The Seduction (13 page)

"You mean Guy Fawkes Day, when we tried to make our own fireworks in the chemistry laboratory? Of course I remember."

Trevor swirled the port in his glass and went on, "And do you remember how I took all the blame so that you wouldn't get expelled?"

"Yes, of course. It was my third offense, and they certainly would have sent me home for good. With all the mischief you did, I don't know how you managed to graduate with only that one black mark on your record. You've always had the most confounded luck, Trevor. It's really quite galling."

"Yes, well, I'm hoping that luck holds out a bit longer. I need your help with something."

Edward was silent for a moment, then said, "If it's money, I'd be glad to loan you—"

"No, it isn't money. At least, not exactly."

His friend eyed him in puzzlement. "What is it, then?"

Trevor took a deep breath and said, "I need you to help me win the hand of a lady. I'm going to get married."

Carnival had begun. Margaret could hear it from her room as she dressed in her costume, a dim hum outside the house that grew louder with each passing moment until it became a roar of activity and confusion. But Margaret's room faced the back gardens of the house, and she had no idea what was happening outside.

"Oh, hurry, Molly," she urged her maid, shifting her weight impatiently as the girl fastened the buttons at her back. "I don't want to miss anything."

"Forgive me for saying so, miss, but if you'd stop moving about so,
Fd
be done quick as lightning."

She forced herself to stand still until her maid had finished. "There," the girl said, stepping back. "All done."

Margaret turned around. "How do I look?"

"Oh, miss, you look ever so lovely. The costume fits you perfectly."

"That's only because you've laced me so tight, Molly. I’m sure I'll faint well before dinner. Or worse, I'll belch, and Lady Lytton will be scandalized."

The maid laughed and Margaret turned away for a cursory but critical glance in the mirror. The gown was of striped velvet in many different colors and had slashed sleeves that puffed at her shoulders, then narrowed to a tight fit down her arms. Both the stripes and
the'sleeves
had a rather slimming effect. Molly had piled her hair atop her head, which added height and also served to give an illusion of slenderness. The square neckline was a bit low, however. Ever conscious of her overly generous bosom, she gave a tug at the neckline, trying to pull it higher, but it would not budge. She gave up with an impatient sigh and turned away from the mirror. She grabbed her white gloves, pulling them on as she raced for the door.

"Wait, miss!" Molly called after her. "Your mask."

Margaret ran back into her room, grabbed the blue satin mask from her maid, and ran out again. She raced down one flight of stairs to the library, which had been chosen for viewing the festivities once the guests arrived. But Margaret had no intention of waiting that long to get her first look at Carnival. She ran through the library, making for the French doors at the far end that led onto the balcony, dropping her mask carelessly on a table as she passed it. She opened the doors, but came to an abrupt halt when she realized that she was not alone. Lord Ashton, dressed all in black and looking nothing like Harlequin, stood at one end of the balcony, leaning over the rail.

Gasping for breath, Margaret pressed a hand to her tightly laced ribs and paused, studying him. The velvet doublet he wore only enhanced his already wide shoulders, and the leggings fitted him perfectly, emphasizing his narrow hips and muscular thighs. Once again, it struck her just what a formidable man he was.

Not quite certain a glimpse of Carnival was worth an encounter with Ashton, she hesitated in the doorway. But before she could decide to make a hasty exit, he turned his head and noticed her standing there. "Hullo." He nodded to the raucous din below. "Sounds as if the entire world is down there, doesn't it?" He beckoned to her. "Come out and see."

Curiosity overcame her misgivings, and Margaret stepped out onto the balcony. She walked to Trevor's side, where she leaned over the rail to view the scene below. That afternoon, the streets of Rome had been quiet and deceptively sedate, but now that the sun was setting, it was as if the Eternal City had been magically transformed.

All the balconies of the mansions and town- houses that ringed the Piazza del
Popolo
were ablaze with light and adorned with bright-colored banners and tapestries. Carriages decorated with bouquets and ribbons tried to maneuver their way through the packed streets that spiraled out from the Piazza, taking their wealthy passengers to balls and routs at a snail's pace. The square below was packed with princesses and pages, knights and peasants, milkmaids and clowns, all of them boisterous and wild. Musicians played their flutes and accordions. Jugglers, acrobats, and magicians all performed their tricks.

"Oh, look!" she cried and pointed to three hot air balloons that floated high above the city. "I've always wanted to ride in a hot air balloon!"

"Why?" he asked and turned to look at her.

"Because it would be like a view of the world through God's eyes," she answered. "Don't you think so?"

"I've never thought much about it," he answered, still looking at her thoughtfully.

Margaret leaned over the rail, returning her gaze to the plaza below. "What a crowd! It won't be like this all week, surely!"

"During the day, no. Since the festivities continue until dawn, the days are rather quiet."

"Well, one has to sleep sometime, I suppose."

"Exactly. But you'll find this sort of revelry will go on every night until Tuesday evening at eight o'clock, when Lent begins."

She looked over at him. "You talk as if you've seen Carnival before."

