A Regency Earl's Pleasure: The Earl Plays With Fire / Society's Most Scandalous Rake

At that moment she was claimed for a country dance. Somehow she managed mechanically to perform the steps without making a mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard and Domino take the floor. He’d always been a graceful dancer and she noticed that in this respect he hadn’t changed. Throughout he kept up a lively conversation with his partner and it was evident that he was delighted to be with her. Social rules dictated that they could not stand up together for more than two dances, but when they were not on the floor he talked to her; when she partnered other men, his gaze was never far away. And so it went on, dance after dance, while Christabel watched the clock and prayed for the carriage to arrive. She felt she could not bear to look at them a minute longer and yet her eyes were instinctively drawn in their direction. They made a handsome couple and it was clear that others thought so too. There were many admiring glances and much chatter behind opened fans.

When the orchestra struck up for a waltz she was relieved to be sitting out the dance. For some years she’d been permitted by the patronesses to waltz at Almack’s, but Sophia was not in that fortunate position and she had no desire to irritate her sister any further. She had deliberately kept her dance card free so that she could keep Sophia company.

‘Miss Tallis, I believe you waltz?’

Richard Veryan stood before her, immaculate in white ruffled shirt and black long-tailed coat. The crisp white folds of his silk neckcloth were tied in a perfect trône d’amour. Well-fitting black-satin knee breeches did nothing to disguise the muscular thighs beneath. His attire was that of the most fashionable of London gentlemen, but the lean, tanned face hinted at another story.

Christabel found herself once again struggling to maintain her composure.

His grey eyes, flecked with flint, were fixed penetratingly on her and without speaking he held out a hand and with the other gestured to the dance floor.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, recovering her wits a little, ‘but I do not care to waltz while my sister does not dance.’

Richard glanced indifferently at Sophia, who stared haughtily back at him.

‘I’m sure Miss Sophia Tallis would not wish to keep you from enjoying a dance she must know you love.’

It was true. Ever since she’d learned to waltz, she’d treasured the joy of floating light as thistledown across the ballroom, her feet skimming the floor and her whole body responding to the rhythm of the music. Her sister pursed her lips angrily, but said nothing. Richard was still holding out his hand, his cold eyes seeming now to blaze with something akin to fire. Christabel could not understand his persistence, but found herself mesmerised into accepting his invitation.

A slight pressure on her waist and he had led her into the dance. His arms encircled her body lightly at first, as, twisting and pirouetting, they became familiar with each other’s paces. They had always danced well together and soon they were in tune, step by step, movement by movement. The music’s lush strains trembled through her limbs and she lost herself to its rhythms.

Gradually his arms tightened around her and she was acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressing her close. The heady smell of his scent enveloped her as she was held ever more nearly, his face almost bruising her cheek. Carelessly his mouth brushed the top of her hair and without thinking she melted more closely into his embrace. They were dancing now as one, their bodies a rhythmical caress which shocked those who witnessed it. Yet the power of Christabel’s beauty held them spellbound. She looked magnificent, almost otherworldly in her splendour, the green silk of her dress swishing across the floor, little emerald slippers on her feet and that haze of red curls cascading downwards to meet her wonderful white skin.

Her mother, sitting on one of the small gilded chairs reserved for chaperons, looked up and caught her breath in distress. That was surely Richard Veryan!

She had no idea he had returned to England. And Christabel was dancing with him and in a fashion that could only be described as provocative! Richard’s hand was curved around Christabel’s waist and his face so close to hers that he could, if he’d wished, nuzzle and caress the soft skin almost touching his.

And he did wish. He felt his body hard against this woman he’d loved so well. He felt her soft pliable form fusing with his and rejoiced in the sheer physical exultation that was pulsating through him. He could have danced with her all night and then—no, he could not think like that. It was his mission to entice her and the dance must be part of that. His delight in her proximity was something he must not acknowledge.

The music stopped and for a moment they stood dazed. Then he led her back to the row of chairs, every eye in the room upon them.

‘Thank you, Miss Tallis, for a most enjoyable dance,’ he said formally.

