Seduction on a Snowy Night Read online

  Unfortunately, with Kitty lingering in the retiring room, he was now heading for Cass, probably to probe her for any information he’d been unable to pry out of her and Kitty and Aunt Virginia when he’d brought them here in his carriage.

  Once he reached Cass, he barely bowed, as if recognizing her lack of approval. “I see you’ve already lost your pretty companion.”

  “I’m sure she’ll return shortly. You were speaking of Kitty, weren’t you?”

  “Who else?”

  “I have no idea, sir. How many rich women are you courting at present?”

  His icy gaze sharpened. “I’m interested in your cousin for herself.”

  She stared at him. “If you say so.”

  Ignoring her barbed comment, he glanced about the room. “I hope Miss Nickman hasn’t wandered onto the terrace. There are men at this affair who roam the dark, hoping to force a kiss on an unsuspecting maiden.”

  Men like you? Cass nearly said. His possessiveness worried her. It wasn’t as if he and Kitty were betrothed.

  “I hope you’re not describing yourself,” she said. “If you think to gain my cousin by compromising her, that would be foolish.”

  He stiffened. “You misunderstand the situation, madam. I love Miss Nickman.”

  Love? She doubted the man even knew the meaning of the word.

  Not that Kitty couldn’t make men fall in love with her. She was gorgeous, with wheat-blond hair, clear green eyes, and a perfect figure. Indeed, every woman in the room would hate her if she didn’t also have an amiable temperament, a big heart, and a winning way with everyone she met.

  Then there was her petite figure that made her look like a fragile flower in need of a big strong man to guide her, which, unfortunately, she was. Because she was also a naïve heiress to an enormous fortune. That complicated every courtship.

  “If you love her,” Cass told the captain, “you can have no objection to waiting a few months before making an offer.”

  When annoyance flashed in his expression, it reconfirmed her conviction that he merely wanted to get his hands on Kitty’s dowry. But he masked his reaction swiftly enough. “Doesn’t every young lady aim to find a husband with all due haste?”

  “Not before having her London season. Given the size of Kitty’s inheritance, I think—”

  “Forgive me, Miss Isles, but what you think doesn’t matter as long as her mother approves of me. And I happen to know that she does.”

  “I beg to differ.” When her words seemed to surprise him, she added, “I know my aunt very well—she will never agree to a suitor with nothing to commend him but his connections.” Cass hoped that was the case, anyway. “She’s determined to give her daughter a proper season in London, and you must surely be aware that once she does, Kitty will easily snag a wealthy and titled husband.”

  Cass wasn’t about to tell him that Aunt Virginia was actually dazzled by Captain Malet’s rank, his silver tongue, and his dashing uniform. No amount of cautioning her would get her to listen to Cass’s opinion of him.

  It would be one thing if the captain truly did love Kitty, but Cass didn’t believe he did, and she was equally uncertain about Kitty, who’d been secretive about her interest in the man. One moment Kitty was flirting with him, and the next she was disappearing to go Lord knows where.

  Until Kitty said unreservedly that she was in love with the captain, Cass had to keep the two apart as much as possible. Cass refused to see her beloved cousin suffer the same heartache Cass had once endured over a gentleman in Bath.

  She crossed her fingers behind her back. “My aunt will also bow to my opinion in the matter, as will my cousin. They trust me to look after them.”

  The captain leaned close. “Ah, but neither will trust you when I mention your spinsterish jealousy over Miss Nickman’s success in attracting a potential husband.”

  A laugh erupted from her. Spinsterish jealousy? Was “spinsterish” even a word?

  She ought to reveal her age. Or inform him of her own sizable inheritance. But she meant to make sure that any suitor showing an interest in her wanted her only for herself. That was why she was keeping quiet about her dowry for the present and why she’d demanded that her aunt and cousins do the same.

  After all, she had plenty of time to marry, and for now she didn’t care one jot if everyone in society assumed she was the poor relation. Her late parents had married for love, and so would she. She meant to get Kitty settled in a love match before concentrating on her own happiness. There were to be no fortune hunters for her or Kitty.

