Lady Iona's Rebellion (24 page)

He blinked heavily. She was certainly not the same young innocent he’d taken for a dip in the King’s Bath. The gown she wore looked nothing like her usual virginal white muslins.

The swooping back of the crystal-studded blue gown dipped lower than anything he’d seen even the most daring paramours wear to a
demimonde
ball.

Her blonde hair had been swooped up off her neck to add to the illusion that her bare skin went on forever. His mouth suddenly turned dry and a searing heat beat in his chest when he noticed how other gentlemen were also being drawn to her erotic beauty.

How in blazes, in a little more than a week’s time, had she transformed from the blushing schoolgirl he’d met in front of the Lower Assembly Rooms into this seductress gliding across the patio with a slow, confident stride?

Perhaps the change came from her learning something about the magic of midnight secrets firsthand. It worried him how she seemed to crave the same reckless excitement he’d once let consume his life.

From across the patio, their eyes met. Though her brows flattened and her lips thinned, she didn’t look through him or pretend he didn’t exist. Far from it in fact. After a stunned moment, she tilted her head in greeting and lifted a brow as if his humble presence somehow amused her.

He groaned. He was right in thinking he needed to get away from Bath. The sooner the better. To be near her like this and yet not able to have her was going to drive him mad.

Iona clutched her hands to her chest, suddenly unable to breathe. Dressed in a fashionable long-tailed coat of a deep London-smoke shade, he did just that, he took her breath away.

A cursed nuisance.

His coat’s cut had been tailored to conform to his body with glove-like precision. The superfine material stretched with even the barest movement, Iona was only too aware. His breeches, midnight black—a color she was beginning to consider her favorite—were just as formfitting. He wore black leather pumps, shoes appropriate for the finest celebrations and courtly visits.

His shirt, his cascading cravat and the pearls of his teeth gleamed white, sharp contrasts to the dark colors draping the rest of his body. But it wasn’t any of these things that robbed her of her ability to breathe. He could have been dressed in rags and the seductive heat of his gaze would still have accomplished that feat all on its own.

“Our box is ready,” Amelia said quietly, taking Iona’s hand in hers. “We wouldn’t want anyone to wonder who has brought such color to your cheeks. Not tonight, anyhow, not during the Victory Gala.”

Flanked by her family and with Amelia holding her hand, she allowed herself to be led away. It took a basket stuffed with willpower to keep herself from glancing over her shoulder to see if his shimmering gaze followed her.

He’d never asked for her attentions, she reminded herself. She had been the one who’d pursued him. Nor had he ever vowed to be faithful. The prickling pain beating through her heart was of her own making.

My own making
. And this was where it had started, she thought as she followed her family to the dining box her father had rented.

Oh yes, it had all begun here, in Sydney Gardens, when she’d shamelessly cornered Nathan in the labyrinth and wrested from him an agreement to teach her how to become more like him. And tonight she was wearing the bold silver ribbon in her hair in honor of his lessons. She fingered the shimmering ribbon and tossed a parting glance over her shoulder.

If he could read her mind, she was sure he’d be proud of her defiantly wicked thoughts.

“I don’t know why you insist on staying. All this milling about is frightfully dull,” Jane murmured. Her warm breath tickled Nathan’s ear. “Activities designed for only two are infinitely more pleasurable, don’t you agree?”

Nathan shrugged. He was struggling to pay Jane the attention she deserved tonight. If anyone asked him to describe her dress, he would have been stumped. His gaze kept trailing over to Iona.

The
ton
’s newly emerged butterfly had spent the first hour with her family in their private dining box. She’d nibbled on a sandwich and sipped a drink, leaving much of her dinner untouched. Despite Miss Harlow and Lady Lillian’s efforts to engage her in conversation, Iona kept herself apart.

Her back arched delicately when she leaned to one side to listen to something her mother was saying. While the rest of the family chuckled, Iona merely bit her deliciously full bottom lip and nodded.

Nathan recognized the source of her distraction. The look that darkened her brow was nearly identical to the stubborn expression that had underscored her determination in the labyrinth when she’d threatened to go to either Talbot or Harlow if he refused to give her rogue’s lessons.

What in blazes was she planning to do now?

As if she’d somehow heard his thoughts, she glanced up and brushed him with a gaze as soft as a feathery caress against his cheek.

Just watch
, her eyes seemed to say.

“Are you deliberately ignoring me?” Jane asked. “I said do you have an answer yet?”

“Oh, Jane,” he said, unable to decide whether he should follow his heart or his head with this one. Both held the promise of misery.

He took her hand in his and patted it.

