How To Seduce A Sinner

Chapter Five

Thirty minutes later, Dorothea pulled away from Lord Rosen’s embrace and gazed at him distractedly, wondering how she had managed to find herself alone in the garden with him. She had been amenable when at the end of their dance he had suggested they stroll outside for some fresh air. He had been charming and urbane, flattering, yet not too obvious in his remarks. She had enjoyed his wit, but even more, she had been impressed with the gentlemanly reverence he displayed toward her.

Caught in the romance of the moment, Dorothea wondered if he could possibly be the right man for her. There in the moonlight, with the stars twinkling brightly and the sweet smell of the spring flowers perfuming the air, she decided to find out.

She leaned forward, allowing him to kiss her. Lord Rosen’s lips pressed forcefully against hers and in that instant Dorothea knew she had made a dreadful mistake. A foolish mistake.

There was danger in Lord Rosen’s kiss, possession in his embrace. He was not subtle or gentle; rather, he was conquering and almost brutal. He felt large, ruthless, and powerful as he held her tightly against his chest. Though it was executed with great skill, and no doubt endless experience, Dorothea found something indefinably unpleasant in his kiss. It left her feeling uncomfortable, uneasy.

“We need to return to the ball,” she said breathlessly

“Relax,” he cooed at her, his voice a harsh rasp on her nerves. “There is plenty of time before we are missed.”

Instinctively, Dorothea put up her arm, bracing it against his chest to hold him at bay. He smiled indolently at her and lunged forward. Dorothea stood fast, stiffening her elbow, keeping her arm firmly in place. His expression became perturbed as he realized she was serious.

“We need to return to the ball,” she repeated.

“Come now, my pet. There’s no need to be coy. We both know what we want.”

Oh, Lord, now she was in serious trouble. Her left hand, so firmly planted in the center of Lord Rosen’s chest, began to tremble. The idea of wrestling with him was too undignified to be borne, but if necessary, Dorothea would fight with every ounce of her strength.

She raised her chin and met his eyes squarely. Speaking in a normal, quiet tone was an effort. “I really must insist.”

His eyebrow lifted. “I cannot believe you would be so cruel as to deny us both such untold pleasure. You see before you a man at the mercy of your beauty.”

She sent a frosty glare in his direction. “At my mercy? I believe you to be more attuned with your base appetites, my lord.”

Appreciative laughter fell from his lips. “And yours.”

“Hardly!”

He drew back slightly, his gaze openly skeptical. “You came out here willingly. You kissed me willingly.”

Dorothea swallowed past the lump that was lodged in her throat. She had come outside of her own accord. But surely he could not think she was going to bestow upon him more than a single kiss?

“One kiss is all that I allow, my lord. At least to a man who is not my husband or my betrothed. Lest you forget, I am a lady. An innocent, unmarried lady.”

Lord Rosen must have seen her temper flair, for he paused. His dark eyes surveyed her critically. “Do you believe yourself worthy of becoming my wife?”

Dorothea winced. That was rather blunt. What did he expect now, that she plead her cause? Enumerate her finer qualities, expound on her many virtues, show him her teeth? What nerve! Beneath her escalating fear, Dorothea grew angry. But she held her temper.

“That is not for me to decide, my lord,” she replied, keeping her voice cool. “Only you can determine who is worthy to be your wife.”

He smiled, seemingly pleased at her response, yet his heightened color indicated he had not fully regained his temper.

“Perhaps that is what I am attempting to do right now. Determine your worth.”

Shock forced a nervous giggle from her. She should have been prepared for this nonsense. Or better still, she should have been smart enough to avoid it altogether. The good Lord help her if by some miracle Lord Rosen did propose. He possessed in abundance that superior smugness prevalent in men who felt they needed to prove themselves with women. He would not take kindly to being rejected.

Somehow, Dorothea managed a strained smile. “This seems a rather awkward time and place to make such an important decision about your future.”

“It could very well be your future also,” he insisted.

If you please me. He did not say the words aloud, but his intent was obvious with every sultry, proud look. Pointedly, Lord Rosen glanced down at her arm, the physical barrier she held between them. His smug expression told her he expected her to lower it.

Dorothea stiffened. “I think not, my lord,” she proclaimed.

His expression of disbelief was comical, and unfortunately short-lived. Lord Rosen glared at her, clearly annoyed. Dorothea’s fear returned. If I survive this incident without harm, I vow I shall be more diligent in the future, she promised herself silently.

Dorothea dipped a quick curtsy and turned away, scolding herself not to scurry so fast, yet she could feel Lord Rosen’s penetrating gaze boring into her back.

