Never Trust a Scoundrel (14 page)

“And it's particularly terrible when all you have left is one parent, and the world thinks she's a murderer. By then, he'd already given up his music, so I think he was looking for a way to cope.”

Given up his music?
Grace thought in surprise. What did that mean? “And how did he cope?”

“He fought. He fought every boy, no matter how big, who maligned his mother. Finally, they reassessed the situation and backed down.”

“But he made sure, even when he was an adult, that they kept talking about him,” Grace said slowly, as if to herself.

Lord Wade arched a brow, a faint smile on his face. “You know him well.”

“No, I cannot profess that. But in some ways Mr. Throckmorten's behavior makes sense. I did not realize that he composed music like his parents.”

“No, not that. He once said to me that they heard the music in their minds and tried to make it work on paper. Music only came out through his hands and fingers, through playing.”

“The piano?”

“Yes, and many other instruments. His cousin told me he was quite gifted for one so young.”

Grace thought about a little boy losing his father, throwing away what he loved best to do. He had gone off to school, leaving his grieving mother, and finding himself in a world of bullies who made him fight.

“Simon, you make it sound so dramatic,” Daniel said in a bland voice as he left the house.

Grace felt a guilty shiver move through her. He wouldn't appreciate her gossiping about him. But she lifted her chin and stared at him, challenging him to say something about it.

He studied her for a moment, before he lightly said, “Simon, do you mind if I take Miss Banbury
on a walk through your garden? She's fond of plants.”

He barely bothered to make a legitimate excuse.

Lord Wade sat back, tapping his fingers on the table, smiling. “By all means. We'll see you both at dinner?”

“Of course,” Grace said as she rose. “Have a good afternoon, my lord.”

“And if you're bored, Daniel, I do have a few books that need to be read to me.”

But Daniel had already taken her arm and was leading her down the stairs. Their feet crunched on the gravel path; the scent of roses wafted over her. The birds chirped in the garden, and somewhere in the distance horses whinnied to one another. It would have been a lovely afternoon if she hadn't been able to feel the heat of anger radiating off Daniel.

“I can't seem to bring you anywhere, can I,” he said smoothly.

She laughed. “I don't remember being given much of a choice.”

“And so this is your punishment?”

“Punishment?” She took a deep breath, trying to disguise her annoyance. “I was entertaining your friend while you were gone. Was I supposed to ignore him?”

“Then why did you talk about music?”

“I asked him how long he knew you, and things progressed from there.”

She watched his handsome profile, the slim
blade of his proud nose, the way his eyes seemed so unreadable. She was used to seeing desire there—he did not even try to hide that from her. He had allowed her to know such intimate intentions.

But she was not supposed to know other details of his life? How could she help him if he shut her out of so much that made him who he was?

“You could tell me about your music,” she said boldly.

At last his expression thawed, and he glanced at her. A lock of his brown hair fell forward over his brow, still wet from his tumble into the lake. She found she wanted to brush it back, a tender gesture that disturbed her.

“There's nothing to tell. I was a little boy with two musical parents. Of course they tried to make me love it, too. Apparently it didn't work.”

“So it isn't just your mother who wants nothing to do with music. I think you misled me.”

“I disagree.”

She sensed the rising tension in him, knew she was asking for trouble, forcing his attention. And the only way he wanted to give it to her was—

He suddenly dragged her off the path and into a copse of trees.

“Daniel!” she cried softly, pushing at his chest when he pulled her against him.

“Since you're so interested in me, you must be interested in this.”

And then he kissed her, and as usual, heat and need merged until she wanted to cling to his cloth
ing to pull him closer. He opened her mouth with skill, forced her head back. Somewhere nearby they could hear the low murmur of gardeners talking.

And the threat of discovery only fueled the fire raging between them.

He pulled back a bit, nipping at her lips with his, nibbling a path along her jaw, and then tugging at her earlobe.

“We'll be staying in the same house tonight,” he murmured hoarsely.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember how to think. “You would not dare something scandalous here in the home of your friend.”

He lifted his face and smiled down at her, all smooth sensuality and boldness. “Wouldn't I?”

He moved his hips, and she felt the thrust of his thigh between hers.

She pushed him away. “You wouldn't!”

