A Dangerous Temptation (Bow Street Brides Book 5) Read online

  “Very well. We shall wish you a good afternoon, then. Girls, step lively. We’re going this way.”

  The tallest of the trio looked at the bridge in confusion. “But I thought we were–”

  “This way,” the governess said firmly, and with minimal fuss she steered her little brood back down the path.

  “Well then,” said Amelia.

  “Well then,” he repeated, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Tiny birds sang all around them as they flitted carelessly amidst the trees. A light breeze stirred the air. It caught Amelia’s perfume, the same subtle lavender she’d worn at the ball, and the muscles in his abdomen clenched tight as the alluring scent filled his nostrils.

  “I’ll get your bloody hairpins if they mean that much to you,” he scowled, turning in time to see the flicker of surprise in her eyes. Eyes that weren’t the color of a clear sky on a cloudless day or a moody ocean in the wake of a storm, but a shade of blue caught somewhere in between. One that defied description even as it mesmerized.

  His scowl deepening, Tobias plunged his hands into the pockets of his trousers and forced his gaze away. If a man wasn’t careful he could easily become trapped in eyes like those. Snared by their beauty like a wolf stepping into the sharp jaws of a trap. And like the wolf, there would be no way to escape without chewing through bone and sinew.

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “You’re right, you’re not my servant, and I–”

  “I lost them, didn’t I?” He didn’t want her kindness. He didn’t want her understanding. Anger was a familiar friend, but kindness was a stranger he wanted nothing to do with. “So I’ll damn well get them.” And then we can go our separate ways once and for all, he added silently. Never mind that he had been the one to follow her to the park. A stupid, impulsive decision he’d regretted the moment she kissed him. But that kiss had been their last one. Because when he returned her hairpins he was done. Whatever bewildering connection they had between them would be severed. He could forget he’d ever met Lady Amelia Tattershall once and for all.

  Vaulting over the edge of the bridge with the nimble agility of a cat, Tobias landed with a splash in the shallow stream below. Amelia gasped and ran to the edge of the railing. Her skirts billowed out as she stepped up on the lowest rung, affording him a tantalizing glimpse at her slender calves and the delicate white stockings that covered them.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, peering down at him with concern. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Ye ran me over with a carriage.”

  “Yes, but that was an accident.”

  “I’m just dandy,” he said curtly before turning his attention to the matter at hand. Thankfully the water was clear as glass, and it only took him a few minutes to find all of the missing pins. He climbed out of the stream and Amelia met him at the foot of the bridge. She held out her hand and he dropped the golden pins into her palm one at a time.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as she twisted her hair up and slid the pins back into place. When she was finished a lone tendril of hair dangled from her temple, and it was all he could do not to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

  “It’s time you returned home, Duchess.” Clasping his arms behind his back to avoid the temptation of touching her one last time, he ignored the sudden heaviness in his chest.

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” She paused, blue eyes glittering with unspoken emotion as she glanced up at him beneath thick lashes. “I am not going to see you again, am I?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation.

  “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  “Because of our argument, I suppose. But–”

  “Not because of that,” he said roughly.

  Her slender brows drew together. “Then why?”

  Did he really need to spell it out for her?

  “We were never supposed to meet, Duchess. Paths like ours…there’s a reason they don’t cross. You’re bloody royalty, and I’m…”

  “You’re what?” she probed when he fell silent.

  “Ye don’t want to know the answer to that.” Jaw clenching, he turned away from her. “Go home, Duchess. Go home to your mansion and your servants and your perfect life. Forget ye ever met the likes of me.”

  “But I don’t want to forget.” She placed her hand on his arm. “And if you knew anything about my life, you’d know it was far from perfect.”

  Tobias stared for a long time at the spot where her long, graceful fingers touched the rough fabric of his coat. Like oil and water, he thought bitterly. When he looked up, his eyes were dark. “I don’t know how tae make it any clearer. We’re not meant for each other, Duchess. Kissing ye was a mistake.”

