To Seduce a Lady’s Heart (The Landon Sisters)

by Ingrid Hahn

  A servant entered. “Another message arrived for Lady Bennington.”

  Eliza didn’t need to raise her eyes to know the sort of look Grace was giving her.

  Grace collected the note herself and sent the maid away. In a whispering rustle of light skirts, she went to the mantel and added it to the growing pile. “I’ll put it here with the others.”

  Without another word, Grace buried herself back in the publication she’d been perusing, Description de l’Égypte.

  “That’s the third one today.” Hetty gave Eliza a gentle nudge.

  “The fourth, actually. And no, I don’t plan to read it.” If there had been a fire going, Eliza would have taken matters into her own hands.

  If the earl could pen so many notes, he must be healing with miraculous alacrity.

  Eliza stabbed her needle back into the fabric, lancing herself quite by accident. “Ow!”

  Apparently embroidering while agitated was hazardous.

  She brought her wounded finger to her mouth—and memories flashed back to that day in her mother’s drawing room when she’d done the exact same thing. It had been right before she’d decided how she was going to save Christiana.

  Daisy took the opportunity to nose under Eliza’s arm and settle herself on her mistress’s lap, staring up at her with mournful brown eyes.

  Eliza held the dog close. That day Jeremy had given her Daisy, he hadn’t yet known she’d deceived him. She’d never forget how he’d looked at her when he’d studied her from the threshold before she let on she knew he was there. Or his expression that morning when Sir Domnall had baited him before the duel.

  Eliza had been silent for a full week. Her friends had politely skirted any dangerous matters, limiting discourse to polite topics. Nothing one couldn’t say in the company of, say, one of the patronesses of Almack’s. The weather came up with more regularity than in normal conversation, especially normal conversation between friends. And it was always rather strained. There was only so much one could belabor the subject of rain, even when one was English.

  They were taking her lead. Allowing her whatever room and time she needed before she broached talking about Jeremy or the duel.

  A week was long enough.

  Eliza could stay silent no longer. “Don’t you think it’s wrong for a man who claims to be so highly concerned about scandal to go off and fight a duel, of all things?”

  Grace and Hetty gave her near-identical solemn expressions. Then they shared a glance. Hetty chewed her lip a moment before speaking. “You make it sound as if he wanted to fight a duel. He did it on your behalf. That is to say, he was forced to do so, on your behalf.”

  “I told him not to fight.”

  “Aren’t you worth the scandal of a duel?”

  It had been an innocent enough question—at least that’s what Eliza was going to believe. She couldn’t lift her gaze from her embroidery to try to search her friend’s face for clues. “That’s not the point.”

  But was it part of the puzzle? Those ugly things Sir Domnall had said—did some part of her believe them to be true? Captain Pearson had.

  The point was, she deserved love. She’d learned it far too late, when she’d already fallen quite badly in love with Jeremy. The only love she wanted now was his. But he’d never promised her his heart. Quite the opposite, from the earliest days.

  Somewhere between the morning of the duel and the aftermath, the scandal had become secondary. It had become about them. About whether they could survive together without love between them. Hers alone wasn’t enough.

  And she already had her answer to that.

  Remembering his words, her pulse started to pound. Prickling heat bloomed in her eyes, the sort that portended tears. Not again. Please, not again.

  I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry.

  She needed to regain control over her emotions. Jeremy couldn’t love her. In the beginning, it hadn’t mattered.

  Now it was the only thing that did.

  When would it stop hurting?

  Lord Corbeau burst into the drawing room. “Change of plans for tonight, ladies. There’s a ball. We’re going. Be sure to take particular care in your…” He gestured helplessly. “Well, you know.”

  Eliza demurred. “Oh, I don’t think I’m ready—”

  “Especially you, Lady Bennington.”

  “I’ve been so terribly weary lately and not feeling particularly well, and—”

  “All this moping about, that’s what it is. It’s not good for one’s health. You need cheering, and I intend to see that you are cheered.”

  Because they had been friends for so long, Eliza was familiar with the earl’s gruff ways. Social interactions didn’t come easily to him, even among those with whom he was closest.

  Grace rose. “Are we all going, my love?”

  “Yes. All of us. Even me. Scandal or no scandal, we’re not going to allow what is being said about us to drive us into hiding.”

  With that, he left.

  There was a long silence.

  Eliza licked her lips. About the last thing in the world she wanted to do was go to a ball. “I really don’t think I can see anyone.”

  “He’s right, though.” Resuming her seat, Grace spoke gently. “We can’t let what is being said drive us into hiding or influence our actions. I thought that was important once, too. It’s not.”

  “He might’ve said us, but he meant me.” Idly, Eliza rubbed the wound on her finger. It’d stopped bleeding but remained sore.

  Hetty smiled. “Yes, but we’re guilty by association. Which is good for me, because I want to be guilty of something, and I’m so rarely presented with the proper opportunities. Properly improper opportunities, that is.”

  Grace gave her a look. “And just what would you do with an improper opportunity?”

  “Take advantage of my good luck, of course.”

  “If your brother heard you talking this way—”

  “He can pretend he has a say in what I do.” Hetty’s grin widened. “But I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little scandal for myself. I wouldn’t mind in the least.”

