Lessons from a Scarlet Lady Read online

  Prologue

  If you have not captured his attention in the first place, how can you possibly hold it?

  The entire preface to Lady Rothburg’s Advice , published 1802

  The vestibule was full of well-dressed people milling like jeweled birds in their finery, just as

  she’d hoped. Brianna Northfield let her husband slip her velvet cloak from her shoulders and

  deliberately kept her back toward him, smiling and nodding at several acquaintances in the

  throng. He handed the garment to a nearby attendant, greeted his old friend Lord Bassford while

  Brianna waited, still strategically turned away.

  This was the first step in her plan and she certainly hoped it worked, for she felt exposed.

  Very much so.

  Colton finished his conversation and took her arm, his gaze thankfully intent on scanning the

  crowd for a way to proceed toward their private box. “This way, my dear. I think we can squeeze

  through over by where the Earl of Farrington is standing.”

  “That young woman with him is not someone I know,” she murmured, noting the beautiful young

  lady’s fiery hair and lush figure. “Good heavens, he must be old enough to be her father.”

  “His latest mistress, I believe,” her husband said coolly as they edged through the crowd. “I’m

  sure they are here at the opera together simply to annoy his wife. Discretion has never been

  Farrington’s strong suit.”

  The note of disapproval in her husband’s voice did not escape her, but at least it wasn’t directed

  at her. That is, not yet. Colton Northfield, the fifth Duke of Rolthven, did not believe in public

  displays of one’s private life. She had learned that much in three months of marriage.

  If he had a mistress, he would certainly not bring her out and flaunt the affair in front of all of

  fashionable London society. Neither would he purposely hurt or humiliate his wife. Brianna

  simply prayed he didn’t have a mistress, nor did she ever want him to feel he required one.

  His touch on her arm was light as he guided her toward the carpeted stairs that led up to the

  elegant box overlooking center stage. Heads turned as they passed, other friends giving greetings,

  and Brianna noticed more than one gentleman let his gaze linger on her and several raised brows

  among the ladies.

  Fine. After all, she wished to make an impression. If the length of the masculine stares was a

  good measure, she was certainly succeeding.

  She felt the moment when Colton first noticed her gown. They were halfway up the stairs and he

  faltered, his fingers tightening. One foot on the next step, he stopped cold, his gaze riveted

  suddenly on her décolletage. “Good God, what are you wearing?”

  “Should you really halt on the stairs and stare so pointedly at my bosom?” she asked with a calm

  she didn’t particularly feel, taking another determined step past him. “This is Madame Ellen’s

  latest creation and the neckline is a little daring, yes, but I am assured I have the proper figure to

  carry it off.”

  Her husband didn’t move for a moment, his glittering gaze still intent on the ivory flesh that

  swelled above the material of her bodice, the entire upper curves exposed. He bit out in a low

  tone, “You certainly can carry it off, but perhaps you should have asked yourself if you should

  carry it off. Or better yet, asked me.”

  Ask him about fashion? As if he normally cared. He dressed impeccably, but he never

  commented on her clothing at all.

  Perhaps that would change. It would be a nice beginning to know he actually looked at her.

  Brianna murmured, “People are staring, Colton, wondering if we are actually arguing in public.”

  “We might be,” he muttered. “Have you lost your mind?”

  The Duke of Rolthven in an altercation with his wife on the stairs at the opera? Never. She had

  chosen this venue because she was confident of his ingrained sense of politesse. He would be

  horrified by the idea of making a scene. Brianna summoned a serene smile—utterly false, for she

  could feel the warmth in her cheeks and the beat of her pulse in her throat. “Not at all. Shall we

  take our seats?”

  Uttering a low curse, he responded by almost dragging her up the rest of the way, his long fingers

  locked around her wrist as he ushered her down the gallery and into the balcony with their private

  box. His expression was hard to read, but his mouth formed a tight line as he seated her and took

  the next chair.

  The theater was packed as always, the huge chandeliers glittering, the gilt boxes holding the buzz

  of hundreds of conversations. People attended not so much to see the performance as to be seen

  themselves and to observe others, something her husband knew full well.

  “I suppose since we are already here, wrapping you up in your cloak and carrying you outside

  might be remarked upon,” he said sardonically, extending his long legs. “I know our arrival is

  usually noted, but I wondered why we garnered so much attention as we went through the lobby.

  Now I understand perfectly. I imagine more opera glasses will be directed toward your breasts on

  such lavish display this evening than at the stage. Whatever possessed you, madam, to choose

  such an outrageous gown?”

