His Wayward Ward (bad conversion)

His Wayward Ward

Kate Harper

Copyright Kate Harper 2011 www.kate-harper.com

Chapter One

‘I love you Eliza. So very much.’ Eliza Percival shivered as Grayson’s lips slid down the sensitive column of her throat. She tried to forget that they could be discovered at any second; wanting to lose herself in the moment, but it was difficult. The shadowy arbor they had found in the Summer Garden Pavilion was a poor refuge. ‘Grayson -’ she began, wondering if she should push him away. His lips felt warm and so did she but the knowledge that they could be discovered at any time was rendering her enjoyment difficult. ‘Shh…’ he murmured, ‘don’t you like me touching you?’ ‘Of course I do. It’s just that we might be seen.’ ‘Stop worrying, my love,’ Grayson’s hand had wandered close to her breast, brushing against it through the thin material of her dress. ‘After all, we are going to be married.’ Eliza stifled a soft gasp. No man had ever touched her so intimately! It felt… well, she was hardly able to decide what she felt. Excitement, trepidation and a strange, breathless warmth suffused her body, spreading from head to toe.

‘Grayson! I do not think -’ ‘The roses are lovely, I suppose, but I do think those pink ones are inappropriate. Not in a garden of remembrance.’ Both Eliza and Grayson froze. The voice that dripped with disapproval belonged to Lady Sternham, a woman whose good graces were essential if one wanted to prosper in Society; at least in Bath’s Society. It would be fatal to both Grayson and Eliza’s fortunes if they were discovered in such a compromising position. Eliza looked around her desperately, seeking a way out and was relieved to see another opening at the other end of the Pavilion. ‘Come on!’ Together, they hurried out of the arbor, crouching behind a wall of privet hedges until Lady Sternham and her companion were past. Eliza smiled up at her beau, tapping him on the chest. ‘That was horridly close!’ He looked down at her, capturing her hand in his. While he was neither a baronet nor a lord and possessed only a modest income, Grayson Henry was not considered to be a marvelous catch by many, but as far as Eliza was concerned, he was perfect. His golden hair, his vivid blue eyes… he was romance personified. ‘You make me forget myself, my darling. I think the sooner we are married the better!’ ‘Yes, well Aunt Flora has come round to the idea. Now we have merely to secure the permission of my wretched guardian and it can all be arranged.’

‘Oh, yes. Your guardian.’ Grayson’s voice took on a slightly hollow note. ‘Is it likely he would object?’ Eliza gave a peel of laughter. ‘Hardly. I’ve yet to see the man and I am beginning to think he’s a mythical figure. Aunt Flora says he’ll be more than happy to get Edward and I off his hands.’ The parklands she and Grayson had retreated to permitted a view of the tower clock and she glanced towards it, then gave a small exclamation. ‘Look at the time! Mr. Henry, you are far too distracting! I will undo all the good work we have done if I am late again. And without a chaperone,’ she added, with a quick, upwards glance. Mr. Henry sighed. ‘I understand. I just wait for the day when I no longer have to say goodbye to you. My lovely, lovely Eliza…’ Fifteen minutes later, Eliza was still smiling as she let herself through the front door, moving quietly so as not to disturb her aunt. Having given her maid the slip again to meet Grayson in the Summer Gardens, the last thing she wanted was another dressing down from Aunt Flora. All appeared to be quiet, however, which probably meant that her misdemeanor had not been discovered. Eliza hurried towards the staircase, untying the strings of her bonnet. With any luck, she could slip upstairs and get ready for dinner without anybody being the wiser. And after dinner, as soon as she could, she would escape to her room and think about the man she had given her heart to. Grayson’s parting declaration of love was still ringing in her ears and she felt almost lightheaded with happiness. Dearest Grayson…

‘Deuce take it Liza, you’re in a pickle and no mistake.’ Foot on the first step, Eliza jumped with surprise. She looked over her shoulder at her brother Edward. ‘Shh!’ she hissed, ‘Aunt Flora will hear you!’ Edward grinned and wandered across the foyer. He was in one of the new outfits he had ordered the previous week, always keen to style himself on his sartorial heroes, chief of which was Beau Brummell. His shirt collar was so high it came up past his chin while the dark blue silk jacket he wore, trimmed with gold braid, looked like it had begun life as a cushion in their aunt’s boudoir. Edward fancied himself a dandy and considered his clothing to be the pink of fashion. Much as she loved her brother, Eliza thought he frequently looked ridiculous. ‘Too late for that. She’s been entertaining Carlton these past thirty minutes. I’ve been sent to find out where you are.’ ‘Carlton? He’s here?’ ‘Came calling. Unexpected, wouldn’t you say?’ Eliza searched her brother’s face, hoping this was nothing more than one of his tricks, but he seemed perfectly serious. ‘But… I thought it was decided that things were to remain exactly as they were?’ ‘Aunt Flora decided. I don’t think she consulted our new guardian on the subject.’ Their new guardian… it still seemed incredible to Eliza that their father had consigned the care of his two children to Lord Julius Carlton, an unmarried man whose rakish reputation was well known even in Bath. When their mother had died several years before,

Eliza and Edward had moved permanently down to Bascombe Park, the family home in Suffolk. Not that Eliza had had her brother’s company for long, for he had gone off to Eton and she’d been left to her own devices and her surly, uncommunicative father. And there she might have stayed if not for Flora Fitzwilliams, her mother’s sister. Possessing no children of her own, Flora had decided it was up to her to bring Eliza out and she had arrived on her brother-in-law’s doorstep determined to obtain his permission. Mrs. Fitzwilliams was a woman infinitely suited to take a young lady from the schoolroom to the ballroom and introduce her into Society. Predictably, Eliza’s father refused, unwilling to part with the money for such an undertaking, but Aunt Flora had persisted. She had likened her campaign to a mouse nibbling away at cheese and indeed, it had done the trick. Tired of listening to his sisterin-law’s tireless arguments and desperate to cut short her stay at Bascombe Park, Papa had given in, more readily when Aunt Flora had assured him she was prepared to offset a portion of the cost of Eliza’s stay in Bath. It had been organized for Eliza to join her aunt before the start of the Season to arrange the vast array of dresses that would be required for her debut and she’d left Suffolk behind her with a light heart, anticipating unprecedented pleasures. Typically, Papa had thrown the whole thing into disarray when he had up and died unexpectedly, six weeks after Eliza arrived in Bath and a mere two weeks into the start of the Season. And while, of course, she was very sorry that her father had died, she couldn’t help but think it

was poor timing on his part. Naturally, she had feared that her introduction into Society would have to be cut short, but she had reckoned without Flora Fitzwilliams. Her aunt decided to continue on, merely ordering gowns of a more subdued hue as a gesture of respect. As far as Flora was concerned, Eliza was not getting any younger and it would be a pity to waste her youthful good looks on a year of mourning. Fortunately, she held such sway with the Grande dames that ran the Season’s events that Eliza was granted an unspoken immunity of sorts. Besides, everybody knew Thaddeus Percival had been an unpleasant fellow. It seemed a pity to let his daughter suffer for his churlish bad timing. What they had not anticipated was the provisions he’d made for his children. After the Viscount’s death, Flora had naturally assumed that she would be given the care of her niece. But a week after her brother-in-law’s passing, it was discovered that he had left the guardianship of his two children to Lord Carlton, a far younger man, who, while of immaculate birth, was of uncertain reputation. The Viscount’s decision appeared to have been based on nothing more than the fact that had been great friends with Carlton’s own father, who had shared his passion for hunting and a full-bodied claret. For several months, nobody had received any communication from Carlton, apart from a brief letter with the contact details of his secretary and instructions on how to access monies on behalf of his two new charges. And with every week that

passed, Eliza relaxed a little more. She was enjoying the social whirl of Bath, the dances, the balls and the endless buffets. And she did not lack a plentiful choice of dance partners, which made her social outings even more pleasurable. It was at a ball at the Assembly Rooms that she met Grayson. He had stood up with her three times, setting tongues wagging and it was on that particular night, that Eliza had begun to plan her future. Fortunately, Grayson had been of a like mind. Having conveniently forgotten that she even had a guardian, it came as a shock to discover that this phantom had arrived. Eliza chewed her full bottom lip anxiously. ‘What is he like?’ Edward shrugged with all the indifference of a young man more fascinated by himself than the world around him. ‘Very stylish.’ ‘Not particularly illuminating! Is he… is he nice?’ The boy appeared puzzled. ‘Now how should I know that? He seemed perfectly amiable.’ Eliza sighed. Clearly, anything she wished to learn about Lord Carlton would have to come from personal experience. And this visit was surely nothing more than a salve to ease his conscience (if he had one); from what she’d heard of the man, he must have been as surprised as anybody to discover he had responsibilities. Her aunt had been sure he would shirk those responsibilities as reliably

as he shirked anything he found vaguely disagreeable to his self-indulgent lifestyle. Truthfully, it would be extraordinary if they saw him at all, for he rarely visited Bath. Except that now he was here… ‘I must get changed!’ ‘No time for that. You’re wanted in the drawing room. I was to bring you along directly. Where have you been, anyway?’ ‘Never mind that.’ Pulling off her bonnet, she hurried to the mirror that hung over a hall table and studied her reflection, keen to make a good impression. Carlton was in his thirties and quite old. As he indulged himself in all manner of wickedness – if rumor were to be believed – he would undoubtedly be like one of those ghastly men her father used to entertain; portly, possibly jolly and undoubtedly eager to pinch her cheek. As her future happiness depended on pleasing him, she supposed she would have to let him. Cheek pinching was a small price to pay, if only he would give permission regarding her marriage to Grayson. She grimaced at the girl in the mirror. A fresh gown would have been nice but there was simply no time to change. She patted her dark curls, her own and not the work of a curling iron then shed her cloak. The pale green organza walking dress was unsuitable for entertaining in the afternoon, but it would simply have to do. This whole thing was a nuisance, but it would probably be a fleeting visit. Duty done, he would return to London on

the morrow and things could return to normal. Or not quite to normal, Eliza amended with a flutter of nervous hope. For was there ever a better time to coax her guardian into giving his permission in regards to her marriage with Grayson? Of course, it was Grayson himself who should be asking, but Eliza was never one to let silly little rules stop her. If only she could make a good impression, then her plans could progress even faster than she had anticipated. She was regretting that she had dallied in the gardens for so long. If she had returned earlier, she would have been here to make a good impression. Not only that, but it was possible her aunt would be irked with her. Aunt Flora was sweet but she did not understand… Grayson wasn’t just any young man - he was the man Eliza intended to marry. She paused at the door and took a deep breath. ‘Come along then,’ she said bracingly, ‘let us go and meet the devil.’ ‘Oh, I’ve met him,’ Edward said cheerfully. ‘Marvelous clothes; by the look of his coat I’d say his tailor is Weston.’ There was a note of awe in her brother’s voice. ‘I was wondering if he’d give me an introduction when I go up to London. You need a recommendation before he’ll see you.’ ‘Before Carlton will see you?’ Eliza asked, bewildered. ‘Don’t be a scatterbrain!’ her brother begged, ‘before Weston will see you.’ Eliza sighed. How very typical of her brother to be thinking about the cut of his jacket and some silly tailor in London when her entire future was at stake! Straightening

her shoulders and lifting her chin, she opened the door of the drawing room and walked in. She found her aunt in front of the fire, opposite a tall man who was not sitting so much as lounging back, legs crossed, one booted foot swaying gently as he nursed a glass of Madeira. He looked up as she came forward and met her eyes and Eliza’s feet slowly came to a stop, eyes widening in surprise. This could not be right. In fact, this was entirely wrong. Could it be… was this really her guardian Lord

Carlton?

