The Beautiful One (10 page)

Surely this was wrong of him? But she was looking at him so steadily and, he could almost swear, with the glow of wanting. He lifted a hand and gently brushed aside one of those wild, wavy black strands that always seemed to escape from the careless confines of her hasty coiffures.

Anna was undone by the look in Grandville's dark blue eyes. Kindness was there, and strength, but also a glitter that could only be desire. She knew what it was because she felt it too, like a thread that now connected them.

“I'm sorry for what happened to you,” he said, then paused. “That man violated whatever connection was between you. But I wonder, Anna, have you ever known the sweetness that can be between a man and a woman?”

Oh, she was in deep waters now. He didn't know the whole truth—he couldn't; it was too awful and dangerous. But she
had
felt violated by what Rawlins had done, and by the marquess's refusal to surrender the book. This awful thing had happened to her and changed her life, and she'd been unable to speak of it to anyone. Until he had asked. She hadn't been able to resist the simple human need to share her troubles a little.

Which was only making her feel more drawn to him.

Those deep, dark eyes…they compelled her with irresistible charm to speak honestly. “I… No, I haven't.”

“Have you ever even been kissed?”

She lifted her chin and made sure to look away so she wouldn't be enchanted into saying more than she meant to. “This conversation is growing ridiculous.” But her voice came out breathy, an invitation.

“It's not. I think, for a lovely woman of twenty-three, it's entirely appropriate. If you've never been kissed by an admiring man before now, surely it's an experience you ought to have. Tell me, Anna, would you like to be kissed?”

An
admiring
man
.

She was a woman, and it wasn't as though she'd never sat in church admiring the handsome young men of the neighborhood. But their eyes had always skipped over her toward feminine, pretty ladies with sweet airs, and she'd early on told herself she didn't need that kind of attention from men.

She'd had proof that she'd never get it anyway at the few social events she'd attended, where the only men who'd noticed her had all been over fifty. The younger men had simply seemed not to see her, and she'd decided that if they needed her to put on flounced gowns and giggle at them to hold their attention, she wanted none of them.

But she'd yearned sometimes for the companionship and admiration of a man—and hated herself for the weakness of that yearning.

She'd been a hypocrite, she thought now as she looked into blue eyes fringed with crowded dark lashes, because Grandville had a great deal of male beauty, and it was attracting her as surely as the beauty of the pretty ladies in her village had attracted the young gentlemen.

Did he truly admire her? Their embrace on the terrace had suggested he did. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. “I…”

“Of course,” he continued, and she was surprised to hear an almost playful tone in his voice, “viscounts shouldn't be kissing women in their employ. But let us consider that it might be a useful experience for a governess. How can you know about guiding young ladies in their behavior with gentlemen if you've never been kissed?”

His reasoning was ridiculous—and also not. A kiss
was
an experience she suddenly felt in need of—but not for Lizzie's benefit.
Of
course
she'd never been kissed, and now this handsome, charming, brooding man wanted to kiss her. How could she say no?

“Yes, then.”

His head moved closer and he lingered with his mouth just in front of hers, as if absorbing the pleasure of her nearness, and the thought made something in her chest flip over.

He brushed his mouth against hers. It was wonderful.

Their lips moved against each other, pressed softly. He kissed the corners of her mouth, the bow at the middle. She lifted her hands to his broad shoulders, where her eyes had so often been drawn, and delighted in the hard, alive feel of his body under the exquisite fabric of his green tailcoat.

He grunted and pulled her firmly against his chest, and a little sigh of pleasure escaped her as she wrapped her arms around him. His rib cage was broad and sturdy beneath her arms, his back muscular under her spread fingers, and this time, she could explore it.

His lips teased hers, nibbling lightly, asking her to open to him, and she did. His tongue met hers gently, stroking beguilingly. All over inside, she was softening. She ran her hands deliriously up his back and over his shoulders as heat spread through her. His kiss was so sweet.

Slowly his lips traveled toward her jawline, placing precise kisses as he went, as though establishing a path.

“Lesson number two for the governess.” His voice was a low rumble that curled all around her, wrapping her in a spell. “There are kisses for lips…”

He kissed a spot low on her neck, sending out shivers that danced along her shoulders. “And kisses for lovely necks…”

He brushed his lips against her ear. “And kisses for tender little ears,” he whispered, and ran the tip of his tongue over her earlobe.

Her knees turned to jelly. She rubbed her cheek against his, feeling the light sandiness of his freshly shaved whiskers. His skin sent warmth rushing through her that felt like something she'd been waiting for all her life.

Where else would he kiss her? She yearned desperately to know.

She didn't get to find out.

His head moved to her shoulder, and he paused a moment, his forehead coming to rest against hers. His breathing had quickened, and he lingered there as if he were gathering himself.

