Dangerous Gentlemen Read online

  She stared, trying not to allow her impulses to override good sense. “I do not have the letter, Sir Aubrey, so you are wasting your time trying to charm me into giving it to you.”

  He sent her a level look, in which she discerned disappointment. “Jane did not induce Jem to part with it after all? Or more likely, she has given it to your sister.” He sighed. “As a gambling man, I suspect Miss Partington has greater powers of persuasion—no doubt backed up by threats.” He arched an eyebrow. “Despite my attempts to charm Miss Araminta, I also suspect she has weighed up her options and has arrived at the conclusion that giving the letter to Lord Debenham will provide her with more benefits.”

  Hetty tried to swallow down her discomfort. “Perhaps it will,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Particularly if she wishes to marry him. You’ll have to try harder exerting your charm upon her, Sir Aubrey.”

  His voice was now closer, warm with promise as it tickled her ear, charging her body with sensation. “You do not seem to relish that idea, Miss Henrietta.”

  She shrugged. “I have no thoughts on the matter either way.”

  Another firework sent a ripple through the crowd. Suddenly Hetty was pressed fully against Sir Aubrey’s side. She felt lightheaded and completely thrown when he gripped her arm as if to steady her, but immediately he withdrew and disappointment churned in her breast. The others just up ahead had not yet noticed them.

  “Are you angry that I’ve been making up to your sister?”

  “It appears you need little encouragement to press your interest.” Hetty twisted to glare at him. “The moment something more…enticing comes along, you show your true colors. I abhor inconstancy.”

  “Having experienced it with such painful results, I can assure you I feel the same way.” His candid expression spoke so much to what was in Hetty’s heart that her mouth dropped open—and in that instant she knew inherent honor would prevail and she could never withhold the truth.

  How could she for one moment have considered allowing the letter into the possession of the man who least deserved it? Regardless of the consequences, like her mother said, the truth was the only basis on which to judge anything. And that letter belonged to Sir Aubrey.

  “Hetty, please forgive me for the distance I’ve allowed to keep us apart.” His voice was suddenly low and urgent. “I know you’re hurt and angry—”

  “Come, Hetty, let us listen to the orchestra.” Araminta turned, a look of prurient interest sweeping across her face as she registered Sir Aubrey. Then Cousin Seb claimed her attention, tapping her shoulder and pointing to the sky.

  With a quick squeeze of Hetty’s hand, Sir Aubrey whispered, “I’ve secured a supper box. Druid’s Walk. The same as last time. Hetty, I beg you, find a way to come to me.”

  By the time Araminta had reached them, Sir Aubrey was nowhere to be seen.

  “Mozart or some refreshment?” Cousin Stephen quizzed the girls. “I suggest those who are for the former should take their seats here while the rest of us find something for our parched throats.”

  The three country cousins, plump and perspiring, were only too glad to slide into a seat while Hetty and Araminta elected to follow Stephen through the pressing crowd. They had only gone a couple yards before Araminta suddenly declared, “Cousin Stephen, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay with the others.”

  Before he could reply, the crowd had swallowed her up. “Araminta!” Stephen called. “Wait!”

  “I’ll go with her,” Hetty reassured him. “You continue, Cousin Stephen. I can see Mary and Amelia waving to us. Don’t worry.”

  Already the jostling crowd was pushing him away from her as Hetty, smaller and defter, was able to navigate her way against the melee.

  Freedom, she thought with relief, only to find herself pinioned against a plaster bust by a large Corinthian, clearly in his cups, who barged past, causing her to drop her reticule. She had to wait for a straggling crowd to pass before she could reach for it but Araminta got there first. Her sister held it out to her, her expression full of concern as she inquired if Hetty were hurt.

  Araminta hooked her arm in Hetty’s. “Hetty dearest, I wanted to catch you alone,” she said as they were steered by the crowd toward the orchestra pit. “I know you’re upset that Sir Aubrey prefers me. He’s been drawn to me from the first moment we met. I recognize that look in so many men’s eyes.”

