Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

A ll was silent in the townhouse when Elwood checked his reflection in the mirror. He hadn't been too keen on asking one of his footmen to head to Drury Lane and see if there were any costumes that they might be retiring, but he had been desperate to sneak out of his townhouse without being observed. Although he was choosing to leave in the middle of the night, he didn't want to take any chances that he would be recognized, thus a disguise had been in order.

He'd gone so far as to hire an unmarked carriage that would take him to his hunting box where he could hide out in blessed solitude for the next few weeks until the worst of the pandemonium had died down. He had ensured that the proper provisions had been sent ahead, along with the threat to his faithful servants that anyone who dared to breathe a word of his whereabouts would be sacked without a reference. He demanded loyalty now, more than ever.

As he was checking to make sure the false brown moustache and beard were firmly in place, the cloak and robes of Prospero from Shakespeare's "The Tempest" concealing his form, he realized he had never sunk so low in his life. He was more than a bit resentful that he was being forced to abdicate his entertainments and scurry into hiding because some blasted woman with a vendetta had chosen to set her sights on him and not the true culprit of her angst. If he ever gained the opportunity to meet this thorn in his side, he would gladly give her a piece of his mind.

Elwood was about to turn around when from the corner of his eye, he spotted a slight shadow behind him. Instantly on alert, he grabbed the silver headed cane he always kept nearby and held it out in front of him toward the intruder as if it contained the sword the article had claimed. Sadly, it was just a painted piece of wood. "Whoever you are, state your business and leave before I send for the watch." He did his best to sound menacing, but when there was a snort, followed by a slight feminine chuckle, he was momentarily taken off guard.

"You look positively ridiculous."

He frowned, pride overriding his anger at being accosted in his own home. Rather than refute her statement, because he had been thinking the same, he chose to ignore the slight and demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Although it was too dark to see more than her silhouette, he saw one shoulder shrug nonchalantly. "It wasn't that difficult. I climbed the tree and let myself in the room next to this one since the latch was unlocked. Not a very secure residence you have, I might add. What if the intruder might have meant you harm?" Elwood blinked, having trouble following the conversation at this point. "When I heard movement inside here, I knew that this must be your chamber."

He lifted a brow at the last, more impressed than he would like to admit. "What if I wasn't alone?"

She shrugged again. "I would have waited."

Slowly lowering his cane, he set the tip on the ground and leaned his hands on it. At this point, he was starting to become more curious about his late-night visitor, rather than actually annoyed. "What are you doing here?"

"I mean to learn what everyone else doesn't have the courage to ask."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"If the rumors that ‘The Belle' wrote about you are true or not."

It was his turn to snort. "I see. You're one of those desperate females who want to finish dragging my reputation through the mud until it is abused beyond repair."

She paused. "Actually, no. I want to tell your side of the story." Her gaze was direct, steady.

Elwood tilted his head to the side. There weren't many women that he met who actually surprised him, but this woman was doing an excellent job. She wasn't one to mince words and it was a quality not many ladies of his acquaintance held in abundance.

Before he could say anything more, she added, "My reasons for coming here today are purely selfish. I have aspirations of becoming a noted writer like ‘The Belle.' I see my opportunity to prove my worth by interviewing you, and gain recognition of my own."

"While happily destroying me in the process," he reiterated dryly.

"An unfortunate occurrence, but it seems to me ‘The Belle' has already managed to do that," she pointed out. "I'm sure your reputation will recover in time. Perhaps not fully, but enough to salvage your title and prove to society that you are a worthy gentleman. There is nothing more enticing than a reformed rake, after all. That is where I come in."

Despite himself, Elwood's lips twitched. "Do I get the courtesy of your name since you are, not only accosting me in my bedchamber in the middle of the night, but are set on this course?"

Another pause. "How about Miss Smith?"

"An assumed name hardly seems very sporting, since you are expecting me to pour out my heart and soul to you for an advantage that I only see is one sided," he murmured. He started to move toward the silhouette. "Perhaps what you're really here for is a demonstration of my… talents?"

"Hardly." She denied his claim, and yet, he heard the slightly breathless tone in her voice. "I just want to see if there is anything redeeming about you."

