That Infamous Pearl (4 page)

"Lady Rowena?"

Rowena pulled her
eyes away from Alaric's sparkling green ones, and turned back to Mr. Grantly,
who was obviously somewhat affronted by her lack of attention. She set out to
soothe his ruffled feelings as well as to demonstrate to the Earl of Brayleigh
that his attentions meant nothing to her. It seemed she succeeded, for when she
next looked in his direction, he was gone.

Six nights later, on
the night of the Shackleforth ball, Rowena decided that something had to be
done about her situation. The incessant insinuations made to her over the past
week about the Earl of Brayleigh, and her aunt's constant state of alarm should
the man so much as enter the same room she was in, had contrived to exasperate
her. Thus, when Alaric strolled casually into the candle-lit ballroom and
sought her out, a predatory look in his heavy-lidded eyes, she smiled at him
welcomingly rather than turning away as she usually did. She noted with a
certain amount of satisfaction the surprise and then pleasure that lit his
emerald eyes, and steeled herself as he strolled towards her, willing herself
to ignore the powerful attraction he exuded. But she could not remain entirely
unaware of the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips, and the
glimmer of humor in the back of his eyes.

He reached her side
and raised her hands to his lips, pressing a very real kiss to her fingers. She
drew in her breath. She could almost swear he was laughing at her, daring her
to say something.

"I am annoyed
with you, Lord Brayleigh," she began promptly. "I must ask that you
cease your ridiculous behavior."

Alaric's brows shot
up and an expression of bemused innocence crossed his face. "You are
admirably frank, Lady Rowena. What have I done to incur your wrath?"

"I am certain
you know exactly what I mean." Rowena gave him a severe glance. "But
if you insist on dissembling, I will tell you that you are making a spectacle
of both of us, and, while I do not care how you present yourself to Society, I
wish to be left out of the matter."

"Dear me." Alaric
smiled, his sense of humor tickled by her direct method of attack. "How
can my very proper attention to you cause a spectacle?"

"Because you are
the Earl of Brayleigh and I am Rowena Arlingby. That alone causes a great deal
of interest among the
ton
." Rowena's voice was tart. "And,
when that is added to that your famous lack of interest in young, unwed women,
the result must be gossip."

Alaric smiled with
delight. Rowena might be attempting to discourage him with her frankness, but
he found it disarming.

"But I have done
so very little," he protested. "I have danced with you once, spoken
to you in the park, and I brought you a lemonade at Almack's last night. I don't
believe any of those actions will compromise your reputation."

"I really don't
care about my reputation," Rowena startled him by responding. "But I
do object to being made a laughingstock, and your behavior is doing just that.
The mere idea of the Earl of Brayleigh at Almack's is enough to cause comment. I
have been told by no less than five people that you haven't been seen there in
ten years. Just because you had your differences with my brother twelve years
ago is no reason to attempt to ruin my chances now."

A small frown
appeared on Alaric's brow. He had not thought that Rowena would view his
attentions in the light of further revenge for his feud with Malcolm. Indeed,
he had spared very little thought to how his behavior might appear to anyone. He
was not at all sure what he meant by it himself, only that he was drawn
powerfully to Rowena and needed to be near her.

"I am not trying
to ruin you, Lady Rowena." His voice was stiff. "And the unfortunate
events of twelve years ago need have no bearing on our friendship."

Rowena laughed at
that, her eyes suddenly twinkling. "What a ridiculous thing to say. I can
think of no other reason why you might wish to spend time with me."

Alaric glared down at
her, his face tight with frustration. Rowena's determination to believe the
worst of him was aggravating, if understandable, and the nearness of her
person, her gentle scent that reminded him of flowers after a rain, was deeply
tantalizing and served to frustrate him further.

"I am sure I can
explain all to your satisfaction, Lady Rowena." His voice was harsh with
annoyance and other, deeper, emotions. "Perhaps you will accompany me out
to the terrace." His strong fingers closed over her elbow and he attempted
to steer her towards the open doors.

