“Very well,” she said, shaking off the shivers that had run down her spine as he’d spoken, “so we still have much to learn about each other, but that doesn’t mean we won’t suit. On the contrary, it promises to be a typical Society courtship, followed by a typical Society wedding.”
Mr. Neville raised an eyebrow. “And yet you don’t strike me as a typical Society lady. Quite the opposite.”
The music drew to a close, preventing Rebecca from telling him that he had no business passing judgment. She’d never considered herself the sort of woman who would marry for any reason other than love, which made what she now planned on doing so much more ironic. But then again, this was about winning her freedom, limited as it might be as the wife of a peer.
“Come, walk with me,” Mr. Neville said once they’d bowed and curtsied to each other.
From the corner of her eye, Rebecca could see Lord Brekenbridge trying to make his way toward them through the crowd. She ought to pull away from Mr. Neville and go to him, yet when Mr. Neville urged her along, she found herself moving forward alongside him until cool air greeted them and they stepped out onto the terrace. “I shouldn’t be here with you,” she said, not because they were alone, for they were not the only ones looking to escape the heat of the ballroom, and not because she was afraid he might try to compromise her in some way, but because she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. Brekenbridge offered security, while Mr. Neville offered scandal. She would have to be a fool . . . hell she was already a fool, for if Brekenbridge saw them together, her efforts with him would be for naught.
“I merely want a moment of your time,” Mr. Neville said as he steered her toward the terrace steps. “You see, I find it curious that you’re so eager to marry that you’d throw yourself away without the slightest hesitation on a man like Brekenbridge.”
“Who’s a perfect gentleman, if I may remind you,” Rebecca said.
“True, but he’s also a veritable bore—you’ll get very little excitement from him.”
“Perhaps I don’t care for excitement. Perhaps I’d like a quiet life at home, caring for my husband and children, having friends over for tea, doing charity work and such.”
“Sounds positively thrilling,” Mr. Neville muttered.
“What? Many ladies take great pleasure in such things. Who are you to diminish it?”
“I think the better question, my lady,” he said as he stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, “is not so much who I am, but rather who you are.”
Rebecca sucked in a breath as her whole body went rigid.
“Ah, I see I struck a nerve.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me.” She had the uncanny feeling that Mr. Neville had just pulled the string that would unravel all of her secrets.
“I believe I know you better than you know Brekenbridge. For one thing, you do want excitement in your life, Lady Nuit—the desperate need for marriage that has you plotting, along with the ambiguity about you, your desire for anonymity, they attest to it. This is an adventure for you, isn’t it? I wonder how many of those you’ve had in the past, and more importantly, will you be willing to give them up in the future?”
They resumed walking. He had a point, to be sure, but he was making it without knowing all the facts. Yes, her life with Brekenbridge might be a bit more placid than what she would have wished for, but it would surely be better than marrying an aging cripple. She winced at the very idea of it.
They started down the stairs leading to the lawn below. “Let’s take a stroll in the garden,” he said. “The fewer people who see us together, the better—for your sake.”
She eyed him dubiously. “Have you any idea of how that sounds?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, turning his head and meeting her gaze with a frown.
“It sounds as though you’d rather keep to dark corners and the cover of trees and bushes, all the while hoping to have me believe that it’s for my own benefit.” She gave him a look that she hoped would underline her innuendo.
If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes widened a little behind his mask. “Point taken,” he said with a wry smile, “though I can assure you that doing so would benefit both of us equally.”
The way her stomach twisted itself into a tight knot told her that he was no longer speaking of protecting her from ruin but quite possibly the opposite. She sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the sturdy feel of his arm beneath her gloved hand and how elegantly he guided her down toward the path below.
“Tell me, Nuit, what’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever done?”
As much as she would have liked to blame her gown for causing her to lose her footing as he spoke those words, she simply couldn’t. Thankfully, he caught her before she had the chance to fall, the only problem (aside from the obvious embarrassment the situation offered) being that he couldn’t possibly ignore her reaction. To her annoyance, he even chuckled. “So you have done something outrageous then? And to think that I was only fishing.” The smile he gave her was a conspiratorial one filled with the promise that he would keep whatever secrets she might be willing to share with him. “Tell me something shocking, Nuit—I dare you.”
I dare you.
Rebecca had never in her life backed down from a dare. A stubborn trait that had landed her in trouble plenty of times as a child. She considered her options carefully before admitting, “I wasn’t invited here this evening. In fact, I snuck in through the garden.”
