A Taste of Seduction

by Bronwen Evans

  “How did you end up married to the Earl of Northumberland?”

  “Pah.” She waved a hand. “That was easy. He frequented the brothel I owned in Paris. But I run ahead of myself. Let’s go back. After I had my father killed, I saved again, took more clients. I became sought after because of my ability to be a lady everywhere but in the bedroom. Lord Sutcliffe took a shine to me, and I became his mistress. He set me up in a lovely house; he bought me jewels and other luxury items. Again I saved, my sole goal being to own a brothel so that I would no longer have to open my legs for degenerate men. I decided on Paris so that I could reinvent myself. Hide my identity and plan a comeback of epic proportions.”

  “Find a man to blackmail into marriage?”

  The wicked smile was back. “Of course. The Earl of Northumberland was just the weak-willed sap I needed. I set him up. I rigged the gaming tables at my establishment until he owed me so much money he’d never be able to repay me. He had no choice but to agree to my plan. The Fleur de Lily was no more, and I became Victoria, Countess of Northumberland. It was such a pity that all your fathers were dead; I would love to have seen their faces when I walked into a London ball on his arm.”

  “How did you come to fixate on the sons?”

  She laughed. “By accident. I was in London with Isobel’s father, and I literally bumped into you coming out of Garrard’s with Lord Labourd. I heard you mention a ring and I saw how happy you were, and I could not bear that.”

  “It was a consequence of fate?”

  “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Arend by your side made it worse. His father knew that what they were going to do that night was wrong, but he walked away and left me there. That to me was unforgivable. That was the moment I hatched my plan. You would be destroyed first, and Arend would be last.”

  He shook his head on a long sigh. “So much pain, and for what? Where has it got you? I don’t think it’s healed your soul nor made you happy. Love is the only thing worth a damn, and you’ve never experienced it.”

  “I loved once. I loved my mother and father, yet that did not stop my father from betraying me. I loved my little girl. After her death, I dared not love. Love is far too painful. Bitterness and revenge were so much easier.”

  Hadley couldn’t help himself. He reached out and took one of her delicate hands in his. “I’m truly sorry for your loss. I’m also truly sorry for the part my father played in your gruesome tale. But I refuse to be held accountable for something my father did. Neither I nor any of the other Libertine Scholars committed this offense. And we should not have had to pay the price.”

  Tears trickled down her face. “There was no one else to blame. Revenge was all that had kept me going, and suddenly there was no one to take my revenge upon, to slake my thirst.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Coming after the sons is the reason I cannot forgive you. What you did to all of us is unforgivable. Yet part of me understands the burning need to seek vengeance, for I feel it. I’d like nothing better than to strangle you with my own two hands.”

  She pulled her hand from his, any emotional weakness gone. “I don’t want your forgiveness, and I don’t need it.”

  “Then what is it you do need?”

  She briefly closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want anymore. You are right when you say revenge is empty. It doesn’t bring my little girl back.” She stood and made her way back over to the cot. She lay down and closed her eyes. “Go to your friends. See if they will agree to your plan. I’m tired and will be content to leave this country and all the bad memories behind. England has never done right by me.”

  He moved to the door and stood looking at her slight form. Such a waste of so many lives. He could not help but feel sorry for all of them.

  As Hadley made his way back upstairs and into the light, his anger and hatred still burned, just not as bright. He knew what he had suggested was not going to be easy to get the others to agree to, but what he did know was that it was time to face facts. Someone had to end the cycle of vengeance. He didn’t want Sealey or any of his future children born into a world filled with hate. It was time to turn the other cheek.

  If only he could trust Victoria.

  Somehow he doubted it.

  Chapter 16

  Hadley rose to greet her as soon as Evangeline entered the room. He looked so handsome she almost couldn’t catch her breath. The first thing she noted was that there was no welcoming smile. His face was drawn tight, his lips were pressed firmly together, and his eyes portrayed such sorrow her heart immediately clenched deep within her chest.

  What had Victoria said to him?

  She rushed forward, her mouth blabbering. “I’m so sorry. I wish when I had returned to London that I’d done things differently. I wish that I had told you about Sealey sooner, but your reaction to my arrival, and finding out the situation you are in with your brother…well, how could I have told you?”

  He came around the desk and walked toward her.

  She held her palms up. “You would’ve been torn between helping your brother and wanting to do what was right for Sealey. I couldn’t put you—”

  Before she could finish the sentence he pulled her roughly into his arms, and his mouth crashed down on hers. The kiss was possessive, hard and wanting. His tongue filled her mouth, stroking her.

  Her body responded immediately. She wrapped her arms round his neck and pushed in close. She loved how his hands roamed over her clothes, tracing the curves of her breasts, moving down over her waist, until his large hands cupped the globes of her bottom, lifting her up and pulling her tight against his hardness.

  All too soon his demanding lips left hers. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

  “I’ve been dreaming about doing that for days.”

  “You’re not angry with me?”

