Impeccable, p.5
Impeccable, page 5
Looking forward at the road, she said, “We’ve discussed eye contact and conversation, so I suppose we should review touching.”
“Touching?” He sounded surprised. “Is that allowed?”
“How do you dance if you don’t touch?”
“That’s dancing, not flirting.”
She laughed softly. “Dancing is flirting if you want it to be. You can do all of it at once—use your eyes, words, and body to show you are interested. Whenever you touch in the dance, hold her for a moment longer than necessary or graze your fingertips along a part of her body as you pass one another. If you promenade, you can situate yourself closer to her side as you walk. Or you can take your free hand to touch the hand she has curled around your arm.”
“My mind is positively swimming with potential ideas, but I fear I would be nervous to overstep. A moment longer than necessary seems like a breath away from potential scandal.”
“I’m not advising that you sweep her into your arms and kiss her in plain sight of people.”
“I suppose that’s one way of assuring I’m successful in obtaining a wife.” He made a face and twitched his shoulders. “I could never do that.”
He assumed he would always be in complete control. She’d yet to meet a man who was. Even Lucien had succumbed to uncontrollable desire a time or two. “What if you were absolutely overcome with passion? And you didn’t realize anyone could see you. What, then?”
Ash whimpered, then hurried over to Evie’s lap, where he looked rather longingly to the side of the gig.
“I think we should stop so Ash can relieve himself.” Lord Gregory steered the gig to the edge of the track. He quickly stepped down, then came around to pick Ash up. “This is a wonderful opportunity for us to practice what you’ve been teaching.” His gaze met hers with a subtle but certain intensity—as she’d discussed. He lifted his hand to help her from the gig, and the combination of his touch and captivating stare provoked her belly to clench with anticipation as to what he might do next.
When she was on the ground, he didn’t release her immediately. The moment stretched between them and a delightful heat snaked up her arm. “You’ve paid close attention to what I said,” she murmured.
“My father always told me I was a good listener.” Gregory winked at her as he released her hand. She was sorry to lose his touch, but recognized that Ash was squirming in his other arm.
They walked to the field, where he set Ash down. The puppy immediately dashed off until he found a stand of trees.
Evie turned to Gregory and braced herself. She was already incredibly attracted to him, and he hadn’t been employing what she suspected would be devastating skills of seduction. No, not seduction, flirtation. This was an exercise, and nothing more. “All right, then, let’s pretend to promenade, and you can demonstrate what you’ve learned.”
He offered her his arm. Taking a deep breath, she tentatively grasped his sleeve. As they began to walk toward the trees where Ash was now running around, she felt him press gently against her side. Oh dear, that felt lovely.
“I must tell you how grateful I am for your expert tutelage,” he said smoothly. “You are rather brilliant at this.”
He didn’t know of her past, how she was quite literally an expert. What would he think of her then? She didn’t want to know. Nor did she ever need to find out—she preferred to leave that part of her life behind, even if it meant hiding her true self and lying about her relationship to her own sister.
His gaze caught hers, and she noticed a faint tawny ring around the pupils. As the darker brown graded to a lighter color, it was as if his eyes were…smoldering. She couldn’t look away.
“Is this right?” he asked softly. “Or should there be more?” He arched one brow and leaned slightly toward her, his gaze becoming so intense as to be…comical.
Evie burst into laughter. “Too much.” She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the guffaws.
He grinned and then laughed with her. Ash barked, seeming to join in their joyful noise, and ran toward them.
“What you did when you helped me from the gig was perfect,” she said.
He inclined his head as they continued walking. “Noted.”
As they progressed, Ash ran right into Evie. Trying to avoid stepping on him, she lost her balance and pitched toward Lord Gregory.
He caught her, but the momentum was too much for them to stay on their feet. He cushioned her fall, holding her against his chest as they lay in the grass. “Ash!” Lord Gregory admonished. He looked up at Evie with concern cooling the heat that had been in his eyes. “All right?”
