A Scoundrel Of Consequence

Arriving at Monkton House, he entered the ballroom, impatient to get the evening over with; since he had no desire to strike up a conversation with any of the people who seemed eager to talk to him, in particular the ladies who were delighted to see him back in London after so long an absence, he stepped into the shadows at the back of the room and lifted his champagne glass to his lips.

With one shoulder nonchalantly propped against a pillar, from his vantage point he idly watched the crowd. A smile curved his lips when Edward waltzed a small, exceedingly pretty and engaging young thing around the dance floor. She was dressed in a white silk gown with a blue sash tied at one side in two small bows. The look of complete absorption on both their faces as they gazed into each other’s eyes told him that here was the cause of Edward’s recent preoccupation.

Not best pleased, a troubled frown furrowed his brow. Anyone with eyes in their head could not fail to notice that almost invisible aura with which two young people in love seemed to surround themselves. William had certainly seen it, and because of Edward’s young age and William’s expectations for his cousin to enter his own regiment, he had strong objections to his cousin forming a match with any woman just then. Influenced by his hopes and fears, he would observe his cousin’s behaviour attentively and discourage any entanglement.

His eyes did a slow sweep of the room and came to rest on a young woman on the edge of the dance floor. He looked away, but his gaze was drawn back to her, for there was something about her that kindled his interest—something familiar—her stance, the tilt of her head. Recognition flowed across his face and pleasure lit his eyes, followed by pure masculine admiration as his gaze drifted over Miss Greenwood. The effect of seeing her surprised him.

Instead of the stiff and aloof young woman he remembered in an unflattering drab grey dress, she was now draped in the palest off-white gown, the satin clinging to her, hugging her waist and accentuating her rounded bosom. With regal poise, Miss Greenwood, a proud, striking young woman with large luminous eyes beneath thick dark lashes and exotically winged brows, moved serenely from group to group, untouched by the noise and bustle all around her.

Observing her with the impartiality of a connoisseur, looking for flaws that others would miss, he found only perfection. Her colouring was more vivid in this glamorous setting, William thought. Her hair was the same vibrant honey-gold glistening with innumerable shades beneath the light of the chandeliers. A delicate necklace of diamonds lay against her throat in perfect complement to the gown.

She belonged in beautiful gowns and glittering jewels, he decided. They suited her far better than the sombre grey. But who was she really and what was she doing among the cream of London society? He continued to stand in the shadows, admiring the alluringly beautiful woman, but far more intrigued by the indefinable but unmistakable presence that made her stand out so clearly from the rest.

‘So, William, I trust you will enlighten me as to what your thoughts are as you look at the thoroughly enchanting and delectable Miss Cassandra Greenwood with that possessive gleam in your eyes. Damned engrossed you are.’

William turned and regarded Sir Charles Grisham, decked out in rich peacock-bright satins and velvets—obviously chosen to create an eyecatching display—with a bland expression. His manner was so indolent that he always gave the impression of being half-asleep.

‘My thoughts are my own affair, Charles—though favourable,’ he added with a cynical curl to his lips and an appreciative gleam in his eyes.

‘Singled her out for yourself, have you?’ Charles said in a bored drawl, raising his jewelled quizzing glass the better to study the lady under discussion, the rings on his fingers glinting in the light from the chandeliers. ‘Can’t say that I blame you, and if you are contemplating making her one of your amusing bed warmers, then you are going to be disappointed. Many have tried and all have failed. There are certain things you should know about that adorable creature, since you’ve been absent from the ton pursuing those damned Frenchies in the Peninsula for the past few years.’

‘Go on,’ William said, lifting his arrogant brows and waiting, his look both suspicious and intrigued. His curiosity was piqued, but he’d be damned if he let Charles see it. Well acquainted with Charles Grisham, who in spite of his affectations was one of the most intelligent and erudite of the Corinthians, William knew perfectly well that the man was one of the most influential members of the ton. At twenty-eight, fair haired, of a slender athletic build and fastidiously tailored, he was much envied for his ability to tie a neckcloth into perfect folds. He had an acid wit that accepted no boundaries and was able to shred a reputation in minutes, when he chose a human target. William deduced from his remarks about Miss Greenwood that he had made her just that.

