“Oh, ho!” he crowed, understanding dawning on his heavy brow. “You wish to be alone with me. What a capital idea, Lady Vivien. I approve entirely.”
She gave him a weak smile. She hated using him so ruthlessly, but explaining the situation was impossible. Besides, although Lord Tumbler had fallen into the inconvenient habit of pestering her, he’d never displayed anything less than perfect manners. She could certainly stand to sit on a bench for a few minutes smiling at the poor man while he prattled at her, and then they could go back to the ball.
By then, she could only hope Aden had shaken himself free of the Prince Regent. He’d certainly looked disgruntled enough to wish to escape as quickly as he could. Vivien didn’t blame him. She’d only talked to the Regent on two occasions. One time he’d winked at her, and the other time he’d pinched her bottom.
“Here we are, my lady,” Lord Tumbler enthused as he swept her through a set of glass doors into the orangery.
Vivien snuck a peek over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. No one had followed them. She was so relieved she rewarded his lordship with a grateful smile. He blinked rapidly several times and then puffed out his chest. In his vaguely Elizabethan-looking costume, he looked like a rooster. “This looks like a delightfully refreshing place to sit,” he said.
He led her to a pretty scrolled bench next to a small fountain. Grateful to be off her feet, Vivien sank down. She wriggled her toes as she looked around the spacious room, enjoying the sound of splashing water in the marble bowl of the fountain. The orangery was a delightful space, floored with large paving stones and with one wall composed almost entirely of glass. Dozens of potted shrubs covered the floor in an artful display, and the air carried the soft scent of orange blossoms.
Lord Tumbler lowered his bulky physique, pressing against her. Vivien tried to shift away as far as possible but he was determined to squeeze her between his body and the metal arm of the bench.
He half turned, draping his arm across the back of the bench. “There, now,” he said with an arch smile. “This is much better than being cooped up in that stuffy old ballroom. Now we can be quiet and comfortable, and no one will interrupt us.”
A whisper of alarm rippled along her nerves. She peered up into his pink face and took in the ardent gleam in his pale blue eyes. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea, after all.
Vivien cast a nervous glance at the door, trying to decide what to do. Fortunately, Lord Tumbler launched into what he labeled a
cozy gossip,
mixing the latest
on-dits
with the usual fulsome compliments he liked to pay her. Gradually she relaxed, smiling vaguely and nodding in all the right places even as she kept a wary eye on the door—more to watch out for Khovansky than to escape her companion. Lord Tumbler might be encouraged by this little interlude but he was too much of a gentleman to cross the line.
As the minutes passed and Khovansky did not appear, she realized that disappearing with Lord Tumbler for any length of time carried its own set of problems. She was skating on the edge of scandal as it was, and she had no desire to be trapped in a compromising situation. It was time to take her chances and hope Ivan the Terrible had found other diversions for the evening.
“Lord Tumbler,” she said, breaking into his chatter. “I think it time we return to the ball. I’m feeling much better and I know Mamma will be looking for me.”
Tumbler halted in midstream, gazing at her with some confusion. But then his eyes glittered with an oddly cunning look and he grabbed her hand and clasped it over his breast.
“Dear Lady Vivien, you cannot be so cruel as to take me to the high reaches of heaven and then cast me so precipitously into the darkness,” he exclaimed in a dramatic voice. “Allow me to take this golden opportunity to proclaim my feelings for you, once and for all.”
She struggled to pull her hand from his grip. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
He adopted what he must have thought was a soulful expression, but which really made him look like an unhappy basset hound. “Lady Vivien, when you asked me to spirit you away from the ball, I was convinced you were finally going to make me the happiest of men. Why else would you suggest it?”
Vivien finally managed to yank her hand away. “Because I was trying to—oh, never mind. It would take too long to explain.”
She struggled to stand, no easy feat since Tumbler was squishing her against the unforgiving metal arm of the bench. Before she could escape, he wrapped his pudgy fingers around her shoulders and leaned in, clearly intent on a kiss.