“Yes. How about you? You’ve taken the brunt of this fall.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Evie was overwhelmingly aware of Lord Gregory’s arms around her, of his hands clasping her back and…lower. Indeed, he was clutching her backside, and she wondered if he knew it. Consequently, her pelvis was pressed into his, igniting a sharp, encompassing desire. Everywhere they touched was a point of arousal—her hands on his shoulders, her breasts against his chest, her legs between his so she was nestled into his thighs. He was doing extremely well at the touching part of their lesson.
Without even trying, she would wager. He thought he needed help attracting a wife when the reality was that any woman with a brain between her ears and even the slightest sense of sexual desire would be drawn to him. Perhaps he’d already disappointed an army of women without even knowing it.
“I think you’ve accomplished the bit about touching someone a moment longer than necessary,” she murmured.
Alarm flashed over his features. “My apologies. I’m trying to determine how to help you up.”
Ash decided this was a good time to lick Lord Gregory’s chin. Which led the dog to lick Evie’s cheek next. They started to laugh again.
Evie was grateful for the break in whatever had transpired between them. Unless it had been a single-sided connection. It was best she endeavor not to think about it in any case.
Sliding to the ground on her side, she worked to stand. Lord Gregory moved quickly, helping her up so they both stood, facing each other.
This time, he let her go rather quickly. She buried her disappointment.
“I suppose we should return.” She turned toward the gig without waiting for his response.
He walked beside her, but didn’t offer his arm. That was for the best, she decided. Her body was practically singing with desire—a sensation she generally had to coax into fruition. But even then, it had been different. She’d been employed by those men. With Lord Gregory, there was absolutely no reason for her to feign interest. Quite simply, she wanted him. Not because of a paid arrangement, but because she couldn’t help herself.
How was she going to make it through the next few weeks as his neighbor without succumbing to her own passion? She’d no idea, but it had to be done.
“You have been an excellent student, Lord Gregory. I think you are probably better at flirting and have left an impression on more ladies than you realize.”
“I appreciate you saying that. But then, I’ve had a good teacher. Perhaps tomorrow night at the dinner, we can practice more. A social occasion will lend itself to honing my skills.”
Oh no. She wanted to say it was unnecessary, because truly it was. However, the thought of having his attention, even if it was manufactured, for just one night, was too enticing to refuse. Furthermore, it would be something to look forward to while enduring the presence of his abhorrent brother and sister-in-law.
“I daresay you don’t require much more practice, but yes, you are welcome to finesse your flirtation.” She stopped walking as they’d arrived back at the gig.
He helped her onto the seat, then bent to pick up Ash, who’d trotted along beside them, and deposited him in her lap. Glancing at the sky as he climbed in beside her, he noted, “It may rain. I shall quicken our pace on the return.”
Evie looked at the roof of the gig that arched over the seat. “We’ll stay fairly dry in here, won’t we?”
“Fairly.” He cocked a brow at her. “Just in case, I shall demonstrate my excellent driving skills.”
“Well done, Lord Gregory. You are fast becoming a master flirt.”
“The credit, my lovely Mrs. Renshaw, goes entirely to you.”
As he turned the gig, Evie worked to keep from looking at him, focusing all her thoughts and energy on Ash. Things were far simpler that way.
And Evie preferred simple.
Chapter 4
As when he’d gone to the assembly two nights earlier, Gregory left Ash in the care of his valet. At first, Harris had wrinkled his nose and asked if a footman or stableboy might be better suited for the responsibility, but Gregory had explained that they didn’t work for him. At Witney Court, it was all too possible, if not likely, that Susan would object to a footman wasting his time with a puppy, and Gregory didn’t want to consign Ash to the stables. The lads there worked hard enough as it was.
It had taken less than a quarter hour for Ash to win Harris over. Indeed, he reminded Harris of a dog from his youth, and now Gregory wondered if Harris secretly enjoyed having Ash to himself on occasion.
“It’s rather unimpressive, isn’t it?” Susan remarked as their coach came to a stop in front of Threadbury Hall.
