Beguiling Bridget (Waltzing with the Wallflower #2)(13)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“I don’t believe you’re on my card, my lord,” Lady Bridget said through her teeth. Another advantage — she wouldn’t make a scene. She didn’t want the attention.

“I’m claiming this dance, and all the rest of them, unless you give me a minute of your time. I have a proposition for you.”

His words were met with an exaggerated eye roll. “Do you really wish to proposition me, at the ball? Truly? Do you wish to be turned down in front of everyone, or perhaps even slapped?”

With great strength Anthony refrained from laughing aloud. “It seems to me that your definition of proposition and mine are clearly different. You make it sound as though I’m trying to get you into my bed.”

Lady Bridget flushed. “Well, I—”

“And dare I say your cheeks have turned a rosy pink?” Anthony set her to a twirl and pulled her indecently close.

“I wasn’t referring to your lewd lifestyle, my lord, and I am not blushing! I—” Lady Bridget’s chest rose and fell rapidly in either irritation or passion; he wasn’t certain which — not that there was a terrible difference between the two where this woman was concerned.

“Sadly, my proposition has nothing to do with mistresses or beds, though I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea if you were intent on offering yourself like a lamb to the slaughter.”

Lady Bridget’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but Anthony interrupted her.

“It has been said one night in my bed is better than hundreds with other men. Surely you know my reputation is to first seek to please the woman. To caress her body with my eyes, using my hands in so many ways as to heighten her passion…” He lifted his gloved hand and briefly touched her neck. “But sadly, as you say, you are not propositioning me, I was propositioning you — and for something entirely boring, I assure you.”

Lady Bridget’s eyes darted around, taking in everything and everyone but him. Clearly, she was uncomfortable, and he silently cursed himself for coming on so strong.

“I need your help.” He said help very quietly, for he despised the vile word.

“Kelp?” Lady Bridget glanced at him. “Is your stomach ailing you, my lord?”

“Devil take it, I said help!” He all but yelled, inviting stares from several women nearby who appeared more than inclined to offer aid.

“What could the great Viscount Maddox possibly need with my help?”

He hated how beautiful his name sounded on her lips — despised that his blood was near boiling with desire for her. And the feel of her body beneath his gloves was the most pleasurable of pain. The dance was drawing to an end, but he needed more time.

“Trust me. I mean to talk with you about this, but the dance is ending.”

She tried to protest, which just made him hold her hand all the tighter. He led her down the hall to the first room on the left, first checking for any sort of company and then closing the doors silently behind them.

“If you come near to touch me, my lord. I swear to you, I’ll scream.” Lady Bridget was standing behind the nearest chair, apparently needing a barrier between them.

“If I touch you without your consent, I promise you that you may scream and impale me with my own knife.” He slipped it out of his boot and slid it across the floor to her.

She picked it up and clenched it in her hand. Her eyebrow lifted in suspicion. “Well? What is so urgent that you feel the need to drag me into a private room against my will?”

Anthony took a deep breath. He had already decided to tell her all. “I never lose bets.”

“Is that why you’ve brought me here? To tell me you never lose? Truly, my lord, your arrogance is astounding.”

“Hear me out.” He grew flustered as Bridget tilted her head and put her hands on her hips. The same hips he held just moments ago. He turned around, needing to gain his wits lest he find himself impaled on the business end of his own knife. “My brother and Wilde have issued me a challenge.” She didn’t change her expression, but her impatience was evident in the tapping of her fingers on her hips. “They have given me four weeks to win a certain woman’s affection. Four weeks, or I will lose.”

Lady Bridget laughed. “Four weeks? To woo a woman? I was right, only a man with an ungodly amount of pride would take such a challenge.”

“If it was any other woman I would have already been crowned victorious.” Anthony fired back. “It just so happens they have chosen the most obstinate woman in the ton.”

“My lord, I have no experience in wooing women. What makes you think I would be of any assistance? Do you wish for me to help you make her jealous? If that is what you need, surely any number of the debutantes in the other room would be more likely candidates.” Her gaze traveled around the room as if in boredom. “I suppose it’s only natural you would choose a woman with no interest in you for the task.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, my lady.” She was scrutinizing the floral pattern on the upholstered chair before her. “In fact, I have already determined I will undoubtedly lose this challenge.” Her gaze returned to his face almost in triumph over his failure.

“If that is the case, why have this conversation? Why try to enlist my aid?” Her victorious smirk drove home the realization that this was truly his only option left.

“Lady Bridget,” he answered with a heavy sigh. “You are the object of my challenge.” A hint of surprise flashed briefly in her clear blue eyes, and her expression softened. “I concede the bet. Your disdain for me is insurmountable.” Lady Bridget appeared as though she would speak, but Anthony cut her off quickly with a wave of his hand. “I know how you abhor my ego, but I do wish to save some dignity if possible. If it helps at all, my brother’s arrogance is far more intolerable than my own. To lose to him would ensure a lifetime of humiliation. And while I am certain, given your inclination toward pleasure at my demise, you would thoroughly enjoy the entertainments, my own fragile confidence would be unable to withstand the torture. I would die an unhappy, alone, and bitter bachelor in the country. Do you truly want that on your conscience, my lady?”

The silence hung heavy at the end of his proposition. The lady’s expression was unreadable. Anthony had naught to do but wait for her to present her terms.

“Answer me this, for I’m terribly curious. When would you have won my favor, do you think, my lord? Would it have been the day you assumed I was blind?” She toyed with the knife in her hands and stepped around the chair, moving closer to him. “Or perhaps after you slipped on an innocent strawberry?” She was drawing nearer, and with every step Anthony grew warmer. “Or maybe after you fell on the street? Would it have been then, my lord?” She stopped directly in front of him and grinned the wide grin of the victor.