Authors: Raven McAllan
She
looked up at him and took a step backward. He watched fascinated as the tiny
pulse in her neck beat over fast. This close he could smell the rose scent he‘d
noticed in the bathing chamber, and see tiny violet flecks in her blue eyes.
Her eyelashes were improbably dark, given her blonde hair, and he gave a
passing thought to the notion he wanted to see what color the rest of her hair
was.
Later.
Thom
touched the bottom of her glass with his finger and tilted it until the
contents coated her lips. She licked the droplets before they spilled down her
chin, and coughed.
”Disgusting.”
“Get
to like it, it will be our drink of choice.”
Chapter Seven
The
brandy stung her throat and made her splutter. “It’s vile.”
“No
it’s not, it’s new. You’ll get used to it. Sip it. Treat it like you would a
lover. Let it caress you, warm you.”
His
voice dropped an octave. It sent shivers and tingles through her.
“Welcome
it, embrace it. Love it. Like this.” He drank from the bottle, removed it from
his lips and licked them slowly. “Let it kiss you.”
Was
it possible to want more, just from listening to his voice and watching his
actions? Sybille wasn’t sure exactly what more she meant, but those pamphlets
had hinted. Dare she?
“I
have no lover.”
“You
could have and I don’t mean the brandy.” He moved back to the edge of the bed
and sat down again. This time he stretched his legs out in front of him. Once
more she saw the interesting bulge in his pantaloons. Was it immoral to itch to
discover it, to sculpt its shape with her fingers and commit it to memory, to
ponder over later?
Probably, more’s the pity.
“You?”
She circled her lips with her tongue, deliberately mimicking his earlier
action. Her heart beat faster as she waited for his answer.
He
regarded her steadily. “If you become my wife.”
Damn.
“I thought that would make you my
husband, not my lover.” She put the brandy to her lips, and let the merest dribble
coat her tongue. Like that, it was pleasant. She did it again.
“The
two can be synonymous.”
“If
you say so. However.” She noticed how closely he watched her face, and circled
her lips with the tip of her tongue again. Did Thom groan? “Did you say
something, my lord?”
“No,
and stop calling me ‘my lord’. You’ve called me Thom before, carry on for God’s
sake.” He moved uneasily. “And then tell me about the bloody pearls.”
She’d
forgotten the pearls. How could she when it was the very reason he was here, in
her room, in the middle of the night? A scandal waiting to happen.
“Ah,
the pearls.” Sybille sighed. “Well, to go back a few months, I noticed Maman had
stopped wearing them.”
Thom
nodded.
“Of
course I asked her why, and she said the string had broken, and she had sent
them to Rundle and Bridge to be rethreaded.”
“That
would seem feasible, except then Rundle and Bridge would know they were fake.”
“I
know that, and so I worried. I, oh goodness, this makes me sound so bad.” Sybille
put her hands to her heated cheeks and wished she had water to cool them down.
Somehow she didn’t think splashing brandy over them would have the same effect.
“I feigned illness one evening and searched the jewelry drawers. Of course
there were no pearls. So then I worried that maybe Maman didn’t know they were
fake, and she had sent them off.” Sybille tried her brandy once more. It was
true you did get used to it. In fact, she decided, it was rather pleasant.
“I
doubt that.”
“Oh
so do I. Once I thought about it, I remembered oh, several years earlier when
the string went missing, again we were told, it was for them to be restrung.
When it came back, I was sure something was different about them. I asked and
was told it was because they’d been restrung. But Maman didn’t wear them for
several months. Now I think it was so no one would remember them precisely as
they had been. I think that was when they were exchanged.”
“Very
probably. So?”
“So,
then that swine Bankfoot approached me one night, with a heinous proposition.
He said he had Maman’s pearls and if I wanted them back, I’d…” she shuddered. “Play
dice. I swear he cheated. Then when I lost he reneged on our bet, a kiss.” She
shuddered. “That would have been bad enough, but I planned to bite him at the
same time and blame my innocence. However he changed his tune. Said the pearls
were worth more, and if I wanted them back, I’d give myself to him.”
“What?”
Thom’s shout stirred the drapes.
“Shh!”
Sybille looked toward the door.
“Lud,
sorry but this is beyond heinous.” He lowered his voice once more. “The cad.”
“Cad
is mild.”
“I
was trying to protect your young and innocent ears.”
