Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie Read online

  “Those two ninnies have rubbed me the wrong way all season,” Miss Truax said. “I hope you won’t allow their horrendous lack of manners to spoil your evening, Mademoiselle Vistoire.”

  “You know my name?”

  The lady tossed her chestnut hair and smiled. “Of course, mademoiselle. I make it my priority to learn the identities of all new persons. Heaven knows the usual suspects are terribly boring.”

  Her gentleman companion chuckled. “Why, thank you for your generous commentary on my company, Miss Truax.”

  “I wasn’t referring to you, Westin.” She squeezed his arm and leaned into him. “You and Lord Andrew are the only ones to ever make these tedious affairs entertaining, and your brother had to spoil my fun by taking a wife.”

  “How selfish of him.” A glorious smile lit his eyes. As a servant passed, Lord Westin took the lady’s empty glass and placed hers and his on the sterling tray.

  Serafine wasn’t sure how to interpret their easy banter. Were they lovers? Her cheeks heated at the thought. It seemed an unkind speculation to make about the duo who had come to her rescue.

  “I see I am at a disadvantage,” she said. “You know me, yet we haven’t been introduced.”

  Miss Truax dropped the gentleman’s arm and stepped forward “How thoughtless of me. And here I reviled those harebrained chits for crude manners. I’m Johanna Truax. And if I may, please allow me to present Lord Westin, the heir apparent to the Duke of Foxhaven. He is quite the perfect catch and in the market for a wife.” She had a droll quality to her voice, as if teasing him.

  Lord Westin ignored her baiting and gathered Serafine’s hand to place a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mademoiselle. You would do well to pay no mind to anything Miss Truax says. Her impertinence knows no bounds.”

  “His father is demanding he make a match this season, or else,” Miss Truax said in a stage whisper.

  Lord Westin’s jaw twitched, but aside from this fleeting sign of irritation, Serafine wouldn’t have known he felt anything untoward. His neutral expression fascinated her. So much hidden behind the cool formality required of his station.

  “If it is any consolation,” Serafine offered, “I fear I suffer a similar fate. Madame Susan Hillary has taken it upon herself to see me settled in marriage before the year-end. I believe I have become her charitable cause. She has no idea her endeavor falls under the category of lost causes.”

  The sparkle returned to Lord Westin’s deep, blue eyes. When he smiled, comforting warmth wrapped around her like a fatherly embrace. Fatherly. Ha! The gentleman was much too young and dashing to be her father. Perhaps brotherly would be a more apt description, and she sensed this was the nature of his association with Miss Truax, too.

  “You have my sympathies, Mademoiselle Vistoire,” he said. “Once Mrs. Hillary has her mind set…”

  Serafine groaned. “My intuition mustn’t always be correct.”

  “A woman’s intuition is nothing to ignore.”

  “Thank you both for coming to my aid this evening.” She flashed a rare smile at Lord Westin. “I enjoyed your translation, but I didn’t call either miss a cow.”

  “Because you don’t know them well enough,” Miss Truax interjected.

  Lord Westin nodded. “It is always my pleasure to come to the aid of a lady.” He lowered his voice. “I have a bit of Gypsy blood running through my veins myself. If anyone knew…”

  Miss Truax tapped her fan against his shoulder. “As if no one knows, Westin. Your wanderlust and mysterious dark looks practically scream out your heritage.”

  “Your flattery is never-ending this evening, my lady.”

  Miss Truax clapped her hands as fiddle music filled the air. “It’s a quadrille.”

  Lord Westin bowed to Serafine. “If you will excuse us, mademoiselle, I’ll have no peace if I renege on my promise of one dance with Miss Truax. The quadrille,” he said with a shake of his head. “She takes pleasure in bringing a sweat to my brow.”

  As would many ladies. Sweet marmalade. What a depraved thought to have in her head. She should be ashamed.

  “Thank you again for your aid, my lord.” Serafine excused herself on the pretense of retreating to the ladies’ retiring room. Out of the couple’s sight, she loitered at the perimeter of the room, mortified by her unbecoming thoughts. No one would ever mistake her for an innocent if he or she could see inside her mind.

