by Anna Bradley
This is why you came here. To get his secrets.
“Not this,” she whispered to the empty room. “Not this secret.”
She tried to shut her mind to the truth, tried to shy away from it even as her brain calculated numbers. Ages. Years.
Reginald West couldn’t have taken Lindenhurst from Cam and his mother unless Cam’s father hadn’t been here to prevent it.
He hadn’t been here, then. He’d left, or he’d died . . . before Amelia was born.
Years before.
One hot tear slid down her cheek, but Eleanor swiped it angrily away and refused to allow the others to fall.
For pity’s sake. Don’t cry. You just got exactly what you wanted.
Chapter Seventeen
Cam flung himself onto an overstuffed leather sofa and dropped one heavy boot on top of the low table in front of him. This is not how he’d imagined his evening would unfold.
And he had imagined it—at length. He’d indulged in one heated seduction scenario after another, each with the same outcome, but not once had he imagined he’d spend his evening playing a game of hide and seek with Eleanor Sutherland.
Where the devil was she? She hadn’t been at cards in the drawing room with the rest of the party, and she hadn’t been in her bedchamber. She’d been at dinner, for God’s sake. How could a flesh and blood woman vanish in the brief half hour the gentlemen had been at their port?
Flesh. Pale at first, then flushed with desire, her skin smooth, silky. Just a glimpse of the tender white flesh at the inside of her arm drove him mad. He could spend hours on just her wrist, worshipping it with his mouth, tasting her pulse as it fluttered wildly under his tongue . . .
Damn it. Not again. He dropped his foot to the floor and shifted against the sofa to ease the uncomfortable tightness in his breeches. How many times a day could a man ignore an erection before it began to affect his health?
Surely he’d reached his limit.
He peered into the dark corners of the library, but he could discern only shadows, and none of them were shaped like the maddening female who’d managed to slip his grasp this evening.
He’d know that shape, for he’d spent all day thinking about it. Her. He’d been so distracted it was a wonder he hadn’t stumbled into a covey and been shot by one of his future brothers-in-law. Had either of them known what Cam was planning to do to their sister, they’d have shot him on purpose. Through the eyes.
Or between the legs.
First he’d envisioned a bedchamber seduction—her bedchamber, then his. Commonplace, perhaps, a seduction in a bedchamber, but private too, which was important, as there were sure to be . . . noises.
That fantasy had given way to another more imaginative one that involved a slippery frolic in the bath, and yet another where he took her atop the wide mahogany desk in his uncle’s study. Still clothed. Him, not her. She’d been unclothed in that one. In all of them.
Gloriously so. Not just her wrists, either. All of her.
Cam made a disgusted noise in his throat and slammed his boot back onto the table.
Christ. Hide and seek.
Not that the idea didn’t titillate. It did. Though in his current state, anything would. Still, one sought with an expectation of finding, and as it was, his grand seduction was still missing one essential element.
Eleanor.
Should he check behind the draperies? Damn it, where in the bloody hell—
“I suppose I can conclude from that ferocious frown you’re not yet betrothed.”
Cam leapt to his feet and whirled around. Julian stood there, a wide grin on his face. One of the glass doors leading from the library onto a secluded stone terrace stood partway open.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t come here to bludgeon you, Cam, or you’d be dead by now. Distracted, are you? Dare I ask by what?”
Cam scowled. “Jesus. May I ask why you’re creeping about Lindenhurst in the dark, Julian?”
“Well, it hardly makes sense to creep about in the light. Defeats the purpose of creeping entirely, if you ask me.”
Cam crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t ask you. You’re not supposed to be here at all, as you know. I promised Ellie you wouldn’t be.”
Julian’s grin widened. “Ellie now, is it? Well, you’ve made some progress, then.”
Not as much as he should have, and it was damned irritating. “What the devil are you doing here, Jules?”
“But I’m not here, dear cousin. Not to anyone who might object to my presence, that is.”
