To Sin With A Scoundrel (13 page)

Lady Sheffield was all wrong. He was a great favorite, not a great fool.

And yet the sparkling wine suddenly tasted a bit flat on his tongue. He switched to claret, and then to brandy.

All to no effect. Perhaps the close proximity of the scholarly scientist was having a strange chemical effect on him.

Was her presence more potent than drink?

He would have to test out that theory during their first private lesson.

For now, though, Lucas let his gaze drift back to Ciara. As she glided through a series of intricate steps, he couldn’t help
but admire her lithe grace, her cool composure. He had been close enough to sense she was quaking inside, yet she had the
fortitude to face her fears with an outward show of dignity and determination.

Brave girl
, he applauded.

He saw he wasn’t the only one watching her. All around, speculative gazes gleamed, bright as the blazing chandeliers. Fortune
hunters were drawn to a rich widow, no matter how notorious, like moths to a candle flame. His brows pinched together, and
he felt a flicker of fire inside his chest. Let any grasping bastard come too close and the fellow would find his fingers
roasted over the coals.

“The minx may be a murderess, but I’d die happy swiving such a shapely strumpet.” Lord Dunning, a casual acquaintance, sidled
up to his shoulder. “She has a fine arse, eh?”

Lucas swallowed a savage oath, along with a mouthful of his wine.

“You must fancy a poke, yourself,” Dunning chortled. “Can’t be after her fortune. Your coffers are bloody well full.”

Repressing the urge to shove the other man’s teeth down his gullet, Lucas set down his drink and flexed a fist. “My interest
in Lady Sheffield is not a subject I intend to discuss with you. Code of honor and all that.”

“Er, right.” Dunning stepped away, looking both puzzled and peeved. “No need to get your hackles up, Hadley. Just making a
little joke.”

“Do so out of my hearing,” he said softly.

The other man shot him a sour look and moved on.

It was all part of their plan, Lucas told himself. Word would spread like wildfire that Mad, Bad Had-ley had fallen under
the spell of the Wicked Witch of Pont Street. The drawing rooms would soon be abuzz with speculation on what his next outrageous
action would be.

Well, they were all in for a big surprise.

C
iara was still feeling a little off balance as Lord Woodbridge exchanged places with Lord Haddan.

“I confess, sir, I am a bit overwhelmed by your kind attentions.” She was well aware that dancing with two such exalted gentlemen
would go a long way to smoothing her acceptance in Polite Society. “I cannot… that is, I am quite grateful—”

Woodbridge silenced her stammering with a brilliant smile. “The pleasure is all mine. It is not often that Lucas needs help
with a lady. So I am happy to oblige. And you may be assured that I shall tease him unmercifully about it for some time to
come.”

“That makes me feel marginally better,” said Ciara. “Have you and Lord Haddan known Hadley for a long time?”

“Lud, yes. Since we were pups at Eton, cutting our teeth on boyish escapades. From there, the three of us went on to Oxford
together. In fact, it was Hadley’s idea for a prank that got us all the boot.”

Ciara was curious. “Which was?”

“Don’t ask about the details. Suffice it to say it involved a cat, a courtesan, and the rector of Merton College.”

Her lips twitched. “Oh, dear.”

“It was more like ‘Oh, hell.’” Woodbridge’s eyes twinkled with unholy amusement. “Haddan and I joined the army, where, I am
ashamed to admit, we continued to act like devils. Our unit was called the Rakehell Regiment, though we are thoroughly reformed
now, thanks to our new brides.”

That sounded like an interesting story, but her first concern was her errant escort. “Hadley did not join the army, too?”
It seemed odd that he would not choose to follow his friends.

“No, Lucas was extremely sorry to cry off, but he did not want to go abroad and leave his guardian alone,” explained Woodbridge.
“Sir Henry was already beginning to suffer some serious physical ailments.”

