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A shocked gasp sounded, and biting back her smile, Frederica hurried down the hallway and entered the large and well-stocked library. A few minutes later, the door opened on a silent whisper, and the marquess’s uniquely male scent wafted to her. Keeping her nose buried in a book, she gave no indication she knew he was near. But her heart had stirred to life and pounded much harder than it had earlier.
“I thought you were spending the evening with Duchess Hartford and Lady Cantrell,” his lordship said, walking over to the side mantle where he poured himself a generous splash of brandy. “How is it that you are home so early?”
“It is after eight, my lord. If not at a ball, a debutante would be expected to be abed.”
That was the ruse she had told him to sneak off to a private ladies’ club to which she belonged at 48 Berkeley Square. The dare for the night had left her feeling breathless and a bit out of sorts, for it involved the very man before her. He was a man of wealth and consequences, a very dashing and handsome one with a reputation for breaking women’s hearts, and somehow the very idea of being wicked with him tempted debutantes and coquettes to try their wiles on him. That Frederica was on close and intimate terms with the marquess when he remained enigmatic to most of society felt like a delicious guilty pleasure.
Who dares to flirt and kiss Lord Wolverton at Lady Wembley’s midnight ball?
So many ladies had laughingly tossed their hat into the ring, giggling and spinning ribald jokes freely concerning him.
She had sat quietly on a sofa in the corner, thinking that if anyone should kiss Percival Deveraux, Marquess of Wolverton, it would be her. Henrietta, who had spied her expression, had laughingly said Freddie had weeks to kiss the man on another dare, and if she should not act, someone else would.
Ugh!
Except Frederica had no idea how to even start winning such a wager when she knew deep inside she had developed a most violent tendre for the man. He truly had a dangerous reputation, and every mother knew he had vowed to never marry despite being so eligible.
“That does not explain your presence. Did something happen?”
The note of concern made her smile. “No. I simply had a mild headache and traveled home before anticipated.”
“Ah. And how are you feeling now?”
“Much better. Aunt Cecily gave me one of her dreadful tisanes before she departed for Lady Middleton’s ball.” His aunt did not live in the marquess’s home, but she paid an alarming amount of visits and sometimes stayed over.
“You seem out of sorts, Your Lordship, and I am to blame. You did not need to send home your…countess on my behalf,” she murmured, toeing off her shoes and delicately crossing her legs at the ankle. “My plans were to read for the evening. I would not have tip-toed past your door.”
He said nothing on her unladylike posture but took a healthy swallow of his drink. He stared at her with a look of cool boredom. “I only brought her to visit because I believed the house would be empty,” he said with a tenseness that was unlike him.
Was he put out because she had caught him with his lover? Perhaps he thought her a complete innocent who had no idea of his reputation. The idea was laughable but entirely possible. “To visit?” Frederica asked archly, suspecting he had planned to bed the countess for the night.
“Yes. I would have escorted the countess out before you arrived home.”
The very idea of them tangled amidst the sheets on his bed set her teeth on edge. Striving to do away with the ridiculous feeling, she took a steady breath.
“You intended for the countess to be your next lover.”
He made a choking sound and lowered his glass to stare at her in clear amazement.
“Do I extend congratulations, Your Lordship? The rumors suggest you have been celibate for months and wondered which charming beauty would next secure your attentions.”
“What in God’s name do you know of what happens between a man and a woman to speak so casually of me taking a lover?”
Frederica blinked, and then humor bubbled up inside, and she laughed. “We ladies are not as ignorant as men seem to think we are.”
Of course, she would never confess her wealth of knowledge had been gleaned since she joined 48 Berkeley Square a few months ago. “I am fully aware of your proclivities. There is no need to dress them up for me, Your Lordship.”
“You better damn well not be aware of them,” he muttered darkly, suddenly looking too dangerous.
She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “And if I am?”
“What did you do with my little Freddie?” he demanded with a soft hiss.
A strange heat surged inside her. “Little Freddie became a woman,” she said softly, a dangerous thrill bursting in her heart.
Something decidedly dangerous entered his eyes. He took a sip of his brandy, staring at her with a hooded gaze. “I wonder, did some gentleman assist with this metamorphosis?”
That half-smile was not terribly reassuring.
