Authors: Christina Dodd
The ladies in the room turned away as if embarrassed by his gusto, and Caroline wanted to groan. He had to marry, and if he couldn’t cajole a lady in this charitable gathering to sit with him, it would be impossible to find him a mate in society. Driven to distraction and despair, she caught his hand, halting the flip of the handkerchief, and hissed, “What are you doing?
Stop
that at once!”
She must have said it a little too loud, for conversation faded, then picked up again. She glanced from side to side, met gazes that sidled away, and blushed hotly.
“Of course.” Huntington put his handkerchief into his waistcoat pocket. “I obey you implicitly.”
“Pish-tosh!” she retorted sharply. “Ladies hear such promises, and none of us expect them to be fulfilled.”
“Miss Ritter. You have wounded me deeply!” But Huntington’s mouth lifted in an abashed grin.
The ladies tittered, the gentlemen guffawed, and the company relaxed.
At last Caroline dared to look around—and at once caught the cold, beady gaze of Lady Reederman. Lady Reederman didn’t pretend to converse, nor did she make welcome the female she had once publicly and deliberately cut. Instead she observed, withholding her judgment for one reason and one reason only—because the duchess of Nevett sponsored Caroline. Lady Reederman might not like to keep quiet, but she prided herself on her exceptional propriety, and as Nicolette’s guest she would do nothing that could be interpreted as a criticism of her hostess. But her basilisk gaze gave Caroline to understand that she would never approve of a young lady whose past was decidedly shady.
Turgoose must have seen the direction of Caroline’s gaze, or noticed his mother’s imitation of a lemon ice, for he said, “You’re so amusing, Miss Ritter. The fellows all agree society has been a wasteland without your most excellent company.”
Nicolette stepped between Lady Reederman and Caroline. “Miss Ritter, might I introduce those who are unknown to you?”
Caroline hesitated, and Jude thought she was tempted to beg off. Her conflict was real, he knew. She faced the prospect of chilly greetings, and those were kind compared to the reaction she would have confronted without his stepmother’s patronage. Yet when he was done with her, she’d thank him for introducing her into society once more. And he would thank her for confusing and distracting the Moricadians.
“I would consider it a privilege to meet your guests, Your Grace,” Caroline said with dignity.
No one read the look she shot him, but he followed on her unspoken command.
Turgoose hurried after them.
De Guignard and Bouchard put their heads together and spoke softly, no doubt wondering at Huntington’s fascination with the woman he had had no time for before. Even now they considered him a fool, easily led, and he thought, with a little more prodding, they might try to use him in their plan. He couldn’t imagine either one of them wanted to dirty their hands with the details, and he would willingly be their pawn.
With every evidence of keenness, he walked back to them, and said, “I have left off fighting my enthrallment, and surrender to her magic. She is almost French in her magnificence, is she not?”
“She is lovely,” de Guignard agreed.
“As she was only a week ago,” Bouchard added.
“Your admiration for her made me realize her quality,” Jude said. “I find myself guided by your superior sophistication. Fancy that!”
“Yes.” Bouchard considered him closely. “Fancy that.”
“You must someday allow me to share your activities. For a single day, I would love to do as you do!”
“Perhaps it can be arranged,” de Guignard said.
“Truly?” Jude laid a hand on his cheek. “Oh, venerable day! I await your notice.” Then he left to rejoin the little group making a tour of the room, for although he wanted to look anxious to please, he didn’t want to be too anxious; Bouchard was sharp and suspicious, and if he smelled the slightest whiff of conspiracy, all Jude’s work would be undone.
“This is Miss Foley and her sister, Miss Lydia,” he heard Mum say as she introduced Caroline to the pianist and the harpist. “They are the belles of the Season.”
“For more reasons than their beauty! Miss Foley, Miss Lydia, your music is enchanting. I wish I had an ounce of your talent.” Caroline displayed a remarkable ability to inject the right admiration into her tone, for the Foley sisters blushed, murmured disclaimers, and looked delighted.
