An Invitation to Sin

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Caroline,” Zachary whispered from her shoulder, “please take time to think about th—”

  “I’d best pack,” she broke in, clenching Lawrence’s note to her chest. “I need to be in London in three days.”

  Her sisters began cheering, but her gaze was on Zachary. With a stiff nod, his jaw clenched, he turned and left the room.

  Chapter 23

  “You had no bloody right!”

  “Lower your voice, Zachary,” Melbourne returned from his seat in front of the library fire.

  He certainly hadn’t lost any time in making himself at home in Witfeld Manor, Zachary noted, but then his brother always found himself lavishly welcomed wherever he went. “So you want me to be gentlemanly about this?” he growled. “To maintain a calm demeanor and sit down for a nice chat? Perhaps we could discuss our differences over a game of chess and a brandy.”

  The only thing that enabled Zachary to speak in a half-reasonable voice at all was the fact that Melbourne had banished Shay from the room. If nothing else it told him that the duke took the situation seriously. And he’d damn well better.

  “Pardon me if I’m wrong,” his oldest brother said in the same even tone he’d used previously, “but I thought you were encouraging Miss Witfeld’s artistic endeavors.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  “Then enlighten me. What is this about?”

  Hell, Melbourne knew anyway, or he wouldn’t have taken the steps that he had to remove Caroline from Wiltshire in general and from Zachary’s grasp in particular. “You don’t even know her,” Zachary growled. “You might have made an attempt to do so before you stepped into the middle of my affairs.”

  “Your affairs? I assisted Miss Witfeld. Your present affair is cows, is it not?”

  “Play your little games all you want, Sebastian, but eventually one of them is going to bite you in the ass. I want to marry that woman. I love her.”

  Sebastian looked at him for a long moment, something undecipherable touching his eyes and then sliding away again. “Does she know that?”

  Zachary sputtered. “Of course she does.”

  “Then I don’t see why you’re blaming me for anything. She accepted that position with Lawrence. I didn’t force her into it.”

  No, his brother hadn’t. And that was the reason Zachary didn’t feel calm enough to talk with Caroline just yet. Taking it out on Sebastian was easier. If he became any angrier, he was simply going to boil. No doubt, though, bloody Melbourne did own a share of the blame. He’d swept in with his usual insight and razor-sharp timing and overturned the turnip cart. His turnip cart. “You might have given her time to think before you surprised her like that and then practically dared her to refuse the offer.”

  “I’m not apologizing for anything, Zachary. I’ve spoken with Aunt Tremaine, and under the circumstances she would like to travel on to Bath. You’ll accompany her.”

  “I will not. I have an obligation to these people. I’ve begun a breeding program, and I’m going to see it through. I told you that.”

  The duke paused again, eyeing him. “I’ll contribute five thousand pounds if you can write up a proposal and prove to me how much this program could be worth.”

  “Five thousand pounds? That’s more of an insult than if you refused to participate at all.” Zachary stalked to the window and back, for a brief moment glad he was too angry to feel hurt by the growing pile of insults. “I already told you not to participate. Stay out of it. This is my project, and I don’t want you involved.”

  “My offer is five thousand pounds for the purchase of cattle this year,” Melbourne said more forcefully, his calm veneer slipping for the first time in the conversation. “And I suggest you take it. In addition, if I approve your proposal, I’ll contribute one hundred percent of expenses.”

  “Are you bribing me to leave Wiltshire, then?”

  “There are six other daughters here. Your staying isn’t worth the risk.”

  Zachary’s fists clenched. “If you continue in this vein, Melbourne, I’m going to break some fences so badly they’ll never be mended.”

  “If you’re sincere about your breeding program, it will take up most of your free time. Caroline Witfeld wants to be a painter, Zachary. She doesn’t want you.”

  “I didn’t ask your opinion, and I bloody well didn’t ask for your interference.”

