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‘Is it too cool out here for you?’ he asked, as if he really cared. ‘Shall I fetch a shawl?’
It was a beautiful June evening. The scent of lilacs and early roses carried on the warm breeze, the walks sparkling with lights strung from trees.
‘No, thank you. It is a relief to get out of the heat.’
They walked in a square around the formal garden. ‘I am glad for a private moment,’ she said. ‘I have been wanting to speak with you alone. I thought you might have had some news of our quarry.’
He gave her a considering look. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because Madame Vitesse says someone has been walking around her neighbourhood, asking questions about her brother. She threatens to refuse to help us.’
He frowned, and she had the feeling he had caught him by surprise. ‘Not my men. I am keeping to our agreement and so must she or find herself in dire straits.’
His frown deepened, and he paused to pick a rose. He broke the thorns off the stem and handed it to her in what, under other circumstances, might be seen as a very romantic gesture. She inhaled the delicate fragrance.
Once more he offered his arm, and they continued strolling. ‘It is not only us looking for Moreau.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Who else?’
‘The Home Office boys would very much to get their hands on him.’
She understood from the small things Gabe had let fall from time to time that the Home Office and the organisation Freddy worked for were on the same side, working to save England, they were also in competition and their goals did not always align.
‘You think it might be them asking questions?’
‘Rumours of our man’s imminent arrival in Britain have been circulating for weeks. They might be overly bureaucratic at the Home Office but they are not completely without ability.’
‘I should let Madame Vitesse know this. Warn her to be careful.’ She clutched at his sleeve. ‘What if they find him first?’
‘It doesn’t matter who finds him as long as he is out of action.’
Not true. Not true. She had to be first. Everything depended on it. ‘I will see her tomorrow. I have a fitting for the gown I am to wear for the ball at Falconwood. I will impress on her the urgency.’
He stopped and turned her to face him. ‘Why is it so important that you speak to him?’
‘There is unfinished business between us.’ It was all she dared say.
His mouth tightened. ‘Very well. Keep your secrets. For now.’
For now. That sounded very much like a threat.
They had almost arrived back where they had started when he led her down a path leading to a walled garden with a display of fountains, each one in its own pool. He didn’t linger, but he opened a gate hidden behind some creeper. The scent of lavender and thyme and other herbs filled her nostrils.
And not a lantern in sight.
‘I don’t think we are supposed to be in here,’ she said.
‘No.’ He closed the gate and shot the bolt. Light from the moon was enough to see by. The party had been deliberately planned to take advantage of the moon for those travelling back to town. They were in a kitchen garden, the house, ablaze with light, only yards away, its top floors visible above the stretch of the wall. But no one inside the house would be able to see them among the shadows.
Her heart gave a loud thump. Not a warning exactly but definitely excitement tinged with a touch of wariness.
‘Why did you bring me here?’ she asked.
He tucked a hand beneath her chin, tipping her face up and looking down at her. One side of his face was in shadow, the other carved by moonbeams into hard, masculine beauty.
‘A chance to talk without interruption.’ He cast her a wicked glance that made her toes curl. Wicked and charming both. She had never seen him look quite so handsome or so devilish. ‘And besides, you look so lovely, so tempting, I couldn’t resist a few minutes on our own.’
The lovely words took her breath away.
It would be so easy to let herself believe he’d meant what he’d said. And so utterly foolish.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him while it lasted.
Chapter Six
‘How did you know about this particular garden?’ she asked, the hint of breathlessness in her voice calling to his desires.
‘I took a walk when I first arrived.’ He always made sure he knew the layout of any place he went. A man never knew when he might need to leave in a hurry. It had also seemed like the perfect spot to begin his campaign of seduction. Passion was the one thing that seemed to go well between them, as evidenced by his simmering lust since their kiss.
With any other woman, all he needed to do was wave the dukedom about a bit. Not with Minette. While her physical desire battered at him, she kept herself, who she was, at a distance. Intriguing and worrying. He did not intend to let her end this betrothal. Thus, he must woo her. Ceaselessly. Until she gave up any thought of crying off.
