A Wicked Reputation (Once Wicked)

by Liana Lefey

  What if he did? He’d assumed Harrow had known the man first, but what if it was the other way around? What if the pianist was in fact the unknown lover who’d caused Grenville to abandon the idea of marrying Diana? It all made sense. Upon being discovered and subsequently cast out, she’d become Harrow’s mistress and then had introduced him to her lover.

  How ironic it must have been for her to learn that Harrow and her musical amour had developed a taste for one another. He’d give a lot to know how it had ended with the three of them coexisting in seeming harmony. But he couldn’t ask her about it until she revealed his identity herself, or she’d know he’d been spying on her.

  One slip, and… Such an error didn’t bear consideration. He locked his curiosity away, determined not to let it get the better of him. Again. It had already landed him in far too much trouble.

  The atmosphere in the ballroom had begun to noticeably shift. He could feel questions hanging in the air like gathering storm clouds. Everyone would want to know the details. He would provide none. He couldn’t. At least not until he knew what he’d gotten himself into.

  …

  At precisely two o’clock the next day, Lucas found himself settling into a chair opposite Harrow and Diana in her drawing room. The gentleman had greeted him with surprising warmth, as if they truly were good friends, and Lucas had relaxed, secure in the knowledge that his host wasn’t jealous.

  And for good reason. His lover was doubtless waiting for him upstairs. Her lover, too. The thought made him clench his teeth. No matter how hard he tried not to look at it, Lucas’s traitorous gaze kept wandering over to where the pianoforte stood by the window.

  Harrow’s voice jarred him from his increasingly black thoughts. “Though you’ve never asked me about it, I’m certain you must know by now that Diana and I are accustomed to this sort of thing.”

  “I’ve heard a few rumors,” he replied carefully, striving to appear calm.

  One corner of the other man’s mouth quirked upward. “Then you must have heard something of my role in such assignations.”

  Indeed, he had. When he tried to speak, Lucas found his mouth devoid of moisture. He’d been a bold liar when he’d told Diana he wouldn’t mind taking them both on. Now his bluff was being called. Though his innards trembled, he forced himself to meet the other man’s gaze. “I try not to pay heed to idle gossip, but yes.” He was pleased at how nonchalant he sounded, as if it didn’t matter to him in the least whether or not it was true.

  Harrow’s smile deepened, and something like approval flickered in his eyes. “Allow me to set you at ease by assuring you that, although I’m quite fond of you and consider you a friend, I have no interest in making you my bedpartner.” He leaned forward a little and winked. “Handsome as you are, you’re simply not my sort.”

  It was only with the utmost self-discipline that Lucas refrained from sagging in relief. Despite his effort to conceal his reaction, however, he suspected Harrow knew. Giving up the charade, he allowed himself a small huff of laughter. “Fond as I am of you, as well, I cannot say I’m offended by your rejection.”

  Soft laughter followed the admission before Harrow carried on. “I’m glad that’s cleared. As to your interest in Diana, you should know it was her decision, and hers alone, to accept and follow through on this wager. I asked her if she would prefer I offer you alternative compensation. She refused.”

  She does want me! Again, Lucas was filled with exultation as he looked to his hostess. Part of him was peeved over her attempt to cozen him into embarrassing himself through a public pursuit of Harrow, but he was too happy and relieved to sustain his ire. Of course she’d tried to dissuade him! She had a great deal to hide, and he understood she viewed him as a risk of exposure. “I’m glad you chose to honor our wager, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “She better not,” said Harrow before she could reply. “Nor should I.” Now Lucas saw the deadly duelist in the face of the man he’d, surprisingly, begun to genuinely think of as a friend. “Which leads me to the requirements for this rendezvous. It must be held here, and you will vow never to reveal to anyone the specific details of what occurs beneath this roof. I don’t expect you to deny the assignation—all of London knows of the wager—but if and when you speak of it, you will be discreet. I’ll not tolerate Diana being denigrated by anyone.”

