Читать книгу Dicing with the Dangerous Lord - Margaret McPhee, Margaret McPhee - Страница 8

Venetia’s heart was still thudding too fast as she closed the door behind her and made her way across the room.

What had just happened between her and Linwood was something which, despite all the men she had dealt with, Venetia had never experienced before. Linwood was not what she had expected. Yes, he was most definitely dark and dangerous, but there was something about him. Something both disturbing and fascinating. She quashed the thought in its inception, unwilling to admit even to herself exactly what it was she had felt on looking into Lord Linwood’s eyes. It was too late to change her mind, and even were it not, she had no intention of turning away from this. The first step of the plan had been completed. She and Linwood were introduced. The seed had been sown. It had begun. And the next time it would be easier… now that she knew what she was up against.

‘Are you all right, Venetia?’ Alice whispered by her side, her eyes scanning her face.

Venetia smoothed her expression into its small calm smile, betraying nothing of her thoughts. ‘Of course.’

‘Hawick and Devlin have competition tonight.’ Alice gestured with her eyes to the corner of the room. ‘More admirers.’

Venetia followed her friend’s gaze over to the group of gentlemen waiting there, some holding large bouquets of flowers, others clutching bottles of champagne. Their faces were flushed from too much drink, their eyes arrogant and eager and lustful as they met hers. Men used to using women, men used to holding all the power. Men over whom she now held power of a sort. Walking away was not an option. Not for any actress, least of all for her. She had not lied to Linwood in that respect. Just the thought of him sent ripples of unease spreading through her, like a pebble thrown into a still lake.

As if summoned by her thoughts she saw Linwood and Razeby slip back into the room from the balcony. Linwood’s dark gaze sought hers across the room. She met his eyes and held them for just a second longer than was decent. Her heart missed a beat, stuttered, but no one in the room would have known. She was as poised and confident as ever she was—an act perfected by years of practice and determination.

He drew her the slightest incline of the head in acknowledgement.

And in return she let the hint of a smile play on her lips before deliberately turning her attention to Alice while he still watched.

‘They’re coming over.’ Alice’s focus was fixed on the gentlemen in the corner.

Venetia nodded. This was her job and she was good at it. It paid her well—very well—and let her run her own life. With a single look she could quell a conversation when it had overstepped the mark, and stay a wandering hand. She sparkled and enticed and then enforced her limits with an iron hand and was trying to teach Alice the same.

‘Have a care over Quigley, he is not so harmless as he appears,’ she whispered the warning to her friend. Pushing Linwood from her mind, Venetia turned to face the men and the rest of the night.

It was at Viscount Bullford’s ball two nights later that Linwood saw the enigmatic Venetia Fox again. He watched her in the ballroom, with her almond-shaped eyes, smiling that small seductive smile. There was definitely something fluid and feline in the way she moved. Men watched her with greedy eyes of which she was either unaware or did not care. She appeared relaxed, polished, comfortable in her own skin; seductive, but not in the way he had thought she would be. Not blatant and too readily available. Rather, tantalising but untouchable. The dress she wore was the colour of a glass of red wine held up and viewed before firelight—a deep translucent red that made the darkness of her hair only darker and the whiteness of her skin a shimmering pearl pallor.

He watched her manage Razeby and Monteith, Bullford and Devlin, and even Hawick, flirting with each of them in turn, if it could be called that, for despite the smoulder in her eyes he noticed that she kept each one at arm’s length. Venetia Fox was very much in control of the situation. And although every man in the room was panting after her, she allowed not one of them to touch her as they must have been longing to. No wonder men were willing to bid so highly for her. And then he remembered what she had said of illusion and this flirtatious socialising being a part of her job. It was a dangerous game for any woman to play, but especially for one as beautiful as Venetia Fox.

He watched her because she was fascinating. He watched her because she was the only thing in all of these weeks past that, for the few moments he had been with her, had stopped him thinking of other, darker, things. It was the reason he was here tonight. She was the reason he was here tonight. Not that he had any intention of taking this flirtation any further.

Her gaze met his across the room and held for just that moment too long before she turned it back to the man with whom she was speaking.

He waited until she slipped out onto the balcony before following her. She was standing there, staring out over the moonlit garden when he appeared. He did not say a word, just walked up and leaned on the balustrade’s stone coping just along from her and looked out over the garden.

‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ she said without looking round and he could hear the tease in her voice. ‘People will start to gossip.’

‘Are you afraid of gossip?’

‘On the contrary, you know that I am obliged to court it.’

‘Then you should be glad that I am here.’

‘Should I, indeed?’ She turned her head and looked at him then. There was an edge to the words that made him unsure if she were glad or angry to see him. Her eyes held his and there was a certain coolness in them before it faded. He watched her gaze drop to his hat and gloves he carried in one hand and his cane in the other. She arched a sultry brow as if questioning if he meant to leave.

He set them down on the flat coping surface before him.

She returned her gaze to wander over the darkness of the garden, but not before he saw the small satisfied curve of her lips. They were not the small rosebud lips so sought in women, but full, passionate lips that reminded a man of the erotic pleasures a woman’s mouth could bring.

‘Another refuge?’ he asked.

‘You know all my secrets, Lord Linwood.’

‘Not all.’

‘No, not all,’ she said as she turned to look into his face. He saw something flicker in her eyes, something that was not quite in keeping with the rest of her, something which he could not quite discern. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. ‘And I do have so many.’

‘I am intrigued, Miss Fox.’ It was the truth. She was the most celebrated and coveted actress in all London. Bewitching. Beguiling. Yet cool. Her reputation preceded her. Linwood had never met a woman like her.

‘By my secrets or by me?’

‘Both. But I thought you desired flattery to be confined to the green room.’

She laughed, her eyes silver in the moonlight beneath the dark elegant curve of her brows, her skin pale and perfect as porcelain. ‘I will tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours.’ Her voice was husky and as alluring as that of a siren. Her gaze held his boldly. The sensual tension tightened as the silence stretched between them.

All around them was darkness, as dense and black as the secrets he carried in his heart, secrets that he would take to his grave rather than spill.

‘Would you really, Miss Fox? Tell me your darkest secret in exchange for mine?’

She glanced towards the star-scattered inky blue of the night sky, before returning her gaze to him. Her eyes seemed to glitter in the moonlight. ‘No,’ she said softly, surprising him yet again with her candour. ‘I would not. Would you?’

‘I think you already know the answer to that question.’

‘I do.’

‘It seems we are two of a kind.’

‘Perhaps, when it comes to secrets.’ She looked directly into his eyes and again there was that coolness and distance. ‘But then again, I doubt you are anywhere as good at guarding your secrets as I am at guarding mine.’

‘I think you underestimate me, Miss Fox.’

‘No, Lord Linwood, I assure you the underestimating is all on your half.’

‘That sounds like a challenge.’

‘I do like a challenge,’ and her eyes held his and seemed to smoulder. The silence stretched between them, brimful with desire, before she turned her gaze to the garden once more. He felt the stirring of excitement, the need to know more of her. He studied her profile and did not want to take his eyes from her.

‘Were you on stage tonight?’

‘I am on stage every night. And every hour of every day. It is the price any actress must pay if she wants success.’

‘Are you on stage now, Miss Fox?’

She did not hesitate in her answer. ‘Of course.’ Another answer so contrary to everything he expected. And through him, over him, in him, he could feel the pull of the power that she held over men.

‘Are you always so honest?’

‘I am an actress, Lord Linwood. I am never honest.’ She smiled again and this time so did he, he who in all these past months had so rarely smiled.

‘And what of the real Venetia Fox, as opposed to Venetia Fox the actress? What of her?’ Questions he would never have asked any other woman. And yet he asked her, for he found that he wanted to know the answer.

‘What of her?’ She looked at him.

‘Is she content to stay hidden in the shadows of the divine Miss Fox?’

‘Divine…? You are flattering me again.’

‘And you are not answering my question.’

‘Then the answer is that she is very content to stay hidden.’

‘May I meet her?’

‘You would not care for her in the slightest.’

‘Why not let me be the judge of that?’ He was flirting with her, angling to catch just a little more of this fascinating woman—Linwood, to whom flirting and women should have been the last thing on his mind.

‘Expose myself to a stranger?’ She arched one perfectly shaped dark brow and leaned towards him ever so slightly so that he could not prevent his gaze sweeping down to the luscious curve of her breasts and imaging them naked and exposed before him. He knew she was toying with him, just like she toyed with all the others, but right at this moment in time he did not care. She was all that stood between him and the dread and bitterness of his memories and thoughts.

