Seducing the Single Lady (4 page)

“Perhaps I would like to have tha
t experience…as if I were a boy! I could cancel calling hours and have the butler tell everyone I’m not at home whilst I indulged in all sorts of amusements. Much as I enjoy the social whirl and my pretty dresses, they are a choice. But with a man—a husband—I shall have to serve him first, maintain a proper reputation out of concern for any scrappy brats we may have and how it reflects on him. Always, him.”

Damien
understood her perfectly. She was just as he was, nine years earlier, having had her first taste of freedom. The craving for more was so strong neither hell nor high water would stand in the way of satisfying it. 

“
I have my own fortune and no minder,” she told him. “There is nothing to stop me.”

“Except for me.”

The truth was plain and it was marked with a silence falling over them.

Damien
could not be the man his father wished him to be—or the man he now wanted to be—without Susannah’s consent. All his life, his father had praised Susannah and her family and expressed his dearest wish that his son would marry her and unite their estates. The contracts were done. He only needed her to agree to actually go through with the wedding.

But
she could not have the happiness and freedom she craved if she wed.

They were at an impasse, each one destined to fail
.

“Unless…
” he murmured. Unless he gave her exactly what she wanted. Then, perhaps, she might see that as her husband, he would not stifle her to the degree that she feared. And then, perhaps, she might consent to give him exactly what he wanted: her hand in marriage.

“Unless what?”
She tilted her head curiously.

He smiled cryptically and strolled toward the doorway. She followed him so closely her skirts swirled around hi
s ankles. He turned, grinned, tugged one of her curls and said, “You’ll see.”

A package arrived for Susannah very first thing the next morning. Very first thing being the ungodly hour of six o’clock, after she’d been attending a party until at least two o’clock.

“Later,” she mumbled at her maid
, Abigail, who fearfully took the unusual measure of waking her mistress before noon.

“I’m told it’s urgent,”
Abigail said apologetically.

Susannah eyed the large box wrapped with a pretty ribbon that her maid carried. Well, for a present she could wake up. With a yawn, Su
sannah broke the wax seal and read the accompanying note:

I shall call upon you at
seven o’clock. Wear these things. Yours, Damien.

“The devil you will,
you overbearing male,” Susannah muttered as she set the paper aside and fixed her attentions upon the gift. She tore off the ribbon, lifted the lid and pushed aside the rustling sheets of paper.

She pulled out a man’s white linen shirt, followed by a pair of buff colored breeches.
Next, a blue silk waistcoat and a dove-gray jacket in soft wool. All were of a smaller size for a woman, for her.

“
Mr. Bates to see you, Miss Grey,” Abigail said.

“Who
in the world is he?”

“Viscount Bedford’s valet,”
Abigail explained. “He’s here to help you with the cravat. I’m to see if I can help you with the rest of it.”

“Confound it all…”
Susannah muttered.

But she was intrigued by the
strange garments and curious how it would feel to stride through the world without a tangle of muslin and silk around one’s ankles.

How would the ground feel beneath strong boots rather than satin slippers?
Would she wear her corset beneath the loose linen shirt or, for once in her life, move freely and breathe deeply?

One thing not up for debate: she would wear these clothes and she would accept
Damien’s call to see what he was about. Susannah expected it had something to do with her dramatic outburst yesterday and reluctantly had to conclude that the man listened to her, which would be lovely if she were not determined to despise him.

The breeches fit perfectly. The sleeves of the shirt were not too long.
The jacket spanned her shoulders, proving to be neither too tight nor too loose. The boots were a little large, but easily remedied with stuffing in the toe. The waistcoat did not quite allow for a woman’s breasts, so some slight alterations were required there, but really, the man could not be faulted for that.

Overall, t
he perfect fit of each garment begged the question of how he had known her dimensions. Had he blackmailed her modiste for the information? Or had he made a study of her? The thought of Damien carefully observing and imagining the length of her limbs and other her intimate aspects of her person sent a wave of heat coursing through her, though she tried to tell herself it was actually the result of the warm, soft wool coat in a beautiful shade of deep blue and lined with an exquisite pale gray silk. 

Susannah was dressed
like a perfect gentleman when Damien called upon her at the ungodly hour of seven o’clock.

“You look…”
His speech faltered, but his gaze did not. 

She had taken a long look at herself in the mirror this morning, rather impressed and even aroused by the transformation.
She looked stunning, devilish, and ready for adventure.

Especially now as one errant auburn curl
tumbled out from the simple queue she’d tied at the nape of her neck. Especially given the way she was grinning mischievously at Damien. She could feel the smile on her lips and the joy in her heart. Adventure. Freedom.

“I think I look like a rogue,” she supplied.
Truth be told, she took a great pleasure in having rendered Damien speechless, too, and obviously captivated by her.

Scrappy b
rat indeed.

“That may be true. But you don’t make me…that is to say, I feel…”
Damien stammered.

“What you
are trying to say, I suppose, is that even though I look like a rogue you still have a desire to ravish me. This perplexes you.”

“That. Yes.”
Damien nodded, his gaze still fixed upon her.

“Well
, it was your idea,” she replied. Her heart began to beat faster, delighted by this inconvenient attraction.

“No, it was yours. I am merely honoring the lady’s wishes.”

