Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,24
lover?”
He did not flinch. “I was.”
She nodded and lowered her gaze to her gloved hands in her lap. She became very quiet.
Seger swayed closer to her. “You were very liberal a few minutes ago. Now you’re different. Are you horrified?”
She shook her head. “I’m not horrified. I knew it had to be true. Consider where I met you.”
He leaned back again. “Ah, yes, in a den of wickedness. So, there you have it. My character unveiled. Be warned, I am depraved.”
“I was warned already. Many times, in fact, by you and by my sister and by my own self.”
His voice became a husky whisper. “If you know I am a scoundrel, why, then, are you sitting with me?”
She seemed to consider the question for a long moment, then she finally looked up. “If our acquaintance were of the more conventional sort, I would tell you that I am sitting with you because I believe no man is ever completely irredeemable. But since we are being liberal and honest and admitting to all sorts of depravities, I will confess that I am sitting with you for the plain and simple reason that I find you very attractive.”
Seger smiled. This heiress was delicious. His predatory instincts began to hum, and he leaned toward her, close enough that he could smell the fresh, clean scent of her skin. “Then I believe we have something in common.”
She inched away from him and glanced around self-consciously because he was most definitely pushing the limits of propriety. “And I believe, sir, that you should sit back. We are not at one of your Cakras Balls.”
Taking a deep breath to subdue the intense desires welling up inside of him, Seger forced himself to rise. He held out his hand. “You are absolutely right, and what a shame it is. Hungry?”
She laughed and gave him her hand. “Ravenous.”
Together, they went to the buffet table. Seger picked a few grapes from a large bunch and offered them to Miss Wilson in his open palm. Eyes never leaving his, she took one and popped it into her mouth.
He watched her moist, pink lips as she ate the grape, and felt a stirring of arousal. What he wouldn’t give for the honest liberties of a Cakras Ball now.
Miss Wilson glanced over her shoulder and spoke softly to him. “My lord, despite the fact that I’ve witnessed your debauched underworld, I will have you know that I am a respectable young lady. You shouldn’t be looking at me like that.”
“In my defense, you shouldn’t be licking your lips like that.”
She grinned, then became more serious. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
God, how he wanted to touch her. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Yes.”
“That you have no intention of taking any more risks?”
Just then, an older woman approached. Seger recognized her from the first night he had met Miss Wilson. She was the chaperone.
“Good evening, my dear,” the woman said. “You have found the grapes, I see.”
Miss Wilson seemed to tense at the woman’s question. Seger cursed to himself. No wonder he’d not missed the Marriage Mart. The frustrations in situations like this were unbearable.
“My lord,” Miss Wilson said, “may I present Mrs. Eva Gunther? Mrs. Gunther, the Marquess of Rawdon.”
They greeted each other. It was clear to Seger that the older woman recognized him as well, though naturally she did not acknowledge it.
She stayed to make conversation for a few minutes, then gestured toward the other side of the room. “I believe there are some ladies who would like to make your acquaintance, Clara. Would you be so kind as to excuse us, Lord Rawdon?”
Seger recognized the obvious intent to pry her out of his company. He was not surprised. Politely, he inclined his head.
“Perhaps we can continue our conversation later?” Miss Wilson said as Mrs. Gunther practically dragged her away.
“I certainly hope so.” He bowed and retreated.
The marchioness watched her stepson turn away from Miss Wilson. “They have met before,” she whispered to Gillian. “I am sure of it. Did you see the way she traipsed across the room to talk to him? It was the crudest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life. Heaven help us all if she’s picked him out of the crowd.” Quintina glanced toward the fireplace, where a group of gentlemen were standing in a circle. “Why isn’t she hounding after the Duke of Guysborough, for pity’s sake? He’s the best catch in the room.”
“For the same reason as myself, I believe, Auntie,” Gillian replied. “He’s