To Romance a Charming Rogue tcw-4 Read online

  She was only saved because Damon caught her arm and hauled her back to safety.

  “Merciful heavens!” Lady Beldon exclaimed in alarm while Eleanor gasped.

  After a stunned moment, she broke free of Damon's grasp and rushed down the last steps to kneel beside the prince, who lay prone on the carpet, his breathing harsh.

  “Your highness-are you hurt?”

  His answer was a groan as he rolled onto his side and clutched his left knee in obvious pain.

  However, when he followed with an obvious epithet in Italian, Signor Vecchi said something sharply to him in the same language, and the prince looked chastised.

  “A million pardons,” he said, grimacing up at the ladies.

  A space had cleared around him, while the crowd had quieted at the spectacle of a splendidly dressed foreign nobleman sprawled on the floor. Thus, Elea nor had no difficulty hearing Damon when he turned to his physician friend.

  “Otto, can you be of assistance?”

  “I will do my best.”

  While Prince Lazzara's injured limb was being examined, his elder relative shook his silvered head sadly. “I fear Don Antonio has extremely ill luck,” Signor Vecchi commented.

  “It was not ill luck, Don Umberto!” Lazzara retorted rather peevishly. “I was pushed, most definitely.”

  Eleanor gave a start at the revelation, and her gaze immediately went to Damon. Was it possible he had precipitated the fall? He had been directly behind them, after all, with Signor Vecchi adjacent to him. It would have taken only a slight shove to topple the prince…

  She moved to Damon's side, frowning up at him. “Did you cause his highness to fall just now?” she asked in a grim whisper.

  Damon stared at her for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”

  “He could have been badly hurt, being pushed down a flight of stairs.”

  A muscle flexed in Damon's jaw. “Indeed. And you could have been hurt as well, since you were clinging to his arm. But no, I did not cause his fall,” he stated, fixing her with a stern look.

  Eleanor's frown deepened. “It seems strange that the prince is beset by mishaps whenever you are around.”

  Damon emitted a low, incredulous laugh. “You don't honestly believe I had anything to do with this one?”

  “Why not? His troubles did not begin until you returned to London. And you have been present for all three incidents thus far.”

  “As have you,” Damon pointed out coolly. “You could have orchestrated his misadventures yourself so that you could come to his rescue and prove your resourcefulness and compassion. Isn't that what your book tells you to do?”

  “No,” Eleanor snapped, longing to set him back on his heels. “In fact it advises just the opposite. I am supposed to appear helpless whenever possible.”

  His mouth curling, Damon glanced down at the injured man. “Lazzara is the one who seems helpless just now.”

  “A state that you obviously relish.”

  His jaw hardened. “So you think I sabotaged his carriage and risked your safety-even your very life- the day you drove with him in the park?”

  Judging from his tone, she had obviously roused his ire with her accusations, but Eleanor didn't back down since her own ire had escalated. “Perhaps you did. You seem determined to interfere in our court ship.”

  “What of yesterday? I was nowhere near Lazzara when he was pushed into the street.”

  “You could have hired a pickpocket to assault him. And you were in a prime position just now to cause his fall.”

  Damon returned the dagger-eyed look she was giving him with steel in his own. “There is only one problem, sweeting. I had nothing to do with any of his mishaps. You will have to look elsewhere for the culprit.”

  Eleanor could see that he was angry. But she was furious herself to think Damon might be so set on spoiling her courtship that he'd deliberately endangered the prince.

  “Of course you would deny it,” she returned in a fierce undertone, “even if you are guilty.”

  When Damon pinned her with his gaze, she could feel the air crackling between them.

  “Are you actually questioning my word?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

  Realizing they were attracting attention from various bystanders, Eleanor lowered her own voice. “I don't know if I am or not. But clearly I cannot trust you to tell me the truth.”

  “Eleanor,” her aunt suddenly interrupted. “Come, my dear, we should be going home.”

