Page 10 of When He Was Wicked
“A tutor may be the best person to guide you in the proper steps for the various dances,” she said.
He moved slowly, deliberately, almost leisurely toward her, and her heart kicked a furious rhythm. Verity did not think it was fear, but a very unwelcomed and perplexing attraction to the man before her. The eyes that stared at her so unflinchinglywere as deep and unfathomable as the night sky, and she felt uncomfortable in her admiration.
“A tutor could also guide you in the art of pugilism, my lady, but here we are forming a bargain to which I have one condition.”
She stiffened. “Which is?”
“Sometime in the future, you will inform me of the name of your attacker.”
She was suddenly aware of an aura of ruthlessness surrounding him that frightened her. Did he want to defend her honor? Verity felt bewildered, awkward, and filled with a strange sense of wonder. Her own family had not cared about her honor, why would this stranger? The words hovered on her lips, but she could not voice the questions. It felt too intimate to ask.
“I will never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Nor will I ever hurt you. I would ask for honesty between us at all times, so we do not make missteps with each other. Our…relationship is very unorthodox and quite new for me, but I do not wish to muck it up, either for you or myself.”
Inexplicably, she believed him.
“Are we in agreement, Lady Verity?” he asked, unruffled by her silence.
“Yes,” she murmured shakily. Verity stuck out her hand and was surprised when he shook it. “And I thank you, my lord. I shall never forget your kindness.”
He smiled. It seemed terribly intimate to Verity and she was struck by the incredible sensual beauty of it. Dear God, it was dangerous to be in this man’s presence, and she had struck a bargain that would allow many clandestine meetings. She blushed, and his gaze caressed over her evidently flushed cheeks.
“I should return inside. I do not wish to be missed.”
“Then go. I shall send instructions to you in a letter, very discreetly.”
Oddly, her feet remained rooted when she was caught in a storm of sorts. The air became heavy with a promise she did not understand, and it was then she realized he still held her hands. Slowly she pulled away, and he released her. “I…I shall look forward to it.”
Something far too elusive for her to understand shifted in his beautiful eyes.
Verity turned and opened the door, slipping into the hallway, conscious of the way his eyes touched every part of her. A dangerous thrill burst in her heart, and it took every lesson in discipline she’d ever had to not turn around. Verity knew he would be hovering in the dark shadow of the doorway, watching her…and somehow, she knew his expression would not be one of serene contemplation. But one of want and need. Her heart tripped and butterflies wreaked havoc with her stomach.
She could feel way down inside of her, every nuance of his stare. An aching, terrifying awareness that he was possibly attracted to her, filled Verity’s heart. And that she too…could possibly be attracted to his compelling masculinity. She closed her eyes against the very idea: he was not the ideal man for her, in any fashion. His edges were too rough, and even if she came at him with an etiquette mallet and all her knowledge of gentlemanly behavior, he would always have that dangerous aura that would scare her witless.
Dear God, have I gone too far?
CHAPTER FIVE
Almost a week later, on a very particular Tuesday, Verity was admitted to Lord Maschelly’s townhouse, under the banner of secrecy and a pale moonlight. The butler promptly and with no fuss or frown directed her to an excessively large room with hardwood floors, bare of all furniture except a long sofa flushed against the wall below a set of French windows. A sense of unreality suffused Verity to know this was happening. The last several days had been spent in an agony of half dread and half hope. Somehow, she had expected that the earl would rescind their bargain. But he had been true to his promise and had sent very explicit arrangements the day after she’d seen him at Lady Springfield’s ball.
She was to visit his townhouse three nights per week in disguise. For two nights, he would teach her about fighting, and one session would be her teaching whatever insight she held on refinement and gentility. He would send an unmarked carriage for her every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday evenings by eight pm. It was less likely there would be any notable ball or events to happen on those days, and if there were any, she would need to be inventive and escape their confines. He would be the one to send the carriage with a coachman he trusted, and that shouldmitigate the chance of discovery. Verity had felt embarrassed for having not thought so far ahead.
It would have been impossible to summon her brother’s carriage to take her to clandestine meetings three days a week without him discovering it. The servants were loyal to him and would have felt obliged to inform her brother of her shenanigans.
She would meet this coachman at the mews behind her townhouse. She should dress simply, in servant garb if she could, and slip through the kitchen’s back entrance to lessen any chance of discovery. Of course, all this would be accomplished once her mother and brother had ventured out for the evening.
Luckily her brother had gone to his club tonight, and from experience he would not be home until well into the morning of the next day. Her mother had retired to bed early, and there was no occasion she would visit Verity’s room. They were not close, at least not since the “distasteful incident.” But Verity had still pushed several cushions under the blankets on her bed, and at a cursory inspection it might pass for her sleeping form.
“You are to change into that clothing,” the butler said mildly, indicating the neatly folded pile on the sofa. “A young maid, Grace will assist whenever you are here, my lady. She will escort you to your chamber and attend you there. When you are finished, please see yourself back to this room. My lord will be with you shortly.”
An odd warmth suffused her. Lord Maschelly had thought to provide her a lady’s maid, and a chamber. It seemed the man had thought of everything.
“Thank you,” she said warmly to the butler.
His eyes lingered briefly on the veil, he bowed, then melted away as if such encounters were ordinary.
A young girl of about sixteen years entered shortly, bobbed, and said, “I’m Grace, milady. Milord said I’m to assist you in any way you wish.”
“Thank you, Grace. Could you take me to my room so we may prepare?”