When he lifted his head, his expression was unreadable. His previously neatened brown hair stuck up wildly about his head where her hands had explored. She wanted to reach out and smooth it, but the pleasure and the remaining lightheartedness were fading from his face.

“I suppose,” he said in a husky voice, and cleared his throat. “I suppose that is enough of lessons for the governess.”

He was pulling back from her, and she was ridiculously disappointed. Something in her had opened when he took her in his arms, but now she felt exposed and vulnerable, and her pride demanded that she not let him see this.

She blinked at him with pretend demureness. “Oh, kind master, to have been so enlightening to a lowly servant.”

His eyes flashed a little, and she—foolishly—wished he'd kiss her again.

“Ever impudent.” He sighed, the warmth nearly gone from his eyes. “Despite the evidence of my behavior since you've arrived, Anna, I would have you know I'm not in the habit of visiting my attentions on women in my employ. You needn't worry that there will be any more such lessons.”

“I'm not worried,” she said. “And your hair is mussed.”

He frowned and ran a hand through his hair, then moved to his desk and began picking up papers, shuffling them about. “Now, where is my ward? I value promptness highly.”

She cleared her throat. “I shall go see. She does seem to be taking a rather long time.”

She was still warm from his touch, but clearly he'd moved on from the moments they'd shared. Knowing him as she did, he was probably already deeply regretting his lapse in propriety. To him, she could only be a nobody, simply the odd young woman who'd arrived at his home along with his ward.

So he wanted to touch her—he'd been alone a long time, and he was a man, she told herself sternly. She mustn't read too much into his kiss. She mustn't allow herself to think anything could come of it. But…she'd loved it.

She was walking toward the door when a knock sounded.

“Come,” he called from behind her.

The door opened and admitted Lizzie.

Anna sucked in a breath at the sight of her. She was wearing a creamy yellow gown decorated in crystalline beads and cut so low that the firm expanse of her young breasts was presented for view, the rounded shape easily discernible in the snug-fitting bodice. The gown might have suited a courtesan. Her face, touched deftly with color at the lips and cheeks, glowed with the almost too-perfect pinkness of rouge.

Anna snuck a glance at the viscount, who appeared to be swallowing heavily. She thought she noticed an air of penitential forbearance settling over him.

“Oh, la,” Lizzie said in a high, precious-sounding voice, “you haven't been waiting for me, I hope?”

His eyebrows lowered, but he made no comment. Into the silence, Lady Grandville appeared and, behind her, Dart.

“Dinner is served, my lord.”

Lord Grandville offered Lizzie his arm, a slight to his stepmother, who gave Anna a rueful smile and linked arms with her companionably.

Lady Grandville looked subtly beautiful in a gown of shimmering olive satin, which contrasted richly with her butter-and-cream hair and picked up flecks of moss green and sunlight gold in her eyes. The gown had a square neckline that sat well on her gently rounded shoulders and fitted her handsome figure surely. She seemed like such a warm, good-hearted woman, and Anna really wanted to believe that she was different now from the person Lord Grandville had described.

They took their seats at the long, richly appointed table, the viscount indicating that Anna should sit next to him while Lizzie sat across from him and Lady Grandville across from Anna, as far away from himself as he could arrange, she guessed.

Servants entered to begin serving dinner and filled their wineglasses. Anna noticed Lizzie taking several large swigs of wine with the air of someone consuming medicine.

Next to Anna, Lord Grandville's arm rested on the table in its green superfine sleeve, and she felt a strong urge to touch it, as if they might be of comfort to each other in their trials. Which they couldn't be. That kiss, the closeness—they wouldn't change anything. They couldn't.

“And how do you find your room, Lizzie?” he asked, not including his stepmother in his hostly concern.

Lizzie winked at him.
Winked
. “With my two legs, Uncle.” She batted her eyelashes at him as Anna stared. What had gotten into the girl?

“Ah,” he said after a pause. “Very droll.”

Several minutes of quiet eating ensued, and Anna allowed herself to hope that Lizzie would go no further in whatever ridiculous scheme she had embarked on. She was, though, dismayed to see the footman approaching the girl's glass with the wine. She tried to catch his eye and wave him off, but he merely gave her a puzzled look as he refilled it.

Lady Grandville cleared her throat. “Grandville, have you seen anything of the neighbors? Perhaps the Chittisters or the Tilbertons?”

“No,” he replied. “Pass the salt please, Anna.”

She did, and conversation died again. At least the food was delicious, she thought, savoring a mouthful of roast chicken that had been cooked to golden perfection. With luck, maybe it would distract the others from feeling a need to converse, because she didn't hold out hope that the tensions simmering beneath the silence would lead to anything good.

“Have you been to London recently, Uncle?” Lizzie asked some minutes later, giving her head a little toss that made her pearl earbobs dance. It was becoming unfortunately apparent to Anna that Lizzie was envisioning a potential new role for Lord Grandville: suitor.