  Damon was still regarding Eleanor with smoldering eyes. “This is not the place to be arguing,” he bit out. “We should continue this discussion in private.”

  “We should not be speaking at all!” Eleanor practically hissed in return. She stepped away from him just as Mr. Geary concluded his examination.

  “I do not believe any bones are broken, your highness,” the physician announced, “but you require care since you appear to have badly sprained your knee. You should be taken home at once and put to bed. I shall attend you if you wish.”

  Lady Beldon spoke up immediately. “I will send for my own physician, Mr. Geary. You need not trouble yourself any further.”

  The physician looked dubious, but he nodded. “You would do well to put cold compresses on your knee, your highness. And of course you must keep it immobile for a time.”

  “We will see to his welfare, Mr. Geary,” Lady Bel-don insisted.

  Signor Vecchi helped the prince to rise then and lent his shoulder for support. Still in severe pain, the injured nobleman limped onward with the aid of his relative.

  “You came in Prince Lazzara's carriage, did you not?” Damon said tersely to Eleanor. “If need be, I will take you and your aunt home.”

  She glanced sharply at him. “It is not necessary, my lord. You have done more than enough this evening. Indeed, I would be quite pleased if you would keep away from us all for the distant future.”

  With that, Eleanor turned and followed the injured prince, feeling Damon's eyes boring into her back all the while.

  Her frustration with Damon did not abate as she entered the prince's carriage with her aunt, although by the time the barouche had carried them to Port-man Place and deposited them on their doorstep, Eleanor's anger had calmed the slightest measure.

  Perhaps she'd been mistaken to accuse Damon of such nefarious deeds, she reflected grudgingly as she followed her aunt upstairs to the viscountess's elegant suite of rooms. He might be a rake and a rogue, but that was a far cry from wishing to harm an innocent man merely for courting her, particularly when he himself had no claim to her.

  The moment Eleanor was alone with her aunt in the sitting room, however, Lady Beldon made clear her own opinion of Damon.

  “I dislike seeing you speaking to that wicked Wrexham, Eleanor,” Beatrix complained. “You needn't acknowledge him beyond the dictates of mere politeness.”

  “You are right, of course, Aunt. I shall do my best to avoid all contact with him in the future.”

  “Good. You do not want to give the prince any reason to think less of you. You should be encouraging his attentions whenever possible, and Wrexham's presence could very well hinder your courtship.”

  “I am well aware of that, Aunt.”

  Eyeing Eleanor, Beatrix pursed her lips in a thoughtful frown. “I expect it is only fair to tell you what Signor Vecchi says.”

  “What does the signor say?”

  The elder lady grimaced. “That the prince is something of a rake himself when it comes to women. Signor Vecchi hinted rather strongly that his highness might not make you a good husband. But then I put little store in such warnings. Prince Lazzara's birth and breeding are impeccable, and his fortune is magnificent. And as far as his personal affairs… well, he is likely no worse than many noblemen.”

  Eleanor hid her own grimace. She had heard the gossip before, about the prince's reputation for profligacy, yet she had chosen to overlook it for now. Not, however, merely because she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.
According to Fanny Irwin, some rakes could be redeemed by true love, so Eleanor was not ready to condemn the prince as a hopeless cause solely for his past. It might just be a matter of his meeting the right woman, one who could win his heart.

  Herself, possibly? Eleanor wondered. If she could make Prince Lazzara love her, he might change his wicked ways for her sake. Even Damon might have done so two years ago, she reflected. If Damon had really loved her, surely he would not have turned to his mistress so shortly after becoming betrothed to her-

  That painful thought was interrupted as her aunt continued briskly. “At least you will be able to advance your suit next week at my house party. And it will be good to repair to Rosemont where Wrexham cannot follow you.”

  Eleanor had to agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment.

  “I do so want it to go well,” Beatrix added with an odd note of wistfulness.

  “I am certain it will. Your house parties are always splendid.”

  “Signor Vecchi says he is anticipating the event with great relish.”