  A frown pulled at Lucas’s brow. “You may count on my utmost discretion, of course. And know that I’ll be the first to set my fist to any man’s face should he speak ill of her in my presence.” The vehemence with which he said it shocked him a little. He mellowed his tone and addressed the lady directly. “My desire for you has nothing to do with being able to boast of any conquest.”

  At last she spoke, her soft voice cutting the thick silence that had fallen. “I’m aware, or I would never have agreed to this.”

  Again, as Lucas looked at her, he realized one night with her wasn’t going to be enough. But it was a start. He’d make it the best night of her life, a night to make her want many more just like it. A night to make her forget the pianist and every other man she’d ever known. “I’m glad. You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t share the details of our assignation with anyone.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, demurely looking down at her hands, which were folded on her lap. He briefly marveled at the sudden rosiness of her cheeks but had no more time to reflect on it as she continued. “Then I invite you to dine with us here tomorrow evening at seven o’clock and remain with me thereafter as my guest until the following morning.”

  “It will be my honor.” A frisson of excitement ran through him such as he’d not experienced since he’d been a green youth. Mingled with it, however, was a bit of affront at the thought of Harrow chaperoning them. But he couldn’t begrudge it.

  After all, she is playing the part of his mistress, and she is his friend. It stands to reason he’d want to remain close to see to her safety. Briefly, he wondered what her nimble-fingered lover must think of this arrangement. Before he could ponder it, however, Diana rose suddenly, startling him.

  “No, please don’t get up,” she said, stopping him from doing likewise. “If you’ll pardon me, gentlemen, I have another matter to which I must attend.”

  Lucas watched in consternation as she exited and shut the door behind her. Looking to Harrow, he saw the other man was watching him with contemplative eyes. “Is anything the matter?”

  Harrow’s demeanor remained calm and relaxed. “She is nervous, and rightly so. It’s not often we invite people into our most intimate circle. I imagine it would shock you to learn that though it may appear otherwise, that circle is quite small.”

  Knowing it wouldn’t do to let on just how small he knew it really was, Lucas remained silent.

  Rising, Harrow went to a tray laden with decanters and proceeded to pour them both a drink. “I’m not surprised she decided to honor the wager, however,” he said with a small sigh. “I’ve marked the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her,” he added as he brought over two glasses of whiskey. “I knew you were going to be trouble the moment I saw you.”

  It was said in a good-natured manner free of rancor, but still Lucas felt the sharp sting of guilt. She’d clearly been quite happy with her life as it was, and he’d deliberately set out to disrupt it. Taking the glass proffered, he sampled the amber fire within, giving an appreciative nod to his host as its warmth slid down his throat. “I won’t deny my desire for her. Given that you’re known to share her favors, I’d thought to satisfy it without causing anyone pain. Was I in error to assume it possible?”

  Harrow let out a small huff of laughter as he took a sip of his own drink. “Indeed, but not the sort of pain you think. Diana is precious to me, but her heart is not mine save in friendship. I feel the same kind of love for her. Though I am protective, mine is not a jealous love as so many have assumed,” he added with a wry twist of the lips. “As such, I can ‘share’ her with others without taki
ng injury. But I cannot do without her friendship and affection. I’m not willing to give those up.”

  It was the last thing Lucas expected the man to say, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. So stunned was he that he could form no response whatsoever.

  Which was fine, because Harrow wasn’t finished. “Whatever happens between you, I won’t stand in the way. She deserves happiness. But please don’t take her from me entirely. I could not bear it. I consider her part of my family.”

  Lucas remained dumbstruck. He knew he ought to reply, but nothing would come out of his mouth. Desperate to avoid the embarrassment of having been rendered speechless, he knocked back the rest of what was in his glass, hoping it would loosen his tongue. “I mean to make her mine,” he blurted in the wake of the whiskey’s fire. Why the seven hells did I tell him that?

