The days leading up to the Royal Exhibition swiftly passed. As their carriage pulled up in front of Somerset House, Ana had mixed feelings.
She gazed out the window at the winding staircase leading up to the impressive white stone building. She’d previously attended the Royal Academy’s summer exhibition with her family, and she’d enjoyed admiring the paintings and fine works of art. Her mother’s eyes had lit with delight when she’d spotted an Arabic mural, and she’d pointed out a grove of fig trees to Ana. For years, Ana had longed to return, but instead of heightened anticipation, today’s visit was fraught with worry.
Lady Malvern was seated beside Penelope and across from Ana on the padded, leather bench. Lord Malvern had claimed an appointment and stayed behind. Penelope looked lovely in a pale-yellow silk dress trimmed with ribbon and a white bonnet adorned with a matching yellow flower.
“Remember to smile, Penelope. You never know who may be in attendance, especially Lord Drake,” Lady Malvern said.
“I’ll remember, Mama.”
Penelope glanced at Ana, her lips curling in a calculated smile, before lowering her lashes.
Alarm inched along Ana’s spine. What was going on inside Penelope’s pretty blonde head?
She loved Penelope, but she was too young to understand her matchmaking efforts could mean nothing but trouble for Ana and for herself. Penelope may not know the shocking truth of how Ana and Oliver had met, but it did not matter. They could never be together.
Their stations prohibited it.
Not to mention the tragic history between their families.
Ana’s gaze shifted to Lady Malvern. If her employer learned of her daughter’s efforts or Ana’s passionate night with Oliver, she would be aghast, and Ana’s future would be destroyed. No one would retain her as a chaperone, and Ana would not be able to support herself, let alone send any spare income to her brother.
Nothing good could come of Penelope’s interference.
As the carriage door opened and the driver lowered the step, Ana wondered if she should have feigned some illness and stayed behind.
Too late now.
Ana walked beside Penelope and her ladyship as they ascended the stone steps and entered the Royal Academy.
They were met with a crush of the well-dressed people who crowded the vestibule, all vying for a glimpse of each other every bit as much as the artwork inside the hall.
“Stay close to me and I’ll be sure to look out for Lord Drake,” Penelope whispered into Ana’s ear.
Lud. She must find a way to squelch her charge’s ridiculous plan.
They made their way through the vestibule, Lady Malvern stopping to greet ladies on their way. Ana’s mind was a crazy mixture of dread and anticipation as her gaze darted from gentleman to gentleman.
What was wrong with her? She didn’t want to see Oliver, did she? She told herself she wanted to spot him first in order to avoid him. Her heart raced as they followed the throng of people into the Royal Academy’s main hall.
All thoughts temporarily fled from her mind at the wall of artwork displayed before her. Framed paintings hung on the wall, from floor to ceiling in splashes of colorful magnificence. Landscapes, portraits, and still-life paintings by prominent artists as well as new, aspiring talent made her gasp in delight.
She spotted paintings by leading artists William Hogarth, Thomas Gainsborough, and one of the Academy founders, Joshua Reynolds. It was a rainbow of delight for one’s senses.
“They are all so beautiful,” Ana said.
“I don’t see the earl in this crush,” Penelope said, oblivious to the artwork.
Ana tore her gaze away from the paintings to glance at Penelope. “You must end this nonsense. I told you it’s not possible, nor do I like him.” She lowered her voice but did not bother to whisper. The thrum of a multitude of conversations prevented anyone from hearing her.
Penelope continued to scan the crowd. “I understand your concerns.”
“Do you? Because I’d like to keep my position by your side.”
Their conversation was cut short when a man approached.
“Lady Malvern and Lady Penelope, it’s a pleasure to see you both again,” a young gentleman said, then bowed.
“Lord Falksly, what a pleasant surprise,” Penelope said.
The gentleman’s blond hair gleamed in a shaft of sunlight from one of the Academy’s windows. “Are you acquainted with Mr. Kloster, the curator?” Falksly pointed to a man speaking with a group huddled by one of the paintings.
“No.”
“Shall I introduce you?”
Lord Falksly waved the man over. “Mr. Kloster, may I introduce the lovely Lady Penelope and her mother, Lady Malvern? This is Miss…”
“Gardner,” Ana said.
The curator was a bald, stocky man with bushy eyebrows. “Thank you all for coming. The Academy instructs over sixty young and aspiring artists each year. You will notice some of the paintings on display are works of our budding talent.”
“Fascinating,” Lady Malvern said, her voice polite but lacking enthusiasm.
Her ladyship was less than eager to spend time with the curator and Falksly when a titled earl and his fortune were within her grasp for her daughter. But manners prevailed, and the lady had to remain and listen to the curator’s vast knowledge of the artwork, the Academy, and even the building.
