A Warriner To Seduce Her. Virginia Heath

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СКАЧАТЬ her sentence. He schooled his features into a look of the utmost sincerity although his toes had begun to curl uncomfortably in his boots.

      ‘I’m not sure I follow, Miss Blunt.’

      ‘Oh, Mr Warriner! You are funny. Are London ladies so daft that they do not know a philanderer when they see one? Why, I saw it the moment I first encountered you, you have the look of one. And the manner.’

      ‘The manner?’ Jake usually enjoyed the sparring. It was part of the game and a part he loved. However, sparring with the blunt Miss Blunt was making him uncomfortable. Especially as she had his full measure and he didn’t particularly like the label of philanderer. He was a rake. A proud one. Rakes were dashing and roguish. Philanderer sounded sordid. Cynical. Oily. Good grief! Was he oily? The urge to find a mirror and check he had not turned into a simpering toad made him self-conscious. ‘And now I suppose you are an expert on philanderers?’ Why didn’t he correct her and say rake?

      ‘Indeed I am. So much so I could probably write a book on the subject. The self-assurance and smug satisfaction in your own allure was as plain as the nose on my face—although while you weren’t practising your philandering on me I was prepared to overlook it.’

      Blast—she could see right through him. He was confident in his allure. So confident he had made a career out of it. Obviously he had become too complacent. A new and worrying development Jake was ill prepared for. He must have slipped up somewhere. He had probably bared his hand too soon to this canny northern lass because he was too used to the relative ease of the pampered society ladies. He was tired. Desperately needed leave—and, if he was honest, he had rushed things because he was attracted to her. Very attracted to her. ‘Forgive me. In my haste, perhaps I have overstepped the bounds.’

      ‘There is no perhaps about it.’

      ‘As I said, forgive me. When I see something I want, I am inclined to listen to my heart rather than my head.’ He knew instantly he had laid the charm on too thick again, he didn’t need to witness her exasperated eye-roll or to hear her amused snort to confirm it. What on earth was the matter with him? Jake wasn’t usually this ham-fisted. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run roughshod over a seduction and she had called it correctly. Tonight he was no better than a hackneyed philanderer. Maybe there was still time to fix it? And maybe the damage was done and was probably irreparable. He stopped himself trotting out more banalities because of the inevitable humiliation which would follow. Rowley’s gorgeous niece was not the normal run-of-the-mill society miss. Judging from her incredulous scowl, he was in for another skewering for the heart and head claptrap. Miss Blunt didn’t disappoint. Those playful, inviting eyes froze again.

      ‘You are in danger of ruining a perfectly pleasant conversation with your contrived, insincere—and while I am being completely frank—tired, overt and practised attempts at seduction.’

      That stung. Jake was the master of subtle. ‘Hardly practised, Miss Blunt.’

      ‘Oh, dear. I can see I have hurt your feelings and that was not my intention. I simply wanted you to be aware that I am more than accustomed with men of your ilk. You’re not the first scoundrel to try your luck and I dare say you won’t be the last. All the clues were there right from the outset. The oh-so-casual lingering hold of my hand. The heated look. The purposefully intimate and sultry whispering. And do not get me started on the crass and unspontaneous way in which you tossed my own words back at me to try to convince me of your sincerity. Kindred spirits and birds of paradise indeed. What rot. I’m sure a handsome man like yourself is used to gullible women falling for your lies, but...’

      ‘I don’t lie.’ Although Jake was internally wincing at the falsehood. He lied so much nowadays he had to keep a notebook of what he said and to whom to avoid tripping up. He even lied to his own family and had done for years. Nobody had called him on it before, that was all. Because usually he was damn good at it. He forced himself to smile. Forced himself to appear amused. ‘When you walked into that palm I was charmed. I’m still charmed, despite your inaccurate and mean assassination of my character. But I can see I have inadvertently insulted you with my honest enthusiasm, which I never meant to do because the truth is...’ The gloved hand appeared palm up near his face and the lush lips were grinning behind it.

      ‘Let me save you from further embarrassment, Mr Warriner—I wasn’t born yesterday. Save your insincere seductions for the silly girls in the ballroom. As undeniably attractive as you are, I have less interest in being seduced by a man of your ilk than I do for this cattle market. I am only sorry that all these young ladies are not as pragmatic about men as I am.’ Her fingers went to the fan hanging from a ribbon on her wrist and for a moment Jake experienced the forlorn hope she might snap it open and use it to flirt over the top of in the customary manner he understood so well. However, she wielded it like a broadsword aimed directly at his ribcage.

      ‘And for future reference should we collide again in the foreseeable future, if you are going to throw about bird analogies, I’m neither a feeble sparrow nor an exotic bird of paradise, Mr Warriner. If I am any bird, I am an owl. Wise. Older than the rest of these foolish girls and blessed with the ability to see danger coming from all angles. And you, sir, are a hawk, circling the sky for unsuspecting prey.’ Her arms folded across her chest and the stance did wonders for her figure—just to taunt him further.

      ‘You are a very charming hawk and I like you for it, but I am far too prudent to fall for your nonsense. Please, take my advice and heed it well. Never flirt with me again, Mr Warriner, else I will stop liking you and I would hate to do that. Now, if you will just point me in the direction of the refreshment table, I fear I have been lost long enough.’

       Chapter Three

      In a soulless bedchamber at Uncle Crispin’s Mayfair town house

      Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed the hour, reminding Fliss it was now three in the morning, but she was still nowhere near ready to sleep. How could she when her mind was still whirring with images of the evening? The provincial plays she had seen paled into insignificance when compared to the splendour of the opera. Everything about it had been breathtaking, from the sumptuous and vivid costumes to the aching purity of the soprano’s beautiful voice. And watching the audience had been equally as thrilling. The Prime Minister had been there and so had the famous Duke of Wellington. Aunt Cressida had pointed out both men in their private boxes just a few feet away from Uncle Crispin’s, although even if she hadn’t, Fliss’s eyes would have soon been drawn to the spots where everyone else was staring.

      All around them had been a sea of people dressed in their finery and, thanks to the opera glasses she had been given upon entering the box, Fliss was able to see every tiny detail despite her lack of spectacles. Spectacles she had been politely banned from wearing in public by her stand-offish uncle and which her new maid, Kitty, had already mislaid twice the moment Fliss dared to put them down.

      During the interval, she had drunk champagne for the first time. It had been brought to their box perfectly chilled and served in crystal glasses; the delicious bubbles tickled her nose and the alcohol went straight to her head, making everything sharper and brighter than before. She allowed herself a second glass. Her aunts smartly finished the second bottle while Uncle Crispin discussed business with an older gentleman who had joined them. The Earl of Redditch was a portly man who creaked when he moved, thanks to the corset he was squashed into beneath his evening coat. A coat which bore the stain of recently spilled food on one lapel. He had a profusion of wiry grey hair which grew at right angles out of his head and sprouted out of his ears. He also smelled a little musty and had a habit of spitting slighting each time he talked. Fliss was painfully СКАЧАТЬ