But Miss Somerset wasn’t fatigued, and she wasn’t of a mind to leave the garden. No, she was in the mood for a romantic stroll among the roses. His betrothed, who’d never been anything other than politely accommodating, had chosen this moment to assert herself. That flash of willfulness he’d glimpsed in her dark blue eyes had come back to haunt him.
She resisted his every attempt to escort her back to the terrace. First she wanted red rose petals, and then she wanted to admire the light, and sniff the roses, and rest on a bench, and then…
Then, dear God, she wanted to kiss him.
All this while Lady Beaumont was nearby, likely in fits of malicious laughter over Miss Somerset’s awkward attempts at seduction and ready to leap from the bushes like an avenging fury and rain misery down upon Miss Somerset’s head.
It was the longest ten minutes of Finn’s life.
He did manage to lead Miss Somerset out of the garden at last, but despite his best intentions, he’d done a damn poor job of it. He’d snapped at her and hurt her feelings. She’d tried to hide it, but there was no way Finn could miss the humiliated flush on her cheeks. She’d lapsed into complete silence after that, and she hadn’t looked at him again.
By the time he returned to the garden and found Lady Beaumont hidden like a stinging nettle among the red roses he was ready to wring her lovely neck, but if he hoped to end this scene quietly, he had no choice but to play her childish games. “Good afternoon, my lady. What are you doing here?”
She flew at him in a whirl of red skirts. “Oh, Huntington!”
Finn forced himself to catch her in his arms, but beneath his icy control, his temper was gathering like a tempest in his chest. He hadn’t intended to see his former mistress again, least of all here, in Lady Fairchild’s garden, where his betrothed could get tangled up in one of her devious intrigues. Before she took her leave today, he’d take care to make Lady Beaumont understand he wouldn’t tolerate any further surprises from her.
“I’m afraid you’re rather late for tea, my lady.”
“Tea, with that crowd of simpering misses? No, indeed.” She tore herself from his arms with a dramatic flourish. “I came to tell you I despise you, Huntington!”
“You didn’t need to sneak into Lady Fairchild’s garden to tell me that.” Finn flicked his eyes over her, already bored with her antics. “You’ve said so many times before.”
Lady Beaumont spent a good deal of time and energy despising him, but since her deep disgust hadn’t ever prevented her from taking him to her bed, he didn’t trouble himself much about it. Occasional moments of abhorrence were common enough between lovers, and it wasn’t as if he’d gone to her for adoration.
Her pretty red lips twisted into an ugly scowl. “How can you forsake me in such a cold manner, Huntington, when you know I love you so?”
“You just told me you despised me. Which is it, then? Love, or loathing?”
Her lower lip trembled. “It’s ever been love, and you know it well, my lord.”
“How flattering. I always imagined your affection for me was based on commerce, not emotion.”
Lady Beaumont let out a howl of rage. “Oh! You dare to doubt my devotion, even as you leave me heartbroken? Your cruelty knows no bounds!”
She swung her open hand at his face, but Finn turned aside before her palm could connect with his cheek. Her tantrums had grown more extreme of late. He’d seen dishes, crystal vases and mirrors all fall victim to her frenzied rages, but she’d never tried to strike him before.
It was a mistake to try now.
He moved quickly, trapping her wrists behind her back before she could swing again. “Let’s not resort to violence, my lady. Now, I’ll let you go if you promise not to do yourself, or me, an injury.”
A calculating look flashed in her eyes, and she squirmed against him, pressing her body close to his. “Oh, Huntington! Losing you will destroy me. I’m near-crazed with despair, and not myself.”
“On the contrary. I think you’re very much yourself.”
Even more so when, predictably, her large dark eyes filled with tears. But then he’d expect no less from her. Lady Beaumont’s first concern was always herself, and she’d be a fool to let him slip through her fingers when a few tears and seductive wiles might lure him back to her bed.
Their liaison had been an advantageous one for her. He was a generous protector, and perhaps one of only a few lovers who was a match for her insatiability, and…creativity. And if he occasionally had an appetite for the darker side of desire, she’d been an enthusiastic participant.
Their time together had been amusing enough, but he was weary of her dramatics, and in any case, a man couldn’t indulge his more exotic tastes too often before they ruined him. Neither could a woman, come to that. He’d seen for himself the toll unchecked debauchery could take, and there was nothing uglier.
“I’ll do myself an injury if you leave me. Indeed, I will!” She wriggled closer to him, pressing her lush breasts against his chest.
Finn watched her performance with detached interest. She wept so prettily. Her plump lower lip quivered, and sparkling drops hung from her feathery lashes. It was an affecting scene, and he didn’t doubt her manipulative tears had been used to great effect with her former lovers.
Fools, every last one of them.
He took hold of her shoulders and held her away from him. “There now, sweetheart. Are you quite finished?”