“Not
so innocent after Bankfoot’s suggestions. He gave me until the end of the month
to decide what to sacrifice. Me, or my family’s reputation.” Sybille took a
larger mouthful of brandy. “It will have to be me.”
“Over
my dead body,” Thom said grimly. “What makes you so sure he has the pearls?”
“He
said so.”
“If
I said I had the crown jewels because they’ve not been seen for a while, would
you believe me?”
“Of
course not, that’s different.” She took another hefty mouthful of brandy, and
considered his body. “Nice legs. You fill your pantaloons to perfection. Bankfoot
doesn’t. He stuffs them.”
“Does
he now? I wonder how you know that?”
His
valet is my maid’s second cousin three times removed. Or something. He hates him.”
“Sensible
chap. Stop changing the subject. There is no difference at all between my
saying I have Prinny’s jewels and Bankfoot stating he has the pearls. However
we need to ascertain if he does have them. We will speak to your parents
tomorrow.”
“We
can’t. I can’t tell them what I did.”
True
. “I’ll think of something.”
“You
are my hero.” She crossed her eyes to see him better. He was somewhat blurry. “Can
a hero be a lover? Or anything else? You know, this does get nicer by the sip.”
“What?”
Two Thoms stared back at her.
Why
did her mind flit from one subject to another like a butterfly on the rose bushes
in the garden? It was impossible to concentrate. “The brandy.” She waved her
tooth mug. “Why are there two mugs?” Sybille squinted. “And three of you?” If
he continued to multiply she’d be in serious trouble. One Thom was enough for
any woman.
“Brandy
on an empty stomach makes you bosky. When did you last eat?”
She
considered. “I had a nibble at Almack’s.”
“Stale
cakes do not count. I should have known better.” Thom tried to take hold of her
glass. She clutched it to her bosom.
“Smine.
You’ve got the bo…” Sybille hiccupped. “Bo bonnotpal.”
Thom
sighed. “So I have, and you’re going to have a thick head.”
Sybille
grinned. She liked the floaty feeling she experienced. “Got one already
Bnankfnut said I had one. Cos he said I had to, to pay my debts. And I said no.
Not yet. Afrall, he started it. And he wouldn’t show me the pearls. Do…”
Sybille closed her eyes and slumped to one side. “Do…”
“Do
I what?”
Thom crouched down next to her.
“Sybille, answer me.” He shook her and she moaned.
“G’way.
I’m dreaming. He’s here an…”
“Sybille.
Do I what? Who is here?”
She
opened her eyes and stared at him, myopically. “You are. S’nice. Wanna…”
She
grabbed his lapels, closed her eyes again, and sighed. “S’mine.”
****
Thom
considered his position. Compromising was an understatement. Sybille’s grip was
like a vise, and it was evident she had no intention of letting go of him. He
couldn’t wriggle out of his jacket, but nor could they stay as they were. Apart
from anything else his muscles were beginning to protest at the unnatural angle
they were forced to endure.
“Sybille.”
He went for a coaxing tone. “Shall we make ourselves comfortable?”
She snored. A soft little woofle noise that
reminded him of a slumbering child. “Sybille, my sweet, I need you.” Would the
endearment and the enticement work? “Let’s go to bed.”
Heaven
help him, this was agony. There was nothing he’d like more.
She
leaned into him and sighed. Thom inched back from the chair, still with her attached
like a crab. Luckily she let Thom pull her with him, until he managed to move upward
onto his feet and lift her into his arms.
What
now? Thom walked carefully to the bed and pondered his next move. There was no
contest. He moved his arms and let go of her.
Of
course it was too much to hope she’d let go of his jacket.
She
bounced on the mattress. He followed her downward and missed her by inches.
Now
what?
Thom
considered their position. There was only one thing he could do, and no doubt
there would be hell to pay.
Chapter Eight
Why
was the band of the Life Guards playing in the Square? So early as well.
Shouldn’t they be at Horse Guards Parade? Parading or some such thing?
Sybille
moved her head, opened half an eye and moaned. Someone, she suspected Maybelle,
who thought anyone who wasn’t up by ten was a slug-a-bed, had opened the
shutters wide enough to lift the darkness to a gloomy half-light. She squinted
at the clock on her mantle and groaned. The face wavered and settled. Not only
was the hour hand past twelve, but the drums got louder.
What on earth?
