Dangerous Beauty Page 6

  She was dressed in an expensive gown—green, of course. It was completely decorous, but still managed to display her ample chest to full effect. There was a heat in her eyes Seth knew all too well.

  She licked her lips as her gaze roamed down his body, settling in the vicinity of his cock. The heat turned to an open hunger.

  Seth was amused at her bawdy public behavior. A well-behaved lady—especially a duchess—would normally never lower her eyes below a man’s waist. Judging by the open hunger in her eyes, she had forgiven him for tossing her out this morning.

  She leaned toward him, her chest brushing his arm. “Can I come aboard tonight, sailor?” Her lips grazed his ear.

  Seth couldn’t help glancing toward Natasha. There was a tiny chance she’d failed to see the exchange and he couldn’t resist the need to confirm it. Even if everyone else in this room was blind to the duchess’ blatant overtures, Natasha would see and he would spare her that hurt if he could.

  Lady luck certainly was not with him tonight. Natasha watched him intently, her beautiful blue eyes narrowed a little.

  This is your past sins come to take their due, Seth thought, with a mental sigh.

  With more force than he intended, he responded to the duchess’ bald invitation. “Not tonight.”

  “Then, perhaps a turn about the gardens, hmmm?” She flicked her fan open, and leaned close to him, their faces hidden for an instant. “So you may finish what you started this morning.”

  “I did finish, m’lady.”

  She pouted, catching her lower lip with her teeth. “But not with me.”

  He shrugged. “I have other matters to attend to.”

  Her dark brows rushed together, and she snapped her fan shut. “You mean another woman.”

  “No, just business.”

  She relaxed again, her smile returning in force. “Tomorrow, then?”

  “I am leaving town.”

  “So soon!” She winced at the volume of her exclamation and glanced around to see who took note of her shrill cry.

  That told Seth she still intended to be discreet. She was playing an outrageous game beneath the noses of everyone here, but she knew, as well as Seth did, that there were limits to what society would tolerate. Clearly, she had been playing this game for many years.

  But now he had her measure. He shook his head, refusing the walk in the gardens. “Sorry, duchess.” He knew full well where such a stroll would lead, for he’d experienced the duchess’ creativity the previous evening.

  She did not even try to hide her frown. “Certainly you can spare a moment.” She tapped his shoulder with her fan and motioned toward a set of double doors. “I intend to step out for a breath of fresh air. If you feel so inclined, follow me after a moment.” She picked up her skirts and slipped onto the edges of the ballroom, working her way around the room towards the tall double doors.

  Seth watched her go with a deep sense of relief. He had no intention of following her anywhere, now he knew she would not risk a scene to force the issue. Instead, he made his way toward Natasha. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

  Her focus warned Piggot, who looked around, too. He met Seth’s gaze with a thin smile, but Seth could feel his caution.

  Natasha stepped around the thin man and slipped her hand under Seth’s elbow. The intimate little gesture would not be lost on anyone in the vicinity and there were plenty of people peeping behind fans or else frankly staring at them. “Come, let me introduce you to my mother,” Natasha murmured.

  Then Seth realized why they had such an avid audience. Natasha’s parents were actively encouraging her association with Piggot, who had been standing by her side. The tall woman completing the rest of Natasha’s circle must be her mother. Their audience was probably hoping for a showdown of some sort.

  Seth allowed Natasha to lead him to her mother, who was staring at him with that down-the-nose expression only the privileged could manage.

  “Mother, may I introduce to you Seth Harrow, captain of the Artemis. Mr. Harrow, this is my mother, Lady Munroe.”

  Seth bowed his head in the short nod one gave to a peer of the realm, even though technically, Caroline was only the wife of the peer. It was a way of flattering her.

  But when he straightened, her expression had not changed an inch. Her eyes coolly assessed him from toe to top, lingering for a moment on his earring.

  “A sea captain? How…jolly,” she intoned. Despite his absolutely correct attire, and his court manners, he had failed to pass muster.

