Beyond Scandal and Desire (Sins for All Seasons #1) Page 2

  Not anything she could voice aloud without gaining a disapproving glare from him, so she kept her thoughts to herself as she was wont to do and smiled up at him. “I am indeed having a jolly good time. It’s just that it’s a bit tamer than I was expecting.” It had taken her weeks of cajoling to get him to bring her, and she knew it unlikely he would escort her here again. The duchess had been vehemently opposed to the outing, fearing it would place her ward in some sort of danger. Kip had spent a good deal of dinner the evening before convincing his mother that he’d keep Aslyn safe. She didn’t know if she’d ever cared for him more than she had at that moment when he’d fought to give her something she wanted: an evening at Cremorne. While she was enjoying it, she couldn’t help feeling something was missing. “Have you ever been to the gardens when it’s not quite so cultured?”

  “A gentleman does not speak of activities that are not suitable for a young lady’s ears to hear.”

  But he had no such concerns regarding an old lady’s ears? She could hardly wait until she was deemed ancient enough to be privy to such knowledge presently denied her. “So you have.”

  Rolling his eyes, he sighed with exasperation. “I may—­”

  Unexpectedly he was lurching forward, arms windmilling, striving to catch his balance as his hat went flying. To stop herself from tumbling after him, she’d quickly released her hold on him. Hearing a feminine gasp, she glanced over her shoulder to see a young woman wearing a horrified expression, her eyes open wide, her hands pressed to her gaping mouth.

  “Dear sir, my sincerest apologies. I was so caught up in observing my surroundings that I wasn’t watching where I was going. Pray tell me I did no damage to you.”

  Reaching down, Kip snatched up his hat and flicked his fingers over it to remove any dirt. She’d expected him to immediately plant it on top of his dark head. Instead, he stilled, perhaps finally getting a clear look at the young woman before him. She was a girl, really, younger than Aslyn, but her eyes, a strange golden hue that reminded her of a cat’s, spoke volumes, hinting at a life that was not without challenges. In spite of her lovely lilac frock and beribboned bonnet, she gave the impression she’d not always been accustomed to such comforts.

  “No harm done, Misssss . . .” He dragged out the word as though a part of it was absent and he was seeking the lost piece.

  “Miss Fancy Trewlove.”

  “Fancy? Unusual name.”

  “My mum chose it, hoping I would grow up to marry a fancy man, live in a fancy house and have fancy things. So far, her hopes have been dashed, but I am not one to give up on dreams so easily. And you, sir. May I inquire regarding your name?”

  “Lord Kipwick.”

  “Oh, my word.” Paling, she curtsied deeply, elegantly. “My lord, please forgive my utter and despicable clumsiness.”

  “Easily forgiven when no harm was done. My companion and I were equally engrossed in the festivities this evening. Lady Aslyn Hastings, allow me to introduce Miss Trewlove.”

  “It’s indeed a pleasure,” Aslyn said, fighting to hide her surprise that Kip would go to such lengths to introduce her to a commoner.

  “My lady.” The girl curtsied again. It was a proper curtsy. Aslyn would wager she’d had lessons. Her mother was depending on more than her name to give her that fancy life. “I hope I didn’t ruin your outing. My brother is always telling me I must slow down, but there is so much to see I fear missing out on something wonderful and get quite lost in the frivolities.” She turned slightly. “Don’t I, Mick?”

  “You do indeed.”

  The deep voice sent a shimmer of awareness through Aslyn, and she found herself staring at the man who approached, as quietly as fog rolling in, through the encroaching darkness as though he were at once swallowed by it and master of it. She knew without a doubt he was the sort who prowled these environs after the good folk were safely tucked away in their beds. He was well-­dressed, his clothing of the finest cloth and the shiniest of buttons. She suspected he had a personal tailor because his black coat rested comfortably over his broad shoulders. His midnight locks were unfashionably long, curling along his collar. His thick beard was evenly trimmed, and she was rather certain he gave it great care. But it was his dark eyes that held her ensnared. There was a somberness, a solemnity, to them. His gaze landed on her like a physical presence.

