A Dangerous Man (19 page)

What mischief was this? Leah glared at Rachel, then
looked at Richard. His lips were compressed into such a tight
line, they appeared white in his sun-darkened face.

She touched his hand, then waited for him to meet her gaze
before she said, "His name is Alexander Prescott, and I have
not seen him. He has called here once, the morning after our
wedding. He is a dear, childhood friend. A friend I have no
wish to deny."

To her relief, he nodded, but his tense posture remained.

"My aunt has been my only caller," she continued. "But
she has returned to Lancashire. It seems one of our neighbors
has pestered her for years to marry him. Now that I am
grown, she has finally accepted his suit. They have plans to
travel on the continent, once they are wed"

Her aunt's departure from Town had been a sudden and
devastating loss for Leah, leaving her alone in a city in which
she had no true friends. But she was so pleased that Emma
had found her own happiness, she could not selfishly mourn
the loss of her company. Besides, she had both Alison and the
children at the foundling home on whom she could lavish her
affection.

Richard wrapped her hand in his. "Perhaps they could pay
us an extended visit when we retire from the city."

"Honestly, Richard, what can you be thinking?" Rachel
sneered. "Next you will invite the miller to move in."

"If you disapprove," he said, his voice curt, his features
tight. "You are more than welcome to remain in Town"

"And breathe all that filthy sea-coal smoke? I think not.
Alison would wither and die."

"Alison will go with me"

"And I will go with Alison. Our cozy little family."

"Tell me of your trip to Yorkshire," Leah said, anxious to lighten the tension that was rapidly building in the room.
"What was the emergency?"

"A grease fire started in the kitchens, then spread to stables
and house-"

"There is nothing left?" Rachel shrieked, her tea cup clanging against the saucer as she plopped it down. "What of the
furnishings? There was a fortune just in rugs in that house!"

Richard speared a herring. "Everything was lost, but thankfully, no lives."

"You mean," Rachel jeered. "That the servants were so
cowardly, they didn't even try to save the furnishings."

Leah gasped. "You cannot possibly be suggesting they
should have risked their lives to save a few trinkets?"

"Trinkets? Rubenses and Rembrandts are not trinkets-"

"That is enough," Richard said. "Let us be thankful there
wasn't a loss of life, and that is the end of it."

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the sound
of forks scraping plates until the butler appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Peterfield has arrived, Your Grace. I have shown
him to the library, as you requested"

"Thank you, Harris." Richard slid back his chair. He bowed
to Leah. "If you will excuse me, I must meet with my man
of affairs."

"Wait!" Rachel shouted before he could walk away. "The
Cunningham ball is tonight. You must attend"

"I do not want to go," Leah said, a sudden heaviness in her
chest. One foray amongst the ton was enough to convince her
she never wanted to endure that particular torture again.

"If you do not attend functions to which she has been invited," Rachel persisted, "people will assume you are ashamed
of her, or worse, given the speed with which you were wed.
Not to mention your sudden disappearance from Town so
shortly after the wedding. Knowing the gossipmongers as
you do, I am certain you can well imagine what the rumors
might be"

Richard's black eyes grew darker still. The muscles in his
jaw clenched. "You are right of course. We shall attend"

"But, Richard "

"No, do not protest, Leah. In this, Rachel is right. We shall
attend the Cunningham rout tonight." He dropped a quick
kiss on her forehead. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have important matters of business to which I must attend."

Rachel smiled at Leah over her teacup. "I do hope you have
something suitable to wear."

"Look at him," Rachel whispered to Margaret, who leaned
in close to her side. "He is making a fool of himself over that
girl."

She snapped open her fan. The stench of sweat from too
many bodies crowded together in the Cunningham ballroom
was enough to turn her stomach, but she swallowed back her
revulsion as she watched Richard and Leah through the
crowd.

Leah's hand rested on Richard's arm as they strolled around
the room, their movements slowed by all the men vying to
toady up to Richard. Whenever his attention was diverted, the
women, Rachel noted with malicious glee, gave Leah the cut
direct, or simply stared through her as if she wasn't present.

