A Dash of Scandal (11 page)

“Please do.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer to his chest. He lowered his head again and instinctively her lips parted, her mouth opened, allowing his tongue to slip inside and plunder her warmth. The kiss was long, generous, drugging. Short choppy breaths merged with long whispery sighs. Millicent had no idea which sound emerged from Lord Dunraven and which came from her own mouth.

When he broke the kiss, he remained holding her tightly. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I've wanted to kiss you like this since the first night I saw you in the corridor. Remember that night?”

“You blew me a kiss.”

“More proof I can be a gentleman at times.”

Without letting her go, he turned them around and carefully backed her up until she pressed against the fabric table.

“What are you going to do?”

“Kiss you madly.”

Millicent caught her bottom lip between her teeth and formed a protest that never came out.

“Don't be alarmed,” he whispered softly. “I can see your maid through the stacks of cloth. I will keep watch. I won't let her or anyone else catch us. If she heads this way, I'll duck under the table.”

Millicent nodded as he bent his head toward hers again. She knew what she was allowing him to do was beyond the pale, but where he was concerned she discarded caution and reason. There was something decidedly rebellious, thrilling, and a little bit wicked about kissing him in the shop. She had no inclination to stop as she had no inhibitions when she was in his arms.

Her lips parted as his met hers once more. Millicent knew from the first touch that this would be no gentle, tender kiss, and her breathing quickened erratically with desire.

Lord Dunraven's lips bruised hungrily over hers and she matched his furor. His arms wrapped tightly around her back, crushed her to him.

Instinctively she opened her mouth again and accepted his tongue and gave him hers. It pleased her when she heard him swallow soft gasps of pleasure with each probe of her tongue into his mouth.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispered against her lips.

“And you are a masterful kisser, sir,” she answered breathlessly.

His lips left hers and he kissed her cheek, her chin and her neck. “Do you like the way I make you feel?”

“Yes. I've never felt such intense pleasure with other kisses.”

“So you have been kissed before?”

“Of course. I'm almost one and twenty.”

“But you haven't been thoroughly kissed, the way I kissed you just now?”

“That's correct. All the kisses I've had up to now have been properly given on the cheek by gentlemen.”

“Proper gentlemen? And I am not?”

“You, sir, are not a good matrimonial candidate, and I should not have allowed you so much freedom.”

“But you did.”

“Your charm is very persuasive.”

“You have led me on a merry chase.”

“Not by design.”

“I think I like the fact that you have been brave enough to allow a kiss or two and discreet enough not to let any man take advantage of you.”

There was sudden laughter from the front of the shop and Millicent stiffened in his arms.

“It's all right,” he whispered, looking past her through the small opening between the stacks of cloth. “Your maid is quite busy at the moment.”

Breathing hard, and needing to see for herself, Millicent leaned her head back and saw the two women opening jars and smelling the contents.

Millicent took a deep, relaxing breath.

“Keep your head back a moment,” he whispered. “That's the perfect position for kissing your beautiful neck.”

“Necks are not beautiful, sir. They are skinny and bony.”

“Yours is lovely and it's sensitive, too. That's why I love to kiss it.” He showered her with more kisses.

“Yes,” she whispered giving herself over to the pleasure.

Throwing caution to the wind, and her reputation out the window, Millicent did as he asked and allowed the earl the freedom he desired to explore her neck.

Softly he kissed the area behind her ear, and her skin pebbled with delicious goose bumps even though she had never felt hotter in her life. He kissed the lobe of her ear and gently, quickly sucked it into his mouth and out again a couple of times before leaving it to explore his way down the column of her neck to where the hollow of her throat met the stiff lace of her collar.

Shivers of delight threaded tighter and tighter through Millicent, wrapping her in the web he had set for her. She was amazed at how much enjoyment she received from his touch.

“I've never been kissed like this before,” she murmured softly.

“Good.” He kissed her lips, her chin, then the base of her throat again. “You shouldn't let anyone kiss you like this—but me, of course.”

His lips found hers again and he kissed her passionately. He ran his hands up her back, over her shoulders, and down her arms. His hands never stopped moving as their mouths clung together.

