by Jenny Brown
“Perhaps. But the scorpion may sting itself to death with the poison it uses to defend itself. That’s why I worry about you, even though there is little I can do to help you. The ferocity with which you defend yourself makes you too difficult to counsel.”
“Then you have no advice for me?”
“You wouldn’t take advice from me. Would you?”
“Probably not.” Temperance shrugged. “Still, if you’ve put all that work into casting my chart, it seems a waste not to hear you out. Does your chart tell you anything about me that isn’t bad?”
“Of course. I cast charts to look for people’s strengths, not their weaknesses. And you are very strong.”
“Oh, I’m strong all right,” she said bitterly. “Tough as nails our Temmy is.”
“That isn’t real strength. That’s just your Aquarius Ascendant’s way of keeping people at a distance. But that aloofness prevents you from finding your true strength. Jupiter, the planet that shows where you will find good fortune, is placed in your Seventh House of Marriage. You won’t unlock your real power until you join yourself with a worthy partner.”
“So you would marry me off? I think I should prefer Clary’s piano lessons.”
Lady Hartwood laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to find you a match. Your Aquarius Ascendant makes you far too independent to tolerate such interference. You’ll have to find your partner yourself.”
Her benefactor’s expression again became serious. “Your Jupiter is not only in the House of Marriage but it is placed in Virgo—the sign of discrimination. You will experience good fortune only after you use your powers of discrimination to choose a partner who brings out the best in you. For with your Sun and Moon conjoined in Scorpio in the Eighth House, you cannot help but merge with those you love and take on their characteristics, good or bad.”
Temperance let her gaze drop to the nimble fingers she had trained to serve Randall. Perhaps this astrology wasn’t entirely a hum.
Her Ladyship continued, “You must take care to choose a partner who is worthy of your loyalty. You must fight against your impulsivity and carefully examine who you let into your life. For the planets in your Seventh House makes it very clear: Your partner may become the lover who brings out the best in you—or he may be the enemy who destroys you. The choice is up to you.”
Temperance should have kept her trap shut. Though Her Ladyship had raised her hopes by seeming to see what others didn’t, her advice wasn’t any better than her father’s had been. Be good. Avoid sin. Don’t let the evil in her take over. She’d tried all that already, and much good it had done her. She couldn’t be good enough. It was better not to try than to try again and fail.
Her verdict delivered, Lady Hartwood regarded her with a look that suggested she was awaiting Temperance’s promise that from this moment forth she would strain every nerve to put Her Ladyship’s advice into practice and become a better person. But she couldn’t. She was as good a person as she could be, already, and, as usual, it wasn’t good enough.
In a moment, Her Ladyship would ask her if she was willing to do what she’d must to remain at the Refuge. Temperance had already worked her answer out in advance, but even so, she foresaw a battle. Lady Hartwood wasn’t likely to take no for an answer. A week or two more in the Refuge was probably all she could count on. After that, it would be back to the streets again.
“Eliza,” a rich male voice called out. “A slight complexity has arisen involving one of your charges. I fear I must interrupt you.”
The door opened, and a tall, handsome man strode in, his face haloed by a cloud of curling golden hair that contrasted sharply with his startlingly dark brown eyes.
“Edward, do come in.” said Lady Hartwood. “This is Miss Temperance Smith, one of the guests at my Refuge.”
This must be her husband, the man who had once been the notorious rake they’d nicknamed Lord Lightning. Temperance had heard whispers about him from the servants, but this was the first time she’d met him. How unfair it was that a flat like Lady Hartwood should have drawn such a prize. He was a stunner, and the love that filled his gaze as he looked upon his wife was indecent.
“Whatever is the matter?” Lady Hartwood asked him.
“I wouldn’t have interrupted you, but a gentleman just arrived who appears to believe you’re running a brothel. You aren’t, my dear, are you?”
“Most definitely not! Whatever gave him that idea?”
