Ripe for Seduction

by Isobel Carr

  He could almost feel the blush that rose on her skin. He helped her up, and she smoothed her petticoats with unsteady hands. Roland buttoned up his breeches and shoved his sullied handkerchief back into his pocket.

  She had leaves in her hair. “Come here,” he said, reaching for the first one. “You look a nymph. And charming as that is, it’s rather a telltale sign that you’ve been doing something you ought not.”

  Olivia simply watched as he plucked them from her hair and sent them drifting to the stone floor of the temple. He handed her the last one, and she twirled it between her fingers.

  “I think your glove is under the chaise,” she said.

  Roland stooped to retrieve it and tugged it back on. Olivia took his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, staring out at the canal. He’d have given his entire day’s winnings to know what she was thinking, but at that exact moment, she seemed a thousand miles away.

  “Shall we go back inside before my sister is forced in good conscience to come looking for us?”

  CHAPTER 33

  I can’t say I’m familiar with just how you go about counting fawns,” Devere said in response to her invitation for him to join her family at Holinshed for the annual event. Livy choked up on Hastings’s lead as a squirrel dashed from tree to tree. The dog sighed wistfully but didn’t attempt to give chase.

  “Really?” Livy said, genuinely surprised that Devere had never been to one. “Every deer park has one. Though some of us take more of an opportunity to turn it into an event than others.”

  Though they’d had an appointment to go for a drive, Devere had elected to accompany her while she walked Hastings for her father instead. When she’d appeared with the giant hound, she’d thought for a moment he might change his mind, but he took Hastings’s gruff greeting in stride and didn’t try, as so many men did, to force the dog to submit to him.

  “I think you forget what a rarity deer parks have become,” Devere said with a chuckle. “A few of the royal dukes have them, of course, and the king, but very few others are so privileged.”

  Livy bit her lip as she thought about it. Having one had never seemed particularly special. It was just there, as ancient as the castle ruins that made up the outer wall of Holinshed or the forest itself.

  “Well then, I expect you’ll enjoy the exceptionality of the experience,” she said. “Though counting fawns in the park is not nearly as exciting as a hunt, we won’t cull the herd until autumn.” And he wouldn’t be around come autumn, which seemed a pity on so many fronts. “Your sister is invited, too, as are your parents, of course, should they choose to join us. I finished the invitations last night, so I expect they’ll receive them today.”

  They reached the Serpentine and turned to circle the small body of water that was half lake, half canal. A man with a St. John’s dog at his heel veered wide to avoid them. Livy didn’t pay them any mind. Hastings rarely noticed other dogs; it was children she had to be wary of. He had an unnerving habit of greeting them by jamming his giant nose into their midsection and then sniffing loudly and thoroughly. Most children liked it, but the occasional one shrieked as though they were being eaten.

  “Is it going to be a large party?” Devere said.

  Livy nodded. “I expect so. Father usually invites a good number of his friends, the same ones who often hunt with us when the fallow deer are in season.”

  “Squires and rustic country vicars?” He sounded slightly weary at the idea.

  Livy made a face at him. “Don’t make it sound as if it will be dull. I promise you, it won’t. You’ll be spending it with me,” she added, raising her brows and daring him to contradict her.

  Devere flicked his glance over her, as though weighing that in the balance. “I suppose I could be convinced,” he said. The slight drawl in his voice sent a spark of awareness flashing through her.

  “I thought you might.”

  They’d returned to town from Bankcroft several days ago. And with that short journey had come a return to normalcy that was both welcome and somewhat unnerving. She didn’t quite know how to behave. Part of her was mortified at what they’d done, at what she’d allowed him to do, and even more so by what she’d wanted him to do that night in the summerhouse. But a larger part of her simply wanted to find a way—a chance—to do it again.

  “The Season will be over soon,” she said, forcing herself to ignore the bubble of panic that welled up inside her at the thought. It wouldn’t end abruptly. It would trickle off, dying a little more each week until Parliament adjourned and only those with nowhere else to go remained.

