The Regency Season: Passionate Promises

Rather than offering to plant the man a facer, Freddy ignored the suggestion that he sit, along with those other unspoken sentiments. ‘How is the family?’

‘The boys are just like me at their age, full of pluck.’ His face beamed with pride.

Freddy liked that most about his cousin, his love of his boys. ‘I imagine they have grown a great deal since I saw them last.’

‘You really ought to pay us a visit. I’ll have Liz send you an invitation.’

He couldn’t think of anything worse. If Arthur was oversolicitous, his wife vacillated between offers to help the poor benighted invalid and the secret worry that he might yet marry, beget a family of his own and cut out her sons. He had the feeling she agreed with the old duke, his father, that if his older brother had to die in the accident, when they had been little more than boys on the cusp of manhood, it would have been better if Freddy had found the decency to accompany his brother to the pearly gates.

The old man was likely right. And if Freddy had been a kinder man, he would set Liz’s mind at rest. He had no intention of passing on what his father had called, on good days, the taint in his blood.

He watched Minette chattering to the woman beside her in the set and found the tension in his shoulders easing. ‘Perhaps I’ll come down during hunting season.’

‘Hunting?’ Anxiety creased Arthur’s brow. ‘It’s rough country, you know.’ His brow smoothed out. ‘Shooting, you mean. The very thing. We can carry a chair out with us in case...’ He seemed to realise his words were not going down all that well. ‘See how you feel on the day, what?’

Such a dolt, his heir who would one day inherit the dukedom. Biting back the words, he bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, I need a drink.’

He found his way to the refreshment table and had the lackey pour him a brandy. A few minutes with Arthur always left him ready for murder. Guilt pushing to the forefront, no doubt. Glass in hand, he watched Gabe and Nicky chat with friends, but could not bring himself to join them. He hated to break up what looked like a merry party. Such a handsome couple and the darlings of the ton.

Three years ago he would have wagered his best horse that Gabe would never marry. What must it be like? Marriage? And now incipient fatherhood. The emptiness inside him seemed to expand at the reminder of his vow. He downed the brandy as the group around his friends dispersed and walked over to join them.

‘Quelle surprise,’ Nicky said, greeting him with obvious pleasure. ‘I thought you must be hibernating somewhere in the country it is so long since we saw you.’

Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘Stop prying.’ He gave Freddy an intense look. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Perfect.’

They both knew it for a lie, but there were too many ears in such a public place to say more. Gabe was no longer involved in espionage. He was part of the establishment now. It was certainly not the right place to reveal what his ward had been up to. Indeed, Freddy hoped that tonight’s conversation with Minette would put a halt to any need to do so. The set came to an end and Minette tripped back to her sister, her lovely face radiant. She dipped a curtsey to Freddy. ‘Your Grace. How unexpected.’

Minx. She knew he’d have no choice but to gather the information she’d promised. He forced himself to ignore the way his blood stirred at the saucy look she cast up at him from beneath thick russet lashes. Somehow she managed to convey all manner of wickedness with a glance beyond any demure English miss. The French called it je ne sais quois. Whatever it was, it exuded from her skin like sensual perfume.

But he was not completely lacking in the charm department, as more than one woman had told him. Though he suspected it was his title they found alluring. ‘Miss Rideau. May I compliment you on your appearance? The other ladies present are no doubt gnashing their teeth.’

Her amber eyes danced with laughter, while her expression remained innocent. ‘Or perhaps they are jealous because I am the only unmarried lady such a great personage has deigned to speak with this evening. You only have to dance with me to completely ruin their night.’

Beside him, Nicky shifted. She knew he could not dance and was tender-hearted enough not to want him embarrassed. Strangely, though, Minette’s words warmed him deep inside. It was as if she had not noticed his halting gait. Or thought nothing of it. The girl certainly had a way, like no other, of catching him off guard. He kept his face impassive. ‘I do not dance, but let us take a stroll about the room, unless you have another partner waiting for this next set?’

‘Oh, pooh. ’Tis only Granby and he is nowhere to be seen.’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘He must have forgotten.’

