Читать книгу Notorious - Nicola Cornick, Nicola Cornick - Страница 7

SHE DID NOT RECOGNIZE him until it was too late to run and equally impossible to hide. Not that hiding was her style.

The Duke and Duchess of Alton’s Midsummer Ball was the most terrible crush and the press of guests had obscured Susanna’s vision. The room was hot and airless, so noisy she could barely hear what Fitz was saying to her as he escorted her across the floor. Something about meeting some of his friends, she thought, which had been kind of him since she knew no one in London. And then the crowd had fallen back and she was looking at James Devlin and all the breath left her lungs in a rush and her head spun and she thought she might faint. It was only through sheer self-discipline that she did not.

Fitz had not noticed her discomfort. He was not, she thought, an observant man. Handsome, charming, spoiled, arrogant … She had ascertained all those facts about him within five minutes of their introduction. Within ten she had learned that he was devoted to his horses and his wine cellar. Within fifteen she had realized that he was susceptible to a beautiful woman, which would be useful since she was both beautiful and pledged to seduce him.

Fitz was still speaking as he drew her closer to the group of people about James Devlin. She had no idea what he was talking about; fortunately it seemed to require no reply on her part. All she could see was Devlin. All she was aware of was his height, the breadth of him and the coldness in his blue eyes as they rested on her with absolute disdain. She supposed she could not blame him for that. She was the one who had walked away from him, left him before the ink was dry on the marriage lines and whilst the bed was still warm from their lovemaking.

Susanna raised her chin and straightened her spine. She had been playing a part for so long that surely it could not be too difficult to wipe all expression from her face and conceal the fact that she was shaking inside. Yet it seemed inordinately hard to do. She let her gaze travel over Devlin again in slow appraisal. The calculated coolness of her stare was in direct contradiction to the nervous bumping of her heart against her ribs.

There was such authority and innate confidence about Devlin now, a poignant contrast to the dazzling youth of eighteen that she remembered so well. He had had brilliance and dash even at that age but there had been something eager and untried about him as well, as though the world, with its sharp edges, had not yet hardened his soul.

He had certainly filled out in the intervening years. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep. He was taller, more muscular, most definitely a man rather than a boy, and so handsome that he would have been within a hairsbreadth of looking pretty had it not been for the square jaw and high cheekbones that robbed his face of any softness at all. Susanna felt a sudden and totally unexpected pang that the boy she had known had grown into so formidable a man. She would never have guessed it. But she had made her choices years ago. It was far too late for regrets now. Life had taught her that regrets were no more than self-indulgence.

She saw the little blonde girl hanging on Devlin’s arm. That was one thing that had not changed then. Not that she cared a jot after nine years. But there had always been women hanging around James Devlin like bees to the honeypot. He knew he was handsome and he knew very well the effect that had on women. The arrogant self-assurance in the tilt of his head said so.

He was watching her. He had not taken his gaze from her from the moment that she had crossed the floor on Fitz’s arm. She risked meeting his eyes again and was almost scalded by the look she saw there. Instead of the indifference that she had expected she saw angry challenge and a turbulent sensual heat that seemed to call a response from so deep within her that she visibly shivered. Her stomach tumbled. The polished wood of the ballroom floor seemed to shift beneath her silver slippers. She could feel her racing heart accelerate still further and saw Devlin’s gaze shift to the hollow of her throat where a beautiful borrowed diamond drop rested on her frantic pulse. Suddenly Susanna’s skin felt hot and damp; she knew the color had come into her face, knew, too, that Devlin had seen the betraying glitter of the diamond as it moved in response to the hammer of her pulse. She saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile of masculine satisfaction that he had been able to discompose her. That was something else that had not changed then: his conceit.

She raised her chin and gave him a look of profound dislike spiced with defiance. Too much was at stake here for her to draw back now, though every instinct she possessed prompted her to flee.

The girl to Devlin’s left, the one to whom Fitz wanted to introduce her, was clearly Dev’s sister. They shared the same coloring and bone structure, the same blue eyes and tawny gold hair. Susanna caught her bottom lip briefly between her teeth. This was the girl the Duke and Duchess of Alton were employing her to separate from Fitz. This was the girl whose life she was to ruin, whose future husband she was to steal, whose world she would leave in tatters. What an utter, confounded nuisance that the woman the Duchess had referred to, dismissively, as “Fitz’s little fancy,” should turn out to be Devlin’s sister.

