An Invitation to Sin

by Suzanne Enoch

  “There aren’t that many men here. And my sisters already have five of them. And stupid Mary Gorman has one, and I don’t.”

  “Joanna, you’re only twenty years old. There’s no reason for you to lose hope. I’m certain—”

  Joanna screamed at the top of her lungs, then collapsed. So startled he nearly let her fall to the ground, Zachary grabbed her around the waist and went down with her. Holding her across his bent knees, he leaned over her face to tap her cheek.

  “Joanna?”

  Her eyes remained closed, her body limp in his arms. Bloody hell. He hadn’t said anything alarming, he didn’t think, and she’d been fine a moment ago.

  “Over here!” a groom’s voice came from down the path. “I think it was Miss Joanna, Mr. Witfeld!”

  Before Zachary could lift his head to look toward the voices, Joanna’s arms raised and wrapped around his neck, pulling his face down for a wet, solid kiss.

  His heart stopped. He should have seen it. He should have realized that Joanna had no intention of being shown up by her sisters.

  He tried to pull away, but the only way he could manage it would be to throw her into the dirt. “Joanna, let go,” he growled, pulling against her arms.

  The underbrush crashed sideways, and Anne stumbled, panting, onto the path. With one glance at his face she half-fell onto her knees on the other side of Joanna. “Papa!” she yelled. “We’re down here! Joanna’s fainted!”

  Joanna lifted her head and glared at her sister. “Go away!” she hissed.

  “If you’re unconscious, you should probably let him go,” Anne returned smoothly. “Because otherwise your story and my story aren’t going to match.” She looked at Zachary again. “And I believe Zachary’s story will follow mine.”

  “You witch!”

  Mr. Witfeld and two grooms rounded the bend at a run. “What’s happened?”

  “I have no idea,” Anne said, standing and fanning one hand over her sister’s face. “We were walking, and then she screamed and collapsed. I think she was stung by a bee.”

  “Wendell, go fetch Dr. Ingley,” Witfeld ordered, sinking down in Anne’s place. “I’m glad you were here, Zachary.”

  Personally Zachary thought that at the moment he would have been happier in Bedlam with the other lunatics. “All I could do was catch her,” he returned, lurching to his feet with the limp Joanna in his arms and handing her over to her father. Left to his own devices, he probably would have been tempted to stumble and dump her into the pond.

  “We’ll follow you, Papa,” Anne said, taking Zachary’s arm.

  While Witfeld hurried back to the house, Zachary followed more slowly with Anne. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, his heart still pounding. Jesus Christ, that had been close. “How did you come to follow us?”

  She shrugged. “I had a suspicion.”

  Zachary took a deep breath. “Forgive me for saying this, but from your mother’s statements I thought she would be happy if one of you were to marry me, whatever the circumstances.”

  “She probably would. Perhaps I’m too firm a believer in fair play.” With a slight smile she looked up at him again. “And perhaps I see things that some of the others don’t.”

  He lowered his brow. “What things?”

  “The stalk of hay in Caro’s hair last night, her bare feet the day she finished your portrait. Things like that.”

  Shit. “But you didn’t say anything.”

  “I love Caro. I know what she wants to do with her life. Ruining that for her wouldn’t serve anything.” She shot him a look he couldn’t decipher. “I think you’re staying here in Wiltshire for more reasons than cows. And I think you would make Joanna a terrible husband.”

  “Really. Why is that?”

  She chuckled. “So now you’re offended?”

  “Not at all,” he returned quickly. “Your statements seem a bit contradictory, though.”

  “Joanna’s not Caroline.” She leaned closer. “And Caro’s leaving in a very few days.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Anne grinned, releasing him to skip ahead and join her father. “Quite the conundrum, isn’t it?”