Rachel almost felt pity for the girl. She could not imagine
how one would endure the social stigma of the cut direct. The
dreadful thought was enough to send an indelicate, unladylike
shudder across her skin.

The chit looked pretty enough, a sun-kissed glow on her
cheeks that made Rachel want to scratch her fingernails across
the flawless skin. It was amazing Leah appeared so wellrested, considering she'd not slept much the night before.

Rachel knew this because she'd stood in the chit's dressing room and listened to the sounds of carnal relations emanating
through the bedchamber door. Not that she had meant to spy.

Truly, the last thing she had wanted to see, or rather to hear,
was the man she loved disporting himself between another
woman's thighs. She'd only wanted to offer Leah help in
choosing the right ensemble to wear this evening. The unexpected sounds of Richard's throaty groans mingling with
Leah's breathless cries had left Rachel stunned, her feet
frozen to the floor.

It was enough to make Rachel want to wreak physical violence upon her enemy, to take a whip to her hide, anything to
cause her the same pain Rachel now endured. A slight sensation of panic made her blood pump faster, her heart beat erratically.

But she smiled, her outward appearance a complete contrast to her inner turmoil.

Unlike Leah, whose every emotion showed on her face.

The foolish twit had so much to learn.

Margaret frowned as she pushed a strand of auburn hair off
her brow. "I do not know. Do you think he truly cares for her?"

"Do not be absurd," Rachel said. "His wick is pointing up
and he is merely following, as any randy buck would."

Still, Richard seemed fascinated by the girl, too fascinated
for Rachel to brush it off as mere lust.

Perhaps it was better this way. Once they drove Leah into
the arms of another man, Richard would be devastated, and
Rachel would move in to comfort him.

Margaret's startled laugh brought the attention of several
couples toward them. Their widened eyes showed their surprise at Margaret and Rachel's tete-a-tete.

"Do try to control yourself," Rachel said through tightly
gritted teeth, which kept her smile firmly in place. "We do not
want to arouse St. Austin's suspicions. We may never get another chance. Do you know what to do?"

Margaret gave a surreptitious tug on her gown to pull her
outrageous decolletage even lower. It was a wonder her nipples
did not show above the Brussels lace. "That boy was so devastated by her marriage, he was quite the easiest conquest I have
ever made. You may rest assured, if you get Richard's wife onto
the terrace at the right moment, I will arrange everything else."

Rachel hid her grin behind her fan as she watched Margaret's manipulations with avid eyes. It was almost too easy.

Richard forced himself to smile as he made conversation
with the supplicants crowding around him, each vying for his
financial support or his political backing. As long as they
welcomed Leah into their circle, he would endure their flattery and the come-hither glances cast his way by their debauched wives.

Leah's hand tightened on his arm. He sent her a reassuring
smile, which she returned with a shaky curl of her lips.

She was so lovely, she made his hands ache and his heart
swell. The flurry of golden curls framing her face brought out
the amber flecks in her vivid green eyes. Her luscious eyes
were wide, not with fright, but with an apprehensive wariness
of her surroundings. He dropped his gaze to the neckline of
her dress, a green gossamer silk which hid more than it revealed, and still, unbridled lust tightened his groin, made his
blood grow hot and his neck sweat. He wanted to drag her
into his arms. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair
and over her hips.

He wanted to smash his fist into the face of each and every
dandy drooling over her breasts.

The intensity of his feelings shuddered through him.

Reliving the betrayals of his youth had slashed open old
wounds, revived old desires he'd thought long buried.

At the time Rachel had married his brother, the shock that burned through Richard had seemed unbearable, but as that
pain dissolved into supreme indifference, he had realized he
had never really loved her at all. It was the youthful dream she
had spun for him that he had loved.

Dreams of a family. Dreams of a home of his own.