‘It was a pleasure, my lord,’ she replied, equally formal.

‘We must waltz more—I hope to see you at Almack’s again very soon.’

‘I fear that is unlikely. I shall not be in London long and I imagine that you will be leaving shortly yourself.’

‘Why are you so sure?’ and he looked over to where Domino was standing, wide-eyed and apprehensive.

‘I beg your pardon, but I thought you would be returning to Cornwall to be with your mother.’ Christabel sounded puzzled.

‘One can return, and return again—if one has something worth coming back for,’ he replied smoothly.

Once more he looked meaningfully across the room at the young girl waiting patiently for his return. Christabel was bewildered. Seemingly he wished her to understand that Domino de Silva was the woman who held his heart, yet just seconds ago he had been dancing with her in so intimate a manner that together they’d shocked the assembled company. They’d danced as one body, man and woman, merged in a sensual unity. She’d felt his warm breath so close she could have reached out and tasted it. And now this.

‘I do believe that finally I have something to come back for,’ he continued, making it impossible to mistake his meaning.

She gathered up all her reserves of dignity and faced him with a studied calm. ‘You are indeed fortunate.’

‘I think so, Miss Tallis. And I trust that you too will know such good fortune.’

‘You are all kindness, sir.’

His answering bow was mocking. With a kiss of her hand, he turned around and walked across the room to Domino, who greeted him with a shy smile and outstretched hands.

‘Well!’ Sophia was at her elbow. ‘You’re a sly one. You seem to make a habit of meeting Richard Veryan—you must have known he would be here, but you never said a word. And to see you dancing with him! It was shameless! What would Sir Julian say?’

‘It really is none of your business,’ Christabel snapped.

‘It will be if you disgrace the family again by breaking a second engagement,’ her sister retorted.

‘There is no second engagement,’ she muttered though clenched teeth, ‘and rest assured that you would be the last person I’d ask for advice on my conduct.’

‘You could do worse. At least I haven’t made myself an object of scandal.’

She had an insane desire to scream at Sophia for her spitefulness, but, constrained by the hallowed portals of Almack’s, she kept silent, biting her lip so hard that she drew blood.

‘What were you thinking of, Christabel?’ Her mother was at her side, throwing more coals on a fire which was already burning brightly. ‘To dance in that fashion with a man, and with Richard Veryan of all people. What would Sir Julian have said?’

Her mother’s echo of the earlier taunt breached Christabel’s iron control. She broke free from Lady Harriet’s clasp and said in a stifled voice, ‘I’ll not wait for the carriage. I will walk home.’

‘But you cannot …’ Her mother’s words were lost in the distance as she turned swiftly and made for the door.

Richard watched her go. He had been badly disturbed by their dance. It had thrilled him to take Christabel’s glacial beauty in his arms and mould it to his desire. The feeling of her body against his still resonated. While they’d danced, the ardent girl of yesterday had broken through that frozen surface—and he had been the one to melt her. She was a magnificent creature and he had gloried in the moment. What was she doing contemplating a mediocre marriage with a milk-and-water nonentity? But he must think objectively, he told himself, and objectively his plan was working. He should be pleased. He had stirred the embers of passion in her and soon he would awake such a frenzy of feeling that she would be desperate to know his love. He would have proved her inconstancy and be free to walk away. That moment was a little way off, but he should be satisfied with what he’d achieved that night. He wasn’t sure why the victory felt forlorn.

Chapter Four

‘It’s time I took you home, Domino.’

Richard’s tone was decisive. Once Christabel had left, he had no inclination to remain at Almack’s and was anxious to return the girl to her aunt’s care. Loretta Blythe had been suffering from a chill for some days and this evening had finally succumbed to a fever and taken to her bed. It was inconvenient. He’d hoped to dispense with his escort duties before now, not least because Domino showed no sign of tiring of his company. He’d expected that once fully launched into the delights of London society she would cease to have an interest in him. Instead, the wider she spread her acquaintance, the more she seemed to cling.

Having reached Lady Blythe’s house, Richard stepped into the hallway and made ready to wish Domino goodnight, but instead of taking the hand he held out, she raised herself on to her toes to reach his cheek and planted a gentle kiss. Seriously disconcerted, he remonstrated with her.

