Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) Read online

  “It’s that Charles Francis fellow,” said Aunt Agatha. “He’s leading you astray.”

  Hal answered coolly, “I assure you, Aunt, that Francis and I take turns leading each other astray. It is hardly his fault. I take responsibility for my own actions.”

  “You need to take a wife,” said Aunt Agatha. “It is time you settled down.”

  “None of my brothers married this young. Liam still isn’t married and he’s two and thirty.”

  “He has a point,” said Arthur to his aunt. “Ned and I would likely be unmarried still if we hadn’t met the ladies we did. I cannot imagine my life without Vanessa, just as Ned is quite besotted with Jane.”

  “See?” said Hal, grateful for the unexpected assistance.

  “But, Hal,” continued Arthur in a most unhelpful way, “I confess that while I engaged in many of the activities you so enjoy, I often found myself wondering if there wasn’t something more to life. After a while the meaningless diversions of a single man began to pale. My soul knew something was lacking even if my head did not, if you will excuse me for waxing poetic.”

  “I will not,” said Hal.

  “Hal,” said Lizzie. “You’re being rather stubborn and I say that as someone who has been accused of possessing the same trait. You have changed since your friendship with Francis and it has not been for the better. But I do not blame him for leading you astray. I blame you for being satisfied with your new life as a wastrel. However, I do not believe the solution is a marriage you are not ready for – a wife has enough disadvantages without being wed to someone who marries only because his family believes it will make an adult of him. But I do not think it would hurt for you to spend more time with your other friends. Attend a ton event and spend more than a quarter of an hour there. We are all concerned about you Hal. We love you and do not wish to lose you.”

  The room was silent, until Lynwood spoke. “Well said, Lizzie.”

  “Yes, well, I think the babe is giving me wisdom,” she said, placing a hand on her stomach.

  Hal was both touched and unsettled by Lizzie’s words. He bristled at anyone criticizing his friend and needed no advice on how to live his life. But, while he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, he did feel as if the nights were all blending into one. Debauchery wasn’t nearly as much fun when it became a way of life. Perhaps it was time to vary his routine, to explore what it might be like to wake up without feeling sick. But it was important for him to do it on his terms, without feeling like a child in a family of overbearing adults.

  “The Raleighs’ ball is tonight,” said Aunt Agatha. “You will attend, Henry. I insist upon it.”

  Hal looked at his Aunt. “If you insist I be there, Aunt Agatha, then I shall attend,” he said. Then he rose, executed a half bow and left the room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mel didn’t know if she would ever feel at home at a ton ball. It wasn’t like she wasn’t a social person. She liked people and back home she’d had little difficulty making friends. But London society was quite different. There seemed to be more emphasis on style over substance. What a person wore was more important than what a person said unless, of course, the person had said something worthy of gossip.

  And it seemed to Mel as if she was always saying something worthy of gossip.

  The evening started innocently enough. She and Mary had accompanied the earl and the countess to the Raleighs’ home, arriving fashionably late. Mel had even acquitted herself well in the receiving line, thanking their hostess for inviting her and remarking on the beautiful flowers.

  As Mel had walked arm-in-arm with Mary through the ballroom, she smiled and nodded to acquaintances, stopping a few times as her cousin greeted friends. Mel contributed to the conversations by complimenting the ladies on their dresses and agreeing with the gentlemen that the weather had been unseasonably cool. Of course, she was thoroughly bored within ten minutes of their arrival and wanted nothing more than to find a seat near the wall and simply listen to the music until her aunt and uncle were ready to leave.

  But then it happened. She made yet another social faux pas.

  Mary had led her to a small group of unmarried ladies slightly older than they. The conversation had turned from fashion to gossip, which meant Mel was even less interested than usual, until the lady at the center of the group started speaking.

  “I find it interesting that the Marquess of Riverton is not in attendance tonight,” said Lady Gwendolyn Bossert, the daughter of the Earl of Halliwell. “I can only imagine it is because he is embarrassed by his wife’s political activities.”