“Miss Ritter, I believe you know my sister, Lady James,” Miss Foley said shyly. “She says you are friends.”
“She speaks of you often,” Miss Lydia added.
Miss Ritter smiled a slow, incredulous smile.
Because he couldn’t help himself, Jude smiled, too. Then he noticed everyone in their circle was smiling, bemused smiles, unwilling smiles, amazed smiles. Her pleasure was contagious, a blessing they all shared. He felt the pride of ownership—foolish when she so obviously needed no man. He felt the tug of lust—madness when they’d shared only one kiss. A kiss that had seared itself into his mind and loins and made him want what he couldn’t have. A kiss that had sent him all over town, stalking the Moricadians night and day rather than face hours in his bed alone.
“I do know Lady James!” Miss Ritter put her hand over her heart. “As you are, she was the belle of my Season, beautiful and gracious. When next you see her, extend her my greeting.”
Stepping to Nicolette’s side, Jude murmured, “I see you larded the guest list with people likely to be compatible with Miss Ritter.”
“You cannot fault me for inviting guests whom I knew would be congenial,” Nicolette murmured back.
“No hostess wants to be known for an acrimonious gathering.” He glanced toward the circle of chairs where the matrons sat. “But I don’t think it’s all going to be smooth sailing.”
Mum flicked a glance in that direction. “Ah, Lady Reederman. As always, the maggot in the punch bowl.”
Jude coughed to disguise his laughter.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of
her
,” Mum said in a steely tone. “I’ve grown fond of Miss Ritter. I have no intention of allowing anyone to cause her awkwardness.”
“Lord Huntington, have you met these lovely young ladies?” Caroline asked. She drew him into the musical circle.
Under her tutelage, he became a likely suitor to the Misses Foley.
But he didn’t linger when Mum moved Miss Ritter to the next group. Even without his plan to distract society with his courtship of Miss Ritter, he wouldn’t have remained behind. The Misses Foley were sweet and attractive, young and insipid, and of no interest to him.
A tense moment occurred when Mum presented Miss Ritter to Lady Reederman, but Miss Ritter curtsied, and Lady Reederman inclined her head, and nothing untoward happened.
Finally, Miss Ritter and her ever-growing entourage arrived at the sofa where a vaguely familiar young lady sat with Lord Merrill-Sanersone and Lord Hollis. Both young men wore bright cravats, and they were trying to please the lady. Odd, for she was no beauty.
“Lady Pheodora Osgood of the Rochdale Osgoods, this is Miss Ritter,” Mum said.
Lady Pheodora, Lady Pheodora…oh, Lady Pheodora.
Ahh, Lady Pheodora from the park. Lady Pheodora whom he’d mistaken for his governess. She looked better than she had last week, not quite as plain. She sported a new hairstyle or had done something with her garments. Or perhaps it was simply an increased belief in her own charms. “Lady Pheodora, we meet again.”
Looking disconcerted, she pushed her spectacles up her nose. “Yes. Yes, we do. Did you have more lessons in the park?”
Obviously, she didn’t have any idea what she was asking, and everyone in the vicinity looked between Jude and Lady Pheodora with a puzzled interest.
She had probably thought him crazy, and thinking back on their conversation, he didn’t blame her. “I’ve restricted my lessons to the schoolroom,” he said gravely. “But thank you for asking. You’re most kind.”
The suitors stood until the introductions were completed, then bowed almost reverently to Jude. “Lord Huntington,” Lord Hollis said, “I think I speak for us both when I say how very much we admire your bold style.”
“Really?” Jude’s gaze lingered on those cravats. “Some say I’ve done a terrible thing by introducing such excesses into society.”
“But you don’t listen, do you, Huntington?” Lord Merrill-Sanersone said enthusiastically. “You go your own way without a care for anyone’s opinion.”