  When Eleanor smiled at her aunt, Beatrix's cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. She looked years younger when she spoke of the Italian gentleman, Eleanor thought fondly.

  “Do you think I am wrong to encourage his advances?” Beatrix asked uncertainly.

  “No, dearest aunt,” Eleanor said softly. “I think you are very right to do so.”

  “He has quite a gentle way about him. Unlike Bel-don, who was an insufferable bear when crossed…” Beatrix suddenly stiffened. “But enough of my late husband. Ring for my maid, Eleanor, if you please. I vow I am fagged half to death after all that drama of the prince's accident.”

  Realizing that Aunt Beatrix was suffering a touch of embarrassment at having shared her innermost thoughts, Eleanor obeyed and bid good night, then made her way to her own bedchamber in the east wing.

  Her aunt was lonely, although she rarely let herself show it, Eleanor suspected. It would be heartwarming to see the aloof, unemotional viscountess fall in love for the first time, or at the very least, find a gentleman whose friendship and companionship she could enjoy

  Whatever happened, Eleanor added to herself as she shut her chamber door behind her, she hoped her aunt could find happiness, regardless of her own relationship with the prince.

  Deciding against summoning Jenny since the hour was so late, Eleanor changed out of her gown and put away her undergarments. Yet as she performed her ablutions and prepared for bed, her thoughts returned to the evening at the theater and her ire started to rise again. It dismayed her that Damon seemed determined to spoil her opportunity for love.

  But she would not allow him to interfere, Eleanor vowed as she donned her nightdress. She would proceed with her subtle pursuit of Prince Lazzara, and if Damon dared to intrude again… well, she would simply have to devise a plan to discourage him once and for all.

  She had settled in bed to review another chapter of Fanny's advice book when she heard a slight noise from across the room.

  Her heart gave a jolt when she looked up to find Damon's face at her open bedroom window.

  Her jaw dropping, Eleanor watched in disbelief as he eased his broad shoulders through the window and hauled himself inside, then lowered his feet to the carpet.

  He was still dressed in formal evening wear, she noted distractedly, but that wasn't what held her speechless. It was the fact that he had climbed up two stories to a lady's bedchamber, after midnight, bold as you please.

  “Damon!” she exclaimed, her voice a high, breathless rasp. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  “I believe we left our conversation unfinished,” he said coolly, crossing the room toward her bed.

  You should appear kissable, even if you have no intention of being so forward. Call his attention to your mouth by lightly licking your lips or touching them with your fan. Trust me, he will notice. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…

  Throwing off the covers, Eleanor sprang out of bed so quickly, she felt lightheaded. Or perhaps her weakness was simply the result of having her tall, handsome, former betrothed stalking her when she was so scantily clad.

  “You know very well you shouldn't be in my bedchamber!” she declared as she backed away toward the door.

  A hard smile touched Damon's mouth. “At the theater you refused my offer to continue our discussion elsewhere.”

  “Because there is nothing to discuss!” When Damon kept advancing, Eleanor held up her hands as if to ward him off. “Damon-stop right there!”

  Thankfully, he obeyed her command, coming to halt a half dozen steps from her. But there he stood, looking as immovable as granite, his dark eyes piercing in the glow of the bedside lamp.

  “You need to leave this minute,” she insisted.

  “Not until we set a few matters straight.”

  He was still angry at her, obviously, but then, so was she. “I mean it, Damon! Get out, or I will call for Peters to throw you out.”

  “No, you won't. You don't want your servants to find me here.”

  Eleanor clenched her teeth in frustration, knowing full well she couldn't make good on her threat. Summoning the servants to her rescue might very well result in scandal. At the very least her Aunt Beatrix would be appalled and dismayed to learn that she had gotten herself in such a fix.

  Eleanor wanted badly to send Damon to the devil, but it was clear he intended to have it out with her, despite the fact that he was flouting propriety with a vengeance.

  Realizing she had no choice but to listen to him, she gave a huff of resignation and crossed her arms under her bosom-which had the unwanted effect of attracting Damon's gaze to her breasts.