Built in the late seventeenth century, the house was probably half the size of Witney Court. Even so, it boasted an attractive, symmetrical façade made of Portland stone featuring tall windows and a dormered top story.
“It’s charming,” Gregory said, refusing to let Susan provoke him. Not tonight when he was going to spend the evening in the company of the divine Mrs. Renshaw.
Susan sniffed. “I suppose.”
“You have to admire the man,” Clifford said as the coachman opened the door. “Creighton, I mean. He didn’t inherit this.”
She pursed her lips at Clifford. “I do not have to admire vulgarity.”
Gregory exhaled sharply. “What could possibly be vulgar about a family working to better its prospects?” He was instantly sorry he’d taken her bait.
“Well, we don’t have to befriend them. At least not in London.” She stepped out of the coach, and Gregory had an exceedingly uncharitable thought that perhaps she might trip and hurt her ankle so that she would return to Witney Court.
Alas, she made it to the ground without issue, and Gregory silently admonished himself to be kinder than she was. Clifford followed her out, and Gregory climbed down last. They made their way to the front door, where a smart, liveried footman greeted them.
The butler—Gregory assumed his identity since he possessed the confident carriage of any butler—stood in the center of the entry hall, with its shining marble floor and polished wood paneling. “Welcome to Threadbury Hall. Allow me to escort you to the formal drawing room.”
The footman took Gregory’s and Clifford’s hats and gloves and Susan’s cloak. Gregory trailed them as they fell in behind the butler, who led them through the staircase hall. They passed through two more rooms before entering the large formal drawing room.
The space was elegantly, if a bit spartanly, decorated and contained their hosts along with perhaps a dozen other people, including Mrs. Renshaw. Gregory spotted her immediately. She stood near the center of the room speaking with the vicar. A purple gown embroidered with gold flowers draped her frame, and an amethyst necklace sparkled against the flesh of her upper bosom. He could scarcely wait to begin his campaign of flirtation.
To what end? It was all practice with no hope for anything real between them. He’d realized last night as he’d tossed and turned, his body in a state of unrepentant arousal, that he wanted more. He thought of her almost constantly and looked forward to when they would next be together. After tonight, he didn’t know when that would be, and that was unacceptable. Thankfully, he had Ash to tie them together—at least he hoped that connection would continue. What would happen when they both ultimately returned to London?
“Remember, I am going to secure an invitation to the Phoenix Club before the night is out,” Susan whispered to both him and Clifford.
“I told you, I don’t think Mrs. Renshaw can do that.”
Susan stared at him as if he were daft. “She’s a patroness. Of course she can.”
Gregory gave her a slight smirk. “You think you understand the workings of the Phoenix Club better than she does?”
“Well, no,” Susan admitted. “But I refuse to believe she doesn’t carry enough weight to ensure our inclusion. She must.”
“And yet you were so eager to denigrate her dear friends the Creightons,” Gregory murmured.
“Let’s hope Mrs. Renshaw isn’t aware of that,” Clifford said with a flash of a smile.
Gregory stared at his brother a moment, wondering if he possessed any self-awareness whatsoever. He couldn’t possibly. Biting his tongue, Gregory quickly made his way to the Creightons.
Their hosts greeted Gregory, his brother, and Susan with warmth and smiles. “So glad you could come,” Mr. Creighton said. “I do plan to bore you with my refurbishment plans after dinner over port.”
“I won’t be at all bored,” Gregory assured him.
“Lord and Lady Witney, it’s our honor to welcome you this evening,” Mrs. Creighton said with a curtsey. Diamonds adorned her ears and neck and nestled in her artfully styled light-brown hair. She looked every bit the part of Society, not that it would matter to Susan.
“We appreciate the invitation,” Clifford said. “I shall also enjoy hearing about your refurbishments. Lady Witney and I are considering improvements to Witney Court.”