“Lady Carew.” Fitz, smiling, was drawing Devlin’s sister forward. “May I present to you Miss Francesca Devlin? Chessie, this is Caroline, Lady Carew, a friend of my parents who has recently come to London from Edinburgh.”

Susanna felt rather than saw Devlin stiffen as he heard her name but she forced herself not to look at him. Francesca Devlin curtsied very prettily. The candlelight picked out the strands of bronze and copper and gold in her hair. Her blue eyes were very warm, her greeting even warmer. Susanna admired her tactics. When a handsome, eligible marquis whom you have a fancy to marry introduces a beautiful woman to you, pretend to be delighted to make her acquaintance …

That one was straight out of the adventuress’s handbook. Under other circumstances, Susanna thought, she might have enjoyed befriending Miss Francesca Devlin, with whom she had more than a little in common. Unfortunately she was being paid a vast sum of money to inveigle herself into Fitz’s affections and get rid of Francesca for good, which was not a promising basis for a friendship.

James Devlin shifted at his sister’s side and Susanna met his eyes and saw naked antagonism there. Unlike Francesca he was not troubling to hide his hostility to her. Susanna felt the force of it ripple through her whole body. She supposed it was naive of her to imagine that Devlin would be indifferent to her sudden reappearance after an absence of nine long years. She had treated him badly; that was undeniable. He would want an explanation at the least, retribution at worst. Her mouth dried at the thought. Devlin was not a man one would want as an enemy—he was too forceful, too determined—and her position was very precarious indeed.

Devlin inclined his head to her as though he had read and understood her thoughts. There was an edge of cynical amusement to his antipathy, a curl to his lips that threw down a challenge to her. The dangerous light in his eyes warned her that whatever game she chose to play, he would match her. Match her and surpass her.

She saw Devlin cast his sister a glance and move a step closer to her as though offering silent moral support. Chessie shot him a smile that was for one unguarded moment full of affection and gratitude. So Devlin was a protective older brother, Susanna thought. That was exactly what she did not need when she was set on spoiling his sister’s life. Matters, complicated enough already, took a turn for the worse. Her heart sank lower toward her delicate embroidered satin slippers.

The other lady in the group, the little blonde, pushed forward in a flurry of blue silk and lace.

“You should have introduced me first, Fitz,” she said, pouting. “I am a lady!”

By name if not by nature, Susanna thought as Fitz, apologizing profusely, introduced the girl as his cousin Lady Emma Brooke and the other gentleman as the Honorable Frederick Walters. Susanna was sharply conscious of Devlin’s eyes upon her all the time, the narrow blue glitter of his gaze holding her captive. Emma dragged him forward like a trophy.

“This is my fiancé,” she said proudly, “Sir James Devlin.”

Fiancé.

Susanna’s heart jerked. She had known that Devlin had come into a title. But she had not known that he was betrothed.

Jealousy, sharp, dark and hot, stole her breath. She wondered why she had never imagined him wed before. The thought had never crossed her mind and yet in the nine years since they had parted he could have been married twice over, three times, six times like Henry VIII for all she knew.

Except for the small difficulty that he was still married to her.

She really should have told him that they were still wed. She should have told him long ago.

Susanna’s conscience, often troublesome, such a disadvantage to an adventuress, pricked her again. This, however, did not seem like the appropriate moment to break the news to Devlin, with his fiancée smiling at her with that possessive air and that warning glint in her eyes.

Susanna swallowed hard. She had intended to get an annulment within the first year of her marriage. She had written to Dev and promised him that she would. Then she had discovered that she was pregnant and her wedding ring and marriage lines had suddenly been the only thing standing between her and ruin. Alone and destitute, disowned by her family, she had clung to the very edge of respectability. And later, when she had remembered her pledge and had once again thought to end her marriage she had discovered that annulments, like many things in life, were both prodigiously expensive and a great deal more difficult to obtain than she had ever imagined. By then she had been spending every last penny she earned simply keeping body and soul together on the streets of Edinburgh. There was no cash to pay the lawyers. Sometimes she had barely managed to survive.

