A Scoundrel of Consequence

‘I confess I haven’t really thought about it,’ William remarked, not really interested. He preferred looking at her. Her blue-green eyes, attentive, observing, carried a brilliance that held him transfixed. ‘It must be horrendous for the young ladies.’

‘Don’t waste your pity. It’s all they want from life—pretty gowns, jewels. They have no notion of anything else. Their mamas are obsessed with etiquette, fiercely concerned with morals and the approval of their friends and acquaintances, determined that their daughters do and say the right thing—not to dance more than two dances with any one gentleman, and so on. How tedious and tiresome it all is.’

‘I have already decided that you are a very unconventional young woman, Miss Greenwood.’

‘I am concerned with none of that. I do so detest all the restrictions of the social system that enslaves women.’

‘Are you suggesting that you would care to redress the wrongs of our misguided society? Are you so uninhibited by the prejudice of class that you would break the mould of convention that has encased women for centuries?’

‘I despise convention; as you will have gathered, I live very much as I please, but without causing offence to those I love and those who love me.

‘And to add to all that, you rarely dance,’ William said, pushing his long frame away from the pillar and moving close to her, his gaze capturing hers. ‘Will you step out of your self-imposed restrictions and do me the honour of dancing with me?’

Cassandra stared up at him. Those glowing eyes burned into hers, suffusing her with a growing aura of warmth. ‘I—I do not care to dance.’

‘I insist. After all, this is a ball and that is what people do. You—do dance?’

Her smile was feral. ‘Of course I do. I prefer not to.’

‘You distress me, Miss Greenwood.’ His mouth twisted in a lightly mocking grin. ‘You give me no grounds to hope for better things.’

‘Nor should I,’ she returned pertly. ‘I’ve told you, I do not like these occasions.’

He laughed briefly. ‘You seem to take special delight in reminding me. But I am not convinced. There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t like to dance—and I do not believe you are any different, Miss Greenwood.’ William peered at her closely and took note of her uneasiness. ‘I’m right, am I not?’

Cassandra tilted her slim nose upward as she turned it in profile to him. ‘I meant what I said.’

‘Tell me, Miss Greenwood. Why do you resent me? Can it be that it is because my secretary failed to deliver the donation—or is it more of a personal nature?’

Indignant colour stained Cassandra’s cheeks. ‘You’re right, of course. I do resent you, but not for the reasons you state.’

‘Then would you please enlighten me.’

She looked at him direct. ‘It is to do with my sister.’

‘Your sister?’

‘And your cousin.’

‘Edward?’

‘Yes.’ She turned towards the dance floor and observed Emma about to take to the floor in a lively country dance with Edward Lampard. Her annoyance was raised to new heights. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Captain Lampard, but your cousin and my sister have danced two dances together and are about to embark on a third. My sister is just eighteen years old and her reputation is about to be ruined before she has been launched into society.’

Totally unprepared for the turn the conversation had taken, William’s eyes sought out Edward, seeing him with the same young woman he had been dancing with earlier. ‘That young lady is your sister?’

‘Yes. Unfortunately, the two of them have developed a fondness for each other.’

‘A fondness?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Edward is a sensible, sensitive young man. Speaking as his older cousin, I can only applaud your sister’s taste.’

‘He is neither sensible nor sensitive if he cannot see that he is in danger of ruining her reputation,’ Cassandra argued. ‘Because of the time they spend together, I believe my sister is about to be compromised by your cousin. Everywhere we go we bump into him—be it in the park, at a soirée or the theatre. I am certain these meetings are not coincidence and are pre-arranged in some way known only to Emma and Edward.’

‘Pardon me, Miss Greenwood, but you are contradicting your own words. Did you not imply that you find the rules and restrictions that govern polite society utterly ridiculous? If you feel that way, then why should your sister’s reputation matter to you so much?’

Cassandra sent a cool glance skimming over him. Having her own words quoted back at her was disconcerting. ‘What I said applies to me, Captain Lampard, not my sister. She is a different matter entirely. When I said what I did, I was giving an honest opinion.’

