Secrets of a Viscount Page 8

  He scowled at her. “I never said I was too distracted by them. I was merely commenting that there is a thin line between class and crass. You’re walking it.”

  She moved her piece and shrugged in a way that made her newly positioned shawl fall. “I daresay, you’d be the one to know since you crossed it ages ago.”

  “Fix your shawl,” he ground out, moving a chess piece. “You don’t want a potential suitor to think you’ve loose morals.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Loose morals? I’m hardly showing anything.”

  “It’s too much.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. They might be alone and he her friend and former husband (what a strange combination that was), but there were topics even they shouldn’t discuss. She expected that he knew that as well as she did, but he always did like to push her over the edge into the pool of impropriety. She licked her lips. “I’d imagine you’ve shown far more of yourself to those of my sex than I’ve shown to those of yours.”

  “You think so, do you,” he drawled. He crossed his arms and lowered his lashes, but was still looking at her. “If I remember correctly, there isn’t much more space between where the edge of your bodice is and where your nip—”

  “Don’t you say it,” she hissed. Mortification overtook her and she abruptly stood from her chair. Six years ago on that better-forgotten morning when he’d glimpsed her naked, she did have small breasts and he’d have been absolutely correct. The fact that he remembered such, however, unsettled her in ways she couldn’t possibly name. “I don’t know why you’d care to dredge up memories of my naked body, but if reminding me of my shame and flinging the past in my face was your intention in striking up a friendship with me, I am better off with no friends than a snake like you.”

  ***

  Sebastian sat stock-still as Belle swept the room. She deserved this moment, he granted. He’d been an arse. He deserved her wrath and much more. He should have never gone so far as to make mention of how he remembered her breasts to look, but damn if seeing her in that dress tonight didn’t bring back memories of the day she’d stood before him wearing nothing but the drops of water that were running down her naked body.

  At the time he couldn’t have possibly cared less at seeing her naked. She’d held no appeal to him that way. Now... Now he was stuck sitting in his friend’s drawing room with a large erection he didn’t want to explain the origin of straining against the front of his trousers. “Devil her,” he muttered in irritation.

  Footsteps coming down the hall pushed him into action. He rose and adjusted his coat to conceal the unwelcome visitor below his waist, then walked as gracefully as he could to the hall to join the others.

  Belle was on the arm of a gentleman Sebastian didn’t recognize. Served him right, he supposed. Had he been a bit more diplomatic in explaining about her dress, he’d get to sit by her tonight at dinner. He started. Why the devil did he care if he sat by her or not? He shouldn’t. He’d arranged this torturous dinner party to help her meet a young gentleman who’d suit her. He’d expected that to be Giles, but clearly Giles wasn’t in the most charming of moods.

  Sebastian took a step back and waited until two ladies came down the hall together. Because Simon Appleton had excused himself early, there was to be one extra lady tonight. Wordlessly, Sebastian came up behind them, then cleared his throat and offered them each an arm.

  It was an awkward exchange, to be sure, but the easiest way to manage it.

  In the dining room, he was seated between the honorable Miss Louisa Hunt, daughter of Viscount Grindle and Lady Mary Craven the eldest daughter of the Duke of Craven.

  “What lovely cheekbones you have,” Lady Mary complimented after he adjusted the napkin in his lap.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Your cheekbones, my lord. They are quite lovely. Very high and rigid. Sharp.”

  Sebastian fought the urge to touch his cheek and block her view of his face before she said anything more asinine, but reached for his empty glass instead. He frowned. The footman had better get over here to fill his glass soon. He’d never been one to indulge in the spirits while taking meals but tonight he might begin.

  He was ready to stab himself with his own knife just to put an end to the tedium before the second course was served and he still didn’t have anything good to drink. The footman had given them all some fruity punch. He scowled at the offending glass.

  “Does lace make you itch when you dance with a young lady, my lord?” Lady Mary asked, her eyes wide and intent.

