A Lady Dares (15 page)

‘Doing what?’ Dorian murmured.

‘Seducing me. Don’t deny it.’ She wished there was a cot in the office. She was feeling rather drowsy.

‘I wasn’t aware you were opposed to it.’

‘I’m not. I just want to know why.’

Dorian lifted his head. ‘I slept with you, Elise, because you’re a desirable woman and, if my actions haven’t made it clear, I’d like to do so again in the very near future.’ A grin took his face. ‘And you? Why are you seducing me?’

Elise smiled and gave him a taste of his own. ‘If my actions haven’t made it clear, I am using you for sex.’

W
hat was he doing? Dorian checked his cravat one last time in the little cracked mirror he’d hung over his improvised washstand of two stacked crates. A white ewer and tin basin stood atop the structure, the ewer sporting a hairline fracture of its own running down the side. It wasn’t enough to make the pitcher leak, but it was enough to claim a matched set—cracked ewer, cracked mirror, he liked to joke.

He could add himself to the set these days. He was cracked in the head the way he was mooning after Elise Sutton. He was Dorian Rowland, he didn’t chase after any skirt.
They
chased after him. But here he was, digging out one of his three good outfits from his
trunk, tying a cravat and haring off for supper with Elise.

Dissatisfied with his knot, Dorian yanked on his cravat and tried again. He never should have started calling her that. He should have stuck to Princess. He could hardly fault himself for pushing for first names. Any master of seduction knew using a first name early and often was a key component in convincing a woman of his genuine interest. Well, he’d certainly succeeded there. He’d seduced her and himself in the process.

What had started out as a game to position himself for the boat was rapidly turning into something more. He liked the haughty princess. He liked teasing her with his outrageous comments; liked coaxing her ever so subtly to push the boundaries of convention, and goodness knew he liked what they’d done today in the office. Her pleasure had been contagious and he’d been caught up in it as well.

Dorian grimaced at the reflection of his cravat. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. It had been a long time since he’d cared about the state of his cravat and even longer since he’d had a valet to tie it for him. While he’d been in the Mediterranean, he’d lived
aboard his ship and done for himself, careful not to put himself above his men. This was just one more reminder that he had to caution himself when it came to Elise Sutton.

She had him caring about things that hadn’t mattered,
wanting
things that hadn’t mattered for quite a while. Three outfits were plenty. He’d gone months at a time without even needing
one
of them. But this evening when he’d gone to dress, part of him wished there was at least a different waistcoat to put on, one she hadn’t seen before. He’d worn each of his outfits already: the one to call at her house that evening they’d drunk tea, the other when he’d called the afternoon he’d sent Charles Bradford on his way and the last to dinner at Giovanni’s. Going to Giovanni’s had been risky. Giovanni knew about him, could have spilled the entire sordid truth to Elise. Giovanni wouldn’t have meant any harm. To Giovanni, he was a hero. But Elise would not see the heroics in the things he’d done. Why should she when his own father certainly did not?

Remember the plan
, Dorian told himself, shutting the door to the shed behind him and whistling for Drago, who was turning out to
be quite the guard dog. He was to convince Elise not to sell the boat. Then he was to convince Elise to sell or give the boat to him on generous terms. He’d pay her for it, he just didn’t have the money upfront, something she could relate to.

Dorian stopped in the yard to rub Drago’s head and stare up at the boat. It was really coming along. It would be every bit as magnificent as he’d imagined, perfect for running cargos in the Mediterranean, legal or otherwise. Of course, there was more money in ‘otherwise’.

‘Stay, guard the boat,’ he told Drago. The yacht had to be completed for his plans to move forwards. If the boat were destroyed, his seduction would have been for naught. Well, not for naught, he’d rather enjoyed it. It wasn’t as if it had been unpleasant work, or work at all, which was the problem. Genuinely liking Elise hadn’t been part of the plan, but it was now. Although, she might not like him if he kept her waiting. She’d invited him to dinner and he was running late. The carriage had probably been outside already for a good ten minutes.

Dorian secured the gate and settled into the
carriage. He felt in his coat pocket to assure himself it was still there, a small gift for Elise. He might be the Scourge of Gibraltar, but he had enough breeding to know a man didn’t show up for dinner empty-handed. Manners seduced just as surely as kisses.