William’s lips twitched with ill-suppressed amusement. ‘Do you have an aversion to my cousin, Miss Greenwood? If so, I find any preconceived ideas you might have about him being a scoundrel insulting and deeply offensive. Perhaps you’re afraid that scoundrels run in the Lampard family—and maybe you see him as some kind of threat?’

‘I do not consider him as much a threat as an inconvenience.’

Laughter twinkled in his eyes. ‘I can see how confused you must be. It is a wholly perplexing problem you have there.’

Cassandra’s cheeks became flushed with indignation. ‘Are you laughing at me, Captain Lampard?’

‘Heaven forbid, I wouldn’t dare. Now, shall we dance? I will even say please if that will persuade you.’

Cassandra did not want to be persuaded. She did not want to dance with him. She did not want to become better acquainted. Still, if it meant a large subscription to the institute, then she could at least be pleasant to him for a short while. Besides, if sufficiently provoked, he might be tempted to risk creating a fuss to gain what he sought.

When William saw her hesitate, he smiled. ‘Come, Miss Greenwood. People are beginning to stare. Your reticence only heightens my determination. I will have this dance, otherwise I might very well change my mind about the size of my donation. The amount will be considerably smaller than it would be if you were to partner me on the floor. Should your colleagues at the institute find out, they would never forgive you.’

Quite unexpectedly she smiled pleasantly and William almost reeled under the impact. Her eyes seemed to contain sparkles of light and a soft rose tinted her cheeks. Her lips parted over even, white teeth that shone, and a small dimple in her cheek caught his eye. Her smile deepened, and so did the dimple. He was momentarily transported and utterly speechless.

‘I suppose I could dance with you for the sake of civility.’

‘And a generous donation,’ he was quick to point out.

‘Of course—but this sounds very much like blackmail to me, Captain Lampard.’

‘You might say that,’ he murmured softly. ‘I would prefer to call it persuasion.’

‘Very well. I am persuaded. I surrender.’

Decorously presenting her with his arm, he laughed. ‘I was hoping you would,’ he said quietly. ‘If we continue in this fashion, Miss Greenwood, we might even become friends.’

Cassandra smiled thinly. ‘I would advise you not to place any wagers on that, Captain Lampard.’

‘I might be tempted,’ he said, with more meaning than she realised, leading her forward on his arm as the musicians played a waltz. ‘I am not averse to the odd gamble.’

A sudden hush settled over the guests as those present turned, anxious to appease their curiosity. What they saw amazed them. Cassandra Greenwood was taking to the floor with Lord Lampard—well, he always had been able to charm every female within sight—and it went to prove that the prim Miss Greenwood was no different from the rest after all. But the fact that she was to dance with Captain Lampard—his first dance since returning to London—caused other gentlemen she had declined to dance with in the past to consider their attraction. Aware of his reputation as a rake, they were admiringly speculative.

Taking Cassandra in his arms, William’s hand slid slowly, possessively, about her trim waist, drawing her close. ‘I sincerely hope you were telling the truth when you said you do know how to dance, Miss Greenwood, otherwise you will make a laughing stock of us both,’ he murmured, his wicked, sensual mouth turning upward in the faintest of cynical smiles.

‘Just because I don’t usually dance, doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to, so lead the way, Captain, and I will follow.’

‘My pleasure, Miss Greenwood. My pleasure. For this one dance, forget your institute, your children and your fund raising and be a young lady of the ton, intent on enjoying herself. Take it from me, it’s more fun than trying to extract money from society’s elite.’

So saying, William whirled her round the floor. His senses were alive with the elusive perfumed scent of her, to her supple young body. Getting to know Miss Greenwood could be very pleasurable indeed. Deliberately, he drew her closer so that his hips brushed hers and he felt a tremor pass down her spine. His imagination began to run riot and he dwelt on the thought of what it would be like to plunder those soft lips and make love to her. His blood stirred hotly and his body was beginning to react in such a way that he had to force the thoughts aside.

It would have surprised—and gratified—him to know that Cassandra’s thoughts were not so very different from his own. Beneath her fingertips, his beautifully tailored claret jacket was without a crease. Smelling pleasantly of sandalwood and brandy, he moved with elegance and grace, but, light as his arms were, she could feel the steel beneath.

