Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend Read online

  Andrew clenched his jaw and led her to the spot he’d decided on before she’d arrived. It was a small parlor adjacent to the ballroom. He opened the door and interrupted a man and woman in an embrace. “Out,” he said when they dashed apart and stared at him with flaming faces.

  Without protest, the couple fled.

  “Ever the romantic,” Lily said, gliding into the room and turning to face him. The rubies on her gown glinted in the light from the brace of candles set on a table.

  “Interesting criticism, coming from a courtesan,” he shot back. He closed the door behind him, though being seen with him was no danger to her reputation. He couldn’t ruin her. Her reputation was ruined beyond repair.

  Lily’s brow arched. “You never seemed to mind associating with the Fashionable Impures before. Perhaps you are bitter because your favorite Cyprian has chosen another.”

  Andrew balled his hands. He did not want to think of Juliette, married to his so-called friend, the Duke of Pelham. Juliette was the least of his worries at the moment. He had his father and the harlot before him to consider. “I don’t remember you ever being deliberately cruel,” Andrew said, knowing his words were crueler than hers.

  Her face fell into an expression of regret. “You are correct. I apologize. That was unkind of me. And now would you give me the courtesy of saying what this is about so I might return to the ball?”

  “Return to my father.”

  She nodded. “I have promised Ravenscroft a dance.”

  Andrew shuddered at the image of his portly father dancing, his arm about Lily’s waist. “You will find someone else to dance with.”

  She merely looked at him. “Will I?”

  “As a favor to me, you will turn your attentions elsewhere.”

  She tilted her head, studying him. “I don’t owe you any favors.”

  Anger swept through him, and he closed in on her until he towered over her and glared down into her sparkling green eyes. “What do you want? Blunt?” He pulled a handful of quid from his coat and tossed it at her. “There. Meet me at Threadneedle Street in the morning. I shall have my banker draw up a draft for more funds.”

  Her eyes hardened and went dull. “I don’t want your money, Darlington.”

  She pushed past him, stepping on the notes. He grabbed her elbow. “Five hundred pounds.”

  “Release me.” She did not look at him.

  “One thousand, and that is my final offer.”

  “You insult me, my lord. Release me now.”

  “So it’s the title you want, then. You won’t have it. I’ll never consent to a marriage, and my father is no fool like Pelham. He won’t marry a slut.”

  The slap rang out in the empty room, and his cheek stung. He would have a hand print, no doubt.

  “Unhand me, or I shall scream.”

  Andrew blinked at her. He had not thought she would be so difficult to persuade. Of The Three Diamonds, Lily had always been the sweetest, the… most charming. Even her sobriquet, the Countess of Charm, told of her amiable personality. Why was she being so deliberately difficult now?

  “I have tried to reason with you,” he began.

  With a petulant look, she opened her mouth and screamed. “Help! He—”

  He kissed her. Andrew couldn’t think what else to do to make her stop causing that infernal racket. The last thing he needed was to be booted out of a ball, or for his father to realize he was attempting to manipulate the old duke’s liaisons. And so he kissed her, not thinking of anything but shutting her up. But when his lips touched hers, all of that changed. He hadn’t expected her lips to feel so soft, her mouth to be so ripe, taste so sweet. He hadn’t expected his arms to wrap around her and pull her close, crushing her breasts against his chest.

  And he hadn’t expected to like the feel of her body molded against his. Hadn’t expected the urge to explore her curves and to find the places that made her sigh and moan.

  He tried to control himself, remind himself of who she was. She was not beautiful, golden Juliette. Lily’s eyes were not blue, her hair not pale blond, her form not tall and regal. That was the sort of woman Darlington preferred. He could see the appeal of a woman like Fallon. She was dark and voluptuous. What man wouldn’t want her in his bed for a night or two? But Lily? She was pretty, if one liked that sort of thing. He didn’t care for her red hair, though it was striking. He didn’t care for the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. He didn’t care for all the smiling she did. She reminded him of his younger sister, who had always followed him around and attempted to attract his attention.

  And if he disliked her so much, why was he still kissing her?

  He broke the kiss and caught her hand just inches from his face. “I deserve to be slapped for that,” he said, “but you’ve already doled out my punishment.”

  “Let me go, or I will be forced to employ stronger methods of resistance.” Her voice was breathy and low. Andrew considered that she might have been more affected by the kiss than she allowed him to see. He released her, not because he worried overmuch about her “stronger methods of resistance.” He was certain she had them. One did not survive as a courtesan without learning how to fend men off. But he did not think her methods would prove all that successful if he truly intended to take her against her will. Fortunately for her, he didn’t want her.

  Much.

  “Think about what I said,” he said, releasing her. “Stay away from my father, or I will make your life very, very inconvenient.”

  “No!” She inhaled a sharp breath and put a hand over her heart in mock distress. “Not inconvenient.”

  He scowled at her, and she moved closer to him, poking his chest with a gloved finger. “Think about this, Lord Darlington. If you continue to threaten and harass me, I will make your life inconvenient. You know I can.” She opened the parlor door, and the orchestra’s strings swelled into the room. She shut the door with a bang behind her and was gone.