  They’d reached a quieter area now, a little away from the general hubbub.

  “Has he made you an offer?” Hetty all but hissed, wondering if Sir Aubrey was planning to seduce Hetty later this evening before blithely announcing his betrothal to her sister. Surely he’d not do that? His sensibilities had been so upset when he discovered what he’d done to an innocent debutante, he’d barely touched Hetty since. Not until tonight, anyway, when barely minutes ago he’d advertised his desire so clearly Hetty could not think he’d invite her to his supper box for any reason other than to…

  Dare she believe it? Sir Aubrey was a man of honor. He’d never risk hers at this juncture unless it was to make her a respectable offer.

  Araminta looked falsely sympathetic as only her sister could look. “Not yet but I expect one shortly.”

  Hetty glowered. “Only because he thinks you can get him the letter.”

  Araminta widened her eyes. “Oh no, just before we parted company I told him you had the letter,” she said. “I wanted it but Jane said she’d given it to you and I know I won’t induce you to hand it over to me.” She sighed, adding, “Though as the eldest, I have every right simply to take it from you. But you’re so eager to be the one to hand it over to Sir Aubrey.” She gazed at the sky. “And if for some reason you didn’t want to give it to him, Sir Aubrey said he’d find a way to persuade you.” She swung ‘round to smile at her sister. “I decided to stay well clear of the nasty business but I did feel I owed you a forewarning of his intentions.” Her smile broadened. “Or rather, our intentions.”

  Hetty could barely see through her tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry, Araminta, but I have to make an urgent visit and…and Seb and Amelia are waving to you. I won’t get lost, I promise, but actually I rather think I’m going to be sick.”

  Dashing back into the throng before Araminta could respond, Hetty plunged along the Druid’s Walk, making blindly for Sir Aubrey’s supper box, Araminta’s words screaming in her ears.

  So his kindness was merely on account of wanting the letter? He was going to offer for Araminta tonight? Hetty was nothing but a credulous fool? He’d enjoyed toying with her but now he had no more use for her than a discarded…mistress?

  “My love, what’s the matter?” Sir Aubrey rose to his feet the moment she plunged through the entrance and, completely against her earlier determination, she allowed herself to be swept into his arms.

  Hetty fought the tears that stung her eyelids. She tried to be strong against his overtures but then his mouth covered hers in a deep and demanding kiss that sucked from her any resolve to hold herself aloof.

  As she slithered, boneless, down the wall, he picked her up and carried her to the banquette, still kissing her with the passion of someone who has been starved of the physical and now seeks to plunder all that’s on offer.

  Helpless against her desire, Hetty kissed him back. She twined her hands behind his neck and pressed her body against his, glorying in the feel of his straining erection, a harbinger of the sensual delights she’d missed so much.

  Until the terrible truth began its insidious journey into the recesses of her mind like fine mist, to counter the pleasure of his wandering hands.

  “You’re only doing this because you want the letter,” she forced herself to say through trembling lips, staying his progress beyond her knee. The skirts of her Spanish dancer’s costume had been flipped up to reveal an expanse of bare thigh above her stocking but now she pulled down the black lace froth to cover herself.

  “Having the letter means nothing if I can’t have you, my Henrietta,” he mur
mured in the gentlest of vibrations against her lips, ignoring her protests as he pushed her hand away so he could continue, unhindered, what he’d been doing before.

  Hetty knew when she was defeated. His deft caresses, the tenderness and strength of his warm embrace and the wicked sensations Sir Aubrey had reawakened were almost too much.

  Nevertheless she had to go on, rasping through lips that stung with the need to press against his, “You want to seduce me so that I’ll give you the letter and then you’re going to offer for Araminta, aren’t you?”

  She’d shocked him.

  Dropping his hand abruptly from her leg, he set her away from him. “What makes you think that?”

  Misery churned inside her. He had not refuted it. He was charming and he’d find a way to win her over, she knew it. She was weak when he was near and he was the only man she’d ever wanted. Would it make her feel better to hear him admit the truth, or deny it? At least then she could fool herself afterward, her excuse being that she’d believed he was going to make an honorable woman of her.

