La Bella Isabella Page 4

  Mary smiled. She spoke in a low voice. “Keep him on his toes, and keep him guessing, my dear. He’ll appreciate you and all you do for him in the long run.”

  She took her leave of them before Harry had recourse to move on.

  “So are you an early riser, my lord?” Amanda rushed into speech before he had a chance to ask what Lady Mary had muttered. Amanda knew she was being provocative, and traced the outline of her lips with her tongue. She watched one eyebrow rise as he noted her innuendo.

  “When necessary, my dear. But I prefer to take my time. To savor everything. So much more satisfaction in not being rushed. Otherwise, it is possible to miss something important.”

  Well, she’d asked for that. And she couldn’t help but go warm at the images his statement brought to mind.

  She watched him throw his head back and laugh. “Ah, Amanda, I am going to enjoy the next few months; I can assure you. I am so glad you…are you?”

  Amanda had no idea what to make of that cryptic comment, so decided to say nothing. She watched as he turned the phaeton around to make their way back through the park. There was a watery sun trying to break through the clouds, making the snow sparkle and the ice on the pond gleam and shine.

  “So, what do you think about La Bella Isabella and her Dancing Girls?” he asked as he urged the horses on.

  She hoped he did not see her reaction. “Me? Why would I have any thoughts on them?” Would her answer be enough to satisfy him?

  “Ah, so you have heard of them “ He sounded satisfied.

  Amanda strove to keep only mild interest in her voice. “Oh, yes, my lord, we may be sheltered as young ladies of the Ton, but we do have ears. And gentlemen are not always discreet in our company.” Frequently not. But this was not spoken aloud. “And I, of course, am not just out, but have had several seasons.”

  “Indeed. Why so many and no attachments? You are not unattractive.”

  Even though she knew he was baiting her, Amanda rushed into heated speech. “Well, thank you, my lord, for those few condescending words. Could it not be that I have refused all offers made for me?”

  “Have you, indeed?” he queried with obvious interest. “Why?”

  Mm, how to answer without digging a bigger hole for myself? “My reasons are mine,” she said stiffly.

  “Mine also, Amanda, as you well know.”

  She tried her best to smile in a coy manner—no easy matter as coyness did not often feature in her repertoire. “I know no such thing, my lord, and if so, why inquire of things you say you know? Pah, I am in the dark here.” Would it work?

  He shook his head—it seemed—in reproach. “Now, now, Amanda, do not tell lies. You know as well as I how are our futures are intertwined. Why you refused all those marriage offers made to you. As well you did for to have accepted one would have created considerable problems.”

  “Really?” She strove for nonchalance. “As well as you say, I did not. So why, Harry, were you asking me my opinions of La Bella Isabella?” Oh, you fool. Why return to that equally explosive topic? Really, she must learn when to stay silent. She felt him look at her intently, and realized to her relief, they had left the park and were nearly at her parents’ home. Not much longer to hold out as, surely, he would not want to keep his horses standing.

  “Because, my dear, I’m sure you must have some opinion of her aims and ideas.”

  “Not a one. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “I’m sure you’re not sorry at all.” he retorted as he stilled the horses. “However, I’m sure you’ll let me know the whys and wherefores one day.” He jumped down to assist her. “You may rest assured that I have no desire to keep my horses waiting, but I do so desire to see you tonight.” He tweaked the brim of her bonnet and grinned at her. “And do not sulk. It does not become you.” He kissed her hand lightly.

  “I never sulk, my lord.” She leaned toward him. “I get even. Thank you for such an interesting morning’s outing.” Not the best riposte, but the best she could think of as she turned and walked through the open door.

  Her mind was racing. What exactly was his game? What did he know, and what was he guessing?

  Chapter Seven

  It was midafternoon when Harry received a gilt-edged note on familiar peach vellum.

  “Tonight, at ten in the evening, a very special show by La Bella Isabella. Minute Theatre. Entrance, strictly limited, on production of this invitation. Evening dress requested.”

