Lady Beware Page 2

  “Sir?” Thea demanded.

  “Madam?” he responded, speaking at last, the one mocking word revealing a surprisingly mellow voice. And perhaps a foreign intonation?

  Thea almost laughed with relief. Of course. He must be a new member of one of the embassies. They sometimes arrived with poor English and strange manners. One of the Persian diplomats had constantly invited ladies to join his harem.

  “You are lost, sir?” Thea said, speaking slowly and clearly. “This is the private part of the house.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward her.

  Thea took a sharp step back. She almost felt she should scream, but that would be ridiculous, here in her father’s house.

  “Sir…,” she said again. Then she thrust out a gloved hand, palm forward. “Stop!”

  To her surprise, he did. Her panic simmered down, but all the same, she was completely at a loss. She’d hate to cause a diplomatic incident, but every instinct was crying, Danger!

  She gestured down the corridor. “May I guide you back to the ball, sir?”

  “I believe I can find my way unaided.”

  She froze, hand out.

  His English was perfect.

  “Then I will leave you to your wanderings,” she said and walked forward to pass him.

  He moved to block her way.

  Thea was caught within a foot of him, mouth suddenly paper dry. She could not possibly be in danger here, within call of family and servants.

  But she was not within call of anyone. Her family were all with the guests, and most of the servants were busy there, too. Even Harriet would already be hurrying to the laundry with the ruined gown. She was, she realized, shockingly isolated in the dimly lit silence, in the company of a dangerous man.

  She put eight hundred years of aristocratic power into an icy challenge. “Sir?”

  He inclined his head. “Madam. At your service. Depending entirely, of course, on the service you desire.”

  In some subtle way, he lingered on the word “desire,” and she remembered the way he’d been watching her.

  “All I require is that you let me pass.”

  “I did say it depended.”

  “You, sir, are a boor and a cad. Step out of my way.”

  “No.”

  She glared at him, wanting to force her way past, but physical strength beat out of him like heat. He could control her one-handed.

  “Then I will find another route,” she said and turned to walk away.

  He grabbed the back of her gown.

  Thea froze, shock, terror, and fury tightening her throat. Her voice came hoarsely. “If you knew who I was…”

  “Lady Theodosia Debenham, I assume.”

  He knew her? “Is this some ridiculous joke?” she demanded.

  “No.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Trying to talk to you.”

  Thea inhaled and exhaled twice. “Let go of me.”

  To her surprise, he did. She was very tempted to run, but he’d catch her easily, so she chose dignity and faced him, flipping open her fan and waving it, trying to make her heartbeats match that pace.

  Up close, she saw that indeed his features were regular and could be called handsome—if one didn’t mind cold harshness. But she also saw his flaws—a nose slightly crooked by violence, and a number of minor scars.

  This was a man who knew danger, and carried it with him.

  When faced with a dangerous animal, one should try not to show fear.

  “I do not know you, sir,” Thea said, “so how do you know who I am?”

  “You have a distinct look of your brother. We were at school together.”

  Her fear lessened a little.

  “You’re a Rogue?” she asked. She hadn’t met all of Dare’s friends from his Harrow school days—the group who called themselves the Company of Rogues—but this wasn’t the behavior she’d expect of them.

  “No.” Something in his flat denial made Thea twitch with alarm.

  “Whoever you are, you are too old to behave like a schoolboy. Let me pass.”

  His dark brows rose. “You often have such confrontations with schoolboys?”

  Thea snapped her fan shut. “Let me pass!”

  He didn’t move.

  “I will be missed. Someone will come to look for me and then you will get what you deserve.”

  “But I so rarely do.”

  Was that a smile? If so, it was twisted slightly by a short scar that cut white through the left corner of his mouth and another that pulled up his right brow. He was truly dangerous, and despite her bold words, it could be a long time before anyone came to this part of the house. Even a scream might not be heard.

  Don’t show fear.

  “Who are you, sir? And what do you want?”

  “My name is Horatio, and I want to talk to you.”

  “You are talking to me, but to no purpose that I can see.”

  “It’s making your bosom heave delightfully.”

  She glanced down. Cursing herself, she fixed her gaze back on him. “Speak!”

  “Or forever hold my peace? How suitable. I have a proposal for you.”

  Thea gaped. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

  Dark brows rose again. “Would you?”

  “Of course not! Enough of this. Let me pass, Mr. Horatio Nobody, or you will rue it bitterly.”

  “Or your brother will.”

  The words poured over Thea like icy water. “You said you were a friend of his.”

  “Everyone who went to school with Dare Debenham must adore him? But then, he must need friends now—crippled, broken, and addicted to opium.”

  “He’s not—”

  “And accused of cowardice.”

  “Which is a black lie.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you responsible for that story? If so, sir, you are the most despicable worm ever to crawl the earth!”

  “You often talk to worms?”

  Thea would have hit him with her fan, but it would shatter a work of art to absolutely no effect. A hammer might not dent him.