  A few short hours ago, he would have cheerfully shrugged off the rejection and gone on his way, undeterred. Now, the woman’s disdain burned in his gut and heart. He would have acceptance from these people for Natasha’s sake!

  And he found it ironic that if that black night in Ireland, fifteen years ago, had played out a little differently, then Lady Munroe and every other mother in the land would be doing the bowing and shoving their eligible daughters at him with all the haste respectability allowed.

  A portly man in his fifties, his dark hair going gray at the sides, joined the circle. His blue eyes were Natasha’s eyes and Seth stiffened, wariness flooding him. They’d called in the troops. This had to be Natasha’s father, Lord Munroe himself.

  The man thrust out his hand. “We’ve not been introduced. Munroe.” Seth took his hand and gave the handshake just enough power to match Munroe’s and no more. He had no intention of proving his masculinity in that ancient ritual for it would put him at a disadvantage in Munroe’s eyes.

  “Harrow,” Seth replied. “Captain of the Artemis.”

  “Tugboat?” Munroe hazarded.

  Seth hid his grin at Munroe’s puny effort to belittle him. He wouldn’t rise to such pathetic bait.

  “Merchant,” he responded.

  Munroe narrowed his eyes and Seth knew he was about to be interrogated—or filleted, if Munroe could find a way.

  “What class of merchant?” Munroe demanded.

  “She’s a five hundred-ton East Indiaman class. Three-masted and ship-rigged.” Seth did not bother hiding the pride in his voice.

  “There’s no Artemis that makes her home here.”

  “Out of Albany,” Seth added.

  Munroe turned red in the face and started spluttering. “If you’re going to lie, young man, then get your bloody facts straight!”

  “Henry!” Caroline cautioned. “Language, please! There are ladies present.”

  Munroe shoved his forefinger at Seth. “Albany’s not a seaport. It’s not even on the coast!”

  “Albany, Australia, Daddy,” Natasha put in. “Not New York.”

  “Western Australia,” Seth amended, and smiled to disarm the tension.

  Caroline gasped. “Good lord, where all the convicts are sent? Oh, my…” And she trailed off weakly, as if the concept alone was too much for her constitution. She grasped her husband’s arm for support.

  Piggot just grinned, enjoying the show.

  “Albany is a free settlement.” Seth kept his voice low and even. They were baiting him deliberately. He gritted his teeth.

  Natasha saw it too, for she frowned and cast Seth a look of reassurance.

  Do not lose your temper, he cautioned himself, for he could feel his ire rising despite the knowledge that Natasha’s parents were simply protecting their daughter. That their combined efforts were striking home bothered him.

  Munroe cleared his throat. Change of tactics, Seth realized and braced himself.

  “You seem familiar,” Munroe said, his brows furrowing as if he was trying to place him.

  A chill touched him. Seth kept his smile in place as he cursed mentally. He should have anticipated this. Vaughn Wardell had recognized him and Seth had his father’s eyes and build. These people, Munroe in particular, would know his father.

  Seth’s only choice was to bluff it out. “I doubt we have crossed paths, Lord Munroe. I’ve been at sea for many years.”

  Munroe lifted a brow. “There’s s
omething about you, Mr…”

  “Harrow,” Seth supplied again.

  “Good evening, Lord Munroe.” Vaughn Wardell stepped up to the portly lord, holding out his hand. Elisa stood by his side, holding his other hand and Seth saw her knuckles whiten. She was watching Munroe and his wife and looked like she wished she was somewhere far away.

  Munroe hesitated for a long moment and even his wife straightened up her shoulders, like a mother hen preparing to strike.

  Natasha took a half step forward. “Daddy, you remember Vaughn Wardell, do you not? I mean, do forgive me, Vaughn—I completely forgot. Daddy, this is the new Marquess of Fairleigh. Vaughn, I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. And Elisa, too. You must remember Elisa, Father.”

  She held her hand out to Elisa and when Elisa hesitantly took it, wrapped both her hands around the other woman’s and smiled brightly. Then she looked up at her father with a winning smile.

  Natasha had deliberately championed the pair, verbally stepping in front of them like a shield against her parent’s wrath.

