Читать книгу The Duke's Daring Debutante - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 9
ОглавлениеSeated in his curricle, Minette watched Freddy leap nimbly aboard to take the reins. He showed no sign of discomfort or awkwardness. She’d noticed that, although he limped, he did not seem to find whatever ailed his leg an impediment. Except when people offered him a seat as if he were some sort of invalid. Then he looked ready for murder.
The horses’ hooves ringing on the cobbles, they turned onto Broad Street. The roads were quiet at this time of night and, in this quarter of Town, ill lit. Ruffians lurked in shadows, watching their passing with keen eyes. It said something about the dangerous air of the man beside her that their carriage suffered no interference and they soon reached the well-kept streets of Mayfair.
‘Why do you never come to see Gabe and Nicky?’ Minette asked. ‘Are you too good for us now you are a duke?’
The streetlight caught his grim expression in stark relief. ‘Gabe has moved on. It is better if no one knows of our prior...association.’
Gabe had once worked as a spy, too. ‘He saved the King’s life.’ The attempted assassination had never been mentioned in the newspapers, and Moreau remained at large. The sound of his name in her head left a bitter taste on her tongue. A vile concoction of betrayal, regret and guilt.
‘If you would accept my help, I am sure we could find him more quickly,’ she said.
‘You need someone to put you over a knee and give you a spanking,’ he muttered.
She swivelled in her seat to face him and traced a fingertip along the length of his thigh. ‘Is that your idea of fun with a woman?’
He turned a choke into a cough, and she smiled innocently up at him as the next streetlamp caught her full in the face.
‘You little minx,’ he said, when he finally caught his breath. ‘You should know better.’
Since Gabe had first warned her and Nicky that Moreau had been recalled to France, she’d been expecting him to show up in England. He wasn’t one to leave unfinished business. She’d had her French maid, Christine, ask discreetly among the émigrés. Moreau, as he’d called himself in England, had destroyed more lives than the English could even guess at. The families of those people had long memories. ‘I have a contact who will give us the name of someone who has seen him.’
‘Us.’
He made a sound of scorn, the kind one’s elders made when one said something stupid. Apparently her kiss—she resisted the urge to touch her lips where the heat of his mouth on hers still lingered—hadn’t convinced him he was dealing with a woman grown. If he knew, if any of them knew what she’d done...
She should never have allowed Nicky to bring her out, as they called it here in London. They all thought her so sweet and innocent. How could she reveal the truth when Nicky had given up her own dreams to protect her little sister? Nicky had married the brutal Count Vilandry to keep Minette safe and she had thrown that sacrifice away. So now she faced the prospect of refusing any and all perfectly acceptable offers of marriage. And there would be offers. She wasn’t an antidote, as Gabe called ladies lacking in charms, and the dowry Gabe had so generously bestowed on her made her a very eligible parti.
But that was mostly her problem. Worse was the weapon she had given Moreau. He could, whenever he wished, destroy her and Gabe and Nicky with the gift she had given him. He would have no hesitation to use it against them. It did not bear thinking about. ‘I won’t get in your way. I would help identify him and ask him one question. Nothing more.’
‘No.’
Men. They never listened. ‘As you please.’ She folded her hands in her lap in a parody of innocence.
Freddy shot her an exasperated glance mingled with something she could not quite read. ‘If there was any possibility at all of you being able to accomplish the matter alone, you would not have come to me for help.’
The man had a brain. Gabe had said he’d been brilliant at university. Too clever by half, she’d always thought, when she’d tried to cheat him at cards. And he knew it, which was worse. ‘It needs money to get my informant to give up what they know.’
He pulled the carriage into the alley behind the mews in Grosvenor Square. Relief shot through her. Until that moment she’d half expected he would give her away to Gabe. At least he wasn’t going to give her up tonight. Perhaps she was making some headway.
‘You want money.’ He sounded aggrieved, as if she should have wanted something different. ‘Who is this contact you speak of?’
‘Why would I tell you when you won’t help me?’ Her maid, an émigrée, had been given only a titbit of information. ‘Please, Freddy.’
‘You picked the wrong man for your games. Tomorrow I will have the truth. Or I will reveal the whole to Gabe.’
