Secrets of a Viscount Read online

  Edmund finished dealing the cards and she reached to pick hers up at the same time as Sebastian.

  He pulled his hand back and allowed her to pick up her cards.

  Fanning them in front of herself, she was painfully aware that Sebastian was leaning even closer to her than he had been before. She moved her hand to the left so he could see her cards better and quit moving so close.

  He encircled her wrist with his strong fingers and pushed her hand back squarely in her direct line of vision.

  “Fours,” he whispered in her ear.

  Isabelle looked at her four cards, two of which were fours. “What do I do with them?”

  “Collect them.” He put his right arm along the back of her chair, bringing him that much closer to her.

  She resisted the urge to elbow him and picked up a card from the deck: a five.

  “Discard it,” he whispered.

  She was about to carelessly fling it onto the table when suddenly something brushed her ankle. Sebastian’s foot if she had to guess. She tossed the card down and immediately pulled her foot away, making the dratted man smile—and seemingly move closer. Something she didn’t think was possible.

  Looking for a distraction, she caught sight of Simon’s face. Whether his lips were pursed because Giles was in the room or because Sebastian was on the edge of mauling her, she’d never know, but she did have her suspicions.

  She played her next round. Barely. Sebastian was so close and his masculine scent of pine and leather so strong, she could barely read the number on her card. Actually, she was so shaken she was fairly certain that her last card hadn’t had a number at all, but she couldn’t say for sure. Sebastian’s thigh pressing against hers was too much of a distraction.

  She closed her eyes and willed herself not to sigh in vexation. A moment later it was her turn to draw again. Bracing herself for whatever bold move Sebastian might make when she took her card, she reached forward. As expected, Sebastian did something, but not at all what she’d expected. He’d somehow managed to get his dratted foot under the hem of her skirt and was pressing the side of his foot against her calf, slowly moving it up and down.

  Even through her silk stockings, her calf burned. Burned? No, it was scorching! Flustered, she dropped her card and tried to clear her thoughts.

  No such luck. Her attention was fully stolen by the strange, tingly sensation in her calf. She clenched her jaw and would have yanked her leg away from him if she didn’t think it’d draw attention.

  A delicate cough jarred her from her thoughts. She flushed and tried her best to meet Edmund’s eyes.

  “Your turn, Isabelle,” he said with a quick wink.

  A wink? Isabelle wanted nothing more than to bury her head in her hands and pray for the chaos to stop. She picked up her card and quickly dropped it.

  “See the difference?” Sebastian whispered in her ear, his lips were so close she could almost feel them on her skin.

  “The difference?”

  He trailed his foot up her calf with a deliberate slowness that made her entire body feel like it was about to combust. Oh, there was definitely a difference!

  Swallowing, she nodded. How was it possible someone’s foot—especially his—could have such an affect on her?

  “That’s what you need to do,” he said, withdrawing his foot. To the room his words were merely a confirmation that she knew how to play the game now, but she took his meaning. He was suggesting she do the same foot-on-leg action to Simon.

  Isabelle stared down at her cards, at a loss. How could she possibly touch Simon the same way? She certainly didn’t want to.

  Sebastian straightened in his chair, presumably to give her more room to...to... Well, she knew what he expected her to do even if she couldn’t form the thought without feeling a wee bit nauseous.

  Tentatively, she kicked off her slipper and choked down the bubble of unease—or was that a surge of bile—that was lodged in her throat, suffocating her. She took a deep breath and extended her foot forward. Oh, blast, what am I doing? I cannot possibly touch him.

  Edmund picked up a card and carelessly threw it down almost as if he hadn’t even looked at it. Likely he hadn’t, he seemed to be fixated on Isabelle in the most odd way. Isabelle pushed Edmund from her mind and focused her attention on Simon. He reached forward to snag his card and she moved her foot...

  Oh, please save me! She couldn’t do this. She pulled her foot back and grabbed her card, not sure if it was even her turn or not. She held her cards in front of her and leaned closer to Sebastian as if she were trying to show him her hand and ask for advice.

  He leaned forward. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  She put the fan of cards directly in front of her lips and turned her head to whisper in his ear. “I can’t.”

  “Try.”

  “No.” She pulled the cards as close to her mouth as possible. “Perhaps you should since you’re so skilled.”

  ***

  Skilled? Sebastian almost snorted. He wasn’t skilled. There was no skill involved in touching someone with your foot. Sighing, he crossed his arms and leaned back. Tonight, he vowed. Tonight he’d go to her room again and show her exactly how to touch a man if need be. If need be? There clearly was a need. Who knew the brazen young girl he’d once known was so innocent and naïve?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Isabelle brought her hands up in front of her eyes to observe her fingers. They had more wrinkles than a prune. It was time to get out of the bath. Oh, but she didn’t want to. After she’d scrubbed her foot until the skin turned a violent red, she’d relaxed enough to enjoy the warm water, but now it was cold and time to emerge.

