The Danger in Tempting an Earl Read online

  Accepting a dance with a gentleman who’d just offered, Katherine excused herself to Lucien and returned to the dance floor with her new partner. She hoped that she and Lucien could find a means by which to rebuild the closeness they’d once shared, though she expected that doing so would take time and effort on both their parts. One thing was for certain—­she could never allow him to know what she’d been through in his absence. Telling him would only give rise to unnecessary arguments filled with anger and pain—­emotions she had no desire to stir up again.

  Chapter 3

  Lucien watched from the sidelines while Katherine danced a quadrille. He was painfully aware of the age-old possessiveness that gripped him, especially when she was in the company of another man. He took a lengthy sip of his champagne. It had been both wonderful and torturous to dance with her, the mere touch of her hand heating him deep within, even though she wore gloves. Keeping his true feelings for her at bay had not been an easy task. Indeed, it had been not only frustrating but also harder than ever before—­a true effort in discipline. Or perhaps he’d just forgotten with time how easily she affected him. Perhaps it had always been this difficult. He was damned if he knew.

  Katherine laughed in response to something her partner said, and Lucien took another sip of his drink, fighting the urge to storm out onto the dance floor and claim her as his own. He had to be patient with her and progress slowly if he was to open her mind to the idea of sharing her future with him, for he knew all too well that she had never viewed him as anything more than a dear friend and brother-figure—­the boy who’d taught her how to skip stones across the lake and whistle with a blade of grass. Lucien winced. He had fond memories of those days gone by, but he’d also never given Katherine a reason to consider him romantically, perhaps because he’d thought she deserved better. As a second son, he had not been able to offer her the title that she, as the daughter of a baronet, ought to have. This feeling had only been amplified when he’d overheard their mothers talking one day over tea. They’d been discussing the coming Season when Dame Bethany had distinctly said, “It would be such a feather in Katherine’s cap if she could land a peer.”

  “I must confess that I’ve always liked the idea of her marrying one of my boys,” his own mother had said with careful deliberation.

  “Oh! Do you really suppose Lord Leveen might consider making her his viscountess? After all, she’s quite a bit younger than him.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of his brother, Lucien. He’s always seemed very fond of her, so I’m sure he’d treat her well.”

  “Er . . . yes, of course. I suppose that might be an option as well.” In the event that all else fails, Lucien had imagined her thinking. “Didn’t he just buy a commission in the army, though? I have to tell you, Lady Roxberry, that as much as I like Lucien, he cannot offer her nearly as much security as a man of Lord Crossby’s stature, for instance, can.”

  Lucien hadn’t stayed to hear the remainder of what had been said, but he recalled with sharp clarity how inadequate he’d felt. Even now, years later, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Things were different now, however. He’d witnessed the horrors of war and suffered the loss of his brother. Nothing could have opened his eyes more to the fleeting fragility of life. No, he would not waste another moment wondering about “what if’s.” Instead, he would do everything in his power to win Katherine, but in order for him to do so, she would have to develop an awareness of him . . . to realize that he was not some nonsexual being but a man capable of fulfilling her every desire.

  Christ. It would not be easy, and if he failed, he would in all likelihood lose the most important friendship he’d ever had. The risk was great, to be sure, and in the event that it all went pear-shaped, he would no longer be able to flee the country as he had before—­not with the responsibility of earl resting upon his shoulders. But his brother’s dying words still echoed through his mind. Make her yours. Lucien tightened his hold on his glass. No matter the heartache he’d suffered, he’d been offered a second chance, and he was determined more than ever before to risk everything if there was but a speck of hope that Katherine might one day return his affections.

  Gritting his teeth, he watched as Katherine’s dance partner leaned a bit closer to her—­too close—­and whispered something in her ear. She blushed and looked away.

  Damnation!

  “It’s good to see you again,” a deep voice spoke.

