Rogue's Lady

“I prefer plain dealing, sir,” she replied, caught up in his tale despite her better judgment.

Once again that smile lit up his eyes. “I thought you might! Lucilla insists I should look for a wife—a rich wife with a fortune that could restore my estate, of whose dilapidated condition I’m sure Lynton already warned you.”

He gave her a wry, self-deprecating look. “Frankly, though I’m an amusing enough fellow when I choose to be, I sincerely doubt any respectable lady will want to take on so unlikely a husband. But I’ve promised Lucilla I’d make an attempt, so here I am, self-accused of being both a fortune hunter and a rake, throwing my poor body into the fray. A rake who earnestly seeks to be reformed. Will you not have pity and rescue me, Miss Antinori?”

Beneath the flippancy of his words she sensed a social isolation almost like her own. Perhaps because of that, she was tempted to accept his challenge. Except that behind the arresting intensity of his gaze lurked something deep, sensual. That same masculine allure that had led Molly to capitulate all those summers ago and warned Allegra that spending time with Tavener, despite his avowed desire to reform, would be dangerous.

“It would be more proper for Lady Domcaster to instruct you,” Allegra replied at last. “Not that I am not fully qualified,” she added quickly. “Mama instructed me in all the intricacies of ton behavior, and in matters of propriety, Papa was even stricter.”

“I’m sure they were, with so precious a prize to guard. Still, I should very much like to pursue your acquaintance. You would find me a willing pupil.”

Much as she tried to tell herself that his outrageous request was just another tool in his rake’s arsenal, she couldn’t shake a sense that, on some level, he was quite serious. Before an unwanted sympathy for his position—and her strong attraction to him—led her to capitulate, she replied, “Tutoring you would not be…wise.”

At her refusal, the hopeful look in his eyes faded. “Then I am doubly sorry. To lose your instruction, and to have begun so badly with you.”

Not knowing what to say, she did not reply. Tavener offered his arm, she took it, and in silence they resumed their circuit of the room.

After a few moments, he sighed. “Though I shall probably have to beg your pardon once again, before I return you to your chaperone, I simply must say this.”

As she tried to arm herself against whatever impertinence he meant to utter, he bent that compelling gaze upon her once more and said, “Miss Antinori, I must tell you how much I admired and respected your father. He was a true genius, and the musical world is much the poorer for his premature passing.”

For a moment, she thought she must have imagined his comments, so thoroughly had it been drummed into her head that she must on no account mention her parents. “You…knew my father?” she asked at last.

“No, but I did have the honor of hearing him play once, when I was at Oxford. Such passion! Such skill! I’m a bit hand of a violist myself, and have attempted to play some of his compositions, which are as beautiful as they are difficult. You must be so proud of him.”

“I am proud of him,” she whispered. A combustible swirl of grief, anger at having been forced to deny her parents, delight and gratitude at encountering someone who admired her father choked her into silence.

After three weeks of circumspect behavior, of confining her conversation to inquiries about the health of persons she knew little and cared less about or innocuous remarks about the weather, Tavener’s introduction of that taboo topic electrified her. Prudent or not, she decided on the spot to encourage his friendship.

Looking up into the blue eyes that once again seemed to sense the turmoil in her soul, she said, “Thank you. It is a great joy to speak of him. And Lord Tavener, though I still think Lady Domcaster’s qualifications for instructing you far exceed my own, I would be happy to help you practice your conversation.”

She was rewarded with a smile of such brilliance, she had no difficulty believing he’d made a long series of conquests. Sternly she reminded herself that, regardless of how great an admirer of her father he might be, she must not join their number.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “You shall not regret it, I promise. Would you like a glass of wine before we begin?”

Agreeing that would be very nice, she let him lead her off to the refreshment room.

They were nearing the exit of the ballroom when Allegra heard ahead of them a familiar tinkling laugh. She gritted her teeth as, through the passing guests, she saw Sapphira Lynton poised on the threshold.

CHAPTER SIX

FOR SEVERAL MOMENTS Lady Lynton stood in the doorway acknowledging greetings from acquaintances, framed by the pediment-topped opening like an actress by the proscenium. Though she was properly attired all in black, from the way the silken gown hugged her curves, its bodice cut low over her generous breasts, the dark color emphasizing the porcelain perfection of her skin, she managed to make mourning dress look provocative.

