Some Like It Wicked

And no doubt she would normally have succeeded, if one failed to notice the slight shadows beneath those beautiful violet-coloured eyes—eyes which, despite Rupert’s effort to convince himself otherwise, were now every bit as beautiful as they had appeared yesterday evening.

Or had no idea that the blush to her cheeks had been carefully applied rather than being natural. Or missed those lines of strain beside her politely smiling mouth. And the rapidly beating pulse in the long, graceful column of her throat and the shallow rise and fall of the fullness of her breasts above the low neckline of that lilac gown.

Or the presence of her lawyer—a man who, in Rupert’s estimation, had been far too familiar in addressing her as Pandora—and those damned packing boxes in the hallway!

Yes, if one failed to notice all of those things, then certainly she could be said to be completely recovered from the previous evening’s ordeal!

‘You will no doubt be pleased to know that I made enquiries earlier this morning and was informed that Lord Sugdon has refused all further social engagements and is at this very moment making arrangements to return to the family estate in Yorkshire by the end of the week.’

‘I am gratified to hear it.’ She nodded with obvious relief.

Rupert rose impatiently to his feet before barking, ‘Enough that you will answer my earlier questions?’

‘I would prefer that you did not raise your voice to me, sir!’

Better, Rupert acknowledged with inner satisfaction, as he now saw a spark of rebellion appear in those fine violet-coloured eyes. Much, much better. ‘Very well, Pandora,’ he drawled drily before deliberately making his tone more reasonable. ‘Explain, if you please, why certain of your belongings are packed into trunks, and you have been visited by your lawyer this morning. At least, I am assuming he arrived this morning?’

She shot him an irritated frown. ‘There are trunks in the hallway and I have been visited by my lawyer—this morning,’ she added primly, ‘because I am to leave London.’

Rupert scowled his displeasure at having his suspicions confirmed. ‘Is it wise for you to leave London at the same time as Sugdon?’

An angry flush darkened her cheeks. ‘A mere coincidence.’

‘I am aware of that, but the rest of the ton is not.’

‘I thought we had agreed that the ton will say what they wish, whatever I choose to do?’

Rupert frowned darkly. ‘I don’t enjoy having my own words used against me.’

Pandora shrugged slender shoulders. ‘Even when they are the truth?’

‘When are you leaving? To go where? And for how long?’

She gave a dismissive wave of her lace-gloved hand. ‘As soon as everything is packed and ready to be moved. As to where or for how long … I shall decide that in the next few days.’

Rupert gazed upon her with narrow-eyed criticism. Had he been mistaken in regard to this woman’s courage the previous evening? The manner in which she had refused to break down completely after Sugdon’s physical and verbal attack? The steadfast way in which she had met Rupert’s every insult on the carriage ride to her home? ‘In other words, you are allowing society to win and have decided to run away.’

‘That is unfair!’ The colour in the cheeks was now entirely genuine.

He shrugged. ‘Life is unfair, Pandora, not I.’

Her chin rose. ‘I am not running anywhere, your Grace. I have merely decided that society is not yet ready to … to forgive, or forget, the events of a year ago.’

Rupert’s mouth twisted derisively. ‘And it never will be if you tuck your tail between your legs and simply run away and hide.’ To say that he was disappointed in her would be placing too much importance upon their brief acquaintance. An importance his years of cynicism did not, and would not, allow for.

Devil take it, he only had to think of the unpleasantness that had taken place after his return to Stratton House the previous evening to be reminded of the fickleness that was women. An unpleasantness which now made it impossible for him to allow this situation with Patricia Stirling to continue another day—no, not even another hour.

‘That is easy for you to say.’ Unshed tears now moistened the deep-violet beauty of her eyes. ‘I had hoped—’ She gave a shake of her head as she determinedly blinked away those tears. ‘I have realised, after the events of yesterday evening, that there is nothing here for me in London at present.’