"Several times, both in Rome and Venice. I'd have thought that since your father has a villa here, you would also have seen all this before."

She shook her head. "No. Papa only bought the villa a year ago. He came here on business, and when he found out there was a property for sale that had some excellent Roman ruins, he bought it, of course!" She glanced at the man beside her with a wry smile. "My father is a passionate amateur archaeologist."

"Yes, I know. He showed me his project the first morning I was there."

"Did he?" She laughed. "Bored you to death with his pottery and mosaics, no doubt."

"Actually, no. He expounded some theories on Roman technology I found quite interesting." Trevor turned toward Margaret, studying her with a sudden intensity that made her acutely aware of how close he was. "What interests you, Miss Van Alden?"

He asked the question in a voice so low that she barely heard it. She sensed a deeper meaning behind his words than simple curiosity. "Oh, I doubt any of my interests would appeal to you, my lord," she answered lightly and escaped into the library.

He followed her, closing the balcony doors to muffle the sounds of the tumultuous crowd outside. "No? I've heard that you have quite a taste for adventure. Is that so?"

Her steps faltered. The cats had been gossiping about her again, and she wondered what information Ashton had given them. Slowly, she turned to face him. "A man of your rank and position should not engage in gossip."

"Gossip is often quite useful to a man of my rank and position." He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of port. "But I assure you, I do not engage in gossip, I simply listen. So fear not, Margaret," he added over one shoulder as if he could read what was in her mind. "Your penchant for romantic midnight rendezvous and your taste in literature are secrets I will take to my grave."

"Must you bring up those things?" she cried. "I don't wish to discuss them."

"Perhaps not, but I find them interesting and very suggestive. In fact, they confirm what I have been told about you."

"Just what have you been told?" she demanded.

"That you are a very modern young woman who is fond of cigars, wagers, and daring escapades."

She knew the incident to which he referred. "Well, I'm sure it would please you to know that the cigars made me sick, I lost both of the wagers I placed, and my daring escapade into the gentlemen's card room ended with Lord
Edgeware
making sheep's eyes at me for weeks. It was a very disappointing experience altogether."

Trevor set down his glass and began to walk toward her. "Is it adventures you want, Margaret?" he asked softly. "If so, I can provide them, and I guarantee that you won't find them a disappointment."

She took several steps back as he approached, but the backs of her thighs hit the edge of a sofa table, bringing her to a halt. She froze, watching him warily, and felt as if she were being led into a trap. But she also felt an irresistible desire to know more. "What sort of adventures are you suggesting, my lord?"

"For a start, I was thinking that you might wish to explore the Carnival firsthand, instead of simply watching it from the balcony."

How could he know that was exactly what she wished? Wildly, she wondered if he could somehow read her mind. "Are you offering to be my guide?"

"Yes. Guide, bodyguard, and fellow adventurer. What do you say?"

Suspicious, she reminded herself again that he was probably just another fortune hunter. "What reason could you have for making me such an offer?"

"For the last ten years, I have lived a rather unorthodox life. I have spent my time in adventurous and often dangerous pursuits. Now that I have left that life behind and am back in what you might call civilized society, I find myself bored stiff. Balls and routs may be necessary social demands for an earl, but they can also be quite dull. You seem to share a similar view, and I think both of us would enjoy what I am proposing."

"I see." It sounded reasonable. Nonetheless, she was still wary. "If adventure and excitement are what you seek, wouldn't a man be a better companion for you?"

"Not at all. Men spend a great deal of time in the company of other men. We drink together, we play cards together, and we have all sorts of adventurous escapades. There would be nothing unique in that."

"What would we do?"

"Whatever you like," he promised. "I am at your service."

A quiver of excitement overpowered her suspicion for the moment. He could take her places she would never be able to go otherwise. He could show her things no one else ever could. Even if he were a fortune hunter stalking her, the bait he dangled to tempt her was irresistible. "What you're suggesting is highly improper," she said breathlessly.

"What of it? As long as we are careful, no one will know."

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "My father told me to stay away from you."

"Did he?"

An enigmatic smile curved Trevor's mouth, and he took another step toward her, closing the distance between them. He lifted his hands to cup her
face, and the excitement within her grew stronger as his thumbs swept back and forth across her cheeks in a slow caress. She could feel his forearms brush against the sides of her breasts, and her heart began to hammer at the intimate contact. She knew she should reject his offer, push him away, and make a haughty exit, but she could not seem to find the will to move or speak. Instead, she could only stare into his dark blue eyes, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his body so close to hers.

"I'm not surprised your father told you to stay away from me." He bent his head until his mouth was an inch from her own. "But we both know you don't always do as you are told."

"That's true," she admitted in a whisper. "I don't."

"Nor do I," he murmured. "It seems we both find forbidden fruit to be the sweetest." His mouth came down on hers, capturing her lips in a kiss that was totally unlike the kiss of a dream lover. There was none of the sweet gentleness she had longed for, none of the chivalry and romance she had imagined. This man was real, and his kiss was something raw and powerful that heated her blood and made her ache.