Rogue in Red Velvet (6 page)

“John wasn’t completely faithful.” It choked her to say it. So many mistakes that she’d sworn never to let love into her life again.

Lord Downholland
smiled
. “We know, my dear. You quelled any possible scandal and handled the affair most carefully. Connie, Lady Downholland and I are proud of what you made of your inheritance and we have hopes that you and Jasper will together do even more to improve this one. Jasper is merely skittish, that’s all. His relatives on his father's side are powerful, but untrustworthy, and we wish to give him a better chance in life. There is goodness in him, I’m sure of it.” His ruddy country features were as dear to her as her father’s. As was the inevitable egg stain on his waistcoat. He’d never quite managed the skill of breaking open a boiled egg without spilling the contents and he loved them. His valet must despair.

That was the real reason they’d chosen her. Not because his lordship and her father had corresponded for most of their lives, not because Lady Downholland was her aunt as well as her godmother, not because she was intelligent or beautiful or they wanted to show her kindness. But because she was managing and they wanted her to “guide” Jasper.

Her godfather put the second page of her marriage settlement back on the desk. It lay slightly askew on the small pile.

Precisely as she felt, she realized with a sudden shock. This didn’t feel quite right any more. Ever since her encounter with Alex.

Too late. She’d gone too far, signed the documents. She had to go through with this. It would enrich her life immeasurably in all but one area. “Thank you, sir. I am immeasurably blessed that you and Lady Downholland have chosen to treat me with such kindness.”

The other, unspoken, requirement would be that she did as the Downhollands bid her. Since they were in their mid-fifties and in robust health, she had no illusions of inheriting early but Jasper’s estate and her own would give them plenty to live on in comfort. “I will, with your permission, join my intended husband in the gardens.”

Revealing nothing, she got to her feet in a smooth motion. During John’s affair and after, she’d had plenty of practice hiding her real emotions and her skill came to her aid now. She smiled then curtseyed to her godfather before leaving the room.

Pausing only to find a straw hat, a shawl and a pair of gloves, Connie headed outside. It was a bright day, although the chill of early spring still permeated the atmosphere. A light shower had sprinkled the leaves and buds with sprays of water, splitting the light into shards of brilliance.

Too early for most flowers, although a few snowdrops were nestled by the side of a box hedge. She bent and touched them.

The velvet petals caressed her fingers when she touched them, their creamy white reflecting on her skin. She stood and walked through the rose garden, the paths presenting a pleasant walk for anyone, although the roses were only in tight bud as yet, none of their color showing.

It would be a good year for the rose bushes. How was her garden faring in this season of growth and new life? In a few days, she would find out.

Alex had been wiser than she’d thought. If he’d shown her any more passion, what she’d wanted from him so badly, she’d never have returned to this path, never looked at her future husband without remembering another man. She sent Alex silent thanks and set her mind to her future husband. Young, handsome, fond of her and possessed of a good fortune. Not many women were so lucky.

Jasper stood at the edge of the garden, waiting for her, his red coat a startling contrast to the greenery. His mouth was barely curved in the slightly supercilious smile he habitually wore. She couldn’t blame him for that expression. Few people studied their own expressions in the mirror and he was probably unaware of it.

She walked toward him and tried to concentrate on his fine figure and fashionable air. Any woman would be glad to be seen with him.

She smiled back. “So you’re leaving me?”

“Yes, I am. I’m so sorry. It’s a small matter but I do want to conclude it. I want our union perhaps more than you do.” His lips skimmed her cheek then he murmured, “Have I ever told you of the other advantages of marriage?”

“I’ve been married before.” She repressed a shudder at the thought of sharing a bed with Jasper. For no reason other than that she had experienced the caresses of someone she wanted more than anyone else. She could do this, and she would. The breeze caught at the brim of her wide hat and she put a hand up to straighten it.

“Ah, yes but I heard John Rattigan was a brute of a man. A woman like you needs gentle handling, careful loving.” His smile turned warmer. “Am I right?”

Considerate of him. “I can’t imagine where you heard that. John was a big man but good to me, in his way.” She had brazened everyone down during her marriage. She wouldn’t change that now. Pride demanded she retain the secrets that were no one’s business but her own. Crossly, she untied and retied the bow on her hat, pretending it needed adjusting. “It’s true that my first marriage wasn’t everything I expected but we managed pretty well.”

“What was it, then?” He put his hands on her waist.

She allowed it, tried to relax into the embrace. They stood in the shelter of a high hedge, not in sight of the house. “We had a love match. Unfortunately, it turned out more infatuation than love but we came to an understanding. We managed.” The words came out by rote. She’d told herself so often she almost believed it.

“We’ll do more than manage,” he said. “I promise you that.”

When he pulled her closer, she didn’t resist. His arms about her didn’t feel right, although he held her close. Too close. His heat branded her stomach through the thin silk of her gown and she swallowed the urge to shove him away.

His mouth opened over hers in flagrant invitation and hers opened underneath. As she’d been taught and not by Alex. She could do this. She
could
.

Although Jasper was gentle with her, she didn’t enjoy his kiss. Too wet, too invasive, his tongue forging a path into her mouth. He took instead of persuading her to give.

When he cinched her closer, she pushed away with a small laugh, feigning embarrassment. “We can’t, Jasper. Not here.”

He didn’t let her go. “Where, then?” His eyes were still cold but his mouth slightly open.

She fought an urge to wipe her mouth. She’d persuade him to kiss her a little less like a wet fish and more like—no, just not as wet, was all. “When we’re married, Jasper. And not in the garden.”

“Oh come on, Constance, you’ve just admitted you’re not a shy virgin.” He squeezed her and grinned. “You could probably teach me a thing or two. So should we anticipate the ceremony? Just a little bit?” He planted another kiss on her lips. “The morality clause doesn’t apply to us, you know.”

