"And as a naturalist, you really want to trust in that." He searched her face. "But part of you still worries that the temptation of so much young female beauty will be too much for my…er…habit of seducing women."
When she met his gaze, her answer plain in her expression, he stiffened. "Don't worry, Miss Prescott. My seductions are limited to grown women. I'm no debaucher of children. You can trust me to behave with perfect propriety around your girls."
"Good." Relief shone in her face. "I need this position, you know, and if you were to attempt to seduce even one of my pupils— "
"Or you?"
The words were out before he could stop them, and a flicker of uncertainty deepened her eyes. She masked it with a shaky laugh. "You may attempt to seduce
me
as much as you please. It would be pointless; I'm too aware of the risks. Besides, such things don't tempt me."
The bloody devil they didn't. "Then you'd best watch your step around me, sweetheart," he said softly. "Or I will prove you wrong."
To his vast satisfaction, the words finally roused a blush in her cheeks. "That wouldn't exactly show Mrs. Harris that you can be discreet, would it?"
Only the faint reproof in her voice kept him from demonstrating just how "discreetly" he could seduce her.
He leaned against the balustrade. "I have to ask— given your beliefs about rakes, and your obvious skepticism about my ability to behave, why on earth would you suggest I give your students lessons?"
With a panicked expression, she pivoted to face the gardens. "I…um…the truth is…well, I was hoping you'd do something for me in exchange."
The disappointment that lanced through him bore a keener edge than it ought. He hadn't expected her to be so thoroughly like everyone else.
After he'd inherited the title, near strangers had begun professing themselves his grand friends. Society matrons who'd disdained him all his life now invited him to their parties to improve their social status. Sycophants who'd dismissed him as a mere second son now clamored for his attention at balls.
The tradesmen were the worst. Suddenly he couldn't walk into a shop without having costly items thrust into his face for his perusal. That had never happened to "the young Mr. Dalton." The weight of his brother's legacy never felt so heavy as it did this moment.
"How much?" he said tersely.
Her head snapped around. "How much what?"
"How much money do you need?"
That seemed to spark her temper, for she planted her hands on her hips and eyed him coldly. "All I need is a favor. One that will cost you little, I daresay."
"I doubt that," he said dryly.
"It's nothing new for you— just those nitrous oxide parties you throw."
"
Used
to throw," he corrected her. "I won't be throwing them anymore."
"Oh, but you have to! That's the favor I want, you see. For you to invite me to a nitrous oxide party."
Chapter Three
Dear Charlotte,
You know you need not mention anything for me to find out about it. Before I ever began supporting the school, I conducted research on its headmistress. Besides, at least once a year you complain about doing your accounts. I would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice.
Your friend,
Michael
M
adeline frowned. She probably shouldn't have blurted out her request, but she might as well make her position known from the start.
"Are you daft?" the viscount snapped.
"Not at all," she retorted, refusing to let him cow her.
So he was angry. Well, she was angry, too— angry and tired of staying one step ahead of creditors, of watching Papa wander aimlessly through their tiny cottage, of worrying about the future.
Lord Norcourt leaned close, a darkly dangerous scowl spreading over his brow. "Why the bloody devil would you be interested in a nitrous oxide party? It's hardly the sort of affair that a respectable young lady attends."
She tried to look impassive as she spun out the story she'd hastily cobbled together. "I told you— I'm a naturalist. I study human behavior. I've been writing a pamphlet about the effects of nitrous oxide on people, but my limited knowledge of the gas has hampered me. I need to witness its use by a variety of individuals."
"
That's
why you want to attend a nitrous oxide party?" he said incredulously. "To research some scientific article?"
"Yes." A few years ago, that might actually have been true. But once Father's use of the gas had caused his disgrace, exploring its benefits had lost its appeal.
"I can satisfy that without a party. I'll gladly get a chemist to mix some up. Then you can experiment with it on anyone you please."
"That won't work!"
His eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
Because that wouldn't enable her to meet Sir Humphry. Which she needed to do more than ever now that her last letter had been sent back.
She'd been trying to pierce his rarefied circle ever since she'd moved herself and Papa to London last year. Calling upon the famous chemist at his home and the Royal Society had proved as fruitless as writing him. She was at her wit's end trying to figure out how to get an audience with him. And without his aid, Papa would never be able to return to his practice.
The only thing that seemed to entice Sir Humphry out into society these days was a nitrous oxide party. And in such a casual atmosphere, it would be easy to gain an introduction.
"Well?" Lord Norcourt bit out. "Why can't I simply provide you with nitrous oxide?"
"How can I find people to experiment upon? I teach young ladies. If I attempt to use it on
them,
I'll lose my position."
"You're more likely to lose your position by attending one of my parties," he pointed out.
"You don't have to throw the kind with the cavorting women, for heaven's sake," she said irritably. "Just the kind held for purposes of scientific enquiry."
He snorted. "You can't be that naive. It makes no difference what kind I throw— I'd be a rakehell throwing a party. If you attend, you'll risk not only your position, but your reputation and future."
The fact that he was probably right rubbed her raw. "If the world were fair, sir, attending a party for scientific purposes wouldn't be a risk at all. Women would be accorded the same respect given male naturalists. They'd be able to attend a university like any man."
His gaze softened. "But the world isn't fair. Not yet, in any case."