The memory of those dark days invaded Susanna’s mind and she felt the familiar panic and fear rise in her throat. Her palms felt slippery with sweat within the elegant lace of her evening gloves. The candles felt too hot, the ballroom stifling. Everyone was looking at her. With a great effort of will she pushed the memories away and smiled at Emma Brooke.

“You are to be congratulated on your betrothal, Lady Emma,” she said, “though not as much as Sir James is on his.”

There was a slight pause whilst Emma tried to work out if this was a compliment and, deciding that it was, beamed. Susanna saw Dev’s lips quirk into a smile.

“I am indeed the most fortunate of men,” he said smoothly. “And you, Lady Carew,” he added. There was a gleam of dark amusement in the depths of his eyes, shadowed by that ever-present anger. “It seems that you, too, must be congratulated, since the last time we met you were neither a lady nor were you called Caroline Carew, as I recall.”

His tone was very courteous, his words anything but. A little ripple went around the group. Susanna saw a sharpening of speculation in the women’s eyes and a different sort of interest in the men’s. No wonder. Dev had just implied she was an adventuress at best, a harlot masquerading as a lady at worst.

The moment spun out. Susanna knew she had a choice and she had to make her decision fast. She could pretend that Devlin had mistaken her identity. Or she could take the fight to him. It was risky to claim that she did not know him because Dev would probably see that as a challenge. He was that sort of man. It was equally perilous to engage with him because she was not sure that she could win. But it was certainly too late to feign indifference. Everyone was waiting to see how she would respond to Dev’s calculated remark.

“I am flattered that you claim to remember so much about me,” Susanna said lightly. “I had forgotten all about you.”

Dev’s smile deepened at the setdown. The look he gave her sent heat searing through her.

“Oh, I remember everything about you, Lady … Carew,” he said.

“You never knew everything about me, Sir James,” Susanna said.

Their gazes locked like the hiss of blades engaging. Susanna’s skin prickled with awareness. Too late to back down now …

“On the contrary,” Dev said. “I remember, for instance, the very last time we met.” There was a hint of devilry in his eyes. He was enjoying baiting her. Susanna saw it and felt a flare of anger.

Then her gaze fell on Emma’s furious, pouting face and her anger dissolved into relief. This was just for show on Dev’s part, to punish her for past sins and make her squirm. He had no intention of revealing the truth. It would damage him as much as it would her. Emma, she was already persuaded, was no meek and biddable betrothed. And Emma must surely hold the purse strings because Dev had never had any money at all.

Susanna allowed her gaze to consider the extravagant embroidery on Dev’s white and gold waistcoat, the crisp quality of his linen and the unmistakable value of the diamond in his cravat pin. Then she let her eyes drift to Emma again. She saw Dev’s gaze follow her. She knew he understood.

Finally, she smiled. “Well,” she said, “I am sure you would not be so churlish as to bore everyone with the details, Sir James. There is nothing so tedious for others as old acquaintances harping on about past times.”

“Did you know one another in Ireland?” Emma had clearly had enough of their conversation. She pushed between them, looking from Dev to Susanna with ill-concealed jealousy. She made Ireland sound like the back of beyond, a place fit only to leave.

“We met briefly in Scotland,” Susanna said, “when Sir James was visiting his cousin Lord Grant one summer. It was a very long time ago.”

“But now we have the happy opportunity to renew our acquaintance.” The expression in Dev’s eyes was in direct contrast to the smoothness of his tone. “You must grant me the next dance, Lady Carew, so that we may talk about the past without boring our friends.”

In one sentence he had demolished her attempts to escape. Susanna mentally gritted her teeth. She recognized that determination in him. He had had the same single-mindedness at eighteen. He had seen something he wanted and he had taken it. She shivered.

“I have no desire to rake over the past,” she said. “I fear I am promised for the next, Sir James. You must excuse me.”

She turned pointedly to Fitz, allowing her fingers to brush his wrist in the lightest of gestures that nevertheless conveyed a hint of promise. She had almost forgotten about Fitz in the tumult of her feelings on seeing Devlin again. Already she had allowed herself to become distracted, which was not good enough when Fitz’s parents’ commission was all that stood between her and life on the London streets.