After helping himself to a pinch of snuff, Charles went on to regale William with Miss Greenwood’s attributes and shortcomings, much to William’s irritation. If Charles were to be believed, the lady was as cold as an iceberg and set with wilful thorns—one of nature’s disagreeable blunders, in fact.

‘As a result she has been dubbed the Ice Maiden. And the unkind—though appropriate, some would say—sobriquet has stuck. It’s unfortunate since the filly has spirit. She should prove highly entertaining in a chase. Miss Greenwood is one of those rare eccentrics who attend society events and rarely dances except to please herself—which makes her something of a challenge to the likes of me. In fact, she doesn’t go out in society at all unless it’s to tout for funds for that wretched institute of hers—you know about that?’

William nodded, languidly listening, turning his sardonic gaze back to Miss Greenwood at the same moment as she bestowed a melting smile on a smitten elderly gentleman who was handing her a glass of champagne.

‘Lady Monkton—her aunt—takes an understanding view on the matter. Some might think it admirable—personally, I consider it a damn waste of both time and a beautiful woman. Her mama and Lady Monkton let her do exactly as she likes with relative impunity, the result being she has become an object of ridicule.’

William’s brows lifted imperturbably. ‘Which in your opinion she rightly deserves.’

‘Exactly.’

William looked at Miss Greenwood with renewed interest. ‘She is Lady Monkton’s niece, you say?’

‘Not quite. Her mother and Lady Monkton are cousins, but she has taken on the role of aunt to the two Misses Greenwood. The grand lady took both Cassandra and her sister under her wing when their father died. Intending to give both girls a Season, she was disappointed when the older girl declined—being of the unconventional type, if you see what I mean. It’s hard to believe that any man’s hands have ever touched that delectably soft skin of hers—and I doubt she knows what it feels like to be kissed.’

Though he would dearly like to silence Charles, from William’s own dealings with Miss Greenwood it was obvious that what he was saying was mostly true.

‘Any unattached bachelor who is foolish enough to show an interest in her, she sends packing.’

‘Including you, Charles, which is why you are so ready to point out her faults to me.’

Sir Charles Grisham lifted his arrogant brows, drawling, ‘Including me.’ He admitted, chuckling softly, ‘Indeed, I confess to having been afflicted with a touch of frostbite. Being a notorious rake, I naturally assumed I could seduce her—to initiate her into the art of love. It did nothing for my self-esteem when she added me to her string of rejections. Now you are back in town I can see that I and every other male smitten with the charming Miss Cassandra Greenwood will have to look to our laurels. With your breeding and looks—not to mention your wealth—your potent attraction to women has always been a topic of much scintillating feminine gossip. You do seem to have an extraordinary effect on them, William, but I very much doubt even you will melt that particular iceberg.’

Mild cynicism marred the lean handsomeness of William’s features as he refused to be drawn on what his thoughts might be concerning the young woman who had in all probability saved his life.

‘By the by,’ Grisham went on. ‘I saw Mark in town recently—upholding the family name while you’ve been chasing the Frenchies. I have to say he doesn’t improve with age—still the same old bore he was at Cambridge. With so much starch in his veins, it’s a miracle the man can sit down. It’s difficult to believe he’s your cousin. Is it true that he jumps to the tune of his wife?’

William smiled mildly, knowing of Grisham’s intense dislike of Mark—in fact, Mark’s austere, intolerant attitude did seem to put most people’s backs up. There were certain things about Mark that irritated even him—and the same could be said of his acerbic wife, Lydia. But being possessed of a fierceness to protect any member of his family, which had sadly dwindled to just Mark and Edward during the past five years, with the demise of both his parents and older brother in a riding accident, William would not therefore, speak against his cousin.

‘If he does, then it is entirely their own affair. I couldn’t have left my affairs in better hands, Charles. My cousin is a man of steadfast character and unimpeachable honour, and I would be grateful if you did not cast aspersions.’

‘I applaud your loyalty—though in my opinion he doesn’t deserve it. Loyalty is a rare virtue in either sex these days.’

‘Besides, Mark is next in line to the title and the estate—unless I marry and produce an heir.’

‘And is there a possibility of that on the horizon?’ Charles enquired, his eyes lighting with obvious interest, for with this devilishly handsome lord off the social scene, the likes of himself and his associates would stand in better favour with the ladies.

