The Rules of Seduction

by Madeline Hunter

  She found a way to go anyway, of course. In response, her husband had arranged for her lover to be posted in a distant colony, where he died of fever. The chill in their marriage had turned to ice after that.

  He could hear his father, intoning his lessons at the dinners his mother ceased to attend. Romance is an invention of poets. It is a drama devised to make men’s base needs more acceptable to women. Play the role if you must, but have no illusions such sentiments last or really matter. He did not know his sons had guessed the whole of their parents’ own drama very early, and even knew the name of the lover she pined for in her isolation.

  Of course, Alexia was not a sixteen-year-old ingenue accepting a proposal with starry eyes. She possessed an honesty that should spare them the worst marital storms.

  And if someday she fell in love again and reclaimed the illusion she had known with Ben…His reaction to the idea surprised him. Underneath the generosity he wanted to think he would have, beneath the understanding that could accept such an arrangement, a primitive instinct bared its teeth.

  He tamed the beast by retreating into the most logical of deliberations. He turned his mind to numbers and how he would arrange the settlement. He was debating the size of her allowance when she turned her gaze from the passing countryside toward him.

  “There was a big debt,” she said. “You asked in the park why Ben did not enjoy his success. Rose told me today that there was a large final debt to repay, inherited from his father.”

  He looked across the coach, and a shadow veiled the future. She had just become engaged. She sat with her future husband. Her mind, however, had been thinking about the Longworths. Perhaps she had been rehearsing what she would say to bring her cousins around. Nothing he would want to hear, he was sure.

  “Well, that explains it, then.”

  “It is a bit odd that the debt went away when Ben died. Would it not have in turn been inherited by Timothy?”

  “The remaining amount could have been so little that the man whom they owed forgave the rest when Ben died. Or it may not have been a collectible debt at all, and Ben repaid it only out of honor, not legal necessity.”

  “That would be like Ben. He was the most honorable of men.”

  “A paragon of virtue.” He managed to thwart the sardonic note that tried to color his agreement.

  It was in his interest now to let her know the truth about Benjamin. He had only to picture her tears in the attic to know she would not learn it from him, however. His word of honor to Timothy would be compromised then, but another reason sat across from him. He did not want to see her that hurt again.

  “Alexia, we should make some decisions about this marriage.”

  “A quick wedding, I think. Very private, with a simple announcement, if you do not mind. Everyone will know that you would marry a penniless governess only to do the honorable thing. It would be in bad taste to have a large, dramatic wedding.”

  “We will do it that way if you prefer. However, this season we will host a ball and you will order an exorbitantly expensive gown for it.”

  “To make up for the small wedding?”

  Yes, and for the first season and all the feminine indulgences and joys she had been denied. “It will be a convenient way to introduce you to all of my friends.”

  She smiled weakly. The notion of facing his friends sent her back into her private contemplations. She did not emerge from them until they entered London. “We have been in this coach for hours, but you have not even tried to kiss me.”

  “Have you been waiting for a grand seduction all this time?” Temptation’s arrows had prodded him the whole way, but he’d be damned before he admitted it. Passion might pass and not really matter, but for now it ruled him more than he thought possible. “I thought I would wait until we are married.”

  That amused her. “So now I am an innocent again, until the wedding? It is a charming hypocrisy, but I appreciate your care with my dignity.”

  “Since you requested a quick wedding, I need not wait long. I can afford to be magnanimous.”

  She laughed. The setting sun’s light flooded her face. Its golden glow eliminated the shadows of caution that had darkened her eyes the whole day.

  He did not bring her back to Hill Street. Instead, he took her to Easterbrook’s. She did not ask why. This was not a man whom one challenged over small decisions.

  He settled her in the drawing room, where she had negotiated for use of the carriage.

  “I gave instructions for a late supper to be prepared,” he said. “I have also sent for my brothers.”

  “Do you intend a dramatic announcement?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Would it not be more prudent to inform them privately?”

  “Prudence has never marked my behavior with you, and I see no reason to dredge it up for my brothers’ sake. Or do you mean so you will not see their astonishment? I promise you that any shock they reveal will have nothing to do with you.”

  He looked very relaxed. Almost lighthearted. The notion of surprising his brothers amused him.

  A young man, perhaps twenty-five in age, wandered in a few minutes later. They had never been introduced, but she recognized him as Lord Elliot Rothwell, the precocious author of a renowned volume on the last years of the Roman army in Britain.

  He did not appear much the scholar, although she could imagine his dark, brooding eyes taking the step toward total distraction that such endeavors might induce. Perhaps it was his attention to fashion that was incongruous with the source of his fame. The snug fit of his double-buttoned, knee-length dark gray frock coat showed the very latest style. The layered cut of his thick dark hair was that of a young man about town.

  Hayden introduced her. Elliot’s manner was more personable than his countenance promised. His smile put her at ease. He asked after his aunt, but Hayden interrupted.

  “Elliot, Miss Welbourne has accepted my proposal of marriage.”

