Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard (21 page)

“There’s no need to be rude about it,” she snapped. “Up until a few moments ago you seemed quite enthusiastic yourself.”

“And you should have boxed my ears for taking such liberties,” he retorted as he tried to straighten his cravat. “The entire evening has been one disaster after another, and this little episode is the topper on the cake.”

Vivien’s heart twisted with a stab of pain. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “I thought it was very nice, actually. How foolish of me to think you would feel the same.”

She hoped she didn’t look as wounded as she felt, but the guilty expression that came over Aden’s face suggested she did. He sighed and leaned forward, carefully taking her hands between his palms. His touch, both gentle and cautious, brought an unexpected rush of tears to her eyes.

“My sweet girl,” he said in a voice that sounded strained, “after everything you’ve been through these past few weeks, you’re much too vulnerable. It was entirely inappropriate of me to take advantage of you.”

She yanked her hands away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a child, you know. You did not take advantage of me, because I’m quite capable of making my own decisions.” If that sounded surly, so be it. His actions were beginning to feel very much like rejection rather than gentleman’s remorse.

He straightened up, putting distance between them. Given the frown pulling his brows together in a disapproving line, it felt like leagues instead of inches. “Vivien, it would be a mistake for you to make assumptions about me based on our very brief history. I’m not some kind of hero out of a schoolgirl’s fairy tale.”

Now he thought she behaved like a schoolgirl? “If you think it was such a mistake, why did you kiss me in the first place?”

He turned his hands over and stared at them, as if expecting to read an answer in the lines that crisscrossed his palms. Then he looked up and she instantly knew he’d regained his control. Something that felt too much like sadness rustled around the vicinity of her heart.

“My lady, I say to you again, you know little about me. I fear you have painted a picture that is far from the truth. It is best for both of us if we understand that, and best if we forget this incident.”

He moved as if to open the door, but Vivien placed a stilling hand on his arm.

“Then why don’t you tell me who you are?” she asked. After what had just occurred between them, she had no intention of letting him simply walk away. No man’s touch had ever affected her so greatly. She needed to understand why she felt that way, and know if he felt it too.

He gently placed her hand back in her lap and then stretched down an arm to fetch the bundle of pound notes that had fallen to the floor. Scooping up her reticule from the seat beside her, he tugged it open and began to stuff the bundle inside.

Vivien snatched the reticule away from him, and the notes fell to the floor. In how many ways would he insist on insulting her this night? “I don’t need your charity, Captain. You bested me in fair play, so the winnings are yours.”

His eyes opened wide with surprise. She answered his unspoken question with a haughty smile, a little smug that she’d broken through his impassive demeanor.

Then he narrowed his gaze. “Don’t be a goosecap, Vivien. Take the money.”

She clutched her reticule to her chest. “I will not. I must say, Captain, that your insults are most unwelcome. And I’m not referring to the fact that you kissed me.”

“Then what the devil are you talking about?” he snapped.

“A person of honor pays her debts. As a man of honor,” she said sarcastically, “you should understand that simple concept.”

His nostrils flared, making him look like a bull about to charge anyone foolish enough to wander within his range.

“Do you really think I would take your money?” he demanded. “Damn it, Vivien. I was trying to teach you a lesson, not make your situation worse. Surely you know that.”

She reached for the door handle, but he clamped a hand on her arm. Despite her anger, she couldn’t deny the excitement rippling through her, just from that simple touch.

“I don’t require any lessons from you, sir,” she said. “Please let me go.”

“Not until you take the blasted money,” he said.

A nagging voice in her head urged her to capitulate, but pride wouldn’t allow it. Aden obviously had very little respect for her, and if she gave in on this, he would ultimately think her without honor.

“No.”

For several long moments, they stared at each other. Vivien struggled to hold his searing gaze, but with every passing second she descended further into misery over the night’s work. She’d gambled away any chance to save Kit, and she’d made a fool of herself by exposing her feelings to Aden. And as much as she needed the money he kept trying to thrust upon her, taking it would leave her without a shred of dignity. He thought her little more than an impetuous jade. That was obviously why he kissed her, and why he subsequently rejected her.

She swallowed the sickening lump in her throat, hating the self-pity that threatened to overwhelm her. Finally, she let her gaze drop, unable to stare him down.