William’s eyes suddenly glinted with amusement. ‘Marriage is not high on my list of things to do just now. When I feel inclined to pledge my hand in order to produce an heir,’ he replied with grim humour, ‘I’m sure you will be one of the first to know.’

‘I shall be journeying to Hertfordshire tomorrow—I’m to stay with my aunt for a few days. I’ve neglected her disgracefully of late,’ Charles confessed. ‘I’m quite fond of the old dear.’

‘And her money,’ William uttered pointedly.

‘I admit it does hold some attraction,’ he said without shame. ‘I shall be close to Carlow Park and I’ve arranged to ride over to see Mark—though I intend the visit to be of short duration.’

‘Then, feeling as you do, why do you visit him at all?’

‘Two rather splendid horses you have in the stables—saw them on the hunting field in January and I was impressed. A chestnut full of quality took my fancy, although the grey was damned fine, too. I heard Mark’s selling them, so I approached him with an interest to buying one. He invited me to Carlow Park to look them over.’

William’s expression was bland when he turned and fixed him with a quizzical stare. ‘And these are Mark’s horses to sell?’

‘Damned if I know—although I don’t suppose they are, seeing as they’re stabled at Carlow Park.’

‘Their names?’

‘Monarch and Franciscan.’

William’s expression hardened. On learning of his brother’s death, from Spain he had asked Mark to keep an eye on the estate until his return. He hadn’t given him carte blanche to do as he pleased and he felt a faint stirring of antagonism over Mark’s having usurped his position by selling off his horses—in particular Franciscan, his brother’s horse. Although, on second thought, perhaps it had more to do with Lydia than Mark.

‘The horses are not for sale.’

Not to be outdone, Charles’s eyes narrowed and a calculating gleam shone in their depths as he moved close to William so that what he was about to say would not be overheard. ‘A wager I will make, William.’

Apart from one sleek dark brow cocked in question, William’s features remained impassive. ‘A wager? I wonder what you’re intending to propose, Charles. I’m listening.’

‘A wager that you fail to seduce the delectable Miss Greenwood before the Season ends in June.’

‘And why should I want to seduce her?’

Charles shrugged. ‘To prove that you can—that you haven’t lost your touch.’

The challenge was thrown lightly and William teetered on the brink of accepting when caution reared its head. Seducing virgins wasn’t his forte—never had been—but the lovely Miss Cassandra Greenwood had captured his attention and the challenge was intriguing. He was a man who must conquer, must win, whatever the odds stacked against him. Whenever he set his mind on having something, he was not easily dissuaded.

‘And if I don’t?’

‘Then one or the other of those splendid beasts in your stable will be mine.’

‘And what’s in it for me—besides the delectable Miss Greenwood, of course?’

‘A thousand guineas if you succeed.’

William rose to the challenge with a confident smile. ‘That’s unfortunate for you. If there’s one thing I dislike, it’s seeing my opponent lose.’

‘So do I. Think on it, William. To seduce a woman famous for her strict morals—a virgin, I have no doubt, and as yet untouched by world’s cynicism—a lovely rose, just waiting to be plucked. What could be more prestigious?’

‘What more, indeed?’

‘A wager it is then. No need to put it in writing. A gentleman’s agreement will do.’

When a well-satisfied Sir Charles Grisham had moved on, William watched Miss Greenwood move about the room with renewed interest. So, she was untouchable. Suddenly she had become an exciting enigma, a mystery, which had multiplied tenfold. Gentlemen of the haut ton hesitated to go near her, to take liberties with her. Suddenly she had become a challenge he could not resist.

William watched her pause to speak to this person and that, careful to be as charming and polite as her nature allowed, for it did not do to antagonise. She was well versed in taking hold of a situation and bringing it round to her advantage, since the future of the institute might depend on people such as these. Sharp and witty, she sparkled, encompassing them all with her brilliant smiles and laughter—a light and joyous sound that caressed him, enticed him—and animated chatter, all serving to project the persona of a confident and capable young woman. These people were like children, thrilled and flattered to the core to be noticed by this gorgeous woman. It didn’t matter if she schemed to capture their attention. She had it.