  “Yes, my mother is already full of schemes for summer at Croughton Abbey.”

  Livy’s breath caught in her chest. Everything was moving too fast now. Hastings pushed at her hand with his muzzle, and she rubbed his head as they walked.

  “What do you mean to do when this is over?” Devere said.

  Livy stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Your stated goals have all been about avoiding things you fear will be unpleasant.” He sounded almost angry. Livy cocked her head and stared. Hastings whined, and Livy shushed him. “What do you want beyond that, Olivia? You must want something.”

  The small bubble of panic she’d felt earlier expanded in her chest, pushing out until there wasn’t room for anything else. Devere looked horrified for a moment before tugging Hastings’s leash away from her and propelling them back into motion.

  “Never mind,” he said as they rounded the corner of the canal and came out at Rotten Row. Hastings’s head snapped up at the sight of horses, and Devere checked him without a word. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No.” Livy took a deep breath as the panic subsided. “You’re right.” She felt suddenly lost. As lost as she’d been the day she’d discovered her marriage was invalid. Perhaps more so. At least then she’d had her former husband’s family to rail against and an escape to plan. “I hadn’t thought beyond surviving the Season and ensuring I’d never have to endure another one.”

  Devere gave her a lopsided grin. “It seems to me you’ve rather enjoyed the past couple of months.”

  Livy narrowed her eyes at him and reclaimed Hastings’s lead. “I’ve certainly made the best of them.”

  Devere responded with a bark of laughter that earned him a snort from the dog. “Will that beast lie quietly at your feet if we go for a cup of tea?”

  “If we bribe him with biscuits, yes.”

  “Then let’s make our way to Berkeley Square and see just how badly we can horrify the ladies at Negri’s.”

  They’d broached the fourth bottle of claret when one of Lord Leonidas’s maids appeared in the doorway of The Red Lion, her woolen bedgown disordered and her cap askew. Roland pushed the full bottle toward the man on his left and shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. After an animated debate with the doorman, the girl made a beeline for their table.

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said. “But Mrs. Draper sent me to fetch you. The lady’s brother came and dragged her off. He had a constable with him, and there’s been a great hullaballoo.” Her hands were shaking. She clutched her gown about her, as though the night was far colder than it felt to him.

  “Damnation,” Reeves said, standing up quickly enough to send his chair skittering across the floor. He swayed on his feet, and Thane put out a hand to steady him.

  “Do you know where he took her?” Roland said. “Did he have any other gentlemen with him, or just the constable?” Would Sir Christopher take his sister home or would he take her to some inn and hand her over to his friend?

  “Just—just the constable, sir,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter. “She was screaming something awful though. Raised half the street, she did. The constable was shouting the riot act from the steps as I left. There were that many people out in the street to see what was going on.”

  Devere clapped a hand down on the maid’s shoulder, and she jumped. “She can tell
us more while we walk,” he said, turning the girl toward the door and pushing her along before him.

  Thane caught Roland’s eye as the two of them followed. “This could cause an unholy scandal.”

  “Only if they were recognized,” Roland said as he pulled on his coat. “A row in the middle of the night? And none of the neighbors knowing who she was to start with? If we act fast, it will be no more than a seven-day wonder that is never explained.”

  When they reached Lord Leonidas’s house, the street was deserted, though there were lights in many of the windows and more than one darkly silhouetted head appeared to watch them. Mrs. Draper glared at them as she waved them inside.

  “Do you know where they’ve gone?” Roland said before the door was even closed.

  “I think he’s taken her home, sir,” Mrs. Draper said, her voice thick with rage. “He said something about her being lucky their mother was still willing to receive her as he dragged her down the stairs.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Roland said with a hasty nod. “We should hurry,” he added, glancing at Reeves and Thane. Reeves nodded, while Thane merely stood there, looking grim.