  He didn’t even want to know why she wanted to know such a ridiculous thing. “No,” he said slowly.

  Her lips formed the biggest frown he’d ever born witness to. “Pooh.”

  “You want the lace of your gown to make your dance partner itch?” he asked for no other reason than to see her talk again so her awful frown would disappear.

  She shook her head sadly in a way that made her golden curls sway. “I was hoping that’s why the gentleman don’t like to dance with me.”

  Sebastian stared at her. “That’s possible,” he allowed, though he doubted it. It probably had more to do with her inane chatter and awkward compliments.

  “Perhaps I should wear less lace on my gowns and wear them more like Miss Knight,” she murmured.

  Sebastian’s eyes shot to Belle.

  “Do you like her dress, my lord?”

  Sebastian jerked his gaze back to Lady Mary. “It’s very...er...eye catching. So puffy and all.”

  She giggled. “I do believe that is the first time I’ve ever heard a gentleman use the word puffy.”

  Sebastian made his eyes flare wide, though he hadn’t meant what he’d said as a compliment and was rather surprised she took it as one. “Please be mindful of my reputation as a libertine and exercise the greatest caution of who you divulge that particular secret to.”

  Lady Mary giggled again like he knew she would. Except this time, it was louder and suddenly her pale face went bright red. Then she snorted. Loudly. Not once, not twice, but over and over. Snort, snort, snort, giggle, giggle, giggle, snort, snort, snort...

  Sebastian sat frozen in terror. He’d expected her to giggle a little at his jest, but not turn into a madwoman. This was likely the reason men didn’t wish to dance with her.

  Suddenly she rapped him across the knuckles with her fan. “Lord Belgrave,” she giggled. “You—” giggle— “are—” Whatever she thought him to be was lost in another round of ferocious giggles and snorts.

  Not wanting to seem too rude, but wishing for a distraction now that the entire table was staring at him and Lady Mary, he turned his attention to Miss Hunt. “Is she always like this?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, her lips twitching in amusement. “She’s just nervous.”

  “She’s likely to sever her own tongue if she keeps carrying on,” Sebastian remarked.

  Miss Hunt grinned at him. Then she did it, she dissolved into a fit of giggles to rival her friend’s!

  Sebastian lifted his eyebrow at the host. “Giles, did your men taint the punch?”

  “No.” He frowned and blinked at Sebastian. “Was he supposed to?”

  And at that, peals of laughter from half the room filled the air.

  Chapter Twelve

  Isabelle wasn’t jealous precisely of the way the two ladies on either side of Sebastian cooed and fawned over him. Nor was she jealous of the attention he showered on them. However, if her dinner companion could be even a tenth as interesting as Sebastian seemed to be to those ladies, she’d jump onto the table and begin singing. She nearly snorted, that alone would be more entertaining than the conversation she was engaged in.

  “The duck is splendid, no?” Mr. Frisk said from beside her.

  “Quite.” She cast a sideways glance down toward the end of the table where Sebastian sat chatting with those two featherbrains. She twisted her lips. The one on his left was showing far more of her fleshy bosom than Isabelle.

 
“So tender and succulent, no?”

  Isabelle whipped around to turn her attention back to Mr. Frisk then realized he was talking about the duck! “Yes. Quite.”

  “Tell me—” he speared another piece of meat and lifted it to his lips— “have you ever tasted anything so divine?” He closed his eyes and chewed so slowly Isabelle thought she might fall asleep before he finished.

  “No, I don’t think I have.” She shook her head and said a silent prayer that the meal would pass quickly.

  It did. Pass, that is. But not ‘quickly’ at all, unfortunately.

  However, by the time the meal was done, the torture had only just begun.

  “Shall we play charades or cards?” Mrs. Appleton, who was also apparently Lady Norcourt this evening, asked.

  Cards was the consensus with a vote from everyone except the two simpletons seated beside Sebastian.