  Her lips parted in dismay. “It wasn’t a–”

  “It was a mistake,” he snarled, stepping back. “And I don’t want tae see you ever again.”

  Chapter Seven

  “A mistake,” Amelia muttered to herself as she angrily jerked her needle through the edge of the linen handkerchief she was embroidering. “It wasn’t a mistake. Arrogant sod.”

  “What was that, dear?” From across the drawing room Vanessa looked up from her game of patience.

  Oh, nothing Mother. I just kissed a Bow Street Runner – twice – and he seems to think it was a mistake but I know it wasn’t and just because he’s a commoner and I’m the daughter of a duke doesn’t mean we can’t be together because the rules of society are archaic at best and surely my own personal happiness is more important than marrying someone for the sake of their wealth and title.

  “I did not anything.” Setting the needle down, Amelia held up the handkerchief to examine her line work. It was embarrassingly dismal – a child could have done better – but then she hadn’t exactly been giving it her best effort. With a loud sigh she smoothed the handkerchief over her lap and began to pull out the offending thread. Sometimes it was better to start all over again than to continue down a crooked path.

  Unless that crooked path led to a dark-haired Irishman.

  She couldn’t explain her feelings for Kent. Partly because she’d never experienced anything like them before, and partly because they didn’t make sense. After all, she didn’t know him. They were not friends. She wanted to kick him more often than she wanted to kiss him.

  So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

  Forget ye ever met the likes of me. That was what he’d told her. But he wasn’t the first man she refused to listen to, and she was certain he wasn’t going to be the last.

  “I hope you are not intending to give that to an admirer.” Abandoning her solitary card game, Vanessa crossed the parlor and clucked her tongue at Amelia’s failed embroidery. “Is that the letter H or a misshapen duck?”

  “It’s supposed to be a clover.”

  “I see.” Lips pursed, the duchess sat down across from Amelia in a green velvet chair trimmed in mahogany. “What’s the matter, dear? You’ve been out of sorts for the past two days. Would a trip to Bond Street lift your spirits?”

  “I don’t need another new dress. Or a hat or a pair of gloves or a pelisse, for that matter.” Giving up on the handkerchief, Amelia crumpled it in a ball and tossed it back into her sewing basket along with the needle and thread. Stretching her arms above her head – she’d lost track of how long she’d been sitting and pretending to embroider while really daydreaming about Kent – she cracked her jaw with a yawn and opened her eyes to her mother’s disapproving frown. “What?” she said defensively.

  “Is this about your father? I know you had a row with him, but you really–”

  “This has nothing to do with Father.” Standing, she went to the window and drew back one of the long drapes. A heavy afternoon shower had rolled through, soaking the ground and turning the sky a dull, cloudy gray. Amelia hoped the turn in the weather would keep any suitors from coming to call. Not that were many suitors left, thank goodness.

  After the ball the ton had made their ann
ual mass exodus to the countryside, scattering across the counties of Berkshire, Hampshire, Oxfordshire....all the shires, really. The Tattersall’s were one of the only families to have remained in London, something which the Duchess of Webley intended to remedy as soon as her husband was well enough to travel.

  “How did you know he was the one?” Amelia mused, still staring out the window.

  “How did I know who was the one, dear?”

  “Father.” She snuck a quick glance at her mother. “How did you know he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”

  “Oh. Well…I…” Vanessa cleared her throat. “That’s a very unusual question, isn’t it?”

  “I actually believe it’s quite practical considering you’re asking me to make a similar choice,” Amelia pointed out. She knew, for reasons unknown, her mother did not like to discuss anything of a personal nature having to do with her husband. Neither did the Duke of Webley. They were like two ships passing in the middle of the night, yet she didn’t know how they gotten in the ocean or where they’d come from or even where they were going. “Did you know the first time you met him?”

