Regency Scandal: Some Like It Wicked / Some Like to Shock. Carole Mortimer

ever met.’

      He gave her a confident and wholly unapologetic smile. ‘I believe it has been mentioned before as being one of my character traits.’

      Pandora eyed him quizzically. Rupert Stirling was arrogant, dictatorial, sarcastic, even ruthless—as well as being exceedingly stubborn, as she had just accused him. But he also possessed a sense of honour where even a disgraced lady’s reputation was concerned, a mocking sense of humour that often included laughing at himself and a physical presence she was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore.

      Rupert’s looks and character were so completely different to those of her husband with his imposing presence, that arrestingly handsome face, impressive height and muscular build. Barnaby had been three or four years older than Rupert, but had looked younger with his boyish good looks and slight build. For all that Rupert was so determined to have his own way, he also filled Pandora with a sense of feeling protected and that no harm should befall her whilst she was in his presence, in a way which Barnaby never had despite his having been her husband for three years.

      Except harm from Rupert himself, of course …

      Pandora was not foolish enough to ever believe that he was offering her his public support out of the goodness of his heart! ‘I would still like to know what it is you hope to gain from such a—a public acquaintance with me?’

      Rupert raised his brows. ‘Why should you assume I have anything to gain by it?’

      Her eyes flashed deeply violet. ‘I may be several years younger than you, your Grace, and be considered something of a pariah by society, but I advise you not to assume for one moment that my lack of years or social standing in any way renders me a fool.’

      ‘I was not aware I had treated you as such.’

      She shook her head. ‘We had never even met properly before yesterday evening, and when we did it was certainly not under pleasant or flattering circumstances. Therefore, there must now be another reason for your seeming act of generosity in having persuaded your relatives to invite me to the opera. Perhaps it is that I am expected to act as a diversion of sorts, from attention being drawn to … to another relationship, which currently exists in your life?’

      Rupert had already known this woman to be beautiful and equally as stubborn as he, and in possession of an impressive intelligence of mind. He now knew she was astute in a way that would no doubt have reduced a lesser man than he to squirming discomfort! If, that is, that gentleman had been ignorant of the fact that Pandora had been privy to a certain private conversation between himself and one of his two closest friends … Although Rupert somehow doubted that the conversation Pandora had overheard had revealed all of the complexities of the relationship which currently existed between himself and the woman who was now his father’s widow.

      He gave a hard and humourless smile. ‘You, my dear Pandora, are expected to be here, ready and waiting, and suitably attired for attending the opera, when I call for you at seven-thirty this evening.’

      A reply which did nothing to answer Pandora’s question, as was no doubt deliberate; Rupert appeared to feel no qualms whatsoever in intruding and commenting on the privacy of other people’s lives, whilst at the same time refusing to reveal anything about his own.

      Still, she couldn’t help but privately believe his unexpected invitation to the opera was somehow connected to his stepmother, that in being seen in public with the notorious Duchess of Wyndwood, it would somehow distract attention from his other scandalous relationship.

      Whilst Pandora’s every instinct was to continue to refuse his invitation, her sense of fairness dictated otherwise; no matter how much she might wish it were not the case, his actions in rescuing her so dramatically yesterday evening meant that she was indeed obligated to Rupert.

      She sighed and forced herself to straighten her shoulders. ‘Very well, your Grace, I will accept the Countess of Heyborough’s kind invitation to attend the opera this evening.’

      ‘Why could you not have just said that five minutes ago?’ Rupert glared.

      ‘But only on the understanding,’ Pandora continued firmly, ‘that I won’t be expected to accept a second such invitation from you.’ She met his narrowed gaze unblinkingly.

      As technically the invitation had not come directly from him, but from the generous heart of his Aunt Cecelia, after he had called upon her earlier this morning and explained what had happened last night, he now felt no hesitation in agreeing to Pandora’s condition.

      Besides which, having to spend one evening in a decade attending the opera would no doubt prove to be more than enough for his own jaded sensibilities!

       Chapter Five

      ‘I sincerely hope you are pretending an interest in this drivel rather than actually finding any enjoyment in it?’

      Pandora did not show, by so much as a twitch of her bared shoulders, that she had overheard Rupert’s hissed comment next to her earlobe, as she continued to stare down upon the stage where the hero of the opera was currently—and rather loudly—lamenting his lost love.

      As promised, Rupert’s ducal carriage had duly arrived at her home at seven-thirty that evening, that gentleman looking suitably and—Pandora admitted inwardly—breathtakingly handsome in his black evening clothes and white linen, a cloak draped about those broad and muscled shoulders, his rich gold curls revealed as being fashionably dishevelled once he had removed his tall black hat.

      Pandora had coolly accepted his polite compliments on her own appearance: a deep-blue and feathered confection adorned her own fair curls, her silk gown of matching blue, its short-sleeved style leaving her shoulders bare, the high waist emphasising the full swell of her breasts, with pale-blue lace gloves covering her hands and arms to just above her elbows.

      She had maintained that cool detachment as the two of them travelled to the opera, only thawing slightly under the Countess of Heyborough’s genuinely warm greeting and her husband’s twinkling blue eyes as he bent solicitously over her gloved fingers. A melting that had faded the moment Rupert took a proprietary hold of Pandora’s elbow in order to escort her into the theatre. He had nodded and bowed imperiously in acknowledgement of the greetings he had received—several of them markedly startled once they realised the identity of the woman at the Duke’s side. But, as he had promised, not a single one of those ladies or gentlemen had dared to offer her the cut direct in his presence.

      Even so, Pandora’s legs had been trembling so much by the time they reached the Heyboroughs’ private box that she had been relieved to sink down on to the seat Rupert pulled out for her, before stepping back to fold his own lean length on to the seat directly behind her. A proximity he had just taken advantage of, the warm brush of his breath having felt almost like a caress against the bareness of Pandora’s skin as he spoke so closely to her ear.

      ‘Unless it has escaped your notice, your Grace, the heroine has just died and her lover is heartbroken,’ she whispered discreetly, aware as she was that there had been much gossiping behind fans and sidelong glances made in their direction during the course of the evening, as many people watched the two of them rather than the performance taking place upon the stage.

      ‘Then more fool him,’ Rupert drawled uninterestedly. ‘Personally I would consider myself well rid of such a weak and mewling creature! Why is it that you never wear jewellery, Pandora?’

      Those smooth and bare shoulders appeared to stiffen momentarily at this sudden change of subject before she brought her reaction under control and answered Rupert with that same infuriating coolness with which she had been treating him all evening. ‘I have, on occasion, been known to wear my mother’s pearls.’

      ‘But not yesterday evening or tonight?’

      Her mouth firmed. ‘No.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Could this conversation