His parents hadn't cared a whit about anyone but Eric, heir
to the kingdom of St. Austin. While his parents had floated
through society and traveled the world on their various adventures, it was Richard who had cared for Geoffrey.

He had comforted him when he was ill, soothed him when
he was frightened, and laughed with him when he was happy.

But who had been there for him? He'd been just a boy himself. Bitterly, he thought how unfair it was to have more than
one child if there wasn't enough love to spare.

He glanced at Leah. She was watching him with a trembling half-smile on her lips. He could well-imagine the darkness that clouded his features as he'd dragged himself yet
again through the rubble of his past. He flashed her a reassuring grin.

Her answering smile lit her face with such joy, he wanted
to pull her into his arms and bury himself in her sweetness.
Did it matter how they came to be wed? Could they build a
future on a foundation of deceit? Could he tell her the truth?
The darkest secrets of his past? Could she possibly understand? Or would her eyes turn dark with disgust? Could he
take that chance?

That she loved him, Richard had no doubt. He could see
her love shining in her eyes, hear it in the soft cadence of her
voice, feel it in the tenderness of her touch. He didn't know
if he deserved it, but he was certain of three things.

He wanted her love. He needed her love.

And he was terrified, straight through to his soul, like a
child shuddering in the night from a horrific dream.

He linked her arm through his. "Shall we dance?"

"I would love that above all things," she said, her breathless sigh caressing his lips like the softest kiss.

All he wanted was to sling her over his shoulder and drag
her to bed. Instead, he pushed his way through the crush to
the dance floor as the orchestra turned to a waltz.

"I thought of our last dance together many times while I
was away," he said. As he wrapped her in his arms, he gave
silent thanks to the man who invented this sensuous dance.

Color blossomed in her cheeks. How utterly charming she
was. He pressed his hand into her spine, pulling her much closer
than propriety allowed. To hell with decency, he thought savagely. She was his wife and he wanted to hold her.

"I dreamt of this often while I was away," he said in a voice
gone husky and low. "Look at me, Leah."

When she lifted her luminous gaze to his, Richard was lost.

Smiling like a man enchanted, he twirled her about the
ballroom, drowning in her glorious green eyes.

But for this moment, Leah would have been in misery. But
for this dance, held close to her husband's chest, his hand
wrapped around her back, burning heat into her spine.

The languid music, the sensual spell of his dark eyes meeting hers. If only she could demand he take her home and
carry her to bed, but she was still too shy to be so bold.

"How much longer must we stay?" she said instead, hoping
her eyes and her breathless voice conveyed the longing she
felt.

He pulled her closer, scandalously so, until their chests were
almost touching, until the merest whisper separated his cheek
from hers. The shocked stares of the noble lords and ladies
waiting to condemn her burned a hole in her back, but she did
not care. So what if no one spoke to her, or looked at her except to sneer or send her nasty glares whenever Richard turned
away. She would not let anyone see how much it hurt her.

This was his world, and if she wanted to be a part of his
life, she would have to adjust.

"I will send for the carriage," he murmured as the music
drew to an end. His eyes met hers and she could see his desire
burning within them. It gave her a delicious sense of power
to realize that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

As he led her toward the door, Lady Margaret Montague
stepped into their path. Margaret was shockingly draped in a
deep blue dress, with an outrageously low neckline that barely
covered her voluptuous curves. Her eyes fluttered demurely.

Insecurity swept through Leah. She gripped Richard's arm,
but she couldn't bring herself to look at him for fear she
would see desire for another woman burning in his eyes.

"Your Grace," Margaret murmured to Richard, her voice
sultry and low.

"Lady Montague," he said, his tone polite, but not overly
familiar, his arm warm and firm beneath Leah's hand. "I trust
you remember my wife."

"Of course" Margaret gave a slight nod of her regal head
in Leah's general direction. Then she turned toward her
escort. "Might I introduce you to a friend of mine?"

As Leah glanced at the man who stood beside Margaret, the
room receded, her thoughts grew foggy and the air seemed to
shimmer, like the summer sun reflecting off a lake.