How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Read online

  “Diana,” he groaned. “Take care. Don’t go too far. I can’t hold—”

  “But darling,” she purred, “this is the sort of thing lovers do.” And she lowered her mouth over his staff, suddenly extremely glad for one of those shocking conversations she’d once overheard between Rebecca and Jussy.

  Nathaniel’s thighs tensed, but his hands fell to his sides, then to her hair. He grunted, shifting on the stool. “I can’t hold back,” he muttered under his breath.

  Well, as Jussy would say, when a person was in trouble anyway, they might as well make it worth their while.

  * * *

  He helped her up when she was done and set her on his knee again.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered. “All the way.”

  “Here?” He chuckled softly. “Demanding, aren’t you? And altogether too reckless today.”

  “I’m tired of waiting.”

  “It would ruin your lovely new white frock,” he murmured in her ear, his breath skittering over her skin.

  “Then take it off me.”

  He laughed huskily, softly. “Oh no, no, no. That would be more temptation than a rake like me can withstand.” Even one that had just spent, he mused. It wouldn’t take him long to be roused again in her presence.

  “Then don’t withstand,” she urged.

  “Diana, behave yourself.” He grabbed her wrists and kissed her palms.

  She pouted. “It is just my fortune, sir, that the moment I am ready to misbehave, you are determined not to.”

  “I think we misbehaved quite enough,” he muttered. “This rebellion of yours…”

  “What about it?”

  He trapped her chin in the vee between his thumb and fingers. “Is it only for me?”

  Nathaniel Sherringham had never been so uncertain in his life.

  * * *

  About to give some pert, evasive answer, Diana stopped and reconsidered. A certain vulnerability was apparent in his expression. She had never seen it before, and it made her want to put her arms around him, to lay her soul bare before him.

  But for how many years had she watched this merry rogue flirt and seduce while she stood in the shade, desperately trying to keep her heart locked safely away? Not knowing whether to take him seriously at all. She recognized now how much she had yearned for him. But that old Diana had punished herself, forbidden herself the pleasure—just as her mother stored those precious spices on a dark shelf and never dared use any.

  She smiled at him, her heart aching with so many emotions. None would be denied any longer. Diana took his fingers and pulled his hand away, saying gently, “No. This rebellion, Captain Sherringham, is for me. And only me.” It was about time, she thought, that she did something purely for herself.

  He nodded, his narrowed gaze on her lips. After a breath, he said, “Stop writhing in my lap. You’re being an unbearable tease.”

  The solemn moment had passed.

  “Does it hurt, then?” she said, brows curved.

  “Immeasurably,” he assured her.

  “I thought I just cured it.”

  “That, I fear, was temporary.”

  Fingers tapped against the dressing room door and a polite voice asked if she needed assistance.

  “No, thank you,” she called back. “I’ll be out shortly.”

  Nathaniel slid the shoulders of her dress down and kissed her skin, nuzzling the valley between her breasts where they rose above her new chemise. She felt his lap growing under her again and shifted her weight to his left thigh.

  “You will come to the Wollaford ball on Friday?” she asked, running her hand carefully over the ridge in his breeches.

  “After last night, I ought to keep my distance from Wollaford. I don’t want to cause trouble. Christ, Diana, I should never have driven off with you like that. What must they all think of me?”

  “That has never bothered you before!” Keeping his distance? He was not doing that now, she thought, amused. “You had better come to the Wollaford ball, or folk might think we have something to be guilty about when I have assured them all on the contrary.”

  He finally gave her a lopsided smile, like a boy caught misbehaving. “Very well. I will see you there, Diana. Save a dance for me. If you are not scooped up by all the other gentlemen who will fall under your spell in this wretchedly exquisite gown I so foolishly purchased for you.”

  Diana wanted to laugh out loud, but of course she could not. For once she believed it when he told her how she looked. Her heart thumped madly, joyfully. Yes, she felt beautiful at last.