The young idiot was probably somewhere hiding behind one of the potted palms strategically placed around the room, in case Freddy was inclined to tell Gabe about his lapse in judgement.

‘Run along,’ Gabe said, smiling, but with puzzlement clear in his eyes. Not surprising when he and Minette usually traded nothing but barbs.

Gabe turned to Nicky. ‘Madame, may I have this next dance?’ His voice was a caress, and Nicky blushed like a girl.

‘Certainement.’

They strolled out onto dance floor.

Their happiness filled Freddy with gladness for his friend but, damn it, he missed Gabe. They had worked well together.

He guided Minette in a gentle stroll around the dance floor, not bothering to smooth out his gait. When he’d been younger he had spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror, trying to appear normal. It had been a complete waste of time.

‘So,’ she said, sotto voce, ‘you have considered my proposition?’

‘The answer remains the same. And in case you have forgotten, it is no.’

Her chin went up.

‘Also,’ he continued, ‘if you even think about going after Moreau yourself, I’ll have you arrested for treason.’

Her eyes widened a fraction, something dark skated across their gold-flecked depths that had him tensing. What the hell wasn’t she telling him?

Her smile turned mischievous, a feminine sideways glance that had his blood running hot. ‘You’d have to catch me first,’ she murmured in velvet tones.

God, it sounded salacious, a challenge of a very different sort.

‘Stop it,’ he said, keeping his voice cold with some effort. ‘Keep your tricks for the likes of Granby.’

She laughed. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think you were jealous.’

Something like a growl rose in his throat. He stopped it dead.

‘My informant discovered someone who has seen Moreau. Knows the name he is using,’ she said, as lightly as if she’d passed a comment on the weather.

He only just stopped himself from grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. It was the information he and his men had been seeking for weeks. ‘Who is this informant?’

She dipped a curtsey at a passing matron of obvious consequence. ‘I won’t tell, unless you agree to let me speak to Moreau before you arrest him. I have a plan. Bother, here comes Granby. We can’t talk here. I’ll make an excuse and meet you in the library in a few minutes.’

‘Minette—’

But she was already moving towards the lieutenant, who had halted a few feet away, his expression wary.

Damn it. He should leave. See her tomorrow in Gabe’s presence. But he had the feeling that if he did not talk to her tonight, she might not be at Gabe’s house in the morning. Why the hell did she want to speak with a man who had held her prisoner for several weeks? There was something she had not told them when she had been rescued. Something he had the feeling he needed to know before he went after the man.

He strode out of the ballroom, heading for the library.

* * *

Men, Minette thought darkly as she moved down the set with a smile pinned to her lips. They always thought a woman needed protection from the least little thing. She glanced around and didn’t see Freddy. Either he would meet her in the library or she would find him on Gabe’s doorstep in the morning.

Then how would she get her property back before Moreau was taken?

She should have known Moreau would find a way to get back in favour with Napoleon’s spymaster, Fouché. But what was his purpose here in England? If she’d learned one thing about him, it was that he did not like to be crossed. People paid for it, in blood. A shudder ran down her spine.

If only Freddy trusted her enough to know she would never ask for such a concession if it wasn’t vital. And trusted her enough not to ask why. Then again, she didn’t trust him, either. Men like Moreau and Freddy used people to get what they wanted.

She glanced around. If she was going to meet him before he got impatient and left, it would be best to go before Nicky and Gabe left the dance floor. She smiled at Granby, took his hand for a backward pass across the set and deliberately stepped on her gown’s train. The hem tore beautifully.

‘Bother,’ she said.

Granby stared at her blankly.

‘I tore my lace,’ she explained. ‘I’ll have to pin it. Excuse me.’ She dived through the other dancers, making for the door, in her haste brushing the arm of a tall girl in regulation white.

The young woman gave her a hesitant smile. ‘Is something wrong?’

Nom d’un nom, now she’d have to be polite or risk causing a stir. ‘Someone stepped on my gown.’ She pulled at her skirt. ‘I can’t see, but I think the lace is torn.’

The girl stepped closer, peering down. ‘Yes. There is a long strip hanging by a thread.’