  That was the understatement of the decade. Caroline wanted nothing more than to go, he wanted her to stay, and he wasn’t certain that any kind of declaration from him would cause her to change her mind. And ultimately, his pride was the least of his concerns. He’d lived a fairly sunny life, or so he’d thought. Caroline had shown him that he’d been waiting about in the shadows for something extraordinary to find him. Thanks to her, he’d found something—or rather someone—extraordinary. He liked living in that bright sunlight, and he couldn’t do it if she went to Vienna. If she went anywhere where he couldn’t join her.

  At the sound of the commotion coming from the morning room, Caroline closed the farmer’s almanac and emerged from the library. “What’s happened?” she asked Grace as her sister charged by.

  “Joanna fainted, and Zachary caught her. Isn’t that heroic of him?”

  “Yes, heroic,” she returned, heading down the hall. For goodness’ sake, her family was insane. Her sister could faint, and they still only thought of Zachary. Of course he would catch Joanna—he was a gentleman, and an observant and considerate one.

  Anne intercepted her in the morning room doorway and dragged her back to the library. “I have to talk to you,” she whispered, closing the door once they were inside.

  “Is Joanna well? Grace said she—”

  “She screamed and fell on Zachary, then grabbed him and kissed him when she heard Papa coming.”

  Caroline gasped. Her heart stopped, then began thudding like a hammer. Shaking, she felt behind her for a chair and sat heavily. “She didn’t.”

  “She did. If she hadn’t mentioned something this morning about being able to laugh at all of us, I would never have suspected. It was quite clever, really.”

  “It was shameful. What did Zachary do? What did Papa say? Are they—”

  She couldn’t finish her own sentence. Zachary to be married to Joanna? Didn’t Joanna realize they would never suit? She was far too silly and flighty for him. He might be easygoing, but for God’s sake, he wasn’t silly. If Papa forced them to marry, she wouldn’t be surprised if Zachary threw away the breeding project out of spite and then went to join the army after all, just to escape Joanna and the rest of them.

  “It’s all right, Caro,” Anne said after a moment, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I followed them. By the time Papa arrived, I was there to play escort and tell him that she’d fainted.”

  Caroline closed her eyes. There had been no compromise, then, so there would be no marriage. “Thank goodness. What must Zachary think? I wouldn’t be surprised if he packed his bags and left today.”

  “I don’t think he’s going anywhere as long as you’re still in Wiltshire. You’re not that blind to everything not on canvas, are you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Anne sighed and returned to the door. “Apparently nothing. But I wanted you to know, since Zachary may want to discuss it—and he seems to like talking with you.”

  “I thought you had designs on him.” Caroline could scarcely say the words without growling.

  “He’s a very nice man. So perhaps I do, and perhaps I don’t. After you leave for Vienna, what would you care, anyway?”

  “I don’t—that is—oh, go away, Anne.”

  Her sister sketched a curtsy and left the room. For several minutes Caroline sat where she was. It would have been a disaster. Everyone knew that a Griffin wouldn’t marry a poor country aristocrat like a Witfeld unless there had been some kind of scandal.

  As for the rest, the idea of Zachary setting up a household with Joanna, and sharing a bed with Joanna, and kissing and holding Joanna—or Anne, once Caroline left, since Zachary was undoubtedly now exceedingly grateful: She refused to think about it at all. It wasn’t any of her affair, or her concern, what he did with his privat
e life after she left. Except that she was still there, and she didn’t want him touching anyone but her.

  Chapter 21

  Caroline found Zachary up in the conservatory, pacing. “Are you well?” she asked, swallowing.

  He stopped, facing her. “Yes. Joanna faint—”

  “Anne told me. I’m so sorry.”

  His shoulders lowered. “It’s not your fault. Though the faint and kiss technique—and sneakiness in general—wasn’t part of my instruction, I did inform her of several ways to net a man.”

  “And she very nearly netted you.”

  “Very nearly. I owe Anne a great deal.”

  That was what she’d been afraid of. “Well, Anne may have her own agenda as well, I’m afraid,” she said, telling herself that she was only reluctantly giving him the information. She could wrestle with her conscience later.

  “That settles it, then. I’m not going walking with anyone but you.”