  She kissed his lips hungrily, devouring his soft groan of desire. Was he waiting for more assurance that he was the only one? He did not push for it and she was relieved, for she might have given in. This carelessness was harder than it looked.

  He slid a hand between her thighs, under her fine new gown again, drawing his fingertips slowly and tenderly over her roused flesh until she wanted to purr. As her neck arched and her head went back, he kissed the base of her throat. “I should make you promise to dance with me all evening,” he murmured, his breath warm, tickling her moist skin. “I have never felt so possessive in my life. So envious of any man that looks at you.”

  “Poor Sherry. I’m sure you’ll manage.” I had to, she thought. For years I had to. She gasped, shivering, caught in the grip of passion as he caressed her skillfully to yet another slow, blissful peak.

  “Even when you are out of my sight, Diana,” he groaned hotly into her breast, “you are never out of my mind, damn you. I swore I would not make a fool of myself again with you. It’s an obsession. It must be.”

  And then he took her over the edge and she plummeted, biting her tongue to keep from crying out. Her eyes closed tight, she melted—parts of her quite literally.

  Well, he had always said he would thaw her out.

  She tipped forward to lay her head on his shoulder as he leaned back against the wall of the tiny dressing room.

  “If it’s an obsession,” she whispered, “it cannot last. It will burn itself out.”

  For a moment he said nothing. She felt his heart thumping hard against her own. Oh, what were they doing together?

  “Stand up,” he growled suddenly, his hand still caressing her intimately.

  Should one ever disobey a command from a man when he seemed annoyed under these circumstances?

  She swiftly decided to comply. A naughty imp whispered in her ear: You know very well what you’re doing, Diana. Pricking his temper. Tantalizing and teasing. Being wicked and revolutionary and flirtatious. Being everything you were always warned against. And didn’t think you could ever be. Enjoying every bit of it.

  This gown was not the only new thing she was trying on.

  Nathaniel leaned forward, and holding her hips in a firm grip, he placed his mouth in a very unexpected place and repaid the favor she had done for him.

  The next time an assistant came knocking on the door to see if she needed help, she was utterly beyond speech and Nathaniel was obliged to answer for her in a high-pitched squeak.

  * * *

  He wanted to hear her say she loved him. He needed it. Otherwise he might just be a part of her rebellion, a passing fancy. Nathaniel had never been as uncertain as he was now with her. None of his other relationships had ever been like this. He had never faltered. Never smoldered as he did this time. With her. For her.

  It took every ounce of willpower to keep her waiting, but he wanted this to be right, to be done properly.

  Diana was blossoming, but he didn’t want to rush her. He would make this the way he’d imagined in his dreams.

  He would wait for those precious words from her lips.

  Twenty-three

  Over the next few days he kept his distance. He did not come to dine at Wollaford and Sir Jonty was busy organizing the
grounds for the ball, as well as overseeing the building stages of his folly by the lake. The weather was fine but not remarkable. There was a sense of unease, of something changed in the air.

  Diana could not settle or feel any contentment until she saw Nathaniel again.

  She knew her cousin had written to her mother. No doubt a letter would soon arrive summoning her home to Hawcombe Prior. In the meantime she was mostly confined to the lodge, Elizabeth making a great deal of unpleasant fuss anytime she expressed a desire to go out.

  “Poor George,” she snapped at Diana, a few days after the Bach concert, as they sat sewing in the drawing room. “You have caused him terrible pain by being so attentive one moment and then running off with that scoundrel Sherringham the next. I do not know if George will ever recover. Just as he had begun to let his heart heal again. I hope you are satisfied with the havoc you’ve caused.”

  Diana sought Sir Jonty in his library that afternoon after hearing sounds of his return and the usual ruckus from his spaniels. She would never bother a gentleman in his library, but Sir Jonty was not the sort to stand on ceremony and had been so generous that she felt it necessary to speak with him directly, rather than rely on Elizabeth to convey her apology.

