ThePleasureDevice (18 page)

Nicholas had been rather nervous while Lavinia had primped
and preened him in preparation for the ball at Lord and Lady Raeburn’s Mayfair
house. He had to look especially well-dressed that night, so he borrowed
diamond shirt studs, a pair of buff kid gloves and a silk mourning armband from
her dead husband’s wardrobe. But she also wanted him to stand out in the crowd.

“What have you got from your travels? Waistcoat? Tie?” she
had asked.

He had smiled at that. She never allowed him to wear such
garish attire when he was in her presence. “I’ve a waistcoat I absolutely
adore. Embroidered Persian silk velveteen in the most beautiful crimson.”

On any other day Lavinia would have cringed at such a
notion. “Right. Let’s see.”

And when he put it on, she was visibly impressed. “Hmm, not
so much out of fashion as terribly exotic, really,” she had mused, turning him
around. “It suits you. Very handsome.” She raised a brow. “If that girl doesn’t
marry you, Nicky, I will.”

Lavinia herself wore a pale-olive dress, subdued and elegant,
so as not to distract from her companion’s daring display.

As they waited their turn to be announced by the Raeburn’s
footman, Nicholas’ attire was already becoming the topic of whispers amongst
the young ladies. Of course most recognized him from previous events, some had
even danced with him, but none had really taken much note of him beyond his
particular good looks. Somehow he was turning heads that night.

“You’re looking rather confident, I must say, my lord,”
Lavinia confided.

“Thank you, my dear lady.” It wasn’t just the dashing
clothes, it was his hope, the promise of a future with the woman he loved.

From the lobby he watched as Lavinia motioned to Lady
Banbury, who waved back with a nod and a smile.

“Everything is in place, Nicky.”

By the time Nicholas and Lavinia were before the footman to
be announced, the room had quieted to murmurs. Nicholas spied Sophia and Helena
Phillips with a rather attractive graying man who, he could only assume, was
Mr. Phillips.

“Pay attention, Nicky,” Lavinia said under her breath.

“The Earl of St. Albans and the Viscountess Foxley-Graham.”

The footman’s voice seemed to boom more loudly with their
introduction than those previous. From the corner of his eye, Nicholas saw
Helena flush and stare at him incredulously.

“How do you do, my lord?” Lady Raeburn smiled with a curtsy.

“Very well, thank you, madam,” Nicholas replied. He was far
too distracted to remember proper etiquette at that moment.

“St. Albans, eh?” queried Lord Raeburn. “We read about your
father’s death. So sorry, my good man.” He patted Nicholas’ shoulder above his
armband. “Your return to England is most opportune.” He raised an eyebrow at
Nicholas’ waistcoat.

“Yes, my travels did bring me home at the right time, sir.”

Lavinia took his arm as they entered the crush of the
ballroom. She looked quite dismayed when the first to approach was Penelope
Hardcastle.

“Dr. Ramsay,” she greeted him. “Or shall I say Lord St.
Albans?” She curtsied.

“Good evening, Miss Hardcastle.” Nicholas really liked
Penelope. She was politeness wrapped around a powder keg of sensuality. But she
was his second choice and Lavinia had counseled him to discourage her.

“My lord,” interjected Lavinia, “we really must say hello to
Lady Banbury.”

He smiled and gave a slight bow to Penelope as Lavinia led
him away.

“Charlotte.” Lavinia greeted her co-conspirator with a kiss.

“My dear St. Albans, you look absolutely splendid,” Lady
Banbury said as she gave Nicholas the once-over. “May I borrow his left arm,
Lavinia? I need an escort to the other side of the ballroom.”

As the three strolled through the crowd, Nicholas bowed and
smiled to awestruck young ladies and their dumbfounded mothers who, once he had
passed, proceeded to whisper about what possibly could have happened to elevate
the young doctor.

And then he saw her. Helena looked beautiful as always, but
more so that night. Her pale-pink dress hugged every curve on her body, the
bodice cut so low he had to remind himself to stare at the glittering rubies
and garnets encircling her lovely neck, a neck, he inappropriately reminded
himself, he had kissed more than once.