She covered his lips with her fingers, stopping him kissing her again. “Perhaps when we’re in London.” She didn’t want to appear prudish but he was rushing her. She wanted time to herself, the space to forget one man and anticipate another. The breeze rustled through the leaves of the rose bushes and the hedge behind them. It was getting up. Likely it would rain soon.

He smiled against her fingers. “Very well, but tonight. If I promise to take care, will you receive me?”

One night? Yes, perhaps she should start now. It would give her a path to follow, something to look forward to, because she couldn’t deny she’d missed the physical side of marriage sometimes.

Lord Downholland would attend the assizes, go to London and she’d join them there. The banns would go up and they’d wed three weeks later. Very neat.

“Very well.” Commit herself now, put space between her and the events in the library.

She was the recipient of his most fervent thanks, which almost made her change her mind. But he didn’t kiss her again, for which she was truly thankful.

* * * *

Before dinner, she received a note scribbled by her betrothed.

My dearest Constance,

I have received information that means I must leave for London instantly. Some small confusion about the estate that necessitates my presence in London. I apologize for my hasty departure, particularly since we had such delightful plans. But I hope to expedite this matter that prevents our union and be with you much faster. Have patience. Return to your home and I will contact you as soon as the matter is concluded.

A pang of guilt shot through her because her first, instinctive reaction was relief. The next time they met, she’d be closer to her wedding day, caught up in the plans. And further away from this house and the memories it held.

All she had to do was forget Alex’s kisses that had opened her up to possibilities she’d never considered before. Passion, consideration, someone who valued her for what she was, not what she had. Even love.

Chapter 5

By the time the season proper started, just after Easter, Alex’s social life was in full swing. He attended balls, flirted with every eligible lady present and worked hard to put the rumors of Miss Stobart and himself behind him. After the balls, he went to the gaming hells, gentlemen’s clubs and other interesting establishments and enjoyed those, too. However, the matchmaking mamas were closing in and after one such evening Alex felt like a fox pursued by particularly rabid hounds.

He went to bed alone and when he lay there, he felt alone.

He woke in the morning and tucked his hands behind his head, staring at the folds in the blue canopy above his bed, his mind in a forbidden place.

He’d been out of sorts since he’d kissed Connie Rattigan. The rawness of his emotions would wear off, the sensation of waking up every morning and missing something, specifically the sight of silken hair the color of rich honey on his pillow, her blue eyes gazing into his with sleepy welcome. Stupid to imagine such things, even if that vision had chased his sleep away. It would go. It
must
.

He just couldn’t get Connie out of his head, where she had no place. She was marrying a Dankworth, for Christ’s sake. It was hardly likely their paths would cross a great deal in the future.

He’d visit White’s today. The matchmaking mamas couldn’t follow him there.

When his valet came in with the can of hot water for his wash and shave, Alex rolled out of bed and with minimal help dressed in record time. He went for the louche and casual, tucked his neckcloth half inside his shirt in a style he was making popular. It saved time, too. He wasn’t so much in a hurry that he didn’t choose his new Brussels lace frills for his shirt and his new short sword, cut steel and lethal but very pretty. City wear and a display to make. An Emperor had to make his mark.

He picked up the letter on the tray and broke the seal. An invitation from his cousin Julius for that night. Yes, he’d go. He liked Vauxhall Gardens and with the greater prize of the Earl of Winterton, heir to a dukedom, no less, the mamas might leave him alone.

That evening, Alex attended Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, at the invitation of his cousin Julius. Julius the Magnificent. A pretty place, if a trifle tawdry, but it amused Alex, normally. Tonight he couldn’t crack a smile.

“Isn’t that your Downholland’s heir, Alex?” Julius perched on the low parapet separating their box from the dance floor but rose hurriedly, his rich blue velvet coat swirling around his legs when the flimsy barrier creaked under him. The candles in the sconces against the wall quivered as Julius stepped inside the box. One day this place would go up like a bonfire, but hopefully, not while they were here.

Julius was as fair as Alex was dark, and society had invented several fanciful names for them on the angel and devil line that amused neither. He’d described Julius to Connie as glorious, and he was surely that, his clothes of the finest, glittering with brilliants, his maquillage in place, and his fair hair covered by a fashionable wig.

Julius took the seat next to Alex and grimaced when he saw the sight opposite them. The dance floor was well illuminated, so when the promenading couples moved away the view was as clear as day.

Dankworth sat in a booth opposite them, in the company of some decidedly raffish individuals.

Alex had seen condemned men celebrate their execution day with the same kind of feverish exuberance. Was it because he was marrying Connie soon? Alex would have been anticipating the day with eagerness, not dread. Alex shuddered. “He’s affianced to Lady Downholland’s niece. It could mean trouble.” The bastard didn’t deserve her.

He couldn’t hear Jasper Dankworth and his cronies, but they were chortling, their mouths wide with amusement. Several empty wine bottles stood outside the booth, waiting to be collected, and the elegant supper Vauxhall served to its patrons was scattered around, bits of wafer-thin ham dotted over the yellow and green paint.

Julius frowned. “Why is that trouble? What is Lady Downholland’s niece to you?”

Oh hell, Julius had noticed the extra venom in Alex’s tone. His cousin knew him too well.

He’d better pay attention to what he said.

Alex chose to tell the truth. If he couldn’t trust Julius, he couldn’t trust anyone. “I met her at the Downholland’s. At first I asked her to help me avoid Miss Stobart, but our acquaintance became much more than that. She wasn’t officially affianced, but I could offer her nothing. Or I thought I could not. After a few days? Her future was waiting for her. I came away. I like the woman a little too much. Now she’s signed her marriage contract, so I can’t lay claim, or even stake an interest.”