"Very amusing." Casting a furtive glance up the road, she hurried over. "Let's go quickly, before someone sees me."
"Ah, an intrigue. Are you playing the spy now, sweetheart?"
"You know perfectly well that I must be careful about my reputation. Why do you think I didn't want you fetching me from my house?"
"Because you like to be mysterious?" He helped her into the coach, jumped in behind her, and ordered the coachman off.
"I like to be careful." She settled into the middle of the seat facing forward.
Paying that no mind, he pushed in beside her. When her gaze shot to him, blazing high, he simply bent his head and kissed her.
After only a moment's stiffness, she softened, melting beneath his lips, opening her mouth to the plunges of his tongue. But when he undid the ties of her cloak, she tore her lips free. "We can't do anything like that now."
"I only want to see what you're wearing. To make sure it's acceptable."
Though she looked skeptical, she let him push the cloak from her shoulders and her coiffure. The setting sun filtered through the curtains to reveal a gown of shimmering golden satin cut low enough to reveal the dainty swells of her breasts.
His pulse thundering, he bent to kiss her again, but she pulled back. "Your note to me yesterday said you would tell me in the coach what to expect tonight."
Damnation. She was right— he did have much to say to prepare her. With a frustrated sigh, he sat back against the seat. "We're going to a friend of mine's estate— the Marquess of Stoneville."
"Lord Stoneville is our host?" she queried, a note of panic in her voice.
"You know him?"
"I know
of
him. Everyone does. He's even more notorious than you are." Her lips tightened into a thin line. "You said this wouldn't be one of
those
parties."
"It's not. But he was the only person I could browbeat into giving it on such short notice." When alarm deepened on her face, he added, "For God's sake, you've nothing to worry about. There won't be any cavorting females."
She searched his face. "If there are, I'll walk out. I swear I will."
"Don't you trust me?" he said lightly, though the answer meant more to him than he'd like.
"Should I?"
Her eyes shone so luminously he could easily lose himself in their depths. That would be unwise. He must resist the sweetness offered by those beautiful eyes.
"Of course. I'm unlikely to do anything to anger the only person who can get Tessa into Mrs. Harris's school."
A pained smile touched her lips. "I forgot about that."
"I didn't." It was the only thing keeping him from letting his randy bad boy loose right now to ravish her. Their bargain had to be finished first, so she could never accuse him of reneging. "You needn't worry about the guests. Stoneville invited several respectable men of science, along with our usual friends who enjoy indulging. You'll have a healthy sample of subjects to observe."
She smoothed her cloak. "And…er…what do they know about
my
attendance? Surely you didn't allow your friend to mention my name."
His eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you afraid a guest might recognize it?"
"No!" Her gaze shot to his. "I'm sure I can safely say I've never met any of your friends. But I don't want word getting back to Mrs. Harris— "
"Of course." He relaxed. "You needn't worry. I told Stoneville you're my bluestocking cousin, who wanted to see a more exciting part of London life while in town. He thinks you're married to a parson and visiting friends."
She stared at him quizzically. "Why have me married to a parson?"
"Have you something against parsons?"
"Well, no, but…it's just odd." She mused a moment. "Do I have a name?"
"I didn't give him one. But I was thinking Brayham, my maternal grandmother's maiden name. My mother's side of the family is less well-known, so any cousin from there would be harder to trace."
Curiosity leaped in her face. "You never mention your mother."
"You never mention yours, either."
"That's because she died two years ago of consumption."
So Foxmoor had been right. "Mine died when I was eight."
"That must have been difficult," she said, her voice soft with sympathy.
A lump lodged in his throat. How odd. It had been a long time since that age-old grief had arisen. It disturbed him that Madeline was the only one to rouse it.
He attempted to sound nonchalant. "I imagine it's harder to lose your mother after you've had her for so many years. You have more to regret, more to miss."
"Perhaps. But a boy of eight needs his mother far more than a full-grown woman needs hers." When that made the lump in his throat thicken so much he couldn't speak, she added, "Do you remember much about her?"
"A few things. Her scent." He smiled. "She used to chew on cinnamon sticks for her breath, and the spicy smell would waft over me whenever she— " He broke off before he could reveal how much he still missed her.
"Whenever she what?" Madeline prodded.
She wasn't going to let this go, was she? "Whenever she hugged me. Father disapproved of how she coddled me, said she hugged me too much." Idly, he rubbed his wrist. "My aunt and uncle agreed."
"You can never hug a child too much."
Her fierce tone startled him, then made something uncurl deep inside him that had lain tightly coiled for years. Damnation, he couldn't have her crawling so far under his skin.
"You might need a Christian name tonight, too," he said, the words terse from his haste to change the subject.
She cast him one last tender look before turning her face to the window. "Fine, then I'm…Cherry."
He followed her gaze to a stand of cherry trees they were passing. "Thank God we weren't driving by shrubbery. I couldn't have called you Viburnum and kept my countenance." When she eyed him askance, he added, "You do mean it to be short for Charity, right? I've never heard of anyone named Cherry."
"It's no worse than Kitty," she said archly.
"No, I suppose not." He dearly loved her being jealous. It showed she wasn't as immune to his charms as she pretended. "But we'll call you Mrs. John Brayham if Stoneville is forced to introduce you."
"Why would Lord Stoneville be introducing me?"
"I have to stay out of sight, remember? That's why we're arriving at the party early. I'm not taking the chance that my uncle will hear of this and use it against me to prove I'm still set in my old ways."