‘There are your two friends, the Duchesses of Clayborne and Woollerton.’

She sighed. ‘Yes. And I am more grateful than I can say for their friendship. But even there I believe it would be better for both my friends if I were to leave London, at least for a while.’

Rupert snorted his disgust. ‘As I said, you are running away.’

‘Will you stop saying that as if I am guilty of committing some heinous crime!’ Pandora glared her frustration, thoroughly annoyed with both Rupert and herself for having so quickly allowed him to turn this conversation to matters so personal—in spite of all her previous determination to the contrary.

She had decided last night, as she lay sleepless in her bed, that if the Duke should indeed come to call on her this morning—once he had found time to reflect on the social disadvantages of continuing an acquaintance with her, there was every chance, hope, that he might decide not to do so—that she would do everything in her power to ensure they met, and parted, as the polite strangers they were. However, Rupert’s current, and continued, insistence on dismissing all idea of social politeness between them rendered that distance impossible!

Pandora shook her head wearily, gold curls bouncing. ‘You were in the army, I believe?’ she asked.

His scowl deepened at mention of the years he had spent in the army fighting against Napoleon. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

She smiled slightly. ‘Did those years of conflict not teach you that it is brave to fight the battles that can be won, but sensible, even prudent, to withdraw from the ones that cannot?’

‘No,’ he stated with that now familiar arrogance, those grey eyes hard and uncompromising. ‘I do not consider any battle as being lost before it has even been fought. And you should also have learnt by now that the ton are a fickle bunch, given to fads and fancies. And the one thing they never forgive or forget is cowardice. I, and consequently they, will no doubt consider your choosing to leave London because of a single incident to be exceedingly cowardly on your part.’

‘It is not a single incident,’ she gasped indignantly, ‘but the last of many.’

‘You are being a coward, Pandora.’

If Pandora were a woman who tended towards acts of violence then she knew that at this moment she would very much have enjoyed striking Rupert Stirling upon one of his haughty lean cheeks! As it was, apart from Richard Sugdon, she had never struck another person in the whole of her four-and-twenty years. She believed her years of being unhappily married to Barnaby to have slowly and inexorably dulled any spontaneity she might once have possessed, resulting in her now behaving in a cool and controlled manner in most, if not all, situations.

It would be most unwise of her to allow the annoyingly implacable Rupert Stirling to rile her into uncharacteristically volatile behaviour now. ‘If that is your true opinion of my actions, then I’m afraid you will have to continue to believe that, your Grace.’

‘If you “your Grace” me one more time then I am afraid I shall be forced to take an action I guarantee you will not in the least enjoy!’ he warned through gritted, perfectly straight, white teeth.

‘Why are you even bothering with me at all, yo—er—sir?’ Pandora gazed across at him crossly even as those glacial eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Do you perhaps see my possible restoration into society as a project of pity with which you might amuse yourself for a day or until you became either bored or some other distraction piques your attention?’

That was a question which Rupert was as yet unwilling to answer. At this moment it was sufficient to admit that he needed Pandora Maybury as much as he believed she needed the protection of the Duke of Stratton.

He shrugged. ‘My reason for coming here today—apart from assuring myself as to your well-being after the events of yesterday evening, of course,’ he drawled just as pointedly as Pandora had minutes ago.

‘Of course,’ she echoed drily.

‘—was to present you with an invitation,’ Rupert continued firmly. ‘From the Countess of Heyborough. She wishes for you to join her and the Earl in their box at the opera this evening.’

Pandora drew in a sharp breath at this unexpected—and totally bewildering—invitation. ‘As far as I’m aware, I’m not even acquainted with the Earl and Countess of Heyborough.’

‘But I am.’

Pandora tensed warily at Rupert’s tone of satisfaction. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘The Countess is my maternal aunt.’

‘And she wishes to invite me to join her at the opera this evening?’

The Duke raised arrogant brows. ‘I have said so, yes.’