  Melbourne shrugged. “I’m doing what I think is necessary for the sake of my brother and the family. Decide now, Zachary. Agree to my proposal, and I’ll arrange for Miss Witfeld to have private transportation to London, and for her to find suitable accommodations there.”

  “And if I don’t agree, she’s on her own?”

  “You can’t find her a place to live without ruining her. The Griffin family, however, can.”

  “I want to talk to Caroline.”

  “Then talk to her. But it seems to me that she’s already made up her mind.”

  “You’re an arrogant bastard, Sebastian, and I hope that one day you’ll get yours as squarely as you hand it out.”

  “I already have, I think,” his brother said quietly, and picked up a book.

  Sebastian meant losing his wife, of course. Under other circumstances Zachary would have apologized for the remark, but not today. Today he wanted to put his fist through something. Caroline had chosen, and it hadn’t been him. It would have been one thing if she’d been accepted in Vienna—he’d known from the beginning that that had been her dream. It would have been hard, but he would have understood.

  No, he’d lost to a last-minute ambush. And her unwavering dream wasn’t something he could fight—if it had been another man, he would have called for pistols at daybreak. But this was all her. Melbourne was right about that; he’d merely seen it and used it to his advantage.

  Zachary could see so clearly that what she was searching for wouldn’t give her a complete life. Perhaps he could still make her see that—though the one weak point to her general common sense and logic seemed to be her art. And in truth it wasn’t all for her sake; he wasn’t certain how much longer he could stand the pain in his heart.

  Sending Melbourne another glare, he slammed out of the library and went looking for Caroline. Her bedchamber door was half open, and he pushed through it without knocking.

  Her maid, arms full of clothing, squeaked. “Miss Witfeld! It’s Lord Zachary, ma’am.”

  Caroline turned to face him. “I’m a bit busy at the moment, Lord Zachary. Perhaps we’ll have time to chat at dinner.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he snapped. “You, Molly. Out.”

  “But—”

  “Out!”

  Muttering something apologetic, the maid scurried out the door. Zachary shut it behind her.

  “Don’t order my maid about,” Caroline said belatedly, her skin paling. “I need her assistance.”

  Zachary picked up another pile of clothes and threw it into a waiting portmanteau. “There. How’s that?”

  “Stop it, Zachary!”

  He ignored her. “Here, how about some books?” He dumped a handful on top of the clothes. “Oh, wait, you don’t need to read. You’ll be painting.” He pulled the tomes out and threw them on the floor.

  She put her hands on her hips, her expression furious. “Zach—”

  “What about a portrait of your family? Yes, that’ll do. Then you can see their faces flat there on the canvas. What more do you need? That’s how you see everything, isn’t it? Flat on a canvas.”

  “Leave this room at once. I do not have to tolerate th—”

  Zachary spied his portrait leaning against her reading chair and picked it up. “You can’t have this.”

  “Put that down!”

  “No. If you want to see me, you’ll have to look up the real thing. You don’t get to pretend to have a life, look at my painting and remember that we made love, and remember how alive you felt.” He looked hard at her, willing her to understand. “On second thought, keep it.” Setting it down
again, he stalked up to her. “I want you to remember. I want you to discover that having one thing you want doesn’t mean your life is complete. That when you seek something to the exclusion of everything else, you haven’t found life at all. All you’ll have is a portr—”

  She slapped him. Hard. He curled his fingers against the sudden flash of fury and frustration, holding his muscles rigid.

  “How dare you?” she bit out. “Until a few weeks ago you were going to join the army. What was it before that? The navy? Becoming a priest? Raising horses? Becoming a professional wagerer? Buying chickens? What makes you think you are the least bit qualified to tell me what a goal is, or what a life is?”

  She’d actually hit on a few of his earlier schemes. Despite his anger it shook him to realize how well she’d come to know him. But she didn’t know everything. “At least I kept an open mind. And I learned my lessons. I’ve seen my future, and I want you in it.”

  “After what you just said to me? I wouldn’t marry you if my alternative was making bricks. Go away. Now.”

