Suzi Love (12 page)

Becca looked askance at him. Her face looked such a picture of horror that he felt mildly insulted. Her gaze narrowed on him as she matched his formality for the sake of the family, who were agog with interest. She opened her mouth to speak but Aunt Agatha smiled her delight and overrode any scathing reply Becca wished to utter.

“What a splendid idea. Your attentiveness to our darling Becca will preclude any unsavoury gentlemen approaching her. And Laura and Lottie will benefit from your superior knowledge of the suitability of any possible suitors.”

Becca’s mouth opened again but Cayle interrupted. “Becca, think about it. We’ll be expected to spend time together. It’s what courting couples do.”

“Courting? I insisted we’d be introduced as old friends, nothing more. Nobody will believe you’ve any other sort of interest in me.”

Cayle had no chance to further his cause as the coach slowed in the drive of Mrs Simpson’s establishment and he was kept occupied helping the women alight. He presented his arm to Becca, forcing her to place her fingers on his sleeve.

Bending closer to her ear, he murmured, “No one will think it odd that I pursue you. I’m a duke of marriageable age and you’re a beautiful young lady of impeccable breeding. Our families have a long history together.”

She shot him a withering look. “Anyone that knows me realises I’ve no more thought of marrying than of jumping off — ”

“On the other hand,” he interrupted sharply, “a man can’t be too careful. One false step and I could find myself actually married to you.”

He gave her a tight smile and ignored her astounded look.

“However, if we’re to convince the world that we’re engaged to be married, or courting if you prefer, you will need to blunt your sharp tongue.”

Her look of outrage rewarded him. From this moment on, he intended keeping her with him. Leading strings worked that way. Where he went, she went. But also, he enjoyed being with her. Sparring with her and firing the heated passion that hovered just beneath her controlled exterior.

• • •

Waiting in the receiving line to greet their hosts, Cayle was forced to forgo that plan and shift a discreet distance from Becca. Because of the crush, she’d been pressed against his side, close enough that the scent of flowers wafted up to him. He inhaled deeply and then inwardly groaned as his entire body tightened in response to the scent of wildness she emitted. Simply breathing the same air as her unnerved him.

Good Lord, what had he done? In his arrogance, he’d assumed he could bend Becca to his will while still remaining impervious to her attractions. Making a slight revision of that plan became imperative in order for him to retain his sanity.

By introducing the Jamison sisters, Becca included, to every eligible gentlemen attending tonight, he’d ensure they were surrounded and protected. Physically, it would keep the ladies safe. Emotionally, he doubted any man was safe from their enticements.

Therefore, he’d take steps to ensure he didn’t become one of the captivated throng. He had enough fortitude and inner strength to resist their allure. Despite his friends thinking him oblivious to the sensation his presence created amongst the fairer sex, it was in fact quite the opposite. As a sought after bachelor with a title and wealth, he was acutely aware of the ravenous eyes of matchmaking mamas and fresh faced chits fixed upon him.

However, he’d created strategies to avoid them having no wish to raise expectations when he held no intention of succumbing to their efforts. Most evenings, he accompanied his stepmother and danced a maximum of three country dances with married women with no designs on him, then disappeared to the gaming room.

Four hours later, and with his previous escape plans in tatters, he cursed a hapless Jenner for not refusing admittance to Becca the prior night. He refused to acknowledge that some of the blame for his frustration fell to his own behaviour in taking her in his arms and kissing her. If he were honest, he would concede that any and all intimacy with Becca was a mistake. When it came to that infernal woman, he was weak willed. He always had been and it seemed he would continue with the same behaviour that pattern.

Moving on to the second of the evening’s entertainments, the same pattern occurred. No sooner did they enter a room en masse, then more gentlemen than he could count bombarded them. Every man in London clamoured for an introduction, or if he refused that, they claimed an association through another source. Many of the gentlemen were already well acquainted with the sisters with some far too familiar for Cayle’s comfort.

Upon overhearing one conversation at the edge of the crowd, Cayle’s mild irritation escalated into full-blown annoyance. Viscount Lindley was a known womaniser and always short of funds. His words flung Cayle into an instant awareness of how stupid he’d been in offering, demanding actually, that the Jamison ladies be presented under his support.

