Lady Mistaken (Le Débauché Club) (2 page)

God, she was pretty. Her dark hair,
her fine cheekbones, her striking eyes. If she wasn’t so waspish, he’d consider giving her a good fucking. But…Well, maybe that’s exactly what she
did
need.  The most high-strung women did seem a bit more malleable after spending the night with a man who knew how to please.

“Your invitation?” He
wiggled his fingers out towards her. Knowing full well she didn’t have what he asked for, Simon’s eyes drifted up and down her lithe form. Something about the way her dress clung to her in the cool night air, hinting at her charms beneath was more enticing than the completely bare ones in the ballroom. “Shall I have to search you for it? Your invitation?”

Her pert little nose shot upwards. “Did you ask them—” she pointed back
towards the ballroom “—for their invitations?”

“
They
were either invited or purchased for the evening. But were you?” Simon returned smoothly.

Her mouth opened and closed as though she was searching for an answer that might appease him.

“Who
are
you?” he continued, knowing he shouldn’t ask. It was one of the rules of the club. No names, not ever. But she didn’t belong here. Her innocence rolled of her in waves. So the rule shouldn’t apply her, at least not in Simon’s mind.

“Grace Garwoo
d,” she said proudly.

Garwood! Simon inwardly winced. That green lad had already been more trouble than he was worth.

“And I’ve come for my brother, Lord Longfield. Do hand him over.”

She thought he was Julian? Simon
had to correct her mistake, even if names were forbidden. He smiled wolfishly at, what he assumed had to be, the only proper lady in attendance that evening. “You’ve mistaken me for my brother, Miss Garwood. Lord Simon Berridge at your service.” He bowed low before her, as though he’d encountered her at a Mayfair soiree instead of his brother’s orgy.

“I don’t care if you’re the Marques of Longfield, Simon Berridge or the devil himself. I want my brother, my lo
rd, and I want him this instant.”

“Your brother?” H
e scratched his chin and feigned innocence, which was much easier than one might think. Practice did make prefect where pretending innocence was concerned. “What does he look like?”

“Like a child,” she nearly wailed. “He’s a child amongst—” her hand gestured once again to the ballroom “—all of
that
.” She spit the word as though it was a curse.

“A child?” Simon echoed, and for the first time that evening, he felt a little queasy. “How old is the lad?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen!”
Oh, thank God! Simon tipped his head back and laughed. What a ridiculous thing to say. Was she serious? Seventeen! “He’s hardly a child, Miss Garwood. I was tupping maids when I was
fourteen
. Every boy has the need to become a man at some point.”

It was her turn to look him up and down, though her perusal took a lot less time than h
is had taken, and she looked a lot less pleased than he’d done. “Is that what it is? Becoming a man? And here I thought there was so much more involved to
being
a man.”

There was more involved. There was learning exactly how to touch a woman, how to bring her pleasure, how to stave off his own and make the moment last for as long as possible
between them. And at the present moment, Simon itched to show Grace Garwood all he knew about being a man. He could just imagine the look of pure bliss on her face as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

“Compassion, intellect, honesty,”
she said, breaking into his thoughts. “Duty, responsibility, honor.”

That sounded a lot more like a gentleman than a man.
Simon couldn’t help but grin. She was wound so tightly, this little moral reformer. He doubted very highly that she’d be espousing these particular sentiments if he could lift her skirts and manage to get her on her back. The very thought of fucking
her
into submission made his cock twitch.

“What is it?” she demanded, the blue fire still bright in her eyes. “Why are you
smiling at me?”

Because she was so damned pretty, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wild, her chest thrust
towards him in indignation. And what a lovely chest it was too. Her nipple had peaked as he stroked her beneath her dress. What he wouldn’t give to see her dress and chemise pooled at her feet, her breasts bared for his questing eyes.  “I’m getting the feeling you don’t find me manly, Miss Garwood, by your definition anyway.”

A man he was, a gentleman he was not
, at least not most of the time.

Her cheeks flushed
anew. “I haven’t given your maleness any thought at all, Lord Simon. All I want is to return my brother to our home.”

And ruin the lad’s night? Ruin Simon’s night
too, for that matter? He thought not. “What if he’s in the middle of…something?”

“You know where he is!” she accused. “
Don’t you?”

Simon shrugged.

“Tell me. Tell me, right now! Where is my brother?” she demanded.

Most likely having the time of his life in Simon’s own bed. “The cellar,” he lied, looking as contrite as he was able.

“The cellar?” she echoed, a hand fluttering to her décolletage, drawing Simon’s eye with the movement. “What in the world is he doing there?”

“Do you
really
want me to answer that?” He lifted one eyebrow in amusement.

She folded her arms across
her chest. “Take me to your cellar.”

“I don’t know if you’d like it in there. A bit damp, really.”  He bit back a grin. She really would be too easy to capture.
And when he had her…

“Lord Simon!” She ground her teeth.

“Yes, Miss Garwood?” he replied pleasantly.

“Take me to your cellar.”

“Are you certain you want to do that?”

She pursed her pretty lips and inhaled sharply. “You are the most vexing man, do you know that?”

Simon tilted his head to one side and said, “I’m just so relieved to hear you think I’m a man. You know, considering your definition and…”

“Lord Simon!”

“Yes, Miss Garwood?”

“Your cellar. Now!”

Simon feigned a beleaguered sigh. In truth, however, he was having the most enjoyable time, watching her face turn a bit red and her lips push together, and it was only going to get better from here. “I am your humble servant.”

* * *

Grace somehow managed not to snort, but doing so wouldn’t be ladylike. So she refrained. Barely. How that insufferable man could refer to himself as humble, even in jest, was quite laughable.

