Читать книгу The Rake's Proposal - Sarah Barnwell Elliott - Страница 10

W hen Charlotte Bannister opened the door to her bedroom that evening, she was preceded by an accusing face and followed by the strains of a waltz. Her engagement party was progressing beautifully downstairs; every room in her parents’ elegant mansion was filled with the soft light of a dozen crystal chandeliers and buzzed with the latest on dit. Everyone invited had showed, and everyone, almost, was behaving.

The exception, Katherine Sutcliff, sat guiltily and unsociably in the center of Charlotte’s bed. Such behavior could not be permitted.

Charlotte sat down on the yellow damask chaise longue with legs formed by black and gold caryatids at the foot of her bed. Kate tried not to meet her gaze and pretended to look around the room instead. The entire Orient converged there, owing to Charlotte’s mother’s exuberant taste for all things Egyptian, Chinese and Greek.

“You simply must come back downstairs,” Charlotte said after a moment of silence. Her pretty blue eyes brooked no argument.

“Well, you see, Char—”

“I do not.” She tossed her dark hair impatiently. “I thought you were excited about this party! What can the problem possibly be? Surely you’re not still worried about your gown? I will tell you again, you look lovely. You were the center of attention for the brief moment you deigned to remain downstairs. You must have noticed.”

Indeed, Kate thought, looking down at her dress and blushing. Because she had arrived only the day before she hadn’t had time to get fitted for anything new. Anticipating this problem, Charlotte had taken it upon herself to have something made up a few weeks ago without consulting Kate or even having met her first. The approximate measurements had come from Robert, who, in brotherly fashion, had badly underestimated her feminine attributes. In the tight bodice, her breasts had nowhere to go but up. She felt quite naked, and Robert’s rakish friends staring openly at her chest did not help matters. Her unease, however, was spurred by the thought of only one of those friends. Benjamin Sinclair had already seen her half-exposed in her dressing gown, and look what happened then. She didn’t know if he’d arrived at the party, or if he planned to attend at all, but not knowing was driving her mad.

“Bastard.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”

“What?” Kate looked up in alarm. Oh, God. Had she spoken aloud?

“You muttered an inexcusable word under your breath just now—”

Kate cut Charlotte off lest she got any more offended. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that—certainly I wasn’t speaking about you. My mind isn’t really where it ought to be tonight…I suppose I’m just nervous.”

Charlotte smiled, satisfied by that response. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’ve nothing to worry about. As I say, you’ve proved very popular so far.”

“Charlotte—”

“Just come downstairs. I want to introduce you to my brother Philip. I promise he’ll behave like a gentleman.”

“I think I’ve met all of your brothers, thank you,” said Kate, thinking of the solid line of dull, unsmiling manhood she’d met on arrival. Charlotte had five brothers—obnoxious oafs, the lot of them. Philip was simply King Obnoxious Oaf.

“He’s not that bad. You’ll grow to like him, I swear.”

Kate wanted to snort at Charlotte’s dogged self-assurance, but refrained. Considering how long they’d been acquainted, it was pretty presumptuous for Charlotte to assume anything about her feelings. But Kate could be just as strong-willed as her managerial future sister-in-law.

“Charlotte, you must promise me this—you will not play cupid tonight. Just because you’re getting married does not mean that love is in the air.”

“But you want to get married. Robert told me.”

Kate nodded firmly. “I intend to.”

“Um…do you have a particular gentleman in mind yet?”

“I’ve only been here a day, Charlotte.”

“I know. It’s just that you seem so…certain…about what you want.”

Kate wasn’t at all certain about what she wanted. Want didn’t figure into the equation. “Well, it’s about time, isn’t it?”

“Your confidence is quite dizzying. I almost pity the male populace.”

Kate sighed, feeling increasingly deflated. “It’s not confidence, Charlotte, it’s determination.”

Charlotte smiled gently. “Mind if I offer my opinion?”

“I’ve learned to expect it in the short time I’ve known you.”