  For a moment he stood there, shaking. “Fine.” He turned his back on her, yanking open the door and nearly sending the startled maid stumbling back into the room. “Enjoy your damned life, Caroline. I hope it’s all you’ve dreamed of.”

  He headed for Sally Witfeld’s room, where his aunt was commiserating with her misery-turned-to-joy over Caroline’s rapidly evolving future. “Aunt Tremaine,” he said, when a servant admitted him, “I want to leave before dark.”

  Obviously Melbourne had informed her of her part in the play, because she nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

  He had one last person to inform, though he was loathe to give Melbourne the satisfaction. By way of compromise he found Shay, playing whist with Joanna, Julia, and Grace. Apparently the girls had given up trying to mob every male in sight, but then he had been coaching them for a month on their tactics.

  “Zachary,” his brother greeted him. “I’m thinking we should teach these young ladies how to play faro.”

  “Oh, yes, please!” Julia urged, giggling.

  Zachary shook his head. “Tell Melbourne that Aunt Tremaine and I will be on the road to Bath by sunset. And that I expect him to keep his word.”

  Joanna lurched to her feet. “But you can’t leave!”

  “My business takes me to Bath.” He sketched a bow. “Excuse me. I need to finish packing.”

  He needed to begin packing, actually, but his valet would do the majority of that. Leaving instructions for Reed, he attached Harold to his leash and headed out for a long walk around the pond. It was more of an angry stalk around the pond, but even with his heart pounding and his breath harsh in his ears, nothing changed. He didn’t feel better, didn’t see that Caroline would be happier as a painter with her eyes on nothing but canvas and paint and people frozen in time than she would be with him.

  If she didn’t see it either, though, then perhaps he was expecting too much of her. If she never realized, if it never occurred to her, that more existed outside her little room with its pretty windows, then his pointing it out to her wouldn’t make the least bit of difference. Obviously, it hadn’t.

  “Zachary,” Edmund Witfeld’s voice came, and Zachary looked around with a start. He spied Caroline’s father seated on a boulder at the pond’s edge. With a fishing pole in his hands and a bucket of fish beside him, he looked the very image of country serenity. Zachary envied him for it.

  “I was walking,” he said unnecessarily, giving Harold a short whistle when the dog started toward the fish. Immediately the pup dropped into a sit.

  “So I see. Considering the ruckus in the house, I decided I needed a bit of air, myself.”

  “Aunt Tremaine and I are leaving for Bath,” Zachary said stiffly. “My brother has professed an interest in the breeding program, and I’ll be putting together a more detailed proposal for him.” He hesitated. “It would be useful if I could correspond with you.”

  Witfeld turned around on the rock, facing him. “If you’re continuing with this just to prove to Caroline or your brother that she wasn’t the reason you decided to invest in Wiltshire cattle, Zachary, I wish you’d tell me now. I’m used to my neighbors thinking me peculiar, but I’d hate for them to think I led them into nonsense.”

  Zachary blew out his breath. “What do they call it when chance, fate, and common sense all have a moment of intersection? Serendipity? Whatever played into it, Edmund, I’ve found my serendipity, and I won’t abandon it. I’ll set up a ledger for keeping track of which cows are bred with which bulls, when calves are expected, and the rest, and I’ll send it to you by the end of the week.”

  “Very well.” Witfeld turned back to his fishing. “If it matters, lad,” he said after a moment, “I think she wavered a bit. More than a bit.”

  “No. It doesn’t matter.”

  With a last look at the pretty setting, Zachary headed back for the house. He didn’t intend to be at Witfeld when Caroline left. It would tear his heart out to watch her ride away from him. The only thing he could do to survive was ride away first.

  Two coaches stood in the drive, both large and black, and both bearing the red griffin coat of arms emblazoned on the door panels. One would be headed for Bath, and the other back to London.

