Scandalous Deception

Janet squared her plump shoulders. “Not a soul will get past yer bedroom door, that I promise ye.”

“I will return as soon as I have spoken with Stefan,” she promised.

“Good luck to ye, miss.”

Loosening her clinging grip on her maid, Brianna squared her shoulders and turned her attention to the waiting town house.

“Let us hope I do not need it.”

Brianna waited until her maid had slipped away before forcing herself to cross the crowded street.

Feeling as exposed as if she were stark naked, she neared the throng of gentlemen and began to press her way up the sweep of steps. Her logic told her that no one could possibly recognize her in the concealing domino and feathered mask, especially since she had never been able to move among the more fashionable society, but in her mind, she felt as if every eye was staring at her.

And in truth, they were.

Even though she had tightly braided her conspicuous hair and knotted it at the nape of her neck, the color still managed to shimmer with vibrant beauty in the torchlight. And no mask could entirely disguise the exotic slant of her green eyes and the full curve of her inviting mouth.

Keeping her head lowered as she moved forward, she actually made it through the door before a hand clamped on her arm and forced her to a halt.

“And where the devil do you think you’re going?” a male voice rasped.

Glancing up, she met the annoyed glare from a uniformed footman. Her mouth went dry and her heart lodged in her throat.

“I…I am going to the ball.”

The servant curled his lips in distaste. “Oh, aye, and you think you can prance in as if you’re royalty? Maybe you think to be announced by the butler?”

“I…”

The footman did not bother to listen to her embarrassed apology, instead simply pushing her back down the stairs to make room for the crowd of gentlemen.

“Round to the back with you, wench. Only the gents come through the front door.”

Brianna briefly stumbled before regaining her balance and hurrying to the back entrance. Ignoring the dampness that soaked into her embroidered slippers, she found the narrow entrance where she was shown up the servants’ staircase by a dour-faced housekeeper into the long parlors that were richly decorated with gilded ceilings, crimson satin wall paneling and gold-veined marble fireplaces. The floor was a polished parquet that glowed with a rich luster beneath the flickering light of the crystal chandeliers. Along one wall, long tables had been arranged to display the lavish buffet and numerous bottles of chilled champagne.

She had reached her objective, but she discovered that finding Stefan was not to be so simple as she had assumed.

There had to be a hundred guests crammed into the gilt and crimson rooms, all of them disguised in cloaks and masks as they threaded their way through the glittering crowd or lounged on the small couches and chairs that were set in shallow alcoves. Somewhere among the melee a string quartet played, but it was nearly impossible to hear what Brianna assumed was Mozart over the laughter and shouts and shrill giggles.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been shocked by the sight of the women who had tossed open their cloaks to reveal they were wearing nothing more than lacy corsets beneath, and the men who openly reached to grope the wares offered. It was hardly what an innocent maiden was accustomed to seeing.

She was far too concerned with locating the Duke of Huntley to be as shocked as she should be. Or to even question why such a sweet, kind-hearted man such as Stefan would choose to attend such a vulgar event.

Sheer determination allowed her to make her way to the center of the room before she was halted by a large woman with all the full curves that Brianna lacked.

“Hey there, no shoving, there be plenty of gents to go around,” she said, her pox-scarred face heavily rouged.

“I am looking for the Duke of Huntley,” Brianna said bluntly.

The woman gave a lift of her darkened brows. “Oh, aye, I bet yer are. Think yer fancy speech will impress such a fine toff?”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

The woman gave a lift of her shoulder. “I heard tell he was in the card rooms. Seems he prefers gambling to the ladies.”

“Thank God,” Brianna breathed.

“What did ye say?” the woman demanded, suspicious.

“I asked where the card rooms are to found.”

There was a pause before the woman jerked her head back toward the hall.

“Down the hall. Last door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Brianna turned and began the battle back to the door, a choked scream leaving her lips as a large masculine arm wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Here now, where are you going in such a hurry?” a thick, drunken voice demanded next to her ear.

