Emily Hendrickson (2 page)

“Surely a pretty little thing like you cannot possibly be that troubled. What is it? A torn flounce? Too many beaux?” The teasing, flirtatious voice stopped Chloe in mid-thought.

She whirled about to see the man she had hastily sketched earlier leaning against the wall, his mocking eyes echoing the chuckle he now made at her alarm.

“Who are you?” she dared to ask, her threatened tears forgotten. Although normally shy, she did not pause to question her unusual temerity in confronting this man.

“Your mother has not warned you to keep a distance from me?” he said with feigned consternation. “I am Julian St. Aubyn, premier scoundrel of London at your service, dear child.”

“I am Lady Chloe Maitland and I am no longer a child,” she said with a frown, completely forgetting that they ought to be properly introduced—if at all. “And why do you mock yourself in such a way? Surely you do not seek to perpetuate that displeasing image.”

“My image is of my own making,” he snapped back at her with a frown as marked as hers. He shifted away from the wall and crossed the room to confront her, his ebony cane held in front of him as though to assure a distance be kept.

“At least you are not compelled into an odious marriage because of it.” Chloe turned away from this entrancing man to again contemplate what her future would be if Grandmama had her way.

“And you are?”

His voice was so terribly sympathetic that Chloe found herself replying, “Indeed, I am. Grandmama Dancy has informed me that I am to accept the particular attentions of Lord Twisdale and I simply cannot like the man.” There, she had said it out loud. She had told someone precisely how she felt about the coming attachment. It was infamous.

“As to that, my pater has informed me that
I
must marry properly or risk my funds being greatly reduced,” Mr. St. Aubyn countered with an attempt at humor, joining her at the window to sightlessly contemplate the swaying lanterns.

“And a gentleman needs his funds to live in this world, does he not?” Chloe replied with a sage nod. She gave Mr. St. Aubyn a sympathetic look and a rueful smile. “It would seem we both have dilemmas.” She studied him a bit, then added, “Are you truly a scoundrel?”

“I am.” Julian experienced a twinge in acknowledging his status in the ton to this ingenuous girl with her trusting blue-green eyes. He turned again to look at her. That somewhat plain, heart-shaped face had worn a pert expression when she dared to ask her impetuous question. Yet he sensed that within her was a character entirely different from that of Elinor Hadlow, for example. Lady Chloe revealed a spirit of sympathy he did not find very often. Most of the women he flirted with played their own game and cared little for what he might feel.

This shy young miss revealed an odd sort of maturity beyond her years, along with surprisingly delightful common sense. Pity she was the virginal, marriageable sort of girl with whom he dare not flirt. Flirting with her might prove to be a charming adventure of a sort; he could envision teaching her all manner of interesting things. However, she was precisely the type of miss his father envisaged as the future Mrs. St. Aubyn. Julian barely suppressed a flinch at the thought of a wife—of any sort.

“I could not bear to wed a man who loved another so now I shall most likely be compelled to marry a man I detest,” Chloe confessed in a low voice. One trembling hand smoothed the glove on her other, gently stroking out the delicate wrinkles.

“I say…” Mr. St. Aubyn began, sounding most compassionate.

“There is nothing you could do, short of whisking me away from here.” She laughed, but it had the sound of a cry. How she wished that some magic might help her escape this dilemma.

“As to that, there is a possible solution,” Julian offered hesitantly. “We might help each other.” He stopped abruptly, aghast at what he had been about to suggest.

“It has to do with more than the money from your father, does it not?” she said, suspecting this man would not permit mere money to upset him so much.

“You
are
wise beyond your years.”

“My cousins tumble into the most interesting scrapes and I have picked up a thing or two,” she said quietly. There was no trace evident of the wistful envy she had sometimes felt at the daring and spirit displayed by her more adventuresome relatives.

Chloe glanced at the strange man at her side. She ought to run from this room instead of confiding to a confessed scoundrel. Mention of her dashing cousins reminded her of her own shortcomings. When confronted with the sophistication of the members of Society, that select group of the ton, her previous enthusiasm for London had faded little by little. Without her mother at her side to support her, her cousins to encourage her, and only her Tartar of a grandmother to scold and fuss at her, Chloe had been frightened.

