4

Lisette glanced up at her two smiling companions and tried to decide which one of them seemed most likely to aid her. It was the fashionable hour to be seen in the park and she knew she looked well in her new blue pelisse. Being accompanied by such handsome men only gave her an additional caché. It was hard to decide whom she preferred between the dashing Captain Merrival and the quietly amusing Lieutenant St. Clare. Both men were of a similar age to the irritating Lord Swanfield, and both of them had served in Spain with the army.

Lord Swanfield refused to leave her thoughts or her most heated dreams. Lisette had decided the best way to rid herself of him was to find out exactly what he had done to make himself such a pariah. Surely then he would lose his allure? She’d gleaned enough information to decide that he must have done something socially unacceptable, but most people seemed unsure exactly what.

She bestowed a dazzling smile on Captain Merrival. “Would you mind if I asked you something personal?”

The captain winked at her, his brown eyes full of interest. “It depends, Miss Ross. If you wish to know if I’m married, the answer is no.”

“I’m fascinated to hear that, sir, but my question was more about the past and of a military nature.”

“You are interested in the military, Miss Ross?” Captain Merrival found a vacant bench, brushed it with his handkerchief, and invited Lisette to sit, Lieutenant St. Clare by her side.

“I’m interested in a particular man from the military.”

Captain Merrival clasped his hand to his heart and groaned. “Alas, I fear you don’t mean me. Now all my hopes are dashed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Captain. I happen to know you are practically engaged to Miss Fenton, and, despite the gossip, I’m not the kind of woman who interferes in another woman’s love life.” She shifted on the seat so she could see both of their faces. “In truth, it is a rather delicate matter. I recently met a Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield. He was buying horses from my father.”

“Ah, Major Swanfield.”

Lisette waited hopefully to see if Captain Merrival was going to volunteer more information but his expression had taken on a closed look that didn’t bode well.

She manufactured a little laugh. “Is it something too terrible to share with me?”

Captain Merrival frowned. “It is … complicated. I never quite believed Swanfield was capable of such behavior although the evidence against him …”

“Major Swanfield was brought up before a military court in Spain on charges of supplying the enemy with military secrets,” Lieutenant St. Clare said.

Lisette turned to look at him. “He was?”

“Yes, Miss Ross. The circumstances were unusual enough that rather than face a full court-martial, he was forced to leave Spain and return to England.”

Lisette pictured Lord Swanfield’s austere face, remembering his claims to be honest and his bluntness. “I can’t imagine him doing that.”

Captain Merrival snorted. “With all due respect, you can never tell what a man will do under duress, especially during a war. The information he carried with him was certainly given to our enemies.”

“But if you remember, Merrival, Swanfield was missing for almost a year. He and I spent most of that time in a French prison.” Lieutenant St. Clare’s voice was quiet but determined. “He claimed that the information must’ve been removed from him forcibly when they recovered his body from the rock slide ambush they’d set up.”

“Or he gave it up under torture. He certainly returned in a state near death.”

Lisette stared at both of the men, her gloved hand pressed to her chest. “He was missing for almost a year?”

“It happens sometimes in war, especially in the Spanish campaign amongst those treacherous mountains.” Captain Mer-rival shrugged. “Prisoners are taken, exchanged, or released all the time.”

“Yet he wasn’t court-martialed.”

“In truth, Miss Ross, he was in no state to stand trial and several of the men he commanded begged the commander in chief to allow him to leave quietly. Up until his disappearance, his record had been exemplary.”

“And as a peer of the realm, the authorities were reluctant to pursue him as well,” Lieutenant St. Clare finished unwillingly. “So he was allowed home, but there are many who still shun him because of what happened.”

“Do you shun him?” Lisette asked, her stomach tied in knots as she contemplated the ruin of Lord Swanfield’s reputation and the horrible certainty that such rumors and gossip made it impossible for him to set things right. She knew all about that, had suffered the full weight of society’s condemnation herself in the past. And Lord Swanfield was scarcely the kind of man who would crave society’s favor or fight for it. No wonder he had retreated and made himself almost invisible.

“I haven’t seen him for years, Miss Ross,” Captain Merrival said. “But I wouldn’t refuse to shake his hand.”

“Neither would I. I think the army made some grave mistakes in his trial.”

“Really?” Lisette studied Lieutenant St. Clare’s suddenly unsmiling face, and saw a depth of bitter experience that surprised her.