  Then he raised a hand. The gesture might even have been in apology.

  “I had nothing to do with the rumor,” he said, “but now that it exists your mother can host a ball a week and command the ton to attend every one of them without wiping it away. You need a credible witness to deny the story, or it will hang over your brother forever.”

  “You think we don’t know this?”

  “Sometimes it helps to state the obvious.”

  “And it pleases you to do so.” It was a wild shot, but it hit. “You wish Dare ill,” she said, frowning. “No one wishes Dare ill.”

  “Really? How pleasant it must be to be him. Any pleasure I take in his situation is solely because it will allow me to correct the error.”

  She distrusted every word he said. “Why?”

  “For a suitable reward.”

  “Ah, money.” She spat it, and his lip turned up wryly.

  “Lady Theodosia, people only sneer at money if they’ve never lacked it.”

  This was the most bizarre encounter of Thea’s life, but she was beginning to see her way, though she was strangely disappointed that this man proved to be so base.

  “So, sir, what do you have to offer? And what is your price?”

  He showed no sign of offense. “I can tell the world that I saw your brother’s horse shot from under him, in the midst of action, not in flight. In other words, honorably.”

  Her heart leapt, but she tried not to show it. “Would it be true?” she asked.

  “Would it matter?”

  A startling question, but it struck home. To save Dare from this burden, she’d lie herself if there were any point to it.

  “Then would you be believed? That is crucial.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I fought at Waterloo, and in about the right place.”

  A soldier. Of course he was. It didn’t make him any less
dangerous, but at least she understood. Her world had been full of officers all her adult life. They came in all types, but there was something that marked them, even the most lighthearted, as having looked into the eyes of death and delivered it. In this man, it was particularly potent. It sizzled down her nerves and didn’t make him safe, but understanding eased her anxiety. Her main comfort, however, came from knowing this was a matter of buying and selling. Her family was very rich.

  “So,” she asked, “your price?”

  “Marriage. Marry me and I will clear Dare’s name.”

  Chapter 3

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “You care so little for him?”

  Put like that, it seemed wrong to refuse, but the idea was preposterous. Then she realized why. “I care too much to place that burden on him—my life’s ease for his.”

  “If you pretended to adore me, he would never know.”

  Dryly she said, “I am not so good an actor.”

  “I’m so very appalling?” He was mocking her again.

  “You’re uncouth, a paltry bully, a foul liar, a greedy swine—”

  Something in his face dried her words. All he said was, “I deny the paltry.”

  “Can you deny mad?”

  “I can act the part of a sane man if I try.”

  “Then try now,” she snapped.

  “I thought I was both sane and clear,” he said. “Marriage for the truth.”

  “No. But my family would be generous in other ways.”

  “Perhaps there are no other ways.”

  He seemed relaxed now, even amiable, but he was looking at her like a predator who has dinner cornered.

  Thea waved her fan again, trying to match his manner. “Liars are two a penny, sir, so we will simply find another. One who will accept a sane recompense.”

  He laughed. “That’s probably the only time a Debenham has ever sought a bargain. I’m prime quality and worth my price, my lady.”

  “Nothing, sir, would be worth tying myself to you for life.”

  Thea again stepped to go around him. This time he gripped her arm. His bare hand was callused, hot and strong on the skin between her long glove and short sleeve.

  “I’ll settle for less than marriage,” he said.

  Thea turned to stare, her face now close to his. “What?”

  Was he proposing…? He would vindicate Dare for her body…? This was impossible!

  But her imagination tested the ground. A few hours, perhaps less. What did she know about these things? Set against Dare’s entire life.

  “What?” she asked again, demanding clarification now but fearing her legs would give way.

  “An engagement,” he said.

  Thea gasped. “What?”

  He turned her to face him. “If I clear Lord Darius’s name, you engage yourself to marry me. Publicly.” When she opened her mouth to object, he put a finger to her lips. “Don’t panic. You won’t have to go through with it, but the betrothal must hold for at least six weeks.”

  Thea jerked free of his touch, wanting to grip her head, to rock it back into order. “You’re mad!”

  “And you are overwhelmed. Think about it. A six-week engagement is not so great a trial compared to the prize it will purchase.”

  “And after six weeks?”

  “You send me off with a flea in my ear.”

  “You expect me to jilt you?”

  True humor lit his face this time and his smile carved lines into his lean cheeks. “That’s what horrifies you?”

  “Yes! A gentleman who jilts a lady is ruined, but a lady who jilts a gentleman is not a true lady—unless she has an excellent and known reason. Are you willing to provide an excellent and known reason why I should not marry you?”

  Laughter faded to wryness. “Almost inevitably. So? We are engaged?”

  “Of course not. If you truly did see Dare fall, it is your duty to say so without reward.”

  “But what if I’ll have to lie?”

  “Then your word is worth nothing.”

  “Lies, my lady, can be worth fortunes.” But he stepped back, clearing her way. “It seems our discussion is at an end.”