“But be warned,” Lindley was saying, “while all three are a delectable morsel, I intend gobbling up the oldest.”

His companion, Mr Boswood, argued, “But she’s a true bluestocking.”

Lindley smirked. “I’m willing to overlook that little fault in order to get what I want.” At his friend’s inquiring look, the viscount said, “That fiery little handful will not only look sumptuous spread naked across my sheets but after a night in my bed, she’ll reveal all the secrets of how her brother turns metal into gold. Or rather, steam engine iron into currency. Lots of lovely wealth.”

“You must be desperate if you’re willing to marry such a bookish woman in order to acquire investment advice.”

He chortled evilly. “Who mentioned marriage? There are other less permanent means of encouraging a woman to share a few morsels of gossip.”

Barely able to reign in his temper, Cayle tapped him on the shoulder.

“Step outside with me, Lindley. I want a private conversation with you.”

Ignoring the order, Viscount Lindley looked Cayle up and down before remarking in a loud voice, “Sherwyn, cut your step mama’s leading strings at last.”

Cayle fought for control, understanding that losing his temper in a crowded room would feed Julia’s greedy purpose by showing him to be an unfit Duke of Sherwyn. However, Lindley had deliberately insulted him and he couldn’t ignore the taunt.

His fists clenched at his side. Before he could raise one in retaliation, a soft hand circled the middle of his back. Becca slid around beside him and wrapped her gloved hand about his, folding his arm firmly against his side. He could easily have shrugged off her unwanted interference and her attempt to restrain him, but it would serve no purpose to brawl like street ruffians in Mrs Simpson’s elegant rooms.

Smiling at his companions, Becca said, “I believe my aunt is ready to depart, Your Grace.”

Pulling himself together for her sake, Cayle relaxed his tense muscles and nodded his acquiesce to Becca. “Of course. The poor lady will be tiring by now.”

Leaning in to the two men, he warned, “We’ll continue this discussion at a later date. At a more private location.”

Viscount Lindley sneered again. “When you’re able to escape your domestic duties with the Jamison horde, Sherwyn, you’ll find Julia at my uncle’s house. However, they won’t appreciate interruptions. He’d several exotic games planned for their evening. Games involving another dozen like-minded hellions and perhaps a footman or a maid or two.”

Cayle sucked in a breath. Only Becca’s firm restraining hand on his arm kept him from doing violence to the arrogant man making such crude taunts to his face. And, in front of a lady.

“You will speak with respect of every member of my family, Lindley, or we will be meeting at dawn.”

Becca jerked on his arm to regain his attention. “Cayle, no. He’s not worth endangering your reputation.”

Then she turned to the viscount to address him with rigid formality, yet in a quiet and earnest voice. “Viscount Lindley, I know the extent of your borrowings and your debts.”

He stared at her aghast, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror. “How would you, a woman,” he spat out the words, “know anything about my financial affairs?”

Becca stretched up to whisper in his ear. Cayle leaned closer to hear as she recited a list of figures that was incomprehensible for him. The effect on the viscount, however, was quite different. Lindley’s face blanched to the colour of a sheet on washing day.

Becca patted his hand as if he were a wayward child and added, “You may call on me at Jamison House on Thursday. At precisely ten o’clock.”

The sagging viscount nodded and bowed. “Of course, my lady.”

“And there will be no talk of duels, do you understand me?”

To Cayle’s amazement, Lindley hastened to agree.

Then Becca fixed the viscount’s friend with a haughty look and he too shriveled under her piercing stare. “Mr Boswood, I fear your grand-mama will be greatly distressed to learn you’re acting as less than a gentleman. She spoke to me only yesterday about a new will.”

Becca leaned in closer to emphasise her point. Boswood’s hand shook slightly when she clasped it between her gloved fingers.

“A visit from her favourite grandson may influence her in a favourable manner. However, a word in her ear from a concerned friend, namely me, may influence her in an unfavourable way.”

Boswood paled even whiter than his ally. He visibly trembled. Neither he nor Lindley spoke. With a nod at the two chastened men, Becca steered a bemused yet seething Cayle to the door to execute a polite departure from their hosts.

