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Chapter
One
February 1815, London
Jacqueline Walters barely suppressed a
sigh as she looked around the ballroom. She knew that Sabre had picked the name
Haberdasher because it sounded daring. When Jack had learned that haberdashery
was the term for men's accessories, hats and gloves and the like, she had
argued that they needed to change it. Now she could admit that Sabre, or more
precisely Miss Sabrina Bittlesworth, was nothing short of prescient in
selecting the name. Ten years later it seemed that Jack's entire family was
bent on making her some man's accessory.
"Oh, Jackie, isn't it quite the
thing?" Her younger sister Samantha squeezed her arm. This was Sam's first
formal ball and Jack was sure that her sister
would walk around gawking at the decorations if she didn't think it would mark
her as a complete unsophisticate.
"It's lovely, though I hate to think
of how many peacocks are roaming around completely naked in service of
it." The ballroom was grandly done in bright blues with peacock feathers
displayed to excess. There were also quite a few trees from the orangery, the
bright fruits making complementary splashes of color in the room. “Lady Wynders
certainly knows how to make an impression."
Sam continued to gush. "I think it's
the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I want to pinch myself to make sure I'm
not dreaming."
Jack smiled down at her little sister.
"Surely if it were your dream there would be at least one kitten."
"Oh, don't be such a goose,
Jack!" Sam said with a nervous laugh.
"I'm just saying that your love of
kittens is renowned," Jack continued. "Why, when you are Lady
Such-and-such and throw your first ball I shall expect to see kittens
there."
"Don't tease me so, Jackie,"
Sam admonished. "I shan't aspire to a title."
How like Sam to disparage the idea that
she might snag a titled husband. However, if one of the Walters girls were to
elevate her station it would undoubtedly be the petite, golden, and
sweet-natured Samantha. Tall, serious Jack had been on the marriage mart for
two years now and had been marked as a bluestocking, too intelligent and
outspoken to be a good Society wife. She had slowly faded into the background
as a wallflower, accepting that she would most likely be firmly on the shelf in
another year. In the meantime she could be a chaperone for her sweet sister in
the hopes of helping Sam make a worthy match. Perhaps, she thought, someone
that she could stand since she would most likely be living with them as a
helpful maiden aunt one day. Of course Mama and Papa still expected Jack to
make a stunning match, but she was sure that as Sam blossomed in her first
Season the pressure regarding Jack's own marriage potential would wane.
“You know,” Sam said, tapping her fan on
Jack’s arm to get her attention. “Men would be much more interested in you if
you didn’t look at them all like they were Lord Lucifer.”
Jack frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, I
don’t look at them like that.”
“You were, just now. Staring at that poor
little man over there as though he were a disciple of the devil himself.”
Jack’s gaze swept the room. “What little
man? I was thinking about something else entirely, I assure you.”
Sam gave a delicate sigh. “Yes. You
always are.”
A handsome young man of Jack's barest
acquaintance approached them for an introduction to Sam and Jack knew that it
had begun. Four introductions and two glasses of punch later Jack was certain
that her sweet little sister was already beginning to take in a way that Jack
never had herself. Did she look at men as though they were that reprobate Lord
Lucifer? Certainly not. To the best of her knowledge she didn’t look at men at
all. Few of them took the opportunity to speak to her and fewer still asked for
a dance. Not that she was surprised since she matched the height of most of
them and towered over others. As such she spent most of her time at these
events lingering along the wall and thinking.
During one particularly long country reel
that Sam had been invited to dance and Jack had not she took the opportunity to
find Lord Wynder's famed classics library. Even level-headed Jack had to admit
that being ignored for two years to then be sought out as a conduit of
introduction to a debutante had a certain sting to it, one that she was certain
could be relieved with a quick peek at a rare book. Perhaps he would even have
some tomes on weaponry. She was quite sure that Lord Wynder wouldn’t mind. Too
much. Especially since he would never find out.
After perusing the shelves Jack finally
chose a book, setting the lamp on a shelf high enough to shine its light down
onto the pages. Greek was difficult to read in the best of conditions and the
combination of dim light and cramped writing in this particular text almost
made her give up entirely. An arm sliding around her waist from behind
interrupted her focus on the text. She stiffened as she felt the warmth of
another person pressing up behind her, accompanied by a smell that was a mix of
mint, cloves, and leather.
"And here you are," a deep
voice murmured in her ear. "You're early."
It was one of Jack's peculiarities that
she wasn't the type to jump and scream. Both Sabre's and George's brothers had
made it their mission over the years to get a girlish, squeamish reaction out
of her to no avail. In this particular instance she was frozen like a statue
while her heart sped into an erratic beat in her chest. Who was this man? Who
did he think she was? She felt his
breath on her neck as he nuzzled closer to her, his fingers tracing lazy
patterns on her stomach.
"What are you reading?" he
asked, voice low and husky at the side of her neck.
"Thucydides," she managed in a
strangled whisper.
He chuckled, his breath stirring the
strands of hair at her nape. "Planning a war instead of a seduction? What
am I saying, you probably consider seduction to be a war."
