Suzi Love (16 page)

“Becca, neither of your sisters is as beautiful as you. Lottie may be a more practiced flirt but you don’t need to flirt with me to enthral me, my sweet. You’ve already done that.”

Becca reddened at his words and dropped her gaze.

Lottie drifted by them on the path, followed by her entourage. As she passed, she giggled and murmured to Cayle, “And Becca thinks you’re her hero, her white knight. You’re both equally smitten.”

Cayle felt a great deal better now the tide had turned and put a finger under Becca’s chin to lift her head. He grinned when her colour heightened even more. “So, you’re smitten with me,” he said in a smug voice.

“Your conceit is without equal. I’m smitten with all these wonderful gentlemen. It’s simply a matter of deciding with whom I will conduct my next experiments.”

She gave a little wave of her fingers to dismiss him and merged with the group, leaving Cayle floundering with outrage. How dare she make these outlandish announcements and then leave him standing gulping and spluttering. It wasn’t to be tolerated any longer. There would be no experiments in the bedroom with anyone but him. She was ready for another lesson in pleasure and he was the only teacher who would be educating her, certainly not any of these drooling idiots. Perhaps tonight he’d demonstrate the next step in their liaison.

But for now, they needed a confirmed list of which consortium members were pressuring the Jamisons. Time was running out. They needed to move faster. Becca was becoming impatient and in her present mood, he feared she would do something rash. And he had little or no chance of controlling her once she had made up her mind. Michael was correct. Controlling these girls was akin to ordering the wind to stop blowing or the sun to cease shining.

Looking at Becca now, surrounded by ardent admirers whom he planned on dispatching very soon, she resembled the sunshine itself. She glowed. She radiated warmth to everyone around her. No wonder these men clustered closer. Basked in her heat. Lord Stewart Meacham was basking in her heat now, leaning over her exposed bosom. Far too closely. Damn the rogue.

Cayle strode forward to slip an arm around Becca’s waist. He inched Becca sideward away from Meacham’s leering gaze. “Please allow the lady room to breathe or she may faint.” He coughed into his hand to hide his laugh at Becca’s stunned expression.

“Faint? I’ve never — ”

“Never been strong!” Cayle said. “Yes, we know. I’ll escort you to your sisters.”

Becca narrowed her eyes and all but snarled at him. He met her gaze and smiled, all innocence, as he led her away towards where her sisters were enclosed by another group of men. Laura and Lottie moved aside to allow her to join their conversation with a group of young bucks and Cayle resigned himself to another half hour of listening to mindless chatter.

Tony came to stand beside him and slapped his back and laughed.

• • •

“Thank God none of us are as dim-witted as them,” Cayle muttered. He pointed to where Meacham leered at Becca. “Or as much of a rake as him, getting a thrill from peering down the bodices of innocents. The man is disgusting.”

“Remove the scowl from your face or you will frighten away all their suitors,” Tony remarked.

Cayle growled. “Those aren’t suitors. They’re a pack of animals circling their prey.”

“Be thankful those women aren’t susceptible to flattery and fribble. Their main intention here isn’t to secure husbands, but to distinguish which gentlemen are desperate enough for easy access to wealth to risk offering marriage to a Jamison sister.”

“And have any declared their intentions to you?”

Tony grinned again. “Do you refer to honourable or dishonourable intentions?”

Cayle scowled at his brother. “I expect that if you heard of any dishonourable thoughts directed towards Becca — ” he corrected hastily, “or any of the girls of course, that you’d inform me at once.”

“Calm yourself. Few of these men are willing to take the risk of upsetting any of Michael Jamison’s sisters. Or the Duke of Sherwyn. Talk is that the majority of them are anxious to ingratiate themselves in order to uncover the secrets to the family’s new wealth. Michael is fêted whenever he shows his face at a London club. That’s why he’s taken to hiding out at Oxford and not venturing up to town very often.”

“So, because Michael isn’t around, these fortune hunters and scoundrels are targeting his sisters.”

“That’s why Brian and I promised Michael we’d watch over the girls as much as we’re able. Everyone knows there’ll be an increase in railway expansion very soon. However, it’s beyond the arithmetical capabilities of most of the indolent men of our class to calculate where it’s likeliest to happen first.”

