Rules of Engagement

  Pamela stopped and braced herself even as the scent of roses wrapped her in memories. “Yes, Becky?”

  “If ye don’t mind me sayin’ so, ye look beautiful this mornin’.”

  “Th-thank you.” Pamela took another breath. Lovely scent. And the maid had been civil.

  Pamela walked on.

  One maid. Perhaps the tale wasn’t all over the house. Or perhaps Becky liked her well enough to ignore it.

  No matter. Pamela was not a helpless child like the girls whose reputations had been destroyed by one illicit night. Those girls cowered and blinked through tears, looking longingly while the man—the seducer—pretended not to see.

  Pamela would never be like that. She had too much pride. She had refused Kerrich’s proposal of marriage!

  Of course, it was the proposal that almost had her cowering and tearful. That temporary insanity of his had frightened her half to death, and only when she argued had he withdrawn his offer. And why had she been frightened? She hated the answer even while she faced it.

  She had wanted to accept. To throw caution to the wind, to take her chances on a rake…and spend the rest of her life weeping as he nightly walked out of the door.

  No, that was not the life for her. She’d done the right thing, and this morning he would undoubtedly be grateful to her and ashamed that he’d ever even mentioned it.

  She walked toward the classroom, past a maid polishing a mirror—the same mirror, over and over again, sneaking glances at Pamela. Striving for a degree of normalcy, Pamela said, “Good morning, Sheila.”

  Sheila jumped as if caught doing something she shouldn’t, curtsied and hurried away. Then, before she turned the corner, she spoke, all in a rush. “Miss Lockhart? Ye’re pretty.”

  “Thank you, Sheila.” This wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. The servants seemed unaware of the private events of the previous evening. Had Moulton somehow maintained his discretion? So were the servants truly ignorant? That seemed almost too good to be true, but—

  A cheerful voice behind her said, “ ’Ow are ye this mornin’, miss?”

  Pamela glanced at Dorothy as she passed by, her arms full of linens. “Good morning.”

  “Ye’re lookin’ fair pleasin’, miss.”

  Pamela relaxed. Maybe it was true. Perhaps they hadn’t thought anything about closed doors, the robes, the long silence. Strange though it might be, perhaps her transformation did occupy all their attention. After all, none of the servants had seen her true appearance before. No powder. No rouge. And dry.

  Her own reflection in one of the wall mirrors caught her attention, and she stopped to gaze on herself. Her appearance was pleasing this morning. She had discarded those annoying dark spectacles, her complexion glowed with its natural color, she still wore knitting needles in her coiffure, but rather more loosely, and her dress was…not good. She had packed only Lady Temperly’s dresses when she’d come to Lord Kerrich’s. She could scarcely complain that she had to wear the dowager-styled kerseymere now. At least the purple changed her eyes from plain blue to an intense violet. Very attractive, should she run into…well…anyone who was interested.

  So with a poise that no longer felt feigned, she walked into the classroom—and her aplomb failed her.

  Kerrich was there. Kerrich and Beth, heads together, laughing. Kerrich…dear heavens, with the morning light shining around his head and his coat of dark blue travel wear, the man was audibly handsome.

  Smoothly he came to his feet, smiling at her in an intimate manner that had her blushing. How did one react to the man who had last seen her naked, panting, and desperate? How could one behave habitually when she remembered how he looked, his arms upraised, his nude figure gleaming in the firelight?

  Blessing the discipline instilled by years of courtesy, she dipped into a curtsy. “My lord.”

  He bowed, still looking at her, still smiling. “Miss Lockhart.”

  He said nothing else, but hearing the deep, smooth, honey tones brought up memories of his voice calling her name, begging, demanding…

  He watched her as if she pleasured his gaze as she had pleasured his body.

  Suddenly she couldn’t remember if she’d buttoned her dress, or pinned on her collar, or dressed her hair. Her hand crept up her buttons to her throat, then to the chignon…yes, she was buttoned and pinned. Only his gaze suggested she was unclothed, and that because he was a self-confessed rake and rogue.