  Once in the drawing room, partners were announced.

  “Lady Mary, why don’t you partner Lord Belgrave,” Mrs. Appleton announced. “And Miss Knight, why don’t you partner Lord Norcourt.”

  Not sure whether to be relieved that she wouldn’t have to sit across from Sebastian and be forced to look into his chocolate eyes for the next hour or annoyed at the obvious attempt at matchmaking that Isabelle had little doubt Sebastian was behind, she walked next to Giles and allowed him to help her into a chair. She’d never played a card game of any type before and desperately prayed that Giles, Lord Norcourt didn’t mind if they lost.

  Giles pulled a deck of cards from the drawer in the underside of the table and tossed it on the table in Sebastian’s direction.

  Sebastian unbound the cards and shuffled.

  From the corner of her eye, Isabelle watched Lady Mary as she stared at Sebastian’s hands while he shuffled the cards.

  “I think that’s enough,” Sebastian said, handing the deck back to his friend.

  Giles shook his head. “You.”

  The two men locked eyes for a moment as an unspoken message passed between them, and then Sebastian picked up the deck of cards and began passing them out to everyone.

  Isabelle picked up her hand of cards and looked at them, not sure what on earth she was looking at. Unsure what she was supposed to do, she moved this card here and that card there until the thirteen cards she held were lined up in numerical order: three, four, four, five, seven, nine, nine, nine, Jack, Jack, King, King, Ace. Biting her lip, she locked eyes with Giles and mouthed. “What do I do?”

  He knit his brows in confusion, his face otherwise blank.

  She wanted to groan. She pointed to her cards, then gave a quick shrug.

  “I don’t know,” he said tonelessly, but not at all trying to quiet his answer.

  Were he anyone else, she’d might have questioned if his answer was genuine, but something about the look on his face hid nothing: he didn’t know how to play the game any better than she did. She pressed her lips together so not to embarrass him with the little giggle in her that begged to be released. What a pair these two were.

  She cleared her throat and racked her brain for the words to ask Sebastian to inform her (and his friend) of the rules without drawing too much attention to her lack of knowledge. Fortunately, she was saved when Lady Mary fluttered her eyelashes at Sebastian and said, “I hope you’re a good player, my lord. I have a terrible time with this game. Mama always says I need a strong partner—which I have no doubt you are.”

  Isabelle stared at the girl and her shameless attempt at flirting while Sebastian appeared to be choking. The only one who didn’t seem to care was Giles. “What are the rules?”

  Sebastian cleared his throat. Twice. “You have to get a trick.”

  “Like a magic trick?” Lady Mary asked with an obnoxious giggle.

  Giles winced at the shrillness of her reaction and Sebastian twisted his lips and if she wasn’t certain she could have sworn he muttered something under his breath about the best magic trick he knew would involve her disappearing.

  Isabelle grinned at him and he flushed, then shrugged. He’d never been one to speak so bluntly. At least she had never heard him make a comment like that. Perhaps his years of travels had changed him.

  “No, a trick is having the trump—”

  “Like Gabriel?” Lady Mary asked.

  The entire table went quiet. Was Lady Mary completely addled or did she think acting like a simpleton was a good way to get a gentleman’s attention? The stone-hard look on Sebastian’s face should be enough to tell her it wasn’t working. “Gabriel?” he asked in a tone that held a slighty annoyed edge.

  Lady Mary nodded her head. “You know, the archangel Gabriel from the Bible. He blew his trump.”

  Sebastian’s lips thinned and Isabelle had to duck her head to hide her grin and squeeze her empty hand into a fist to keep from laughing, her entire body shaking uncontrollably with mirth. Squeezing her eyes closed to clear her mind and regain her composure, her body began to move less as the giggles left, only to be provoked again when someone—likely Lady Mary—made a loud “doot-de-doo” trumpet noise and Isabelle lost it completely.

  ***

  Sebastian stared stupefied at the tableau in front of him.