Brianna struggled against the repulsive grasp. “I be meeting another, let go,” she said, mimicking the other doxies in the room.

“You can meet him later. I have a desire for a saucy minx, and something tells me you could be very saucy.”

A flare of terrified fury raced through Brianna and with as much force as she could muster, she lifted her foot to kick the man directly on his shin.

“I said I have a meeting,” she gritted, managing to wriggle loose as he gave a groan of pain and loosened his grip.

“Why, you bitch…”

An opening appeared and Brianna darted toward the doorway, the crowd filling in behind her to prevent her assailant from following.

Giving a silent prayer at her escape, Brianna did not allow her pace to slow as she entered the carpeted hallway and hurried toward the card room.

CHAPTER THREE

STANDING IN THE SMOKY CARD room, Edmond struggled to contain his impatience.

Predictably, it had not been an easy task to convince his stubborn brother that he truly was in danger. For all Stefan’s intelligence, he was remarkably reluctant to accept that anyone could possibly seek his demise, especially not his own cousin.

Then, of course, there had been the battle over Edmond assuming Stefan’s identity so he could lure the danger to London and away from Meadowland, hopefully flushing the villain into the open. It did not matter how many times Edmond explained that he was far more skilled to discover the truth behind the attacks and that he alone could turn the hunter into the hunted.

Finally, Edmond had been forced to point out that Stefan’s stubbornness might very well be endangering the staff and tenants of Meadowland, explaining that a man willing to murder a duke would not hesitate to kill a mere commoner standing in his way. It was only then that Stefan had given in to the inevitable.

Still, it was a full fortnight before Edmond was at last able to leave Meadowland in the disguise of his brother and arrive at Stefan’s town house in London. And another week before he could replace Stefan’s loyal staff with his own servants. If he were to be bait for a determined killer, he intended to surround himself with those trained to protect him.

It had not taken much effort to track Howard Summerville. All he needed was to discover the most lewd, offensive event on the calendar, Lord Blackwell’s Courtesan Ball.

He had not been disappointed. Within moments he had located Howard in the back card rooms. Now all he needed was his cousin to notice his looming form standing directly in his path.

Over the past twenty minutes, he had walked past the stupid man’s seat at the table on a dozen occasions, expecting to be recognized. After all, there were few in society that could claim the height of Edmond and his brother, and none other who wore the crest of Huntley stamped on a gold signet ring.

Everyone else in the smoke-choked room had instantly bowed in his direction, covertly giving way as was only fitting for a duke when he approached them.

Just when Edmond was convinced he would have to give in to his impulse and drag the man away from the table by the scruff of his neck, Howard tossed in his cards, signed his large stack of vowels and unsteadily rose to his feet.

It would be far preferable for the meeting to appear as nothing more than a chance encounter. The last thing Edmond desired was to tip his hand to his cousin. Howard Summerville was debauched, depraved and detestable, but he wasn’t a halfwit. He was going to be curious enough that the reclusive Duke of Huntley was seemingly tossing himself into the wicked pleasures of London without adding fuel to the fire.

Weaving his way toward the door, the slender, dark-haired man with a swarthy complexion, small black eyes and pinched countenance nearly rammed into Edmond before he came to a belated halt.

Squinting upward, the red-rimmed eyes took a long moment to focus. At last they widened as Howard sucked in a shocked breath.

“Good Lord, is that you Huntley?”

Edmond gave a stiff nod of his head, as if the meeting were an unpleasant surprise. It was how Stefan would react.

“Howard.”

“Whatever are you doing here?” the older gentleman demanded, shoving a hand through his tangled black hair. He looked ghastly. Having dispensed with his mask and domino, his unhealthy pallor was starkly visible, emphasizing the sunken hollows beneath his eyes. Even his expensively tailored evening suit was as creased as if he had been wearing it for days. “Hardly the place for a grand peer of the realm.”

Edmond bit back his acerbic words. For the moment, he was supposed to be the Duke of Huntley, and Stefan would never allow his ducal composure to slip, even if it did become a bit frosty when he was displeased.

