In the Prince’s Bed by Sabrina Jeffries (24)

Chapter Four

Buoyed by his triumph, Alec watched her march off, her shimmering silk gown highlighting every wiggle of her tight little behind. The sight made his blood pound in his temples.

Now he not only wanted to wed her, but to bed her. As soon as possible.

He wanted to taste her again, to explore that mass of fiery hair with his hands. To lay her down and strip her bare. Find out if her flesh was as milky and flawless beneath her exotic gown as the creamy skin of her neck and the upper swells of her breasts. Or if the impish freckles scattered over her pert nose showed up on the slender belly or the undoubtedly long legs—

Careful, man, remember the rules—don’t let your urges run away with you. You’ll have her soon enough.

Oh, yes, he’d have her. Katherine didn’t realize it, but she’d handed him the secret to capturing her. Beneath her propriety and uncommon good sense lay a wild passion barely held in check by Lovelace’s admonitions and her upbringing.

He understood too well how it was to yearn for freedom from a choking tether. Unlike Lovelace, he was willing to release her from it, to run free with her when they were alone, and that would be her undoing. Alec had trained enough horses to know you couldn’t keep a wild mare tethered for long. Katherine needed to kick up her heels, and he’d be the one to release her into the pasture.

But it would be his pasture, only his.

Smiling smugly, he returned to the ballroom. Perhaps he would ask her to dance. That would keep the pressure on.

Feeling someone come up beside him, Alec turned to find Gavin Byrne cradling a glass of champagne and surveying the milling crowd. Alec lifted an eyebrow at his half brother. “Checking up on me?”

“I’m making sure Eleanor invited our little heiress as promised.”

“Lady Jenner has been very helpful.” More helpful than he liked, actually.

Byrne chuckled. “Made advances, did she?” When Alec looked surprised, Byrne added, “I have no illusions about my present mistress. She has a lusty appetite, and I don’t mind if she indulges it. I’m certainly not faithful to her.”

“I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me,” Alec said tightly.

Byrne laughed. “Your life abroad wasn’t as wild and reckless as people say, was it?”

Alec slanted him a glance. “Why do you think that?”

“I looked into it.” Byrne swirled the champagne in his glass. “I discovered that my little brother is more interesting than I knew. Why didn’t you tell us you were the Alexander Black who can stand atop a cantering horse and shoot a hole through a plum at a hundred paces?”

With a snort, Alec jerked his gaze away. “More like a cantaloupe. The thing shrinks with every retelling. Soon they’ll have me shooting at a mustard seed.”

“It’s still impressive.”

“A trick, nothing more.”

“Yes, but not a usual skill for a lord. Something you learned abroad?”

“You could say that.” After Alec’s uncle had seen him perfecting a riding maneuver Alec had learned from local gypsies, he’d ordered Alec to perform regularly for all his friends. Alec had readily agreed, preferring the riding to his other chores.

Until the day at nineteen when he’d learned what his uncle had told his friends—that Alec was “a gypsy’s bastard,” which accounted for his skill with horses and his banishment to Portugal. Of all the lies his uncle could have told, how ironic he should choose one so painfully close to the truth.

Alec had left his uncle’s house that day, and Alec’s “father” had cut off his allowance to force him back into the cage he’d so carefully selected. But by then Alec had grown tired of cages.

“How do you know about my riding abilities, anyway?” Alec asked.

“I spoke to the proprietor of Stephens Hotel. He says you saved his life when he was a cavalry trooper. Says he would never have escaped a Frenchman’s saber if you hadn’t taught him how to ride ‘fancy,’ as he put it.”

“He exaggerates.”

“I doubt it, or he wouldn’t have given you free lodging. Besides, I’d already heard of the daring Alexander Black. You’re a legend in horse circles.”

“You’re not in horse circles.”

“Who do you think funds the bets on the Derby?” Byrne quaffed some champagne. “Is it true Wellesley hired you to teach the English cavalry after he saw you train the Portuguese recruits?”

