Carole Mortimer - Regency Scandal

If released from their pins, would her golden curls be long enough to fall over those beautiful, pert breasts, thereby allowing those ripe berries to peak through invitingly? More interestingly, once fully unclothed, would the curls between her thighs be that same enticing gold—

Dear Lord, was his life not complicated enough, without sitting here contemplating what the notorious Pandora Maybury looked like naked!

‘It really was unnecessary for you to manhandle me that way, your Grace,’ she now spoke primly into the silence. ‘I assure you I am both young and agile enough to climb into a carriage without your assistance.’

‘And yet you made no effort to do so,’ Rupert pointed out coolly, not at all pleased at the direction in which his thoughts had so recently been straying.

‘Because, as I had already stated, I had every intention of seeking out my own carriage.’

‘And I have already explained why that arrangement did not suit me .’ Rupert’s patience with this situation—what little he possessed—was wearing thin as he glared coldly across the width of the carriage at his reluctant companion.

Her lashes lowered as a blush coloured the ivory of her cheeks. ‘I have told you how grateful I am for your help earlier this evening—’

‘One would never believe so from your manner towards me now!’

Pandora gave a pained frown as she looked across the carriage at him. Perhaps his criticism was merited; she had behaved less than graciously towards him this past few minutes, because, despite wishing it were otherwise, she was utterly disconcerted at finding herself alone with Rupert Stirling in his carriage.

Every wary—and utterly weary—bone in her body had stiffened just now as she saw the speculative way in which his gaze had roamed so familiarly over her face and body. And against the warning of the rational part of her brain, she was equally as aware of his disturbing presence as he sat opposite her.

The gold of his hair now fell rakishly across his brow and curled about his ears and nape, the glow from the lantern lending an austereness to his high cheekbones and firmly squared jaw, his lazy sprawl on the upholstered seat totally at odds with the sharpness of that intelligent grey gaze as he continued to look at her from between narrowed lids. He was, without doubt, one of the handsomest gentlemen Pandora had ever beheld—even more so than Barnaby, who had possessed boyish good looks as well as dark hair and blue eyes.

Unfortunately, the Duke of Stratton’s reputation also rendered him the most potentially dangerous gentleman Pandora ever beheld, too, which was the very reason she felt so totally out of her depth in his company. ‘It was precisely because I did not wish to inconvenience you any further this evening that I asked to return home in my own carriage.’

The nostrils flared on that aristocratically straight nose. ‘Do you suppose we could possibly talk of something else, Pandora?’

She blinked. ‘Of course, if you wish it.’

‘Indeed—’ he nodded tersely ‘—I find myself exceedingly bored with the repetition of our present conversation.’

As no doubt he now regretted driving her home at all, Pandora accepted heavily as the Duke turned away dismissively to look out of the carriage window at the other carriages travelling London’s moonlit streets.

Pandora had been much in society during the years of her marriage; indeed, Barnaby had considered it part of her wifely duties to accompany him to all the balls and parties given by the ton and so she had long ago learnt to engage in the polite and meaningless small talk that made up so much of the conversation at those entertainments, and to keep any of her original thoughts and ideas to herself.

Indeed, until Pandora had met and become friends with Sophia and Genevieve shortly after the start of the current Season, she had long assumed that there were no intelligent ladies or gentlemen left in society, let alone those who found that inanity as tedious as she did herself.

It appeared that Rupert— Devil —Stirling was yet another who did not enjoy meaningless conversation …

She sat forwards slightly, her interest piqued. ‘Perhaps you would care to discuss literature? Or politics?’

His brows rose. ‘Really?’

Pandora nodded as she looked across at him earnestly. ‘My father was a Greek scholar, and ensured that I am quite conversant on either subject.’

Rupert gave a reluctant quirk of his lips as he once again found himself falling victim to those mesmerising and beautiful violet-coloured eyes. ‘I assume that is also the reason you have the unlikely name of Pandora?’ The original Pandora, if Rupert recalled his Greek studies correctly, was reputed to have been a woman given a gift by each of the gods, in order that she might bring about the ruination of mortal men.

There was no doubting that this Pandora possessed the reputed beauty attributed to the original, but did she also have the power to bring about man’s ruination?

If the gossip a year ago concerning that ill-fated duel was to be believed, then the answer to that question was a definitive yes !

Pandora eyed Devil Stirling warily. ‘I believe that by naming me such my father believed I might be gifted with both grace and beauty.’

‘Then he was not disappointed.’ The Duke gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘But did he somehow forget that the opening of Pandora’s box was also reputed to have released all number of evils upon man and beast?’

Pandora felt no warmth at his agreeing to her having been gifted with grace and beauty. How could she, when it was so quickly followed by this softly delivered insult? ‘If my father were still alive, I am sure that he would have enjoyed debating with you as to whether or not that destruction was Pandora’s doing or that of man himself.’

Gold brows rose over derisive grey eyes. ‘Your father was of the opinion that every man—and woman—is instrumental in bringing about their own destruction?’

She arched fine brows. ‘You disagree?’

Rupert could never before remember having a conversation with a woman on the subject of Greek mythology, let alone debating its philosophy. Obviously her father had been a learned man and it appeared to be an education he had felt no qualms in imparting to his only daughter.

Rupert’s physical appreciation of her had already caused him to regret her presence in his carriage. He certainly did not wish to know that there was so much more to her than the flirtatious beauty malicious gossip had led him to believe.

‘—telling me precisely where we are going, your Grace?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Rupert frowned at this interruption to his musings.

‘I asked if you would mind very much telling me where we are going?’ The huskiness of her naturally sensuous voice had sharpened in her obvious anxiety.

He gave a lazy smile. ‘I was unsure, once we were safely ensconced in my carriage, as to whether or not I would find myself with the dubious pleasure of dealing with a hysterical lady and advised my coachman to drive about London until you had calmed down enough for me to ascertain exactly where it is that you reside.’

‘My home is in Jermyn Street, your Grace.’ Pandora’s smile was rueful as she waited quietly whilst he advised his coachman of their destination before continuing. ‘I admit that I was upset by Lord Sugdon’s familiar behaviour earlier, your Grace, but I don’t believe I could ever be accused of being the sort of woman who swoons easily.’ The Duke did not need to know that Pandora had been very close to doing exactly that when the erstwhile nobleman had ripped her gown and then crushed her in his arms so effortlessly.