Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutantes Book 1) Page 3

  He took the drink from her hand and set it on a nearby pedestal. Without waiting for an answer, he led her onto the dance floor. The positioning of the other dancers signified a waltz.

  Stephen hadn’t danced the intimate steps since he’d left London.

  He took one of her hands in his and placed his other on the small of her back. For all her anger, for all her resentment, she seemed amazingly complacent now.

  Until the music began.

  Stephen felt Lady Kensington stiffen. Her breathing quickened, and her hand grasped his so tightly that her knuckles turned white. At first, he wondered if she did not know the steps to the dance. But of course, she would! What debutante would not? Was she merely being perverse? Would she set out to embarrass him, to get back at Flavion somehow?

  For her legs moved woodenly, showing no grace or skill whatsoever.

  But then he saw her face. Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes were pinched shut.

  This had nothing to do with anger, or revenge. She was terrified of something. Of him? He didn’t think so.

  Of enjoying herself? Of allowing her anger to desert her for even a moment? Of surrendering herself to even a dance? Instinctively, he pulled her closer to him.

  He could not help but smile down at her. He shrugged. “It’s only a dance, my lady.” At that, she let out a deep breath.

  “Of course,” she said.

  And then she finally relaxed into him so that he could get her feet moving synchronously with his.

  The tops of his thighs brushed against hers. He breathed in and caught the freshness of her soap and perfume — citrus and something floral. He could not quite identify it. She looked up at him, and in her gaze, he saw a multitude of emotion.

  Flave was in big trouble.

  He’d swindled one of England’s most powerful men and then gone on to cause deep hurt to the man’s daughter. She’d been a trusting innocent, and Flave… well, Flave had been a bastard. Which ought not to surprise Stephen. Flave could be merciless when he wanted something. Stephen knew this first hand.

  Releasing his hold only slightly, Stephen allowed a little more space to open up between himself and his cousin’s wife. He needed her to be comfortable. He needed her to trust him. Surely, she had sent word of Flave’s villainy to her father. Flave would need her to recant her complaints to avoid Thomas Findlay’s wrath.

  Stephen twirled her around a few times, not too much though. For he’d wager that the glass of champagne he’d removed from her hand had not been her first. Once confident she would not stumble, he spoke again.

  “Flave’s a lucky man,” he said.

  At this, she looked up at him and rolled her eyes again. Oh, hell, but she was a delight.

  She would not be susceptible to flattery. Clever girl. Even three sheets to the wind, she’d learned her lesson well with Flave.

  But he needed her to trust him. He quickly surmised the best way to do this called for drastic measures. He would attempt some honesty.

  Stephen waited a few moments and then tried again. “I am acquainted with your father. I was unaware until tonight, however, that he had a daughter.”

  Lady Kensington frowned. “How would you know him? My father is not an aristocrat.”

  “I spend most of my time tending to my own business, my lady. I was born into the aristocracy but to the younger son. I do not live an idle life.” Even when he’d lived with his uncle, he’d never approved of the indulgent lifestyle he’d been exposed to. He’d applied his energy toward his studies, and later, his uncle’s business and responsibilities.

  He steered them around another couple and then twirled her again. He had been taught to dance. He was a gentleman, after all, even while buried up to his eyeballs in trade.

  As was her father.

  CECILY CLOSED HER eyes and allowed Flave’s cousin to expertly lead her around the floor. He smelled nice. And beneath her hands he felt firm… solid. Yes, this cousin of her husband would have no need of padding. Apparently, Mr. Nottingham was more different from Flave than one would guess. She couldn’t imagine Flavion actually working. In fact, he had quite expertly mastered the art of playing. “You are in shipping as well? And imports?”

  “Essentially, yes. Your father is one of my toughest competitors. I must admit to you, however, that most of our meetings have not been of an amicable nature.” He paused a moment and then added, “Your father can be an extremely ruthless man.”

  Cecily shrugged. This was not news to her. “My father will not be happy when he learns of Flavion’s treachery.”

