Chapter 6

Chapter Six

W ith his hands gently held behind his back, Robert slowly scrutinized the heavily laden supper table. His critical mind offered up its sharp opinion of the display.

The usual sort of cakes were on show.

Too sweet, and I expect several days old .

Bread puddings.

Popular but unimaginative.

Roasts.

Yes, but why do they all look so dry and overcooked? How hard can it be to cook a bloody roast?

Thinly sliced cucumber sandwiches.

I see we gave up caring at that point.

Reaching the end of the table, he stopped and looked back. When it came to this evening's catering, the hostess had clearly chosen the safest, dullest route possible. Nothing appealed to Robert's well-developed palate. The only remedy for this bland selection would be a spiced fish pie from the bakery near the Old Bailey. He'd stop by there after he had left tonight's event.

Robert Tolley wasn't normally one for attending these sorts of social evenings, but he'd heard on the grapevine that his potential new business client might be here tonight. The lure of a profitable contract was all he needed to put on his best evening suit and hail a hack. From what he'd been able to ascertain, the gentleman in question was yet to arrive.

He'd passed by the open door of the supper room a little while earlier and Robert's interest in what lay inside had been roused. But after making his way around the room, his arousal had died within minutes.

He sighed under his breath. "Speaking of arousal, I really need to get a warm woman under me and soon. Food can't be the only thing which stirs my blood."

Not that he could recall the last time he'd held a woman in his arms. Certainly not this calendar year, and possibly not even last year. The Duke of Saffron Walden was in the middle of a long self-imposed sexual drought. He was far too busy stalking the darkened roads on the outskirts of London and stealing spice to find the time to indulge in the other sort of riding.

His mother, god rest her soul, would be stirring in her grave. He was one and thirty, unwed, and with not an heir in sight. Before he got too much longer in the tooth, he was going to have to do something about securing the future of the Tolley family bloodline.

Disillusioned with the food, Robert took a step back from the table. The quicker he could make a discreet exit from the supper room, the better.

A young woman now appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the food. Then at him. Then let out what he took to be a loud sigh of disappointment.

Well good evening to you too.

She stood staring at him for a long moment before finally setting her half-finished glass of champagne on the end of the table. She picked up a small plate and glanced at the platters of food once more.

Another sigh quickly followed. Robert got the distinct impression that this particular young woman would rather be anywhere else other than in the supper room of this particular London party. Her odd behavior had him immediately intrigued. He halted his progress, and moving away from the table, began to observe her every move.

She was wearing a gold colored gown which hugged her hips and waist with understated skill. Whomever she employed as her modiste certainly knew their way with fabric. Robert's gaze lingered over the young woman's generous bustline. The gown had been cleverly constructed, but it barely contained her plump breasts. He licked his lips and indulged his imagination.

I wonder what color her nipples are—blushed cherry or coffee brown.

Whatever their shade, he imagined they would taste utterly divine in his mouth. His breathing grew more shallow.

He knew his own body, how it reacted to this woman. It took all his willpower to shift his hungry gaze higher. Her deep brown hair was set in a carefully curated chignon. The look was softened by the light ringlets which framed the pale skin of her face.

She reminded him of butter cake with chocolate icing. Delicious . Something to nibble on, then slowly lick the cream off his fingers. One by one.

He was spellbound.

It was rare for a female to capture his notice in such a way. He was a red-blooded male who appreciated women and their generous gifts. But even as he silently ogled the young woman, he sensed she wasn't an experienced matron. No man had ever touched her. No man had ever lain with her. She was as pure as the driven snow.

She tempted his every wicked desire. But she was an innocent, and only a man with marriage in mind would go anywhere near such a woman.

Your lust is ruling your head. Get a hold of yourself.

His enduring state of bachelorhood was one of the reasons why he avoided these kinds of social gatherings. In the main ballroom, there would be far too many mothers all with doe-eyed daughters who saw him as a means to secure their family fortunes. He also hated the obligatory small talk that meeting these people involved. But most of all, he loathed terrible supper offerings.

Robert stood transfixed, watching as the young woman slowly made her way along the long supper table, stopping every so often to examine a dish, then move on. She picked up the occasional plate or bowl, bent and inhaled its aroma before returning it to its rightful place. But by the time she'd reached the center display, her plate was still empty.

Fussy little creature. Then again, I haven't touched any of the food either.

Nothing appealed to him. Nothing except her. Robert swallowed deep, fighting down his rapidly rising lust.

She lifted her head and met his gaze once more. The withering look she gave him was both haughty and disapproving. It went straight to his cock.

"You do know that it's rude to stare," she snapped.

