JORDAN Nicole (10 page)

“And I presume Haviland is the husband you have in mind?”

“Well…yes,” Roslyn admitted.

“And you intend to entrap him? Rather cold-blooded of you, is it not, sweeting? And to think I had decided you were an innocent, not a designing female.”

“I amnot a ‘designing female,’ as you put it,” Roslyn replied stiffly. “Nor am I cold-blooded in the least. I hope to make Haviland fall in love, not entrap him.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

“I don’t believe so, your grace.” Roslyn’s own gaze narrowed. “But perhaps you wouldn’t understand, since Fanny tells me you are reputed to have no heart.”

Arden took a step closer, studying her intently, before finally shaking his head. “Of course I have a heart.” Surprisingly, his tone turned more amused than caustic. “I am kind to children, animals, the elderly. I just don’t believe in love.”

“Your cynical view is not surprising, I suppose, considering how often you have been targeted for matrimony.”

“So you see why I might feel sympathy for Haviland? I would no doubt be doing him a favor if I warned him of your scheme.”

Dismayed to think Arden might spoil all her plans, Roslyn searched his face. His eyes contained a gleam of mockery that made her suspect he was teasing her. “Please…you cannot tell him.”

“Oh, I won’t. That wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me.”

“And you won’t tell Marcus either about what I was doing that night? I don’t want to worry him when he is preparing to leave for his wedding trip with my sister.”

“I don’t want to worry him, either,” Arden agreed dryly. “I have no desire for him to discover that I tried to seduce his ward, however unwittingly.”

“I am not technically his ward any longer. He drew up a contract, granting us our legal independence.”

“So he told me, but he still would not be happy to learn of our prior encounter. I might end up facing him over pistols at dawn, God forbid. So you may count on me to keep your indiscretion a secret. I suppose your crime was not so terribly egregious, after all. And the danger is over now.”

Roslyn breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I know I acted foolishly. And I promise I won’t be attending any more notorious functions like that again.”

“I will let it pass if you will.”

“Agreed, your grace. Indeed, I would prefer to forget that night ever happened.”

“Oh?” An odd little smile touched his lips. “Do you think you can forget?”

“I suppose not. No one has ever…”

“Ever what? Tried to seduce you?”

Roslyn wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Oh, several have tried, but they never succeeded. I have never allowed any man to…to kiss me as you did.”Or touch me like that, she couldn’t help thinking.

“I am gratified,” he said in that dry-as-dust tone.

When a silence fell between them, Roslyn suddenly became aware that dusk had fallen during the time they’d been talking on the terrace. She could hear the strains of music spilling through the doors from the ballroom, could smell the sweet scent of roses from the gardens below. With his face in shadow, though, she had trouble making out the duke’s expression.

Then he took a step closer, and she recalled the last time she had encountered him alone…what had happened between them.

He was gazing down at her mouth, and Roslyn found herself staring back at his, remembering how those sensual lips had kissed her breasts, suckled them.

A hot, biting arc of awareness flared between them.

As if he was remembering, too, his voice lowered to a husky murmur. “You shouldn’t make a practice of being alone with a gentleman after dark.”

“I know.” Her own voice was unsteady—and that was before he reached up to lightly touch her jaw, stroking with a fingertip.

Roslyn knew she should pull away, yet she couldn’t move. She stared up into his unforgettable eyes, wondering if he intended to kiss her again. The very air seemed to crackle all around them. She moistened her lips, half in dread, half in anticipation.

Then suddenly the duke dropped his hand. “You had best return to your ball.”

Roslyn curled her hands into fists and struggled to breathe evenly. “Y-yes, your grace.” Shaking herself, she started to move past him but then stopped. “Thank you for being so reasonable,” she said, her tone conciliatory.

His mouth twisted, but he didn’t reply, so Roslyn turned away.

Drew watched her go and then stood there on the darkened terrace long after she had slipped through the ballroom doors.

He didn’t feel particularly reasonable. Instead he felt…sexually frustrated. He had been the one to end their encounter this time, but it had been unaccountably difficult.

