To Sin With A Scoundrel (27 page)

Ingalls pulled a face. “You mean to say she’s about to make a momentous discovery?”

Lucas nodded. “If her hunch is correct, it may be a miracle drug that will save countless lives among our soldiers. Just think—such
a medicine would give our military a powerful new weapon.” He saw no reason not to embellish the story.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Above all else, men were impressed by money. “And the truth is, the government is willing to pay her a bloody fortune for
the patent.”

Farnam let out a low whistle. “Now I understand your interest in the wid—er, that is, the lady.”

“Not that you need to marry money,” added Ingalls.

“No,” agreed Lucas. “I don’t.”

Greeley fixed him with a strange stare. The bottle rose again, this time in a more serious salute. “Er, well, good luck to
the lady. Especially as she is working for God and country.”

Lucas allowed a grim smile. The Sheffield family would soon discover that two could play the game of rumor and innuendo. Oh,
his friends would keep their word, but there would be plenty of winks and hints that the Wicked Widow was not so evil after
all. Word would spread through the drawing rooms of Mayfair, countering the latest sordid lies being spread about Ciara.

“Have any of you seen Jack?” he asked, recalling his original mission.

“In the card room,” answered Ingalls. “Getting foxed.”

“Good.” Lucas straightened and flexed a fist. “Then he won’t feel much pain when I punch out his deadlights.”

“Oh, this should be entertaining,” sniggered Greeley. “Maybe Mad, Bad Had-ley is not beyond redemption, after all.”

Farnam signaled the others to follow along.

As the four men strolled from the room, not one of them noticed Arthur Battersham sit up on the sofa and slink away through
the side portal.

C
hin up.
Ciara reminded herself to smile and appear carefree as Lucas guided her through the figures of the gavotte. By Alessandra’s
decree, she had ordered a few new gowns, all of which were a shade bolder in cut and color than her usual style. The one she
was wearing tonight was her friend’s favorite—a smoky sapphire blue with a neckline that revealed a goodly amount of cleavage.

Ciara wasn’t so sure of the changes…

But the strategy seemed to be working. Her dance card had only a few blank slots, and she had just received an invitation
to an afternoon poetry reading from the Duchess of Devinhill.

“You have changed your
modiste,
” remarked Lucas from out of the blue.

“You don’t approve?” she asked hesitantly, a little embarrassed that she cared what he thought.

“On the contrary.” His eyes lingered on her bosom.

“Jewel tones accentuate every facet of your fair coloring.”

“A very pretty speech,” she said dryly.

“A very pretty partner.”

A very pretty dilemma.
She should not be finding his company so pleasurable. And yet…

Despite knowing that his flirtations meant nothing, Ciara felt a small thrill steal through her.
Don’t be blinded by folly,
she chided herself. The glitter in his gaze was fool’s gold, a mere wink of light from the gilded candelabras.

Still, it was nice to be admired, even if the sentiment was not serious.

As the dance came to an end, Lucas suggested that they walk out to the terrace. Several other couples were admiring the grouping
of Greek marbles in the sculpture garden, while a quartet of men were gathered by the stairs, smoking and discussing the latest
war news from Russia.

“Let’s get away from the crowd for a moment, shall we?” After taking up two glasses of champagne, he slowly led the way to
the far end of the railing.

The night breeze ruffled the garden greenery, and the shadowed whisper of the leaves was redolent with roses and the lush
perfumes wafting out from the ballroom. From the darkened walkways came the sound of muted laughter and the crunch of gravel
underfoot. Torches swayed in time to the music, smoke and flame flickering in the moonlight.

Ciara inhaled deeply, savoring the coolness on her cheeks.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

Was it that obvious?

“Yes,” she admitted. “Though I should not be taking pleasure in such frivolous entertainment.”

Lucas cocked his head. “Why not?”

“How can you ask that?” She couldn’t hold back a sigh. “There are so many daunting problems to confront, so many serious matters
that I must resolve.”