  Cecily could sense Mr. Nottingham nodding slowly. “Ah, so you will run to daddy to fix things for you?”

  She stumbled and jerked away before he pulled her close and continued leading them through the steps of the dance. She did not like his implication that she was a weak-willed, dependent little girl. With her father half-a-world away, he could do nothing to help her.

  Perhaps she would take matters into her own hands.

  Not by truly murdering Flavion, of course, but Sophia’s seduction idea — dishonoring Flave so that he’d demand a divorce — was growing more and more attractive. And Mr. Nottingham, well, he was looking more and more seducible. Being held by him was somewhat… comforting. She had to fight the ridiculous urge to lay her head upon his shoulder. Perhaps she’d had a wee bit too much to drink.

  No, as emboldened as she felt, she knew there was no perhaps about it.

  She looked up and studied Mr. Nottingham’s eyes. They were fringed with dark blunt lashes that contrasted with his lighter-colored hair. His face wasn’t perfect, like Flave’s, but this perhaps added to his attractiveness. Emily had the right of it. He was manlier than Flave, more like her father. Was he ruthless like her father, as well?

  Whiskers darkened his strong jaw as though several hours had passed since he’d last shaved. His lips looked firm, but soft. What would it be like to be kissed by this man?

  Could she do it?

  Flavion’s betrayal had changed her forever, shockingly so. Suddenly, she found herself numb to the rules of Society. Painstakingly drilled into her over the past few years, the dictates of the ton held little to no meaning for her now. She no longer cared if she curtseyed properly, ate with the correct utensils or eluded gossips. Apparently, she would shun the imperatives of morality as well.

  How did one go about seducing a gentleman? She was not a practiced courtesan by any means, but Mr. Nottingham, she believed, was not immune to her. On the marriage mart, her looks had never been a problem. Her low birth, her lack of gentility had. Even with a large dowry, most gentlemen had refused to consider her for matrimony.

  Until Flavion.

  He had made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. He’d touched her tenderly, secretly whispered romantic poetry in her ear, and gazed longingly into her eyes.

  She pulled back and looked contemplatively at Mr. Nottingham. He watched her closely. Cecily smiled and tilted her head to the side. “What else would you suggest I do?”

  STEPHEN WAS CAUGHT quite unawares by Lady Kensington’s smile. Years had passed since he’d last danced with a true Englishwoman. There were beautiful women all over the world, but none of them were quite as fresh and wholesome as the women of his own country. And this one was no exception.

  What had he suggested to her? He’d accused her of running to her father to fix things, and she, in turn, had asked what other alternative she had. Ah, yes.

  “Well, firstly, you might consider what you can do to improve the circumstances of your marriage. You are a beautiful woman. Surely you can imagine numerous ways to recapture your husband’s attention?” Something inside him resisted encouraging her thusly, but he persisted nonetheless. “Is it Flavion’s attraction to Miss Cunnington that’s giving you trouble? Well, in the few moments that I’ve had a chance to discuss it with him, it is fleeting, at best. He is no more in love with her than he is in love with—”

  “With me?” Lady Kensi
ngton interrupted before he could complete his sentence.

  “Well, yes, but…” He staved off another interruption with a stern look. “…she is not his wife. She does not have access to his bed every night. You,” he said very pointedly, “do.” He did not consider himself to be telling her an untruth. For he knew of no one more fickle than his cousin.

  Lady Kensington took a deep breath and then let out a considerably heartfelt sigh. “I do comprehend what you are suggesting, but I am afraid that neither of those two things gives me much of an advantage at all.” She looked up into his eyes and pouted. “I, well…”

  “Yes.” Stephen encouraged her to continue. It seemed perhaps he could clean up this mess easier than he’d first thought. If the countess were willing to give Flavion another chance, surely Stephen could convince Flave to treat his wife with some affection and respect. In addition to that, Flave must give up Miss Cunnington, for now at least. A murderous father-in-law ought to be incentive enough for Flavion to adjust his current lifestyle.