Alec shrugged. “I enjoyed the work, and I had to fend for myself.”

“You could have traded on your status as a lord.”

“You mean, used my title to get credit? Or to gain invitations to the chateaus of people like my father? No, thank you. I much preferred working with horses. And it paid well enough to support me.”

Byrne ran his gaze over Alec. “But not well enough for fine clothes like you’re wearing now, I’ll wager.”

A grim smile crossed his face. “You’d be amazed how easily an earl can gain credit at the best tailors when no one knows he’s broke.”

“I thought you didn’t want to add to your debt.”

“I can’t woo an heiress in rags, can I?”

“True.” Byrne glanced away. “Send your tailor’s bills to me.”

Alec stiffened. “I told you I didn’t want your money.”

“I can wait for repayment until you marry. If you don’t take too long.”

A shiver ran down Alec’s spine. He’d rather be in debt to a tailor than his Machiavellian half brother. On the other hand, he didn’t need more strangers dunning him. “Very well,” he bit out, “I accept your generous offer.”

Byrne laughed. “You really hate this, don’t you?”

“Begging? Taking charity? I loathe it.”

But he also hated that Edenmore’s tenants lived in cottages with leaking roofs and broken windows because his “father” had fallen behind on the upkeep. And that the stables, which once held the finest bloodstock in England, now contained two old jades and a cart horse. And even that the woods on the south end had been so plundered by poachers that a lonely but enterprising boy could no longer catch a rabbit with—

No, he mustn’t get sentimental. That was where Mother had gone wrong, yearning for an affection her husband couldn’t give her, which had made her ripe for the prince’s plucking. Alec wouldn’t be so foolish. He understood the rules as his mother had not, and he would play by them for now. But when he got his estate in order, by God, he would tell society to go to hell.

“This is no more than I deserve for turning my back on my duty for so long,” he added. “Which reminds me, why didn’t you tell me Miss Merivale is ‘nearly engaged’?”

Byrne snorted. “It was hardly worth mentioning. Society has awaited the announcement of their betrothal for years—the man can’t be seriously interested.”

“You might be right.” Alec’s gaze swung to Katherine. She must have patched things up with her poet suitor, because they were now chatting amiably with Mrs. Merivale. “He doesn’t seem to want her badly enough to settle matters, and I gather he doesn’t need her money.”

“Hardly. He’s worth at least twenty thousand a year. Though I doubt any man would object to being handed a hundred thousand pounds outright.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure it’s so much? Miss Merivale doesn’t act like an heiress, and Lady Jenner said the squire left them only a small estate.”

“Not even Eleanor knows that Miss Merivale will inherit a fortune from her grandfather upon her marriage.”

“You’d think Mrs. Merivale would shout that from the rooftops.”

“She’s pinning her hopes on Lovelace. Why solicit fortune hunters when she has a rich prospect already in hand?”

Alec scowled. “So the mother is partial to Lovelace.”

“Only if he comes up to snuff. Believe me, she’ll welcome any presentable gentleman. Though I believe she’d prefer a wealthy one who won’t need her daughter’s fortune for much beyond paying the late squire’s debts.”

“Especially the debt owed to you.”

Byrne shrugged. “It’s not my fault Merivale couldn’t gamble worth a damn. Or that he died before he could tap his daughter’s expected fortune to repay me.”

“And since Lovelace is taking his sweet time proposing, you thought to hedge your bets by bringing me in.”

A small smile touched Byrne’s lips. “It can’t hurt to have two of you on the field. Even if you don’t win her, you might prod Sir Sydney into offering. The result is the same for me—Miss Merivale gets her fortune, her grasping mother pays off the five thousand owed to me, and everybody is happy.”

“In other words,” Alec bit out, “you don’t much care if I’m the one to win her, as long as you get your money.”

Byrne casually flicked a cherry blossom off his coat. “If you don’t like the competition, say the word. I’ll find you another heiress.”