Why did her mouth feel like she
was six years old, back in Devon and eating dirt? Very cautiously she propped
herself up on one elbow, and stopped dead. What was she holding in her other
hand? It was an effort to move her head slowly enough not to set the room
spinning, but she was proud of her achievement. Sybille wriggled up the bed to
rest back on her pillows.
She
was less happy when she unfurled her fingers and looked at what she held.
A
jacket.
A
very handsome dark, midnight blue jacket, made, she thought, by Shultz. Sybille
stroked the soft, fine wool. Expensive and, she’d hazard a bet, one a gentleman
had to have help to get in and out of. Shultz’s clothes were renowned for their
perfect fit.
Dare
used the same tailor. It certainly wasn’t Dare’s jacket though. Dare was
slimmer, this was made for a more…she searched her mind for a description, and
ended pathetically with less slim. She would have sniggered if she didn’t think
it might hurt her head. Vaguely amused by her actions, Sybille lifted the
jacket to her face and inhaled the scents of lavender and spice. Alarm bells
rang.
All
amusing thoughts left her. Dangling from one buttonhole was a gold fob watch.
With a crest engraved on the back.
One
she recognized.
Oh lord. What have I done?
Gradually, the incidents of the night
before—or should that be, the early hours—came back to her. A relaxing bath,
dressing in her nightrail and robe.
Good grief, I undressed.
Thom in her room, brandy…Sybille
ran her tongue over her cracked lips and was convinced she could still taste
the oaky-ness.
Thom in my room and
brandy? Did I tell him?
She
leaned back to consider her predicament and winced. There was a hard lump under
her right elbow.
Sybille
pushed her hand under the pillow and withdrew a bottle. A very empty bottle.
Brandy.
There was a tap on her door, and Maybelle came
in.
Sybille thrust the jacket and the
bottle under her bedclothes. It would be the scandal of the century if they
were noticed. She mentally chastised herself. Of course it wouldn’t because
Maybelle was loyal to a fault and wouldn’t tell anyone. But it might well make
Sybille fall from her maid’s grace and she didn’t want that. The bottle was cold
and the wool warm against her legs. In her wriggle upwards she’d also ruched up
her nightrail so it was creased and bundled around her waist. Somehow the
jacket covering her skin seemed more wanton than anything she could remember about
the previous night’s activities. The bottle she tried to ignore. It conjured up
memories she didn’t want to recollect.
“Ah,
you’re awake. I didn’t like to waken you earlier. My Lady said to let you sleep.
Are you ready for your bathing water?” Maybelle opened the shutters wide,
chattering as she did so.
Sybille
closed her eyes and let the noise wash over her. Was it permissible to say to
your old and trusted maid, who you loved, to shut up, go away and let a person
die in peace?
“It
is a beautiful morning, and as well as your water, I’ve some toast and
chocolate outside, and My Lord Jeavons will call for you in an hour to…”
Maybelle continued. She got no further.
“What?”
Sybille opened her eyes and stared at Maybelle’s retreating back. “In an hour?
What for?” She pushed the jacket to the bottom of the bed with her hand and
then her feet and made a mental note to retrieve it as soon as Maybelle left.
By the time Maybelle came back in with a tray, she had her robe over her
nightrail and had moved to the table set in front of the window. The light was
bright, but as her headache was now down to the level of someone walking over
her skull and not dancing, she guessed her brandy-induced hangover was receding.
“There
now, you eat this and I’ll get your water ready. His Lordship said it was a drive
out. Your green pelisse and the hat with the feather trim? Perfect for a drive
and it suits you so nicely.”
“Yes.”
Sybille’s head reeled at the onslaught of information. “But help, if I only
have an hour I’d best get moving.” Sybille crammed toast into her mouth and
washed it down with chocolate. The taste made her feel nauseous. “Maybelle, I
have a tickly throat, could I have some water please?”
“If
you’ve a nasty summer cold coming on I’ll bring you a powder.”
Sybille smiled and nodded. One of
Maybelle’s powders was the last thing she wanted, but if it staved off
suspicion she’d take it. “And water. Then we’d better hurry. It wouldn’t do to
keep his lordship waiting.”
“Bless
you, he’ll wait,” Maybelle said as she poured water into a goblet. “It does a
man good to know the world doesn’t revolve around him.”
“In
the world of the ton, it usually does,” Sybille said dryly.
****
Whatever
Maybelle’s ideas on the importance of men were, she still helped Sybille to descend
the stairs within five minutes of Thom being announced.
