Once Upon a Scandal Read online

  Resentment ravaged Emma’s heart; then she told herself to be glad he was gone. All evening, he’d been watching her like a hungry tiger. Now she could slip away, and quickly, before her next partner claimed his dance. And before her host came in search of her, seeking to cancel Grandpapa’s debt.

  A shudder gripped Emma. Weaving her way through the throng, she kept a watch for Lord Gerald Mannering. Upon seeing him leading a large-bosomed beauty onto the dance floor, Emma breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  Now was her chance to play the Bond Street Burglar.

  On the terrace outside the ballroom, Lucas brushed the twigs off his brown brocaded coat. He stank of Mrs. Boswell’s perfume.

  Fool. What had he hoped to accomplish by taking her outside? The very instant they’d stepped into the shadows, she had thrown herself at him in a brazen kiss, and he’d had to wrestle himself free. They’d ended up tumbling ignominiously into the shrubbery. When he made clear his lack of desire for her, she had called him a few choice names and stalked back into the house. In search of more docile prey, no doubt.

  She was merely a distraction, he acknowledged with a grimace. A way to forget Emma.

  He stepped into the ballroom and surveyed the swirling hordes of guests. Briggs chatted with a plain-faced miss. Hickey stood near the refreshment table, engaged in conversation with a curly-haired dandy. But Emma was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Mannering.

  Damn. Bloody damn. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off her, not even for an instant.

  Prodded by suspicion, Lucas swiftly made his way to the door. Guests strolled through the foyer, heading toward the card room or the dining chamber. Black-coated footmen bearing trays of food hastened up and down the passageway to the kitchen, in preparation for the midnight supper.

  And then he saw her. A flick of blue skirt and a flash of fair hair.

  He went after her, nearly knocking down an under-butler toting a tray of wine bottles. Catching up to her by the ornate newel post, Lucas closed his fingers around her warm, bare shoulder and murmured in her ear, “Where are you going?”

  She spun around, her eyes big and blue in the faceted light of a crystal chandelier. “Lucas!” Her gloved hand flew to her throat and toyed with the pearls there. “You nearly frightened me out of my skin.”

  He drew her into an alcove beneath the stairs. “Where are you going?” he repeated.

  “Why, to fetch a glass of rum punch from the supper room.” She dipped her head so that he could not help but admire the fine curve of her neck. “They’re serving only lemonade and champagne in the ballroom, and I confess, I wanted something a little less … tedious.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t ask one of your spaniels to fetch for you. Hickey, for one. Or have I caught you in another lie?”

  Her mouth pursed in pretty annoyance. “Who are you to question me? You disappeared with that gypsy woman.” With a disdainful sniff, she added, “You reek of her.”

  Something sparked in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite credit. Something that gave him great satisfaction. He ran his finger down the satiny smoothness of her cheek. “Jealous?”

  She stood there a moment, her pink lips parted and her eyes rounded, focused on him. “I could ask the same of you. But I shan’t.” With unexpected wifely care, she stretched up on tiptoe and plucked a leaf out of his hair, crumbling it between her gloved fingers. “In truth, I’m too parched to quarrel. And my feet ache from dancing. If I sit right here, will you be so kind as to fetch my drink?”

  She settled herself on a gilt chair and gazed up sweetly at him. His suspicions melted like wax to a candle flame. With her hands clasped in her lap, Emma looked like an angel. An angel who made him suffer the fiery torment of the damned.

  “Wait here,” he said gruffly, and stalked away.

  The moment her husband vanished into the assemblage of people, Emma sprang up and slipped out of the alcove. She hastened down the passageway that led to the kitchen. She had intended to go up the grand staircase, but she dared not risk him turning back and seeing her.

  Finding a door cleverly disguised in the paneling, she took a swift glance around, then entered the servants’ staircase. It was dim and dingy, a narrow shaft designed for utilitarian purposes. At least she could be reasonably certain of encountering no one since all the servants would be engaged in catering to the guests. Her skirts rustling, she ascended the steep wooden steps, opened another door, and peeked out.