“Miss Ellingham!” he shouted.

Her discomfort heightened. Her pace quickened. She was supremely conscious of how wildly her heart was thudding. It was undignified and a bit lowering to scuttle away like a frightened child, yet Dorothea reasoned it was far better to be a coward than a fool.

There was a sound behind her. His footsteps? Dear God! No longer giving any thought to how she appeared, Dorothea lifted her skirt above her ankles and broke into a run. Her feet crunched noisily on the gravel path, the stones cutting through the soft leather soles of her elegant dancing slippers.

Ignoring the pain, Dorothea kept running. Her shoulder brushed the side of a lush hedge as she turned the corner, but she dared not slow her speed. She was concentrating so intently on the sounds behind her that she paid little attention to what was directly in front.

It was like hitting a brick wall. A wall with powerful arms. Dorothea screeched as those masculine arms encircled her, imprisoned her. Twisting from the hold, she backed away on unsteady legs, trying to prepare herself to meet her attacker. Lifting her head, she met his eyes fully.

Lord Atwood! Dorothea’s mouth dropped open, aghast. Feeling off balance, she caught his arm and tried to steady herself, physically and emotionally.

“Gracious, woman, what is the matter?”

Shocked speechless, Dorothea stared at him. The moonlight reflected off his face, giving his features an almost angelic glow. Normally, physical beauty did not overwhelm her so intently. It had taken several years for her to come to the realization, but she did know that physical appearance did not directly correlate to a person’s character.

Lord Rosen being an excellent example of that fact. His very appealing face and form hid a darkness in his personality, a sharpness of temperament that was at odds with his outer beauty.

Something about the marquess’s looks…or maybe it was his bearing, drew her near. A kind of magnetic virility that made her take notice. Even when she did not want to be looking.

“Are you in distress, Miss Ellingham?” the marquess asked in a gentle tone. “Can I be of assistance?”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’m perfectly fine.”

The lift of his brow told her of his skepticism at her response, but thankfully he did not press her. There was a strained silence, broken only by her harsh, labored breaths. Mortified, Dorothea attempted to stifle the noise, which made matters worse.

“I was unaware that Mr. Pengrove was in attendance this evening,” Lord Atwood commented.

“He is here?” Dorothea gazed wildly about the garden.

“Wasn’t that him in the lower garden with you?”

“No, that was Lord Rosen.” Dorothea, still feeling terribly rattled, replied without thinking. Then nearly groaned at her answer.

“Lord Rosen?” Ill-concealed surprise shadowed the marquess’s moonlit features. “I thought you had an understanding with Mr. Pengrove.”

“An understanding of what?”

“Marriage.”

Oh, dear. Embarrassment and mortification fought for domination in Dorothea’s heart. How did he know about Arthur’s proposal? And why did he know only half the story, for clearly he believed she had accepted Arthur’s suit?

“Mr. Pengrove and I are merely friends. We have no plans to marry.”

She nearly laughed at Lord Atwood’s blank look of amazement and might have, if she had not been so stunned herself.

“Forgive my mistake,” he said, eyeing her with puzzlement. “Then you will gladly accept the title of Lady Rosen?”

“No.” Dorothea looked away, then sighed. “I must say, my lord, you appear to have far too keen an interest in my marital status.”

“Do I? I beg your pardon. Marriage is too much on my mind these days.”

“On mine, too, I confess.” Her heart skipped. Was Lord Atwood in the market for a bride?

“Did you not mean to say love and marriage are too much on your mind?” he asked, his voice lilting with humor.

“Love and marriage?” Dorothea took a moment to consider her reply. “Marriage is an act of combining family, fortune, and convenience.”

“It is, but I thought most young women strive to fall in love before they marry.”

“Do they? I’m not certain. I only know I wish very much to marry, and love is not a major factor under my consideration when searching for a husband.”

His mouth curled. “You surprise me, Miss Ellingham. I would have wagered anything that you were a starry-eyed romantic.”

Dorothea gave him a faint smile. “I have grown beyond that stage. I know that genuine love can exist between couples, but it is rare to find and even harder to hold.”

“I can agree with that sentiment.”

“From personal experience?”

He winced. “Heavens, no. I myself have never been in love. But I have borne witness to couples who profess themselves madly in love when they marry and within the year their relationship has fallen to apathy or boredom or worse.”

“I too have seen the same.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “That is why I am resolved to control my own fate when I marry and leave love out of the decision.”

He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “Are they mutually exclusive?” he asked. “Love and marriage?”

“For some. For too many.” She couldn’t help but smile. This was the most unusual conversation she had ever had with a man, but the most honest. “I think in the very best circumstances, love comes after marriage.”