Startled, Vivien planted her palms on his chest and shoved with all her might. She managed to break his grip and stagger to her feet. When she tripped over the hem of her gown, she grabbed the back of the bench to keep herself upright. Unfortunately, in doing so she lost her small window of escape. Tumbler’s face was now determined and set, and he heaved himself to his feet, grabbing her once more.
“My lady, you must know how ardently I love you,” he cried. “How can you deny me when you have so clearly indicated you feel the same?”
“Oh, bother,” she muttered. “I meant no such thing, Lord Tumbler. I merely wished to escape from the heat and the noise. Please accept my profound—”
She bit off her apology with a startled squeak as he pursed his lips and came in for the kill. Clearly, nothing she said would have the slightest impact on him.
Silently cursing herself as a fool, she dodged his kiss. She twisted in his grip, planted her shoulder against his chest, and rammed him with all her might. He let out a cry and fell backward, his legs fetching up on the rim of the small fountain. His fingers clutched at her, tangling in the small drape of the train over her shoulder. She heard a rip, and a piece of the silk tore free as he tumbled—bottom end first—into the gurgling fountain behind them.
For such a small amount of water it made a huge splash. Vivien scrambled back a few steps, barely managing to avoid a dousing as she stared at him in horror.
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry!” She stepped around the puddles to the edge of the fountain. “Here, let me help you up.” She extended a hand, giving him a weak smile.
He floundered about in the fountain, making noises remarkably like a snorting bull. “Don’t touch me,” he spluttered. “You’ve done quite enough for one evening.”
Vivien was torn between guilt and a terrible impulse to burst into laughter. With an effort, she repressed the uncharitable reaction. “I understand, and I do apologize most sincerely, my lord. Truly, I do.”
He managed to haul himself to his knees, and from there to his feet. Standing in the middle of the small pool, his clothes clinging in unforgiving drapes to his portly body, he glared at her. “I do not accept your apology, Lady Vivien. This is all your fault, you minx!”
Miffed, she glared back at him. “Well, I do feel rather bad about the way things turned out, but I believe I made it quite clear I wanted to return to the ballroom. And I certainly never asked you to kiss me!”
He waved an impatient hand, sending a small spray of water arcing in her direction. She jumped back, barely avoiding a wetting.
“Don’t just stand there,” he snapped. “Go fetch a footman.”
She didn’t much like his tone but she couldn’t really blame him. Besides, there was nothing to be gained by arguing over whose fault it was. The faster she could extract herself from this ridiculous situation, the better.
“Yes, of course,” she said, backing away as he hauled himself out of the fountain. “I’ll send a footman to help you immediately.”
He shot her another furious look as he began wringing out the tails of his coat. Practically strangling on horrified laughter, she turned and fled for the door to the corridor. She paused there, craning her neck to peer through the glass down the hallway. All seemed quiet, so she opened the door, turned around, and shut it carefully behind her.
When she turned back, she almost jumped out of her shoes. Aden loomed before her, his black domino swirling around him. Like some kind of wizard, he seemed to have appeared from thin air.
Vivien clapped a hand over her thudding heart. How so big a man could move in such a stealthy manner defied understanding. “You startled me.”
His dark gaze flitted over her shoulder to the glass doors. “What’s going on? Where’s Lord Tumbler?” he asked, his voice laden with suspicion.
She frowned. “How did you know? I was very careful to slip out with as little fuss as possible.”
“You shouldn’t have slipped out at all, and never out of my sight. We talked about this, Vivien.”
Inspecting her with that disapproving glower, he should have intimidated her. But he didn’t. She loved that he worried about her, and couldn’t hold back the silly desire to be alone with him. That, of course, was very bad, since she would probably use such an opportunity to tempt him to kiss her again.
“Well, why did you disobey my orders?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I was trying to avoid Prince Ivan.”