“No,” Alec said, surprising himself with the swiftness of his response. “No, I want this one. But I don’t like being manipulated. You intended all along to play Lovelace and me against each other, you devious bastard.”

“Devious? I’m not the one marrying for money or hiding that fact from the lovely Miss Merivale, am I?”

Alec glared at him. “Why tell her now and ruin everything?”

“Because she’ll find out eventually. And when she discovers she’s been tricked into giving up her beloved poet for a penniless earl whose estate lies in a shambles, there will be hell to pay.”

“Not if I can help it,” Alec snapped. “She’ll have no cause to complain about our marriage, fortune or no.” He could certainly do better by her than the old earl had by Alec’s mother. “I know how to keep a woman happy.”

“Thanks to all that debauchery you engaged in abroad.”

Alec ignored Byrne’s sarcasm. “Granted, military camps provide few opportunities for that, but I’ve had my share of women.” The occasional camp follower, a bored officer’s wife, and, briefly, a Portuguese mistress.

“Do you intend to tell Miss Merivale what you were really doing abroad?”

“And explain why an earl’s heir found it necessary to fend for himself? I don’t think so. She’ll have to accept me on my own merits.”

“That’s asking a lot.” Byrne cast him a taunting glance. “Especially when you have Lovelace, the consummate gentleman, to compete against. And if she’s in love with him—”

“She’s not.” Or she would never have kissed me with such enthusiasm. “Scoff at my chances, but you’ll see—I’ll steal the filly from Lovelace before he even knows what happened. I’ll loop the halter about her pretty neck so loosely she won’t realize she’s caught until she’s stepping blithely through her paces.” Alec scanned the room. “Now excuse me, but I must find someone to introduce me formally to my future wife.”

Time to follow the rules—at least until he could get her alone again.

*   *   *

Katherine ought to be relieved. Sydney had forgiven her “outburst,” as he called it, and had easily fallen back into the way things were.

A pity she couldn’t do the same. But her thoughts kept straying to Lord Iversley’s kiss, so surprisingly tender, then hot, then—

Oh, why couldn’t she forget it? It was an interesting experience, that’s all. She’d had her taste of passion, and it was enough. It had to be; she was marrying Sydney.

“Shall we visit the card room, my dear?” Sydney asked, offering her his arm like the perfect gentleman that he was.

Nothing like a certain earl who backed her against a marble rail and took liberties with his mouth and his hands and his—

Curse him. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

“No, indeed,” Mama interrupted. “It’s kind of you, Sir Sydney, to show Katherine so much attention, but you must allow her to converse with her other admirers. It’s not as if you two are betrothed, you know.”

When Sydney winced, Katherine wanted to sink through the floor. Mama was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. “You know very well, Mama, that I have no other admirers.”

“Nonsense,” Mama persisted. “That nice Mr. Jackson asked about you earlier. And I’m told that the new Earl of Iversley was watching you, though I’m not sure which man he is. Do point him out, so I can get you introduced—”

“Mama!” Katherine protested, as Sydney flushed a dull red. “I have no desire to meet Lord Iversley. You know what they say about him.”

“I know that Lady Jenner claims his income is—”

“Sydney,” Katherine broke in, “would you be a dear and fetch me some punch? All this dancing has me parched.”

Flicking his gaze between her and her mother, he released her arm and gave a gentlemanly bow. “I’ll be happy to fetch whatever you wish.” Then to her shock, he seized her hand and brushed a kiss to it. When he straightened, his smile was tremulous. “I’ll count the minutes while we’re apart.”

As he hurried off to the refreshments room, Katherine gaped at him. Had Sydney actually kissed her hand? Was he finally realizing how he’d neglected her?

“Very nicely done.” Mama’s gaze followed the baronet as he disappeared beneath an arched doorway festooned with an entire tree’s worth of cherry blossoms. “Shall I assume that Sir Sydney has finally—”

“Don’t assume anything, Mama. Sydney isn’t…quite ready to discuss marriage.” She added brightly, “But as soon as his mother feels better—”

“His mother, bah! Time for you to relinquish your fancy for Sir Sydney and look elsewhere. You’re too old to waste any more years waiting around for him.”