He tied off the horses’ reins, jumped clear and helped her down. He gazed at the garden gate she’d left ajar. ‘Bolt that behind you.’
She stepped inside and then turned to look up at him, put her hand on his arm and felt him tense. ‘I don’t care how much you and Gabe badger me, I will tell you nothing unless you involve me in the plan for Moreau’s capture. It is of the utmost importance.’ It was the most she dared say and she was surprised she was trusting him this much. Except that he had never made her feel unsafe. Irritated, yes. Annoyed, yes. But never in any danger.
He put his hand on the brick wall and loomed over her. ‘Why?’
‘I told you. I was his victim. I need to know he can never harm me or Nicky again, even if it means killing him.’ She held her breath.
His eyes widened. ‘You will not approach him.’
‘Not if you agree to my involvement.’
A frustrated growl issued from his throat.
‘Don’t call in the morning,’ she said. ‘I will know more tomorrow night. Meet me at Gosport’s ball and we can talk again.’ She whisked inside and shut and bolted the gate behind her.
A fist slammed against the wood.
‘Hush,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll wake someone.’
She fled down the garden path in case he should decide to break his way in, but as she slid through the French doors into the breakfast room she heard the sound of his carriage moving off.
Everything depended on the slim chance she’d told him enough to stop him from exposing her visit to Gabe in the morning.
Nicky’s future depended on it.
She touched a finger to her lips, remembering their kiss. How quickly she had responded, how good it had felt. The intensity, almost as if he, too, had felt something deeper between them than passing lust.
Ridiculous. It was his attempt to scare her, that was all. There had never been any doubt in her mind that he disliked her. Probably because she was French. His whole purpose in life was to defeat her countrymen.
* * *
‘Now, don’t you look as fine as fivepence? Bang up to the knocker, you might say.’
Freddy met Barker’s gaze in the mirror and grinned. ‘Sartorial elegance are the words you are seeking.’
Barker liked to pretend he came from the stews rather than a respectable merchant family. ‘Unlikely.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Pity you can’t do something about your expression. You look like a man walking up the steps to the nubbin’ cheat.’
The gallows would be preferable to what he had planned for tonight. ‘Are you sure no one has seen him?’
‘Nary a peep, but we’ll find him, given time.’
Freddy cursed. With Minette on the rampage, he didn’t have time. Neither did he want to play foolish games with manipulating little baggages like Minette Rideau. He should have gone to see Gabe this morning, but that would have finished any hope he’d have of getting her to talk. He’d recognised the signs. He certainly didn’t want her going off half-cocked and ruining any chance they had of finding Moreau before he did any damage. She was as stubborn as she was beautiful. He closed his eyes briefly as the recollection of their kiss flooded his mind. The feel of her soft body pressed against his own. His blood heated. Damn it all, that was the last thing he needed.
He gave one more twitch to his neckcloth and turned from the mirror.
Barker held up his coat, fingering the cloth. ‘As fine a bit of yardage as I’ve ever seen. Weston, did you say?’
‘Yes.’ He slid his arms into the sleeves, and Barker eased the coat over his shoulders.
It was like slipping into a disguise. The persona of aristocrat, rather than that of owner of a hell-cum-brothel. It was the latter part that stuck in the craw of the ton. A gentleman might not mind enjoying its offerings but they didn’t want their wives near the owner of a bawdy house. Not that a truly ambitious mama would care if she thought she had a chance at the title.
The main reason he never went to balls and such.
Hopefully, the Gosports wouldn’t throw their uninvited guest out on his ear. While the ducal title trumped a mere baron any day of the week, likely his host wouldn’t be pleased at such a disgraceful duke darkening his doors.
Freddy grinned at the alliteration. It would make a good title for one of the romances the ladies like to read.
‘Is the carriage ready?’ he asked.
He’d had his mother’s town carriage dragged out and dusted off. Lord, his father must be turning in his grave right now, given the path his heir had decided to follow. As if he wasn’t disappointing enough as it was.
‘Ready and waiting, guv. Er...I mean, Your Grace.’
‘No need to stand on ceremony, Barker. You know me too well for that.’ Barker had dragged him home half-seas over too many times after long nights of talking to his eyes and ears in London’s lowest taverns to scrape and bow to his title.
