Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

Her own eyes widened. Did he know abou

t her family circumstances? No, how could he! She was imagining nuances where there weren’t any. Tina made herself smile.

“It is. He is.”

But instead of beaming back at her, Mr. Eversham gave her a look that was insultingly kind, as if he were a thousand years older than she. In experience, she expected he was. Suddenly she didn’t want him to look at her like that.

“I know this is difficult for a well-brought-up young lady, Miss Smythe. I am asking you to do the opposite of all you have been taught by your mother and your governess and your finishing school. But believe me, if you want to ensnare a man of the world like Lord Horace Gilfoyle, you have no option.”

Tina blushed. “Is ‘ensnare’ the right word?”

“Semantics, Miss Smythe.” He eyed her kindly again. “Do you want me to help you or not? If so, then you will have to harden yourself to what I say and act with your emotions, with passion, with your heart rather than your mind. Perhaps this is something you cannot do?”

But I have to, Tina thought anxiously. My future is with Horace, the fate of my family depends upon it, and if winning him means I must act in a manner more suited to a courtesan than a lady, then so I shall.

Determinedly she put her embarrassment behind her. “I think what you want me to do,” she said clearly, “is draw attention to my feminine attributes.”

“That would be a start,” he agreed mildly. “You could touch the lace on your décolletage, draw the eye, eh, downward. You are a beautiful woman, Miss Smythe, and there is nothing to be ashamed of in wishing others to notice.”

Dear God, did he say that? Tina swallowed and nodded.

Stiffly and self-consciously she brushed her hand across her décolletage. She tried again, and this time felt more comfortable with the gesture. A brief touch of the lace, a movement designed to draw male eyes. Certainly it drew Mr. Eversham’s.

Her heart was beating rather quickly, but she told herself that was because she was overturning years of ladylike teaching. It had nothing at all to do with being alone with Richard Eversham.

In spite of her modest dress—the style was in fact some years out of date—Richard was surprised at his gut reaction to her timid gesture. The sudden surge of desire. The urge to undo those buttons where her hand rested and discover for himself, inch by inch, the pale swell of her breasts. She was a client, he told himself, nothing more, and a means to an end where that shady character Gilfoyle was concerned.

He had no intention of becoming romantically involved. Once bitten, as the saying went. And Richard had been well and truly bitten.

However, he had a part to play and forced himself to carry on. “That is a very good start, Miss Smythe,” he said, as if he felt nothing. As if this were merely business.

“Do you think so?” she asked with an anxious glance. “Should I place my hand here? Or here?”

“I have no doubt Lord Horace’s attention will be drawn by either positioning.”

What a waste! was what he was really thinking. To think I am wrapping up this luscious morsel for that bastard! But perhaps her education with me will give her a little more wisdom in her choice of men. When this is over and done, I can help her to choose a better man than Gilfoyle. I’m sure I can think of someone who will suit. Will Jackson perhaps? He’s a fine young man with a nice inheritance waiting for him. No title of course, but is she the sort who is set on having a title?

Richard realized he didn’t know anything about Miss Clementina Smythe apart from what she’d told him. In the interest of doing a thorough job he really should do some digging about.

“Mr. Eversham? The fabric?” Tina interrupted his thoughts.

“Fabric, Miss Smythe?”

“For my dress for the theater. Horace has invited a group of friends.” She looked puzzled, and he realized he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Hardly the behavior of a professional seducer, a man who knew how to charm and woo the most difficult of women. He pulled himself back into the moment and assumed a serious expression.

“Ah, yes. Of course. The fabric.” He brushed his fingers over the samples she’d laid out on the table in front of him. “The crimson is the obvious choice of course. That will certainly attract his notice. But I do think that dark green would be more effective with your coloring. With your eyes. And it would be all to the good if you could ask the dressmaker to lower the décolletage.”

“Lower the décolletage?” she repeated faintly. “How low?”

“As far as your modesty will allow,” he said firmly.

In his years on the town Richard had discovered that the most hardened rakes were often repelled by forward behavior in their nearest and dearest. They were like dogs with bones in that regard. Richard was hoping that seeing Tina behaving in such a manner would cause Gilfoyle to form a dislike for her.

Unfortunately Richard was discovering that watching Miss Smythe play her part was having the opposite effect on him. There was something very seductive about instructing her in the arts of seduction.

“Perhaps a little lace might draw his attention?” she suggested tentatively, and lifted her chin as if to draw courage in what must seem to her a very strange conversation.

“Indeed. A creamy lace with the dark green velvet would be exquisite. What is the occasion again?”