Chapter Two

He’s not nearly old enough, Eliza thought with a touch of indignation. Worse than that; he as not nearly ugly enough! Whatever her thoughts had been about the creature before her, none of them had envisioned such a good-looking man. His eyes were unexpected. Silver gray, the irises ringed round with black and fringed with sooty lashes. Their cool intelligence took her aback. As she stared at him, she saw a flicker of something in their depths, something half recognized which caught her by surprise and, momentarily, left her breathless. It was quickly disguised, but for an instant the gray darkened to a deeper shade of pewter; a brief, sudden fire that chased away the chill. Languid indifference took its place, effectively shuttering everything behind a perfect social mask, which left Eliza thinking she had imagined that flash of heat. After a second’s hesitation, she started forward again, eyeing the man in the chair with uneasy trepidation. Far from the overfed, over dressed creature she had been expecting, Carlton was a blade; sharp and hard and well built. The very sight of him made her heart race and the palms of her hands had turned slightly damp. One glance told her that this was going to be a deal more difficult than

expected. While he might be old certainly older than her, and older than Grayson who was only two and twenty - this was no cheek pincher, happy to indulge her whims for a fulsome smile and a flutter of her eyelashes. Lord Carlton was the kind of man that ladies would flutter their lashes for. And I’m sure that’s not all they’d flutter! Eliza thought, while inexplicable heat slid across her skin like a warm breath. Taking a deep breath of her own to steady her suddenly jangled nerves, Eliza looked over one of Society’s rakes and decided he was probably very successful in his pursuit of dissolution. Such dark good looks and that air of lazy amusement must have assuredly smoothed his progress down the path of wickedness. At two and thirty Carlton was unmarried, an age many thought to be past redemption. With such a disregard for the union, he seemed stubbornly determined to remain a bachelor, a tragedy, for he was indecently rich. His lordship was considered a fine swordsman, an excellent shot and a dreadful womanizer but, as he was Carlton, any peculiarities were generally overlooked. She did not care for the way those strange eyes were looking her over. As if he is assessing a restless filly, she thought. Or as if he were stripping each article of clothing from her body… Unconsciously, she raised her chin and met that impertinent stare head on. He smiled a little and that same prickle of awareness came again, unsettling her even more.

Abruptly, Eliza turned to her aunt whose flushed face indicated just how displeased she was with the unexpected arrival of her guest. ‘I am so sorry that I’m late, Aunt Flora.’ ‘Where have you been, child? See now, your guardian has come to visit,’ Aunt Flora said, with forced good humor. Setting his glass down, Carlton rose to his feet, the movement lithe and easy, almost catlike. While unable to generate the amount of enthusiasm Edward had for Carlton’s clothing, Eliza noted that the black coat of superfine and buff breeches fit his tall, lean frame superbly, while his snowy white neckcloth was a work of art and the tasseled hessians gleamed. Eliza could well imagine that her brother would wish for a pair of shoulders like Carlton’s, for they set off his tailor’s efforts to perfection. ‘Well now,’ the deep voice was amused, ‘the missing has been found.’ Eliza flashed him a swift look. ‘My Lord,’ she said, closing the gap between them reluctantly and holding out a hand. He took it and pressed a light kiss as she dropped a curtsey, doing her best to ignore the gentle brush of those lips across her skin. Even after he had released her, the kiss seemed to linger and she resisted the urge to scrub her hand against her dress. ‘I was expecting you this past hour,’ her aunt interjected, still sounding ruffled. ‘I sent Edward to find you as your maid said you had not yet returned from the library.’ ‘I met a friend and we fell to talking,’ Eliza said as truthfully as possible. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Flora, I did not realize it was so late.’ ‘Yes, well…’ Aunt Flora paused, clearly collecting both

her manners and her customary aplomb. ‘Eliza dear, this is Lord Carlton.’ ‘You’re older than I expected,’ Carlton commented. ‘I assumed you were still in the schoolroom.’ ‘I’m eighteen.’ Those silver-grey eyes continued to disconcert her. Eliza felt as if she were confronting an unknown species, something dark and unnervingly dangerous. Men in the wilds of rural Suffolk or in the polite circles of Bath Society were of a far different ilk. Why, even the supposed dandies and the one or two rakes who were considered sufficiently tame to be allowed near the fledgling debutantes were nothing like Carlton. He radiated a predatory aura that made the air around him almost… crackle. This was ridiculous, considering they were standing in her aunt’s front parlor, the tamest of environments. Carlton’s smile seemed to suggest that he knew something of her inner confusion, but he merely raised an eyebrow. ‘And have you come out yet?’ ‘Eliza is enjoying her first Season,’ Aunt Flora interjected quickly. ‘She should have come out last year but... well, never mind. Better late than never.’ Generally, a girl from a good family was presented to court or - if she was not to experience London - in the smaller courts of one of the provincial centers at seventeen. ‘She’s proving to be very popular.’ ‘I’m sure she is,’ his lordship murmured. Eliza dropped her eyes. ‘I say, Sir,’ Edward had been hanging back, clearly

studying his lordship’s attire in silent admiration while mentally trying to work out the complicated folds of Carlton’s neckcloth. He had already deduced it was the Waterfall, but with variations that seemed miraculous, ‘I was wondering if you could recommend me to your tailor when I come up to town?’ Carlton’s eyes shifted to look over Edward’s outfit and a flicker of distaste crossed his face as he studied the shirt’s elevated collar. ‘Well I suppose somebody has to. Who do you go to now?’ ‘Bexley, on York Street.’ ‘The man is a monster if he allows you to walk the streets like that.’ Edward grimaced but he took the criticism in good part. This was Carlton, after all, a nonpareil in the world of men’s fashion. ‘I suppose it isn’t quite up to snuff. I know it won’t cut the mustard in London.’ ‘No,’ his Lordship agreed, ‘it won’t.’ Eliza’s soft mouth tightened, a slow burn of indignation igniting in her on behalf of her brother. The man might impress Edward, but she disliked his lordship’s air of arrogant assurance. Clearly, he thought a great deal of himself.

And why was he here? What did he want? Aunt Flora was obviously wondering the same thing. ‘Well, Carlton, I’m sure that you have a previous engagement, or I would invite you to dine so perhaps you can tell me to what we owe the honor?’

‘I have nothing planned this evening,’ his lordship replied coolly. ‘How kind of you, my dear Mrs. Fitzwilliams. What time do you dine?’ ‘Six o’clock,’ Flora said with a snap. Carlton smiled. ‘Country hours, how… refreshing.’ ‘I’m delighted that you find our provincial ways so entertaining. And of course we would be delighted to have you dine with us. However, now that both Edward and Eliza have joined us perhaps you can tell me why you’re here. I had no idea you were coming to Bath.’ ‘A last minute decision,’ Carlton said easily, ‘I am relieved to have found you at home.’ ‘That’s all well and good, but I fail to see why Edward and Eliza needed to be here before you would state your business.’ Flora eyed the man before her resentfully; he had always made her feel a little nervous. Something about her seemed to amuse him and Flora Fitzwilliams did not enjoy feeling that he thought her a joke. ‘It’s just that I am loathed to repeat myself. Naturally, I am devastated that you find my behavior peculiar, but then, a great many people do, so it should be of some comfort that you are not alone. As to why I am here…shall we call it a belated fit of conscience? It has been some months since the Viscount passed away and I was wondering how are my two wards were faring. I’m surprised to find you both here,’ he added, casting another glance at Edward. ‘I might be mistaken but are you not supposed to be in school?’ ‘Rusticated down,’ Edward said with a shrug. ‘They kicked me out for two months.’

Carlton looked at him with renewed interest. ‘Gambling? Women?’ Eliza opened her mouth to protest that her brother would never be so foolish, but Edward merely grinned. ‘More like the Dean’s hat and cloak and a donkey. Some people have no sense of humor.’ ‘Academia has never been known for its broadminded outlook. How are you finding Bath?’ ‘It’s all right,’ Edward allowed grudgingly, giving his aunt a quick look. Eliza knew that her brother did not mean to be ungrateful, but she also knew he was bored rigid knocking about Bath as he trailed after his aunt and sister. It had been quite trying for everybody as he did not particularly like Grayson and made no secret of the fact, no matter how pleasant Grayson was to him. ‘It’s jolly nice of Aunt Flora to put up with me.’ ‘Oh, I’m sure she manages very well. Although if you’re subjecting her to the likes of that shirt every day I can see how it could become wearing. And what of you, Miss. Percival?’ Carlton abruptly shifted his attention back to his youngest ward, ‘how do you enjoy Bath?’ ‘I’m enjoying it very much indeed.’ ‘But were you not disappointed not to be presented in London?’ he demanded, clearly surprised. Eliza shook her head. She had wondered, at first, why her aunt had not taken a house in town, but it soon became apparent that Flora Fitzwilliams was so solidly entrenched in Bath Society that she would not willingly leave it. Besides, she always maintained that provincial husbands

