Suzi Love (18 page)

Richard had never a met a debutante like her. Far from preening like a peacock as most were taught to do from birth, this vision of loveliness remained unaware of the impact she created, or of the people around her. Her whole mind was focused on locating the man who’d slipped her a note, so he concluded that the matter must hold great urgency. Her tiny, gloved hand grasped his whilst her silken skirts swished as they strode, legs in a matching rhythm pressing close together. If it had been any other young woman, he would’ve made idle chitchat, produced an inane smile, and been secretly bored to tears. But with the lithe body pressed close to his side in their hurry, he’d no time for conversation, no time to do anything but obey her silent commands.

The audacious chit towed him through the crowd like a rowboat on a rope. He may not be as highly ranked as his cousin Cayle, a duke, but earls were customarily afforded more deference than this hoyden seemed prepared to show. He idly wondered if her father, also an earl, was shown this sort of disrespect by his wayward daughter.

A woman clinging tightly to the arm of a known rake would normally indicate to onlookers that they were in the midst of already enjoying a torrid love affair, or that the aforesaid rake was grooming the lady for his forthcoming seduction. That the man either knew, or was about to know, the woman intimately. But Laura Jamison gave no more thought to him than she would the stone pillars they were rushing past. He was a male body of large enough dimensions to clear a path for her and propel them around, or through, the multitude of people and acres of petticoats and skirts in the fastest possible time. And she appeared oblivious to the horrified stares they were attracting from people in the chattering groups they were forcibly disrupting.

Male friends, no doubt in search of an introduction to the exquisite creature on his arm, tried to attract his attention. If he wasn’t moving fast enough to suit her purposes, she gripped his arm like a vice and urged him forward. Suddenly, she stiffened and came to such an abrupt halt that he took two steps forward before stopping an arm’s length from her. Her gaze was fixed with intent upon the back of a tall, thin gent engrossed in conversation with a mixed group of socialites.

She whipped her attention back to him to ask in a fierce whisper, “Do you know him?”

When his answer was not forthcoming in a timely enough manner, she stepped around in front of him. Her jutting nipples grazed his coat buttons as she peered straight up at him, a cross look creasing her brow. He nearly gasped aloud.

“Hurry, you slow top. Do you recognise that man?”

She poked a hard finger in his chest bone.

“Ouch!” Richard rubbed at the sore spot and dragged his gaze upwards from the sight of such lush cream breasts threatening to burst from their constricting fabric as the tiny whirlwind heaved deep breaths. At least she released his arm from her death grip as he swivelled to study the man she was watching.

“I believe that is Lord Kinsley. He was at Eton with me.”

“Excellent. You can introduce us. I need to get closer to see if he is the man who pushed the letter into my hand. It was dark, yet I’m sure I can recognise him. If not by sight, then at least by smell.”

“Smell?” he enquired. Did she really mean she was going to sniff the man? Knowing the Jamison girls as he did from past experience, he believed she would actually do it.

“Yes, I have a very sensitive nose and I’ve been training myself to distinguish smells in able to identify things, or people, more accurately.”

“Pardon my ignorance on the nuances of scents, but how will smelling people help?”

“I’m testing a theory that gentlemen put out different aromas. Well, women do to, but I’m naturally concentrating on the male species.”

“Why naturally? Why only the male species?”

Her strange conversation was making his head spin and her exasperated tone made him feel like the performing baboon his sisters had called commands to at the Natural Science Museum. African monkeys had a hard time following conversations of young girls much as he did following this one.

“I’m investigating to see if gentlemen who are more passionate have a different scent to those who are staid.”

“And this will help, why?”

“No girl who has an ounce of passion in her soul wants to end up married to a man who is staid and boring. The marriage bed would soon become a chore.”

Richard considered himself worldly in the extreme, as most rakes were known to be, but the incongruity of such blunt speaking issuing from the mouth of this girl he assumed was an innocent, was impossible for him to reconcile. A quick glance showed him that they’d not been overheard, but just as she’d been oblivious to the looks of the people they passed, she was unconcerned that anyone may listen to their bawdy conversation. She obviously hadn’t been out in society long enough to understand that the main reason for these ridiculously overcrowded balls was to be seen and to see. To gossip with and gossip about. And to listen in on conversations in order to obtain more tidbits to gossip about the next day over morning calls.