“Major Swanfield was too ill to defend himself properly, and the authorities refused to allow him time to recover before they held their investigation. They preferred to hurry things along and bury the truth out there in Spain. A longer investigation wasn’t in their best interests. It was much easier to make Major Swanfield the scapegoat and send him home in disgrace.”

“But that hardly seems fair.”

“Not much fair about war, Miss Ross.” Captain Merrival got to his feet and bowed. “Shall we continue our walk? I believe it is getting a little chilly.”

Lisette rose to her feet and laid her hand on his proffered sleeve. She had much to think about and a burning desire to see Lord Swanfield again and ask him to explain himself. She knew she had no right to ask him anything, but perhaps she just wanted another opportunity to see him again. Yes. She really was that pathetic, wanting to see a man who had annoyed her so greatly she’d called him as many vile names as she could think of and walked away from him, denying herself the opportunity to experience his prowess in bed.

She tried to conceal her troubled thoughts and smiled at her two escorts. She had to think of a way to meet Lord Swanfield again and at least give him the opportunity to tell her his version of the truth. He might even relish the opportunity to tell someone who might be sympathetic toward him, but how would she find him in such a huge city?

Lisette suddenly thought of her father. He was always very careful about the people he sold his horses to and had a disconcerting habit of dropping in on them unannounced to see how his bloodstock was being treated. Lisette let out her breath. If anyone knew where Lord Swanfield was located, it would be him.

“Papa, do you have a London address for Lord Swanfield?”

Her father looked up from his newspaper and studied her across the breakfast table. “Now why would you want to know that?”

“Because I assumed you would wish to invite him to dine with us one evening here in Town, so that you could hear how your horses are settling in.”

“You assumed all that—for me?” His smile was full of mischief. “Such a saintly daughter I have, only thinking of others and never of herself.”

Lisette realized she was blushing and gave her father a serene look. “I only think of your well-being, Papa.”

“Poppycock. Did you like him then, Lisette? He seemed remarkably closemouthed to me, except when he talked about horses.”

“He talked to Lisette.” Christian put down his cup and eyed his sister. “They spent some very happy moments together in the stables.”

“That is pure speculation, Christian, and you know it.”

“And the heat of your reply does nothing to change my opinion. You were attracted to him, Lis.”

“And what does that have to do with you?”

“Children.” Philip’s voice broke through Lisette’s fierce attention on her brother. “Not over the breakfast table, please, I have a delicate digestion.” He nodded at Lisette. “I will ask my secretary to send him an invitation to dine with us, later this week.”

Lisette ignored Christian’s grinning face and smiled at her father. “Thank you, Papa. And if I am available, I would be glad to join you.”

“That is very good of you, my dear. Now I must return to my desk. I have a whole morning of distributing the servants’ quarterly wages ahead of me, and then I have to meet your mother.”

“She is coming here?”

Philip paused in the act of rising. “Unfortunately, no. I am to meet her at the pleasure house.” He sighed ruefully. “Helene is a very busy woman.”

Lisette contemplated her plate of eggs and bacon as Philip left the room. She loved Helene, but sometimes she could tell that Philip felt neglected for the demands of the pleasure house. In truth, he was a most unusual husband in that he allowed He-lene to live at another house and keep their marriage a virtual secret.

“So you get your wish to fawn over Lord Swanfield again.”

Lisette’s head jerked up as Christian spoke. She’d almost forgotten he was there. “I don’t ‘fawn’ and what business is it of yours who Father invites to dinner?”

Christian raised his eyebrows. “What’s the matter, Lisette? It’s not like you to snap at me over a man.”

“I’m not snapping at you!”

“Why is Lord Swanfield so important to you?”

Lisette sighed, defeated. “I’m not sure.”

“Now, that’s better. At least you’ve stopped denying you’re interested in him.”

“I just wish to find out the truth about his supposed infamy.”

“Which is none of your business.”

“I suppose it isn’t.” Lisette hesitated. “But you know me; I hate to see injustice done to anyone.”

“I don’t doubt that, sister mine. You always want everyone to be happy. But I have a suspicion that you want to see the man again because you want to.” Christian held her gaze. “And I’m still worried because he might not be the right kind of man for you.”

“Are you warning me off again?”

“I’m telling you that his particular sexual tastes are well suited to the pleasure house.”