‘Maybe we will not always be strangers, Miss Fox.’ His gaze held hers.

‘Maybe,’ she said and smiled a slow sensual smile.

The music floated out from the ballroom, the notes so sweet and clear on the night air. ‘The Volga,’ she said. ‘My favourite dance.’

His eyes held hers. ‘I am afraid I do not dance tonight, Miss Fox.’ How could he, when so much hung in the balance?

She stepped towards him, slowly closed the distance between them until the hem of her dress was practically touching the toes of his boots. She angled her face up to his, and her eyes glittered full with secrets, and her lips made him want to place his own against them, to kiss her, to taste her, to take the temptation that she offered. It had been such a long time since he had had a woman. But when he would have yielded she moved her mouth away to whisper against his ear, and he could feel the warm caress of her breath against his cheek and smell the bittersweet heady scent of neroli, her lips so close yet not touching.

‘I was not asking,’ her whisper enunciated so clearly that it stroked the nerves that ran from his neck all the way down to his manhood. His blood stirred hot.

She paused before retreating beyond his reach.

‘Perhaps… we might go for a carriage drive one afternoon.’ The words were spoken before he could think better of them.

She held his gaze, her eyes the cool white-blue of sunshine on a winter sea, alluring and remote both at once so that he was sure that she meant to refuse him.

‘Perhaps,’ she said enigmatically. The light in her eyes changed to a teasing smoulder before she hooded them beneath her long black lashes and walked away, with that signature slow sensual sway of her hips, back into the ballroom.

The clock in the small parlour chimed eleven as Venetia topped up first Alice’s coffee cup and then her own.

‘In answer to your question, yes, it went very well last night. Razeby has offered me a thousand pounds a year to be his mistress. That, and a house in Hart Street, just over the back from here. Imagine that. We’d almost be neighbours. And he’ll see that the house is furnished with only the best, so he says. It’s nowhere near what Hawick offered you, I’m sure, but more money than I’m ever likely to see.’

‘Do not rate Hawick’s offer so highly, Alice.’

‘I heard on the grapevine that he offered you ten grand.’

‘You should know better than to listen to gossip.’

‘But it must have been a high sum all the same.’

‘Good enough, but nowhere near what you imagine,’ Venetia lied and thought of the astronomical amount of money the Duke of Hawick had actually offered her. Some men thought they could buy anything, that it always just came down to the price. It was all she could do to stop her lip curling at the thought.

‘And still you turned him down.’

Venetia sipped at her coffee and knew she must be careful in what she said. Alice’s attitude was understandable. It was Venetia who, for her own very personal reasons, was at odds with what was considered normal within the acting profession. ‘What answer did you give Razeby?’

‘I told him I needed time to consider his offer. I wanted to speak to you first.’

‘And what are you thinking?’

‘Whether to hold out for more money.’

Venetia looked into her friend’s eyes.

‘Please don’t look at me like that.’ Alice averted her gaze to the corner of the room. ‘I already know what you think of a woman selling herself to a man. But… a thousand pounds a year is so much.’

‘It is. But after your success in this run, Mr Kemble will increase your wages. He has no choice if he wishes to compete with other theatres who would offer you better. I know that you send money to your mother. If you need some help financially…’

Alice shook her head. ‘I couldn’t allow you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me, Venetia. Besides, it isn’t just about the money. Razeby’s a marquis and he’s young and handsome and I… I like him. It would be no hardship to be his mistress.’

‘Alice, Razeby may be all those things, but do not be fooled by his charm, he is a rake, every bit as much a gentleman of disrepute as the rest of that crowd. You have to be aware of that.’

‘I’m under no illusion, Venetia. Believe me, with my history I know how these things work. I’m not a fool, just practical. And I may as well get the best price I can.’

‘Well, in that case…’ Venetia gave a sigh ‘… hold out for more. Do not name your price. Do not appear persuaded or that you have reached a decision. Entice him with less rather than more. And, most importantly, do not so much as let him touch you until you have the arrangement legally drawn up, signed and a copy of it in your own hand.’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ Alice grinned. And then the grin faded, to be replaced with a thoughtful look. ‘Razeby said something… about you and Viscount Linwood. I saw Linwood in the green room the other night, but I hadn’t realised that you were with alone with him out on the balcony.’

