A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (16 page)

“I depend upon you to keep my daughter safe, sir.”

“It will be my honor, Lady Hernescroft.”

“And, I’m sure, your challenge.”

She swept away, and Lady Maybury said, “Are you up to the challenge, my lord?”

“Always and anywhere.”

She eyed him. “I could go to extremes to prove you wrong.”

“You would only force me to extremes to prove my mettle, my lady.”

Perhaps she sensed danger.

“Alas, I can’t accept any challenges just now. I am condemned to be good. Come into this reception room so we can discuss our plans for the day.” When he hesitated, she sent him a mocking glance. “My maid will attend us, Dracy, so you needn’t fear that sort of challenge.”

He followed her in. “I’m rarely fearful, Lady Maybury, and then only with due cause.”

“I believe you’re taunting me, my lord, but I will be strong and resist. Now, are you adequately equipped?”

He grinned. “For what?”

That pretty color rose, but she wasn’t dismayed. “Naughty man. For war, sir, for war. In other words, my sister’s ball.”

“A wooden battlefield and toy weapons.”

“Don’t deceive yourself. The weapons are real and can draw blood.”

She was serious, so he responded that way. “A point, but why would anyone target me? Or do you speak of yourself?”

Her flush was not so pretty. “The ball won’t be like that dinner at Herne. I go into this skirmish prepared.”

“With me as your guard.”

“I rather thought I was to protect you,” she said.

“Perhaps we can stand back to back.”

“Rather awkward, is it not?”

“But an excellent defensive position when attacked.”

“Very odd at a ball, however.”

“It’s a pass in some dances.”

She startled him by laughing. “Oh, how delightful this is! This is the first enjoyable conversation I’ve had in an age!”

“You live at your sister’s house in silence?”

“Of course not, but the conversation…With my sister it’s all babies, and with my mother all politics. But to business, Dracy. Do you have a suit of clothes for an elegant ball?”

“No, but I doubt it matters.”

She seemed truly shocked. “Of course it matters! You’ll be dreadfully ill at ease if wrongly dressed.”

“I might be dreadfully ill at ease in silk and lace.”

“Nonsense.”

“I see I’m not so much to be guided as dragooned. I suppose I might become accustomed.”

“Accustomed? I warned you before, sir, that my commission was of limited duration. But for the nonce, I do intend to dragoon you—into high fashion. You will enjoy
the ball, Dracy, and out of your gratitude accept my father’s exchange so poor Fancy Free won’t be compelled to sink to life at Dracy.”

“Dracy Manor is not the Slough of Despond, you know.”

“Not for those accustomed, I’m sure. You wouldn’t want to live in a cottage, Dracy, and I wouldn’t want to live in a palace.”

“No aspiration to be queen?”

She laughed. “None at all, even were it possible. But are you attempting to distract me, sir? I repeat, do you have a fine suit of clothes?”

“No,” he said, “and thus it must be. Unless you really do know magic, I must attend the ball in plain clothes or stay away, for such things aren’t acquired in an afternoon.”

She grinned at him. “Perhaps Pargeter’s is worked by elves and fairies, then, for it will provide.”

“What’s Pargeter’s?”

“A place where valets sell their employers’ finer castoffs. They wear the simpler garments around Town but have no call for embroidered silk and velvet. Do you have a valet?”

“No,” he said, feeling dragooned indeed. “And no need of one.”

“Hire one, immediately if possible. And remember to reward him with finery if you want his best work.”

“I have no need of a valet, Lady Maybury. A footman will do for occasional assistance.”

“I detect rebellion! Or should it be mutiny in your case? A hanging matter, that, but I’ll let you off. If you plan a dull life, that’s your concern. Mine is to smooth your way at the ball, so you can’t attend in shabby state. I’ve always wanted to explore Pargeter’s.”

“Then, of course, we must go.”

“Don’t ‘must’ me, Dracy,” she said, “especially in that tone. I’m making light of an imposition, for I’d much rather spend the next few hours with my mantua maker.”

“
Then I most humbly beg your pardon and grovel in gratitude.”

She frowned. “Are you cross? What an exasperating man you are. Promise me something.”

As imperious as the queen she didn’t want to be.

“What?”

“Why so wary? It’s a minor matter. I labor with a purpose—to help Fancy Free. Promise me that if you’re comfortable at the ball, you’ll spare the poor horse at a price my father can afford.”

Damn the woman, and damn her father who’d come up with this device. He wanted to tell her the truth, here and now, but if he did she’d shun him forever.

“Is it so hard a thing?” she demanded.

“You’re very tender of the sensibilities of a horse.”

“They have feelings. Will you consign her to suffering in order to squeeze every last guinea out of your lucky win?”

“Dracy can use every coin.…” He reined in his temper, but now he wanted her even more. She wasn’t afraid of him or of any man. She’d always give as good as she got.