It was Lady Banbury who broke the spell. “Mr. Phillips, I
would like to introduce a young man I have had the pleasure of knowing this
Season, the Earl of St. Albans.” She turned to Nicholas. “My lord, Mr. Joseph
Phillips.”

The uncommonly attractive middle-aged man Nicholas had
noticed earlier stuck out his hand. “Albans, pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

His American accent was disconcerting. “Mr. Phillips,”
Nicholas said with a bow.

“May I introduce my wife, Sophia, and my daughter, Helena.”
His gray eyes flashed with pride.

The two women stared at Nicholas, their utter stillness an
obvious attempt to subvert their astonishment.

“We have already met, sir,” Nicholas said over the loud
thumping of his heart.

Clinging to her husband, Mrs. Phillips curtsied with a touch
of embarrassment. “My lord.”

As a properly trained young lady, Helena kept her composure
as she curtsied her introduction. “My lord.”

“Already met, eh? And how is that?”

Nicholas felt mortification spread through his body. How the
hell was he supposed to respond?
Because I’ve been working alongside the man
who fucked your wife and almost defiled your daughter?

“They met through me, Joseph,” offered Lady Banbury. “I know
Doc—er, the earl through Lady Foxley-Graham, who is a longtime friend of the
family.”

“Ah, very good, very good,” Mr. Phillips declared. “And what
sort of thing do you do as an earl?”

Nicholas shot a glance at Lavinia, but she merely smiled
sweetly at the Phillipses. “I, uh, have an estate in Hertfordshire.” Mr.
Phillips seemed impressed at that, so Nicholas continued. “I was just there
recently, in fact.” He flashed a glance at Helena. “There are some badly needed
renovations, that sort of thing.”

Mr. Phillips slapped Nicholas on the back as if they were
long-lost mates. “Good! Keeps you out of trouble!”

Nicholas smiled at the man’s easy-going nature, hoping he
would be as cheery when it came to the subject of his daughter. The music
struck up and couples began sauntering toward the dance floor. “Sir, if I may,
I would like to ask your daughter to dance. Please.” He stammered like an
awkward youth at his first ball.

“Helena?” Mr. Phillips responded as if it were a completely
extraordinary notion. He turned to her. “What say you, love?”

“Yes, Papa. I would very much like to dance with the earl.”

Nicholas’ heart was now banging so loudly he feared
everybody could hear. He held out his right arm. When Helena took it, his head
spun as if he were in a dream.

The whispers became murmurs as he escorted her to the
ballroom floor. Helena blushed at the attention, a color so very like her dress
the thought of her utterly nude flashed in his mind. Placing his hand above her
waist agitated his senses even more. He was uncomfortably hard, a state he
prayed Mr. Phillips would not notice.

Once safely ensconced in his arms during the waltz, Helena
gazed up at him, her eyes reflecting both curiosity and understanding. She
deserved an explanation.

“Helena,” he began.

“Please, my lord,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.
“I just want to be with you at this moment. To feel you holding me.”

A thrill shot through him, flushing his skin, enlivening his
senses. He spread his fingers on her back and pressed her a little more closely
to him. She sucked in air and blushed again, turning her head off to the side as
if embarrassed by a wicked thought. When she regained her composure, her lips
curled in a smile all at once sultry and innocent.

He wanted desperately to take her outside and find a quiet
corner of the garden where he could make passionate love to her, introducing
her to the delights of the flesh. In the intimacy of afterglow, he would
confess all about his family and his past. But Nicholas knew he could not act
with such impropriety tonight. Most in attendance knew his scandalous family
history but lacked familiarity with his own disposition and behavior. He would
hate to despoil his uncertain reputation. All eyes were on him. They were on
Helena as well, as news of her broken engagement was also the topic of whispers
and murmurs.

He leaned down against her ear. “Helena, I would like to
dance as many dances as possible with you tonight.”

She looked up at him knowing exactly what that implied. “Yes,
Nicholas,” she murmured. “I would very much like that.”

* * * * *

Helena had never danced so elegantly in her life. Nicholas’
energy and desire flowed through her, uniting them as the most perfect couple
in the ballroom. All eyes watched as they continued to partner dance after
dance, disbelieving whispers turned into hums of acceptance and shocked
expressions became genuine smiles once the guests witnessed the utter happiness
of the pair.