  Lucien blinked. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed anyone coming up beside him. He turned his head to find Lord Winston, the Duke of Kingsborough’s brother, at his left shoulder. “You too,” he said as he shook Winston’s hand. He’d always liked both him and his brother, even though Winston was quite a bit younger than Lucien.

  Winston plucked a champagne glass from the tray of a passing footman. He took a quick sip before saying, “I’d like to offer my condolences. Not only for your father but for your brother as well. They were good men, both of them, and they shall be dearly missed.”

  Lucien nodded. He knew that Winston and his siblings had recently suffered a similar blow when their father had taken ill and died a little over a year earlier. Lucien’s mother had written to Lucien, informing him of the news in the same straightforward manner with which she addressed all the events that ought to be known by a future heir to an earldom. He returned the sentiment to Winston, and they stood for a moment in companionable silence until Winston broke it by saying, “You must have seen some marvelous places while you were away.”

  Lucien nodded. “I can’t deny enjoying the opportunity to travel the Continent after the war. The countries differ dramatically from north to south and east to west in both culture and climate.”

  “I’ve been thinking of taking Lady Winston and the twins to see Paris and Rome.”

  “Ah, yes . . . I attended the premiere of Rossini’s opera, The Barber of Seville, in Rome back in February. It was indeed a spectacular affair.”

  “I’ll have to invite you for dinner one day so you can tell us more about it—­advise us on the best places to visit, where to stay and where to dine.”

  Lucien chuckled. “I’d be happy to.” Looking toward Katherine, who was still twirling around on the dance floor, he wondered if he’d ever have the opportunity to share these places with her.

  “It would be a lovely way for Lady Winston and me to celebrate our next anniversary.” Lord Winston paused for a moment before saying, “Speaking of which, I suppose you’re planning to get yourself settled soon. Will you be attending the marriage mart this coming Season?”

  “I must confess that the notion nauseates me,” Lucien said.

  Lord Winston nodded. “I daresay my brother shares your sentiment, though I suppose he will have to suffer it eventually if he is to do his duty—­as will you.”

  Lucien snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

  His friend eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Don’t tell me you already have someone in mind. Some foreign beauty hidden away at Roxberry Hall, perhaps?”

  Lucien smiled. “Nothing quite that exotic, I fear.”

  “Hmm . . . if you ask me, I always imagined you’d marry Lady Crossby—­before she married the viscount, that is.”

  Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that? Don’t tell me you’re planning to expand your business by publishing a newspaper and that you’re secretly looking for a good story.”

  Lord Winston laughed. “No. I’m quite content with what I already have—­no thoughts of expansion—­but I’ve always been of the opinion that you and Lady Crossby would make a very good match.”

  Lucien snorted again. “We are merely friends.”

  “And yet I couldn’t help but notice that you danced with her this evening . . . for the very first time.”

  “Are you always this astute?”

  “Actually, it was my wife who pointed it
out to me,” Lord Winston confessed.

  Lucien grinned. “Well, you may tell her ladyship that I thought it only proper to ask Lady Crossby to dance, since this is her first public appearance in so long. I merely meant to offer my support.”

  “How very good of you.”

  “And,” Lucien added, “you may remind your wife that I also danced with Lady Deerford this evening, and I can assure you that I have no designs on her.”

  “I should hope not,” Winston choked out.

  Lucien took another sip of his drink, adding, “And I have every intention of dancing with a few more ladies this evening. Perhaps I’ll even ask your wife, or do you suppose she’ll wonder if I’m trying to seduce her as well?”

  “I daresay I—­”

  “Ah! There you are, my dear,” a warm voice crooned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you since my arrival, but there are so many ­people and too many blasted feathers about, blocking my view.”

  Turning to his right, Lucien bowed toward the lady who had just spoken. “Grandmamma,” he said. “It is absolutely delightful to see you again.”

  “Oh tosh! You make it sound as if it’s been an age since we saw each other last, when it’s only been a few hours.” The old woman flicked her wrist and peered at Winston, who’d also greeted her with a bow. “My lord, I simply must compliment you on this evening’s celebration. The floral arrangements are absolutely breathtaking.”