  He seemed surprised to see her there, but he put aside his copy of the Bath Chronicle and listened without interruption as Diana assured him that she had meant no harm to his brother, and she was sorry if her friendship had been misconstrued as anything more.

  “Well, no, dear Miss Makepiece… I’m sure… George… I’m sure it is nothing to be anxious about. Do not distress yourself on that score. I only hope you have not been inconvenienced. We did think there was an attachment between you and George. But…that is how things go, I suppose.” He smiled. “You have helped open his eyes and his heart again. We are all grateful to you for that, my dear Miss Makepiece. And…as long as you have not been injured…then all is well.”

  Glad to get that off her chest—but a little puzzled about why he thought she might have been injured—she left him to his newspaper, his pint pot of black porter, his tobacco pipe, and his peaceful library. After all, the poor man had few places in that small house where he could escape his wife’s nagging.

  * * *

  Nathaniel received a visit from Jonty the day before the Wollaford ball. His first thought was that the man had come to inform him that his invitation to the ball was rescinded.

  This, however, was not the case.

  Despite Lady Plumtre’s insistence that he was no longer welcome at Wollaford, Nathaniel found Jonty in much the same good humor as usual. There was only a little awkwardness as he greeted Nathaniel and looked around his small room at the boarding house.

  “I remember a time when I enjoyed my freedom in such lodgings as these,” he said, smiling. “But then my papa died and left me Wollaford. Thus I was obliged to find a wife and settle down.”

  Nathaniel waited, sensing his friend had something preying on his mind. Jonty paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. Finally he stopped, looked at Nathaniel, and said, “I came today on my brother George’s behalf.”

  “Oh?” It had to be about Diana.

  “You know—I’m sure you have seen by now—his attachment, his growing fondness for a certain lady.”

  Dropping to a chair by the window, Nathaniel nodded. His mind had been filled with nothing and no one but her since their last encounter.

  “George has been…cautious when it comes to giving his heart again. After his sad loss.”

  “Of course. That is understandable.”

  “But now he finds a woman in whose company he takes great pleasure. A woman he fears you may have some prior claim upon.”

  Nathaniel said nothing. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands clasped. He did not want to lose Jonty’s friendship, but neither was he going to give Diana up and clear the field for that wet cabbage leaf George.

  “So my brother asked me to inquire about your intentions related to that lady. He does not wish to encroach upon another man’s…property.”

  “I very much doubt she would appreciate being referred to as my property,” Nathaniel said, darkly amused.

  Jonty proceeded to walk up and down again, clearly uncomfortable with his task as messenger in this affair but anxious for his brother’s sake. “My wife thought you had given the lady up, but George wished to be sure. The lady herself seemed…uncertain as to where she stood in your life.”

  Naturally, Lady Plumtre was eager to get him away from her cousin and would want to think he had given up. He stared out of the window and saw Diana’s face, her green eyes watching him steadily, thoughtfully. This rebellion of hers… He sighed and shook his head. She had enchanted poor George too.

  “Well, old chap?” said Jonty.

  Nathaniel stood. “The lady is capable of making her own choices,” he said carefully. “I think we should let her choose the suitor she wants.” Then he laughed curtly. “It might, after all, be neither of us. She has been a trifle unpredictable of late.”

  His friend blew out a great breath. “I daresay you are right, Sherry. Let the lady choose. George will have to take his chance like everyone else. Perhaps it will do him some good. I have rather tried to protect him from the world, you see. Sheltered him as best I could. Alas, he was then unprepared for the weight of grief when he lost Eleanor. He had not learned to stand on his own feet, to face misfortune. That, I fear, was my fault, having never let him know any.” Jonty paused. “I believe Miss Makepiece has helped him climb out of that pit of despair in which he wallowed. She has been so patient and kind. Has even offered to help my sisters. I am indebted to the lady.”