  When his dark eyes raked her, taking in her delicate nightdress of white lawn, she quickly dropped her arms to her sides and retreated another step. “Very well, what do you want to discuss?”

  “The situation with Lazzara. I want you to listen to me, Eleanor.”

  “Will you please keep your voice down then? Someone might hear you.”

  Damon obliged, but his tone still held a hard note when he continued. “I can't fathom why you think me guilty of some sinister purpose toward your prince, but you not only accused me of trying to injure him, but of lying.”

  Eleanor lifted her chin. “You cannot claim that you have never lied to me before. After we became engaged, you said you had given up your mistress, but you most certainly had not.”

  He returned an enigmatic look as he slowly moved around the foot of the bed. “I won't argue with you on that score, but you are far off the mark if you think I had anything to do with Lazzara's mishaps. That makes as much sense as you causing his accidents yourself.”

  Eleanor gave him a measuring stare. “Whyever would I cause his accidents?”

  “Perhaps to maneuver him into a position where your reputation would be compromised… to compel him to wed you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “That is a perfectly revolting accusation.”

  “So is your accusing me of deliberately attempting to harm him. I don't take kindly to having my honor questioned.”

  “I would imagine not,” Eleanor retorted. “But you must admit it looks highly suspicious when you were present for all three incidents. And you were directly behind us this evening.”

  Pinning her with his gaze, Damon took a step closer. “There is one major factor you are forgetting, sweetheart. I would never put your safety at risk. Since you were clinging to his arm, you could easily have fallen tonight and been injured yourself. Even had I wanted to shove him down a flight of stairs, I would have waited until you were clear of him.”

  She had to admit that Damon had acted swiftly to save her from the prince's fate. Eleanor nodded slowly. “I remember that you caught my arm to prevent me from being dragged down by him.”

  “I did indeed.”

  “So you think he merely tripped?”

  “Perhaps, but to my mind he has suffered too many recent mishaps for it to be mere coincidence. It's possible t
hat someone actually may want to harm him.”

  “Who, then?”

  “I haven't the foggiest idea.” Looking thoughtful, Damon moved over to her bed and settled one hip on the mattress. Before Eleanor could protest, he went on as if musing aloud. “I did note that the pickpocket looked as if he could have been a countryman of Laz-zara's. They shared the same olive complexion. At the theater this evening, however, there was no one of that appearance near him other than Signor Vecchi.”

  “But Signor Vecchi would not push his own relative down the stairs,” Eleanor said, frowning in puzzlement.

  “I shouldn't think so.”

  Her frown deepened. “If some unknown assailant is trying to do the prince harm, I would very much like to discover the culprit so he can be stopped. Laz-zara could be seriously hurt.”

  “I would like to know as well,” Damon declared. “As long as he is courting you, you could be in danger. ”

  Her eyes widened a little. “You are worried for my safety?”

  “Is that so incomprehensible, Elle?”

  His tone had softened a measure, and Eleanor felt her own defenses slacken. “No, I suppose not.”

  “I dislike you associating so closely with Lazzara,” Damon said. “If these attacks keep up, you could be hurt. And I won't stand idly by and let that happen, Eleanor.”

  He held her gaze, making her suddenly aware of her near state of undress and the tangled covers on the bed.

  “Thank you for your concern, my lord,” Eleanor hastened to say, “but you should go. You shouldn't be here,” she repeated.

  Showing no signs of preparing to leave, Damon smiled crookedly. “You must at least give me credit for resourcefulness. You wouldn't allow me a moment of privacy with you, so I was forced to take drastic measures. It wasn't easy, climbing that damned oak tree outside your window.”

  Eleanor was surprised to hear herself laugh softly. It was deplorable how Damon could make her laugh when she should be irate at him for risking her reputation.

  “See,” he said casually, “you admire a man who can keep you on your toes.”

  She tried to hide a smile. “If you are fishing for compliments, you will grow old and gray before I add to your conceit.”