The Earl Plays With Fire Read online

  ‘The rose is boring and I have no intention of being boring.’

  ‘You won’t be that,’ Benedict put in unhelpfully, ‘the whole world will see you coming at fifty paces.’

  ‘You have no notion of female dress, so hold your tongue,’ she spat.

  ‘I have no notion of going to Almack’s either so I won’t be the one who has to hand out the sunshades,’ her unrepentant brother grinned.

  ‘What is this, Benedict, of course you are to come with us,’ his mother chided. ‘You will need to put on evening dress. I assume that you brought it with you.’

  ‘But not to do the pretty at Almack’s,’ he grumbled.

  After a good deal more in this vein he agreed reluctantly to squire his mother and sisters. Almack’s he stigmatised as being the waste of a good evening and issued a cryptic warning that he would be leaving pretty promptly as he had far more interesting prospects in view.

  Almack’s was always crowded even at nine o’clock in the evening. The doors shut promptly at eleven and anyone arriving after that time, no matter how important, was barred. The patronesses controlled every aspect of the club with iron fists and Lady Jersey’s vouchers had been hard won. In the entrance hall Sophia stopped to preen herself in the Venetian mirror, which hung at the bottom of the red-carpeted stairs, but not for long. Her mother was soon ushering both girls upwards into the main salon, ablaze with a thousand candles hanging from crystal chandeliers and tucked into the wall sconces. People looked curiously at the small party, finding it difficult to believe that this new young woman was Christabel’s sister. There could be no greater contrast, one tall, willowy, an ice maiden with flaming hair, the other shorter, rounded and an undistinguished brunette. No wonder the gown had to be magenta. It was Sophia’s way of seizing some of the attention that always fell so unfairly to her sister.

  In the event neither girl lacked for partners. For some Sophia’s was a new face and a likely diversion while for others she promised to be the means of an introduction to the peerless Christabel. Happily she had no notion of this and smiled benignly on the world as she passed down the rows of the country dance on the arm of one partner after another. Benedict had discovered a few choice spirits who had also been coerced into escorting family members and was content for the moment to bide his time. The evening was young and he felt sure that it could only get better.

  Only Christabel felt depressed. This night was one like so many others. She smiled gracefully at her partners and diligently performed each dance. Between cotillions and quadrilles she sipped lemonade and made kind conversation with those young damsels sheltering by the wall and too shy to talk to anyone else. But there was emptiness in her heart. Soon it would be time to call the carriage and return home, but for what? In two days’ time Sir Julian would return and her future would be decided for ever. If she accepted him, this was one engagement that would have to stick.

  A sudden flurry at the top of the stairs made her look up. A small brunette, her dark curls glistening in the candlelight, had just made it through the doors before they were locked. The girl looked around her with animation and then turned to her companion, grasping his arm and pointing out the glittering chandeliers and frescoed ceilings. Christabel drew a sharp intake of breath. It was Richard, of course. Richard, who had never before set foot in this hallowed place, now dancing attendance on the little Spaniard. She watched as though in a dream as he presented Domino first to Lady Sefton, one of the patronesses present that night, and then on to Mr Davenant, Lord and Lady Wivenhoe and the Misses Newcombe. The girl had an entrancing smile, Christabel thought, and though she beamed happily on everyone she met, it was clear that she smiled for Richard alone. She loves him—the thought struck her with explosive force. Her stomach began to churn sickeningly, but why she could not understand. Richard had been dead to her for six years. Why should it matter who his fancy now alighted on?

  At that moment she was claimed for a country dance. Somehow she managed mechanically to perform the steps without making a mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard and Domino take the floor. He’d always been a graceful dancer and she noticed that in this respect he hadn’t changed. Throughout he kept up a lively conversation with his partner and it was evident that he was delighted to be with her. Social rules dictated that they could not stand up together for more than two dances, but when they were not on the floor he talked to her; when she partnered other men, his gaze was never far away. And so it went on, dance after dance, while Christabel watched the clock and prayed for the carriage to arrive. She felt she could not bear to look at them a minute longer and yet her eyes were instinctively drawn in their direction. They made a handsome couple and it was clear that others thought so too. There were many admiring glances and much chatter behind opened fans.

  When the orchestra struck up for a waltz she was relieved to be sitting out the dance. For some years she’d been permitted by the patronesses to waltz at Almack’s, but Sophia was not in that fortunate position and she had no desire to irritate her sister any further. She had deliberately kept her dance card free so that she could keep Sophia company.

  ‘Miss Tallis, I believe you waltz?’

  Richard Veryan stood before her, immaculate in white ruffled shirt and black long-tailed coat. The crisp white folds of his silk neckcloth were tied in a perfect trone d’amour. Well-fitting black-satin knee breeches did nothing to disguise the muscular thighs beneath. His attire was that of the most fashionable of London gentlemen, but the lean, tanned face hinted at another story.

  Christabel found herself once again struggling to maintain her composure.

  His grey eyes, flecked with flint, were fixed penetratingly on her and without speaking he held out a hand and with the other gestured to the dance floor.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, recovering her wits a little, ‘but I do not care to waltz while my sister does not dance.’