Millicent couldn't let her hands be still either. She ran her open palms over the width of his strong shoulders and her fingers up into the back of his hair. She loved the way his lips moved expertly across hers. She loved the taste of his tongue in her mouth. She was eager to enjoy everything she was experiencing, including the touch of the expensive fabric of his coat beneath her hand.

“I like that you enjoy how I kiss you,” he murmured softly.

“That pleases you?”

“Very much.”

“Me too.” Some kisses were soft and warm while others were fierce and passionate. Millicent had thought she had been kissed before, but she hadn't. This was kissing! Weak legs included. If she hadn't been propped against the table, she would have melted to her knees.

Lord Dunraven lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes as if searching for something. With one hand splayed against her back he pressed her to him. With his other hand he reached up and touched her ear, softly caressing the small lobe. Slowly his fingertips took the same path down her neck that his lips had followed earlier, only this time the journey didn't stop at the lace collar. His hand continued down her chest until his open palm rested on the full swell of her breast.

Millicent was hardly breathing. She felt as though her insides were twisting into a wondrous knot of exciting sensations. No one had ever touched her breasts before, and it was thrilling. His hand slid beneath her breast and lifted it into his palm and he closed his fingers around it, squeezing gently yet firmly. The sensations that shot through her were wondrous.

Her lower body strained to get closer to him, and he answered her invitation by pressing harder against her. Millicent gasped again as she felt the hardness of his body.

For the first time in her life she knew what it was like to want a man to love her. The desirous sensations caused her to press her lips to his and slide her tongue deep into his mouth. He muffled his groan.

“I knew it,” he whispered passionately against her lips. “Your breast fits perfectly into my hand.”

It feels perfect.

He looked into her eyes. “If only I could remove your dress and look upon your beauty with the desire I feel for you at this moment. I would show you how a man loves a woman.”

As if considering the possibility, he glanced toward the front of the shop, where muffled talking could still be heard. He lowered his head to her chest for a moment, then lifted it again.

“But now is not the time and this is not the place. I want to kiss you again. I have good luck, but I'm not going to push it
further today.”

Slowly he let her go and stepped away. Millicent felt bereft and out of breath. He helped her to straighten her collar, then ran his thumb across her lips and smiled.

“You look like you have been thoroughly kissed.”

Millicent touched her lips with her fingertips. “What should I do?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He reached up and lowered her hand from her mouth. “The redness will disappear quickly.”

She shook her head in worry. “I can't believe I let you kiss me and… and… touch me so intimately here in this public place. I'm afraid I've shocked myself.”

As soon as the words were out, she would have done anything to take them back. He probably wanted to hear that she was upset with herself for submitting to his wishes so easily. Her heart was beating so fast and she was so light-headed with desire that nothing more sane would pass her lips.

He smiled. “Don't worry about your reputation. You are safe with me.”

“After what just passed between us, that is an absurd remark, sir. I'm safe anywhere but in your presence where I seem to turn into a wanton—”

He cut off her words by placing his thumb lightly against her lips. “We shared some passionate kisses. That is all. No one but us will ever know.”

Of course he would say that. He would not want to be caught in such a compromising and unforgiving situation and be forced to marry her. He was a confirmed bachelor. No, it was best they forget this ever happened, and she must stay away from him at all cost.

“I understand.” She pulled on the neckline of her dress and moistened her lips. They tasted of Lord Dunraven, and her chest tightened, as she missed his embrace already. Oh, what had she done? What had she allowed him to do, to kiss her so intimately and to touch her in such forbidden places?

“What parties are you attending this evening?”

“We'll be going to the Dovershafts and then to Almack's. Why?”

He stepped away from her and said, “Because knowing where you will be means I don't waste time looking for you this evening. Go back to the other side of the counter before your maid misses you.”

Just like that he was ready to be rid of her. How could she have gone so easily into his arms and allowed him to do whatever he wished?

“Clearly, Lord Dunraven, I had not met a rake until I met you. I should have nothing more to do with you.”

His gaze stayed on hers. “Perhaps you shouldn't, but the question is, will you?”