Venetia did not deny it. Nor could she explain what she was involved in. Not even to Alice. She gave a tiny shrug as if it meant nothing.

‘You’re never alone with men in private places, Venetia. It’s the thing you’re always warning me against.’

‘I made an exception for Linwood.’

Alice frowned. ‘You should be careful of him.’

‘Why?’ she asked slowly. ‘Do you know something of him?’

The pause before Alice answered was just that little bit too long. She shook her head and glanced away. ‘Not really.’ Then bit her lip. ‘You aren’t… interested in him, are you?’

Venetia smiled to reassure her friend. ‘I am as interested in him as I am in Hawick or Devlin or any of the others. Which is not at all.’ But she was lying. She was very interested in Linwood, just not in the way that Alice thought. She did not allow herself to think of the unprecedented response she had felt on looking into his eyes, on being close to him, on spending just that short time within his company. ‘What have you heard of him?’

‘Nothing specific.’ Alice did not meet her gaze. ‘Only that he’s a dangerous man to get involved with. And, as they say, there’s no smoke without fire, Venetia.’

‘Indeed.’ Venetia had listened to Robert’s suspicions about Linwood and a fire that had razed an entire building to the ground and destroyed the possessions accumulated across a man’s lifetime.

The two women moved to talk of other things.

Venetia did not see Linwood the next night. She left Alice to Razeby and the green room and slipped out of the theatre by the stage door into Hart Street. Her carriage was waiting outside as usual, to take her home. As her footman opened the coach door she drew him a nod and, pulling the long black cloak tighter around her shoulders, climbed inside. The door closed behind her with a quiet click and the carriage was pulling away along the street before she saw the man lounging in the corner of the opposite seat. For a moment she thought it was Linwood and gave a small shriek before realising the man’s identity.

‘Robert!’ she chided, pressing her hand to her chest. ‘You frightened me!’

‘You need not be so jumpy, little sister. I am not Linwood.’

‘You should have warned me you were coming.’

‘I could hardly do that now, could I?’

She gave a sigh, knowing her half-brother was right.

‘How do matters progress with the viscount?’ he asked.

‘I have secured his interest.’

‘I did not doubt it. Your talent is unsurpassed. Who else could feign an interest in such a man?’

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes in case he saw the truth in them. She did not tell him that Linwood was a man who could have had his pick of many women. Not because of his handsome looks, but because of the danger and darkness and mystery that emanated from him. He was what other men were not. Acting an attraction to him was uncomfortably easy, even knowing what he had done.

‘This is one role I do not like playing, Robert.’

‘Understandably so. But it is the best way.’

‘As you said.’

‘I hate asking this of you, Venetia.’ Robert’s face looked grim. ‘Maybe I should call the villain out and be done with it.’

Venetia looked across the carriage at him. ‘He would kill you.’

‘Such confidence in me,’ he said drily.

‘We both know of what he is capable and I would not have you risk your life.’

‘I know and I am glad of your concern for me.’ He took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze of reassurance before releasing it again. ‘We must proceed as planned. It is our best chance of bringing Linwood to justice.’

She nodded.

‘Have you learned anything of use yet?’

‘Nothing so far, except that he is definitely brooding upon something dark.’

‘I expect murder on his conscience might have such an effect.’ Robert’s voice was low and serious. ‘But a beautiful woman can always make a man lower his guard and loosen his tongue, even a man as careful as Linwood.’

She said nothing, just kept her mind focused on why they were doing this.

‘When are you seeing him again?’

‘He does not know it yet, but Monday night. At Razeby’s dinner party.’

‘Good.’ Robert rapped on the roof of the carriage with his cane and the carriage drew to a halt. He looked at her through the dim light. ‘You will be careful, won’t you, Venetia?’

‘Am I not always?’

Robert gave a low laugh before kissing her cheek and disappeared like a shadow into the darkness of the night. And when the carriage drove on, Venetia thought of Linwood. A man who had killed. A murderer. The only man that stirred a whisper of desire through her. She pulled the soft fur-lined cloak all the tighter around her, but it did nothing to warm the chill that crept in her bones.