‘You mustn’t do that, Domino. Remember that I stand in your aunt’s place. You must think of me as a friend—an elder brother, if you will.’

‘I don’t see why,’ she exclaimed rebelliously. ‘You’re by far the most attractive man I know!’

‘I thank you for the compliment, but I’m not a suitable partner for you.’

She shook her head as if to block out his words. ‘I don’t believe that. You think me too young to love truly, but you’re wrong.’

‘I am eleven years older than you and my situation is not a happy one.’

‘You mean that you’re still in love with Christabel Tallis.’

Surprise rendered him silent.

‘You see, I have her name at my fingertips. How could I not? She is a truly beautiful woman and I can’t blame you for caring for her still.’

There was a sparkle of tears and her voice was that of a chastened child. He felt a deep sympathy for her.

‘My relationship with Miss Tallis should not concern you,’ he rebuked her gently. ‘The situation I referred to was my father’s death. In a very short while I must return to Cornwall. My mother needs support and I have to get to grips with the management of the estate. It’s been allowed to drift since my father’s death and that can’t continue.’

‘I understand,’ she breathed eagerly. ‘Of course you must go to your mother. But I can wait until you’re settled. Then perhaps you’ll invite me to Madron Abbey. I would love to see your home.’

‘It will be a great pleasure to show both you and your aunt around. But you will come as a guest, Domino, not as a future bride.’

The girl lowered her head, a mulish expression on her face. Baffled by her obstinacy, Richard spoke more bluntly than he intended.

‘I am truly sorry that you have feelings I cannot reciprocate, Domino, but you must be sensible. You’re no longer a child. You have built a fantasy and started to believe in it. For your own sake, you must dismiss it from your mind. In time you will find the man that is right for you.’

‘I have found him,’ she said, gulping down unshed tears, ‘but he is too stupid to see.’

He strode to the front door, but before he could open it, she called out to him from the marble balustrade above, ‘Will I see you at Richmond Park tomorrow?’

‘Richmond? Ah, yes, the Wivenhoes’ alfresco lunch, otherwise known as a picnic.’

‘I believe the Park is charming—such a large space of countryside and so near the city. You are coming?’ she asked anxiously.

He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’m sure you’ll find your aunt a great deal better in the morning and she’ll be looking forward to accompanying you to Richmond.’

He felt too unsettled by their conversation to return immediately to his hotel. He had decided from the outset that he would put up at Brown’s rather than opening the house in Grosvenor Square. A solitary stay amid its lonely expanses did not appeal and the few days he planned to be in London would have meant unnecessary disruption for its skeleton staff. But tonight the hotel looked just as uninviting and he needed to clear his head. He would walk a while in the evening air and then look in on one of the gentlemen’s clubs that lined St James’s Street.

He’d been scrupulous never to suggest that he could be more than a friend to Domino, but he still felt guilty for causing her unhappiness. It hadn’t helped that he’d been her constant escort since they’d arrived in London. If he’d not spent so much time with her, what had been an incipient affection on board ship would have been nipped in the bud. But Lady Blythe had shown herself only too willing to delegate her duties whenever possible and now the wretched woman had taken to her bed. Surely she would be better in the morning.

Richard’s resolve that he would no longer be Domino’s escort was broken almost as soon as it was made. A loud banging at his door early the next morning woke him from a deep sleep. It seemed as though he’d hardly been to bed and his head ached from too much brandy the night before. But the hotel porter, breathing heavily in the doorway from his climb up the stairs, was waving a badly folded sheet of paper under his nose and clearly expected an answer.

‘Who brought this?’ Richard asked blearily. ‘A groom, my lord.’ The porter was disapproving. ‘Whose groom?’

‘That I couldn’t say, my lord.’ The porter held his face aloof, expressing in no uncertain manner that Brown’s Hotel thought poorly of such early morning intrusions.

Richard pulled back the curtain better to read the note and groaned as the morning light flooded the room.

‘Get me some coffee, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Certainly my lord. Shall I tell the groom to wait?’