Cam raised an eyebrow at him. “You assume I don’t object.”
Julian crossed the room and flopped into the seat Cam had just vacated. “You never have before, though you look as though you’d object to anything at the moment, out of sheer spleen. Is Lady Eleanor proving to be more stubborn than you’d anticipated?”
Cam ran a distracted hand through his hair. “She’s proving to be more everything than I anticipated.”
“Ah.” Julian didn’t look surprised. “She won’t burst through the doors and catch me here, will she? I’m sure you’d hate to go back on a promise to her.”
“I don’t know.” Cam slumped into a chair across from his cousin. “I can’t find her.”
Julian gazed at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. “You’ve lost her? My, she is a wily one. Did you check behind the draperies? That’s where you always used to hide when we were boys.”
He’d been about to, but Julian didn’t need to know that. “For God’s sake Jules, do you really think Lady Eleanor Sutherland would hide behind the draperies?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s a perfectly good hiding place.” Julian crossed one long leg over his knee. “Come now, Cam. There are only so many places she could be.”
Cam sighed. “I know, and I’ve checked every one of them, from the nursery to the billiards room, including her bedchamber.”
Julian’s smiled faded. “I hope you don’t mean you entered her bedchamber without her consent.”
Cam slanted him a sardonic look. “I’m blackmailing her into a sham marriage, Julian. Do you suppose I’d draw the line at entering her bedchamber uninvited?”
“I don’t pretend to know where you’d draw the line anymore, Cam.” Julian hesitated. “Perhaps she’s with her sister? I hope to God you didn’t enter Lady Charlotte’s bedchamber, as well.”
“Why is that? Would it bother you if I had?” Cam stared at his cousin until Julian looked away. “Are you here to bed Lady Charlotte? Because if you’ve got some foolish idea of declaring yourself to her—”
Julian jerked to his feet. “Bed her? What a romantic notion, and such a charming way of putting it. Christ Cam, I don’t recognize you anymore.”
Cam felt a prickle of conscience, but he remained silent, and after a long moment, Julian sighed. “I’m not here for Lady Charlotte. I’m here for you.”
Cam had a feeling he knew what was coming. He also knew it would do no good. “I think I’d prefer the bludgeoning.”
“This scheme to marry Eleanor Sutherland is going to end badly, Cam. You may think it’s the best way to protect Amelia now, but don’t you see? She’ll grow to love Lady Eleanor, and she won’t thank you for what you’ve done when she’d old enough to understand you betrayed an innocent lady. You risk your relationship with Amelia if you persist in this scheme.”
“I’d never hurt Amelia, Jules. You know that.”
“Not intentionally, no, but hurt her you will. And what of Lady Eleanor? You’ll hurt her, and in a way she can’t forgive. Christ, Cam—you’ll hurt yourself. Don’t you see?”
I don’t matter. Is that what you mean, Mr. West?
Cam’s hands clenched into fists whenever he thought of how Eleanor had looked that day—of the way her face had closed. He’d told her she didn’t matter, and he’d hurt her in a way he still didn’t fully understand.
But he shoved the regret away, far back into the darkest part of his heart where all the other ghosts l
ived. He’d make it up to her. He would. He’d be more careful in the future. He wouldn’t hurt her again, and besides, that had been before he fell—
He caught himself. Before he what?
“No one will get hurt, Julian. I swear I’ll be good to her. I’ll take care of her.”
But Julian shook his head. “It won’t matter. It won’t make up for what you’ll take from her. You’re making a mistake. I was wrong not to tell you so from the moment you mentioned this madness. Let it go, Cam.”
No. He couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t let her go. “I—I can’t. I want her, Julian.”
That brought Julian up short. He sat back down and leaned toward Cam, his arms resting on his knees. “Want her? You mean, you desire her? She’s beautiful, certainly.”
Yes, she was beautiful, but he’d known that all along, from the first moment he’d seen her. He’d wanted her then, yes, but now . . . he thought of her dark eyes, and the way she hid them behind those long, thick lashes. The way she hid her truths from him.