  He turned the invitation over and over in his hand. Just what was going on? Had La Bella Isabella been made aware of his interest? If so, for what end? So many questions for which he had only half the answers. However, this was one invitation he was not going to turn down. He debated ringing for Timmons, his valet, but knew if the delivery of this invitation followed previous ones, none of his staff would know how it arrived.

  Evening dress was handy. He could go from his club to the theater and then on to his evening engagement. It fit perfectly.

  Always a perfectionist, he took even more care with his appearance than usual. Timmons, who noticed the bruise on his neck, averted his eyes whilst handing Harry a cravat. Harry realized the man was trying not to gawp and laughed. “It’s all right, Timmons. It is a bruise of passion, I assure you. Something I’d wager you have never seen on me before.”

  “Never, my lord”

  “Neither have I,” Harry said cheerfully. “And the devil was, I didn’t even know it had happened. I was too involved with the lady to notice. Not at all like me, I assure you.”

  “No, indeed, my lord.”

  “We’re done, thank you,” he said as Timmons helped him into his coat. “Don’t wait up. I’ll manage.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” As Timmons began to tidy up, Harry realized his valet thought he would be finishing the evening at his mistress’s house and would not want to be found smelling of woman. Well, for once, he was wrong. He had no hope of finishing the evening with a woman. Especially the one he wanted.

  ***

  His club was full. Men were enjoying themselves with fine wines or games of cards before escorting their women folk to the various entertainments on offer, or if unattached, getting ready to enjoy the evening in whichever way they chose. As he debated over a game of cards or a quiet read of the daily newspaper, he was accosted by Charlie.

  “Ho, what are you up to tonight? Of to see Madame Minogue at the Theatre, or to the Countess of Essex’s ball?”

  “To the ball, for sure. As to what else?” Harry shrugged. “I ought to visit my mama. And you?”

  It sounded as if Charlie did not have an invitation for La Bella Isabella.

  Charlie looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Well, I…er…I’m escorting a young lady and her mama to the theater.”

  “You?” Charlie, to Harry’s knowledge, had never shown any interest in undertaking such a duty.

  “Well you know, the young lady in the coach? I thought I recognized her in the park today and made my introductions to her and her mama. Sadly t’was not my mystery woman, but then all I have seen of her was her profile and well…” He broke off. “So, I still have no idea of her or her companion, but I am anticipating an interesting evening. My young lady’s mama does not seem too strict a companion. Sorry.”

  “No matter, enjoy your evening. I may see you later.” He touched his friend briefly on the shoulder and went to find somewhere quiet to sit until nearer to nine, wondering just what the evening would reveal.

  A few minutes before nine, he took his seat in the box he was shown to. To his surprise, all the other seats and boxes were empty.

  “Are you sure this is correct?” he asked the usher, who had escorted him to his seat.

  “Yes, milord. I did say you might like to be nearer the stage, seeing as it was a private performance, so to speak, but was told no, you sit here. Proper temper she can have on her when she’s determined.”

  “Who can?” Harry asked the words idly, but shot a good, hard look at the m
an from under his brows. He was sure he knew that face from somewhere. Usually all the attendants wore masks, but not tonight.

  “M—er, La Bella Isabella, that’s who,” the strange usher corrected himself before putting his hand to his face. “Darn it. Forgot that mask.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” Harry said kindly. “Nip and put it on now, and no one will be any the wiser.”

  Amused, he watched the man scurry out and sat back in his seat, ready to be entertained.

  ***

  “Are you sure you want to do this,” Caroline asked her for the sixth time. “There’s only me on the piano. He might recognize you, and then what?”

  “Caro, I’m sure he will recognize me. But for heaven’s sake, what can he do? I have got to bring things to a head.”

  “He could make it impossible for you in the Ton,” said Caroline worriedly.