Thom
looked up as Sybille reached the top of the staircase and smiled.
“Well
worth waiting for.”
“I
came almost as soon as I was told you had arrived,” Sybille said, pleased at
his comment. She might say she dressed for her own pleasure, no one else, but
it would be a lie. To hear him voice his appreciation was a fillip for all her
attention to detail.
He
laughed. “The operative word being almost, I presume. Designed to put me in my
place?”
Sybille
opened her eyes wide. “Do you need to be, my lord?”
“Who
knows?” He nodded to the doorman and took her arm to assist her down the steps
and onto his curricle. “Perhaps you’ll tell me?”
“Do
not fish, my lord.” She waggled her finger at him and he laughed.
Once
more his own personal scent surrounded her and made her tingle deep inside. It
was lovely.
What an insipid description
for something so beautiful.
When she had time, she really did need to work
out what that feeling meant.
“I
thought we’d head to the park and chat on the way.” He helped her to climb up
into the vehicle. “Hence no tiger.”
She
knew Thom usually had Brisco with him when he drove. “The park is public enough
for it to cause no scandal.”
“And your parents will be near the pavilion.”
Sybille smiled and settled her skirts as he
swung up next to her and set the vehicle in motion. “Maman loves the park.
Plenty to see, lots to do, and not too far from home.”
“Gossip
and scandals dissected?” Thom maneuvered the curricle around a pie seller and
three urchins playing Five Stones in the gutter. “That child will win.” He
nodded to one tousle-haired moppet. “She has a steady hand.”
Sybille
looked down and grinned. The fresh air had dissipated her headache and she felt
human once more. “Alleygobs?” She used her family‘s name for the game. “I haven’t
played that for years. Dare was best at five and two, I could only manage four
stones one jack.”
“Smaller
hands.”
Sybille
stretched her glove-encased hand out and splayed her fingers. “True.”
“Smaller
capacity.”
Was
that a hint of amusement in his tone? Sybille looked up at him suspiciously,
but his face showed no such emotion as he tooled the equipage through the park
gates and turned along a carriageway. “As in?”
“As
in everything, my dear. Keep your eyes open for incoming tabbies and annoying
debs and encroaching mamas who think any man is fair game.”
Sybille
understood exactly what he meant. Tabbies, those older ladies who wanted to
know every last tidbit of gossip, were well known for having the ability to
ferret out all the tittle-tattle and any scandals brewing almost without the
deliverer realizing it. The debs and their mamas were the bane of any eligible
gentleman’s life. “Shall I protect you?”
He
chuckled. “Why else are you with me? No, don’t get on your high horse, you know
I don’t mean it. I thought we could talk and be seen. If nothing else it will
make Bankfoot realize you are not alone, and have someone to stand up for you.”
“Won’t
that make it worse? Oh Lord, Lady Castlemaine and Lady Belford to our left.”
“Dip
your head, acknowledge them, they’ll understand if we don’t stop. Lady Jersey
is over to the right. She takes precedence. And about Bankfoot? I need him to
show his hand. Now smile, Lady Jersey is no fool.”
She
might not be a fool, but luckily she also liked them both. Even though her
nickname of ‘Silence’ had been bestowed on her for her inability to stay so,
she was kindly at heart. Sybille never minded talking to her.
It
was the same now. After a few minutes of inconsequential chatter, Sally Jersey
looked at them shrewdly. “You work together,” she said. “It’s not often I’d say
that. Take heed and ignore the others. Do what’s right for you.” She turned
away from them to greet the occupants of another carriage, which had drawn up
nearby.
“Was
that Lady Jersey giving us her blessing?” Sybille asked as they drove away.
“So
it seems. Will you give us it as well?”
Sybille
jumped as her heart missed a beat. “I beg your pardon? What do you mean?”
“Oh,
my dear Sybille. Don’t prevaricate. You know what I mean. Can I tell your maman
you’ve agreed to be my wife?”
If
only she could say yes. “No. I don’t know you well enough. And well, there’s
the pearls and Bankfoot to consider.” She heard the regret in her voice and
guessed Thom did as well because he shot her a shrewd glance.
“I’ll
sort Bankfoot, and no, don’t say he’s your problem. He’s now mine. You involved
me last night.”
I did? What else did I do?
“And
as for getting to know me? You can still say that? After last night?” Thom
shook his head. “How galling.”
It
was no good. She was going to have to admit her lack of memory.