One Wicked Wish Page 11

  To her relief, Lady Lumsden took her words at face value. “I’m not suggesting that he confided in you, but I wondered if he’d shown any particular preference for Imogen before you left London.”

  “He sent flowers and called after they met at your ball,” Stella said, guessing that neither of those things would be news. Imogen told Harriet everything, and Stella suspected that Harriet kept few secrets from her mother.

  Lady Lumsden made an unimpressed mutter. “I know that. And he’s danced with her at every ball this week. But then he’s also danced with Harriet and the other two girls. If he does offer for one of them, it will be the coup of the season. Many a matchmaking mamma’s heart has broken over dashed hopes of snaring the elusive earl for her daughter. These last few years, he hasn’t frequented many ton parties. They must seem like dull potatoes, compared to the exotic fare of his cyprians and actresses.”

  Stella felt composed enough to look at Lady Lumsden. She spoke with more candor than usual. Her improved appearance must be lending her confidence. “Would you like him to offer for Harriet? She’d make a beautiful countess.”

  After this afternoon’s passionate demonstration, Stella knew that she was his current object of desire, but at heart she was a realist. Halston had an old title and a massive fortune. He owed it to his name to marry and have children.

  It might not happen this season, but sometime in the future, Stella would have to hide her devastation when he announced his betrothal to a suitable miss. She already knew enough of her feelings for Lord Halston to understand that she’d suffer when he married someone else.

  She even recognized, through the clamor of furious denial in her heart, that if he picked Harriet or Imogen, he’d gain a sweet-natured consort. She didn’t want him to be unhappy.

  Lady Lumsden frowned as she contemplated the prospect of Harriet as Lady Halston. “It would be a great feather in her cap. But he’s so much older and more jaded than these young girls.”

  “It’s the way of the world that men of experience marry well-bred maidens.”

  Lady Lumsden shook her head as if banishing a troublesome thought. “I suppose if Harriet loves him, I won’t stand in her way. I made a love match. I’d like the same for my daughter.”

  “Do you think she loves him?” Stella stopped in horror. “I’m sorry. My new hairstyle has stolen all my manners. That’s none of my business.”

  “You have a right to an opinion.” Lady Lumsden smiled. “After all, you’ve spent such a lot of time with the girls. Harriet is so fond of you. As are Lord Lumsden and I.”

  Shock crashed through Stella, and for once it was a shock unrelated to the man she intended to bed tonight. “Really?”

  Lady Lumsden gave a short laugh. “Don’t sound so surprised. Both my husband and I have remarked on your intelligence and your devotion to your cousin. Anyway, I wanted to talk to a sensible woman about this situation.” She glanced around the room and lowered her voice. “I’m not sure anyone else here qualifies.”

  Stella gave a startled giggle, even as part of her wanted to refute any claim to being sensible. She was on the verge of being very imprudent indeed. Even worse, she could hardly wait to go to the bad.

  Lady Lumsden went on. “And as far as your question goes, no, I’m rather relieved that Harriet isn’t in love with Lord Halston, although I suspect if he made a genuine effort to attach her interest, she couldn’t resist. Heavens, I’m a middle-aged wife and mother, and I’ve been in love with Pelham from the day I met him, yet even I get a thrill when Halston levels that naughty green gaze on me.”

  “He’s very handsome.” Stella hoped her tone didn’t betray that she was in thrall to their host.

  “He is. But it’s more than that. He’s clever, and you sense that somewhere under all that decadent charm, there’s a man of character. I’m just unconvinced that a chit of twenty will unearth any unplumbed depths in his soul. Does Imogen like him?”

  “Lord Deerforth does,” Stella said, before she remembered that she was a mere companion and a damned indiscreet one at that.

  “Of course Deerforth does. He wants to cut a dash in the world, and Halston moves in the highest circles.” Lady Lumsden paused. “If I were a young girl, I’d find Halston preferable to that windy bore Chippenham.”