were by far the better quality, being less inclined to fall into the folly of town ways. Having met Grayson, Eliza was more than willing to concede she had a point. ‘I don’t believe London could hold a patch to what we have here. I’m perfectly happy with the entertainments that Bath has to offer,’ she said firmly. ‘I’d be jolly pleased to spend some time in London!’ Edward exclaimed. ‘Are you here to take us up with you? Because I was thinking I could do with some new shirts and the kind I like are devilishly hard to get in Bath.’ Eliza gave her brother a scornful look. ‘Honestly, Edward! What kind of shirts do you need? You know perfectly well you can get the same things here that you can get in London.’ ‘Not everything. Bexley himself said that good quality lawn shirts were particularly scarce down here.’ ‘Oh… fiddle!’ ‘Oh, no,’ Carlton said, with a touch of malice, ‘I believe your brother is quite right. And life is really too short to go without a good quality lawn shirt, don’t you think?’ Eliza stared at her guardian suspiciously. ‘No, I do not. It’s a shirt, for heaven’s sake. How can a shirt make the smallest bit of difference?’ ‘Well, it does.’ Edward flashed back, shaken out of his usual, placid good-humor by his sister’s lack of sartorial refinement. ‘And I, for one, would be delighted to go up to London and… and outfit myself properly!’ Carlton was gazing at Eliza – who was glaring at her brother – with large, dark eyes that sparkled with

displeasure. After a moment, he nodded, almost to himself. ‘Yes. Why not? I think a few weeks in London would be very good for both of you. It will take any rough edges off.’ He smiled at Eliza whose gaze had immediately swung back to him. Her horrified expression suggested that she had somehow substituted ‘London’ with ‘Timbuktu’. It sealed the deal for Carlton. ‘Yes, I would be delighted to have you join me in Curzon Street. I shall arrange to have my coach brought down and you may both travel up on Saturday.’ ‘Saturday!’ Eliza exclaimed. ‘B-but I don’t want to go to London!’ ‘Nonsense. I’ve heard from reliable sources that every young lady wants to go to London.’ Turning, he bowed to a gaping Flora who had listened to this conversation with growing dismay. ‘I shall be with you for dinner and we can discuss the matter further, but for now, I shall say goodbye. It has gone four already and if I am to be ready for you at six, I must return home. But rest assured, dear lady,’ he added with a wicked smile, ‘it will be a brief parting.’ Eliza, Edward and Flora watched him leave with varying degrees of emotion. Flora was profoundly offended and deeply annoyed by his lordship’s highhanded attitude; Edward was unrepentantly jubilant and as for Eliza... she drew in a long, ragged breath. This was a disaster! As much as her aunt was angry, Eliza was speechless with rage. How dare Carlton suddenly turn up and disrupt their lives on what was clearly a whim! She suspected he had had no intention of doing anything more than pay an obligatory social call and yet now… now they were going to

London with him? She wanted to stamp her foot with fury. He would ruin everything with his highhanded arrogance. And Grayson… what of Grayson? She would have to leave her love behind unless he could somehow come to London with her. It was all utterly insupportable. ‘Well!’ Aunt Flora exploded, breaking the stunned silence, ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; that man is impossible!’ ‘Yes, but this is excellent,’ Edward said happily. ‘London! What a turn up. And here I was thinking Carlton wouldn’t want to trouble himself with us at all.’ ‘I wish that he hadn’t. I do not want to go. I won’t go!’ Eliza snapped. ‘This is some sort of mad fancy. He’s just being… being perverse.’ Eliza turned to her aunt, desperation clouding her face. ‘I don’t want to go to London and neither do you, do you Aunt Flora?’ ‘I certainly do not.’ Abruptly, Flora Fitzwilliams sank into a chair,. ‘But what I want won’t count a jot with Carlton. The man is insufferable. If he wants you both to go up to London, I daresay we will all have to go. Unless I can think of a way around it…’ ‘Oh, do think of a way around it! Please, Aunt Flora.,’ Eliza begged, ‘you know that Grayson and I want to be married. And if I’m dragged off to London it will make matters so very difficult.’ ‘Hoo, Grayson!’ Edward said dismissively. ‘Why worry about him when you can enjoy yourself in London? He’s not

going anywhere is he? Besides, you can’t marry your precious Grayson without Carlton’s permission. Best you put a good face on it Sis, or he might just decided your Mr. Henry is unsuitable.’ Eliza winced. ‘Why should he? Grayson is a most unexceptional man.’ ‘Well I for one don’t care for him. Too pretty by half, if you ask me.’ Eliza gave her brother a dark look. ‘I did not ask you.’ How had things turned about so quickly, all within the space of an hour? ‘And I’ll thank you not to say anything of the sort to Lord Carlton. Oh, why did he have to turn up now? He’s never paid the slightest attention to us until today.’ ‘It’s true,’ Flora agreed, ‘I have no idea what he’s up to, but you can be sure it’s all fustian. I daresay he’s doing it to shock, knowing full well how inappropriate it is to present the two of you into London Society. A rake, escorting two babes in the wood? It’s ridiculous.’ ‘But can’t we just ignore him?’ Eliza pleaded. ‘Perhaps we can divert him at dinner. Now Eliza, I want you on your best behavior. We don’t want to antagonize the man, not if he is to see things our way.’ ‘Very well,’ Eliza agreed reluctantly, but she thought it was a lot to ask. There was something about Lord Carlton that got under her skin; a prickle so bad she ached to itch it. Deep down, she knew that his arrival had presented her with a challenge she was unwilling to face and as for being nice to him…

There were some things a female of any sensibility should not have to contemplate. And being civil to a man like Lord Julius Carlton was one of them! ‘Now what inspired that small piece of insanity?’ Carlton mused, standing before the window of his bedchamber thirty minutes later. What, indeed. Something had certainly prompted him to offer his home and his services to the Percival brats, an action so uncharacteristic he had been almost as shocked as little Eliza Percival when the words had come out of his mouth. He certainly had not planned on putting himself out when he had paid a visit to Flora Fitzwilliams. The truth was that he rarely troubled himself with other peoples’ problems. As far as he was concerned, the dreary niceties of society could take care of themselves and that surely included the progress of his two wards through the social murk. But some imp of mischief had prompted him to take a hand in their affairs. He thought about the large, expressive dark eyes of Miss. Eliza and gave a wry smile; that imp undoubtedly had a name. Sometimes he did not know when to stay silent but the truth was, a pair of pretty eyes could sway the most sensible of men. Not that she had been impressed with his unusual burst of generosity. While Edward Percival might yearn for the fashionable climes of London, his young sister most assuredly did not. Which, of course, had made him even more determined to press her.

‘What a fool I am.’ Very much a fool, for he had just saddled himself with what would undoubtedly prove to be a very uncomfortable month of squiring two – and quite possibly – tedious charges around; so much for his ruffled ego. But there had been something about the little Eliza that he had tickled his sense of devilment and, despite his reservations, he found that he was looking forward to dinner, although he suspected his interest might pall when they reached London. Eliza Percival was as pretty as a picture, but she was young and naïve and that must surely prove tedious after a time. Yes, he would surely live to regret this visit. He had been returning from a race meet in Trowbridge when a perverse reminder of his responsibilities had struck in the form of a signpost to Bath. As it lay only fifteen miles away, he had decided that he may as well check that all was well in his townhouse and, while he was at it, that Flora Fitzwilliams was coping with her young charge. He had not expected Edward to be there, but the lad’s presence had saved him a trip to Eton. Correspondence had been infrequent between his ward’s aunt and himself, although he had given instructions to his secretary to make sure the woman was in funds. Still, as the months had passed, he had begun to feel a vague stirring somewhere in the region of his conscience. Carlton had been as astonished as anyone to discover that he had become a guardian. Percival had been his father’s crony; Carlton himself had rarely

encountered the man. At the time, he had consigned the entire matter to ridiculous whimsy and had dismissed it from his mind. However, in the past few weeks it had struck him that he might have been remiss; perhaps a quick social call, so he could forget about the matter for another four months. So he had made his way to Mrs. Fitzwilliams’ house in Queen Street and had paid his respects. She had been less than delighted to see him, but then, he often made matronly women in possession of young, impressionable females nervous. He had been amused both when they had been unable to discover Miss. Percival’s whereabouts, as well as by the enthusiasm with which young Edward had regarded his wardrobe. Then when Eliza had walked into the room and he had met those large, pansy dark eyes, the world had suddenly shifted, just a little, in the most unexpected way… He stirred restlessly, staring out the window.

The world had shifted? ‘My dear fellow, you are getting old!’ But for a brief time, in that overstuffed parlor, he had to admit that he hadn’t been bored; the Percival children were entertaining. ‘Did you say something, M’lord?’ Jenson, his valet, spoke from behind. ‘Ignore me. I am talking to myself.’ ‘Yes, M’lord. What would you like to wear tonight? Several invitations have arrived this afternoon. I was wondering what you fancied.’ Jenson was an ex-boxer who had started life on the dubious streets in the Bowery. He

had turned out to be the best valet Carlton had ever had. ‘The claret velvet should suffice; it’s just an intimate dinner.’ ‘Right you are, M’lord.’ While his valet prepared his clothing, Carlton returned his attention to the window. Below him, Nile Street was busy; nursery maids with perambulators chatting together in the late afternoon sunshine, young ladies accompanied by chaperones, older women keeping a firm eye on the younger ones as if they might break free at any moment and run amok. Life, continuing on, just as it always did. Nothing had changed. Nothing would be likely to change for Carlton until he made a decision, one way or another, if he should keep the direct succession in his line and marry, or let it slip away to a hopeful cousin. There had always been time enough for such decisions and in the interim, he indulged himself as he saw fit. There was still time. He was only two and thirty, hardly in his dotage. No, nothing had changed. So why did he feel that it had? His thoughts turned to the night ahead. ‘You can still get out of this, you fool,’ he murmured. ‘It’s not too late. Just tell them at dinner you’ve had a change of heart. The chit will be delighted. It was nothing more than a whim, after all.’ But he knew he would not cry off. He would escort his charges up to London directly, taking Flora Fitzwilliams with him to give the whole affair the respectability it required. And who knew? Perhaps it would be entertaining after

all. Eliza glared at her reflection in the mirror while a maid added the finishing touches to her hair. Her mood had not improved a jot since Carlton had taken his leave and nor was it likely to. After leaving the drawing room, she had hurried up to her room to dash off a note to Grayson, informing him of the disaster that had befallen them and asking if he could not do something. Her world was about to come tumbling down around her ears, all because of one unbearable man. Aunt Flora seemed to think she might be able to dissuade Carlton, but if she failed, they would all be travelling up to London on Saturday, the day of the Fiskham’s ball. An event she had been looking forward to for a fortnight. Ugh! Perhaps, she thought with a sudden flush, Grayson

will suggest that we elope. The idea sent equally mingled thrills of both anticipation and panic flooding through her. Elopement was a scandalous thing, done by feckless females who were no better than they should be; or so Eliza had always been told. But she now understood how people could be forced to undertake such a drastic act, for what else was there to do when unforeseen circumstances forced apart two people who were in love? So… would Grayson suggest that they elope? And if he did… what would she say?