He started to answer, but then stopped and peered at her shoulder. “What happened to your dress?”
“What? Nothing—oh,” she said, her cheeks burning with a guilty flush. “It’s nothing. Just a little tear. I, er, think I caught it on one of my earrings.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. Where’s Tumbler?” He reached past her to fling open the door to the orangery.
She slapped a hand to his chest—a chest decidedly harder than Lord Tumbler’s, she couldn’t help noting.
“Nothing happened,” she said in a firm voice.
He gave her a disgusted shake of the head.
“Very well,” she amended. “Something did happen but I took care of it. And, believe me. Lord Tumbler came out much worse for wear.”
His eyes narrowed and he stared at the door, as if debating whether to go in or not.
“Can we please just go back to the ballroom?” she pleaded.
His glance flicked over her with sharp assessment. “You can’t go back now. That little rip is rather obvious, and your hair is coming down from its chignon.”
Grimacing, she touched a hand to the elaborate creation woven out of hair and gold-spangled ribbon. Several tresses had slipped down around her shoulders.
“Drat. I’ll never get it back up by myself. Oh, very well.”
He took her by the elbow and began to lead her toward the front of the mansion.
“Oh, wait,” she exclaimed, stopping abruptly. “We have to find a footman and send him to the orangery. Lord Tumbler needs help.”
Aden stared straight ahead, slowly shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not.”
He pulled her into a window alcove that was partially hidden by a thick velvet drape. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
While he was gone, Vivien amused herself by doing math problems in her head. He returned in just a few minutes, her velvet cloak thrown over his arm.
He flung it around her shoulders, deftly tying the ribbons about her throat. She shivered when his calloused fingers brushed the sensitive skin under her jaw, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Did you find a footman?” she asked in a husky whisper.
He glanced up, their eyes meeting. He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “A footman has been dispatched, along with strict instructions to keep his counsel.”
“How much did you have to pay him?” Vivien asked in an anxious voice.
“A guinea. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice you slip away with Lord Tumbler, as far as I can tell.”
“Except for Prince Ivan,” she mused. “But I imagine he won’t say anything, and you can be assured Lord Tumbler will not.”
“We’re going to have a chat about that once I get you out of here,” he answered in a grim voice as he led her to the entrance hall.
Fortunately, only Lady Bentley’s servants were present since it was too early for most guests to leave the ball. As a liveried footman opened the door, Vivien halted, clapping a hand to her cheek.
“Mamma! I can’t just leave without telling her.”
“My mother took care of it,” Aden said as he nudged her through the door.
“Really? What did she tell her?”
“That you felt unwell.”
Vivien sighed. “Of course. I’m assuming Mamma did not feel the need to find me to see how I was.” Her mother’s neglect shouldn’t sting, not after all these years.
Aden gave her elbow a sympathetic squeeze as they waited on the pavement for his carriage. But his silence spoke volumes. Vivien fell into a brown study, staring at the tips of her toes. When a frigid gust of wind blew up the hem of her cloak, she shivered and glanced at Aden. She frowned, struck by his tense, watchful demeanor as he scanned the line of carriages and the street.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said in a flat voice.
She didn’t believe that, but just then a carriage pulled up to the front of the house. A plainly garbed groom swung down to open the door. Aden handed her in, then stepped forward to murmur something to the coachman. Then he vaulted in, taking the opposite bench.
In the soft glow of the coach lamp, his face looked somber, even grim. Obviously he was still annoyed with her. A carriage ride alone with Aden had initially seemed a welcome opportunity to explore what they had begun last night, but from the irritated cast of his mouth he would be doing something else with those lips other than kissing her.
He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes with an all-too-predictable severity. “Now, Lady Vivien, perhaps you will explain why you took it upon yourself to behave in such an idiotic and reckless fashion.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Vivien bristled. Perhaps she had been foolish to go off with Lord Tumbler, but how else was she to avoid Prince Ivan? “I don’t see what else I could have done,” she said in a grumpy tone.
