Page 55 of The Dangerous Lord

Sara looked indecisive, then sighed. “Well, I shan’t help you seduce her, but I do know how you could spend time with her and her brothers. She’s taking them to the waxworks exhibition tomorrow.”

A slow smile spread over his lips. He began exploring possibilities, tactics, maneuvers. “You mean the one in the Strand?”

Sara nodded. “But make it look as if you met up with them accidentally or she’ll never trust me again.”

“I can do that.” Ah, yes. And afterward, he’d accompany them home and wrangle an invitation to dinner. From there ... His smile broadened.

“I know how your devious brain works,” Sara remarked, “but I should caution you that seduction might not succeed in changing Felicity’s mind. She has a strong will.”

“It’ll succeed,” he vowed, although he hadn’t been sure of that himself a week ago.

Still, he had no choice. What had begun as an impractical desire to possess her had become an obsession. He couldn’t lay down without imagining her in his bed, couldn’t eat without tasting her on his lips. For God’s sake, he even heard her laugh in his sleep sometimes. But that wasn’t as bad as hearing her sighs of pleasure, which he also did in his sleep, in his dreams.

She wanted him, too. He knew it. And she needed him, whether she acknowledged it or not, to escape that dreary life she’d made for herself.

Very well—he would seduce her and it would succeed. Because if the first seduction failed to convince Felicity she should marry him, he’d seduce her as many times as it took to either change her mind or get her with child. But one way or the other he would have her as his wife.

Chapter Thirteen

Lady Brumley’s annual St. Thomas’s Day ball is sure to be grander than any previous one. As Lord Jameson says, ‘No one hosts a ball like Lady Brumley. The city could not prevent a crush at her affairs even if they put her house under quarantine.

Lord X, The Evening Gazette, December 21, 1820

Felicity hurried toward the powder room. Thank God she’d rid herself of Lord Masefield. The man’s idea of scintillating discussion was a chat about the Ascot. She couldn’t imagine Ian⁠—

No! Must she keep thinking of that dratted viscount? He’d actually glowered at her during her waltz with Lord Masefield, like a wolf brooding over escaped prey. How dared he, after dancing with half the women in London!

She dearly wished the man would sift through society’s eligible women without sifting through her affections as well. She sighed. She had only herself to blame. She could have accepted his proposal, after all.

As she wandered down the long hall leading to the powder room, she heard footsteps behind her and a voice call out, “Miss Taylor, wait!”

Halting, she peered back down the dim corridor. A tall man in his late forties approached. She didn’t recognize him, yet something familiar about his features made her pause until he reached her.

“We haven’t been introduced,” he said, “but I know you. You’re Algernon Taylor’s daughter, are you not?”

“Yes. And who are you?”

“The name is Edgar Lennard.” He bowed stiffly. “I believe you’re acquainted with my nephew, Lord St. Clair. The son of my brother.”

Her interest was instantly engaged. So this was Ian’s uncle and Miss Greenaway’s employer. Yes, she could see the resemblance between him and Ian in the shape of the forehead and the great height. But there the resemblance ended. Where Ian was dark, this man was fair. Where Ian’s features held a certain roughness, this man’s were classically handsome, despite his age. She could easily imagine a beauty like Miss Greenaway being this man’s mistress. So that theory at least might be true.

Or not. Felicity squared her shoulders. Either way, the man might tell her what she desperately wished to hear—what Miss Greenaway’s relationship was to Ian. “I do know your nephew quite well, sir.”

The man pursed his lips disapprovingly. “Then I’d like to speak to you for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Tell me everything.

Noting the nearby open door of a parlor, he gestured to it. “This way, if you please. What I wish to say requires privacy.”

“Very well.” She walked inside. But when he closed the parlor door behind her, she gave him her frostiest smile and opened it again. It wouldn’t do to be found alone with this man, even if he was old enough to be her father. Besides, something in his manner put her on her guard, and she’d learned never to ignore such instincts.

He acquiesced, though he maneuvered matters so that they sat as far from the door as possible. “I won’t waste your time,” he began as soon as they were seated. “I’ve heard your name linked to my nephew’s of late.”

“Have you?” Lady Brumley had certainly wasted no time in spreading her news.

“As you probably know, he’s looking for a wife.”

She played dumb. “Really?”