“Apparently,” Jude said with a dry wit that no one noticed—except that Caroline cocked her head and examined him a little too closely. With a jolt, he realized he’d have to be careful around her. She was coming to know him too well, and pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he waved it like a flag before a bull. He knew very well how that irritated her.
And as a distraction, it worked marvelously well. Her eyes narrowed on him, and as if her unspoken reprimand made him remember his manners, he tucked the handkerchief away once more.
Turning her attention to Lady Pheodora once more, Caroline said, “I know this is incredibly impertinent, but who made your indoor cap? I would love to imitate you.”
Lady Pheodora touched the lacy bit of froth in her hair with astonishment. As if a dam had burst, she said, “
Do
you like it? Dear Mama said it wouldn’t do, but I designed it myself and sewed it from Belgian lace. Mama said I had better listen to my cousin Letty about fashion, but I don’t always agree with her, especially about this. I thought my cap was pretty.”
“Not to disagree with your dear mama, but you have exceptional taste.” Miss Ritter’s voice was warm and persuasive.
Jude noted that the other ladies leaned closer and listened as the two discussed the style, and he realized that between him and Miss Ritter they would be responsible for some of the worst fashion quirks since his grandmother’s dampened gown.
If he
were
in need of social instruction, she would be the ideal teacher, for she demonstrated a gift for saying the right thing to set everyone at ease.
And if he were Michael, he’d enjoy this brush with passion. He would kiss her because pretty girls were meant to be kissed. If she offered herself, he would take her. And when the time came for Miss Ritter to sail off to France, Michael would escort her to the docks. With great affection he would wave her off, and before the ship was out of sight he would have forgotten about her. Jude wasn’t Michael, for he had begun to suspect he would never forget Caroline Ritter.
With a glance out the door at the hovering servants, Mum said, “The tea is ready. We shall serve.”
At once Phillips appeared, leading a parade of liveried footmen bearing cups and saucers, pitchers of cream, and bowls of sugar. Without making a sound, they set up on the immense sideboard.
Goose took Miss Ritter’s hand and started toward a sofa.
“Move aside, man.” Jude jostled him. “Let the rest of us have a chance.”
“I say!” Turgoose sputtered. “You shan’t take my place.”
“What about m…me?” Lord Vickers was not yet twenty and had fallen instantly in love with Miss Ritter, and he stammered with youthful indignation. “I should have a ch…chance with her.”
“What about
you?
” The twenty-five-year-old marquess of Routledge smiled with all the confidence of a man with wealth, title, and comeliness. “What about
me?
I’m
desolated
by Miss Ritter’s reserve.”
Turning his gaze on Caroline, Jude got a shock.
As she gazed on the assemblage determined to admire her, she looked different. Like a temptress, like an accomplished flirt, like a woman who knew how to hold men in thrall with a glance of her slumberous eyes. He saw the woman she might have become if catastrophe hadn’t overtaken her, and that woman was irresistible to him.
A swift look around confirmed his suspicions. Every man here watched her with hungry desire, their eyes alight.
Then she changed. She stood upright, looked stern, and spoke briskly. “Gentlemen, I value your flattery as it deserves. Now go”—she glared meaningfully at Jude—“away.”
He did, spent the rest of the tea splitting his time between Lady Pheodora and the Misses Foley, and afterward remembered not a damned word they said.
But the memory of Miss Ritter’s seductive moment haunted him all through the night.
“D
ear, you should have seen it.” Nicolette swept into the library, talking as she came. “She made him behave.”
“Miss Ritter made Jude behave?” Nevett put down his newspaper and looked over his glasses at his wife. Her eyes were snapping, her cheeks stained with color. She looked alive for the first time in months, and something inside him, something that had been tense for far too long, relaxed. “How did she do that?”
“He was acting like a fool, flapping his handkerchief and insulting the ladies by suggesting how they could improve their costumes and their teeth—”
“Their teeth?” Nevett showed his own teeth in annoyance.