  La Bella shook her head. “No, that’s the one thing he will be unable to do. Trust me. Now let’s get started. Put your mask on. You will only be here for about ten minutes. Just those two tunes. Then Tom will escort you to the ball. I will join you later.” I hope. If he doesn’t murder me first.

  ***

  As a woman moved to the piano, the lights reflecting off the sparkly mask she wore, Harry sat up straight and focused on the stage. The music played softly, then louder, but still no La Bella Isabella appeared. He wondered if she had lost her nerve.

  He barely heard the door to the box open and didn’t register the soft footsteps of the person who had entered—until it was too late, and a soft cloth was placed over his eyes and tied firmly behind his head.

  “What?” he started in fury, but soft, lush, feminine lips kissed him full on the mouth.

  “Do I have your word you will not take the blindfold off, sir, or must I tie your wrists?” The voice was too quiet for him to recognize. He sought her lips, but she had moved back while awaiting her answer.

  “You have my word. But how can I see your act if I am blindfolded. I presume you are La Bella Isabella?” He had no intention of keeping his word unless he chose to, but she had no need to know that.

  “I, sir, am many things. If you choose Isabella, that is fine by me.” Below on the stage the piano changed tunes, signaling it was time to start.

  She stood behind him and took his shoulders in her hands, kneading softly before pressing a row of kisses across the back of his neck. Harry felt his body stir in response.

  “Why?” he asked, reveling in the feelings she was creating. “Why are you doing this? And only for me? Unless you have allowed another eighty-odd men in and they are all sitting blindfolded, awaiting their turn?”

  She laughed. A deep rich, sensual laugh that stirred his senses and… No, he could not grasp the memory of where he had heard it before…but it would come. As he thought he might if she kept those seductive little nips and kisses up.

  “I assure you, only you. A personal performance. My swan song, so to speak.” He felt her move around to his front. The music had stopped, and there was silence all around them, broke only by the sound of their breathing.

  He felt her fingers on the buttons of his coat and waistcoat and her body brush against his chest. He groaned and ached to move his hands, clenching them convulsively.

  “You may move your hands, my lord, just not uncover your eyes.”

  “Is this making you as wet as I am hard?” he demanded of her. “A way to get what you want from me without recognizing your actions?”

  She sighed. “No, my lord, it was a way for us both to enjoy ourselves to a small degree without any guilt attached. A small intrigue for us to explore a little. I want to see if you make me feel as I think a woman aroused should feel. And if you cannot see me, then you cannot worry about making me feel so.”

  “Why here?” he asked her in a low voice.

  “Well, my lord, we could hardly conduct ourselves in this manner at the Countess of Essex’s ball,” she replied.

  He wished he could see her. “You will be at the ball?”

  She sighed again.

  “Maybe; maybe not. We will see. Or rather, I will see. You will not.”

  “So why do you want to find out how I can make you feel? And you still haven’t answered my earlier question.” He left no doubt as to what he was referring. He reached for and found the top of her gown.

  To his delight, it was cut low over her breasts. He gave a low growl. “Ah, to give me such access, to feel those breasts, to imagine how the redden.” He paused. “Well, do you answer, or do I find out for myself.”

  “Oh, I feel as I think I should feel in these circumstances.” She put her hand over his rock-hard erection, which was straining his knee breeches. “As I feel, so do you.”

  Harry pulled her dress down quickly, tethering her arms by her side. Still, he acquiesced to her wishes and did not remove his blindfold. There was a certain heightened arousal in his unseeing state.

  Instead, he found her nipples and played with them, rolling them between his fingers, feeling them unfurl and peak. “Do I make you wet in your most secret place?” he asked urgently, not sure quite how to phrase himself, to one he was certain was a lady. “For I would like to lift your skirts, find that place, and put my fingers inside you; feel your juices before putting my cock within you. And riding you.”

  He waited tensely for her reply.

  Again, she did not disappoint him. “I have heard you are quite a rider, sir. Both hard and gentle, depending on your mount. Alas, I think we will not discover how we would ride together.”

  “Why do you think that?” He was all interest.