He stopped, because he had a sudden thought, a purely wicked thought. "I admire your courage, so I have decided to tell you whatever you would wish to know, the entire sordid tale of my life to this point. But I insist on conducting the interview in private. I have a carriage waiting in the mews to take me to my hunting box for a time. If you are interested in my history, then you will have to join me."

"You expect me to go with you, to God only knows where for an undisclosed amount of time, dressed in that ridiculous Prospero costume? And take you seriously?"

He blinked. Ignoring the second insult, and asked instead, "You are familiar with Shakespeare?"

"Somewhat. I have some friends who perform on the stage."

"Indeed?" This woman continued to fascinate him. Perhaps she was a new actress. It had been some time since he'd seduced one of those. He crossed his arms. "It's your choice, madam. I am leaving this evening whether or not you tag along. It makes no difference to me as society's opinion has been swayed against me, and with just cause."

He got the sense that she was torn. "Why should I trust you will remain a gentleman?"

Elwood grinned, but the beard likely hid the reaction. "For the same reason I don't trust you. You shouldn't. But then, I think you already knew that, didn't you?" He headed for the door and he saw her shadow retreat further into the darkness away from him. He stopped, because he decided he wouldn't mind having her along for the ride—in more ways than one. "Might I remind you that you came here . You approached me , and yet, when you have the opportunity to fulfill your dream, you would let something as inconsequential as me stand in your way?" He shook his head. "Perhaps you aren't the one to discover the truth, after all." He lifted his hand to his head in a silent salute. "I bid you adieu."

Meliah's heart was beating so fast that she wasn't sure she could calm it ever again. She clenched her fists at her sides and tried to make a decision that wouldn't ruin her life forever. On one hand, she had the chance to interview Lord Belmont, but on the other, there was certain ruination. Something told her that she already knew he was the licentious libertine that "The Belle" had claimed, but without the sufficient proof to claim otherwise, there wasn't much she could take to the papers. She needed something that would make the printers take notice of her talents.

If she did this, and went with Lord Belmont, she would have to lay down a few rules. She must insist on his proper distance, and he would have to ensure that she was returned to Spitalfields by the following day. Otherwise, it wouldn't just be her parent's wrath she would have to face, but the rest of the shopkeepers who would gossip about her lengthy absence.

Meliah commanded her feet to move and she scrambled down the stairs after the earl. She rushed out the door and abruptly stopped—nearly colliding with his towering figure on the other side.

He was perched against the side of the manor. "I was wondering how long it would take you," he drawled.

Meliah's breath caught. While he was still dressed as the character from one of the Bard's plays, it was the sensual look in his blue eyes that caused words to fail her. They caught the faint light from the moon and shone with a glimmer that promised entirely too much.

"I have some demands," she stated, although it lacked the conviction she had been hoping for.

"And what are they?" he asked softly, as his gaze ran the length of her body.

She had to fight the urge to put a hand to her stomach to quell the butterflies that were fluttering against her ribcage. "I need to be back home tomorrow."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid that's impossible. It will be a few days before I can secure passage back to the city for you. And if you want a full accounting of my life to find the one good deed buried deep, it will take longer than a single day." He scratched the side of his face and she wondered if the beard was bothering him. "Is that all?"

Some of her spirits sank at that, but she lifted her chin with determination. She would think of the issues she might face later. "I shall not be your next conquest," she added pertly.

"And here I thought I was to be yours," he drawled.

Her head was starting to spin. He spoke in such a way that she found it difficult to keep her own thoughts straight. She certainly understood why most believed him to be so callous.

"I'm waiting. What's it to be?"

Again, Meliah fought between her conscience and her desire to succeed in a field other than that of a weaver for the remainder of her days. "Yes." For a moment, she was stunned that the word erupted from her so easily, but when he held out his hand to her, she found her own extending toward his in return.

She said nothing else as they entered the hackney. As soon as they were settled, he rapped on the roof of the carriage and they set off. It wasn't until they started moving that her tongue unglued itself from the roof of her mouth. "I don't have anything else to wear."

His gaze swept her once more. "That won't be a problem," he murmured.

She gasped in outrage—but a rush of heat poured through her that wasn't entirely rage. "Pardon me?"

He started to remove his facial covering. "It won't be a problem to find something for you. It is easy to procure women's clothing."