“Well, Kate, it seems a rather haphazard method for getting married.”

“My method is quite scientific, thank you very much.”

“Since when is love scientific?”

Kate met her gaze. She knew Charlotte was right and only wished she could explain her true motivation. But if she told her, she’d tell Robert, and then…well, that’d be it.

“I’m not sure that I will fall in love, at least not right away. How did you know when you fell in love with my brother? Could you just tell?”

Charlotte blushed. “Well, it was just a feeling I had…maybe you haven’t noticed, being his sister and all, but he’s quite handsome—”

Kate snorted.

“—He was also rather bold, I suppose, in letting me know that he was…interested in me as well.”

“Interested?”

Charlotte was blushing to her roots now. “You know…desired me.”

“I know what you mean, Charlotte! You needn’t spell it out! But what did it feel like?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’re friends now, and soon enough you’ll be my sister. What does it feel like when two people desire each other very much?”

“You’re awfully interested for someone who doesn’t even have a chap in mind yet.”

“Humor me.” Kate didn’t know why the answer had become so important. Presumably, one just knew when life-altering emotions like love and desire struck. Unlike most girls, however, she didn’t have a mother to elucidate the finer details of courtship, and she really wasn’t sure that she would just know.

Charlotte continued. “Well, whenever he looks at me I feel rather warm. I blush a lot when I’m with him—rather like I’m blushing now, only it’s much more pleasant…will that do, Kate? It’s rather private.”

“Uh-huh…” Kate wasn’t certain if that delicate explanation helped at all, but could no longer bear to watch Charlotte squirm. She also wasn’t sure she liked the answer. Only one man in her experience had ever made her feel like that and he was absolutely out of the question. She had a goal to reach, and, judging from his reputation, Benjamin Sinclair certainly would not help her along that path.

One more reason to dislike the scoundrel.

An hour had passed since Charlotte had led her unwillingly down the grand staircase. As the clock struck eleven, Kate finally let her guard drop. Perhaps he wasn’t coming after all. Perhaps he, too, was embarrassed.

Not bloody likely.

Kate was standing to the side of the ballroom, watching the other guests sway to the music. She was enjoying a much-needed respite from dancing—her gown allowed for only the shallowest of breaths and she was feeling a bit faint as a result. She’d danced with several eligible young men already and had even taken Charlotte’s advice and given Philip Bannister another chance. She’d forced herself to be less critical this time and found that, although he was still a bit dry, he wasn’t really that bad either. Philip was a year older than her at twenty-five and was actually rather handsome with his dark brown hair and eyes. She hadn’t minded dancing with him twice—even though, as she sadly noted, he fell just shy of her own slender height. No one could be perfect, she supposed. Kate mentally promoted him from the rank of King Obnoxious Oaf to the rank of somewhat dull, but generally good-natured, bore. In other words, he became a potential candidate.

No, everything seemed to be going to plan. A few more weeks of this, and hopefully she’d be well on the way to matrimony.

She scanned the sea of people, looking for a recognizable face. None registered, and she was about to go search out Charlotte when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“There you are, goose. I’ve been trying to find you alone for ages.”

She turned around, smiling broadly at Charlotte as she did so. Her smile froze, however, when she saw who accompanied her.

“I’m sure you’ve met Lord Benjamin Sinclair, Kate—your brother’s oldest friend?”

At her blank expression, Charlotte continued. “Well, this is Lord Benjamin Sinclair. Lord Sinclair, this is Miss Katherine Sutcliff.”

“A pleasure, Miss Sutcliff,” he said blandly for Charlotte’s benefit.

“How do you do,” she replied, curtsying as she did so and looking down to avoid his gaze. The feeling had returned in a flash…the nervous stomach, the heat…damn him again. She sucked in her breath as he lightly kissed her gloved hand.

“Well…” Charlotte went on, not at all blind to the sudden tension that surrounded her, “I think I see Lady Cheshire at the lemonade table, and I could use a glass myself, so…”

And with that, she smiled and flounced away. Kate couldn’t help but catch the now familiar self-satisfied sparkle in her eyes. If only Charlotte knew that her matchmaking skills were wasted on this particular pair.