He caged her face within his fingertips, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness. Something that was not part of his plan. The urge to taste her again was like the beat of his heart. Unstoppable.
He lowered his head, slowly, hesitantly, silently asking permission.
Her hands slid up over his shoulders to rest there. She nipped at his lower lip.
A hiss of breath left his lips as lust hardened his body. He took her mouth in a wild and ravening kiss. She responded with a hunger that left him close to mindless.
Her sweet, luscious curves melded with his. A banquet waiting for him to savour it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted a woman as badly as he wanted this one. No other woman but she could slake his need. He pressed his thigh between hers, and she gave a sweet little moan of longing. Heat seared his veins as his blood rushed south. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers, feeling her lips so soft and sweet moving against his, while her fingers combed the hair at his nape.
Desire shuddered through him.
The urge to lift her skirts and take her against the wall pounded in his blood. She deserved so much more. And, besides, a kiss in the dark between a betrothed couple was acceptable, even expected, but to take her back to the ballroom dishevelled and used hard would be too dishonourable even for him.
He broke their kiss and pulled her close. Breathing rapidly, she rested her cheek on his chest and he bent to kiss her crown, his own breathing none too steady.
‘It wouldn’t do to be caught out again,’ he said gently.
‘No,’ she agreed, to his body’s painful disappointment. She placed a hand on his lapel and stroked the fabric.
Delight with her response to his touch was a wild beat in his blood, despite knowing women were good at pretending things they didn’t feel when it suited. This attraction was a positive sign for their marriage. There was much pleasure to be had between them. As long as he made sure not to let things go too far. Not get too out of control.
Hope blossomed in his chest, a strangely warm and painful feeling that they might indeed have a future. He didn’t want to leave the shelter of this garden. He wanted to run his fingers through her glorious mane of glossy brown hair, rip her gown from her luscious curves. He could barely keep himself leashed. Which showed just how little honour he had left. There would be plenty of time for exploration and enjoyment when she was his wife.
‘We really should go, before someone misses us,’ she said, not moving an inch. She sighed. ‘We don’t want to set tongues wagging again.’
Wagging tongues were the story of his life. He had told himself a long time ago that he didn’t care. But he didn’t want her hurt by their vicious gossip. Neither did he want to break his vow by making the mistake of not being fully prepared. ‘Yes, we should.’ He kissed her forehead and linked his arm through hers, feeling for the first time in a long time a sense of hope.
They strolled back through the moonlight in comfortable silence, until they reached the dazzle of lights strung through trees.
Other couples were also walking around the fountains and along the gravel paths amid the shrubs. The air was redolent with the scent of roses. But all he could smell was her fragrance. Jasmine and summer sun. He wanted to pull her close, press his nose to her skin and inhale.
‘Shall we return to the ballroom?’ he asked.
‘A good idea.’ So matter-of-fact. So calm. Certainly she didn’t feel as he did. The formal touch of her hand on his sleeve was so light he could barely feel the weight of it, though it burnt him like a brand. Whereas another woman might be blushing and fluttering after that kiss, she seemed unaffected by what had happened between them.
He liked it that she wasn’t missish or prone to giggles.
He guided her up the terrace steps and into the ballroom, greeting those they passed. There were no suspicious stares but there was curiosity. It wouldn’t take much for the old gossip about him to surface. To send them over the edge of propriety and out onto the fringes of society for evermore. He didn’t want that for her, he realised with a protective surge.
He would be more careful in future. More in control. More like himself.
The hope inside him died. He wanted her too much. Once they were married, the wooing would have to come to an end.
A swirl of colour and glitter surrounded them. A girl in white stared at them. A tall girl. Rather thin. Right. Sparshott’s daughter, Priscilla. When she realised she’d been seen, she hurried forward and dipped a curtsey.
‘Your Grace,’ she said, so softly he could barely hear her above the noise of the orchestra and the chatter. She raised her gaze to his and it quickly skittered away. Guilt. She should feel guilty.
He bowed. ‘Lady Priscilla.’
She offered Minette a smile. ‘I did not get a chance to offer you my congratulations the other night. May I do so now?’