“Apparently, one of your charges, who invited him here for a tryst. I played along with his belief I was a whoremaster long enough to elicit the information that he hoped to take her into keeping. He was willing to pay generously for her services.”
“Oh dear,” Lady Hartwood said, turning to Temperance. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why the gentleman was laboring under this misapprehension?”
Her husband answered, “I would very much suppose that she does, as the gentleman said it was Temperance who had directed him here.” Lord Hartwood’s lip quirked up in an ironic smile. “But with a name like Temperance, the poor child probably had no choice but to behave badly. Why will parents give children such names? They guarantee rebellion. If we have a daughter, we must name her Impropriety in the hope that she will rebel her way into acceptable behavior.”
“Edward, this is no joking matter. Did you disabuse her caller of his confusion?”
“I did, though I’ve brought him with me to offer you his apologies. He turned toward the doorway and motioned to someone to come in. “May I introduce Captain Trevelyan of His Majesty’s Eighth Dragoons.”
Temperance took a deep breath. It looked like she’d be leaving the Refuge even sooner than she’d expected.
Her officer entered the room. His tall form filled the doorway. He wore the impassive mask of a man on duty, his chiseled features giving no hint of emotion, neither the dark humor she’d seen animate them the night before nor the anger he must feel toward her now that he knew she’d played another trick on him.
His sleek blue tunic betrayed not a wrinkle. His trousers, with the paired red stripes running down their outside seams, emphasized the muscularity of his long, lithe legs. He gleamed as the light struck the heavy epaulets on his shoulders. A pang of sheer physical lust shot through her, and she cursed herself again for desiring this man dressed in the hated uniform of the men who had killed Randall.
Except that no one had killed Randall.
Would she ever get used to this painful new knowledge? She could love all the dragoons she wanted. There was nothing to stop her now.
“Captain Trevelyan,” Lady Hartwood said. “Am I right that you are the son of Mrs. Catherine Trevelyan?”
“I am, Your Ladyship.” The officer’s face reddened under his tan. “Though under the circumstances, I must regret that you are acquainted with my mother.”
“I have met her only in a professional capacity,” she said stiffly.
Lord Hartwood continued, “Whatever brings him here, Captain Trevelyan’s mother can take pride in her son. Though I’ve only just met him, I’ve long known of his reputation. He’s been mentioned several times in dispatches, and most recently distinguished himself in a battle near Poona by risking his life to save some of his men, who’d got cut off behind enemy lines.”
So her lustful captain was a real hero. How ironic, when Randall, so long her hero, had turned out—but she must not let herself keep thinking of him. Not when her officer was standing here, looking at her with those piercing eyes the color of the sky at twilight. Given how furious he must be with her for the way she’d tricked him into such a shameful situation, she must display no weakness he could use against her.
“I ask your indulgence for a moment, Captain Trevelyan,” Lady Hartwood said. “Will you tell me exactly what it was that led you to mistake my Refuge for a bordello? It’s a mistake I should not like to see repeated.”
The captain caught Temperance’s eye. The snap as their gazes connected was as intense as a collisi
on. Then he turned to address Lady Hartwood, “You have my abject apologies. I won’t even try to defend my inexcusable behavior. It matters not why I made a wholly inaccurate assumption about one of your charges.”
“It matters greatly to me. If Temperance really did suggest to you that the Refuge was a brothel, I have no choice but to ask her to leave. Our rules here are few, but the girls know they must do nothing to give the enemies of the Refuge an excuse to destroy it.”
Captain Trevelyan favored Temperance with a long, considering look before turning back to her benefactor. “I don’t wish to be the cause of her losing your patronage. It wouldn’t be fair. It was my own damnable confusion that led to this contretemps. I beg you to accept my apologies.”