  “Heavens, no.” Vanessa gave a small, high-pitched laugh. “Your Father and I were introduced at my second ball. He’d missed my coming out due to a riding accident, which was just as well since I was so nervous I doubt I would have been able to string two words together if he’d tried to speak to me.”

  Intrigued, Amelia turned around and regarded her mother with a lifted brow. “You were nervous?” she said, struggling to imagine the perfectly poised Duchess of Webley as anything less than…well, perfectly poised.

  “Naturally. Your grandmother had placed very high expectations upon me. Not unlike the ones I’ve placed upon you. In my case, however, I made certain to meet those expectations before my first Season was through.”

  What would it be like, Amelia wondered, to not be constantly pulling tiny little barbs out of her flesh? It had gotten to the point where she didn’t even think her mother realized what she was doing. The insults came as naturally as breathing, but that didn’t make them any less painful.

  “Your Father began his formal courtship exactly three weeks after our introduction and we were engaged three months after that,” Vanessa continued, oblivious to the flicker of hurt her careless words had caused. “Our wedding, I am sure it does not need to be said, was the Event of the Season.

  “Yes.” Amelia had heard this much before. “But how did you know he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”

  Her mother blinked. “I’m afraid I do not understand the question.”

  “When did you fall in love with him?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Wouldn’t it have been during the courtship? Or else you wouldn’t have gotten engaged.”

  “That is to say, I’m not…”

  “And if not during the courtship, then certainly during the engagement. Right?”

  “Honestly, Amelia.” Her mother waved her hand in the air. “Let’s just go shopping. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a new pair of–”

  “You never loved him, did you?” The realization settled over her like a cold, damp blanket. She’d suspected her parents didn’t love each other now, of course. Anyone who saw the way the Duke and Duchess interacted with each other could see it clear as day. They respected each other. Tolerated each other. But love? There was no love in their marriage. Yet she’d hoped – or at the very least, she’d thought – they had loved each other once.

  But she’d been wrong.

  “I fail to see what point this line of questioning is supposed to serve,” Vanessa snapped as twin splashes of angry color stained her cheeks. “You keep speaking about love as if you know what it is. As if it is something to aspire towards. Well it’s not!” Her nostrils flared. “Love is nothing more than an illusion fabricated by young girls looking for a prince charming whom does not exist. Love is a fallacy that serves nothing and no one, least of all women of our station!

  “We don’t marry for love, Amelia. Not unless we want to find ourselves out on the street begging for scraps. We marry for duty. We marry for the sake of our families and future children. If we married for something as foolish and intangible as love, you wouldn’t even be here! Now I don’t want to hear another word about it, do you understand?”

  Amelia, struck mute her mother’s unexpected vehemence, could only nod.

  “Very good.” Vanessa smiled, and just like that all of the emotion drained from her face and she was once again the cool, collected, composed mother Amelia had always known. Except she wasn’t. Not really. Because Amelia had finally seen beneath the mask her mother wore. She’d glimpsed the woman beneath the ice.

  And she wondered what had turned her so cold.

  “My lady?” A maid walked into the drawing room. It was two days after Amelia and Vanessa’s afternoon quarrel, but they’d since resolved their differences and were enjoying a game of whist while rain and wind lashed at the windows. When Amelia saw the small silver tray the maid was carrying, however, as well as the folded slips of paper sitting on top of it, she didn’t bother to muffle her groan.

  “Don’t they know the Season is over?” she complained as she crossed the room and picked up the calling cards. “Lord Statton,” she muttered, flipping rapidly through them. “Mr. Gates. How are there this many gentlemen left in London? Lord Hatfield.” Her nose wrinkled. Lord Hatfield was old enough to be her grandfather. “I should think not. Lord Pennyweather. Lord…” Amelia abruptly recoiled and the last calling card, elegantly engraved with the black signature of its caller, fluttered to the floor.