  She quashed a sigh. How she missed Isaac’s touch. And how she hated herself for wanting him still. Why had everything gone so wrong between them? Isaac had promised to love her until death the night they had made love under the stars, but here she was with heart still beating and Isaac was nowhere to be found.

  The heat of too many bodies jammed together threatened to overcome her. Nausea rose in her throat and she hurried through the opened veranda door for fear of casting up her accounts on the fine marble floor. The tepid air provided little relief, but a slight wind cooled her enough to ease her sickness. She moved into the darkness and away from the spotlights created by the candlelight spilling through the soaring windows. If she did become ill, she wouldn’t like to be on display for the guests inside.

  She wandered to the stone balustrade, leaned against it with eyes closed, and inhaled. As the breath flowed from her lungs, she repeated her deepest wish.

  Home.

  All she had ever wanted was a place to call home, a family to care for, and a husband to love. She’d thought Isaac had been the answer to her dreams, but instead, she’d allowed him to steal them away. Because of her stupidity, she’d ruined her chance for a home of her own.

  A swift wind whipped along the veranda, lifting tendrils of her hair at her nape, and an icy chill swept down her spine. A scrape of a boot sounded behind her.

  “Greetings, Serafine.”

  Twenty-seven

  Daniel led his wife inside the greenhouse. The sounds of the party were muffled as he pulled the door closed and created a sanctuary from a world in which he’d never wanted to be included. The glass walls had trapped the heat of the summer day, and a warm mist hovered on the air. His fancy attire clung to him and his cravat became confining. Placing the lantern he’d stolen from the terrace on a shelf, he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened the knot at his neck.

  Lisette faced him, a tantalizing grin curving her full lips. “You are much too cross for a ball thrown in our honor. Are you regretting becoming leg-shackled already?”

  Given he had admitted during the waltz he wanted nothing more than to find a vacant room and shag her silly, he knew she was teasing him. Her assessment of his demeanor, however, was accurate. But not for the reason she cited.

  Daniel had been alert to the stir she had caused among the ne’er-do-wells in attendance this evening. Lisette’s marital status wouldn’t make her any less desirable a conquest to the bloody rakes about Town, but Daniel’s presence at her side and menacing glares had held them at bay.

  Resentment turned his stomach. How dare any man think to possess anything belonging to him, much less his wife? To make a cuckold of him would be a grievous mistake.

  He must see Lisette bound for the countryside before he returned to New Orleans. Yet, even the sanctuary of the country wouldn’t guarantee her safety, and it was the urge to caution her against the vipers that had led him to whisk her from the ballroom.

  He shook his head slightly. That wasn’t entirely true. He wanted her to know she was his, but short of beating his chest and making a fool of himself, he wasn’t certain how to assert his claim.

  Lisette reached out to smooth a hand along his upper arm; her fingers tightened around his muscle. “What is troubling you, mon amour?”

  “I abhor how those lecherous hounds are devouring you with their looks. You’re not a jam tartlet.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” She stepped into his embrace and tipped her head up. Her eyes sparkled in the lamp light, her sooty lashes like a black velvet frame to acce
nt precious jewels. “And my tartlet belongs to you.”

  Daniel chuckled, his tension uncoiling with her near. “You’re incorrigible, Lisette Hillary.”

  Damn if he didn’t want to abandon the entire venture to New Orleans and stay with her, but he must make this last voyage. Inquiries had turned up nothing on Mademoiselle Vistoire’s brother, which left Rafe’s future too uncertain.

  Once Daniel arrived in America, he intended to petition for guardianship of the lad. He had already engaged a solicitor to pursue the matter. To see Lisette truly happy, he must secure Rafe’s inheritance and see that the lad could never be taken from them.

