Page 29 of To Pleasure a Prince
Cad! Impudent oaf! Blackhearted devil! Him and his “private duets”—she would make him regret his insults, just see if she didn’t.
If he insisted on believing she had cut him publicly, if he refused to listen when she tried to explain, then she washed her hands of him. Let him spend the night growling at everyone who crossed his path. She would not stay to endure it.
A lock of Regina’s hair drooped onto her neck, and she groaned. No doubt that devil had dislodged her Platoff hat with all his rough handling of her. He’d probably done it on purpose, too, so everyone would see that she’d been doing something scandalous.
Ducking into an alcove that contained a mirror, she examined her attire. Thankfully, her hat was secure, except for the lock of hair that had come free of its pins in the back. Quickly she repinned it. If not for her cheeks flushing as pink as her overskirt, no one would guess she’d just been engaging in the most outrageous behavior with that…that boor of a man.
And he thought he knew how to please a woman—hah! He didn’t know the first thing about it.
She caught sight of her unnaturally red lips and winced. All right, so perhaps he did know a thing or two. He kissed well. Quite well. Beyond well. He could make a woman forget her name and her reputation and everything in between when he gathered her close to press his hot mouth to hers—
Drat the man, why must he affect her like this? She should have slapped him much sooner, the second he’d given her that first rude buss on the lips.
Or perhaps when he’d dragged her into his bold embrace. And certainly after he’d dared to thrust his tongue into her mouth, so deliciously that she’d wanted to find out how it would be if she let him kiss her a little…bit…longer…
Her knees buckled, and she jerked herself upright. What was wrong with her? He’d had her acting like some shameless wanton, coaxing her into letting him do wicked, heavenly things to her, and she hadn’t even protested!
But that was because he’d kissed her so daringly that it had knocked all her will to resist right out of her.
Until he’d turned nasty again. She scowled. That was the trouble with the Viscount Draker. One minute he was kissing her tenderly and asking her to call him Marcus; the next he was biting out insults.
And she had no idea how to handle it. Men did not generally behave this way to her. So why did he? And why was she letting him get away with it?
Afraid to face the answer to that question, she gave her gown and her hat one last check, then sallied forth into the fray. The concert had apparently ended, and now people were milling about Louisa in the drawing room. Her brother, of course, was one of them.
He approached her with a smile. “I see you’ve rejoined us. Where were you—administering one of your famous lectures to Draker? I suppose you expected him to react more appropriately after you snubbed him.”
“I did not snub him!” she practically shouted. Then realizing that people were watching, she lowered her voice. “And no, I was not lecturing him. But I tell you one thing, when you and Louisa are married, you’d better treat me well, considering all I am putting up with to bring you together.”
“Of course. You’ll have my undying gratitude, dear girl.”
“And stop calling me ‘girl,’ ” she grumbled. “I’ve been a full-grown woman for years. You know I hate your calling me that.” Which is precisely why he did it, of course. Lord Draker wasn’t the only one who delighted in annoying her.
Before Simon could answer, dinner was announced. Regina uttered a heavy sigh. She’d forgotten all about dinner. Lord only knew what sort of mischief Lord Draker would engage in at that event.
At least she didn’t have to sit near him. As the second-senior-ranking gentleman guest, the viscount was placed at his hostess’s left while Regina was placed at Lord Iversley’s right at the opposite end of the table.
She braced herself, expecting her host to say something about what he’d seen in his study. When several minutes passed, and he didn’t mention it, she thanked heaven that he was a gentleman.
They talked of his estate in Suffolk, her father’s love of horses, and Lady Iversley’s interest in poetry. That last one she skirted quickly, since she could count on one hand the number of poems she knew.
Occasionally she cast furtive glances down the table to where Lord Draker sat just on the other side of their hostess from Simon, the highest-ranking male guest. Would Lord Draker be rude to her brother? Foist yet more breaches of etiquette on the company? Could he at least dine properly?
Apparently he could. He used a fork rather than eating off his knife like other country folk, he didn’t hog the best dishes, and despite what she’d feared from the whisky she’d smelled on his breath, he did not drink overmuch. Only some wine, and that at a moderate rate.
The only thing that bothered her was his apparent enjoyment in talking to Lady Iversley, whom he addressed most familiarly by her Christian name. Regina didn’t want that to annoy her. But it did.
Had he ever brought “Katherine” down to his famous dungeon? Probably not. Somehow Regina could not envision the poetry-loving Lady Iversley in the throes of wild passion in the viscount’s dungeon. Especially when she had a handsome new husband who so clearly doted on her.
Lord Iversley had fallen silent, so she ventured an impertinent comment. “Your wife and Lord Draker are good friends, are they not?”
“Draker has been a good friend to us both in the past year.” He added, with a trace of irony, “He’s like part of our family.”
“Is that why the two of you agreed to bring Louisa out?”
“Yes, but she’s such a sweet girl, we were glad to do it.”
“I confess I didn’t realize his lordship had any friends at all, since he goes into society so little, and when he does, he’s so…so…”