  Elliot’s surprise was noticeable but brief. “That is wonderful. I look forward to the day I address you as sister, Miss Welbourne. Have you begun planning the particulars, Hayden?”

  “We will be wed as soon as I procure the special license.”

  “Then I will be sure to remain in town for the next fortnight or so. Have you told Christian yet?”

  “I have asked him to come down so I can.”

  “I do not think he will respond to the request. He has had one of those days.”

  “If he will not come down to us, I should go to him. It would not do for him to learn about my engagement from the servants’ gossip. Will you stay with Miss Welbourne, Elliot?”

  He left her to his younger brother’s care. She tried to call up enough pleasantries to fill the time. Elliot examined her like a man who had just found a butterfly and tried to determine what specimen it might be.

  “Did he seduce you?”

  The question startled her. The poise she had donned as armor to survive this visit suddenly felt paper-thin.

  “Considering the abruptness of our impending nuptials, and the fact you and I have never met before, I cannot blame you for wondering about that. I did not expect the question to be put so baldly, however.”

  “Remarkable.” He suddenly found the specimen very interesting indeed.

  “I realize that I am not what you expected, under these circumstances or any other.”

  “I had no expectations, other than expecting he might never marry at all. It is not his choice of woman that I find remarkable. It is the evidence that he did something impetuous. Four or five years ago, possibly, but now—it is amazing.”

  “You do not appear displeased.”

  “Not at all. Assuming, of course, that you do not make him forever regret his moment of madness.”

  This man had arrived at a request for reassurance by a peculiar path, but they stood at its crossroads all the same. He asked for something even Hayden had not broached, other than stating he expected her fidelity for as l
ong as he wanted it, which implied he did not expect it forever.

  And she had accepted the proposal without fully weighing the private obligations entailed. They loomed now. The naked truth of her decision pressed on her.

  It would be a marriage. It would mean the forever she had initially rejected. She would owe him more than temporary fidelity and the right to her body. Being a wife meant more than that.

  She contemplated her response to Elliot’s overture. Her words would be important, to herself as well as to him. She looked in her heart to discover what she could honestly promise.

  “I will try to be a good wife, if that is what you mean.” It sounded very thin, but her heart beat heavily, as if she had committed to a momentous goal.

  His smile of approval heartened her in a silly way, but her poise refused to reassemble itself. She remained too aware of the changes waiting in her life. Elliot’s bluntness had forged a bond, however. She sensed that this brother might be an ally and a friend in the years ahead.

  “Why did you say he might have acted impetuously in years past but not now?”

  “He has lived several different lives. There is the one you see, sensible and efficient and a little stern, the one unlikely to seduce Miss Welbourne. Then there is the one he lives every morning. You will learn about that one soon enough.” He laughed, then spoke very seriously. “It is not entirely of this world, that life, and you must make sure he does not get lost in it.”

  “You make him sound like someone for whom moments of madness are common rather than amazing things. Pray, do not frighten me.”

  “It is a type of madness, I suppose, but he controls it. Then there was the life he led as a youth. Dutiful and boring and correct. It was the same with Christian. They were two soldiers under command of a field marshal.”

  “That would be your father.”

  He nodded. “Our father brooked no arguments. He molded my brothers, but when he passed away, the molds suddenly crumbled. Faced with the freedom to be themselves, my brothers did not seem to know who those men were. Hayden tried being the blood on the town, then the political extremist, then other selves. Eventually he discovered the self you see now.”

  “Of all the ones to choose, why this one?”

  “One’s true nature may win out in the end, and this is his.” He shrugged. “Going to Greece may have done it. The decision was foolhardy, full of romantic ideals and little practicality. Perhaps the reality of battle taught him the costs of sentiment too well. I would not know. He does not speak of it to anyone.”

  That was not true. He had spoken of it to her, a little. “You describe your brothers’ journeys to find their true selves. Were you spared?”

  “As youngest, it was easy to escape my father. I learned to hide in the library.”

  Where he hid still. She wondered if he had escaped as much as he thought.

  “Enough about my brother. You will know him too well soon enough. Tell me about yourself, Miss Welbourne, and how you came to be my cousin’s governess.”

  She did not care to have this observant man analyzing her life. She began her story. Considering all the details she intended to leave out, it would not be a long tale.

  Christian’s sitting room was dark, but a lamp glowed in the bedroom. As Hayden aimed for it, something moved near him in a corner. He stopped and peered into the deep shadows. Christian sat there on a wing chair, too upright for sleep. He might have been sitting there all day, for all Hayden knew.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked.

  “Cold sober, actually.” Christian’s tone reflected profound distraction and irritation that he had been disturbed.

  Hayden never knew what to do when his brother got like this. Christian’s total escapes from the world were brief but disturbingly intense. Nor did he work formulas or read documents while he was gone. He appeared to do absolutely nothing at all.

  “I told the butler to have a supper prepared. Come down and join us.”

  “I think not.”

  “It is not healthy to indulge your melancholy like this.”

  “Is it melancholy that sends you to those numbers, Hayden? Or Elliot to his libraries? I have not been visiting any dark chambers in my mind, if that is what you fear.”