  Improper opportunities. Those were all well and good. But Eliza’s place was doing the right thing—the proper thing—whether the person she had in mind deserved it or not.

  Taking Daisy in her arms, Eliza pushed to her feet. “I need to see my mother.”

  “Oh, no, please.” Grace looked at her imploringly. “Don’t leave. It’s a ball. I’m sure it’s going to be as dull as every other one we’ve ever been to, and it will surely do us all good to have a night to get our minds off this business.”

  Hetty frowned. “I don’t think balls are dull.”

  Grace tsked at her.

  Eliza glanced between the two. “You must admit that a ball is the last place in the world to get our minds off this business. Everyone will be talking.”

  “So let’s show them that we don’t care what they’re saying.” Hetty looked hopeful.

  Eliza nodded. “I agree wholeheartedly, but your words don’t only apply to me. Have your husband send directions to my mother’s house. We’ll be there.”

  “We?”

  “I can’t go without her. She’s wallowing in shame.” And the thing about shame was, if one let it eat one away, there would be nothing left. Eliza had lived with her own shame for long enough. “If I’m going to show people I don’t care, I need her by my side.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jeremy’s nerves were knotted beyond hope. The wound on his arm ached. Under his jacket, he still wore a bandage to keep the blood and salve from ruining his linen shirts.

  If Eliza would but come…

  Grace stood by his side, bolstering his courage. “She promised us she’d be here.”

  He’d convinced Lady Delamore to open her house to them for the night. It hadn’t taken much to sway her into agreeing. First, he’d promised that the burden of the planning would be his and his alone, a
nd he’d pay every expense himself. Second, when he’d told her the purpose of the gathering, her eyes had gone wide.

  One generally did not throw balls of this magnitude without weeks of detailed planning. Jeremy had quickly found out that he’d undertaken more than he’d bargained for. But the only thing that mattered was Eliza. So he’d worked around the clock, hired help, and bribed handsomely where extra incentive was required. The efforts had paid off.

  Accruing scandal after scandal in so short a time span had positioned Jeremy rather well in one regard—people were hungry to see and hear what one of those notorious Landons would do next.

  Except one person was missing. The most important of all. He swallowed, the agony of knowing he’d lost her forever because of his own foolishness was too much to bear. “She’s not coming.”

  The receiving line had dwindled to nothing, and there were no stragglers in sight.

  “If you’d let us tell her—”

  “Then she never would have agreed to come.”

  Just as they were turning to go to the ballroom themselves and officially begin the night, two figures appeared beyond the open door.

  His heart leaped. She had come. By her side was her mother. Lady Rushworth glared. But he could muster no energy for complaint. Eliza had come.

  Catching sight of him, she visibly faltered and pulled back a little. Seeming to remember herself, she lowered her gaze and ventured the rest of the way inside.

  She gave Grace a look but held her tongue. Ever so slightly, Grace lifted one shoulder.

  They were remaining silent on account of Lady Delamore standing beside them, of course. She was a tiny woman, practically miniature, but her sparkling eyes missed nothing. Least of all the silent exchange between the known friends and confidantes, Lady Bennington and Lady Corbeau.

  With a gloved hand, Eliza undid the ribbon of her cloak. The long swathe of fabric fell away. About her throat were glinting pale-yellow diamonds.

  They were beautiful, and not the least out of place in such environs. He wouldn’t have thought much about them were it not for Lady Rushworth’s reaction. She inhaled a sharp breath, hand flying to cover her mouth. She didn’t blink, only stared at the stones.

  Eliza noticed her mother’s expression and reached up to touch the jewelry. “What is it, Mother?”

  “Where—where did you get those?”

  Beside him, both Grace and Lady Delamore leaned in closer, hanging on every word.

  Eliza seemed not to notice. “Father gave them to me.”

  “They were supposed to be for me.”

  “Do you want them?”

  “No, I don’t want them. Your father, fool that he was, gave them to that good-for-nothing old Lord Bennington”—she shot Jeremy a murderous look and sneered—“your uncle, and I never saw them again.”

  Eliza spoke gently. “But if they mean something to you, Mother—”

  “They mean nothing to me but disgrace and dishonor.” Lady Rushworth’s mouth set. She turned to Jeremy and pointed to the stones. “This was your debt, my lord.”

  He blinked, no comprehension forming in his mind. “What? What do these have to do with the debt? That was a jewel—”

  “Jewels.” Her mouth pinched as if the mere act of speaking to him was more distasteful than anything else imaginable. “Have another look at whatever it is to which you were referring. I believe you missed a small detail, my lord.”

  “A small detail?”

  “The S at the end of the word, I think you’ll find.”

  That had to have been why nobody had ever been able to trace the item. He’d had runners trying to find a jewel. Not a set of jewels.

  Eliza’s mouth parted. “Then he never had to marry me.”

  Jeremy was dimly mindful of the servants closing the front doors and of Grace dragging Lady Delamore away while the older woman was still trying to crane her neck to watch what was unfolding.

  But the awareness of the pain in her words crowded out most everything else. They put a dagger into his heart.