“All the more reason to relax and allow yourself an occasional respite from worry, Ciara.”

The sound of her name, soft as the stroking of a feather, stirred a pebbling of gooseflesh on her bare arms. “Really, sir,”
she reminded him. “You must not be so personal in public.”

“Because it implies an intimacy between us?”

“Y-yes.” The tiny bubbles prickled her tongue as she took a sip of wine.

“But you can’t deny that a certain closeness has formed between us, sweetheart.”

Ciara felt a jolt of heat as his thigh brushed against hers. “The connection is… purely a practical one, Lord Hadley.”

“Speak for yourself, Ciara,” he replied. “And my name is Lucas, in case you have forgotten.”

She swallowed in confusion.

“No one can hear us here, so feel free to use it.”

“Th-that wouldn’t be proper.”

“Mmmm.” His fingertips touched the nape of her neck. “Then I imagine you don’t think I ought to be doing this.” He started
to toy with a tendril of hair.

She tried to edge away, but the wall of Portland stone was against her back.

His laugh was low and lush. “Caught between a rake and rock, my dear?”

Ciara sucked in her breath, only to find the musky scent of his maleness sent a shiver down her spine.

“No one can see us, sweetheart. It’s dark, and the flower urn is blocking the view.”

“You must stop this, sir,” she whispered, trying not to allow his smile to curl her toes.
Toes.
Oh, Lud, she must not think about his intimate kisses in the carriage.

Lucas ignored her warning. “You know, instead of returning to the ballroom for our waltz, I would much rather dance you into
my bed.” His breath tickled her ear. “The first thing I would do is unfasten those pretty little pearl buttons on your bodice…”
He brushed a fingertip lightly over her breasts. “Then I would ease the silk down to the swell of your hips…”

Her flesh began to prickle.

“And let it fall to the floor, leaving you clad in only your corset and shift.” A glint of moonlight sparked in his eyes.
“But not for long.”

Ciara was shocked, yet fascinated. Suddenly it was not merely her toes that were responding to his murmurs. She felt her body
clench and react in the strangest way. “Wh—what are you doing, sir?” she demanded.

“Giving you a lesson in lovemaking,” he replied in a silky-soft voice. “It’s called foreplay, my dear. Suggestion can be very
stimulating.”

“Lord Hadley—”

He kept talking. “Have you any idea how very desirable you look tonight? I would love to see you naked, your glorious body
bathed in shimmering starlight. I would place my palms on the inside of your thighs and gently—ever so gently—coax your legs
apart. Imagine your skin sliding over a petal-soft bedsheet, and my caress growing…

intimate.”

She squirmed. No wonder the man had seduced half the ladies in London. That silvery tongue…

“Remember our little discussion on the Grotto of Venus?” His smile stretched wider. “Have you thought about what it would
feel like to be kissed there?”

Mesmerized by his mouth, Ciara found it impossible to utter a further protest. Its shape was supremely sensual.
Sinuous. Sinful.

Oh, Lord, she wanted his lips on her, doing all the delicious things he was describing.

Was that wicked?

He turned abruptly. “But you are right, we had better go back in.”

Strangely enough, disappointment coursed through her. She felt overwhelmed by a fierce longing, though, of course, even so
much as a fleeting kiss was out of the question.
Too risky.
Their behavior in public must be above reproach.

But would he renew his lascivious advances in the privacy of the carriage ride home? Ciara wasn’t sure whether to be eager
or afraid.

Lucas escorted her back to the ballroom, exchanging polite small talk with acquaintances along the way. His manners were perfectly
proper, and for one moment she wondered whether she had merely imagined his naughty whispers.

No, never in her wildest dreams could she have made up such words, such longings.

After handing her off to the next name on her dance card, Lucas seemed to ignore her. Without so much as a backward look,
he moved along the perimeter of the dance floor, flirting shamelessly with every lady he encountered.