“I would say that there are several peers of the realm in attendance,” he said, deliberately glancing toward the two Earls and a Baron currently seated at the tables.

“Oh, yes, well, I suppose there are,” Howard muttered, sullenly. “Still, I have never known you to partake of the more delicious enticements that London has to offer. Come to think of it, I have never known you to partake of any enticements.”

“Which is precisely why I am here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Edmond returned to Meadowland for a short visit and demanded that I travel to London and take in the pleasures while he attended to the estate duties. He was quite insistent that I was becoming too dull to bear, and when Edmond has set his mind on a course, there is no budging him.”

“I can bloody well imagine. That brother of yours is a menace. Damnation, last time we crossed paths, he attacked me. Russia is the proper place for that one—his heart is as cold as Siberia. Of course, now that I think on the matter, your brother was quite right to send you to the city, Huntley. I have always said that you work far too hard. A bit of enjoyment is what you need. I’ve told Mrs. Summerville that on a dozen occasions.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, indeed.” Howard stretched his lips in a ghastly smile. “And now that you are here, I realize that it is quite a stroke of fortune. Almost uncanny.”

Edmond folded his arms over his chest, already knowing what was coming next.

“And what is this stroke of fortune?”

“Well, I did attempt to call upon you at Meadowland. On several occasions, as a matter of fact, although that bastard of a butler would not so much as allow me to step across the threshold.”

“Indeed.”

“Yes.” He gave an awkward pause at Edmond’s distinctly unenthusiastic tone. “I…it seems that I have had a bit of trouble with those nasty creditors of late.”

“Has there ever been a time when you did not have trouble with creditors?”

“Trifling matters.” Howard tugged at his drooping cravat. “On this occasion, however, I fear that I am quite undone. Indeed, I have been contemplating a flight to the Continent if my situation does not improve.”

Edmond’s expression remained coolly indifferent even as his muscles coiled with tension. That Howard was in dun territory was as predictable as the sun rising. Clearly this time, however, he was desperate.

“And yet, here you are squandering your non-existent funds on cards and whores,” Edmond accused, knowing it was what his brother would say.

“I had hoped to recoup some of my losses at the table.”

“Ah, of course. That is always a sound notion.”

Ignoring the mocking words, Howard plunged onward. “If you could just see your way to lending me a bit of assistance…”

“Let me make certain that I am not misunderstanding you, cousin. Are you asking for money?”

“Just enough to cover my most pressing expenses.”

“Tell me, Howard, just how deep are your debts?”

Hope flared through the dark eyes before it was abruptly replaced by a wary suspicion. Not even the kindhearted Stefan was willing to fund this worthless gentleman, knowing he would simply toss the money away in the nearest gambling den.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Realizing that he had very nearly overplayed his hand, Edmond cast a bored glance around the room.

“It is nothing more than idle curiosity.”

Howard heaved a disgusted sigh, his suspicions easily dismissed. “I should have known it would be a waste of effort to request your assistance. Your family has always taken pleasure in the misery of my own.”

“And you have always held us to blame for your own failures,” Edmond said, his voice edged with ice.

“It wasn’t failures. I have simply had a string of bad luck. Could happen to anyone…” Howard’s whining came to a startled halt as his gaze shifted to someone approaching from behind Edmond. “Hello, what have we here?”

Aggravated by the interruption, Edmond did not bother to turn, hoping whoever dared to intrude on his private conversation would realize that their presence was unwelcome.

“Your Grace, I must speak with you,” a low, startlingly cultured female voice demanded as Edmond felt a small tug on his sleeve.

Edmond glared down at the woman in a domino and feathered mask, his expression one of furious disdain.

“Be on your way, I have no interest.”

The stubborn wench refused to be intimidated, and against his will Edmond realized that she was a stunning beauty. Even with her disguise, he could determine the finely drawn features and magnificent green eyes. And that hair…that glorious autumn-hued hair, it could not possibly be real.

“But it is most vital that you give me a few minutes of your time,” she continued.

