WANTON (6 page)

He forced a look of concern onto his face. “How could you have ascertained—and so quickly too—that you and Lucas don’t get on? You only spoke to him in the parlor when I introduced you.”

“I talked to him...ah...in the hall too, up by my room. We’re oil and water, and I’m not the bride he needs. He’d absolutely agree with me.”

George tamped down a trill of excitement. He’d suspected it would be beneficial to house Miss Hubbard next to Lucas. Apparently, they’d already chatted at length. What might happen with further interaction?

Lucas—for all his impertinence—was very handsome and could be exceedingly charming when he tried. A sheltered innocent like Miss Hubbard could never resist an attempt at seduction by him.

“I’m much older than you, Miss Hubbard,” he told her, “and I expect much wiser too. Please heed my counsel. It’s impossible to decide on such scant acquaintance that you and Lucas aren’t a good match.”

“He was very clear.”

“He’s a bachelor,” George airily said. “Most of them can’t imagine being tied down. He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t believe he will, and I couldn’t bear to have a husband who is so curt and condescending.”

“We caught him on a bad day,” George claimed, “and I didn’t prepare him before he met you. He needs some time to come to grips with the situation.” He smiled, eager to appear confident rather than desperate. “We’ll bring him around to our way of thinking. You’ll see.”

She blew out a heavy breath. “You’re placing me in an untenable position.”

“No, I’m not. I’m guaranteeing you receive what you’ve wanted forever.”

“How so?”

“If you can drag Lucas to the altar, Miss Hubbard, I’ll give the two of you a fine estate in Surrey as a wedding gift. You’ll be landed and settled and very wealthy. Wouldn’t it be worth a bit of effort to achieve that boon? Surely you wouldn’t surrender such a prize without a fight.”

She stared down at her hands, and he could practically hear her mind whirring as she struggled to absorb his offer of income and property. As an orphan who’d grown up in a boarding school, she would never pass up such a fabulous opportunity.

“What would I have to do?” she ultimately mumbled, and he nearly shook a fist in triumph.

“Stay for the next month—as my guest. We’ll find plenty of chances for you to socialize with Lucas. Proximity will quickly work its magic. I have no doubt.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“You’re a very pretty girl”—he painted on a thick layer of flattery—“and you’re sweet-tempered and pleasant company. Once Lucas starts to discern your stellar attributes, there’ll be no keeping him away from you.”

She groaned with what sounded like misery. “You’re mad.”

“No, not mad. Just very determined.” He stood and gestured to the door. “Now then, hurry upstairs and pack your bag.”

“Why?”

“We’re off to London, Miss Hubbard, to open up my town house.”

She dithered and debated, then finally said, “All right, but just for a month. If I can’t win him over in thirty days, then you and I will have to come to terms, and I’ll leave.”

“You won’t be going anywhere, Miss Hubbard.”

“You’re awfully optimistic—much more optimistic than I am.”

“I’ve already accepted a dozen invitations to various balls and soirees. They are entertainments where we will run into Lucas constantly.”

“You say that as if it’s a good thing,” she muttered.

“Proximity, Miss Hubbard, remember? We’ll wear him down. Between your beauty and my resolve, Lucas won’t know what hit him.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“What am I doing?” Amelia muttered to herself, wondering if she wasn’t growing deranged.

Why had she accompanied Lord Sidwell to London? Why had she agreed to stay for a month? Why would she conspire with him against Mr. Drake?

Why, why, why...

She understood that he’d blatantly coerced her. His talk of giving her an estate in Surrey, the home she’d never had but had always craved, had proved irresistible.

It was folly for her to pursue a relationship with Mr. Drake, and even if she could seduce him into marriage, who would want him as a husband?

As his wife, she’d have to hire old crones as her housemaids so he wouldn’t dally with them. Every time he walked out the door, she’d have to worry about where he was going, who he’d be with, and if it would be a female. What woman could bear such a life? Not Amelia, that was for certain.

There were couples who staggered through such an unpalatable existence, but Amelia couldn’t carry on that way. She valued loyalty, fidelity, and respectful kindness, and she recognized her limitations. A philandering husband was far beyond the pale of what she could endure.