  “I cannot imagine he would have married her if he’d been embarrassed,” said Mel. “From what I recall, her treatise on the rights of women was published before their betrothal.”

  As silence descended upon their little group, Lady Gwendolyn turned to Mel, running her gaze from Mel’s satin slippers to the pearls in her hair and back down again. All with a smug look on her face. Lady Gwendolyn was considered a leader of the young ladies of the ton and her friendship was often a precursor to a debutante’s success. But one cutting word from Lady Gwendolyn – and it was a rare day, indeed, when she stopped at only one – was enough to freeze a young woman out of the social whirl. One raised brow could send a debutante fleeing to the retiring room for a lonely cry.

  Mel knew of Lady Gwendolyn’s importance, but she cared little for the opinion of a mean-spirited gossip and not even a very entertaining one, at that. Mel had said her comments without thinking about their effect. She didn’t care about her own standing, but suddenly felt guilty about how they might reflect on her cousin.

  Fortunately, Mary stepped into the fray, with a sweet smile for everyone. “I believe I know the real reason Lord Riverton is not in attendance. I heard Lady Riverton may be in an interesting condition. She looked most unwell in Hatchard’s the other day. Lord Riverton called for their carriage immediately and kissed her on the street as they waited.” Mary paused as most of the young ladies either sighed or looked for the nearest person to whom they could spread the delicious news. “Are you all right Lady Gwendolyn? It seems your color is a bit off.”

  “I am sure it is no such thing,” snapped Lady Gwendolyn. “And really, Lady Mary, you shouldn’t spread gossip like that.”

  “Thank you, Lady Gwendolyn,” said Mary sweetly. “I am so thankful I can learn from your wisdom and experience of years.”

  Mel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the veiled insult, for while Lady Gwendolyn could not be considered a spinster at one and twenty, many of the girls who’d had their come-out her same year were already married, including the former Elizabeth Kellington, now Lady Riverton. And while Mel was sure her cousin had meant the comment as a barb, she was so sweet-natured that no one else would know for certain.

  It looked like Lady Gwendolyn had her suspicions, but before she could act on them Mary excused herself then escorted her cousin far from the fray.

  “Mel,” said Mary kindly but firmly as soon as they were out of earshot, “you would do well not to antagonize Lady Gwendolyn. She is a dreadful gossip, but she wields an enormous amount of power and I should hate for her to make your time here more difficult.”

  “You mean even more difficult than I make it myself?” asked Mel with a wan smile. “I do not especially care about the consequences for me, but I should hate to think of hurting your chances, as well. Although, dear Mary, I believe you shall make a brilliant match soon enough. You are always surrounded by beaux wherever we go.”

  Mel was genuinely happy for her good-natured cousin, who was one of the most sought-after debutantes of the season. Sometimes she wished she could be more like Mary, wanting only a good match and a large home in the city.

  Mary squeezed her cousin’s hand. “You would have more admirers than I if you made more of an effort, dearest. You’re already beautiful, which I daresay is most of what a gentleman looks for. But, sometimes, well….”

  “Sometimes my bluestocking
tendencies scare them off?” Now Mel couldn’t even pretend to stifle a laugh at her tactful cousin.

  “In a word, yes,” said Mary, grinning. “You shouldn’t pretend to be what you aren’t. But mayhap, you can show less of that side until you get to know a gentleman better. Oh, look! I see Jessica and Mabel are back from Paris. We must speak to them about the newest fashions. I made them a most scandalous wager about undergarments.”

  “I will let you go to them,” said Mel, pulling away. “And I hope you win the wager. For my part, I would dearly love to find a seat since these new slippers are pinching my feet.”

  Mary gave her a rueful look that said she knew Mel was crying off, but she didn’t press the matter. As Mel turned to find an unobtrusive seat she caught a glimpse of someone she’d been thinking about for much of the day. The man who’d intervened at Dill’s was in the ballroom.

  And he was coming her way.

