Although, on second thought, perhaps it had more to do with Lydia than Mark.
‘The horses are not for sale.’
Not to be outdone, Charles’s eyes narrowed and a calculating gleam shone in their depths as he moved close to William so that what he was about to say would not be overheard. ‘A wager I will make, William.’
Apart from one sleek dark brow cocked in question, William’s features remained impassive. ‘A wager? I wonder what you’re intending to propose, Charles. I’m listening.’
‘A wager that you fail to seduce the delectable Miss Greenwood before the Season ends in June.’
‘And why should I want to seduce her?’
Charles shrugged. ‘To prove that you can—that you haven’t lost your touch.’
The challenge was thrown lightly and William teetered on the brink of accepting when caution reared its head. Seducing virgins wasn’t his forte—never had been—but the lovely Miss Cassandra Greenwood had captured his attention and the challenge was intriguing. He was a man who must conquer, must win, whatever the odds stacked against him. Whenever he set his mind on having something, he was not easily dissuaded.
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then one or the other of those splendid beasts in your stable will be mine.’
‘And what’s in it for me—besides the delectable Miss Greenwood, of course?’
‘A thousand guineas if you succeed.’
William rose to the challenge with a confident smile. ‘That’s unfortunate for you. If there’s one thing I dislike, it’s seeing my opponent lose.’
‘So do I. Think on it, William. To seduce a woman famous for her strict morals—a virgin, I have no doubt, and as yet untouched by world’s cynicism—a lovely rose, just waiting to be plucked. What could be more prestigious?’
‘What more, indeed?’
‘A wager it is then. No need to put it in writing. A gentleman’s agreement will do.’
When a well-satisfied Sir Charles Grisham had moved on, William watched Miss Greenwood move about the room with renewed interest. So, she was untouchable. Suddenly she had become an exciting enigma, a mystery, which had multiplied tenfold. Gentlemen of the haut ton hesitated to go near her, to take liberties with her. Suddenly she had become a challenge he could not resist.
William watched her pause to speak to this person and that, careful to be as charming and polite as her nature allowed, for it did not do to antagonise. She was well versed in taking hold of a situation and bringing it round to her advantage, since the future of the institute might depend on people such as these. Sharp and witty, she sparkled, encompassing them all with her brilliant smiles and laughter—a light and joyous sound that caressed him, enticed him—and animated chatter, all serving to project the persona of a confident and capable young woman. These people were like children, thrilled and flattered to the core to be noticed by this gorgeous woman. It didn’t matter if she schemed to capture their attention. She had it.
Miss Greenwood was quite exquisite, William decided, with an air of fragility about her, but she reminded him of a rapier blade, a sliver of silver made of steel. He wanted to laugh out loud. So this was how she extracted donations for her precious institute.
Moving out of the shadows, completely impervious to the stir he was creating, since it was the first society event he’d attended since returning to London, William advanced towards her, the crowd parting as if he had ordered it.
Cassandra was in the process of deciding who to approach next when she saw him moving in her direction. He was tall, with an authoritative air of breeding and command and an unconscious swagger of arrogance, which spoke of generations of influence and superiority and advantage. With wide shoulders and a hard, stern face and iron jaw, his bright blue eyes beneath fine dark brows were disconcertingly amused as they gazed into hers. When he was close a strange, unfathomable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he slowly inclined his head towards her.
‘Hello, Miss Greenwood,’ he said, in a deep, resonant and incredibly seductive voice.
His very nearness had her stiffening. The sensation unnerved her. His towering figure left her no avenue of escape. She wished she were nearly a foot taller so she could meet him eye to eye. He was too attractive and had too much charm for his own good. Some people were born like that. It was as if they had a magnet inside them.
‘Why, Captain Lampard. This is a surprise.’
A crooked smile accompanied his reply. ‘For me rather more than it is for you, Miss Greenwood. You look ravishing, by the way. That colour is far more flattering to your colouring than the diabolical grey dress you were wearing on the day we met.’
Resentment coursed through Cassandra’s veins. It dawned on her as his gaze dropped to her breasts in a leisurely perusal that he was far more interested in what was beneath the gown than the gown itself. He raised his eyes to her face where they captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks.
‘What are you doing here, Captain Lampard?’ she asked, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious.
‘Your aunt invited me.’
‘So, you are aware that Lady Monkton is my aunt. Really she is my mother’s cousin, but she has always been known as aunt to me and my sister. How long have you known?’
‘About ten minutes.’ If she had suspected his presence at her aunt’s ball had been staged with her specifically in mind, then she was mistaken—disappointed, too, he hoped. ‘I grew bored watching the world go by in my town house so I came to see if the sights were any better here at Monkton House.’ He spoke with slow deliberation and the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. His eyes gleamed into hers as he added softly, ‘I am happy to report they far exceed my expectations and I’m glad I came.’
Cassandra turned aside, tossing him a cool glance askance. ‘Have you nothing better to do than ogle the ladies, Captain Lampard?’
‘It might look like that, but in truth I was watching just one.’
Cassandra ignored the remark, but she could not ignore the seductive lowering of his eyelids or the quickening of her heart. ‘The gaming tables seem to attract a good many gentlemen. Why don’t you try that?’
‘Because I find talking to you more enjoyable than anything else I could come up with.’
‘Your shoulder is healing well, I trust?’
‘Apart from the occasional twinge it is almost back to normal. Your Dr Brookes did a fine job. I am in your debt, Miss Greenwood.’
‘Yes, you are, Captain Lampard,’ she replied coldly, not having forgiven him for not having sent her the promised donation.
As though reading her mind, he said, ‘You received the bank draft I sent to the institute?’
‘I cannot recall having done so.’
William frowned, averting his eyes in angry disgust. He would have a few choice words to say to his secretary. Damn the man and his incompetence.
