Читать книгу Rogue's Lady - Julia Justiss - Страница 9

A FLURRY OF THOUGHTS whirled through Allegra’s mind as the dark-garbed gentleman bowed before her, the clasp of his hand making her fingers tingle beneath her gloves. So this was the “divine” Lord Tavener Sapphira’s friends had discussed with such relish. Was he mocking or admiring her?

Though Rob had complimented her appearance tonight, he had not examined her as thoroughly as the bold-eyed man bowing over her hand, who’d tried to stare her out of countenance a few moments ago. Not at all ashamed of her parents or her upbringing, she’d met the man’s gaze proudly…and felt a sharp, strong sensation almost like a shock, so unusual and unexpected she’d had great difficulty maintaining her composure.

As with his profession of “profound pleasure” in meeting her just now, she wasn’t sure whether he’d intended to admire or disparage. So how to respond?

Excruciating politeness would be best, she decided, trying not to be distracted by her still-tingling fingers. “I am equally pleased to meet you, Lord Tavener,” she said coolly, removing her hand from his disturbing grip. If he’d meant to mock, she’d just returned the favor.

He seemed to understand that, for as he straightened, he grinned at her. “A lady as clever as she is lovely. Now that is a double delight,” he replied.

As she let herself inspect him, another shock rippled through her. Heavens, he was arresting! Low as her opinion of Sapphira and her friends might be, she had to concede they had not underestimated Lord Tavener’s appeal.

Broad of shoulders and whipcord lean, he emanated an aura of strength and confidence that was almost menacing. Dressed all in black save for his cream patterned waistcoat and snowy cravat, he wore the elegant clothes negligently, as if his appearance was not of much importance to him.

When she shifted her eyes farther upward, she felt again that odd, sizzling sensation. Though not precisely handsome, his face with its sharp chin, molded cheekbones and high forehead brushed by a lock of dark hair gave the impression of roughness and power. Suddenly she recalled the Michelangelo sketches Papa had once shown her, studies made by the master before he began his sculpture.

Recalling also the unclothed nature of those studies, her cheeks heated as she finally met his gaze. Eyes of a striking ice blue captured hers. Dazzled, drawn to him, for a moment she had the ridiculous idea that he could see straight into her soul. A smile curved his lips, setting off a fascinating slow scintillation in those blue, blue eyes. Scarcely breathing, Allegra could not look away.

“Like what you see?” he murmured at last.

His entirely inappropriate words broke the spell, made her realize she’d been staring at him just as rudely as he had at her earlier. Though she felt the heat in her cheeks intensify, having avidly observed gallants at the theater as they wooed the actresses, Allegra didn’t need the conversation she’d overheard in Sapphira’s drawing room to recognize she had just met a rake of the first order.

“Do you like what you see, sir, when you gaze in the mirror?” she flashed back.

His smile widened. “That depends on who I see in the mirror with me. I note that, being still in black gloves, you cannot dance. I am promised to Lady Domcaster for the next set, but afterwards, might I have the honor of strolling with you?”

He was dangerously attractive, with those mesmerizing eyes and that knowing smile. In her circumstances, however, the last person she needed to encourage was an out-and-out rake. Still, he was Lady Domcaster’s cousin, and that lady, niece to one earl and wife to another, was impeccably well-connected. It wouldn’t do to offend her.

“If you wish, Lord Tavener, I should be happy to stroll with you,” she said, disturbed by an unwanted jolt of anticipation at the thought.

“That, among other things, I most devoutly wish,” he replied. “Until later, Miss Antinori.” With a bow to Mrs. Randall and Rob, he walked off, Lady Domcaster on his arm.

“Damn and blast!” Rob swore under his breath, confirming Allegra’s impression that Lord Tavener was not a gentleman he wanted her to know. “I realize you could do naught but accept, Allegra, but I wish it had been nearly any other man present who paid you his respects.”

“Dear me!” Mrs. Randall quavered. “Is Lord Tavener not good ton?”

