To Pleasure a Lady (10 page)

“I want to return to the house now,” she said unevenly, her voice deplorably weak.

At her nonanswer, he gave a satisfied smile. “Of course. I think your lesson is sufficient for now. You'll dream of me tonight, of me touching you like this…”

He raised his hand to her throat again, and another frisson of fiery sensation sparked from his fingers to her skin.

Arabella drew back sharply and gave Marcus a dismissive look. But as she slipped past him and turned toward the house on shaky legs, she was very much afraid his prediction about her dreams would come true.

Chapter Six

I promise I will take care, Fanny, even if his kisses are as seductive as you warned me.

—Arabella to Fanny

Arabella did dream of Marcus…all night long. But she awoke determined to regain the offensive in their rivalry. As soon as she had washed and dressed, she joined Marcus in the small dining parlor.

He looked surprised to see her as he rose politely from the table.

“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled Arabella in her chair and returned to his seat beside her.

“I am fulfilling part of my daily quota. I realized that if I must share your company, it would be best to do so in broad daylight.”

Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “You realize that won't deter me.”

“Yes, but somehow I feel safer.”

He surveyed her gown of blue muslin. “Had I known you intended to join me for breakfast, I would have dressed more formally.”

He wore no cravat or waistcoat again this morning, Arabella saw, and his shirt was open to his breastbone. She had the most scandalous urge to touch that broad male chest, to feel the muscled flesh she glimpsed beneath the fine cambric.

Instead, Arabella cleared her throat. “Are you occupied this afternoon?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends on what you have in mind.”

“I have decided to invite you to tour our academy. You said you wanted to judge whether teaching there is an appropriate endeavor for your wards. Well, this is your chance.”

“Then I accept.”

“I am instructing a class at four. We usually take tea then, and I thought to use your visit as a learning opportunity for our young ladies. They rarely receive gentlemen callers, so they can practice on you.”

His amusement deepened. “So I am to be your test subject.”

“I don't doubt you are up to the challenge.”

“And you will have protection in numbers,” Marcus observed shrewdly.

Arabella smiled. She had indeed counted on that advantage. With two dozen schoolgirls to divert Marcus from his wooing of her, he would have little chance for intimacy, and she would use up much of her obligatory four hours in his company. “There is that benefit, too,” she agreed.

“Very well, I will concede to tea if I must. Are you free for a ride this morning?”

She shook her head. “I am afraid I won't have time. I am meeting with the merchants again, and then I am expected at the academy at one. But I'm certain you can enjoy a ride without me. If you will arrive at the academy at half past three, you may inspect the premises before tea.”

“I will be counting the minutes,” Marcus replied in pained resignation.

         

Having postponed Marcus's courtship for the time being, Arabella spent a busy morning choosing furnishings for the remainder of the main floor. Later, when she went out to the stableyard, intending to drive herself in the gig to the academy, she found the earl's carriage waiting to take her there.

The afternoon crept by with surprising slowness. Absurdly, Arabella caught herself glancing frequently out the windows in anticipation of Marcus's visit. When his carriage arrived promptly and halted on the gravel drive before the entrance hall, she accompanied the school's headmistress outside to greet him.

“Gentleman caller reporting for duty,” he said as he stepped down from his barouche.

Arabella introduced him to Miss Jane Caruthers, the elegant spinster who ran the day-to-day operations of the academy. Allowing Miss Caruthers to lead the tour of the grounds, Arabella remained a few steps behind, yet she found herself watching Marcus intently, surprised to realize how eager she was to have his approval.

Of course, if he saw the good she and her sisters were doing here, he would be more likely to sanction their continued employment. Yet her desire for his approbation was more personal than acquiring his legal consent, she knew. The academy was mainly her creation, her pride and joy, and she wanted Marcus to understand how much it meant to her.

The school was actually comprised of several buildings so as to prepare pupils for the varied experiences they would encounter in high society. Classes were usually held in a large manor house such as one might find on a nobleman's country estate, and a second, more formal mansion that was representative of where the London Quality dwelled. The academy also boasted a large stable and park to practice outdoor skills, and a large dormitory to lodge the young ladies who boarded full-time. The vast majority of the pupils lived in the dormitory, except during summer term when only a handful remained on the premises.

Arabella couldn't hide the little glow of warmth she felt at the tour's conclusion when Marcus praised the facilities.

“Impressive,” he said sincerely. “I can see why merchants would want to send their daughters here.”

She smiled with pleasure. “The accommodations are excellent thanks to Lady Freemantle's generosity, but our parents appreciate even more the quality of the instruction their daughters receive. Come, let me show you.”

When they returned to the “London” mansion, Arabella led Marcus upstairs to a large drawing room, where he instantly became the target of attention of two dozen bright-eyed young females dressed in afternoon finery.

Miss Tess Blanchard rose to welcome him with a polite smile. When Marcus had bowed over her hand, Arabella stepped forward to address her pupils. “Ladies, I am pleased to offer you a treat today. Lord Danvers has generously agreed to join us so that we might practice the art of properly receiving a gentleman when he calls. We will concentrate particularly on graciously pouring tea and making witty conversation. Miss Blanchard has already arranged the seating, so if you will please take your places, we may begin.”

The girls were to take tea with the earl in groups of six while the rest observed. There were servants standing by with tea services and trays filled with scones and crumpets and tiny sandwiches. When Arabella and Tess were seated with the first group, Marcus was announced by a “butler” and shown into the room.

Watching him over the course of the next hour, Arabella couldn't help but admire his fortitude. Some of the girls were painfully shy, and some were crassly bold, but Marcus suffered them all with good grace. It was clear he fascinated them. He held their rapt attention throughout four practice sessions, charming the shy ones and deftly parrying the fawning banter of the flirtatious ones.

