Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) (2 page)

But somehow the notion had made him shy away in unease. Since his parents’ abrupt death he had never intimately shared his life with another. He had no siblings, no close relations beyond his odious uncle. And in truth, he did not desire such an intrusion. Not when he was perfectly satisfied with the undemanding, transitory relationships he enjoyed with his mistresses and friends.

The devil take it, he was not about to become responsible for another’s happiness. Especially not a romantic, starry-eyed woman who would no doubt expect him to hand her his heart on a platter. It was unthinkable.

“I am not about to put myself on the block to go to the highest bidder,” he denied in firm tones.

Biddles eyed him with a faint smile. “A charming description of the Marriage Mart.”

“But accurate.”

“It would solve a number of your troubles.”

“And bring further troubles.” His lips twisted as he took note of the various chits giggling and flirting about the room. “How should you like to be leg-shackled to one of these goose-witted maidens for your entire life?”

“Egads, that is not humorous, Hellion. I must insist that you do not even jest about such a notion,” Biddles retorted in horror.

“Precisely. Which means I shall have to discover another method of acquiring the funds that I need.”

“Perhaps I can be of help.”

The soft, decidedly female voice came from behind the large urn, and both Hellion and Biddles stiffened in shock as a small dab of a girl abruptly stepped into view.

Hellion glared at the woman in embarrassment. Good God, did she possess no manners? Did she not realize just how vulgar it was to hide in shadows and pry into a gentleman’s secrets?

Not that he could entirely blame her for preferring the shadows, he unkindly concluded. She certainly possessed no beauty to put upon display. She was too slender and too dark for the current fashion with curls unbecomingly scraped from her gamine countenance and skin more olive than alabaster. Her only saving grace appeared to be the large blue eyes, although they met his gaze squarely rather than from beneath lowered lashes as was only proper.

“Who the devil are you?” he growled.

“Miss Middleton,” she retorted, not seeming to be at all intimidated by his simmering anger. “Forgive me for intruding, but I could not help but overhear your conversation.”

Hellion thinned his lips in displeasure. “Could not? How extraordinarily odd. Were you stuck to the floor? Or perhaps you forgot how to place one foot before the other so that you could politely move away?”

She at least possessed the grace to blush. Hellion noted the dark color did nothing to enhance her plain features.

“No, I was not stuck to the floor, nor did I forget how to walk,” she surprised him by admitting. “In truth, I deliberately remained to listen.”

Caught off guard by her honesty he furrowed his brow. “Why?”

She seemed to hesitate, as if debating within her own mind before slowly squaring her shoulders. “I believe that we may be of service to one another, Mr. Caulfield.”

“Service?”

“I . . .” She glanced over her shoulder at the guests who even now were sending speculative glances in their direction. “I have a proposition for you.”

Hellion stilled.

A pox on the chit.

Did she think she could use his secret to force him into marriage? She would not be the first woman to use such despicable methods to try and acquire him as a husband.

“You are mistaken, Miss Middleton,” he stated in cold tones. “There is no proposition that a virgin could offer that would possibly interest me. I have no patience with
débutantes
or their tedious attentions.”

“I am well aware of your preference for more sophisticated ladies,” she retorted wryly. “Indeed, all of society is aware of your unfortunate . . . habits.”

“Then what do you want?”

“The proposition I wish to offer you is one of a business nature.”

Hellion did not believe her for a moment. What could this chit know of business? She must think him daft.

“Then once again I must disappoint you, Miss Middleton. My only business is pleasure,” he drawled.

Something that might have been distaste rippled over the tiny countenance, but startlingly the features swiftly hardened with determination. “I am willing to offer you five thousand pounds.”

Hellion gave a choked noise.

It was not often he was caught so completely off guard.

Five thousand pounds? It was a veritable fortune.

Certainly it would put an end to his most pressing creditors. And most importantly of all, allow him to avoid the painful necessity of turning to his uncle for charity. But even as the dazzling thoughts were spinning through his mind, his common sense was whispering that such a fortune never came without a price.

He folded his arms over his chest as he regarded the maiden with a brooding intensity. “Very well, Miss Middleton, you have my attention.”

She did not appear overwhelmed by his capitulation. Instead she once again glanced over her shoulder. “Perhaps it would be best if we conducted our conversation in a place that is less crowded.”

Hellion hesitated.

To be alone with a maiden could spell certain disaster. One scream and he would find himself hauled down the altar before he could bolt.

Still, he could not deny he was intrigued. If she were another seeking to trap him into marriage, she was at least the most original. And he had no doubt he was far too wily to be caught. No matter how clever the trap.

“Your notion has merit,” he agreed with a rather mocking smile. “One can never be certain when there might be a sly eavesdropper lurking about the shadows.”

The blush returned, but her pointed chin tilted to a determined angle. “Yes.”

“Then shall we repair to the gardens?” he suggested, holding out his arm.

She hesitated only a moment before lightly placing her fingers upon his sleeve.

Hellion deliberately glanced toward Biddles, who had all but disappeared into the shadows. With the slightest nod of his head the flamboyant dandy slipped through the crowd. He would be waiting in the garden to avert any unpleasant surprises.

In silence Hellion led his odd damsel toward the open balcony. He did not doubt his choice in companions would be the fodder for the gossips on the morrow. It did not trouble him unduly. He had been upon the tongues of the rattles for years.

Once on the balcony he continued down the curved staircase until they were at last in the relative privacy of the shadowed garden. Although Hellion had seen no hint of Biddles he possessed full faith he was nearby.

“Well, my dear.” He drew to a halt turning to regard her in the faint wash of moonlight. “This is as private as we dare.”

Her hand abruptly dropped from his arm and he heard the sound of her rasping breath.