  Caroline watched through the conservatory window as her family swarmed out of the house, surrounding the three tall men in their fashionable clothes and their beaver hats and their compelling, commanding gazes. She didn’t care if they were leaving. She especially didn’t care if Zachary was leaving.

  “Good riddance,” she muttered as he handed Aunt Tremaine into the lead coach and then followed her inside.

  For a moment she thought Joanna and Grace were going to try to climb in after them, but the servants managed to get the door closed and back her family out of the way. After a few seconds the coach rattled off.

  He had to know she would be watching, and from where, but he’d never even looked in her direction. Well, that was fine. It was all fine. She didn’t care a lick. The only Griffin family member she owed anything to was the Duke of Melbourne, and he’d only acted as he had to keep her and Zachary apart. And though his actions had been extremely fortuitous for her, they hadn’t been necessary. For a brief second she might have thought about what it would be like to be married to Zachary, but she wouldn’t have done it. And now she was glad she hadn’t, the arrogant, insufferable man.

  She looked on as Melbourne and Charlemagne entered the remaining carriage, the duke having to extricate his hand from her mother’s clutches. Oh, yes, the Witfelds were all so grateful. Their silly eldest daughter would have continued with her silly eccentricities for who knew how long if he hadn’t stepped in and handed her such a wonderful opportunity.

  Caroline turned away from the window as the second coach left the drive. She had brushes and canvases to pack. Sir Thomas Lawrence would want to see her work, whatever fine things Melbourne had said about her.

  She would just put him—all of the Griffins—out of her thoughts. Zachary didn’t know what he was talking about, anyway, to say that living her dream wasn’t enough. As if she needed a man in her life to feel complete and happy. She was going to be a portraitist at the finest studio in England. There wasn’t anything she wanted more than that. Nothing. No one.

  That sentiment, though, didn’t explain why she packed Zachary’s portrait in with the other half dozen she meant to show her new employer. Tannberg had accused it of being too idealized, but she didn’t actually need to show it to Lawrence. She just needed to have it with her.

  Caroline looked at the painting for a long moment. That keen ache in her heart, in her lungs, and behind her eyes would go away. She only felt so…awful because she’d counted on Zachary to be happy for her, and instead he hadn’t understood at all. That was why she was crying now—because he’d said those terrible, stupid things instead of simply wishing her well and telling her that he would look for her when he returned to London.


  “Caro?”

  Wiping at her face, Caroline set the portrait down before she faced Anne in her bedchamber doorway. “What is it?”

  “They’ve gone.”

  “I know. I watched them leave.”

  Anne tilted her head. “I liked the duke. He was very sure of himself.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “And Lord Charlemagne said when he’s next in Wiltshire he will come by and see all of us.”

  Ha. She doubted that. “How nice of him.”

  Her sister’s shoulders rose and fell. “And Zachary will of course be back. He told me three months, but I don’t think it will be that long. And now that he has his business concerns becoming organized, his mind will of course turn to organizing his private life.”

  Caroline’s hand shook, and she grabbed up a pelisse to fold. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “If I’m clever, I should be able to assist with having at least two more sisters betrothed before then. That should make things much easier for me.”

  “Anne, if you’re trying to make me jealous, stop it. I don’t even care. I’m going to London, and I daresay my days will be so full I won’t even give him a second thought.”

  “If you don’t care, my love, then why are you sitting here crying?”

  Caroline wiped at her stupid, uncooperative tears again. “Only because when I leave Wiltshire, I have to leave you and Papa.”

  Anne came forward and hugged her from behind. “Perhaps not for long. If Papa and Zachary’s plans work as they expect, we’ll be able to afford to come visit you in London. Maybe even for Christmas. And we’ll write every day.”

  “Yes. I want to know how the project is going.”

  “Will you want to know anything else?”

  About whether Zachary was heartbroken, or whether he waltzed off with some other female the moment he left her presence? With Anne, even? “The family, of course. And whether Lord and Lady Eades found someone else to tutor that awful Theodore and the other little monsters.”