  Daniel had yet to share his intentions with Lisette, but now was not the time. This evening was special, and he didn’t want to spoil it for her. If not for the turmoil churning inside him at the thought of another man having her, he wouldn’t have taken her away from the merriment. He’d never seen her smile as brightly as when he’d led her into the waltz. She had referred to it as their dance.

  He drew her closer and caressed the silky skin at her nape. She shivered and snuggled into him, laying her cheek against his chest.

  “Promise me you’ll be cautious around the gentlemen,” he said. “Many are not above using anything at their disposal to make a conquest.”

  She laughed softly, her warm breath tickling his neck. “They would have a devil of a time prying me from your arms.” Lifting to her toes, she kissed him.

  He held her in place and seized her mouth. She dissolved against him, parting her lips and inviting his exploration. Her tongue swept against his, intertwining with it in an erotic dance of sorts.

  His breath tore from him in a harsh pant. Knowing he couldn’t touch her, revel in her fingers upon him, taste the sweetness of her mouth for many months, left him desperate to fill the emptiness expanding inside him. He pushed the sleeves of her satin gown from her shoulders and down her arms to reveal the lacy edge of her corset and the swells of her generous breasts.

  He traced the weave of scarlet ribbon trimming her undergarment. “I want to lay you bare, darling, and make you come amongst the orchids.”

  “Now, now.” She smiled up at him, one side of her mouth lifting higher than the other. “There’s no need for pretty words. Just tell me what you really want.”

  He chuckled and shook his head, chagrined by his clumsy attempt at wooing her. “Forgive me. I sometimes forget to behave as a gentleman with you.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she drew him to her. Her eyes darkened, blazing with barely controlled passion. “If a gentleman cannot pleasure me as you do, I have no need for one.”

  Her kiss was hard and demanding, her tongue seeking his. Her fingers tightened on his waistcoat. She tried to tow him closer. When he didn’t budge, she gravitated to him instead, molding her body to his.

  He grabbed her hips and spun her away. She issued a small cry of protest before his arm circled her waist and pulled her snugly to him again. Her bottom pressed against his thighs as his lips sought out her neck. He licked the curve where her shoulder and neck met, drawing his tongue slowly across the spot. A shuddering sigh passed through her. Releasing his hold, he worked the fastenings at the back of her gown and shoved the garment down to her waist before tugging her corset laces. The red satin slid past her hips and fell in a heap around her feet. Her corset and petticoats soon joined her gown.

  When she tried to turn in his arms, he held her in place, his hands seeking out her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples, firm beneath her chemise. Lisette melted against him, her breath changing to ragged sighs.

  She made another attempt to wriggle around to face him, but he hugged her tightly.

  “Stay. I want you like this.”

  She surrendered to his ministrations, but not before verbalizing her exasperation with a short huff. He stole into her chemise and cupped her bare breasts while he showered her temple, neck, and shoulders with soft kisses.

  Reaching behind and working her hand between their bodies, she curved her fingers around his cock and gently squeezed. Daniel closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Not since their wedding night had she allowed him to take sole command of their lovemaking, and he was more hers because of it.

  He fisted the skirts of her chemise and eased them up over her hips. His knuckles grazed the smooth skin of her buttocks.

  Loosening the fastenings of his breeches, she slipped her hand inside and wrapped him in warmth. He sucked in a sharp breath, urged her forward, stepping clear of her garments, and placed her hands against the ledge of a shelf. He circled his palm over her full bottom then slid his hand between her legs. His fingers played over her heated flesh, finding and circling her pleasurable place. Lisette sighed and arched into his caress. His shaft brushed against her, his yearning to claim her powerful. Easing her legs wider, he was poised to slide inside her.

  He curved his body against hers and placed a tender kiss behind her ear. “My beautiful Lissie,” he whispered.

  Her breath came out in soft gasps, her heart thumped heavily against his chest. When he entered her, she sighed and pushed back against him until she surrounded him. His fingers curled around her soft hip as his hand splayed across her taut stomach. She met his thrusts as she always did, moving in time to music only they could sense.