How strange that this particular gentleman frightened her not the least. Perhaps it was because she knew that he was not one bit interested in her or her fortune.

“Your cousins being?” the diverted gentleman inquired.

“The Dancys,” she replied simply, for she had learned that most of London knew of her illustrious relatives and the splendid marriages all had contracted. How could she, a mere dab of a girl with no special talents to recommend her, hope to do half as well? For the moment she had overlooked her more than presentable fortune.

“Indeed,” he murmured and looked at the young woman by his side with increased interest. If she was related to
that
family, she must have something special concealed behind that composed exterior. Shy and plain, she most likely found London and Society a somewhat painful experience. For once, Julian did not view a woman as a potential conquest, but rather as another fellow being who was also in trouble.

“What would you do if you were me?” Chloe blurted out and wondered where those bold words had come from.

He studied her for some minutes until Chloe feared she had exceeded the bounds of propriety beyond what was acceptable even to this man.

“Well, I would
not
marry Twisdale, that is certain.” Julian detested the man. He had seen Twisdale fleece young chaps at cards too often to think it accidental. The man was a cheat and not to be trusted.

Julian mulled over the girl’s dilemma, denouncing interfering grandmothers and parents in general. Were his own father to leave him alone, Julian would eventually find a woman to marry, for he well knew what was due his name and fortune. He hated being pressured; in this he could sympathize with the sweet child at his side. Child? He glanced at her once more.

She was not all that much younger than himself, although there was a vast disparity of experience existing between them. Yet few women he had met revealed their inner being so openly and with such devastating effect, for within her was a virtuous and trustworthy person. In short, she ought to have nothing to do with a scoundrel like himself.

How could he advise this irreproachable young woman on her course of action? He had not come to any conclusion regarding his own difficulty…although he eventually would, he knew. Besides, he had no experience with one such as Lady Chloe. None at all, more’s the pity.

“Perhaps were you to flirt with someone else your grandmama might find acceptable, she would stop pushing you at this man you detest. I cannot imagine why your grandmama thinks Twisdale is a catch. I suspect he would relish your fortune more than you, if truth were revealed. I take it that you do have a fortune?” he inquired in an afterthought. Plain girls who could command a title and moved in the highest spheres usually did.

“Indeed, I do possess a modest fortune. If my dearest brother does not return from the Continent I shall have a rather vast fortune. Grandmama thinks he has been killed by brigands. I believe he is alive and merely biding his time before coming home to settle down. But I would like to receive a letter from him at least once,” she concluded.

“To return to the matter at hand,” Julian inserted, not wishing to become involved in the subject of erring sons, “is that you must learn to flirt.”

“Impossible,” Chloe said with a shrug, daring to laugh up at him.

“I believe you show potential; that was a fetching chuckle just now,” Julian observed with a considering tilt of his head.

“That is merely because I am chatting with you. When I know that I need not please a man—you know, to attract him as a marriage partner—I do not feel the anxiety I do when faced with a peer of the realm and know I must capture his interest or risk displeasure from Grandmama,” Chloe said in a burst of speech quite unlike herself.

“Hm,” Julian said, while deliberating on the matter. At last he concluded, “I shall give you lessons.”

“What? Lessons in flirting? I never heard the like of it,” Chloe said, smiling with delight at the mere thought of a scoundrel giving lessons in flirting to a green girl.

“If you pause to think about it, who better? I have been flirted with by experts, I will have you know.” Julian took her hand and raised it to his mouth to place a whisper kiss on it. “Now flutter those long dark lashes at me and coo with delight—something along the lines of: ‘La, sir, you must not toy with my affections.’ You
can
think of something along those lines, can you not?” He had uttered her words in a falsetto and sounded quite droll.

Chloe burst out in pleased laughter. “Absurd man! What a complete hand you are at this nonsense. I declare, you ought to be kept on a leash, so to protect the women of England.”