  So would Stella, but she’d already said too much. She summoned a polite smile. “I’m sure my uncle is doing his best to find a suitable husband for Imogen.”

  “Very diplomatic, my dear.” Amusement sparked in Lady Lumsden’s eyes. “But I imagine you want Imogen to be happy.”

  “Very much. But if she’s set her heart on someone this season, she hasn’t confided in me.” Her eyes found Imogen, chatting with Harriet and Lily and Elizabeth on the other side of the room. The four girls made a picturesque group. Any one of them would make a fitting match for Halston.

  She’d known and liked Harriet for years. The other two were new to her since she’d arrived in London, but Stella liked what she’d seen of them. So did Imogen, and while she might be young, she was no fool when it came to judging people.

  Perhaps only wishful thinking convinced Stella that Imogen hadn’t set her cap for Lord Halston. She certainly appreciated the attention that his notoriety gained her. A girl who aroused Halston’s interest was always worth a second glance, or so the world believed.

  While it mightn’t be Halston, someone had caught Imogen’s eye. Stella was sure of it. She hoped to goodness that whoever it was didn’t turn out to be a heartbreaker.

  “You wouldn’t tell me if she had.”

  Stella smiled. “Probably not.”

  “Which is just as it should be, I suppose. I’m just a nosy old woman.”

  Stella always appreciated Lady Lumsden’s self-deprecating humor. “Is it possible that Lord Halston has no ulterior motives and he’s just decided to vary his guest list for once? Miss Bilson’s father is active in business, and Miss Tierney’s father is a power in parliament. Lord Lumsden is good company. Perhaps we’re wrong to concentrate on the feminine guests and should instead think about the men he’s invited.”

  “You could be right,” Lady Lumsden said without sounding persuaded. “I imagine everything will become clear over the next few days.”

  The gentlemen chose that moment to join the ladies, which hinted that their host’s interest didn’t focus on the influential men he’d invited. They hadn’t lingered over their port to talk business or sport or politics.

  Halston prowled in last, and Stella couldn’t help watching as he gravitated toward some of the older ladies beside the blazing fire. Her shiver of awareness had nothing to do with the cold night.

  “See what I mean?” Lady Lumsden murmured, proving to Stella’s dismay how closely she observed her. “He just has to walk into a room and every woman goes daft.”

  Stella made herself smile, although she was mortified that Lady Lumsden had noticed her reaction. “Even humble companions.”

  Lady Lumsden cast her a sharp-eyed glance that made her cringe and fear that she might have shown too much interest in the handsome earl. “You know, I never think of you as humble, Miss Faulkner.”

  “I…”

  Lady Lumsden waved away her protest. “You might do your best to fade into the background so your uncle doesn’t cut up rough, but at heart there’s much more to you than you let on.”

  “Thank you.” Halston had said something similar. “I think.”

  Lady Lumsden’s amusement was kind. “It’s a compliment, in case you’re wondering. Although I’m sure that life these last ten years would have been easier if you were the dull creature you pretend to be.”

  “I think you overestimate me, my lady.”

  “Do you? I don’t. Anne Ridley’s daughter was bound to be interesting.”

  “My mother made some disastrous choices,” she said through stiff lips, as old grief pierced her.

  “She and your father were happy, weren’t they?”

  “Oh, yes.”

/>   “And they loved you?”

  “Very much.”

  Lady Lumsden shrugged. “Then their choices weren’t disastrous. Society’s view of life isn’t always the full story, you know.”

  Startled anew, Stella looked at Lady Lumsden. “You’re being very nice to me.”

  “I hate to see a woman of your quality wasted. If life with your uncle ever becomes unbearable, don’t assume that you’re friendless.”

  Her amazement grew. “You’ve never spoken to me like this before.”

  “A house party provides more opportunity for conversation than London.”

  “But you could have drawn me aside in Gloucestershire.”

  “I could, but it’s only since we came to London that I realized quite what a tyrant Deerforth is. You’re his sister’s child. He shouldn’t treat you like a skivvy.”

