Page 43 of Making of a Scandal
It didn’t take him long to pay Gould and receive his pawned jewelry, after which he promptly returned to the waiting carriage. The rest of the day would be long and tedious knowing he wouldn’t be seeing Calliope at the end of it. However, he had every intention of seeking her out at the first opportunity. She couldn’t hide behind her other suitor for long; Nick wouldn’t allow it.
Chapter 8
“The enthralling spectacle incited by one, The Hon. Miss B seems to be coming to a head. During last night’s soiree in the home of the Marquis and Marchioness of A, the lady in question received quite a bit of attention from her two suitors. The Hon. Mr. L partnered her for multiple dances, while she seemed to have quite a tête-á-tête with The Hon. Mr. B. I am predicting it here and now; we’ll have a proposal and a wedding by the end of the year. All that’s left to determine is which of the competitors will turn out to be the groom.”
The London Gossip, September 9, 1819
Calliope fanned herself, feigning interest in the couples crowding the dance floor. The last thing she wanted was to attend yet another ball and suffer the attentions of her courtesan for the benefit of Martin and the rest of theton. Not only had she begun to grow weary of the pretense, she had also come to see that she was playing with fire. It had been ill-advised of her to take him up on his ridiculous wager, and realizing he’d cheated to win his kiss only reminded her of why.
The man was without honor, and obviously intent on toying with her. Whether because he saw her as a plaything, or because he was somehow provoked by a woman who didn’t fall at his feet at the snap of his fingers, Calliope couldn’t be certain. It didn’t matter, anyway. Her objective had not changed, and the man she wanted to marry was firmly within her sights.
Both men had been vying for her attention all evening. Dominick hadn’t danced with anyone else tonight, a departure from his behavior at the previous ball. Others were sure to notice, and that included Martin. She couldn’t help but wonder if Dominick done it for nefarious reasons. Did he think a single kiss was enough to crumble her resolve—that she would shun a respectable match with Martin for a moment of reckless passion?
She told herself he was fool to think it, but had to admit how close she might have come to succumbing to him had they not put a stop to that kiss. Just now, the heat creeping over her face and neck had nothing to do with the crowded ballroom and everything to do with the perfidious wanderings of her mind.
One thing was certain, it was clear why the price for Dominick’s services was so dear. If he made love the way he kissed, it was a wonder women weren’t fighting over him in the streets.
He didn’t only kiss with his lips, but with his entire body. She now understood why a kiss could be so dangerous, and why young, unmarried women were encouraged to preserve such intimacies for their husbands. Because now, she could better imagine what might follow a soft touch, a lingering glance, a whisper of breath just before the meeting of lips.
Her nipples tingled and hardened whenever she remembered the delicious friction of his chest against hers. Her belly roiled when she relived the touch of his hands roaming her body, skimming her waist, teasing the curves of her breasts, gripping her hips and pulling her against that most male part of him.
Every night following the kiss, she had lain abed and thought of his lips and tongue in other places—because now his promise of licking her from neck to toes made perfect sense. The fevered dreams that plagued her sleeping hours had her awakening dizzy, shaking, and sweating, her body yearning for something she ought not want. It was Martin she wanted for all the right reasons. Marriage, children, true and lasting love. If she gave in to Nick and tasted of wicked carnality, what then? The man would move on as a bee flits from blossom to blossom, leaving her used, plundered, and ruined. Surely Martin wouldn’t want her after that, and her chances at a secure and happy future would be destroyed.
It wouldn’t be worth it.
“You are still angry with me,” Nick’s voice murmured in her ear.
She flinched at his sudden nearness, the deep, silky tone of his voice sending liquid heat pouring through her middle, as he hovered at her side.
She flicked her fan and avoided his gaze. “Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You’ve hardly spoken a word to me all night. You won’t even look at me … which is truly a shame. This is my best waistcoat, and I had my valet take special care with my hair in anticipation that you would notice how dapper I look.”
She snapped her fan shut and glared at him, unable to avoid it when he was goading her. He always seemed to know just how to get a rise out of her.
Unfortunately, hedidcut a dashing figure in his evening clothes. His eyes glittered with their usual mischief and seductive promise.
“You clean up nicely,” she conceded. “So well, in fact, that one cannot tell they stand in the presence of a snake in men’s clothing.”
To her surprise, his response to her insult was a hearty laugh. Many curious gazes fell on her, as if they wondered just what she’d said to amuse him. Calliope shrank under the scrutiny, trying to put a bit of distance between them lest someone think she was behaving improperly. Before she could take more than two steps, Nick had smoothly taken hold of her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.
“Walk with me so everyone can see how well we look together. It’ll drive Lewes mad.”
Calliope gritted her teeth but went along with his suggestion because, of course, it was a good idea. He steered her toward the perimeter of the room, his gait slow and leisurely.
“Would it help if I apologized?”
She issued an indelicate snort. “We both know you wouldn’t mean it.”
“Fair enough. Perhaps I should simply be honest. I wanted that kiss badly enough to swindle you out of it. So much I couldn’t think straight, let alone take hold of what little scruples I do have.”
The admission provoked a wild fluttering low in her belly.Ridiculous.
“Well, you got what you wanted. I hope you are satisfied.”
He caught her gaze and held it, their progress grinding to a halt as they came near a set of open French doors. The terrace stretched out under a pale moon. A soft evening breeze offered a bit of relief from the heat. Nick’s eyes gleamed without a hint of amusement as he stared down at her, his nostrils flaring like a predator scenting its next meal. Calliope shivered, caught in his thrall like the weakest of prey.
“Not in the least, goddess,” he whispered. “It wasn’t nearly enough for me, and I don’t think it was for you, either.”