  She stood and quickly wrapped herself in a towel.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Isabelle’s heart stopped when she saw Sebastian’s shadow against the closed drapes. What was he doing here again? Perhaps if she ignored him, he’d go away.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. “I know you’re in there.” Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Scowling, she marched over to the window and opened it just an inch or two. “Would you be quiet before someone hears you?”

  “Let me in and I’ll be quiet.”

  “No. I’m not decent.”

  Something flickered over his face, but it was hard to determine what it was in the moonlight. “Put on your robe.”

  “No.”

  “Fine, then remain indecent. I don’t mind.” Sebastian gripped the bottom of the windowpane and lifted it.

  Panic built in her chest. He was coming in whether she wanted him to or not. She could try to fight him, of course, but that’d mean having to let her towel drop so she could grab hold of the window to keep him from opening it. Which was useless. He’d easily overpower her. Instead, she scampered backward, holding her towel even tighter. “Do you have no decency?” she asked when he’d let himself in.

  An unapologetic, wolfish grin took his lips. “None.”

  “Well, at least have the courtesy to turn around while I put on my robe.”

  Sebastian made himself comfortable atop her bed. Not giving him the benefit of seeing her irritated—or naked—she scampered behind her dressing screen and quickly threw on her dressing robe. Good thing she’d decided not to wash her hair tonight. That was one less thing she had to contend with.

  “Why did you come here again?” she demanded, tightening the red silk sash of her dressing robe once more for good measure as she came out from behind the screen.

  “To help you.”

  Why was his voice so thick? She pushed off the thought and crossed her arms. “I don’t need any help.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No. I don’t think I do.”

  “You do if you think I’m skilled.”

  Embarrassment flooded her. She’d wondered if he’d take her earlier words wrong. “I meant eager.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said with a chuckle. “You think I’m skilled—which is a problem.”

  Inde
ed it was. He was the last gentleman she wanted to be attracted to in any way. “You know what I meant.”

  “Regardless.” He shed his blue coat and stood. “You’re going to learn how to touch a man.”

  “Excuse me?” Had she just squeaked? She cleared her throat. “I think not.”

  “Belle, if you’re to catch his attention, then you need to learn how to get it in the first place and so far your efforts have been unsatisfactory.”

  “Perhaps that’s because he’s not interested in me that way.” She hated the brutal truth in that statement, but it was the truth. Simon, for all of his previous attention he’d showered on her, had never tried to get her alone. Ever. He’d never asked to take her to the balcony or the gardens. He’d never held her closer to him than was appropriate when they’d danced. Sure, he’d been kind to her, and had admitted that he’d like to marry her, but his actions seemed to heavily contradict his words.

  “Then you need to do something to get him interested.”

  “And how am I to do that?”

  “Touch him.”

  “I cannot. It’s indecent.”

  “And when have you ever cared about what’s decent?”

  She pursed her lips. Since it meant she’d have to make a fool of herself to get the attention of a gentleman she didn’t really want. A wave of sadness came over her. A gentleman she didn’t really want. That was an adequate description, sadly. But who else was there? Edmund? That man didn’t know what he wanted. Seeing as how things played out today, he seemed to have some sort of strange interest in both her and Lady Vessey. If his game was to play with both of their affections until one chose him, then Lady Vessey could have him all to herself. That was a cruel game to play and she had no wish to marry a man who’d make a fool of her.

  “Are you sure this is even necessary? Once we get back to London he—”

  “Will magically be more interested in you than he is now?” Sebastian cut in doubtfully. He shook his head. “No. I don’t think he will be. He’s clearly bothered by Giles’ presence for whatever reason, and I doubt that will go away once he gets back to London.” He pursed his lips, then shrugged as if to cast off whatever thought had just formed in his mind. “So now it shall be up to you to remind him of your presence.”

  “By touching him?”

  He rolled up his cuffs. “If done the right way, a woman’s touch can completely captivate a man.”

  “And you’d know this because...”

  “I’m a man.”

  “And apparently one who has denied himself nothing in the world of debauchery.”

  “You’d be surpris—” His lips formed a thin line. “Say, I think you’d be the one far more knowledgeable about such matters since you claim to have been sharing yourself with Lord Kenton for some time now. Perhaps it should be you teaching me something.”

  Her face burned with mortification. “You know as well as I do that I’ve never gone to bed with Lord Kenton—or anyone else.”

  He arched his left brow. “Then why did you claim to?”

  To make you jealous. She froze. No, that’s not why, was it? She’d just wanted him to leave, hadn’t she? He shouldn’t and likely wouldn’t care who she’d bedded. “I thought it’d make you leave if you knew he’d be coming in there at any moment.”

  ***

  That’s what he’d thought, but for a reason he couldn’t place, he was relieved to hear her say it. He closed his eyes for an extended blink. He had to stop this nonsense. She might be his wife in a legal sense, but she needed a good husband. Simon would be that for her. Then why did you come here? He exhaled sharply and balled his hands into fists. Once she married, they could both move forward. That was the goal, wasn’t it?

  “All right. The first thing you need to do is find a way to make it look like an accident when you touch him.”

