The Lady In Question (18 page)

Ridiculous, of course. The man was a complete stranger even if he didn’t quite seem like a stranger. Still, she’d had the strangest feeling that she had met him or spoken with him or even shared secrets with him before. It was an absurd sensation, of course. She certainly would have remembered St. Stephens. Delia had barely met this viscount. He might well be nothing more to her than her means of becoming an experienced woman. Indeed, he could simply be another mistake. Exactly like Charles. No. Sharing Charles’s bed was not the mistake. Not the mistake she regretted. The mistake was in believing, if only for a moment, that there was more to what the two of them shared than mere lust and desire. That mistake she would not make again.

The problem wasn’t in taking this particular man to her bed.

The problem was in taking him to her heart.

Chapter 10

Dearest Cassie,

I confess to being quite impatient and eager to learn if you have discovered anything of
interest regarding my friend as per my request. I should very much like to renew our acquaintance
as soon as possible.

Up to now, I have always considered myself a patient person. Apparently that is yet another
virtue I have misplaced in recent months…

“Salmon or butter cream?” Delia muttered to herself. She stood in the center of the parlor studying the walls that were, at this point, a nondescript dull greenish brown paper. Salmon or butter cream, it was all the same to her. She sighed with frustration. Her mind simply wasn’

t on colors or fabrics or anything else that had seemed so interesting before her stay at Effington Hall. In the three days since she’d returned to London, she’d yet to make a decision on anything regarding her house. She had, however, made a decision regarding her life.

Lady Wilmont wanted Viscount St. Stephens.

She wasn’t precisely sure what she wanted him for, whether her intentions could be considered honorable or quite disgraceful, but she definitely wanted him and definitely wanted to find out why she wanted him. Nor was she precisely sure how to go about getting him or even finding him. Cassie had promised to make subtle inquiries, but Delia had yet to hear from her. Delia picked up a book of wallpaper samples, leafed through it for perhaps the hundredth time without seeing anything that caught her interest, then tossed it onto the sofa. The refurbishing of her house held no appeal at the moment. The only thing on her mind was the tall, dark-haired, all-too-mysterious viscount and her own idiotic behavior. Oh, not kissing him on the terrace, but fleeing afterward like a frightened fawn.

What on earth had gotten into her? It was a mere kiss. Nothing more significant than that. Even before Charles, she had been kissed. Not frequently and not indiscriminately and probably far less than Cassie had been kissed, but on occasion and more than once.

Charles’s kisses had promised adventure and excitement. St. Stephens’s kiss too held an offering of adventure and excitement, but promised something ethereal and elusive as well, something she could not quite put her finger on. Beyond that, this man she had barely met

“I rather like salmon,” Delia murmured.

“As a fish course, perhaps, but not for a room. You are the mistress of this house and its rooms should complement you. Especially this one, as it is your most public room. You did say you wished to do a great deal of entertaining in the future, didn’t you?”

“I look quite nice in salmon,” Delia said loftily.

“Indeed you do. You also look far and away too, well” — Cassie smacked her gloves against her palm — “innocent.”

Delia stared at her sister. “And we wouldn’t want to mislead anyone, now, would we?”

“Come, now, Delia, that’s not what I meant, or at least not entirely what I meant.”

Delia crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you mean?”

“You needn’t be so sensitive. I simply meant that you are an independent woman of means and your surroundings, the manner in which you live, should reflect that. Nothing pretentious, of course, but rather”

— once again Cassie surveyed the room — “classic. Elegant. Here, let me show you.”

She picked up the book she’d brought, ignoring the unsteady sway of those beneath it, and paged through it. “This is Mr. Hope’s book of furniture designs. Some of it might be too extreme for your taste, and we really should do something about that in the future, but much of it is lovely. I thought it might give you some ideas as to the kinds of things you want.

