The Rules of Seduction

by Madeline Hunter

  She returned to this house as mistress, however, not as poor cousin or governess. Even in the familiar there would be alterations. They were visible in the bows of the servants.

  Hayden escorted her up to the library.

  “We should call on Easterbrook soon,” she said. “I must arrange to continue my duties with Caroline.”

  “No longer a duty. It is your choice whether to continue.”

  “I thought you came to Oxford that day first and foremost to ensure Caroline’s finishing was completed.”

  “The necklace I carried had been removed from safekeeping the night before, Alexia. We would have had that conversation even if you had not told Hen you intended to leave this house.”

  He disarmed her when he said things like that. It was kind of him to leave out the rest of it and not mention that only the events in the attic brought that conversation about. She was not sure she wanted the truth to be obscured like this. She often lost hold of the facts in their marriage bed, but it would be foolish to allow that illusion to infect the days.

  “I would like to continue with Caroline. It is late for her to learn the humors of a new governess.”

  “We will call this afternoon, then. You can see to Caroline, and I can see if my brothers are surviving Hen’s invasion.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “I should go with you on this first call, and I need to be in the City tomorrow. There are affairs that need my attention. I have neglected them too long.”

  Is that what occupied his mind when he turned so thoughtful in her arms? While his body melted into hers in satisfaction and his breath invaded her being, was his mind contemplating the affairs waiting his attention? Perhaps. The impression that their minds rested in unity along with their bodies might have only come from her own lack of separateness.

  It would take some time before she sorted through the truths of this marriage and discovered just what was real and what was not. Right now, his reference to his affairs heralded one change. Henceforth they would live separate lives. The companionship they shared in Kent would not continue.

  She had not expected it to. That was not how couples actually lived. She was glad to have had the chance to know him better, however. To learn something of the man within the man.

  The inner man was not so different from the one the world saw, just more complicated. The inner man laughed at her jokes even if they were not very humorous. He treated her kindly even though he commanded her activities during the day and her passion during the night. He emerged most often in bed, with a warmth that in no way weakened him, that actually increased the power that made her tremble. He enfolded her in a security she had never known before. She had grown to believe the promise he made in the church, that she would be safe with him.

  Falkner entered the library, bearing a large stack of mail neatly tied with ribbons.

  “This was sent by Lord Easterbrook yesterday,” he explained.

  Hayden untied the ribbons and flipped through the letters.

  “Falkner, did any mail arrive for me while I was gone?” Alexia asked.

  “No, madam.”

  Her heart fell in a long, sad sigh. She understood that her cousins would be angry. She did not anticipate quick acceptance. However, she had not expected to be ignored. A letter full of accusations and fury would have been preferable to silence. They acted as if she were dead to them.

  She had not dwelled on that loss while she was in Kent. Hayden had seen that she did not have much time to.

  He sat near a table now. The light from a northern window gently washed his face. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, and sensual memories fluttered through her head.

  “They will come around. Give them some time.” His gaze did not leave the letter he read. He had not even had to look at her to know what she was thinking.

  “I think that I should write again.”

  “I would prefer you did not, Alexia. I do not care for the idea of your writing another letter to your cousins, begging their forgiveness for marrying the horrible Lord Hayden.”

  He did not actually command, but a husband had just directed a wife on the behavior he expected of her. A good wife would obey, and she was committed to being one. However, she had not anticipated that he might interfere in such a private matter.

  She did not argue, although she sensed he was poised to hear objections. She did not explain that she had not yet begged their forgiveness and did not intend to. His display of husbandly authority left her disinclined to soothe his ruffled pride.

  He had promised when he proposed that he would not obstruct her friendships, and her cousins were her closest friends. She would hold him to his word.

  Nor would she wait for her cousins to come around. If she did, maybe they never would.

  They found Henrietta well ensconced in Easterbrook’s house. The manner in which she greeted them indicated that to her mind she was not a guest but mistress now.

  She received them in the drawing room. She gave Alexia a good look, then bestowed a woman-to-woman smile. “It appears that marriage suits you, dear.”

  Alexia felt her face warm at the insinuating tone. “It suits me well enough.”

  Hayden drifted away, leaving her to suffer Hen’s examination alone. Caroline’s arrival veiled her mother’s curiosity but did not put off the inquisition.

  “You found Kent pleasant?”

  “It is a lovely property.”

  Hen’s glance swept to Hayden, who strolled along the bank of windows. “He appears very contented.”

  Caroline looked over too. “He does, doesn’t he? Not nearly as frightening as before.”

  “It is said that only Venus can tame Mars,” Hen cooed.

  Caroline frowned, confused by the allusion. Alexia lost her patience with Henrietta’s smirks. “I am no Venus, and he is too intelligent to be cast as Mars. However, if you perceive contentment, I am heartened. I take my responsibilities as a wife very seriously, as did you, I am sure.”

  “I relished my responsibilities, Alexia, and miss the joy they gave me.”

  “I fully expect to enjoy them too,” Caroline said. “I have been learning all about planning dinner parties while you were gone. It will be great fun to be a hostess.” Her brow puckered again. “But you were on holiday. Did you host a party in Kent?”