  “I’ve fetched his lordship’s pistols,” Mrs. Draper said, pointing toward a wooden box that sat upon the small table where they usually left their hats and gloves.

  Thane flicked the box open and began loading one of the finely crafted dueling pistols. Reeves loaded the second one with the precision of a wholly focused drunk. When he was done, he handed it to Roland.

  “I’m sober enough to load,” Reeves said, “but I wouldn’t trust my aim. Best you take it.”

  Roland wrapped his fingers around the heavy butt of the pistol and nodded to Mrs. Draper. “Don’t wait up, ma’am. We can’t risk bringing her back here.”

  “But you’ll send someone to let me know she’s safe?”

  Roland nodded again before ushering his friends out the door. Together they stalked down the street. When they reached the Bence-Jones’s house, Thane didn’t even bother to knock. He simply kicked the door in, sending shards of wood flying across the entry hall and startling the footman into something close to hysterics. Roland pointed his pistol at him, and the man fled.

  Sir Christopher came rushing down the stairs, loudly protesting their intrusion. Roland shook his head. The man clearly didn’t grasp the severity of the situation or the amount of danger he was in. He was also damn lucky Reeves wasn’t armed.

  Roland cocked his pistol, and the baronet froze. “Is your sister upstairs?”

  When the man didn’t answer, Reeves took a menacing step forward. Sir Christopher fell back a step before attempting to bar the way. Reeves latched onto the baronet’s coat and sent him hurtling down the stairs before storming upward, shouting for Miss Bence-Jones as he went.

  When Sir Christopher attempted to right himself, Thane nudged him back with one foot and then pinned him to the floor with it. “I’ll have you all arrested,” Sir Christopher said. “You can’t just do whatever you like with other men’s sisters.”

  Thane cocked his own pistol and leveled it the baronet’s head. “I’ve no intention of hanging over this affair,” Thane said, his tone disarmingly light. “So don’t force me to shoot you.”

  Abovestairs there was a series of thumps, a howl, and then a peal of somewhat manic laughter. “Got her,” Reeves said, appearing on the stairs with Miss Bence-Jones tossed over one shoulder.

  Thane continued to hold the baronet down as Reeves carried the man’s sister out into the night. “Whatever we want?” Thane said. “No, certainly not. Whatever she wants? I think we can. Can and shall.” He took his boot off Sir Christopher’s chest and carefully uncocked his gun before turning and exiting through the ruins of the entry portal.

  Roland lowered his own pistol. “Don’t think for a minute that your sister didn’t tell us everything.” The baronet blanched. “So if you’d like to be known as a man who arranged his sister’s rape, please, attempt to have us arrested. I’m fairly certain my own family can handle the scandal of their son being accused of saving a girl from a brother such as you.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Livy sat beside the comtesse as the coach rolled swiftly toward Holinshed. Her father was riding alongside, as Hastings took up the entire rear-facing seat. Livy wished she could trade places with her father or that she could have stayed behind and allowed Devere to escort her. With her maid in tow, they could have complied with the proprieties.

  She’d been surprised when the comtesse had made her brother’s excuses. Surprised, and not a little bit annoyed. She shouldn’t allow herself to feel proprietary about him, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

  The dog sprawled across the coach, his feet dangling off the seat. Devere’s sister didn’t seem to mind his presence in the least, which was a good thing, as there were twenty more just like him waiting at Holinshed, and her father had never seen the logic behind confining his hounds to a kennel.

  Livy shut her book with a thump, and the comtesse looked up from the letter she’d been reading. “Eager to be home?” she said.

  Livy nodded and stretched out her legs as much as the coach would allow. “It’s been a long time since I was there, almost two years. I’m wondering if it will even feel like home anymore.”

  “So long?” Devere’s sister twisted so she was facing Livy as much as the carriage seat allowed. “The earl speaks as if he spends nearly all his time there.”

