Chapter Four

S terling hung back as the other houseguests and the Strongs left the drawing room.

Who did the chit think she was?

He still did not understand why he had been invited to the house party the Seatons hosted, having never met the duke or duchess, much less if he were going to be able to survive the entire ten days. He would not capitulate, however. Miss Allegra Strong had all but ordered him to leave. Just because this party was being given partially in her honor did not mean she could uninvite an earl.

If anything, Sterling could be stubborn. He would dig in his heels and show her he was having the time of his life. Without her. Four other unwed ladies were present at this party. While he understood he could not become overly involved with any of them—much less bed one of them—he could still be his most charming self. Perhaps even steal a kiss or two from all of them, including Miss Lyric Strong. Wouldn't that stick in her sister's craw?

The room now empty, he paced it, not ready for bed at such an ungodly hour. That was one of the things he did not enjoy about the country. Not only was it boring most of the time, but people stuck to what they termed country hours. Why, the clock had barely chimed ten times before people were saying they had to go to bed because of the busy day tomorrow and how tired they were from today's travels. To Sterling, ten o'clock in the evening was about the time he dressed to go out. He was a night owl, used to being up all night, every night.

Dread filled him as he thought about how he might get through these next ten days and maintain his sanity.

At least he knew a little about Lady Lida and Miss Markle. They were both lively, vivacious women and pleasant to be around. He wouldn't mind passing a bit of time in their company. On the other hand, Miss Bancroft was as plain as they came. Though she had played the pianoforte well enough tonight, her looks alone—or lack of them—put him off.

As for the gentlemen present, he no longer seemed to have anything in common with his old friend Blankenship. The death of the viscount's uncle had affected him greatly, and Blankenship was buckling down and taking his responsibilities seriously.

"That is what stewards and solicitors are for," he said aloud to the empty room.

What good was it to be a wealthy, titled gentleman if he couldn't enjoy himself fully? It wasn't as if he neglected his country estate or its tenants. He had hired a capable steward. He also had a solicitor in town who handled any pressing matters which might arise, as well as paid his bills. Carrollwood had plenty of servants to see to its care and upkeep.

Looking about the drawing room, he saw nothing to drink and decided to make his way to the library, hoping he would find a sideboard of either brandy or whisky. He wasn't sleepy in the least, so he might as well read. Or compose some verse.

When troubled or bored, Sterling turned to his writing. He wasn't quite sure why he had hid his intelligence from others, much less his talent for writing. It was one thing he held in common with Blankenship, though. His old friend was smarter than he let on. He supposed Blankenship had his own demons which he chose to keep secret.

Over the years, Sterling had penned two plays and countless poems. He wrote with no plans of ever sharing them with anyone, but writing had soothed him many a time when he was out of sorts. Deciding he would be continually out of sorts during his time at Shadowcrest, he would ask to be provided with paper and ink tomorrow. If they thought him writing letters to his mistress, so much the better.

Retreating to the library now, Sterling took a candelabra from the drawing room to light his way. As he suspected, the library, which a footman had pointed out to him earlier, was dark. He perused the large room, finding what he was looking for, and poured himself a large amount of brandy in a snifter. Taking it to the far end of the room, he sat in a chair and blew out the candles, preferring to sit in the dark and brood, drink in hand.

The brandy blazed a trail of warmth from his mouth to his belly as he reflected on the day since his arrival in Kent. At least the food had been quite good, both at tea and dinner. He would simply need to put himself in a set frame of mind, telling himself he could endure anything, even a dull house party. When he received invitations to ones in the future, however, he would remind himself of this one. Duke or no duke, he would turn down invitations to any event held in the country.

As he sipped the brandy, lost in thought, he was surprised to hear the door open. It was a woman who entered, holding a single candle high, her incandescent beauty shining even from afar.

"Bloody hell," Sterling cursed softly to himself.

Allegra Strong wore a dressing gown, and he assumed her night rail was beneath it. The thought of her wearing something filmy that he could see through caused his cock to stir. Her curves were in all the right places, and his hands longed to roam her luscious body. He wanted to be angry at her, but he admitted to himself that he actually liked the feistiness she had shown in dressing him down. No woman had ever turned away the Earl of Carroll, much less stood up to him, until Miss Allegra Strong had tonight.