“How noble of you,” she replied, but there wasn’t any malice in her tone. It was wonderful to have someone honor her wishes for once (other than someone whom she paid to do just that).

“
Are you ready to go?” Damien inquired. When she nodded yes, her butler stepped forward to hand her a gentleman’s cap and gloves.

“Where are we going? It must be someplace unsavory if I am dressed like this. After
all, you couldn’t take a young lady dressed as a boy to a haute ton breakfast soiree.”

******

This was a terrible idea. Yesterday, when Susannah had gone off on a tangent about all the freedoms she wished to pursue, the wicked part of his brain had started scheming—in spite of his intentions to reform and behave with the utmost propriety.

When the fantastic idea of
giving her all the freedoms of a boy just as she had asked occurred to him, he could not shake it.

Reformation would have to wait.

He’d have to play the rogue for just a bit longer for the noble purpose of winning her hand.

She’d have a taste of the wild adventures she longed for
and then, her appetite sated and aware that he wasn’t some domineering ogre who wanted to constrain and control her, she’d agree to marry him. He could then proceed with becoming the sober, reflective, thoughtful, steadfast gentleman his father had wanted him to be. A man worthy of the Bedford name.

Damien
eyed Susannah’s long shapely legs and delectable bottom as revealed by the perfectly fitting breeches that luckily clung to her every curve. A very bad idea, indeed. And it was only about to get worse.

A groom stood outside holding
the reins of two horses, Damien’s stallion, Scout, and a spirited mare named Jessie for Susannah. Damien felt an ache of longing when he noted the slick uptick of her lips as she put two and two together. The breeches, the early hour, the horses…they were going to ride as ladies were never permitted to.

Damien
had remembered her always loitering around the stables whilst he had his lessons. He also recalled her requests to “ride like Damien” rather than with “her stupid sidesaddle.” The poor groom hadn’t known what to do with her.

This
groom handed her a riding crop made of supple, cognac-colored leather. With some assistance, she landed atop the mare and took a moment to settle in. As if sensing her excitement Jessie whinnied and shimmied a few steps back, eager to be off of an adventure. Damien grabbed the reins of his own horse, mounted quickly and led the way.

Once in the park, they approached Rotten Row. In a few hours
’ time it would be a fashionable mob scene of painfully slow moving carriages and gossipy conversations. But now, with the day still early, the long stretch of road was desolate. They picked up the pace to a brisk trot, which lasted all of one two three seconds before Susannah dug in her heels and Jessie took off at a fast canter.

“Susannah!”
Damien called after her, knowing it was pointless. He could just imagine her face, radiant with an expression of pure exhilaration and unbridled joy. More than anything, he wanted to witness it. See the sparkle in her blue eyes and her cheeks pinked from the wind. Spurred on by this desire, Damien urged his stallion to a gallop.

Horse hooves thundered, matching the pounding of his heart.

She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a wicked grin. Come get me. Then she leaned forward, twining her fingers in the horse’s mane and the mare went faster. He imagined her fingers threading through his own hair…or his fist closing around a handful of her luscious reddish curls, then pulling her close for a kiss.

“C’mon, Scout
,” Damien urged. “Can’t let the girls win.”

A sudden gust of wind forced
Susannah’s hat off her head, and blew it straight at him. At the last second, he ducked and the black felt skimmed over his head to tumble on the sandy path behind them.

Her horse began to slow as th
e path drew to an end, and Damien thundered past, leading the way through fields tall with wild grasses and through a thicket of gnarly old oak trees. Their horses leapt over small streams and low hedges. They terrified flocks of geese, which squalled loudly and flew off. Squirrels were sent scurrying. The world got the hell out of their way.

Damien
was keenly aware of Susannah and Jessie right behind him. She didn’t fall, she didn’t balk, she didn’t call out for him to slow down. Everyone once in a while he glanced over his shoulder and saw her face, not just as he’d imagined it—radiant with joy—but…more. Only out of self-preservation did he manage to wrench his gaze away and focus on guiding his horse through obstacles at a breakneck speed.

Eventually,
Damien urged Scout to slow. He could feel the horse breathing hard. They all were gasping for air after the exertions and thrill of their hell-for-leather dash through the empty park.

Susannah’s horse fell in ste
p beside his.

“I shall
never ride sidesaddle again,” she declared, breathlessly.

“You’ll cause a scandal.”

“Making it all the more delightful. Damien, you should know that I don’t think I’ll be returning these clothes. I do think they suit me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” she asked with a laugh.

“
They suit you. However, being a man, I don’t want to encourage a conversation on clothing, unless its a detailed discussion about removing it. Though even that would have it’s frustrations.”

“The rumors of your rakishness are true
, then.”

“But I am trying to be good.”

“We’ll see about that. Already we have broken at least a dozen rules before breakfast!”

******

They walked their horses at a leisurely pace on streets she did not recognize, chatting about the houses and shops and people they passed. Damien had given her his hat to wear, as part of her disguise, and she stole glances at him as they rode.

It was a pity he was so handsome, for it made it very difficult for her to look away from him.
A lock of his chestnut-colored hair fell stubbornly into his green eyes. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled. His movements easy and assured. She imagined his strong arms around her…and then banished the thought. 

She was determined to refuse and
resist him. She would not lose her freedom over some fleeting bout of lust.  But it was complicated by the fact that he alone knew her wishes and he alone was considerate enough to honor them.