Stolen Kisses (6 page)

“Hah,” she scoffed, trying not to blush. “Is this one of the subtle seductions you are teaching my brother? I
fear, then, that he is doomed to celibacy.”

Unexpectedly, Dansbury chuckled. “If you disbelieve my pure, good-hearted intentions, Miss Benton, then leave.”

“I will. As soon as you look and see whether His Grace is still there.”

With a slight bow, the marquis turned and parted the branches. “He’s still there, lecturing Greeley. Looks as though that idiot’s been wading in the fountain again.”

“Again?” she repeated. Lilith craned her neck to see over his shoulder, and instead caught herself studying the lean, rugged line of his jaw. When he looked back at her, his eyes seemed genuinely amused, the cynicism for once missing.

“Greeley seems to end up in some pool of water or other at least twice a Season. He is something of a toad, though, so I suppose it’s not all that surprising.”

Greeley
was
somewhat frog-eyed, and a corner of her mouth quirked. “That’s not amusing.”

Dansbury contorted his face into an expression of mortified dismay. “Oh, my, is Greeley a seventh suitor of yours? I had no idea. Please, let me tender my most sincere apol—”

“He is not a suitor,” she said, beyond impatience. “And neither are you, my lord.”

“But I can think of nothing but your heavenly smile,” he protested, the picture of innocence as his own deucedly attractive smile touched his mouth, “and tasting your sweet lips. How can you so callously banish me from your heart?”

“I am surprised you have any place for thoughts of me at all, with the amount of time you spend pursuing hazard, faro, port, and brandy,” she retorted, unsettled. Not even Lionel had dared suggest he thought about
kissing her. The evening’s fireworks began close by, and she jumped at the sudden noise.

He laughed again, softly, and reached out to straighten the blue shawl draped across her shoulders. His fingers were warm even through his gloves as they brushed the base of her throat, and her pulse leapt in response. “You exaggerate. I almost never drink brandy.”

“And this is supposed to redeem you, you scoundrel?” she countered in her most hostile voice.

“One can only hope.” He took a step toward her, so only a few scant inches separated them. A white cascade of glittering light lit the night above his head and made his eyes sparkle. “Do you mean there is no charity in your heart for a poor, misguided soul such as myself?”

“You’ve guided yourself astray,” she informed him, backing up, “and my poor brother, as well.” Her thoughts and her wits seemed to have scattered, and she fought to keep an affronted expression on her face.

“Then he is safe,” the marquis murmured, “for my path leads straight back to you.”

That was what she was afraid of. She should simply turn and leave, Wenford or not, but the rogue was not going to have the last word. “You will find that the gate is locked, my lord.”

“I’ll jump the hedge.”

Of all the things she had expected, Lilith had never imagined Dansbury could be silly. “I shall buy a large dog,” she answered shakily. Why was the blackguard being charming when he knew she despised him?

He grinned. “Then I shall be bitten, whereas now I am but smitten.”

“Smiting you would be my pleasure,” she returned, her voice faltering a little at the end.

“Come now,” he chastised. “You want me dead for approaching you to ask a waltz?” He reached out again,
gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Lilith took a ragged breath, trying to regain control of her senses. “You know what I mean,” she said, as soon as she regained control of her voice. If he would stop touching her and looking at her in that intense, heart-stopping manner, she would be able to give him the set-down he deserved.

“Please, explain it to me. I wish to know your thoughts.”

“Very well. I want you to leave William alone.”

“I can’t do that,” he answered promptly. “I’m quite fond of the lad.”

“You’re ruining him. And that will destroy my father, which will…” she faltered, not wanting to disclose something he didn’t already know. There was apparently little, though, that the marquis didn’t seem to know. “Which will…hurt me.” She met his gaze. “Unless that is your intention, I beg you to stop.”

His eyes searched hers. In the cold night breeze a lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, making him look boyish and far more innocent than she knew him to be. Finally he smiled, less innocently and more sensuously than before. “Will you not sacrifice something to save your brother from such evil as I apparently represent?”

She narrowed her eyes, thankful that she could rally her anger again. “You truly have no heart at all,” she stated hotly. “A gentleman, anyone possessing
any
kindness, would not do what you are doing.”