‘If he wants an answer. But get me that drink.’

He spread the crumpled note out and saw at once that it was from Domino. He knew almost without reading that it would be a plea to accompany her that morning to the Wivenhoes’ picnic. It seemed that her aunt was still not feeling well enough to undertake a long drive. And Domino wanted so much to see Richmond Park. Could Richard please come and this would be the very last time she would ask, she promised. Aunt Loretta had signalled her willingness for Richard to be her escort.

I have no doubt she has, he thought savagely. He hardly knew Domino’s aunt, but from his few meetings with her she seemed to be the sort of woman for whom ill health, as long as it were not too severe, was entirely beneficial.

In an hour he had washed, shaved and dressed, and presented himself in Curzon Street complete with hired curricle. Domino had evidently been watching at the window for she appeared almost immediately, tripping lightly down the front steps, her face glowing with pleasure. Her patent delight in going on the expedition almost reconciled him to the prospect of attending an event he’d hoped to escape.

For Christabel there was no escape: she would have to join the family party. She sat at the breakfast table, listlessly toying with a piece of toast and looking tired and pale in the harsh morning light. Her mother had accepted the Wivenhoes’ invitation on her behalf weeks ago and at the last moment her siblings had been hurriedly included. Her heart felt leaden. She was certain that Richard would be there, squiring his new love and flaunting his happiness. She would have to endure their close proximity for hours without giving the slightest hint of discomfort. It would be necessary to put on a guise not only for her fellows, but also for her family.

Her mother was worried, she knew. Late last night after Sophia had danced her fill at Almack’s and the two had returned home to Mount Street, Lady Harriet had tiptoed into the bedroom. Christabel had pretended sleep and not answered her mother’s anxious query. Instead she had lain silent and still, the tears pricking at her eyes and her heart a confusion of pain. She didn’t understand what Richard was doing nor even why she felt so deeply upset by his conduct. It was evident that he’d not forgiven the broken engagement. But surely his humiliation could not still be so raw that he needed to wage a war against her. Yet that was exactly what was happening. One minute he was angrily haranguing her for past crimes, the next he was caressing her—with his smile, his voice, even his body. When last night she’d danced with him so freely, she had been careless of gossip, careless of her reputation. She had given no thought to guarding her feelings and she’d allowed herself to desire. She’d allowed him to stir emotions within her that she’d schooled herself never to feel again and now today she would have to face him once more. She would have to put on the performance of her life.

‘Where’s the ham?’ Benedict demanded as he breezed into the breakfast room and searched the side table anxiously. He looked fresh and full of energy, despite having slept little.

‘Bel, where’s the ham? Sophy, you’ve eaten it all,’ he accused as his younger sister appeared in the doorway, elaborately dressed in a bright green-velvet spencer over daffodil-yellow silk.

‘I’ve had a great many things to do other than eating breakfast, you stupid boy. If you want ham, ring the bell for more.’

‘Who’s stupid? At least I don’t look like a parrot,’ he said, gesturing to Sophia’s preferred apparel for driving in Richmond Park.

‘Someone should have told you that making personal remarks is offensive.’

‘Someone should have told you that dressing like a pantomime is even more offensive.’

‘Do stop, both of you!’ Christabel’s quiet voice intervened, the steely tone surprising them into silence.

‘Hoity-toity,’ said Benedict half under his breath. ‘By the way,’ he offered as he sat down at the table, his plate groaning with devilled kidneys and a couple of eggs he’d unearthed, ‘d’you know what they’re saying in the clubs?’

‘The rubbish that men bandy amongst themselves is of no interest to us,’ Sophia said haughtily.

‘It might be since it concerns a very close neighbour of ours.’

Both sisters looked at him, Christabel’s face devoid of expression, but even paler than before.

‘Rick Veryan, Richard. You saw him last night at Almack’s?’

‘Of course we saw him.’ Sophia was impatient. ‘He was with that pretty, dark-haired girl. She’s from Argentina.’

‘We know.’ Sophia’s tone was getting dangerous. ‘Bet you didn’t know that the odds are mounting on his marrying the girl within the year. Can’t be any earlier—he’s in mourning—bad ton.’