Freddy was surprised when Minette smiled back, a gentle sort of forgiving smile. ‘You may.’ She glanced up at Freddy. ‘Lady Priscilla and I have quite a bit to catch up on. Would you mind fetching me a glass of lemonade?’
The girl looked intensely pleased, and her face turned a bright raspberry shade. Good heavens, the girl was painfully shy. And he’d been sent off on an errand. ‘It will be my pleasure.’
Each woman dipped a small curtsey and immediately put their heads together as if trading secrets. Now what was his bride-to-be plotting? He hoped like hell it didn’t involve him. He had plots of his own.
* * *
‘I don’t think His Grace likes me very much,’ Priscilla said, watching Freddy walk away.
‘Don’t worry about Falconwood,’ Minette said. ‘He’s like that with everyone.’
‘Everyone except you.’ Priscilla blushed. ‘I am truly am sorry for my gaffe the other evening. I hope I haven’t ruined your life. Father says I am the stupidest girl imaginable for always putting my foot in my mouth.’
‘Oh, no.’ Minette couldn’t believe a father would be so cruel. ‘If he and I hadn’t been so stupid as to meet privately, nothing would have happened.’
‘I should not have followed, but you looked so worried I really thought you might need help. It was the worst possible luck, my father coming along right then.’
Priscilla was clearly bent on blaming herself. ‘It is water down the river.’ Minette patted her arm.
‘Under the bridge, I think you mean.’
‘Do I? These English sayings are very obscure.’
Priscilla laughed. ‘What is done is done, but you know if there is anything I can ever do to make amends, you will let me know, won’t you?’
How surprising. It seemed she had indeed made a friend. ‘Thank you. I will remember.’
Priscilla cringed a little. ‘His Grace is returning. I should go.’ The girl pressed her hand and scurried away.
She wasn’t surprised at the other woman’s cowardice. The expression on Freddy’s face wasn’t the friendliest. ‘Do you have to look quite so, quite so...?’
‘Quite so what?’ He handed her the lemonade.
‘Quite so sternly aristocratic. Looks of that sort would get your head cut off in France.’
He recoiled. Then his mouth quirked in a tiny smile for the second time that evening. Again her heart gave an odd unwelcome lurch. Hopefully he wasn’t planning on doing it too often, because she wasn’t sure she would be able to resist him.
‘Is that what you were plotting?’
‘We haven’t been plotting anything, either before or now. This is the first time we have really spoken.’
‘You seemed on pretty friendly terms.’
He was teasing. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he had already schooled his face into its normal stern aloofness.
He hadn’t been aloof outside in the kitchen garden in the dark. Her body heated, as did her face. Blushing. How strange. She hadn’t felt the slightest bit embarrassed under the moonlight. What on earth was wrong with her?
Freddy’s expression darkened. ‘Here comes that idiot Granby.’
Nom d’un nom. If she didn’t know better she really might have thought he was jealous. No doubt it was all part of the act to assure the ton they were really a couple. She turned in the direction he was looking. It was indeed Granby sidling up to them, his expression hot and bothered. He cleared his throat. ‘Good evening, Your Grace, Miss Rideau.’
‘Granby,’ Freddy said repressively.
‘Lieutenant.’ Minette gave him a bright smile and dipped her knees.
‘I wanted to beg His Grace’s pardon. Thought it over. No excuse.’
Freddy’s expression didn’t ease, but his voice was not unkind when he replied, ‘I think the whole incident is better forgotten, don’t you?’
More fiery blushes. ‘Very good of you, Your Grace.’ He tugged at the edge of his jacket. ‘Wondered if you’d care to dance this next set, Miss Rideau?’
She glanced up at Freddy. His face remained impassive, no indication that he cared if she danced with Granby.
‘Thank you, Lieutenant, I would like that.’ She put her hand on his arm.
‘I am for the card room,’ Freddy said with a slight bow.
It was not disappointment she felt at his display of indifference. Not at all. She had to be glad.
* * *
Freddy kept his face expressionless as he left the ballroom. Dancing. She should be dancing with Granby. They were of an age. Whereas he felt ancient. Weighed down by the responsibilities of a dukedom he’d never wanted in the first place and by the mess he now found himself in with regard to Minette. He’d been a fool out there in the garden. Thinking there might be something good in this marriage. He wasn’t the right man for her. Never would be.
