Once Upon an Accident 02 - Lessons in Seduction (8 page)

Looking back over her shoulder one last time, she offered him a small smile. “I hope she is all you need.”

With that cryptic statement, she left him. He wandered down the hall in the opposite direction and allowed his mind to drift back to the encounter in the library. Something about the woman was familiar although he was sure he had never kissed her before tonight.

Needing air, he decided to abandon the ball and go to his club. After his altercation with Lady Cicely, he was more than ready to leave. She had been his one and only reason for attending. A drink or two, perhaps a hand of cards would do him good. Within a few moments, he was in his carriage and on his way to White’s. In the darkness, his mind drifted back to the feel of his unknown lady’s soft, full lips pressing against his.

When he licked his, he could taste her there, sweet and innocent, with a touch of seductive temptress. His body reacted immediately. Letting loose an aggravated groan, he scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to dislodge the memory. When he did, a hint of lavender mixed with a subtle undertone of woman had his senses reeling.

He knew women especially by their scent. Catherine had always favored roses, on her skin, in her bed. It hit him that he should have known who his mystery woman was the moment he had leaned closer to her. Lavender had surrounded him, but he ignored it and the implications. Until now, alone in the dark with his thoughts and his dismay.

He closed his eyes as he remembered the scent of warm lavender on Lady Cicely’s skin. Good Lord, he should have known. The way she had kissed told him that she hadn’t had many, if any, encounters. Innocent and enthusiastic, but completely inexperienced. He opened his eyes, then narrowed them thinking of the way she’d fled, as if the hounds of hell were after her.

She had stood in the ballroom, the picture of sincerity, and told him she had no plans to meet anyone. She’d been lying. Goddamn her to hell, she
had
been lying. Right to his face!

A rush of heated anger infused his blood. From what he had experienced, Cicely was not wasting any time going forward with her plan. She had made arrangements to meet another man. Her reactions, her moans, everything he thought had been for him was not. It had been a lie. When she discovered it was him, she had fled, thinking he would never figure out it had been her.

He smiled, with no humor, thinking about confronting her at the next ball. Lady Cicely had much for which to answer to.

Three days after the encounter with Douglas, Cicely carefully turned the page of the diary. The book itself had seen better days and she suspected whoever had been in possession of the diary had not worried about its care. She assumed they had hidden it away, not wanting anyone to know what it was. More than likely, someone had not comprehended what they owned. That might explain the sorry condition of the book when she found it for sale. It wasn’t until she had read about one-third of it that the incriminating information came to light.

Cicely was more than thankful for the diary these past few days. She and Anna had found themselves without Victoria, who had come down with a cold. And with the rainy weather, all of their outings had been canceled. Stuck in the house, with little to do but read, her mind kept wandering back to her last encounter with Douglas. She knew nothing would come of it, but that one taste of passion with him had her doubting she would find someone else to replace him. If he had known it was her, even though it pained her to admit it, he would have been repulsed that he had been kissing her. But for her, she worried no man would be able to compete with him.

She sighed as she looked out at the rain-drenched streets. Water sluiced down the windowpane, the patter of it hitting the ledge a perfect accompaniment to her mood. It had been several years since she had been reduced to this level of melancholy. But the thought of finding someone other than Douglas for her deflowering just seemed to send her spiraling downward.

If only she could have kept her search cold-blooded. Men performed the task of picking a lover without giving it any more thought than choosing a new cravat. Theirs wasn’t a choice of the heart, but of convenience. That was originally why she came up with a list. She knew it would be no more than one stolen moment, one interlude of pleasure— at least she hoped—with no promise of marriage or further liaisons.

She now worried that any man would pale in comparison to Douglas and that was not acceptable. This solitary chance to taste passion should not be dampened by the memory of a single kiss. One make–her-knees-weak-and-her-head-spin kind of kiss, but it was still just a kiss. Not the actual deed. Although the memory of the heat that burst between the two of them from that simple act still caused a flash of warmth to spread through her.

