AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Perhaps because the late Lord Lynton was related to her mother?” Will suggested, struggling to keep his voice neutral as he suppressed the urge to tell this spoiled daughter of the ton that he did indeed recognize a trollop when he saw one—and it wasn’t Miss Antinori.
Be cautious, he ordered himself, at least until you’ve discovered the whole of her scheme.
Mastering his contempt with an effort, he said, “As you pointed out, Lynton does have a fondness for the girl. What would happen if he discovered our…assignations? I have no desire to find myself on a grassy field some morning, sighting at him over the barrel of my pistol.”
“I doubt it would come to that! Most likely if he did discover the liaison, he would finally have his eyes opened to the creature’s true character. And if there should be…difficulties, you need only retire to the country for a time while the scandal blows over.”
Will shook his head. “I’ve no desire to rusticate for years in rural obscurity, my lady.”
She waved an impatient hand. “’Twould be no need for that. A fortnight’s wonder it would be, if the on-dit lasted that long. Once the ton learned the particulars, they would think no more of it than if they discovered you’d taken some chit from the opera as your mistress. The orchestra is her proper milieu, after all,” she said, her voice dripping scorn. “And of course, if you should need something to…sustain you during your short exile, I’m sure I could assist.”
Her audacity and total lack of remorse almost choked him. Will had to swallow hard before he responded, “Pray remind me what I would derive from this scheme?”
“Beyond the immediate enjoyment, you mean?” When he said nothing, she slid closer to him. “If you require more…inducement, I understand you’ve turned your eye toward Dianthe Herndon. She’s extremely fastidious about her lovers, but since she’s a close friend of mine, I could whisper a word in her ear for you.”
Trying to drive the scent of her perfume out of his nostrils, Will shook his head. “Kind of you, but I’ve no interest in the lady.”
“Indeed?” Sapphira leaned toward him until her breasts brushed against his chest before looking up, her full lips almost touching his. “I might offer my own gratitude.” She lowered her breathy tone to a whisper. “My very…personal…gratitude.” She tilted her chin up and closed her eyes.
Though his body clamored for him to lean down the short distance that separated them and take the kiss she offered, he fought off the urge, reaching instead to intercept her hand before her groping fingers found his trouser flap.
The fact that she could use her sensuality to force a reaction from his body even though her proposition affronted him in every fiber of his being only increased his rage. Never in his life had he been so close to striking a woman. How he wished she were a man, not just so he would be immune to her sensual advances, but also so he might challenge her to meet him in the ring.
But, alas, Sapphira Lynton was a woman, beyond the ability of a gentleman not of her family to chastise. For a moment he marveled at the malice and self-centered arrogance that led her to believe she was justified in plotting to ruin a girl whose only crime was to be held in high regard by the family of whom she was a distant connection.
Perhaps, given her beauty and the hold she’d always maintained over society, it wasn’t incredible that Sapphira rated her charms so high she expected the mere suggestion of being rewarded with her body would send him rushing off to do her bidding. It rankled, though, that she held so slight an opinion of his honor that she thought he could that easily be maneuvered into ruining an innocent.
After several moments, when he did not avail himself of her lips, she opened her eyes and looked at him, her expression puzzled.
That confusion turned to a surprise bordering shock when he thrust away the hand he’d seized and stood up.
“’Tis a very…interesting proposition, my lady. I shall ponder it with the gravity it merits.”
Unable to tolerate the sight of her another moment, he bowed and strode away.
Breathing hard, his thoughts still scrambled by unwanted lust and searing rage, Will stalked down the stairs to claim his coat and escape the treacherous confines of the Harrington town house. Reaching the other side of the street, he waved away a linkboy’s offer to find him a hackney and simply stood, exhaling in gusts that wreathed his head like smoke in the frigid night air.
Since he couldn’t act upon his first impulse—to land a neat uppercut across Sapphira Lynton’s devious lips—Will wasn’t sure what he should do. His gaze went back to the town house, windows ablaze with light as glittering and artificial as the smiles of the ton members dancing within it, still trying to force out of his head the lingering images of Miss Antinori in her night rail.