“But I only have so many days left. You cannot believe I would waste such an opportunity.”

“But Lord Wade—”

“Is a man. Do you think he avoids his fiancée, who lives right here with him?”

Grace blinked in surprise. She'd always felt that such indecencies were her own flaws.

“But his grandmother, his sister—”

“This is a big house, Grace. When one is willing…” He trailed off suggestively.

She felt his hand slide from her waist downward, curving over her hip. When she pushed hard against him, at last he let her go. She
turned and bent forward to peer out between the shrubberies.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured.

To her shock, he pulled her back against him, his hips into her backside. She covered her mouth against a gasp, heard voices even closer, and by squirming she at last convinced him to let her go. Only a moment later, she was walking serenely on the path as if she'd never left it.

Daniel caught up to her. He looked amused and aroused and—

How did he so easily know how to appeal to her? She was falling under his spell, under everything he did to her, and she had to find a way to distract him.

“Would you mind telling me how Lord Wade became blind?” she asked.

“Yes, if you'll tell me why you were so interested in Louisa's former employment.”

“That is easy,” she said lightly. “Surely you must know I have to find a way to support myself.”

When she glanced at him, he was frowning, and he looked away as if he didn't wish her to see his expression.

Did it bother him to remember his part in bringing her family down?

And why was it so easy for her to forget?

D
aniel knew she'd been making plans, unlike other women who might have the vapors over the thought of a precarious future. He knew something of what Louisa Shelby had gone through as a companion before she'd come to the Wade household. He didn't want to think about Grace facing the same thing—young men who thought they owned their servants and could do as they pleased.

“Or perhaps I don't need plans,” she said conversationally. “Because of course I will win the violin.”

And then, while he was still trying to sort through his own confusion, she blindsided him.

“Did you not say the first night we met that you only wanted the violin?” she asked. “For a man who has given up music, the possession of a violin seems strange.”

“It's not. I told you that my father once owned the same instrument.”

But he didn't think she believed that as his motive.

“We have covered two subjects that neither of us is comfortable with,” she said, swinging her arms briskly as she walked. “Let's agree to avoid them and discuss Lord Wade.”

“I'm surprised you didn't hear about his injury,” Daniel said mildly. “It was the talk of the
ton,
especially since Simon cut a swath with the ladies before that.”

“You forget that I seldom left Hertingfordbury.”

“He was thrown from his horse and hit his head. Within a couple of days, his sight was gone.”

“He is a very brave man,” she said. “And he was here, staying with his grandmother, when he courted Miss Shelby?”

He nodded, narrowing his eyes as he wondered about her purpose.

“Then perhaps I shall be just as lucky.”

Though he hadn't noticed, the house was before them, and she was able to quicken her pace to reach the stairs before him. Though he watched the sway of her hips as she ascended, even that could not distract him from his thoughts.

She could not possibly believe that Louisa's luck wasn't rare.

He didn't want her thinking about making a living. He felt foolish, but he found himself wanting to distract her, so when they both reached the empty terrace, he caught her arm and leaned near.

“Don't forget about the private dance you owe me for my charitable dances last night.”

She caught her breath. He was so in commu
nion with her body that he felt the fine trembling in her arm.

“Certainly Enfield Manor is not the place—”

“I'll decide the place.” And then he moved ahead of her. “I'll see you at dinner.”

 

That evening, Grace was no longer surprised to see how easily Lord Wade had overcome his disability as he ate freely with them. He and Daniel and Miss Shelby discussed the people they knew in London, and it was obvious they had all moved smoothly through the circles of Society. They always made her feel included, as if they told their stories for her amusement and not just for their own reminiscing.

“And how is Martindale since his father's death?” Lord Wade asked.

Grace remembered immediately that Martindale was the young earl who'd sold his family's ancestral land to Daniel. How would Daniel feel when he had to tell his friend what had happened?

“Struggling,” Daniel admitted.

“You've done all you can for him,” Miss Shelby said softly.

Grace frowned. Did they not know the truth? Though Martindale needed to sell his land, there were many in London who thought Daniel took advantage of that.

“He had no one else he could trust to hold on to the estate for him,” Lord Wade said.

Daniel shrugged. “His father put the family
through hard times with his wasteful spending. At least young Martindale deserves a chance to dig his way out.”