Ciara bit her lip. That the earl—an unrepentantly reckless young rascal—had been unselfish enough to think of his uncle at
that age came as yet another surprise. The more she learned of Lucas, the more she found herself confused. He was a contradiction.

A conundrum
.

She was usually very good at working out puzzles, but so far, the earl was a real enigma. On the surface, he seemed a man
of shallow pleasures. But perhaps he had more substance.

“That seems rather out of character for Hadley,” she mused.

“Ah, beneath the devil-may-care antics, Lucas is not quite such a fribble as he appears,” replied Woodbridge. “He’s a good
and generous friend, loyal to a fault, though he takes care to hide it. I think he’s just never had anything to challenge
the better side of his nature.”

“I see.” The steps of the dance separated them for a moment. “Actually, I don’t. I…” She let her words trail off.

He flashed an encouraging smile. “Yes?”

Something about his sunny manner made her abandon her usual reticence. “In my experience, gentlemen of title are vain, selfish,
and manipulative,” she blurted out. “Yet you and Lord Haddan have gone out of your way to be kind.”

“Perhaps you have been moving in the wrong circles, Lady Sheffield,” said Woodbridge softly.

Ciara was grateful that the music ended, for she was suddenly feeling a little light-headed. The evening was certainly taking
an entirely different turn than she had expected.

“Thank you for a most delightful dance.” Woodbridge bowed gracefully over her hand. “Here comes Lucas, so I shall hand you
back to your escort. With great pleasure, I might add. It’s about time that he gets serious about leaving the follies of his
youth behind him.”

“You are mistaken, sir, if you think that there is anything serious between us. As his closest friend, you must have been
informed that our arrangement is purely business,” said Ciara softly. “A bartering of services, if you will. Hadley has no
intention of swearing off his old way of life.”

“Yes, he did make mention of the circumstances,” murmured Woodbridge. “However, if I may offer a parting word of advice, a
rake is usually the last one to admit when he is ready to reform.”

The profusion of flowers was drooping in sleepy splendor, and the candles were burning low, their flames dancing slowly to
the last notes of a quadrille. From the card room came the faint chime of the clock.

“Lud, it’s late.” Ciara stifled a yawn. “I can’t remember the last time I was up at such an ungodly hour.” Some of the guests
were beginning to take their leave, while others lingered by the French doors, watching the play of moonlight over the terraced
garden.

“On the contrary, the night is young.” Lucas couldn’t resist a little teasing. “It’s only a little past one, and the darkness
before dawn hides a multitude of sins. Would you care for a stroll outside to admire the heavenly stars?” He waggled a brow.
“And other celestial bodies.”

Her mouth thinned and then slowly curled up at the corners. “It’s a pity our wager concerns a course in ornithology. If we
were studying astronomy, you would have a head start.”

Was it the champagne that had the lady letting down her guard enough to banter with him? Spying a half-empty bottle amid the
arrangement of peonies, he quickly refilled her glass. “In some subjects, I’m a very quick study.”

“Save your efforts for the laboratory,” said Ciara, trying to draw back her hand. “I will expect you to master the basics
before conceding you a victory.”

“Don’t worry, I have the stamina of a stallion.” The wine bubbled up, light winking off the explosion of effervescence.

“I was referring to
mental
efforts, Lord Hadley,” she said dryly.

Lucas slouched a shoulder against one of the carved colonnades. “Come now, I deserve some credit. I was smart enough to ask
Haddan and Woodbridge to pay court to you,” he answered smugly. “By virtue of their marriages, they are now respected members
of Society. God knows why they chose to sacrifice their freedom, but it certainly served our purpose tonight. As you noticed,
after their attentions, several other gentlemen dared ask you for a dance.”

“Yes, it was extremely kind of them to risk censure for someone they had never met before.”

He shrugged. “They are my friends. I knew I could count on them.”

A flutter of gold-tipped lashes blurred her expression. “You are fortunate to have such stalwart support. I confess, before
tonight I had doubted whether there were any titled gentlemen worthy of admiration.”