  He shook his head. “How could I be? Nothing that has occurred is your fault. I understand perfectly well why you did not tell me about Sealey sooner. You are too generous, kind, and thoughtful to put me in a position where I would have had to choose between my son and my brother. I love you even more for that.”

  She physically sagged against him. “Thank you. I couldn’t bear it if you were angry with me or blamed me for Augustus’s death.”

  He hugged her back. “We all do what we think is right at the time. Hindsight simply lets us know whether the choice we made was a good one.”

  “I’m not sure my choices were good.”

  He ran a finger gently down her face. “All I know is that I appreciate what you tried to do for me—for Augustus. Come. Sit. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Swallowing her hand in his, he led her to the chair by the roaring fire. He waited for her to sit before slowly withdrawing his hand, his fingers trailing the length of hers, and taking a seat opposite her.

  “Tell me about my son.”

  “I’d love to say that he is like every other boy who is nearly five years old, but that would not be true.” Looking at the flames flickering in the grate, she tried to find a way to explain to Hadley what his son’s life had been like when Dougal was still alive.

  “Dougal suspected the babe I carried was not his, and when I gave birth a little over seven months later, to a big, strong, healthy boy, his doubts deepened.” She hurriedly continued. “He never really said anything, but he was never affectionate with the baby.

  “I knew as soon as Sealey was born that he was your son. The shape of his eyes and his curly brown hair added certainty to my own instinct.” She smiled at the memory.

  “I wish I could have been with you. Was it a difficult birth?”

  “I suspect no more difficult than for any other woman. Besides, the pain is soon forgotten when you hold your child in your arms. He was a beautiful baby, and I lost my heart to him the moment I saw him.”

  Hadley cleared his throat. “When did Lord Stuart become certain the boy was not his?”

  “It was a gradual proce
ss. He refused to have Sealey in his presence. I was to keep the child out of his way at all times. He never said to my face that the boy was not his, but he knew.”

  “Did he ever hurt the boy?”

  She shook her head. “Not physically, but emotionally…Sealey tried so hard to do what he thought Dougal wanted. Can you imagine what it must have been like to try to please a father who refused to love you? The poor child was so confused and hurt, and often thought he had done something wrong. It broke my heart.”

  “Augustus faced that every day of his life. My father hated him, was disgusted by him. I felt so guilty watching my father’s treatment of him. I could not understand how a father could act that way to his son. Neither could Augustus. I guess that is why I always tried to protect my brother. It wasn’t honorable, the way my father behaved.”

  “I suppose I should be thankful that Dougal never hit Sealey. I was constantly worried that he would. But other than seeing that Sealey behaved, he left the boy alone.”

  A frown appeared on Hadley’s face. “But by claiming the child as his, the boy is now his heir.”

  “Lord Stuart’s first wife bore him no children, and I never fell with child after Sealey’s birth. I think he realized the problem lay with him. He had no male cousin or any other male relatives. Claiming Sealey ensured that the Stuart name would continue.”

  “How strange. It doesn’t continue with his bloodline; therefore it seems pointless.”

  “For once he was thinking of someone other than himself—his unmarried sisters. If the land and title went back to the crown, what would they live on?”

  Hadley nodded. “I suppose I would do that for my family too.”

  “You’d do anything for your family.”

  He smiled at her comment, then asked, “Did you try to explain to Sealey why Lord Stuart behaved toward him as he did?”

  She swallowed, trying to pick her words carefully. “I couldn’t tell him. What if he talked about it and others overheard? I didn’t want to give anyone grounds to question his right to be Viscount Stuart. I wanted to protect him.”

  “Of course you did. You love him. How do you think he will react to the knowledge that I am his father?”

  “I don’t know. He’s still very young, and I’m not sure he will understand it all.”

  “Are you suggesting we don’t tell him? That we wait until he is older?”

  She tried to read his face, tried to see what he wanted to do. There was never a good time to try and explain to a young boy that the man he thought was his father wasn’t. In a way, she was thankful that Sealey hadn’t formed any attachment to Dougal. In fact, he’d seemed happier and more carefree after Dougal’s death.

  “I think we should tell him now,” she finally concluded. “He’s already missed five years of knowing his real father—why should he have to wait longer? I actually think it may come as a relief to him to finally understand why Dougal wasn’t affectionate with him.”

  Hadley crossed his legs. “I must confess to some nervousness. What if he doesn’t like me either?”

  “As with any child, if you love him, he will love you back.” She smiled encouragingly. “We could tell him tomorrow and simply let him meet you today. Let him get to know you before we announce you’re his father. I’m sure he’ll soon love you too. Why don’t we go and introduce you to him now? He is on the front lawn. Sebastian is teaching Henry and Sealey how to play pall-mall.”

  She knew they had more to talk about, more than just Sealey, but like the coward she was, she wanted to face one mountain at a time. The state of their relationship, if there was going to be any relationship—and she hoped that the kiss he’d bestowed not long ago was an indication that there would be—could wait. Hadley had waited five years to meet his son, and he shouldn’t have to wait a minute longer.

