A Promising Little Scandal Read online

  The latter lifted a sardonic brow and peered down his hawk shaped nose at her. She had never particularly cared for him, although she learned his patronage was rather important, so for that reason she remained civil. Although it was obvious he was quite antiquated in his notions of independent females. His next statement proved just that. “I suppose we should cease any further business discussions, as I’m sure it would be a rather dreary chat for a lady’s ears.”

  Calliope smiled broadly. “Not at all, Mr. Falone.” She turned to Mr. Sheldon who had been speaking when she arrived. “Could you have been referring to the silver mines in Mexico, perhaps?”

  His lips twitched as if he was trying not to smile. “Indeed, my lady. You are very astute.”

  “Not really in this case,” she countered. “I merely saw the collection for myself and spoke with Mr. Bullock about his possible return in a few years.”

  “You have a very adept memory, Lady Calliope,” Mr. Bullock noted with something like pride in his voice. But then, he had never treated her as if she were lacking. She might like to be dressed in the height of fashion, but it didn’t mean the rest of her mind was filled with empty fluff.

  “I applaud your sisters’ recent marriages,” Mr. Falone said in a particularly nasally voice. “I’m sure you do as well. Perhaps you might consider your own future and settle down in good time.”

  “Actually…” She glanced around at each man in turn, before turning her attention back on her current rival. “I have decided to embark on an adventure of my own. I’m going to dig for fossils in Lyme Regis where Mr. Bullock acquired his impressive prehistoric skull.”

  Mr. Falone sniffed in obvious distaste. “Really, Lady Calliope, do you truly think you might succeed in unearthing something so extraordinary by yourself?”

  “And why shouldn’t she?”

  As that familiar male voice entered the fray from behind her, she stiffened slightly. Lord Blakely moved to stand beside her. She half expected him to have that wayward smirk on his face, but his attention was fixated on the man who was doing his best to bait her into an argument.

  Seeing that he wasn’t getting anywhere with Calliope, the scholar tried to reason with the viscount. “Surely you can agree that women ought to know their place, which is at their husband’s side, just as God intended.”

  “Indeed,” The viscount nodded slowly, as if seeing the logic in his comments. “Unfortunately, I fear I shall have to disagree on that matter, as I believe that Lady Calliope shall prove to everyone just how determined she is in her endeavor. She’s already shown you her mettle in not bowing down to a forced marriage that could only result in unpleasant circumstances for both parties. In my opinion, I believe that is more commendable than a full nursery.”

  Silence followed his announcement, and although Mr. Falone looked as though he might start screeching aloud at any moment, he never got the chance, for Lord Carter clapped his hands. “Well said, Lord Blakely.”

  The other men murmured their agreement, and that’s when the viscount turned those dark eyes upon her. In an aside to her alone, he said, “Surely coming to your aid gives me the right to have the supper dance.”

  Calliope lifted a brow, but reluctantly accepted his arm. “I didn’t ask to be rescued, my lord. There was no need for you to come charging into the fray with your sword drawn.”

  “Perhaps not,” he concurred as they walked away from the group. “But you can’t deny it was rather dashing of me to do so.”

  Against her will, a laugh escaped her. She rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat. “Very well. I will concede this battle to you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said softly. “That victory only draws me closer to winning the war.”

  Sebastian realized, in that moment, that he could spend a lifetime looking into those mesmerizing green eyes and listen to the sound of that genuine laugh all the remaining days of his life. Of course, nothing would ever come of it, as he had promised himself long ago that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But if there was one lady who might come close to leading him to the altar, it was Lady Calliope Bevelstroke.

  When it was announced that a waltz would be the last dance before supper, Sebastian couldn’t believe his good fortune. It would give him a chance to hold Calliope closer than that blasted quadrille that kept separating them. This time, she would be solely his.

  As they took their position, he gathered her close, bordering on impropriety. It would be worth any wagging tongues just to hear the slight catch to her breath.

  However, instead of simpering like some empty-headed debutante, she looked him square in the eyes. “Pushing the boundaries a bit, aren’t you, Lord Blakely?”

  He grinned broadly in return. “I shan’t be the rake everyone believes I am if I don’t act as such.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Don’t say it’s all an act?”

  “Naturally, I can be quite convincing if the need arises,” he countered evenly. “But in this case, I fear it is all too true. I’ve earned every bit of my scandalous reputation.”

  She laughed a second time, and he nearly missed a step in the dance. He never did that. “Most would be horrified to allow themselves to accept that, and yet, you seem to pride yourself upon it.”

  He adopted a lazy smile. “I have yet to hear any complaints.”

  “There’s always a first time for everything.” Her lips twisted mirthfully, and she slid her gaze away.

  Damn, but he wanted to kiss that saucy mouth of hers! He was doing his best not to let the unruly cock in his trousers stir to life, but she was making it deuced difficult. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

  She snorted. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She pinned him with emerald fire shining within the depths of her eyes. “To add me to your list of conquests.”

  He seemed to mull the idea over for a moment. “I admit that it has quite a bit of merit, but I know I could never coerce you to travel down that path to pleasure.”