  Harrow smiled faintly. “Of course you do. I cannot see you doing anything else.”

  “It would be her choice, you understand,” Lucas rushed on. “But if she agrees to become my mistress, she will be mine—I won’t share her with anyone, including former lovers.” He thought of the other man upstairs and knew his host was likely thinking the same.

  “If you can persuade her to your course, I would like to hope we will remain friends,” said Harrow, his gaze narrowing speculatively. “And I don’t just mean Diana and me. I was being quite honest when I said I’m fond of you.”

  Amazingly, Lucas was warmed by the compliment, which was a bit unsettling. Now that the danger of being considered fair game for a bedchamber adventure had passed, he supposed he could afford to feel flattered. “I’m honored to call you my friend, as well,” he said at last. “Truly. You’re one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever known. In the interest of furthering our friendship, let us be entirely frank with one another. You’re not in love with Diana, and you seem resigned to her leaving you.”

  The other man rotated his glass, seemingly intent on watching the light play in the prismatic crystal. “Indeed. I’ve always known it to be inevitable.”

  Well, there was that, at least. “Is there anything else I ought to know about the situation in which I seem to have become entangled?”

  The silence grew so thick between them he could hear the soft ticking of the clock on the mantel across the room.

  Harrow took the opportunity to finish off his whiskey before continuing. “I fear I cannot speak further without betraying her confidence, and that is something I won’t do.” Rising, he went back to the tray and retrieved the decanter. “You’ll learn the rest of it when she’s ready for you to know.”

  It was a most unsatisfying answer, and Lucas was tempted to reveal his knowledge of their secret to force the issue. But he held his peace. If he spoke now, it might ruin any chance he had with Diana. And he wanted that chance. Badly. Yes, this was an almighty tangled web into which he’d fallen, to be sure, but he couldn’t see any way out of it that didn’t involve either cutting himself off from her or going forward blind. Well, almost blind.

  “What do you want out of this?” asked Harrow suddenly as he bent to refill Lucas’s glass. “I know Diana means more to you than a simple conquest. What do you intend to make of her once you have her?”

  Lucas stared at him as if he’d spoken in an alien tongue. “Make of her?”

  Harrow’s brow furrowed. “When I first took her on as my mistress, it was to be for five years, after which she’d have wealth enough to do as she pleased. She was planning on taking a new name and building another life for herself somewhere far away where no one would know about her past.”

  Leaning forward, Lucas peered at him in consternation. “You only intended to keep her for five years?”

  “In the beginning, yes. But then our relationship became…complicated. I grew to love her. You’re correct in that I’m not in love with her; however, my feelings regarding Diana are quite powerful. I adore her in the same way I adore my wife. I’ve shot and skewered men over an insult to her. I’ve lied industriously to more people than I can count, including you, in an attempt to preserve her happiness. I’ve even ruined the lives of some of those who’ve injured her. I would do almost anything for her sake.”

  Now Lucas was thoroughly confused, and feeling more than a little threatened.

  It must have shown on his face, because Harrow let out a bark of laughter. “Do you think the human heart so small it cannot love more than one person to such an extent? Lady Harrow was and remains my oldest friend and the mother of my heir. I may not love her in the carnal sense—she cannot again conceive without grave risk to her life, which I will not give—but I do love her. Deeply. She feels the same affection for me—and for Diana. The two look on each other quite as sisters. If you decide to make Diana your own, you should know we have become her family. The only way you can truly have her is if you’re willing to share her in that capacity.”

  Lucas tried to wrap his mind around this strange new development. Harrow loved his wife and his mistress and the pianist whom he’d as yet failed to mention. Libertinism was one thing. That, he could comprehend. But this? This was…he didn’t know what this was. He’d never heard of such a thing. Tangled web, indeed. “How am I to maintain such ties if she agrees to become my mistress?”