“Really?” Though he was looking straight ahead, preventing her from seeing his expression clearly, his voice held a note of mirth to it. “And how exactly did you manage that? I would have thought that there were hedges and fences around the perimeter.”
“Oh, there are, but it’s not impossible to climb over them.”
At this he turned to give her a head-to-toe perusal, as if to verify that she was indeed dressed in a ball gown. Eventually he burst out laughing. “Heaven above, but you’re something, Nuit. I almost hope that Brekenbridge proposes just so I can enjoy watching him try to manage you. What on earth are you thinking going after someone like him? It will never work.”
“Oh, and I suppose you’re about to tell me that I should marry you instead?” she asked, knowing full well that the most she was likely to receive from him was a tryst out here in the garden, rake that he was.
“And why not?” he asked, surprising her beyond all possible measure. “I’m beginning to think you’d make an excellent wife and with that in mind, I do believe I’ll try my luck before Brekenbridge gets the chance. Will you marry me, Lady Nuit?”
“You can’t be serious, Mr. Neville. Men like you don’t marry.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Because you enjoy your carefree existence too much—the gambling and outrageous parties, which I hear you are quite an expert at hosting—and because you hold your mistress in such high esteem that you offered her a pair of earrings which, rumor has it, were meant for your future wife. No woman in her right mind would attach herself to someone so careless and indiscreet. Besides, from what little I’ve been told, men like you are notorious for getting themselves into scrapes. For all I know, you’ve depleted your funds and now hope to get your hands on my dowry so you can settle whatever debts you may have.”
“Good God, woman! Must you paint such a dastardly picture of me? It threatens to ruin my image.”
Rebecca smiled. “I rather think it underlines it quite nicely.”
When he laughed, there was a genuine ring to it that made her wonder if perhaps she’d been too harsh in her dismissal of him. She knew he was a rake and not at all the sort of man with whom she should have been strolling alone in the garden, especially not since she suspected that his reasons for seeking her company in the first place had probably been less than honorable. Why else would a man of his caliber speak to a lady dressed as she was in a scarlet gown? He probably thought her a widow, or worse . . . a courtesan with whom he could spend a night of unconditional pleasure.
And yet he’d just offered her marriage. Rebecca shook her head at that conundrum. Surely he had an agenda in which he hoped she’d play a part. Whatever it was, she couldn’t possibly accept. She wasn’t going to delude herself into thinking that marrying any man hastily would lead to love, but she certainly didn’t want to share her husband, whoever he might be, with a horde of other women.
Nevertheless, she could not deny that she enjoyed his company. There was just something about him that made him easy for her to be around. It was as if she could truly be herself when she was with him, something she hadn’t had the chance to be for so long, not even in Laura’s or Lady Trapleigh’s company. It felt wonderful . . . liberating.
Glancing up at him as they passed another torch, she marveled at the way in which the light and shadow played across his face. What a handsome devil he was. Dangerous too, since her heart was once again beating a little bit faster. Intent on returning to their previous conversation, she said, “I believe it’s your turn to tell me something outrageous.”
Her playful nature was captivating. With a smile, Daniel glanced down at her. She was looking right at him, all serious expectancy, but with a gleam in her eyes that betrayed her. She was having just as much fun with this as he was. “Very well.” He paused to consider his options. As far as outrageous exploits went, he could probably outdo the most daring and the most debauched, but there was a limit to what he would share with any lady, no matter who she might be. And then, of course, there was also her opinion of him to consider. He was still furious with his uncle, but unless he wanted to lose his allowance, he had no choice. So far, Lady Nuit appeared to be his best chance, if for no other reason than the fact that she was at least willing to speak to him.
“I did on one occasion pretend to be the fiancé of a certain Miss Brighton,” he said, recalling one of his more successful endeavors.
“Surely you jest.” Lady Nuit’s voice sounded just as doubtful as Miss Brighton’s had when he’d first told her of his plan.
He shook his head. “You see, Miss Brighton and my sister went to finishing school together. They became close friends and have kept in touch ever since. When my sister discovered that Miss Brighton’s parents were eager for her to marry, she invited her to London for the Season, hoping that this would improve her chances of making a good match.”
“That was very good of your sister,” Lady Nuit said.
“I suppose it was,” Daniel agreed, “and being the married woman that she now is, she was able to act as chaperone for Miss Brighton. You see, my sister’s husband is the Earl of Chilton and—”
“Your sister’s a countess?” Lady Nuit asked with unabashed surprise.
“Well yes, she is, and as such, she’s well enough connected to—”
“But you’re Mr. Neville, which means that she was not a titled lady before she married, correct?”