  He could feel her stiffen slightly. “Are you suggesting that I could be frigid because I won’t let you take advantage of me?”

  “Not at all. Merely that I have given up the pursuit, for the effort is quite unattainable.” He gave a heavy sigh at the end of his statement for added dramatic effect.

  Her lips pursed. “I will have you know that the reason I won’t allow myself to engage in anything more than a mild flirtation with you, is because I know that, not only are your intentions not sincere in the least, but I don’t have any interest in you at all.”

  If Sebastian hadn’t been so confident of his prowess before now, her accusation might have stung. But since he had been told, on more than one occasion, about his ability to please a woman, he merely splayed his hand more firmly across her back. With his other, he started to slide his thumb in slow, sensual circles where their hands connected. Again, there was that hitch in her breathing.

  He lowered his voice an octave and whispered, “Do you know what I think, Lady Calliope?” He took advantage of her surprise to answer his own query. “Something tells me that you aren’t frigid in the least, but rather the exact opposite. I think you burn with a passionate fire, but that intensity frightens you, and that is the reason you shun my advances. Because if you actually give in to me, you would have to admit defeat, and for someone who yearns to be independent, that would ruin everything.”

  It wasn’t often that Calliope found herself speechless, but he had managed the impossible. She wasn’t sure if she was more appalled by Lord Blakely’s nerve in speaking so boldly—or angry that he could see through her so easily.

  Nevertheless, she was glad that she’d decided to make her way to the secluded town of Lyme Regis. Although she enjoyed the excitement of town, Bond Street wasn’t enough motivation to coerce her to stay when she was forced into this man’s proximity so frequently. At least there, she knew for certain that she could be free of him.

  She gritted her teeth and forced a smile upon her face. She
was more determined now than ever before to set her plans into motion once this ball concluded.

  Until then, she would have to contend with him.

  He continued to make his presence known throughout the meal. She could feel those dark eyes upon her, assessing, tempting, even when she was doing her best to ignore him and listen with rapt attention to her companion on the opposite side. Regrettably, the aged lord likely gained the wrong impression from her attentions, for he requested the first dance after supper, and claimed he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Calliope sighed inwardly, feeling the stirrings of a megrim starting to take root. It wasn’t until she reluctantly stared in frustration at the third course of her meal that the viscount leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s going well with Lord Evans, I see. I do believe he was looking for a young lady of good breeding stock to fill his nursery after his wife died. A rather large one, if memory serves correctly—”

  She nearly threw her serviette down in exasperation, as she turned to him with a scathing glare. “At least he doesn’t annoy me to the point I wish to stab him with my silverware!”

  He put a hand over his heart. “I’m honored that you think so much of me.”

  She laughed aloud and drew a few glances in their direction. She tried to cover her faux pas with a light cough. “You’re delusional if you believe that is what I meant.”

  He shrugged. “It was an honest mistake. You say a lot of things you don’t mean.”

  The glare returned. “I do not!”

  His dark gaze turned smoky and dropped to her mouth. “Are you quite sure about that, Lady Calliope? You claim you don’t have any interest in me, and yet your body tells me something else entirely with your deepened breathing, the flush on your cheeks, and the sparkle in those amazing eyes of yours. It is quite absent when you are speaking to your other companion.”

  “How can you possibly ascertain that?” Calliope pursed her lips, but her pulse sped up even so. “You can’t even see my face.”

  “I don’t need to. The evidence is in your shoulders. You’re relaxed, but when you speak to me, you tense everywhere.” His gaze fell to her lap. “Even your thighs are pressed together to assuage the ache there.”

  Calliope had always prided herself on her level-headedness. She didn’t allow many things to disturb her, preferring to live life with a bit more freedom. But with Lord Blakely’s observations, it was difficult not to be unnerved. While she had been kissed before, by a couple of lads in Broxbourne near her father’s hunting box, who got a bit too eager when she’d still been in pinafores, it had never made her feel anything more than a silly fluttering in the pit of her stomach. But just the thought of kissing the viscount caused her veins to rush with liquid fire.

  Since Calliope was not one to bow down and admit defeat easily, she laid a hand upon his thigh beneath the table, quite close to the impressive bulge between his legs. She heard his sharp intake and reveled in it. “It’s not polite to engage in such lewd conversation during supper, my lord. Besides, you never know when you might meet your equal when it comes to the power of observation.” She lifted a brow and allowed her hand to drift even higher, until her fingertips nearly brushed the length at the juncture of his hips. “For example, see how your hands are fisted on the table? And the way your jaw is clenched? They are clear indications that you are just as bothered by my presence.” Her hand slid away slowly. Satisfied, she allowed a small grin to grace her face as she picked up her fork once more. “Shall we eat now?”

  She took a bite of her boiled potatoes and made sure he was watching as she slid the fork past her lips. Then she let her tongue dart out and lick them clean. His eyes darkened immediately, fixated on the action. She closed her eyes and murmured, “Mmmm. Delicious.”