He made a soft, scoffing noise. “Sweetheart, look up.”

The gentleness she heard in that low rumble made the ball in her throat swell to twice its size. She shook her head, too humiliated to respond.

A gloved finger came to her chin, tilting it up. He studied her with a grave and yet tender expression. As she stared back at him, a slow heat began to build in his raven eyes.

“You speak of honor,” he said, stroking her jaw. She couldn’t repress a tiny shudder, and his eyes flared with interest.

Perhaps he didn’t find her so repulsive, after all.

“But what about my honor?” he continued. “What kind of cad would I be if I treated you in so shabby a fashion?”

“Then why did you play me in the first place?” she whispered.

“I needed to protect you. Both Barrymore and Castle were practically slavering at your feet. In winning such large sums from them, you would have gained their undivided attention and that could have been very dangerous. I needed to get you out of there, and playing against you seemed like the fastest route to achieve my goal.”

She thought about that, testing it against what she already knew about him. From Aden’s point of view, it made sense.

“You didn’t have to be so blasted good at it,” she finally grumbled. “Where did you learn to play like that, anyway?”

“Oh, here and there. I seem to have some talent for it,” he answered lightly, carefully prising her reticule from her fingers.

Like his talent for kissing, she supposed. But she didn’t want to think about where he’d learned to do
that
so well.

When he began again to stuff the pound notes into her reticule, she stiffened. “Captain—”

“No, Vivien,” he said firmly. “You need this money and I intend for you to have it. I told you I would keep you from harm, and I keep my promises. Besides, I’m terrified at what other mad schemes you and your brother might otherwise hatch to raise money. This is the safer route, by far.”

She started to weaken. He had a point, but she didn’t much like the idea that she was nothing more than an obligation to him. Or a source of aggravation, which was even worse.

“But it’s an awful lot of money,” she protested, making one last attempt. “I couldn’t possibly do that to you.”

He laughed. “Trust me, I won’t suffer. Now, please assuage
my
wounded pride and take the bloody money.”

No, he wouldn’t miss the money. That part was true, at least. The St. George family possessed one of the largest fortunes in England. Even though a younger son, Aden was surely much plumper in the pockets than she.

“Oh, very well. But I promise to make it up to you, and I will expect you to accept my payment when I do.”

That hot gleam flared in his eyes again, and her stomach tilted with a funny little pitch. She was beginning to think Aden’s most lethal skill was his ability to reduce her brain to a puddle of mush.

“I just might hold you to that promise,” he said. He tightened the cords on her reticule and handed it back to her.

She glanced out the carriage window and sighed, noticing for the first time that they’d come to a stop a few houses up the square from Blake House. “I suppose I’d better go in now. Sooner or later, someone’s going to come along and wonder why we’re lounging about in the carriage.”

And wouldn’t that be the perfect end to the evening? Aden would no doubt be horrified to be discovered alone in a carriage with her. The last thing he would wish for was to be forced into a compromising position.

On that gloomy thought, she reached for the door handle. Aden’s hand covered hers.

“Not yet. We still have one other matter to discuss.”

“You must be joking,” she said, sighing.

“Sadly, no. I’m assuming that you will use the funds from tonight’s delightful adventure to pay off your brother’s vowels?”

“Yes, but you know he owes a great deal more than this.”

Aden was back to looking stern. “It’s unfortunate, but you must refrain from any more outings like tonight. In fact, until I can determine the man responsible for your abduction, it’s best that you remain as close to home as possible.”

Drat
. She eyed him, calculating just how far she could push him.

His eyes narrowed into warning slits. “Vivien, you are trying my patience.”

Resisting the temptation to respond in kind, she strove for a reasonable tone. “I know, and I’m sorry for that. But you are well aware of how much Kit owes. I simply cannot stand by and allow mayhem to break loose in my family.”

“I told you before that you are not responsible for either your mother or Kit.”

“We will have to disagree on that point.”

He looked disgruntled, but then he surprised her by leaning forward and tapping her lightly on the chin.

“You, madam, will drive me to Bedlam, which at this point sounds rather restful. I will concede the point—”

When she grinned at him, he held up a hand.

“—for now, but I insist you tell me everything you intend to do. I still need to protect you.”