  Seth put it together quickly. Natasha and Vaughn had been engaged. Vaughn had married Elisa. And now Natasha protected the pair from her parent’s retribution.

  And he marveled once again at Natasha’s determination to do what she thought was right, regardless of the weight of disapproval that might arise.

  Munroe had no choice but to take Vaughn’s hand, which Vaughn had continued to hold in midair.

  Vaughn nodded his greeting. “Munroe,” he murmured, for Natasha had carefully mentioned his title to ensure her father greeted him as an equal. He nodded at Seth, including him in the circle. “Harrow,” he added.

  “You two know each other?” Munroe demanded.

  Vaughn did not blink, nor did he look at Seth. “We met tonight,” he told Munroe. “Harrow is owner of a merchant vessel out of Australia.”

  “Owner?” Munroe repeated, glancing at Seth. “You failed to mention you owned the ship.”

  “I failed to realize you needed the information,” Seth said coolly. “Would you like to know the names of every ship in my fleet?”

  “Fleet? You said you were a sea captain.”

  “I am. I am captain of the Artemis because I like to keep my hand in. I employ other captains for my other ships.”

  Even Natasha’s eyes had widened.

  Vaughn grinned. “A success by anyone’s standards,” he declared.

  But Munroe’s expression only seemed bleaker. He shook his head, as if he were shaking off these revelations as mere irritants and returned to his interrogation. “Did your father or a relation attend Cambridge?”

  Seth fought to hide his reaction. Had Munroe put him together with his father? Again, he resorted to pure bluff. “Not that I’m aware of, Lord Munroe.”

  “I don’t remember any Harrows at Cambridge, either,” Vaughn said. And Seth realized then that Vaughn had, indeed, remembered him and knew who he was, despite his earlier denial. Vaughn was silently supporting him.

  Vaughn sent him a quick glance and once again they were boyhood friends who abhorred their time in the purgatory called Public School and the dusty old colleges of Cambridge.

  Seth relaxed a little. Most unexpectedly, he had found a friend and an ally. Vaughn turned his attention to Munroe and clapped him on the back. “Lord Munroe, Elisa and I would very much like you and your lady wife to join us at dinner one night this week.”

  Munroe looked at his wife. As the mistress of the household, it was her position to respond to social invitations. Caroline looked like she had swallowed sour milk and Seth knew why. She could not refuse this invitation, now that Munroe had shaken Vaughn’s hand and symbolically accepted him and his wife.

  “We would be delighted,” Caroline said stiffly.

  “Elisa, what would be the best day for you?” Vaughn asked his wife, who looked as pale as Caroline.

  Seth caught Vaughn’s glance at him. Vaughn gave his head a little jerk towards the stairs. His meaning was clear. Vaughn had created a distraction. Time to leave.

  Seth glanced at Natasha. She watched him, biting her lip. Seth was very aware of people staring at them, taking note of every action and word. He restricted himself to a smile and a bow, his hand over his heart, and slipped away while Elisa and Caroline and the men discussed a suitable evening for what promised to be a most wretched dinner engagement.

  He would have to find a way to thank Vaughn and the lovely Elisa, later.

  * * * * *

  Natasha watched as Seth walked away, until she saw that her father watched her intently. She immediately turned her attention back to the conversation.

  Vaughn asked her to name her favorite dishes, drawing her into the conversation.

  “Corned hash,” she answered and waited for the expected outcry from her mother over her love of the common man’s meal. Also, as expected, her mother took over the discussion of the menu with Elisa and by the end of the discussion, Natasha knew Elisa would end up with a menu that was all her mother’s choosing and would be helpless to do anything other than provide the meal.

  She noticed, then, that Vaughn was staring at her. He’d been waiting for her attention to return to him again, for when he saw her look at him, he pointedly dropped his gaze to her waist. She looked down. The odious Piggot’s hand still lay on her skirt, and had probably stained the fragile silk with perspiration.