His previous visits had been different. He’d been strictly an employee then, reporting on business. The gift was small, something from his travels, but it was all he had to offer. He was currently not a rich man, although once he could have dazzled her with silks and spices and jewels beyond compare.
And arms. Don’t forget the arms
. A gun wasn’t exactly an appropriate hostess gift. Then he remembered the pistol she’d wielded the first day they met. It had been bulky and unwieldy in her hands, too heavy for her. Maybe Elise
would
like a gun, a lady’s pistol perhaps with a pearled handle, one that could fit in a reticule.

A lamp glowing through the lace curtains welcomed him when he alighted. Everything was as it should be, a quiet town house preparing for a quiet evening. No one could argue anything improper, Dorian thought as
he climbed the stairs. There were other carriages in the street, taking people to evening entertainments. Not nearly as many carriages as there would be in a few weeks when the Season started. Then, this quiet square would be thronged. A man sat across the street, reading a newspaper on a bench near the key park.

If he hadn’t been so absorbed in the mental exercise of picking out a gun for Elise, he might have noted how odd it was to be reading the newspaper on a park bench this time of night when the light was fading. As it was, Dorian didn’t think much of it, his thoughts occupied with other things.

Elise was waiting for him in the drawing room, looking particularly lovely in a gown of deep turquoise, her hair drawn up high on her head with a few tendrils left to curl temptingly at her neck.

‘Dorian, welcome.’ She came to him with outstretched hands, the greeting warm and yet formal, just the right tone to strike in front of the servants, he thought, taking those hands and bending in to kiss her cheek, the kind of greeting close friends or family relations might exchange. What a hostess she would make, sitting at the head of some nobleman’s
table—or his table in the Gibraltar villa. What was he thinking? He couldn’t ask her to sit at his table. He’d seduced her, but he couldn’t keep her. It wasn’t in the plan. This sudden change of feeling wasn’t in the plan, either, and he didn’t quite understand where it had come from, only that it was here. Elise Sutton had definitely become more than a physical interest.

Her eyes were alight with excitement. He knew instantly she had news,
good
news. ‘Something has happened since I saw you this afternoon,’ Dorian remarked. It must have been good because she was definitely recovered from any lingering effects of her hangover.

‘Yes, and there’s just enough time to tell you before dinner.’ Elise went over to the console table against the wall and opened a drawer, taking out a paper. ‘No machetes. My drawers aren’t nearly as exciting as yours.’

Dorian grinned. ‘Your drawers were plenty exciting this afternoon, as I recall.’

‘And here I thought you were going to be on your best behaviour.’ Elise handed him the paper, but not before the slightest hint of a blush stained her cheeks.

‘What’s the fun in that?’ Dorian took the paper and scanned it, noting the seal of the Royal Thames Yacht Club at the top and the signature of the club president, Commodore William Harrison. ‘You have membership?
You?’
He hadn’t wanted to bring the subject up with her before, but if she meant to keep racing with them, she’d need membership with her father gone.

‘I do.’ She looked so pleased with herself, so lovely and smug he didn’t want to bring her down. Yet it was so extraordinary and unlikely that they’d award membership to a female.

‘How did you do it, Elise?’

‘I simply signed my brother’s name to the application and wrote a letter asking that the membership which my father had held be continued.’

Dorian smiled. His princess was inventive. ‘Was there a reason William couldn’t do it himself?’

‘He’s away at Oxford, it would take too much time to bother him.’ She turned away to put the letter back in the drawer, but he sensed she was far more uncomfortable with that answer than she had been sharing her deception.

Dorian went to her, his hands at her arms. ‘Tell me, Elise, will William be surprised to hear he’s now a member of the Royal Yacht Club?’

‘It hardly matters. The membership is paid and the deed is done. There’s nothing William can do except cause unnecessary awkwardness.’ She turned to face him, her arms twining about his neck, lips parted in invitation. ‘I have champagne chilling with dinner to celebrate.’

‘Then we shall celebrate.’ But Dorian recognised her efforts for what they were—a distraction, a very lovely one, a very inviting one. She could not have made it plainer that she didn’t want to talk about her brother. Interesting. He’d been under the impression they were close. But in his experience, one did not look gift horses in the mouth, one kissed them, except when stiff butlers might walk in at any moment to announce dinner. He’d wait and hope for better things when those butlers weren’t around.

Fortunately, the butler and footmen made themselves scarce after laying the meal. Elise had arranged for the meal to be served
en famille
and had kept the fare simple: a roast,
baby potatoes and carrots and fresh bread along with the promised champagne and a tray of cheeses and fruit at the ready, waiting on the sideboard for dessert.