Her eyes were level with his broad, muscular shoulders. Every inch of his tall frame positively radiated raw power and leashed sensuality, causing her to remember every scandalous story she’d ever heard about him. Handsome, sinful—strangely the thought excited her. How could she claim uninterest in the man when his mere presence could so effectually stir her senses? Lifting her gaze to his ruggedly hewn features, she met his knowing eyes, seeing something relentless and challenging.

‘You dance well, Captain Lampard.’

‘Suddenly you’re an expert?’

‘I know the difference between good and bad. Tell me, do you always get what you want?’ Cassandra asked.

‘Usually,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps because I’m totally selfish, arrogant, inconsiderate and a complete scoundrel—or so I’ve been told by those who know me. It’s the way I was raised, you see—having people pander to my smallest needs, to gratify my every whim.’

Cassandra slanted him an arched glance. ‘What you really mean is that you were a spoilt child. Still,’ she quipped, ‘you’re a male, so I would expect no less.’

The dance ended and he released her, but the warmth of his touch lingered. He escorted her to where Lady Monkton was seated beside other matrons who had gathered to gossip and nibble on sweets. A tall woman, with the family’s fairness and a majestic bearing, Lady Monkton looked up when they approached, pleasure lighting her features.

‘Cassandra, my dear, how nice it is to see you take to the floor at long last—and with Captain Lampard. I had almost given up on my niece,’ she said not unkindly, although she never stopped reiterating her disappointment that Cassandra refused to let her arrange her début. ‘You must excuse her. She has no social graces—only social causes.’

‘Which is to be admired, Lady Monkton.’

‘I’m happy you think so, Captain Lampard. You know, you are far too handsome for your own good. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?’

‘Indeed, Lady Monkton. Thank you for inviting me.’ William’s smile and the way he bowed over the elderly lady’s hand was the epitome of politeness and charm. ‘May I say that you are more beautiful than ever.’

Lady Monkton laughed lightly, and Cassandra was certain her cheeks flushed beneath her rouge.

‘Flatterer. I must say that I—and every lady present—are delighted by your reappearance in the ton. It’s long overdue. London will be a far more exciting place with you in it. Thank goodness you have Bonaparte beat.’

The musicians were beginning to play another refrain. Not to be let off lightly, William turned to Cassandra.

‘Miss Greenwood, may I have the pleasure of dancing one more waltz with you?’

Cassandra drew back, intending to decline. ‘Why—I—’

‘Of course you must, Cassandra,’ Lady Monkton was quick to interrupt, relieved to see her niece taking an interest in the frivolous things other young ladies seemed to delight in. ‘Two dances with the same partner is socially acceptable, so off you go now and enjoy yourself.’

Cassandra shot a look at her aunt, seeing the shrewd, uncannily knowing expression pass over her. Beaten, on a sigh she turned and moved away.

‘I’m only asking for another dance—one more dance, Miss Greenwood,’ William murmured, taking her arm and propelling her back towards the dance floor. ‘Nothing more intimate than that.’

‘It’s a good thing, too, Captain Lampard. No matter how generous your donation, anything more intimate than a dance is definitely out of the question. I don’t think I even like you.’

‘Who said anything about liking?’ he remarked, laughing lightly as he took her in his arms. ‘It’s the act that’s pleasurable.’

‘Captain Lampard,’ she chided, feeling her cheeks flush rose-red as he whirled her round, ‘you are embarrassing me. Kindly stop it or I shall be forced to leave you standing on the dance floor—which would never do.’ Observing the humour in his eyes, she scowled, struggling to prevent her lips from smiling. ‘Are you teasing me, by any chance?’

‘Most assuredly.’ He laughed, the sound low and so seductive that several people dancing close turned to look at them.

‘Then please don’t.’

His teeth flashed white in a lazy grin, but his gaze dipped lingeringly to her soft lips. ‘I enjoy teasing you. I find it—intriguing and pleasurable.’

‘And I don’t like being teased. If you think I do, then you’ve taken leave of a major portion of your senses.’ His smile widened and it was such a wonderful smile. Captain Lampard exuded provocative charm. He could probably charm the birds out of the trees, but this particular bird wasn’t about to tumble for that silky voice. But she was not nearly as immune as she thought—as she wanted to be. He was a magnificent male, and she was human—flesh and blood—and his sexual magnetism was overwhelming, dislike him though she might.

