Simply Sinful (22 page)

She waved him away. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Now be off with you. You wouldn’t want to keep the Beechams waiting, would you?”

He thought of Abigail and James, wondered if they were worried about him, whether they would turn up at the ball or wait for him at their home. He stopped walking. Perhaps they wouldn’t do either. He’d gotten them into the same bed together. Were his duties fulfilled? Wasn’t he supposed to make his usual graceful exit and move on?

The hackney cab Madame ordered for him drew up outside the house and he climbed in. The streets were almost deserted now, the rain unrelenting. He shivered, acutely aware of the coldness that lingered just below the surface of his skin, the chill of loneliness he wondered if he’d ever get rid of again.

He didn’t want to move on. He wanted the Beechams to be there for him, Abigail’s sharp common sense and James’s gruffness, which concealed a sensual nature few might have imagined. He wanted to lie on the bed with them and share his impressions of his grandfather. Because whatever happened, he knew in his soul that William Howard was definitely related to him, whether he chose to acknowledge the connection or not.

Peter straightened his coat as the coach drew to a halt outside the glittering Grosvenor Square mansion where the ball was taking place. A footman opened the door and hurried to cover Peter’s head with an umbrella. He smiled his thanks, made sure to tip the man lavishly and entered the house, his smile firmly fixed in place.

16

“D
o you see him, James?”

“Abby, if you ask me again, I’ll send you outside in the rain to go and look for him yourself.”

Abby pouted at James. The press of people in the grand entranceway of the house surprised her. It was as difficult to move as market day in Henham. She struggled to hang onto James’s arm, aware that her beautiful green gown was being trodden on. The constant stream of apologies and sidestepping only served as a distant annoying buzz to her concern for Peter. James came to a sudden stop.

“This is ridiculous. Let’s make our way back into the ballroom. It will be far easier for Peter to find us there.”

Abby had to agree. James caught her hand and dragged her back through the fracas until they reached the large entrance doors to the ballroom. Soft music floated out of the door and, inside, couples bowed and twirled in a stately country dance. Abby stared entranced at the sight until James tugged on her hand again.

“Let’s sit here.”

James ushered her into a chair and sat next to her with a worried frown. Abby touched his hand.

“Do you think Peter is all right?”

“Damned if I know. I left messages at his house and at the shipping company but nobody has seen him today.”

Despite the excessive warmth, Abby shivered. “Perhaps he stayed with his new family.”

“He didn’t. I also checked at Grillon’s and neither Howard was still there.”

Abby drew an unsteady breath. After the best and most erotic night of her life, the news of Peter’s desertion sat heavily in her stomach. Did he think they didn’t need him anymore? Had he decided to go and search for his family without telling them good-bye?

“Lord Beecham?”

Abby looked up to see a complete stranger bowing to James.

“Fulcomb.”

James stood up and bowed in return, his gaze shifting around the room. Mr. Fulcomb bowed again and nodded shyly in Abby’s direction.

“I was hoping for an introduction, Beecham, and the chance to dance with your beautiful wife.”

James stared at Mr. Fulcomb. “You want to dance with my wife?”

“I believe it is customary at balls, to dance, I mean.” The poor man blushed red and pulled nervously at his shirt points.

“I know that, but why my wife?”

Abby stood up. “James, dear, let me handle this.” She curtsied to Mr. Fulcomb. “I would be delighted to dance with you, sir, although I don’t know waltz very well, so please don’t ask me for one of those.”

She placed her hand on Mr. Fulcomb’s sleeve and smiled at James. “I’ll be back soon. Let me know if our particular friend arrives, won’t you?”

Despite James’s scowl and Peter’s absence, she intended to have at least one dance. As a young girl she’d dreamed of having her Season, of dancing the night away at the
ton
balls and meeting the man of her dreams. Of course, that had changed after her hasty marriage, but it was far too tempting an opportunity to miss.

When Mr. Fulcomb took her back to James, she was flushed and slightly breathless. James grabbed hold of her hand and marched her firmly toward the supper rooms.