  She smiled, for the rest of supper passed in blessed silence, as Lord Blakely said very little. Calliope also noticed that his appetite had waned considerably.

  When the meal had concluded, he excused himself with a mumbled excuse and practically fled from the table.

  Calliope accepted Lord Evans arm and allowed him to escort her back to the ballroom with a victorious spring in her step.

  Chapter Four

  If it was possible to combust from the inside out, Sebastian was quite sure he would have burst into flame the moment Calliope’s hand grasped his leg. He was an experienced man who had been touched numerous times by various, experienced lovers in the past, but none of them had affected him more than her bold advance.

  And, heaven help him, but he wanted more of it. His attraction to Calliope had been intense, but now it bordered on the obsessed. He’d had to clear his mind and gain some self-control by losing five quid in the card room before he felt comfortable enough to return to the ballroom.

  However, the moment he spied her fiery red hair in that deep purple gown, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He followed her progress where he stood on the periphery of the dance floor, ignoring any other hopeful glance that was shot his way. He yearned to whisk Lady Calliope into another dance, but to embark on more than two a night with the same partner was perilously close to declaring one’s intentions. He might be a scoundrel, but he didn’t want to ruin her reputation, nor commit to something he didn’t intend to follow through on.

  He crossed his arms and considered the conundrum before him. On one hand, he should cut his losses and move on to his next mistress, since it was obvious Lady Calliope planned to tease him indefinitely like a panting hound after the fox.

  Or…

  He could embark on an adventure of his own and play the game by the rules he was familiar with.

  A slow smile spread across his face. Really, it had been too long since he’d taken some of the salty sea air for his own health. Perhaps his crotchety old grandfather might even wish to go, for he’d been complaining of his gout. That would definitely give him the perfect excuse to follow the lady to Lyme Regis without looking as though he was a desperate suitor hoping to gain a morsel of her favor.

  He winced, because that was exactly what it was.

  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  He should write to Grey and tell his friend that he wouldn’t be in this predicament if it hadn’t been for his hasty nuptials. It had given Sebastian entirely too much time to come up with asinine ideas.

  While he could care less about honor or duty, neither did he wish to end up like his sour grandsire who snapped at anyone who drew near to his front door. He wielded that lion’s head cane like a sword and railed about the injustices during the Revolutionary War even though the battle with the French was more recent. In his mind that was a minor disagreement compared to the former Englishmen who had turned traitor against their own homeland. Sebastian was intelligent enough not to contradict him, and perhaps that’s why they’d always gotten along so well, at least, in a manner of speaking. Not only that, but he was one of the few people who could tolerate his outbursts.

  With a plan in place, Sebastian decided it was time to depart if he had any hope of getting to the coast before Lady Calliope arrived. He smiled, for no doubt his presence there would stick in her craw knowing that she had been bested at her own game, that her efforts to escape him had been in vain.

  He grinned as he took his leave, as there was much to be done. He nearly skipped down the steps, his stride lighter than it had been when he’d arrived.

  He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

  Nor the opportunity to bedevil her further.

  “I think that’s everything, my lady.”

  A fortnight following the ball, Calliope’s maid, Emma, was standing in her bedchamber door as the last of the trunks were loaded onto the Bevelstroke coach. She would have felt reluctant to take the best vehicle, except Isa had insisted upon it.

  “I shall do quite well with the curricle,” her elder sister had said firmly.

  And that was that.

  Calliope fidgeted with her glove and glanced about the room that looked just as it
had earlier that morning, except her dressing table and wardrobe were now empty. There was still that eerie sense that she was forgetting something in preparation for her journey to the seaside, but she pushed it aside. It would take a few days to get to her destination, and she knew it was likely just the uncertainty of going somewhere new.

  Alone.

  Until now, she had been able to rely on one of her sisters to be around, but what was the point of being “independent” when one never ventured out on their own? Olivia had done it, although her intention had been to return to their former estate in Canterbury, whereas Calliope was heading out into completely unknown territory. But the excitement she found in discovering something that hadn’t been discovered in hundreds of years was enough motivation for her to her continue on her way.

  Isadora was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. A sudden lump formed in Calliope’s throat as she embraced her. As they parted, she imagined there was a sheen of moisture in her sister’s gaze, but perhaps it was merely her own emotions that were reflected. “Remember to stay out of trouble,” Isa admonished. “I know how much you enjoy taking risks and pushing boundaries. You’ve always been the most daring of us all.”

  “Trust me, my tree climbing days are over.” She scrunched up her nose. “Unless, of course, an overly tempting opportunity presents itself…” She allowed her words to trail off and was rewarded with a heavy sigh.

  “Just be careful, Callie.”

  It was the nickname she spoke that made Calliope’s throat tighten more than anything else thus far. She reached out and gave Isadora another swift hug. “I promise,” she whispered, and then walked out the door before her heart refused to allow her to do so.

  She climbed into the coach, and although she told herself she shouldn’t look back, she couldn’t resist the urge to do so. She saw Isadora’s stern face peering out from between the drapes and she lifted her hand in farewell. Her sister did the same, and then allowed the curtains to fall into place.