“Yes, their teeth.” Nicolette’s exasperation couldn’t be more clear. “I couldn’t do anything with him. He ignored my glares, and he’s a little old for me to take him by the ear and drag him away to sit in a corner, so I ran to get Caroline. She put up with his silliness for a few minutes, then she snapped at him—and from that moment on, he was the perfect gentleman. He charmed all the ladies. They’re still gossiping about the change in him, I vow, and Lady Pheodora could scarcely take her eyes off him.” Nicolette subsided in the chair opposite Nevett. “Although I thought her examination seemed more wary than infatuated.”
Nevett cast the paper aside. Was this news of a potential daughter-in-law? “Who’s Lady Pheodora?”
“Lady Pheodora Osgood of the Rochdale Osgoods.”
Nevett searched his mind until he remembered the connection. “A family of singularly plain people. Is
she
a beauty?”
“Not at all.” Nicolette giggled softly. “Do we care? She’s female, she’s English, and she’s breathing.”
“Are we in such desperate straits?”
“
I’m
not. You’re the one who’s so worried about grandchildren you hired a governess for your adult son.” Swinging her foot, Nicolette flipped off her slipper. “Other females could easily be lured into his net if he used the proper bait.”
“It irks me that he has to fish at all. In my time, I was chased by all the—” Nevett abruptly recalled his listener and shut his mouth.
“You were chased by all the debutantes.” Nicolette dimpled at him. “
I
don’t remember it like that.”
“Not with you,” he said gruffly. With one look he’d been smitten and felt a right old fool for imagining himself in love with warm eyes and a gentle smile. He had told himself he was the duke of Nevett, that he was doing Nicolette a favor by making her a duchess, and he had settled a substantial sum of pin money on her. He’d made sure his sons would treat her well in the event of his death, and the arrival of another son had puffed his conceit and given him yet more hope for the future.
Then Michael’s death had broken both their hearts and set him on a new mission—to get Jude married and the future of the family secured.
It was only in the last few days, with that governess underfoot all the time—did she never return to her home?—that he’d realized he’d accomplished two goals. Nicolette no longer sat alone and read, or stared into space, and not once had he come upon her when she had tears on her cheeks. She was lively and amused, and for that he was grateful to his damned foolish-looking son and the spirited Miss Ritter.
As if she read his mind, Nicolette said, “I had to speak quite firmly to Lady Reederman about Miss Ritter.”
“What did the old cat do now?”
“She
suggested
that I not invite such guests who would besmirch the other guests with a soiled reputation.”
“Let me take care of the matter.” He spoke coolly, but he was furious. Lady Reederman was, after all, only a countess, and one who frequently got above herself. This time she had gone too far. When he was done with her, she would never again admonish his duchess, nor would she ever dare criticize his company.
“I handled it.” Nicolette’s smile showed a hint of teeth. “I told her that if she wished to approve my guest list, she could take a position with the Distinguished Academy of Governesses as a social counselor and I would perhaps hire her. Until that day, I suggested she bully debutantes and green young men and others who are easily intimidated.” She nodded firmly. “She didn’t stay long after that.”
“Brava!” Rising, he extended his hand to her. She took it; he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “You’re magnificent.”
“As magnificent as Miss Ritter?”
He wasn’t blind. Miss Ritter was very attractive. But he wasn’t stupid, either, and he blinked at his wife as if astonished. “I hadn’t noticed. Is she supposed to be magnificent, too?”
Nicolette laughed and linked her arms around his neck. “That was exactly the right thing to say.” And she kissed him.
He was the luckiest man in the world.
“I’ve never enjoyed the zoo as much as I have today.” Jude lifted his mouth from Caroline’s and watched as her head fell back against his shoulder.
Her eyes were closed. She gave a shuddering sigh, and the smile on her lips made him want to kiss her again.