  Lady Rushworth, however, hadn’t moved. “Still time for an annulment.”

  “Mother, please.”

  “You had a hand in this, my lady.” Jeremy struggled to keep his tone reasonably civil. She was still his mother-in-law, after all. He intended to see to it that was what she remained. For better or for worse… “If you hadn’t tried to force me to marry Christiana, your daughter and I never would have met.”

  The anguish of the thought made it difficult to breathe. Never met Eliza…never met the one person in the world who meant more to him than any other.

  “Are you trying to blame my daughter for this? Disgraceful.”

  Eliza gave her husband a hard look. “It seems you’re blaming my mother. Why don’t we all agree to drop the subject of who is responsible for what? We’re in this now, whether we like it”—she swallowed, lowering her eyes, as if she suffered some deep internal struggle—“or not. Either way, we’re going to have to come to terms with what our situation is. Mother, you’re destitute. You’re going to need a place to live, so you’re going to have to decide between coming to Idlewood with us or going to the dower house.”

  Jeremy braced himself. He was going to have to live with Lady Rushworth. It seemed a small price to pay for keeping Eliza. Idlewood was large. If he ate separately at breakfast and during the day, and accepted invitations to dine with families in the neighborhood, they had only to endure each other over the occasional dinner.

  Lady Rushworth drew a long breath. “Still time for an annulment, I say.”

  Beside her, Eliza’s cheeks went red. “I’m afraid it’s rather too late to consider that, Mother.”

  “I know you keep saying that, Eliza, but you must listen to reason—”

  “No, I mean because I’m beginning to suspect there is going to be a child.”

  The conversation came to an abrupt halt as they both stared at her.

  Eliza’s cheeks darkened. “I thought you would be more pleased, my lord. It’s what you wanted from marriage.”

  Pleased? The weight of the world had settled upon his shoulders. And it was so much heavier than he ever could have believed. What if it was a boy? He’d have his heir—but would he have Eliza? But what if it was a girl? How could he live with himself knowing there were predators like Sir Domnall slithering through the world who would prey upon loneliness and a tender heart?

  He’d thought he’d felt protective of Eliza before. It was nothing to what he was experiencing now, for both her and the life they’d created.

  It was too much. A child. A child! It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, was it? The best thing in the world. He’d never been lighter. Or so frightened. Ice chilled his entire being. What if Eliza didn’t survive childbirth?

  No. He couldn’t think about that. Not now. Maybe not ever. If he lost her…

  His throat closed.

  Jeremy’s determination redoubled. No child of his was going to be raised in a house where there was any question of whether the mother and father loved each other.

  And what was that last bit? A child was what he’d wanted from a marriage? Maybe in the beginning. Now…well, yes, of course he wanted children. He wanted them very much. But it was so much more complex now.

  No. It wasn’t. He wanted her. Eliza. His wife. His dear one—the one who taught him more about what it was to love than he’d ever imagined could possibly exist. If he was hopeless now, so be it. He didn’t want to return to what he’d been before he knew her.

  He must win her tonight once and for all. Nothing else mattered.

  “Come. We have a ball to begin. Mustn’t keep the people waiting.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Eliza was not prepared for what happened when Jeremy led her into the ballroom.

  First, he left her on the sidelines with her mother. They were standing with Corbeau, Grace, and Hetty. Jeremy’s hands went up, and everyone moved aside, emptying the floor to give the man co
mmand of the room. Silence fell.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming tonight on such very short notice.” Jeremy turned, studying the company but carefully avoiding meeting Eliza’s eye.

  Lady Rushworth tapped Eliza’s arm with her fan. “What is he doing?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head and looked at Grace—who also avoided her gaze. Hetty shot Eliza a wide smile and an encouraging nod.

  Jeremy continued. “Many of you have heard rumors about members of my family lately. Some of them are true. Some of them are not. Think what you choose, of course. None of us are going to confirm or deny anything.”

  A murmur went through the crowd. Disappointment, perhaps?

  “That said, there are a few items I would like you all to be the first to know about.”

  Eliza’s heart started pounding. Her mother grabbed her arm. “What does that husband of yours think he’s doing? He’s going to disgrace us all.”

  “Shh.”

  “Whatever you heard about my wedding, forget it this instant.” Jeremy paused to take a deep breath. Every last person in the room was waiting for him to speak. He lowered his head as if he were drawing courage for what he had to say next. He raised it again, his face stony with whatever it took inside him to account for himself, while his voice was hard with the determination of a man resolved not to reveal too much emotion. “Once I wrote to my wife that I didn’t have a heart. No sooner did she show me that I do than it became hers, wholly and irrevocably.”

  At last, their eyes met. Lord, he really was declaring himself before the world. If he said any more…

  Oh, no. Not again. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry.

  “Eliza, I love you.” He looked away, the private moment between them in a very public place broken, as he returned to addressing the crowd. “I explicitly forbid any and every person here from ever discussing any of us Landons ever again. If not for us, then—”

  His gaze found Eliza again, his brows lifting in silent question. Words weren’t necessary to understand the question. She blinked away the wetness in her eyes, and he responded with a single nod.