So, she was not nearly so confident and self-assured as she liked to appear. The notion pleased him. He far preferred to be the one in command of any situation.

“Yes.” Her hands briefly fluttered, as if she were not quite certain what to do with them before clasping them together at her waist. “I . . . did you know we have been introduced before this evening?”

Hellion lifted his brows in disbelief. Surely to heaven she had not lured him out here to chastise him for forgetting a previous introduction? Hell’s teeth, he was introduced to an endless parade of
débutantes
every evening. Not even he was rake enough to recall them all.

“Then it appears I owe you an apology, Miss Middleton. My deepest regrets for my wretched memory.”

Surprisingly her lips twitched with a wry humor. “I did not reveal our previous encounter to badger for an apology, Mr. Caulfield. I simply wished to reveal my dilemma.”

“Dilemma?”

“You are not the first gentleman to have forgotten an introduction to me,” she confessed in low tones. “To be brutally frank no gentleman recalls my name. Or if they do, they attempt their best to pretend as if they do not.”

His brows rose. “Surely you must be mistaken?”

“Oh no, I am a practical woman, you see. I realize that I am old enough to be upon the shelf and that I have no claim to beauty. I suppose some might even consider me a fright. Even worse I have never developed the sort of silly charms that gentlemen seem to prefer. I do not giggle or flirt or pout. I am outspoken and prefer honesty to flirtation.”

Hellion was arrested by her blunt honesty.

What other woman would so baldly claim her lack of charm? Especially to an unattached gentleman. She was either the most original maiden he had ever encountered, or she was unhinged.

His attention fully captured he regarded the strange, elfin face. For the first time he noted the full sweetness of her lips and the pure lines of her features. No, she would never be considered a beauty, but there was a measure of charm that would not be ravaged by time.

“I see.”

“My hope was that my fortune would allow potential suitors to overlook my numerous faults. Even if the money does smell of the shop.”

He gave a choked sound of disbelief. “You desire to be wed for your fortune?”

She shrugged, her straightforward gaze never wavering. “As I said, I am practical. Can you foresee any gentleman tumbling into love with me?”

Hellion bit back the charming denial that rose to his lips. This Miss Middleton was not just another twittering
débutante
. She would never accept the shallow lies that formed the usual conversations in society.

She was not a beauty. She was not lushly formed. Still, she was clearly intelligent and eccentric enough not to be a bore.

And there was that startling, sensual mouth . . .

A mouth that would no doubt bring endless pleasure to a gentleman with the patience to tutor her in the delights of passion.

“Who can say what the future might bring?” he at last hedged.

“I do not have the patience to await such an unlikely event.” She abruptly stepped closer, her large eyes oddly luminescent in the moonlight. “I wish to be wed while I am still capable of producing children. That is why I requested to speak with you.”

Unease prickled over his skin. There was an unmistakable expression of determination upon her countenance. She was a woman upon a mission. And at the moment he was standing directly in her path.

His eyes slowly narrowed. “You have decided to buy a husband and your thoughts turned to me?”

“Yes.”

The dangerous fury threatened to return.

Had she thought of purchasing him simply because she had overheard his impulsive confession of being on the dun? Or did she presume every male must be for sale?

“I suppose that I should be flattered, Miss Middleton,” he retorted in dark tones. “But to be frank I am not yet so desperate that I must put a price upon myself.”

Her own brows drew together. “What?”

“I will not wed you, my dear. No matter what your fortune,” he said in concise tones.

Without warning she gave a sudden laugh. Amazingly the gamine features seemed to light with a rather enchanting mischievousness.

“Oh no. I do not want to wed you, Mr. Caulfield.”

“No?”

“Certainly not,” she said firmly. “What I have in mind is a kind, comfortable husband who will be content at my estate in Surrey. One who shares my interest in business and hopefully will be a friend as well as a companion. I have no desire for a . . .”

“A what?”

“A rake,” she said baldly.

Well.

That certainly put him nicely in his place. Hellion was not certain whether to be relieved or insulted. All he did know was that this bewildering creature increasingly intrigued him.

“It appears that I am being uncommonly dull-witted this evening, my dear. If you do not wish me as a husband then why did you seek me out?”

“Because I am a wallflower.”

He blinked. Gads. Perhaps she was unhinged.

“A wallflower?”

“It is the term used for those unfortunate maidens who cannot hope to tempt a gentleman into asking her to dance or even to strike up a conversation.”

“I am familiar with the term,” he said dryly. She drew in a deep breath. “Yes, well, since my arrival in London I have been relegated to dark corners and placed next to elderly gentlemen at dinner. Such a position makes it impossible for me to encounter the gentlemen who might desire to wed me.”

Although vaguely familiar with the clutch of maidens who routinely lurked in the shadows of whatever room they entered, Hellion never gave them much thought. Of course, he rarely gave any proper woman much thought.

“Rather hard luck, but you will eventually discover a gentleman you desire.”

“And how precisely am I to do that?” she demanded, her hands dropping so that they could ball in frustration at her sides. “There appears to be no more hideous fate than to be seen in the company of a wallflower. I am rather like the plague.”

“The plague?”

“Avoided at all cost. I suppose they fear my unpopularity is contagious.”

He choked on an unflattering laugh. “Surely you exaggerate?”

“I only wish that I did,” she said in grim tones. “Thus far I have been approached by one rakehell who is so desperate for wealth he would wed the devil himself, and a gentleman old enough to be my grandfather. All other suitors pretend that I do not even exist.”

Hellion studied the small, somber face. It was obvious that her adventure to London had proven to be a terrible disappointment. And yet, she had not given in to despair. There were no tears, no melancholy.

Only that unmistakable air of determination.

“And what service do you believe I can perform?”

“I wish you to strike up a flirtation with me.”

“I beg your pardon?”