“You’ve already said that.” Lisette stood up and planted her hands on the tabletop. “Either tell me everything, or don’t interfere.”

Christian leaned back in his chair until he could look up into her face. “I work for Maman, and I respect the privacy of our guests. I’m not going to tell you exactly what he does or doesn’t do, and, in truth, I don’t believe anyone has the right to judge another man’s sexual tastes.”

“Yet by bringing them to my attention, you are judging his.”

“I’m simply preparing you for the notion that he isn’t as straightforward as you might think. You haven’t spent as much time at the pleasure house as I have; you have no idea of the complexities of some of the guests’ sexual tastes.”

“I’ve spent plenty of time there. I’m not some naive debutante.” Lisette glared at her twin. “And I refuse to discuss this with you again.”

Christian shrugged, his eyes narrowed, his expression cool. “Fine.” He toasted her with his coffee cup. “Go ahead, make a fool of yourself.”

Lisette realized she was trembling. For the first time in her life she was at complete odds with her brother and she had no intention of letting him persuade her otherwise. “Thank you, I will.”

There was nothing left to do but exit the room and brood over her brother’s strange behavior. A startling thought occurred to her. Was Christian attracted to Lord Swanfield himself? She had an idea that his sexual tastes were not restricted to women. Was this the reason he was so adamant that Lisette would not find happiness with the other man? Surely not …

Lisette almost turned back. Perhaps she should ask him outright and clear the matter up once and for all. But she sensed Christian wouldn’t tell her even if it was true. The gap that had developed between them recently seemed as wide and deep as a chasm, and it hurt. She started walking again. She wasn’t going to allow him to dictate to her. If Christian truly wanted Gabriel Swanfield, he’d have to deal with her first.

“Good evening, Lord Swanfield.”

Lisette smiled sweetly as her prey turned away from her father and focused his intent gaze on her. He wore a superbly cut black coat and plain white linen that did nothing to diminish his height or fine physique. He was one of the few men who made Lisette feel small and feminine. She imagined his weight bearing her down on the bed, his arms wrapped around her, his mouth …

“Good evening, Miss Ross.” His dark blue gaze was guarded, his expression bland enough to curdle milk. “I hope you are well.”

Her father led the way into the small family dining room, where four places were laid at the table. The green damask curtains were drawn and soft candlelight illuminated the gleaming oak table and intricate crystal glasses. Lisette prayed that Christian wouldn’t appear. He had the ability to destroy her evening if he chose to.

Lord Swanfield paused to pull her chair out and then retreated to the opposite side of the table so that he faced her. “Is Miss Emily joining us?”

“No. She is remaining at Knowles Hall for at least another week preparing for her debut,” Lisette said. “The place is set for my brother, but he rarely dines with us.”

“I’m not sure I’ve met your brother, Miss Ross.”

Her father laughed. “Christian is adept at avoiding social activities. But he is hard to miss. He bears a striking likeness to Lisette. They are twins.”

“Is that so?” Lord Swanfield’s keen gaze considered her. “Come to think of it, I might have caught a glimpse of him at your ball.”

Lisette’s heart gave an uncomfortable thump. She could only assume he’d met Christian at some point at the pleasure house. She hoped his impression was vague and that he wasn’t about to make a connection that would lead to trouble.

To her relief, the meal proceeded amicably enough, her father making most of the small talk as Lord Swanfield’s replies tended to be short and to the point. She contributed her part as well, played the silly society woman to the hilt, a role she’d come to loathe, a reputation she wished she’d never encouraged.

“I have something for you, Swanfield,” her father announced. “I found it in my study on my return from Knowles Hall. If you’ll both excuse me for a minute, I’ll go and fetch it for you.” He winked at Lisette and retreated, taking the lone footman stationed at the door with him.

Lisette put her wineglass down and stared at the tablecloth. Having Lord Swanfield sitting across from her was quite overwhelming and she was at a loss for what to say. She didn’t want him to see her as a chatty empty-headed twit, but all the conversational gambits that rose to her lips were stupid inanities and she didn’t like that at all. Her attraction for him was far more visceral and base; she didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted to touch him. She’d already noted he didn’t use strong cologne; only the scent of cigarillo smoke, saddle leather, and lemon soap drifted across the table to tantalize her senses, to make her yearn to lean over and stroke his cheek.

“Miss Ross.”