“Thank you for introducing me to your friends, my lord,” she said. “I hope we shall meet again soon.”

She scattered an impartial smile around the group, noting that Chessie’s response was a rather less than friendly nod and that Emma failed to acknowledge her at all. Fitz seemed impervious to the strained atmosphere and kissed her hand with a gallantry that made Dev frown. Chessie turned away, as though she could not bear to watch Fitz’s attentiveness to another woman.

Susanna started to walk quickly toward the ballroom door. Now that she had escaped Dev her heart was bumping against her ribs in reaction and she felt breathless and shaky all over again. She needed somewhere quiet to go. She needed to think, to try to unravel the tangle of deceit and confusion she was suddenly caught up in.

“May I beg a dance later in the evening, Lady Carew?”

Freddie Walters was blocking her path, his gaze insolent, assessing her like a thoroughbred horse, his touch on her arm more than familiar. His tone said that he already knew everything he needed to know about her, that she was a widow of questionable morals who was probably not averse to a light love affair. The blatant disrespect in his manner set Susanna’s teeth on edge.

“Thank you, Mr. Walters,” she said, “but I have decided to go home. I have the headache.”

“A pity,” Walters murmured. “Perhaps I could call on you?”

“You’re making the lady’s headache worse, Walters.” It was Dev’s voice, cold with a hard edge. Susanna saw Walters’s eyes widen, then, as Dev made a sharp gesture, the other man scuttled off. Dev watched him out of earshot, then his gaze came back to Susanna’s face and fixed there. She had wanted to scuttle away, too, but she had the lowering thought that Dev would simply grab her if she tried to run out on him now. He did not appear to care much for the conventions of the ballroom since he had accosted her in the center of the floor.

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said coldly, “but it was quite unnecessary. I can look after myself.”

Dev smiled. “I am aware,” he said. His gaze, hard and appraising, traveled over her in a manner quite different from Walters’s blatant sexual calculation. It was thoughtful, measured and infinitely more disturbing.

“I was not trying to rescue you,” he added gently. “I wanted you to myself.”

His choice of words and the look in his eyes made Susanna quiver somewhere deep inside. He had removed the feeble threat that Walters posed only to replace it with something far more dangerous. Himself. He was confronting her here, in full view of the Duke and Duchess of Alton’s guests. It was audacious. It was impossible.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Susanna kept her voice steady. She had had nine years of learning how to protect herself. It had never been as difficult as it was now, trying to erect defenses against this man and his perceptive blue gaze and his forcefulness.

He laughed. “You can do better than that, Susanna. What the hell is going on?”

“I have no notion what you mean,” Susanna said. Her pulse was racing. She looked around but there was no refuge. She started to walk slowly to the side of the dance floor. Dev took her arm, adapting his long stride to her shorter steps. To an observer it would look as though they were doing what everyone else did between dances, strolling around the floor, chatting with the casual indifference of social acquaintances. Except that there was nothing casual in the touch of Dev’s hand.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least,” Dev said. “An apology, even—” his tone was sarcastic “—if that is not too much to expect.” For a moment Susanna saw something fierce in his eyes. A passing couple shot them a curious glance. They had caught the tone if not the content of Dev’s words and had sensed the tension in the air.

Susanna deployed her fan to shield her expression.

“It was a long time ago.” She aimed for disdain, cool and dismissive, and hit exactly the right note. “Yes, I left you, but surely you have managed to recover from the loss.” She paused, smiled. “Don’t tell me I broke your heart.”

She had provoked him on purpose and she expected him to tell her she had meant nothing to him. Instead she saw the heat and anger in his eyes intensify.

“I came back to find you,” he said, “two years later.”

Susanna almost dropped her fan. Two years. She had never known. She felt a mixture of bitterness and regret. It would have made no difference. Two years was far too late. It had been too late from the moment she had run away from him. She could see that now, with the benefit of hindsight. She could see all the mistakes she had made—see, too, how pointless it was to regret them almost a decade later.

“I only wished to ensure that our annulment had been granted.” Dev shot her a look, contemptuous, cold. “But when I called on your aunt and uncle they told me that you were dead.” He spoke through his teeth. “An overstatement of the facts, it would seem.”