As they walked through Nevett’s gardens, they had pretended to be at the Royal Zoological Gardens. They had giggled at the monkeys’ antics (which the unimaginative might say was nothing more than the waving of branches in the wind) and watched the elephants stomp in their cages (homing pigeons in their crates). It had been a carefree day filled with enticing banter. Even when he professed to be affected by French mannerisms and overwhelmed with concern for his style, she hadn’t cared. She’d teased him, gently dragging him back to his real self, and he’d found her insight to be irresistible.
Finally, it had ended like this, with passionate kisses he knew should never take place.
“Now we must behave.” She brushed her glorious, flyaway hair back from her delicate face. The sunshine turned her tan complexion to gold, and the color in her pink cheeks matched the early roses that bloomed in the arbor around them. “For we swore we wouldn’t kiss again.”
She was a splendid creature, with a husky voice and skin the texture of a baby’s, and Jude couldn’t keep his hands off her. “How can we help it?” He lowered his voice to a rasping whisper, and with exaggerated alarm said, “We’re trapped behind the lion’s cage. He’s roaring at us, furious that I have taken his lioness for my own.”
Caroline laughed a protest, her teeth gleaming, her exotic eyes sparkling with pleasure.
“He wants to rip my throat out, but I’ll face any danger to possess the graceful strength and the glorious mane of the most graceful and dangerous cat of all—the Caroline-cat.”
Lowering her head, she looked at him through her lashes. “You’re ridiculous.”
She was right about everything. He was ridiculous, and they shouldn’t be hiding in the garden and kissing. But although he knew better, he couldn’t resist the innocent taste of her mouth.
Leaning into her, he brushed her lips, again and again, until like a flower to the sun, she lifted her face to his. The scent of the roses was thick around them, but not so rich and sweet as the scent of her hair. He pressed his body against hers, trying to meld them into one, and he wanted to do so much more than that. He wanted to carry her off to his bedroom and ravish her like a lion triumphant.
Only two things stopped him. He couldn’t take this woman who had been subjected to so much indignity and agony and strip her of the one thing she still possessed—her innocence. His actions were even more nefarious when he considered his intention to use her like a cape waved before the bull of society. The ton now knew that Lord Huntington paid court to the infamous Miss Caroline Ritter, and the resulting fuss would keep the two Moricadians distracted and entertained while Jude discovered, and put a stop to, their plans.
But he didn’t want to think of the Moricadians just then. For the first time since Michael had been murdered, Jude felt alive. In fact…he’d never felt so alive in his life. “Teacher, will you give a good report of me to my father?” he teased.
Caroline caught her breath. “I always give him a good report.”
“What does he say about that?”
“He wants to know why you’re still wearing those ridiculous clothes.”
Jude looked down at himself in feigned indignation. “Some men have no sense of style no matter how carefully they’re shown the way.”
“Hm. Yes.”
He loved watching her prevaricate. “Don’t you love my style?”
“I’ve come to accept it, which is not quite the same.” She started to withdraw her hands from around his neck. “We should stop.”
“We should.” But he caught her to him, turned her until she was pressed against the warm rough stone wall, and kissed her again. Her breasts rested against his chest, and her lips opened beneath his.
Yet she did more than passively accept his attentions. She sought them; she answered him in a way that fired his blood. That was her secret; she was a maiden, yes, but she was no shrinking violet. She was brave, she was strong…
He murmured, “You’re a lioness.”
“I know.” She used her teeth to nibble his lip. “Sometimes I think…I mean I wonder…”
“What?” he asked, intrigued by the diffidence with which his usually straightforward governess spoke.
“The duchess said something to me the first day I came here, and I’ve thought about it ever since. She said I must be angry about the way my father and society treated me.” Caroline smiled as if inviting him to laugh at her.
Yet why had she brought it up? “Are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Why would I be? You know the story of my disgrace, of course.”
“I do.” He allowed her to push him away. “I agree with Mum. You were shamefully used and cruelly punished, while Freshie was lauded for his virility, and you were so much less able to care for yourself. If someone had played such a trick on me,
I’d
be furious.”