The damnable truth was, the spark he’d felt that night for Roslyn Loring was still there between them.

Drew cursed beneath his breath. She was a forbidden temptation, one that aroused all his most dangerous instincts. He’d had the strongest urge just now to draw her into his arms and make love to her right there. Her supple body had beckoned him, her innocence had dared him. In her elegant silk gown, Roslyn had looked remote, untouchable, yet he knew better. He’d seen a glimpse of the real woman before this. The woman whose untutored passion had set his blood racing.

He hadn’t imagined her wild, sweet responsiveness that night, or the way she had set him alight. He was still unsettled by the disturbing potency of that encounter.

Even now her delicate scent filled his nostrils, the same fragrance that had haunted him for days after the Cyprians’ ball. And earlier this evening…seeing the evening sunlight catch her hair, caress her face, had taken his breath away.

He wasn’t just merely appreciative of her perfect beauty, though. There were other things he couldn’t forget about her. Her eyes, her lips, her breasts. Her voice—velvet, warm, honeyed. He hadn’t liked her using that soft, warmhearted tone with Haviland.

Drew shook his head abruptly. He couldn’t possibly be jealous. He never became possessive over a woman, never felt any such heated emotions. He couldn’t refute Roslyn’s allegation about his lacking a heart. He’d been raised by his haughty, aristocratic parents to be emotionally detached and had never seen any reason to change.

Oh, he’d experienced infatuation before, but he had never fallen in love. He didn’t think he was even capable of it. And while any number of women had professed to love him, he knew the attraction was as much for his immense wealth and vaunted title as himself.

His own attraction to Roslyn Loring was inexplicable, since he’d had more than his fair share of beauties. No doubt his trouble was merely physical, Drew reflected. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the services of a mistress.

A self-mocking smile curled his mouth.And perhaps the trouble is that you’ve finally met a woman who clearly isn’t interested in you .

He had never found himself in such a novel situation. It was amusing really. He’d always earnestly avoided designing females, and Roslyn Loring was certainly a designing female of a sort. She just didn’t have designs onhim . If he were a vain man, he might be insulted.

But she didn’t want him; she wanted her neighbor. She was also right on that one account. Her pursuit of Haviland was none of his own affair.

Remembering, Drew felt his smile fade. He was oddly disappointed in Roslyn. Admittedly she wasn’t quite like the usual scheming husband-hunters he’d encountered in the past. She claimed her motives were a bit purer, that she was after love, not fortune and title. Even so, she was still on the hunt for a husband—the very kind of mercenary female that made him shudder.

On the other hand, he was grudgingly impressed by her honesty. In fact, he could actually admire her initiative and her boldness, even if he couldn’t like her purpose.

Recalling her goal of finding love in marriage, Drew made a scoffing sound and abruptly turned back toward the house.

He had no desire to return to the ball, however. Instead, he meant to find Marcus’s study and indulge in a very large brandy…until he could politely take his leave and return to London, where he would try to forget that the most beautiful of the three Loring sisters even existed.

Chapter Four

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I concede I may have misjudged the duke. He has more substance than I gave him credit for.

—Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn felt tears of happiness blur her vision as the Freemantle barouche carried her away from Danvers Hall. She and Winifred were among the last to leave, since she had stayed behind to direct the household staff and spare Arabella the task, and Winifred always delighted in closing down a ball.

Two hours earlier, the sisters had said farewell privately to each other. It was a poignant moment, full of love and tears. This was the last evening they would really be together as sisters, the three of them standing against the world. Now that Arabella was married, she would have a doting husband to love and care for her.

A half hour after that, Lily had left to spend the night with Tess. It was well past midnight, however, before the enormous crowd of wedding guests took their leave and the long line of carriages thinned out.

Most of the remaining family and close friends had departed moments ago, heading for London. The Marquess of Claybourne had escorted Marcus’s lively sister Eleanor home, along with her aunt, Lady Beldon. Fanny was accompanied by one of her wealthy gentleman friends. And their mother, Victoria, had left with her French husband, since the Vachels planned to stay in the town house of Henri’s English relations for another fortnight before returning to his home in France.