“What the devil was all that about?”

“What?”

“You, grinning up at that idiot Fulcomb while he danced you around the room.”

Abby sighed. “It’s called enjoying yourself. Am I not allowed to do that?”

James held her even tighter. “I don’t think I like it.”

She fought a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t like seeing his hands on you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind Peter’s hands on me.”

He smiled down at her, the new dangerous smile that made her aware of him as a sexual being, as a lover. “Now, that’s different.”

“Why, because he is your lover too?”

“Exactly.”

He leaned into her, kissed her lightly on the lips. “Peter had better turn up soon or I’m going to die of frustration. I want you both again very badly.”

Abby stared into his heated brown eyes, remembered him thrusting inside her, Peter entwined with them both. His smile deepened.

“Aye, you want it too, don’t you?”

“Good evening, Lord and Lady Beecham.”

James straightened abruptly, obscuring Abby’s view of Peter.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Peter wore a pale blue coat with a silver waistcoat and black pantaloons. His expression was serene, his smile calm and distant. Abby clutched James’s hand.

“What happened, are you all right?”

Peter bowed. “Good evening, Lady Beecham. It was a…difficult day. I apologize for not contacting you earlier. As you can see, I am unharmed.”

James took a step forward. “We were worried about you.”

“I realize that and I repeat, I apologize.” Peter bowed and remained silent, his cool gaze resting on James.

“That’s not good enough.” To Abby’s surprise, James touched Peter’s arm. “We need to talk to you.”

Peter bowed. “There is a steward’s office toward the rear of the house. We can be more private there.”

Abby closed the door and leaned against it. In the flickering candlelight, Peter looked remote, his face that of a stained glass saint about to be martyred and rising toward heaven. James sat on the corner of the desk, arms folded over his chest, his expression formidable.

“Abby and I spent all afternoon worrying about you and you stand there and apologize as if we were mere acquaintances you had let down on a social occasion?”

Peter sighed. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“We want you to tell us what happened, dammit!”

“Are you quite sure you want to know?”

“Christ, Peter, you spent last night with us! We are supposed to be lovers! Do you think we’ve suddenly changed?”

Peter studied his fingernails. “I wondered if, perhaps, you would prefer it if I moved on. I got you back into bed with each other, after all.”

James shot to his feet, marched across to Peter and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“Goddamn you for a fool. I’m not done with you yet and neither is Abby.”

Peter looked at Abby. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Watching James kiss Peter stirred her memories of the previous night. Her nipples hardened and dampness gathered between her thighs.

“Show him, Abby.”

She managed to walk across to Peter, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. His tongue met hers, drew her in, tantalized, teased, promised unheard of delights. She moaned as James moved behind her, trapping her between them. He cupped her breasts, pressed them into Peter’s chest.

“Now do you think we want to let you go?”

Peter groaned. “God, no.”

James touched his cheek. “Then tell us what happened.”

“He seemed to believe you really were his grandson but he also assumed you wanted something from him?”

Peter sighed, one hand pushing back his blond hair.

“So it seems. I found myself getting angry and I had to leave.”

“Suspicious bastard,” James muttered as he continued to pace the worn carpet.

“Well, I certainly appear to be a bastard.”

James paused to glare at Peter. “Not you, your grandfather! What a hypocrite. I thought he was supposed to be a man of the church.”

“I think he was as ill-prepared for our meeting as I was. Perhaps I should’ve stayed and heard him out.”

“You are far more charitable than I am,” Abby said. “I think I would’ve walked out as well.” She reached across and squeezed his arm. “What are you going to do now?”

“Get on with my life, I suppose. I don’t need the Reverend William Howard’s approval to live the way I want to.”

Despite Peter’s calm words, Abby sensed the bleakness leaching out of him. His composure was as fragile as the finest porcelain, and to her, just as transparent. She repressed a desire to go and find his grandfather, tell him what a fool he was and stamp very hard on his foot.

“You are right, who cares about him anyway?”