  “Well, sir,” she said, “it seems we’re at an impasse. So I shall search for my cousin, and you may do whatever you please.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “Into the ladies’ retiring room? I think not.”

  She marched off, annoyed when the man followed her at a discreet distance. Why was Kitty taking so long? She’d never been the sort to primp and preen. And when Cass entered the enormous parlor fitted out with comfortable furniture, a mirror, a washstand, and a screen behind which sat a chamber pot, she could find no trace of her.

  Cass hadn’t seen her in the ballroom either. The captain’s comment about the terrace leapt to mind. Lately, Kitty did have a tendency to wander off.

  So Cass headed out herself, relieved to find that the captain had disappeared. But once through the French doors, Cass realized that the terrace encircled the house, and sets of stone steps led down to the garden itself. Kitty could be anywhere.

  Cass rubbed her arms. She should have brought her shawl. Her aunt had predicted it would snow before the night was out, and Cass began to believe it. The air felt frozen, and it smelled like . . .

  Burning tobacco. The scent of a cheroot hit her from somewhere close by. She whirled to see a man leaning against a pillar, watching her from the shadows.

  There are men at this affair who roam the dark, hoping to force a kiss on an unsuspecting maiden.

  How ridiculous. She would not let Captain Malet’s remarks strike fear in her. “You might announce yourself, sir, before frightening a lady half to death.”

  The stranger chuckled. “Do forgive me, madam. That wasn’t my intent.” He pushed away from the pillar and came into the light from the ballroom. “But I admit to being curious about the lucky fellow you were hoping to meet out here.”

  He lifted an eyebrow rakishly, rattling her generally impenetrable armor. She couldn’t imagine why. Just because he was handsome—with brownish hair, a charmingly crooked smile, and a muscular build—was no reason to let him beneath her defenses. After all, he smoked cheroots, which only proved he wasn’t her sort.

  Then he dropped his cheroot and stubbed it out with his booted foot, bringing her attention to his attire. He was decidedly not dressed for a ball. He wore a many-caped greatcoat over what appeared to be trousers rather than breeches. If she had to guess, she’d say he was dressed for travel. He still had his hat on, for goodness’ sake.

  Alarm bells rang in her head, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m looking for a lady, actually. She’s blond and fair, shorter than I, and is wearing a coquelicot gown with primrose accents. Have you seen her?”

  “A coque-what? You might as well tell me the gown is made of cheese. But other than you, no one has come through that door since I arrived.”

  That explained his travel clothes, although it did not explain why he was lurking about out here instead of entering through the front door to be announced. She should probably go back inside. “I see. Then you’re of no help to me.”

  When she placed her hand on the door handle, he put his against the door to keep it shut. “Perhaps you could be of help to me. I’m looking for Miss Katherine Nickman.”

  “Kitty? That’s who I’m looking for! Do you know her?”

  A veil descended over his features. “Not by sight. Might you be willing to introduce us?”

  Good Lord. The fortune hunters were coming out of the stonework now. “And who
will introduce you to me?” she asked tartly. “That should come first, don’t you think?”

  His gaze skimmed her form with decided interest. “Since we’re already acquainted by virtue of sharing this stretch of terrace, I was hoping we could dispense with formalities.”

  The droll remark made her smile in spite of herself. “You’re very cavalier about introductions, sir.”

  His eyes gleamed at her. “So are you. If you’ll recall, you spoke to me first.”

  He was flirting with her, of all things. In her role of poor relation, she rarely found herself the object of interest from such a good-looking fellow. “And I begin to think that was a mistake.” She cast a critical glance over his attire. “You are obviously not dressed for the occasion.”

  “Something I’m already regretting.” His rumbling voice sent a jolt to her senses, which was utterly unwise.

  “Were you even invited to the ball?” she pressed him.

  He crossed his impressive arms over his equally impressive chest. “That’s a rude question. Were you?”

  She laughed outright. “I don’t generally push my way into social affairs.”