“But can the Jamisons verify it accurately?”

“In the past two years, they’ve invested without err in the right locale at precisely the right time. The family has made enormous profits, although they’ve taken great pains to hide the exact figure. Michael tries to protect the girls from these very fortune hunters.”

“And by insisting they accompany me through the social whirl, I’ve exposed them all to these bounders each and every day.” He groaned. “What the hell have I done?”

Brian tried to console him. “Cheer up, Cayle. If you’d refused to aid them, they’d have resorted to other means to finagle information.”

“What other means?”

“Laura revealed they’d already searched four gentlemen’s documents before they approached you.”

Cayle groaned again. “Do I want to hear this?”

“No, but I’ll tell you anyway. The girls have been taught the ways of housebreaking from experts.”

“You mean they’re criminals.”

“It hasn’t gone that far yet.”

“Yet?”

“They’ve not needed to enter houses in an underhanded manner because they gain entrance through the front door, like well brought up ladies. Several names were eliminated from their initial list of suspects because one or other of the sisters searched desk drawers for paperwork while paying afternoon visits.”

“It’s intolerable. Becca hinted that she may require me to steal papers, yet they’ve taken care of it themselves. Again. And she neglected to tell me. Again. They’ve become impulsive and reckless in their pursuit of these men.”

“Ah,” Tony said, “but they’ve more than enough reason. Their futures are at risk. Their father, the earl, is still an amiable enough sort but he’s so involved in his historical diggings in Scotland that he barely remembers to take care of his own family.”

“His five children have become very resourceful,” Brian said in an admiring tone. “And jointly, they protect their Aunt Agatha who has reared them since their mother’s passing.”

Laura and Lottie called upon his two brothers to settle a difference of opinion over which of the night’s entertainments they should visit first.

• • •

Cayle cast a jaundiced eye over Becca’s admirers. He admired her far too much to condemn her to life as a childless spinster, but amongst the fops, dandies and worst of all, the rakes, clustered around, there wasn’t a single one good enough for her. Reading the desire on the faces of these men was easy. Once, his face had been stamped with the same looks of lust and desire when mixing with young widows and debutantes, the same male need to stalk and conquer.

For Becca, to be conquered would be to cut off all that was good in her, all which made her stand out. No man should ride roughshod over her intellect and enthusiasm. The man who gained Becca’s trust would be someone outstanding. Someone who appreciated her as she was. Someone like him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her responsiveness. His thoughts always took him back to the same place. His bed. Her bed. With them both in it. No other woman he’d ever met was quite like her. She was intelligent beyond a level usually acceptable in the haute ton, even for a gentleman.

One moment, Becca was a fiery temptress yet the next she was an unpretentious innocent. Soft, sensuous, delicious. At this rate, he’d never believe anyone suitable to be her husband, not while he could see only himself in that exacting role. The only man capable of giving her endless pleasure, of aiding her in her charity work, of being her accomplice in intrigue, was himself. She made him hunger for sex and dare he think it, love and commitment. However, he’d given his solemn oath to Julia.

Meacham once again edged the others aside and moved closer to Becca. Cayle’s temper burned as Meacham dared to put his hand around Becca’s waist. Stepping forward, he none too gently kicked Meacham’s leg behind the knee, causing him to overbalance. As he struggled to remain upright, Cayle took his place beside Becca and feigned an expression of concern. Meacham saved himself by putting out his arms but landed faced down on the grass, soiling his clothing.

“Meacham. Apologies. I fear I inadvertently bumped into you.” Meacham recovered himself and glared at Cayle. A look passed between them, man to man, and Meacham understood that it hadn’t been an accident. He stood and shook himself off.

“No matter, Sherywn. Accidents happen.”

“Perhaps you should retire to your house and allow your valet to attend to your wounds.”

“You haven’t heard the end of this, Sherwyn,” Meacham challenged. “Don’t think that your title will protect you. Rumour has it that you’re a marked man.”

Cayle stiffened at the threat but had no chance to ask what he meant as inquisitive passers-by hovered around them. Meacham stormed off through the park leaving them all unsettled. When Laura suggested the group disperse to prepare for the night’s entertainment, they readily agreed.