Barker grinned. ‘Right you are, then, guv. Time we were off.’
Freddy grinned back. Whatever happened, tonight was going to be unpleasant, but at least it wouldn’t be boring. Minette Rideau was never dull.
When he arrived at Gosports’ house he saw that he had timed his arrival to perfection. The receiving line had already abandoned its post at the head of the stairs, his host and hostess off enjoying their party. He slipped the butler a coach wheel. The man closed his fist over the silver coin and agreed there was no need to announce a latecomer, particularly since he’d come at the behest of another guest.
Following the sound of music, Freddy ascended the stairs to the first floor and located the ballroom. A large drawing room with the furniture removed and a three-man orchestra at one end.
Minette, in proper debutante white, looked glorious, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling as she pirouetted beneath the arm of a fresh-faced youth. This was what a girl like her should be doing. Dancing. Flirting. Establishing herself in society. It would be a shame to spoil all that, but if he had to he would tell Gabe what she’d been up to and have her sent to rusticate at his country house until they had Moreau firmly in their grasp.
Her glance met his across the room. He stilled. Caught by the laughing brightness of her face. His chest tightened. She wouldn’t be smiling at him by the end of the evening. Most likely she’d hate him. The thought made him feel colder than usual. He scanned the room, found Gabe and Nicky standing with a group of friends. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.
‘Freddy. I didn’t know you would be here tonight.’ Arthur Stone’s cheerful greeting at his back had him spinning around.
Arthur, his cousin, put out a hand to steady him. Freddy gritted his teeth, avoided the clutching hand and smiled. ‘A surprise to me, too.’
The slow-top frowned his puzzlement. ‘It is good to see you, Freddy.’ He winced. ‘I suppose I should be calling you Duke now or Falconwood.’
‘Freddy will do, cuz. Falconwood sounds too much like Father to me.’
His cousin’s open countenance cleared of worry. He had a naturally cheerful disposition and a dullness of intellect Freddy found hard work, but he was a nice enough chap. ‘It’s hard to believe the old fellow’s been gone more than a year, isn’t it?’ His cousin glanced about him, pity in his eyes. ‘There are some chairs over there by the wall if you need to sit down. I’d be more than happy sit and keep you company.’
Pity for Freddy’s lame leg. Along with the unease people generally felt around someone less than whole. Not to mention a man whose mother had accused him of making a play for the dukedom. A charge levelled behind his back but never laid to his face. Fratricide. The unspoken word lingered in the air like the smell of rotten eggs.
Rather than offering to plant the man a facer, Freddy ignored the suggestion that he sit, along with those other unspoken sentiments. ‘How is the family?’
‘The boys are just like me at their age, full of pluck.’ His face beamed with pride.
Freddy liked that most about his cousin, his love of his boys. ‘I imagine they have grown a great deal since I saw them last.’
‘You really ought to pay us a visit. I’ll have Liz send you an invitation.’
He couldn’t think of anything worse. If Arthur was oversolicitous, his wife vacillated between offers to help the poor benighted invalid and the secret worry that he might yet marry, beget a family of his own and cut out her sons. He had the feeling she agreed with the old duke, his father, that if his older brother had to die in the accident, when they had been little more than boys on the cusp of manhood, it would have been better if Freddy had found the decency to accompany his brother to the pearly gates.
The old man was likely right. And if Freddy had been a kinder man, he would set Liz’s mind at rest. He had no intention of passing on what his father had called, on good days, the taint in his blood.
He watched Minette chattering to the woman beside her in the set and found the tension in his shoulders easing. ‘Perhaps I’ll come down during hunting season.’
‘Hunting?’ Anxiety creased Arthur’s brow. ‘It’s rough country, you know.’ His brow smoothed out. ‘Shooting, you mean. The very thing. We can carry a chair out with us in case...’ He seemed to realise his words were not going down all that well. ‘See how you feel on the day, what?’
Such a dolt, his heir who would one day inherit the dukedom. Biting back the words, he bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, I need a drink.’
He found his way to the refreshment table and had the lackey pour him a brandy. A few minutes with Arthur always left him ready for murder. Guilt pushing to the forefront, no doubt. Glass in hand, he watched Gabe and Nicky chat with friends, but could not bring himself to join them. He hated to break up what looked like a merry party. Such a handsome couple and the darlings of the ton.
