A Scandalous Charade (14 page)

He didn’t trust himself to kiss her, as that would lead to something he definitely didn’t have time for. Juliet had tasted magnificent. Just the memory of that delicious nipple made him even harder. He needed to bury himself inside her so badly it hurt. Not now. But soon.

Damn his manipulative, horse-loving, little blackmailing niece!

~ 10 ~

The widowed Marchioness of Astwick was a dragon by anyone’s standards, but she always threw a magnificent soiree, and it was always well attended. Standing in the receiving line and holding Luke’s arm, Juliet patiently waited to be welcomed by the dragon and her notoriously gregarious son. There was something different about tonight. Something was in the air, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Ah, Beckford!” Lord Astwick nearly bellowed when he spotted them. “And my dear Lady Juliet.” Then he grinned charmingly at her. “I had so hoped you’d be in attendance this evening, my lady.”

Juliet smiled in return. “Well, thank you, my lord.”

Astwick leaned in close and winked at her. “My darling girl, however did you civilize him? His poor family has been trying, unsuccessfully, for decades.”

“Always good to see you, Chet,” Luke retorted wryly and then led Juliet past the marquess into the grand ballroom, decorated in swaths of peach silk and white hothouse roses. Soft music filled the air and dancing had already begun.

Just like at the Strickland Ball, most eyes were focused on them after the footman intoned their names. But it didn’t bother Juliet as much this time. She felt more confident as Luke escorted her about the room. Let people look at them!

“Of course it is,” he answered with a smirk. “Just like Astwick, they all want to see the enchanting lady that has actually tamed me.”

Juliet giggled at that, squeezed his arm, and then whispered back, “Are you tame? I would never have known it with the way you behave in private.” Though she wasn’t about to admit that she adored that about him—their time together had been truly and wonderfully wicked. No, she wouldn’t admit that to anyone, not even him.

Someone cleared their throat nearby, and Juliet looked up to see Lady Ridgemont standing directly in front of them, arms across her ample chest, looking most annoyed. Luke’s muscles tensed instantly, so Juliet squeezed his arm supportively.

“Mr. Beckford, how surprising to keep running into you. I would have thought—” she sent Juliet a scathing look— “that you would have tired of your present company by now.”

“Then you would have been mistaken, Lady Ridgemont. Please excuse us.”

Luke started to tow Juliet away from the now sputtering baroness, but was stopped when the baroness snatched his arm. “Luke, I need to speak with you. It is urgent.”

He shook his head and attempted to reclaim his arm from her grasp. “If it is urgent, then I suggest you discuss it with Ridgemont.”

The baroness’ grasp tightened even more on Luke’s arm. This wasn’t the first time she’d accosted the two of them together, and Juliet knew the besotted woman wouldn’t take a simple no for an answer. It would be best if he just dealt with her now so they could enjoy the rest of their evening later.

Then Juliet spotted the famous portrait artist, Daniel Bennett, speaking with another gentleman on the other side of the room. Years earlier, Mr. Bennett and his American wife had stayed at Teynham’s for a few weeks when the late marquess had commissioned a portrait of Georgie. At the time, Felicity had been enthralled to talk to Mrs. Bennett, and devoured all the information the matron could tell her about America.

Certainly, she could wait out the time that Lady Ridgemont required of Luke by renewing her acquaintance with the artist. She’d always found that Mr. Bennett was quite engaging. “Luke, I actually see someone I would like to speak to.”

He frowned at her as she stepped away from him.

“Find me when you’ve finished your conversation.”

Though she’d turned her back on them, Juliet could hear them exchange heated words in sotto voce. And she found herself wondering why Lady Ridgemont continued to make such a fool out of herself. It was quite sad, really.

Determined to put distance between herself and the baroness, whom she could feel glaring at her back, Juliet started toward the artist and his companion. It would be good to speak to Mr. Bennett again, and she wondered if his pretty wife was somewhere in the throng of people.

