Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (11 page)

Lord Huntley’s challenge still rang in her ears.

The twinge of self-doubt was unlike her. And the not-so-subtle dare caused a reflexive squaring of her shoulders. She lifted her chin, looking straight into his unfathomable blue eyes. “My mother is enjoying the music, and I’d hate to pull her away. I’m sure we’ll manage to avoid a scandal if we keep the door open.”

With a satisfied nod, Huntley released her hand and stepped forward to peer at Lord Wilmot’s extensive collection. He let out a low whistle. “Impressive. Can you help me locate a particular book? Lady Wilmot said you were familiar with the library’s contents.”

They’d discussed her? When? Over dinner? “Certainly,” she said, pushing the thought aside. “What are you looking for?” She felt on firmer footing when discussing the library. Her grandfather and the late Lord Wilmot had been close friends, and Catherine had spent many happy hours assisting them here in their haven. Her lingering trepidation at being alone with Huntley dissipated as she found herself on firm footing.

“I’ve been searching for some of the works of the orators of ancient Rome. I’ve read a great deal of Cicero, and I heard that Lord Wilmot accumulated an extensive collection of his works. I was discussing it with Lady Wilmot at dinner, and she invited me to search the library.”

“Lord Wilmot was very proud of that portion of his collection. He was always pleased to find another person interested in Cicero.” She mentally shrugged, giving up on her ruse to behave as an empty-headed chit around Huntley. “The volumes you want are over here, to the right of the door.” She led the way over to the books, pointing out the ones of interest.

Huntley let out another low whistle of appreciation. “What an amazing collection.” He moved forward, peering at the titles of the leather-bound books. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one this extensive. Does the collection contain a volume of Cicero’s letters to Atticus?”

“Yes,” she said with a satisfied smile. “I can even offer you a choice of translations.” She felt his eyes following her as she moved around him toward the corner of the room where a library ladder rested against a brass bar attached to the bookshelves. Catherine wheeled it across the front of the shelves so that it rested just to the side of the bookshelves she wanted to access. She climbed up the narrow, flat rungs of the ladder to reach a higher shelf, carefully holding her full skirts out of her way so that her feet didn’t become entangled.

She remembered that the books containing Cicero’s letters sat on the second shelf from the top. When she spied a book of Cicero’s letters to his wife, Terentia, she knew she’d remembered correctly. Then it became a simple matter of finding one with Cicero’s letters to his closest friend, Titus Pomponius Atticus.

“Ah, here they are. There are sixteen volumes. Do you know which one you want?” she asked, dropping her handful of skirts as she reached for a book. With a smile of triumph, she plucked the first book from the shelf and glanced down at Lord Huntley.

His hand steadied the ladder, and, to her humiliation, she realized that as she had reached across to remove the volume, her skirt must have ridden up and caught on the rung just above where she was standing.

Her stockinged leg nearly touched his bare hand.

When his eyes followed the direction of hers to see what had caught her attention, he froze.

Huntley appeared to be startled to discover her exposed ankle just inches from his face, and he instinctively took a half step back, releasing his grip on the ladder.

Embarrassed, Catherine reflexively jerked her leg up, trying to hide it beneath her skirts. In doing so, the leather sole of her shoe slid across the slick wooden rung of the ladder, and she lost her balance. Her fingers slipped loose from their grip on the ladder, and she fell, tumbling over backward as the floor came rushing up to meet her.

But just as suddenly, she found her fall broken as Lord Huntley’s solid arms wrapped around her.

“Oh, my,” was all she could think to say as he held her cradled in his arms.

Lord Huntley looked surprised as he gazed into her eyes, and then one corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile as he adjusted his grasp on her to hold her more firmly against his chest.

She felt his palm press against her ribs, just above her waistline, knuckles slightly grazing the underside of her breast. She breathed in a gasp of surprise, and her eyes locked with his.

“Don’t worry. I have you,” he murmured.

