Wicked Nights With a Proper Lady (3 page)

It hadn’t been hard for him to forget her after he had ruined her for any other man. It was a small blessing she’d been spared the humiliation from society for what she’d done. She’d grown into a spinster of sorts, a steady companion for elderly family members, and now a chaperone to her young cousin. No one knew about Genny’s past—with
him
.

She’d had other suitors: two to be precise. But she could not bring herself to settle with either of them when her heart had belonged to Barrington. He could not possibly have returned the sentiment; if he had he wouldn’t have left her.

While keeping a close eye on Charlotte, Genny conversed about the weather with Ariel’s mother, Lady Hargrove.

The other woman frowned as she watched the Dowager Countess Fallon’s every move. “It’s unfathomable that the duchess would allow
that
woman in here. The nerve she has to present herself in society with her husband’s funeral held only this morning proves what incredibly poor taste she has.”

“It is quite scandalous.” Genny nodded her head in agreement, though she could care less what her current companion nattered on about. Genny didn’t miss the tongue wagging or speculation that ran rampant behind everyone’s backs.

“Simply impossible to believe Her Grace would invite the dowager. I heard the earl simply stopped breathing at the end. I’m sure he wanted nothing more than to be rid of that woman.”

Genny didn’t want to know how Lady Hargrove had come by that information.

From that point forward she only paid half a mind to what the woman said. Genny was completely absorbed by Barrington’s presence. She couldn’t help that her eyes strayed toward him like a compass pulled by the magnetic poles.

Had she known all those years ago that he’d leave her after she’d so fully given herself to him, she couldn’t say for sure if she would have refused his attentions, even those of a carnal nature. He was a very hard man to resist and utterly charming when he wanted to be.

Had she never met him, she would never have known the touch of a man. Then again, she wouldn’t have been ruined for all others when she constantly craved the touch from only that particular man. It had always been
him
in her thoughts. Perhaps that was her own foolishness. She couldn’t fully blame him for her current marriageless state; she’d been an active participant in their affair. He had never needed to persuade her of anything, she’d leaped into the pond with both feet forward, hoping not to hit the bottom too hard. She had fallen in love with him in the two weeks they’d spent together, but she had never been able to utter that truth to him in fear of being rejected. And then he had left and it was too late.

Oh, dear Lord.

All Leo had to do was step into a room for her to become a slavering mess of emotion. Tamping down any flicker of desire for him that lingered, she studied him with a critical eye, as the mothers in the room might, and were very likely doing at this moment.

As a potential husband he had many an attribute. He was as handsome as the devil, as rich as Croesus since the majority of his money came from import. The Caribbean, she was sure. He owned a decent estate in Hertfordshire and a large townhouse in the city. And he was in possession of a title built on the bluest of blood.

If a mother was willing to overlook his greatest flaws—his reputation as a player and his dabbling in trade—he might be considered a great candidate for marriage.

Leo’s gaze went around the room, skimming over the guests with a disinterested mien. He didn’t so much as slow his perusal as his gaze passed over the spot she stood in. Had she expected any other reaction from him?

If she ever thought she could settle down a man like Barrington again, she’d take a step back, pinch herself to the point of bruising, and force herself to walk away without so much as a glance back.

A rake of the first order was what he was. He’d taken her innocence without any qualms. Technically, she’d thrown it at him, but that was beside the point.

With more difficulty than it should have taken, she tore her gaze away from the temptation that man offered and returned her attention to reality.

Charlotte had two new gentlemen at her side. One filled in his name on her dance card while the other made her laugh in her flirtatious, raucous way. Genny knew the young men vying for her cousin’s undivided attention. Both were from decent families and both were of an age with Charlotte. The poor things had no way of knowing she was already spoken for.

Genny shouldn’t begrudge the girl any fun over the next couple of months. So long as Charlotte remained a young woman of purity then Genny’s task would be all but accomplished.