  “In befriending me, you’ve already taken the first step. She would never have agreed to honor the wager did she not feel your fondness for me was genuine, and vice versa.” He paused to take another sip. “Clearly, you weighed the possible consequences of a close association with me and found them acceptable, or you would not be here now.”

  “She did warn me certain assumptions would be made,” Lucas muttered, taking another swallow of whiskey, too.

  “They are already being made. And it will likely only get worse. You must be prepared to answer such assumptions as are voiced in inquiry, whether direct or otherwise, with resolute misdirection or silence. They might speculate, but no one can know what I really am—and what they already suspect you of being.”

  The urge to squirm was almost overpowering, such was his discomfort at confronting the issue. “You must pardon my ignorance, but I hardly know how to define that, myself.”

  Another laugh, this one gentle, full of patience. “You know what I am. If you must put a name to it, the least unsavory term I’ve heard is ‘amphibious’.”

  Lucas had heard it said before of those attracted to both men and women. He nodded. The question nagged at him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “And you truly don’t find me at all…?”

  One of Harrow’s brows arched high. “Are you disappointed?”

  “Not in the least,” he laughed, draining his glass. “Though I’ll admit I was a tiny bit flattered to think you might be when Diana first tried to use the idea to frighten me off.” Their easy laughter mingled, and the tension between Lucas’s shoulder blades eased.

  “Ah, vanity,” said Harrow wryly. “As I said, you’re handsome but not my sort. After all, just because you’re attracted to women does not signify that you’re attracted to all women. The same applies to people like me. We all have our individual preferences.” He settled a long, weighty stare on Lucas. “Do you really want Diana enough to do whatever is necessary to make this work?”

  At this point, the decision had already been made. I must be insane. “I suppose I can withstand a bit more of Society’s disapproval.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Diana’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Harrow was still downstairs talking with Blackthorn. “What in heaven’s name is taking so long?” A warm palm pressed down on the back of her hand, and long, elegant fingers interleaved between hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. She looked at René, seeking reassurance.

  “All will be as it should, mon amie,” said René, leaning close so she could rest her head against his shoulder. “Trust in Charles. He won’t fail.”

  “I hate this,” she confessed, ashamed of the rising panic in her voice but unable to control it. “I wish we did not have to d
eceive him in this manner.”

  “There is no other way—or, rather, there is no safer way—to do this. Not if you are to have what you desire.”

  Now it came to it, she regretted letting said desire sway her. “I knew better. I knew I would be unable to resist him. I should never have allowed him to get near me again. I should have run away.”

  “Do you think he would have allowed it?” the Frenchman asked, again squeezing her hand. “If he feels as strongly about you as you do him, then I’m afraid there is nothing on this earth that would keep him away. Non. C’est mieux. Be patient.”

  “And if he betrays us?”

  “He won’t. Charles will make certain of this. I’ve known him long enough to know there is nothing he won’t do to protect those he loves, and he loves you, chérie. Trust in that love.”

  She wanted to believe him but had no idea what Harrow might be telling Blackthorn. When she’d asked him, he’d told her he’d know how much to say only when it needed saying, which would all depend on Blackthorn’s reactions. That had given her no comfort. Today’s reactions aside, could he be trusted to keep his word once he knew the truth?

  Every fiber of her being wanted to get up and pace the room, but she knew it wouldn’t help and that it would only make René anxious. She glanced at her friend, wondering how he could remain so calm in the face of this catastrophe.

  Her heart leapt painfully in her chest as the door opened, admitting Harrow. A bemused smile hovered on his lips, but she refused to allow herself to hope until he spoke the words that would release her from this torment of uncertainty. “Well?” she demanded, unwilling to wait even a moment longer.

  “I think he’ll do admirably.”

  A relieved sigh burst from her throat. “Tell me everything, and don’t leave out a single detail, no matter how small.” She listened as he spoke, taking it all in. His observations, his predictions, all of it. He was holding something back; she was sure of it. But what he did say calmed her considerably.