  “Mr. Nottingham, Stephen, I am very much afraid that I do not know how to please my husband in… in the boudoir.” Her eyes took on a shining quality, as though they had filled with unshed tears. “I don’t have any idea as to what to do to… well… to satisfy him.”

  Lady Kensington’s words swiftly cut into his train of thought. “Excuse me?” he asked, thinking he had misheard her.

  No respectable lady would make such a confession to a virtual stranger! But… he was not, really. He was her husband’s cousin. He’d made it a point to recognize that they were now family. And yet, they were in a ballroom. Her words could have been overheard by anyone.

  Brushing his shock aside, he focused his attention on contemplating exactly what she was suggesting. All for the greater good of his foolish cousin, once again.

  But no, he had not misheard her. She had openly admitted to a lack of knowledge and experience sexually. Really, she ought to be discussing this with Flavion.

  “I’m sure it would be more befitting of you to discuss this with your husband. Perhaps he simply requires some… encouragement?” he suggested. She ought not to be having this conversation with him. It was far too personal and far too fast for a London ballroom. But it seemed such restrictions were to be discarded tonight between the two of them. He and Lady Kensington had quickly moved beyond any semblance of small talk whatsoever.

  The countess shook her head. “He has no patience with me.” And then she brightened. “Perhaps you could teach me?” she said hopefully. “If you could give me some pointers… then perchance…”

  She trailed off without completing her suggestion. She licked her lips slowly, and he felt an unbidden tightening in his groin. He purposefully shifted his attention to her eyes and considered her words. Her gaze was unreadable, but she appeared quite serious.

  It was a sad shame, but apparently Flavion had convinced this girl that she was not sexually appealing.

  Preposterous!

  What exactly did she want from him? This time it was Stephen who missed a step. After regaining his footing, he studied her intently. “Surely you are not asking me to… tutor you… in the verses of lovemaking?”

  What Lady Kensington needed was somebody to bolster her confidence. If she were more confident in her sensuality, perhaps it would give Flave additional motivation to make something of this marriage. But surely, Stephen was not the person to do so!

  This should not be a problem for any red-blooded male. Cecily Nottingham possessed a very feminine appeal.

  She shrugged prettily. “Perhaps you are the key to saving my marriage.”

  Stephen smelled a rat. Well, he thought he smelled a rat. Hadn’t his first impression of the countess been that she hated her husband? Now, he wasn’t so sure. She appeared to be something of an innocent. Could this be an illusion? He pondered the look of artlessness in her expression. Hmm… perhaps he needed to learn more about the new Lady Kensington. She was Thomas Findlay’s daughter, after all.

  She missed a step, and Stephen pulled her close once again.

  Maybe some experience would benefit the newly married couple. If she had any willingness at all to regain Flavion’s affections, then that was definitely a step in the right direction. Yes, this made the most sense.

  And then the music stopped.

  Stephen held her for just a moment after the music came to a halt and narrowed his eyes at her.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said.

  AFTER MR. NOTTINGHAM returned Cecily to her friends and then disappeared, she could hardly keep herself from shaking. She could not believe what she had done. How had she found the nerve to speak thusly to a virtual stranger? Oh, she ought not to have had that last glass of champagne. Were all of the morals her governess had instilled into her over the past few years gone? Never in her wildest imagination would she ever have thought she would talk to a man so boldly. Oh, God, she felt sick.

  Flavion had done this to her. She leaned into Emily’s ear and whispered, “I need to get out of here… now!”

  Emily did not hesitate, but signaled for both Sophia and Rhoda’s attention.

  “Let’s go outside,” Emily said. “It’s too hot in here.”

  “It’s not that warm,” Sophia said.

  But Rhoda had understood. “No, Soph, it’s too warm. Let’s go onto the terrace. If it is crowded, we can stroll down to the gardens.” She lifted the hem of her dress and led the way. Emily took Cecily’s hand and dragged her behind them. Sophia followed.

  Once outside, Rhoda managed to locate a very private area behind several potted plants.

  “What is it?” Emily asked Cecily, sounding like a schoolteacher. “What did he say to you?”

