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Tomorrow he would speak to his mother and then he'd propose. Well. First thing he'd visit the shops and buy a ring, then he'd speak to his mother and then he'd propose. Ladies expected a betrothal ring. Just thinking about it made the unstoppable flood of Miss Durand’s words more bearable; he just let them wash right over him while he planned.
He didn't expect Cynthia to balk. And if she did, well she was obviously ripe for seduction, he would have no trouble bringing her around. The frisson of attraction between them was mutual; it shouldn't be any hardship to convince her around to his way of thinking. In fact, part of him almost hoped she needed some persuading. Even if she didn’t, then they could certainly do some celebrating and he could discover whether her lips were as sweet as they looked.
Glancing over her way again, every muscle in his body tensed as he saw her walking towards the doors on the arm of the man she'd been speaking with. Wesley didn't recognize him, but he knew the type immediately. After all, like recognized like. It was impossible to mistake that elegant walk, the confident swagger, and the impeccable dress with just the hint of dissipation as belonging to anything other than a true rake. And, like a true rogue, he'd waited until the opportune moment while the guardian was involved in a situation he couldn't extricate himself from and the young lady was unchaperoned.
Looking around the room frantically, Wesley couldn't locate Edwin either.
"My Lord? Is everything alright?" Miss Durand looked legitimately concerned. Probably because he was swinging his head back and forth in a panic and his dance steps had slowed almost to a complete halt.
"Ah yes, sorry my dear," he said, giving her a tight smile. "I just saw someone I need to speak with as soon as possible."
"Oh." Miss Durand thought about this and then pouted up at him, in a way that she probably thought was attractive but made her look a bit like a fish. "I was so hoping that you might come and speak with my Mama and I. I'm sure she'd love to hear more about you."
Apparently Mrs. Durand knew more about him and his estates than he did, going by the information she'd imparted to her daughter. Not that he’d have accepted such an invitation even if she hadn’t.
"Perhaps some other time," he said shortly.
To his relief, his obvious distraction contributed to Miss Durand's pouting silence for the rest of the dance. He practically scooped her up off the dance floor and deposited her back with her doting Mama before dashing off towards the door he'd seen Cynthia go out of.
******
"Find a way to come out tomorrow and meet me," Mr. Carter whispered in Cynthia's ear, his hands sliding up and down her sides in a way that she found quite exciting as his palms brushed her breasts. Lips moved down her neck and she let her head fall back as she sighed with pleasure. The way he was touching her was almost enough to make her forget the Earl. "I'll make it worth your while."
"Perhaps. If I can manage it," Cynthia whispered back, her hands tightening on his coat as his palms cupped her breasts and squeezed. Some of his fingers were touching her bare flesh because her dress was cut so low and the sensation of skin against skin thrilled her. If he just dipped his fingers into the neckline then he’d be able to touch her bare nipple. It would be the most she’d ever allowed him, but she was feeling reckless and wild tonight, willing to tempt ruination.
Mr. Carter had her backed up against one of the outdoor columns, in the shadows and partly concealed by a large rhododendron. And if he wasn't as exciting as the Earl and didn't make her heart ra
ce as fast as the Earl did, he was still a very good kisser and right now she felt all swollen and tender in her breasts and between her legs. He was very good at making her feel very good. Perhaps she should risk a punishment to go meet him tomorrow... now that she knew it wouldn't get her with child, she was even more wildly curious about what it would be like to see his cock and even take it in her mouth.
Right now that portion of his body was firmly pressed against her lower stomach, a throbbing ridge that made her feel even more excited when she rubbed herself against it.
When he brought his mouth back to hers, Cynthia parted her lips eagerly, moaning a little as he squeezed her breasts tightly in his hands. His tongue explored her mouth eagerly, his fingers stroking along her bare skin and she was sure that at any moment he was going to slide his fingers into the top of her dress and touch one of her swollen nipples. The little buds were aching for attention.
Suddenly Mr. Carter was gone and Cynthia found herself nearly falling over as half of her support disappeared. Clutching at the column behind her, she stifled a shriek as she looked up to see the Earl, face red with fury, punch Mr. Carter. The gentlemen stumbled back and landed on his arse, holding one hand up to his injured face. Mr. Carter stared up at his assailant and Cynthia’s heart pounded, wondering what was going to happen. Would they fight? Would the Earl demand that Mr. Carter married her?
This was the first time she’d been caught in such a situation and she had no idea what to expect. And, she suddenly realized, she didn’t want to be married to Mr. Cater, even if the Earl did force him to offer. Having the two men in front of her, it was obvious which one she truly responded to, which one her emotions were tangled up in, and for a moment she utterly despaired.
The Earl moved so that he was standing between them, his back to her, but she could see his anger in every line of his body and his clenched fists. She thought she actually might faint from the sheer build-up of anxiety in her burdened lungs.
"Get out. And stay away from her." The Earl’s voice was low, soft, and murderous. In fact, she’d never heard him sound so dangerous, so threatening, even when shed been discovered with Mr. Brandon in the bookshop. For once, she truly did feel a bit frightened of him.
"She was willing," Mr. Carter said, getting to his feet and still holding his hand over his eye. His dark blonde hair was slightly rumpled, as were his clothes, but he would still have been handsome if it wasn’t for the ugly expression across his face. Cynthia hadn’t expected him to offer to make things right, but still! His ungentlemanly verbal retreat sincerely made her hope that the Earl didn’t push the point.
She truly did not want to marry Mr. Carter.
"She won't be anymore," the Earl said shortly. "Now get out."
The stood there for a moment, staring each other down, and then Mr. Carter gave a sharp nod and turned and left.
Clinging to the column, Cynthia realized that she was trembling all over. She was in so much trouble. More trouble than she'd ever been in her life. All the air seemed to vacate her body as she sighed out, thankful that the Earl had let Mr. Carter go. Although she did wonder why he wasn’t threatening pistols at dawn this time. Unless, of course, he was placing equal blame on her as he was on Mr. Carter.
She felt rather ashamed of herself, for the first time.
When the Earl turned around, his face was harder than she'd ever seen it, but his eyes were burning with a fury that she could see even in the dim lighting. She stared up at him, her mind blank, her body still tingling slightly from Mr. Carter's attentions. And she couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Chapter 10
With Cynthia's disheveled state and his own towering rage, there was no way he could take her back through the Assembly rooms, so instead he took her through one of the side exits and they traveled the back halls to get to the front. There was no one there, thankfully, except a few servants who looked at them and then looked away. His ward was flushed, her lips swollen from kisses, her hair mussed, and the neckline of her gown slightly ripped, which told him exactly where the other man's hand had been. Who knew what the blaggard might have done if Wesley hadn’t gotten there just then.