Rowena felt a sudden
surge of emotion shoot through her that might have been alarm, or perhaps
something more basic. She pulled her arm away from his hand and then looked
around hastily.

"If you are
seeking to guard my reputation, sir, I hardly think dragging me out to the
terrace is the best way to do that. Please leave me alone."

"What makes you
think I will do your bidding? After all, if I mean to ruin you, I am hardly
likely to obey your orders. And if I am to explain myself to you, we will need
privacy. I do not wish to share this discussion with all of this excessively
overcrowded room." Alaric towered over her, his saturnine face masked by a
remote expression, and Rowena looked up at him anxiously.

"Explanations
are no longer necessary, sir." Rowena's long golden lashes fell over her
brilliant eyes, but not before Alaric saw the hint of uncertainty in them. "Please
do not bother me again."

"I am afraid I
cannot grant that request, Lady Rowena. After all, you surely do not expect
proper behavior from the man who drove your brother from the country and now
intends to ruin you." Alaric had regained something of his self-control,
but his pride still smarted from Rowena's sharp words. He needed to talk to her
alone, but that was an obvious impossibility now.

Rowena gave him an
exasperated look. "This conversation serves no useful purpose, sir."

"On the
contrary, it would do you good to learn something about me other than the
constant gossip which your aunt and her friends have no doubt been feeding you,"
said Alaric. "If you will not speak to me now on the terrace, we must
arrange to meet at some other time."

Rowena felt a tingle
of excitement shoot down her spine at his words, but she resolutely shook her
head.

"I hardly think
that is likely, sir. My aunt will certainly not allow us to be alone together."

"Then we shall
have to do it without her knowledge," Alaric pointed out.

Rowena peeped up at
him through her lashes. "What are you suggesting, my lord?"

He smiled. He had
hoped that the prim front Rowena had been presenting to him was an act, and now
he was sure of it. Rowena clearly had an adventurous streak in her.

"Meet me in the
garden behind your aunt's house tonight," he ordered. "I'll be there
at two-o-clock."

Rowena started. She
was not sure what exactly she had expected Brayleigh to propose, but this was
not it.

"That would be
quite impossible," she said firmly.

"Really?" Alaric
smiled encouragingly at her. "I thought you had more determination than
that. Surely slipping out of doors late at night would not be too much of a
challenge to you?"

Rowena was offended
by the aspersion cast on her ingenuity. "It is not that I am unable to do
so--" she began.

"Very good. I
will see you at two-o-clock," interrupted Alaric.

"But I do not
think it would be the proper thing to do," finished Rowena, flushing.

"Ah, you have
become proper." Alaric grinned casually. "Coward."

"I am not a
coward," she said heatedly, her pride pricked. "I simply don't choose
to meet you."

"I will be
there. I will wait fifteen minutes for you. If you do not come out, I will know
that you prefer gossip to truth and are too frightened to face what I have to
tell you. You will miss a fascinating story, Lady Rowena."

Rowena looked at him
doubtfully. She wished more than anything to hear Lord Brayleigh's account of
the long-ago scandal. She was certain that he would have information that might
help her in trying to puzzle out what had happened. And, though she was
reluctant to admit it to herself, she was more than a little intrigued by the
Earl. She found it impossible to believe that his character was as black as it
had been painted.

Alaric's eyes strayed
past her charmingly confused face and he grimaced. "And now I will be
going. Your dragon of an aunt is approaching, and I wish to spare myself her
conversation. Until later, Lady Rowena." Alaric raised her hand to his
lips with extraordinary grace, kissed it, and made good his escape just as Lady
Belmont swept down upon Rowena. She glared after him angrily.

"Drat the man! Can
he not leave you alone for one day?"

Rowena shrugged. "We
merely talked, Aunt. He is amusing himself, and there is little I can do about
that."

Lady Belmont opened
her fan with an audible snap. "I do wish Malcolm were here, to teach him a
lesson for his behavior. He would doubtless call Brayleigh out."

