A Dash of Scandal(49)



Just thinking of her calmed him. Her kisses had been untutored but responsive. She had been submissive in his arms, not because he demanded it, but because she welcomed his embrace. There was no better aphrodisiac than knowing this lady wanted his touch.

He had tempted many young ladies of the ton into kisses as passionate as those he had shared with Miss Blair in that shop, but none had touched the depths of his soul as she did. He felt restless and his desire to hold and kiss her again was intense.

“Damnation,” he muttered more to himself than to Fines.

“Obviously we didn’t get you out of the party soon enough. The only thing a gossipmonger needs to know is that you were seen attending the same party as Lady Lambsbeth and the scandal broth is heated to boiling. They don’t care that you didn’t actually see or speak to the lady in question. It doesn’t matter a whit in hell to them if it sells papers.”

Chandler didn’t comment, so Fines continued. “I found out today that Lady Lambsbeth moved back to London and has rented a town house—not far from yours, by the way. I have it on good authority that her husband is, indeed, dead this time. Some sort of carriage accident in Paris.”

“I don’t care if she’s widow or princess, or if she lives right next door to me. I have no desire or intention of renewing a relationship with her. And after our conversation last night, I don’t think Lady Lambsbeth will be seeking my attentions.”

“You didn’t,” Fines exclaimed and stepped closer to Chandler. “Good Lord, Dunraven, are the scandal sheets right? You did talk to her last night, didn’t you?”

“Only long enough to assure her I had no interest in her,” he admitted, wondering why he hadn’t completely ignored her and walked away without speaking to her.

“All you need is a second for someone to see her in your company.”

“I could have sworn that no one saw us but the Runner, who works for a Thief Taker named Doulton.”

“A Runner? Good lord, Dunraven. Did you take leave of your senses? It only takes one person to catch you with her, or God forbid—do you think he could have overheard what you said? Either way, no doubt the Runner made a tidy sum last night tattling on you.” Fines paused, then asked, “What exactly did you say to her?”

Chandler’s gaze strayed to the door again, looking for Miss Blair. “Exactly what I told you, not that any of it is your concern or the ton’s business. I don’t intend to pick up where we left off, and she should find some other lackwit to keep her bed warm.”

Miss Pennington, Miss Bardwell, and Miss Donaldson passed in front of them, walking very slowly. Both gentlemen nodded and bowed. Miss Bardwell winked, but Chandler had no idea if the flirtation was intended for him or Fines. Miss Pennington openly smiled, showing why her beauty made her the belle of the debutantes this Season, and shy-acting Miss Donaldson hid most of her face behind a lacy fan.

When he was certain the ladies were out of earshot, Fines picked up the conversation where they had left off by saying, “What you need is a new mistress.”

Not that again.

The thought of securing a mistress had no more appeal to Chandler than renewing a relationship with Lady Lambsbeth or starting one with Miss Bardwell.

“Once you get the right mistress settled into your life, Lady Lambsbeth will never cross your mind again.”

“She doesn’t cross my mind now unless you mention her,” Chandler complained.

The only lady on his mind was Miss Blair, and he must be blessed for she was walking in to the ballroom on the arm of Viscount Heathecoute. He hadn’t gotten the feel of her out of his mind or the taste of her from his lips. She was an extraordinary lady to have held his attention so long.

He had to find a way to see her again—alone, as he had today. He wanted to sweep her out into the darkness and ravish her until she begged him to show her fully how a man loves a woman.

Sir Charles Wright was the first gentleman to her side. She gave him her hand for an appropriate kiss and curtsy, then smiled at him. A few moments later he signed her dance card. As he walked away, the too-tall and too-thin Viscount Tolby approached her. He stood right in front of her and completely blocked her from Chandler’s view.

Chandler was not accustomed to that uncontrollable knot in his chest that made him want to charge over to her and demand she accept the attention of no suitor but him.

“Are you listening to me?” Fines asked.

Chandler swallowed past a dry throat. Had he finally been smitten with love after all these years? No, that couldn’t be. But for some reason, she affected him differently from all the other ladies who’d caught his eye.

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