“Between a man and his wife?”

“Sometimes. If they are very fortunate.” She studied her dancing slippers with a great intensity, then suddenly lifted her head. “And if not, then the world will not end. One can learn to be content with whatever parts another person is willing to share.”

He tilted his head curiously. “Does that not make for a very cold marriage bed?”

“I know very little of either love or passion yet I cannot fathom that love is necessary in order to achieve fulfillment when sharing a bed with your spouse. Is it?”

Her question seemed to surprise him. “Not from a man’s point of view. Yet I always believed a gently bred lady would feel differently.”

“Yes, some might.” Dorothea could not hold her tongue. “I am not one of them.”

His face registered shock, but that quickly turned to curiosity. “You are not horrified at the notion of being labeled a wanton?”

“Ah, so a woman is wanton if she enjoys the pleasures of the flesh and the joys of her marriage bed without a full commitment of her heart, and a man is not?”

That comment had him nearly gaping with astonishment.

Dorothea faltered, realizing she had spoken far too boldly and honestly and quite possibly offended him with her outrageous comments.

His features softened as his eyes glinted with keen interest. “So, you will offer passion instead of love to your future husband, Miss Ellingham?”

She gave him a sharp, direct look. “I will offer both, my lord, in equal measure. But I will make my choice of that husband based on passion.”

Her final remark rendered him speechless. Dorothea shifted from one foot to the other, becoming suddenly uncomfortable. There was no room for that sort of bare truth in a polite conversation between a man and a woman, at least not that degree of truth. She knew that, and yet something about Lord Atwood had compelled her to ignore her inner voice and say it anyway.

“Goodness, ’tis getting late,” she said in a constrained voice. “You must excuse me, Lord Atwood. It would be rude to remain so long away from the ball.”

He gave her a small, mysterious smile. “Of course, Miss Ellingham. I thank you for a most enlightening conversation.”

Dorothea’s heart began to pound and she quickly glanced away. She executed a low, graceful curtsy, then turned and walked away, her head held high.

Carter’s eyes narrowed as he watched Miss Ellingham stalk away, her skirt billowing out in her haste to leave. As she disappeared through the French doors, he was struck by a sharp feeling of being intrigued. By her beauty, of course, her lovely figure, her witty personality.

But also by her woman’s mind, something he rarely considered until that moment. She saw marriage in a very different way, and not, he greatly suspected, as other females did.

He had seen Arthur Pengrove kiss her and then sink down on one knee to propose. Therefore, when he again saw her kissing someone in the garden tonight, he assumed it was Pengrove, yet instead it was Lord Rosen, a reprobate and a womanizer, though a man astute enough to realize it would be suicide to play false with the affections of a woman under the protection of the Marquess of Dardington.

As difficult as it was to believe, Lord Rosen’s intentions must have been honorable. Yet she was not engaged to him either. Perhaps she just enjoyed kissing gentlemen?

It would be easy to label her a woman of loose morals, but somehow that did not ring true. She claimed no knowledge of either love or passion, and he believed her. She spoke of wanting to find the passion in her marriage before the love, a notion more aligned with a man’s thinking than a woman’s.

Her words made him think, made him realize that perhaps all those young, innocent females his father insisted he consider for his bride had caused Carter’s view of marriage to be too narrow and rigid. One could marry for duty alone, using common sense when selecting a mate. Or one could succumb to the sort of all-consuming romantic love that poets wrote about and women craved. Well, some women.

Frankly, neither of those approaches held much appeal, which most likely explained why he was having such difficulty setting his mind on a particular woman to take as his wife. Perhaps it was time to examine marriage in a different light entirely.

With Dorothea Ellingham? Carter smiled. She was a different sort of female and he had always been attracted to the unconventional. How else would one explain his close, long-standing friendship with Benton and Dawson, two men nearly diametrically opposed in everything from attitude to temperament?

Miss Ellingham’s idea of a passionate marriage without the complications of love made the wedded state a very enticing arrangement. Pleased at the discovery of this revelation, Carter turned from the garden path and began walking back to the ballroom.

Yes, an adjustment to his attitude and thinking about marriage could very well be the answer he needed. His mind examined and expanded the idea over and over in his head, and Carter became convinced that a union with the lovely Dorothea could be a most agreeable one indeed.

Dorothea slipped into the ballroom unnoticed, dreading the continuation of the ball. She had succeeded in making a perfect ninny of herself this evening, first with Lord Rosen and then with the marquess. And now she would be forced to paste on a delighted smile for the guests and pretend that everything was as it should be and she was having a wonderful time.