‘What do you know of bad ton?’

‘It might surprise you, Miss Superior, just how much I do know. Anyway a lot of money was changing hands last night, betting on the marriage. Lucky old Rick, eh? Comes back from some outlandish place and walks straight into a title and now a fortune.’

His sisters looked blankly at him.

‘Loaded,’ he said succinctly. ‘That’s the word. Full of juice and a good looker too. What more could a man ask? I talked to her myself last night. Introduced by the grande dame, Mrs Drummond-Burrell. I think she thought Domino—what a name—was in need of younger company.’

‘She certainly got it with you,’ Sophia said derisively.

‘And she enjoyed it, may I say.’ He ruminated for a while, chewing thoughtfully on the last kidney. ‘Taking little thing, I thought, though she never quite mastered the steps of the cotillion.’

‘And you, of course, are the supreme exponent of the dance.’

Christabel got up swiftly, unable to bear her siblings’ bickering a minute longer. Benedict’s words had washed away her earlier resolve. How could she possibly keep an impassive countenance when she knew for sure that Richard was planning to marry?

She would make her excuses. The family must go without her.

‘What’s the matter, Christabel?’ It was Sophia stopping her at the door. ‘Can’t face seeing your old beau getting wed? Why should it matter to you? After all, aren’t you marrying Sir Julian?’

Benedict gaped. He knew little of the events of six years ago, having been away at school, and had not realised the effect his news might have. But it was Sophia’s words that cut Christabel most deeply. In her spite, her sister had arrowed straight to the question which was causing her such agitation. Why did it matter so much to her that Richard was to marry? She must prove that it did not. She must prove Sophia wrong. There would be no evasions—she would go to the picnic.

It seemed that the Wivenhoes could not have chosen a better day for their alfresco party. An almost cloudless sky and an unusually warm April sun enabled their guests to view the beauty of the park from open carriages. Herds of red and fallow deer grazed undisturbed in a pastoral landscape of rolling hills, grassy slopes and woodland gardens. The fresh untouched green of springtime already clad most of the ancient trees and beneath their light shade shimmered daffodil gold. The company drove leisurely through this sylvan setting before arriving at a central pagoda where they were to be served refreshments.

Christabel, her mother and sister were soon ensconced on its terrace, sitting comfortably on a padded chaise and gratefully sipping tea. Servants bustled to and fro, some bringing additional cushions and blankets for the older members of the group, and others plates of dainty sandwiches and small iced cakes. Sophia made ready to plunder the dish of madeleines left temptingly on their table.

‘What a beautiful place,’ her mother murmured to her hostess as she passed by. ‘And such a wonderful day!’

‘Indeed—it seems that summer is already with us!’ Lady Wivenhoe happily mingled among the knot of people gathered on the terrace.

Christabel hardly heard them. The cream muslin gown she wore, trimmed with delicate chartreuse lace, might pay homage to the season, but her spirits remained locked in winter. She felt frozen in time, yet her mind was never still, never at peace. She thought she might be going mad. For the hundredth time she tried to understand why in that faraway summer she’d acted as she had. Richard had meant so much to her and yet, with hardly a thought, it seemed, she’d returned his ring and thrown herself at a man who even then she’d suspected was not to be trusted. Why, oh, why had she done that? Only the intoxication of first sexual awakening could explain the wilful breaking into pieces of the jigsaw of her life. But it was not quite the first awakening, was it? There was that evening in Cornwall when she and Richard had thrown themselves into the sea together. They’d been just a little crazy and the swim had sparked something deep and elemental between them, or so she’d thought. But almost immediately he’d turned away. He’d not wanted that intimate bond and she’d been left bewildered, ashamed of the physical ache that had taken hold of her. And then the trip to London with all its glamour, all its glories, had pushed everything else out of her mind. Joshua had swum into her presence, a man who was more than willing to set her body alight. She had loved him dreadfully. No, she corrected herself, she had lusted for him dreadfully. And lust had its own shameful penance. She thought she’d paid that price, but now, it seemed, she must continue to pay.