“Very well, Lady Maybury, I accept your bargain. If I’m comfortable at your sister’s ball, I’ll take your father’s bargain. But only if we seal it with a kiss.”

“A
kiss,
sir? My maid is present.”

“You wouldn’t agree if she were not.”

“We’d not be here together if she were not.”

“Precisely. So what danger in a kiss?”

He watched her struggle between outrage and temptation. He wasn’t surprised when temptation won or when she controlled the payment. She rose on tiptoe and put a light kiss on his lips. “There, the pact is made.”

That butterfly contact had been like fire, and perhaps she’d felt it too, for despite her light words, she’d turned away.

“The pact is made,” he repeated, knowing then that
he was going to fight his damnedest to win Georgia Maybury for wife, for all eternity and beyond.

“To Pargeter’s?” he said.

She hesitated in an interesting way, sliding a thoughtful look at him. But then she turned and briskly led the way out of the room, once more assuming command.

Georgia wasn’t quite sure what had happened. The kiss, of course, which had been naughty of him, but nothing of significance. Men and women kissed in games and in light wagers all the time.

That had been a startling kiss, however.

Only because he’d made it daring, almost wicked.

She should remember that Dracy was the man who’d picked her up without permission and flirted with her in a very daring way. He didn’t bend to her every whim. Instead, he challenged her.

“Do you want your chair, Lady Maybury?” he said in the hall.

It would be sensible protection against dust and dirt, but Georgia felt a need to experience the London streets more directly. “No, we’ll walk. It’s not far.”

As they left the house, she pulled down veiling on her hat to protect herself from dust. “Pargeter’s is in Carlyon Street,” she said, turning right.

“At least you’re no fragile bloom,” he said. “Do you often walk around Town?”

“Are you criticizing me, my lord? Suggesting I’m made of coarser stuff?”

“Lady Maybury, no one could ever describe you as coarse.”

“Thank heavens for that. I feared a year of rustication had ruined me completely. Why are you not rusticating, Dracy? I thought it your intention.”

“I was ordered to pay attention to my duties in Town.”

“Were you? By whom?”

“By you.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “How very presumptuous of me, to be sure. But I’m sure I was right.”

“Are you always sure you’re right?”

“Except when I’m wrong,” she said lightly. “And I’m right about the ball. Fair warning—it will be as much about politics as about me. Thretford aspires to play peacemaker. He, my father, and a few others need an excuse to bring some important men together on neutral ground.”

“Coroneted brigades on a very slippery wooden battlefield. You alarm me.”

“No, I don’t,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

She met his eyes. “Nothing alarms you, Lord Dracy.”

“There, Lady Maybury, you’re wrong.”

“Perhaps you alarm me, my lord.”

“There, Lady Maybury, you might be right.”

A shiver went down her spine.

“How odd you are today,” she said, walking on briskly. Whatever she’d expected from this day, it was turning out otherwise. She realized with surprise that his face hadn’t disturbed her. The damage was still extensive, but she’d made it worse in her mind so that now it seemed at least tolerable.

There were other aspects as well. When she’d first seen him waiting at the York Stairs, distance had given a new perspective. She’d been struck by a nobleness of bearing, and when he’d descended the steps, by an ease of movement. It was easy to imagine him on the deck of a ship, in command, or strong and agile in battle.

“Carlyon Street, didn’t you say?”

His words brought her out of her thoughts, and she saw they’d arrived at the street. “Yes, and we need number sixteen.” She walked along, eager now to have this task done. “Here we are. How very discreet, to be sure. Only a small plaque.” She mounted the three steps. “Knock.”

“
What a shame they don’t allow females into the military.”

She raised her veil to see if he was truly cross. She couldn’t tell.

“Am I commanding you? Dickon—my husband—sometimes complained of that.” She gave him her prettiest smile. “My dear Lord Dracy, of your kindness, would you ply the knocker?”

Dracy wanted to kiss her again, or spank her, in equal measure. She truly was a Circe, and could wrap him around her pretty fingers with ease.

The damnable thing was that he might not mind as long as she was his.

He rapped the knocker, and the door was opened by a middle-aged maidservant who dipped a curtsy and took them into a small but well-furnished reception room.

When the maid left, Circe looked around. “I might think we’d come to a private house by mistake.”

“You haven’t visited a similar establishment for ladies?”

“Faith, no!”

He wasn’t sure her horror was feigned.

“What do you do with old gowns?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“The simpler ones I give to Jane, but the others are stored.”

“Why?”

“Am I to sell them and meet another lady wearing one? Embarrassing for her and me. Am I to pick them apart and try to reuse bits and pieces? Perhaps you think I should burn them.”

“I think you should wear them out.”

She laughed, but said, “It will please your frugal soul to know I mean to wear some of them again during the next few months.”

Her tone stung, but she was right. He did have a frugal soul. It came from never having had money to squander.