  Giles’ face was an odd mix of shock and humor—almost as if he couldn’t quite make sense of why this well-bred woman was acting like she belonged in an asylum.

  Lady Mary grinned in between bursts of annoying cackles and snorts.

  As for Belle...

  Genuine giggles were pouring out of her mouth, filling the room with a sound sweeter than anything he’d ever heard. While that drew his attention, it was her body’s reaction, however, that kept it. Shaking almost violently with mirth, her shawl had fallen from its former position and he was almost certain her breasts were about to pop right out of the top of her gown.

  Without thinking, he reached for her arm, catching her just above the elbow. It didn’t stop her shaking as she tried to wiggle free.

  “Let’s go,” he barked, giving her arm a slight squeeze to let her know what he meant.

  Avoiding the curious glances of everyone in the room he gained his feet and helped her to hers, then led her across the room.

  “Stop giggling like a madwoman,” he hissed when they were almost to the door. “You’re a lady, act it.”

  That sobered her instantly and she moved to pull away from his hold. He had no intentions of letting her go and tightened his grip a fraction, keeping her at his side. He needed to remind her, a bit more gently this time, that her dress was vastly inappropriate, especially when she carried on that way.

  They crossed the threshold of the drawing room and entered the hall and immediately Belle jerked her arm from him and started down the hall. He closed his empty hand into a fist. He should have known she’d do that. Scowling at her back, he walked after her. “Belle, stop.”

  She kept walking.

  “Belle, I said to stop.”

  She walked on.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, picked her up, and then carried her into the library and straight to a settee where he put her down with less grace than she might have preferred.

  Just as he suspected, that didn’t deter her and she immediately began pushing to her feet. “How dare you!”

  “How dare I?” he repeated in the same tone she’d used, jabbing a finger toward his chest. “You’re the one making a public display of yourself.”

  “By finding something humorous? I think not.” She twisted her lips. “Now, your dragging me from the card room like some highhanded husband who’d just found his wife having an affair will make me a mockery for certain.”

  He crossed his arms. “I wasn’t acting as a highhanded husband—”

  “No, because you willingly gave that role away without a second thought many years ago.”

  Her words stole the wind right from his lungs. “I was trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me? From what?”

  He gestured toward her low-cut bo
dice. “Yourself.”

  She stared at him a moment, then he’d swear she pushed her chest out further as she stepped toward him and let her shawl fall to the floor. “While I cannot begin to comprehend why you have such an interest in my body—” she reached for the long end of the gold chorded bow on the front of her bodice and began to slowly pull the string— “I should like to remind you that as neither my father, nor my husband, you have no say over who I might share my body with.” She gave the chord one final tug and the knot slipped loose, allowing the center of her bodice to fall open about an inch.

  Sebastian’s mouth ran dry.

  “I believe you might recall having seen me without my clothes once, but perhaps you’ve neglected to notice that my body isn’t the same as it was back then...”

  No, he hadn’t neglected to notice. He was noticing right now and it was making him break out in a cold sweat as his blood raced through his veins. But nothing short of a miracle could make him take his eyes away from where she’d pulled her bodice open just a fraction more, offering him only a slight, almost teasing, glance at the valley between the rounded globes of her breasts.

  “As the only one who has control of my body—” she continued, reaching for his hand— “I can share with whoever I want.” She brought his hand to her warm skin and like a seductress he’d have never thought her to be, she slowly moved his hand in a way that dragged his fingertips across the plane of her chest, with each sweep she made, moving them just that much closer to her breasts.

  “You’re playing a very dangerous game,” he practically growled at her; his fingers itched to take advantage, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Her game was too intriguing for him to stop playing it.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.” This time he did move to take advantage of what she was offering him and pressed the pads of his fingers into the softness of the side of her breast where she’d last stopped his hand. His erection nearly doubled in size where it was pressed against the softness of her stomach.