Fortunately the next dance was promised to Mr. Browning. He was a pleasant man of modest property and spare conversation. He was also a confident, skillful dancer, which allowed Dorothea to forgo the necessity of establishing a polite dialogue. All she need do was follow his lead and let her mind wander back to the conversation with the marquess.

She had been brutally honest when she told Lord Atwood she was not searching for a man to fall in love with or trying to make one fall in love with her. Marriage was too serious a business, too important a decision to be trusted to a fickle heart.

Years ago she had decided how she would approach this most momentous, pivotal moment in her life. To select a husband, she would use her head, her common sense, and as her final test, a kiss. With those factors neatly aligned, Dorothea firmly believed the possibility of love between her and her future husband would exist.

For her, the mere possibility of love would be enough to enter into the marriage. And if love did not materialize, she would survive. She would not become bitter, or angry or resentful. She would make the most of her life, no matter what the circumstances.

“Punch, Miss Ellingham?”

Startled out of her reflections, Dorothea blinked up at Mr. Browning. “That would be lovely,” she answered with a guilty smile.

He scuttled off to retrieve her punch. But solitude was denied her. Mere seconds after Mr. Browning disappeared, Sir Perry arrived at her side. Dorothea took a deep breath, willing herself to endure his painful conversation with a pleasant expression.

Mr. Browning returned. Dorothea sipped her punch, nodded with feigned interest at Sir Perry’s prattle, then gratefully escaped when the next gentleman presented himself to claim his dance.

And so it went for the next few hours.

Though she tried to control the impulse, Dorothea found herself searching the room for Lord Atwood at the end of each dance. And each time she found him, their eyes met, for he made no effort to conceal the fact that he was watching for her as well.

Why then did he not approach her and ask for a dance? Surely her eclectic circle of admirers did not intimidate him. Lord Atwood hardly seemed the type of man who worried about competition. No, he was a bold man, who more than likely took what he wanted.

Pity he did not want her. Or her wanton inclinations. Dorothea groaned, still not believing she had been so idiotic as to reveal them. He no doubt thought her a female of loose morals, unfit to one day be a duchess.

“Goodness, I hope that frown on your face is not from displeasure,” Lady Meredith said, catching Dorothea in a rare moment alone. She put her arm through Dorothea’s and the two women began a circle of the ballroom.

Dorothea tried to smile. Lady Meredith had worked very hard to ensure the success of the ball. Dorothea would not have her believe her efforts were not appreciated.

“I’m just tired,” Dorothea answered. “And a bit overwhelmed by all this grandeur.”

Lady Meredith patted Dorothea’s hand. “Naturally you are feeling fatigued. I think you’ve danced with nearly every bachelor here.”

“Almost every one,” Dorothea answered. She spied Lord Atwood across the room. He was speaking with Major Roddington and another gentleman whose name she could not remember. The trio turned and greeted a fourth man and then the group started toward the open doorway. Obviously, they were leaving. Dorothea sighed.

Lady Meredith glanced at Dorothea, then her eyes quickly traveled to where Dorothea was so boldly staring. “Hmm, I cannot even begin to speculate as to which of those four gentlemen brought about that weary reaction,” Lady Meredith whispered.

Dorothea shook her head, not even trying to disguise her interest. It hardly mattered if Lady Meredith knew of her infatuation with Lord Atwood. It would come to naught.

“Before you married Lord Dardington, did you ever say something to a gentleman that you regretted?” Dorothea asked.

“All the time.” Lady Meredith’s blue eyes sparkled. “Though truthfully, there were not an overabundance of opportunities for me to converse with gentlemen. You see, I was something of a social misfit.”

“You?” Dorothea could not believe such a poised, confident woman like Lady Meredith had ever stumbled in society.

“Oh, yes. I was quite the disaster. My family being known for its eccentricities was not much of a help either. I had no particular interest in marriage and made no bones about it. I was too concerned with keeping my wild twin brothers out of harm’s way and indulging my secret passion.”

“You had a secret passion?” Dorothea glanced over her shoulder to ensure that no one was close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Does Lord Dardington know of it?”

“He does. And while he does not strictly approve of it, he knows he cannot stop me, and thus I still indulge in it today.”

Dorothea’s mouth gaped open and her gaze slid away. “I would not have expected Lord Dardington to be so tolerant.”

Lady Meredith ceased walking and cocked her head, visibly surprised. “Why, Dorothea Ellingham, you have a sinful mind!”

“Please, I meant no offense.”

“None was taken.” Lady Meredith tapped her fan against Dorothea’s wrist and smiled. “My secret passion has nothing to do with a lover, so turn that thought right out of your head. Trevor is the only man who shares my heart, and my bed.”