As Roslyn stood in the entrance hall, saying a final good-bye to the bride and groom, she had spied the Duke of Arden behind her. But she hadn’t wanted to suffer another encounter with him, so she embraced Arabella and Marcus warmly and then hurried down the front steps to the waiting barouche to join Winifred, who had kindly agreed to drive her to Tess’s.

Settling back against the velvet squabs, Roslyn gave a sigh of weary contentment. She had promised Arabella she would oversee running the estate and the academy while the newlyweds were on their wedding trip, yet she couldn’t imagine encountering any trouble. The summer school term had already begun, so most of their pupils had gone home and classes for the rest would be minimal. And now that the wedding was over, Roslyn was looking forward to a few weeks of peace and quiet and the hope of making Lord Haviland fall madly in love with her—or at least the opportunity to nurture the intimacy of their burgeoning friendship.

Winifred heard her sigh and responded with a pleased sigh of her own. “It is good to see Arabella so happy.”

“It is indeed,” Roslyn agreed softly.

“I vow your mother is happiest of all,” Winifred expounded. “Victoria was vastly relieved to see at least one of her daughters well married. She feared the scandal she caused would destroy all your chances for decent futures.”

It very nearly had, Roslyn thought before giving a light shrug. She had never allowed herself to bemoan her fate, and she wouldn’t start now. She was glad, however, to finally have some brighter prospects for her future. “It is all over now, Winifred.”

“Not by a long chalk, my dear.” Shaking her head smugly, Winifred chuckled. “It is only beginning for you and Lily. I have high hopes that you will both be able to make good matches now.”

Trying to hide her exasperation, Roslyn returned a bland smile. “You know Lily’s feelings about marriage.”

“She will change her tune if she meets the right man.”

Roslyn remained skeptical, doubting that her high-spirited younger sister would ever alter her opinion about matrimony. After the acrimonious example their parents had set, Lily had vowed never to be subjected to the kind of battles they had waged against each other for years.

Roslyn was just as fiercely determined never to be locked in a hostile marriage of convenience, which was why she had sworn she would never marry without love. She had no desire, however, to be the target of Winifred’s meddlesome assistance, any more than Lily did.

“Perhaps so,” Roslyn said pointedly, “but Lily will have to make her own decisions about marriage without any outside interference, no matter how well intentioned.”

At that arch reference to her matchmaking efforts, Winifred looked a trifle guilty. “I just want you both to be happy.”

“I know, Winifred, but you must allow us to be responsible for our own happiness….”

Her words trailed off when she became aware that the carriage had begun to slow. Moments later she heard a shout from outside.

“Hold there, I say!”

“What the devil?” Winifred muttered.

Just as puzzled, Roslyn peered out the window. There was enough light from the carriage lamps to make out the mounted horseman by the side of the road. Her heart started thudding in alarm when she realized the rider was masked and armed with a pistol.

“Stand and deliver!” he commanded, waving his weapon at the coachman.

The two ladies looked at each other in shock and dismay as the barouche lurched to a shuddering halt.

“I believe we are being held up,” Roslyn murmured.

“And me wearing all my best jewels,” Winifred said worriedly.

When the highwayman shifted his aim toward the rear of the coach, Roslyn knew he was addressing the footman perched up behind the boot.

“You there, fellow, climb down and open the door!”

The servant must have jumped down from his perch since shortly the door swung open. Through the opening, she could see their assailant more clearly as he sat upon his bay horse. He was ginger-haired and wore a dark coat, but despite his smallish build, the pistol in his hand looked large and deadly.

The footman obviously thought so, too, for after letting down the step, he raised his hands high and sidled away from the door, keeping a wary eye on the weapon.

“Now come out, your ladyship,” the brigand called.

He was ordering them out of the carriage, yet Winifred seemed disinclined to obey. “I will not!” she exclaimed mutinously.

“You will, or I’ll shoot your man here.”