  “Mick, allow me to introduce you to Lord Kipwick and Lady Aslyn.”

  “I believe, Fancy,” he said in a raspy voice that indicated he might have spent a good deal of his life shouting, “that in proper circles I am to be introduced to them.”

  “Of course. I suppose I should have paid more attention during etiquette lessons, but the teacher would drone on and on incessantly. I fear I grew quickly bored and wasted your coin while at it.”

  “We don’t have to be so formal,” Kip said quickly, uncharacteristically doing away with customs he generally followed as though they were the dictate of a divine being. “Based on the conversation with Miss Trewlove thus far, I assume you’re Mick Trewlove.”

  Aslyn fought to hide her shock that Kip would know of this man, this creature of the night, this commoner. Even more stunned that he appeared to be encouraging a discourse with someone beneath him. Kip, like most in the aristocracy, tended to lord his position over those who weren’t quite up to snuff.

  The gentleman, in a grand gesture, swept his hat from his head. “I am indeed. Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord, my lady.”

  “I’ve heard of you, Mr. Trewlove.”

  Aslyn wondered how he knew of the gentleman, what things Mick Trewlove might have done that had brought him to Kip’s attention. Nothing good, she suspected.

  “Nothing good, I suspect.”

  She nearly gasped as he gave voice to her exact thoughts. She did hope they weren’t reflected in her face, that the man wasn’t aware that while he had piqued her curiosity, she didn’t quite trust him. Or perhaps it was that she didn’t trust herself, because if she were honest he intrigued every inch of her being. She’d never before met anyone with such majestic bearing as though he ruled over everything upon which he gazed. He had a commanding presence that was both unsettling and thrilling.

  “On the contrary. I hear you have a nose for helping men make fortunes.”

  He lifted a shoulder, ducked his head in a way that would appear humble in most men, but she sensed he didn’t have a modest bone in that marvelously tall, broad-­shouldered body of his. There was an uncivilized aspect to him that had her most feminine parts quivering—­shamefully. She’d never had such a blatant physical reaction to a man. She wanted to run her fingers over his beard to see if it felt as soft and luxurious as it looked, even as she had a strong urge to dash off and protect herself as the duchess had warned her far too many times was the appropriate response when confronted by a dangerous man. Instinctually, she knew he was dangerous, very dangerous indeed, in ways she’d never even considered a man might be perilous.

  “Sometimes our endeavors meet with financial success,” he said. “Few men boast about the times when they don’t.”

  “Please, let’s not get into business,” Miss Trewlove lamented. “The fireworks will be filling the sky soon. I’ve heard they’re marvelous, and this will be my first time to see them. I don’t want to miss out on a single burst. My lord, you wouldn’t happen to know the best place for viewing them, would you?”

  “Indeed, I would.”

  With gloved hands clasped before her, Miss Trewlove hopped up to him as though she were a rambunctious puppy who had just divined who held a treat. “Would you be so kind as to show me?”

  “I’d be delighted to have that honor. If you’ve never seen them before, you must view them from the best advantage.”

  And he would go with them, this man who merely watched, watched her as though striving to uncover every facet of her. She wasn’t quite certain she wanted him near. Something told her that she would be safer if he remained behind. She didn’t fear that he would strike her or harm her in any way. Yet she couldn’t quite shake off the sense that this man was laying claim to her. It was a ridiculous notion. She didn’t know him. He was a commoner. After tonight, they would never again cross paths, and all her curiosity about him would fade away.

  “Aslyn?”

