Sylvia Day - Perfect Kisses

She should have new slippers he thought, taking in the state of the worn leather. “It was Catherine,” he said instead. “Your aunt is looking for you. Don’t look so worried. We can exit the library and enter the ballroom through the refreshment room next door.” He nodded toward a narrow doorway set between bookshelves. “It’s a private entrance.”

“How convenient.”

“You needn’t speak in that tone. I have never made use of either the library or that door. Harry uses it. It allows him access to a concealed stairway leading to his bedchamber upstairs.”

“Oh,” Claire said in a very small voice.

He grinned. “I accept your apology. Now, do you need help?”

“With the buttons, if you please.” She pulled her gown from the back of the chair and lifted it over her head.

The buttons were quickly fastened and while Claire stood before a gilt-framed mirror pinning up her hair, Ormond dressed with the speed he’d acquired escaping women’s boudoirs.

“How do I look?” Claire nervously asked a few moments later, adjusting her décolletage before smoothing her palms over her skirt.

Ormond glanced up from buttoning his waistcoat. “You look perfect. Not a wrinkle in sight.”

“Now, you’re sure we can return undetected?”

“Positive.” He slipped on his coat, snapped his cuffs into place, and surveyed the immediate area for any missed items.

“How can you be so cool and collected?”

“Darling, no one will dare say a word to me.”

“They will still stare at me.”

“You worry too much. This is my cousin’s house. I visit often. Even if someone were to see us come out, I can show anyone I please the library. You’re a schoolmistress, after all. Why wouldn’t you enjoy seeing Harry’s collections?”

“Sometime I actually might.”

“Anytime, darling. Just say the word.”

He made her feel as though he could deal with any conceivable situation, that she was safe, that the world was his to command. “Thank you for your calm. I confess, this entire evening is intimidating.”

“You seemed relaxed a few moments ago.”

She blushed. “Thank you for that as well.”

“Au contraire. Thank you for making this miserable rout altogether enchanting. Ready?” He nodded toward the small doorway.

She nodded.

“Give me a second to unlock the main door.” He quickly did so, picking up his gloves in the bargain and slipping them on. Returning to her side, he said, “Plan on seeing me tomorrow after school.”

Yes, yes, yes, she wanted to say. Faced with reality, she said instead, “I usually go home soon after the school day is over.”

His brows rose.

“I’ll make some excuse.”

“Thank you,” he crisply said. Then he leaned over and kissed her as though in apology. “Forgive me. I’m impatient.”

“I could say I’m grading papers-but I can’t stay long. My normal routine is quite fixed.”

“I’ll have to make it worth our while, then,” he said with a grin. “Although, I warn you, I won’t be content with these rushed occasions for long. So begin making plans,” he said with the casual prerogative of his titled position. “Now here we go, darling,” he went on as though the matter was settled. He opened the door. “We’re on stage.

They stepped into the refreshment room where tables were arranged with ices and cold cuts, with champagne and sweets, with two chefs presiding over gargantuan sides of beef and warm collations for those guests wanting heartier fare.

Threading their way through an array of small tables set up for dining, Ormond made for the entrance to the ballroom while Claire nervously scanned the crowds that now filled both rooms.

“Courage, darling,” Ormond murmured as they approached the ballroom, patting her hand that rested on his arm. “We are about to run the gauntlet unscathed.”

Conscious of numerous examining looks directed at them, Claire said, “I see that. Apparently you are intimidating.”

He glanced at her sideways. “You didn’t believe me?”

“I certainly do now.”

He smiled. “Then consider how well protected you are with me.”

“Protected?” It was not a public role she cared to assume. Not if she wished to continue attracting students to her school.

“How safe you are,” he quickly amended as they entered the ballroom. “Don’t look now, but Harriet is being dragged off the dance floor by your aunt.” He smiled. “I wonder if she’s being snatched from the arms of a man considered less suitable than-”

“You?” Claire chuckled. “You understand, don’t you, that you are the central figure in Auntie’s marriage strategy.”

“In that case, I shall speak to Seego posthaste.”

“That seems rather callous.”

“And your aunt isn’t?”

Claire grimaced. “This is all becoming much too complicated.”

“Leave it to me, dear.”

At the moment, she was inclined to do just that. She didn’t relish a fight with her aunt whose plan to add Ormond to their family would not be easily derailed. “Just remember, Harriet must be happy,” she said, taking the path of least resistance in what was turning out to be a French bedroom farce.

“Yes, dear.”

She shot him a look. “I mean it.” His tone had been much too suave.

“She will be happy, I assure you.” This time he took care to speak with unequivocal sincerity.

She frowned faintly. “How can you be sure?”

He dipped his head and smiled. “You don’t know how focused I can be.”

“Perhaps I do,” she said, offering him a fleeting grin.

His dark brows flickered in teasing reply. “As you say. So consider me Harriet’s new, highly motivated matchmaker. I guarantee everyone will be happy soon. You, me, your aunt, and the potential bride. Ah, do I detect more than a modicum of trouble?” he murmured as they approached Claire’s glowering relatives.

Harriet was sitting rigidly in her chair, visibly displeased: her bottom lip stuck out in a pout; her jaw set; her sky blue eyes rife with storm clouds. Mrs. Bellingham was in equal high dudgeon, having been forced to abandon her winning hand of cards twice because of Harriet’s behavior, the last time on spying her niece in the arms of an old roue who everyone knew didn’t have two guineas to his name.

She’d said as much to Harriet in no uncertain terms as she’d hauled her away, ordering her for the second time that evening to save her flirtations for Ormond. He had more money than God and was so near to proposing, they could practically send out wedding invitations.