Ana excused herself, claiming she needed to use the ladies’ retiring room, and slipped away without notice. Here was her chance to view the other pieces of artwork on display.
She wove through the crowd looking for a certain corridor that led to a different wing of the Academy. A couple parted, and she spotted an exit. Turning swiftly, she ran straight into a hard body.
Her eyes widened at the sight of Oliver. “My lord!”
He reached for her arm to steady her, his brows slashing downward. “Are you all right, Ana?”
Stunned, she could only gaze up at him. Of all the dumb luck!
His thumb grazed the skin above her glove, and a flutter stirred deep in her chest. She found her voice. “Yes.”
As if he realized he was touching her in public, he removed his hand.
She knew their conversation in the garden was unfinished in his mind. He looked her over with disconcerting thoroughness, something hot and alarming his gaze. She understood what it was.
Lust. Longing.
She experienced the same in her dreams.
Lud! She was feeling it now.
He opened his mouth as if to say something.
She lifted her hand. “No. We should speak in private.”
One dark eyebrow arched upward. “Where?”
The only place that came to mind was where she’d been headed. “An alcove that displays a Greek statute, a nymph. It is in an isolated alcove.”
He nodded once. “I’ll find it. Go now so no one sees us together.”
She didn’t look back as she walked away, fearful others would see the turmoil on her face…or worse, that Oliver would notice. She needed all her wits about her to set things right between them.
She left the main hall and glimpsed inside room after room until she found a secluded one, an alcove she’d visited long ago which featured plaster casts of ancient sculptures.
One sculpture was original. The Draped Female Figure, a Greek marble statue that had been so skillfully carved that it looked real. Ana had loved the statue of the nymph clothed in transparent drapery—with one breast covered, the other naked—the first time she’d seen it years ago. The sign read it was created in the early three hundreds B.C. by Timotheus, and had been part of a temple in Greece.
As she waited for Oliver, her stomach was in knots. It would be impossible to completely avoid him during the Season, not with Lady Malvern intent on pursing him for Penelope. Until it became clear Penelope had no interest in the earl—and he had no interest in Penelope—Lady Malvern would not seek another rich, titled lord for her daughter.
If Ana could have a logical conversation with Lord Drake, perhaps future encounters would not be awkward or stressful.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Was he lost? Or had he been waylaid?
She couldn’t wait much longer before Lady Malvern noticed her prolonged absence. Ana focused on the nymph statue to ease her nervousness. The detail was truly striking. As with many ancient statues, either vandalized or simply damaged over time, the head was missing, but it was so lifelike that Ana wanted to reach out and touch the marble to see if she’d awake.
She removed her gloves and slipped them into her reticule, then reached out a finger to graze the cool marble. “Are you waiting for your bridegroom?” Ana asked, whispering to the nymph.
“Or perhaps she is posing for her lover.”
Ana spun at the sound of the distinctive male voice to see Oliver standing behind her. Her pulse quickened, and her face heated both from his presence as well as the intimacy of her observing the nearly naked nymph.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
“I did not want anyone to know I was following. Besides, it took a while to extricate myself from Lady Malvern’s clutches.”
“I see.”
He stepped closer, and an unwelcome awareness tingled in her veins. With her back to the nymph, she was aware of every inch of his muscular frame as he moved, and she thought he would make the perfect model for any sculptor.
No! No! No! Her wandering mind was her greatest weakness. Where was her resolve? Her sense of self-preservation? She’d asked him here for a reason.
She raised her chin. “I sought to meet me so that we can resolve our differences.”
He didn’t move. “Will you indulge me first by answering one question?”
She blinked. “One question?”
“Why do you dislike me? As I recall, you liked me very much the night we spent together at the Silver Chalice.”
There was a maddening hint of arrogance about him. He only knew she was Lady Scarlet, not the daughter of the baron his father ruined. She would never reveal anything. “I told you. That was only for one night.”
He laughed hoarsely. “Why, for heaven’s sake? I can’t stop thinking about our shared evening. Don’t you feel the same?”
Yes, she did. She wasn’t an indecisive woman, yet she found it incredibly hard to calm her racing heart when he was standing an arm’s length away, watching her intently. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as she struggled to keep her anger as a defense.
“No,” she insisted.
His dark gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “Your passion was not feigned that night.”
“Whatever was between us no longer exists for me.”
A flash of challenge lit his dark eyes. “Hmm. If that is true, then perhaps you would not mind participating in an experiment.”
“An experiment?”
“A simple kiss.”
Oh God. If he kissed her, she’d lose her resolve. There was too much at stake for her. He, on the other hand, had nothing to lose. Rich and powerful, he was no match to her social standing. “I don’t think such an experiment will work.”