The excitement and attention were draining. “I feel I need a
bit of air, my lord.”

“Yes, Miss Phillips, of course,” Nicholas responded with
concern.

He took her arm to weave their way through the overly
interested crush and out onto the only slightly less crowded terrace. Nicholas
took her to an unoccupied space at the railing, nodding and greeting polite,
smiling faces along the way.

The cool night air was refreshing. Helena drew in a long
breath and exhaled slowly. It seemed a long time ago when she had felt
contented enough to take enjoyment from the simple act of breathing.

Nicholas sighed. “So many eyes on us. It’s disconcerting.”

Helena laughed. “Well, there’s my broken engagement. And
your marvelous waistcoat. Then the fact that you’re suddenly an earl. Plus, you
danced with me three times. Everyone knows what that means.”

He brightened at that. “Do you?”

“I think so, my lord.”

“Ugh, please don’t call me that, Helena. That’s just not who
I am.”

“Then am I still allowed to call you ‘Nicholas’?” she
teased.

“Yes, oh, yes. I love hearing you say my name.” He glanced
around restlessly at the couples milling about on the terrace. “Damn and blast,
I wish we could be alone. If there weren’t so many people, I would sneak you
off into the garden—”

“And ravish me against a tree?” she offered playfully.

A pleased grin spread across his astonished face. “Your
disheveled appearance would draw even more attention, Miss Phillips.” He
grabbed her arm as soon as he spied a newly vacated bench.

He paced a bit before he sat down next to her. “Darling,” he
began softly, “it was all quite unexpected. I was never meant to be in this
position.”

“You mean about being an earl.”

“Uh, yes. Sorry. I feel a bit like a frightened schoolboy at
the moment.” He flexed his fingers against his thighs, gathering his thoughts. “You
see, I’m the youngest son of my father. My brother Jack was his heir.” He
inhaled deeply. “Jack was a violent wastrel, an attribute he inherited from my
father. I hated being a part of that family. So I went away.”

“Is that when you went to Turkey?”

That brought another grin to his face. “I very much wish I
could hold your hand right now,” he murmured. “Damned social conventions.” He
sighed. “Yes, that’s when I traveled. I studied medicine abroad. I had to do
something with my life. I was twenty-one, I had a small income and I was a
second son.”

The moon was behind him, providing her with of view of his
profile, serious and pensive, in need of solace. She suppressed the urge to
reach out with a gentle caress of his cheek and damned social conventions as
well.

He toyed with the fingers of his gloves. “But then my mother
was killed. At the time I thought both my father and brother played a part in
her death.” His voice trembled. “I only just learned the truth. Jack killed
her. My father shouldered part of the blame to protect an innocent who had been
regrettably caught up in the affair.”

Her heart clenched at his pain. She slid her hand across the
bench toward him. Nicholas surreptitiously glanced around before placing his
palm over her offer of comfort.

“I never wanted to come back after that. I changed my name
to distance myself even more. Ramsay was my mother’s surname.”

“But you did come back.”

“Yes. Lavinia insisted. And I suppose I grew tired of
aimlessly wandering. I needed to put what I had learned into practice. And I
started to have thoughts of having my own family.” He gazed at her. “A proper
family.”

A flush of heat rose in her cheeks. “Did you make amends
with your father?”

“Just before he died. I’m glad of that.” He let out a grunt.
“I suppose that’s why he chose me over Bertie—my cousin.”

The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Somewhere,
deep inside, Helena had known to trust Nicholas, to not second-guess why he
suddenly appeared before her as a titled bachelor. “You thought me engaged
already when you went to see your father.”

“Yes,” he admitted sullenly. “There was no incentive for me
to be the earl. Just a lot of bother, really. And I was rather enjoying my new
life.” His expression softened into a mischievous smile. “I probably would have
been quite content with doctoring and having you as my mistress.”

Her pulse quickened.

He leaned toward her, his breath hot on her skin. “We would
not be in this frustrating position at the moment. Instead we’d be satisfying
our desires against a tree.”

Her heart pounded in her ears as a flush of excitement
tormented her privates.

“But I don’t want any of that now.”

“You don’t?” Helena panicked at what he could possibly mean.