He'd give anything for her to punish him for his lustful thoughts. He'd gladly take five hard strokes of a switch on his bare backside if she felt the need to take him firmly in hand.

For heaven's sake, get a grip on yourself.

Robert broke out of his sensual dream. "My apologies," he said, as his heated blood still coursed through his body. "I." He stopped and swallowed. "I was just interested to see if you were going to select any of the food. It all looks so delicious, I can understand why you might be spoilt for choice."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Is it? I mean delicious. To be honest, it seems to be the same tasteless offerings that one finds at every other party in London." She set down her plate and muttered, "Why is it so hard to find good food in London? No one appears the least bit interested in satisfying my needs."

Given half a chance, he would love to satisfy her… everything.

Food. She was talking about food. Robert bit down hard on his bottom lip, anything to force his thoughts from where they currently lurked behind the falls of his trousers.

"Now who's being rude," he playfully chided her.

Yes, that was a much better idea—take the chit to task over her opinion of the supper dishes. Even if her thoughts mirrored his own.

For a moment, he was tempted to reveal his secret. To tell this stuck-up, but rather delicious-looking creature that he was in fact the restaurant reviewer for one of London's foremost newspapers and could furnish her with a long list of places that would indeed offer wonderful food which left her satisfied.

Please let me satisfy you.

She glared at him, almost as if she could read his lecherous mind.

Then again, maybe I should say nothing. This busty wench looks ready to take a bite out of me.

Whoever he was, he could go to the devil. Victoria took in the gentleman and his well-cut attire. He might well be a condescending prig, but she had to admit, he was rather gorgeous.

A step beyond plain old handsome. His slightly ruffled chocolate brown hair, with its silver flecks, had her licking her lips. And when she met his bluish gray eyes, her pulse skipped a beat.

The touch of crow's-feet around those alluring eyes hinted of him being a few years older than her. From the way he spoke, he more than likely viewed her as just another young miss. One whose manners were in need of correction.

"Alright. You tell me what food is good to eat on this table, and then we will see who is being impolite." She waved a hand over the supper plates in open challenge.

A sly grin formed on his mouth. Victoria's gaze settled on his lips. They were a pale red and reminded her of strawberries a few days before they reached their peak ripeness. When they were perfect for sinking ones teeth into and enjoying every sweet bite.

Victoria caught herself and stifled the grin which threatened. She was always comparing things to food. Color. Scent. Taste. How it felt in her mouth.

I wonder what his lips would taste like.

There was something intriguing about men who were a few years older than herself. They had an air of confidence in their manner, something which she'd always found sadly lacking in the younger regency bucks.

He took a step forward and the sudden movement startled her. She took a half step back and banged her hip into the side of the table. "Ow," she gasped.

The handsome brute was at her side in a moment. "Are you alright?"

Victoria blushed, heat burning her cheeks. "I am fine thank you, just a little bump."

A deep wicked chuckle escaped him. "Actually I was asking the dishes. You gave them a quite a solid rattle when you hit the table."

Their gazes locked. As she was drawn into those silvery blue eyes of his, an unbidden thought of lying on the grass under a summer sky eating blueberries popped into her mind.

I must really be starving.

"You sir are no gentleman." She'd meant it as a rebuke, but it came out as a sultry tease. He moved closer and the air between them grew heavy with promise. Victoria's mouth went dry. Her pulse quickened.

"I guess not, but then again, manners are often sorely overrated," he replied in a voice which sent heat racing to her core. Everything about this man was wrong. But his very essence whispered that she'd love to find out just how many ways he could be wrong. How delightful she would find him as he meticulously and thoroughly corrupted her.

Oh…this is dangerous. I shouldn't be flirting with this stranger.

Her first night on the husband hunt, and she was already in well over her head. The Kembal family had had more than its fair share of scandals. She didn't need to be adding to the count.

Instead of toying with this beautiful man, she was meant to be getting some food and going to meet up with her brother. Hopefully Matthew had located the Duke of Saffron Walden, and they could study him from a distance before deciding whether to approach and offer their greetings.

Her family was relying on her to make a good match. To settle with a respectable and titled husband. Playing foolish games with a stranger in the supper room wouldn't further her cause.

It was time to go.

"I shall leave you to the plates, and the hope that your palate isn't offended by the bland food. Good evening, sir."

She bobbed a brief curtesy and fled the room.

Robert stood smiling, watching as the young woman left. He was sorely tempted to hurry after her and get her name. The absence of a wedding ring on her left hand hadn't escaped his notice. She really was an untouched miss. Which meant, she was available.

He'd just decided to do exactly that, and go find her, when his man of business suddenly appeared in the doorway of the supper room. George gave one look at the food and shook his head. "I knew I would find you in here, Your Grace."