  She sucked in a difficult breath as she met his troubled gaze. “The look that creeps into your eye every time you speak to Araminta. The ease with which you know you can have me.” She looked away, swamped by the miserable truth. “I knew it was madness for me to come here. I knew I would be completely won over by your charm and that I was a fool for being so weak. You could just take what was on offer. There was no chase for you. I have only myself to blame when you discard me.”

  “Hetty, no!” He shook her gently, real anger in his eyes. “Is that what you think? That my only interest is in what you can offer me? Your body? The letter?”

  Suddenly he was kissing her again and she was across his lap, supported by his left arm while being pleasured with his right, his fingers blazing a trail of sensation up her thigh, and she had no more willpower than a butterfly in a field of buttercups.

  “I want you, Hetty, more than I want that damned letter,” he growled. “Araminta holds no interest for me, even if she did possess it.”

  “You can’t be serious.” The words came out as a croak while his fingers continued their magical caresses.

  “Deadly serious.” He stopped kissing her, the expression in his eye warning her to take heed. “Araminta is cold, mercurial…calculating. Perhaps I shouldn’t condemn her for that since every woman needs to position herself as well as she can in this world. But you, Hetty…” His expression softened. “You are quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re warm and soft and…completely disarming with your ability to give.”

  Hetty gave a self-deprecating laugh, not won over though his kindness and the purely physical sensations he continued to evoke in her were close to mind-altering. “Like I’m giving myself to you now?”

  The faintest of shrugs and a return to pleasuring her were his answers and Hetty whimpered, her body thrilling to the heightened sensation.

  “Your willingness and your genuine pleasure in my attentions endorse your sincerity and bolster my reasons for begging you to meet me.”

  She stiffened. “To seduce me?”

  “To make you my wife.”

  Shock blackened her vision. She gave herself a little shake and opened her eyes once more, the warmth of his smile reassuring her that she’d heard correctly.

  “My wife, Hetty,” he repeated, though she’d said nothing. The darkening of his eyes and the tensing around his mouth bore out his next words. “The last few days have been torment. I’ve thought my fevered agitation was due to the letter being so within my reach. Then I realized I’d lived without it long enough. That time was erasing the slur upon my good name and that it wasn’t in fact the letter I longed to get my hands on…it was you.”

  He’d lavished attention upon her and now she realized he’d made no move to release himself from his trousers and set upon her with the enthusiasm of his prior lovemaking.

  Through constricted airways she breathed, “You’re asking me to marry you?”

  He nodded, placing his hands on her shoulders and bringing his face close to hers. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

  She sucked in a breath. The pressure inside her was nearly unbearable. She longed to feel his body respond with hers. Not just now, but forever. “Why?”

  He rolled his eyes then pulled her skirts higher and skimmed her thighs with the flat of his hand. “Because I find your luscious curves even more desirable than the first time I became acquainted with them during our unexpected introduction.” Drawing down the lace at her décolletage, he kissed the nipple he’d deftly exposed, circling it with his tongue before gently sucking on it, making Hetty writhe and whimper.

  His hot, moist breath was driving her mad with lust. She wanted him as much as she wanted to hear his words. Wanted to be clasped within his naked embrace so they both could share this moment equally.

  But he seemed happy to take his time. Or rather, murmur in the most deliciously intimate way while he sent her to Heaven and back.

  Hetty was registering on two levels. While her body was pulsing with need, her heart was growing fuller by the moment, the more he explained the effect she had on him.

  “But then I became acquainted with your sweet nature…” Moving up, he kissed her brow, her eyes and nose and then finally her lips as he finished, “And your wonderful capacity for love and forgiveness. You are the complete woman, Hetty.” The words were a gentle vibration against her skin. “And I’ve realized I don’t want to settle for less. Will you accept my offer, Hetty? Will you be my wife?”

  What a question? He’d well and truly convinced her of his sincerity and her joy knew no bounds.