The table had been thoughtfully prepared, too: two chairs situated close to one another, two single candles in silver holders instead of a massive, imposing candelabra. It was a daringly intimate setting. It made Dorian wonder if perhaps tonight she meant to seduce him. A most arousing thought indeed.

‘I told the servants we didn’t need to stand on ceremony tonight,’ Elise explained, delightfully flustered for a moment.

‘That’s all right,’ Dorian whispered huskily at her ear, his hand light but proprietary at her back as he ushered her to her seat. ‘It’s much more fun to sit on it.’

What a terribly bold comment. Elise wished she had some witty comeback but she came up with nothing but a pointed look that said she understood the naughty nuances. As far as she was concerned, he could sit on it, lay on it, jump on it, she didn’t care which as long as they didn’t talk about William.

Evans poured champagne before retreating
with the rest of the staff. Elise took a sip to cover her nerves. Ice-cold champagne was her absolute favourite, one of the few things she’d enjoyed about her Seasons in London. Dorian had guessed correctly that William would not approve. Her brother wasn’t opposed to the yacht club, he just wouldn’t see the need for it, not when he felt they should be closing the shipyard and moving on.

But Dorian wasn’t as compelled to leave the subject alone. ‘How is William doing with his studies?’

‘He’s doing fine. He loves it.’ There’d only been the two letters since he’d left, but she justified their scarcity knowing he was busy. ‘He doesn’t have much time to write once he’s immersed in his studies.’

Dorian laughed. ‘Oxford must have changed since my time. Are you sure it’s his studies he’s “immersed” in and not some pretty tavern wench?’

Elise fixed him with a disapproving stare. She might be at odds with William over the shipyard, but he was her brother. ‘I am sure. Not everyone goes to Oxford to carouse.’ Still, she was a little surprised he’d gone to Oxford at all. He didn’t seem the university type. Libraries
and lecture halls seemed far too confining for the likes of Dorian Rowland.

‘Everyone gets the education they need at Oxford, books or otherwise,’ Dorian put in. ‘There’s no question of that.’

Elise leaned forwards. ‘What kind of education did you get, Dorian?’

‘Otherwise.’ Dorian winked and she laughed. ‘And it’s served me well in my line of work.’

‘Which is?’

‘Building ships, sailing ships,’ Dorian answered easily between bites of the meat.

‘That’s all? Just building and sailing ships? That’s hardly scandalous.’ It wasn’t nearly scandalous enough to be so completely cast out of society. The candlelight was doing fabulous things to his hair, burnishing and shadowing all those golden hues.

‘It is if you’re the son of the Duke of Ashdon. Dukes’ sons don’t deal in trade or carpentry,’ Dorian answered calmly.

‘But you were a captain of your own ship. Surely that’s enough to garner respectability and it’s not as if you are the heir. Your father should have been glad you had turned your hand to something.’ Elise wasn’t going to let
go of this chance to learn more about the socially exiled Dorian Rowland.

‘Is reconciliation really so out of the question?’ she asked softly. Her family had been everything to her and she missed it dreadfully now that it had fallen apart, everyone scattered to their own corners, living their own lives.

Dorian drained his glass. ‘Yes. And we’ll leave it at that. This is supposed to be a celebration.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘To the Royal Thames Yacht Club and the hopes of next season.’

And to the hopes they wouldn’t mind too terribly much once they realised William had no intention of showing up at any of the races, Elise added silently. She was through the first hurdle. She had the membership. It was time for the second. She drew a deep breath. ‘There’s something else I hope we can celebrate tonight as well.’

Dorian’s eyes glittered wickedly with indecent thoughts that made her shiver with anticipation. ‘I am sure there is.’

Best to come straight out with it. ‘I want you to captain the yacht on the opening trip.’
She’d made her decision once word had come of her membership application.

‘Elise, do you know what you’re asking?’ Something clouded the glitter of his gaze.

‘Yes, I am asking you to stay beyond your contract. We’d agreed you could go once the boat was done, but now I need you to stay. It’s not for much longer than originally planned,’ Elise argued gently. She really did need him to stay. It made sense. He knew the boat, every last timber of it. He’d be the only one to have taken it for a trial. He had no pending engagements to be elsewhere that she knew of. He’d mentioned nothing other than the need to pay back Halsey for the confiscated cargo.