He wanted to know her. Her secrets, the ones that mattered and the ones that didn’t. He wanted to know what she’d looked like as child, and whether or not her laugh matched her smile—her real laugh, not the sarcastic one. He wanted to know if her hair reached her waist when it was unbound, how it would feel gathered in his palms, twisted in his hands, how it would feel spread across his chest.
I want to lay her bare.
“You’ve known many beautiful women,” Julian said, when Cam didn’t speak. “Known them, had them, and quickly grown tired of them.”
Cam shifted in his chair. “It’s more than that. More than just her beauty.”
“What, then?”
He didn’t know how to explain it. It had to do her devotion to her sister, and the way she continued to defy him when any other woman would have given in long ago. It was her fierce spirit, and her belief in herself. It was all of those things, and yet more than that, too. He was drawn to the spark in her—wanted to warm his hands in it, touch it, even if it burned him. “Her passion, I think. That’s part of it, anyway.”
Julian’s face paled. “Her passion. Cam, tell me you haven’t—”
Cam smiled a little at his cousin’s stern expression. “No. I haven’t. We haven’t, that is.” Not from lack of trying on his part, but he didn’t mention that to Julian. “Not that kind of passion.”
Julian ran a hand down his face, hesitated, then, “If you care for her, Cam, then you have no choice but to let her go.”
“No.” Cam shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, it’s gone too far for that.”
And I don’t want to. I don’t even think I can.
For a long time after that neither of them spoke, but sat quietly in the dark library.
After a while Julian cleared his throat. “I can’t support you in this business with Lady Eleanor. I know I said I would back up your story about Lady Charlotte if it came to that, but I can’t do it. I won’t stand in your way, but I won’t help you, either.”
“You won’t have to. It won’t come to that.”
“What if it does? It would leave me with only two choices, and I can’t live with either of them. Betray the cousin who’s a brother to me, or betray the woman . . .” Julian didn’t finish the sentence, but took a deep breath and said, “I can’t be party to such a dishonorable scheme.”
Cam flinched.
Julian met his eyes. “I cannot ruin Charlotte Sutherland. Not even for Amelia. Not even for you. I can’t do it, Cam.”
Something tore into Cam’s chest then—something that was both pain and pride. Pride in Julian, in the man he was. A wry smile touched his mouth, despite the heaviness in his chest. “How is it, Julian, that you never turned into an utter villain? Your father spoiled and indulged you, and it should have ruined you, yet you remain the best of men. You make me wish I were a better man.”
“You are a better man. Damn it, Cam, why don’t you believe that?”
Cam shook his head. He wasn’t a good man, but even when they’d been boys, Julian had been too partial to see it. He’d always been on Cam’s side, no matter what.
Now it was his turn to be on Julian’s side. “Never mind about Charlotte Sutherland. I release you from your promise. You’d have been of little use to me anyway. You’re hopeless at blackmail, you know.”
Julian only laughed, but the lines of tension around his mouth relaxed. “Quite.”
“Go on then, go back to London, and do whatever it is you are good at—seducing actresses, and being charming.”
Julian hesitated, then, “I’m thinking of leaving London, Cam.”
“Leaving?” Cam stared at him, hoping he hadn’t heard right.
“I’ve got a chance at a place in the 10th Royal Hussars. I’ve asked my father to purchase the commission, but he’s refused—something about not wanting his only son to die in battle, or some such nonsense.”
A cold, hard stone settled in Cam’s stomach. “You want me to purchase it for you.”
“I haven’t decided whether or not to take the place, but if it comes to the point, yes.”
Cam shot to his feet. “For once Uncle Reggie and I are in agreement. I don’t want you to die in battle any more than he does.”
“What would you have me do, then? Join the church? Or gad about London year after year, drinking, whoring and gambling away yours and my father’s fortunes?”