“I may not act like it, but I do appreciate your help.” Delia sighed and shook her head. “I must confess, though, I have had very little interest in the house since my return from the country.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Please do not tell me you are still thinking about that viscount.”

“Very well. I won’t.” Delia met her sister’s gaze and winced. “But I am.”

“Delia!”

Delia ignored her. “Have you found out anything about him?”

Cassie’s hesitation was so slight only someone who knew her as well as her sister knew her would notice. She shook her head firmly. “No.”

Delia narrowed her eyes. “You most certainly have.”

Cassie pressed her lips together stubbornly and hugged the book against her. “I most certainly have not.”

“You cannot lie to me.”

“Only because I haven’t had as much practice lying to you as you have lying to me,” Cassie snapped. For a moment the sisters glared at each other. Finally, Delia drew a deep breath. “I didn’t exactly lie to you —”

“Lies of omission are just as bad.”

“Very well. From this moment forward, I shall try never to lie to you by omission again. I am sorry about it all, you do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. And I am sorry I brought it up. But I can’t help thinking that if I had known about Wilmont, if you hadn’t deceived me, everything might have turned out far differently. And now there is a new gentleman who has obviously turned your head on the basis of one single dance, one simple conversation and one mere kiss.”

“It was an impressive kiss.” Delia could deny it to herself all she wanted, but St. Stephens’s
mere
kiss had lingered in her mind and in her dreams.

“It scarcely matters if it was the best kiss since Adam first kissed Eve. It was one kiss, Delia. You cannot change your life on the basis of one kiss.”

“It wasn’t just the kiss, although it was an excellent kiss.” Delia wandered around the perimeter of the room trying to pull her thoughts together. “I don’t know that I can explain this. When I was with him, when we talked or when he kissed me, I had the oddest sensation of…inevitability with him. Of fate, perhaps. And I had the strangest feeling we had met before, spoken before. That I had stared into his dark eyes before.” She glanced at her sister. “Did I mention how dark his eyes were?”

“Several times.”

“And how tall he was?”

“More than once.”

“And how we danced together as perfectly as if we were fated to dance together?”

“Yes, yes, that’s been mentioned as well.”

“I know you think I’m being absurd. I have only just met this man and he could well be the greatest mistake of my life —”

“I should think Wilmont gets that particular honor,” Cassie said under her breath.

“Such as it is.” Delia shook her head. “But if he’s not a mistake — St. Stephens, that is — and I pass him by, I shall never know if he and I are meant to be together. I could continue for the rest of my life not knowing if the one soul I am fated to be —”

“He inherited his title about two months ago when his brother died.” Resignation colored Cassie’s voice. “His brother was considerably older, oh, ten years or more, I think. St. Stephens served honorably in the army during the war, I don’t know which regiment, that information is rather vague, but I believe he received several commendations.”

“How on earth did you discover all this so quickly?” Delia stared at her sister with admiration.

“It wasn’t overly difficult.” Cassie shrugged. “He is an unmarried man and, from what you have told me, over and over again, not unattractive—”

“Not the least bit unattractive. With the most wonderfully wicked smile.”

“I know.” Cassie heaved a long-suffering sigh, then continued. “St. Stephens has not been active in society, nor was his brother, apparently; however, the simple fact that he exists — with a respectable fortune, I might add, and an estate in Surrey or Sussex or Hampshire, I really don’t remember where —

is more than enough to make every mother in England with an eligible daughter in tow sit up and take notice. Or take aim. Although he does seem to be extremely elusive,” Cassie said thoughtfully.

“Grandmother’s ball is the first time anyone remembers actually seeing him, although
someone
in the family must know him rather well.”

“Why?”

“He stayed in the guest wing at the hall.”

“He was staying right down the corridor and I had no idea?” Disappointment washed through Delia.

“It wouldn’t have done you any good had you known,” Cassie said firmly. “I understand he left quite early the morning after the ball.”

Delia drew her brows together. “How did you know that?”