“Well, I’m not,” she said quickly.
Thinking of his reaction to Michael’s death, he said, “I’d want revenge.”
“No! Revenge. Indeed not.” She fussed with the ribbons on her bonnet. “I take total responsibility for my foolishness.”
“Yet you’re still thinking about what Mum said to you.”
“I am not still thinking about it.”
“Of course you are, or you wouldn’t have said—”
Her lips curled back, baring her teeth, like a lioness on the attack.
He recognized that expression. He’d seen his stepmother wear it when one of her sons—or Nevett—pushed her too far. Jude knew he had two choices. Conciliate—or run.
He didn’t want to run. He wanted to be there with Caroline, so he set himself to soothing her. “I think the tea yesterday was a marvelous success, don’t you?”
Her tautness eased. Her eyes, which had been fierce, became thoughtful, interested…focused on him. “No, I don’t. What were you thinking? Your performance at the tea yesterday was a disgrace. Flipping your handkerchief! Prosing on about me when you should have been praising the debutantes!”
“I didn’t mean to displease you.” Jude liked knowing he had brought her attention back to him. To them. “I got confused.”
“Confused?” She rested against the garden wall.
He put one hand on either side of her head and leaned toward her, close enough that his lips touched hers with each movement. “I flirt with you during my lessons, and it seemed natural to flirt with you at the tea.”
“That’s prattle.” She strove to sound normal, but he caught the faint breathlessness in her voice.
“Truly! It’s easy to flirt with you. I know what to say, how to act. Those other girls are young and silly. They don’t appreciate me or my advice.”
“So few of us do.”
He laughed. “Once I mastered the art of attending to the ladies, I thought I did well.”
“Yes,” she admitted, “once you mastered it you did do well.”
She didn’t realize how much attention had been paid to her instruction and the meekness with which he followed it. She didn’t realize that when she dispatched him to visit with other young ladies, she sent a message
of absolute confidence in his attachment to her. Today society buzzed about Miss Ritter and Lord Huntington, and nothing the duke of Nevett said would make any difference to the rumors—that was supposing his father ever bothered to go into society, which he seldom did.
Did Mum know? Jude wouldn’t venture a guess. She was an acute observer of human nature, but since Michael’s death she hadn’t bothered to look past the bounds of her own home. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed the tension between Jude and Caroline, or perhaps she thought they had it under control.
He wished that was true. He couldn’t resist Caroline. She was truly the finest flirt he’d ever met, but more than that, she tugged at his senses. For the first time since he’d returned from Moricadia, passion threatened to sweep him away. But while this seemed likely to become obsession, he held the reins in their relationship. She might tempt him unbearably, but ultimately, he was in control. He directed her movements. She would unwittingly help him, and be none the wiser and not hurt at all.
With that in mind, he incited trouble. “Comte de Guignard fell in love with you yesterday. I saw it happen.”
“I know.” Her eyes were serene.
“What will you do?” he asked curiously.
“Do?” She frowned, puzzled by the question. “Why, nothing, or nothing any different for him than for any other man who…”
“Who falls in love with you?”
She inclined her head. “It used to happen with great regularity. Now I’m more circumspect, and thus I avoid attention.”
He wanted to laugh aloud at her artlessness. Goose was as in love with her as ever, young Vickers wallowed in love for her, even Routledge fancied himself a suitor. Still, he probed to see how greedy she might be. “But Comte de Guignard is wealthy, has a title, and he could take you away to a country where no one has ever heard of you.”
“I’ve learned a few things since my debut. Just because a man loves me doesn’t mean he wants to marry me—and I’m not going anywhere with anybody anyway.” She made her statement with great satisfaction. “I’ll never again expect a man to take care of me.”
This situation required careful handling. “But Comte de Guignard is from the Continent, and surely older than your former suitors—”