For the first time in hours, her anxiety eased. She might be a burr under his saddle and she still couldn’t decipher how he really felt about their kiss, but it warmed her from the inside out to know he intended to hold fast to his vow to keep her safe. And now she no longer had to lie about her plans to help Kit, which made things much simpler.

“I do have a plan, as a matter of fact,” she confided. “And I think it’s a good one. I’m sure you’re aware of Lady Bentley’s masked ball tomorrow night. I know it’s a rather risqué affair, but all the biggest gamesters will be there and I’m
certain
I can do quite well at the tables.” She beamed at him. “And with you there to look after me, I won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Vivien had no choice but to ignore Aden’s muttered string of curses as he handed her out of the carriage.

Aden propped a shoulder against one of the marble columns in Lady Bentley’s ballroom, scowling at the cause of his foul mood. Not that Vivien noticed. When she’d caught sight of him, she’d given him a cheeky grin and a cheery little wave and then turned back to her slavering admirers. Right now the blasted girl was smiling at Reggie Devane, a harmless sort who trailed her around ballrooms and drawing rooms like a faithful hound. The others were not so harmless, and it took all of Aden’s willpower not to storm across the room and spirit her away to complete safety.

When it came to a sense of self-preservation, Vivien sorely lacked some essential instincts.

It was enough to make his temples throb even if he didn’t already have a headache. The overpowering scent from the bouquets of lilies on all the sideboards combined with the stifling heat and Lady Bentley’s garishly gold decor into a sensory assault that had Aden longing for a nice little stint of real spy work—preferably somewhere outside in the freezing cold. And as far away from the British aristocracy as possible.

And far away from Vivien and the torture of watching her smile at other men. After that delicious but disastrous kiss in the carriage last night, the thought of her engaging in even the mildest flirtation made his gut pull tight.

Not that she was truly a flirt. As far as Aden could tell, Vivien attracted this sort of masculine attention wherever she went, whether she wished for it or not. Her ethereal beauty and engaging wit demanded attention, but she also had a way of looking at a man, directly and without artifice, that exerted an almost irresistible pull.

Unfortunately, he suspected it was her appearance tonight that served as the biggest draw, not her manner. In yet
another
astounding example of lack of a self-preservation instinct, she’d tricked herself out as Helen of Troy. She wore a Grecian-style robe with a gold clasp holding the bodice up over one shoulder, the other shoulder naked and gleaming white in the candlelight. Add in the soft, silky material of her white gown, caught under and around her pretty breasts with a gold cord, and the woman posed an insane temptation. One did not have to be obsessed with her to be shot through with a burning need to stalk across the ballroom, toss her over a shoulder, and carry her away for a thorough bout of ravishing.

And on that vibrant image, Aden shifted, all too aware he’d turned as hard as a pikestaff. Repressing a groan, he pulled the edges of his black domino around his body. He loathed masquerade balls with a passion, and the domino was his only concession to the idiocy of adults dressing up in costumes ill-fitted to either their personalities or their physiques. But right now he breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that his mother had insisted he wear the enveloping cape, since it saved him a world of embarrassment.

He glowered at Vivien’s little court for a few more minutes, but came to full alert when Lord Castle drifted into her orbit. Had the bastard deduced who the mysterious Mrs. Smith was after all, or was he simply joining her merry band of idiots? Even more to the point, how would Vivien react when she saw him?

Castle slithered his way to the front of the pack and took Vivien’s hand. When he bent low and pressed a lingering kiss, Aden pushed off the column, ready to head across the room. But a large restraining hand landed on his arm. He whipped around, his muscles automatically tensing with the need to fight, only to encounter his mentor’s ironic gaze.

“Really, Aden,” Dominic said. “I believe I taught you better than this. Firstly, you failed to notice me coming up behind you. Secondly, you are scowling at Lady Vivien like a husband about to be cuckolded. If you aren’t more careful, you will draw attention both to yourself and to her.”

Aden’s temper spiked, but he managed to hold back a hasty retort by grinding the words to dust between his teeth. Dominic was right even though he had no intention of admitting it.

“I am merely concerned to see Lord Castle pay her such attention. As you know, he was one of the men she encountered at The Cormorant.” He finished with a bland smile.

