Page 21 of My Hellion, My Heart
She scowled, recalling the odious man. “Would that there’d been a bet for him to return with a blood-spotted shirt. He’s a despicable pig. Go on.”
“Lord Marlowe earned five hundred for a dance at the Huntington Ball.”
“Five hundred pounds?” she repeated, her eyes goggling. “For adance?”
“A second dance,” Max corrected, tapping his forefinger against his chin. “Lord Crawley bet and won a thousand for a ride with you in Hyde Park.”
Irina’s jaw dropped again. She’d only ridden with Lord Crawley, a viscount who’d been an absolute gentleman, barely one afternoon prior. “Are you quite serious? A thousand pounds?”
“They’re mad for you, as we predicted, and these men have nothing better to do than compete to see who has the fattest purse. And by purse, I mean manhood.”
She swallowed her shocked giggle. “It’s barbaric.”
“It’s men.” His mouth quirked into a crooked smile, and he maneuvered the phaeton off to the side. “I’ve even lined my pockets at your expense.” Turning to her, he patted his waistcoat. “Won a hundred quid on how long it would take for Lord Everton to be shocked by your controversial opinions.”
Lord Everton had been one of the most aggressive in his pursuit since her arrival in London. Nothing was wrong with the man except that he was as stodgy as day-old pudding. Irina wasn’t surprised that anything she had said had shocked him.
“Apparently,” Max was saying, “your ideas on comparing women to breeding mares struck a particularly responsive chord in poor Lord Everton. His family owns a stud farm, you know.”
Irina clamped her lips together to stop from bursting out laughing and then gave in to the inclination. “Now that’s certainly worth a hundred pounds!”
Her unbridled laughter drew the attention of several people around them, including one who was riding hell-bent in their direction, his face blacker than the beast beneath him. The amusement died a swift death on her lips as Lord Langlevit pulled alongside the carriage. Her heart, however, surged to life in her breast, pounding against her ribs in a violent staccato. Never had a man had such a visceral effect on her. If she weren’t sitting, she was sure that her legs would not be able to support her.
“Lord Remi,” the earl said in greeting with a brisk nod and a shallow bow in her direction. “Your Highness.”
His deep voice sent shaky bolts of pure heat spiraling through her.
“Lord Langlevit,” Irina murmured, her fingers once more seeking the folds of her riding habit for courage or strength—she did not know which.
She was transparent as wet muslin to Max, and fearing he would notice the effect Henry had on her, Irina kept her face averted from him and forced a fixed smile to her lips. But she could not keep her lowered gaze from returning to Henry’s face and roving greedily over his proud chin and stern mouth…the very mouth that had taken hers with such delicious ferocity. She wanted to feel those commanding lips on hers again. As if he could read her scandalous thoughts, Henry’s eyes met hers for a charged instant, leaving her incapable of breathing before they broke away. Beads of sweat broke out on the nape of her neck as the fire within leaped to uncontrollable heights. He was not immune, either, she noticed. The knuckles of his fingers on the reins had gone white.
“Langlevit,” Max said jovially. “Lovely day for a ride, is it not?”
“I fear I won’t see much of it as I am departing for Essex within the hour,” he said. “Lady Irina is supposed to be riding with my mother. I’ve come to fetch her.”
“You did not have to put yourself out, my lord,” she responded lightly despite her wildly scattering pulse. “I am well aware of the hour and had planned to return shortly.”
“It was not out of my way.”
“Heavens, Langlevit,” a breathless female voice called out, and a stunning woman on a prancing white mare approached. Viscountess La Valse. Of course, Henry was not alone, nor was it, as he’d said, out of his way. He had been here already.With his lover.“You took off so suddenly, I had a devil of a time following you.” Laughing, she cleared her throat and threw a meaningful glance at the earl to perform the introductions.
“Princess Irina, this is Lady La Valse, a friend,” he said with a slightly sardonic look. “Lady La Valse, may I present Princess Irina Volkonsky.”
Irina noticed he said nothing after her name, and though small, the slight gutted her. Perhaps she should be grateful that he hadn’t called her his ward. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her chin and smiled graciously. “A pleasure, Lady La Valse.”
“Likewise, Your Highness.” She turned to Max. “And of course, Lord Remi, we need no introduction, not after our last adventure.” Irina’s gaze shot to Max. His mouth twitched in an unapologetic smile. Clearly, Lady La Valse was also part of his kissing and not telling repertoire. He truly was a shocking reprobate.
Max tipped his hat toward her. “Since we are being abandoned by these two, I suggest you allow me to accompany you to the opera tonight.”
“Wonderful idea,” she agreed and tugged on the reins, whirling her horse about with practiced ease. “Enjoy Essex, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.”
“We leave within the hour,” Henry told Irina curtly as he made to follow the lady.
That was it?We leave within the hour?She stared after him with an urge to fling her ankle boot at his arrogant head. How dare he parade his lover about without a thought for her feelings? Or maybe he’d intended to do so all along. Irina was so angry she would put a hole in the fabric of her habit if she continued wringing her hands. Aware of the sudden silence and the fact that they weren’t yet moving, she looked up, only to meet Max’s thoughtful stare.
His eyebrow vaulted irritatingly. “So, Gibbons, eh?”
