Part 9 (1/2)
Jack glanced back. It wasn't just raining; it was a torrent streaming down in sheets.
”When did it begin raining?” the footman asked in a blank voice. He caught himself and flushed. ”I'm sorry, sir! It wasn't raining a moment ago, and-” He broke off, his mouth agape.
Jack followed the man's gaze. His carriage was moving down the drive, and as the horses trotted away, the rain near the house slackened. The storm came from a single thick, black cloud that hung directly over the carriage.
The footman blinked. ”I've never seen such a thing!”
Jack looked up at the now-clear sky. The moon gleamed peacefully, stars twinkled all around. Jack gritted his teeth and shoved his coat into the footman's arms. ”Summer storms are d.a.m.ned unpredictable.” He walked past the man and into the gaming h.e.l.l.
The next time he saw Fiona, he'd- He frowned. What could he do? She couldn't control the rain-not completely, anyway. He would have to discover exactly how this family curse of hers worked. And if shecould control it in any way, he'd have something to say about it.
Another footman greeted Jack in the foyer, politely asking if he'd like his usual bourbon and if he'd had his dinner. That was more to Jack's liking, and he replied pleasantly to the man, even as he realized with a faint sense of unease that while he'd been to this house often enough that the staff knew him on sight, he didn't know any of their names. Fiona would have chided him for that.
He scowled. Fiona's expectations were completely unrealistic. Worse, they were getting in the way of his amus.e.m.e.nts. Ignorance was a good part of comfort. His life had been much happier when he hadn't been thinking about Fiona and what she did or didn't feel.
The sounds of card play and laughter emanated from the main salon, despite the lateness of the hour. Jack headed inside, where he was greeted by the rea.s.suring clink of gla.s.ses and the sweet smell of cigar smoke.
He paused, taking a deep breath, catching the eye of a delicate-looking blond beauty on the other side of the room. She immediately made her way to his side.
Twelve years ago, Lucinda Featherington had been the surprise debutante of the season, her fragile blond loveliness winning over her rather plebeian bloodlines and creating an instant fas.h.i.+on in the ton after years of reign by a bevy of dark-haired beauties.
At the tender age of eighteen, Lucinda had caught the eye and eventually the heart of Paul Featherington, one of the wealthiest men in England. After four years of being restricted by the boundaries of marriage, she was delighted when Lord Featherington's political ambitions were realized, and he was appointed amba.s.sador to a remote province in India. Lucinda had cried off going with him, saying the heat would be disastrous for her health. She'd very prettily promised to behave herself and had even brought an old, rather deaf, and somewhat blind cousin into her house as chaperone. Rea.s.sured that his wife would be living within the lines of propriety, Lord Featherington left for foreign climes, returning every so often to visit.
Lucinda had always been attracted to men of great wealth, which was why Jack had been rather flattered by her attentions. Wealth he might have, but he also possessed other qualities that made him stand out in her crowd of admirers. Qualities he'd used to good advantage with Fiona that very evening. Jack smiled a bit. His skills had left his bride panting and flushed with pleasure.
The thought instantly stirred him. Never before had he felt such a blaze of pure pa.s.sion. With all of his experience, he had never experienced such mindless- Jack forced himself back to the present. He was there to regain his balance, not to obsess over the very satisfactory flames between himself and Fiona.
”Ah, Jack! There you are.” Lucinda almost purred as she came forward, a flutter of pale blue silk and white lace, the cloying scent of rose lifting from her white skin.
She smiled up at him and slipped her arms through one of his, pressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against him. ”I didn't expect to see you so soon.”
”My dear Lucinda, I was in your bed but four days ago. Surely you remember. The night your husband returned home and you bade me leave through the window?”
Her smile dimmed a moment, her eyes searching his face to see how displeased he might be. Seeing nothing in his expression to help her, she managed a false laugh and said, ”Poor Featherington! He was here only one day before he was called to Dover for a meeting with Lord Burleson.” She gave him an arch smile. ”Had I known he would be gone so quickly, I would have asked you to stay at the inn in the village, so you could return immediately.”
Jack looked down at Lucinda's generous b.r.e.a.s.t.s and waited for a flicker of attraction, an answering heat of some sort. But nothing happened.
Had this been Fiona standing beside him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s barely covered by thin silk and pressed against his arm, he'd have picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and taken her back to the carriage so he could slake the growing pa.s.sion. He shook his head, trying to stop his errant thoughts.
”Jack?” Lucinda's voice sounded uncertain. ”What is it? You...you are looking at me in the oddest way.”
He frowned. ”I'm sorry. I was thinking of something else.”
Her expression tightened, an unpleasant glitter rising in her eyes. ”What are you thinking about? Or should I ask whom?”
The proprietary note in her voice gave him pause. He eyed her a moment, then removed her hand from his arm. ”My thoughts are my own. I will share them with whomever I wish.”
For a moment, her eyes flashed, and he thought she would retaliate. But something in his expression caused her to swallow a retort. She gave a brittle laugh. ”I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you owed me anything.”
He bowed, saying nothing.
She flushed a little at the silent rebuke, fixing her large blue eyes on his face, a faint pleading note in her soft voice. ”Jack, I was merely funning. It's the heat and the lateness of the hour.” She managed a charming smile, peeping up at him through her lashes. ”I am famished, you know, and breakfast is not for two more hours.”
He smiled a little. ”You are spoiled.”
”Perhaps.” She pressed against him once more, her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s rubbing the sleeve of his coat. ”Most menwant me to notice when they are not present.”
”I am not most men.” Fiona would be the first one to point that out, though not in a complimentary way.
Lucinda ran a hand along Jack's arm, then glanced up at him through her lashes. ”Perhaps we should leave. Featherington won't be home for a few more days. We could take your carriage and-”
”No. We cannot take my carriage.”
Lucinda blinked at his vehemence.
Jack's jaw tightened. ”It's not working correctly. It-it has developed a leak.”
”But...it's not raining.”
”It was storming when I came in.”
”How odd. I arrived only an hour ago, and it was beautiful.”
Yes, but that was before he'd made Fiona angry. Suddenly, Jack felt an overwhelming need to remove himself from Lucinda's cloying presence. He'd been wrong to come here. There would be no other women for him, not until he'd resolved his issues with Fiona. Besides, Lucinda's charms had palled.
”Jack, is something wrong?”
”No. I am just not in the mood for conversation right now.” Once again, he extricated himself from her grasp. ”I believe I'll find an open table and play some cards.”
Her cheeks flushed unbecomingly, her mouth thinning. ”Have a care what you are about, Jack. I shall feel ignored, and I do not like that.” Her voice quivered with outrage.
Jack had never seen this side of her, and, frankly, he didn't like it. ”My dear, our relations.h.i.+p is far from exclusive. In fact, I believe you are also visiting Sir Melkinridge?” Jack looked pointedly at the diamond necklace that hung at Lucinda's white throat.
The color in her cheeks did not fade. She managed a shrug. ”Only now and then. You know that.”
”You may have him with my blessing. Just do not pretend that you and I have more of an arrangement than we do. We have been mutually satisfying friends but no more.”
Lucinda almost gasped at the coolness of Jack's tone. She'd come there tonight without the expectation of seeing him; he was unpredictable and it was impossible to say when and where he might show up. It was one of the many things she found fascinating about him. One of the reasons she was beginning to think she might be in love.
She had everything a woman could want: her own wealth, the admiration of a mult.i.tude of men, a fond but absent husband, several lovely homes. And yet something had been missing. Until she met Jack Kincaid, she hadn't known what that was.