  “Why not? You fit in beautifully. Much better than I.”

  “We’ve already established that,” she said dryly. “Although it hasn’t stopped you from lurking about out here like a thief.”

  He drew himself up with mock pride. “I’ll have you know, madam, that I’m only a thief where lovely ladies are concerned.” He leaned just close enough to give her a whiff of his bay rum scent. “I do steal the occasional kiss.”

  A thrill shot down her spine before she squelched it. “Then you should go inside. You’ll find plenty of kissing boughs to serve your purpose. Of course, if you were not invited—”

  “Can’t you vouch for me?” he teased.

  She eyed him askance. This mad flirtation had gone on long enough. “Not I. I must find my cousin.”

  His amusement vanished. “Miss Nickman is your cousin?”

  “She is. And what is it to you, sir?”

  He seemed all business now. “I have an important message for her from her brother.”

  Cass started. “Douglas?”

  “Unless she has another brother,” he said sarcastically. “Of course Douglas.”

  Any friend of Douglas’s was a friend of hers and Kitty’s, assuming that this man wasn’t feigning the connection. A few gentlemen eager to marry a fortune had misrepresented themselves to Kitty in the past. “How do you know Douglas?”

  “I’m a colonel in his regiment, the Twenty-Fifth Hussars, here on leave of absence.” He bowed. “Colonel Lord Heywood Wolfe, at your service.”

  The floor melted away beneath her feet. This handsome fellow was Douglas’s boon companion? Who’d joined him in any foolish escapade, whose witty remarks Douglas had often repeated for effect in his letters, keeping her and Kitty vastly entertained?

  If so, then heaven help her. The colonel was even more intriguing in person than on paper. Aside from his droll manner, he towered over her like a hawk over a swallow, though she wasn’t short for a woman. And his eyes assessed her with far too much interest. Good Lord.

  But what if he was lying? After all, Douglas would surely have written to tell them that his friend was on his way to England. This man could claim to be anyone he wanted. She was alone out here with him, and she’d be wise to proceed with caution.

  “Now,” he went on, “will you please do me the honor of telling me your name?”

  Chapter 2

  Heywood had clearly gone about this all wrong. That’s what he got for rushing over from the Nickman estate once he’d heard about Malet accompanying the women to Welbourne Place.

  Not that Heywood could have entered the ball anyway. Aside from the issue of his travel attire, Malet would immediately know why Heywood was there: to prevent the man from marrying Miss Nickman. Heywood had made a promise to Douglas on that score.

  And if, in the process of rescuing Miss Nickman, Heywood ingratiated himself with the young heiress? That wouldn’t be bad either. Douglas had already given his blessing to such a marriage, provided that Miss Nickman found Heywood appealing.

  Unfortunately, all he’d done so far was put Miss Nickman’s cousin on her guard, which he regretted. He would need the cousin in his camp to gain Miss Nickman’s approval of the courtship.

  Besides that, he liked the cousin. A friendly sort, she had a keen sense of humor and wasn’t bad looking either. Although he generally preferred blond women, her light brown hair suited her coloring and she had a peculiar attraction all her own.

  She stared back into the ballroom, a frown forming on her smooth brow. He followed her gaze. The crowd seemed to be thinning out, possibly going off to supper. Any minute now the lady would realize the impropriety of their private encounter. Then she would hasten inside and he would lose his opportunity to speak with Miss Nickman.

  “Madam—” he began.

  “I’ll tell you my name if you answer one question, sir.” She stared him down. “Where were you and Douglas posted before Portugal?”

  Ah. Not just pretty, but smart and cautious. “Hanover. Where we fought a battle at Munkaiser.”

  When relief showed on her face, he let out a breath. “Dare I hope the interrogation is over?”

  “How did you find us?” She smiled thinly. “That’s not part of any ‘interrogation,’ mind you. I’m just curious.”

  “I followed the directions Douglas gave me to his home, and when I found no one there, the servants told me where you’d all gone.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.”