“Then you don’t mind trying? One kiss, and then I’ll respect your wish and never trouble you again.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, pulse pounding. One kiss? She hesitated, her mind considering his request. She could do this. A brief kiss and then he’d leave her alone. It was a challenge, one she had no intention of losing.
She cocked her head to the side. “One kiss and you’ll never seek me out again, never address me as anything other than Miss Gardner, companion to Lady Penelope?”
“Yes.”
She came close, and his cologne fill her senses, sandalwood and his own essence. She girded her resolve, closed her eyes, pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss, then quickly moved back. “Nothing. Not even a spark.”
“That’s unfair. I hardly call that a kiss.”
“You did not specify and must uphold your part of the bargain.”
“Not quite. Unless you are afraid?”
She let out a huff. “I’m not—”
He placed a hand on her waist and tugged her closer, cutting off whatever she was about to say. “This is a kiss.”
He didn’t ravage her. She could have resisted if he had, but he chose a different onslaught, one that shattered her defenses with skill. His mouth slanted over hers slowly, captured her lips, and savored her like a ripe strawberry. It reminded her of their first kiss, releasing a flurry of delicious memories. She sighed, a deep, rich sound that she’d heard in her dreams since their one night together. Her fingers touched his biceps, then tightened on the broadcloth, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Her lips parted of their own volition, inviting him to take. He took full advantage and swept inside, deliciously tasting and taking. The hand at her waist urged her forward, and she stepped even closer, her breasts brushing his chest, her nipples tightening against the fabric of her chemise. Like a trained lover, her body ached for his touch.
He moaned, or was that her?
She kissed him back, and her fingers inched to his shoulders, then sank into the silken strands of his hair. She was secretly thrilled she’d removed her gloves.
His own fingers moved to her hair. A pin sprang free, and the lace cap fell to the floor.
Her eyelids fluttered open. A shaft of sunlight illuminated his handsome face, and she imagined how the nymph must have felt when she first spotted her Greek warrior, all bronzed muscle and power.
All her own muscles were taut and aching, battling her, tearing down her sworn resolve with a simple, wondrous kiss. Ana melted beneath his skilled lips, his hands, and the knowledge of the pleasure he could bring her. Their night together came back in a raging rush, and she clung to him. Desperate, aching, wanting.
He was the one to break the kiss. The flame in his eyes made her heart race.
“I think that counts as proof.” His voice was gruff.
Slowly, she grew aware of her surroundings. The dim thrum of the large crowd just a corridor away became a buzzing in her ear. The chill of the marble floor seeped into her slippers, up her spine, and cooled her heated thoughts as effectively as the self-satisfied smile curving his tempting lips. She grew aware of their position. In an open alcove, they could be discovered at any time.
Denying her response was fruitless. And yet, “It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”
“I don’t believe that to be true. For me, it meant more. You mean more. Perhaps I’m being selfish, but I’m asking you to reconsider spending another night together.”
It was tempting, more than he knew. Still, she could not act the fool. “I have much more to lose than you, my lord.”
“I told you I would never whisper a word. I am a man of my word. Your position is secure.”
“How?”
He leaned close to whisper in her ear, his breath caressing her sensitive lobe. “I’ll send a carriage for you at night. No one need know. Come to me.”
The erotic demand and the near brush of his lips sent a shiver down her spine.
Her body yearned to obey, but the warning voice inside her head could not be ignored. How could she have thought one night at the Silver Chalice would have ever been sufficient to last a lifetime?
Because you did not expect to spend it with him.
Of all the men who she could have chosen, why had she been drawn to the Earl of Drake? It was all terribly unfair. A large part of her felt like she was betraying her father, and that was the worst feeling of all.
“My staff is discreet.” His gaze never left hers as he raised her hand and pressed his lips to her naked skin. “Say yes.”
Her knees nearly buckled at the intimate touch. “My lord, I—”
“Miss Gardner! Miss Gardner, are you here?”
Ana’s eyes widened in horror, and panic welled in her throat. “Lady Malvern! She must not see—”
“Go.”
Ana scanned the ground for the lace cap, yanked it onto her head, and jabbed in a pin to secure it in place. There was no time to pull on her gloves. Picking up her skirts, she hurried to the entrance of the alcove. “I’m right here, my lady.”
Lady Malvern’s expression was cross. “Where have you been?”
“I apologize. I wandered the halls observing the artwork and lost my way.”
Lady Malvern’s lips thinned as she studied her. Ana feared her cap was askew and her hair somewhat disheveled. Her lips tingled from Oliver’s kisses. Could the woman tell?
Holy hell.
Lady Malvern marched into the alcove, but Oliver was gone. Ana’s heart pounded so loudly she feared Lady Malvern could hear it.
Where on earth had he disappeared to? Did the alcove lead to another room? She didn’t believe so.