  “You dropped one, dear. Lord Reinhold, Earl of Hatboro,” Vanessa read as she retrieved the card and held it out to her daughter. Her blue eyes brightened considerably. “That would be splendid match, wouldn’t it dear?”

  “No,” Amelia said shortly, her mind racing. What was Reinhold doing here? What did he want? Surely he didn’t mean to accost her in her own parlor! Unless…a chill raced down her spine. Unless he intended to make good on his threat from the ball and tell her mother she had attempted to seduce him.

  The Duchess of Webley would be understandably scandalized. Scandalized enough to demand Amelia and Reinhold marry at once to ensure her daughter’s good name wasn’t ruined, which was precisely what Reinhold wanted.

  The lying cad.

  “I – I don’t feel well,” she gasped, reeling back and draping her arm across her temple. “I think I should go upstairs and lay down.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Vanessa. “You were perfectly fine two seconds ago.”

  “I’m seeing spots.” Amelia spun in a circle. “Black spots. Oh, I may faint.”

  “Tell Tommens to send everyone away except for Lord Reinhold,” Vanessa instructed the maid, ignoring her daughter’s theatrics. “Have him sent into the blue parlor, and see that refreshments are readied. We’ll be in shortly.”

  The maid met Amelia’s gaze in sympathy before she scurried from the room. Waiting until the door had closed, Vanessa turned towards Amelia and pursed her lips.

  “Honestly dear,” she sighed. “You used to be much better at that.”

  “At what?” Amelia moaned as she began to hop on one foot.

  “Feigning a deadly illness. Pull yourself together, fix that curl above your right ear, and put a smile on your face. Lord Reinhold would not be a small catch. He’s no Marquis of Davenport, certainly, but his family line can be traced back generations and he has a lovely estate in Somerset.”

  Amelia stopped hopping. “He’s a rake and a liar and in gambling debt up to his eyeballs,” she said flatly. “The only reason he’s here is because he wants my dowry.”

  “And what’s so bad about that?” Vanessa asked, arching a brow. “You have a dowry for a reason, dear. To attract suitors of a certain caliber, which Lord Reinhold happens to be. Let me assure you, you could do far worse than an earl. And a handsome one at
that.”

  Amelia blinked. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

  “Men without flaws simply do not exist.” Her mother gave an airy flick of her wrist. “The sooner you realize that, the less disappointed you’ll be.”

  Amelia immediately thought of Kent. Which was odd, since he was a man of many flaws.

  The Runner was short-tempered, rude, and abrasive. Not to mention frustratingly secretive. But he was also three times the man Reinhold was and if she were to choose between them she would pick Kent every single time. Of course, to do that she would actually have to see him, and after their last encounter in Hyde Park he’d made it quite clear he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

  “I don’t want to speak with Lord Reinhold,” she said, her jaw tightening. “Not today nor any day after.”

  “Unfortunately, dear, we’re women. Which means we don’t always get what we want. Come along, the earl is waiting.” Vanessa sailed out of the drawing room and into the blue parlor, giving Amelia no choice but to follow, for the only thing worse than speaking to Reinhold herself was having him speak to her mother alone. Knowing the two of them, they’d have the banns drawn up before the hour was through.

  Aptly named for its blue walls, the parlor was decidedly feminine in design with elegant furniture trimmed in rosewood, porcelain vases filled with fragrant pink peonies, and a large portrait of the Duchess of Webley hanging above the mantle. She smiled serenely down at the room, poised in front of a velvet chaise lounge while her beloved spaniels languished at her feet. Her eyes were warmer on canvas than Amelia had ever seen them in real life, and there was a mischievous smile lurking in the corners of her mouth as if she had an amusing secret to tell.

  The portrait had been commissioned as a wedding present shortly after the duke and duchess announced their engagement. Amelia had often wondered if the woman in the picture was the artist’s interpretation, or if that was really how her mother had been all those years ago.

  Kind.

  Soft.