Abby caught Peter’s faint smile and gave it back to him full measure. She looked up at James, who seemed as concerned as she was. He nodded. She slid off her corner of the desk and went to stand between Peter’s legs.

“James was telling me off for enjoying the ball.”

“No, I wasn’t, Abby. I just said I didn’t like other men dancing with you.”

Abby outlined Peter’s lips with her gloved finger. “You would like to see me dance with Peter, though, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d rather have you both naked in bed with me, but I suppose that would be all right.”

“I would like to dance with Peter, and then I would like to dance with you.”

James groaned. “I hate prancing around like a fool.”

“But I want to feel you both move against me as we dance. I want to imagine what we will be doing together later.” She looked from Peter to James and back again. “I want to imagine watching you together.”

James raised his eyebrows. “You want to see us fuck?”

She kissed Peter and then moved to James.

“Did you think I would be too afraid?”

He smiled down at her. “Not really, you’ve always been a curious little cat.” He turned to Peter. “What do you think? Should we show Abby how it’s done?”

Peter’s answering smile held a mixture of gratitude and warmth that made her want to cry. If her bold words helped take his mind off the unkindness of his grandfather, she was happy to oblige.

“If that is what the lady truly wishes.”

Abby curtsied to them both. “It is, but first you
must
dance with me. This is my first ball and I absolutely insist that the two most handsome men in the room waltz with me and only me.”

James sighed and headed for the door.

“It seems we have created a monster, Peter. Let’s see if we can keep her happy.”

Much later, Abby glanced up at Peter as they waltzed around the ballroom. He was an exquisite dancer. Far more graceful than she would ever be and adept enough to make it look as if she knew what she was doing. He smiled down at her, his blue eyes tranquil.

“Is the ball living up to your expectations?”

“It is. I am dancing with one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met, and even better, I know he won’t just bow and walk away from me but take me home for a far more intimate dance.”

His thigh brushed hers as they navigated the corner. James’s amused face flashed by them, his expression full of approval.

“You amaze me, Abigail.”

Concentrating as she was on her steps, she almost missed Peter’s softly spoken words. She took a moment to register the quiet pleasure they gave her before she replied.

“Why is that?”

“Because of your ability to see James and me as we really are and for your acceptance of our peculiarities.”

“I don’t think you are peculiar at all.”

“Exactly.”

He smiled and drew her even closer until the bodice of her gown brushed his chest with every movement.

“I think caring for someone is the most wonderful thing in the world. Why should it matter what sex that person happens to be?”

“Abigail, you truly are unique.”

The music stopped and she curtsied deeply. Peter brought her back to her feet, his gaze steady on hers. The ballroom disappeared, only the blue of his eyes existed, his admiration and appreciation a balm to her soul and a blessing she had never expected to receive.

“Peter.”

Abby winced as Peter’s grip tightened. He turned toward a gentleman dressed in dark blue and white, his unfashionably long brown hair was secured in a bow at the nape of his neck. Abby gulped as she registered the passion emanating from his amazing violet eyes. He was almost too pretty to be a man.

“Valentin.” Peter ushered her forward. “Lord Sokorvsky, may I introduce you to Lady James Beecham?”

“Your servant, ma’am.” Lord Sokorvsky bowed, instantly dismissed her, and returned his attention to Peter. “I wish to talk to you.”

“I wish to enjoy the ball.”

“Peter…”

“I’ll come by the office tomorrow and talk about anything you want, Val, but I’m here with friends and I don’t wish to spoil their evening or mine.”

Lord Sokorvsky set his jaw. “It will only take a moment of your time. I’m sure Lady Beecham won’t mind.”

“But I will. I’m not going to do what you want, Val, so go and bully someone else for a change.”

Abby quailed at the murderous expression on Valentin Sokorvsky’s face. “I will not be so easily dismissed. You owe me more than that.”

“And I always will, won’t I?” Peter sighed. “All right. I met the Reverend Howard. He believed I’d turned up hoping to help myself to some family money or blame him for my fate. I disabused him of that notion and that was that.”