  * * *

  Hal entered the ballroom definitely the worse for wear. He avoided such events as much as he could, but given the directive by his family that very morning, he decided that if he had no choice in attending, he would at least reserve the right to lubricate his evening as he saw fit.

  He and Charles Francis, currently standing next to him and trying hard not to sway overly much, had begun drinking in Francis’s rooms from his well-stocked sideboard, then stopped off at Dill’s for some hazard and champagne. Francis hadn’t wanted to attend the ball, but Hal had told him misery loved company and there were likely any number of bored matrons who wouldn’t object to a little companionship, as well.

  Of course, now that they were at the ball and the subject of more than one dowager’s frosty looks, Hal wasn’t even sure if his friend had been invited. There were some who didn’t consider Charles Francis good ton. Hal suspected it wouldn’t be too much longer before some of the high sticklers had problems with his behavior.

  He thought he might as well make a start on that tonight.

  From the moment Hal entered the ballroom, he could feel the eyes of the matchmaking mamas tracking his every move. He felt rather like a fox at a hunt. He wondered how Lynwood tolerated it, for no matter how much attention Hal attracted, it was so much worse for the duke.

  Francis was also attracting his share of attention, since he was only rarely seen at balls anymore. He wasn’t titled, but he was from a good family. He was also handsome enough that he never lacked for female companionship.

  “What say we get some refreshments,” said Francis, even as he liberated two flutes of champagne from a passing footman, downing both and walking toward a long table laden with food.

  Hal followed, nodding lazily to acquaintances and never stopping long enough to get embroiled in conversation. But just as he was about to reach the table, Lady Lawson stepped into his path. Regina Matthews, Lady Lawson, was ten years his senior and was the long-suffering wife of a husband nearing sixty, whose great love in life was his hunting dogs. Lady Lawson did her best to fill her empty hours with diversions. And it looked like she’d selected Hal for her next one.

  “Hallo, Hal,” purred Lady Lawson in a tone of voice he recognized from two previous trysts with the woman. She was a spirited bed partner, even if she did like to be showered with unending compliments on her looks. She was quite attractive – a tall, slender brunette with curves in all the right places – but he suspected she was feeling increasingly insecure with age. She couldn’t hold the interest of her much older husband, so Hal assumed she longed for appreciation from younger men. He was happy to oblige.

  “What could possibly bring you to the Raleighs’?” asked Lady Lawson. “Never say you’re looking for a leg shackle.”

  “I have no intentions of marrying, but I certainly wouldn’t mind being shackled. Especially if my jailer looked anything like you, my lady.” Hal slipped his hand into his pocket to ensure he had his French letters. He hadn’t planned on a trip to Madame Thurmond’s that evening, but he liked to be prepared just in case. “How’s Lawson?”

  “In the card room talking about his favorite bitch, which, I am ever so pleased to say, is not me.”

  As Lady Lawson began the familiar litany of complaints about her husband, Hal idly looked around the ballroom. He knew the responses she required and was able to supply the one-word replies without much thought. He wanted to put in an appearance with his family, so he could leave again with haste. It was easier to spend his evenings with drunks and whores. He felt, somehow, they were more honest than most members of the ton.

  “Hal,” said Lady Lawson petulantly, “you’re not listening.”

  “Sorry, love,” said Hal, turning to her with half-closed eyes and his lazy grin. “Now what I can I do for you?”

  Lady Lawson’s smile left little doubt as to how exactly he could be of service. A few words in his ear about time and place and he was on his way to their assignation, where she would follow as soon as it was safe to do so.

  Hal decided there were some advantages to a ton ball, after all.

  * * *

  As the gentleman from Dill’s came her way, Mel ducked behind a pillar. She was curious about him, but it wouldn’t do to be recognized. If he said anything about her activities, it would surely get back to her aunt and uncle. She couldn’t afford to risk that, but she also wanted to know more about the mysterious man.