“You could have stayed right where you were. I made it clear that you were not to wander off where I couldn’t find you.”
“Well, you did find me, despite your claim that no one saw me leave.” That gave her pause. “How
did
you know where to look for me?”
“My blasted mother, of course. She sees everything. And don’t change the subject, Vivien. Despite your abduction, you apparently do not have the wit to recognize you’re still in danger. A great deal of danger,” he added with unnecessary emphasis.
A chill of fear slithered up her spine. With effort, she pushed it aside, taking refuge in outraged dignity. “I do not appreciate your insults, sir. My actions were perfectly reasonable given the circumstances. You know very well why I tried to avoid Prince Ivan.”
Aden’s jaw worked as if he were chewing over her words. From the look on his face, he found them undercooked. “Of course I understand your desire to avoid dealing with the man. But as unpleasant as that would have been, you were quite safe. And I would have made my way to you eventually.”
Eventually.
How comforting.
“When you finished toadying to the Regent, I suppose,” she said with a huff. “How very reassuring.”
Something ugly flared in his eyes, taking her aback. Yes, she’d called him a toady but he’d said she was witless. As far as insults went, the bout was a draw. Why had his gaze suddenly gone so frigid?
“What should I have done, my lady?” he asked in a hard voice. “Give him the cut direct? As it was, I likely offended His Royal bloody Highness by backing out of the conversation as quickly as I could in order to follow you. What more would you have me do?”
She stared at him, unnerved by the escalating tension between them. Something beyond his usual irritation with her drove him tonight, something elusive and yet powerful.
“Yes, of course,” she said cautiously. “But when I saw Prince Ivan heading toward me, I simply couldn’t bear the idea of him touching me. Not after what happened last time.”
The seconds ticked uncomfortably by. Finally, Aden let out a weary sigh that flicked her guilt back to life. Even in the dim glow of the carriage lamp, she could make out the fatigue and strain on his handsome face, and knew she was partly responsible for it.
“I understand, but for God’s sake, Vivien! The guests—most of whom you know—were packed to the rafters. And your admirers stood ten feet deep around you. I’m sure they would have been more than happy to protect you from the prince’s advances.”
She perked up. Was that jealousy she heard in his voice?
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she mused. “Lord Tumbler seemed more than happy to assist me.”
When Aden’s black gaze narrowed to suspicious slits, Vivien had the unwelcome sense he guessed she was throwing out a feeler.
“Lady Vivien, you continue to make it very difficult for me to do my job.”
Blast.
Now he was back to calling her
Lady Vivien
. It was at times like this that she feared she was losing her touch. Or perhaps it was simply that Aden was immune to her, after all.
“Is that all I am to you? A job?” she blurted out.
Instead of answering, he lifted the curtain over the glass and looked out. It occurred to her that it was taking a rather long time to reach Blake House.
“Why is it taking so long to get home?”
“I asked the coachman to take his time returning you home. We are not finished with this conversation, Vivien. We must address the issue of your persistently reckless behavior, and I will not let you out of this carriage until we reach some kind of agreement on your safety.”
Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air. “Must we keep harping on that? It wasn’t as if anything really bad happened.” She paused. Lord Tumbler might not agree with her. “Well, at least not to me,” she finished.
Aden covered his eyes with a hand. “You had better tell me exactly what happened.”
She didn’t miss the long-suffering tone in his voice. “Oh, very well,” she grumbled.
He obviously had no intention of kissing her, so she might as well tell him the entire silly tale and get it over with. Except for the hour she’d spent at the hazard table, the evening had become a farce and at this point her bed seemed infinitely preferable to a lecture.
“As I mentioned, Lord Tumbler was quite eager to escort me from the ballroom. I suggested the orangery because I thought it unlikely Prince Ivan would look there.”