  Thea longed to take the escape he offered, but she found she couldn’t do it. Truth or lie, she believed that this man held the key to Dare’s future.

  A betrothal wouldn’t be so very appalling.

  Except…

  She still had no idea who he was.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “The man who can vindicate your brother.”

  “I mean your name.”

  “Horatio.”

  “Your full name, sir.”

  “Why quibble? I’m asking a small price for a large service and you are going to agree.”

  She wanted to deny that, but couldn’t.

  “You could be a nobody.”

  “I’m clearly somebody.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. You wouldn’t lower yourself to marry a tradesman.”

  “More to the point, no one would believe that I wanted to marry a tradesman. If you become Dare’s witness and then I promise to marry you, your complete unsuitability as husband for a duke’s daughter would ruin everything.”

  He looked at her in a new way. “I do admire a clearheaded woman. Don’t fine tailoring and expensive trimmings tell the story?”

  She looked him over, noting again the quality of his dark evening clothes and the emerald glinting in gold amid the snowy linen at his throat. “You could be a rich tradesman.”

  “You’d never stoop so low?”

  “I told you. It would look peculiar!” Clocks began to chime. “Heavens, how much time has passed? I must return to the ball. We will talk more of this tomorrow, sir.”

  “Now or never. Refuse and I leave this house immediately. You will never see me again.”

  She stared, appalled. “That’s not fair.”

  “Life rarely is.”

  “Tell me who you are.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me this, at least. Are you a gentleman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you honorable?”

  “Yes.”

  Thea knew that asking these questions was admission that she was going to give in, just as he’d so arrogantly predicted. He’d hooked her like a fish and was reeling her into his net, and she was as helpless as a thrashing trout.

  He was an honorable gentleman and a soldier, and handsome in a roughened way. Though his behavior here had been appalling, he clearly could do better if he wished. A betrothal might be believed. It might even be tolerable.

  But why? Why was he doing this?

  “What do you gain from this?” she asked.

  “Six weeks of your delightful company,” he replied.

  She simply looked at him.

  He met her eyes but stayed silent.

  She sought truth in his impassive features. Perhaps she also sought weakness, or last-minute mercy. She found neither. Instead, she recognized implacable will. He had faced her with a choice and would not relent. There was only one answer that would let her sleep at night.

  “If you clear my brother’s name,” she said, “I will betroth myself to you and it will last for six weeks.” When a flash of triumph lit his eyes, she added, “But that is all.”

  “Except for the sealing kiss.”

  Thea stepped back. “That wasn’t part of the bargain.”

  But when he grasped her gloved hand, she didn’t struggle. Nor when he kissed it, first fingers, then knuckles, his dark eyes holding hers. She could hardly feel his lips through silk, but still she shivered.

  When he took her shoulders it was as if he had entranced her, as a snake is supposed to be able to entrance its prey. Did such prey come to want to be captured, as she did?

  She shocked herself, but their confrontation, their battle of wills, had stirred a passion inside her that demanded some culmination, some fin
al crescendo. As he drew her close and lowered his lips to hers, she swayed. When he finally brushed his lips over hers, a sound escaped her throat.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, my lady?”

  “No.” But it came out as a breath.

  His lips pressed against hers again. Nothing more, and briefly, but heat sparked.

  “Lying will send you to hell,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop now and our bargain is sealed.”

  She should, but it hadn’t been enough.

  He drew her hard against his powerful body. A sense of raw strength shocked her, but that only made the madness worse. She stared up at him, mouth agape, feeling she should beg for mercy, and then he joined his mouth to hers, his tongue plunging deep.

  She jerked back, but she was captured now. She could no more escape than a creature caught in an eagle’s talons, but nor did she want to. Sensations were ricocheting through her—Danger! Danger!—Thrill! Thrill! She thrust fingers into his hair, wishing she were gloveless, and pressed her aching body against him.

  Could a kiss truly be endless? Her whole body ached now, pressed to him, burning desperately as she whirled in a passionate storm.

  He was the one to break free, having to drag himself out of her demanding hands. He separated slowly and Thea feared she’d topple without his support. She felt as weak and wavery as if she’d been in bed with a fever, and staggered back to lean against the wall, heart thundering, sucking in desperate breaths, staring at him.

  “Thus,” he said, and perhaps his breathing was unsteady, too, “we are most thoroughly betrothed.”

  Thea had to swallow to find her voice. “So now, tell me who you are.” It came out softly, through her weakness, but also because of a kind of tenderness, even yearning. Being this man’s promised wife would not be so bad. Being his wife, in fact, even….

  “Your betrothed,” he said. But then, eyes watchful on hers, he added, “Viscount Darien.”

  Titled?

  Why didn’t she know him, then?

  Then it fell into place.

  She pushed straight off the wall. “You claimed to be honorable!”

  “I did not lie.”

  “But you’re a Cave!”

  The Cave family—pronounced cahvay, like the Latin for “beware”—were notorious.

  She shook her head, lost in panic. “I can’t betroth myself to a Cave!”