  Beth’s awe-struck voice broke into Pamela’s jumbled thoughts. “Miss Lockhart, you look so beautiful.”

  “So beautiful,” Kerrich echoed.

  Primly, Pamela said, “True beauty is on the inside.”

  “So the wise tell us.” He stepped closer to her, crowding her with his height and breadth. “But I say a little beauty on the outside never hurts.”

  Just being in his vicinity, breathing his scent and gazing into his sin-colored eyes, was enough to make her lose her head. She almost agreed with his absurd statement.

  Rake and rogue, she reminded herself. She knew very well what to think of both of those conditions. She had only to recall her father, gone without a word. Taking her watch out of the pocket of her skirt, she looked at the curlicues on the silver case. She had only to remember her mother, grieving and alone. But…Pamela had lived all her life and schooled all her responses by those memories, and right now, those moments seemed far away and irrelevant.

  As if the watch burned her hands, she dropped it in her pocket.

  Perhaps Kerrich was not so like her father. Witness his true affection for Beth.

  Self-conscious, she glanced at the watching child. His affection was true, wasn’t it?

  Beth sat at her desk, her hands folded in her lap. “I’m ready for my lessons, Miss Lockhart.”

  She looked as innocent as a babe, but Pamela recalled her carefree escape the day before. “Do you have your books and your slate?”

  “Yes, Miss Lockhart.” Beth almost sang the answer.

  “She was just saying how ready she is,” Kerrich said.

  They both looked far too satisfied, and Pamela answered tartly, “As long as she wasn’t saying how very much she wanted to return to the racetrack.”

  She couldn’t believe it when the two exchanged guilty glances. “Didn’t you two learn your lesson yesterday?” she demanded.

  “Lord Kerrich did.” Beth rubbed the pocket in her pinafore. “He learned not to bet the horses against me.”

  “I’m not taking her to the track again,” Kerrich hastily assured Pamela.

  “He’s kind of a crabby loser,” Beth confided. “Miss Lockhart, did he ever tell you why he took me?”

  “You shouldn’t call Lord Kerrich a poor loser. It isn’t polite,” Pamela said. “And no, he never informed me why he took you to that dreadfully inappropriate place.” She glared at him.

  He didn’t notice. He was glaring at Beth. “I came to the classroom this morning on a different errand.”

  “I just thought Miss Lockhart might understand why you took me if you explained—”

  Kerrich interrupted without remorse. “I have both sad news and gratifying news. We won’t be able to go to my estate in Norfolk, after all.”

  “Oh, dear.” Pamela had looked forward to introducing Beth to the countryside, and to being there herself.

  “The gratifying news is, we can’t go because we have an invitation that can’t be refused.” With a flourish, he removed a folded, stiff paper from his pocket, and showed them the seal. “Because it comes from Her Majesty herself!”

  The blood drained from Pamela’s head, and she snatched the invitation from his hand.

  He chuckled as he watched her, obviously reading her alarm as excitement, and recited the invitation as she read it. “ ‘Her Majesty Queen Victoria, sovereign and monarch of the British Isles, commands the presence of Devon Mathewes, the earl of Kerrich, and his ward, Miss Elizabeth Hunter, at a reception at Buckingham Palace three days hence at four o’ the clock in the afternoon.’
”

  Pamela sighed in relief. She hadn’t been invited.

  “Yes, isn’t this good news?” Kerrich exclaimed.

  Beth didn’t look as if she thought it was good news. She looked petrified—and guilt swamped Pamela. If Pamela were going, she would be there to comfort and instruct Beth.

  “I knew as soon as we allowed Beth to participate in society that the queen would hear about it,” he said. “One of those dear, gossipy ladies must have rushed right over and told her.”

  Kneeling beside Beth, Pamela tucked a few stray strands of hair into the child’s short braid. She was glad to be excluded, but in penance she would ruthlessly coach Beth in the three days before the reception.

  “Victoria must be in a ferment of curiosity to have put us on the guest list so quickly,” Kerrich continued. “This reception has been planned for months.”