Iona stood and wandered away from her family’s dining box with her sister, Miss Harlow and the young miss’s foppish brother following along. Mr. Harlow took Iona’s gloved hand. After pressing it to his cheek in an overly possessive move, he whispered something in her ear.

Her smile faded. She jerked away from Harlow, turned her head and glared directly at Nathan.

I see,
Nathan watched her lips say.

Harlow said something else to her and tried to direct her toward a vacated dining box but she resisted.

“Well?” Jane said, frost forming in her voice. “You’re not the only gentleman in England, you know. I need an answer from you. Will you or will you not marry me?”

Take Jane as a wife and give up his impossible quest of winning Iona’s heart?

She’s not for you
. Iona’s mother’s blunt declaration still haunted him. Society didn’t believe him worthy of Iona. Hell,
he
didn’t believe himself worthy of her.

Even so, those would be hurdles he’d be willing to struggle over if he knew—really knew—that he could one day win over her overly generous heart. He wished there weren’t so many questions surrounding their relationship. And he couldn’t even get close to Iona without running the risk of ruining her.

He sighed, his gaze traveling back to Jane. She was a lovely woman. A stunning beauty. With her, he knew where he stood. And since his heart had never been engaged in their relationship, he also knew he’d be safe.

No risks. No heartaches. Financial freedom as an added bonus. And his father’s acceptance. What more could an unrepentant rake hope for?

“I-I-I suppose we would be happy together,” he said.

And then he noticed Iona, looking as dangerous as a wild filly, taking a straight path toward them.

Her hips swayed from side-to-side and there was an angry bounce in her stride. The gaze she’d locked onto him burned so hot, so fierce Nathan considered making a cowardly retreat.

And he might have run too if Jane hadn’t tossed her arms around his neck and, despite them standing in the middle of a crowd, pressed her lips to his.

“I am pleased,” Iona’s voice sliced through him.

He peeled Jane’s arms from his neck to face his tormenter.

“Ah, here is your little emotional creature,” Jane purred into his ear. “Do you think she is going to make a scene? Perhaps she’ll have the courage to strike you this time.”

Iona curled her hands into a pair of fists and bared her teeth with an unfriendly smile. “Not unless you force me to, Mrs. Sharpes,” she said with royal grace. “I came only to congratulate Lord Nathan on his marriage plans. I am pleased that you have found the love of your life, my lord.”

She didn’t sound at all happy though.

“Please, don’t do this here.” Tearing him down in front of Bath society would accomplish nothing. She would only hurt herself.

“You played the game too well, Lord Nathan.” She stabbed at him with her voice. “Trifled with me as if you cared…as if you were…were…my friend.”

“You don’t understand—” he started to say.

“I understand well enough. I have eyes and ears and a brain that is clever enough to figure out what you were trying to do,” she said. “And Mr. Harlow filled in the rest.”

“The rest?” He damned Harlow to hell and back for causing this trouble for Iona. He’d underestimated how far Harlow would go to win her hand. Not even in his darkest dreams had he imagined that a gentleman—save for himself—would stoop as low as to break Iona’s precious heart.

“If you were merely interested in making an impressive marriage to—” Her voice cracked. “You should have confided in me. I would have gladly helped you in your scheme. Instead of trusting me, you cruelly used me. For that, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Has your little playmate gone mad?” Jane fluttered her hands through the air, trying to shoo Iona away. “What nonsense is she talking about?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” Iona said.

“Don’t pretend?” Jane drew back. “Nat, do something. Send your little friend away. I have never liked her. She is neat as nine-pence, too perfect. Clinging to her father’s title. Without it, she doesn’t have even a drop of personality to hold one’s interest.”

“Now Jane—” he started to say.

“Is that what you think of me, Nathan?” Iona demanded, her pretty temper flaring.

“That is what everyone thinks of you,” Jane said with an air of authority.

Of course nothing could be more off the mark. Iona’s unpredictable and vivacious spirit held his interests only too firmly.

“Jane, no,” he said as Jane turned up her nose and latched onto his arm as if she owned him. “You have gone too far. Apologize to Lady Iona.”

“Leave us be, my lady,” Jane said, refusing to do anything of the sort. Thinking back on it, he really never knew Jane to apologize—not really. “Go back to your high-stickler world and let the rest of us have a bit of fun.”

“Not until I’ve had my say.” Iona lowered her voice a degree and pushed Jane aside.

Nathan knew he needed to do something before the two ended up scratching each other’s eyes out. But what? His thoughts jumbled in his head. What could he say without making matters worse?