The girl was a menace. Yet, an intriguing one.

“So, how do you rate my scent, Miss Nose?”

He treated her to his most winning smile, certain she would give him an encouraging answer, designed to flatter his ego. She inhaled briefly and her eyes widened, but she didn’t answer.

“Do I rate highly on the passion scale?” He felt a tiny shiver in his neck and experienced an unused to flicker of anxiety as he waited for her anticipated affirmative answer.

He was a confirmed rake, a notorious seducer of widows and willing wives. Naturally, he would rate far higher in comparison than the majority of the insipid young whips present tonight. So why was she not reassuring him immediately that his assumption was correct? His scent seemed to be totally unnerving her, yet not in a good way.

Instead, she gave a little shake of her head and looked straight past him to where Lord Kinsley moved away from the ladies he was with. Once again an imperative hand tugged on his arm and gripped his sleeve, dragging him along.

“I simply don’t have time to spend conversing with you. Introduce me to Lord Kinsley before he escapes.”

“He is hardly escaping.” But when he looked again, it did indeed seem as if Lord Kinsley had spotted Richard’s insistent companion and was hastening away from them. Spurred to action, he wove a path through the groups in front of them to arrive directly in the path of the departing lord.

Smiling broadly, he addressed the man as if they were the greatest of friends. “Lord Kinsley, it’s been some time since we met. Allow me to introduce my companion, Lady Laura Jamison.”

Laura extended her gloved hand so close to Lord Kinsley’s chest, he had no choice but to clasp it lightly and execute a slight bow over it. “Delighted to meet you, Lady Laura.”

To Richard’s ear, the words seemed sincere yet the tone held a distinct chill. Interesting, he thought. Perhaps little Miss Nose was correct. For some reason, Lord Kinsley seemed in a hurry to leave them, even now edging away as if seeking a quick escape. But the diligent Lady Laura was not about to let him escape.

Inching even closer, Laura kept hold of Lord Kinsley’s hand and leaned into his coat. And sniffed. Richard was horrified. Did the chit not understand the advantages of subtlety? Luckily, Lord Kinsley’s face was so far above Laura’s dark head that he couldn’t see what she was about. Reaching out, Richard removed Laura’s hand and placed it on his own sleeve, covering it with a firm hand when she tried to pull away. Laura looked up at Kinsley’s gaunt face and smiled. Not a nice smile. More of a sneer.

“My Lord, I feel we’ve met before. Someone bumped into me a short time ago in the hallway near the retiring rooms. Could it have been you?”

“Certainly not, my lady. A gentleman would stop to apologise if he had bumped a lady. I am a gentleman. I’ve been involved in a discussion of the inclement weather with a wonderful group of friends.”

Richard moved back slightly to reveal the group that Lord Kinsley had edged away from, recognising several of the ladies. He groaned inwardly upon recognising the more unruly elements of society that a young innocent like Laura Jamison should never encounter. At that moment, one of the women spotted him and welcomed him with a languid smile.

“Richard.” Jemima King purred as she reached for his hand and stroked his fingers between her two palms. “How unusual to see you still remaining at one of these gatherings after the fourth set of dancing.”

As she spoke, Jemima leaned forward far enough that her over endowed chest threatened to spring free of its inadequate holdings. The bodice of her gown was cut more than fashionably low, displaying for the men present an immodest amount of flesh. The rest of the group closed around Richard, forcing him to acknowledge them and gain an introduction to his companion. With great reluctance, he presented Laura. By the way she eyed the women’s attire and the caressing hands each in turn greeted him with, she recognised how close was his association with each and every one of them. He had no reason to feel embarrassment, yet under her scrutiny his face flushed and he had the ridiculous urge to run a finger under his now too tight collar.

“If you will excuse us, Lady Laura is anxious to find her family.”