“Until Lady Domcaster took him up this Season, he wasn’t,” Rob retorted. “Although that’s not entirely correct. There’s nothing at fault in his breeding. His father was a baron, albeit an impecunious one, and his mother a Carlisle. Her uncle, the Earl of Pennhurst, was appointed Tavener’s guardian after his parents died when he was just a lad—and did a rather poor job of it. Ignored Tavener for the most part and neglected the small estate he inherited, which is now said to be in ruins.”

“Poor boy!” Mrs. Randall said.

Rob grinned wryly. “He didn’t let himself be ignored at school, I promise you! We were at Eton and Oxford together, though being younger than he and moving with a different set, I didn’t know him well. Always spoiling for a fight, ready to take on even lads much bigger and older. Almost always won, by the way. He’s now accounted one of the foremost amateur pugilists in England.”

“It sounds as if he were angry with the world,” Allegra said. As well he might be, she thought with an empathetic pang, after losing his parents and being thrust into an indifferent world.

Rob shrugged. “Perhaps. Anyway, since Oxford he’s lived in London, keeping himself afloat with a mix of gaming and…and—” he lowered his voice as color stained his cheeks “—ah, associations with ladies of large fortune.”

“Married ladies,” Allegra surmised. “In other words, a rake.”

While Mrs. Randall gasped, Rob confirmed Allegra’s impression with a nod. “A notorious one, who has never before bothered to make an appearance at ton events. He and Lady Domcaster are close friends from youth, so with Domcaster still in the country, I suppose he must be acting as her escort. Though were she my wife, I doubt I’d permit him to do so, never mind that they are cousins.”

“Is she in danger from him?” Allegra inquired.

“Probably not,” Rob conceded. “Domcaster’s no fool. Besides, I seem to recall that he and Tavener were friends at Oxford, perhaps because he was then courting Tavener’s cousin, whom he later married. Most likely Tavener’s attempting to establish himself—at Lady Domcaster’s urging, I would guess.”

Like I am, Allegra thought.

“Good breeding or no, you’d do well to be on your guard, Allegra,” Rob warned. “If he says or does anything that gives you alarm, leave him at once.”

“Thank you, Rob. I will do so,” Allegra said.

Not that she’d needed Rob’s warning. With his intense eyes and beguiling charm, Tavener put her in mind of a peer who’d pursued a young actress friend the summer Allegra turned fifteen, when her father was playing in a theater orchestra. Knowing her strict papa would not approve her close association with a thespian, she’d had to sneak out to visit Molly, eager to learn what the vivacious, experienced girl could teach her about love and life.

Her lordship’s campaign began just after he attended their first performance in the town near his ancestral manor. Through Molly’s ploy-by-ploy description and her own observation, Allegra had eagerly followed the progress of his courtship, from the gifts, notes and ardent poetry to Molly’s eventual, enthusiastic capitulation. The physical particulars of which a prosaic Molly had explained in frank detail, Allegra recalled. Something hot and giddy churned in her belly at the memory.

Putting a hand on her stomach to quell the sensation, Allegra told herself to beware. Molly had so vividly described the feeling of physical attraction that, though she had never experienced it before, Allegra realized the reaction Lord Tavener evoked in her was desire.

’Twas disconcerting to discover one could feel lust for one man while pining for another, but she supposed she should not be surprised. Molly’s rake had demonstrated quite convincingly that true affection and desire could be entirely separate entities.

Charming as Lord Tavener might be, she could not afford to head down the path Molly had strolled so eagerly. No matter how compelling Tavener’s eyes—or how strong the shock to her fingers when he touched her hand.

Rob cleared his throat, pulling Allegra from her thoughts. A military gentleman approached, one of Rob’s friends, and was duly introduced. After conversing for a few moments, he drifted off.

