CHAPTER 7
Winsome somehow maintained her composure on the way home, astonished to see she had unraveled Langsdene. She wondered what he had expected when he threatened her with a kiss. Naturally a strong willed woman would accept his challenge. However, not only had she participated with unexpected pleasure, she now had him speculating how far she might go. She smiled to herself. A woman with sense, and she was one, would do more than call his bluff. Whether or not he had recalled her private foolishness, he had clearly put her long-ago embarrassment behind him.
If only she had.
Instead, she had lost her confidence and her self-respect. She had been weak and foolish. Then a few years later she had accidently stumbled onto a way to express her conflicted feelings about him. During her retribution, she realized she had been as much at fault as he, and she began to make amends. Now she had little to regret and much to anticipate because John had begun to desire her.
She stepped out of his curricle with the aid of Harris, who didn’t meet her gaze. More than likely, he disapproved of his master’s behavior. John always had high standards and his servants would have been cut from the same cloth.
“Do have breakfast,” her mother called as Winsome passed the morning room. “You’ll not have the energy for tonight if you don’t eat.” Tonight Winsome would be acting as Ann’s chaperon again.
She stopped. “John kissed me,” she said too softly for her mother to hear. Then she raised her voice. “I think I should wear the brown again, tonight.”
Her mother stood in the doorway. “What did you say, my dear? John kissed you?”
Winsome’s shoulders drooped. “He did, and I took my punishment with grace.”
“I’m so proud of you. It must have been quite dreadful. The man is clearly experienced and would know exactly how to please a lady.”
Winsome lifted her chin. “I could well be the first lady he has ever kissed. Did you think of that? No. You’re too busy trying to push me at him.”
“It appears that he is under my spell.”
She gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I do hate you, mama. Everyone is under your spell.”
“And I love you too, my dear. Please don’t wear the brown. If you have him interested, you ought to make a push to keep him paying attention.”
“He’s using me to gain information. He’s not really interested in me. He simply can’t resist a challenge, that’s all.”
If she had believed he would truly be attracted to a woman her age, with her lack of beauty, that evening she wouldn’t have insisted Jane dress her hair in those awful ringlets again.
Her dresser intoned evil spells the whole time she hooked up the brown gown, and she utterly refused to find the brown paisley shawl. “I’m sure your ma don’t want you to borrow it, and I’m not one to steal into her rooms to sneak it out. I would be dismissed should I do such an evil deed.” Jane crossed her arms across her flat chest.
“I might freeze, Jane. Surely you can find it in your heart ...” Winsome let her pitiful tone peter out.
“Don’t play your tricks with me, Miss Winsome.” Jane pressed her lips together. “I will not help you look any more dowdy than you do.”
Winsome sighed. She had the same problem. She wished to look her best in case she saw John, but she couldn’t deliberately try to attract him in case she failed. He would have to be fascinated by her no matter the color of her gown. “I’ll wear the topaz choker tonight.”
“With the gold patterned shawl?” Jane offered a hopeful tilt of her eyebrows.
“Heavens, no. That would look quite nice. I’ll take the purple.”
Jane covered her face with her hands. “Miss Winsome, I never thought I would see the day when people would turn their backs on you.”
“You won’t have to because you won’t be there. In any case, I’ve seen worse combinations.” She frowned at her ghastly reflection in the mirror.
“But never on you. You are known for your fashion sense,” Jane said in a doleful voice.
Winsome relented a little, and sighed. “I won’t wear the gold, Jane. But if you will not accept the purple, what is the next worst?”
Jane rubbed her forehead. “The green. You would resemble a tree.”
“The green it is.”
When she arrived downstairs in time for dinner, her elegant Papa had emerged from his study. For the past thirty years, he had been writing the history of his forebears who had settled during the conquest in England. Apparently, he could spin this out forever. He glanced at her, and his bright blue gaze settled on her dull gown. “Going out raking tonight, I see.”
Mama raised her eyes heavenward. “I hope you won’t mind if your daughter remains a spinster forever, my love.”
He shook his head. “She told us nigh on ten years ago that she would never marry. I enjoy her company. I will be happy to keep our dear daughter with us.”