“No, I haven't,” he replied. He took a sip of wine. “But perhaps you would like to visit there. Anna might take you.”

She saw through that idea. Clearing her throat, she turned toward him. A curl of dark brown hair near his eye drew her attention, and she struggled not to be charmed by it. “I don't think that would be a good idea, my lord.”

“I think it's a wonderful idea!” Lizzie enthused. “But wouldn't you come too, my lord?”

She leaned across the table, so that her crystal-encrusted bosom was prominently displayed for her guardian's viewing. He lifted his napkin and coughed into it.

“Actually,” Lady Grandville said, “it would be a fine idea for Lizzie to be introduced to the society of your friends in Town, Grandville. And as your ward, she really ought to have a come-out.”

“Thank you, Judith, for that bit of wisdom.”

If he were thinking clearly, Anna thought, he'd have been leaping at the chance for Lizzie to go to Town, where she might find a husband who could take her off his hands. But he clearly had no intention of leaving his estate, and he seemed highly unlikely to ask Lady Grandville for such a favor.

“Lizzie has nothing to do with the past,” his stepmother continued, looking at his profile since he seemed unwilling to return her gaze. “Don't punish her to spite me.”

He made no reply, and silence returned to the table.

As the dessert custards were finally served, Anna reflected that she'd never sat through a longer meal. If only it could be over before Lizzie did something truly outrageous or the viscount gave vent to his feelings about his stepmother, she would count it a success.

Across the table, seemingly oblivious to the tensions present, or perhaps so occupied with her wineglass that she hadn't noticed, Lizzie said, “And how are your horses, my lord?”

He looked quizzical. “My horses? They are as usual.”

Lizzie took another sip of wine, and Anna wished the table weren't so wide that it prevented her from delivering admonishing nudges with her foot.

“Lizzie, dear,” Lady Grandville said, “that's a unique gown.”

“Thank you. I'm glad somebody likes—” she started to say, before Anna broke in.

“Why don't you tell us about your childhood in Malta, Lizzie? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about it.”

“Oh, I don't—” Lizzie began in a petulant tone, but then, as if a light had come on in her head, she said excitedly, “I did hear a very amusing story at school, about Lord Branwell's son.”

“Are you certain this is a story we'd all enjoy?” Anna asked with a smile that she hoped conveyed the need for prudence.

“Yes, it's very funny,” Lizzie insisted loudly, slurring her words a bit. “Lord Branwell's son was smitten with a young lady, so he climbed the trellis outside her window one night, hoping to enchant her with this manly feat. But when he reached what he thought was her window and cried out for his beloved—ha!—it was her father's room, and he was there!”

“Thank you, my dear,” Anna said, leery of what more the girl might say in her tipsy state, “you've regaled us very well.”

“But this is the best part! The suitor yelped and dropped down onto his horse, which he'd tied below. But”—Lizzie giggled—“the horse threw him, and he was stuck lying there with a broken leg until the father rescued him.”

Lizzie laughed, and hiccupped audibly. Anna stole a glance at Lord Grandville, who looked grim.

“You believe that someone falling from a horse and sustaining serious injury is amusing?”

Lizzie's brow crimped. “I only meant to entertain.”

“Really? This is funny to you, Elizabeth, for someone to be hurt in the same manner in which your Aunt Ginger died?”

Anna barely managed to repress a gasp. So his wife had died in a riding accident.

Lizzie looked stricken. “I forgot. I'm sorry.”

“My lord, I'm sure—” Anna began, but he shot her a quelling look.

“She meant no harm,” Lady Grandville said quietly.

“Do not interfere, Judith.”

Lady Grandville's face took on an uncomfortable look. “Actually, Grandville, I might as well tell you now the main reason I've come, partly because I see how much good it could also do Lizzie. I've arranged for a ball to be held at Stillwell.”

Everyone simply stared at her.

And then, after a moment, he said, “No.”

“Just for the neighbors,” she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, “to be held here in a little over a week. The invitations have already gone out.”

Heavens, but Lady Grandville was bold.

“Oh, that's wonderful!” Lizzie said, the anxiety over her mistake melting away.

The viscount hadn't taken his eyes from his stepmother, and they were dark now with cold fury. “You always did have no sense of appropriateness.”

“I've done this because your father would have wanted you to remarry and do your duty to the title. You won't find a wife if you're never in company with eligible ladies. Thus, the ball.”

“You are mad.”

“I won't stand by and do nothing,” she said firmly, uncowed by his evident anger.

Anna, however, couldn't bear the tension. “A ball would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce Lizzie to society.”

“It would! I should love nothing so much as a ball!” Lizzie exclaimed, but he ignored her.

“I will have no balls here.”