  Yet, no matter how exquisite it was to be immersed in her, having her accept him, something was lacking. He couldn’t see her expression. Watching his wife as she reached her completion did something strange to him. It created a fullness that settled in his chest, warm and bursting like rays of sunshine through darkened clouds.

  He withdrew then gently turned her to stand in front of him. Dark wisps of hair had loosened from her coiffure and fallen around her face. He tucked a strand behind her ear, lifting her chin to place a reverent kiss on her lips. His heart beat in his throat. He couldn’t speak.

  I love you. He loved her beyond a doubt. And only her.

  Coaxing her to a bench tucked among the foliage, he sat and pulled her atop him. They joined again and this time he could watch every nuance of her expressions. The softening of the line between her brows. Her lips parting on a sigh. The shadow of passion in her gaze.

  Observing her increased his desire and lured him closer to release. She rocked her hips, his hands cradling her bottom. Her neck arched back, her breath quickened, and then a quiet cry burst from her again and again and again as she surrendered. Daniel moved her against him, pursuing his own completion with her tightly surrounding him. It was just out of reach, but he chased it with fervent determination until he seized his release, or it seized him. Currents of pleasure coursed through his limbs and left him shaking.

  Hugging her close, he rested his head against her breasts and listened as their breath slowed until it evened out again. She kissed his forehead.

  “My lady’s maid would be in hysterics if she could see my state of dishabille.”

  He nuzzled her breasts and kissed the valley between them. “But your husband is pleased.”

  She laughed, a low husky sound, as he nibbled up her neck. “Then perhaps my husband can act in place of my lady’s maid. It’s too early to leave, and I can’t return to the party in my chemise.”

  “My pleasure.” He would be damned if anyone caught a glimpse of her without every inch covered. The hounds would never stay away otherwise.

  Daniel eased her from his lap, retrieved her garments, and began to help set her back to rights. Her hair was worse for the experience, but she could hie off to the retiring room before they returned to the ballroom.

  With lantern in hand, he led his wife through the gardens toward the veranda. Serafine’s low voice carried on the air as they neared.

  “Isaac, let me go.”

  “You heard Mademoiselle Vistoire,” a gentleman snapped. “Step aside.”

  Daniel released Lisette and rushed up the stairs to thrash whatever scoundrel was accosting Lisette’s cousin.

  Luke Forest, the Marquess o
f Westin, stood in front of her, blocking her from the other man. “Don’t touch her again.” Westin’s warning hit its mark and the stranger staggered back a step.

  “Serafine, please.” His accent identified him as a bloody American.

  Lisette reached Daniel’s side. “Monsieur Tucker, what are you doing in London?”

  “He’s harassing a lady.” Westin’s emphasis on the word lady left Daniel wondering what part of the conversation they had missed.

  Lisette hurried to Serafine’s side and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Monsieur Tucker is a fellow resident of New Orleans. We are well acquainted with his family. I’m certain he didn’t intend to harass my cousin.”

  Daniel’s fist tightened. “Acquaintance or no, no one gave you leave to touch Mademoiselle Vistoire.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Mr. Tucker’s wild gaze flew to Serafine. “Tell him I didn’t hurt you.”

  Her steely eyes grew moist. “But you did, Isaac. And it cannot be undone.”

  Daniel nodded to Westin, communicating silently with his Oxford alumni.

  The marquess offered his handkerchief to Serafine. “Please allow me to escort you inside, ladies.”

  Once Westin had the women out of sight, Daniel advanced, snatching Tucker by the waistcoat. “What is it that cannot be undone?”

  Tucker yanked free of his grip and squared his shoulders. “If you wish to deliver a sound beating, I’ll accept it as a man. I deserve any ill treatment I receive.” His valor caught Daniel by surprise. “If only I could win her heart again, I would subject myself to worse than a thrashing.”

  Daniel lowered his fists. The gent’s expression would rival a wounded hound. He had never seen such pitiful eyes on a man. “Whatever you did to her, I expect you to make amends. Call on her tomorrow at 17 Curzon Street. Do not disappoint me.”