The panther has captured the mouse.
She stared into his eyes, and for a moment, it was as though a veil had lifted and she could see deep into his soul. His lips parted slightly, and her gaze shifted to his mouth, her own lips parting in response.

A longing grew within her. She was enthralled by him and by her growing hunger.

He bent his head as he pulled her closer. Their lips were less than an inch apart, and Catherine let out a trembling breath as she closed her eyes. At first the kiss was tentative, but a shiver of sensation sped through her as she inhaled that heady, woodsy scent that enveloped him.

Huntley’s kiss became even more ardent as he ran his tongue against her lower lip and gently entered her mouth. He released her legs, and her body slid down his as he grasped her bottom through her thick petticoats. He pressed her against him as her feet descended to the floor.

Catherine’s breathing became shallow as she experienced a deep, yearning desire. Heat grew within her, searing her. She wanted to be consumed, to dwell within this sensation.

Without thinking, she brought her hands up and slid her fingers into his hair, pulling him to her as she lost herself in his kiss.

Catherine heard a clattering of feet on the parquet floor in the hallway, and, with a start, was drawn back to the present. The music had stopped, and she wasn’t sure how long ago it had fallen silent.

Her eyes widened in panic as she snatched her hand back and jumped away from the man. Watching him smooth his hair back into place and straighten his clothing, she followed suit, making sure she didn’t look disheveled. She straightened her rumpled skirts with a twitch of her hand.

“We have a much larger music selection in our library.” Lady Wilmot’s voice preceded her through the open doorway, causing Catherine’s stomach to knot with apprehension. “We also have an extensive collection of opera librettos... or libretti, if you prefer.”

Huntley grinned at Catherine conspiratorially and then lunged forward to shove the library ladder to one side, causing it to clatter against the brass rails as it rolled down the wall.

“Lady Catherine, are you injured?” he called loudly. They both heard the sudden flurry of footsteps hurrying toward the library as people in the hallway rushed to see the cause of the commotion. Huntley gave Catherine a steadying look and cocked an eyebrow. With a small nod of encouragement, he silently invited her to join him in a deception.

Catherine nodded and quickly replied, “Oh, my, I’m not sure!” in a loud voice. She did her best to appear flustered, which wasn’t difficult, considering the situation. She turned to see her mother and a few other guests as they stood aghast at finding Catherine and Huntley alone in the library.

“I slipped on the ladder while retrieving a book,” Catherine said as she snatched up the volume from where it had fallen to the floor. She handed the volume to Huntley, avoiding his eyes.

Her mother, not easily fooled, intercepted the volume in question as it passed between them, shooting Huntley a quelling look as she sought to uncover any deception. The book was quickly snatched away from her, however, by M LeCompte. The man had a devilish gleam in his eye, and Catherine had the sinking feeling that he hoped for a scandal.

“A book,
oui
? And just which book did you feel it necessary to retrieve?”

“Cicero,” Catherine and Huntley said, in unison.

LeCompte checked the title, and was clearly disappointed that had both named it correctly.

“How dreary.” He languidly passed it back to Mother. “I would have thought you would read something a bit more engaging, my dear.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Lord Huntley.”

Mother shot the marquess a searching look as she passed the book to him. Apparently she found him as inscrutable as Catherine did, because her expression didn’t alter.

Huntley accepted it with a polite smile, his expression calm. Outwardly, he appeared to focus his attention on her mother, but Catherine knew better. A current snapped between them, and his intense awareness was focused solely on her.

“How kind of you,” Lady Wilmot said. “I had intended to bring Lord Huntley to the library after dinner, but I became quite distracted by Lord Wentworth’s magnificent tenor voice.” She let out a ladylike trill of laughter as she stepped between Catherine and Huntley.

“You’re such a
good
girl to show him Lord Wilmot’s collection.” She took Catherine’s hand and patted it reassuringly. “He was so proud of these books. I remember how he and your grandfather used to talk about them for hours. They were quite the pair. You were the perfect person to help Lord Huntley find the book he wanted.”