Three years ago he would have wagered his best horse that Gabe would never marry. What must it be like? Marriage? And now incipient fatherhood. The emptiness inside him seemed to expand at the reminder of his vow. He downed the brandy as the group around his friends dispersed and walked over to join them.
‘Quelle surprise,’ Nicky said, greeting him with obvious pleasure. ‘I thought you must be hibernating somewhere in the country it is so long since we saw you.’
Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘Stop prying.’ He gave Freddy an intense look. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Perfect.’
They both knew it for a lie, but there were too many ears in such a public place to say more. Gabe was no longer involved in espionage. He was part of the establishment now. It was certainly not the right place to reveal what his ward had been up to. Indeed, Freddy hoped that tonight’s conversation with Minette would put a halt to any need to do so. The set came to an end and Minette tripped back to her sister, her lovely face radiant. She dipped a curtsey to Freddy. ‘Your Grace. How unexpected.’
Minx. She knew he’d have no choice but to gather the information she’d promised. He forced himself to ignore the way his blood stirred at the saucy look she cast up at him from beneath thick russet lashes. Somehow she managed to convey all manner of wickedness with a glance beyond any demure English miss. The French called it je ne sais quois. Whatever it was, it exuded from her skin like sensual perfume.
But he was not completely lacking in the charm department, as more than one woman had told him. Though he suspected it was his title they found alluring. ‘Miss Rideau. May I compliment you on your appearance? The other ladies present are no doubt gnashing their teeth.’
Her amber eyes danced with laughter, while her expression remained innocent. ‘Or perhaps they are jealous because I am the only unmarried lady such a great personage has deigned to speak with this evening. You only have to dance with me to completely ruin their night.’
Beside him, Nicky shifted. She knew he could not dance and was tender-hearted enough not to want him embarrassed. Strangely, though, Minette’s words warmed him deep inside. It was as if she had not noticed his halting gait. Or thought nothing of it. The girl certainly had a way, like no other, of catching him off guard. He kept his face impassive. ‘I do not dance, but let us take a stroll about the room, unless you have another partner waiting for this next set?’
‘Oh, pooh. ’Tis only Granby and he is nowhere to be seen.’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘He must have forgotten.’
The young idiot was probably somewhere hiding behind one of the potted palms strategically placed around the room, in case Freddy was inclined to tell Gabe about his lapse in judgement.
‘Run along,’ Gabe said, smiling, but with puzzlement clear in his eyes. Not surprising when he and Minette usually traded nothing but barbs.
Gabe turned to Nicky. ‘Madame, may I have this next dance?’ His voice was a caress, and Nicky blushed like a girl.
‘Certainement.’
They strolled out onto dance floor.
Their happiness filled Freddy with gladness for his friend but, damn it, he missed Gabe. They had worked well together.
He guided Minette in a gentle stroll around the dance floor, not bothering to smooth out his gait. When he’d been younger he had spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror, trying to appear normal. It had been a complete waste of time.
‘So,’ she said, sotto voce, ‘you have considered my proposition?’
‘The answer remains the same. And in case you have forgotten, it is no.’
Her chin went up.
‘Also,’ he continued, ‘if you even think about going after Moreau yourself, I’ll have you arrested for treason.’
Her eyes widened a fraction, something dark skated across their gold-flecked depths that had him tensing. What the hell wasn’t she telling him?
Her smile turned mischievous, a feminine sideways glance that had his blood running hot. ‘You’d have to catch me first,’ she murmured in velvet tones.
God, it sounded salacious, a challenge of a very different sort.
‘Stop it,’ he said, keeping his voice cold with some effort. ‘Keep your tricks for the likes of Granby.’
She laughed. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think you were jealous.’
Something like a growl rose in his throat. He stopped it dead.
‘My informant discovered someone who has seen Moreau. Knows the name he is using,’ she said, as lightly as if she’d passed a comment on the weather.
He only just stopped himself from grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. It was the information he and his men had been seeking for weeks. ‘Who is this informant?’
She dipped a curtsey at a passing matron of obvious consequence. ‘I won’t tell, unless you agree to let me speak to Moreau before you arrest him. I have a plan. Bother, here comes Granby. We can’t talk here. I’ll make an excuse and meet you in the library in a few minutes.’