They needed to talk, that much was certain. But first she must suffer through this tedious dinner with the man who had ruined her happiness; Lord Julius Carlton. Never mind that he was sinfully good looking. Although Grayson was every bit as good looking as Carlton, Grayson’s appearance was more classical, whereas Carlton tended to smolder, even as he regarded you with that cool, mocking amusement. Drat the man! Standing up, she glanced down at the ivory satin gown with its panel of lilac lace. It was, she reflected, far too pretty to waste on the likes of Carlton, but she supposed she must wear something suitable. She had not been easy in her mind since he had left. Carlton was different and she sensed instinctively that difference might make him very dangerous indeed. His easy air of assurance teased some part of her into reluctant wakefulness. He was, she realized with a little shiver, truly a man; one who could not be trusted to abide by the rules that governed polite Society. For all of his fine clothes and air of languor, Carlton was a perilous specimen, to be handled with caution. She went downstairs, uncertain what the night ahead would hold. While Flora had waspishly predicted that Carlton would be fashionably late, he arrived exactly on time and seemed, from the outset, to be in an amiable frame of mind, something that raised the hopes of both Flora and her anxious niece.

‘I’ve been considering the matter,’ Flora said, between the removal of the soup and the placement of the fish, ‘and it seems to me that it will be very expensive to go up to London. Eliza’s gowns are perfectly well suited to Bath, but London… well, they just won’t do. She will need new gowns if she is to be presented at Almacks. It will,’ Flora observed airily, ‘be a very costly exercise, the more so because we would have to rush any orders we place.’ ‘Of course,’ Carlton agreed, taking a serve of the boiled turkey. ‘She must have whatever she needs.’ Flora pursed her lips. ‘Unfortunately, we’ve spent this quarters’ monies, and I would hate to be beholden to you.’ His lordship smiled, conscious of Eliza’s regard of him from across the table. She had been perfectly civil, even painfully so. Obviously, her aunt had suggested that one caught more flies with honey than vinegar, which was very sensible advice. Still, there was no suppressing the girl’s natural spirit. As expected, it had been a very enjoyable meal so far, for he had taken pains to stir up her smoldering resentment whenever the opportunity presented itself, discussing gentlemen’s fashion with Edward and generally despising the parochial ways of Bath Society. Eliza’s sweetness – eroded by Edward Percival’s frequent interjections on how he intended to spend his time in the capital - had been vastly entertaining. Clearly, Edward’s aunt and sister wished that he had not joined them tonight, for his enthusiasm regarding the proposed journey to London was interfering with their plans. ‘But dresses,’ Flora pursed now with quiet

desperation, ‘so many dresses would be ruinously expensive!’ ‘It would take a great deal to ruin me. Rest assured, dear lady, I will not begrudge a guinea. Do not hesitate to get whatever you need.’ ‘Can I, as well, Sir?’ Edward demanded eagerly. Carlton nodded. For some reason, the boy reminded him of a hopeful puppy. ‘Certainly. I might even be able to help you with that.’ The look of astonished gratitude on Edward’s face was almost comical. He saw Flora and Eliza share a look of mutual frustration. It was the first sally in the comprehensive arsenal that Flora Fitzwilliams had assembled in an effort to change his mind. He would find it dreadfully inconvenient to have guests in his house for so long. It would be taxing to take them about, for his two wards would certainly need introductions. The expenses (which grew proportionately, the more she dwelt on them) would be exorbitant. It would interfere with his self-indulgent pursuits. This last was said with peevish exasperation when it became clear he remained determined to go ahead with his plans. Carlton turned each of her objections aside with unflappable ease and was rewarded by the increasingly dangerous sparkle in Eliza’s eyes. By the time they had retired to the drawing room, he could sense the girl had reached a nicely combustible state and made sure to sit beside her. Her sideways glance of

annoyance was reward enough. ‘So,’ he drawled, ‘how do you entertain yourself in Bath?’ Eliza tossed her curls, clearly irritated. ‘Very easily, Sir. Bath has some wondrous attractions.’ ‘Such as?’ ‘The Assembly Rooms. The Museums. There are some very pretty parks and, of course, the baths are particularly fine.’ Eliza frowned at him, ‘you have a house in town. How can you not know of these places?’ ‘I have always found Bath particularly stuffy. And alarming. The aged and the sickly are a daunting sight.’ Eliza’s soft mouth pursed with disapproval. ‘That is not a very charitable attitude.’ ‘Dear Miss. Eliza, I am not a very charitable man. Didn’t you know?’ ‘I had thought you reformed as you seem intent on foisting your charity on to me.’ ‘Clearly I am out to redeem myself in the eyes of Society.’ Eliza showed him her small white teeth. ‘It’s more likely you’re thumbing your nose at it. You can’t really mean to take Edward and I places in London. You’ll be dreadfully bored.’ ‘But I don’t find you boring in the least.’ This gave her pause. ‘What a vexing man you are. I never know if you’re serious or not.’ Aunt Flora had come to sit across from them. She gave her niece a warning look. ‘Oh, but my dear, what man

is serious in this day and age? Lord Carlton is fashionably jaded.’ ‘How ridiculous.’ Eliza looked him over with disapproval. ‘How can anybody be jaded when there are so many pleasant things to do?’ Carlton smiled. ‘Oh, but I agree. It is just that my amusements are somewhat different from yours.’ She gave him a doubtful look but was sensible enough not to pursue the subject further. She smelt delightful, of lavender and something faintly floral. Frankly, Carlton was surprised that old Percival had produced such a child, but then, his wife had been a beauty in her day, or so he seemed to recall. Eliza Percival, with her dark brown curls and small, straight nose, was certainly appealing. Of course, she was not as tall as was the fashion at the moment, but a pocket Venus had their own admirers and he thought that Eliza would do well in London. He enjoyed her lack of artifice. There was no simpering with the girl, no pretence of frailty, despite her smallness of stature. Far from the usual deference he was accustomed to, Eliza Percival was all too ready to spit like a cat if her fur was ruffled. Such an attitude was refreshing and it was hard to resist stroking her the wrong way. So he didn’t did not – could not – resist. ‘And young gentleman? I’m sure you have several dozen dancing attendance on you.’ Her creamy skin took on a faintly pinkish hue. He sensed her hesitation and his attention sharpened. Could it be that he had hit a nerve? Was the little Eliza smitten with

some poor fool? ‘Of course, there are some delightful gentlemen,’ she began, ‘but I have to admit, there is one in particular…’ Eliza shot a calculating look in his direction, trying to gauge his reaction. Carlton raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’ ‘Mr. Grayson Henry!’ she said with a rush. ‘He is… he is a very worthy young man!’ ‘And yet you still like him?’ his lordship looked intrigued. ‘In my experience, young ladies did not much care for worthy men. They far prefer something with a little more bite.’ ‘Yes, but as you’ve pointed out, your experiences – and pleasures - are a little different from mine.’ Eliza observed primly. ‘Mr. Henry is a man with the most excellent address. He is considerate and mindful of others’ comforts. He is thoughtful and… and gentlemanly and his manners are unexceptional in every way -’ ‘Good God, girl. What a paragon!’ Eliza’s eyes flashed. ‘Indeed he is!’ Flora, who had been listening to this interchange as she poured the tea, hurried to forestall any unwise utterances from her niece’s all too ready tongue. ‘Oh, Eliza, you do sing his praises. But indeed, he is such a delightful young man that any female would be happy to have him single her out for special attention.’ Eliza shot her aunt a grateful look. ‘Indeed, Aunt Flora.’ Carlton’s eyes rested on his ward’s slightly flushed

face, wondering what stance would ford him the most amusement. Should he object? It would certainly stir the child up if he did. Of course, she had taken a gamble, bringing up her suitor’s name so soon and now she would have to persuade him that the man was truly a marvel. ‘And what are Mr. Henry’s intentions towards you?’ ‘Why, marriage, of course. Mr. Henry would never have anything but the most honorable of intentions.’ ‘Of course not,’ his lordship returned dryly. Truly, Grayson Henry sounded as if he might be an unutterable bore. If he had half the virtues that Eliza professed him to have, a creature as high-spirited as Miss. Percival would surely become bored within a month. ‘And the young man’s prospects?’ Carlton inquired delicately. ‘You understand, as your guardian, I must ask these questions. You and your brother have been left a not inconsiderable estate in trust. It is my duty to ensure that you do not become the prey of rapacious young men.’ Predictably, Eliza took this badly, sitting up straight in her chair and scowling at him. ‘Grayson is not rapacious! He is not rich but he has a perfectly good income and a house in Taunton and comes from a very distinguished family!’ ‘Taunton,’ his lordship drawled, ‘how… impressive. I cannot wait to meet him.’ The girl blinked. ‘Meet him?’ Once again, he raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course. Naturally, he will have to petition me for your hand. How fortunate it is that I am in town. He may visit me tomorrow

and impress me with his sterling character.’ Eliza was disconcerted by this sudden turn and not at all sure if she wanted Grayson to meet the sardonic and wickedly sharp Carlton. If there was one thing she had learned over dinner, it was that her guardian might look like he was not paying attention, but the truth was that he missed very little. It was all proving to be most unfortunate and she was sorry she had brought up Grayson so soon. But after she’d watched her poor aunt put forward one argument after another as to why they should not go to London, telling him the real reason behind her reluctance seemed her only option. She had certainly not played her hand well. If only she was not quite so aware of him. Sitting across the table from the man, Eliza had found that she was preternaturally conscious of his every move. His tall, lean figure drew her attention repeatedly and, while she was determined to ignore him, he seemed to enjoy teasing her. Eliza had decided quite quickly that she did not like her guardian. He was arrogant, irreverent and could not be relied upon to behave well. So it was a pity that he was so very hard to dismiss for, she longed to do exactly that. When Carlton rose to leave, Eliza had reluctantly promised to direct Grayson to Nile Street on the morrow. ‘But really,’ she’d said with some irritation, ‘it is absurd. I do not see that you need to meet Grayson at all. Aunt Flora likes him and so does Edward.’ Fortunately, her brother was not around to dispute this, having left to meet friends half an hour before. ‘And I can assure you he is perfectly

suitable.’ ‘Of course you can,’ Carlton agreed amiably, ‘as I’m sure I’ll discover tomorrow. Two o’clock. Try to ensure he’s prompt.’ This inflamed her wrath once again. Later, lying in bed, she tried to dismiss all thought of Lord Carlton, focusing on her future with Grayson instead. So it was annoying, just as she was drifting off to sleep, that it was his lordship’s face that came so forcefully to mind and even more irksome that her dreams should be haunted by the tall, dark figure of a man who had no right to be there…

Chapter Three

‘Was it too terrible? Did he ask you many questions? Oh, Grayson, I’ve been in such a state!’ It was the first opportunity Eliza had had to talk to Grayson since his interview with Carlton that afternoon. Unfortunately, she and her aunt had committed to a picnic in Prior Park that Grayson was unable to attend and Aunt Flora had refused to let her niece shirk the affair. Now they were at Lady Bellingham’s cotillion and Grayson had finally managed to obtain Eliza’s hand for a dance, although she was far more focused on conversation than the intricate steps of the quadrille. Grayson made a face. ‘I have no idea how it went. Lord Carlton gives little away.’ She looked up at him anxiously. He was looking particularly handsome tonight in navy brocade, which brought out the brilliance of his eyes. His golden hair gleamed in the candlelight, although his expression was far from happy. ‘But he approves of you?’ Grayson shrugged. He really did seem ruffled, not at all his calm, good humored self. ‘I have no idea. I must say, Eliza, I do not like that man.’ ‘Nor do I. He is utterly disagreeable. But only tell me… did he give his permission for our marriage?’