“Yes, any minute now I shall fall off my rocking chair and break a hip. And then where will I be?”

Mama frowned at her. “You’d best watch that clever tongue of yours, missy. Men don’t like impudent women, as my father should have told you when he was filling your head with all his nonsense about books and numbers.”

Katherine tipped up her chin. “Some men like a clever woman.” Lord Iversley seemed to, anyway. Not that his opinion mattered in the least.

“You mean Sir Sydney, I suppose. But he hasn’t offered for you, has he? So give some other man a chance. If you can’t bring Sir Sydney to the point, he won’t serve your purposes.”

Katherine set her shoulders. “You mean your purposes.”

Mama shrugged. “Yours. Mine. The family’s. Same thing.” She dropped her voice to the supplicating purr that had never worked on Papa, but still roused Katherine’s guilt. “I only want what’s best for all of us, dearest. Your brother simply must go to Eton, and your sisters must be able to spend every season here in town until they marry—”

“I never did,” Katherine pointed out.

“Because you have Sydney. And we had no money for more than one season.”

True. And Papa had never wanted his wife and daughter to be in town while he was behaving like a bachelor.

Not that she’d minded all that much. Her quiet life in Cornwall was good enough for her…really, it was. And whenever she tired of supervising her sisters and remaking her gowns to save funds, she had Sydney to discuss poetry with. When he wasn’t dancing attendance on his mother, that is.

He’s too much a coward to stand up to his mother.

A pox on that cursed Earl of Iversley, with his criticisms and sly remarks. Not to mention his inappropriate, unwise, and—dare she admit it—thrilling kisses, which had cast doubt on all her hopes for a future with Sydney. Even Mama’s cynicism had never managed that.

“Stand up straight, Katherine,” Mama hissed. “Our hostess is headed this way. We’re lucky she invited us. All the best people come to her affairs and…”

As Mama droned on, Katherine cast a longing glance in the direction Sydney had gone. If he would only hurry, she might escape the spectacle of Mama licking Lady Jenner’s boots…er…dancing slippers.

“…oh, dear, but she has that fellow with her, the rough-looking one.”

“Who?” Katherine followed her mother’s gaze to where their hostess was approaching with Lord Iversley himself on her arm. Oh no, not him.

“I don’t know why she’s so nice to that man,” Mama went on. “He’s probably her lover, some ill-bred army officer. But they usually wear uniforms—”

Katherine couldn’t imagine Lord Iversley in any uniform but a dressing gown, a cigar, and a brandy glass. Like in one of those prints from Papa’s scandalous book, where a man entertained a woman of questionable moral fiber.

The sort of woman who would let him kiss her—twice—on a gallery.

Her heart began to pound. Surely he wouldn’t be so wicked as to reveal that, would he?

“You don’t have to dance with him, you know, even if he asks,” Mama went on in a low voice. “Really, I can’t see why Lady Jenner is bringing him over here.”

“Mama—”

“Hush, now, let me handle this.” She smiled brightly as Lady Jenner and the earl reached them. “Good evening, my lady. I was just saying how lovely your ball is. Especially with all your pretty cherry blossoms everywhere. I have always found cherries to be hard on the constitution, but the blossoms—”

“Thank you,” Lady Jenner interrupted coolly. “I’m so glad you like it.”

“I’ve always said that the best place for dancing is at a London ball,” Mama babbled on nervously, “the best music and the best dance floor and the most accomplished ladies and gentlemen. Haven’t I always told you that, dear?” Her mother didn’t pause for Katherine’s answer because she didn’t require one. “We get plenty of chances to dance in Heath’s End, mind you, but it’s not the same at those country balls, where the shopkeepers and farmers mingle with people of quality.” She shot Lord Iversley a mildly contemptuous look. “Though I suppose that even in London one can’t always avoid company of the wrong sort.”