  The corridor was empty. She could hear muffled voices coming from one of the bedrooms that had been set aside for the ladies’ convenience. Emma’s slippers made no sound on the thick carpet runner. Judging by her knowledge of similar town houses, the master’s bedchamber would be at the end of this passage. Emma planned to make short work of pilfering Lord Gerald’s jewel case.

  What a shame she had not been accepted by society these past few years. Really, this sort of burgling was so much easier than creeping along a narrow ledge three floors above the ground.

  Emma was almost to Lord Gerald’s bedroom when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. For the second time that evening, she jumped in surprise and whirled around. Instead of her husband, she saw the sly face and lush copper curls of Lord Gerald Mannering himself.

  His brown eyes undressed her. “Emma, fancy meeting you up here. Were you looking for me?”

  Of all the ill luck. She steeled herself against a shudder and worked her dry lips into a flirtatious smile. “Oh, you startled me. Where did you come from?”

  “Your erotic dreams,” he said, reaching for her. “It’s time for our tryst, darling. Time to settle your grandpapa’s debt.”

  “No, no, no,” she said, shaking her finger at him teasingly while backing away. “We agreed on half past midnight, remember? By then, supper will be over and my husband will be engaged in cards. And I’ll be free for you.”

  “We’re alone now.” Lord Gerald uttered a playful growl. “Come, my pet, give me a bite of those luscious breasts.”

  “Not now,” Emma said, when his fingers brushed her bosom. To soften her sharp response, she ducked her head shyly. “I’m embarrassed to admit, you caught me on my way to the necessary room. I’m afraid my need is rather pressing.”

  He let his hands fall to his sides. “I’ll wait here for you, then.”

  “I fear to enrage his lordship. He has a horrid temper.” She tapped her finger on her lips. “But perhaps I can persuade him to engage in card playing sooner. I’ll rendezvous with you in an hour.”

  “As you say, then,” Lord Gerald muttered. “We’ll meet here at eleven and don’t be late.”

  “I won’t be,” she promised, her fingers crossed behind her back. “And please bring along a glass of champagne, will you? I’m ever so thirsty.”

  Grumbling, he started for the grand staircase. When he turned back to look, she blew him a shaky kiss. He pretended to catch it, pressing his fingers to his own lips. Then he disappeared down the stairs.

  She hastened to Lord Gerald’s bedchamber and went inside, closing the door behind her. There, she leaned back against the white-painted panel and hissed out a breath of relief. Her heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy. Dear God. That was close. Too close for comfort.

  Then she couldn’t help but grin, imagining three men wandering around the house, carrying drinks and searching for her. Really, men were so easily gulled.

  The twin flames of a bronze torchiere on the bedside table flickered over a room of gaudy decor. Pea-green walls set off the red brocaded draperies. The bedposts were topped by gilt sphynx heads, and the Egyptian motif continued in the red chaise longue and the ornate cabinetry. A shiny ebony screen in a corner bore paintings of nude dancing women. The very thought of being alone here with Lord Gerald sickened her.

  But Lucas? What if she shared that massive bed with her husband?

  Warmth glowed deep inside her, and she wondered when she had ceased to fear his touch. She almost looked forward to their time together each night, when
he would hold her and kiss her, never pushing her farther than she was willing to go, yet coaxing her to the limits of her desire.

  A clock chimed softly on a table, snapping her back to the present. She had justice to mete out. Of course, Lucas would challenge her on that. He would accuse her of being a petty thief.

  She squared her drooping shoulders. Fie on him. He didn’t understand her need to protect Grandpapa. Now, where did Lord Gerald Mannering keep his precious gems?

  She tiptoed into the dressing room and glanced around. The place was tidy, the mark of a diligent valet. No jewel case had been left conveniently on the dressing table or chest of drawers or clothes press. She squandered five minutes on an efficient search of the usual hiding places, but came up empty-handed. There wasn’t so much as a ha’penny to steal.

  Drat. Every moment she tarried here increased the risk of discovery. The thought raised a prickling of fear, a fear she hadn’t known in previous burglaries. It wasn’t that she expected Lord Gerald to appear with a pistol. She was on edge because Lucas would be looking for her.