She looked up and he rose to his feet, reached across the table, and cupped her jaw in one of his hands. His mouth came down over hers, and she welcomed the fierce intimacy of his kiss, the savage heat of it, and even the implied possession. Before she could speak, he resumed his seat and her father returned with the footman bearing a small oil painting, which he presented to Lord Swanfield.

“Here you are, Swanfield. It’s a portrait of Wellington as a foal with his sire.”

Lisette was instantly forgotten as Lord Swanfield’s attention switched to the painting and he smiled. “Thank you, sir, I will treasure it.”

“You are welcome.” Philip resumed his seat and beckoned to the footman to pour him another glass of brandy. “Perhaps you would care to take a turn in the garden with my daughter, my lord? She loves the evening air.”

Lisette frowned repressively at her father, who simply continued to smile at her. “Perhaps Lord Swanfield would prefer to stay inside and discuss horses with you?”

“Oh no, a breath of fresh air would be very welcome, Miss Ross.” Lord Swanfield pushed back his chair and stood up. He offered her his arm. “Shall we proceed?”

She moved around the table to stand next to him, and realized again how tall he was when she had to look up. Her father gestured at the French doors leading out of the dining room. “You can access the garden from here. I’ll make sure the staff doesn’t lock you out.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Lisette waited while the footman deftly unlocked the double doors and then she stepped outside into the fragrant garden. Spring flowers were in bloom and her kid slippers sunk into the soft green grass as if it were a Persian rug. They walked in silence for a moment until they were out of sight of the dining room windows.

“Am I forgiven then?”

Lisette looked up. “Why ever would you think that?”

“Because I am here, and because your father obviously approves of me.”

“My father always takes a great interest in anyone who buys his horses. As his daughter, it is my duty to accept and welcome all his guests.”

“So you’re still sulking then.”

Lisette stopped walking. “I am not sulking. I had a perfectly legitimate reason to consign you to the devil.”

His smile was slow and screamed danger. “Yet here we are, together again, and I don’t think you mind it that much.” He reached forward and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You still taste the same. I still want you.”

“And you are still arrogant.”

He leaned into her and kissed her lightly on the lips. She fisted her hands at her sides to stop herself from sliding them into his thick black hair and holding him close. He kissed her again, the tip of his tongue outlining the seam of her lips, seeking access, something she wanted to give him more than she wanted to breathe.

He drew back and stared down at her. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Why do you make it sound so simple when it isn’t simple at all? As we’ve already established, a young lady can’t go around kissing every man she meets just because she wants him.”

“I’ve heard you’ve kissed quite your fair share.”

Lisette raised her chin. “Have you been listening to gossip about me, my lord?”

“Perhaps I have.”

“And you believe I am a flirt?”

He considered her for a long moment. “So I’ve been told, but I’ve learned to my cost that gossip can often be wrong.”

Lisette swallowed her outrage. “In this case, the gossip is true, I am a flirt. I love to bring men to their knees and then laugh and walk away from them.”

“That won’t happen with me.”

The absolute confidence in his voice shook her. “It won’t happen, my lord, because I refuse to flirt with you.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her hard against him. “I don’t want you to flirt. I want you to be yourself, to admit that you want me and stop complicating something as straightforward as lust with romantic womanly notions of love.”

She struggled to pull her hand free from his chest, but he kissed her and somehow her hand ended up wrapped around his neck as she kissed him back. God, she could drown in his mouth, in the press of his hard body against hers, in his arms around her.

“Let me give you pleasure.” His husky words were barely whispered into her ear. “Let me touch you. I burn for you, I’m hard for you all the time; I come thinking of you every night.”

She sighed against his throat. “I wish you would stop saying things like that. It is so unfair.”

He nipped her ear. “Because you like it?”

“Yes, and thus I increase my reputation as an incorrigible flirt.”

He sank down onto a convenient bench and drew her into his lap, his arm encircling her waist, his mouth returning to hers. This time she let him in, her tongue tangling with his, as his hand inched up from her waist to cup and squeeze her breast, making it swell over the constriction of her bodice and corset.

“God …” His hoarse comment excited her further as his mouth latched onto her nipple and sucked hard. She shivered and slid her hand around his neck to hold him close. His other hand was under her skirts, caressing her buttock and she wasn’t about to stop him, not yet, not now, not until he… She gasped as one of his long fingers brushed her clit and discovered the thick wetness between her thighs.