Catherine shifted, placing her weight evenly on both feet. As she leaned on her right foot, she pretended to wince.

Her mother, still regarding her closely, noticed her brief expression of pain. “Are you injured?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. When I fell, I must have landed badly on my foot. I’m certain it’s fine.” Of course it was fine. Her foot didn’t bother her at all. The only twinge she felt came from her lie.

She shifted her weight, as if testing the strength of her ankle, and winced again.

“I’d rather not take any chances,” her mother said upon seeing her grimace. “We will go straight home so that you can rest. I’m sure that if you apply a poultice you will be quite fit by morning.”

“I hope so. I promised Sarah I’d take her riding tomorrow morning at the park near our house. I’d hate to disappoint her.”

Lady Kensington escorted Catherine out of the room, away from curious onlookers.

11 - Temptation

Lord Huntley watched as Catherine walked away. How odd that he hadn’t noticed how attractive her shoulders were until now. They seemed more muscular than soft. Could her penchant for needlework be the cause? The pastime hardly seemed strenuous enough to account for those lovely shoulders. The back of her bodice bared them quite nicely, showing them to their advantage. And she had quite a few other attractive parts as well...

He tore his gaze away from her. He didn’t want to be caught staring.

Dammit
. He should know better than to have kissed the girl, especially after that near catastrophe with Lady Lydia the other night. Tonight felt like a reverberation of those same events, but whereas the scene with Lady Lydia had been staged by her and her parents, tonight’s interlude had been entirely accidental.

Well, perhaps not entirely. He’d known full well that taking her off alone to the library had been risky. But there was something about the girl that made him want to take chances. He never should have behaved so carelessly. If there’d been any hint of scandal, her chances for a good match would have been ruined, and he refused to have that on his conscience. He’d fulfill the social obligation of protecting her name if it was required of him.

It had been a foolish risk to take, especially with someone he hardly knew.

Daniel claimed a comfortable chair and relaxed in a casual sprawl, ostensibly leafing through the volume of Cicero’s letters, but he couldn’t concentrate. The feel of Catherine was still fresh upon his lips, distracting him.

“Lady Wilmot.” Lord Wentworth’s voice came from behind him, “I can’t find the opera I’m searching for in your library.”

“If it’s one of the newer ones, then perhaps you never will. I haven’t increased the collection since my husband’s death.”

Daniel’s thoughts returned to Catherine. She was certainly a tempting morsel. What was it about her?

“That would explain it. I was hoping to find Verdi’s
Rigoletto
.” Wentworth sighed.

“That one is quite new, isn’t it? Wasn’t there some scandal surrounding it?” Lady Wilmot sounded unsure.

Daniel kept trying to understand his attraction to Catherine. At first she’d seemed so similar to the other women he’d met, but there was something more to her. It was as if she was playing a part.

“Yes. LeCompte and I were just discussing it,” Wentworth said.

“
Mais, oui
,” LeCompte interjected. “France’s board of censors did not want it to be performed as originally written. The opera was based on a play written by Victor Hugo, but the play was banned in my country because the censors believed it insulted King Louis-Philippe.”

“I thought it was about King Francis the First.” Wentworth said.

“Hugo was not cautious enough, and the censors found veiled references to our king.” The Frenchman shook his head in consternation, although whether that was due to the censorship or to Hugo’s disrespect, Daniel couldn’t tell.

“I believe I heard about that particular play. It was called ‘
Le roi s'amuse
,’
was it not?” Lady Wilmot furrowed her brow in concentration. “I suppose I could understand the embarrassment of our French neighbors. King Louis-Phillipe had a difficult time of it after being in exile for so many years, so the censors were bound to be overly cautious. From what I recall, King Francis the First was quite the rake. Then again,” Lady Wilmot said with a slight twinkle in her eyes, “our King Henry the Eighth was quite the rake as well at about that same time in history. So the censors finally relented?”