A deep need filled him, and he knew he had to have the taste of her, despite her sharp tongue and stinging words. He would not force her to kiss him. Somehow, he would cajole her into it. It seemed important to him all of a sudden that he hadn't lost his touch where a woman was concerned. He would charm her. Kiss her. Then be done with her.

Or so he told himself.

Draining the remainder of his brandy, he quietly set down the snifter and rose, moving toward her silently. She had set her candle down and was pulling a book from the shelves. He did not speak until he stood directly behind her.

"Having trouble sleeping, Miss Allegra?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk, the tone he used when he was ready to seduce a woman.

She startled, dropping the book, peering at him. "You!" she hissed.

He could see enough of her face in the shadows to know she could also see his, and Sterling gave her his most enticing smile, one he knew even this resistant woman could not resist.

"Were you not tired?" he asked. "Greeting and entertaining so many guests?"

Her mouth set stubbornly. "I decided to claim a book and read for a bit. Of course, reading is something you have not done since your schoolboy days. Or did you have another read it for you and share the highlights of it?"

For some reason, he wanted this woman to have a better opinion of him and said, "Actually, I enjoy reading very much. I even write a little myself."

She snorted. "Oh, so you pen love letters to your mistresses?"

"No," he said defensively. "I would not waste my time engaged in such an activity. A mistress is paid for her time. She is not someone who requires a man to court her and woo her with love poems."

She looked taken aback. "Do you speak of such things so openly with others?"

"Whether or not I keep a mistress is my business alone, so no, I usually do not mention things of that nature to men or women."

Her eyes narrowed. "And yet you blithely talk about your mistress with me."

"I did not say I had a mistress, Miss Allegra. You are the one who assumed I did. Frankly, a mistress can be more trouble than she's worth. Expensive, too."

Curiosity filled her face, and she said, "This conversation is already inappropriate enough, but I would not mind hearing why you believe a mistress might not be a good investment."

He chuckled, knowing she must be extremely na?ve when it came to this topic. Despite her finding him to be disagreeable, she still wanted information about a topic forbidden to young ladies such as herself.

"First of all, the women who wish to become a gentleman's mistress are of a higher class than other women who give their favors more freely. While a mistress is a certainty, to maintain her loyalty, you must compensate her adequately. That means setting her up in her own house, usually in St. John's Wood. She will need a staff to wait on her and someone to cook for her and the servants. So, renting or buying her a house and providing her with that staff turns out to be quite a financial drain."

"I had no idea," she said breathlessly, and he noted the pulse in her throat jumped.

"Oh, yes," he continued. "And then she will expect gifts from you. Expensive gifts."

"Such as?"

"Jewelry is a favorite. A diamond necklace. Emerald earrings. A sapphire bracelet. Most mistresses anticipate these gifts."

Understanding filled her face. "Because those are items which might be easily sold when the affair comes to its conclusion."

She was clever, he would give her that. "Exactly. Not every man wishes to keep the same mistress for a great length of time. A year. Two, at most. Items such as jewelry can be easily pawned. While I have heard of the odd man here and there allowing his mistress to keep her house as a parting gift, many remove her from the residence—and replace her just as quickly."

She wet her lips, and desire flared within him. Sterling focused on them as he said, "And then there are other gifts you can bring to her. Most men also set up their mistress with an allowance, along with paying her bills at the dressmaker or greengrocer. So you see, Miss Allegra, having a mistress can be quite draining on a man's coffers, along with his time."

"I suppose you are the type who would tire easily of a woman and wish to move on to the next," she said astutely.

He nodded. "It is the very reason I have never had a mistress," he revealed. "Yes, I do bore easily. Besides, there are always women within the ton willing to have a short affair with a handsome young buck such as myself."

Her eyes hardened. "An affair is wrong," she said. "Men and women take vows during the wedding ceremony. They should be faithful to one another."

He clucked his tongue, marveling at her innocence. "And yet so many in Polite Society stray from those vows. Your head is filled with stars, Miss Allegra. Marriages are business arrangements between families. They are done for financial and social purposes. It is the rare couple which makes a love match. For the most part, a man and woman abide by their marriage settlements. Heirs are provided, pin money is provided, and life goes on, usually separately from one another."

She shook her head. "You are so callused. So unfeeling, my lord. I could never live that way. I have seen what marriage is like when it is a business arrangement. My aunt was forced into such a marriage as that, with the Duke of Seaton, when she was quite young. They led the so-called separate lives you refer to. They barely spoke to one another, especially after she disappointingly produced four daughters and no heirs. Aunt Dinah has told us how miserable she was in her marriage and that we will never be made to wed someone strictly as business."