A few matrons, acquaintances of Mrs. Randall, stopped to chat. Allegra grew painfully aware that for most of the long interval after Lord Tavener’s departure, though a number of gentlemen passing by gave her admiring looks, none save a few of Rob’s friends approached seeking an introduction. Rob optimistically predicted that she would find her way in society eventually, but after the last few weeks of calls that had elicited raised eyebrows and unspoken censure, Allegra wasn’t so sure.

Then, with a relief that was stronger than it should have been, she looked up to see Lord Tavener approaching. She tried—and failed—to steel herself against the flutter in her belly when he took her hand.

After bowing to Rob and Mrs. Randall, he announced, “My cousin abandoned me in the ballroom in favor of tormenting several of her disappointed former suitors. Miss Antinori, are you ready to stroll?”

“Perfectly ready, sir,” she agreed and tucked her hand on his arm. Acutely aware of a renewed tingling sensation in her fingertips, of the masculine aura that seemed to surround him, she let him lead her off.

To her relief, he made no attempt to maneuver her toward the doors opening onto the terrace, guiding her instead out of the press of guests toward the wall, where they might make a circuit of the chamber.

“Do you know you are the most stunning creature here?” he asked. “Going through the moves of the country dance, waiting until I could return for you, seemed an eternity.”

Though the trajectory he’d chosen to walk her on might be proper, his conversation certainly wasn’t. “I imagine Lady Domcaster would be devastated to hear that,” she replied a bit acerbically.

As if startled, he stopped and turned to her, his brilliant blue eyes lighting again as he smiled. “That wit again! Bravo!” Moving closer, he squeezed her hand, his voice taking on a caressing tone. “I knew the instant I saw you tonight that you would delight…all of me.”

It was delicious nonsense…but it was also highly improper. Regretfully Allegra halted and removed her hand from his arm. “Lord Tavener, may I remind you that this is not the Cyprian’s Ball and I am neither a lightskirt nor a loose-moraled matron whose fancy you can capture. If you would return me to my chaperone, please?”

Having braced herself for irritation or anger, she was totally unprepared for his peal of laughter.

While she looked on, wide-eyed, he controlled his mirth. “Blast, Miss Antinori, but you are quite right. Pray accept my apologies! It’s just that, having gone about so little in good society, I have no idea how to talk to a gently bred maiden. My attempts at Lucilla’s dinner earlier were abysmal failures. You are so lovely, I was distracted clean out of renewing those efforts.”

The appealing look from those penetrating blue eyes proclaimed his absolute honesty. Allegra simply couldn’t help it—she was charmed…and curious.

“Excuse me, but I can’t believe you could fail to entertain even a young, inexperienced maiden. Especially a young and inexperienced one.”

“Oh, believe it! Either my appearance, my compliments—or the tales told about me—frightened one young lady into a silence that lasted throughout the meal. My conversational attempts with the other met with total failure until a desperate remark about fashion set her off on a monologue so full of tedious detail, I was ready to stab myself with a dessert fork just to escape the room.”

His look of comical dismay set her chuckling. Before she could reprove his exaggeration, he continued, “You laugh, but ’tis no jesting matter! I’m sure in my absence, if you were not already aware of it, Lord Lynton has acquainted you with my scandalous reputation. My cousin Lady Domcaster insists that I try to reestablish myself. However, if I am not able to successfully converse with proper ladies, I might as well abandon the attempt at once. Unless…” He drew the word out, gazing down into her eyes.

Intrigued in spite of herself, she echoed, “Unless?”

“Miss Antinori, in addition to being the loveliest girl in the room—no, forgive me, but you must allow the compliment, for it is simple truth—you have shown yourself both observant and clever. Might I impose upon you…might I beg you to instruct me?”

She stared at him. “Instruct you?”

“On how to make proper conversation that is agreeable to young ladies. I know about as much about respectable females as I do about the mysteries of the Orient. Unless I learn, and learn quickly, I haven’t a prayer of being received by the families of eligible young women.” He paused, frowning. “May I be shockingly blunt?”