  When she said nothing more, he quipped, “Should I keep calling you ‘madam’ or do you prefer to be addressed as ‘Miss Nickman’s cousin’?”

  She chuckled. “Forgive me. I’m Miss Cassandra Isles.”

  Right. Miss Nickman had mentioned Cass Isles in her delightful letters to Douglas. Those letters had made him long to meet Douglas’s sister.

  “You know,” he said mockingly, “I have only your word for it that you’re Miss Isles. You could be leading me on. So now you must answer a question for me.”

  She uttered an exasperated laugh. “Of course. Ask me whatever you like. I have no secrets. Indeed, I’m probably the dullest female you’ll ever meet.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.” He sifted through the little he remembered about her. “Since Christmas is nearly here, tell me, what’s your favorite Christmas dessert?”

  “That’s easy. Syllabub.”

  Not the answer he was expecting. “Syllabub is a drink, not a dessert.”

  She tipped up her chin. “Anything with cream and sugar in it is a dessert.”

  “Even coffee?”

  “Well, not coffee. Unless the coffee is in ice cream.”

  He couldn’t resist teasing her again. “You have a complicated definition of dessert.”

  “At least I don’t call mincemeat pie a dessert.” She made a face. “Beef suet, ugh.”

  “But Christmas isn’t Christmas without mincemeat pie.”

  “Then you’re out of luck by coming to our neck of the woods at Christmastide. Everyone around here serves only plum pudding. Which you hate.”

  He burst into laughter. “And you love. Only two people in England, other than my family, know I hate plum pudding—Miss Nickman and you.” He thrust out his hand. “You’ve met my challenge admirably. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Isles.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure,” she said, sounding breathless as she took his proffered hand.

  The contact caught him off guard, making him wish she wasn’t wearing gloves. That he wasn’t either.

  God, what was wrong with him? He was a practical man. Fetching as this chit might be, he couldn’t allow her to distract him from his purpose. He reluctantly released her hand. “You are not at all how I pictured you. The few times Miss Nickman wrote about her ‘older’ cousin, I imagined someone . . .”

  “Spinsterish?” she asked with a decid
ed edge to her voice.

  “That isn’t a word.”

  “Exactly! It’s not a word in the least. I’m so pleased that you agree.”

  “Good,” he said, her reaction bewildering him. If he’d learned anything from his own sister, it was that women did not like to be considered “spinsterish.” “I didn’t realize your cousin was describing a woman of your age. Which is . . .”

  “I’m twenty-two, sir, and not on the shelf yet.”

  Younger than he’d thought, given her poise. “You’re just old enough to know your own mind and clever enough to question the claims of shabbily dressed strangers who accost you on terraces.”

  That made her laugh, thank God. “You were privy to those letters?”

  “Of course. Douglas is my friend as well as compatriot. We often read our correspondence from home to each other. Surely you and Miss Nickman did the same. If I remember correctly, you live in the same household.”

  “Yes, and we’re as close as sisters.”

  “Well, Douglas and I are as close as brothers. Kitty’s letters and those of my own family were all that kept us sane during the long weeks between battles.”

  With a secretive smile, she stared back into the emptying ballroom. “You enjoyed Kitty’s letters, did you?”

  “Indeed we did. Sometimes laughter is difficult to come by in an armed camp.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, Colonel,” she said in a melodious voice.

  God help him. That voice would charm thieves.

  Remember why you’re here.

  Right. He should press her again on the subject of her cousin. “Now that we’ve dispensed with the formalities, would you be so kind as to introduce me to Douglas’s sister so that I may pass on her brother’s message in person?”

  She blinked, as if startled out of some reverie. “Of course. If you’ll just follow me inside, we’ll go look for her.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Why?”

  Because he didn’t want to encounter Malet before he could warn Miss Nickman of the man’s true intentions.

  Not that he could tell Miss Isles that. He wasn’t sure where her loyalties lay. “I’m in mourning.” For emphasis, he tugged on his black armband. “Joining the ball would be grossly inappropriate.”