  She was grateful that, though he dared place a hand around her waist in a public place, he did not quite dare lift it any higher. That would have been too much to bear. She looked up at Vaughn again and gave a rueful smile. He grinned back and one eye fluttered almost shut. A wink. She knew exactly what he was saying to her. Stay strong, Natasha.

  She checked that her father’s attention had returned to the conversation. He liked good food and even though it was not considered manly, he would willingly involve himself in a conversation about meals if the opportunity presented itself. And indeed, he was frowning and arguing about the best wine to go with Duck a la’Orange, the new dish from the continent that was all the rage.

  Natasha looked to the top of the stairs where Seth had disappeared. What if he left tonight for Ireland and she never saw him again? She recalled the hot rush of overwhelming pleasure he had given her and felt her cheeks burn at the memory. Even as they burned, she wondered how she might experience more moments like that. Was it that pinnacle of excitement that her books hinted at?

  She decided that as naughty as her books were purported to be, they weren’t nearly as instructional as she’d thought them. There were too many practical aspects they failed to cover. She needed a mentor, someone who would not faint with shock at such a subject. Someone who did not have the ear of her mother.

  But for now she must rely on her own instincts. And right now, her instincts were telling her to follow Seth. She could not let him part without a final word. Perhaps even a kiss like the one where his tongue had slipped inside her mouth. It was strange how such a kiss, described in her books, had struck her as most disgusting, but in reality it had been quite wonderful.

  “Will you excuse me, please?” she murmured, hoping that no one would hear it, and slipped away from the group. Thankfully they were totally absorbed in a discussion of who laid the best table in the country, feasts of the past and who had the best cook in London. “Claridge’s, I tell you!” her father was insisting, as she left.

  As usual, he had entirely failed to take into account that a woman could never have been seen dining in a public establishment. Natasha hurried along the long side of the ballroom. There was a little-used door at the far end that gave access to a servant’s hall. There was a passage from that hall that led directly to the front foyer of the building, where it emerged from behind the big tree ferns sitting in brass tubs next to the grand staircase.

  She glanced around for observers and saw that at this end of the ballroom, at least, there were no major dramas being played out. It was too close to the orchestra for idle co
nversation. Everyone was either dancing or watching the dancing, swaying in time to the irresistible beat of a waltz.

  She slipped into the passage and hurried along the dim path. It was blessedly cool and fresh, here and the air bathed her heated face and shoulders as she moved. Her heart hammered loudly as she carefully edged the small foyer door open and stepped out.

  She looked around for Seth. He stood on the wide stone, awaiting a carriage. He looked very handsome in his well-cut suit. He had the appearance of a complete gentlemen and all evening he had behaved as one. But now, when he believed no one to be watching him, he stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest and his legs apart.

  That is how he looks on the deck of his ship, Natasha realized. The pose allowed her to mentally replace his finery with what she supposed a merchant captain would wear—breeches and high boots and a billowing linen shirt. The earring would not look out of place at all. She resisted painting a cutlass at his hip, but in her mind, she knew a loaded pistol would not be far from his grasp. Power radiated from every jaunty angle of his stance. And this is the man who seduced you tonight.

  She shivered in secret delight and moved to the wide glass doors. The doorman tipped his cap and opened one of the heavy doors for her and she stepped out into the refreshing night air. Seth did not turn until she was but a few feet from him and she was startled to see him frowning.

  Instantly, his frown was replaced by a smile that showed his very white teeth, and made his eyes twinkle. “Did I…should I not have followed you? I only wished to say goodnight.”

  He shook his head a little. “The frown was not for you, my sweet. And I would scarce begrudge you a farewell.” But she saw his raking glance behind her. He was looking for eavesdroppers. Witnesses.

  “You promised I’d see you again,” she reminded him. She needed this reassurance, for his caution tripped off a rivulet of nameless fears. There was so much about this man that she did not know.

  “That I did.” But his frown had returned.

  “What is it, Seth? Give me the truth you hesitate to voice. I would rather hear truth than a pretty lie. Did you simply dally with me tonight? Please tell me if it is so—I would rather hear that than compound my foolishness by trailing after you like a lovesick maiden.”