  “Oh yes,” she whispered as she arched against his probing fingers, fumbling for his breeches. “Oh yes, Sir Aubrey, and now you must take your pleasure too. I want us both to enjoy the moment.”

  She registered the amusement in his voice as he asked, “What makes you think I’m not enjoying your responses enough to satisfy me? We are not yet wed, Hetty, and I am mindful of your reputation. Whatever the temptations, I set out tonight determined to draw from you the response I wanted and to resist the temptation of taking advantage of you until we are legally bound together as husband and wife.”

  “But that’ll be weeks!” she cried, her dismay making him laugh and tighten his hold on her.

  Trailing kisses along her jawline, he said softly, “Tonight. I’m glad to hear you are as impatient as I. But dearest Hetty, I am an honorable man and an honorable man does not intentionally deflower a virgin. Hush!” He stayed her protest with a finger laid gently over her lips.

  “You gave me an out and I’d have taken it, had I truly not wished to marry you. I told myself you would be better off given your freedom but within a day I was tormented by thoughts of what I was throwing away.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Hetty. I want to look after you, cherish you and make you happy. I want you to love me and have my children but I’m an honorable man and I will not risk your good name until we are legally wed. Today I have gained your father’s consent—yes, even despite the slur to my reputation.” He gave a wry laugh. “I happen to count the Archbishop of Canterbury amongst my friends and so have organized a special license. His representative will be arriving here in half an hour to marry us.”

  “In a supper box in Vauxhall Gardens? Oh—oh! Ooooh…!”

  With wicked intent, he’d resumed his pleasuring and now she’d reached the summit. Gasping, she arched against him, the pressure bursting within her, filling her mind and body with the most exquisite sensations. He gave a satisfied chuckle as she bucked against him, pushing her hands away when she resumed her efforts to unbutton his breeches.

  “Patience, Hetty. In an hour, when you are my wife, we can both partake without fear and without guilt. But for now, your virtue remains safe with me.”

  Joy swirled through her as he helped her to her feet. He loved her. He’d said it in so many words and now he was going to prove it.

  Cupping her f
ace, he stared into her eyes. “I want to hear you say something, Hetty. Something that makes me believe you want this as much as I do. Not because you need to make a good match by the end of the season.”

  She felt her mouth stretch into a wide, irrepressible grin. “Oh yes, I’ll marry you, though I could do so much better than you, Sir Aubrey. Not my words, sir, but the words of those who believe the false rumors about you.” She reached for her reticule, the joy building within her that at last she could prove her love beyond doubt. “However, once this is made public,” rising as she fumbled for the letter within the delicately embroidered bag, she whispered, “there will be no more false rumors.”

  She glanced at the anticipation on his face and felt her excitement grow as her seeking fingers explored the silk interior of her bag.

  Her handkerchief made a soft wad of cloth in the bottom but there was no sharp edge of parchment to make contact with her seeking fingers.

  Where was it? Where was the letter she’d transferred from beneath her chemise earlier that evening?

  An image flashed through her mind of Araminta handing back her reticule after she’d dropped it amidst the stampede. Despairingly, she tossed away the reticule as she sank against the wall, covering her face with her hands. “Sir Aubrey, I had the letter!” she wailed, nearly choking on the bitterness of her hollow victory. “Truly I did and now it’s gone.”

  When she raised her head she wasn’t sure if doubt or disappointment clouded his expression.

  “I came here with the express purpose of delivering it to you.” Disappointment turned to icy resolve. “But I shall!” she vowed, as she swung toward the door, adding grimly, “I know exactly where that letter is and I shall have it with me when I return.”

  Sir Aubrey gripped her wrist and pulled her back to him. “My offer is not dependent on that letter.” His voice was urgent. “Don’t leave. I know you are pure of heart, Hetty. I know you’d do anything to help me… And you have.” His expression softened as he cupped her face. “You have made me realize what is important. That it’s more than advancement and material gain. Happiness is based on neither of those but rather the mutual felicity and affection between two worthy people. I want you, Hetty. I want you to be my wife and to enjoy you forever.”