Before she could reach the two men, Lord Haywood intercepted her, Susan Clarke on his arm. Juliet was glad to note that Susan was smiling again. Apparently, she’d come to terms with the fact that Haywood was a fortune hunter and decided that she didn’t care. Juliet wished her luck.

Lord Haywood bowed and smiled coolly. “Lady Juliet, how wonderful to see you.”

She had to stop herself from grimacing. Though Juliet felt a companionship with Miss Clarke, she could go forever without ever having to speak to the inept baron. “Thank you, my lord. I was just on my way to speak with Mr. Bennett. If you’ll—”

Haywood turned up his nose and looked thoroughly disgusted as he glanced briefly at the artist and his handsome companion. “You might want to reconsider that, my lady. Bennett and his half-brother, Weatherton, are generally considered bad ton.”

And he was good ton? Though Juliet kept that question to herself. “Oh? Do you know the gentlemen?”

Haywood nodded his head, though he kept his back to the man in question. “Their family is neighbors of mine in Sussex. Bad breeding. The Dowager Lady Weatherton is an American.” He made an unpleasant face.

Juliet narrowed her eyes on the baron. “Allow me to remind you that my sister Felicity’s mother was an American. I’m certain you don’t consider my sister to be the result of ‘bad breeding’.”

To his credit, Haywood blanched and quickly tried to recover. “N—no, my lady. B—but Lady Weatherton was not from an upstanding family like your step-mother was. Not a drop of blue blood in her insignificant veins.”

Susan Clarke seemed to turn a bit white at that last comment, and Juliet shook her head at the baron in complete irritation. “Honestly, my lord, every time you open your mouth something ridiculous escapes. Pray endeavor to keep it closed in my presence. Do excuse me.” And then she started, once again, toward the artist and the man she now knew to be his brother.

However as Juliet got closer, it became apparent that the two gentlemen were having a private conversation about one of their sisters and she didn’t want to intrude. But Juliet also didn’t want to walk back toward Haywood and Susan Clarke, so she stood alone and quietly waited for Luke to finish with Lady Ridgemont.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, truly she didn’t…but she was so close to Mr. Bennett and Lord Weatherton, and the two men weren’t whispering.

“For God’s sakes, Danny,” Lord Weatherton frowned. “You know Ella’s marital state is the last thing I want to think about—ever.”

Daniel Bennett chuckled, a rich sound Juliet remembered from the time he’d spent at Teynham’s Essex estate. “Funny that’s the only thing that ever makes you squeamish.”

“Repulsed is a better term.” He shuddered. “Enough about her. Did you by chance notice that the exquisite Lady Masten’s left already?”

“She would be hard to miss. Gorgeous woman, an artist’s dream.”

“Can you forget your bloody paint brushes for five minutes?” Lord Weatherton sent his brother an incredulous look. “What exactly was Masten thinking, letting her come to Town without him? Incredible fool.”

Mr. Bennett shrugged and seemed bored by the conversation. “I doubt very seriously he’s even noticed that she’s gone.”

Lord Weatherton nearly choked on a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got to be joking, Danny. Who wouldn’t notice that their stunning wife has left them?”

But Lord Weatherton only smirked at his brother’s chiding. “Please. I’m certain Luke Beckford would take particular delight in making a fool out of Masten. Besides, he’s cuckolded everyone else.”

“Interesting theory. Remind me to keep you away from my wife.” Mr. Bennett grimaced at his brother.

While Lord Weatherton chuckled at this statement, Juliet frowned to herself. Who was Lord Masten? The name was an unfamiliar one. And had she heard these men correctly? Was there a bet on the books at White’s that Luke would cuckold this Masten, whoever he was? That was terrible. Men truly were dreadful creatures to contemplate such things. Was there any truth in the tale?

She was still mentally shaking her head when Luke appeared before her, wearing one of his earth-stopping grins. “I believe this dance is mine, princess.” He offered his hand and swept her out onto the dance floor.