Edmond grimly ignored his body’s instinctive response to the enticing scent of lavender and sweet woman.

“I said be on your way,” he snapped. “There are many here who will give you the company you seek.”

“I, for one,” Howard intruded, his sallow face pinched with his insatiable hunger. “Unlike my prudish cousin, I possess a fine appreciation for such a beautiful woman.”

Ignoring the ready offer of companionship, the woman shifted until she was standing directly before Edmond, her ivory skin pale in the flickering candlelight.

“Please, Stefan, this cannot wait. I…” The slanted green eyes that seemed oddly familiar abruptly widened. “Good God, you’re not Ste—”

“Mon dieu.” Sweeping his arms around the dangerous woman he hauled her off her feet and covered her mouth in a punishing kiss.

THE KISS WAS INTENDED AS nothing more than a means of keeping the woman silent. Somehow, she knew that he was not Stefan, and until he managed to figure out who the hell she was, he had to keep her mouth otherwise occupied.

Necessity, however, was most certainly a pleasure as he sampled her lush, sensual lips, her breath tasting of mint and pure magic. Tightening his arms around her, Edmond swept her completely off her feet and cradled her tiny, squirming body tight against his chest.

“Here now, Huntley, you said you weren’t interested,” his cousin protested. “Where are you going?”

Edmond ignored him, just as he ignored the whistles of drunken enjoyment as he turned and headed for the nearby door. He continued the deep, relentless kiss as the crowd readily parted and he made his way down the hall and up the staircase to the bedrooms above.

Entering the first open door, Edmond kicked it shut with his foot and slowly lowered the woman to her feet, his lips never leaving her mouth as he savored the sweetness that had him hard and aching, despite his annoyance with her untimely interruption.

It would damn well be worth having to track down Howard later if he could spread this wench’s legs and bury his throbbing erection into her heat. He sensed she could offer him the sort of intense satisfaction any gentleman would sell his soul to achieve.

Reluctantly lifting his head, Edmond wrenched off his ridiculous mask and glanced round the room, swiftly determining that it was one of the numerous bedchambers. The walls were paneled in pale rosewood with a molded marble chimneypiece near the door to the inner dressing room. It was no doubt attractively decorated, but he had no interest in anything beyond the curtained four-posted bed that was visible in the flickering firelight. Ah yes. That would do perfectly.

About to lead his companion toward the far side of the room, the woman halted his fine intentions as she began to struggle in earnest against his hold.

“Stop this,” she hissed, lifting her hands to pummel them against his chest. “Damn you, Edmond, let me go.”

Edmond stiffened as her commanding words echoed through the room. Mon dieu. He knew that voice.

With a sharp motion he ripped off her feathered mask, his eyes narrowing as her mass of vibrant curls tumbled down in a shimmering river of fire.

Brianna Quinn!

He should have recognized her the moment she approached him. They had been neighbors for years, at least until her mother had remarried and they had moved to London. And while it had been ten years since he had last laid eyes upon her, there could never be another with those cat-like green eyes and astonishing curls.

Of course, his memory of her included a small, too thin body and the unformed features of a child. She was usually covered in grime, her gown ripped in a dozen places from having climbed the orchard trees or devoted the morning to fishing with Stefan.

Now she was very much a woman, with skin as smooth as cream and lush lips that begged for a man’s kiss.

An exquisite bit of temptation who was leaving him hard and aching with a frustration that did nothing to improve his temper.

“Brianna Quinn,” he growled, a grim note underlying his voice. “I should have known. You are always showing up where you are least wanted.”

A blush stained her cheeks as she no doubt recalled the number of times she managed to interrupt his various seductions, when she was forever climbing into the hayloft or poking about the Conservatory.

“Perhaps unwanted by you, Edmond, since you were always up to some wicked pastime, but never by Stefan,” she retorted, clearly having changed in more ways than just physical. As a young girl, she had been terrified of him, always darting away when he glanced in her direction and stammering when she attempted to speak. He had called her ma souris: my mouse. Now she met his gaze squarely, her chin high and her expression stubborn. “Where is he?”