And Daniel's money would help, Grace thought. But hold on to the land? Did Daniel mean to…sell it back to the young earl when Martindale was ready?

Daniel had acted out of kindness, not as a man only looking for a good investment. And he would never tell anyone the truth of what he'd done.

Except for his friends, of course.

But not her. For the first time she felt left out. Daniel didn't owe her any explanations for the way he conducted his life. She was a challenge to him, a new amusement that he had yet to grow tired of.

It was she who kept changing how she saw him and their relationship, and it couldn't be good for her. In the end, when he didn't receive what he wanted from her, she probably wouldn't see him again. She didn't know how she felt about that.

 

Grace very carefully locked her door, waiting until Miss Shelby had gone, so the woman wouldn't be offended. There was already a bath steaming before the bare hearth, with towels and soaps laid where she could reach.

Then she realized that Ruby was waiting for her.

Grace smiled. “That bath looks wonderful, Ruby. Thank you. How has your day been?”

As she helped Grace undress, Ruby chatted for
several minutes about the people she'd met and the way the household worked. But Grace kept getting the feeling that Ruby had questions that she didn't feel comfortable asking. She
had
been alone with Grace and Daniel all morning in the carriage.

After several moments of silence, when Grace was finally down to her chemise, Ruby said, “Ye haven't won the violin yet, miss, since ye're still bein' with him.”

Grace paused in the act of testing the water. Straightening her shoulders, she gave her maid a smile. “Not yet. But I'm closer. He won't be able to hold back a family heirloom for long.”

“I hope it all turns out as ye wish, miss.”

When Ruby hesitated as if she would say more, Grace pleasantly said, “I won't need you anymore tonight, Ruby. Sleep well.”

Ruby's look was worried, and Grace felt guilty, but she only kept smiling until the maid had left the room. And then Grace turned the key in the door.

With a groan, she let her chemise fall to the floor and stepped into the bathing tub. The water was the perfect temperature, and she leaned her head back against the rim and sighed with pleasure.

She heard the faintest click.

“Ruby, did you forget something?” She opened her eyes and turned her head toward the door, but of course it hadn't opened. She'd locked it.

“No, but you did.”

Her head turned so fast she was surprised she didn't injure her neck. Daniel stood just inside the tall glass door that led out onto the balcony.

She thought he would smile in triumph, but his look was more intense, more brooding than she would have imagined, as if he'd thought about her all day—and he hadn't liked the distraction.

“I didn't realize that was a door,” she said between gritted teeth, even as her mind raced frantically. What could he see from across the room? She hadn't even begun to soap herself yet, so there were no bubbles to hide her. She wanted to fling the facecloth over her breasts, but that would only show how vulnerable she felt—as if she thought she had something to fear. And she didn't. All she had to do was say no.

Sometimes it amazed her how easily she trusted his word.

But could she trust his control? Or her own?

Ever since she'd first found him in her town house at night, she had worried when he might next walk in on her. Every bath had been rushed, and she'd only felt safe changing when Ruby was in the room.

But she'd never imagined that he would dare such a thing in the home of his friend.

He began to walk toward her.

“Daniel, stay there!”

But he ignored her, and at last, she pulled two facecloths from the stand beside her and tried to arrange them over her breasts and loins. They floated precariously, and she had to wedge one
between her thighs and hold the other down with both hands.

And then he was above her, looking down.

She couldn't breathe. She felt foolish covering herself from him. He'd already seen her bosom—goodness, he'd even licked her there.

He leaned over and rested his hands on the rim of the tub. He didn't try to disguise the way his gaze moved from her wet knees above the water, across the expanse of her body, and up to her face.

“You're not going to scream,” he said softly.

To her dismay, it had never even occurred to her. “I might if you don't leave this instant.”

“But Grace, I have only days left.”

“A week,” she quickly amended. “And that's long enough for you to find some other way to attempt your seduction. You've invaded my privacy!” She wanted to sound angry and cool, but her voice was hesitant because she had to work so hard to think of things to say.

Instead of thinking that she was naked in front of him, and it was far too exciting.

“Do you want me to leave because you trust yourself so little?” he asked softly.

Smooth man that he was, he knew just what to say to rouse her defenses. “Of course not.” She forced herself to speak coolly and hoped her expression was relaxed. The challenge would be to pretend he did not affect her.

