Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom: The Rake and the Heiress / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem

‘The difference between us is that I will not allow him to. You, on the other hand, are still dancing to Papa’s tune.’

Serena bit her lip, for he had hit a nerve. ‘For the moment. So,’ she continued brightly, ‘despite your father’s attempts, you have not been converted to the conquering power of love as espoused by Lord Byron.’

‘That deluded romantic! The man has almost single-handedly brought love and languishing back into fashion.’

‘It seems to me that Lord Byron is more interested in indulging his own rather eclectic tastes and encouraging everyone, poor Lady Lamb included, to worship at the altar of his ego,’ Serena said scornfully. ‘In any case, real love doesn’t come in or go out of fashion, as I have no doubt Lord Byron will. You can’t stop it or avoid it. You can’t be cured of it and you can’t dictate how it happens either. Some people never fall in love because they never meet the right person. My parents were fortunate. It may be that your father was too, with his Melissa. It is possible that his wanting you to change your ways was not hypocritical, but a desire for you to be as happy as he was.’ She stopped abruptly, taken aback by the passion of her own response.

‘I’m afraid we’ll just have to differ on that,’ Nicholas said dismissively. ‘It’s a pretty point of view, and you are a charming advocate, but I remain unconvinced. You know less of the world and its travails than you think if you really mean what you say.’

With difficulty Serena managed to repress the hot retort that rose to her lips. ‘I won’t quarrel with you, there’s no point. I won’t persuade you, only experience will do that.’

‘Indulge me, though, by explaining one thing to me before we drop the subject.’

She raised her brows enquiringly.

‘Yesterday by the trout stream you seemed more than happy to encourage me to—for us to—for things between us to take their course. Today you rhapsodise about true love. I’m concerned that we are at cross-purposes.’

‘In what way?’

‘I can never offer you love, Serena, I won’t be such a hypocrite as my father. I can promise you fun, perhaps, pleasure definitely, but it would be a brief idyll, nothing more. I won’t pretend to any finer feelings to ease your conscience. If you choose to pick up where we left off from our kiss, you must do so with your eyes wide open.’

Serena paused for a moment before replying. She was not in love, but tossing and turning in her bed last night, she had been forced to acknowledge the depth of her attraction to him. The pang of physical awareness she had felt when first she encountered him, stripped to the waist in the boxing ring, had grown during the hours they spent together. Hidden away from the rest of the world as they were, time slipped by more and more quickly. Whenever she saw him, the urge to give in to temptation became harder to resist, fuelled by the knowledge that once she had her papers their paths were unlikely to cross again. The sensible voice in her head warned her that to give in to her desires was to risk being burned, but this feeling of rightness when she was with him continued to grow regardless.

Nicholas would take whatever she offered, provided she stuck to his terms. His feelings for her were of a fleeting nature. It had been unintentional, but his reaction to her eulogy on true love was a timely warning. ‘My eyes are very wide open,’ she told him with certainty. ‘We are not at cross-purposes, I assure you.’

Did that mean she would grant him more than a kiss? It was on his mind to ask her, but he thought better of it. ‘I have some business to attend to for the rest of the morning,’he said instead. ‘I’ll join you after lunch.’

Mathew Stamppe, lately become Lord Vespian, had had a busy morning, which included a long-overdue visit to the dentist, a fitting with his tailor and various commissions for his good lady wife. The existence of a niece, a chit of a girl heir to the fortune that was rightfully his, vexed him beyond words and continually dogged his thoughts. Tobias Acton had advised him to sit tight and wait on her contacting him, but this, Mathew had decided, was not a course of action to which he could inure himself.

His next piece of business took him to a flash tavern just off the Fleet where he was to meet up with an ex-Runner recommended by his club doorman. Mathew sat uncomfortably in a booth, warily eyeing the unsavoury clientele of the dimly lit room, relieved that he had taken the precaution of leaving all his valuables, save the required purse of money, safe in his lodgings.

A short, compact man in a greasy brown coat approached him. ‘You Stamppe?’ he enquired loudly.

‘For pity’s sake, man, keep your voice down,’ Mathew hissed.

The man smiled. ‘No need to worry on that score, squire. Folk in here have learned the hard way to mind their own business, if you get my meaning. Now, let’s see the readies.’

He bit delicately into one of the coins from the bag which Mathew handed him. Satisfied with the quality, he called for a glass of fire water and awaited instruction.

Mathew’s orders were vague. When pressed to be more specific, he flapped. ‘Just do whatever you see fit, I want no details.’

The ex-Runner smiled knowingly. He had come across the type many times before. Happy enough to pay someone else to do their dirty work, but too squeamish to think about what they had paid for actually entailed. It suited him well enough. He signified his agreement by raising his glass in a toast before tossing it back with a satisfied smack of the lips. Then he was gone.

After a lunch alone, Nicholas still being engaged upon business, Serena flicked through some volumes of Shakespeare in a half-hearted way, searching for the source of the last rose of summer quotation. By the time he joined her she was heartily bored.

‘Forget about that for today, let’s play cards instead,’ he said, lounging in the doorway.

‘Cards,’ Serena exclaimed in surprise.

‘Yes, why not? Can you not play?’

‘Very well, actually. Whatever you want.’

‘Piquet?’

‘If you wish. But just for penny points.’

Nicholas laughed. ‘I’m considered to be a very good player.’

‘Oh, I’m not worried,’ Serena said airily, ‘I’ve played a lot of cards in my time.’

‘Another of the skills learned at dear Papa’s knee, no doubt,’ he quipped.

She chuckled. ‘If only you knew.’

‘Since you’re so confident, we should make the stakes more interesting. A forfeit.’

‘It depends what you have in mind.’

‘You’re expecting me to say a kiss, but I won’t be so predictable.’

His smile was irresistible. ‘What, then?’Serena asked.

‘A lock of your hair. Something with which to remember our time here.’ He surprised himself at the fancifulness of his request, was still more surprised when she agreed.

‘Deal,’ she said, handing him the cards with a glint in her eye that should have worried him.

As the rubbers progressed it became clear that Serena’s claim to skill had been no idle boast. Nicholas was losing steadily.

‘Well, I make that—let’s see…’ Serena added up the score and showed him the total.

‘Confound it, I never lose by such a margin. Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure,’Serena said smugly. ‘Now you must pay the forfeit.’ She opened her reticule, producing a pair of embroidery scissors, brandishing them before him triumphantly. He ran his fingers through his carefully cropped hair, much alarmed. ‘Give me those, I’ll do it.’

Serena shook her head. ‘To the victor the spoils, Nicholas. What was it you said, “I never play when I can’t pay”?’

‘You’re enjoying this.’

She nodded primly, her eyes brimming with laughter.

He made a dive for the scissors, but she quickly put them behind her back. ‘Kneel before me, Mr Lytton,’she commanded, ‘I would not wish to ruin your coiffure.’

He held her gaze as he knelt, a wicked smile curling the corners of his mouth, his eyes reflecting the laughter in hers. ‘You will regret this, mademoiselle.’

‘I don’t think so. Stay still.’ She bent over his head. Her dress brushed against his face, which was disconcertingly close to her thighs. Heat rushed through her body.

‘I told you you’d regret it,’ Nicholas said wickedly, his voice muffled by the material of her skirt. ‘I, on the other hand, am finding this position rather delightful.’