  Richard glanced indifferently at Sophia, who stared haughtily back at him.

  ‘I’m sure Miss Sophia Tallis would not wish to keep you from enjoying a dance she must know you love.’

  It was true. Ever since she’d learned to waltz, she’d treasured the joy of floating light as thistledown across the ballroom, her feet skimming the floor and her whole body responding to the rhythm of the music. Her sister pursed her lips angrily, but said nothing. Richard was still holding out his hand, his cold eyes seeming now to blaze with something akin to fire. Christabel could not understand his persistence, but found herself mesmerised into accepting his invitation.

  A slight pressure on her waist and he had led her into the dance. His arms encircled her body lightly at first, as, twisting and pirouetting, they became familiar with each other’s paces. They had always danced well together and soon they were in tune, step by step, movement by movement. The music’s lush strains trembled through her limbs and she lost herself to its rhythms.

  Gradually his arms tightened around her and she was acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressing her close. The heady smell of his scent enveloped her as she was held ever more nearly, his face almost bruising her cheek. Carelessly his mouth brushed the top of her hair and without thinking she melted more closely into his embrace. They were dancing now as one, their bodies a rhythmical caress which shocked those who witnessed it. Yet the power of Christabel’s beauty held them spellbound. She looked magnificent, almost otherworldly in her splendour, the green silk of her dress swishing across the floor, little emerald slippers on her feet and that haze of red curls cascading downwards to meet her wonderful white skin.

  Her mother, sitting on one of the small gilded chairs reserved for chaperons, looked up and caught her breath in distress. That was surely Richard Veryan!

  She had no idea he had returned to England. And Christabel was dancing with him and in a fashion that could only be described as provocative! Richard’s hand was curved around Christabel’s waist and his face so close to hers that he could, if he’d wished, nuzzle and
caress the soft skin almost touching his.

  And he did wish. He felt his body hard against this woman he’d loved so well. He felt her soft pliable form fusing with his and rejoiced in the sheer physical exultation that was pulsating through him. He could have danced with her all night and then—no, he could not think like that. It was his mission to entice her and the dance must be part of that. His delight in her proximity was something he must not acknowledge.

  The music stopped and for a moment they stood dazed. Then he led her back to the row of chairs, every eye in the room upon them.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Tallis, for a most enjoyable dance,’ he said formally.

  ‘It was a pleasure, my lord,’ she replied, equally formal.

  ‘We must waltz more—I hope to see you at Almack’s again very soon.’

  ‘I fear that is unlikely. I shall not be in London long and I imagine that you will be leaving shortly yourself.’

  ‘Why are you so sure?’ and he looked over to where Domino was standing, wide-eyed and apprehensive.

  ‘I beg your pardon, but I thought you would be returning to Cornwall to be with your mother.’ Christabel sounded puzzled.

  ‘One can return, and return again—if one has something worth coming back for,’ he replied smoothly.

  Once more he looked meaningfully across the room at the young girl waiting patiently for his return. Christabel was bewildered. Seemingly he wished her to understand that Domino de Silva was the woman who held his heart, yet just seconds ago he had been dancing with her in so intimate a manner that together they’d shocked the assembled company. They’d danced as one body, man and woman, merged in a sensual unity. She’d felt his warm breath so close she could have reached out and tasted it. And now this.

  ‘I do believe that finally I have something to come back for,’ he continued, making it impossible to mistake his meaning.

  She gathered up all her reserves of dignity and faced him with a studied calm. ‘You are indeed fortunate.’

  ‘I think so, Miss Tallis. And I trust that you too will know such good fortune.’

  ‘You are all kindness, sir.’

  His answering bow was mocking. With a kiss of her hand, he turned around and walked across the room to Domino, who greeted him with a shy smile and outstretched hands.

  ‘Well!’ Sophia was at her elbow. ‘You’re a sly one. You seem to make a habit of meeting Richard Veryan—you must have known he would be here, but you never said a word. And to see you dancing with him! It was shameless! What would Sir Julian say?’

  ‘It really is none of your business,’ Christabel snapped.

  ‘It will be if you disgrace the family again by breaking a second engagement,’ her sister retorted.

  ‘There is no second engagement,’ she muttered though clenched teeth, ‘and rest assured that you would be the last person I’d ask for advice on my conduct.’

  ‘You could do worse. At least I haven’t made myself an object of scandal.’

  She had an insane desire to scream at Sophia for her spitefulness, but, constrained by the hallowed portals of Almack’s, she kept silent, biting her lip so hard that she drew blood.

  ‘What were you thinking of, Christabel?’ Her mother was at her side, throwing more coals on a fire which was already burning brightly. ‘To dance in that fashion with a man, and with Richard Veryan of all people. What would Sir Julian have said?’

  Her mother’s echo of the earlier taunt breached Christabel’s iron control. She broke free from Lady Harriet’s clasp and said in a stifled voice, ‘I’ll not wait for the carriage. I will walk home.’

  ‘But you cannot…’ Her mother’s words were lost in the distance as she turned swiftly and made for the door.