Julian smiled, that devilishly winning smile that easily captured a woman’s heart before she knew it.

“By Jove, I said you had promise. Your eyes are sparkling with your delight and I do believe you have an incipient dimple near your mouth. It is very fetching, my dear.” His eyes twinkled down at her with a devilish gleam in them that created most peculiar sensations in her heart.

“I vow you have said that hundreds of times,” Chloe scolded, but she did not stop smiling at him.

“It begs to be kissed,” he teased, rather liking his plain little student.

Chloe blushed a particularly lovely shade of pink that made her look like delicate apple blossoms. “Sir, I protest. You ought not speak to me thus.” She raised her hand in a gesture of objection and Julian caught it in his.

“Now, I am teaching you, and while I admit you are an excellent pupil, you have much more to learn,” he admonished.

“I must agree with you on that score,” Chloe handsomely admitted with a sigh, tugging her hand free of his.

Seeing she had a handkerchief in one hand, Julian pulled it from her and drew it across his lips. A hint of heliotrope reached his nose and he sharpened his gaze, surprised. Not the usual lavender scent? Bravo, he silently applauded.

“Sir?” She frowned up at him with her hand outstretched for the handkerchief to be returned.

“To draw the handkerchief across your lips is to signal you desire an acquaintance with a gentleman you espy across the room.” He showed her the movement again, inhaling the aroma of heliotrope as he did. “You may have observed a woman trailing her handkerchief over her shoulder.” He followed suit to demonstrate and was rewarded with an infectious giggle from Lady Chloe. “She is sending the message to follow her.”

“Indeed!” Chloe took the handkerchief from him to duplicate his movement and shook her head in amazement. “I shall be watching the arrangement of handkerchiefs closely from now on. What a fascinating man you are, sir.” She deliberately fluttered her lashes at him.

Julian stared down at her plain little face now alive with amusement. Those charming blue eyes with the hint of green danced with her delight in the situation, and he thought the grandmother a total fool for this girl showed great promise. Indeed, with that bone structure, she would grow in appeal as she grew older. That is, if she grew older, for he suddenly recalled a vicious rumor he had overheard about Twisdale. Lady Chloe ought not be subjected to such a man.

“Sir?” she said in inquiry, placing her hand trustingly on his arm. “You thought of something unpleasant just now. I hope it had nothing to do with your problems.”

“We must do something about your dilemma,” he said with a serious note in his voice that had been absent heretofore. Then he cleared his throat, reminding himself that he must not get serious about anything. “If you fold your handkerchief, it sends the message you wish to speak with the gentleman. Allowing it to rest against your right cheek indicates that your answer is yes, this in case he has asked you a question you dare not answer aloud.”

“Goodness,” Chloe murmured with a smile, touching her handkerchief to her right cheek as instructed. She raised her gaze to meet his and suddenly the foolishness faded away. She became aware of alien emotions within her that she’d not experienced before this. There was a fluttering sensation near her heart that almost frightened her. She swallowed with care, then brazened a grin. “Did I do it correctly?”

“You are rapidly becoming a little baggage, my girl,” Mr. St. Aubyn teased, taking her handkerchief away from her. “Had you a fan in your hand, you might raise the handle to your lips,” he said while watching her expression carefully.

She slipped her fan from her wrist, then did as he had suggested. “Like so?”

Julian felt an odd sort of stirring within him at the sight of those innocent eyes peeping at him from over the top of the pearl handle of the fan. Her rosy lips were pursed in imitation of a kiss and he knew the strongest urge to kiss her in turn.

“It is a signal that you wished to be kissed,” he said, aware that his voice had dropped to a husky whisper.

“Gracious!” said a sharp voice from the doorway. ‘I did not suspect that your talents extended to lessons in love to infants. Not at all the thing, my dear,” Elinor said in a silky voice that held a note of waspishness in it that Julian had come to abhor.

Chapter 2

Julian did not miss the horrified gasp from the young woman at his side. He wracked his brain to think of a reason why he should have been in secluded conversation with this miss. He suspected what Elinor was capable of doing to the girl, and it was not pleasant to contemplate.