Susanna was so shocked that she almost fell. For one long, terrifying moment the ballroom spun before her eyes, the music and voices fading, everything slipping away from her. She put out a hand and realized with blessed relief that they had reached the corner of the room and were standing beside one of the long, arched windows that opened onto the terrace. The cool pane of the glass was against her fingers and a breath of air stole into the overheated room.

She raised her eyes to Dev’s face. His expression was hard, his mouth a tight line. She could sense the elemental fury in him.

“Dead?” she whispered. It was true that her aunt and uncle had cast her out when she had fallen pregnant and refused to give up her child. She had been disowned, disinherited, dismissed. They had said she was dead to them. Evidently that was exactly what they had told everyone else, too.

The cold crept into her heart. Her family’s callous cruelty had almost destroyed her nine years before. Now she felt their malice touch her again. She had not thought they could hurt her anymore. She had been wrong.

Dev was still speaking. “Was it really necessary to go so far?” he was saying with biting anger. “It was not as though I wished for a reconciliation.”

He stopped. Susanna knew he was waiting for her reply but for a moment she could not find the words. There was so much to absorb, and so quickly; that he had come to find her, that her family had lied to him. It hurt much more than she would ever have anticipated.

“I …” Her chest was tight. She tried to breathe. She knew that she had to stop this now, before Dev realized that she had known nothing of her family’s shocking lies to him. Already he was getting too close. An instant’s slip on her part and she would give herself away. If he suspected the truth he would have endless questions for her; questions about the past, questions about what had happened to her and, more dangerous still, questions about her life now and why she was in London. She could tell him none of those things. She had to protect herself and her secrets at all costs or she would lose everything. Suddenly she was fiercely glad that she had never told him that their marriage had not been annulled. It could prove to be a useful weapon should she need to defend herself against him.

Susanna straightened, steadying herself. She drew in a deep breath, searching for the right words to drive Dev away from her. He forestalled her. His voice was thick and heavy with emotion, an emotion that even after the passage of nine years cut straight to the core of her and made her feel with an intensity she had not experienced in years.

“Hell and the devil, Susanna,” he burst out, “you were my wife, not some strumpet I had tumbled in a ditch! Don’t you owe me more than this? You walk out on me and then you ask your family to lie to me! Why would you do such a thing?”

There was such passion and honesty in his eyes. Susanna hated herself for what she was about to do, what she had to do in order to protect herself.

“I asked them to lie because I had to be sure to be rid of you,” she said. She made her voice light and uncaring. The words seemed to stick in her throat but she forced them out. She knew she had to finish this and make sure that Dev would hate her so much that he would never question her again. There was no other way.

“I wed you because I wanted you to rid me of the burden of my virginity,” she said. She dragged out a smile, made it vivid, convincing. She knew she was a good actress. She had had enough practice in those lean and bitter years after her family had disowned her, when her skill at dissembling was all that had stood between her and starvation.

“After one night of marriage I had everything I needed from you, Devlin,” she said. “I wanted to know about sex. You taught me.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. He was stony-faced, his jaw set hard as he listened to her cheapen the love they had shared. “It was delightful—” she gave a little shrug, matching the gesture to the dismissive tone of her voice “—but after I had seduced you I had no further use for you.”

That, she thought, should be enough to make him despise her. No man would accept such a blow to his pride. She turned to walk away.

Dev prevented her escape by the simple expedient of catching her wrist and drawing her close to him. Her body stirred to his touch, every fiber of her being waking to him as though they had never been apart. The color flooded her cheeks, heating her skin so that every inch of her felt alive and responsive as never before. She saw Dev’s gaze move over her slowly in precise and insolent appreciation of her state of arousal. His gaze dropped to the neckline of her gown. It had been chosen to ensnare Fitz, and for the first time that evening Susanna wished it was a little more demure. It felt as though the sweep of Dev’s eyes across the curves of her breasts was a sensual caress.

“A moment,” Dev said, and his voice was very soft amidst the hubbub of the ballroom, the tinkle of the music and the clamor of voices, soft but with an edge of steel. “This time you don’t walk away from me until I am ready, Susanna. This time you stay at my pleasure.”