Juliet was surprised that during this waltz, Luke didn’t attempt to pull her any closer to him than propriety expected, which was a bit disappointing. She’d grown accustomed to his brazen disregard of societal rules. She rather enjoyed that about him, actually. Apparently, he could read her thoughts because a roguish smirk settled on his lips. “I’d hold you against me, Juliet, but my sister has just finished threatening me within an inch of my life against doing that very thing.”

She quirked one eyebrow at him. “Indeed? I had no idea Lady Staveley had such influence over you.”

With his head, Luke motioned to the side of the room where Caroline was watching them with apt attention. “Younger sisters are such pests, it’s best not to annoy them—particularly when their eyes are glued to you.” Luke led her into a turn. “So, we’ll just have to escape her notice.”

“And Georgie’s,” Juliet supplied with an anxious frown. Which was always more difficult.

“Actually, Carraway’s got her well occupied at the moment.” Luke remarked and looked to his left.

Carraway? He must be mistaken. The viscount never attended any societal functions. State dinners were one thing, but… Juliet followed his gaze, and was shocked to see that Luke indeed was correct—Carraway and Georgie were huddled together in a far corner of the room, engrossed in conversation.

How strange! But Carraway was leaving for India the next morning with Edmund. Perhaps they were just discussing the particulars of the trip again. Though one would think the man had better things to do the night before he left the country than attend the Astwick Soiree.

One thing, however, was certain—Georgie was indeed occupied. Whatever Carraway was saying, her sister was most interested and hadn’t even chanced a glance at the dance floor. Her heart beat in anticipation of stealing a few moments alone with Luke.

When the waltz finally came to an end, Luke quietly ushered Juliet through a set French doors that opened out onto a back terrace. Then he took her hand and guided her down a set of large, stone steps that led toward the Astwick gardens. The chilly evening air whipped over Juliet, and gooseflesh rippled across her skin. It was foolish to be out on a night like this without a wrap, but she was convinced that Luke would make her all warm and tingly in no time.

He finally came to a halt in a secluded area, hid by a hedgerow. Then without any warning, he pulled her against him. Juliet felt breathless as her breasts were pressed against the strong wall of his chest, and his legs entwined intimately with hers. She didn’t even have a chance to speak before he covered her mouth with his. And when she gasped, he drove inside her mouth. He tasted like sweet tobacco and sinful rake—a most deliciously wicked combination.

Luke finally lifted his head, but the roguish smile that usually settled on his lips was missing. He looked serious, firm lines etched across his beautiful brow. “Juliet, I need you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I need to be inside you.”

He’d asked for the same thing the day before, when he’d stolen a kiss in the corridor at Prestwick House. It hadn’t seemed as frightening then as it did now—in the deserted garden. Juliet pushed away from him and dropped onto a nearby stone bench. Things were moving too fast, and though it felt like heaven in his arms, she needed to have her wits about her.

***

Luke stared after her with a deepening frown. He’d been very patient up until now. But truly, a man could only endure so much.

Then Juliet looked up at him, her pretty brown eyes clouded with concern. “Luke, who is Lord Masten?”

At first he didn’t think he’d heard her correctly. What the devil did his brother have to do with this? But she seemed earnest in her question, so he answered honestly—though he could hear the irritation in his own voice. “My humorless and rigid brother. Why do you ask?”

She looked surprised by the answer, but then shook her head. “No reason.”

Now he had to know. She didn’t just come up with Masten’s name out of nowhere. If Robert had something to do with her turning away from him… “Juliet.” He narrowed his eyes on her.

She took a deep breath and then met his gaze. “I overheard some men talking about you and Masten’s wife.”

Luke felt the color drain from his face. Certainly, she didn’t know about Lydia. She couldn’t! After all, Robert had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one find out about his indiscretion with the little tart. “What did you hear?” he growled, though he hadn’t meant to.