"Ah, you are one of those rare creatures who believe in love."

"Of course, I do," she said sincerely, her face open. "My own cousin made a love match with Sophie, and they are two of the happiest people I have ever seen."

Grudgingly, he had to agree with her. Sterling had observed his hosts throughout the evening, seeing the fond looks the Duke and Duchess of Seaton had exchanged, even a heated one when it was suggested that all retire early.

"Their Graces are fortunate they made such a match," he told her.

Her eyes, a distinct cornflower blue, drew him in now, as she said, "But it wasn't merely James and Sophie. I have grown up in this household, my lord, and the daughters are as sisters to Lyric and me. I have already spoken to you about my other cousins and the marriages they have made. Pippa wed Seth, and love shines in both their eyes when they see or speak of one another. The same is true for Georgie and August. You merely say her husband's name, and Georgie lights up."

"Of all the recent marriages, the one my aunt Dinah made perhaps is the greatest love of all. Captain Andrews is a remarkable man. He will come to Shadowcrest in a few days. You will see when they reunite just how much love there is between them. So do not tell me that love does not exist. Perhaps in your jaded world, it never will, but the Strongs know love abounds. That love is worth every risk."

He shook his head. "You are so very na?ve, Miss Allegra, spouting about love. Why, I will wager you have never even been kissed."

A hot blush stained her cheeks, letting him know he was right.

"Not that it is any of your business, Lord Carroll, but I have yet to be kissed. I do plan to try it at this house party, however. I understand enough to know that love is a feeling. An ephemeral emotion which grows deeper over time. I also realize, however, that there must be some attraction between a man and woman for the seed of love to be planted."

She studied him intently, and he could have sworn it made him blush.

" You will not be anyone I will be kissing, however, my lord. I have no interest in being one of your conquests, seduced by your actions and words. I have made no secret as we have spoken that I am looking for love—and marriage. We both know those things are an anathema to you."

Oh, she was a bold beauty.

"While I would not think to offer you love or marriage, Miss Allegra, what I can do is tutor you a bit in the art of kissing," he offered.

He almost laughed aloud at the shocked expression which crossed her face and quickly said, "You know, people can kiss without being in love. If I bestow a kiss upon you, it will give you an idea what to do when you do kiss some gentleman at this house party," he reasoned. "You are a novice. I am an expert. I am happy to share my expertise with you."

Without giving her time to think—or even protest—Sterling framed her face with his long fingers and bent, their lips grazing one another's.

What surprised him, however, was the instant spark that flared between them. He had not been prepared to experience that.

Because he never had before. Not with a single woman.

Knowing she was inexperienced, he did not rush the kiss. Taking his time, he brushed his own lips softly against hers and then broke the kiss, immediately fusing their mouths together again. He kissed her for several minutes that way, the kisses become a little harder and more demanding. His hands left her face, sliding down her arms until he clasped her elbows. For her part, Allegra Strong grabbed on to his coat's lapels, holding on for dear life.

He decided to up the stakes, outlining her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She stiffened a bit as he coaxed her mouth open and slipped his own tongue inside, but then she relaxed as his tongue stroked hers in a gentle caress.

Sterling leisurely explored her mouth, and she responded to his kiss. The problem was, he liked what they did together too much. He had never been affected by a kiss in such a way.

It frightened the hell out of him.

Breaking the kiss, he tried to pull away, but she was having none of it. She jerked him back down to her, their mouths colliding. Greedily, he drank from her nectar again, losing himself.

Then he realized he must stop. Now. Not only because anyone might walk into the library and see she wore her nightclothes, but because he was in danger of jumping off a cliff he had never even come close to approaching before. Sterling had never gone looking for love because he did not believe it existed.

But he was sorely afraid love might have found him. In the form of Miss Allegra Strong.

This time when he broke the kiss, he clasped her elbows tightly and pushed her away from him, keeping her at arm's length.

His tone light, he said, "That is how you kiss, Miss Allegra."

For a moment, he drank her in. The dazed expression on her face. The darkening of her irises. The feel of her.

Then Sterling released her and exited the library without a goodbye. He had played with fire, wanting to teach the little chit a lesson.

Instead, he was the one who had been burned.