Minette gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I thought so. I was on my way to pin it.’

‘Would you like help?’

Oh, now one of these snooty English mademoiselles decided to be kind. They usually ignored her as an upstart émigrée trying to steal all the best men on the marriage mart. This one looked a nice young woman, like someone she might have liked to know better. Too bad circumstances demanded she turn her offer down. ‘Merci, but I think I can manage.’ She hurried on her way.

The library was only a few doors down from the ballroom, according to a footman, and it wasn’t long before she was slipping inside a room lit by one candelabrum on the round central table.

Standing beside it, Freddy’s lean, almost saturnine face looked thoroughly devilish. A very handsome if austere devil. Her heart gave a little kick. Most unnerving, when he always seemed so utterly indifferent. Except when they’d kissed. Heat rushed upward, engulfing her face. Thank goodness for the gloom.

She closed the door.

‘Well?’ he said, his voice low and menacing. ‘Who is this person who knows of Moreau’s new identity?’

The demand in his voice brought a hot rush of temper to the surface. ‘I will tell you when you agree to let me question him.’

‘You can do so and welcome, once we have him in chains.’

She folded her arms over her chest. ‘If you capture him, you mean. You let him get away once. And without my help you will lose him this time, too.’

His face became even more haughty. ‘Are you proposing that I drive you around London chasing shadows? Gabe may be my friend but he isn’t a fool. He won’t allow his ward to be seen alone in my company.’

‘We could pretend to be engaged.’ It was an idea she’d had in the night when she’d recalled his words at the hell about Gabe insisting they marry. It had seemed like the perfect answer. Then. Now, from the look of horror on his face, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it.

‘Have you lost your reason?’ His expression changed, became harder. ‘Or is it a title you are after?’

Hot anger raced through her veins. As if she would do anything so dishonourable. She struck out at those dark, mocking eyes, her fingers curled into claws, and found her wrist caught in long, strong fingers. Slowly, inexorably he forced her arm behind her back and loomed over her, forcing her to bend back. His breath was a harsh sound in his throat. Her heart raced wildly as she gazed at his beautiful, cruelly smiling mouth inches from hers. ‘No?’ he murmured with soft menace. ‘Then perhaps it is another kiss you seek.’

She froze. Lord help her, but she did want him to kiss her. And more. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. As if sensing her weakness, her racing pulse, he brushed his mouth across her lips. Recklessly, she kissed him back, twining her free hand around his neck, though she had no need for balance he held her so firmly, so powerfully within one arm. She could not resist the hard, strong feel of his chest against her breasts or the pressure of his thigh between her legs. Such a sweet, painful ache.

She parted her lips to the flick of his tongue and revelled in the way he stroked the inside of her mouth. So stirring, so exciting. So achingly perfect.

He released her wrist and held her close while his mouth and tongue worked their magic. His hand went to her breast, his thumb seeking the hardened peak. A groan rumbled up from his chest.

She made a small sound of longing, knowing the pleasures he could bring with his touch. Her head spun with the sensation of the kiss, the sensation of his hand languorously learning the shape of her breast and teasing at her nipple through the thin layers of fabric. Her insides became all liquid fire and exquisite tension.

She wanted...him. His hardness, inside her. She wanted the vast pleasure a man could bring to a woman, not the pale imitation she achieved in her lonely bed.

As if he knew her inner thoughts and needs, he backed her up until she was pressed against the book shelves. The hand at her back slipped down over her buttocks, his fingers rucking up her skirts, while his other hand continued to caress her breasts, attending to each in turn.

She trembled at the promise of delight. Shook with need as the cool air in the room hit her naked flesh above her stockings. The gown now bunched high behind her back, his fingers, those long clever fingers dipped into the crevasse between her buttocks, tickling and teasing and promising. He withdrew his tongue from her mouth, and she followed it, licking and tasting, tangling with his tongue. And then he sucked.

Her knees gave way at the salacious sensation rippling through her body. Her inner muscles clenched, squeezing and begging for the bliss his body could bring.

She wanted all he could give her and he knew it.

