Don't Tempt Me by Loretta Chase Page A

downstairs with me?”
    Before she stepped out into the corridor, she smoothed her skirts. In another woman, the gesture would have seemed nervous. With her it was provocative. She did it in the way she’d trailed her hands across her bosom and along her hips.
    I know all the arts of pleasing a man , she’d said.
    He had not the smallest doubt she did. He was aware of heat racing along his skin and under it, speeding to his groin. He could almost feel his brain softening into warm wax, the wax a woman could do as she liked with.
    Nothing wrong with that, he told himself. Men paid good money for women who possessed such arts. He’d be paying good money, too, come to that. He forgot about her annoying sisters and laughed—at himself, at the circumstances.
    She looked up questioningly at him, and he almost believed she had no idea how provocative she was. Almost believed it.
    I’m not innocent , she’d said. That he could believe.
    â€œI was only thinking of the thousand pounds you’ve cost me,” he said.
    â€œYou refer to the wager with your friends,” she said. “You didn’t believe it was me. But why should you? I was worried at first that my own parents wouldn’t know me.”
    â€œWell, none of us do, do we?” he said. “But it is you, beyond a doubt. And I am far too glad of that to begrudge the money.”
    â€œYou’re glad?” she said, her face lighting up. “You’re glad I’m back?”
    â€œOf course,” he said. “Did you think I wanted to find that your father had been taken in by an imposter? Did you think I wanted to see him made a fool of?”
    She looked away then, and he couldn’t see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes—not that he would have noticed. Eyes were reputed to be windows to the soul. The Duke of Marchmont didn’t care to look that deep.
    That evening
    Wearing a wry smile, Lady Tarling opened the oval red velvet box. Within lay a diamond and golden topaz necklace, with matching bracelet and earrings.
    â€œHow beautiful,” she said. She looked up at the man who’d given them to her. “I’m partial to golden topaz.”
    Marchmont hadn’t known this, but he wasn’t surprised. Lady Tarling’s taste was exquisite. She was a slender brunette, with large, light brown eyes. She knew exactly what became her, and golden topaz, set off with diamonds, suited her perfectly.
    His secretary, Osgood, who was in charge of selecting suitable gifts for His Grace’s amours, would know this. Osgood always kept several fine piecesof jewelry on hand, particularly the kind to be used as generous parting gifts, for His Grace was easily bored. This was not a parting gift. It was intended, in fact, to prevent that—until His Grace decided it was time to part.
    â€œI’ve taken on an amusing task that may keep me away for a short time,” Marchmont said.
    â€œAh,” she said, her smile faltering a little.
    â€œAn obligation to an old friend,” he said. “I’ve agreed to bring his daughter into fashion—and perhaps find her a husband before the Season’s end.”
    â€œAn old friend. I see.”
    â€œYou’ll read something about it in all the papers tomorrow,” he said. “Rumors will be traveling through Almack’s tonight.”
    â€œBut you knew I wouldn’t be there to hear them,” she said.
    Lord Tarling’s handsome young widow was not on the patronesses’ list. Lady Jersey had taken her in dislike.
    â€œI preferred you not learn about it from one of the cats who will be there,” he said, “or from the newspapers. They were likely to give you the wrong impression altogether.”
    â€œIt must be a curious impression, indeed, to result in such a gift.” She gave a little laugh. Her silvery laugh was famous. It was gentler and prettier, many thought, than Lady Jersey’s tinkling