Millicent closed her eyes and counted to three.

Angels above! She should be worried about much more than having been so thoroughly kissed. How had she fallen under his enchanting spell so quickly and completely?

She was what she never thought she would be—just like her mother. She was going to fall in love with the town scoundrel and be forced to leave London in shame as her mother had done years ago.

She would tell him he must not try to speak to her again. Yes, that is what she would do.

Feeling resolute, she opened her eyes to tell him, but he was gone.

“Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.” And find the Mad Ton Thief seems to be the outcry from London Society. Acknowledgment is given to Lord Dunraven. Because of his efforts, home soirées must now suffer the presence of ill-at-ease Runners. Why? one must ask, when many of the ton believe the thief is a ghost. One would think the earl would be too busy to bother with the thief, since Lady Lambsbeth is in Town for the rest of the Season.

—Lord Truefitt,
Society's Daily Column

“Blasted devils, all of them,” Chandler muttered to himself as he wadded the newspaper clipping Fines had just given him. He looked around the crowded room for a place to throw it but found nothing nearby.

Chandler stood just inside one of the arched alcoves in the ballroom at Almack's. He'd been feeling quite good, looking forward to spending the evening in Miss Blair's company until Fines appeared with a copy of the latest tittle-tattle. He shouldn't have read it. He knew better. It always left him feeling angry and ruined his evening. Tonight was no exception.

It might be worth getting married just so the gossip-mongers would leave him alone.

“You have only yourself to blame, Dunraven,” Fines said in a high-handed tone.

“Why the hell do you think I would bring such misery on myself?”

“I tried to warn you last night that Lady Lambsbeth was in attendance.”

The orchestra played a tune that seemed to match the slow, strong beat of Chandler's heart. The dance floor was filled with elaborately dressed ladies and expensively clad gentlemen twirling and sidestepping in unison. Chandler was thankful the windows in the large room were open. The gossip along with his tight collar and neckcloth was definitely making him hot.

He'd made an appearance at three different parties tonight, looking for anyone who might not fit in with the usual crowd. At last he'd realized what an ineffectual idea that had been. He was not going to nab the thief at one of the house parties. If that happened, it would have to be one of Doulton's Runners who did it.

He searched the crowd once again for Miss Blair, as he'd done the entire hour he'd been in the ballroom. He hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. He'd felt like an anxious schoolboy as he'd dressed tonight. He couldn't wait to get here so he could see her, talk to her, dance with her. He wanted her back in his arms.

“Did you hear me, Dunraven?”

“Yes,” he said, but wasn't sure he had. “I was just thinking that if I ever get my hands around the neck of Lord Truefitt, I'll happily strangle him until he begs for mercy and swears he'll never pick up another quill to put in ink!”

“All you and Andrew wanted to do was talk about some penniless girl from the country. What was her name—Miss Blondel?”

Chandler took umbrage at Fines for speaking of her in such an ill manner. “Miss Blair. And where did you hear that she was a penniless girl from the country?”

“I believe Andrew said as much last night when he alluded to the fact she was in Town only for the Season and hoping to make a comfortable match.”

“He doesn't know as much about her as I do,” Chandler said contentiously. “You can tell by her clothing, her manner of speech, and the way she carries herself,”
the way she feels in my arms, the sweetness of her kisses
, “that she was not raised penniless.”

“It could be that her family splurged on clothes just for the Season. She is lovely. No reason to think she won't do well for herself.”

Finding no place to discard the wadded clipping and feeling quite provoked by now, Chandler threw the small paper ball out the open window. He didn't know why he was so obsessed with Miss Blair. She wasn't the most beautiful young lady he'd ever seen, but she was the most intriguing, the most enchanting, and the most desirable.

Chandler didn't care a damn about Lady Lambsbeth. He didn't want to see her or talk to her and he certainly didn't want his name linked to hers in the papers. There was only one lady on his mind. Miss Millicent Blair.

Just thinking of her calmed him. Her kisses had been untutored but responsive. She had been submissive in his arms, not because he demanded it, but because she welcomed his embrace. There was no better aphrodisiac than knowing this lady wanted his touch.