The sentiment settled over her soul like a caress. Other men spouted the usual rot about women needing protection and not having the intelligence to handle such an education. But not him. Amazing. Especially for a rakehell.
He leaned back to plant his elbows on the balustrade, his muscles flexing beneath his perfectly fitted coat, and the electric pulse that seared her senses threw her off-balance. Sweet heaven, he moved like a well-bred stallion, with natural ease and confidence.
But it was more than his uncommonly handsome looks that disturbed her. She was used to observing beautiful animals, to recording their characteristics and detailing their behavior. She wasn't used to coveting them.
Coveting
him
? She must be mad. A man like him wouldn't look twice at her, when women fell into his bed with regularity. She almost wished he would, since he'd proved surprisingly intelligent.
No doubt he cultivated that impression so he could seduce women.
Careful, you are far out of your realm here. He's both an unrepentant rakehell and a lord. Never forget that.
As if he'd remembered it himself, he turned frosty again. "It's precisely because the world isn't fair that I can't give you what you want. As you've already pointed out, Tessa's enrollment here is predicated upon my showing that I can be discreet. Throwing one of my famous parties will show the opposite."
She steeled herself to be firm. "You forget, my lord, that your niece's enrollment is also predicated upon
my
approval of your lessons."
"I haven't forgotten," he bit out. "Ask anything else— "
"That's the only thing I want!" She cast about for a way to convince the stubborn wretch. "It can be private, you know. Why does everyone in society have to find out about it?"
"Because they always do."
"They wouldn't if you didn't invite people who write for the newspapers!"
A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "I wish it worked that way. You undoubtedly spent your life in a quiet country town where the gossip is limited to what Mrs. Prattling Squire served at dinner, but in London, we like our gossip mad, bad, and scandalous to hear."
"Believe me, there's plenty of that sort of gossip in Te— " She caught herself. "In the country." Otherwise, Papa wouldn't have lost his patients. Or his reputation.
"Yes, but I doubt that people in the country bribe servants for tidbits. I doubt they pass their tales on to the press or blackmail their friends with it to gain favors." His voice dripped acid. "Gossip is the legal tender of a society that pretends to despise filthy lucre. It's hard enough to attend such a party without being talked about, but to throw one— " He shook his head. "It can't be done."
"I don't believe that," she said in despair.
"Even your employer had heard of my parties."
"Because they were mentioned in the papers!"
"Because of her 'sources.' The parties that involved scantily clad women were never mentioned in any paper. They were held in the country at a friend's hunting lodge, and still your Mrs. Harris got wind of it."
From "Cousin Michael," no doubt. How
did
that man get himself invited to so many affairs? He was supposed to be a recluse.
The viscount rubbed his wrist with a distracted air. "Surely you can be satisfied with trying out the nitrous oxide on your friends or family."
"I have no friends and little family." Besides, that wouldn't help her.
He was watching her oddly. "None?"
She caught herself. "None who would let me experiment on them."
"I'm sorry, you'll have to ask another favor." The chill in his voice deepened. "The right amount of money could buy you plenty of friends to experiment upon."
She'd put him on guard, drat it. How she wished she could tell him that his uncle was pressuring the vicar to bring criminal charges against Papa— but that would send him running for sure. His case for guardianship was already flimsy; the last thing he needed was involvement with Papa's scandal. Sir Randolph would certainly use such a sordid association to ruin Lord Norcourt's suit.
Perhaps the viscount would simply introduce her to Sir Humphry?
Right. After six months at Mrs. Harris's school, she well knew how London society worked. A lowly teacher didn't beg an introduction to a man like Sir Humphry, especially since the chemist had retired from public life. Sir Humphry's wife and friends had closed ranks around him, protecting him from every interloper. And Lord Norcourt was one of those friends.
Even if the viscount agreed to introduce her, he would speak to Sir Humphry about it first. And given her constant pursuit of the man, Sir Humphry probably thought her mad by now. He would either tell Lord Norcourt what she wanted, which would end her scheme, or he would refuse to meet with her. Either way, another door would be closed.
No, her best chance was to maneuver an introduction to him in society. Which was unlikely to happen except through one of Lord Norcourt's parties.
She'd have to force the viscount's hand. Leaving the balustrade, she headed for the ballroom. "No other favor will do. I'll tell Mrs. Harris that I've reconsidered the wisdom of my proposal; that these rake lessons won't work after all."
"You conniving little witch," he growled, as she passed through the doors.
She forced herself to face him, although the icy glitter in his eyes set her back on her heels. "Tsk, tsk, Lord Norcourt, such language won't get you into my good graces."
"I don't want to get into your good graces, madam," he snapped, then stalked past her into the ballroom.
"And your niece?" She swallowed hard, but made herself continue. "I thought you said you had to get her out of 'that unspeakable place.'"
He halted, his back stiff with rage. "A nitrous oxide party is your price for getting Tessa enrolled?"
"Yes." When he turned around and approached her, she had to resist the impulse to back away. "You throw the party. I attend."
His stare bore into her. "Would taking you to someone else's nitrous oxide party satisfy you?"
Sir Humphry did occasionally attend other parties. But it was less certain.
"It's that or nothing," he went on. "Because if I throw a nitrous oxide party, it will damage more than Tessa's chances here. It will almost certainly come up in the courts, so I would lose guardianship, too."