  Jerking her head to the side, breaking free of whatever spell Mick Trewlove had cast over her, she looked at Kip, surprised to see his hand extended toward her.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course.” She forced herself to move up and place her hand on his arm when she would have preferred to stand there like a silly goose and study Mick Trewlove. She’d never known a man who gave away none of his thoughts or emotions. He didn’t seem bothered by his sister’s forwardness, but then it wasn’t like a paramour dallying with another man. Although most certainly the girl had been flirting, no doubt testing the waters in order to determine if Kip might turn out to be the fancy man her mother wanted for her. But he was spoken for. Not formally announced, yet all of London—­all of Great Britain for that matter—­knew to whom he belonged, whom he would eventually marry, who would become his countess.

  She was aware of Miss Trewlove and her brother following behind them. Once again, she had the strange sensation of being watched. She wanted to look back, to see if his eyes were upon her. Instead she marched forward, wondering what she might have done if he had offered her his arm before Kip had. She rather feared she might have taken it. Something about him called to her, drew her in. She didn’t understand this attraction, wasn’t certain she wanted to.

  Chapter 2

  Mick was torn between being furious
with Fancy for taking matters into her own hands and applauding her ingenuity. For gaining him the introduction he’d desired, she’d be insufferable for at least a sennight. But as he followed the couple leading the way toward the fireworks, he couldn’t seem to hold on to his irritation with his sister nor take his gaze away from the woman. She wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. Ladies of the nobility tended to be haughty, unapproachable. They looked at him as though he were muck to be scraped off the bottom of their shoe.

  But Lady Aslyn didn’t seem to fit so easily into that mold. Her eyes, the blue of a summer sky, had reflected curiosity, perhaps something even more provocative: temptation. He intrigued her. From the moment she’d become aware of his existence, she’d not taken her gaze from him, but had studied him with her fine brow delicately furrowed as though he were a puzzle to be sorted out. He’d wager half his fortune she’d been striving to place him, to wonder from whence she knew him. She was unlikely to make the connection—­not until his plans were completed. Then she would know the truth of him, the truth of those she considered family, those whom she loved. Both truths were likely to bring her to tears, fill her with shame and mortification. And certainly kill any desire for him that might have been sparked within her breast.

  If he were any other man, he might experience a measure of remorse, but he’d learned early on there was no capital found in regrets.

  “I’ve never spoken to nobility before,” Fancy said quietly. “They seem rather pleasant.”

  “Stay away from them after tonight.” He’d been reckless to bring her, to let her get even a glimpse of his quarry.

  “Why?”

  “Because he has designs on you.” That, too, had been obvious from the start. There had been greed, desire, lust in the earl’s eyes, and it had taken every bit of control he possessed not to introduce his fist to that little dent in his lordship’s chin.

  “You implied he was interested in the lady.”

  “She is the sort he marries. You are the sort he beds.”

  Her eyes widened, her cheeks reddened. “And the lady on his arm? Is she the sort you wed?”

  “Never in a million years.”

  She stopped walking, causing him to do the same. “Yet you’re going to strive to take her away from him. What has he done to earn your wrath?”

  He’d been born, protected, loved. Although in truth, he wasn’t the one with whom Mick found fault, but he was the means to achieving satisfaction. Not that he was willing to explain any of his reasons to his sister. She’d find fault with him. Generally he didn’t care what people thought about him, but from the moment she was born, she’d been the only pure thing to ever love him. He’d do whatever necessary to ensure nothing ever tainted that purity. “For tonight, simply enjoy the fireworks.”

  “But I’m part of your scheme now.”

  “Not after tonight.”

  “I gained you an introduction. I can do more—­”

  “You were correct earlier, Fancy. You were merely to serve as part of my disguise. What is going to transpire beyond tonight is not for a lady of your sensibilities.” Not for anyone with a shred of kindness or civility, but his education in the streets had ensured he grew up to possess neither of those irritating and limiting qualities. If they lingered about at all, he was unable to locate even a remnant of their existence within his character, his soul, his heart.

  “I despise the way you discount me so easily with so little care.”

  “I’m not discounting you, I’m protecting you.”