This time, Richard rushed them through the crowd with little thought for decorum. Finding a quiet spot behind a potted palm, he turned her to him. “What did you think you were doing to Lord Kinsley? If you’d leaned any closer in your sniffing endeavour, you would have toppled onto his chest.”

With a scowl she answered, “If you’d leaned any closer to Mrs King’s bosom, you would have fallen in and never be seen again.”

“You almost sound jealous.”

“Jealous? Of an overblown woman with not a thought in her head.”

“Ah, she may not have a thought in her head but her other large attributes compensate for her lack of wit. Perhaps you looked at her and found your own,” he glanced down to Laura’s chest, “attributes, somewhat lacking.”

Her irritation at his observation was plain. He had angered Laura Jamison and for some reason, her hostility felt more welcomed than her indifference of earlier. Just as he congratulated himself on flummoxing her, she surprised him again.

“I must find my sister, and your cousin. Quickly.” As he started to move, she halted him with a hand. “No, I don’t require your assistance. I’ve learned all I needed. You’ll only be a hindrance.”

“A hindrance!” Never in his entire life had he been called a hindrance. “I assisted you. Guided you.”

“No, you were merely a large body to clear a path for me. Now go away.” She waved a hand to where Mrs King and her group were plainly discussing them. “Go back and play with your friends.”

“They are not my friends.”

“No, possibly not friends. Although, you’ve bedded every woman.” She delivered this statement as calmly as if they discussed the weather.

His mouth dropped open. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Their scents. Each of them oozed desire the minute you stepped into their circle. That sort of desire only comes after they’ve already sampled the treat then decided it was delectable enough to warrant another taste.”

With that shocking pronouncement, Laura whirled away in a swish of skirts and left Richard staring after her, wondering how control of that interlude had slipped away from him. He needed to find his cousin, and he needed to warn him about Lady Jamison, both Rebecca and Laura.

• • •

Laura heaved a sigh of relief when she at last sighted Becca and Lottie. Her sisters stood on the other side of the ballroom four deep in enthralled men, paying their every word lavish attention. A discreet distance away, lounged Cayle. A tall, glowering Cayle. Before Laura stepped out towards them, her arm was grasped firmly and in the blink of an eye her hand was placed upon the sleeve of a recognisable blue coat.

“You again,” she snapped. “I thought I told you to go away.”

Not in the least intimidated, Winchester stared her down, something with which Laura had no experience. She threatened men, not the other way around.

“I’m afraid I’m not the sort to trot away like a chastised dog. You’re looking to warn your sister. I’m similarly off to warn Sherwyn.”

Her hand was held immobile by his strong clasp, so with scant good grace she conceded and they wove a line towards their family. Upon reaching Becca, Laura pulled her aside to inform her about the note.

Winchester was similarly engaged whispering to Cayle but before he completed his tale, the Jamison ladies were already making a beeline for their aunt and to collect Lottie. By mutual agreement, the party bade polite farewells before the carriages were called for their departure.

By habit, Jamison Hall was nominated as the gathering place for a family conference.

At Grosvenor Square, they gathered in the drawing room. Their great-aunt directed an intent look at the extra man who had joined them.

“Richard, Earl of Winchester, is it not?”

“Indeed, madam.” Winchester bowed his head. “It’s been some years since we spoke.”

“You were always Cayle’s hellion cousin. From what I hear on the rumour mill, not much has changed in that department.”

Richard flushed but before he could reply Laura interrupted. “Yes, yes, aunty. I imagine a man of Richard’s interests simply outgrew our girlish company.”

Aunt Agatha chuckled. “If the broadsheets are to be believed, Winchester followed the path of all young men and moved on to more manly pursuits for a time.” She smiled at Richard. “But your mother would be well pleased that you’ve taken responsibility for your family in a most able way now.”

Laura shrugged, then said in off -hand way, “I will admit that, tonight, the earl did render me some small assistance.”

Richard had been moving away from the centre of the room, and the attention, when Laura’s words halted him. To Becca’s amusement, he swivelled back to Laura, facing her with his hands on his waist under his coat tails and his elegantly shod feet planted wide. It wasn’t often that a gentleman dared confront her outspoken sister.