****
Confusing, irritating, ridiculous man! Who kisses like a god. "Gwen!" she yelled at herself and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her mission, focus on her one goal for the night. But all she could think about was his lips against hers. She hated that the minute he kissed her, she was lost. Her knees had gone weak, her breath had mingled so tightly with his that she wasn't sure if she was even breathing anymore. His touch made her shiver. The very reason she had for working with the man seemed to dissipate. She thought in vain that, if she were merely reminded of his rakish ways and ridiculous smile, her heart and mind would immediately reject him. He would be a poison to her. Never faithful, never kind, always teasing. Besides, there was something about his eyes, some hidden secret, or perhaps it was an agenda. Or maybe he really was just, plainly, a wolf. A predator.
How was she to ever experience happiness if she had to compare Hunter's kisses with others? Unfortunately, he knew just how desirable he was. Which meant she had to work that much harder to keep him away if she wanted to escape the Season unscathed.
She looked down at her dress and sighed. Blast the man, he was right. Though she would never admit it to him, she'd known it was a bad idea from the start, but her nerves and determination had gotten hold. Her pride no longer existed. It had disappeared the day she arrived back in London, only to find her name scattered about Mrs. Peabody's society papers.
Things had become progressively worse when she'd gone to a small gathering only to find herself being whispered about and ignored. A few even gave her the cut direct. She was labeled as used goods. Never mind that she had only ever kissed one man. But that one kiss might as well have ruined her, for ever since that day, she hadn't felt the same.
Cursing Hunter for a good five minutes, using as many languages as she could think of, she finally ran back through the servants' entrance and up to her rooms.
"The white one," she directed to her maid. "I've decided to change into the white gown and I will wear the red hooded shawl as planned."
"As you wish." Her maid gave her an odd look but made quick work of undressing her. The red gown had been daring in color, but the white gown was daring in a completely different way. For starters it was dangerously low, even for a married woman to be wearing. The bodice had pearls sewn into the material and a very tiny slit went up to her knee underneath the first layer, making it possible if one looked very hard to see part of her leg.
It was all part of her plan. Look daring, be daring, and gain secrets. After all, the only way she could imagine gaining an offer and learning information about those disloyal to the Crown was to have gentlemen find interest in her.
Before tonight, she could have had the best personality in the world and they would only offer her companionship.
After tonight, she was planning on unleashing everything she had. Hoping, desperately that it would work.
****
Hunter waited a half hour before going through the front entrance. He pulled a flask out of his pocket, ran a hand roughly through his hair, and loosened his cravat, just slightly.
All in all, he hoped his appearance looked as if he had just finished having the best night of his life and eagerly sought more companionship. Not the type of entrance he had hoped to make upon returning to London. But then again, he hadn't wanted to return. Ever.
When he was announced the room went silent.
He always did like being the center of attention. At least then he could ignore that irritating pain in his heart that told him he was alone.
"I don't believe I've ever had such a warm welcome. You are, of course, allowed to applaud as you see fit." He winked in Montmouth's direction. The duke narrowed his eyes. His wife, however, looked quite amused as she began clapping wildly.
The rest followed suit, most likely trying to figure out why the devil they were clapping for a man they'd rather see hanging by a noose, especially considering how much he offended their delicate sensibilities.
He gave a little bow to his audience, and immediately went to Montmouth's side. "A pleasure, as always, your grace."
"Doing it a little brown, aren't we, Haverstone?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Hunter tilted his head and boldly eyed the Duchess of Montmouth. "I was merely trying to remedy an awkward situation."
"You did lovely." The duchess reached out to him.
He grasped her hands and pulled her close. "Do you really think so?"
She gasped as Montmouth pried her hands away from Hunter's grasp.
The duke cursed but a small smile danced across his lips. "I think I speak for every married man here: find yourself a woman and settle down before you find yourself fighting in a duel."