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest more, reminding him of a dog he’d once owned that never released his hold on a bone once he had it clamped between his jaws. “We can leave now if you prefer,” he said curtly before she could give voice to more objections.

  Her face fell, no doubt because she’d realized to argue with him was a losing battle. Men with far more worldly experience could not stand up to him, so how could a mere slip of a girl? “I want to see the fireworks.”

  He was impressed she managed not to sound too churlish or petulant. “Then let this go.”

  She quickly stuck her tongue out at him before marching forward. Her short legs were no deterrent for his longer ones, and he easily caught up with her. Odd that she didn’t realize her childish actions proved his point: she was not made for the world in which he survived.

  Kipwick and Lady Aslyn were waiting in an open area that would give them a clear view of the sky. The lady moved to greet Fancy as though they were long lost friends, which left the earl and Mick standing behind them. He should have used the opportunity to study his foe, but he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze from Lady Aslyn’s profile as she smiled and spoke with his sister.

  Her features were not perfect. The end of her nose tipped up ever so slightly as though she’d spent her youth with it pressed up against a shop window, longing for something she’d spied on a shelf. A distant light glinted off her eyelashes, which were unusually long, and he suspected when she slept, they fanned out over her cheeks. Her eyes tilted up slightly as though the corners near her temples were shoved into place by her overly high cheekbones. Yet each imperfection wove into the fabric of her face to give her the appearance of perfection.

  Her alabaster skin was flawless, not a freckle in sight, and he doubted she’d ever allowed the sun to touch her face. Nor a man for that matter. Beneath her frilly hat, a few blond tendrils, curling and loose, had broken free of their pins. He suspected they were the most rebellious part of her. Her posture, the way she held herself stiffly, the lack of animation in her movements spoke of a woman who understood she was continually on display and must constantly portray control and a proper bearing.

  He was quite looking forward to the challenge of destroying that control.

  “Have we met before?” Kipwick asked quietly.

  Mick slid his gaze over to the man, who was perhaps an inch shorter than he and much more slender. But then his lordship had never had to haul rubbish out of the city in order to earn a few shillings so his family didn’t go hungry. “No.”

  The earl’s thick dark eyebrows drew together, causing a deep crease to form between them. “You look familiar. I could swear our paths have crossed at some point.”

  “I don’t move about in your circles, my lord. And I doubt very much you move about in mine.”

  Kipwick blanched, averted his gaze. Mick wasn’t surprised. He’d learned enough about the earl during the past few months to have a relatively good idea of the circles he preferred. Before summer drew to a close, they would be his downfall.

  “Although it’s quite possible you saw me in passing at the Cerberus Club. It seems to be a crossroads for the various stations in life, a place where the upper and lower classes don’t mind mingling because their common interests override all else.”

  “Hardly likely I’ve seen you there, as I haven’t garnered a membership.”

  Mick was well aware Kipwick had been making inquiries about the club, knew he’d never been. The establishment was merely a lure, the first step in guiding the earl toward his downfall. “Membership isn’t required. Merely a hefty purse.”

  He was acutely aware of the earl coming to sharp attention. Disappointment washed through him. He’d anticipated a bit of a challenge, had hoped Kipwick would at least resist being led to slaughter. Nothing in Mick’s life had ever come easy. He didn’t want revenge handed to him on a silver platter without his having worked for it.

  “To be honest,” Kipwick said hesitantly, “I wasn’t certain the place truly existed. No one of my acquaintance has ever admitted to spending time at the gaming hell.”

  “I’m not surprised. Most of the aristocrats who frequent the place have been barred from the more respectable clubs. Admitting to frequenting Cerberus hardly improves one’s reputation.”

  “You think I’ve been barred?”

  The cutting edge to his voice indicated he’d been insulted. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so easy after all. “No, my lord. I was trying to offer a suggestion for where we might have possibly crossed paths. You strike me as a man with a keen intellect who would have success at the tables, and a bit of an adventurer who might be in search of various types of entertainment. I suspect you bore easily.”