  But she had time yet. A thin margin of time before he made his way through the crush of people, fetched her that punch, and then guessed where she’d disappeared to. She intended to be long gone from here by then, and back downstairs at the party.

  Emma forced her mind back to the burglary. Gentlemen most often kept their jewels in a repository in their dressing room. But Lord Gerald might have a safe in his bedchamber.

  She hastened out and peeked behind the gilt-framed paintings, wrinkling her nose at one of a naked entwined couple. How tasteless. It was worse than the lewd screen in the corner. Thinking of which, she started across the crimson rug to check behind the screen.

  The quiet click of the doorlatch sounded like thunder. She spun around, caught in the center of the room. The gilded white door framed the tall, dark shape of a man. A man whose chilly gaze froze the breath in her lungs.

  “My dear wife,” Lucas said, raising a glass to her, “would you care for a drink?”

  Chapter 14

  Lucas had the grim satisfaction of seeing Emma turn pale. The loss of color in her cheeks heightened the illusion of an alabaster statue. But no stone goddess had ever had such luxuriant silvery-blond hair or a heaving bosom designed to catch a man’s eye. No stone goddess had Emma’s talent for making a fool of him, either.

  Leashing his wrath, he strolled toward her. “I’d a suspicion I might find you here,” he said. “Next time you want to get rid of me, try a better excuse than sending me for a glass of rum punch.”

  Pink color rushed back into her face. She thrust out her lower lip in a sulky pout. “Next time, try staying out of my affairs.”

  “Affairs?” He gave a contemptuous laugh. “I suppose you’re going to pretend you’re here because you’ve an assignation with Mannering.”

  “And if I do?”

  “I’d say you were lying again. And then I’d order you to get into that bed so I could lay claim to you first.” He burned to do just that, to lift her skirts and teach her to cease tormenting him. He mockingly indicated the drink in his hand. “I believe this is yours, madam.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” She took the glass from him. And promptly dashed the contents in his face.

  He leapt back. Too late. The sticky liquid dripped down his cheeks and nose and drenched his clothing, soaking through his coat and shirt and cravat. He blinked his stinging eyes. “What the devil—”

  He whipped out his handkerchief and mopped the mess from his face. His angry gaze flicked to Emma. She held the empty glass in one hand and covered her mouth with the other. Impishness danced in her blue eyes.

  She was laughing. The shameless chit was laughing.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said demurely. “I simply don’t know what came over me.”

  “You … don’t … know.” Lucas was so furious he nearly stumbled over his words. He wanted to turn her over his knee, civilized behavior be damned. Then, in the midst of his rage, a germ of humor infected him. How ridiculous of them to be quarreling instead of kissing.

  He took a step toward her. “I know what came over you. The desire to distract me.”

  She took a step backward. “Distract you? What rubbish.”

  “You don’t want me to guess you’re here to rob Mannering.”

  “I beg your pardon? I threw the drink because you spoke crudely to me.”

  “No.” He advanced slowly, forcing her to retreat. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Of course there is. I also wished to cover the stench of that woman’s perfume.”

  “Don’t bring her into this. You threw the drink because there’s a passionate woman hiding inside you. A woman who wants to learn how to make love as well as she can plot a burglary.”

  Emma bumped into an elephant’s foot stool, then regained her balance. “Ha! I wanted to teach you not to treat me like your possession.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve yet to possess you.” He backed her into an ebony screen exhibiting a parade of naked Egyptian dancers. He had no interest in the vulgar display, not when he could plant his hands on Emma’s bare shoulders and draw her against him. “It’s past time to rectify that oversight, hmm?” he said silkily.

  She tipped back her head. Wariness glinted in her eyes, yet there was a trace of seductiveness, too, in the way she lowered her lashes a bit. She had the look of a woman who wanted to be kissed.

  Emma desired him. But she was afraid to admit it.

  He told himself to feel triumph, but tenderness stole over him instead. She had haunted his heart for so long, and now he was haunting hers. He was shaken by the fierce longing to make her love him.