  She smiled in disbelief. “An accident? I don’t think he’d find it an accident if I start to touch him.”

  “Well, no, he won’t really think it’s an accident—but it needs to look like one.”

  “Which is exactly what I tried to do today,” she pointed out.

  “But stomping his toe while playing a game of cards?”

  “I didn’t stomp.”

  “Are you sure because he nearly leapt out of his chair when your heeled slipper came down on his foot.”

  She waved him off. “That’s just Simon. I assure you, I didn’t stomp.”

  “Very well,” he muttered, trying not to let it rankle him the way she’d said her suitor’s name so informally, as if they’d known each other their whole lives. “Next time be less obvious.”

  “And how is touching his calf as opposed to his foot less obvious?”

  “As I said, it just needs to appear an accident. He’ll know it’s not.”

  She buried her head in her hands. “Sebastian, I don’t think this is a good plan.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think he might desire a marriage of convenience.”

  “Is that not what you want?” He stunned himself with that question, but for some reason, he needed to know.

  “Not particularly. I—I’d like to have children one day.”

  He nodded slowly, disappointment he didn’t understand settling over him. “Then you most certainly will need to find ways to capture his attention.”

  “What if he doesn’t see me that way?”

  “Nonsense. Only a fool wouldn’t see you that way.” The truth of his statement turned him numb. He was the fool. He’d had his chance with Belle and had destroyed it. “Isabelle, is there any chance—” He broke off with a curse. There was no reason to ask. It was hard enough to know that it’d been because of his own stupidity that he’d lost her. There was no reason to completely devastate himself by having her confirm this. Or worse, accept his suit only because one Mr. Simon Appleton wouldn’t give her children. Swallowing the bile that burned the back of his throat he walked closer to her. “Tomorrow, when he takes you to go shoot at the targets—”

  “There’s going to be archery?” Her eyes lit up the same way they always did when he’d allow her to use his bow and arrow during the summers when he was home from Harrow.

  “Yes. I asked Giles if he’d get targets set up. I thought it would provide the best opportunity for you to accidentally touch Mr. Appleton with a purpose.” He grimaced at the very thought of her touching him. “Tomorrow, it’s important for you to pretend that you don’t know how to shoot.”

  She groaned. “But then it won’t be any fun.”

  “You can have fun after you’re married. For now, you need to work on making sure he still plans to offer.”

  “He does.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I believe so.” She studied the floorboards. “I don’t think that was ever in question—just if we could suit.”

  “As lovers?”

  Was it just him or did she shudder when he said that? “In general,” she said, looking up at him. “I told him I’d consider his suit, but that I wanted time to make sure we actually suited.”

  “And you don’t,” Sebastian said flatly, refusing to let any sort of excitement build.

  “I don’t know. One minute it seems things are going well, then he just loses interest.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t think it’ll improve in London, but I think it will once Giles isn’t around so much.”

  Sebastian doubted that. “When did you promise to give him an answer?”

  “I haven’t.”

  Sebastian tamped down the hope her answer had sparked. He had no right to be excited about her revelation. She wasn’t his anymore. “It doesn’t matter. Once you get back to London, you won’t have the same opportunity to use your wiles on him that you have now.” He moved to stand behind her. “As I was saying, tomorrow, you’ll need to pretend that you’ve never shot an arrow before so he’ll come help.”

  “Like he helped me with bowls?” she asked with a shaky laugh.

  He snorte
d. “That was wretched. I was embarrassed for the man just watching.”

  “Yes, I think that was obvious by the way you acted when you stalked off.”

  Grinning, he shook his head in disbelief. “He needed to come up behind you, like this.” He stepped forward, bringing his body flush behind hers. All laughter and thoughts of her suitor fled at the feel of her warm body against his. The smell of lavender filling his nose. “A gentleman can be far more persuasive when standing behind his lady, wouldn’t you say?”

  She nodded.

  Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around her, chastising himself for enjoying it so much. She wasn’t his to enjoy, he reminded himself. “Put your arms up like you’re about to shoot an arrow.”

  ***

  She would if she could. Unfortunately, her body had gone boneless in the past thirty seconds. No thanks to Sebastian. She licked her lips and steeled her spine. He wasn’t hers. He didn’t want her. If he hadn’t been clear enough about that six years ago when he so coldly rejected her, he certainly wasn’t disproving it now by trying to help her seduce another man.

  That bitter thought steeled her resolve, giving her the strength she needed to put her hands into position.

  Sebastian’s big hands found hers and covered them. “This will be your best opportunity.”

  She swallowed, feeling suddenly unsteady.

  “That’s it,” he murmured.

  “What’s it?”

  “You just pushed your hair closer to me.”

  “I did?”

  The low rumble of his chuckle reverberated in his chest. “Yes. It’s one of your best features.”

  “My hair?” How absurd.

  “Mmmhmm.” He inhaled. “It smells like lavender—a natural aphrodisiac.”

  “A what?”

  “An aphrodisiac. Something that compels men—or women—to want to explore their baser needs.”