  “You have done everything we required of you,” Pamela said softly to Beth. “You have proved your bravery beyond doubt.”

  Impervious, Kerrich charged on. “Before, I wasn’t invited because it’s one of those family events Prince Albert dotes on, and I’m not seen as respectable enough to mingle with parents and children.”

  Pamela told Beth, “You will dress in your prettiest gown, the one with the ruffles which you have so longed to wear.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t have gone anyway, but all that’s changed now. All because of Beth. Look, it’s written here on the side, ‘Miss Elizabeth will be presented to Her Majesty Queen Victoria at six o’ the clock.’ ” He looked down and realized something was going on right beneath his nose. “Why aren’t you happy?”

  Annoyed by his insensitivity, Pamela snapped, “My lord, you are like the rooster who thinks the sun rises to hear you crow.”

  He looked startled, but apparently not even her impudence was enough to ruin his expansive mood. “I’ve been blathering on. Well, I’m pleased. You have both done well.” He inspected Beth’s pale countenance. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s never met our queen before,” Pamela said.

  “Of course she hasn’t. That would be the idea.”

  “She’s nervous.”

  “I am,” Beth said in a small voice.

  “You? Nervous?” Clearly, Kerrich couldn’t imagine such an instance. “You’re not afraid of me. Why would you be afraid of her?”

  “Because she’s the queen. She’s important,” Beth declared.

  Pamela plucked her handkerchief from her sleeve and covered her mouth with it, but nothing could contain her muffled laughter.

  Kerrich’s lowering scowl promised retribution. Then he knelt beside Beth. “I have known Her Majesty for years, and I assure you, she is very kind, very young, and very pretty. She is easily charmed, and you are charming. You will win her heart immediately.”

  Beth jollied up. “Really?”

  Pamela might have been offended that Kerrich so easily reassured the child when Pamela herself couldn’t. Instead she saw the good use he made of his glib patter, and she was grateful.

  “I have my faults, but I’m not a liar,” he told Beth. “I have complete confidence in you.”

  A cautious smile broke over her face. “I’m not a liar, either,” she told him. “I used to be afraid of you. Now…” She flung her arms around his neck.

  He returned the hug with obvious surprise, then stood her on her feet and rose. “However, the consequence of all these good tidings is that I have to go to Norfolk to check on the bank. I had planned to do it when I was at Brookford, but that’s out. The servants are even now seeking Mr. Athersmith so he may accompany me, and the carriage is waiting. So…” He swatted Beth on the rear. “I’m ready to go, but I forgot my fawn kid gloves. Could I send you to seek out my valet and get them from him?”

  Beth beamed at him and curtsied. “Gladly, Lord Kerrich.”

  She ran out of the classroom while Pamela gazed after her with proud tenderness. “That was very good of you, my lord.”

  “Further proof that there isn’t a woman I can’t charm.”

  Disconcerted by the cool declaration, she looked and found him stalking toward her, wearing an expression of absolute licentiousness.

  “After all, I charmed you, Miss Pamela Lockhart, did I not?”

  She backed up and tried not to be charmed all over again. “My lord, your charm is of concern to no one but yourself.”

  “When did you again start calling me ‘my lord?’ ” Catching her by the shoulders, he held her in front of him.

  “We agreed this”—she shrugged her shoulders—“would not be a good idea.”

  “We agreed you would call me Devon.”

  “We did not agree that,” she answered indignantly. “I yielded to your demand under the greatest of blackmail.”

  “So you did.” He smiled at her, that winning smile that made her remember just what form his blackmail took. “I could make you surrender again.”

  “Unwise, my lord, unwise!” Her heart thrummed, confirming the excitement she denied within her mind.

  “I’m going to be gone for two whole days.”

  “Farewell.” She held out her hand as if to shake his. “Have a pleasant journey.”

  He brushed her hand away, moved so close he crushed her petticoats, and slid his hands off her shoulders and down her spine to her bottom. “We should share one last kiss before I go.”

  She clutched at his arms even as she said, “Certainly not!”