She’d now been in the city for three days and was at her first ball. She should have been ecstatic, but she didn’t have a dress suitable for a party, and Lord Sidwell was so obtuse it hadn’t occurred to him that she needed some clothes. She couldn’t decide how to tell him and wasn’t in any position to demand them.

The previous morning, when he’d announced the fact that she’d be attending the ball, she’d made a vague suggestion about her lack of a wardrobe, but the implication had drifted by him like water off a duck’s back.

She hadn’t raised the possibility again.

The ball was being held in a huge mansion next to Lord Sidwell’s town house. There were hundreds of people inside, the rooms a crush, so it was difficult to move or breathe. She’d wandered through the gathering, hoping she might see someone she knew or at least find someone with whom to chat. But upon noticing her pitiful gray dress, guests thought she was a servant and kept asking her to fetch their champagne.

The situation had left her so humiliated that she’d sneaked out and was hiding in the shadows on the verandah.

Like a homeless waif, she was peering in the windows at the beautiful women in their expensive gowns and jewelry. Their lives were the type she should have had. After all, her father had been an aristocrat. But she was his byblow, and on his death, she and her brother, Chase, had been cast to the four winds by his kin who’d been perfectly happy to pretend they’d never been born.

She was trying not to gape, trying not to appear envious and resentful, but she was sure she looked pathetic. She was dowdy and drab and totally out of her element. Why, oh, why had she come to London?

Suddenly, a very glamorous female slipped out onto the verandah and hurried down the stairs and into the garden. Amelia couldn’t help watching her. She was attired in a bright green gown and had a voluptuous figure. Her hair was a vibrant shade of red, styled in an intricate coif complete with emeralds and feathers.

Amelia wondered what it would be like to have such fashionable clothes, to wear them with such aplomb. As she considered all that the other woman was and all that she
wasn’t
, she felt even more miserable.

She was venting and moping when another person crept out of the party, a man this time, and as he glided under a nearby lantern, she was disturbed to note that it was Mr. Drake.

Since she’d arrived in London, she hadn’t seen him. Lord Sidwell had insisted they’d fraternize constantly, but he wasn’t staying at his father’s home. Amelia hadn’t been apprised of his whereabouts and didn’t suppose she had the right to inquire.

He hurried down the stairs too and vanished into the dark garden. Clearly, he was following the woman who’d just passed by. Were they having an assignation? Were they lovers?

The notion that she’d finally found him only to discover him in a tryst was too excruciating to be believed. Was she the only female in the kingdom he hadn’t seduced?

Like magnet to metal, she trudged after him, when she had no idea why she would. What purpose would be served by spying? It would merely underscore all the reasons she’d been mad to accompany Lord Sidwell to the city. The finest property in the world wasn’t worth so much humiliation.

She located them easily enough. They’d barely made it past the first row of bushes. They were in the middle of the path, not caring if they were observed, so it was a simple matter to furtively assess them. Their bodies were pressed together, their hands busy with petting and caressing, as they kissed and kissed and kissed. It was a wild embrace of lengthy duration, and Amelia’s spirits sank even lower.

When he could have his pick of doxies, when he could sneak off with such a stunning creature, how would Amelia ever get him to notice her? She’d promised Lord Sidwell she’d try for a month, but wouldn’t it be better to leave immediately? Why torture herself over what could never be?

The lovers slowed their pace, and as they came up for air, they were merry, laughing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back, you bounder?” The woman’s voice was husky and sultry.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You certainly did.” The woman grinned. “How long are you staying?”

“Forever, I imagine.”

“Forever is good.”

They both laughed again.

“I’ve resigned my commission in the army,” he said.

“To do what?”

“Loaf and play.”

“My favorite sports,” she retorted.

“Mine too.” He was nibbling across her neck and shoulder. “Where is Freddie?”

“The dear old boy is in Scotland.”

“How convenient.”

“Isn’t it though? My house is so empty with my husband away.”

“There are a few ways we could enliven it.”

The woman drew away and struck a saucy pose. “I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”

“Perfect.”