  Cecily drew in a deep breath and then held up her right hand. “I’m shaking. I cannot believe what I have done, and now look at me. I’m a mess!”

  Rhoda raised her brows and met Emily’s eyes before returning her attention to Cecily. “Blast, Cecily, tell us what you said to him!”

  The three girls waited in silence, none of them willing to miss a single word of what Cecily had to say.

  “At some point, while we were dancing, I sort of, um, decided I would go ahead and follow through with the idea of seducing him, you know? Where I cuckold Flavion and…”

  “Oh, dear,” Sophia said. “Have you arranged a tryst already?”

  Shaking her head, Cecily continued, “Well, when Mr. Nottingham suggested that I ought to use my feminine wiles to try to gain Flavion’s love and save our marriage, I—”

  “Oh, good Lord! That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Emily interrupted. “You aren’t the one who ruined it. In fact, according to Flavion, it wasn’t even meant to be a real marriage to begin with.”

  “I…” Cecily looked at Emily in exasperation. “…I told Mr. Nottingham that I don’t have any feminine wiles. I told him I needed somebody to teach me what to do in…”

  “In…?” Rhoda prompted her.

  “In the marriage bed,” Cecily said and then covered her face with both of her hands. “Oh, my God, I cannot believe I said such a thing to a man I’ve only just met.”

  The three girls reacted similarly. Up until Cecily married, none of them, except for Emily, who had read about it, had had any idea as to what took place between a woman and a man in their marriage bed. When Cecily described her wedding night to the girls, they’d all been both scandalized and intrigued. And now Cecily had discussed it with a man! A man she was considering seducing in order to beget a child!

  Rhoda recovered first. “What did he say?”

  Cecily forced a tremulous smile. “He’d think about it?” She wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

  The girls became quiet again. In the breeze, a hint of cigar smoke floated over from the terrace. This night felt unreal to Cecily. Her life would never be the same again. She suddenly didn’t feel so well. Her head was spinning, and the scent of the cigar smoke caused her stomach to lurch quite omin
ously.

  “Maybe he’d consider a group lesson for all of us.” Rhoda’s eyes danced. “That way we would all know what to do on our wedding nights.”

  “Oh, dear,” Sophia finally said.

  “Well, that’s a step anyway,” Emily stated baldly. “I still think we ought to go ahead and have Flave murdered. Much simpler, not nearly as messy.”

  And on that note, Cecily turned into the hedges and proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach into a carefully tended row of rosebushes.

  Rhoda held her hair away from her face, and Emily attempted to block the spectacle from any would-be onlookers. Sophia patted her on the back soothingly and said, “Not to worry, Cecily. Everything will be fine.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  MUCH LATER THAT night, Stephen reclined into the worn leather chair in the study he’d always associated with his uncle. On this night, however, it was Flavion who sat behind the large oak desk, his handsome face twisted into a scowl. Stephen could not help but be irritated by the general disorganization, evident by the strewn scraps of paper littering the desk and bookshelves behind it.

  “I might have a problem, Stephen,” Flavion said, somewhat surprisingly. Stephen raised his brows. He’d thought he was going to have to convince his cousin of this seemingly apparent fact himself.

  “Indeed?” he asked mockingly, although not enough to distract the younger man.

  Flavion rose and took a few steps toward the window. As he did so, a few smaller pieces of paper floated unheeded to the floor. Stephen itched to pick them up. “Daphne told me something disturbing. She said that when she was outside, she overheard one of Cecily’s friends tell her that she ought to have me murdered! That cannot be possible, can it, Stephen? Cecily isn’t that type of chit. But her friends…” He jammed his hands down into his pockets in frustration. “I wouldn’t put it past the tall one — the one named after a flower.”

  Stephen drew in a deep breath. Utter tripe! The idea that the countess would attempt to take Flave’s life was utter nonsense. It was her father who Flave ought to be wary of. Stephen had hoped his cousin had had an epiphany of sorts and realized the dire nature of his circumstances, Instead, he was giving into the paranoid delusions of his lover.