‘Not exactly.’ His mouth drooped into a sulky line. ‘He said that we would discuss it again after your return from London in August.’ ‘In August!’ Eliza stared up at him in dismay. ‘But that’s two months away! I had no idea we were to be gone so long.’ ‘He said that it had been decided you and Edward should see the rest of the Season out in town,’ Grayson said in a tone that let her know just how unhappy he was with that decision. ‘It had been decided,’ Eliza frowned. ‘Not by me, it wasn’t!’ ‘It’s wretched news, Eliza. It will put paid to us seeing each other every day for I cannot afford to take a house in town for two months, as well you know.’ Eliza did not, not exactly. She had no real idea of how Grayson’s financial situation stood but she sympathized anyway. Carlton had made his plans and they all must fall in with them. A fresh flare of resentment sprang up in her breast. The man was impossible! ‘I’m sorry, my love. I truly am.’ There was a small silence and then words exploded out of Grayson, indignation and wounded pride giving them heat. ‘Can’t you change his mind Eliza? You don’t want to go to London! It’s quite ridiculous that he’s forcing you into it.’ ‘I’ve tried,’ Eliza said despairingly, ‘but he refuses to listen. And Aunt Flora says I must go. He is my guardian. I

have no choice in the matter.’ She wondered, yet again, if elopement had crossed Grayson’s mind but he said nothing and the dance finished shortly after. Twenty minutes later, having evaded several offers from eager gentlemen to procure refreshments on her behalf, Eliza stood looking forlornly at the buffet. She felt completely out of sorts and was contemplating if it was possible to excuse herself early. Grayson seemed to have disappeared and she was developing a slight headache, thanks to the heat of the room and the crush of people. She was looking for a glass of cold ratafia, but the press of bodies was daunting. When a light touch fell on her shoulder, she turned to look, dreading the need to make polite conversation when all she wanted was a little quiet and a place to think. She was completely taken aback to see Lord Carlton standing there, eyeing her with quizzical amusement. He was very tall… she had not realized that before and she was forced to tilt her head back to look into his face. A small, unexpected thrill ran through her at the sight of him, disconcerting her. He was dressed in a dark brown jacket, biscuit colored breeches and a plain black waistcoat; he looked, it must be admitted, rather fine. ‘My dear Miss. Percival, you appear to be in a dream.’ Eliza struggled to find her tongue, annoyed that, once again, he seemed to have her at a disadvantage. ‘What are you doing here?’ An eyebrow went up, a quirk with which she was fast

becoming familiar. It happened every time she uttered something he considered churlish. ‘I was invited. How delightful it is to see you, too.’ Eliza flushed. ‘Well I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you.’ ‘I’m honored, of course.’ ‘Don’t be! It’s a serious discussion about what you said to Grayson today.’ Carlton looked down at her with a smile. ‘Oh? Has Mr. Henry a complaint about my behavior this afternoon? I thought I acted with perfect civility.’ ‘Yes, well, I’m sure you did.’ Certainly, Grayson had not mentioned that Carlton had been unpleasant. ‘But that’s not what I meant. You said we were to go to London for a few weeks but now, it seems, we are not to return until the season finishes in August!’ ‘Actually,’ Carlton corrected her, ‘I said that a few weeks would knock the rough edges off you. I did not say how long you should remain there. But, surely, there’s no point in going up for so short a period. Clearly, with the amount of clothing your aunt considers necessary, she must be of the same opinion.’ Eliza stared up at Carlton, frustrated. ‘But I do not want to be in London for so long.’ ‘The time will fly by,’ he assured her, those gray eyes glinting. ‘And I am sure Bath will be waiting for you upon your return. Or will you be returning to Suffolk?’ ‘I… I don’t know.’ How could she? She had thought she would be planning her marriage to Grayson by the end

of the Season. If anything, she would be going to Taunton, where Grayson had a (perfectly respectable) house. ‘Plenty of time to work it out,’ his lordship murmured. ‘Now… what can I get you to drink? Some ratafia?’ ‘I can manage, thank-you.’ Eliza was cross with her guardian despite the fact that he had not actually done anything. Actually, the fact that he had not done anything had annoyed her even more. In her more rational moments, Eliza had to admit the man was behaving with surprising generosity. More than a few of her friends at the picnic had been envious that she was to go up to London. She knew most girls would be thrilled by the prospect of a Season in London, even if it was an abbreviated one, especially as Aunt Flora had mentioned that Carlton had one of the finest houses in Mayfair. ‘Nonsense. I insist on cooling those warm cheeks.’ ‘Oh,’ she said, half turning away from him, ‘you’re impossible!’ ‘And you’re tired and hungry,’ he returned quietly. Taking her elbow, he led her to a quiet corner that managed to enjoy a slight breeze, thanks to the partially open window behind it. It was exactly what Eliza had been craving – of course – and she sat with bad grace. Did the man never do anything wrong? Despite her protestations, Carlton insisted on collecting refreshments for her, as there was such a crush around the table. Eliza watched his broad, retreating back with simmering resentment. Naturally, the crowd of people seemed to melt away when he approached. She noticed

how Lady Bellingham stopped to have a word, laughing at something he had said and she never laughed at anything. At least, Eliza had certainly never seen her do so. She was great good friends with Lady Sternham, that pillar of propriety, but she simpered up at Carlton as if she were some schoolroom miss. And she wasn’t the only one. Eliza had heard the term that the entire world loves a rake and so it seemed to be with Carlton. Girls who she knew to generally behave with complete propriety flirted behind their fans with him; going out of their way to throw themselves in his path even thought it was not the done thing to talk to a gentleman unless the proper introductions had been made. Whatever magic he wielded over the assembled company, making them smile or give way or stop to speak to him, it appeared unconscious, as natural to him as breathing. Eliza leaned back in her chair and watched in disgust as the room rearranged itself around Lord Julius Carlton. He returned with a full plate and a cold glass, but instead of sitting beside her, which would have been extremely irritating, he gave her a bow and excused himself, which irritated her even more. She only glimpsed him occasionally after that. It wasn’t until the last dance of the night, a waltz, which was making a daring appearance in Lady Bellingham’s ballroom despite the fact that it had been accepted at Almacks for almost a year, that Eliza met Carlton again. As the dance did not involve changing partners, Grayson always tried to secure her hand as it was an

opportunity to embrace, even if it were but lightly and he had been heading purposefully towards her but somehow, Lord Carlton was there before him. He looked Grayson over thoughtfully and smiled. ‘My dear Mr. Henry. I’m sure you do not mind.’ And he held out his hand towards Eliza. She should not have accepted it. Afterwards, she had no idea why she did. She certainly should not have left poor Grayson standing on the sidelines, his face reflecting equal parts chagrin and frustration. He watched as Carlton swept her onto the dance floor, immediately absorbed by the twirling bodies while the music curled around them like an enchantment. From the moment his arms had encircled her, it had been as if she were in a dream. The waltz was still considered scandalous by some of the more fusty old dowagers, because it allowed for a degree of intimacy between the dancing couples that was not quite considered proper. Until she had danced with Carlton, Eliza had thought that rather ridiculous. But there had been something intoxicating about dancing with one of the more unrepentant rakes in England; the way they moved together, bodies perfectly in step. And all the while she was conscious of his touch; one hand clasping her own, the other resting against her back. His body moved with the easy grace she had come to associate with him, lithe and smooth and he carried her along with him so that they glided effortlessly around the floor. His touch was light, but she was intensely aware of it,

intensely aware of him; the scent of male, the closeness of that hard, lean body… She spent the first few minutes staring at his neck cloth, thoughts in chaos. Did Grayson hold her this close? She could not remember. She could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of her gown, just as she could feel the slow, subtle caress of the hand on her back, light as a feather but sinfully sensuous. Apparently, she had remained silent for too long, staring fixedly ahead, not daring to look up at him. ‘It is a very fine neckcloth, I will admit,’ There was a hint of laughter in his voice. ‘But I would very much like it if you’d look at me Eliza.’ The request made her lift her eyes quickly; his face was so close! ‘I am concentrating on my dance steps!’ Oh, why did she sound so breathless? ‘You are competent,’ he assured her, ‘but I think we need to practice a little to make you truly shine.’ ‘Practice?’ ‘Your dancing. Like all things that are worth doing well, it takes practice. I would be happy to teach you.’ Innocuous words. Why, then, did Eliza feel as if he were talking about something else entirely? After staring at his neckcloth, she now found herself wanting to stare at his mouth. Well shaped and firm, there was a hint of the sensual about it. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

I do not even like this man!