“Woolgathering, Cousin?”

Anna’s question jolted Cicely out of her thoughts. When she looked at her younger cousin, Cicely felt her face flush with embarrassment at being caught thinking about
that
.

Anna’s smile widened. “Ahhh, and it must have been something naughty to get that blush.”

“’Tis nothing. I was reading over the diary again.”

Anna offered the diary a nasty look. “You have had your head stuck in that book for days. It’s almost as depressing as this weather.”

Cicely gave her an understanding smile. Anna tended to lean toward debates on modern politics, rather than history as Cicely did. Most of the ton would be amazed to find a decidedly clever debate partner in Anna since she hid her intelligence behind a cloak of smiles and twinkling eyes—not to mention being one of the best known sources of idle gossip.

“I am enjoying the intrigue of it, even if I may never know who these people are.”

Anna settled in her favorite chair. She trailed her fingers over the curving scrollwork on the armrests. “Go ahead, tell me.”

“You hate history.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “I would do anything to break the monotony of these past few days. Even listen to history. You know you want to talk about it. So go on. Share with me.”

Guilt engulfed Cicely. “I am so sorry, Anna. I know—”

Her cousin waved that away. “No. I just get a little crazy waiting around because it is raining. It has nothing to do with missing the balls.”

She smiled. “Of course, they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Hmm, and is there anyone in particular you are thinking of?”

Anna’s smile turned radiant with a touch of devious delight. “I will tell you as soon as you tell me about that. Tit for tat.” She pointed to the diary that now lay open on Cicely’s lap.

“You must really be in need of amusement if you are begging entertainment from me.”

Anna apparently missed her dry tone and opened her mouth to argue but Cicely laughed. “No, truly, I understand. These past few days have been a bit…tedious.”

“
Cicely
.”

“There was a group of five members of the Quality who saw the events in France during their revolution and plotted to overthrow the monarchy in England.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Do you think there is any truth to it?”

Cicely shook her head. “I do not know. There seems to be an interesting layer of history woven into it, some of the more significant historical highlights are mentioned with eerie accuracy…” She shrugged.

“Anyone could have done that. If nothing else, it could make for an interesting work of fiction.”

“Yes, it would. Imagine, five men of noble blood, conspiring against the crown during the time of turmoil.” Her cousin’s look turned speculative. “You know what would make a better novel?”

“What?”

“The story of how they plotted but were never found out. That would be interesting.”

She chuckled. “Seriously, Anna, why would that be interesting?”

“Think. Five men, their very reputations at stake, their lives, their fortunes, and a diary that could ruin it all. That is powerful.”

“Oh, it is probably just someone’s active imagination, but it is fascinating. So, I have told you. Now it is your turn. Tell me about this person you would like to have grow fonder of you.”

Anna sighed, one of those dreamy sighs women did when they had developed a tendre. Her expression softened. Her speech slowed. When she spoke, she seemed older, more mature. “The Earl of Dewhurst.”

“Dewhurst?” Cicely had to fight the urge to laugh. Now was not the time. She tried to picture the two together in her mind. Had she ever even seen them dance? “When did you decide you were interested in him?”

Anna giggled. “Oh, it wasn’t me, but him. He asked to dance with me twice, once the waltz, then a minuet. Then he asked if he might call upon me, but with the weather and Mother’s illness, I decided to tell him I was not available.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, but your mother is not harboring the secret of dying from the Black Death, is she?”

Anna shook her head.

Amused but not inclined to encourage the behavior, Cicely admonished her cousin, “Anna, that wasn’t very nice of you.”

“Mother always says a man has to learn that you are not waiting for him, that he must wait for you, before he will truly appreciate you.” The bundle of energy she was, Anna jumped off her chair. The action startled Cicely. “Speaking of my mother, I need to check on her and see if she needs anything.”

“Let her know I will be happy to visit with her, but I did not want to bother her.”