"What's going on?" asked Robert.

George glanced back over his shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I have an update on our potential business acquaintance. Apparently, he has connections with the East India Company. His wife is the daughter of one of its directors."

"Damn. I was relying on securing that deal," muttered Robert.

But George as always had come through for him and saved Robert from what might have been a very awkward conversation. It gave him a moment for reflection.

"I know we want to secure new arrangements, but perhaps we might want to rethink our plans," he said. This was the second potential new customer who'd turned out to be linked to their rival. "Let's stick to the existing buyers for the next little while, George. Work on storing the spices, then taking them to Tolley Manor. Something tells me we should stay quiet and safe for a bit."

George nodded his agreement. "Yes. Some of the restaurant owners are getting nervous about agents of the East India darkening their doorsteps and asking probing questions."

There was always a risk that if they tried to grow too big too fast, the eagle eyes of the EIC might turn in their direction.

Robert glanced at his immaculate shirt and suit. "That was a waste of a well-tied cravat."

With his potential customer no longer an option, there was little point in him staying at the party. He was a duke, and once the match making mamas got wind of his presence, he'd have them sidling up to make introductions to their sweet young daughters. The last thing he needed right now was to be fending them off with vague offers of walks in Hyde Park and sharing supper boxes at the theatre.

George's gaze slipped back to the table, and Robert pointed to the empty plate that the young woman had left. "Help yourself. No one is going to stop you."

His servant wasn't an invited guest, and had no right to supper, but as George picked up the plate and began heaping food onto it, Robert simply smiled. Society's rules were all a lie anyway. If no one in the haut ton was prepared to forcibly break up long-held monopolies which destroyed free trade, then in his book they had no right to take issue with him offering food to a hungry man.

But just to be sure, I won't leave George to eat on his own.

Robert snatched up a cucumber sandwich and popped it into his mouth. Quickly chewing down the day-old bread, he pointed toward the door. "I just challenged a young woman over what she'd said about the quality of the food. Turns out she was right. It is bland and tasteless. And the bread is stale. Come on, let's get out of here and go find a tasty fish pie."

George's brows furrowed. "You mean the dark-haired miss in the golden silk gown who just marched out of here with a look on her face that said she would give anything to be kissed, but the second you did, she'd slap your face?"

I might have said something to offend her. I have a habit of doing that with people.

He wasn't going to admit that he'd been looking at more than just her face while they spoke. Her opinion about the supper table hadn't been the only firm thing in the room during their encounter.

Robert sucked in a deep, calming breath. "Yes, the dark-haired woman. I didn't notice what she was wearing."

Liar.

His man of business snorted, not buying the lie for one single minute. "That was Lady Victoria Kembal. Apparently, she has a thing about what constitutes good food. Fancies herself as a bit of an expert on the subject. The two of you would make a good pair."

"Perhaps not such a good pair. I told her she was being rude about the food, so I can't see her wanting to share any more of her opinions with me."

What he'd clearly viewed as simple arrogance now made sense as something else. Apparently, he'd been the one in the wrong. He'd treated Lady Victoria as if she wouldn't know much beyond thinly sliced cucumbers and baked salmon. From what George had said, it looked like he'd missed a golden opportunity to discuss food with someone who appreciated it.

Damn. She was feisty, but she was right on the money about the supper.

A female who understood the subtle nuances of food, now that was a woman he could find room for in his life. Something to consider when he finally got serious about looking for a wife. A shared love of fine food and wine would make a solid foundation for a happy marriage. That and a lust-filled bed.

He picked up a small beef pie and took a bite. The gravy and meat was surprisingly rich. For a half-moment, Robert was tempted to grab another one and go find Lady Victoria Kembal. Tell her that he had discovered something worthy of her fine palate.

Somehow, I think I might have already done my dash with her. More's the pity.

Grabbing another of the pies, he motioned to the door. "Forget about the fish pie—take the rest of the evening off. Go home, George. Give my regards to your sweet lady wife."

Robert followed George out the door and into the night. He quickly hailed a hackney cab and gave the driver his address in Pye Street. He was still hungry, but he'd rather go home. Back at Tolley House, he fried up a bacon and mushroom omelet, then headed up to bed.

Lying naked beneath the sheets, Robert took himself in hand, reaching his completion within a matter of minutes. The Duke of Spice drifted off to a deep, sated sleep. In his slumber, he dreamt of being in bed with a woman whose long chocolate brown hair splayed out under her naked body. He fed her tasty bites of cheese, then kissed her raspberry stained lips.

And she tasted of perfection.