“You don’t have to do any of those things. There are other options. You could come and work with me. I’ve asked you dozens of times.”
“No, Cam. What kind of man drags around on his cousin’s coattails all his life?”
“Not that, then. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Yes, I know. That’s the problem. I can do anything, or nothing at all.” Julian shook his head. “I can’t live that way.”
So you’ d rather become cannon fodder?
Cam opened his mouth to say it, but closed it again without a word. He’d gone off on his own adventure to India, and it had changed him—made him a man. Didn’t Julian deserve the same chance? As long as he remained here, his father would be forever watching over his shoulder. He sighed. “The commission is yours if you decide you want it.”
“I knew you’d see reason.” Julian grinned.
“Reason?” Cam snorted. “I’m much more likely to see your father’s fist in my eye.”
“I doubt it. You’re far too tall now for him to reach your eye.”
Julian crossed the room and opened the glass door, then turned back to Cam. “Do you remember when we were boys and we used to play hide and seek? You didn’t have much imagination as a child, you know—always hiding behind the draperies.”
Cam smiled a little at the memory. “But different draperies each time, cuz. It worked well enough. As I recall, it used to take you ages to find me.”
“That was because we could never agree on who should hide, and who should seek. We both wanted to hide, every time.”
An unexpected wave of sadness washed over Cam. “With no one to seek, there was an end to the game, I suppose.”
Julian gave him a puzzled look. “But it wasn’t the end at all. We still played the game, and we had a grand time, too. Don’t you remember?”
It was true. They had. How had he forgotten? “I do. I remember.”
“Ah. I thought you must.”
Julian stepped outside, into the darkness, and eased the door closed behind him. He filled his lungs with the cool night air, then let his breath escape in a long sigh. For the first time since this business with Lady Charlotte began, he could breathe again.
It was done.
Done, yes. For him, but not for Cam.
Julian glanced back at the dark window of the library. He’d done all he could do. Now he could only hope Cam would come to the right decision on his own, before it was too late. Too late to fill his lungs with the cool air—too late to draw his own deep, cleansing breath.
&
nbsp; He looked up to see the sky had gone the deep midnight blue of all early summer skies. When he and Cam were boys, they’d spend the summer nights lying on their backs in the grass, dew seeping into their shirts as they watched the stars swim to the surface, one by one, winking in the deep blue ocean above them. He’d always loved that about Lindenhurst. From here it seemed as though you could see every star in the universe.
It had grown quite late, so he took care his boots didn’t ring against the stone terrace as he made his way toward the back of the house where he’d left his horse. He wouldn’t reach London before midnight, and it was dark, despite the stars—
He stopped. Froze for a moment. Turned.
Every night afterward, for months, years, he’d think about this moment and wonder what had made him turn. Had he sensed her before he saw her? Or did he catch her scent? Every night afterward, for months, for years, he’d remind himself it didn’t matter why he’d turned. It mattered only he had, and he’d seen her.
Nothing was ever the same again, after that.
She’d never given him permission to call her by her first name, and yet that’s the name that rose to his lips, as if it had always been there, waiting for him to speak it.
“Charlotte.”
She turned, and he caught a glimpse of her just for a moment, bathed in starlight, her hair a dark cloud against her white neck. For months afterward, for years, he’d wonder why she hadn’t looked surprised to see him standing there.
Had she been waiting for him? She couldn’t have known—
“I knew you’d come.”
Julian’s breath stopped in his lungs. She’d thought of him? Had she wanted him to come?
“Did you hope I would?”
She laughed softly, and to Julian it was as if the sound was born of the night itself, and yet still hers, all the same.
“You already know I did.”
Something in his chest leapt toward her then. His heart, he thought it was, but it didn’t matter, really. Whatever it was, it was a part of him, and he’d never get it back from her. Didn’t want it back.
“You already know,” she said again, the laugh still in her voice.
He did know. He’d known since the first moment he saw her. No. Before that. He couldn’t remember a time now when he hadn’t known.