"I forgot about that. So Lord Stoneville will be my escort for the party." She looked decidedly uneasy about that.
He didn't blame her. "I don't like it either, but I warned Stoneville that he must treat you with the respect due my cousin. Besides, you're not his sort. He prefers women with less brains than br— " He broke off, cursing his quick tongue.
"Than breasts?" she finished for him. "Many men do. Are you sure you don't share his preference?" Her smile was teasing. Her eyes were not.
"I might have, once." He let his gaze rake her with a thoroughness that left no doubt of his desire for her body. "But people do change," he murmured as he took her gloved hand in his, then pressed a kiss to the back of it.
He was rewarded by the trembling of her hand, which prompted him to turn it over and kiss her palm, then her wrist, frustrated by the kid shielding her bare flesh from fingertip to elbow. God, he couldn't wait until the party was over and he could get her out of her clothes.
Though her breath quickened at his kisses, she slipped her hand from his. "You said something about
if
your friend is 'forced' to introduce me. Why wouldn't he introduce me?"
"I told him to avoid it as much as possible. The fewer people you meet, the less chance of Mrs. Harris hearing about your presence at the party."
She stared at him. "But I have to know who my subjects are. I can't report on my observations without that."
Wariness stiffened his spine. "What do you mean?"
"If I write an article and expect it to be published, men of science will want details. They'll have to confirm what I observed. They'll need witnesses. And since
you
can't be my witness— "
"You may not mention a single guest's name in your damned article, do you understand?" His blood chilled at the very thought.
Her lips thinned. "Why not, if they're all men of science?"
"You know perfectly well that such parties are considered scandalous, even laughable these days. My friends have already had enough fun poked at them over their use of the gas. I don't want them enduring more because you use their names in some article." As an odd panic spread over her face, he forced a smile. "Can't you just call them Subjects A and B?"
"I'll still need to record somewhere who Subjects A and B are, so that someone can confirm my methods if anyone doubts my conclusions."
"That isn't acceptable," he bit out. "Observe whatever you wish, write down whatever you wish, as long as you're discreet about it. But no going around at the party seeking introductions to the guests. If anyone starts digging too deeply into who 'Mrs. Brayham' is, we could both be sunk. Understood?"
An icy smile froze her lips. "Certainly, Lord Norcourt."
Lord Norcourt indeed.
Certainly
was probably her code for
I'll do whatever I damned well please, and you just try to stop me
. Which he couldn't manage since he had to cool his heels somewhere else during the party. He'd have to warn Stoneville to keep an eye on her.
Though he sure as the devil didn't like that idea either.
He liked it even less once they arrived and her cloak was taken. The shimmering satin clung as she walked, teasing him with hints of the lovely form beneath, and the delicate curls at the nape of her eloquent neck roused the urge to run his tongue down the sweet ridge of her spine. For a woman of such small stature and such little opportunity to buy fashionable attire, she had an uncanny ability to look ravishing.
And ravish her was just what Stoneville would want to do the minute he saw her. Indeed, as soon as they were shown into the man's study, Stoneville rose with a wolfish grin. It was all Anthony could do not to glare while making the introductions.
When Stoneville stepped forward to take her hand, the rogue not only used the opportunity to kiss it but to scan her attributes as he straightened. It was a technique Anthony had used many a time in the past, but watching Stoneville use it on
her
made him want to throttle the man.
Good God, what was wrong with him? He couldn't be jealous, could he?
He might not have encountered the emotion before, but he recognized it now. And he didn't like it. Not one whit.
"In your description of your cousin, Norcourt, you said she was 'pretty enough,'" Stoneville drawled. "Pretty enough for whom? A king? An emperor? A god?"
Before Anthony could tell him exactly what to do with his lavish flatteries, Madeline let out a laugh. "Do women usually respond favorably to such exaggerations, sir?"
"Depends on how much wine they've drunk." Stoneville flashed her one of his patented bedroom glances, and Anthony had to forcibly restrain himself from rushing over to pummel the man.
"Well," she said sweetly, "I don't know if it's my lack of intoxication or just simple good sense, but I find that men who exaggerate in their compliments tend to exaggerate in nearly everything else. As a woman of science, I prefer men who speak the unvarnished truth."
Stoneville blinked, clearly taken aback by the reasoned response emerging from so pretty a woman. "She really is a bluestocking, isn't she?" he told Anthony.
"And my cousin," Anthony stressed. "Which means I expect you to behave."
"I always do," Stoneville said with a small smile that was none too reassuring. "Depending on one's definition of 'behave,' of course."
"Stoneville— " Anthony began in a warning tone.
"Don't fret yourself. It will be fine." A clamor outside the house made Stoneville glance at the clock. "I should greet my guests. Since you can't attend the party, Norcourt, I've arranged for you to sit in here. No one will enter my private study, and besides, I'll give you a key, so you can lock the door. You know where to find the brandy, and there's books if you wish to read. Will that suit you?"
"It'll do."
"Excellent. Then I'll come back to fetch Mrs. Brayham— " Stoneville began.
"I'd rather go with you now." Madeline hurried to Stoneville's side.
"You can't," Anthony put in, irritated by her transparent desire to be with Stoneville as he greeted the guests, so she could take note of their names. And after he'd forbidden it, too. "The only way to preserve your anonymity is if you wait to join the party until everyone begins to be inebriated. If you stand at Stoneville's side when the guests enter, he'll have to introduce you." As she well knew.