Part 14 (1/2)
Hamish crossed his arms and grinned, his teeth white against his beard. ”Where ye go isall my business.”
”Did your mistress request that?”
”No. Master Gregor seems to think ye might do the mistress wrong.”
Anger tightened Jack's jaw, and he pulled on his gloves. ”I am going out. That is all you need to know.”
Hamish lumbered to his feet. ”Then go. I'll just meander after ye a bit.”
He would inform Fiona's brothers, d.a.m.n it. Then they would arrive and ruin his evening.
Jack scowled. ”The MacLeans can be d.a.m.ned. All of them.” Jack put on his hat and left.
Lucinda Featherington paused before the large gilt mirror in the duke of Devons.h.i.+re's front hall. Though a huge vase of flowers blocked her view, she could see enough to know that she looked perfect. Her honey-blond hair framed her face and her full lips. Her eyes were darkened with a hint of kohl-not enough for anyone to notice in a lamp-lit ballroom but enough to give her an advantage over the women who did not bother with artifice.
Fools, the lot of them. In this world, artifice was the least of sins one had to commit to win what one desired.
Lucinda knew she was beautiful, well off, and in demand as a guest and a lover. Yet as much as she had, she found herself in the unfamiliar position of wanting something that was out of reach.
Her lips tightened. Until recently, she'd been able to boast that no man had yet withstood her. And she'd had more than her fair share, more than any knew.
Men were fools. They all wanted to believe they were different, special, but so few of them really were. ”I love you” was too easy to say.
Only once had Lucinda believed the words she'd spoken. Only once had she felt the stirrings of something other than conquest.
It was maddening.
Over the months, her interest twisted and grew until she found herself lying awake at nights, unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking of him.
Then, without a single sign of remorse, he'd cut her from his life. Rejected her. And in front of Alan Campbell, too. That stupid Scotsman had made certain everyone in town knew it. Four different people had made sly remarks about it today alone. She, the beautiful Lucinda Featherington, was the laughingstock of London.
Her chest burned with the thought, her eyes gleaming in the reflection in the mirror.
She loosened a tendril over one brow, struggling to conceal how her hand shook with fury. She would never give up. Never. She'd seen Jack's wife-a plump little mouse if there ever was one. He couldn't be in love with such a plain dab of a female. No, it had to be something else. There had to be some reason he'd never mentioned this woman before, then had suddenly married her.
Lucinda was determined to discover the secret, whatever it was. And once she knew it, she'd- ”Beautiful.”
The deep voice held a hint of a brogue. Lucinda's breath quickened, but it wasn't Jack. It was that d.a.m.ned Alan Campbell. His dark hair fell over his brow, and an intricate cravat was tied at his throat. It was really a pity she didn't have feelings for Campbell. His dark, das.h.i.+ng looks were a perfect foil for her own blond loveliness. Unfortunately, he didn't present a challenge-unlike Jack Kincaid.
”Campbell. I didn't know you would be here.”
He smiled, and she had to admit he was indeed fairly handsome. Pity he had no wealth. He might have
been an acceptable flirt otherwise.
He leaned a hip against the narrow marble table, standing uncomfortably close. ”Surprised to see me?”
She shrugged. ”A little.”
His smile grew unpleasant. ”You didn't think I merited an invitation to such an august gathering.”
She smoothed her gown, pleased to see his gaze follow the rise of her creamy b.r.e.a.s.t.s over the top of
her decolletage. ”The duke of Devons.h.i.+re is plain in his likes and dislikes. You are one of his dislikes.”
”Devons.h.i.+re is upset over a land proposition gone sour. He accused me of making a profit off his loss.”
”Did you?”
”Not that he can prove in court.”
”Then I am doubly surprised to see you on his guest list. Or are you?”
He laughed, though his gaze flared with an odd mixture of anger and l.u.s.t. ”I am, indeed. The charming
d.u.c.h.ess and I played cards last week at the May-fields'. She was moved to invite me.”
”Ah, she lost, and you forced her into it. They say her gaming debts are extraordinary.”
”Yes, I hear the duke is going to have to do something to avoid embarra.s.sment.”
”How perfectly dreadful,” Lucinda drawled. She regarded Campbell from under her lashes. Though his
manners were impeccable, there was something about him that bothered her.
Yet she couldn't help but picture the two of them reflected in the mirrors she had around her bed. His
darker skin would augment the remarkable whiteness of her own, her blond hair and his black hair perfect foils. They made a beautiful couple. A pity they also would make a poor couple.
Lucinda had lived with enough poverty. She wanted money. A life of leisure and wealth. Campbell was
good for a momentary distraction; that was all.
Campbell stepped forward, his gaze dropping to her lips, so close his chest almost touched hers. ”You
should not look at a man like that. It encourages them to think you mean something...dangerous.” Hislips twisted, a cold gleam to his eyes. ”But then, you know that.” She lifted her chin. ”I don't know what you are talking about.” ”Don't you?” He captured her loosened tendril and threaded it through his fingers. The faintest scent of cologne engulfed her. ”We are creatures who crave comforts. Who luxuriate in our own sensuality.” He