  Stella couldn’t summon the hypocrisy to defend her uncle again. “I could never leave Imogen, but thank you. I loved Mamma dearly, but here in England, nobody has a good word to say about her. Except you. That in itself makes me grateful.”

  Sadness dimmed Lady Lumsden’s bright gaze. “She was a good friend, and I see so much of her in you. Not least the passionate heart.”

  Stella’s lips firmed. “A beggar can’t afford a passionate heart.”

  Lady Lumsden took her hand and pressed it. “Remember I’m your friend, too.” She mustered a smile, although Stella could see it was an effort. “Now I’ve monopolized you long enough. I promised to make up a fourth at cards. Would you like to join us?”

  “No, thank you.” If Stella tried to concentrate on cards, she was afraid that her distraction would cause comment. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.” Lady Lumsden rose and crossed to speak to Mrs. Bilson.

  What a surprising, uncomfortable conversation, although Stella appreciated Lady Lumsden’s generosity. In this last week, two people had offered help if she needed to make a new life. Imogen said she’d give her a home after she married, and now the Lumsdens extended their support.

  At present, she had no plans to leave her uncle, although if Imogen wed, that would change. But it was a relief to know that she didn’t face the future alone.

  She doubted that either offer would survive a scandal, though, which made it even more imperative to hid her affair with Halston. Lady Lumsden had called her sensible. That sparked cynical amusement. A sensible woman would never fall into a rake’s clutches.

  The awful truth was that she had no wish to disentangle herself. She only wanted to entangle herself further. Those kisses this afternoon had stoked her hunger. It had been years since a man had touched her in desire. The hiatus had strengthened her responses. She hadn’t yet gone to Halston’s bed, and already he’d taken her into a new universe.

  Stella just prayed that disaster didn’t ensue, once she surrendered. Even as she realized that when she was so set on sin, praying was probably a waste of time.

  Since he’d come into the room, she’d struggled not to look at Halston. He’d avoided looking at her, too. Now she couldn’t help sneaking a glance.

  Even though his back was to her, he must sense her gaze. She saw his shoulders stiffen. It was dangerous to watch him for too long. She feared that her face might betray her longing. But nonetheless her gaze lingered.

  When he shifted, his eyes met hers across the room with an impact like lightning. Then with a deliberate motion, he turned away, before anyone noticed where he was looking.

  The rake was more careful of Stella’s reputation than she was.

  Chapter 9

  Stella stretched out in her extravagant bed, jittery with nerves and excitement. The room was dark, apart from the glow of the fire. She appreciated the extra touch of comfort. Her uncle didn’t waste such luxuries on his despised niece, and there had been occasional winter nights when she’d curled up next to Imogen to keep warm.

  The clock on the mantel chimed the quarter past midnight. She had no idea when Halston would come to her. He’d said it would be after everyone was asleep. She could have a long wait.

  It would be sensible to try to snatch a little sleep, but her heart raced and the blood fizzed in her veins like champagne. She’d never felt so wide-awake in all her life.

  She’d just decided to get up and fetch her book – although she knew she wasn’t likely to concentrate on a story either – when a panel moved in the wall.

  Her heart had been galloping for an hour. The sight of that secret door opening made it stop with a mighty thud.

  As she watched Halston emerge from the dark gap, her breath caught. In the flickering light of his candle, he appeared breathtakingly tall and his features took on a fiendish cast.

  As he approached, Stella pushed up against the pillows. The familiar sardonic smile twisted his lips.

  He was still dressed. Or mostly. He’d removed his fashionable coat and the crimson silk waistcoat, leaving him in shirtsleeves and dark trousers. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Do I?” she stammered, raising one hand to where her pulse hammered in her throat. It was absurd that only now did the full reality of what she was about to do hit her. For ten years, she’d stuck to one path. What happened now took her a million miles away from that.

  He stepped closer. “Boo.”

