Page 11 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

She had to take a breath before speaking again or her voice might have shaken. The way his mouth curved when he spoke made her want to grab him and lick that wicked corner that curved just slightly upward.

“You passed my first test.” Her voice sounded breathless, but she hoped he would chalk it up to the dancing. “You resisted the temptation of Mrs. de Vries in the music room.”

For a moment, his face went blank, and then his eyes went wide. “Yousent the note?”

“You didn’t know?” she asked. “I thought you realized I was testing you.”

“I thought it was truly from her. Why would you—ah, testing to see if I would meet her. Then you would surprise usin flagrante delicto.”

“Considering she was unaware of the rendezvous, I would surprise only you. You truly didn’t suspect?”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you meet her?”

“I…” His gaze shifted to a spot across the room as though he were trying to figure that out himself. “I planned to. I just…didn’t.”

Hmmm. So he was not a reformed rake. Mrs. de Vries simply wasn’t tempting enough. She’d correct that mistake next time.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked, a smile spreading across his handsome face.

“Yes,” she sighed. “You receive a prize. I believe we agreed to an event together.”

“Be ready tomorrow at nine. I’ll be waiting for you in the foyer.”

And then he twirled her once more and escorted her to Judith and Arthur. When he bowed and excused himself, she thought he would fetch her a glass of champagne and return. She spotted her former suitor Mr. Beauclerk and his new wife, Lady Leticia Beauclerk. She paused to speak to the happy couple, who were obviously completely besotted with each other. She was pleased she’d played a very small part in bringing them together. If only she could orchestrate her own happy ending. She left the Beauclerks to their wedded bliss and searched the room for Munro. It did not take twenty minutes to fetch a glass of champagne. After another quarter hour had passed, she realized he’d left the ball…and left her wanting more time with him.

She told herself she would have more than enough time the next evening. She would keep her end of the bargain, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make plans herself. Fortunately, Judith and Lavinia were exhausted from the ball the night before and stayed abed most of the day. Beatrice had been out as late as they had, but she was strangely animated. It took a good part of the day, but her plans finally came together just as her maid began to wring her hands and mutter that Beatrice would never be ready on time if they didn’t beginthis moment.

Jones, her maid, brought out several dresses that would be suitable for the evening, but Beatrice shook her head. “We need the leaf dress, Jones.”

Her maid’s eyes went wide. “Are you certain, madam?”

“Absolutely. Take it out and hang it so the wrinkles shake out while you style my hair. Heat the curling tongs because I want curls bouncing over my bare shoulder. Men like that sort of thing.”

“Yes, madam.”

By quarter to nine, Beatrice stood before her cheval mirror and nodded in appreciation. She and Jones had worked tirelessly, and the result was exactly what she’d hoped. She wore a muted green silk with an oval neckline and sleeves that just skimmed the edge of her shoulders. Below the shoulders, the sleeves were voluminous, as the present fashion dictated, but that volume only served to make her exposed neck and collarbone look more delicate. She wore a simple gold chain at her throat, and gold threaded through the layers of organza that flowed down the dress, pinned strategically at her waist and hip with leaf appliques that were a darker green and ornamented with gold thread and glittering gold spangles. Several leaves seemed to fall down the back of her dress, calling attention to her derriere.

Jones had done wonders with her hair. The dark glossy locks were piled high and ornamented with small leaves that matched those on the dress. Several heavy curls fell artfully down one shoulder. She’d applied a touch of rouge to her cheeks and lips and dusted her lashes with kohl. She was seven and twenty and had danced most of the night before. She needed just a little assistance in that area.

Jones carried her green slippers to her, and Beatrice held her maid’s shoulder while Jones fitted the shoes and then pinned small leaves on the top. No one would see the leaves, just asno one would see the green garters she wore with her white stockings, but Beatrice didn’t do anything by halves.

She gathered her black velvet cloak and handed it to Jones, who would carry it downstairs before Beatrice made her descent. She knew how to make an entrance. Jones stepped outside, spoke to a footman, and then returned. “He’s waiting, madam.”

“I’m ready.”

Jones carried the cloak out of the chamber, and Beatrice counted to one hundred then followed. She moved slowly and deliberately, confused as to why her hands were shaking and her heart was thumping so loudly in her ears. This was Munro Notley waiting for her. She needn’t be anxious to spend time with him. He was simply another rake trying to make a conquest. She’d distract him with her dress and her smiles and then she’d spring her trap and be done with him once and for all.

At the top of Notley House’s winding marble staircase, Beatrice lifted her skirts with one hand, just enough to allow a peek at her green slippers. Then she started down, trying to look as though she hadn’t spent two hours dressing. But halfway down she made the mistake of glancing at Notley, trying to determine if her efforts had paid off. She almost missed a step and had to grab hold of the polished rail.

Munro Notley looked sinfully handsome.

She didn’t know how long he had taken with his toilette today, but it was well worth every minute. His fiery hair looked streaked with gold under the flickering crystal chandelier. He couldn’t control that, but the artful way his locks had been tousled made her fingers itch to touch the soft waves and smooth them into some semblance of order. His face, as he looked up at her, was all tawny eyes and full lips. Somewhere he had a slash of brows, nose, and cheekbones, but how could one note any of that when his eyes were so mesmerizing? They seemed to change from brown to gold with her every step.

When she finally managed to avert her eyes from his face, they landed on the superb cut of his coat. She would have wagered a great deal that he’d bought that coat in Paris. Men with broad shoulders like he possessed often wore ill-fitting coats that were either boxy or cut too tightly across the back. His dark blue coat was snug and so well-tailored that it appeared as though it had been painted on. He wore a white linen shirt with a snowy cravat, tied simply under his square jaw. His waistcoat was a rich brown with gold thread in curlicue patterns. Rather whimsical for such a tall, imposing man.

And then, of course, her gaze fell to his breeches. They were dark blue and fitted as perfectly as his coat. The fabric molded to his thighs, showed off slim hips, and gave a hint at that much-discussed member between his legs. Was it pierced?

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