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“Far from it—and Genevieve St. Claire! What if your mother heard you speaking thus? He was a perfect gentleman.” She’d pay penance for the lie later. It really was stifling in here. “Excuse me. I should like some air.”
“I don’t doubt it after a dance with him,” teased Genevieve, ignoring the admonishment and making ready to accompany her. “Come, Addie. She may swoon, and we must be there to support her.”
With raised hand, Eden stopped them. “I just need a moment or two alone.”
Adelaide’s gentle eyes grew troubled. “Did he say something to upset you?”
For a moment she debated the wisdom of revealing anything of their conversation. “He…was not what I expected,” was all she could bring herself to say. “Your pardon, but I really must have some air.”
The powder room would offer no solitude, so she made for the terrace. The air outside was cool but not too chilly for comfort. A few deep, restorative breaths helped clear her head and settle her frayed nerves.
She wanted him. Never in all her life had she been so certain of anything. Her reaction to his touch had been powerful, but it was more than that. London’s worst rake had a hidden heart and was capable of loving. Deeply. It required only the right key to inspire devotion and make him her own. That he was flawed was a given, but every man was flawed. Provided his errors weren’t completely intolerable, she could and would make the best of it.
Mama had done it to a brilliant end. Papa had been a terrible trial during the first years of their marriage, but she’d persevered. In the end, he’d come to adore her.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her memory. A husband should be chosen with great care, Eden. You must mind not only your heart, but your head also. The heart is prone to foolish fancies and will quickly lead you astray. I was very lucky. Not everyone is as fortunate.
She blinked stinging eyes. It was at times like this she sorely missed Mama. She would have liked someone to talk to about Tavistoke, someone to guide her. But Papa was not the right person with whom to discuss such things, and while she and Adelaide were dear friends, the potential for disaster in the form of her accidental slip would be far too great. She dare not risk Tavistoke discovering her intent. If she confided in anyone, it would be Genevieve—but not right away. Not until she had him under her spell.
Her stepmother, of course, was out of the question.
A familiar ache settled in her chest. Would Mama have approved of her choice? In spite of Tavistoke’s rather rude conduct, she found him admirable. She liked that he’d come to the defense of his cousin. She liked that he’d been honest and direct about his lack of trust as well as—unflattering though it was—his opinion of her. She liked that he’d looked her in the eye and spoken to her as one would an intelligent individual rather than a mindless cow. Yes, he’d been blunt and abrasive, but unlike some, she was no delicate china figurine to shatter at the slightest provocation. He had treated her as one on equal footing, a worthy opponent.
Yes. She liked him a great deal. And “like” was a good place to begin. One could build a house on a solid foundation of “like.” It was an inclination that could, if properly encouraged, grow into love.
Her pragmatic nature asserted itself before she could stray too deep into the treacherous waters of romanticism. He must be the first to declare, of course. On that she wouldn’t compromise. Mama had made the mistake of telling Papa she loved him too soon in the game, and he’d all but broken her heart before coming to his senses.
She wasn’t about to make the same blunder.
Another deep breath and her decision was made. Starting now, there would be no more outrageous flirting with her gaggle of admirers. In fact, just to prove she’d taken his ungentle criticism seriously, she would at once begin making it clear their pursuit was without hope. She’d set her course, and there was no point in keeping a bunch of useless hangers-on about. They’d only clutter the battlefield. But clearing away the detritus must be done carefully, strategically, in order to ensure maximum effect on Tavistoke.
If her conscience balked at such cool plotting of the man’s conquest, it was overridden by the memory of desire—her own and that which she’d seen mirrored in his eyes when he’d looked at her. A tiny smile of triumph tugged at the corners of her mouth. Tavistoke might think himself still smitten with Lady Montgomery, but she had little doubt in her ability to overcome that obstacle.
She’d spent her entire life wrapping men around her little finger, starting with Papa and progressing to his friends and the rest of London’s male population. Tavistoke might have slipped the matrimonial nets until now, but he wouldn’t escape hers.
For some, tender emotion came before physical attraction. For others, such sentiment followed in the footsteps of lust. If lust had to come first, so be it. Hers would be a two-pronged attack. Tempt him with the promise of carnal delights—an easy task with a man like him—while quietly working to disentangle his heart from Lady Montgomery’s web and coax it into her own. The woman was married, so it shouldn’t be too hard.
Unless they are having an affair…
A frown pinched her brow. That would indeed be an unwelcome gnat in the inkwell. Her first order of business must be to ascertain their relationship. She ought to learn about any other possible rivals for his affection, too, before plunging headlong into battle.
Eden stared at the sky above, marking the faint sliver of light that was the waning crescent moon. As she contemplated, a falling star streaked across the pinpricked darkness, catching her eye. It was silly, childish nonsense, but she whispered a wish on it, anyway.
She wanted Tavistoke, plain and simple. Never had any gentleman inspired such desire in her. Many had been handsome to look upon, and a few had even managed to make her briefly consider accepting an offer, but none had made her long to feel their touch on her bare skin. None had been able to call up liquid heat from deep inside her with just a look.
Whatever it took, she would have Tavistoke for her own.
Doubts niggled at her. Could she real
ly tame The Terror of the Ton, or was she a total fool for even thinking it possible?
Chapter Three
Percy stared as Eden melted into the crowd. Though she cast not a single backward glance, her apparent indifference didn’t fool him. He knew when a woman was out to bag him. It was an instinct that had saved him from the matrimonial noose time and again, and he trusted it now.
Going to the other side of the gallery, he watched from what he knew to be a concealed vantage point. Her return to the bosom of her entourage was brief, a mere moment before she took her leave and headed to the terrace. Alone.
He chuckled and came out of hiding. If she thought to lure him out there, she was in for a disappointment.