Kate could feel the heat from Ben’s gaze returning to her face. He’s waiting for me to look at him, she thought, aware that she’d have to give in to his gaze eventually. But too many other thoughts were still running through her head—had he been there all night? Had he just arrived? She couldn’t very well ask. To do so would be to admit that she’d been watching for him.

She knew she had to look. She couldn’t just stand there like a ninny, staring at the floor.

Resolved, Kate met his gaze, and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was there again—the piercing, golden heat of his eyes as they wandered over her hair, her face and down…oh, God, that damned dress. Ben made no pretense of discretion, and she went red once again as he stared unabashedly at her breasts.

“I wondered if I would see you here tonight, but I certainly didn’t expect to see so much of you,” he said with a devilish grin.

Kate, of course, said nothing. What could she say to that? She settled for fixing him with a seething glare.

A waltz struck up and Ben moved a step closer.

“Do you have permission to waltz?” he asked as he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her onto the dance floor.

“No,” she lied baldly.

“Liar.”

Before she knew what was happening, before she had a chance to refuse further, he was escorting her onto the ballroom floor, so thick with dancing couples that there was no room for escape.

She didn’t know what to do but dance. To balk now would only make people stare—even more than they already were. Kate was keenly aware of the fact that people had begun to watch them from the very moment that Charlotte had left them alone together. She could feel every eye turned their way and knew that the gossip had started. She didn’t know what they were saying, but she could count on the fact that it wasn’t complimentary. Ben was simply too scandalous, and the way he was looking at her…

“Are you always this clumsy on the dance floor?” he asked as Kate, distracted, stepped squarely on his toe. “These are new shoes.”

“If you’d given me the chance, I would have told you I didn’t want to dance with you. And is it necessary to stand so close?” she retorted, annoyed into speech.

“Don’t fuss, love,” he said, holding her even tighter. “You’ll only cause a scene.”

Kate bit her tongue, at least for the time being. He clearly didn’t care if she caused a scene or not. From what she could gather from the gossips and from what her brother casually let slip, he was used to scandal. Arguing with him would only lead to embarrassment, and protesting his proximity would just bring him closer.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, more amused at her discomfort than interested in her answer.

“I was,” she answered curtly.

At this, Ben laughed outright, although he obligingly stifled his laughter as heads turned in their direction and Kate reddened.

He changed his approach. “You know, I was hoping to have a few words with you this evening. To make peace, in fact.”

She raised a slender brow, and he continued. “You see, I suspect that you’re angry with me—”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“—and I’m not used to making women angry. So an apology is in order.”

Kate blinked in surprise. This was the last thing she had expected. In fact, she had assumed that he would be angry with her, not the other way around.

“You’re sorry, then?” she asked tentatively.

“Somewhat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘somewhat’?”

“Well,” he answered, spinning her around, “I suppose I shouldn’t have forced you to have a drink with me last night, but I’m not sorry. And I shouldn’t have teased you so much, but I’m not sorry. And,” he said, his amber eyes wandering over her face, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I’m definitely not sorry.”

“Oh?” She didn’t know how she managed that. Her breath tripped in her throat, and she felt like she was melting beneath his gaze.

“But I am sorry that I told you to leave. That, sweetheart, was a real pity.”

With this, he let her go, bowed, turned and walked away.

For a moment Kate just stood there, trying to recover her composure. She’d been so focused on Ben during the waltz that she’d lost track of what was happening around her. Slowly, she realized that the music had ended, that they were no longer dancing, that they had stopped dancing some time ago. Oh, God. How long had the waltz been over? How long had she been standing there?

She turned around, trying to gather her bearings and look as if she weren’t completely flustered. Sometime in the course of their dance, he had maneuvered her back to Charlotte, who was standing along the wall with a small group of friends. They were all staring, although they tactfully averted their eyes once Kate became aware that she was the center of so much attention.