  Harry heard her sigh and felt her hand on his cheek. Then her breast was soft against his lips, pressing and demanding attention. He took what was offered to him, suckled strongly, and was rewarded by a long, drawn-out moan.

  “Because, my lord.” Her voice was breathless, her breathing uneven. “I have discovered I am to be betrothed. I have been promised, on my twenty-fifth birthday. La Bella Isabella was my way of enjoying life as I have no chance of marrying for love, just duty.”

  “How do you know it will only be for duty? Love may come?” His breath feathered across her, blowing gently before he suckled again.

  “How do I know if he really wants to marry me?” she asked, her tone anguished. “He is also sworn by duty, I believe. It is not right, but it will be.”

  “No, it’s not right,” Harry agreed quietly. “I feel your pain. But unless you know him, this man, and speak to him, how do you know how he may feel? Perhaps he feels as you. Or perhaps, he knows to whom he is to be betrothed and is happy. If you know who he is, can you not ask him?”

  “I don’t know, my lord. If he does not know, is it fair to divulge this momentous news to him? I fear not. Let him enjoy his last months as a single man. As I am doing as a single woman.”

  How long have you known about this matter?”

  “That I was betrothed? Many years. My papa informed me to ensure I knew my place in his life. A cash crop were his words. When I asked to whom I was sold, he declined to tell me. He told me ‘twas nothing to do with me. Indeed?” Her laugh was mirthless. “I was promised to an unknown, told to learn all the niceties of the Ton, and behave. Well, my lord, I did. And then a mere four months ago, my intended was revealed. As was the date of my nuptials.”

  Ah, so in fact almost to the day that rumors about a divine new dancing act started to circulate, not long before those select invitations began to arrive. He wondered what caused the other girls to be part of the act. It was perhaps something he would never know.

  “However,” she continued, “I thank you for your patience and suffering.” She laughed as his erection moved involuntarily beneath her. “I really wish I could ease your pain, but I am afraid I cannot linger. My attendant will be here to escort you out shortly. Until then, I must ask you to abide by your promise and not remove your blindfold.”

  Harry grabbed her by the waist as she went to move away. “I thi
nk it is my privilege to feel your hands on me first, just so you have something to compare with in the future. So saying, he held both her hands in one of his while he swiftly opened his breeches, before placing both her hands on his hot, hard cock.

  She gasped and chuckled. He felt soft hands on his cock moving up and down, and he groaned.

  Perhaps the blindfold gave her courage, for her movements became bolder, more forceful. Harry could wager his precum was gathering at the tip.

  He moved his hands over her, whether to stop or encourage, he had no idea.

  She chose to interpret it in a negative manner as she spoke, “Not to your liking, my lord? What am I doing wrong?” Harry felt her lips lap at his tip. He nearly fell off his seat before he grabbed her shoulders.

  “Amanda, you should only do that to your betrothed. Once betrothed.”

  “Oh, well, in that ca—what did you call me?”

  He whipped the blindfold off and looked at her, on her knees in front of him, the tip of his cock resting just a heartbeat away from her mouth.

  “I called you Amanda, my love. Did you think I would not recognize you? Your own special essence? I would sense you were you covered from head to toe in snow. And I will be the one to teach you all you know, either before or after your betrothal.”

  She rested her elbows on his knees. “Why? How?” she asked with evident interest, and by the gleam in her eyes, hope.

  “Come now, Amanda,” he chided, “let us play no more games. We have established you know to whom you are betrothed. Why prevaricate any longer?”

  “Simple, my lord, and prevarication is not my aim; my happiness is. I told my papa it was my right to be told. If two fathers can concoct such a monstrous act, all over some petty feud, then I am entitled to know just to whom I am giving my freedom up for. He demurred until, as he said, he felt I was a lady who would know her place. It seemed my manner fooled him, for I fear I am no lady. And therefore, I chose to decide in which manner I got close to my intended. To see, if I would agree to this marriage or fight for my freedom.”