Miss Greenwood was quite exquisite, William decided, with an air of fragility about her, but she reminded him of a rapier blade, a sliver of silver made of steel. He wanted to laugh out loud. So this was how she extracted donations for her precious institute.

Moving out of the shadows, completely impervious to the stir he was creating, since it was the first society event he’d attended since returning to London, William advanced towards her, the crowd parting as if he had ordered it.

Cassandra was in the process of deciding who to approach next when she saw him moving in her direction. He was tall, with an authoritative air of breeding and command and an unconscious swagger of arrogance, which spoke of generations of influence and superiority and advantage. With wide shoulders and a hard, stern face and iron jaw, his bright blue eyes beneath fine dark brows were disconcertingly amused as they gazed into hers. When he was close a strange, unfathomable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he slowly inclined his head towards her.

‘Hello, Miss Greenwood,’ he said, in a deep, resonant and incredibly seductive voice.

His very nearness had her stiffening. The sensation unnerved her. His towering figure left her no avenue of escape. She wished she were nearly a foot taller so she could meet him eye to eye. He was too attractive and had too much charm for his own good. Some people were born like that. It was as if they had a magnet inside them.

‘Why, Captain Lampard. This is a surprise.’

A crooked smile accompanied his reply. ‘For me rather more than it is for you, Miss Greenwood. You look ravishing, by the way. That colour is far more flattering to your colouring than the diabolical grey dress you were wearing on the day we met.’

Resentment coursed through Cassandra’s veins. It dawned on her as his gaze dropped to her breasts in a leisurely perusal that he was far more interested in what was beneath the gown than the gown itself. He raised his eyes to her face where they captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks.

‘What are you doing here, Captain Lampard?’ she asked, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious.

‘Your aunt invited me.’

‘So, you are aware that Lady Monkton is my aunt. Really she is my mother’s cousin, but she has always been known as aunt to me and my sister. How long have you known?’

‘About ten minutes.’ If she had suspected his presence at her aunt’s ball had been staged with her specifically in mind, then she was mistaken—disappointed, too, he hoped. ‘I grew bored watching the world go by in my town house so I came to see if the sights were any better here at Monkton House.’ He spoke with slow deliberation and the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. His eyes gleamed into hers as he added softly, ‘I am happy to report they far exceed my expectations and I’m glad I came.’

Cassandra turned aside, tossing him a cool glance askance. ‘Have you nothing better to do than ogle the ladies, Captain Lampard?’

‘It might look like that, but in truth I was watching just one.’

Cassandra ignored the remark, but she could not ignore the seductive lowering of his eyelids or the quickening of her heart. ‘The gaming tables seem to attract a good many gentlemen. Why don’t you try that?’

‘Because I find talking to you more enjoyable than anything else I could come up with.’

‘Your shoulder is healing well, I trust?’

‘Apart from the occasional twinge it is almost back to normal. Your Dr Brookes did a fine job. I am in your debt, Miss Greenwood.’

‘Yes, you are, Captain Lampard,’ she replied coldly, not having forgiven him for not having sent her the promised donation.

As though reading her mind, he said, ‘You received the bank draft I sent to the institute?’

‘I cannot recall having done so.’

William frowned, averting his eyes in angry disgust. He would have a few choice words to say to his secretary. Damn the man and his incompetence. ‘Then I can only assume there has been a mix up somewhere. I gave it to my secretary to deliver in person. I apologise most sincerely that you have not received it. Rest assured that I shall look into the matter first thing in the morning.’

‘Thank you. It will be appreciated,’ she said coolly. ‘Following that unfortunate experience, perhaps you will think twice before you fight a duel to settle a score—be it a difference of opinion, cheating at cards, or a case of adultery—which, if what I have heard about you is to be believed, was more than likely the reason that took you to Green Park that day.’

‘You are mistaken, and it is clear to me that you know nothing about the rules of duelling.’

‘I don’t?’

‘No. For one thing, the normal practice when a duel is arranged is for witnesses—seconds—to be in attendance, and possibly a physician. Do you recall seeing any?’

‘Why—I—no, I do not.’

‘And for another, I do not hold with the practice. Perhaps you would care to take a walk outside in Lady Monkton’s exquisite gardens and allow me to enlighten you on the finer points of the art of duelling.’