Planning a seduction? Good gracious, who did he think she was? Why would anyone
be planning a seduction in the library of all places? Her mind turned
frantically like a moth trapped inside a jar. She had never done more than hold
a man’s hand before, and that only briefly. This wasn’t only wrong, it was forbidden. Rather than panic her that
thought relaxed her. She enjoyed doing forbidden things. Climbing trees, racing
horses, practicing swords. Perhaps this forbidden activity would be just as
invigorating.
Jack felt as though he were drawing her
into a cocoon of his warmth and scent. His lips touched her neck and her own
blush in reaction added to the sense of heat so that she almost felt she had
walked into a fire. His other arm came around her and pulled the book from her
fingers, laying it aside. He had eased her back against himself and her
shoulders now rested on his chest while he continued his slow journey downward
of touches and kisses. Her initial shock had worn off and her body was languidly
surrendering. His nearness was new and thrilling and surprisingly relaxing. She
melted back into him and was rewarded with another chuckle and a gentle nibble
on her ear. She shivered in response and his arms tightened as his fingers
became bolder in their exploration, one hand sweeping under her breasts while
the other traveled down, pressing her back so that her derriere fit snugly
against him. With that the sensations went from soothing to alarming and she
tried to wriggle away.
He murmured in her ear again. "You
are just as luscious as you look. More so. Let me taste you."
Becoming outraged she pushed away and
turned to address him. “Sir! You - ”
He took her lips, covering her protest.
Tasting, indeed. He sampled her lips with gentle suckling and licking. His
errant hand had made its way to palm her breast and on her gasp he took the
opportunity to plunder her mouth with his tongue. Jack shivered again. She had
never felt anything like this before. Had never thought that it was even
possible. Her body throbbed with hope and want and need but her mind was
beginning to rebel even more at the outrage. She gave him a savage push and
managed to lever away from him. The damnable man was the size of a house!
As her seducer drew back from the kiss
and looked down at her face his own was illuminated by the lamp on the
bookcase. She saw unfashionably long dark hair and dark, heavey-lidded eyes.
The eyes widened with shock.
"Who in the bloody hell are
you?" he choked out.
He was withdrawing his hands from her
when the side door of the library opened and Jack heard a woman's voice, a
throaty contralto, coming in from the hallway. "No, Lord Wynders, I don't
need an escort but it is lovely of you to ask."
"Well, my dear, it wouldn't do for
one of my guests to be left unattended at our soiree."
Jack turned toward the door and her
seducer took a step back as the woman entered the room. Outlined by the light
from the hall all Jack could see was a tall, curvaceous figure cutting a
rather fashionable silhouette. It was apparent the woman had seen them because
of her surprised but understated, "Oh."
Within a moment of that shock the woman
began to withdraw but Lord Wynders had scented scandal and pushed the door open
further. The light from the hallway spilled a feeble ray across the floor and
dimly lit the occupants at the bookcase and Wynders drew himself up.
"Harrington," he said shortly.
"Wynders," Jack's seducer
replied with a brief nod.
"Miss Walters," Wynders said,
with a nod in Jack's direction. Jack could feel the tension in the room rising
as the four occupants eyed each other.
Jack dipped a quick curtsy. "Lord
Wynders."
Another voice in the hallway, this one a woman
with a higher and more patrician tone. "Darling, whatever are you doing in
the library?"
Lord Wynders moved aside to allow his
wife into the room. "I suspect..." he said.
Harrington grabbed Jack's hand and pulled
her forward, cutting off Wynders. "Congratulating us on our upcoming
nuptials." Jack looked at him in panic and he pulled her tight against
him. "Although we would appreciate your discretion since the particulars
haven't been worked out with her father yet."
They had drawn close enough to their
unexpected audience for Jack to see their faces. Lord Wynders looked
speculative, Lady Wynders looked delighted about this on dit, and the mystery woman looked sympathetic. Upon closer
inspection Jack could see that she was the widow Lady... Spencer? Spinner?
Undoubtedly the woman with whom Harrington had planned to rendezvous in the
library this evening.
Lord Wynders broke the silence. "Miss
Walters, perhaps you would like for me to fetch your father so that they can
discuss this?"
Jack glanced up at Harrington and then
back to her host. She mustered a smile that she hoped wasn’t too sickly. The
year she had spent recovering from a broken arm after falling off her horse
came rushing back to her. Sometimes things were forbidden because they were
dangerous. “No thank you my Lord. Don’t worry Papa with it now.”
Returning to the main ballroom they made
their way around the periphery in a slow stroll, absently nodding to
acquaintances in a typical display of a potential couple. It maintained the
fiction presented to the Wynders while not making a clear commitment to the
other attendees. Jack was desperately trying to remember where she had heard
the name Harrington before. He was an aristocrat, that was clear, but what
kind? Younger son of a titled man? A baron himself perhaps? It was rare to find
a man a full head taller than herself but she didn’t remember him from the
soirees she had attended in her first two seasons. Perhaps he had only recently
returned to Town. It was still quite early in the season so perhaps he only
attended smaller affairs. Her mind churned through possibilities while he
seemed content to maintain the silence between them.
Presently he stopped and spoke to someone
Jack very much recognized, the Duke of Beloin. This was a surprise to her since
the young duke was known to be a bit high in the instep. As the duke turned to
address her escort with a friendly smile Jack remembered. Harrington. Bloody
hell, it was the Earl of Harrington.
She pasted a false smile on her face and began to wonder how on earth she would
be getting out of this tangle.
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