“I prefer plain dealing, sir,” she replied, caught up in his tale despite her better judgment.

Once again that smile lit up his eyes. “I thought you might! Lucilla insists I should look for a wife—a rich wife with a fortune that could restore my estate, of whose dilapidated condition I’m sure Lynton already warned you.”

He gave her a wry, self-deprecating look. “Frankly, though I’m an amusing enough fellow when I choose to be, I sincerely doubt any respectable lady will want to take on so unlikely a husband. But I’ve promised Lucilla I’d make an attempt, so here I am, self-accused of being both a fortune hunter and a rake, throwing my poor body into the fray. A rake who earnestly seeks to be reformed. Will you not have pity and rescue me, Miss Antinori?”

Beneath the flippancy of his words she sensed a social isolation almost like her own. Perhaps because of that, she was tempted to accept his challenge. Except that behind the arresting intensity of his gaze lurked something deep, sensual. That same masculine allure that had led Molly to capitulate all those summers ago and warned Allegra that spending time with Tavener, despite his avowed desire to reform, would be dangerous.

“It would be more proper for Lady Domcaster to instruct you,” Allegra replied at last. “Not that I am not fully qualified,” she added quickly. “Mama instructed me in all the intricacies of ton behavior, and in matters of propriety, Papa was even stricter.”

“I’m sure they were, with so precious a prize to guard. Still, I should very much like to pursue your acquaintance. You would find me a willing pupil.”

Much as she tried to tell herself that his outrageous request was just another tool in his rake’s arsenal, she couldn’t shake a sense that, on some level, he was quite serious. Before an unwanted sympathy for his position—and her strong attraction to him—led her to capitulate, she replied, “Tutoring you would not be…wise.”

At her refusal, the hopeful look in his eyes faded. “Then I am doubly sorry. To lose your instruction, and to have begun so badly with you.”

Not knowing what to say, she did not reply. Tavener offered his arm, she took it, and in silence they resumed their circuit of the room.

After a few moments, he sighed. “Though I shall probably have to beg your pardon once again, before I return you to your chaperone, I simply must say this.”

As she tried to arm herself against whatever impertinence he meant to utter, he bent that compelling gaze upon her once more and said, “Miss Antinori, I must tell you how much I admired and respected your father. He was a true genius, and the musical world is much the poorer for his premature passing.”

For a moment, she thought she must have imagined his comments, so thoroughly had it been drummed into her head that she must on no account mention her parents. “You…knew my father?” she asked at last.

“No, but I did have the honor of hearing him play once, when I was at Oxford. Such passion! Such skill! I’m a bit hand of a violist myself, and have attempted to play some of his compositions, which are as beautiful as they are difficult. You must be so proud of him.”

“I am proud of him,” she whispered. A combustible swirl of grief, anger at having been forced to deny her parents, delight and gratitude at encountering someone who admired her father choked her into silence.

After three weeks of circumspect behavior, of confining her conversation to inquiries about the health of persons she knew little and cared less about or innocuous remarks about the weather, Tavener’s introduction of that taboo topic electrified her. Prudent or not, she decided on the spot to encourage his friendship.

Looking up into the blue eyes that once again seemed to sense the turmoil in her soul, she said, “Thank you. It is a great joy to speak of him. And Lord Tavener, though I still think Lady Domcaster’s qualifications for instructing you far exceed my own, I would be happy to help you practice your conversation.”

She was rewarded with a smile of such brilliance, she had no difficulty believing he’d made a long series of conquests. Sternly she reminded herself that, regardless of how great an admirer of her father he might be, she must not join their number.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “You shall not regret it, I promise. Would you like a glass of wine before we begin?”

Agreeing that would be very nice, she let him lead her off to the refreshment room.

They were nearing the exit of the ballroom when Allegra heard ahead of them a familiar tinkling laugh. She gritted her teeth as, through the passing guests, she saw Sapphira Lynton poised on the threshold.