After assisting the ladies inside at Grosvenor Square, Cayle politely requested a few moments to confer with Becca. A tired Aunt Agatha blithely waved a hand towards the sitting room without even asking for the door to be left ajar.

Becca was right. Her family saw her as a chaperone for her sisters. Not a beautiful woman who’d tempt any man to sin. Her aunt must be batty, blind, or pretending oblivion if she hadn’t noticed his reaction each time he was near Becca. His mind filled with lustful reveries of how and where he’d like to have her. Spread wide on a picnic blanket in a grassy meadow. Hair glowing sun-red while he licked tiny droplets of perspiration running between her breasts. Lips tasting of fresh air and sunshine and warm skin smelling like wildflowers.

“What did you want to discuss, Cayle?”

He started when Becca interrupted his dreams. “You should not have interfered tonight. In future, you’ll keep well away from those men and leave me to deal with them.”

“No. I’ve every right to step in and prevent a fight. It was your idea to demonstrate how close we are again.” With her hands planted on her hips, Becca faced him with seething defiance. “And I couldn’t allow you to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for simply to battle with a half wit like Lindley. If I hadn’t intervened, you’d have been fighting over weapons like boys playing warriors.”

Cayle paced the length of the room. He sighed. Striding back to Becca, he lifted her hands from her hips and held them. He brushed his fingers back and forth across her taut fingers and nodded.

“Brawling in Mrs Simpson’s house would have stirred exactly the type of gossip I’ve been avoiding.” He stroked her fingers. “Thank you. I can’t let Julia gain the upper hand.”

“We both have the same problem. Avoiding scandal at all costs. Especially as we both want the best for our brothers and sisters. Laura and Lottie need to be seen at their best during the season.”

He hid a smile. “Your sisters’ natures will not make that easy.” He laughed. “They’ve been painted with the wild brush. Like their sister.”

“This isn’t amusing. And I’m not wild. I’m enthusiastic.”

“Enthusiastic.” He almost choked. “You’re reckless. And Laura and Lottie are following in your footsteps.”

She glared at him. “You infuriating man. I can’t do this without their help. As soon as the syndicate members are behind bars, I shall direct Laura and Lottie back to gentler pursuits.”

“I cannot picture your sisters paying afternoon visits and stitching handkerchiefs. They’re too … ah … enthusiastic.” He raised his hand to stop her retort. “I apologise. And I do appreciate you calming the waters with Lindley.”

Becca’s rigid posture relaxed. “Yes, you’re in my debt.”

His eyes roved over every curve. “I promise. I’ll find the perfect way to repay you.”

He heard her breath hitch deep in her throat. Knew he’d stirred her imagination as to the ways he might repay her. Ways that involved his mouth and hands and every crevice on her body. Their conversations had always leapt from inane to sensual faster than lightning strikes. Her breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath and showed her rising awareness. He knew what it would lead to, even if Becca didn’t.

Better to issue a lecture on future meddling. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

• • •

Even as he spoke, he knew he could well be the very person who hurt her most. He couldn’t live with himself if his stupidity made Becca suffer a second time. Her softer gender, diminutive size, and inherent bravery stirred his masculine and gentlemanly instincts. Becca would swallow the nails produced in her factories, however, before she’d admit that she needed him to physically protect her. He looked forward to the time when, after he’d dealt with the bothersome syndicate members, Becca would recognise that he was more reliable than her inconstant father. And a much pleasanter person than Arthur.

While he tried to marshal his wayward thoughts, Becca was, as usual, waving her hands and telling him what she thought. Never one to hold back her words, she leapt feet first into conversations, and by habit he’d followed.

So many things were exactly as he remembered between them. Becca remained the balm that soothed his soul.

“I can find nothing to smile at after tonight’s episode. As usual, Viscount Lindley proved his mettle as a troublemaker.”

The consortium had been watching her for two weeks and now, thanks to him, the worst rogues who hunted the ballrooms looking for young women to prey upon had Becca in their sights. She and her sisters thought themselves capable of dealing with all kinds of gentlemen but he understood how men like Lindley thought.