‘Do you forgive me for cutting out your faithful swain?’ ‘My faithful…?’ ‘The worthy Mr. Henry.’ Eliza bit her lip. She was woolly headed, unable to keep up. ‘It was very rude of you.’ ‘Truly. But he had already danced with you tonight, whereas I had not had the pleasure. And while I am sure I am no Grayson Henry, I hope that I do not disappoint as a partner.’ Disappoint? Oh, really, he was playing with her. He must know that he was an excellent dancer. ‘I’m sure Grayson will understand.’ ‘Really? I doubt I would, but then, I would never have let you be taken from me in the first place.’ The words were unexpected and they started a slow burn of heat in the pit of her stomach. Eliza had no idea what was happening to her but she suspected he knew and the knowledge made her feel exposed and vulnerable. ‘I believe you’re behaving badly, my lord, which even you must know is most discourteous when one is trapped on the dance floor.’ ‘I have a habit of behaving badly,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps you should teach me how to mind my manners.’ The words teased her, a low, smoky rumble stoking the fire within a little bit more. ‘While there is a lot a man like me can teach you, I’m sure that you could educate me in all manner of things.’ What did he mean? Eliza searched his face, trying to interpret his words. ‘I doubt anybody could teach anything,

my lord,’ she said quietly, after a moment, ‘you seem to have a great deal of knowledge about the world that is a mystery to me.’ Something flickered in his eyes and she saw a swift blaze that was strangely exhilarating, yet terrifying at the same time. ‘Sometimes a mystery should be explored, Eliza.’ That voice, smoky rough and darkly seductive. Suddenly, it felt as if they were the only two people on the dance floor, locked in a moment that was so intimate something deep inside Eliza shivered with anticipation. She was scared of him, scared of what he could do to her. But more than that, she was scared of herself and her body’s intense reaction to him. Somehow, they had drifted closer, the bodice of her gown grazing his coat, causing the sensitized nipples beneath to pucker and tingle. Her entire body felt as if it were clenched, waiting for something more and her footsteps faltered… …to be smoothly picked up by Carlton, who held her a little tighter as he guided her around the floor without a misstep. His breath was warm against her ear, ‘be careful, little one.’ Careful… but taking care around Lord Carlton was proving to be very difficult, especially when caught up in the waltz. With his arms around her, his voice a husky drawl in her ear, Eliza had no trouble understanding how some unfortunate could forget everything, just to taste what that voice and those hands, were promising…

The dance finished and a part of her regretted it. She had felt dazed; lightheaded, almost, and vaguely knew that she had just experienced a master of seduction at work. It was not until she’d returned home and was in the privacy of her bedchamber that anger had taken over, burning away her uncomfortable feelings of shameful arousal. Eliza lay fuming in her bed and cursed herself for her foolishness. She had no idea what Carlton had thought he was doing, but it was clear that he was wicked through and through, for what kind of man flirted so outrageously with his ward? No, she thought, turning over in the bed and pummeling the pillows for the third time in as many minutes. If Carlton thought she was the kind of girl he could play those kinds of games with, he could think again. She loved Grayson and they were going to be married. And they were going to be very happy together. One dance, no matter how disturbing, was just that; a dance. And Lord Julius Carlton was the very devil himself!

What had possessed him? Carlton sat before the fire in his library, nursing a glass of Madeira while he tried very hard not to remember how a pair of velvety, pansy eyes had stared up at him, startled and uneasy. Her full, pink lips had been slightly parted, an invitation that most men would have been hard pressed to ignore, while her body, so close to his own, had been even harder to resist. There was no doubt that little

Eliza was enchanting and, gazing down at her face, he had been unexpectedly stirred by all that... innocence. Which was odd because Carlton’s taste did not run to ingenuous young misses, no matter how alluring they were. He had not really set out to flirt with Eliza, but when he had seen her irksome suitor heading towards her, devilment had prompted him to intervene and claim the last dance for himself. His interview with Mr. Henry had been unexceptional – clearly, the young man had been keen to impress Carlton with what an excellent husband he would make - but Carlton had managed to remain unimpressed. There was something about Mr. Grayson Henry that his lordship did not care for. By the time Henry had left, Carlton had already decided to have his secretary investigate the young man’s financial affairs. Eliza was old enough to marry – of that there was no doubt – but she came with a tidy little fortune and he would be remiss in his duties if he did not take a closer look at the pretty milksop she had decided to marry. Holding his glass up to the firelight, he swirled the golden liquid inside it absently. It seemed that everything he had done since arriving in Bath was uncharacteristic, from offering to put up his two wards for what was left of the Season, to going to that dreary soiree of Lady Bellingham’s. His usual entertainments were more along the lines of card parties, hunting parties and adult parties, to which girls like Eliza Percival were never invited. Yet in the past forty-eight hours he had behaved with singular respectability.

Carlton sighed as the clock chimed two. He was notorious for seeing the dawn in, but retiring seemed like an excellent idea, especially if he was to collect his two wards and a very reluctant Flora Fitzwilliams on the morrow, to begin their journey up to London. He smiled, a twisted quirk of the lips. ‘Much more of this and I’ll be taking warm milk up to my bed instead of a warm woman.’ But the thought of a warm woman only brought on images of Eliza Percival again and he pushed them ruthlessly away. Rake though he may be, it would not do to sully the girl no matter what his inclinations might be. And he was honest enough to admit that his feelings towards the chit were curiously mixed; he enjoyed being provocative, teasing her until she snapped at him. What he had not bargained for was how she would feel in his arms… ‘Bed, fool,’ he whispered, heading for the door. And pray God that his dreams were as innocent as Miss. Eliza Percival.

Chapter Four

London was a whirlwind of balls, card parties, routs and picnics. As Eliza had been presented to the Prince Regent at his more informal court in Bath, she was able to enjoy an entrée into London Society immediately and it swallowed her whole, leaving her breathless. She had thought Bath to be an endless round of gaiety but it was nothing compared to what was waiting for her in the capital. Lord Carlton had arranged his very comfortable coach for the trip to London, providing them with refreshments to ensure the journey was as pleasant as possible. Even Aunt Flora had reluctantly admitted that Carlton did not stint on anything and he had put himself out to be perfectly amiable; barely responding to her jibes, which annoyed her to an unreasonable degree. As he and Edward had ridden beside them for the most part, Eliza had had plenty of time to contemplate the man’s fine profile; a little too much time. Even so late in the Season, she proved to be something of a hit. She was a modest heiress with a pretty face, which would have made her acceptable even if it weren’t for the fact that she was Lord Carlton’s ward. Eliza suspected that her guardian’s reputation and his elusive nature generated more good will from Society’s

hostesses than their desire to welcome a green girl from Bath. Carlton might not be the most scandalous rake around, but he was interesting enough to provide hours of speculation for the social gossips. In the past he had rarely put in an appearance at Almacks, but his sudden willingness to squire his young wards around – particularly the pretty Miss. Percival – set tongues a wagging and the invitations poured in. Truthfully, Eliza had never been so busy. But busy as she was, she never could quite shake the tangle of emotions that one man continued to rouse within her. Not that she could blame Carlton for her ongoing confusion, not really. The man had done his best to ensure his two wards enjoyed a smooth integration into Society. Not only had he taken her to a dizzying number of social events but he had also arranged for her brother to be outfitted by Weston, which had promoted his lordship to the status of demigod in Edward Percival’s eyes. Edward was delighted to be spending time in the capital and had managed to find himself likeminded friends, who took him off to all manner of absurd pursuits on a regular basis. ‘He should be here squiring you about,’ Aunt Flora had sniffed upon hearing that her nephew had disappeared for three days with friends, ‘not going off with boys that have no more sense than he does.’ ‘There’s no harm in it. Besides, he hates going to dances.’ ‘Never the less… he has a responsibility towards you.’ ‘Carlton doesn’t seem to mind taking me about.’ Eliza

said doubtfully. Aunt Flora had frowned. ‘No; and that I find most peculiar!’ Peculiar or not, Carlton seemed determined to be obliging, offering his household and his services without reservation. And Eliza was forced to admit that, no matter what the occasion, he managed to look perfectly at home, elegant and charming with a slightly amused aura that frequently made her feel like hitting him. Increasingly, she found herself wanting to ruffle those perfect feathers just to see if she could. There had been no hint of anything inappropriate in his behavior towards her since the night of the cotillion. Naturally, Eliza had been relieved. His lordship maintained a remoteness that only disappeared when they were engaged in one of their frequent heated interchanges. Occasionally, she caught him looking at her with an expression on his face Eliza could not interpret, but it was always gone so quickly that she was left wondering if she had imagined it. After nearly three weeks in London, she was just preparing to go Covent Gardens on an outing with some friends when a maid knocked on the door. ‘Excuse me, Miss, a visitor has come to call.’ The girl held out a card. Eliza took it and her heart fluttered when she read the name engraved there. Grayson was here! A pang of guilt closely followed the flutter, for, while she had naturally written to him on a regular basis, in the past week she had

barely spared him a thought. ‘Tell him I’ll be right down, Polly.’ Crossing to the bed, she seized a light half cape and her gloves and then hurried downstairs. Grayson was in the green drawing room, standing before the window overlooking the street below, but he turned at the sound of the door and she paused, regarding him with a renewed sense of wonder. The light behind him turned his hair into a corona of spun gold, while his face looked as if it had been etched from alabaster. Could she have really forgotten for a moment what a fine looking man he was? Throwing her cloak and gloves onto a chair, Eliza hurried forward, hands outstretched. ‘Grayson! How wonderful!’ The slightly sulky set to his mouth lifted a little at this and he took her hands in his, kissing each one in turn. ‘Eliza! I was so hoping to find you home.’ ‘I’m supposed to be going out, but it is no matter. Oh, Grayson, this is wonderful! How long are you staying?’ He smiled. ‘The remainder of the Season if necessary. A friend of mine in Gilbert Street has taken me in.’ He moved a little closer, arms slipping around her. ‘Are you truly happy to see me, my love? I thought, with all of the gaieties you must have been indulging in, you might have forgotten me.’ Another pang pierced Eliza, making her return his embrace with extra fervor. ‘Of course I’ve missed you! It’s been dreadful.’ A white lie but she could almost believe it wholeheartedly while Grayson’s arms were around her.