  “We speak of other duties, dear,” Hen said.

  “Your mother will explain in due time,” Alexia said. “Now we must decide when I will join you for your lessons.”

  Caroline wrinkled her nose. Hen began suggesting schedules, only to throw out each one in turn as inconvenient. Hayden, no doubt sensing that the conversation had moved beyond how contented he looked, ambled closer.

  The attempts at planning had begun to bear fruit when Easterbrook arrived. His appearance startled Alexia. He wore no waistcoat or cravat, and his frock coat was unbuttoned to reveal the expanse of his white shirt. He would have appeared very common in his lack of proper attire if not for the exquisite cut and fabric of the garments that he did wear.

  Hayden did not react as if his brother’s informality surprised him, but Hen rolled her eyes.

  “Really, Easterbrook. I thought we agreed last night that you would not roam the house in dishabille,” she said.

  Easterbrook’s countenance remained bland. “You voiced your opinion on the matter. That does not mean I agreed.”

  “I daresay you are shocking Alexia, receiving her like that.”

  “Are you shocked or insulted, Alexia? Are apologies due?”

  “It is your home, sir. I would not be so bold as to be shocked or insulted.”

  “An admirable answer. Would that all women were as sensible and forgiving.”

  Hen expressed lack of sense and forgiveness by shaking her head in dismay. Easterbrook and Hayden strolled away for a private chat. Alexia drew Hen and Caroline back into their plans.

  “Where is the reliquary, Henrietta, dear?” Easterbrook’s ominous
ly calm voice floated into their midst.

  Hen turned to where he and Hayden stood near a table. Alexia remembered the bejeweled reliquary that once held place of honor on it.

  “This chamber is classical, and the reliquary is Gothic. It did not complement the decor at all, so I had it moved to the library.”

  A smarter woman would have squirmed under the gaze Easterbrook directed at Henrietta, but his aunt returned one of her dreamy smiles.

  Hayden strode out of the drawing room. A short while later he returned, carrying the reliquary. He brought it to Hen. “May I suggest that you put it back? Christian has a particular fondness for it. I am sure that you did not know that when you demanded its removal.”

  Hen looked ready to argue, but Hayden’s stern expression checked her. She glanced over to Easterbrook, who eyed her too much like a fox sizing up a chicken that has stupidly wandered into its path.

  Alexia reached for the reliquary. “Allow me to—”

  “No,” Hayden said.

  Henrietta glared at her two nephews. She rose and took the reliquary. Managing to look hurt, rebuffed, submissive, but not cowed, she quickly walked past Easterbrook and set it down on its table. Then she sailed toward the door, chin high. “Come along, Caroline. Alexia, we will see you when you visit tomorrow.”

  Perplexed at whatever had occurred, Caroline joined her mother. After the door closed on them, Easterbrook went to the table and nudged the reliquary to the center of the surface.

  “You have bought me a week, no more, Hayden.” He sighed with resignation. “Elliot is never about now. He escapes into the libraries by day and into some woman’s boudoir by night. It is just me. And her.”

  “We will find another house,” Hayden said. “I can see that she will make you miserable.”

  “I will survive. Your wife will be visiting her frequently in the days ahead, and I expect she will be further distracted from ruining my peace once the season starts.”

  “I promise to visit often,” Alexia said.

  “Good, good.” He shed his interest in Hen’s designs. “My brother looks smug, Alexia. I hope that he behaved well and that the satisfaction was mutual. We come from a family that has reason to think the initial joys of the marriage bed are all that recommends the wedded state to either man or woman.”

  Hayden sighed and shook his head. “You might let her test the water and get used to the temperature, Christian. Seeing you dressed like that was enough for one day. It was good of you not to enter in your robe.”

  Easterbrook looked down at his garments. “If looking proper would not have given Henrietta a victory, I would have gone through the trouble for your bride.”

  “I quite understand,” Alexia said. “I have been known to deny some people a victory or two on occasion.”

  “I am sure that you have. It is why I favored you at once.” He took Hen’s place on a nearby chair. “Several more letters arrived for you today, Hayden. No doubt from those who missed the miserably discreet announcement that was published last week. Although I expect the word circulated among the women quickly, since the batch sent over earlier contained many invitations. Hen reports that there is much curiosity about the lady who succeeded where so many failed.”

  “They will all meet her soon. We will accept most of those invitations.”

  “Does the notion of being inspected frighten you, Alexia?”

  “A little. It is best to be done with it quickly, however.”

  “How sensible. She really is very sane, Hayden. In a town full of feminine frivolity even among the men, she is refreshing.”

  They stayed a while longer. The men spoke of politics and sport. The conversation drifted over and around her. She sensed that Easterbrook prolonged the visit for her sake, so she would feel welcome. Or perhaps he did not mind her company because he thought her sensible.

  It had been a compliment from a man who did not waste breath on false flattery. It had not been the sort of praise that most women would look for, however.