‘As soon as the dance ends I must circulate,’ she told him. ‘I must also have a stern word with my sister. In fact, I do believe your cousin is now escorting her into the buffet.’

William glanced across at Edward and the young woman, who was gazing up at him adoringly. Experiencing a sharp stab of unease, he frowned. ‘You sister looks sweet and very young.’

‘Don’t let her looks deceive you. She has a romantic mind and your charming cousin has somehow managed to captivate my dear, gullible sister. They do say that love is blind, and it seems Emma has no sight when it comes to Edward. However, I will not let him take advantage of her and cast her off—which will most certainly get her banished from polite society before she has the chance to make her début. She’s hellbent on holding on to him. I do expect Emma to behave with discretion and propriety, but unfortunately she is strong willed and the very opposite of biddable.’

William’s brow lifted in amusement. ‘Then perhaps she takes after her big sister.’

‘She most certainly does not. She does not respect my opinion and she never listens to any edicts from me or Mama.’

‘I can understand your anxiety, and, if it will put your mind at ease, I strongly disapprove of Edward forming any kind of liaison at this time.’

‘You do? Then if we don’t do something to discourage it at once, things could become complicated. Once Emma gets some maggot into her head, there’s no stopping her.’

‘What do you suggest I do?’

‘Can’t you order your cousin to avoid her, or failing that, send him away somewhere?’

‘Your anxieties and fears may soon be at an end. Edward is shortly to enter the Military Academy as a cadet, with the hope of purchasing a commission. In the current climate it’s inevitable that his regiment will see service overseas.’

Cassandra’s relief was enormous. ‘Oh—thank goodness. That would be the answer to everything. What you may do for me in the meantime is to speak to him, keep an eye on him. I don’t relish the idea of having a Lampard as kin.’

A pair of cool blue eyes regarded her dispassionately. ‘How extraordinary,’ William mocked. ‘All my life I have harboured the delusion that all young ladies yearn to snare wealthy husbands—and, despite having made his home with me on the demise of his parents, Edward is wealthy in his own right. I am amazed that you have objections to my family’s suitability, for their breeding is unexceptionable and they are better connected than most.’

Cassandra was so carried away with making sure that he understood her concern, and that her sister’s reputation must be protected at all costs, that she didn’t heed the muscle that was beginning to tick in his tightly clenched jaw.

‘I’m sure you’re right, Captain Lampard,’ she hurried on, her tone straightforward, not facetious, ‘and that your family’s credentials are impeccable, but wealth and an illustrious name does not give a man the right to do as he pleases and to do it with impunity. I am sorry to have to say this, but if Edward turns out to be anything like the hellion you are reputed to be—for I do understand that you have great experience in living—then he will make an exceedingly bad husband.’

William heard the insult in her smoothly worded statement, and any amusement that was left vanished from his expression. In one swift movement he whisked her off the dance floor and released her. He then looked down at her with hard, unforgiving eyes, a scowl drawing his brows together.

‘Miss Greenwood,’ he said in a voice dangerously low, ‘if you imagine for one minute that I would approve of Edward marrying your sister, then you are living under an illusion. However, there is a whole procession of society matrons who are eager to lure me into marrying their daughters and who are perfectly willing to overlook my excesses in “living,” as you so baldly put it. I’m beginning to realise that I do not rate highly in your estimation. As a rule I have never cared for anyone’s opinion, and I most certainly would never let them influence my actions—and this includes you.’

Stung at being manhandled from the dance floor and offended by the tone of superiority with which he delivered this lecture, Cassandra gave him a lofty look, but on searching his shuttered features and taking judicious note of the taut set of his jaw, she realised that she had gone too far in voicing her disapproval of his character and was unable to retreat from a predicament into which she should never have put herself in the first place.

Biting her lip, suddenly feeling very small and very foolish, she said, ‘I—apologise if I have offended you, but I only said what I thought out of concern for my sister.’