“I did not mean to imply…that is to say, I was not seeking to judge you, Lady Meredith.” Dorothea’s cheeks flushed with color. Lord, what was wrong with her tonight? It seemed that every innocent conversation she began quickly turned scandalous.

“I assure you there is no need to look so stricken. I suppose it was a natural assumption to conclude my secret passion includes a man. That is true, to a small extent, for a man is involved. A man of business.” Lady Meredith smiled with amusement. “My secret passion is finance, Dorothea. I have a talent and an ambition for making money.”

“Oh.” Dorothea slowly let out the breath she had been holding. Despite her skepticism regarding love and marriage, she did appreciate the unique relations that certain couples shared. It was therefore an odd relief to be able to once again believe in the genuine love that Lady Meredith shared with her husband.

“It’s no small skill and, if you will allow me to be boastful for a moment, making money through investments is something that I am very good at doing,” Lady Meredith said. “But my talents are neither understood nor welcomed by those in society. ’Tis bad enough when a gentleman shows too must interest in his affairs of business, but a woman with financial intellect and insight.” Lady Meredith shuddered. “’Tis thought to be unnatural.”

Dorothea huffed with indignity. “We have brains, why must we hide them?”

Lady Meredith shrugged. “I believe that the majority of gentlemen are made very uneasy at the thought of a woman’s intellect. Why else are those women who enjoy an intellectual discourse mockingly labeled as bluestockings?”

Dorothea nodded. It was true. Girls were taught from an early age not to appear too clever or bookish in front of a gentleman. “Did you conceal your interest in business from Lord Dardington before you married?”

“No.”

“Did he object to it at all?”

“Initially, he ignored it. Then again, he also ignored me. Entirely.”

Dorothea’s eyes widened. “I always thought yours was a love match?”

“Hardly. When we first married, there were numerous difficulties that kept us apart and unhappy. Thankfully, those were eventually resolved and we discovered the love we shared for each other.” Lady Meredith gestured politely to an elderly couple they passed, then smiled with kindness at a young man with shirt collar points so high he could barely move his head from side to side.

“Once our marriage became a happy one, I think Trevor might have wanted me to forgo my financial activities, but he soon realized it gave me a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment,” she continued. “’Tis only because of him that those in society who are aware of my activities say very little about it. At least in public. Plus my father-in-law has long been my champion in society. One can never underestimate the power and influence of a duke.”

Dorothea took a moment to ponder Lady Meredith’s words. “You said that you had no interest in marriage. But if you did not marry, what did you plan to do? How did you plan to live?”

“However I wished. Thanks to my solid investments, having enough funds at my disposal gave me a degree of independence, a rare freedom. That is why I have insisted on very specific financial arrangements for each of my daughters. When they have reached their maturity, they are to be given an independent income that cannot be touched by any male relations, including their husbands.”

“So you want your daughters to marry?” Dorothea asked, doubting she would take the independent road, even if it were offered. To her, marriage seemed a more natural, protective state for a woman.

“If my daughters find men who they care for and are worthy of them, naturally I would like them to marry. Though according to their father, as of yet, no men exist with the qualities that would deem them acceptable.”

Dorothea joined Lady Meredith’s laughter. “Lord Dardington has been excessively critical of my potential suitors and he is not even a blood relation. I cannot begin to imagine his reaction when a gentleman comes to call for one of his girls.”

“I know one thing with certainty,” Lady Meredith said, with a twisted smile. “Those young gentlemen will not be faint of heart. I may even have to remove Trevor from England for a while, just to give my daughters some peace.”

Having completed the circuit of the ballroom, the two women returned to their original spot. Dorothea’s nerves had settled. She felt calmer, more in control. “I suppose for some, married life will never be dull,” she remarked.

“Oh, my, yes.” Lady Meredith squeezed her arm in encouragement. “I know you are feeling anxious about finding a husband and I agree ’tis a most important decision. But your situation is not so dire that you must rush it. Take your time, be sure of whom you choose.”

Dorothea smiled wanly. She knew Lady Meredith believed she was imparting sound advice, but Dorothea had to disagree. Her situation was dire. If she did not find a husband by the end of this Season, she would be relegated to life back in Yorkshire, where the pool of potential husbands was much smaller, and lacked the inclusion of a certain devilish marquess.

“I shall endeavor to do my best,” Dorothea said with a small sigh.

“That is all anyone can ask of you,” Lady Meredith replied. “You must remember, Dorothea, that marriage, like most everything in life, is what you make of it.”