“Ladies, my carriage awaits at the park’s entrance. As the weather has turned inclement, I suggest we make a hasty departure.”

Brian and Tony escorted Laura and Lottie along the path at a hastened pace while Becca drew back to walk beside Cayle, tugging on his sleeve.

“What did Meacham mean about you being a marked man?” Her eyes were wide and her fingers dug into his arm through the weave of his woollen coat. He unwound her hand and placed it over his arm, smoothing out her fingers, enjoying the feel of her warm body pressed against him.

“Nothing. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Cayle. You know I’ll discover the truth this evening anyway.”

“Ah, yes. The Jamison’s famous sources of information.”

He made a futile attempt at diverting her but he’d be better trying to push back the tide than curtail Becca’s curiosity. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly while deciding how much to reveal.

“My friend, Devon, whom you met last week, informed me this morning over breakfast that my involvement with you has been noted. Unfavourably so. One of his informants brought to his attention that there is money to be made by any man willing to hasten my demise.”

“Oh no, Cayle,” Becca exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, my goodness. This is dreadful.”

“Calm yourself, sweetheart.” He patted her hand and wouldn’t allow her to withdraw it from his arm. “It probably has nothing to do with you or your family. Devon and I made enemies before we left France. It’s probably a competitor in the markets over there wanting to rid themselves of competition.”

Becca frowned and he knew he hadn’t convinced her. When they reached the waiting carriage, Brian and Tony had already seated her sisters.

Cayle handed Becca inside. “If you’ll excuse me, Brian and I have pressing matters to attend to. Tony will escort you home.”

“Becca, don’t fret,” Tony said. “Cayle can take care of himself. A lot better than he could before. His time away taught him a lot.”

“It’s also hardened him,” Becca murmured. “I wonder what will soften him.”

Tony grinned. “Oh, I think he may have already found what he needs for that.” He nodded happily to Laura and Lottie. “Yes, my big brother may well have met his match.”

After instructing the coachman, Cayle reached in to place a light kiss on Becca’s gloved hand. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I’m a hard man to kill.”

Ignoring her protests, he latched the door and he and Brian doffed their hats and strode away, knowing he was leaving Becca to fret and fume. Perhaps Tony could comfort her. But they had only walked five paces when he heard a voice behind him call out. He stopped and looked. A freckled face was peering out the carriage window.

“Cayle St. Martin, you will be at Grosvenor Square at eight o’clock tonight. Or I will shoot you myself.”

Relieved that everything was as it should be between he and Becca, Cayle grinned and walked away. Somebody wanted him dead as well and he now had something important to live for. Her name was Becca.

“This crush is ridiculous,” Laura muttered to Becca.

Cayle had arranged invitations to a ball given by the parents of his friend, Percy. The Duke and Duchess of Leicester eagerly welcomed the girls to their home as, according to gossip, they were terrified their son might waste another ten years carousing with his friends and being seen with Covent Garden actresses. Percy was expected to marry and produce a legitimate heir.

“As I said,” Becca said, “knees only tremble at balls from being squeezed between a thousand other knees.” She wore a fixed smile and curtsied, over and over, until her legs trembled as she greeted an endless clutch of guests. Many she knew, plus Cayle presented them to another forty or fifty couples and single men whose rank equalled his and were therefore richer society than the Jamisons had recently socialised with.

“Hearts only race,” Becca murmured to her sisters when they had a small break from formal introductions, “when girls are fending off rakes who, out of sheer boredom, start a flirtation to pass the long tedious hours while they oversee their pure-as-the-driven-snow sisters and protect them from men exactly like themselves.”

“Becca, you’re too cynical,” Lottie said. “You should be grateful to Cayle for arranging this.”

“Don’t misunderstand. I am excited about being here. Because we now have a legitimate excuse for wandering through the Leicester’s home. If I’m seen searching any of the rooms, I’ll pretend to be lost.”

They edged away from Cayle, and the ladies fighting to get closer to him, and surreptitiously made their way around the perimeter of the room to a less crowded area away. The area below the receiving line remained crowded with those of the ton who scrutinised every new arrival and noted every name announced by the butler as they descended the stairs.