  She walked to where he sat and held out her hand. He took a deep breath and slipped his hand into hers. She realized he was nervous, for his hand was shaking. She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, he’s going to love you as much as I do.”

  With that they left the study and made their way through the house out to the front lawn. They could hear the boys’ laughter before they even reached the bottom step.

  Upon sighting them from across the lawn, Sealey called to her. “Look, Mother, I can hit the ball,” and he swung the mallet as hard as he could, his tongue poking from the side of his mouth. His face was alight with happiness, and he looked so much like Hadley. She wondered if her son would notice the resemblance when he looked at his father.

  Hadley halted and sucked in a breath. His eyes totally focused on the wee boy across the grass. Tears welled in his eyes, and he squeezed her hand tightly.

  “Oh my God,” he whispered.

  Sealey ran across the grass to where the ball rested, not more than five feet from where they both stood. He called, “Watch, Mama,” and drew the mallet back. But instead of swinging through and hitting the ball, the mallet stopped midflight. Sealey’s smile faltered, and a look of disbelief settled there instead. The mallet slowly dropped to the ground.

  Sealey looked at her, and then he looked at Hadley, looked at where their hands were still joined. Sealey took a tentative step toward them, his eyes never leaving Hadley’s face.

  She would never forget the moment her son finally understood why Dougal never loved him. He turned to her, his face a picture of wonderment, hope, and fear. She nodded, conveyed without words what Sealey intuitively understood. This stranger, this man standing with his hand linked with hers, was his father. The likeness was unmistakable even to Sealey.

  It was as if the world stood still. She no longer heard the singing of the birds, the wind seemed to die away, and all she could hear was the rapid beating of her heart.

  Tears were flowing down Hadley’s face. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms, and without hesitation Sealey ran into them.

  Her own tears flowed as she watched Hadley hug Sealey as if he’d never let him go.

  Hadley didn’t know how he found the strength to release the boy—his son. He drew back and held the boy at arm’s length, soaking in how perfect he was. He had his mother’s lips and chin, but from there on up he was all Fullerton. It was strange seeing how he himself must have looked as a young boy. Sealey’s eyes were the exact same ocean deep blue. Sealey’s nose was as defined as his own, and his hair, a mass of dark brown curls, was as wild as his hair had been at this age. That’s why, as an adult, he kept it cropped short. He found the curls too feminine.

  “You look like me,” Sealey said, a quaver in his voice.

  “Yes. Yes, I do. My name is Hadley Fullerton, the Duke of Claymore.”

  “I am Sealey Masters, Viscount Stuart. You were the man who rescued me. I recognize your voice. Thank you, sir.”

  “You were so brave. I was proud of you.”

  At Hadley’s words, his son seemed to stand taller, his little chest puffed outward.

  Evangeline stepped forward. “Why don’t we take a stroll to the river?”

  He stood and held out his hand to his son. Evangeline took Sealey’s other hand, and the three of them began to stroll across the lawn to the path at the far end of the garden.

  “Are you a friend of my mother’s?”

  Evangeline answered. “I knew His Grace many years ago, before I married your—before I married Lord Stuart.”

  Sealey seemed content with that reply and as they made their way to the river, he chatted about the pony Lord Markham had said he could ride while he was at Henslowe.

  —

  Hadley told Sealey the story simply, calmly, and dispassionately. He told it in a way that he hoped Sealey would understand. He wanted the boy to know that this was neither Hadley’s fault nor his mother’s fault, and never his fault.

  The little boy listened solemnly, never interrupting. When the tale was told he turned to his mother and asked, “Does that mean we don’t have to go back to Scotland?”

&n
bsp; Evangeline looked to Hadley for guidance. They hadn’t had time to discuss the status of their relationship.

  “I was hoping that you and your mother would come to live with me.” His happiness was complete when he saw the effect of his words on Evangeline. Her eyes lit up, and she reached out and took his hand.

  “That would be perfect,” she said. “What do you think of that idea, Sealey?”

  The little boy frowned. “Where do you live?”

  “My estate, Hardstone”—he still struggled with the idea that Hardstone was now his—“is near Chiddingstone in Kent. I also have a hunting lodge in Surrey, and of course a townhouse in London.”

  “Is Kent far from here?”

  “It’s about a two-to-three-day carriage ride from Dorset.”

  Upon hearing the news, Sealey’s face fell. “So I wouldn’t be able to visit Henry every day.”

  “No. However, there is no reason why he couldn’t come and stay at Hardstone or you could stay here for holidays.”

  “Do you have horses at Hardstone? Would I have my own pony?”

  He laughed. Such a typical question from a young boy. “There are many horses, and of course you may have a pony. I will teach you to ride myself.”

  “Then yes, I would like to live there. We would be like a proper family. Would you play with me the same way that Lord Coldhurst plays with Henry?”

  “Absolutely. However, there will be days when I have to attend to business, and I may also have to travel. When you’re older, I’ll let you come with me so you can learn all you need to know about running your own estate in Scotland.” Sealey seemed to consider this before nodding his approval.