“Go ahead and tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” Dominic said. “I’m sure it will stand you in good stead for the rest of the evening.”

“Don’t you have anyone else you can bother? Lady Bentley, perhaps?” Aden nodded to the rattled-looking older woman at the head of the room, dressed unfortunately as Cleopatra. “Then I can do my job in peace.”

“No need to worry, since Lady Vivien is dispatching Lord Castle with her usual panache.”

Aden glanced at Vivien just in time to catch her direct a cold, cutting look at Castle before she turned her back to him.

“The girl has a great deal of sense,” Dominic said. “Apparently more than you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Dominic studied him with that calm, maddening way of his, the one that frequently made Aden feel like a callow youth. His mentor was a tall man, as tall as Aden, and still as fit as the day he entered the Service. They stared at each other, eye to eye, neither breaking contact.

“You may cease glaring at me in that murderous fashion, Aden,” Dominic finally drawled. “You know it hardly intimidates me.”

Aden couldn’t help cracking a reluctant smile. “Yes, but I like to keep in practice for situations when I
do
need to intimidate someone.”

A glimmer of amusement lightened Dominic’s hard gaze. Then he switched his attention to Vivien. “And what about Lady Vivien? Do you intimidate her?”

“I can only wish. The woman is stubborn to the point of madness. If Griffin hadn’t sent word last night, God knows what would have happened.”

“Yes, it was a stroke of luck she chose his establishment.”

Aden folded his arms across his chest. “If that’s your idea of luck, I hate to think of your notion of ill fortune.”

Dominic froze with the unnerving stillness that sometimes came over him in the strangest situations. Aden suspected it signalled some kind of retreat into memory, triggered by a seemingly innocent statement that yet held a deeper, mysterious meaning. Whatever the meaning, it seemed to weigh heavily on his chief’s spirit. Aden had seen it happen more than once but he’d never asked why, knowing such questions would be unwelcome. Dominic was an exceedingly private man who rarely shared personal confidences.

“My idea of ill fortune is something I hope you never experience,” he replied in a quiet voice. Then he shook himself free of whatever had gripped him and turned an assessing eye on Aden. “You’re emotionally involved.” He raised his hand, palm out. “No, don’t bother to deny it.”

Aden cursed under his breath. He’d never been able to hide anything from Dominic.

His chief smiled. “It’s not
always
a bad thing, you know, especially in a case like this.”

“No, it’s always bad,” Aden replied in a grim voice. “That situation in France . . . John’s death. All that could have been avoided if I hadn’t let our friendship muddle my vision. I cannot allow something like that to happen again.”

His gut twisted as the lights and sounds of the ballroom faded, replaced by a grisly scene—John, his friend and fellow spy, his face lifeless and covered with blood as he lay sprawled in the bed of the woman who betrayed him.

“We all make mistakes, Aden. You make fewer than most.”

“One was enough,” he said with a bitter twist of the lips.

Dominic’s face took on a familiar, imperious cast. His chief was once more England’s great spymaster, not the surprisingly kind man Aden had come to know over the past ten years. “This is not a discussion for a ballroom,” he said. “Simply ensure that Lady Vivien returns home safely, and then stop by Upper Wimpole Street later. We can talk then.”

With a nod, the older man faded into the crowd.

Irritated with his gloomy turn of mind, Aden refocused his attention on Vivien. In the last few minutes she’d taken to the dance floor and was currently waltzing with a brash young cub who’d been trying to engage her favor for most of the night. He held her much too close, and Aden’s hands twitched with the need to teach the idiot a lesson in propriety.

At this point, Aden much preferred that she spend her time at the gaming tables. At least there she was surrounded only by hardened gamesters instead of hardened rakes. But Vivien had spent but an hour in Lady Bentley’s game room, playing hazard with a nerve and skill that had prompted his reluctant admiration. She’d tripled her stake in short order and then wisely excused herself from the table. Clearly, her gambling had little to do with any need for excitement, and everything to do with providing for her family. It was a novel approach and although he couldn’t entirely approve he couldn’t entirely fault her, either.

Besides, she was bloody good at it, and Aden could appreciate that, too.

After the conclusion of the dance, Vivien curtsied to her partner, who offered his arm. She was just refusing it when her gaze locked with alarm on something on the other side of the dance floor. Aden glanced over and let out a low curse.