Aden raised his eyes to the roof of the carriage in patent disbelief.
“It was the perfect place to go,” she said defensively. “No one else came in the entire time.”
“And if Prince Ivan had found you, you would have been alone but for Lord Tumbler to protect you.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it.
Drat
.
He waved his hand in a windmilling circle. “Never mind. Go on with your story.”
Vivien crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, but complied. Halfway through the tale, she noticed that his mouth seemed to be twitching. A minute later, he pressed one hand to his lips as if holding something back. Finally, when she got to the part where Lord Tumbler rebuffed her offer of assistance, he burst into laughter.
And not just a chuckle, either. In fact, he was soon clutching his side, barely able to breathe.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” she said, indignant. “You certainly wouldn’t be laughing if Lord Tumbler had tried to slobber all over you.”
Aden’s laughter had started to subside, but that set him off again. When she glared at him, he held up a hand. “Enough, Vivien,” he managed to gasp out.
She stared at him, mystified. Aden did not strike her as a man who found the world a very amusing place, at least not to this extent.
“Have you been drinking?” she asked suspiciously.
“No,” he choked out. “It’s all you. You lured Tumbler away from the ball, pushed him into a fountain, and then offered to haul him out. If word does get out, the poor man will have to rusticate in the country for a year.”
Suddenly, she saw an image of Lord Tumbler’s outraged, dripping countenance staring back at her and she dissolved into helpless giggles. That started Aden off again, and it took several minutes before they were able to bring themselves under control. Vivien, wrung out by all the conflicting strains of the evening, finally subsided into a few watery giggles as she dabbed at her eyes with her gloved fingertips.
“Here, let me,” he said, extracting a handkerchief. He leaned over and pressed her eyes dry with a gentle hand. She held her breath, trying not to tremble under the soft touch.
When he finished, he stayed close, studying her face. “Vivien, what am I going to do with you?”
His wry, exasperated tone brought a sudden rush of tears to her throat. Since Papa’s death, no one in her own family had worried about her, or lifted a finger to protect her. Aden had, but his help probably stemmed from his innately chivalrous nature and sense of duty rather than from emotion. As foolish as it was, she longed to be more than an obligation, or a burden to be disposed of as efficiently as possible.
While she fiddled with the ties of her cloak, the only answer she could muster was a shrug. When his gaze sharpened, she looked down at her lap, unable to face his piercing inspection.
She heard him draw in a breath and then two fingers came up to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. As she studied the severe lines of his handsome face, her heart twisted with an aching, hopeless desire.
A surprisingly tender smile curved his lips. “My poor sweetheart, you’ve had rather a trying evening, haven’t you?”
Oh, Lord. If he kept staring at her like that, with so much sympathy warming his eyes, she
would
start crying.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. Except for the pathetic crack in her voice.
Slowly, the warmth in his eyes transmuted into a seductive heat. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she could swear all that heat flicked a kiss of fire across it. Her lips parted in an involuntary gasp.
“Christ, Vivien,” Aden murmured in a ragged voice. His gloved hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up another inch as he swiftly claimed her mouth.
And claim he did, slipping his tongue between her lips in a swirl of delicious, liquid heat. She tasted champagne and fire and a potent masculine energy that drove its way straight to her heart. With a searing delight, both startling and terrifying in its power, she threw her arms around his neck, flinging herself against him. He let out a smothered exclamation and fell back against the squabs, bringing her with him in a tangle of arms and legs. In fact, Vivien sprawled half on him and half on her knees on the floor of the carriage, but she refused to let go. She tightened her hold and hauled herself up, chest to chest.
Aden’s arms tightened around her, holding her in an awkward embrace. He broke the impassioned kiss on a husky laugh. “Careful, my love. You’ll hurt yourself.”
My love.
Could any two words possibly sound more wonderful? Eyes half closed, she pressed little kisses along his jaw, relishing the hard slash of muscle and bone and his bristled skin against her lips.