Cassandra drew back. ‘Certainly not. I refuse to go anywhere with you, sir.’

A mildly tolerant smile touched his handsome visage, but the glint in his blue eyes was as hard as steel. ‘Very well, Miss Greenwood, but I would appreciate a word with you in private.’ Placing his hand firmly on her elbow, he led her to a small recess and looked down at her, his expression hard. ‘You are under a misconception as to what occurred when you came upon me in the park. There was no duel. I was there to enjoy the exercise and solitude of an early morning ride, nothing more sinister than that. In short, someone tried to kill me.’

Oddly enough, Cassandra’s first fleeting thought was that he was joking, but, when she saw the firm set of his jaw, she was inclined to believe he was deadly serious. ‘To kill you,’ she repeated quietly, unable to entirely absorb such a macabre event taking place so close to herself, yet been unaware of it. ‘But why would anyone want to kill you?’

‘At the moment, the reason is unclear, but I will find out, that I promise you. Someone tried to bring my life to a premature end and I damned well intend finding out who and why. Did you happen to see anyone acting suspiciously that morning?’

‘Why, yes. Now I come to think of it, a man rode out of the trees close to where we found you. I didn’t see his face. He was wearing a hat pulled well down over his face, and a cloak.’

‘His horse? What colour was it—brown, black, grey?’ William demanded, sounding sharper than he intended, but he was impatient to discover any clue that would lead him to the culprit.

‘Dark brown—but on hearing the shot, I was more concerned about what had occurred than to take note of what the man and his horse looked like.’ She paused, becoming trapped in his blue gaze. ‘Do you think whoever it was will try again?’

Expression grim, William nodded. ‘When I’m in London, I frequently ride in the park at that time. He must have been waiting for me—he didn’t try to rob me, so I can only assume he had murder in mind. There was no warning. Nothing. If he was prepared to try once, he’ll not let it alone. The question is, when.’

‘Then you will have to look to your safety and take all due care.’

‘I intend to. I am not the sort who jumps at shadows, and nor do I run from threats. As a soldier on campaign I learned to watch my back—I didn’t realise I would have to continue doing so in London.’

‘It would seem you have an enemy, Captain Lampard, one who hates you enough to want you dead.’

‘It looks like it.’

‘So, you are the innocent party and didn’t provoke a fight.’

His eyes glowed in the warm light as he gave her a lazy smile, his mood reverting back to what it had been a moment before. ‘I cannot claim to be innocent, Miss Greenwood, but neither am I the black-hearted scoundrel I have been painted.’

‘I would hardly expect you to admit it if you were,’ Cassandra retorted crisply. ‘However, I’ve heard stories to convince me that you are.’

The tantalising smile grew wider in the face of her derisive stare. Folding his arms, William leaned his back nonchalantly against a pillar. ‘I am deeply curious about you, Miss Greenwood. Tell me, have you always rebelled against the fashionable world?’

‘I suppose I have. I attend these affairs not because I enjoy them particularly, but because they are a means to bring about that which is closest to my heart.’

‘I’m aware of that. When you told me how you collect donations for your cause, I was ready to question your methods, but now I can see that with a flash of your eyes and a few chosen words you have them reaching into their pockets.’

‘That is my intention.’

He gazed at her for a long moment, his devilish, sensual mouth turning upward in the faintest of cynical smiles. ‘You are an extremely forward, quite outrageous and outspoken young woman, Miss Greenwood.’

‘If you got to know me, you would have to become used to my manner and the way in which I deal with people.’ She met his gaze candidly. ‘You don’t approve of what I do, do you, Captain Lampard?’

‘It is not for me to approve or disapprove of what you do, Miss Greenwood.’

‘Nevertheless you’re quick to voice your opinion.’

‘That is in my nature—and my right.’

On a sigh and letting her expression slip to one of utter boredom. Cassandra looked around. ‘I do so hate these occasions. I find little interest in society’s entertainments. I wish I could leave right now. See all the mamas watching their offspring with eyes like hawks, Captain Lampard. Launched upon Society and made to parade for inspection like so many fillies at an auction. They will be sold to the highest bidder—to the largest title and the most wealthy.’