Next year, Genny would either become a companion to her cousin after her nuptials—possibly help Charlotte rear her children should she bear them for Mr. Warren—or she would remain a companion to the girl’s grandmother.

She hated this uncertainty in her life, never knowing what her future held, or where it would take her. However, she always landed on top, so it wasn’t worth fretting over right now.

*   *   *

Leo thought Jez was nervous to be at the ball with her husband not yet cold in his grave. She’d laughed too gaily when the hostess had met them at the entry. It was also apparent in the way she clasped his arm tighter when they entered the room. Everyone’s attention had swung like a restless pendulum in their direction. Did Jez harbor regrets for going out in society so soon?

He held her close, knowing she’d imbibed a little too freely of his rum earlier this afternoon in a poor attempt to drown her sorrows.

After kissing the ring on the duchess’s hand, he surveyed the room full of debutantes, wondering who the poor chit set to marry the next Fallon was. Before he could choose for himself whom to weed from the herd of unsuspecting young ladies, Jez released his arm, drawing his gaze away from the nervous flock.

“I’m of a mind to try my odds at cards. I’m feeling a spot of luck because of how the day has unfolded in my favor.”

“Tell me about the young lady we are looking for before you leave,” Leo said.

“Lady Charlotte Lindsey.” With a slight tilt of her chin in the general direction of the punch table, Jez fingered the gold pendant that dangled above her décolletage. “The brunette with the green dress, cut low off her shoulders, and the emerald pendant.”

A trickle of unease slid down his spine. “Warren plans to marry the Ponsley girl?”

“There was that card game a few weeks back,” Jez reminded him.

She’d been sitting across from him, and he’d lamented on his dealings in the House of Lords. “The very card game where I expressed a certain amount of interest in crushing the opposition on the new sugar imports act?”

Ponsley’s parliamentary act would destroy Leo’s plantations in the West Indies, increasing his taxes and making it impossible for him to continue profiting on his imports. It was well known that Ponsley had plantations in South America and used slaves to harvest his sugar products, yet the conservative bastard thought to levy a tax in the West Indies where slavery had finally been abolished.

“That’s the one. I knew you’d remember,” she responded.

“Do you honestly think we’ll be able to charm and win the chit over when her father despises me?”

Leo also doubted that courting Ponsley’s daughter would sway votes to his favor.

“I say.” Tristan put his arm around his shoulder and joined their conversation. “I’ll bet you that fine filly you brought back from the Americas last month that I break her in first.”

Before Leo could respond, Tristan headed in the direction of the lady in question. Leo held back, taking Jez’s elbow before she could retreat to the card room.

He still wasn’t sure what to think of this new piece to the puzzle.

“Just think what she’d have to look forward to if she married a man like Warren.” Jez subtly smoothed the back of her hand down her faintly bruised cheek. “This would make everything immensely better for us both.”

“Understood.”

“And also think of it as killing two birds with one stone, dearest.”

“Can Ponsley be brought to heel with his familial connections?”

“In all likelihood, yes. He indulges her every whim.”

That
could
well work in Leo’s favor. But more importantly, this would ensure the girl’s safety from Warren. “It’s difficult to deny you anything, Jez.”

“I know.” She batted her lashes. “It’s part of my charm.”

Releasing Jez’s elbow, he made his way through the crush of guests and toward the chit. Tristan was already at Lady Charlotte’s side, whisking her away from the admiring beaux who surrounded her. The young lady laughed gaily as Tristan spun her onto the dance floor. His friend was already halfway to seducing her, and she would be deflowered before summer came. Not that Tristan intended to ruin the girl; but that was what happened when a lady found herself charmed by him.

Some moral warning bells went off within Leo. Decisions on the best course of action hampered his forward momentum, until he recalled his stepmother and the life she’d endured before marrying his father. Warren would not treat this young lady like the previous Fallon had treated Jez. Leo simply wouldn’t allow that.