"Isn't that the
sort of behavior that started this whole mess in the first place?" asked
Rowena coolly. "I believe we have had enough of masculine pride and
foolishness."

Despite her words,
Rowena watched Alaric's tall figure as he made his way gracefully across the
ballroom. Suddenly aware of her behavior, she tore her eyes away and turned her
attention resolutely back to her aunt. Lord Brayleigh would have a long, lonely
wait tonight in the garden. She had no intention of keeping their assignation.

Alaric made his way
towards the door of the ballroom. There was no point in staying longer; his
goal had been accomplished and entertainments such as this were not his usual
pastime. He had just over three hours to wait until two-o-clock. Lily would
surely appreciate a visit from him. His encounter with Rowena had made his body
tight with desire, and he needed a suitable outlet.

Just as he was about
to exit the room, a woman stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Alaric
took one look at her and his eyes opened briefly in surprise before narrowing
again to a wary gaze.

"Hello, Alaric,"
the woman said. She was very beautiful, with rich dark curls tumbling artfully
about her head, large eyes of cornflower blue, and classically elegant features.
Her figure was voluptuous, her breasts nearly overflowing the tiny bodice of
her almost sheer violet gown. She tilted her head to one side and smiled
charmingly up at him.

"Marguerite."
The word was said with no emotion, simply a flat statement of recognition.

"It's been far
too long, Alaric," Marguerite continued. "But surely word has reached
you of my return to England?"

"I heard rumors,
and hoped they were merely that," said Alaric baldly. "I thought you
were enjoying your stay on the Continent."

Marguerite smiled. "It
was lovely, of course. So many...amusements. But I have always missed England
and when my husband died I no longer felt constrained to stay away."

"You mean that
with old Sir Ralph dead you need no longer stick to your agreement with him."
Alaric's voice was very cold.

Marguerite shrugged. "You
always were one for plain speaking, Alaric. I prefer to be more delicate. But
yes, with Bingham gone I am not only free, but very wealthy. He was grateful
for my adherence to our agreement."

"You blackmailed
him. In exchange for taking your embarrassing behavior abroad, he agreed to
leave you a large sum of money."

Marguerite shrugged. "You
were eager enough to help me embarrass him once, Alaric. I don't see why you
are suddenly such a paragon of rectitude."

"Twelve years is
a long time. Some of us actually learn from our mistakes." Alaric frowned.
"Welcome back, Marguerite. We shall deal extremely well together if we
stay out of each other's way."

Marguerite moved a
step closer and leaned towards him seductively. "Is that all I was,
Alaric? A mistake?"

Marguerite's sultry
scent filled his nostrils. Alaric stepped back, feeling slightly dizzy.

"A charming one,
but an error nonetheless," he said politely. "I will not repeat it,
Marguerite."

"No?" she
purred.

"No."

Marguerite pouted. "You
don't mean to tell me that you are actually interested in that Arlingby girl
that everyone is talking about, do you? I had heard of your quixotic attentions
to her, but assumed you were still avenging yourself on poor Malcolm. An
inexperienced child could scarcely hold the interest of a man like you, Alaric."

Alaric's eyes grew
steely. "I seem to recall that when you were her age, you held my
attention, Marguerite. I will give you fair warning now; I do not want to hear
of you speaking of Lady Rowena again."

Marguerite stepped
back and a petulant look crossed her face. "I don't see why you are so
taken with her. And it will not do you any good. The Arlingbys will never let
you near the girl. You burned your bridges with that family years ago."

"We shall see. In
the meantime, I believe it would be best if we avoided one another." Alaric
bowed politely and stalked away, leaving Lady Bingham glaring after him
angrily.

Rowena had watched
the exchange from the opposite side of the room, a fire of curiosity growing in
her despite the knowledge that she should not concern herself with Brayleigh's
affairs. She could not tell the nature of their conversation, but it seemed to
her that the two were very familiar with one another. She turned to her aunt,
an attempt at a disinterested expression on her face.