Edmond folded his arms across his chest, not even considering the possibility of a lie. Brianna had been one of the few people who had always managed to determine which twin was which.

“Comfortably tucked into his bed, I should imagine,” he drawled. “You know how devoted he is to country hours.”

She froze at his words, her ivory skin paling to a sickly white.

“He is still at Meadowland?”

“Yes.”

“But…” She scowled in genuine anger. Obviously she was not at all pleased to discover Stefan was not in London. “You are pretending to be the Duke. Why?”

He narrowed his gaze. This woman had already managed to wreck his evening of interrogating his dastardly cousin. On top of that, she had very nearly destroyed his charade—and had stirred the coals of his desire to a fever pitch. It was time that she explained her damnable presence at such a nefarious event.

“Actually, I think the better question is what the devil a supposedly respectable young lady is doing attending a Courtesan’s Ball,” he corrected.

She did not cringe or cower as he had expected. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him with flashing green eyes.

“I have no intention of answering any questions until I know why you are pretending to be the Duke of Huntley.”

“You are mistaken, ma souris.” Using his considerable height and weight to his advantage, Edmond backed the tiny woman against the wall, his expression hard with warning. “You will answer my each and every question, and you will do so this moment.”

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered with obvious fear, but she grimly refused to give in to the inevitable.

“You cannot make me,” she hissed.

In spite of himself, Edmond could not deny a tiny surge of respect for her refusal to be intimidated. He had made grown men crumble with one withering glare, and yet she stood her ground.

Brianna Quinn might still be intruding into places that she did not belong, but his usual desire to throttle her had become a very different desire.

One that included having her spread naked on that nearby bed as he tasted every inch of her ivory skin.

“Surely you have not forgotten how dangerous it is to challenge me?” he husked, shifting to press the hard muscles of his thighs against her. He choked back a groan at the feel of her delicate, perfectly curved body beneath the heavy cloak. “I can never resist a dare.”

She shuddered, her eyes darkening with awareness. “Let me go, Edmond.”

A taunting smile touched his lips as he deliberately rubbed his aching erection against the soft swell of her stomach. The realization that she was not indifferent to his touch only intensified his surging need to be inside her.

“Tell me what you are doing here, or I will open this door and announce to the entire ball you are in attendance.”

Expecting her to falter beneath the threat, Edmond was unprepared when she lifted her hands to give him a sharp shove. He felt it no more than he would the brush of a butterfly, but it was enough to distract him so that she could slide away and walk toward the door.

“Fine, prance me in front of the entire crowd if you desire, I have nothing left to lose,” she said, tossing off the cape to reveal the pink ball gown that was cut to expose the soft curve of her breasts. Seeming indifferent to Edmond’s heated gaze locked on her plunging neckline, she yanked open the door and turned to glare at his distracted expression. “But be assured that, as soon as I am revealed, I will scream loud and clear that you are no more than an impostor.”

It was a bluff. It had to be, Edmond told himself as he stormed to her side and waved his hand toward the door. No woman was foolish enough to willingly toss away her future with such disregard.

“Let us test that theory, shall we?” he said smoothly.

Her chin tilted as she stepped into the hall. “Let’s do.”

Hearing approaching footsteps, Edmond had no choice but to grab her arm and yank her back into the room. He slammed shut the door and turned the lock, before turning to her with impatient fury.

“Have you taken complete leave of your senses? You will be ruined,” he hissed furiously.

Brianna wrapped her arms around her waist, her face pale. “Unless I can convince Stefan to help me, I am already ruined.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“First, I demand that you tell me why you are pretending to be the Duke of Huntley.”

He muttered a foul curse. “Brianna, do not try my patience any further. Confess why you seek Stefan.”

“Or what?” she demanded. “You will hit me?”

Edmond slowly narrowed his gaze. He was a gentleman who had developed the sort of skills to obtain the information he desired, whether it was from a cutthroat, a corrupt politician or the beautiful wife of a foreign ambassador.