Tristan twirled Lady Charlotte into the next dance—a country gigue. The girl was more than pretty, and it surprised Leo that she didn’t resemble the staunch Ponsley with his bulbous nose, beady eyes, and balding head. He was thankful that she apparently took after her mother in looks.

Tight ringlets fell on either side of her temples, framing her heart-shaped face and narrow nose becomingly. Her eyes were round and bright, twinkling like stars among the dancers. Her dress was of the latest fashion and swept off her shoulders front and back. A large bow tied at the base of her spine enticed a man to let his hands wander lower than was polite.

As Tristan brought the beauty toward him, Leo stepped forward, not wanting anyone else to steal Lady Charlotte’s next dance. Judging by the wary looks he received from her admiring beaux, they wouldn’t dare interfere.

A petite woman, more than a head shorter than him, stepped right in front of him. He saw nothing but the top of her brown head, a low bun knotted at the base of her neck, the high collar of a drab navy blue dress with a small lace frill that wrapped around to the front. She smelled of lavender, an odd thing to observe but familiar.

That was when she turned only a hairbreadth away from him, and her gaze caught his.

Genny.

Chapter 3

With Lord C
^___
one never knows if the young ladies of decent reputation should run in fear of their virtue and good name … or not. He doesn’t distinguish between the diamonds and the ugly ducklings who occupy the outskirts of any occasion when offering his
gallantry
. Shouldn’t the latter be entitled to enjoy compliments given freely from a lord of marriageable age?

The Mayfair Chronicles, May 26, 1846

This was a terrible plan.

She’d wanted to avoid Leo and forget she’d ever seen him again, but she’d been forced to do otherwise the moment that rapscallion Marquess of Castleigh had swept Charlotte onto the dance floor before she could intervene.

Confronting Barrington was a very, very terrible idea.

Whispers all around her had started the moment the marquess had spun her cousin into the last set. Thank goodness it was a simple gigue and not a more intimate dance. Every nerve in her body had been put on edge, as she waited—no, counted—the seconds till the dance concluded.

She saw perfectly well what the man was doing. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to write his name on Charlotte’s dance card. Then Barrington had stepped toward Charlotte as the marquess walked off the dance floor.

All Genny wanted to know was why they had aimed their sights on Charlotte. How unfair to be not only dealing with a young woman who had the sudden whims of a girl bent on ruin but also to have Charlotte singled out in a room full of other beautiful women—plenty of whom probably wanted to be courted by one of these pleasure seekers.

At least the marquess had only kept her cousin on the dance floor for one dance—and had done nothing that would have the gossips’ tongues wagging … yet.

Genny looked up at the
other
man she had every intention of stopping from swooping in on her unsuspecting charge. She saw what they were doing—weeding Charlotte out from the flock so they could do their damage.

She was glad to put a damper on his evening. Her cousin would
not
become one of his playthings.

He tugged at the tight knot of his cravat as he attempted to step around her. She followed as if they were in the midst of their own dance. Genny didn’t dare take a glance around the room. Not on her life would she give her enemy her back or an opportunity to slip from her grasp to pursue Charlotte. She would not fail in her duty as chaperone. Charlotte would marry the man her father chose, and that was the end of it.

“A bloody bulldog in my path,” he muttered.

“You’ll stay away from that particular young lady, Barrington.” Genny kept her voice just above a whisper.

His eyes narrowed as he focused on her. Only her.

Ha! She had his full attention now.

One down, another degenerate to go.

She really did have her work cut out for her this evening. She would bet a week’s worth of pin money that Charlotte had probably encouraged the marquess’s flirtation.

When Genny was done deterring Leo from his current conquest, she’d make sure the marquess also understood that his behavior was intolerable and unacceptable. She’d not stand idly by while her cousin fell to ruin.

Barrington remained silent as he studied her. Did he recognize her? Or had their time together all those years ago been so forgettable? No use lamenting a past long forgotten. Well, not completely forgotten to her. At least he wasn’t trying to dodge around her anymore. She had quite effectively stopped the charging bull from following his determined path.