Winsome’s gray-haired father was tall and handsome as well as being a scholar, and fortunately had the family sense of humor. Winsome loved her parents who couldn’t have been more doting, or more wishful to have a large brood of grandchildren to spoil. She dipped her gaze, knowing she was a wretch to insist on going her own way, and now she was too old to start a family. “I have it on the best authority, Jane’s, that I look no worse than a tree.”
Papa gave a shout of laughter and Mama joined in on the joke. At least they understood why she had to repel Langsdene. They didn’t know that she could only keep her pride this way, for she had never stopped wanting the man who, all those years ago, had been appalled by the idea he might have compromised himself with her.
Later, after her cousin Ann had settled herself into the carriage with a hot brick on her lap, she turned to Winsome. “Gossip says you went driving with Lord Langsdene this morning.” Ann wore a delightful overlay of green embroidered gauze over her yellow satin gown. “People were rather puzzled.”
“Did I make him look respectable? That was the reason why he asked me to accompany him.”
“Let’s hope he never finds out he has been sorely misled.” Ann laughed and readjusted her shawl. “Papa showed me the cartoon of him in the paper this morning. He said no daughter of his would line up with the other debutantes to compete for him.”
“Nor you should,” Winsome said, surprised. “Did my uncle recognize him as the man in the paper? He was only a nose and foot.”
“Everyone knows it is him.”
“But he didn’t come off badly. Why would your father think less of him?”
“I didn’t say he does. But you have to admit that no one wants to look like only one in a line of women competing for the same man.”
Winsome nodded slowly. She hadn’t been at all sympathetic with him about the caricature but perhaps he had been impugned.
The crowded ballroom had been decorated with a canopy of pink silk hanging over each doorway, matching the pink silk bows that adorned the pots of tall ferns placed in the alcoves. Groups had already formed on the sides of the room, awaiting the music. Winsome spotted Chaperone Corner and dragged Ann in that direction, keeping out of the sight of her old friends who might wonder about the way she had dressed, which was silly, because no one looked smart all the time. Anyone could have a moment or two of bad taste. Ann was asked onto the floor before Winsome had time to scrutinize the room.
After her cousin was deposited back to her side, Winsome noticed Langsdene striding in her direction. She began a smile that froze when she noticed the firm set of his jaw. His narrowed eyes and the thinning of his lips caused her to snatch a panicked breath. She took a step backward, her heartbeat fluttering high in her chest. He shot her one fiery glance, and then his gaze switched to Ann. An appallingly insincere smile crossed his aristocratic features. “Miss Herries, good evening. I hope I am the lucky man who is granted the next dance with you, which is a waltz, I believe.”
Ann blinked at Winsome, who stood frozen to the spot. “May I?”
Winsome swallowed. Apparently, kissing a very correct earl in the park had put her into the group of women he would not associate with in public. “You may.” Her back stiffened. She stood, her cheeks icy cold.
Ann gave him a dazzling smile. “I am flattered, my lord, and rather relieved. I thought my chaperon would never let me waltz.” After a quick glance at Winsome, her expression shuttered, and she glided off onto the floor to await the music.
Winsome’s empty chest ached. While standing on the sidelines, she managed a doting chaperon smile, while inside she shriveled with the crushing knowledge that again she had kissed Langsdene, and yet again he had scorned her. If she could have covered her head with her leaf green shawl and rustled from the room, she would have, but her pride would not allow her to show her humiliation. No more than ten hours ago, Langsdene had kissed her and alluded to the same happening again. Tonight, his expression abhorred her. Even if no one else knew about the kiss, she did.
Her heart beating too fast, she melded back into Chaperone Corner where she was regaled with a monologue about a maid who simply could not take orders and who had scorched a ribbon she had ironed. The whole time Winsome nodded, but her throat closed over. She didn’t know what she had expected to happen the next time she saw Langsdene, but she had imagined at least a scrap of recognition and perhaps even a greeting. She hunched tighter into her shawl. Perhaps this morning, she had acted shamefully yet again. Perhaps she ought to have fought off his far too welcome advances.
Langsdene brought Ann back and conversed politely with her on the sidelines until she was importuned for the next dance. Having been seen waltzing, she was now in great demand. As soon as she pranced off, Langsdene sidled closer to Winsome. “You will dance this waltz with me.” He used a clipped tone.
She glanced at his hard jaw line. “I will not,” she said, her chin raised, “allow you to tell me what to do.”