‘You have said quite enough, Miss Greenwood,’ he snapped, irrationally angry at her unprovoked attack on his character. ‘If it is your intention to humble me, then you can forget it. Rest assured that my donation to your institute will be with you in the morning, and let that be an end to the matter. And now I bid you good night.’

William turned on his heel and strode purposefully from the ballroom, leaving Cassandra staring in his wake. Mortified, shocked and bewildered by his sudden departure, these emotions were banished in a blinding flash of fury. How dare he walk away from her like that? The man was rude beyond bearing, too full of himself, affecting pompous poses and delighting in turning the head of every female in the room.

As the music died she became aware of being stared at and noticed the whispered conferences as people gathered in groups, having witnessed the altercation that had taken place between Cassandra Greenwood and Captain Lampard. With as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted her head and returned to Aunt Elizabeth, and it wasn’t long before she left the ball and went home without seeing anything more of the arrogant and pretentious Captain Lampard.

Then why, as she climbed into bed, did the thought of his smile and the remembered touch of his hand make her heart beat faster? Suddenly at a loss, she blew out the candle.

Chapter Three

Seated in his carriage taking him back to Grosvenor Square, the anger caused by Miss Greenwood’s censure to his character continued to burn inside William. Normally he would have smiled and shrugged such comments off as being of no consequence, whereas this time the self-confident, invulnerable Lord Lampard, who always treated women with amused tolerance, had been driven to walk away from Miss Greenwood because she had artlessly spoken the truth.

The wager he had made with Charles against his better judgement bothered him, and his conscience that he thought long since dead chose that moment to resurrect itself. Realising the enormity of what he’d done, already he was regretting it. He had taken the wager to seduce and dishonour a woman he had found to be full of goodness, trusting and candid, with a combination of wisdom and naïveté and undeniably lovely. Miss Greenwood was above a mere dalliance. May God forgive him. It was madness, and he hated himself with a virulence that nearly knocked the breath out of him.

For the first time in a long time, he had met a woman without guile. Her young innocent face passed before his mind’s eye, a face of much seriousness, a ripe, opulent beauty that made his blood stir hotly. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined anyone like Miss Greenwood. What an enchanting creature she was, artlessly sophisticated, part-angel, part-spitfire. For some peculiar reason that was quite beyond him, it mattered to him what she thought of him.

By the time his carriage drew up outside his residence, his anger had abated and his stomach clenched at the unmannerly way in which he had left her. He had decided not to pursue Miss Greenwood. She would be in no danger from him. There was no room in his life for women like her—not even her blue-green eyes, her face of an angel and a body to rival that of Venus, would make him change his mind.

To hell with Grisham and his wager, he thought as he shoved open the carriage door and stepped down into the street. It was off. He could have the damned horse.

The following morning Cassandra left for Kensington, leaving Emma to spend the rest of the day with Aunt Elizabeth, who, according to Emma, was to indulge her young charge in her favourite pastime of shopping. Not having retired until the early hours, Aunt Elizabeth had not surfaced from her bed so Cassandra had to take Emma’s word for this—although she had no reason to doubt what she said, for Emma spent a good deal of her time at Monkton House being pampered by Aunt Elizabeth.

When Cassandra bade her sister farewell, she thought how pale Emma looked. There was also a strange, vague look in her eyes that told Cassandra her mind was on other things. She did not pay any heed to it just then, but she would have reason to remember it later.

Cassandra and her mother had just finished their evening meal when a flustered and highly distraught Lady Monkton arrived.

‘Oh, my dears, something quite dreadful has occurred—something so dreadful I don’t know how I am ever going to tell you.’

Concerned, Cassandra immediately went to her, anxiously studying the worried lines on her face. ‘Dear Aunt Elizabeth,’ she said, taking her hand, ‘you are upset. Come and sit down.’

When her ample body was comfortably ensconced in a large winged chair, Lady Monkton snapped open her ivory fan and began to agitate the air close to her face. ‘What I have to tell you will come as such a shock to you. I wonder how to break it.’

Instinct told Cassandra that her aunt’s distressed state had something to do with Emma. ‘It’s Emma, isn’t it? Tell us quickly, Aunt Elizabeth.’