He widened his stance. Unable to resist, she reached between them, cupped him between the legs, found the hard ridge of his arousal and the softness beneath. She caressed him with all her skill, squeezing and rubbing until he groaned into her mouth.

Heady triumph shot through her as he broke free, his breathing as loud and uneven as hers.

He pushed one hand deep into the neckline of her low gown, his warm palm meeting bare, hot flesh, grazing across her thrusting nipple.

His other hand brushed her questing fingers away and cupped the hot flesh between her thighs. She rocked into his palm, increasing the pleasure of his touch tenfold.

So delicious. So unutterably, exquisitely pleasurable. Yet not nearly enough. She wanted him as she hadn’t wanted any other man since Pierre’s betrayal, perhaps even more. ‘S’il vous plaît,’ she whispered in his ear, and felt him shudder at the whisper of her breath across his skin. And the words. The words had such meaning. They spoke of mutual pleasure. Of pleasing. Of wanting.

And how she did want. It had been so long.

His hand left her body to tear at the buttons on his falls. ‘I want your breasts,’ he said thickly, as if he, too, warred with a hunger so great it could not be denied.

‘Ties at the back,’ she gasped, longing to feel his mouth and tongue hot and wet on her nipples.

He spun her around, his arousal now pressed against the dip in her buttocks, rocking into her, making her moan with each forward push of his hips, while his hands dealt with the laces of her bodice and then her stays. She reached behind her and cupped him, making him draw in a hiss of breath that caused her insides to quiver with blissful anticipation.

Bodice undone, he brought her around to face him, stepping aside to let the subdued light of the candle play over her breasts. Full and proud, the nipples, dark rose and hard with excitement, jutted towards him, seeking his touch. His gaze travelled to the juncture of her thighs. She knew he must see the evidence of her desire, even as she gazed in longing at his own readiness.

‘Lovely,’ he said, hoarsely.

She licked her lips.

He covered her with his body and kissed her full and hard, while he took himself in hand in preparation for entry.

‘Oh,’ a female voice cried.

Freddy cursed, froze, looking down into her face. His eyes widened as if with realisation. He shook his head in disbelief and horror. ‘You little fool,’ he whispered. ‘What in the devil’s name have you done?’

Chapter Three

Why the hell hadn’t he locked the door? He should have guessed she’d do something to force his hand. A typical female trick. Freddy fastened his buttons and turned to face the intruder, shielding Minette from view as much as was possible. Behind him, he heard the rustle of the adjustment of clothing.

He glared at the young woman in white hovering on the threshold, light spilling in a wide arc into the room. A woman he didn’t know, of pale complexion and mousy brown hair. Fortunately the light from the corridor did not reach fully across the room, though the candle gave enough light to reveal their embrace, if not the details. ‘You required something?’

The girl, whose pallid face was clearly visible, gulped, her eyes round. ‘Oh, no. I was looking for someone. Miss Rideau. She had torn her gown and I thought to offer my pins. Someone said they saw her enter the library. Please, excuse me.’

She started to close the door. God. They were going to get away with it. He moved towards the door to lock it.

‘What are you doing here, Priscilla?’ A male voice. ‘The ballroom is at the other end of this corridor.’

The young woman turned to look at whoever had spoken. ‘I was looking for the withdrawing room, Papa. I missed my way.’

‘Not meeting someone, are you, my girl?’ The door swung back.

Freddy swallowed a curse as he faced an irate-faced gentleman. Lord Sparshott, if he recalled correctly.

‘Good God,’ the other man said, his face turning turkey red. ‘Priscilla—’ He halted, and Freddy knew the man had no illusions about what he was seeing.

Sparshott grabbed his daughter’s hand. ‘Come away. This is no place for a decent gel.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Freddy said, hoping like hell Minette had herself decently covered. ‘I am sure you and your daughter would like to be the first to congratulate Mademoiselle Rideau and me on our betrothal.’

The other man snorted and bowed stiffly. ‘My commiserations, mademoiselle. Come, child.’ He stalked off with his daughter in tow. Just before she disappeared she glanced back over her shoulder. Freddy had the distinct impression there was regret in her eyes.