Gregory hated to think of them altering a thing about his childhood home, but it wasn’t really his home anymore, even if he would always be welcome. Indeed, he wasn’t at all certain Susan would extend that courtesy in the future, particularly after she and Clifford had children. Anyway, he had his small terrace house in London, and that would be enough.
Susan glanced about. “I’m keen to speak with your guest, Mrs. Renshaw.”
“Please do,” Mrs. Creighton said, gesturing toward where Mrs. Renshaw stood. “Do you know each other?”
“We met at the assembly,” Susan explained. “I look forward to deepening our acquaintance.”
But not yours.
Gregory couldn’t tell if Mrs. Creighton had gleaned that from Susan’s demeanor and sincerely hoped she hadn’t.
“You’ll understand if I just go and speak with her now.” Susan gave her a condescending smile—hopefully, Mrs. Creighton wouldn’t recognize it as such—and went toward Mrs. Renshaw. Clifford followed in her wake.
Torn between racing to protect Mrs. Renshaw from their attack and being polite by staying longer with his hosts, Gregory’s shoulders tensed. He watched as his brother and sister-in-law reached their quarry. At least they’d have to converse with the vicar too. That would hopefully moderate Susan’s behavior.
But it probably wouldn’t.
“What is your brother planning for Witney Court?” Creighton asked affably.
“I don’t know.” Gregory couldn’t keep from glancing in Mrs. Renshaw’s direction repeatedly. “He doesn’t involve me in his plans. It may be that Lady Witney has ideas. She’s eager to make her place as the marchioness.”
“She also seems eager to befriend Mrs. Renshaw.” Mrs. Creighton kept looking toward them as well, and Gregory noted the woman’s brow puckered slightly. Was she concerned for some reason? Perhaps she’d seen straight through Susan. It wasn’t hard since she was so incredibly shallow.
“Lady Witney hopes to persuade Mrs. Renshaw to secure invitations for herself and my brother to the Phoenix Club.”
Mrs. Creighton’s brows shot up. “Indeed? Well, Mrs. Renshaw can’t do that on her own. Lady Witney would do better to take it up with Lord Lucien.”
“I told Lady Witney that, but she seems to think she knows better.” Gregory could tell that Mrs. Creighton was well informed on the matter, more so than Susan, which would irritate her greatly. “I take it you are members?”
“We are,” Creighton said. “Lord Lucien is a splendid sort. The club is magnificent.”
Gregory nodded. “It is indeed. I am also a member.” He looked forward to annoying Susan later with the news that the Creightons had already received invitations.
No, he wouldn’t sink to her level, as tempting as that was.
“Perhaps you should go join their conversation,” Mrs. Creighton said.
“I should be delighted.” He bowed to them both, then hastened to the middle of the room where the vicar was giving a preview of next Sunday’s sermon. He planned to discuss humility.
How appropriate.
Gregory could see that Susan was feigning interest. Her body was turned toward Mrs. Renshaw, and it was clear she was eager to speak.
At last, the vicar took a breath. Susan pounced. “Mrs. Renshaw, I wonder if we might discuss the Phoenix Club. Witney and I would very much like to see it for ourselves when the Season starts.”
“You cannot see inside without receiving an invitation of membership. You could attend one of the Friday assemblies during the Season if someone in your family who is a member invites you as their guest.” Mrs. Renshaw looked to Gregory, and while there was nothing provocative about her gaze, he still felt entranced. “I suppose you’d have to rely on Lord Gregory, since he is a member.”
“We could, but it would be ever so much more efficient if we had our own membership,” Susan said sweetly. “Is there anything we should do to indicate our interest?”
“I think you’ve done that.” Mrs. Renshaw’s tone and expression were both wry. “If the membership committee wishes to invite you to join, they will.”
Susan smiled widely—and insincerely by Gregory’s estimation. “I have to believe a good word from you would ensure our success.”
Mrs. Renshaw lifted a shoulder. “I don’t suppose it would hurt.”
The butler entered then and announced dinner. Gregory turned to Mrs. Renshaw. “May I escort you into dinner?”