He grinned crookedly. “But you’ve already informed me that I have no positive qualities whatsoever. So how could I possibly make use of them? Perhaps I have sought you out as my last chance of salvation. You are as beautiful as any of heaven’s angels, Lilith. Could you, would you, save me?”

Lilith’s heart began to beat wildly in trepidation and something more as he leaned toward her, his gaze focusing on her lips. “I—”

“Miss Benton,” a male voice called sharply, and she jumped again.

The Earl of Nance fought his way through the shrubbery to face the marquis. Thank goodness it wasn’t Wenford, or any other of her suitors—Lionel Hendrick at least had some sense in his head.

“Has Dansbury offended you?” Nance demanded, glaring at the marquis.

Jack smiled lazily. “Yes, Miss Benton, have I offended you?”

She wanted to slap him for nearly kissing her, and for making her wonder what it would be like. Lionel, though, looked aggravated enough to push for a fight. She certainly had no wish to be involved in one of Dansbury’s scandals, which he appeared to regard with such amusement.

Lilith shook her head. “I simply no longer wish to converse with him.”

“Allow me, then, to escort you back to your friends, whom I discovered looking for you a few moments ago.” Nance tucked her hand around his forearm.

“Yes, by all means,” the marquis agreed easily. “But beware, Miss Benton. Your ice is melting.”

She looked at him sharply. His gesture, though, was toward the strawberry ice she still clutched in one hand. She’d forgotten about it. Lilith glared at him for effect, then turned to Nance. “Thank you, my lord,” she smiled sweetly, “for your assistance.”

As they emerged from the bushes, she looked about warily. The duke was nowhere in sight, and she had to wonder whether the marquis hadn’t made up the tale of Wenford’s continued presence to keep her hidden with
him. She glanced back to give Dansbury a cold parting glance, but he was gone, vanished in the dark as if into thin air.

The faint smell of brimstone from the fireworks drifted by as she and Nance returned to the Sanfords’ box. Perhaps Jack Faraday
was
the actual devil. He’d already possessed William, and now he was after her. He would find, though, that she was not so timid and easily cowed as he believed. However charming he thought himself, this was one little game that the Marquis of Dansbury was not going to win.

“Jack, would you please explain to me once more what in God’s name we are doing here?” Ogden Price muttered. He nodded halfheartedly at the shocked-looking cluster of women standing a short distance away from them.

“We are attending a tea-tasting,” Jack said calmly, putting another biscuit on the small plate he carried. “And do try smiling, before you frighten the poor dears. You’re becoming entirely bracket-faced.”

“And you’re becoming entirely demented,” Price hissed back. “Why didn’t you convince your sister or Antonia to come along, instead of dragging me into this hell?”

Jack’s determinedly pleasant smile became more strained for a moment. “Antonia is nocturnal. And my sister’s side of the family doesn’t speak to me, remember? Besides, a little civilization is good for the soul.”

“You haven’t a soul.” Price sighed. “Otherwise, you never would have done this to me. Pass me a damned biscuit.”

Across the room, the tittering and whispering females looked like a flock of frightened hens herding away from a fox. To complete Jack’s torture, Lilith Benton had yet
to make her appearance. William Benton was going to find himself in considerable trouble if he was wrong about her plans for today. “Honey, or blueberry?”

“Honey, damn your eyes.”

“If you please, Price, do watch your tongue.” He took a bite of biscuit, smiled grandly, and addressed one of the women in the corner. “I say, Mrs. Falshond, these are marvelous. You must see that my cook receives the recipe. That spice I taste couldn’t be cinnamon, could it?”

Mrs. Falshond perked up and ventured a few steps forward. “It is cinnamon, my lord. The secret ingredient of a very old family recipe.”

Jack nodded and elbowed Price to try a bite. “I do hope you don’t mind sharing it.”

“Of course not, my lord.” Their hostess preened like a peacock and playfully slapped her hand against his sleeve.

Evidently she’d decided he was harmless today, and though that was Jack’s aim, her gullibility amazed him. “Splendid.”

Mrs. Falshond clapped her hands imperiously. “Shall we proceed, ladies?” As she turned back, her smile brightened further. “Mrs. Farlane, Miss Benton. So pleased you could come. I believe you are acquainted with everyone present.”