  “Why am I exempt?”

  “Because you don’t want to get married.” Zachary took a slow step closer. “Or do you, Caroline? Are you certain you would never wish to marry, even under the most ideal of circumstances?”

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Stop it, she ordered herself. “I hope that no one whom I consider a friend would ever ask me that question,” she said slowly, unable to keep her voice from shaking, “because my friend would know what I want to do with my life, and how marriage would prevent it.”

  “I want to breed cattle,” he said in a tight, hard voice, approaching her. “That doesn’t preclude me from adding another dimension to my life. You can have more than one happiness, you know.”

  “You can, perhaps. You’re a man, and a lord, and a Griffin. I am Miss Witfeld of Wiltshire, a viscount’s great-granddaughter. And it…horrifies me to think of a life where what I want to do would be considered a hobby to be smirked at and barely tolerated—or worse, discouraged or forbidden for fear of harming the reputation of my husband and his family.”

  “But Caroline—”

  She put a hand over his mouth, then replaced it with her lips. They kissed for a long moment, the heat and desire of it sending her blood pounding through her veins. “Don’t ask me, Zachary,” she whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

  He released her a little abruptly, striding to the window and back. “Very well. I won’t ask you. I will ask, though, what you intend to do if Monsieur Tannberg says no.”

  “He won’t.”

  “But if he does? Would you rather be a governess to the Eades than be married to someone who would encourage you to continue painting?”

  “A hobby again?” she snapped, not certain whether she was shaken more by the thought of not being accepted by Monsieur Tannberg or by the near proposal. “At least if I were a governess I could continue to send out applications. Once I was married, all hope would be lost.”

  “Christ,” he snarled. “You encourage me to find my passion in life, but I don’t think you understand what life is.”

  “I do understand. And I intend to make the most of it.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “No, you’re wr—”

  “Bloody hell,” he interrupted, stopping dead in his tracks as he looked down at the drive.

  She started at the vehemence of his tone. “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.

  “That.”

  She moved up beside him, following the point of his finger. A large black carriage stood in her front drive, a red crest emblazoned on the door. One of the symbols on the shield was a griffin. As they watched, a second, smaller coach pulled up behind it.

  “Your family?”

  “At least one of them. With luggage.”

  His family? “The…the duke?”

  “I don’t know yet. But since I only asked Melbourne for a note approving my plan, I don’t think either he or Charlemagne driving out to Wiltshire during the Season can be good.”

  He strode downstairs. As she caught up to him, she could hear her mother trilling in the drawing room, and they headed in that direction.

  “Oh, no, it’s been no bother at all,” Sally Witfeld was saying amid a clustering of nervous giggles. “Gladys is such a dear friend, and Lord Zachary has been a perfect gentleman.”

  Well, perhaps not a gentleman, Caroline reflected as they walked through the half-open doors, but being with him had been lively, warm perfection. And it absolutely, positively had to end. “Mama?” she said, stopping inside the doorway.

  Not one, but two well-dressed men stood at the sound of her voice. Mrs. Witfeld lurched to her feet as well, while Zachary stopped in the doorway behind her, close enough that she could feel his large, warm presence.

  “Caro, my dear! Look! The Duke of Melbourne and his brother Lord Charlemagne have come to visit us, all the way in Wiltshire!”

  They’d come to see their brother and their aunt, but Caroline didn’t correct her mother. Rather, she took a moment to look at the two men. She could see that they were Zachary’s brothers; they had the same dark brown hair, compelling gray eyes, and lean, athletic build. The taller of the two, the one her mother had gestured at first, seemed to be looking at her rather intently, and she sketched a belated curtsy.

  “Your Grace, my lord.”

  “Miss Witfeld. So you’re the artist.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “What the devil are you two doing here?” Zachary broke in, moving past her.

  “And hello to you, Zach.” The middle brother, Charlemagne, pulled Zachary into a hug.

  Zachary broke the embrace, facing his other brother. “Well?”