  The silliness brought her back to earth with a jolt. Self-disgust edged her huff of laughter. “I need to stop reading gothic novels. They’re playing on my imagination.”

  “Ghoulies and ghosties and things that howl about the battlements?”

  “Something like that.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through her fall of hair. She’d unbound it before she lay down.

  He raised the candle to reveal her. “My purposes are definitely of this world.”

  “I know they are. So are mine.”

  His smile intensified. “I’m delighted to hear that. Shall we go?”

  “Go?” She frowned. “Aren’t we staying here? I thought that was why you gave me this lovely room.”

  “As a bower of sin?” He set the candle on the chest of drawers. “No, I gave you this lovely room because I wanted to do you honor.”

  More of that dangerous warmth filled her. Dangerous because it had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with blossoming emotional intimacy. Desire was powerful, but simple in comparison to her increasing liking for Halston as a man.

  Stella hoped to finish this affair with both reputation and heart intact. Every moment she spent with the earl put her heart in jeopardy. Nobody had made her feel special since Niccolo’s death. It was a feeling that she couldn’t allow herself to get used to. Life would be barren enough as it was, once she went back to London.

  He went on, unaware of how his kindness unsettled her. “And because it’s at the end of a secret passage.”

  Without thinking, she held out her hand. “So where are we going?”

  When Halston took her hand, heat swamped her uncertainty. It was years since she’d had a man in her bed, and she wasn’t sure how she’d compare to his previous, far more worldly lovers. But anticipation made a mockery of her collywobbles. She wanted him. The chance to have him was too precious to sacrifice, however fidgety she was.

  “My room. It’s more private. You’re going to scream with pleasure, remember?”

  “You never know. I might make you scream.”

  “You might indeed.” Appreciation glittered in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

  She raised her chin and told the giant rabbits bouncing around inside her stomach to settle down. “Yes.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Before she could protest that she wasn’t his girl – although she had a sinking feeling that she really was – he drew her close for a gentle kiss. His lips seemed to ask a silent question. When she melted against him and twined her arms around his neck, she gave the only answer she could.

  Yes. Yes. Always yes.

  By the time he lifted his head, her knees
had dissolved into water and her head was spinning. Heaven help her when he took the seduction beyond kisses. She’d turn into a blithering lunatic.

  She rose on her toes to press her lips to his. Lord Halston was so tall. Niccolo had been her height. Perhaps that was why all this felt so different.

  Not to mention that she and Niccolo had been in love. There was no suggestion that love formed any part of her arrangement with Halston.

  “Shall we go?” he whispered, taking her hand again and pausing to pick up the candle.

  “Yes.” Yes seemed to be her word of choice tonight.

  She tightened the belt of her peignoir and squared her shoulders. The moment had come. Stella waited to feel some reluctance, but when she searched her heart, all she found was eagerness.

  What she was about to do would make her a pariah, if society ever found out. Yet she was happy as she couldn’t remember feeling since her parents died, all those years ago in Naples.

  “Try not to talk in the passage,” he murmured, approaching the gap in the paneling. “It runs behind the bedrooms and voices are audible, as you’ll discover.”

  They stepped into the opening. In the narrow passage, she fell behind him. Beneath her slippered feet, the wooden boards were bare.

  “Shut the panel behind you,” he said in a voice so low, it was closer to a vibration than an actual sound.

  She clicked the panel closed, shivering in the cold air, now she was away from the fire. Then shivering again when thick darkness enclosed her. Halston’s candle seemed a frail defense against the blackness. She bit back another half-joking comment about ghosts.

  As if he sensed her sudden failure of courage, he pressed her hand. He was a perceptive man. At least when it came to her. She suspected that perception would translate into unforgettable pleasure when he used her body.

  A subtle tug, and they began to make their way down the corridor. Stella was conscious of the people on the other side of the wall. Imogen’s room was quiet. The girl must be asleep. Stella took a moment to wonder who filled her dreams. She was almost certain that it wasn’t the soft-footed man who drew her toward ruin with every step.