How could she win at that?

Everything he did affected her now. She could
not remember what it was like to despise him for his flaws—his gambling, his scandals.

“If someone finds you here,” she said, “your own strategies will fail you. And I won't find myself forced to marry a man I don't love.”

“That won't happen. No one saw me enter.”

He began to move, circling about the tub as if he wanted to see her at all angles. When he was behind her, she tensed, wondering if he was about to let her hair down, as he preferred. She looked over one shoulder and then the other, but all he did was lightly tug her earlobe.

“You could pretend I'm not here,” he murmured. “I won't mind.”

“So I'm supposed to wash myself in front of you? I think not.”

As if he hadn't heard her, he continued, “But of course I might get wet. And I wouldn't want my clothing ruined.”

He walked to the end of the tub, and to her dismay, he shrugged out of his coat and laid it across a chair.

“Stop that this instant!” she demanded, although just the sight of his broad shoulders covered with only light linen made something ignite deep inside her, a tiny flame that wouldn't be ignored.

“I think it would look far more suspicious if someone saw me with wet clothing.” He sounded as conversational as if they faced each other across a tea tray in a drawing room.

He untied his cravat and slid it from around his neck. His gaze never left hers, and she found her mouth too dry to form words. He loosened his collar and opened the buttons at the top of his shirt. His bare throat was strangely erotic, but that was nothing compared to when he suddenly pulled his shirt out of his trousers and over his head.

Her mouth sagged open before she somehow remembered to close it. He was perfectly formed, all smooth muscle and skin. In her only previous intimate encounters with a man, they'd been so rushed that most of their clothes remained on. This was the first time she'd laid eyes on a man's naked chest, and she could now see why it was such a forbidden thing. He was magnificent. All she could think about was touching and exploring. She had a wild need to press up against him and—

She realized that the facecloth at her bosom was floating away. She made a hurried grab for it, trying to spread it wide, and then suddenly he took it from her hand and lifted it away.

She tilted her head back and stared up at him, and what she saw in his face made her forget about covering herself. Hunger, stark and needy, as if he would die without what she could give him.

A distant part of her warned that this was what he wanted her to think; another part of her remembered that he could only do what she allowed him. Couldn't he?

But there was a traitorous wanton inside her, who reveled as his hot gaze moved across her naked breasts. The water was no cover, although it distorted as it lapped at the upper slopes.

He reached for the soap, not taking his eyes from her, and lathered the facecloth.

“What are you doing?” she asked faintly, already knowing, already scandalized and aroused.

“You need to be washed.”

His voice was hoarse, and it rasped along the edges of her nerves, as if he scraped his nails across her flesh. She gripped the edges of the tub, knowing she should stop him but feeling a rising thrill at the risk.

He was her weakness, and she could not deny herself his touch. Just his touch, nothing else.

She sounded desperate, even in her own mind.

He lifted her left arm from the rim of the tub and began to wash it in slow, gentle circles. She closed her eyes and held back a moan. His ministrations felt wonderful and gentle. He worked his way up her arm, and she gave a little gasp as the facecloth brushed the side of her sensitive breast. He moved to the other arm and did the same thing, then to her shoulders and neck. Inside, her emotions swirled together, pleasure and awareness and rising passion.

“Lean forward,” he whispered.

Without questioning him, she did, expecting to feel the cloth scrub her skin. After a pause, she stiffened as she realized that his soapy hands were bare. He rubbed and stroked, sliding his large
hands up and down her back. His strokes went wider and wider, until he just teased the edges of her breasts. She gave a moan and a shiver.

She couldn't think of any reason to stop him. That should have alerted her, but any silent alarms in her mind had long since faded away.

He pulled her back, and as she stretched and arched with satisfaction, his hands slid from her shoulders and down over her breasts. The shocking pleasure of it eased a groan from her. His head was next to hers, and he nipped along her neck and shoulder. His hands kneaded and cupped her breasts, and when his fingers gently rubbed her nipples, she felt desire spread out through her body, racing along her skin, sensitizing every part of her to his touch. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, arched until her breasts were even deeper into his hands. His breath on her cheek was a hot caress, and it seemed only natural to turn her head and meet his lips with hers.