“Let’s go,” her ladyship said with a swish of her skirts. “Lord Drake was preoccupied with other gentlemen, then must have left early. No sense staying.”
Ana dared one last glimpse inside before trailing behind Lady Malvern.
Oliver was nowhere in sight.
…
“Oh, that’s rich. You are using your grandmother’s matchmaking efforts as an excuse to see your Lady Scarlet?” Warwick asked.
“It’s Miss Gardner, and yes,” Oliver said.
Oliver had paid a visit to the duke. The Mayfair mansion in London was unlike any Oliver had ever stepped foot inside. It was a lavish home with multiple fountains, well-maintained gardens, and acres of land. An enormous crystal chandelier graced the vestibule along with a large floral arrangement on a dainty table. The servants, including a respectable English butler and an efficient housekeeper, scurried to do the duke’s bidding.
But the duke’s private rooms, the study, the library, the billiard room, and the ballroom were quite different. Oliver was currently in the ballroom where the duke was working.
A high-pressure engine was on display in the middle of the hardwood dance floor. At least five tables around the room held all types of tools and parts that Oliver could not identify. One lone unupholstered wooden chair sat in the corner by the open French doors that led to the gardens. Oliver chose to stand.
Warwick picked up a wrench and resumed working on the machine where a good amount of grease had leaked onto the hardwood floor.
Oliver came close to get a better view. The duke’s inventions were not always practical, and his tinkering had led to failure on more than one occasion, but nevertheless, Oliver admired the man’s ingenuity.
“What in the world are you working on?” Oliver asked.
“Richard Trevithick obtained a patent in 1802 for this high-pressure engine for the first steam-powered locomotive. I’m improving the efficiency of the engine’s pistons.”
“I would ask how you intend to accomplish such a task, but I suspect it involves mathematics or physics.”
“As well as heat transfer.”
“Good grief. You make my head hurt without taking any punches.”
Warwick had the good sense to chuckle without glancing up from his work. “Hand me the other wrench.”
Oliver scanned the tools on the table, and his brow furrowed at the large selection. “Which one?”
“Three-quarter inch.”
Oliver chose what he’d thought was the correct one and handed it to his friend.
Warwick shook his head. “The one on the end.”
Oliver swapped out the tools. “Have you ever held a ball in this ballroom?” Oliver asked.
“Whatever for?”
Oliver waved his hand. “You know. The usual. Entertainment during the Season. Chance to have society’s young debutants and their overeager mamas competing for your attention.”
“All nonsense.”
A large part of Oliver agreed. He disliked most balls, although the last one had been quite entertaining. He’d confronted Miss Gardner—or Lady Scarlet—in the gardens. Of course, meeting her at the Royal Academy had been even more pleasurable.
He understood her fear of losing her position as a companion, but he could ensure secrecy. He’d also made himself clear that he had no intention of revealing the truth of their night together at the Silver Chalice to her employer.
What would it take for her to acknowledge they had shared something special? It was clear she felt the same and yearned to consent. Still, something held her back.
Fear? Anger?
He’d sensed both in their interactions, but why?
Warwick set down the wrench and wiped the grease from his fingers on a rag. “Are you really going to pretend to attend to some young debutante just to get closer to Miss Gardner?”
“Are you judging me?”
“Judging a friend is a waste of time. I’m a man of few words, and I’ll tell you precisely what I think. You are treading in dangerous waters.”
“Perhaps. But I find myself looking forward to those waters.”
Warwick turned away from the machinery to look at Oliver for the first time since he’d set foot in the ballroom. “We are alike, you and me. You have a strong sense of duty to the earldom. I have a strong sense of duty to my work. That’s why we are friends.”
It was true. Friends were difficult to come by. Good, lifelong ones. Oh, he had a passing acquaintance with his brother’s friends, but Oliver tolerated them out of respect for his deceased brother. But they were nothing like him, nor did they share the same interests. Whoring, gambling, and drinking had never excited him.
But then again, if it wasn’t for them, he never would have visited the brothel that night.
Even though Lady Scarlet, or Miss Gardner, was nothing like the other women in the brothel, he was fortunate to meet her.
She’d made him feel alive, much more than when his ledgers were balanced and his duties completed.
What was it about her? His grandmother would never approve of a match between them. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t share a more pleasurable arrangement.
“What about the young lady?” Warwick asked.
“You mean Lady Penelope?”
“How might she feel about this farce to get closer to her companion?”
Ah, therein lies the rub. He didn’t want to hurt the girl or lead her to believe he was interested in making her his wife. But he saw no other way to get closer to Miss Gardner.
He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger. There was only one way. He needed to use all the weapons in his arsenal to show Ana that what they had was rare and worth exploring.