Not that the gown was styled or the bodice cut more seductively than those of other matrons, Allegra had to allow. The impression of allure was more in Sapphira’s air and manner—which did not, Allegra thought, setting her lips in a thin line, appear to be that of a widow suffering excesses of grief.

“Quite an entrance, don’t you think?” Lord Tavener murmured in her ear. “She should have been on the stage.”

Startled almost as much by this cynical assessment as by how closely it mirrored her own opinion, she turned to face him. Though she knew she should refute the statement, she found herself saying, “Indeed.”

Before she could think of something more appropriate, Sapphira spied her. Her gay smile fading, Lady Lynton stared without acknowledging Allegra almost to the point of insult before at last nodding. Then, taking the arm of an admirer who had rushed up, without saying a word to Allegra, she walked past her across the room.

Almost a cut direct, it was a snub such as Sapphira would probably never have dared administer had Rob been beside Allegra. A snub that telegraphed to everyone present just how little Lady Lynton thought of her late husband’s distant cousin, though Allegra was a guest in Lady Lynton’s own home.

Allegra felt her stomach churn with embarrassment. Having just had demonstrated to the world and her escort how undesirable a person she was to know, she turned to Lord Tavener, lips trembling with fury. “Perhaps you would prefer to take me back to Lynton now?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why would I wish to do that? Because a certain former ton Diamond has execrable manners? Lady Lynton’s lack is not your fault, Miss Antinori.”

She gave him a searching glance, but could detect no mockery in him. “You are probably the only one—or should I say the only gentleman—in this room of that opinion.”

“Sadly, society seems to contain fewer and fewer men of perception.”

Unwilling to surrender her fury—not sure she could bear to endure his pity—she said stiffly, “If reestablishing your reputation is important, you have just seen that being in my company will not advance your goal. I expect it would be best that you return me to Lynton.”

“Oh, no, Miss Antinori!” he said with mock sternness. “You shall not that easily renege on your promise to instruct me. Unless…” His expression sobering in earnest, he continued, “unless you fear being seen with me may discredit you. A fear which, regretfully, may have merit.”

An almost grim expression flitted across his face before he fixed his eyes on her again, their blue depths no longer ice, but flame. “Loath as I would be to lose your company,” he said in a voice as dynamic as his eyes, “I could not allow myself to bring you harm. If you wish, I shall of course return you to your chaperone.”

He did not wish to risk discrediting her. That avowal flowed over her like a cooling breeze, carrying off her anger, while the sincerity of his concern flooded her aching heart with a healing balm. A strong sense of connectedness once again bound her gaze to his.

They were connected, she realized. Both outsiders looking in upon a world that might not deign to accept them. And though prudence whispered that each would fare better fighting separately the battle to gain access to the ton, his kindness in wanting to keep her from harm was the first she’d received from anyone of her class save Rob.

Not only was he kind—and perceptive enough to see beneath Sapphira’s blinding veneer of beauty—he had both known and appreciated her father. How could she send him away? Despite the simmer under her skin at his nearness that whispered of the danger he posed.

His gaze was still fixed on her, awaiting her answer as if there were nothing in the world more important to him. “I suppose it would be more prudent for both our purposes that we not associate with each other but…but if you are willing to run the risk, Lord Tavener, so am I.”

Once again, the brilliance of his smile caught her off-guard. “Indeed I am, Miss Antinori. Now, some wine?”

Keeping her hand tucked under his own, Tavener walked her to the refreshment room and signaled a waiter to bring them each a glass. As they sipped, he said, “So, Miss Antinori, how should I address an innocent young female?”

“You need to wed an heiress, you said?” When he nodded, she continued, “Whether or not she is handsome, such a girl will probably be surrounded by suitors. Though she may well have heard every extravagant compliment that could be devised to her appearance, you should still be prepared to praise her. But only in general terms,” she cautioned. “Celebrate her loveliness, her beauty, her perfection, perhaps even her eyes or her countenance, but nothing else…specific.”