No matter how much he hungered to make that dream a reality, there was no question of falling in with Lady Lynton’s despicable plot. Miss Antinori’s virtue should be her gift to her bridegroom on their wedding night. Playing the groom in that scenario was a role Will was finding increasingly attractive.
But in the meantime, what to do about Lady Lynton’s proposal? Obviously accustomed to being granted her every wish, Sapphira Lynton was not a woman who would be easily discouraged. Once she realized Will did not intend to acquiesce to her bidding, would she recruit someone else?
Wofford’s handsome, sensual countenance swam into his vision and Will felt sick in the pit of his stomach. Setting aside his chagrin at being considered a man of the same stamp, he realized both Wofford and his friend Sir Harry would likely view Lady Lynton’s proposal as a novel and delightful challenge. The prospect of sampling not just Miss Antinori’s charms, but Lady Lynton’s as well, would give additional piquancy to the task.
And if those two refused her, there were any number of other possibilities. Will’s mind skittered back to the meeting in the park with Fitzhugh and Markham and the nausea in his gut intensified.
How could he protect Miss Antinori from Lady Lynton’s schemes? He might try to warn Lynton. However, if confronted by her stepson, Sapphira Lynton would certainly deny Will’s accusation. Given Lynton’s dislike of Will, the man would be more likely to believe his stepmother’s protestations of innocence than Will’s slur against her character.
The only one who knew Sapphira Lynton—and Will—well enough to believe her capable of such outrage was Allegra Antinori herself. When he called on Miss Antinori tomorrow, he must find some opportunity to warn her that she now stood in more danger from her “aunt” than even she would have thought credible.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WILL’S HOPE before retiring that, in the prosaic light of morning, Lady Lynton’s scheme would appear less threatening proved vain. After a fitful slumber, he rose early, his troubled mind continuing to recall yet more so-called “gentlemen” whom Sapphira Lynton would have no trouble enticing to carry out her plan.
Tempting as it was to pay a morning visit to Gentleman Jackson’s, where he might distract himself by going a few rounds with whomever he could induce to spar with him, Will knew the only way to rid himself of the anxiety needling him would be to deliver his warning to Miss Antinori.
Since the Lynton drawing room today would likely be filled with admirers come to praise Miss Antinori’s musical performance, Will also knew if he wished to find some way to obtain a few moments of private conversation with her, he would have to arrive in advance of usual calling hours. So as early as he thought he’d have some hope of being admitted, he set off for Upper Brook Street.
The startled footman who answered his knock dispelled one potential problem by confirming that Lady Lynton was certainly not receiving yet, as her ladyship never left her bedchamber until well past noon. Leaving him in an antechamber, the servant set off to discover if the other ladies of the house might be available.
A few minutes later, the man returned to usher him up to the drawing room. Will found Mrs. Randall seated at a small writing desk near the hearth while Miss Antinori occupied the sofa, a book in her hand.
After an exchange of greetings, Will took the chair Mrs. Randall indicated. As he seated himself, without conscious volition his gaze veered back, like a compass needle seeking north, to Miss Antinori.
How lovely she was in the morning light, the sheen of her deep green dress echoing the highlights in her glossy dark curls. Though he had to regret that, not being evening wear, her gown concealed the delectable expanse of neck, shoulder and bosom he’d so admired last night.
Suddenly realizing the ladies were gazing at him expectantly, Will pulled himself out of his abstraction. “Thank you both for receiving me so unfashionably early,” he said. “But I didn’t wish to miss this opportunity to tell you how much I enjoyed your company last night. Your performance, Miss Antinori, was marvelous.”
“Not half as marvelous as yours, my lord,” Allegra replied. “I can’t thank you enough for…everything.” The warmth of the smile she gave him sparked a rush of delight that momentarily overwhelmed Will’s worry.
“’Twas a lovely evening, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Randall said. “I thought you both played beautifully. But you speak of missed opportunities, Lord Tavener. Do you have business that will take you from town later?”