  Because I want to seduce you, she thought, gazing at him. He looked as devastatingly attractive

  as ever this evening, even with a frown on his handsome face and the sensual line of his mouth

  compressed in reproof. He was tall, with thick chestnut hair, and a lean, athletic build, and on

  those rare occasions when Colton smiled, every woman in the room felt a little flushed. High

  cheekbones gave his face an arrogant cast, his nose was straight, the line of jaw and chin nicely

  chiseled. The first time Brianna had seen him she’d been dazzled by his flagrant good looks, and

  when he actually began to show some interest in her, she had tumbled head over heels in love like

  some maiden in a romantic fable.

  But there were some aspects to her marriage she hadn’t anticipated. As a mythical prince, Colton

  had a few flaws. He was one of the wealthiest men in England, he had tremendous political

  power, and his illustrious background was dazzling to a naïve debutant, but Brianna hadn’t

  anticipated how little of his time he would deign to give her once she became his wife.

  However, he hadn’t married the meek little ingénue she suspected he imagined he’d chosen.

  With as much composure as possible, Brianna answered, “There are many ladies in attendance

  this evening attired in gowns every bit as fashionably low cut as mine. I thought you would like

  it.”

  “Like having every man in London ogle my wife’s bare bosom?” His brows lifted, but his gaze

  strayed downward again. “Think again, my dear.”

  “Actually,” she answered, a flicker of hope stirring, because though he sounded annoyed, he

  couldn’t seem to stop staring, “I thought you might like the way I look in this gown.”

  For a moment he seemed surprised, his eyes, a vivid azure shade, narrowing a fraction. “You are

  stunningly beautiful, Brianna, and I always admire the way you look. Why do you
think I married

  you?”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. It was exactly what she didn’t want to hear. Shaking out her

  fan, Brianna said furiously, “I hope you didn’t wed me, Your Grace, simply to have as an

  ornament on your arm at functions like this. I am a person, and a woman, and your wife.”

  Her retort caused an uncharacteristically disconcerted look to cross his face. “Perhaps that wasn’t

  well put. I meant you are always attractive to me. You do not have to be half-naked for me to

  think so.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “I beg your pardon?” His arched brows shot up and he stared at her, obviously mystified.

  Good. She truly had his attention. All too often he seemed only absently aware of her presence.

  He was a busy man, and she understood and accepted that the responsibilities of title and fortune

  consumed a great deal of his time. But when they were together, she wanted to know her husband

  at least enjoyed her company. They were both still adjusting to marriage—or at least she was, for

  she didn’t notice him changing much about his routine now that he had a wife. He still worked

  most of the day, still went to his club, still spent more time in the gaming rooms at balls and

  soirees than with her. Many society couples lived very separate lives. But it wasn’t what she

  wanted for herself, and to change his attitude about it, she was determined to make him truly

  notice her.

  The orchestra began to stir. Raising her voice so he could hear the words, not caring about the

  inhabitants of the boxes all around them, Brianna said clearly, “Tonight I want you to prove to

  me that you find me attractive.”

  “What the devil are you talking about?”

  Brianna gazed at her husband and gave a small sigh. “I worried you might say something exactly

  like that.”

  Women were such unpredictable, irrational, and emotional creatures, Colton Northfield pondered

  darkly, only half listening to Herr Mozart’s creation, his gaze idly resting on the stage where a

  brightly clad troupe danced to the same lively melodies he had heard so many times before. Next

  to him, his lovely wife sat in rapt audience, her fan waving in languid sweeps against the

  closeness of the huge room. Tendrils of silky, pale gold hair brushed her slender neck, and her

  delicate face was slightly flushed from the heat.

  He hadn’t lied. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and from the first

  moment of their introduction nearly a year ago, he had wanted her intensely. Courtship, the

  necessary engagement, and wedded life had not changed that one bit. Even now, the quiver of her

  opulent flesh as it swelled above the bodice of an ivory gown that—no matter what she said—

  bordered on scandalous, made his erection swell uncomfortably against the confinement of his

  fitted breeches.

  What exactly was percolating through her pretty head? If asked before this evening, Colton

  would have said that Brianna was the last young woman of his acquaintance to wear something

  so outrageous. Usually she was a proper young lady. Sometimes too proper—but then again, she

  was innocent and inexperienced still. He had curbed his lust as much as possible and kept

  lovemaking between them a subdued experience, trying to familiarize her with the intimacy of

  the act and loosen her understandable inhibitions.

  There was certainly nothing inhibited about her tonight, and it affected him in a way that

  surprised him. He should be irritated by her choice of clothing for such a public appearance. He

  was irritated, actually. But he was also something else.

  Intrigued.

  She leaned forward and lifted the gold opera glasses in her hand to get a better look at the stage.

  The mounded flesh barely contained by the bodice of her dress severely tested the material, and

  he could swear he saw a hint of the edge of one pink, perfect nipple.

  Maybe he’d been going about things in the wrong way, he mused, unable to refrain from thinking

  about her unexpected challenge. Not that he approved in any way of her appearing in public

  partially naked, but he did admire the view. She certainly had lovely breasts, full and pliant, and

  the virginal color of the gown offset by the sinfully low neckline did some interesting things to

  the area below his waist.