He closed the door. Hell and damnation, there was no key. Had she planned that, too? He swung around to face her, to assess the full extent of the damage. Thank God she was decently covered, if a bit dishevelled. At a quick glance one could assume it was no more than a kiss they had been sharing in the dark. The dull throb of an arousal denied served to increase his fury.

‘You did it on purpose.’ He kept his expression cool, his emotions under guard. Now was not the time to express his anger.

‘I did not,’ she snapped back, her eyes flashing fire.

A fire he would like to have put to better use than an argument, but it was far too late. He was dished. Done up. Betrothed, when he had planned never to marry.

‘Turn around.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Are you going to—?’

‘No, I’m bloody well not. I’m going to see you properly laced and back into the ballroom. We have to break the good news to Gabe and Nicky before the gossip gets out of hand.’

‘Oh.’

Damn it, had that been disappointment he’d heard in her voice? That they wouldn’t finish what they’d started? His body twitched appreciatively at the very idea as she turned around and let him fix what he had undone. Hell and damnation, the girl had made him lose all sense of civility and reason. He should never have met her alone. It had been far too long since he’d taken a woman to his bed. Surrounded by women in the brothel had given him a distaste of coldly commercial transactions. And, if he was honest, seeing Gabe’s marital happiness had made him want more. No wonder the first brush of Minette’s skin against his palm had sent all his good intentions going up in the flames of lust. Because she was the one woman he had always wanted and could never have for the flick of a finger.

And now he was trapped. After years of him denying his unwanted attraction out of respect for Gabe, who knew of his vow never to marry. Who knew dalliance was all he ever wanted or needed. As Gabe’s ward, Minette deserved far better than he would ever be. And a far better life than he could offer. Finished with the buttons and lacings, he spun her round to face him. ‘You and your little friend have properly put us in the basket. There’s no backing out of this, you know. We are shackled for life.’

She lifted her chin, her eyes huge and roiling with emotion. ‘I didn’t plan it, you idiot. You kissed me, remember? And, besides, it will be forgotten in a week.’

‘It won’t. Of all people, you had to pick Sparshott’s daughter to help in your schemes. He’s one of the biggest sticklers I know. You can be sure he won’t let people forget, even after we tie the knot.’

‘Mon Dieu. You will stop saying I planned this. She saw my hem was torn and offered to help. I said no. She followed me of her own accord.’

‘A happy coincidence, then,’ he said, trying to bury his frustration. There was no sense in being angry. What was done was done.

She eyed him speculatively, as if she didn’t believe his resignation to his fate, and dug in her reticule. ‘You had better pin up my hem before we go back.’ She handed him some pins.

Grimacing, Freddy fell to one knee and worked on reattaching the delicate flounce.

The door opened to admit a grim-looking Gabe.

‘How very touching,’ he drawled, his expression as hard as granite.

‘Don’t be an ass,’ Freddy said, placing the last pin. He leaped to his feet, grabbed Minette’s hand and gave his friend a smile he did not feel. Although there was something satisfying in the feel of that small gloved hand within his palm, as if it belonged there. ‘We were about to come and find you and share our good news. You can be the first to congratulate us on our betrothal.’

The grimness around Gabe’s mouth did not ease. ‘I gather, then, that Sparshott did not offer his felicitations.’

Sarcasm. From his friend. They’d often disagreed, but they’d always had mutual respect. ‘It was a rather awkward moment.’

Minette’s hand quivered in his. His spine stiffened, the tension growing second by second as he prayed her temper wasn’t such that she would deny their engagement and send Gabe’s anger over the edge. He was a good friend, but when it came to his women he was very protective. Renewed anger simmered in his own veins. At her role in driving a wedge between him and a man he’d come to think of as a brother. He held Gabe’s gaze without flinching. ‘Well, aren’t you going to wish us happiness?’

Gabe blew out a breath and stuck out a reluctant hand. ‘Congratulations.’

The tension in his neck eased as he shook it. He glanced down at Minette and realised she wasn’t looking any happier than he felt. He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Gabe. Our passion got the better of us when we realised we both wanted this. We should have come to speak to you and Nicky right away.’