He reached into a pocket and withdrew something from it—the accursed locket. “I came into possession of an object of value to her and used it to gain an unfair advantage over her. It wasn’t the act of a gentleman, and I’m ashamed now that I acted in so unworthy a manner.” He walked over to Temperance and handed her the locket, which he had furnished with a new chain that was considerably thicker than the cheap one Randall had put on it.
“Accept my apologies. I’m sorry to have caused you such distress.”
She jammed the trinket into her pocket. He turned back to Lady Hartwood and said, “Let me assure you, only the four of us in this room know about my confounded mistake. I’ve said nothing to anyone that would cause the slightest breath of scandal to be associated with your Refuge.”
Then he turned to face Temperance. His face showed the satisfaction he felt at having done the right thing—and hinted, too, at what doing it had cost him. Pride radiated out of every inch of him. It couldn’t have been easy for him to accuse himself of ungentlemanly behavior before strangers, and noble strangers at that. Yet he had done exactly that and taken the blame for his embarrassing mistake even though he knew full well she’d led him into making it on purpose.
What could have made him defend her? She hated to think it was what it looked like, simple decency, but if there was some ignoble explanation for his gallantry, she couldn’t find it. Once again, he’d stepped in to save her from suffering the consequences of her own ill-considered action, and this time he’d paid a steeper price than the notes he’d casually thrown the shoemaker, for to save her this time, he’d been forced to admit in public to having the character of a scoundrel.
Why? He was acting as if he cared about her. A trickle of healing warmth leaked into her heart, bruised and sore as it was from the previous evening’s revelation. He’d sacrificed his pride for her. Despite the fact she’d done nothing to deserve it but steal, and flirt, and mislead him.
Having spoken his piece, the captain turned toward the door. The curlicues of braid that decorated the back of his tunic uniform outlined the narrow waist that made such a contrast to his broad shoulders. In another moment, he’d be out of her life for good.
She couldn’t bear it.
Forced by some power beyond her control, the words rushed out. “Don’t leave!” she cried.
She twisted to face Lady Hartwood. “What he said isn’t true. He’s trying to spare me punishment. But he’s blameless. It was all my fault. I made him think this was a bawdy ken and invited him here to meet me, to embarrass him.”
Lady Hartwood fixed Temperance with a hard look. “How well do you know this Captain Trevelyan?”
“Hardly at all,” the captain protested.
“Well enough,” Temperance said.
“How did you come to know him?”
“I seduced him.”
His lips tightened. “No. I assaulted her.”
Lady Hartwood swiveled about to face Temperance. “Is he a lover or an enemy?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“You must decide”
“I can’t. I don’t know how.”
Lady Hartwood turned to the captain. “What did you really want from Temperance? Tell me the truth.”
“Nothing I should be comfortable mentioning in the presence of a lady.”
“Nothing I didn’t offer him.”
“I’m baffled by your behavior, Temperance,” Lady Hartwood said. “You know I must expel anyone who acts in a way that damages the reputation of the Refuge. Yet you persist in asserting that you did just that, despite the captain’s gallant attempts to save you. Why?”
Sheer perversity? What else could it be?
But then it struck her. The captain’s gallantry gave her a way out of this quagmire. He had offered to pay well for her services. Why not take him up on it? There was no reason not to. His offer would let her escape from Becky’s pity and Lady Hartwood’s determination to change her. The money he’d give her would buy her passage to America, and it wouldn’t be a sacrifice to earn it. Far from it.
There was no reason left for her to fight against the attraction that had possessed her since the first time he had embraced her out on the street. Randall was alive in Boston with that bitch Sally, not dead at the hands of a dragoon. She need feel no guilt in satisfying the urges the captain had aroused in her. Perhaps if she gave herself to him, she could drive out the rotting stench of Randall, which poisoned her memories.
She stood and took a step toward him. “Do you still wish to take me into keeping?”
As her whispered words dissolved into the air, his indigo eyes widened in surprise. “Of course not.”