“Take my hand with a semblance of grace or I will drag you onto the floor.”
For a single moment she considered challenging his edict. But one glance at his haughty expression and she did as he ordered. He marched her to the centre of the room. One of his hands gripped hers. The other flattened on her upper back. When the music began, he stared over her head while he efficiently guided her into the steps.
“How could you do this to me?” he said through his teeth.
She snatched a breath. “What do you think I did?” Her heartbeat tripped in a chest that could barely move.
“You made a fool of me.” His furious expression said he knew she had drawn the caricatures. She couldn’t force out a single word. Explanations rose to her throat and withered under the hot anger that tightened the muscles around his mouth. “I will not argue with you here. You will meet me in the library within five minutes of leaving the floor.” His expression hardened.
“My good man,” she said, managing to lift her chin. “I simply cannot. Not in five minutes. I am not familiar with this house and I refuse to spend the night opening and closing doors.”
“Good man me again and you imperil your life. The library is on the ground floor and opens off the hall. From the front entrance, it is the second on the right.”
She swallowed. “I know I won’t be able to find an excuse to leave the ballroom.”
“Oh, I’m sure a woman as plausible as you will manage with ease.”
She dropped her gaze. “I’ll need to bring a chaperon if we are to meet in private.”
He shot her a glance that would have turned an icicle into a quivering puddle and she refrained from further words. The longest waltz since the licentious dance had been accepted into society finally passed. He took her back to Ann, and disappeared.
Winsome tapped her fingers on her arm, trying to think of a place to hide while the last minutes in her drab life flew by. Finally she said, “I’ll be back soon.”
“Wicked Winsome.” Ann laughed. “Be off with you and please try return with your dreadful ringlets undisturbed.”
A little confused by the comment, Winsome pushed through the crowds filling the ballroom doorway. Her mouth dry, she pattered down the marble staircase to the hall, counting doors as she went. The purported library was open. As she neared, she noted high shelves of leather-bound books inside. Langsdene stood by the doorway and, as soon as she entered, he pushed the door shut and shoved a chair under the handle.
She offered him a chilling glance. “I wouldn’t invite you to be one of my guests if you sequestered rooms in which to imprison people.”
“Danton won’t mind. He’s my cousin.” His eyes glittered with a shade of sardonic blue. “He is always telling me I should make free with his library.”
“Possibly not for committing a murder.”
He breathed with impatience, his anger not abated. “I don’t mind what you joke about but when it comes to making a fool of me ...”
“I can explain, though I know you won’t understand.” The insides of her mouth dried.
“Everyone who was in the park this morning stared at me and then at you. Clearly we were not as hidden under that tree as I thought.” His eyes narrowed into haughty shards. A wide sweep of his hand indicated her gown, her shawl, and her ringlets. “And tonight you dressed as a chaperon again. You as well may have emptied a chamber-pot over my head as done this.” He paced to the window and back.
She caught her breath and blinked. “You object to my attire?”
“Good God, woman. I spent the morning with a truncheon in my trousers after kissing you. And you are playing me for a fool. If you don’t intend to let me court you, you should not have allowed me to kiss you. Where are your morals?”
“Morals?”
“Stop echoing me. People are watching us. You know how society loves to gossip. And here you are tonight, as good as rejecting me in front of everyone we know.”
Her mind whirling, she grabbed hold of the arm of the couch. “I think I need to sit down, if you don’t mind, my lord.”
“And don’t my lord me.”
Very carefully, she placed herself on the leather seat. “Let me see if I understand this correctly. You are furious because I dressed as a chaperone?” She held his gaze.
“You dressed as a mockery of a chaperone. No one under sixty year wears bunches of ringlets. As for that gown and shawl ... you certainly know better. You could have told me, not the world that you would rather be a foolish spinster than consider than me.”
“I object to spinsters being called foolish. In my eyes, no one is wiser than a spinster. The word says it all. She has eschewed marriage.”
He gritted his teeth. “You kissed me this morning like a woman who is interested in more kissing. Do you want to pursue a relationship with me, or should I look elsewhere?”
She stared at him until his tight face relaxed, until with a proud tilt of his head, he crossed the floor and stood in front of her. Then she rose to her feet and placed her palms on the front of his black waistcoat. “You can’t imagine how much I want to pursue a relationship with you,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She lifted her head and stared straight at him.