Iona didn’t give him any time to think. With the devil in her eye and her fists planted on her hips, she advanced on him. “Do you truly have nothing to say to defend yourself? No explanation at all? Not even another lie?”

Standing toe-to-toe with her like that, he could feel her raw anger trembling through her willowy frame as if it were his own. For her protection, he needed to put an end to this confrontation right away.

They couldn’t be seen together, not like this. Not when society was on the hunt to find his mysterious lady so they could tear apart her reputation.

It pained him to say, “I am simply who I am, my lady. I humbly apologize if I did anything to lead you to believe I was anything better.”

Her cheeks flushed with a bright blush as she drew her hand back. Nathan saw the blow coming.

“I trusted you.” Her open palm slammed against the side of his face. The sharp slap seemed to echo up into the night sky. “I trusted you,” she repeated softly, “and yet you are like all the others. You lied to me, twisting my feelings all around until I didn’t know up from down.”

She blinked up at him as if challenging him to tell her that she was wrong. But God, she wasn’t. There was no way he could defend himself against the truth. He’d deluded himself into thinking he was different from the other gentlemen chasing her. But like them, he’d pursued her, hoping to use her family name for his benefit. And worse, he’d tempted her tender heart in hopes of luring her into marriage.

Tears pooled in her cornflower blue eyes. The sight of them tore at his already battered heart. He wished to heaven he could understand what she wanted from him.

Hugging her arms against her chest, she looked hopelessly lost and alone and completely unapproachable. With a wounded sniff, she turned away from him and fought her way through the throng of curious faces that had closed around them.

Nathan rather wished she’d taken out a pistol and had shot him instead of running away like that. Taking a slug of lead in the chest would surely have been less painful than the blow he’d just taken to his heart.

The first blast of fireworks ripped through the night air and exploded above Iona’s head. The lights from the explosion flickered like a swarm of fireflies. The crowd all around her murmured their excitement as they pressed closer toward the music. The band began playing a lively military march.

“Papa,” Iona shouted over the thundering music. She had to trot to catch up to him and the rest of her family as they too moved away from the dining boxes and toward the covered orchestra stand. The thump, thump, thump of the music echoed in her throbbing heart. She grabbed his hand. “Papa, I will not marry. You cannot dictate my future anymore, I will not allow it.”

The Duke stiffened. Though he must have felt the heavy press of stares from all around them, he made no show of noticing.

A great explosion shook the ground and sent a burst of red and golden light to brighten the night sky.

“Now is not the time,” he said, his lips barely moving.

She lowered her head. “Yes, of course you are correct—”

But then she snapped her gaze up. She tilted her head back so there was no doubt that he could see the fire of her conviction stamped on her features in the soft glow of the garden lanterns.

“But when is a proper time?” she asked and then held up a hand and answered her own question before he had a chance. “Never, that’s when. I have tried to have this conversation with you for the past two weeks and you have refused to listen to me.” She filled her chest with a deep breath. “You will hear me now.”

Lillian tugged on her arm. “Please,” she whispered, her cheeks deepening in color. “You are making another horrid scene.”

Iona batted her sister’s gloved hands away. “I do not care.”

Which was a lie. Her heart was beating so hard she worried that it might be ripped from her chest. To see her mama sucking in deep breaths and whimpering while clutching her heart threatened to spill the tears pooling in Iona’s eyes.

And the way her father stood, without moving so much as a muscle while he stared daggers at her, might have broken her resolve if her anger hadn’t matched his.

She supposed she had Nathan and his damnable mistress to thank for that. “I will be heard,” she said. “I apologize since you do not wish to listen, Papa, I truly do. But you must. I’m no longer your biddable child in this. You have to realize I am a woman grown with my own thoughts and needs.”

She swallowed deeply. The fireworks finale had begun, lightening the dark sky. “I will not marry,” she said, not letting the roar of colorful explosions drown out her words. “I will not marry Lord—anyone.”

“What in blazes are you talking about?” Lillian shouted. “No one is forcing you to do anything of the sort. You don’t even have any marriage offers. Once again you spurned them all at the end of the season, remember?”

“For once in your life, hush, Lillian,” Iona ordered.

With a jolt, Lillian’s mouth snapped shut.

“Did you hear me, Papa?” she asked very slowly. “Do you understand what I am saying? Unlike what some spiteful ladies think of me, I’m not at all a dull withering flower. I have a host of dreams for my future and none of them include marriage. None. Of. Them.” Her thoughts trailed off to Nathan and the way his sophisticated mistress had sneered at her.

He hadn’t broken her heart. How could he?

“I have never and will never have any plans to marry. I. Will. Not. Marry.”

The Duke didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He simply glared.