I do hope if we chance to meet, you will take pity on me and spare me more than a moment of your delightful company, Lady Bianca.”

Bianca cast confused eyes toward Eleanor, clearly at a loss how to reply. Though they had been in Town for several days, Bianca’s lack of a fashionable wardrobe had kept them virtual prisoners inside their rented townhome. They had not ventured much beyond the few blocks surrounding the residence, coming reluctantly to this evening’s ball only at the earl’s insistence.

“I am uncertain as to what my plans will be tomorrow,” Bianca finally answered.

“Just say you will be there.”

Bianca lowered her chin and blushed, her nod of acceptance barely perceptible.

The viscount smiled. “I look forward with great anticipation to seeing you again, Lady Bianca. And you also, Lady Eleanor,” he added hastily, casting a consolatory glance in Eleanor’s direction.

Her spine stiffened. She had no need of his pity.

Eleanor extended her hand in farewell, fascinated by the sudden tingling that shot through her when she ever-so-briefly touched the viscount’s palm. Eleanor felt her cheeks warm at her schoolgirl reaction. She was far too mature to be so easily thrown into confusion by such a simple gesture.

“How was your dance?” Eleanor asked her sister the moment they were alone.

“Wonderful.” The smile of delight reached Bianca’s eyes, making them sparkle. “Lord Benton is very skillful. And when I accidentally missed a step, he apologized and said it was his fault, when it so obviously was mine. He is a true gentleman.”

Two charming dimples appeared in Bianca’s cheeks as her grin deepened. Seeing them made Eleanor’s heart turn over.

“You liked the viscount?”

“Very much indeed.”

“You don’t think he is a bit old for you?”

“Old? Not at all. He’s probably only a few years older than you. Surely you noticed all the other gentlemen who danced with me are as old as Papa.” Bianca wrinkled her nose. “Or older.”

“Yes, I had noticed.” Eleanor bit her lower lip and sternly admonished herself to calm down. In her opinion, the viscount’s age and reputation made him unsuitable for Bianca, but she was not going to say anything just yet.

Her sister had met very few appealing men tonight. Once her wardrobe was completed and they entered society fully there would be plenty of handsome, suitable men vying for her sister’s affection. It stood to reason that the exposure to other young gentlemen would make the viscount less engaging.

Eleanor knew she couldn’t count on their father to protect Bianca—that job would fall to her. And she fully intended to remain vigilant. This was Bianca’s chance to make a good match and Eleanor would not allow it to be squandered. She was determined to do all that she could to ensure her sister achieved the happiness she so richly deserved.

A happiness that Eleanor was certain would not be found with a rogue like Lord Benton.