“Oh?” He straightened slightly.

“But I enjoyed conversing with your friends more than I ever imagined possible.” Ciara took a tiny sip of champagne. “They
are intelligent and articulate, not to speak of charming. Please thank them for going out of their way to put me at ease.”

So, it was Haddan and Woodbridge who got all the credit for her mellow spirits?

Irritated, Lucas responded with a low laugh. “Trust me, they are not saints. Together we used to raise holy hell.”

“They indicated that they have outgrown their youthful indiscretions,” she replied.

His jaw tightened. It was true. His own life had continued to careen out of control, a blur of gaming hells, brothels, and
boudoirs. But as Haddan and Woodbridge had abandoned the old haunts, the three of them had drifted apart. He hadn’t realized
until now how much he missed their company.

“That’s what marriage does to a man. Sucks all the fun out of him.”

“They seem quite happy with their wives,” she said softly. “However, I agree that such unions are rarer than hen’s teeth.
On the whole, you are absolutely right. Marriage is a fate worse than death.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Being leg-shackled to one bed would be a ghastly way to go. I imagine that one would finally expire
from sheer boredom.”

“You are incorrigible,” she murmured. “Do you really think of nothing but satisfying your baser urges?”

“No. I’m a dissolute, debauched sybarite, and really quite proud of it.”

She stared at him for a moment before asking, “Why?”

Lucas shifted his stance. “Does there have to be a reason for everything, Lady Sheffield?”

“I have always thought so,” she answered.

“Perhaps you think too much, and should learn to just
feel
.” Flicking out a finger, he brushed a curl from her cheek. “Have you ever unpinned your hair and enjoyed the silky slide
of it over the arch of your neck?”

She gave a little gasp.

He flashed a sardonic smile. “As for me, I love the sweet burn of costly brandy on my tongue. I love the lush scent of exotic
perfumes tickling my nostrils. And I love the feel of sensual textures against my skin—the finest fabrics, a whisper-soft
breeze, a woman’s velvety flesh.”

A flush of red rose to the ridge of her cheeks. “I think it’s time to take our leave, sir.”

A voice in his head warned him to stop, but he blithely ignored it. Doing things to excess was, after all, what he was known
for. “You might find that you actually enjoy unlacing your corset from time to time,” he whispered.

Ciara pulled back, as if singed by a flame.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He widened his grin. “And don’t scowl. People might get the wrong idea.”

Her eyes flared, but she forced her face to relax. “Then please stop trying to spark a quarrel with your lewd remarks, Lord
Hadley.”

“There is a difference between lewdness and light teasing, Lady Sheffield. Shall I explain?”

She shook her head.

Lucas offered his arm. Why had he deliberately ruined the mood, he wondered. The night had been going smoothly. But then her
simple question had cut deeper than he cared to admit.

Until lately, he hadn’t thought to question his way of life. Carousing with like-minded scamps like Farnam, Greeley, and Ingalls
was great fun, with each one of them striving to outdo the others in excess.

Every man for himself.

And what was wrong with that?

“Hadley.”

Lucas forced himself to focus on the cluster of guests at the foot of the stairs.

“We are having a soirée next Wednesday evening to celebrate Ashton’s birthday. Do say you will come.” The Viscountess of Ashton
was known for the elegant opulence of her parties. Invitations were highly coveted. After a slight hesitation, she added,
“And you, Lady Sheffield.”

Surprised, Ciara started to stammer.

“We would be delighted to attend,” he responded smoothly.

“Wonderful. I shall count on it.” The viscountess eyed them with undisguised interest before turning back to her friends.

“Lud, since when have
you
become such a respectable fellow,” murmured one of the gentlemen standing by the coatroom as Lucas brushed by. “Next thing
we know, you’ll be attending church on Sundays.”

“Good God, imagine Hadley walking down the aisle of St. George’s in Hanover Square,” quipped another of the group, mentioning
the most fashionable venue for Society weddings.