Bending his head, he kissed her with an urgency that was flattering, if just a little stifling. She and Grayson had been affectionate with each other before and she had always enjoyed his caresses, but she still felt a little uncomfortable with his ardor. When Grayson raised his head, his face was flushed. ‘Come away with me, sweetheart,’ he murmured, ‘I’ve missed you so much. Bath is empty without you. Let us end this torture.’ Eliza stared up at him with wide eyes. ‘Grayson! What are you saying?’ ‘I think you know. Please, Eliza. This waiting will be the death of me.’ ‘Are you suggesting that we elope?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.’ He held both her hands in his own, blue eyes fixed on her face imploringly. ‘Truly, we are destined to be together and we will have such a wonderful life. I will take care of you my darling, you know I will.’ ‘Yes but… but I will be back home again in five weeks and then we can… we can post the bans and get married in the usual way.’ ‘I do not want to wait!’ Grayson pulled her against him. ‘Please, my love. There is no guarantee that Carlton will say yes when you return. He does not like me. I know it. I can sense it. Only come away with me and we can be man and wife within the week.’ He was talking about Gretna Green, of course. It lay a good three days ride away at the Scottish border. Despite

the fact that Eliza herself had considered this option only a few short weeks before, she was strangely reluctant to agree to the suggestion now. And surely he was exaggerating? Carlton had never suggested that he might not give his consent to their marriage. ‘I don’t know…’ ‘But… why?’ Grayson stepped back a little, his expression hurt. ‘Have you stopped loving me, Eliza?’ ‘Of course not.’ ‘Then prove it. Come away with me. Pack up a valise now and we will leave immediately. Or tonight, if you prefer it. Only say that you will come with me -’ ‘Do you think it quite the thing for a young gentleman to be holding an unmarried female’s hand in her guardian’s house? And all without the presence of a chaperone?’ The lazy voice behind them brought them apart in a flash. They turned, flushed with guilt, to find Carlton leaning against the door jam, his expression bland. He looked the picture of nonchalance, but Eliza was not deceived; she had come to recognize the subtle nuances that made up this man’s body language. My Lord Carlton was not amused. ‘Sir!’ Grayson stepped forward immediately. ‘I apologize, but I was so eager to see Miss. Percival that I forgot myself.’ ‘Yes. You did, didn’t you?’ Carlton straightened and walked into the room. His eyes flickered to Eliza’s face before returning to regard Grayson Henry. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure, Mr. Henry?’

Eliza’s thoughts were racing. How much had he heard? She felt mortified at being discovered like this, but she had not realized her guardian was home. ‘I have just arrived in town, Sir. I know I should have left a card and then called back -’ ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ ‘ – but I was anxious to see Eliza. It has been three weeks. I am sure you can understand the natural inclinations of a man who… who holds someone in such high regard.’ ‘Generally, men who hold women in high regard observe the social niceties. But I’m willing to allow that you might not know what they are, so I’m prepared to let you try again. Leave your card in the hall on the way out.’ This was so clearly a dismissal that Grayson had no option but to leave. He turned to Eliza, his expression speaking volumes. ‘My apologies, Miss. Percival. I look forward to our next meeting.’ And he walked stiffly from the room. There was a small silence after he had gone, then Eliza took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Must you have been so… so horrid? You’ve made poor Grayson feel dreadful.’ ‘So he should.’ Eliza was not used to that hard note in her guardian’s voice. Somehow, he had shed his habitual air of lazy indifference and she wasn’t at all sure that she cared for the man who was standing before her. ‘The young fool needs to learn some manners.’ ‘That’s ridiculous and you know it. I have often entertained Grayson unsupervised at my aunt’s house.’ It

was an exaggeration, of course. She had seen Grayson alone, but they had not been left that way for long. ‘Then your aunt is more of a fool than I took her to be,’ he replied tersely. ‘Good God, Eliza, do you not realize how easily it is for a woman to be ruined? One wrong word, one ill-advised meeting and her credibility is gone.’ ‘Nonsense.’ She felt her anger rising, incensed that he had chosen to adopt such an attitude. Him, of all people! ‘Besides, Grayson and I are to be married. Surely under such circumstances those rules do not apply.’ ‘There is no certainty that you will be marrying Grayson Henry,’ his lordship returned coolly. ‘My investigations into his financial state are not complete.’ ‘Your investigations… how dare you do such a thing! Grayson is the best of men, the kindest of men! Do you think he is after my money?’ Eliza glared at him. ‘Grayson loves me. He does not care for my money.’ ‘Five thousand pounds a year can make a man very romantic.’ Carlton bit back. ‘I am far from sure that Grayson Henry would make you a suitable husband and I have no intention of giving my permission prematurely.’ It was like striking a match to tinder and Eliza blazed up in a fury. ‘What makes you an authority on marriage? A rake who curls his lip at the very union? A man like you could not possibly understand how two people in love must feel and I will not stand here and let you suggest such dreadful things about poor Grayson! You are without a doubt the most insufferable, infuriating, annoying man…’

Words had failed her. She was so angry that she wanted to cry and she would not do so in front of Carlton, not for the world. Instead, she fled the room, running upstairs and locking the door before she flung herself onto the bed and succumbed to the tears that would not hold back any longer. And the worst thing was, as she cried into her pillow, that she did not quite know what she was crying for. Only that something, somewhere, was very, very wrong. And that Carlton was the man responsible. It was a cold morning, so she was glad that she had brought a warm cloak. Closing the door quietly behind her, Eliza hurried down the street. Grayson said he would have a vehicle waiting and, sure enough, when she rounded the corner, she saw a shabby brougham waiting at the curb with Grayson standing at the horses’ heads. When a letter had been delivered to her room during the evening, as Eliza had been too emotionally exhausted to face anybody, she opened it and had immediately recognized the script. Grayson would be waiting for her just after dawn; if she loved him, she would go away with him. It was as simple as that. Eliza had spent several hours desperately trying to decide what to do. She was still stinging from Carlton’s uncharacteristic attack and the knowledge that he so distrusted Grayson that he was having his affairs

investigated. Did he intend to do that with every suitor who might be interested in her? Or was it just Grayson Henry to whom he had taken such a dislike. It was all so unfair. Sick of pacing the room and her own indecision, Eliza had packed a valise at ten and tried to get some sleep. Now she was on her way to becoming Mrs. Grayson Henry and her stomach lurched uneasily. Much as she loved Grayson – and believed her guardian to be wrong – this did not feel right. None the less, she put on a smile when she saw him and he gave her a dazzling one in return. ‘Eliza! Thank God you came!’ She accepted his kiss, shivering with a mixture of the chill air and nerves. ‘Of course I came. How could I not?’ Despite her decision to elope, Eliza could not help but wish he would change his mind, suggest another way that they could be together. Had they really petitioned her guardian enough? Surely if they tried hard enough, they could convince him that Grayson was more than worthy of her hand. Carlton had shown himself to be perfectly reasonable over the past few weeks. Remembering her guardian’s reaction the day before made her realize how hopeless such thoughts were. As far as Grayson was concerned, his lordship would never change his mind. And Carlton was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. He knows nothing about love and even less about commitment, she thought bitterly and her resolve to go ahead hardened. Grayson handed her into the brougham, tucking a rug around her solicitously. ‘We will stop at the first respectable

inn, my love, so you can partake of some breakfast.’ ‘Do you think we should?’ What if they were followed? ‘Of course.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Everything will be fine, I promise you. Tonight we shall stop in Leicester and tomorrow night in Harrogate. And the night after…’ he raised her hand to his lips, ‘sweet Eliza, we shall finally be man and wife!’ She managed a wan smile, but was almost grateful when he closed the door and climbed up onto the driver’s seat. In an instant, they were off and Eliza had settled back into her seat, wishing that the dull feeling of dread that had settled like a heavy weight inside her would disappear. This was meant to be the beginning of her future and yet she could not shake off the sense that she was behaving like a rash fool. If only there had been another way…

If only Carlton had not taken such a highhanded attitude! By five o’clock, when they had finally arrived in Leicester, Eliza was heartily sick of travelling and her own company. Even Grayson seemed subdued as they entered the Four Sparrows, seeking rooms for the night. Fortunately, there were bedchambers available, along with a private dining room, which meant that at least they would not have to brave the public one. Eliza would have happily foresworn food all together and retired early to bed, but Grayson wanted to dine with her and she did not have the strength to argue. It was not until after the serving girl had laid out their

meal that Grayson leaned across the table, taking her hand in his. ‘My love, what is it? You have hardly spoken.’ ‘I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.’ ‘I understand.’ He looked so handsome in the candlelight. Eliza suppressed a sigh, wondering what Aunt Flora would make of the note that she had left. Would she have told Carlton? And if he knew, would he do anything to stop her? A quiver of hope and dread shot through her, so startling that she almost exclaimed aloud. Did she want Carlton to find her? ‘You must be tired yourself,’ she managed, playing with the boiled venison on her plate, ‘you’ve been driving all day.’ ‘A night’s sleep will set me right, but bless you, just the same.’ He sat back in his chair and smiled at her. ‘You know, we really did not need to take two rooms for the night.’ It took a moment before she caught his meaning and she looked at him quickly. Could he be suggesting…? But why not? Why should she find the idea of sharing a bed with the man she would be married to by the end of the week so shocking? ‘Grayson, I -’ ‘Just the two of us,’ his voice had dropped. ‘It will be as if we were already married.’ Except they weren’t. Eliza stared at Grayson and knew, in that moment, that she had made a mistake of monumental proportions. Somewhere along the way in the past three weeks, something had changed. She did not want to share a bed with Grayson tonight and she did not

want to marry him the day after tomorrow. All she really wanted to do, she realized, with a sickening jolt of dismay, was to go back to London.

Oh, what an idiot I am! Grayson was looking at her and she looked back at him, her mouth dry, trying to find the words that would set this right. But what could she say? And truthfully, wasn’t it too late to go home? Carlton was right; Society was quick to judge those who threw the rules away and she had run off with Grayson, heading for an elopement, which would put her beyond the pale. She could not return to London; she could not return to Bath, either, for word would spread of her foolishness and she would find herself ostracized there as well. ‘Eliza?’ Grayson whispered. Unlike Carlton, he had not quite mastered the fine art of seducing with a word. As she hesitated over what she should say, both of them heard the rapid approach of boots in the hallway beyond and the door was flung rudely open. Once again, Carlton stood on the threshold and, once again, he had lost that air of sleepy indolence. His eyes swept the room, coming to rest on Eliza, who had risen from the table, white faced and wary. She heard the breath hiss out of him before he advanced, closing the door behind him with the heel of his boot. Grayson had also risen and was staring at Carlton as if he were the devil incarnate. With his cloak flung over one shoulder, hand on his sword hilt, he looked dangerously ready to strike and the atmosphere in the small room

crackled with tension. ‘Has he touched you?’ he demanded, voice like ice. ‘W-what are you -’ ‘Has he touched you?’ She quailed beneath the tone, shrinking backwards. Carlton was furious! ‘No, he has not! What are you doing here?’ ‘Gather your things.’ When she made no move, simply continuing to stare at him, he drew a deep breath, clearly fighting for patience. ‘I am not here to argue about this, Eliza. Get your things now. We are returning to London immediately.’ ‘How dare you!’ Grayson protested. ‘Miss. Percival is on her way to becoming my wife.’ Carlton turned to face him, a murderous glitter in his eyes. ‘I think not. You would be best to return to Taunton and remain there, Mr. Henry. If I find you in London again, I may be forced to do something you will regret.’ ‘I don’t think so. A subtle shift had come over Grayson’s face. It was as if some of the golden glow that usually surrounded him had suddenly tarnished. ‘Not if you wish to preserve your ward’s reputation, my lord. Eliza must marry me. She has been alone in my company for some time. Her reputation depends on our union.’ Eliza turned her eyes on him incredulously. ‘Grayson!’ ‘I believe you have miscalculated. And as of now, there is a new arrangement.’ Suddenly, the cool and calculating Carlton was back. He eyed Grayson much as a