His eyes turned smoldering blue. He snatched her into his arms. His bristled cheek rested against hers while he stood completely still, breathing in and out, as if savoring the moment. Finally he raised his head. “Then, why the gown?” His voice sounded husky.
She buried her face in his cravat, the fresh starch of his collar prickling the side of her face. “I wanted my chaperon role to be distinct from my social presence.”
He leaned back, his expression half puzzled, half listening. “You are your own social presence.”
She wound her arms around him, staring up at his handsome face. “I’m not as confident as I appear, you know.”
“I often wondered.” His hands settled on her waist and his forehead creased. “You always seemed as if you were silently assessing me. On occasions, I thought you quite liked me, and then you would say something cutting, and I would feel the barb. You certainly thought my romantic poetry was ridiculous.”
“Sometimes your rhymes were unconsciously hilarious. Ah, my love swoops like a dove from above.”
“I was trying to be romantic but I doubt I have the capacity.” His lips relaxed.
“Your later life proves that. The only doves you know are the fallen variety.”
He didn’t appear to be listening. His thumb brushed across her cheek and he stared at her mouth. His eyebrows drew together, and his gaze caught hers. “Do you remember playing hide and seek at Rose’s house after I had come down from Oxford?”
Her body tightened. “Hide and seek. Such fun. I quickly learned the best places to hide. Della was too brilliant at tracking.” She needed to force herself to sound flighty.
“I’m speaking of a specific time.”
She knew he was, but she couldn’t work out how to divert this conversation. “I’m not quite certain which time you mean,” she said, flattening her palms on the lapel of his jacket, and staring at her splayed fingers.
His voice deepened. “So, I’m only one of many males you played hide and seek with?”
“You know very well that even Sir Ian played, let alone Rose’s brothers. Why are you bringing this up now?”
“I’m glad you don’t remember, but for the past few days, since seeing you again, a certain day has been plaguing my memory. I behaved badly and even if you don’t remember, I want to apologize.”
“You’re forgiven if I can’t remember.”
“I was wondering why I forgot myself with you this morning. I know you are a respectable woman and I can’t expect to make love to you whenever I wish.”
“More like wherever you wish.” The whenever part had not been in question since this morning.
“I am speaking of an event perhaps ten years ago,” he said, persisting. “I thought I was in love with Rose but of course, that was a mere infatuation.”
“I was rather prone to infatuations myself.”
He ignored her interjection. “You said you knew all the best places to hide. I recall finding a large cupboard in the stillroom. I thought no one would go there because it was dashed cold. Then suddenly you climbed in too.”
“It would have been squashy because normally I only had room for me. I wonder where I went after I found you had taken my best spot.” Her pulse began to flutter in her neck.
“You squeezed in with me. We were jammed tight together. Maybe you giggled. I always liked the way you laughed. Often, no one understood your witticisms but me.”
“Too true.” Her throat closed over.
“And I remember you handling certain parts of my body.”
She tried a haughty lowering of her eyelids. “A certain part of your body was pressing into me. I thought I should push it away.”
“So, you do remember?” He sounded triumphant.
“You shouldn’t remind me. A gentleman wouldn’t.”
“A gentleman enjoys having that certain part handled, although that causes the part to grow unruly. Possibly you made a mistake but you kept making the same mistake.”
“You know very well you covered my hand with yours to make sure I kept erring.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I think I kissed you, too.”
“The space was tight. I expect you couldn’t find room to rest your face.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what came over me. Being crammed into a tight space together is no excuse for me to behave badly.”
“I expect you’ve done worse.”
“Not to a young lady. You wouldn’t have been more than eighteen.”
“Some women are married by then.”
“You are being very generous. Have you forgiven me?”
She wet her lips. “Yes,” she whispered. But only in the past two years, and not because he had done anything at all repellent to her at that time. When she had opened the door to her favorite hiding place in the cupboard, he already sat there. With a smile, he had invited her to share the space with him. Suppressing her giggles, she finally settled comfortably across his lap, which hadn’t appeared to faze him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had laughed and kissed her. Then she had tried to move what she now knew he called his truncheon to make herself more comfortable. He had hissed in a breath.