  It was plain to see why Jonty wanted Diana for his brother. He saw her as serving a purpose for his entire family. “Yes,” Nathaniel muttered stiffly, “she is remarkable, isn’t she?”

  What did he have to offer her? He had begun to build a future, but he didn’t have a house to put her in. He had lodgings here and there. Didn’t even keep a carriage of his own.

  Nathaniel Sherringham—thirty years old and of no fixed abode.

  Perhaps that was why she only thought of him as a potential lover. Nothing serious.

  The conversation turned to other matters, but Jonty left soon after that, with a firm handshake and having secured a promise from Nathaniel that “this business” had not and would not change the friendship between the two of them.

  Twenty-four

  The day of the Wollaford ball was grim, cooler, and spoiled by rain, confining everyone indoors. But by the evening the air was warm again and dry. Only the ground remained damp.

  “Naturally,” Elizabeth complained. “That will allow every foot to bring mud into the ballroom.”

  “At least you won’t be the one required to get on your hands and knees and scrub the floor tomorrow,” Diana pointed out.

  Her cousin glared at her. “I pray you will remember your place this evening and bear in mind the trouble you’ve already caused by being thoughtless and flighty. Putting yourself forward.”

  “But Sir Jonty assures me his brother is not at all unhappy. I do not think George was as attached to me as you thought.”

  “Diana, it’s time you learned that men know almost nothing when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Quite true.”

  The Plumtre girls were so excited that they flew down the steps of the manor house to greet Diana that evening. Sir Jonty had brought the ladies over from the lodge in the carriage—at his wife’s insistence—to save their dancing slippers from the wet ground, and before her foot had touched the gravel, Diana was whisked into the manor house to admire the flowers, the buffet table, and, of course, their gowns.

  Mrs. Plumtre had not yet seen Diana’s new ball gown and she exclaimed in delight, “How pretty, Miss Makepiece!
My goodness, it quite brings a tear to my eye, seeing you look so well. The air here at Wollaford has been of much benefit to you, I think.” She reached up and patted Diana’s cheek in a motherly way. “Your cousin tells us you will soon be going home. We shall miss you, my dear.”

  Her heart faltered. Going home. Yes, she knew Elizabeth wanted to be rid of her. She had not fulfilled her expected role at Wollaford and was now considered more liability and competition than anything.

  “I shall miss all of you too,” she said sadly. “Very much.”

  “Then you must return to visit us every summer.”

  But Diana doubted her mother would let her leave Hawcombe Prior again, once she learned about her riding out unchaperoned with Nathaniel, spending hours alone with him in Sydney Gardens, and coming home as the birds began to sing. That would take some explaining.

  The ballroom at Wollaford Park was a long, Tudor-paneled hall with a black-and-white tiled floor, two large hanging chandeliers, and a massive fireplace that tonight was filled with flowers and a large paper fan painted with exotic birds and butterflies. Some chairs were set around the walls for those who did not dance, and at the far end of the room there was a raised wooden dais upon which a group of musicians played. It was the grandest ball Diana had ever attended and she might have been overwhelmed by the grandeur, if not for Mrs. Plumtre’s unfussy manners.

  Only now did she fully appreciate her new white gown, for it helped her courage a great deal. She was exceedingly grateful to Susy and Daisy for insisting upon having it made for her. She would have felt terribly out of place in her old “best” frock, despite her mother’s efforts to improve it. And that thought made her sad, because it forced Diana to consider all that her mother had left behind for love and a moment of passion. All the pleasures that her mother had never known—the balls and fine gowns and carriages that kept a girl from mud upon her slippers. All those things Diana now had the opportunity to know.

  The ballroom quickly began to fill with guests and music. Diana had no time to hide in a corner and observe, because the Plumtre sisters took her up and down the chessboard tiles to meet those few friends she had not yet encountered in Bath and to be reacquainted with those she had. She looked around for Nathaniel, but there was no sign of him for the first hour.