  Fool. He could never trust her. She was a liar, a thief. She cared nothing for him. She wanted to divorce him so she could marry someone else.

  Yet none of that seemed important now. They were husband and wife, bound by sacred vows and by a devil’s bargain. He bent his head to her, and her lips parted. A breath away, he paused to savor the moment of her surrender. He fancied he could hear their hearts beating in unison.

  In the next instant, he realized it was the tapping of footsteps. A woman’s throaty laugh sounded out in the corridor, followed by a man’s deep voice.

  Acting on instinct, he thrust Emma behind the screen and then followed her, urging her to her knees so she could not be seen. He dropped down behind her, hugging her close in the tight corner space. And not an instant too soon.

  On a rattling of the latch, the door opened, then shut. The scuffling of feet indicated that more than one person had entered. There came the unmistakable smacking of lips and a woman’s murmur of pleasure.

  “Mmmm. Delicious. I do so love the taste of a man.”

  Her partner loosed a growl. “What luscious breasts you have, my pet. Give me a bite.”

  “You’re an impatient one, my lord,” she said on a breathy laugh. “I don’t believe I’ve ever made love to a man no more than five minutes after our first meeting.”

  “I wish to give you another strange and wonderful experience to add to your collection.”

  Clothing rustled, interspersed with giggles and more noisy kisses.

  Lucas clenched his teeth. Hell. Bloody hell. He recognized those voices. They belonged to Mrs. Boswell and Lord Gerald Mannering.

  Lucas crouched behind Emma, holding her wedged between his thighs. His arm beneath her breasts, he felt the drumming of her heart. He detested being a voyeur, and he knew Emma must be mortified. Yet his body responded to her nearness with throbbing intensity.

  They could yet make their presence known, claim to have borrowed the bedroom for their own tryst, and apologize for the intrusion. But then Mannering might guess the truth—that Emma had come to steal from him.

  Had she already done so? Did his wife have five hundred pounds’ worth of jewels secreted in a hidden pocket?

  Lucas smoothed his hands down the back of her gown, along the slim curve of her waist, and ov
er the flare of her hips. She shuddered out a breath and turned her head back to look up at him with wide, inquiring eyes. A pretty flush tinted her cheeks.

  He lifted his finger to his lips to indicate the need to remain quiet. She bit her lip and nodded. At least she had the sense to realize the danger of her situation. And it only went to prove her guilt, Lucas sternly reminded himself. Damn her willfulness to perdition.

  If Emma were caught with Mannering’s jewels in her possession, Lucas would be forced to buy Mannering’s silence. But what if the devil took it into his mind to win acclaim for capturing the Bond Street Burglar? What if Mannering had Emma arrested? Lucas dared not take the chance.

  He could hear Emma’s soft breathing over the grunts and giggles coming from beyond the screen. Very slowly, she placed the empty glass on the floor, beside a ball of dust where the upstairs maid had skimped on her cleaning. The smell of rum punch pervaded the air, but Lucas hoped Mannering was too preoccupied to notice.

  The bedropes groaned—followed by a human groan. “So you like to be on top, do you, minx?”

  “Yes, and I see you’ve risen to the occasion quite admirably,” Mrs. Boswell said. “Perhaps a rubdown is in order. To prepare my stallion for mounting.”

  The bed squeaked again, then Mannering cried out, “Oh, yes, my pet. Yes!”

  The sounds of their lovemaking touched only the edge of Lucas’s attention. He was keenly aware of Emma, kneeling in front of him with her fists resting on her thighs and her head bowed. He wondered what she was thinking as she listened to the pantings and moans of the bedroom’s other occupants.

  His own thoughts were decidedly carnal. The blue silk of her gown enhanced the beauty of her womanly form. He was tempted to continue his search, to seek out jewels more precious than stolen booty. And why shouldn’t he? She was his wife.

  With a few flicks of his fingers, he undid the buttons at the back of her dress. He pushed down the short, puffy sleeves along with her bodice. She gave a little gasp and flinched. Yet she made no move to stop him as he loosened her corset and then slid his hands inside, finding the sweet, silken roundness of her bosom.