“I don’t care,” she muttered.
“Well, I do.” He reached down, palmed her bottom in his big hands, and lifted. She squeaked, grabbing at his shoulders as he pulled her right off her knees. He managed to scoop her up and turn her with effortless ease, plopping her down in his lap.
She blinked at the sudden change, electrified by the sensation of her bottom nestling on top of his groin. Her cloak had flared out around them, cascading onto the floor and leaving only two thin layers of fabric—silk and the finest linen—between her body and his. She could feel
all
of him against her—hard, muscular thighs, and an equally hard and very intriguing bulge pressing into her.
“There, now,” Aden purred in a deep voice. “Isn’t that better?”
“Ah, yes. Quite, thank you,” she stammered. “I’m very comfortable.”
Oh, Lord.
She cringed at her idiotic reply.
“Good,” he said with a ghost of a laugh. Circling his strong arms around her, he slowly pulled off one glove and then the other, tossing them onto the opposite seat. Excitement corkscrewed through her body, twisting everything into a shivery sort of knot.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I can’t feel your skin through my gloves,” he said. “And I want to feel you.”
“Oh. Yes, that m-makes perfect sense.”
His mouth nuzzled the fragile skin at her temple, and she could feel the smile pulling at his lips. “You do want me to touch you, don’t you, Vivien?”
Unable to speak, she nodded twice. Firmly.
“I thought so,” he murmured with a dark satisfaction. Then his hand settled with a firm, reassuring pressure on her knee.
And not through her gown, either.
Vivien’s eyes widened as she looked down, finally noticing that her tumble into his lap had rucked her gown and shift up to her thighs. Aden’s long fingers carefully stroked her through her white stockings, the callus-roughened tips teasing her with a delicious rasp through the delicate material. She shivered and bit her lip as sensation streaked up her thigh and settled in at the secret place at the apex of her thighs.
Aden nuzzled her jaw and she shivered even harder. “Are you cold, my sweet?” he asked.
She arched her neck, giving him access to her throat. “No,” she said in a dazed voice.
“Ah, then you are feeling modest. Let me take care of that.”
He leaned forward slightly and pulled his domino around them, covering them in a black sweep of fabric. Vivien blinked, disoriented by the contrast between what she saw—or couldn’t see—and what she felt.
And she felt quite a lot.
“There,” he said in a smug voice. “You are now the picture of modesty.”
She turned and came nose to nose with him, slipping her fingers into his cravat. “Mock me at your peril, sir. I vow there will be consequences.”
A predatory grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Is that so, my lady? Why don’t you show me?”
Tightening her grip, she pulled his head down. When his mouth settled on hers, the world slipped away and only he remained. As he parted her lips, gently exploring with his tongue, a sweet welling of emotion unlocked the secret spaces in her heart where she’d stored her hopes and dreams, carefully guarded for the day she would find the man to fit key to lock.
A voice in her mind quietly called her a fool, but she denied it, too entranced by Aden’s kiss. Tentatively, she sucked his tongue into her mouth, toying with it in a delicious slide of wet heat. She acted on instinct, eager to please him, and the deep rumbling in his chest told her she’d succeeded. Emboldened, she slipped her hands around his neck and deepened the kiss, tangling her tongue with his in slow, luxurious play.
Under the cover of his cloak, Aden’s hand gripped her knee as he plundered her mouth, returning her eager kisses. Her body seemed to sing under his touch, responding with an unfamiliar yet delicious heat between her thighs. As if sensing her reaction, his fingers moved higher, gliding upward to the top of her garters and stockings. When they touched her naked skin, she jerked, bringing her rump more fully into contact with his groin.
Aden hissed into her mouth. The arm around her shoulders tightened as he lifted his pelvis, grinding into her. She gasped and broke free, her back instinctively arching as she pressed into him. A wild, urgent need to feel
all
of that masculine hardness made her squirm.