He had tempted many young ladies of the ton into kisses as passionate as those he had shared with Miss Blair in that shop, but none had touched the depths of his soul as she did. He felt restless and his desire to hold and kiss her again was intense.

“Damnation,” he muttered more to himself than to Fines.

“Obviously we didn't get you out of the party soon enough. The only thing a gossipmonger needs to know is that you were seen attending the same party as Lady Lambsbeth and the scandal broth is heated to boiling. They don't care that you didn't actually see or speak to the lady in question. It doesn't matter a whit in hell to them if it sells papers.”

Chandler didn't comment, so Fines continued. “I found out today that Lady Lambsbeth moved back to London and has rented a town house—not far from yours, by the way. I have it on good authority that her husband is, indeed, dead this time. Some sort of carriage accident in Paris.”

“I don't care if she's widow or princess, or if she lives right next door to me. I have no desire or intention of renewing a relationship with her. And after our conversation last night, I don't think Lady Lambsbeth will be seeking my attentions.”

“You didn't,” Fines exclaimed and stepped closer to Chandler. “Good Lord, Dunraven, are the scandal sheets right? You did talk to her last night, didn't you?”

“Only long enough to assure her I had no interest in her,” he admitted, wondering why he hadn't completely ignored her and walked away without speaking to her.

“All you need is a second for someone to see her in your company.”

“I could have sworn that no one saw us but the Runner, who works for a Thief Taker named Doulton.”

“A Runner? Good lord, Dunraven. Did you take leave of your senses? It only takes one person to catch you with her, or God forbid—do you think he could have overheard what you said? Either way, no doubt the Runner made a tidy sum last night tattling on you.” Fines paused, then asked, “What exactly did you say to her?”

Chandler's gaze strayed to the door again, looking for Miss Blair. “Exactly what I told you, not that any of it is your concern or the ton's business. I don't intend to pick up where we left off, and she should find some other lackwit to keep her bed warm.”

Miss Pennington, Miss Bardwell, and Miss Donaldson passed in front of them, walking very slowly. Both gentlemen nodded and bowed. Miss Bardwell winked, but Chandler had no idea if the flirtation was intended for him or Fines. Miss Pennington openly smiled, showing why her beauty made her the belle of the debutantes this Season, and shy-acting Miss Donaldson hid most of her face behind a lacy fan.

When he was certain the ladies were out of earshot, Fines picked up the conversation where they had left off by saying, “What you need is a new mistress.”

Not that again.

The thought of securing a mistress had no more appeal to Chandler than renewing a relationship with Lady Lambsbeth or starting one with Miss Bardwell.

“Once you get the right mistress settled into your life, Lady Lambsbeth will never cross your mind again.”

“She doesn't cross my mind now unless you mention her,” Chandler complained.

The only lady on his mind was Miss Blair, and he must be blessed for she was walking in to the ballroom on the arm of Viscount Heathecoute. He hadn't gotten the feel of her out of his mind or the taste of her from his lips. She was an extraordinary lady to have held his attention so long.

He had to find a way to see her again—alone, as he had today. He wanted to sweep her out into the darkness and ravish her until she begged him to show her fully how a man loves a woman.

Sir Charles Wright was the first gentleman to her side. She gave him her hand for an appropriate kiss and curtsy, then smiled at him. A few moments later he signed her dance card. As he walked away, the too-tall and too-thin Viscount Tolby approached her. He stood right in front of her and completely blocked her from Chandler's view.

Chandler was not accustomed to that uncontrollable knot in his chest that made him want to charge over to her and demand she accept the attention of no suitor but him.

“Are you listening to me?” Fines asked.

Chandler swallowed past a dry throat. Had he finally been smitten with love after all these years? No, that couldn't be. But for some reason, she affected him differently from all the other ladies who'd caught his eye.

“Sorry, old chap, I didn't hear what you had to say. What was that?”

“You've been doing a lot of woolgathering lately, Dunraven. Are you feeling all right?”

“I've never felt better. I was just giving serious consideration to your idea of a new mistress.”

Fines gave him a pleased look. “Good. At last we're getting somewhere. Excellent to hear. I'll start asking around for you.”