She’d be better off with a young innocent like Granby. His hands clenched into fists. His inability to retain control had robbed her of choices. When they were married, he would give her all the freedom she needed. The ice inside him grew colder and darker.
He strode into the card room and took an empty seat with men he knew would play hard and drink deep. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said.
The dealer dealt him his cards.
He didn’t emerge from the card room until a footman came to tell him his party was ready to leave. He gathered up his winnings to groans from the other men, who had been hopeful of winning some of their money back.
‘Duty calls.’ He said the words carefully. It would not do to be seen to have imbibed too much when one was escorting ladies home. Besides, even though he had drunk more than his fair share, he didn’t feel more than slightly up in the world. He was accustomed to hours spent quaffing blue ruin in taverns and cognac at his club while keeping his wits about him.
He met Gabe, Nicky and Minette in the foyer.
Gabe frowned at him. ‘Ready to leave?’
‘Absolutely.’
He held out his arm to Minette, and they walked out the front door and climbed into the carriage. He eyed Gabe warily. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Tonight was supposed to be damage control,’ Gabe said, his tone just a little savage. ‘You spent all night in the card room.’
‘I did not. Minette and I spent a good long time together.’
‘In the gardens, out of sight.’
The implied criticism flicked like a whip across his skin. ‘Are you saying you expect us to live in each other’s pockets? You know I don’t dance. Am I to stand and watch my fiancée flit around the ballroom in the arms of other men, looking sullen? If so, you need Byron, not me.’
‘Byron didn’t put her reputation at risk.’ Gabe’s tone was implacable.
‘Really, Gabe,’ Minette said. ‘Am I not supposed to dance at all?’
Freddy clenched his back teeth before he said something stupid like ‘No’. And then realised she had actually come to his defence. He frowned at her, puzzled.
‘I don’t see why you are being so stuffy, Gabe,’ she said. ‘If we are happy with the way we spent our evening, then you should be, too.’
‘They spent enough time together to stem the worst of the gossip,’ Nicky said. ‘As long as they continue in this way, I think all will be well.’
‘Do you? You don’t understand our English ton, madame. They are willing to forgive a romance but they are not willing to forgive indiscretion. You need to give them the romance. Spending half an hour in each other’s company doesn’t cut it. You might have taken her in for supper at the very least.’
‘I am sorry, mon beau-frère,’ Minette said soothingly. ‘I am sure we shall do better next time, n’est-ce pas, Freddy?’
There was something in her voice that said she was pleased with the way things had worked out. And that she had not the slightest intention of doing better. No one would be in the least surprised if their passion died a natural death and the engagement ended. But there would be consequences.
Was that what she had been plotting with her friend? No wonder she hadn’t been concerned when he’d gone off to pursue his own pleasure while she’d danced with whomsoever she pleased.
He leaned his head back against the squabs and watched her face from beneath half lowered lids. Now he saw the game she played. Well, he would not be foxed. Not by a chit barely out of the schoolroom.
‘I will call for you at four tomorrow afternoon. We will drive in Hyde Park.’
‘Good,’ Gabe said.
Minette looked less than pleased.
Freddy showed his teeth. ‘After all, I am sure you have another new gown from Madame Vitesse to show off.’
He could almost hear the grinding of her teeth.
Chapter Seven
Minette liked driving with Freddy. His skill meant she could relax and take in all that Hyde Park had to offer on a June late afternoon. Driving was slow at the fashionable hour, but driving wasn’t the point. The afternoon was bright and warm. And despite the odd lazily drifting cloud she felt no need for a wrap or shawl. The perfect climate to show off Madame Vitesse’s latest creation in a way that would make the seamstress rub her hands together.
They greeted and were acknowledged by gentlemen on horseback and couples in carriages, but not all the nods they received were warm and friendly. One elderly woman turned her head in a manner that made it clear she disapproved of them.
Freddy pretended not to notice.
‘What did you do to her?’ Minette asked.