Prince Ivan Khovansky, garbed like a Russian Cossack, making a late appearance and heading straight for Vivien.

Pushing away from the pillar, Aden started toward her when a commotion broke out to his right. A group of partygoers blocked his way to Vivien, and he lost several precious seconds. And a moment after that, a feminine hand clasped his forearm, stalling his progress.

“Aden,” his mother hissed in a tense voice. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I need a moment of your time.”

He peered at her, taking in her Grecian robe, the gilt spear in her hand, and the odd-looking helmet perched far back on her head. “Who in God’s name are you supposed to be?”

Her lips twitched. “Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom.”

Aden frowned. “It looks like you’re wearing a bucket on your head.”

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind that now. You must come with me. There’s someone who wants to speak with you.”

He took in her tight smile and saw the strain around her eyes. Something was making her anxious, but right now he didn’t have time to deal with it.

“Not now, Mother.” He cast a quick glance over to Vivien who had retreated with her swain to the other side of the room, getting as far from Khovansky as she could. The prince hadn’t given up, though. He tracked her like a wolf after a hare.

He removed his mother’s hand from his arm. “I need to keep an eye on Lady Vivien. This will have to wait.”

“It can’t wait,” she said in a low tone.

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Well, well, who have we here?” boomed a loud voice behind him. “It’s the charming Lady Thornbury, and her son, too. This is delightful, and very well met.”

With a sinking heart, Aden pivoted on his heel. A few feet away stood the Prince Regent in all his corpulent glory, his entourage clustered behind. His father beamed at him, his round face shiny with perspiration and good cheer.

Aden stared back, his mind a blank. When his mother jabbed him between the shoulder blades, he broke free of his paralysis and managed to execute an awkward bow.

“Well, my boy,” said the Regent, “it’s been years since I last saw you in London. You’ve been neglecting your mamma and your friends. We can’t have that!”

Aden heard the quiet titters from some of the bystanders as shame prickled up the back of his neck. And no wonder. What could be more amusing than the Prince Regent running into one of his by-blows, the child of his affair with the famous Lady Thornbury?

He stared into his father’s expectant gaze, wishing the earth would crack open and swallow them whole.

 

 

Vivien flicked her gaze in horror between Khovansky, who was plowing toward her, and Aden trapped in conversation with the Prince Regent. And by the tense set of Aden’s shoulders, he wasn’t happy about it, although the Regent seemed to be distinguishing him with unusual attention.

Not that it mattered. What mattered was that Aden wouldn’t be able to come to her rescue this time, and she simply refused to spend even one minute talking to Ivan the Terrible. Drastic measures were clearly called for.

Spinning on her heel, she encountered the ardent gaze of Viscount Tumbler. The man had been pursuing her for months in his own ponderous fashion, refusing to take no for an answer. For a few seconds, Vivien indulged her irritation that all the men she wished to have nothing to do with
insisted
on pursuing her while the one man she longed to spend time with wouldn’t. Despite that smoldering kiss in the carriage last night, Aden had gone out of his way to keep his distance.

She glanced back at Khovansky, now halfway down the room and closing fast.

“My dear Lord Tumbler,” she said in a bright voice, “how lovely to see you.”

Tumbler frowned. “But you saw me just a few minutes ago, before you went out on the dance floor with Mr. Perkins. Don’t you recall?”

She gritted her teeth. Of
course
she did. Did the man have to be so blasted literal?

“Oh, la,” she said with a witless giggle. “The heat in here must be addling my brain. I so long to escape this crush and get a little fresh air.”

Lord Tumbler was a tall, plump, and rather fussy man who carried himself with an air of perpetual befuddlement. He stared at Vivien as if she were a puzzle to unravel.

“It’s November, Lady Vivien.” He eyed her floating garments. “In that rig you’ll catch your death of cold.”

She grabbed his arm and steered him to the arching doorway and out to a passage leading to the back of the house. “If I’m not mistaken, Lady Bentley has an enclosed orangery. I’m sure the air will be much fresher and it won’t be nearly as crowded.”

Tumbler looked confused but allowed her to tow him along. But by the time they reached the corridor, he’d figured it out—at least he thought he did.