Page 19 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
Chapter Six
“Do your parents know you’re traipsing about this ball in a gown that screams, ‘Seduce me’?”
Freddy whirled toward the deep, dangerous voice that sent a tingle down her spine. Her gaze collided with Beckford’s appreciative one, and her dreams of last night, which she’d awoken with full recollections of this morning, set a heated blush to her cheeks.
“This old thing? I just threw it on tonight because it’s my favorite color,” she said, lifting one side of the peacock-blue skirt of her gown and refusing to be appalled at herself for her obvious flirtation. When she had awoken this morning with dreams of Beckford kissing her in places on her body that had never seen the sun, she had two revelations. One, with a single kiss, Beckford had made her wanton, and two, it did not bother her a bit. Why should it? She had no interest in love. She only wanted to live a life in which she felt she belonged. Besides, from what she could tell, women of Covent Garden were not slaves of conventionality. Why couldn’t she take a lover just as unattached men did?
His face was suddenly a hairsbreadth from hers. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
No. No, she hadn’t.
“I’m sorry. I—” What could she say? She certainly didn’t want to admit she’d been pondering what it would be like for him to toss up her skirts and kiss her under her necessities. That ache he’d first caused started anew. “I thought the next dance was starting.” That was dreadfully uninspired, but it would have to do.
“Are you partnered for the next dance?”
How did he do that? Speak in a tone that slid over her skin like silk?
She cleared her throat. “No.” And then the music did start, and before she realized what he intended, he had spun her about rather efficiently so that she was facing the glittering, glowing, majestic ballroom. His hand came to her back, and like a match to wood, she went up in flames. Heat danced along her spine where his palm rested, and each of his fingers singed through her silk gown and imprinted themselves on her skin and soul.
Heavens. So this was what it felt like to be in the arms of a man who did not look as if you frightened him and who did not bore you. This was what that thrill her friends and Guinevere had spoken of, the one that caused a surge of pulsing tension between her thighs.
She nearly tripped over her own feet at her wicked thoughts. Beckford’s strong hands came to her waist to steady her, and then he said, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
His warm breath fanned her neck from behind, and his hard body brushed her back, causing her to arch with a piercing longing as he wove her through the crowd toward the dance floor. She almost stumbled again when they passed Vivian, who was dancing with Lord Asterly and who looked radiantly happy—until her gaze landed on Frederica. Vivian’s eyes widened and her face went pale, and then she looked truly as if she wished to throttle Freddy.
Freddy glared her sister into turning her attention from her, and she got a brief moment of satisfaction out of that. Vivian had no right to be so snobby. There was nothing improper about Freddy dancing with Beckford. Vivian just didn’t like it because Beckford was not part of the eliteton. It burned Freddy up that Vivian now cared about such superficial things. Before she’d met Lord Asterly, her sister would have scoffed at such condescending behavior.
Once they reached the middle of the dance floor, Beckford twirled her around to face him. She found herself extremely conscious of his virile appeal and the way he looked in full evening dress—like the Devil come to court her. He may have been wearing a proper gentleman’s clothing—perfectly tied neck cloth, white waistcoat, long-tailed coat of black superfine, and black satin knee-breeches—but the way he wore it, all filled out across his broad chest, thick arms, and muscular legs, left no room to mistake him for a gentleman of leisure.
He’d been cut and shaped from the streets, and it was clear he was dangerous from his sharp, assessing eyes to his jaw honed like a knife blade to the way his mouth held a daring smirk. He thrilled her, and she wanted nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips on hers once more, but that would never happen. He had told her he’d throw her out of Covent Garden if she returned, so while he might desire her, he clearly had no plans to act on that desire again.
He drew her toward him, one arm encircling her back, his other hand catching hers. Rough fingers folded securely over the back of her hand, and his head tilted down as his gaze bore into hers. Being touched by him felt like standing in the middle of a storm—powerful, chaotic, perilous, exhilarating.
“I’ve come here tonight to warn you,” he said, moving her along in the steps of the dance as if she were light as a feather. She felt rather like a feather, floating and waiting to be captured in the palm of his hand.
“Warn me?” she managed as they turned.
“Brooke threatened to destroy you and my sister for meddling with Belle.”
She frowned. “How ever could Brooke destroy me?” As the question left her mouth, she blanched with realization. Did Brooke mean he was going to destroy her reputation somehow? That would ruin Vivian’s chances at a love match.
“I don’t know,” Beckford replied, his fingers gripping her hand tighter. “And because I don’t know, I see no choice but to tell Carrington so he can watch out for you.”
“What?” Alarm rang through her. “If you tell Carrington, he’ll surely tell my sister, and that could mean all sorts of trouble for me. You have to let me handle this. Guinevere is so unpredictable these days now that she’s a mother. Why, she might tellourmother, and then it will be impossible for me to slip away to—” She stopped just short of telling him how she was supposed to help his sister.
That smirk on his face grew wider. “My sister won’t be needing your services any longer.”
“She told you of our bargain?” Freddy asked, surprised and dismayed by the finality of his statement. All her carefully laid plans to live in Covent Garden seemed to be unraveling at an alarming rate.
“She did,” he said, twirling Freddy once, twice, and then bringing them back into the slower steps. “The bargain is off. I’ve secured another lady to help make her a… Well, a lady.”
“You know what she wishes?”
He nodded. “She told me, and I can see by your face you’re surprised, but it just so happens what she wants suits what I want for her.”
“Which is?”
“For her to get far away from the harsh life of Covent Garden and wed to a man who will provide her a nice, safe, quiet life.”