  “Thank you, Lady Roxberry, but this is entirely my mother’s doing.”

  “Nevertheless, I am thoroughly impressed. This is not the first Kingsborough Ball I’ve attended, you know, but I daresay it promises to be the most memorable one.”

  “If for no other reason than the pumpkin carriage Mama acquisitioned for the occasion,” Winston murmured, then quickly changed the subject by saying, “I see you have no refreshment, my lady. May I have the honor of fetching you a glass of champagne?”

  Lady Roxberry’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Surely one of the footmen can save you the effort.”

  Leaning toward Lucien’s grandmother, Winston lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I fear that whatever they bring will not be to your liking.”

  This was met with a loud guffaw from her ladyship, and try as he might, Lucien found it impossible to stop himself from laughing as well, for what only few ­people knew was that Lady Roxberry favored brandy over anything else and that she oftentimes drank the stuff watered down and from a champagne flute so she might appear more sophisticated and ladylike to others.

  “In that case, I give you my sincerest thanks, Lord Winston,” Lady Roxberry said. “I shall look forward to your speedy return.”

  “I assume Mama is here somewhere as well,” Lucien said as soon as Winston left, “and that you did not leave her at home.”

  “Unfortunately I had no choice, my dear—­she claimed a megrim, and I could hardly accuse her of being dishonest. After all, it might very well be true . . . this time.”

  “I doubt it,” Lucien muttered with mixed feelings of annoyance and concern. If only his mother could get herself out of the rut she was in. He was certain that socializing would help, but how could it when she was determined to barricade herself in her bedroom?

  “Well, at least I managed to get here, though I did arrive a little later than I’d planned. I daresay you chose to take the best carriage when you set out.” Lucien’s grandmother heaved a great big sigh and looked around the room. “Now, where is Lady Crossby? I haven’t seen the dear girl since Crossby’s funeral. It would be nice to talk to her under more agreeable circumstances.”

  “You’ll find her just over there,” Lucien said with a nod toward the dance floor.

  “Have you danced with her yet?” Lady Roxberry asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Lady Roxberry nodded. “Good.” She didn’t elaborate, leaving Lucien with the uneasy feeling that he hadn’t quite understood her meaning. He hadn’t a chance to contemplate it much, since she spun toward him with startling speed, pinned him with an even stare and said, “You’re quite a handsome devil, you know, just like your father was and your grandpapa before him.”

  Lucien blinked, taken aback by the force of her tone. “Thank you for that compliment, biased as it is,” he murmured. He leaned toward her and smiled. “You’re quite lovely as well.”

  Her cheeks dimpled. “Oh tosh! You needn’t flatter an old bird like me, Roxberry. I’m well aware that I resemble a prune.” She looked toward the dance floor, and her lips immediately thinned. “I must say I don’t approve of the gentleman Lady Crossby is currently dancing with. You ought to step in and save her, Roxberry. Why, look at her, she’s positively scarlet! Whatever can that man have said to her?”

  Lucien had no desire to contemplate it.

  “Oh dear,” Lady Roxberry said, sounding perfectly distressed. “She looks so terribly unhappy, don’t you see?”

  Lucien did, and it made him want to grab Katherine’s dance partner by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shake. No doubt the man had just propositioned her.

  Thankfully, the dance soon drew to a close. An idea began to form inside Lucien’s head. He looked at Katherine as she curtsied to her partner. The man offered her his arm and began leading her away from the dance floor and toward the refreshment table. Lucien forced himself to remain where he was and quietly asked his grandmother, “Who do you suppose will be the most sought-after lady this coming Season?”

  The old woman eyed him suspiciously. “I believe the Earl of Rockly’s youngest is showing great promise. She had her debut last year but declined the attention of all the gentlemen vying for her hand. She is not only considered an incredible beauty—­a diamond of the first water, as they say—­but she is also reported to be delightfully charming.”