python would eye any small, furry creature. ‘You will be the one leaving tonight. Miss. Percival is tired and further travel would exhaust her unnecessarily. There is another inn not half a mile from here; I suggest you find a room there.’ Grayson frowned. ‘I have no intention of going anywhere.’ ‘Indeed?’ Suddenly, the younger man became aware of Carlton’s sword. The menace that had been lurking in the room amplified, becoming palpable. ‘I…’ Grayson paused, licking his lips. He, too, had a sword, but he knew perfectly well he was no match for a man who had a reputation as one of the finest blades in England. ‘Damn it, do you want your ward to be ruined?’ ‘I think you can safely leave Miss. Percival’s welfare – and her reputation - to me. Unless you wish to be holed like a sieve, leave now. And for your continued good health, I suggest you forget this day ever happened. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and stick you like the cur you are.’ Carlton’s voice was implacable and Grayson, after a moment’s hesitation, pushed past the man and headed for the door. He did not once look in Eliza’s direction. His departure seemed to leave a void behind. Eliza wanted to be anywhere but in that room, with a man who must surely think she was the greatest fool imaginable. For once, she could not think of anything to say and the silence stretched between them, achingly uncomfortable. After what seemed like forever, Carlton sighed, moving forward. Taking her chin between his fingers, he

lifted it so that she was forced to look at him. His great, dark eyes swam with tears and his mouth twisted. ‘If I had told you he was a scoundrel, you would not have listened. But believe me, Eliza; it takes one to recognize another.’ Her lips quivered but she was trying very hard not to cry. ‘How did you find us?’ He shrugged. ‘A man like Henry is predictable. This was the only second inn that I visited.’ ‘But… but how do you come to be here?’ ‘Through good fortune more than anything else. For once, your aunt decided to show some sense. When the note you left was discovered, she came to me immediately. Unfortunately, she was not able to find me straight away and so I did not start out until lunchtime, otherwise I would have overtaken you earlier.’ He was still holding her chin, studying her face intently. ‘Did he touch you Eliza?’ She shook her head, a single tear sliding down her face. ‘He… I thought he truly cared about me. When I realized I had changed my mind I felt dreadful. How could I have been such a fool?’ ‘You changed your mind? Eliza, are you telling me that you did not wish to be here?’ Abruptly, he released her and took a hasty step backwards. ‘I’ll kill him!’ Eliza was aghast. ‘No! No… I hadn’t told him yet. Please; just let him go. I never want to think of that man again.’ He stared at her for a long moment then shook his head. ‘What a pest you are, girl; having me chase you all over the countryside. I should have followed my instincts

from the start and left you to your own devices.’ The words made her tears spill in earnest. ‘Indeed, I have been foolish, but… I did not mean any harm. And now I am ruined. Grayson was right; some things are unforgivable.’ Carlton made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Moving forward, he took her face between his hands. ‘The only thing that is unforgivable, Miss. Percival, is the dreadful wreckage you’ve made of my life in the past four weeks. I daresay I shall be picking up the pieces for years. Now stay still. I’m going to kiss you and I want your full attention, for once.’ And then his head came down, his mouth taking her own with a hard, driving need, claiming her with a ruthless urgency that would have been shocking if she had not been so desperate for it. Eliza met the onslaught, melting into him, discovering a hunger she had never dreamed existed. It felt like forever before he raised his head, looking down at her with eyes that had been glazed into darkness. ‘By God, girl,’ he whispered, ‘you will be my undoing.’ ‘I hope so,’ she replied, the words breathless, ‘because you are certainly going to be mine…’ His head descended to take possession of her lips again, but he stopped abruptly when there was a knock at the door. ‘What now?’ It was the serving maid, come to see if they had finished with their meal. Both Carlton and Eliza waited as she stacked the tray with crockery, Carlton, scarcely

concealing his impatience and Eliza expecting her heart to have been heard in the taproom below. She did not know how this state of affairs had come about, but it seemed that, unless she was a great deal greener than she had thought, she was in immediate danger of being seduced by a rake. Eliza tried to give this the impartial examination it deserved, but found it impossible; the man who was standing so close beside her demanded too much of her attention. She could not think of anything but how wonderful it had been to be kissed by him. And how badly she wanted him to kiss her again… The moment they were alone together once more, Carlton turned to her. ‘I assume that fool Henry arranged for rooms for the night?’ She nodded, eyes fixed on his face. How could she ever have thought Grayson’s looks surpassed this man’s? He was everything any discerning female could want. She certainly found herself wanting him. Her body was on fire. ‘My room is two doors down.’ Silently, he took her elbow and guided her into the welcome privacy of her bedchamber. With cool deliberation, he locked the door then settled them both on the side of the bed. ‘I am not in the habit of seducing innocent girls,’ he began. ‘Oh? I thought that was one of your particular habits. But perhaps it is one you could acquire now?’ He gave her an exasperated look. ‘Be silent! I am

trying to focus and you are making it extraordinarily difficult.’ She was, too, her hand having slipped beneath his jacket to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. ‘Eliza, I do not wish to hurt you.’ ‘I’m sure you will be very gentle.’ ‘Damn it, girl, I am trying to talk to you!’ ‘I’ve noticed that. Honestly, Carlton, I can think of far better things that we could be doing right now other than talking.’ ‘Now wait a minute,’ he seized her hands in his own, holding them still. ‘Eliza, I am trying to tell you that this is not simply a matter of seduction.’ ‘It’s not a seduction at all,’ she retorted frankly, you keep talking.’ So many nights over the past few weeks she had spent trying not to think of him. And then, when she had managed to sleep, she had dreamed about him, waking with a vague longing that was like a hole somewhere deep inside. She had clung to the delusion that she loved Grayson, because the alternative – that she might possibly have fallen in love with her guardian – was unthinkable. ‘I am trying to ask you to marry me, you hussy!’ he exclaimed, a thread of laughter lacing his voice, ‘but now I am wondering if I should marry such a shameless woman.’ She went still, staring at him with wide, wondering eyes. ‘You want to marry me?’ ‘Good God, Eliza, of course I do. With all my heart. Although,’ he added wryly, ‘perhaps I should rethink it. You seem to me to be altogether too brazen to make any man a

decent wife.’ ‘Oh, but you do not want a decent wife,’ she assured him, hands wriggling free to recommence their exploration, ‘you want one who will keep you home at night, who will entertain you and understand your peculiar ways and… and make you laugh.’ ‘Oh, you do make me laugh,’ his voice had roughened, growing deeper. His fingers brushed back a dark, glossy lock of Eliza’s hair. ‘I tried, Eliza. I cannot think of a more unsuitable match for you than me, not even that young fool, Henry. But some things cannot be avoided and it seems I am far too selfish to do without what I desire the most...’ This time, his kiss led to so much more. Clothing fell away, material whispering to the floor as they stripped each other bare. His knowing hands moved across her body, stroking her breasts until the nipples puckered with wicked delight. His mouth followed his fingers’ caress, making Eliza gasp. She struggled not to lose her way, wanting to study his hard, well-muscled body. She absorbed the sight of him. He was all shadow and flame, the firelight playing across the smooth planes, revealing secrets that took her breath away. Had she ever really thought of him as old? He was a perfect physical specimen and, she thought, with shameless delight, tonight he belonged to her. They tumbled back onto the bed, bodies sliding together briefly, then breaking apart to recommence their intimate exploration. Eliza had never imagined such

delicious pleasure, but Carlton had a shaman’s hands and they wove magic though every nerve end she possessed. When they found the warm, sweetness between her legs she gasped, eyes flying open in startled surprise. ‘Oh!’ His soft laugh was as wicked as the delicate, knowing touch of his fingers. Eliza felt an exquisite pressure build to an explosion and suddenly the world was subsumed by a cascade of ecstasy so intense that she momentarily lost all sense of time and place. Sensation exploded within her, a burst of sunlight that subsided slowly, leaving her drifting in bliss. She had not thought that anything could match what her body had just endured but then Carlton slid over her and she opened dazzled eyes to find him positioning himself between her legs. Instinct made her part them wider and the world began to spiral out of control once again as he pushed his long, hard length into her. He moved slowly, easing his way to the crux of her innocence, which fell before the onslaught with no more than one sharp pang. Then, incredibly, the wave began to build once more as he began to move, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, faster and faster as they both climbed towards eternity. His release matched hers and Eliza felt as if the world had turned itself inside out, shaken and re-shaken to form an entirely different landscape. One in which Lord Carlton’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her, tethering her firmly against him. A sensible move; Eliza felt as if she might float away. They lay in silence for some time, both catching their

breath. Carlton tucked the top of Eliza’s head beneath his chin and held her close while they caught their breath. ‘I am unmanned,’ he murmured, after a time. ‘I have wanted that for too long, I think. Later, we will try again, when I have mastered myself a little.’ ‘How lovely.’ Eliza said sleepily. ‘Tell me, if you please; when did you decide that you wanted me? ‘When did I first meet you?’ ‘Four weeks ago.’ ‘There you are, then.’ His fingertip traced lazy patterns down the length of her back, which was still damp with perspiration. ‘I did not care for you at all.’ Eliza said, a trifle smugly. Her body was humming in the aftermath, glowing like an ember on the fire. ‘Not until the night of Lady Bellingham’s cotillion.’ ‘I would dispute that, but I’m loathed to start our future off with you thinking me perverse.’ ‘You are perverse. I find it an attractive quality.’ ‘Life with you will never be dull, dear heart.’ He stroked her hair back from her face and smiled. ‘Poor Eliza, married to a rake. Everybody will pity you.’ ‘More like envy me,’ she retorted, raising her head to look into his eyes. ‘Every girl secretly desires a rake, no matter what their mothers’ might say to the contrary. I do not know how you are going to manage reinstating my respectability, my lord. But if it does not take, I am prepared to live in shame with you.’

‘Wicked woman,’ he whispered. ‘From this night on, you have no choice but to live with me, for I cannot countenance life without you beside me. You have my heart and I claim you for my own, Eliza Percival. And may God have mercy on my soul!’

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