‘Minette—’
But she was already moving towards the lieutenant, who had halted a few feet away, his expression wary.
Damn it. He should leave. See her tomorrow in Gabe’s presence. But he had the feeling that if he did not talk to her tonight, she might not be at Gabe’s house in the morning. Why the hell did she want to speak with a man who had held her prisoner for several weeks? There was something she had not told them when she had been rescued. Something he had the feeling he needed to know before he went after the man.
He strode out of the ballroom, heading for the library.
* * *
Men, Minette thought darkly as she moved down the set with a smile pinned to her lips. They always thought a woman needed protection from the least little thing. She glanced around and didn’t see Freddy. Either he would meet her in the library or she would find him on Gabe’s doorstep in the morning.
Then how would she get her property back before Moreau was taken?
She should have known Moreau would find a way to get back in favour with Napoleon’s spymaster, Fouché. But what was his purpose here in England? If she’d learned one thing about him, it was that he did not like to be crossed. People paid for it, in blood. A shudder ran down her spine.
If only Freddy trusted her enough to know she would never ask for such a concession if it wasn’t vital. And trusted her enough not to ask why. Then again, she didn’t trust him, either. Men like Moreau and Freddy used people to get what they wanted.
She glanced around. If she was going to meet him before he got impatient and left, it would be best to go before Nicky and Gabe left the dance floor. She smiled at Granby, took his hand for a backward pass across the set and deliberately stepped on her gown’s train. The hem tore beautifully.
‘Bother,’ she said.
Granby stared at her blankly.
‘I tore my lace,’ she explained. ‘I’ll have to pin it. Excuse me.’ She dived through the other dancers, making for the door, in her haste brushing the arm of a tall girl in regulation white.
The young woman gave her a hesitant smile. ‘Is something wrong?’
Nom d’un nom, now she’d have to be polite or risk causing a stir. ‘Someone stepped on my gown.’ She pulled at her skirt. ‘I can’t see, but I think the lace is torn.’
The girl stepped closer, peering down. ‘Yes. There is a long strip hanging by a thread.’
Minette gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I thought so. I was on my way to pin it.’
‘Would you like help?’
Oh, now one of these snooty English mademoiselles decided to be kind. They usually ignored her as an upstart émigrée trying to steal all the best men on the marriage mart. This one looked a nice young woman, like someone she might have liked to know better. Too bad circumstances demanded she turn her offer down. ‘Merci, but I think I can manage.’ She hurried on her way.
The library was only a few doors down from the ballroom, according to a footman, and it wasn’t long before she was slipping inside a room lit by one candelabrum on the round central table.
Standing beside it, Freddy’s lean, almost saturnine face looked thoroughly devilish. A very handsome if austere devil. Her heart gave a little kick. Most unnerving, when he always seemed so utterly indifferent. Except when they’d kissed. Heat rushed upward, engulfing her face. Thank goodness for the gloom.
She closed the door.
‘Well?’ he said, his voice low and menacing. ‘Who is this person who knows of Moreau’s new identity?’
The demand in his voice brought a hot rush of temper to the surface. ‘I will tell you when you agree to let me question him.’
‘You can do so and welcome, once we have him in chains.’
She folded her arms over her chest. ‘If you capture him, you mean. You let him get away once. And without my help you will lose him this time, too.’
His face became even more haughty. ‘Are you proposing that I drive you around London chasing shadows? Gabe may be my friend but he isn’t a fool. He won’t allow his ward to be seen alone in my company.’
‘We could pretend to be engaged.’ It was an idea she’d had in the night when she’d recalled his words at the hell about Gabe insisting they marry. It had seemed like the perfect answer. Then. Now, from the look of horror on his face, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it.
‘Have you lost your reason?’ His expression changed, became harder. ‘Or is it a title you are after?’
Hot anger raced through her veins. As if she would do anything so dishonourable. She struck out at those dark, mocking eyes, her fingers curled into claws, and found her wrist caught in long, strong fingers. Slowly, inexorably he forced her arm behind her back and loomed over her, forcing her to bend back. His breath was a harsh sound in his throat. Her heart raced wildly as she gazed at his beautiful, cruelly smiling mouth inches from hers. ‘No?’ he murmured with soft menace. ‘Then perhaps it is another kiss you seek.’