And in the third group, when one of the girls sloshed tea all over the lace tablecloth, he calmly withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket and mopped up the spill. Then when Sybil Newstead, a raven-haired beauty who had flirted brazenly with him for the past ten minutes in a transparent attempt to monopolize the conversation, scolded her classmate's clumsiness, Marcus offered the mortified girl an irresistible smile.

“Don't pay Miss Newstead any mind, Miss Fletcher. You have made me feel quite at home. My younger sister Eleanor doused me quite regularly when she was learning to pour. I don't envy you ladies, having to negotiate so many delicate operations. I would be all thumbs.”

The scarlet-faced Miss Fletcher flashed him a worshipful look of gratitude, while Sybil Newstead shot him a sullen look of vexation.

Arabella, too, was supremely grateful to Marcus for his kindness, but she waited to tell him so until after the class had ended and Tess had shepherded all the girls from the drawing room.

“That was very well done of you, my lord,” she said after the footmen had withdrawn.

“I am glad you appreciate my sacrifice,” Marcus replied lightly. “You can't imagine how painful it was, having to fend off a bevy of giggling schoolgirls. I was squirming the entire time.”

That brought Arabella's laugh bubbling up. “No one could tell you were the least discomfited.”

Marcus eyed her narrowly. “You enjoyed seeing me at such a disadvantage, didn't you, vixen?”

“Only a little.” She had indeed expected him to be disadvantaged by the circumstances she had purposely thrown at him, but he had won her admiration instead. “I do appreciate your sacrifice, truly. Our parents will be highly impressed that their daughters took tea with a genuine earl.”

His mocking smile was enticing. “Anything for you, my charmer.”

Arabella's expression sobered. “Seriously, Marcus, I must thank you for today. You handled our pupils with admirable tact and grace, especially Miss Fletcher.”

“I'm pleased to have won your approbation, but you can thank my sister for educating me on how to deal with young ladies.” He rose from the settee and offered his hand to Arabella, who also stood. “Allow me to escort you home in my carriage.”

For once she was sorry to have to refuse his company. “Forgive me, but I cannot leave just yet. I need to speak privately with Gladys Fletcher to make certain she hasn't suffered any lasting trauma from the spilled tea incident. And I want to have a word with Sybil Newstead as well.”

“She is a little witch, isn't she?”

“Indeed. Girls that age can be savage, and Sybil is the worst. She is our wealthiest heiress and our most troublesome, even though this is only her first year. Keeping control of her has been difficult.”

“What did she do that was so egregious?”

“What
hasn't
she done? She smuggled three bottles of brandy into the dormitory and made half her schoolmates drunk. She tried to seduce a footman and had him so flustered that he begged to be sent to another place of employment. She ran up enormous bills at her dressmakers, so that her father threatened to withdraw her from school if we couldn't keep a tighter rein on her. Since then we've had to employ a full-time maid to keep a careful watch on her.”

Marcus chuckled. “Your other pupils are clearly fond of you. You have an impressive way with them.”

“Thank you,” Arabella replied earnestly as she accompanied him to the drawing room door. “I try to mold their characters as well as polish their manners, but mainly I strive to give them the confidence to overcome their lack of genteel birth. I don't believe anyone should be condemned simply because her blood is not blue.”

“Your radical notions would not sit well with our peers,” Marcus said humorously. When they reached the corridor, he paused. “You will have dinner with me this evening?”

Arabella hesitated. “Yes, but I forgot to mention, I have invited our patroness, Lady Freemantle, to dine with us.”

Marcus sent her a knowing look. “So you can avoid being alone with me.”

She dimpled. “In large part. But also because Winifred is eager to make your acquaintance. She has met you on several occasions, although she doubts that you remember her.”

“Oh, I remember her. She is very hard to forget.”

“That she is,” Arabella agreed. Winifred Freemantle was a large, ruddy-faced woman with a booming voice and an accent that betrayed her lower class origins. “But she is a dear friend.”

“And obviously one of your staunchest allies. In that case, it will behoove me to try to impress her. I will have my carriage return here shortly to bring you home.”

Arabella nodded before summoning a footman with instructions to escort Lord Danvers to his carriage. When Marcus had taken his leave of her, she turned the opposite way in order to seek out her pupils, but she still felt that little glow of warmth that had lingered throughout his entire visit.

         

Her benevolent feelings did not last through dinner.

That evening when Lady Freemantle arrived, Marcus was all attentive charm, and Winifred succumbed to his blandishments like butter melting under a hot sun. By their first glass of wine, he was well on the way to winning her over as an ally.

In his defense, Arabella admitted with grudging admiration, he truly seemed to enjoy her ladyship's company.

Nearly a decade older than Marcus, Winifred treated him with matronly affection, although there was nothing matronly about her heavy-boned, mannish features and coarse manners that were more at home in the stables than an elegant drawing room. But her jovial nature was so warm and infectious that the two of them were soon laughing and sharing tales of their London acquaintances. Much worse, Winifred began confiding in Marcus as if they were old cronies.

Arabella's heart sank as she watched. She had counted on her friend to champion her cause against Marcus, but it was clear before they even went in to dinner that he had made another conquest.

Once again the meal was delicious—sole in cream sauce, fricassee of rabbit, pigeon pie, and Winifred's favorite, a roast of beef, with tarts and syllabub for the sweets. Yet Arabella didn't find the dishes quite as delectable when the subject somehow turned to matrimony.

“My beauty isn't what appealed to Sir Rupert, as you can tell,” her ladyship said with frank good humor. “ 'Twas the size of my dowry, no mistake. A large dowry can cover up any number of faults in a female, even homely looks.”