  “He does, at least when parliament is not in session. But I haven’t been home since I was married.”

  The comtesse nodded as though she were piecing everything together. “Where did you go after…” Her voice trailed off as though she suddenly realized there was no polite way to phrase it.

  “After I found out I wasn’t really married? I went to my maternal grandmother, Lady Heddington. Where I stayed, until she and father decided that it was time to force me back into the world.”

  “I’m sure they meant it for the best,” the comtesse said softly.

  Livy resisted the urge to snap at her. “Undoubtedly, but I would still rather they had let me be.”

  “For how long? Another year? Five? How long would have been enough?” The comtesse folded her letter and tucked it between her skirt and the leather seat. “No matter when you returned, the scandal would have been dredged up. Best to get it out of the way before it became the only thing anyone remembered about you.”

  Livy nodded. It was impossible not to agree in principle.

  “Think of it this way,” the comtesse said, obviously sensing that Livy was not entirely in agreement. “Imagine doing only what you did for that year for the rest of your life. Arranging flowers for the church, walking your grandmother’s pug, and struggling to escape the condescending visits from the vicar’s wife. Add in endless hours of needlework—embroidered slippers for your father or clothes for the poor, makes no difference, a drudgery either way. Or perhaps you’ve a talent for watercolor or a great love of botany? Tell me that doesn’t sound dreary.”

  “Very,” Livy said, horrified by how close to the mark Devere’s sister was.

  “But now you’ve escaped such a fate, thanks in no small part to your father dragging you to Town.”

  The panicked feeling she’d been fighting on and off for days rose again, making Livy’s stomach churn. The truth was on the tip of her tongue, and it was hard to swallow it back down. She’d set everything in motion to condemn herself to exactly the life the comtesse had just described. Except now there was Devere, and she was almost certain he was hers for the asking.

  CHAPTER 35

  Good Lord, sir, that can’t possibly be where we’re going.”

  Roland glanced out the window of the coach. Through the light drizzle that had begun to fall, he could just make out the ruins of a castle in the distance. One wall had a major breach, and only three of the towers were still standing.

  He yawned. It had taken the better part of the day to reach their destination, and they
’d traveled for most of the previous night in order to take Miss Bence-Jones to his grandmother. The dowager had pretended to be horrified, but the twinkle of amusement in her dark eyes had been unmistakable as Roland had explained the situation. He had no doubt his grandmother would cosset her new companion to death as they waited for a reply to the letter they’d sent Blakeley.

  “You were expecting Windsor, Martin?”

  His valet glanced back out the window as though a second look would reveal the mistake. “Or something like, yes, sir.”

  “Lady Olivia said something about the house incorporating the ruins of the original castle.”

  Martin shuddered and twitched his coat tighter about himself. Roland bit back a laugh at the man’s fastidious horror. He studied the ruins as they loomed larger and larger. He had to admit it was not a promising facade. He couldn’t imagine his own father not tearing the entire thing down and beginning anew, but when they rolled across the dry moat and under the gaping threat of the portcullis, they emerged into an immense courtyard with an imposing brick manor house off to one side.

  Roland leapt down from the coach when it came to a halt before the house. He turned about, ignoring the rain. There was nothing left of the castle but the walls and partial towers. Immediately encircling the house was a rather formal garden, and from the garden’s edge to the castle walls there was nothing but a large expanse of lawn and two enormous oaks.

  An unholy baying erupted from beyond the house, and as the front door opened and Olivia appeared, a seething pack of shaggy hounds erupted into sight. “No,” Olivia squealed as they frolicked about her, wagging and rubbing up against her. “You’re wet. And muddy.” She smiled at him and flapped her skirts at the dogs. “Go on with you.”

  Rather than return to wherever it was they’d come from, the animals turned as one and thundered into the house. “Well,” Olivia said, turning to face him, “welcome to Holinshed. Come inside before the rest of the pack joins us.”