She froze. Lord help her, but she did want him to kiss her. And more. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. As if sensing her weakness, her racing pulse, he brushed his mouth across her lips. Recklessly, she kissed him back, twining her free hand around his neck, though she had no need for balance he held her so firmly, so powerfully within one arm. She could not resist the hard, strong feel of his chest against her breasts or the pressure of his thigh between her legs. Such a sweet, painful ache.
She parted her lips to the flick of his tongue and revelled in the way he stroked the inside of her mouth. So stirring, so exciting. So achingly perfect.
He released her wrist and held her close while his mouth and tongue worked their magic. His hand went to her breast, his thumb seeking the hardened peak. A groan rumbled up from his chest.
She made a small sound of longing, knowing the pleasures he could bring with his touch. Her head spun with the sensation of the kiss, the sensation of his hand languorously learning the shape of her breast and teasing at her nipple through the thin layers of fabric. Her insides became all liquid fire and exquisite tension.
She wanted...him. His hardness, inside her. She wanted the vast pleasure a man could bring to a woman, not the pale imitation she achieved in her lonely bed.
As if he knew her inner thoughts and needs, he backed her up until she was pressed against the book shelves. The hand at her back slipped down over her buttocks, his fingers rucking up her skirts, while his other hand continued to caress her breasts, attending to each in turn.
She trembled at the promise of delight. Shook with need as the cool air in the room hit her naked flesh above her stockings. The gown now bunched high behind her back, his fingers, those long clever fingers dipped into the crevasse between her buttocks, tickling and teasing and promising. He withdrew his tongue from her mouth, and she followed it, licking and tasting, tangling with his tongue. And then he sucked.
Her knees gave way at the salacious sensation rippling through her body. Her inner muscles clenched, squeezing and begging for the bliss his body could bring.
She wanted all he could give her and he knew it.
He widened his stance. Unable to resist, she reached between them, cupped him between the legs, found the hard ridge of his arousal and the softness beneath. She caressed him with all her skill, squeezing and rubbing until he groaned into her mouth.
Heady triumph shot through her as he broke free, his breathing as loud and uneven as hers.
He pushed one hand deep into the neckline of her low gown, his warm palm meeting bare, hot flesh, grazing across her thrusting nipple.
His other hand brushed her questing fingers away and cupped the hot flesh between her thighs. She rocked into his palm, increasing the pleasure of his touch tenfold.
So delicious. So unutterably, exquisitely pleasurable. Yet not nearly enough. She wanted him as she hadn’t wanted any other man since Pierre’s betrayal, perhaps even more. ‘S’il vous plaît,’ she whispered in his ear, and felt him shudder at the whisper of her breath across his skin. And the words. The words had such meaning. They spoke of mutual pleasure. Of pleasing. Of wanting.
And how she did want. It had been so long.
His hand left her body to tear at the buttons on his falls. ‘I want your breasts,’ he said thickly, as if he, too, warred with a hunger so great it could not be denied.
‘Ties at the back,’ she gasped, longing to feel his mouth and tongue hot and wet on her nipples.
He spun her around, his arousal now pressed against the dip in her buttocks, rocking into her, making her moan with each forward push of his hips, while his hands dealt with the laces of her bodice and then her stays. She reached behind her and cupped him, making him draw in a hiss of breath that caused her insides to quiver with blissful anticipation.
Bodice undone, he brought her around to face him, stepping aside to let the subdued light of the candle play over her breasts. Full and proud, the nipples, dark rose and hard with excitement, jutted towards him, seeking his touch. His gaze travelled to the juncture of her thighs. She knew he must see the evidence of her desire, even as she gazed in longing at his own readiness.
‘Lovely,’ he said, hoarsely.
She licked her lips.
He covered her with his body and kissed her full and hard, while he took himself in hand in preparation for entry.
‘Oh,’ a female voice cried.
Freddy cursed, froze, looking down into her face. His eyes widened as if with realisation. He shook his head in disbelief and horror. ‘You little fool,’ he whispered. ‘What in the devil’s name have you done?’