“Touch me.” His rough command and the way he grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his pantaloons made her feel victorious, that she wasn’t the only one in danger of losing control.

She remembered this sensation of falling, of the notion that nothing existed beyond his hands, his mouth, and her willing body. She arched her back and shamelessly rubbed her mound against his wide, calloused palm, felt the tip of his finger penetrate her and moaned. “Please …”

He slid his finger a little deeper and she moved against it, didn’t care what he thought of her, just wanted the pleasure she knew was close. He groaned as her fingernails cut into his skin. His thumb was on her clit, his finger working her to the rhythm of his suckling. She gripped his shaft as hard as she could and felt dampness and heat beneath her fingers as he shoved himself into her hand.

She climaxed and his mouth claimed hers, sealing in her cries of release and joining their breath. When she opened her eyes he was still holding her, his hands now on the outside of her clothing, his expression strained. She forced herself to climb off his lap, and noticed he hadn’t come, that his cock still tented his pantaloons.

She cleared her throat and haphazardly straightened her gown. “May I help you with”—she waved vaguely in the direction of his groin—“that?”

He glanced down at himself and then at her. “Thank you, but no.”

Even as she absorbed the implied rejection and felt it sting far more than she had anticipated, she tried to make a joke of it. “Surely you have realized by now that I am indeed a terrible flirt, and that even more shockingly, I enjoy touching and being touched by a man. You wouldn’t be the first man that I’ve ‘helped.’”

A muscle flicked in his cheek. “I can see that.”

She took a step back feeling cold. “I invested a lot of energy in my ‘fast’ reputation and now I believe I regret it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like the way you are looking at me.”

He angled his head to one side. “How do I look?”

“Judgmental.”

He shrugged. “I have no right to sit in judgment of you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“But if you don’t wish men to think you are a flirt, your behavior with me hardly helps.”

“You are right. I don’t know what came over me. I must be even worse than the gossips imagined!” She glared at him and gathered the ends of her shawl tightly in her fist. “What a feather in your crown; you are obviously irresistible.”

He stood up slowly and studied her. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Miss Ross. I’m quite happy to engage in a flirtation of this nature with you, but I refuse to share you with any other men.”

“Gossip suggests I indulge in orgies, does it?” Her sexual warmth dissipated rapidly replaced by sheer anger.

“That’s not what I meant. I …”

“Gossip is an insidious thing, isn’t it? You must know that yourself. Your reputation is hardly stellar.”

His shoulders stiffened and his faint smile disappeared. “You have been listening to gossip about me?”

“I asked after your army career, if that is what you mean.” Lisette drew her shawl over her breasts, aware of a sudden chill that emanated not from her surroundings but from the man in front of her.

“And did you enjoy hearing about my disgrace?”

She blinked at his suddenly arctic tone. “Of course not!”

“It is a remarkable tale, is it not? The lowly aristocrat showing his true colors by betraying everything and everyone who believed in him.”

Lisette took a deep breath. “Lord Swanfield, you refused to answer me when I asked you to explain yourself. In truth, you told me to go to the devil. You can hardly complain if I try to find out the truth myself!”

He bowed. “Good evening, Miss Ross.”

“Wait.” Lisette caught at his arm. “Surely we are even? We both sought information about the other in the only way available to us. Why are you allowed to storm away in a huff and I’m not?”

“Because being labeled a flirt is far less damaging than being labeled a coward.” He tried to shake her hand off his sleeve, but she refused to let go.

“Is that so? Of course, a man’s reputation and honor is so much more important than a woman’s, isn’t it?”

He glowered down at her. “Yes, it is.”

Lisette let go of him then and stepped back. “Sometimes I do not like you at all.”

His bow was full of scathing magnificence. “And I do not like you very much either.”

“Then we are done, sir, and all there is left to do is wish you a long and happy life.”

“Indeed.”

Lisette managed one last disdainful toss of her head before she picked up her skirts and headed back for the house. Of course he didn’t follow her, and by the time she reached the dining room, the scent of one of his ridiculous cigarillos reached her. She tried not to breathe it in, aware of an ache in her heart and a more physical ache from her body. She touched her lips where he had kissed her and acknowledged a particularly exasperating fact. She might not like him at all, but she still wanted him and he had no intention of playing the game by her rules at all.