  The hell he hadn’t. The darkness poured out of him, making the air thick. Hayden strode to the bedroom, fetched the light, and returned.

  It revealed his brother. Christian was not in the robe, as Hayden expected, nor unkempt. Rather, he had been groomed impeccably and wore his finest coats. His expression showed no ill effects of his strange vigil. His countenance appeared more crisp, more alert, than Hayden had seen in months.

  He gestured to the coats. “Do you intend to go out tonight?”

  “No.”

  “I really wish you would not act so peculiar at times, Christian. You are too young to be boldly eccentric.”

  “And you are too young to be emotionally abstract.”

  What the hell did that mean? Hayden set the lamp down. “I would be grateful if you came down to supper. Or perhaps only for a few minutes now, if that is all you can grant. Miss Welbourne is here, and I would like you to welcome her into the family.”

  Attention rippled through the stillness. Christian did not move, but he thoroughly returned to the world. “You are marrying this woman?”

  “It appears so.”

  “Not vigilant enough, eh?”

  “It appears not.”

  “Damned decent of you. The only thing to do, of course.”

  There had been other things to do, and they both knew it.

  “I always knew you would marry a woman like her.”

  “Of course.”

  “Although I had hoped—well, let us go to her. As it happens, I am already dressed for it.” He rose to his feet. “I anticipated some need to look civilized. I did not think it would be this, however.”

  They trailed toward the stairs together. “What did you hope?” Hayden asked.

  Christian’s expression darkened, as if he thought the question too bold. Then it cleared in an instant. “Ah, you meant my comment just now. It was a very small hope, and not important.”

  “I am curious all the same.”

  Christian shrugged. “I had hoped you would fall in love, Hayden. But it is better this way. Less dangerous.”

  She was not entirely on display in the drawing room. Once good wishes and a blessing of approval had been administered by Easterbrook, the brothers chatted among themselves while they waited the call to supper.

  A quarter hour after Hayden’s return with his brother, another guest arrived. Henrietta sailed in, wearing a formal dinner dress of blush tulle and gros de Naples. Her face glowed with delight beneath the bird of paradise plume that adorned a pink beret-turban that Alexia had allowed her to buy last week.

  She targeted Easterbrook with her stride, not looking at anyone else. Halfway to him, her eye caught Alexia. Confusion flickered, but Henrietta was not to be waylaid.

  “How generous of you to invite me, Easterbrook. After this morning, I worried that perhaps you—I was undone to receive your request to come, although surprised that you meant tonight. Such short—Well, I am here, grateful and relieved.”

  Easterbrook’s welcome carried a formal edge. Alexia sensed the coolness was not for his aunt so much as for her unexpected addition to their group.

  When Henrietta acknowledged Alexia, she spoke indulgently. “I am happy that my nephew could find you. I trust there will be no more talk of your leaving. How generous of Easterbrook to allow you to stay for our little party as well. You may take my carriage back once the meal is finished. I am sure that my nephews will see that I am returned.”

  Hayden took his aunt’s hand between both of his. “Aunt Henrietta, this will not so much be a little party as a little celebration, and Miss Welbourne’s attendance is essential. She and I became engaged this afternoon.”

  Henrietta smiled up at him in her dreamy way. Very slowly, her mouth
tightened and her eyes turned to ice. A chilled silence claimed her for several slow moments.

  “How wonderful, Hayden. I wish you both every happiness.”

  “It is wonderful, isn’t it? I could not be more pleased,” Easterbrook said. He offered his arm to his aunt. “Let us go down. I hope it is not a cold supper. I detest them.”

  Henrietta was not a happy woman. She never addressed Alexia during the meal. She shot little glares across the table, however. Hayden read the insults. Scheming Jezebel. Wanton adventuress. And, most often, traitor.

  Hen’s mouth pursed in disdain when he described the quick, private ceremony, but Christian and Elliot acted as if it were perfectly normal for the brother of a marquess to marry that way.

  “Where will you make your home?” Elliot asked, raising a problem that quick weddings produced.

  “In my happiness at Miss Welbourne’s acceptance, I did not turn to that yet. I will visit estate agents tomorrow.”

  “With the season approaching, you will not find anything to let now that you want,” Elliot said.

  “You could always live here, of course,” Christian said, emerging from a long period when he merely observed. He proceeded to drink some wine, oblivious to the astonished silence that greeted his quiet statement.

  Henrietta looked ready to swoon from her shock at the injustice. “I would think Miss Welbourne would prefer her own home,” she suggested, her voice strangling on her dismay.

  “Is that so, Miss Welbourne?” Christian asked. “Would you prefer your own home right away? Say, one like the house on Hill Street where you now live?”

  “I will be content wherever Hayden chooses. A house like the one on Hill Street would be more than adequate.”

  “The solution is clear, then. Hayden must take residence in that house rather than your coming here.”

  “What?” Henrietta cried. “Easterbrook, there is not enough room. If you had visited you would know that. Why, we barely manage as it is and—”