Ciara maintained an outward show of indifference, but she couldn’t help watching him out of the corner of her eye. She found
herself feeling strangely sorry that she knew so little about wielding her womanly wiles. How was it that some women seemed
to have an intuitive understanding of the art of attracting a man—the subtle play of a laugh, a look, a gesture?

Was she jealous?
The thought took her aback.

How absurd. She was
not
jealous of Hadley. Indeed, she ought to be annoyed that he had been playing such wanton games with her. He was incorrigible.

Incapable of acting responsibly.

The last little interlude had been a graphic illustration of his faults.

“Er, the set seems to be forming, Lady Sheffield. Shall we dance?” Ciara’s current partner, a colonel serving with General
Burrand’s staff, offered his arm with a formal bow.

Chin up.
Alessandra’s exhortation echoed once again in her ears. Determined to appear unmoved by the earl’s desertion, Ciara made
a concerted effort to engage the colonel in an animated conversation.

“What an impressive array of medals, sir. You must explain to me what they all mean,” she said archly, repeating a line she
had overheard a lady use earlier in the evening.

Obviously flattered by her interest, the colonel flashed a smile that was nearly as bright as the bits of gleaming brass.

As he launched into a detailed explanation, Ciara realized with a start that this was easier than she had ever thought possible.
It was not hard to figure out that people liked to talk about themselves.

Growing more confident with every step, she relaxed and began to enjoy the dance. Why, a little flirting was actually fun.
The colonel, an acquaintance of Lord Haddan, turned out to be a pleasant fellow who possessed a dry wit and engaging manner.
And a gaze that was frankly admiring. She was almost sorry when the music ended.

“Thank you for a delightful dance, Lady Sheffield.” He brushed a kiss to her glove. “I look forward to the pleasure of partnering
you again.”

“I would welcome it, sir,” she replied truthfully.

“Then allow me to pencil my name in for later.” He angled a peek at her dance card. “I had better move fast, for it appears
you have only a few spots left for the rest of the evening.”

The statement took her by surprise. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the scribbles, but it seemed that the colonel
was right. If Lucas didn’t hurry…

She stole a surreptitious glance around the room.

And quickly discovered she need not have bothered. He was still busy flirting with a trio of lovely ladies.

Lifting her head with what she hoped was regal indifference, Ciara moved on to her next partner.

Wretch,
she muttered to herself as she spun by him.

The rest of the ball passed by in a blur, and by the end of the evening she had caught only one other glance of him—waltzing
with a young Yorkshire heiress who seemed to be hanging on his every word.

“What a pleasant time,” remarked Lucas as he helped her on with her wrap. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Quite,” she replied a little coolly.

He didn’t appear to notice.

The carriage ride home was equally annoying. Lucas was polite but distant, both in body and spirit. The space between them
seemed to be a yawning chasm, growing deeper with every turn of the wheel.

Rake’s rules.
Whatever his game, she was in the dark as to how it was played. She knew she ought to ignore him, but try as she might, Ciara
found that her limbs were taut and her mood unaccountably irritated as the horses came to a halt in Pont Street.

Why?
She couldn’t explain it, save to say that the earl had somehow gotten under her skin with his hot and cold teasings. In spite
of herself, a shiver coursed through her limbs as she thought over his suggestive words on the terrace.

“You had better hurry inside, before you catch a chill.” Lucas made no move to help her descend from the carriage. Nor did
he offer his arm for the short walk up the front steps of her townhouse. “Sleep well,” he murmured with a bow. “I shall see
you tomorrow for our scheduled lesson.”

“Be prepared for a quiz on the first chapter of the textbook,” she warned. “Despite all the recent distractions, I don’t mean
to let you off lightly from our wager.”

“I confess, I am curious to see how I shall perform on the test.”

“So am I, Lord Hadley.” Ciara restrained the urge to bang the door shut in his face. “So am I.”