  Richard watched her go. He had been badly disturbed by their dance. It had thrilled him to take Christabel’s glacial beauty in his arms and mould it to his desire. The feeling of her body against his still resonated. While they’d danced, the ardent girl of yesterday had broken through that frozen surface—and he had been the one to melt her. She was a magnificent creature and he had gloried in the moment. What was she doing contemplating a mediocre marriage with a milk-and-water nonentity? But he must think objectively, he told himself, and objectively his plan was working. He should be pleased. He had stirred the embers of passion in her and soon he would awake such a frenzy of feeling that she would be desperate to know his love. He would have proved her inconstancy and be free to walk away. That moment was a little way off, but he should be satisfied with what he’d achieved that night. He wasn’t sure why the victory felt forlorn.

  Chapter Four

  ‘It’s time I took you home, Domino.’

  Richard’s tone was decisive. Once Christabel had left, he had no inclination to remain at Almack’s and was anxious to return the girl to her aunt’s care. Loretta Blythe had been suffering from a chill for some days and this evening had finally succumbed to a fever and taken to her bed. It was inconvenient. He’d hoped to dispense with his escort duties before now, not least because Domino showed no sign of tiring of his company. He’d expected that once fully launched into the delights of London society she would cease to have an interest in him. Instead, the wider she spread her acquaintance, the more she seemed to cling.

  Having reached Lady Blythe’s house, Richard stepped into the hallway and made ready to wish Domino goodnight, but instead of taking the hand he held out, she raised herself on to her toes to reach his cheek and planted a gentle kiss. Seriously disconcerted, he remonstrated with her.

  ‘You mustn’t do that, Domino. Remember that I stand in your aunt’s place. You must think of me as a friend—an elder brother, if you will.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ she exclaimed rebelliously. ‘You’re by far the most attractive man I know!’

  ‘I thank you for the compliment, but I’m not a suitable partner for you.’

  She shook her head as if to block out his words. ‘I don’t believe that. You think me too young to love truly, but you’re wrong.’

  ‘I am eleven years older than you and my situation is not a happy one.’

  ‘You mean that you’re still in love with Christabel Tallis.’

  Surprise rendered him silent.

  ‘You see, I have her name at my fingertips. How could I not? She is a truly beautiful woman and I can’t blame you for caring for her still.’

  There was a sparkle of tears and her voice was that of a chastened child. He felt a deep sympathy for her.

  ‘My relationship with Miss Tallis should not concern you,’ he rebuked her gently. ‘The situation I referred to was my father’s death. In a very short while I must return to Cornwall. My mother needs support and I have to get to grips with the management of the estate. It’s been allowed to drift since my father’s death and that can’t continue.’

  ‘I understand,’ she breathed eagerly. ‘Of course you must go to your mother. But I can wait until you’re settled. Then perhaps you’ll invite me to Madron Abbey. I would love to see your home.’

  ‘It will be a great pleasure to show both you and your aunt around. But you will come as a guest, Domino, not as a future bride.’

  The girl lowered her head, a mulish expression on her face. Baffled by her obstinacy, Richard spoke more bluntly than he intended.

  ‘I am truly sorry that you have feelings I cannot reciprocate, Domino, but you must be sensible. You’re no longer a child. You have built a fantasy and started to believe in it. For your own sake, you must dismiss it from your mind. In time you will find the man that is right for you.’

  ‘I have found him,’ she said, gulping down unshed tears, ‘but he is too stupid to see.’

  He strode to the front door, but before he could open it, she called out to him from the marble balustrade above, ‘Will I see you at Richmond Park tomorrow?’

  ‘Richmond? Ah, yes, the Wivenhoes’ alfresco lunch, otherwise known as a picnic.’

  ‘I believe the Park is charming—such a large space of coun
tryside and so near the city. You are coming?’ she asked anxiously.

  He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’m sure you’ll find your aunt a great deal better in the morning and she’ll be looking forward to accompanying you to Richmond.’

  He felt too unsettled by their conversation to return immediately to his hotel. He had decided from the outset that he would put up at Brown’s rather than opening the house in Grosvenor Square. A solitary stay amid its lonely expanses did not appeal and the few days he planned to be in London would have meant unnecessary disruption for its skeleton staff. But tonight the hotel looked just as uninviting and he needed to clear his head. He would walk a while in the evening air and then look in on one of the gentlemen’s clubs that lined St James’s Street.

  He’d been scrupulous never to suggest that he could be more than a friend to Domino, but he still felt guilty for causing her unhappiness. It hadn’t helped that he’d been her constant escort since they’d arrived in London. If he’d not spent so much time with her, what had been an incipient affection on board ship would have been nipped in the bud. But Lady Blythe had shown herself only too willing to delegate her duties whenever possible and now the wretched woman had taken to her bed. Surely she would be better in the morning.

  Richard’s resolve that he would no longer be Domino’s escort was broken almost as soon as it was made. A loud banging at his door early the next morning woke him from a deep sleep. It seemed as though he’d hardly been to bed and his head ached from too much brandy the night before. But the hotel porter, breathing heavily in the doorway from his climb up the stairs, was waving a badly folded sheet of paper under his nose and clearly expected an answer.