“I found out much of this before we left Effington Hall. From Aunt Katherine, primarily.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because” — Cassie studied her sister, concern creasing her brow — “I am worried about you.”

Delia eyed her warily. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know what you’re going to do next. First you tell me you’ve decided to become a woman of experience, which didn’t seem at all worrisome initially. After all, I had to practically threaten you to get you to simply put on a decent gown and pretend to be me for a few minutes.”

“Have I thanked you for that?” Delia cast her sister an overly innocent smile.

“Yes, but I should never have encouraged you,” Cassie said sharply. “The next thing I know, you’re dallying with some stranger on the terrace—”

Delia laughed. “I most certainly was not dallying.”

“— and going on and on about this…this…this Lord Mysterious —”

“Lord Mysterious?” Delia laughed. “I rather like the sound of that.”

Cassie ignored her. “And how wonderful he is —”

“He may well not be wonderful, Cassie, but I should very much like to find out.”

“Delia.” Cassie studied her sister carefully. “If you had known he was staying at the hall, you wouldn’t have done anything ill-advised, would you?” A casual note sounded in her sister’s voice. “Throw yourself into his bed or anything of that nature?” Cassie raised a brow. “Would you?”

“Of course not, I’d just met the man. I’m certainly not ready to throw myself into his bed or anyone else’s. Although” — she cast her sister a wicked smile — “the thought of the bed of Lord Mysterious is extremely tempting.”

“Dear Lord.” Cassie sank onto the sofa and stared at her sister. “I do wish everyone who had thought I was the one on the path to ruin could hear you now.”

Delia grinned. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“And dangerous as well.”

“Why?” Delia plopped into a nearby chair. “If I am to become a woman of experience, St. Stephens would be the perfect place to start. I find him wildly attractive. He is apparently quite respectable when it comes to his family and title and that sort of thing. You said he has money, so he wouldn’t be interested in me for mine. And anyone who kisses that well obviously has had a great deal of experience doing so.”

Cassie groaned.

“I’m simply being practical. I could do far worse than to start with St. Stephens.” Delia’s voice was thoughtful. “I should think if one wants to become a woman of experience the best way to do that is with a man of experience. I could probably learn a great deal.”

“Philadelphia Effington!” Cassie stared in stunned disbelief. “I can’t imagine what is in your head. Obviously your ill-fated marriage, and the scandal,
and
your exile at the very ends of the earth have addled your brain. This entire woman-of-experience nonsense is absurd and ridiculous and…and…” She paused and her eyes widened as if she were suddenly struck by some hideous thought. “And I have never been so jealous of anyone in my entire life.”

“What?”

“I just realized it.” Shock rang in Cassie’s voice. “I am entirely and completely envious of you.”

“Really?” Delia grinned. “How lovely.”

“No, it’s not. You’re on the road to scandal and ruin.”

“I have already been ruined, and the center of scandal as well. Whatever I do now won’t be of nearly as much interest as what I have done.”

“It’s not at all fair. You have independence and wealth and freedom.” Cassie glared. “Hell and damnation, Delia, you have an entire herd of horses in your future and I suspect you intend to ride!”

Delia stared at her sister, then burst into laughter. Cassie buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“Nor can I.”

Cassie lifted her head. “I didn’t mean it precisely the way it sounded.”

Delia wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Thank God.”

“Are you really planning on…” Cassie gestured helplessly.

“Indiscriminate riding?” Delia forced an innocent note to her voice.

Cassie grimaced. “For lack of a better phrase.”

Delia considered her sister for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know. As you have pointed out, it took rather a lot of encouragement simply to get me to pretend to be you. I’m not certain I have the courage to be a woman of experience.”

Cassie breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned. “That is at once good to hear and rather disappointing.”

Delia laughed. “I am sorry. If it makes you feel better, while indiscriminate riding is not in my plans at the moment” — she drew a deep breath — “I am intent upon…something with St. Stephens.”