His lips tightened a fraction. ‘Lady Ransome is my mother’s friend.’
She frowned. ‘Then why would she cut you? That is what it is called when one presents you with their back, ne’st-ce pas?’
‘It was more of a cold shoulder.’ His face remained expressionless.
‘Why, Freddy?’
He shrugged. ‘They do not care for my rackety person any more than my mother does. Owning a gambling hell is hardly the thing for a gentleman.’
She was aware that it was considered de trop for a gentleman to be engaged in trade of any kind. But the bleakness in his eyes suggested there was more to it.
‘It is not unusual for a mother to publicly disapprove of her son and heir?’
He grimaced. ‘She sees me as a usurper of my brother’s birthright.’
‘You had an older brother?’
His jaw flickered, his shoulders tensed. ‘I am surprised you haven’t heard. He was killed in a driving accident.’
Pain coloured his voice, followed swiftly by such a coldness of expression it discouraged further enquiries. ‘I’m sorry. Were you close?’
‘Yes.’
She nodded. ‘It would be hard for your mother, losing a child, but she cannot blame you because the law requires you to inherit.’
He took a deep breath and let it go. ‘I prefer not to discuss my mother’s motives.’
The look on his face was so frozen, so icily cold a shiver slid down her spine. Clearly, he did not want her sympathy. She searched her mind for something to say.
A young lady walking with a woman who looked like a governess caught Minette’s eye and waved madly. A welcome distraction. She waved back. ‘Freddy, stop. It is Lady Priscilla.’
When the young woman realised she’d been seen, she drew closer to the carriage, her face a little pink, no doubt having received a scold for her enthusiastic greeting.
Freddy drew his phaeton onto the verge so others could pass, and bowed. ‘Good day, my lady.’
Lady Priscilla gave him a wary glance but beamed at Minette. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d see me from all the way up there.’
Freddy’s phaeton was indeed fashionably high. Minette leaned over. ‘How do you do?’
‘Oh, very well. This is my companion, Miss Bernice, who used to be my governess. When I left the schoolroom we could not let her go she is so much a part of the family.’
The companion, a short, thin young lady in a drab coloured walking gown and a pair of spectacles on the tip of a pointy nose, dipped a curtsey.
‘I am so glad I saw you,’ Lady Priscilla said. ‘I wanted to ask if you would care to go shopping tomorrow afternoon with Mama and me? We are going to the warehouse in Houndsditch to choose fabric for new curtains.’
Minette glanced at Freddy. ‘We don’t have any plans for tomorrow afternoon, do we?’
‘None. I did have it in mind to ask you to attend an event with me the day after.’
Minette smiled at Priscilla. ‘I would love to go.’
‘Good. We always go to Gunter’s afterwards for ices. We will call for you at two.’
Freddy bowed again and moved back into the traffic on the drive.
‘I thought you said you hadn’t known Lady Priscilla long?’
She winced at his frigid tone. He was still suspicious. ‘Believe it or not, I met her for the very first time at Gosport’s ball. It is strange. I feel as if we have known each other for years. It is nice to find a friend.’
‘A fortunate first meeting, then.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, do not tease. You know what happened was an accident.’
His lips twitched a fraction. ‘Very well. We will never mention it again.’
‘And I will tell Madame Vitesse that whoever was making enquiries about her brother was not you.’
A brow shot up. She’d clearly surprised him. ‘You do believe me, then.’
‘Gabe wouldn’t have you for a friend if you were without honour. And lying is dishonourable, n’est pas?’
He bowed. ‘You are as intelligent as you are beautiful, sweetheart.’
Sweetheart. A casual endearment that warmed her through and through. She felt the heat of it rise in her cheeks. ‘A compliment?’ she shot back, with a glance askance to hide her confusion. ‘Now, that is something new.’
‘Well, you are my fiancée.’
Something inside her delighted at the teasing note in his voice.
She batted her lashes in pretended flirtatiousness. ‘So that is the reason. I suppose it makes sense when we have to keep up appearances. What is this invitation you mentioned to Lady Priscilla?’
‘A cricket match at Lord’s Ground.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Cricket is a game I do not understand very well.’