“Fines,” Chandler said in a warning tone, “I can find my own mistress, if you don't mind.”

“No.” Fines sniffed loudly. “No. I don't mind at all, but I did hear that—”

“Will you excuse me?” Chandler interrupted. “I see someone I'd like to talk to.”

“Who? I'll walk with you.” Fines stared in the direction Chandler was looking.

“You know, I don't mind you joining me, but I think you should know I just saw Miss Pennington walk over to the refreshment table alone.”

“Really?” Fines pulled on the hem of his waistcoat and sniffed again. “Miss Pennington having to get her own cup of punch? Perhaps she'd like someone to help her.”

“That's probably why she walked over alone.”

Fines smiled at Chandler. “I think I should go over and speak to her.”

“And ask her to dance?”

Fines smiled. “I'm already on the card. Do you suppose there's room for another name?”

“Doubtful. She's been here almost an hour. You'd better hurry. I see Viscount Tolby heading her way.”

“I'm off. Should we make plans for breakfast at White's?” Fines asked walking backward.

“Don't plan on me. I have some things to check on tomorrow.”

Fines nodded and turned around and was swallowed by the crowd. Chandler talked to several friends, some acquaintances and even had a dance or two before he finally managed to find himself face-to-face with Miss Millicent Blair. She stood with Lord Heathecoute and his lady.

Chandler joined the group but had eyes for no one but Miss Blair. Her buff-white evening gown had three pale pink flounces, and a pink satin ribbon banded the high waist. The round neck was cut low, showing more of her beautiful breasts than he wanted other men to see. He noticed the pearl-drop earrings she wore and remembered taking her dainty lobe into his mouth.

Greetings were quickly dispensed with, and it took only a moment to know that Miss Blair was distancing herself from him fast. Her curtsy was stiff; she wouldn't look him in the eye and she almost jerked her hand away from his after the perfunctory kiss on the back of her palm.

“Lord Dunraven, a pleasure to see you this evening,” the Viscount said.

“It's Millicent's first evening here at Almack's,” Lady Heathecoute said. “We were so delighted to get the invitation for her to attend.”

“I can't imagine anyone you suggest would be denied entrance, Viscountess.”

“So kind of you to say, my lord.”

Chandler turned to Miss Blair. “Welcome,” he said and bowed again. “I hope your first evening here meets with your expectations.”

“On all accounts, sir. I'm happy to be here and I'm enjoying myself.”

“Millicent knows it is not the building that makes Almack's the place to be seen in Town on Wednesdays. It is the people who frequent it that makes it the most important addition to her first Season in London.”

“Of course, you're right,” Millicent added. “And I do appreciate all you and Lady Beatrice have done in obtaining the invitation for me.”

“I hear you are helping with the search for the Mad Ton Thief,” the viscount said to Chandler, clearly bored with the direction the conversation had taken.

“It's more that I insist on staying well-informed of the progress that is being made by those on Bow Street and the authorities.”

Lord Heathecoute lifted his chin a little higher, making his sharp nose appear to be pointing straight up. “I heard they have been going door to door, questioning everyone like common criminals. It's reprehensible the way they are treating all of us as if we are suspects.”

“You forget, Heathecoute, one among us
is
a criminal, and they are only doing their jobs.”

The viscount continued to demand Chandler's attention when all he wanted to do was talk to Miss Blair and find out what was wrong with her.

At last he was able to turn to Millicent and say, “May I have a dance, Miss Blair?”

She refused to let her gaze meet his but softly answered, “Yes.”

Chandler looked up to her ladyship and said, “There is a waltz coming up. Has she been cleared to dance it?”

“My, yes. We've been most select in our care of Millicent, and she has been afforded all the opportunities as if this was her coming-out Season.”

Millicent lifted her hand and he took hold of her card and signed his name. Afterward, he took a quick moment to turn it over. The back was blank. But of course it would be, he told himself. He had settled for himself last evening that she was not involved with the Mad Ton Thief. She was merely writing down names and facts about people in order to better remember them. Names and titles could be confusing to anyone new to Town.