Humble he was not. Arrogant, yes. Wicked, certainly. Handsome, most unfortunately. But humble?
Not a chance in the world.

Lord Simon’s silvery eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief. Most likely his usual expression.
She did wish the look didn’t make her belly flip. He gestured to Grace’s hand. “You’ll probably want to wear that mask, Miss Garwood. I’d hate for anyone to recognize you in there.”

Good gracious! Grace would die on the spot if anyone recognized her at this house party for degenerates. She
slid her brother’s stolen mask back over her face and proudly thrust her chin out before her. “Your cellar, Lord Simon.”

He nodded like a courteous gentleman might. “Whatever the lady desires.” A rakish smile lit his lips as he offered her his arm.

She slid her hand to the crook of his arm, against her better judgment. Tingles raced across her skin at the contact.

Lord Simon’s warm hand settled over hers, securing Grace to his side. “So how are you finding the district, Miss Garwood?” he asked conversationally as they walked back into the ballroom, as though they were on stroll through Hyde Park and not crossing over the threshold where writhing bodies stretched the length of the floor.

“I—I beg your pardon?” Grace pulled her gaze from the naked revelers to Lord Simon as he directed her towards a side doorway not far away. Was he truly trying to engage her in conversation with this…Well, with all of
this
around them?

“
Lord Garwood mentioned his family was new to the district. And I haven’t seen
you
before now.”

“W
e are new to Fairview this last fortnight,” she said, not wanting to divulge anything of substance to the man whose gaze made her knees a bit weak. That seemed the worst sort of idea.

Besides
, it was none of his concern that with her uncle’s passing, she’d been ripped from the only home and friends she’d ever known in Devon. It was none of his concern that Aaron’s new barony came complete with a manor, that while larger than they were accustomed to, included a leaky roof, a set of decrepit stables, and a staff that hadn’t been paid wages in over a month. And it was certainly none of his concern that Grace was completely inadequate in trying to run such a large household without any assistance from her younger, prone-to-daydreaming brother or their sickly mother.

No
, no matter how badly she needed a friend, someone to commiserate with, Lord Simon, with his rakish smile, could not be her confidant. In fact, he was probably the last person in all of Essex she should entrust with her secrets. There was something about him. Something about the wicked twinkle in his silver eyes. Something about the set of his jaw that looked as though it could have been chiseled from marble. Something about the way he held himself, arrogant yet charming at the same time.

Lord Simon was dangerous
, most especially to her.

The memory of him holding her against his chest, the memory of his hand under her bodice, touching her breast…Grace sucked in a breath. It was better not to think about any of that. It was best to simply retrieve Aaron from this den of hedonism
, return to Fairview as quickly as possible, and to never give Lord Simon Berridge a second thought. Because a second or even third thought could land her in unprecedented trouble. And
that
Grace did not need.

“Are you all right?” Lord Simon asked, towing her closer to him as they traversed a darkened corridor.

“I’ll be better when I’m home,” she replied, wishing she knew where she was. Drat it all, she should have been paying attention to their navigation and less to her wandering thoughts about Lord Simon’s hand on down her bodice.

“Soon enough,” he said, smoothly. “This way.”

They made another turn and strode right inside the kitchens. Heat seemed to pulse from the cookstove and the aroma of freshly baked biscuits hung heavy in the air. Grace’s stomach grumbled.

Unfortunately,
Lord Simon heard the sound. He drew Grace to a stop and said, “Hungry, Miss Garwood?”

Hungry?
She was starving after picking over what passed for food at Fairview, not that she wanted to admit as much to
him
. “I’ve always been taught to be wary of Greeks bearing gifts.”

Lord Simon’s silver eyes twinkled once again. “I’m not Greek, and I’d hardly call a
few biscuits
gifts
.” Then he laughed. “However, if you see them as such you must be the easiest girl to please in all the world.” He slid his arm from her hold, and turned back towards the cook’s workspace. “Ah, perfect,” he said as he pocketed a corkscrew, and then retrieved a platter of the most delicious looking biscuits Grace had seen in a fortnight.

Her mouth watered.

With a crooked grin, Lord Simon pushed the platter towards Grace. “Please.”

She shook her head. She really shouldn’t.

He chuckled. “They’re not Trojan biscuits, Miss Garwood. They’re complete safe.” And then he popped one into his mouth, and he moaned with pleasure.

Grace was an idiot. What would it hurt to partake of his
biscuits? It wasn’t as though indulging in one would make her beholden to him, make her become one of his hedonists. And they smelled so utterly delicious. She snatched a biscuit from the platter – good gracious, it was still warm and perfectly crumbly – and tore it in two. She managed to keep from closing her eyes as she bit into the biscuit. Though it
was
heavenly, the sweetness nearly melted on her tongue. How long had it been since she’d tasted anything so tasty? Grace popped the other half into her mouth.

Too late
, she realized Lord Simon’s gaze was focused on her, and Grace dabbed at the corners of her mouth. Why was he looking at her like that? Had she left crumbs everywhere? Then he grinned once more, and she felt it all the way to her toes. He
was
dangerous. His gaze could warm her. His touch could singe her. His smile could capture her heart; but he was the exact wrong sort to lose her heart to, of that she was certain.

“Come along, Miss Garwood. You wanted to see my brother’s cellar, did you not?”

Aaron. “Yes, of course.” She needed to retrieve her brother and return him home. And she needed to blister his ears the entire way back to Fairview. How could Aaron have disobeyed her and entered this den of debauchery after she’d forbade it?