Mama paused for breath, and Lady Jenner leaped to halt the humiliating flow of words. “Lord Iversley has begged an introduction to you and your daughter, and of course I was happy to oblige him.”

“L-Lord Iversley?” Mama’s gaze met the earl’s amused one. “You’re the Earl of Iversley?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said with an odd note of irony. Executing a perfect bow, he added, “And I’m most pleased to make your acquaintance, madam.”

For once, Mama had the good sense to follow proper etiquette while introductions were performed. But when Katherine rose from a deep curtsy to meet the earl’s gaze, she realized she wasn’t safe yet. There was no mistaking the humor glinting in those unearthly blue eyes. Oh, no. Surely he wouldn’t reveal—

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Merivale.”

Relief swept through her, followed swiftly by anger that he’d given her such a fright. She flashed him an arch smile. “I’ve heard so much about you that I feel as if I know you already, my lord.”

Lord Iversley cocked one eyebrow. “It’s not all bad, I hope.”

“No more than usual for a young man returned to England after traveling abroad.”

“Don’t you mean ‘cavorting’ abroad?”

Katherine winced. Why had she been foolish enough to taunt him?

Mama gave a nervous titter. “Cavorting, is it? How clever you are, my lord, with your bon mottes.”

“Bon mots, Mama,” Katherine corrected under her breath. Mama thought any approximation of a French word was good enough.

“No, your mother’s right,” the earl said smoothly. “I am being a clod. It’s wrong of me to assume you believe the gossip about me.”

Not even his clever play on the French motte for “clod” could banish Katherine’s mortification. She’d been the clod, mentioning his reputation when he’d been perfectly civil so far. “I don’t know what gossip you mean, my lord.”

“Don’t you?” Mischief glittered in his eyes. “But you just said—”

“I only meant that everyone was talking about you. But I…er…did not listen to any gossip. Or at least I tried not to listen.”

“Ah. So you’re admirable enough to mind your own business. I’m afraid I’m not. If people are so indiscreet as to speak where I can hear, I tend to listen. And tonight I’ve overheard a number of interesting things.”

She supposed she deserved that.

With a smirk at having won his point, he added, “Ah, but I’m forgetting what I came for. I was hoping to have the honor of your hand for the next dance.”

A new voice entered the fray. “Sorry, old chum, but Miss Merivale promised it to me.”

Katherine turned to find Sydney standing with two glasses of punch, his resentful gaze fixed on Lord Iversley. Goodness, this got worse by the moment.

“I beg your pardon, Sir Sydney,” Mama put in, “but I believe you’re confused. Katherine has already danced one set with you, and I know she agreed to let you have the last before supper.” Her triumphant smile grated on Katherine’s nerves. “It would be most improper for you two to dance more than that—what would people think? Why, you’re not even betrothed.”

Sydney looked positively apoplectic, while Lord Iversley looked as if he might burst into laughter. Katherine couldn’t decide whom she wanted to strangle more—Lady Jenner for bringing Lord Iversley over in the first place, Sydney for lying, or Mama for catching him in the lie.

She settled her anger on the earl. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t much feel like dancing at the moment.”

A lady was never supposed to refuse a gentleman’s request to dance. Surely that would send him off insulted.

No such luck. If anything, he looked even more amused. “A pity. I wanted to tell you that interesting gossip I overheard. But if you’d rather we discuss it with your mother and Sir Sydney, we can sit this dance out.”

Surely he was bluffing. If he said anything about what they’d done on the gallery, it would reflect as badly on him as it did on her.

Iversley never met a rule he didn’t break.

She couldn’t take the chance. Besides, from the dagger glances Mama was shooting at her, she’d never hear the end of it if she turned him down. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”

Ignoring Sydney’s wounded expression and Mama’s suddenly sunny smile, Katherine took the arm the earl proffered and let him lead her to the floor.