  He was certainly handsome, not that she would be swayed by anything so superficial as looks, especially since he’d appeared to be inebriated the evening before at Dill’s and, if she had to guess, was in the same state now. She really shouldn’t want to make the acquaintance of someone who’d been in his cups 100% of the time he’d been in her presence. Not that he knew he was in her presence. He’d paid little enough attention to her the night before, and had walked – or, rather, swayed – within a few feet of her just now without noticing her. Still, she was curious about him. She decided to follow him to learn who he was, so she’d know whom to avoid in the future.

  At least, she tried to tell herself that was the reason. Scoundrels really shouldn’t be so handsome. It was most unfair.

  As he walked through the ballroom, he was hailed by any number of gentlemen wanting to have a word. Her mystery man paused but never lingered. With only a few words, he invariably made them laugh, then moved on until he was stopped again. Several women followed him with their eyes, and while more than one mama watched him pass with pursed lips, Mel had a feeling they would smile broadly enough if the man asked their daughters to dance.

  He passed through the French doors to the terrace and Mel followed, making sure to stay far enough behind that he wouldn’t turn and see her. It became clear that he was walking with purpose as he descended the stone stairs with the grace of an athlete and, given his state of inebriation, the balance of a circus performer.

  As he moved further away from the house and into the darkest recesses of the garden, Mel’s curiosity was thoroughly engaged. Was he going to leave through a back gate? It was so dark in that deserted portion of the garden she was surprised he would even be able to find an exit. She couldn’t see him anymore, and as she realized just how isolated she was, she decided to turn back. But she only went a few steps before a hand reached out and pulled her behind a massive tree and up against a broad, muscular chest.

  Before she could scream, warm firm lips touched hers, as two arms snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. She was quite shockingly pressed against a man all the way down the length of her. And, from what she could dimly see in the moonlight, it wasn’t just any man. It was the man she’d been following.

  He lifted his lips from hers, then gently nibbled her left ear. The sensation was unlike any she’d ever experienced. All of this was like nothing she’d ever experienced, since she’d never even been kissed until a moment earlier. And she’d certainly never stood this close to a man, not to mention had his hands explore her body. She felt flush all over, with an odd sensation in her stomach. She knew she should put a stop to such outr
ageous behavior at once, but she was so breathless she couldn’t speak.

  His lips had continued their journey from her ear to her neck. One hand was massaging her bottom, while the other was resting just below her left breast. Every time she breathed, it seemed his hand grazed her breast. She wondered what it would be like to feel it on her.

  Mel knew she was being wicked, but she was overwhelmed by sensation. She didn’t know anything could feel this good. Through her reform activities in Philadelphia and London, she’d befriended a few prostitutes. She knew some claimed to enjoy their work, but she’d always wondered whether they were simply making the best of a dire situation. Now she understood a least a bit of the appeal. But enough was enough. She was going to pull away from the scoundrel who was kissing her so deliciously. She really was.

  “I’m surprised you followed so quickly,” murmured the stranger. “Wouldn’t want word to get back to your husband.”

  Her husband! Mel pulled back from the handsome man, who obviously had mistaken her for someone else. They were far enough apart now that he should realize his mistake, but he simply looked at her with his heavy-lidded eyes and swayed.

  Mel was humiliated and wanted to deliver a setdown that would blister his ears. But before she could even begin, he passed out in front of her. She tried to catch him, but gravity had already taken hold. The best she was able to do was slow his fall before he hit the ground with a thud.

  And there was her sinfully handsome stranger, passed out cold on the grass. Looking better than he should. Looking better than anyone should. She had no doubt there were gentlemen in the ballroom who could primp with a valet for hours and not look nearly as good as this drunkard in front of her.

  After checking to see if he was still breathing, she loosened his cravat just a bit. Her fingers touched the warm skin of his neck and she became heated all over again. She knew she could not linger. It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered and she would be ruined if someone came upon them. She felt bad about deserting him, but since he’d obviously been expecting someone else, hopefully that woman would appear soon enough and take care of him.