  Very interesting things.

  “The soprano is spectacular, isn’t she?” The glasses lowered and his wife smiled, her dark blue

  eyes, framed by long lashes, still focused on the performance.

  Since he wasn’t really paying attention, it was hard for him to comment.

  You are spectacular.

  In a noncommittal tone, he mumbled a less than brilliant response, “Yes. Very talented.”

  “That last aria was breathtaking.”

  What was breathtaking was the graceful curve of Brianna’s bared shoulders and the flawless

  perfection of her skin. Not to mention the alluring soft rose of her mouth, the darker color of her

  brows a contrast to the golden luster of her hair. . . .

  Good God, Colton thought with amused self-disgust. What was he doing? Poetic comparisons

  and lascivious thoughts while sitting in his private box at the opera were not at all in character.

  He forced his attention back to the stage. Or at least he tried.

  It seemed like forever before the music ended, the applause ceased, and the chaotic exodus from

  the theater began. Taking advantage of his superior height to spot the appropriate opening, Colton

  escorted his wife outside as fast as possible to avoid both gossip over her attire and—if he were

  honest with himself—any other males having the chance to feel similar appreciation for her

  undeniable charms. The usual after-performance pleasantries to friends they did encounter were

  administered as expediently as possible, and he waited impatiently to retrieve her cloak. He

  swirled it around her shoulders with a deep sense of relief.

  “My carriage, please,” he said in clipped tones to a footman who bowed and apparently caught

  the urgency in his voice, for the young man practically ran to order it.

  “Are you in a hurry?” Brianna asked.

  Her question sounded innocent enough, he thought warily as he stood waiting for the vehicle to

  be brought around, but he wasn’t sure it was. There wasn’t much question she’d surprised him

  this evening. “I don’t care to wait in an endless queue,” he lied.

  “It does get tedious,” she agreed, slipping the wrap from her shoulders just enough to expose the

  view he wanted covered. “My, it is a warm evening, isn’t it?”

  He was certainly sweating, and he wasn’t completely sure the temperature was responsible for his

  discomfort.

  Once their carriage arrived, Colton helped Brianna in and followed to settle on the opposite seat,

  rapping sharply on the roof to signal the driver.

  In the shadowed interior of the coach, with her cloak open so the sumptuous flesh that nearly

  spilled from the front of her gown glimmered pale, Brianna looked more tempting than ever.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Did you enjoy the production, my dear?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was hushed, and she gazed at him from under her long lashes in a provocative

  way he’d never seen before. With every breath she took, her breasts threatened to burst free from

  the inadequate confines of her gown. “Did you like it?”r />
  He was riveted. Or still riveted. Oh hell, hadn’t she just asked him a question?

  It was only polite to answer it.

  “The view was glorious,” he said dryly, giving up any attempt to hide his salacious interest.

  “And, yes, I thought the opera itself diverting.”

  She smiled, looking nothing like the young ingénue he had married, but instead every inch an

  alluring, sensual woman. “If I can divert you in any way, please, feel free to indulge yourself.

  Now would be fine.”

  “Now?” he repeated, wondering if he understood her meaning correctly.

  “Now.” Her smile deepened.

  Oh yes, she meant it.

  In some deep part of his mind it was irksome that she knew how badly she had unsettled him, but

  that part was not in control at the moment. Another part of his body was now in charge.

  He didn’t intend to move. After all, engaging in an indiscretion in a carriage was most

  undignified—but suddenly Colton did not care in the least. He reached over and scooped Brianna

  into his arms, settling back into his seat with her draped across his lap. Lowering his head, he

  kissed her hungrily, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting every sweet corner. She responded

  with equal abandon, her arms wrapping around his neck, her slender, voluptuous body pressing

  against him. Not releasing her mouth, he eased the cloth from one shapely shoulder and her bared

  breast filled his hand with a soft, supple weight.

  Perfect.

  Everything faded. The clattering of the wheels of the vehicle as it rolled along the cobbled street,

  the warm evening . . . everything except the hard throbbing of his cock. He could hear her erratic

  breathing when he finally broke the kiss and slid his mouth down the graceful length of her neck,

  his lips lingering for a moment at the point where her pulse beat fast and light. Brianna made a

  small sound as his thumb circled the luscious crest of her pink nipple, her head falling back

  against his shoulder. “Colton . . . oh, yes.”

  Her skin was soft, smooth, and infinitely female. His fingers deftly found the fastenings at the

  back of her gown, and it was around her waist in moments. Licking the enticing valley between

  her breasts, kissing her mounded flesh, sucking on her nipples until they were erect and tight, he

  could feel his lovely wife’s arousal in the way she clung to him and whispered his name.