“You do. But you won’t admit it. If it’s because you want them to think well of me”—she gestured at Lady Hartwood—“it’s no use. I’ve no wish to be reformed, and besides, she’s made it clear my astrological nature isn’t one that could profit from her system.”
She turned toward Lord Hartwood, who had been lounging against the wall taking in the unfolding scene with a look that suggested he found it mildly amusing. “Your Lordship, how much did Captain Trevelyan offer for my services?”
“Edward!” Lady Hartwood’s voice held a tone of warning. Responding with nothing more than a slight lift of one brow, her husband took it in and wisely said nothing.
Temperance addressed him again, more forcefully. “If you don’t tell me what his offer was, Your Lordship, he may fleece me. Would you wish me to be gulled? How much was he willing to pay?”
Lady Hartwood’s lips were set in a firm line, but an odd look passed between her and her spouse before the impulse to give in to mirth swept over them both. It took a moment for them to repress it. When he had got control of his features again, Lord Hartwood said, “Put that way, I must answer you. He offered me fifty pounds for a week of your companionship.”
She turned once again to Captain Trevelyan. “I’ll take your offer on those terms.” Fifty pounds would be more than enough to pay for passage to America and leave her something to live on when she got there.
A bloom of color rushed into the dragoon’s sunburnt face, making the white line of his scar stand out more sharply. She’d embarrassed him further with her outrageous offer. Perhaps it had been a mistake to make it here, in front of the nobleman who was his superior. But she had felt, oddly, the need to do it in the presence of her would-be benefactors.
It was the only way to ensure she wouldn’t become cowardly at the last moment and retreat to the deceptive security of the Refuge. Now they would have no choice but to expel her. But, of course, the captain did have an alternative. He could stride out of her life immediately, and if he were a prudent man, he would do so. Why should he stay, when she’d tricked and abused him?
She wished she had treated him better. She would be sad to see the last of him. He had been a worthy opponent in their ongoing battle of wills. But she’d given him no reason but lust to want her, and after what she’d just subjected him to, lust would not be enough to make him put himself into her power again. She steeled herself to accept what she could not change, but to her surprise, as the moments ticked by, the captain did not stride away. He did not dismiss her outrageous offer with words of curt dismissal. He didn’t do any
thing but stand there like a statue, pondering what to do next.
To distract herself from the tension, which was growing intolerable, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the locket. She opened it and glanced for the last time at the portrait of the unworthy man she’d made the center of her world. Then she tossed it on Lady Hartwood’s desk. “This is all I have with which to repay you for your hospitality and astrological counsel.”
Captain Trevelyan protested, “But your locket—you value it so highly—”
She silenced him. “If I didn’t, it would be a poor way to repay my debt.” She shook herself and smoothed her skirt. “I’m going now to pack up my gear. With or without you, I’m leaving. If you wish to take me up on my offer, I’ll meet you outside in half an hour.”
“And if I don’t?” he asked, favoring her again with that look that told her he needed to understand her answer.
She let her eyes meet his. The shock as they connected made her gasp.
He would be there to meet her. She could not doubt it. But she let him supply his own answer to the question and swept regally out of the room.
Chapter 8
Her exit had been worthy of a duchess. Who was this girl and how had she come to have such strength of character? Trev had never seen the like of it. She possessed no resource except her will, yet that alone gave her the ability to stand up to her superiors and leave them marveling, openmouthed, at her behavior.
After she’d left, Lord Hartwood had been the first to break the silence. “I can’t stop her. She’s above the age of consent, and I have no grounds upon which to exercise authority over her. But if you mistreat her, Captain, you’ll have to answer to me.”
The man was known to be a fearsome duelist, but Trev was no mean shot himself, and it was not fear that made him protest, “Surely you don’t think I would take advantage of her now?”
“You don’t fancy the wench?” Lord Hartwood asked, raising one eyebrow.
“I fancy her all too much, but it would be a mistake to give in to that fancy.”