  To his father, he supposed.

  Andrew ran a hand through his hair. That had not gone as expected. Normally, he would have gone to ask Pelham or Fitzhugh’s advice, but both were involved with the closest friends of his new mortal enemy. He could not rely on them. He had other friends. But those friends were not what one might call sensible, and he could certainly not rely on them to give him any advice over and above which bawdy house offered the best girls or which gaming hell had the best odds.

  He opened the parlor door, stepped into the ballroom, and his gaze sought his father. There was Lily, standing at his side, making his father laugh with something she said. She looked over at him, said something more, and the circle of men and women around them laughed heartily.

  Andrew’s face flamed. How dare she presume to make him the subject of some jest? He would make her pay for this. He stomped out of the ballroom and called for his carriage.

  He thought of going to his club, but he knew his father and the Countess of Charm would be all the talk there. Instead, he directed his coachman to take him to a seedy part of Town. A place where he could wallow, undisturbed. He had his coachman stop on the outskirts of Seven Dials and ordered him home again. Then, walking stick at the ready, Andrew made his way into the bowels of the decrepit section of London until he reached The Horse and Crown.

  It was a favorite haunt when he had been younger and wanted to prowl the rookeries. Now he came to drink. He had been drinking quite a lot since his mother’s death and Juliette’s marriage. He found gin dulled the pain.

  He made his way to a back table and nodded to the gentleman seated there. The man nodded back. Flynn was not dressed in evening clothes, but he still looked the nobleman—the debauched nobleman. His coat was soiled, his hair had come loose from its queue, and his cravat spilled down his linen shirt. He had a drink before him and several empty cups on the table in front of him.

  “Darlington,�
� he said. He never slurred his words, though Andrew knew he must be drunk at times. He’d sat with the man and drank half what Flynn consumed and could barely walk home. “You look rather pretty tonight.”

  Andrew sat, and a buxom barmaid brought him a gin. She kissed his cheek and attempted to sit on his lap, but he picked her up and shooed her away. He could still taste Lily on his lips, and he didn’t want the barmaid tarnishing the memory.

  Which was a completely irrational thought. Which was why he needed the gin.

  “Ball tonight,” Andrew said and took a swallow of gin.

  “Ah, yes. Did you stop the nefarious woman from implementing her plan and luring your poor, innocent father into a marriage based on lust and money alone?”

  “How did you know all that?”

  Flynn indicated the glass of gin. “You talk when you drink.”

  “You make it sound ridiculous,” Andrew said.

  Flynn shrugged. “To each his own. My life has its own foibles.”

  Flynn never talked when he drank. Andrew knew almost nothing about the man except that he was heir to a title and he had done something horrible and did not deserve it. Andrew had thought about telling the man that if titles were deserved rather than inherited, his father would not be the Duke of Ravenscroft. But the man seemed content to wallow in drink and a Byronic malaise.

  “I haven’t stopped her yet,” Andrew said. “But I will.”

  “How gallant of you to do all of this in honor of your mother. The sole motivation for me is desire for a woman.”

  “I have no interest in Lily.” Andrew drank again. “She reminds me of my sister.”

  Flynn’s brows rose. “You will have to introduce me to your sister.”

  Andrew narrowed his eyes. Flynn would not be allowed within five miles of his sister. “Not in appearance, in my feelings for her. The Countess of Charm has always struck me as the kind of woman I want to pat on the head and tell to run along and play.”

  “Has she, now?”

  “I have never thought of her in any sort of carnal fashion.”

  “Haven’t you?”

  Andrew drank again, surprised his glass was empty so quickly. “I suppose I might have thought of her carnally once or twice. She is a woman.”

  “An attractive woman and a courtesan. She’s said to be a favorite of the prince.”

  Andrew clenched his fists. He had always detested that rumor. “That is simply rubbish. She would never share the prince’s bed.”

  “Wouldn’t she?”

  Andrew slammed his glass on the table. “Stop questioning me.”

  “Questioning you? Why, I believe every word you’ve spoken, old boy.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Flynn drained his own glass. “You’re right. I think you are lying through your teeth.”

  Andrew would have thrown his gin in Flynn’s face, if he’d had any remaining.

  “Don’t look so Friday-faced, Darlington. I want to believe you. Trouble is, you’re not all that convincing.”

  “You can go to hell.”

  “Oh, I will. No doubt on that score. But since I am already damned, let me offer you some advice.”

  “You are going to offer me advice?”

  Flynn nodded and signaled for another round. “I understand completely if you do not take it to heart.” Two more glasses arrived, courtesy of the barmaid, and Andrew drank immediately. He was going to need a great quantity of gin to listen to this.

  “First of all, Juliette was never going to fall in love with you.”

  “She doesn’t concern me any longer.”

  “Yes, she does, and I’m telling you to forget her. I didn’t know her, but our paths crossed. I’ve met the Duke of Pelham a few times as well. If Pelham is the sort of man she likes, you had no chance. You two couldn’t be more different.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment.”

  “You should. I could never drink with a man like Pelham. He would annoy me in less than a quarter of an hour. Secondly, you and the Countess of Charm would suit.”