She rolled her eyes as she removed her straw bonnet. "I'm sure you find it so." She couldn't believe she was being so calm when she was riding in a carriage with a complete stranger who was known to be a ruthless scoundrel. Not only that, but she was speaking so boldly to a peer of the realm! Her parents would be aghast if they could see her behavior. But Meliah had always believed that it wasn't a title that made a man a gentleman, but rather his character. And thus far, she wasn't seeing anything that might suggest the Earl of Belmont deserved a glowing recommendation from society. She had the feeling that "The Belle" was completely accurate in her estimation, and yet, for some reason, that didn't unnerve her like it should.

"To be clear," he countered with all the arrogance of his stature. "I was referring to a local seamstress in the area. She generally has a few premade gowns on hand for gentry who are passing through the village and need something quickly."

Meliah started to panic. "I didn't bring sufficient funds with me to go shopping."

He waved a hand. "Don't concern yourself with the cost. Consider it a gift."

She narrowed her eyes. "For what reason?"

Again, those eyes flashed. "Entertainment."

Elwood was finding it entirely too intriguing when it came to teasing this mystery lady across from him. He couldn't believe his fortune when she came barreling out of the house and almost directly into his arms. The fact that she was the lady in pink that he'd seen earlier that day pleased him more than he could say. Who would have guessed such an innocent looking female would be so precocious?

He was grateful that she had dispensed with the bonnet. It gave him the opportunity to admire her dark hair. It was difficult to see clearly in the dim light, but he was quite certain it was more than a plain, unassuming brown. He imagined that there were flashes of mahogany woven throughout to match her fiery spirit.

She crossed her arms as he removed the last of his costume. More comfortable, he sat back and observed his lovely companion. "I want to make sure you know I don't intend to be the sort of entertainment you have in mind."

"I was thinking no such thing," he lied smoothly. "I am rather curious how long you intend to keep up this masquerade, however."

She frowned, obviously perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

"Come now." He coaxed. "It's obvious that you're working for the notorious ‘Brazen Belle.' As if I would give you any further reason to incriminate myself, or make me look like an innocent cherub. The very idea is quite nauseating."

She lifted her chin and looked at him warily. "I suppose we shall see."

He lifted a brow. "Why don't you get some sleep, Miss…" When she didn't supply her name, he sighed. "Come now, don't be stubborn. I refuse to refer to you by ‘Miss Smith' the entire time when I know it's nothing but a stage name."

He could tell by the way she pursed her lips that she didn't want to offer that small courtesy, but since it appeared that she had been instilled with some sense of propriety, she reluctantly said, "Newton."

"Miss Newton." He tried the sound of it on his tongue. "Do you have a first name?"

"That should suffice," she snapped. "We are not friends, nor acquaintances. This is a business arrangement."

"And yet," he pointed out slowly. "You want to gain some rather personal information from me while I am asking for nothing in return but your company. I should think that gains me a first name."

He adored the mutinous glare she offered. But his ploy worked, just as he thought it would.

"Meliah."

"Very lovely," he murmured. He dared to cross the carriage and sit down beside her.

Her eyes widened and it was the first time he got a clear look at their color. It surprised him. "Green," he murmured.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your eyes are green," he repeated softly. "Not blue as I'd imagined."

"Why should you have imagined my eye color at all?"

"Because," he returned huskily, as he lifted a hand and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her brow. "From the moment I spied you this afternoon, I found myself drawn to you for some inexplicable reason."

"Did you?" He smiled at the breathless quality to her voice. She must have noticed it too, because she shifted.

"I did," he confirmed. He allowed his thumb to slide along her full, lower lip. As he slowly dipped his head, he heard the sharp intake of her breath, but it was too late. He had pressed his mouth against her innocent sweetness. There was no doubt in his mind that she was untried, because her initial stillness was shock. But as he increased the pressure, moving gently against her lips, she started to kiss him back. He was aware of the restraint that still held her back, but there was a spark of interest. That would serve him well during his banishment from his usual enjoyments in London.

If this woman wanted to know if he was a true rake, if the words written about him were accurate or not, he might as well give her a taste of what he could offer. This curious little kitten was going to gain the full Belmont experience.