She gave a cry of outrage. “Well…well… Bollocks to you, Grandville!” A ripple of horror went through Anna, but apparently Lizzie wasn't finished. “Do you want to know,
my
lord
, why I was sent away from Rosewood? It was because I snuck out of my room at night to meet a man! How do you like that?”

Well then, Anna thought, hope wilting. She couldn't blame him if he wanted to keep himself apart from his niece now. That was, if he didn't just send her away immediately.

“Elizabeth!” he thundered.

“Oh, why don't you just send me to Malta?” she wailed miserably. “It's the only place I've ever been happy, and you'd never have to bother with me again.” She dashed incipient tears roughly from the corner of her eyes. “Just what you wish.”

“Malta is out of the question!”

She stood up, knocking her chair over, and fled from the room.

He stood as well and fixed his stepmother with a narrow-eyed look that would have doubtless made even a duke tremble. Lady Grandville tipped her chin up.

“You're here not more than four hours,” he said, “and this is the result. Are you satisfied?”

“Of course I'm not happy that she's upset. But I doubt she would be if you'd expressed yourself more gently.”

His lips twisted harshly. “I expect you to put a stop to what you've started.”

Her soft mouth thinned, but her steady hazel gaze never wavered. “I know.”

He strode from the room, his boots ringing on the old oak floors.

Anna looked across the table at her companion, who now sat with her eyes closed and her hands folded tightly on the table.

“I'm sorry,” Anna said. “Are you all right?”

Lady Grandville exhaled, then inhaled again, deeply, her lush bosom rising and falling distinctly. Her eyes still closed, she said, “A trick I learned from a holy man during my trip to Egypt last year. A focusing on the breath.”

She paused, then opened her eyes. Their hazel lights looked bruised, but her lips took a small, rueful upturn. “Please call me Judith, dear girl. ‘Lady Grandville' makes me feel far too serious.”

She pressed her lips ruefully. “My announcement didn't go well, did it? But I did rather spring it on him, and I was prepared for his reaction. I'm sorry, though, that Lizzie got caught up in what's between the two of us. The last thing I want is for her to be hurt by what I've undertaken.”

“I'm afraid she was already well on the way to ruining her chances of charming him tonight.” Anna wondered what she was going to say to him to excuse Lizzie's behavior. “And if there is perhaps a silver lining in all this, it's that when you introduced the subject of the ball, it kept him from directing his full disapproval toward Lizzie.”

“That is…something,” the other woman said with the ghost of a smile.

“It's unfortunate that he won't allow the ball,” Anna said. “I do think you're right, that it would have benefitted both of them.”

“Well, I didn't actually agree to cancel the ball. Or to leave. I simply said that I knew that was what he wanted.”

Anna stared at her companion. “Goodness,” she said. “You are ready to go quite far with this.”

“I am.”

“Er…Judith…you do realize that he'll be furious tomorrow when he finds out.”

“Yes, but with any luck, I shall have the auxiliary plan in place before he discovers his wishes are not being carried out.”

“The auxiliary plan?”

“The pretty neighbor,” Judith said with a twinkle in her eyes. “She will, I'm fairly certain, be very enthusiastic about her ball invitation.”

Anna managed to laugh along with her, though the thought of the auxiliary plan made her miserable.

After they left the dining room, she stopped by Lizzie's room, but her knock received no answer.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to try to repair the damage of the evening, and with all the wine Lizzie had drunk, Anna supposed the poor girl was very likely already asleep.

* * *

Lizzie was not asleep.

In fact, she'd never felt so awake in her life as she made her way out the doors to the terrace, not quite clearing the frame as she passed through. More than awake, she felt wild. Heedless of the unaccustomed dullness in her arms and legs, she reached the edge of the terrace and tripped into a smallish stone vase, which fell over with a muffled clunk.

She felt free—
bloody free
—she thought rebelliously. Free to do whatever she wanted. Why shouldn't she? Nobody cared about her at all.

What right did Grandville have to be so cruel? Of course it was sad that Aunt Ginger had died, but Lizzie had lost her whole family and she didn't go around being mean to everyone. It wasn't as if she'd intended any disrespect to the memory of her aunt when she'd told that story.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and pushed away the memory of how she'd dressed so carefully that night and tried so hard to make him want her. Not because she wanted him in that way—he was old, only a few years younger than her father, but certainly over thirty. Only because if he wanted her, he wouldn't send her away. She'd imagined that, if he came to care for her that way, maybe someday she would be able to feel that way about him, too.

And she'd been so encouraged that he'd come to dinner that night.

Foolish, despicable hope. He clearly hated her, no matter that she tried like anything to please him. Righteous fury swelled within her, and she wanted to lash out against him.

Opening her eyes, she waited for them to adjust to the moonlit darkness before walking toward the garden, looking for something she'd seen earlier in the day. Her eyes roved over the darkened area until she saw it: a pile of tools that had been left by the gardener next to a bench he was repairing.