  “Lily and me? How far in your cups are you?”

  “Have you ever looked at the chit? Have you ever noticed the way she watches you?”

  “We are discussing Lily, correct? She has no such feelings for me. In fact, tonight she was rather cool.”

  “That’s because you were being a horse’s ass, which, by the way, you have been ever since you returned to Town.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

  “No, you don’t.” But Flynn was the one who rose. “You’ve annoyed me enough for one night. It took you three-quarters of an hour, which is better than Pelham.”

  “At least I have that consolation.”

  Flynn grinned and swayed.

  “You had better sit before you topple over,” Andrew told him.

  Flynn waved a hand. “I’m going to hail a hackney and tell the driver to surprise me.” He lurched out.

  “Good luck finding a hackney in this hellhole!” he called. The tavern’s other patrons quieted and gave him stony looks. Andrew grinned. “No offense, of course.” He pushed his gin away. He had better be able to walk out on his own. Flynn wasn’t really going to hire a cab and tell the jarvey to simply drive. Was he?

  And the more Andrew pondered the idea, the more he liked it.

  Three

  The evening had gone well, despite Darlington’s best efforts, Lily thought the next morning as she broke her fast. She sipped chocolate in bed and skimmed over the Cytherian Intelligence column. Her liaison with Ravenscroft was not mentioned in this morning’s edition, but it would be before the end of the week. She had made progress at the ball. Not only had Ravenscroft danced with her three times—three miserable times—he’d attempted to seduce her and asked if she would accompany him to the theater tonight.

  Lily was glad it was one of the Shakespearean tragedies she had agreed to attend. She could never stay awake through the opera, and she would need all her powers of observation to study and learn what she could about the Duke of Ravenscroft. Thus far, he did not strike her as a man who wanted to kill the group of agents the Crown held responsible for the ultimate defeat of Napoleon. But then, traitors rarely wore signs proclaiming themselves as such. Still, nothing the duke had said or done had struck her as suspicious. Her instincts did not tell her she needed to fear him.

  Only one event from the evening stayed with her—and it took the employment of all of her willpower not to think about him.

  She’d dreamed about the kiss, of course. She was exceedingly weak-willed in her dreams. She’d dreamed of Darlington’s mouth on hers, his hands moving over her flesh, the delicious weight of his body hard and solid on top of hers…

  Lily drank more chocolate. How had Fallon known Darlington would be such an impediment? He’d never so much as looked at her before! And now he would not leave her alone. It pained her to treat him so coldly, but she had no other choice. Her mission was paramount. And perhaps she hadn’t needed to be quite so cold. But it galled that when she was finally over her infatuation with him, that was the moment he chose to kiss her.

  How she would have killed for that kiss months ago.

  She lay back on her pillows and searched for something in her room to distract her. She’d had her room done in white lace and robin’s egg blue. Compared to Juliette and Fallon’s bedchambers, hers was a little girl’s room, but she sometimes felt her childhood had ended too soon. Her innocence taken before she was ready. She wondered what the gallants of the ton would think if she actually admitted a few to her bedchamber. Would they be surprised it was not exotic and lush as Fallon’s was or full of silk and splendor as Juliette’s?

  Not that she suspected Fallon or Juliette had admitted many, if any, men to their bedchambers. Once all three girls had live
d under the Earl of Sinclair’s roof. She’d missed that closeness when they had moved into separate town houses. She’d always been part of a large family, and it felt strange to live alone. Now she was the only one still living alone.

  Once she had dreamed of sharing, if not her life, at least her bed with Darlington. She remembered when she first met him. He’d taken her breath away—and not simply because he frequently wore extremely tight breeches. He had curly brown hair she had never seen tamed into any sort of proper style. It was the kind of hair that made a woman want to run her hands through it, watch the curls twine about her fingers. He had thick eyebrows that offset large, dark eyes. His eyes were heavy-lidded and almost always looked as though he’d just been wakened. He had a sleepy quality about him that made Lily think of tousled beds and twisted sheets. But his mouth was his best feature. It was full and pouty and boyish. He had lips made for kissing. She could have feasted on those lips.

  And if his good looks hadn’t been enough, he had the best taste in fashion save for Beau Brummell—better than Brummell to Lily’s mind. She felt that icon of fashion dressed too plainly. Darlington added a bit of flair to his choices. Darlington was too good-natured, too witty to wear sober garb. And yet he’d always dressed in a manner that befitted an earl who would one day be a powerful duke. Except, of course, for those sinfully snug breeches.

  Lily had loved him—or at least lusted after him—from the moment she saw him. But he’d never looked twice at her. He’d walked right past her, his gaze fastened on Juliette and never wavering. Even when Juliette had introduced her, he hadn’t taken his eyes from the Duchess of Dalliance. Over the years, Lily had tried to tell Darlington that Juliette was a lost cause. She’d hinted and even been quite bold on one occasion when she’d had too many glasses of champagne. But Darlington had never listened. And while other men flocked around her, offering her jewels, houses, thoroughbreds—anything for access to her bedchamber—Darlington, the only man she wanted, had happily ignored her.