Anna had already made it across the room. She opened the door but paused with her hand on the knob. “Cicely, do not be silly. Mother would love to have you visit. I am sure you are a welcome calm after spending time with me.” With a quick wink, she headed out of the room.

Cicely closed her eyes and chuckled again. Well, Dewhurst was now officially off the list. She was not that interested in the man to begin with, but her cousin’s interest sealed it. He seemed a bit boring for Anna.

Again, though, maybe that is what she needed. A colorful butterfly like her cousin might desire someone calm and uninteresting to even her out.

But who would stop talking first? She smiled at her imagined clash of wills.

It brought her mind back to her own situation and the smile fell from her face. If she had been plagued with errant thoughts before, after her encounter the other night with Douglas her imagination had spiraled into sensory overload. He had not called on her the last few days, so she had assumed that he did not discover her identity. Or worse, he had realized it was her and was mortified. Well, maybe not mortified, that was not a word men used when describing their feelings, but something along those lines. Horror? Embarrassment? Disapproval? Disgust?

She sighed again, trying to fight the depression that had been getting worse with the constant downpour of the last few days. Rising, she went to view it through the paned window that looked out onto the muddy street. Few people were out due to the weather. Those who were dashed about. She knew that feeling. Her own inactivity the last few days had driven her batty. She was ashamed to admit that it wasn’t just the house confinement, and it was not her cousin. The truth was her knowing that each day that passed she was closer to the end of her last season and the loss of her dream of being ravished. Wherever would she find a willing man then? Her means of access would severely be shortened.

Turning away, Cicely decided to visit with Victoria, leaving her worries for another time. Sitting in a study, listening to the rain and reading an old diary would only make her depression worse. Nothing would be solved today and worrying would only frustrate her. A few more days without Douglas and she might clear her mind of the memory of the taste of him, the feel of his mouth against hers, and how thrilling it had been to lose herself in that kiss.

Even as she searched for ways to move on, to find another man for her quest, she knew Douglas would never leave her heart.

In which Lady Cicely unveils a most interesting surprise.

Douglas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Lady Cicely to arrive. Anticipation skated along his nerves and his palms were sweating. Not since he was a boy of three and ten had he had this reaction to confronting a female. At that time it was an upstairs maid named Dottie who called him sweet and pinched his cheek—and not the one on his face.

But this was different. It was more like…frustration. Being exhausted on top of that had not helped either. Since their interlude in the library, he had not seen her—at least not in the flesh. But each night he would find himself in bed thinking of her, that kiss and her reaction to it. No matter how many times he tried, he could not wipe out the memory of her sighs and moans, the way she tasted.

Douglas shifted his feet again, trying to ease the heaviness in his groin. He’d woken up more than once with a need for a woman and knowing that for some insane reason, Cicely was the only one who would be able to ease the ache. He had never been one to pine for a woman since they usually approached him. With his title, finding a bedmate was never a problem.

Now, though, he found himself waiting for a virgin who kissed like sin and was searching for a man to deflower her. Her absence from events had made it even more annoying. For some reason, she, Lady Anna and Lady Victoria had been missing from society’s gatherings. He had made the rounds at every place he could think she might be but she had not given him the chance to confront her about her reprehensible behavior.

Irritation still lit through him that she had run off from him that night. He was certain she had planned on meeting someone. Trying to figure out who that someone was had driven him mad the last few nights. But she had known before she left that it had been him. He distinctly remembered her moaning his name.

With a sigh, he shifted again. At the rate he was going, he would probably embarrass himself. Trying to distance himself from that particular memory, he moved his attention to his mission to keep Cicely from enacting her stupid plan. Douglas worried that she may have already embarked upon her task of seduction with some unknown man of the ton. It was unacceptable that she ruin her fragile reputation over such an asinine plan. It must stop. He needed to know just who she had been planning to meet there, in the library, unchaperoned, in the dark.