  “After all”—he bent his head to hers and lifted her up toward him—“with the carriage waiting outside and the child returning, we can take it no further.”

  Somehow her lips found their way to his. They strained together, and he feasted on her like a starving man. No matter that they’d loved too many times last night; as she tasted him, the hunger rose in her, sharp and prodigious. Breaking off the kiss, he bussed her cheeks, her forehead, her chin while she clung to him and wished they were alone, it was night…and all the rights and wrongs of their situation had vanished.

  When his hand slipped to her breast, she thought she must burst into flames. And a flaming governess seemed a poor excuse for a teacher. “Beth will return.”

  He caressed one last time, then admitted, “I know.” Leaning his forehead against hers, he stared into her eyes. “I know. If you married me, I would shower you with kisses like that every day.”

  She still gasped and trembled, but she said, “You promised!”

  “What did I promise?”

  “That you…you agreed not to press me for marriage.”

  “I didn’t. Last night. But I have reconsidered. You should take me. I’m a good man. You’d never know about my mistresses.”

  She got her breath back in one long inhale. “You mistake goodness for discretion. Please, my lord, release me.”

  He did, rather abruptly, and his voice rose. “You won’t accept money and you scorn discretion. What will it take to make you marry me?”

  Now he was acting as she expected a thwarted man to act. Petulantly. “I don’t wish to marry, and that is no surprise to you. I told you I would not. You know about my father.” She touched the watch in her pocket.

  “I am not your father.”

  “Neither are you the man I would ever choose.”

  Fists on hips, he gazed at her through narrowed eyes. “Ever is a long time.” His smile beamed forth so suddenly she blinked. “So I will ask you every day.”

  Had he been using his disapprobation to test her resolve? “I still don’t understand why you would wed me at all.”

  “Because your body calls to me to fill it.”

  “My lord, we are in a classroom where innocent children learn!”

  “Because I find myself in a violent ferment of desire which not even a night of you has fulfilled.”

  “Sh!” She glanced toward the open door and prayed that one of the servants hadn’t heard.

  “Because I can bear the thought of your company for the next fifty years with equanimity.??
?

  Prepared to shush him again, she found herself saying flatly, “A high compliment, indeed.”

  “I am not the kind of man to tell silly tales to the woman he plans to spend his life with, and I did not think, Pamela, that you were the type of female who wished to hear such tales.”

  “No.” Yes. “No.” She couldn’t bear this. A male human was nothing more than a primitive creature who disregarded his heart, loved with his brain, and thought with his organ. Without a doubt the attractive ones were worse. She’d seen her mother die of grief for a man.

  Now here was Kerrich, and who was he really?

  And why did she care?

  Anxiously, she searched for a topic of innocuous conversation and blurted out one of her worries instead. “I hope there’s no trouble about the library.”

  He stiffened. “The library. What’s wrong with the library?”

  “We left a bit of a mess last night when we…when we left last night.”

  He stared at her as if he had just caught her stealing the silver, then he released a slow sigh of what sounded like relief. “Don’t worry. Moulton has closed it up today, and he’s taking care of it.”

  “Good.” I’ll only have to be embarrassed by Moulton. But there was no use bringing that to Kerrich’s attention. He didn’t even know most of his servants’ names. He certainly wouldn’t comprehend being embarrassed by a minion’s insight. Picking up her pointer, she twirled it in her hands and carefully avoided looking at him.

  Part of the trouble with Kerrich was that he wasn’t offended when she snapped at him, not even now, when she had discarded the fac¸ade of sour Miss Lockhart and became young Pamela. He was gorgeous, rich, titled, and so indifferent to sentiment that he planned to use a child to keep a fortune in his already wealthy bank. Yet he was spending time with Beth, apparently for the pleasure of her company. And he had succeeded in seducing Pamela, yet still he insisted he wished to wed her when he should be wiping sweaty drops of relief from his forehead that she had refused him!

  Beth ran into the room. “Lord Kerrich, your valet says you have the gloves in your greatcoat.”

  “Ah, how foolish of me.” He touched his finger to her nose. “Thank you so much for helping me.”