She had ordered Claire to be fetched after she’d warned off Lord Halston. And now she had had to do it again with Buccleuch. When one was winning a goodly sum at whist, one did not have time constantly to monitor a niece. A point Mrs. Bellingham made clear the moment Ormond and Claire reached her.

“You cannot go off and leave your sister unattended,” she snapped. “I was required to forsake Lady Strand in order to rescue Harriet from men old enough to be her grandfather. In future, Claire, kindly do your duty.”

“I fear I was to blame, Mrs. Bellingham,” Ormond smoothly interposed, his voice mild even as he took issue with Mrs. Bellingham’s rudeness to Claire. “I wished to show Miss Russell Harville’s extraordinary collection of maps.”

“Forgive me, Lord Ormond,” Mrs. Bellingham replied, conscious of the viscount’s cool gaze. “I fear I’m overwrought. A young girl’s reputation is so important and Lords Halston and Buccleuch, well-” she shook her head in disgust. “Everyone knows what they are like. In any event,” she went on, patting Harriet’s hand as it lay on the chair arm beside her, “dear Harriet understands the importance of an unsullied reputation now-don’t you, dear.” She glanced at her niece.

“I was just dancing,” Harriet muttered, mutinously.

“Just dancing!” Mrs. Bellingham rolled her eyes. “Claire, you must stay by your sister’s side-do you understand? And I do hope, Lord Ormond, that you will overlook Harriet’s youthful naivete. The firm hand of a husband will do her a world of good, I don’t doubt,” she said without subtlety. Rising from her chair, she shook out the Brussels lace ruffles on her skirt before turning an irritable gaze on Claire. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the chair she’d just vacated. “And do not desert your sister again. I shall be at cards for some time.”

“Very well,” Claire replied, in measured tones, restraining her temper with effort.

“We shall both see that Harriet is enjoying herself, Mrs. Bellingham,” Ormond offered, when he would have preferred giving Mrs. Bellingham the set-down she so richly deserved. Claire merited better treatment than that of a servant. That he felt impelled to care for her was an unprecedented response.

As Mrs. Bellingham rushed off to her card game, Harriet said, “Sorry, Cleery, to take you away from your maps. There was no crisis as you well know. Both Halston and Buccleuch are old and harmless.”

Ormond repressed a smile, Harriet’s assessment eminently accurate.

“And I don’t suppose you want to dance with me anyway,” Harriet went on, looking at Ormond. “Everyone but Auntie knows you detest dancing.”

“I fear you’re right. But perhaps we could find you a suitable partner. There’s no reason you should not dance when any number of men would appreciate your company.”

Harriet’s expression brightened. “My thoughts exactly. I love to dance above all things. Cleery, you keep Ormond company while I have fun.”

She spoke with such artlessness, Claire shot a look at Ormond to see if he took affront.

He gave her a quick wink before turning back to Harriet. “Allow me to find you a partner. Then your sister and I shall discuss maps while you dance.”

“You are ever so pleasant, Ormond. Did I not say as much, Cleery?”

“Yes, indeed you did. We both appreciate your gallantry, my lord,” Claire said, smiling up at him.

With heated memory still vivid in his mind, it took a certain degree of self-control to keep from spiriting away the lovely Claire on the spot, gossip be damned. Not that he could actually be so selfish and ruin her reputation. “Allow me to cultivate your good wishes further, ladies,” he said with gentlemanly good grace and, lifting his hand casually, he waved Seego forward. The young marquis had been hovering nearby-as had several other of Harriet’s suitors. “Miss Harriet desires to dance,” the viscount noted. “Kindly do us all a favor and oblige her.”

The young marquis glanced at Harriet, then at Ormond, his hesitation obvious. One did not cross the viscount with impunity.

“Come, Seego, she likes you. I can tell,” Ormond kindly remarked.

“I would be honored, sir, Miss Harriet,” Lord Seego murmured, glancing from one to the other, tardily remembering his manners and turning to Claire with a bow and a polite, “Miss Russell.”

“Perfect-everyone is of one mind, then,” Ormond said with avuncular good cheer. “Off you go, children. Enjoy yourselves.”

As the young couple walked away, Ormond handed Claire into a chair. “Did I do well?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“You are feared and obeyed, my lord,” she quipped. There had been no mistaking Seego’s deference.

Sliding down on his spine, he smiled at her from under half-lowered lashes. “Now if only you would follow suit.”

“I suspect you would soon grow bored if I did.”

“No doubt.”

“Like now.”

“Sorry.” He sat up straight in his chair and surveyed the crowded room with a jaundiced gaze. “Don’t you find these affairs tedious?”

“You are excused, Ormond. Take yourself off to the card room with my blessings.”

“There’s no serious play here.”

“Then leave.” She smiled. “You need not be chivalrous on my account.”

His expression brightened. “My God, you’re a sensible woman.”

“Yes, I am.”

He grinned. “You’re vastly charming in other ways as well.”

“Go. I’m not a flirt like Harriet. I don’t require flattery.”

“You’re sure?” He was being given his freedom, the offer so novel in a postcoital situation, he required further confirmation.

“I’m absolutely sure.”

That one could love a woman like this came suddenly unbidden to his mind, the rash thought as quickly dismissed. Rising to his feet, he took advantage of the opportunity given him. “I shall leave my carriage for you and your family.”

“Thank you.”

“And I shall see you tomorrow afternoon.”

He spoke in such an ordinary way, he might have been talking about the weather. “Yes,” she said, curtailing her reply since she was not so blasé. The thought of seeing him tomorrow stirred up a feverish tumult throughout her body.

He bowed. “Au revoir, Miss Russell.”