  “You sent me a letter,” the Duke of Melbourne said in a quiet, controlled drawl. “I came to see what you were talking about.”

  “You came all the way to Wiltshire to look at cows,” Zachary said, making the sentence a statement rather than a question.

  “You have been here for longer than we expected.” The duke made his way around the admiring, giggling flock of Caroline’s younger sisters. “Why don’t you show me this Dimidius I’ve read so much about?”

  The other one, Charlemagne, stepped forward. “Yes. And someone offered to show me their needlework?”

  Caroline hung back as Zachary and the duke left the room, and the rest of the girls mobbed the remaining brother. Whatever lessons Zachary had taught them about how to approach a man and win his approval apparently didn’t apply when a Griffin male was present. Even Joanna waded in, her fainting spell apparently forgotten.

  Well, she didn’t need to show off any of her work—Monsieur Tannberg’s opinion was the only one she cared for at the moment. What she did need to do, though, was begin packing. Packing, and not thinking about what Zachary had said, and why he would want to marry her.

  “Aunt Tremaine looks as though she’s feeling better,” Melbourne commented as they walked down the curving drive.

  “She seems to be,” Zachary agreed. Every bone in his body was suspicious over his brothers’ presence, but he had no idea what, precisely, had prompted their journey. For both of them to appear—especially in the middle of both the social and business Season—meant that it was serious. He’d played the game of deciphering the rather enigmatic Sebastian before, but he hadn’t been in the midst of trying to propose to a damned obstinate female or evading other chits fainting on him at the same time, plus beginning the most complex breeding program he’d ever heard of. Sebastian could have picked a worse time to arrive, but it would have been difficult to find one. “I don’t think her gout was very serious to begin with, though.”

  “Are we back to that again? My inventing errands to get you out of London?”

  Whatever the circumstances had been, Zachary had several weeks ago become more amenable to being in Wiltshire, so he shrugged. “I suppose not. How’s Peep?”

  “Angry that we left her in London with Mrs. Beacham. She does say hello, though, and would like to meet your cow.”

  “Dimidius isn’t my cow.
She belongs to Witfeld.”

  “Then how is any of this beneficial to me? You were rather light on the details.”

  Trying to pull his thoughts away from Caroline, Zachary outlined his program, including all the pertinent details about herd size, breeding schedule, and estimated cost over the first year. He had the feeling that Sebastian was only half listening, but knowing his brother, the duke might very well have questioned Eades and Witfeld and half the other farmers involved before he’d arrived at Witfeld Manor.

  They stopped outside the cow pasture, and Zachary pointed out Dimidius and her calf. Melbourne watched the animals for several minutes, his expression unreadable.

  “Most of my business is in trade and shipping,” the duke said finally.

  “Yes, I know. All the things that give me an aching head.”

  “All the things that make a great deal of money for the family.”

  “Does this mean you’re not interested?”

  “I’m not interested yet. I’d like more information.”

  Zachary nodded, his jaw clenching. “What if I said it would keep me from joining the army?” Moving away from the fence, he waited until Sebastian joined him, then started back toward the house.

  “I’m keeping you from joining the army. Jumping from one hobby to another isn’t any kind of solution, Zach. I would like to know how in God’s name you came up with cows.”

  Zachary supposed he should have expected that no one in his family would believe this new project was any different from the two dozen others he’d pursued and discarded. They couldn’t see into his heart or his mind. “If you want more information, then read over my notes. I haven’t finished my outline or all my research yet, and even with the assistance of Witfeld and Miss Witfeld there are still some factors I won’t be able to determine for the next year or so, but I intend to pursue this.”

  “Speaking of Miss Witfeld, you finished posing for the portrait?”

  “You know I did. Shay shipped it off to Vienna for me.”

  “For her, you mean.”

  Zachary frowned. This was starting to feel like an interrogation. “I asked him to do me a favor. Are we debating semantics, now? Perhaps you should decide what you’re going to be angry or disappointed with me for, and we’ll concentrate on that.”