large, inquisitive eyes, which were framed behind small wire-rimmed spectacles perfectly perched on the bridge of her pert nose. The slightest of dimples accentuated her chin. Nicolas admired the swell of her bosom, the narrowness of her waist, the pert lushness of her backside.
Her every move was an elegant glide across the lawn. And though she was not the beauty the ton revered, Lady Maryann wore sensuality like a second skin, unstudied and wholly natural. Her honeyed visage was unblemished and radiant, her hair a dark rich brown with streaks of russet red.
His gaze traced the swell of her bosom, encircled her waist, then went back up to her face. She made a breathtaking picture in her dark red gown, which flattered her shape exquisitely. The deep hem of lace on her dress fluttered seductively in the light breeze, accentuating the grace of her movements.
How in God’s name did anyone think her a wallflower?
A burst of heat blossomed over him, and he frowned. It was a long time since he had felt such an immediate attraction to a woman, if ever he truly had. Perhaps her challenging and bold nature increased her appeal. Nicolas had been so certain she hid in the dark at her parents’ ball that night he appeared uninvited, but she hadn’t given herself away. Her patience and lack of silly missish fear were admirable.
The two ladies’ heads lowered close together, their girlish whispers stolen by the small stir of summer wind. Her friend finally leaned away, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully before she brightened and dramatically cried, “Oh, Maryann, only you would be so daring. I’ve heard of Lord Rothbury’s sinful pursuits, but to climb into your chamber! Why, I cannot credit it!”
Nicolas froze. He had seen the silly piece in the scandal sheet this morning, and at the time it had merely amused his jaded senses. Every week there was something new to report on him, and he’d made no effort over the years to correct those wild assumptions. Some carried a smattering of truth, but most seemed invented simply to sell the noxious scandal-mongering pages. And in any case, they served his purposes. If the men he hunted thought him nothing but a feckless rake, they would never suspect he could be the man they were worrying about. There had been muttering over their failed investments, a few suspicions were aroused, but that couldn’t be helped. They were not fools.
The lady covered her cheeks with her palm, as if to cool them. “Oh yes he did! Very wicked of him, I know, but there was nothing I could have done about it. He came, and he took what he wanted.”
Nicolas’s heart pounded even harder. What in God’s name is this?
“Why, Maryann, whatever did he want?”
A fleeting smile touched her lips before it quickly disappeared. “Oh, Fanny, I am not sure I am brave enough to say!”
Fanny affected the most charming mock swoon. “Did he…did he ravish you?”
“Yes, St. Ives,” David muttered darkly beside him. “Whatever did you want to climb into an innocent’s room! Did you ravish her?”
He did not bother to correct David. Nicolas stepped closer, careful to keep his footfalls light and indistinguishable from the soft rustles of the leaves and shrubs beneath the gentle wind. He was not the only interested observer of this little tête-à-tête. There were three ladies, more like nosy busybodies, a few feet away who were eavesdropping. Their eyes were wide, hands over their mouths, and he could all but feel their pleasure at the gossip they were overhearing.
Hell. He needed to stop the little liar before her fib led to consequences that would see her ruined.
She cocked her head in the direction of the listening ladies, a flash of a smile on her wide, lush lips before it disappeared. Sweet Christ. Nicolas stared transfixed by the vivid beauty of her smile and how she glowed in her loveliness.
Then a cold feeling swept through him as he recalled her list. The minx knew there were other people listening in on her conversation with her friend. Every word, all her dramatics and pauses were quite deliberate. Ah, this was what she wanted without a doubt. Only now Nicolas might face an angry father demanding he do the right thing.
What a fine show you are putting on. How convincing and calculating you are!
“Maryann,” her friend cried. “I pray have some concern for my nerves. What did he do?”
“Oh, Fanny, I think…I think that libertine has some tendre for me!”
“Good God,”