“Shall I have the butler prepare a bath for us?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can’t wait.” She kissed him on the mouth, then sauntered off.

He loitered, watching her until she climbed onto the verandah and went inside, then he tagged after her. He walked directly by the spot where Amelia was standing in the shrubbery, but he was so absorbed in studying his paramour’s shapely bottom that she might have been invisible, and she was aggravated to find herself furious and jealous. Why would she be?

He was even more dissolute than she’d supposed, being the sort who not only tumbled the housemaids, but also committed adultery with impunity. He was rushing off to...to...
bathe
with a married woman while her husband was out.

Amelia had never imagined such wicked goings-on. She would never possess the exotic traits that might turn his head, and she was more determined than ever to escape from the debacle.

She tiptoed after him, remaining far enough behind that he wouldn’t hear her shoes crunching on the gravel. Near the verandah, there was a bench in the grass, and she staggered over to it and plopped down.

She sat in the dark, contemplating Miss Peabody, speculating over how much Miss Peabody had known about Lucas Drake and his father. Had she any clue as to the catastrophe into which she’d sent Amelia?

Before her death, Miss Peabody had written a letter to Amelia, explaining her decision, how she was helping Amelia to obtain the home and family she’d always wanted. The prospect sounded grand on paper, but the reality was much more exhausting.

Amelia hoped Miss Peabody hadn’t understood the true circumstances with Lucas Drake. She would hate to think Miss Peabody had grasped the situation but had betrothed Amelia anyway. It would be too awful to accept.

Oh, she shouldn’t have come to London! Why had she let Lord Sidwell bring her? It was insanity. It was folly. She was so wretchedly unhappy!

As she fumed and moped, another woman left the party and strolled down into the garden. She was older than Amelia, although it was difficult to judge if she was forty or fifty. She was buxom, her skin smooth and creamy, her hair a striking shade of auburn.

She was fanning her face, looking overheated from the dancing and the crowd of people. She saw Amelia and boldly strutted over.

“Would you mind if I join you?” She seated herself on the bench without waiting for Amelia’s reply.

“No, I don’t mind,” Amelia mumbled, although she minded very much.

She was too weary to converse, and if she was mistaken for a servant and ordered to fetch the champagne, Amelia couldn’t predict how she’d react.

“I’m Barbara Middleton,” the woman said.

“Amelia Hubbard.”

“Very charming to meet you, and you must call me Barbara. Everyone does. I never stand on form.”

“All right.”

“Have I shocked you by being too forward?”

“No,” Amelia lied, being unnerved by the brazen familiarity.

“It’s my nature to bluster ahead. I’ve never been able to stop myself.”

Amelia had no response, so they dawdled, the music from the orchestra wafting out. It was a lively tune, dancers flitting by the windows, but Amelia was so removed from the merriment that she might have been observing from across an ocean.

“By any chance,” Barbara asked, “have you a brother named Chase Hubbard?”

Amelia was startled by the question. “Why, yes. You know Chase?”

“Yes. He’s a great friend of mine. I surround myself with younger men, and he amuses me. He’s one of my favorites.”

Chase amused her? He was a favorite? It was unfathomable.

Amelia flashed a weak smile. “Is Chase in London?”

“Yes. Why are you here? I believe he once mentioned that you were teaching in the country at some dreadfully boring girls’ school.”

“I was.”

“But...?”

“The proprietress passed away, and before she died, she arranged for me to marry. I’m...ah...here to become acquainted with my fiancé.”

“And who is the lucky fellow?”

Amelia was conflicted as to what her answer should be. She and Mr. Drake had very clearly decided they wouldn’t proceed, yet his father had insisted the engagement was still binding. Mr. Drake wasn’t aware of how his father had pressured Amelia, so he wouldn’t be too happy to have her spreading stories.

“You probably wouldn’t know him,” she ultimately said.

“Yes, I would. I know everyone in the city. Who is it?”

Barbara turned to Amelia, and her stare was so potent that it almost seemed as if Amelia was speaking to Miss Peabody—who had been an expert at ferreting out the details she sought. There’d been no evasions or half-truths with her, and Barbara Middleton was deftly able to apply the same kind of visual coercion.