“Is that you?” she had asked, surprised and he had explained about men’s bodies, very politely, and without embarrassment. “Does it feel strange?”
“Not at all. It’s an instrument of great pleasure.”
Perhaps the dark proximity gave her the courage, but she made sure of discovering his pleasure for herself. She had taken advantage of the moment, imagining he would see her as rather original. The years had taught her that she had made a great fool of herself, but back then he had embodied all her dreams. She had admired him for his scholarship as well as for his athletic body.
In the cupboard she had discovered he was warm and nice. She didn’t doubt that even then he’d had experience with women, but she had wanted just once to be special to him. He had allowed her to take him to a certain point and then he had come to his senses. He had stopped kissing her and he had taken himself in hand, breathing hard, and apologizing profusely. “I suspect that by now someone has been found. I don’t think we should be discovered in here together.”
“I’ll go then.” She thought about hiding elsewhere but as she crept down the hallway, she could hear the others discussing where she might be and she gave herself up.
Some minutes later, John also came out of hiding. He didn’t glance at her.
Ever. Again.
After all, he loved Rose. He shouldn’t be intimate with her friend. His father died within the next month, and he became the seventh Earl of Langsdene, leaving to live in his family’s town house. And Winsome hated him for letting her dream. He had made a fool of her, and she had decided to make a fool of him.
“And this morning, what was that?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“A kiss.”
“Do you allow everyone who chooses, to kiss you?”
“Do you allow everyone who chooses, to kiss you?”
“As a matter of fact, no, I don’t, because few women come up to me and try to inveigle a kiss or two. Even less, except in certain establishments, sit on my knee. I can safely say you were the first lady to do so.”
“I could be the first and the second if sat on your knee now.”
He shook his head. “I think, perhaps, not here. I would like a few standing kisses but more than that and the door will be too obviously locked for too long and you will be talked about.”
Her shoulders slumped. She would adore kissing sessions with him but more than likely that would never happen. She could hardly meet him in everyone’s library, and he wouldn’t have permission to lock the door in each household. Tonight she would snatch the chance offered to her. She slid her arms around his neck, her breasts swelling against his chest. The expression on his face softened into smile that combined desire with patient humor. The last was a trait she had always admired in him.
His palms splayed on her back, his head lowered, and the rasp of his bristles brushed her cheek. His lips settled on hers. The gentle kiss opened her lips. His tongue tickled inside her mouth, tasting her until she responded with tastings of her own. Her body thickened with an unknown languor and she could have done this with him for hours. When his truncheon began to press against her belly, she had a dreadful urge to touch him there. However, she didn’t mean to start anything she wasn’t sure she could stop.
“I don’t think we can do this here,” she whispered, though if he had caressed her breasts, she didn’t doubt she would melt into a pool of desire. Apparently she needed his touch, not for stimulation, because she was already a panting mess, but to ease the ache.
However, as in the cupboard, he didn’t attempt to dishonor her. Instead he remained a gentleman, and settled a careful hand on the nape of her neck. “Your first time should no more be in my cousin’s library than it should have been in a stillroom cupboard.”
“What makes you think this would be my first time?” She pouted like a precocious miss, while her insides tickled with laughter.
“It would be your first time with me.” His words whispered across her cheek.
She heaved a sigh. “All talk and no action, my lord.”
“You’ll be the death of me, Winsome. You can’t doubt I want you, but I don’t plan on ruining you.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“In this case, no. We need to return to the ballroom. I’ll call on you tomorrow.” Without any effort, he lifted her away from him. Those hard muscles of his were not only there to make his jacket fit without a wrinkle.
“Did you mess my hair?”
“How would I be able to tell?”
“Your manners, John, are atrocious. Ann told me not to return with my ringlets disarranged, though why she thought they might be is a puzzle to me.”
He shook his head, his lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Leave now, Winsome, while I adjust myself.”
“Do you need help?”
He fixed his gaze on hers. “This is why you are called Wicked Winsome, no doubt.”
She laughed and turned. He was welcome to think that, but her wickedness came more from her sense of humor and her caricatures.
“I’ll call on you early tomorrow morning and we can visit the privacy tree again.” His eyes gleamed with humor and a touch of whimsy.
She closed the door behind her. His artful expression kept her insides alight with happiness until she fell asleep that night.