  Lucien craned his neck and looked around the room. He spotted Daniel Neville in one corner and made a mental note to greet him later. “I don’t suppose you know if she’s here this evening? Lord Rockly’s daughter, that is?”

  Lady Roxberry’s smile faded. “If you’re thinking of focusing your attention on her, I daresay you’re wasting your time and efforts.”

  Lucien nodded. “All the same, I do believe I’ll give it a go. What is her name, by the way? I don’t believe I recall it, though if I’m not entirely wrong, she’s one of five. Is that correct?”

  “Spot on,” Lady Roxberry said, craning her neck as she looked about. “Her name is Lady Julie, and I do believe she’s just over there with her mother and her sister, Lady Serena. Lady Julie is the one wearing a light pink gown and a silver mask with matching pink feathers on one side.”

  Setting his eyes on Lady Julie, Lucien wasn’t surprised by what his grandmother had told him, for she was the typical slim-figured, blonde-haired woman that most gentlemen found appealing. Her youth, however, was not something that Lucien cared for in the slightest. Nevertheless, he would speak to her in the hope of striking a bargain. “Perhaps you would be so good as to introduce me?”

  For a moment, Lady Roxberry looked as though she might dig in her heels. Instead, she gave a curt nod, placed her hand upon the arm Lucien offered her and allowed him to escort her across the room. A moment later, they were greeting the Rocklys and making small talk.

  “I must say I’m very pleased to find you in attendance this evening, Lord Roxberry,” Lady Rockly said. “It shows a certain . . . enthusiasm on your part to take your new role as earl seriously.”

  “Oh indeed, I take it most seriously,” Lucien said. He knew exactly where this conversation was heading and hoped to prevent the countess from making a more specific comment. “But for the present I am simply hoping to enjoy the next set with Lady Julie if she is available and would care to dance.”

  Lady Julie responded with a pleasant smile, but it was the look in her eyes that surprised Lucien, for it conveyed a bland disin
terest that he would have found insulting had he been pursuing her in earnest.

  “How kind of you to ask,” she said as she linked her arm with his and allowed him to steer her toward the dance floor.

  “You need not concern yourself with how to be rid of me,” Lucien muttered as he took Lady Julie by the hand at the start of a cotillion. “I have no interest in courting you.”

  Relief washed over her features, and she finally offered him a proper smile. “I hope you will forgive me, my lord. I mean no offense, but I invariably find myself exhausted by the end of these events, having danced until my feet begin to blister. I just wish I wasn’t quite so sought after.”

  Lucien sympathized with her. The marriage mart could be terribly exasperating. “Your mother just wants to make a brilliant match for you, that is all.”

  “And therein lies the problem, I think.” Lady Julie sighed. “She wants me married off to a peer, but I . . .” She snapped her mouth shut and looked away.

  “You have developed a tendre for an untitled gentleman? Is that it?”

  Her eyes grew large with worry. “I cannot believe that I allowed you to discover as much when I haven’t even confided in my sisters. No one knows—­not even him. Please, my lord, you mustn’t—­”

  “Not to worry,” he assured her in a low murmur as they wove their way between the other ­couples. “I promise you that nobody will discover your secret. However . . .” Tilting his head a little closer to hers, he whispered in her ear.

  A sharp intake of breath conveyed her surprise, and for a long moment Lucien wasn’t sure of how she would reply. Eventually she gave a little nod. “As long as you promise you’ll be a gentleman.”

  He smiled down at her. “You have my word on it.”

  Katherine had in all likelihood never been more confused than when she’d watched Lucien leave the ballroom with Lord Rockly’s daughter on his arm following their dance together. Surely Lady Julie was too young for a man of Lucien’s age and experience—­not that he was old or anything, or that she had any clue as to how much experience he had exactly, but it was a fair guess that it surpassed that of Lady Julie. Katherine felt the heat rise in her cheeks at the unbidden contemplation that had entered her mind. This was Lucien, for heaven’s sake. It was completely unseemly of her to be wondering about his prowess in regard to any woman.