  Sensible. Not beautiful or entrancing or clever. Sensible. What a dull word. Yes, here I am, little sensible me. A paragon of practicality. A citadel of sobriety. Even the passion I experience with this new husband is a matter of accepting that which I cannot change. We are both making the best of a marriage decreed by foolish impulse and heartless pragmatism.

  She looked at Hayden. He appeared in no hurry to take his leave. He enjoyed conversing with his brother.

  He felt her gaze and looked her way briefly. Warmth softened his countenance, and his eyes reflected memories of their intimacies.

  For a few sweet moments, the life she lived at night intruded on the day, and she did not feel very sensible at all.

  Hayden did not retire with her that night. She left him in the library, writing a letter. Joan waited for her in her bedroom. Joan had arrived from Kent at midday to serve as her lady’s maid. Alexia had decided it would be silly to look for another maid if she had found one who suited her. The girl was excited about her new duties and the chance to come to town.

  Joan helped her change into a nightdress, then brushed out her hair. She dismissed Joan and laid in her bed.

  This chamber had not been used in all her years in this house. Rose had not occupied the mistress’s chamber, reserving it for the future wife of Benjamin, then Timothy. It connected to the master’s suite of chambers that Hayden now used.

  She gazed at the ivory drapery suspended above her. She had promised Hayden that thoughts of her cousins would not invade their nights, but Hayden was not here now. The events of the last week had kept reflection at bay, but now she was alone again. She had once expected to lie in this bed, waiting for a different man, and Ben’s memory eddied through her in increasingly vivid ripples.

  She owed that memory nothing besides the fond thoughts of a close cousin. Her emotions regarding Ben had been unsettled since she read those letters in the attic, however. It hurt her to think she had been only one of many dalliances to him. She had never suspected that his insistence on discretion was because he did not want his brother and sister to know that he behaved dishonorably toward her.

  He had, however. Her pride wanted to believe she had been his true love, his future wife, and that those letters came from a woman who merely satisfied his needs until he married. Hayden had even suggested that was the case. The romantic girl in her heart would probably hold on to that explanation for years. Alexia Welbourne, the woman who had learned the world’s harsh truths too well, was less inclined to be so generous.

  That woman could not exorcise Ben’s memory completely, however. He demanded attention of a different sort than that of wistful regret or longing. Walking through the door, she had also stepped back to her recent worries about him. His memory remained vaguely incomplete now, in certain essential ways.

  She again saw him when he kissed her before leaving for Greece. Had it only been excitement she sensed in him? She had resented his eagerness to leave but had buried that perception. It loomed now in her mind, released from the lie that wanted to ignore it. She watched his smile and heard his reassurances. She also saw the other emotion deep in his eyes.

  Relief. He was glad to be gone. From her? She doubted she mattered enough. He could be rid of her without going to Greece.

  He had been relieved to leave England, and despondent about returning. Hayden believed the latter melancholy had made Ben careless on that ship. So careless that he ended in the sea.

  She squeezed her eyes tight against the tears beginning to burn. Whether as lover, fiancée, or cousin, she had loved him dearly. She did not want to think of him so unhappy, so desperate, that he…

  Because of her? It would be a terrible kind of significance, if his entanglement with her made him so unhappy. Surely it had been something else in his life.

  She wished she had read those letters more carefully and seen more than the evidence of another woman in his life. She wished she had not ignored the other papers in the trunk. She had g
one to it only to find the answer to the question that plagued her tonight. She had been too quick to grab at the belief that he had never changed and too distracted to remember her goal once she smelled that perfume.

  She rubbed her eyes, wiping the tears that had brimmed through her clenched lids. She blinked hard and looked again into the night.

  Hayden stood a foot from the bed. The light of a small, far lamp created a nimbus around the edges of his body. She startled on seeing him. She had not even heard him enter.

  As the shadows came alive with russet glows, she saw that he wore a loose robe, carelessly tied. The fabric was dark and of a substance that flowed softly.

  “You were crying.”

  “I wasn’t. Truly.” It was not really a lie. The tears had not flowed enough to be called crying.

  He shed the robe. Vague highlights played over the hard angles of his body and face. Her awe at his beauty obscured the thoughts that had filled the last hour.

  He joined her in bed. He pulled her closer and looked down. A sly shimmer of anticipation quivered through her.

  He did not kiss her. His hand rested on her hip in the firm pressure that expressed so much about him. He did not clutch or grip. He did not have to. This more gentle hold spoke his assumptions of possession more eloquently.

  “Why were you crying?”

  He should not demand an answer like this. It did not really matter to him.

  “You said there were some things we would not talk about at night, Hayden. I am thinking that was a good rule.”

  His head turned slightly. He gazed away, at nothing.

  “I will let or buy another house. West of the park, if necessary. I guessed that living here would be a mistake.”

  “Please do not. Please. It is not this house. The nostalgia will come on occasion wherever I live.”

  His attention returned to her, as if she had said something profound. His hand caressed down her thigh and leg. With long strokes, he pushed her nightdress up. “Perhaps I should leave you to the nostalgia tonight, but I think not.”