The marquis turned to see Lilith Benton wiping surprise from her face as she quickly looked away from him and took her hostess’s hand. “Indeed I am, Mrs. Falshond. Thank you for inviting us.”

Jack watched Lilith as she glanced once more in his direction, then quickly away. He felt it again—that queer lifting of his heart which seemed to coincide with her presence. He’d felt it for the first time last night—light, airy, and completely absurd—when she’d slammed into
him at the Gardens. He’d canceled his weekly fencing bout to track her down and find out if it would happen again. He was both intrigued and consternated that it had.

Jack spent the next hour sampling teas from around the world, and charming a roomful of hostile females. Miss Benton remained uncharacteristically silent, but over the course of their several encounters, he had noted that she only seemed to voice her opinion when there was no one of import to overhear her. Evidently she considered him to be of no import—which was acceptable, if it provided him with the opportunity to continue speaking with her.

Something about the entire situation was askew, but that realization was as intriguing as was the chit herself. Finally he cornered her between a table and the fireplace, while Price unenthusiastically occupied Mrs. Falshond and Lilith’s annoying aunt.

“Good afternoon, Miss Benton,” he said, reaching over her shoulder for a teacake.

She started and then quickly glanced in her aunt’s direction. “Lord Dansbury.”

He smiled as she picked up a pastry, keeping her back carefully turned to him. She might think she was doing her duty by ignoring him, but she certainly made no other attempt to get away. “Have you tried the Madagascar blend?” he asked, brushing his hand down her sleeve as he indicated the nearest teapot.

“No.” She stayed where she was, as though rooted to the spot.

“I recommend it,” he continued, reaching for another teacake and trapping her between his body and the table. “Quite subtle, with a light tang of spice in the aftertaste.”

“Really.”

Lilith lowered her head to set down her plate, and Jack very nearly kissed the slender, curved nape of her neck. He took a deep breath, wondering for a fleeting moment just who was seducing whom. “Rather like you, I would imagine.”

“Do go away,” she whispered.

“Do face me when you’re speaking to me,” he returned.

Tightly she shook her head. “I’m
not
speaking to you.”

“I beg to differ.” She smelled of lavender and tea, and as his breath lightly touched her hair, she shivered. “You are speaking volumes.”

Lilith’s shoulders heaved with the breath she took, then she turned around and met his gaze directly. “
Now
will you go away?”

Price cleared his throat, indicating he’d lost his sway over the two hens.

“One day,” Jack murmured to Lilith, bringing her hand to his lips and softly kissing her knuckles, “you will ask me to stay.”

“Lilith,” her aunt’s stern voice came.

“I shall not, my lord.”

He smiled and returned her plate to her hands. “We shall see.”

Lilith and Aunt Eugenia headed directly from the tea sampling to join Penelope and Lady Sanford at their dressmaker’s. Eugenia immediately plunked herself down beside Lady Sanford in the shop window. “Imagine my horror, Daphne,” she said breathlessly, “at stepping into the room to see the devil himself there before us. The Marquis of Dansbury, pretending to be interested in sampling tea!”

Pen looked sideways at Lilith. “Dansbury was there?” she mouthed.

Trying to overhear the rest of her aunt’s remarks, Lilith gave a small nod. As the conversation turned to a recitation of Dansbury’s past duels and mad, drunken wagers, she impatiently stepped over to eye the nearly finished gown draped over a mannequin. “Are you certain it’s not too daring?” she asked the dressmaker.

“
Mais non, mademoiselle
,” Madame Belieu protested. “You will see when you try it on. It will be
parfaite
.”

Lilith had her doubts. The emerald green silk was quite low-cut—something that the Marquis of Dansbury would no doubt find perfectly acceptable, but his standards were so low as to be practically invisible.

Aunt Eugenia scowled. “It’s perfectly—”

“Lovely.” Lady Sanford smiled approvingly. “It will show you off to fine advantage. And with the cold weather, dark colors are quite fashionable this Season. A splendid choice, Eugenia.”

“Hm. Thank you, Daphne,” Eugenia said, sending the gown another distasteful look.

Lilith smiled gratefully. The gown was truly beautiful, and she had never been allowed to wear such a thing before.