Once Upon an Accident 02 - Lessons in Seduction

by Melissa Schroeder

  “Darling, just what have you got there?”

  The female voice was low, throaty, and it shivered down his spine.

  There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t figure where he had heard it before. He didn’t know who she was talking to; he heard no male voice answer. His body, already aroused, shimmered with heat as the woman continued talking.

  “You are such a naughty boy, you know that?” She laughed. There was a hint of coyness in it that most courtesans would have killed to be able to imitate. “You shouldn’t pull on my dress like that. You might ruin the seamstress’ hard toils.”

  Again, her laughter reached him. Ignoring the pain pounding through his brain, Douglas got to his feet and moved stealthily toward the door.

  He couldn’t fathom what pulled at him, why he had to know who she was, but for some reason he did.

  “You know, one of these days you will get in trouble for that, my lord.

  Naughty boy.”

  Her tone teased his brain. Perhaps he had met the woman sometime before. A house party or maybe a dinner that Colleen and Sebastian had held. The Wares were not that big on entertaining but they did have a few parties, and Colleen always made it a point to invite him.

  “Now, if you will be a very good boy, I will give you a treat.”

  Her voice deepened and coaxed him closer. Normally, he would have been completely embarrassed by his actions, and he was certain he would be at some point, but he was too enticed by just who this woman was to care about the ramifications of his actions. Douglas inched closer to the door, trying not to make any noise. He stepped to the opened doorway and drew up short as he came face-to-face with Cicely.

  She took a step back. “Your Grace. I hope you will excuse that I do not curtsy since I have my hands full at the moment.”

  It was then that he noticed Charles, Viscount Penwyth, Sebastian’s heir in Cicely’s arms. And just for a second, one little split second, he wanted to believe she wasn’t the one he’d heard, that he was mistaken.

  He wanted the woman with the teasing laugh to be someone accessible, not someone he would never dally with. But he knew she was the one. To top it off, he felt like a reprobate because he was still half aroused from her chatter to a young boy. Charles pulled on her neckline and she winced.

  “Of course, Lady Cicely.”

  He didn’t move. He stood there staring at her. How could he have not noticed just how luminous her skin was? Ivory, with a spattering of freckles across that adorable upturned nose. Her cheeks turned a light rosy color. Her blush was probably the result of her proposal last night.

  Immediately, his own body reacted to the reminder, and he shifted his feet, needing to create more space between the two of them.

  “Your Grace?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  It was then he noticed the way the sunlight brought out the golden strands interwoven throughout her hair. When he met her gaze, he was struck by the way her eyes sparkled with humor.

  “You’re standing in my way.”

  For a moment the words didn’t register. When they did, his face burned with embarrassment. Without a word, he stepped back and allowed her to pass. Yet, he didn’t step far enough away, because when she walked by, the clean herbal scent of her surrounded him. The lavender had not been from the gardens last night. It was her. Another spark of warmth coursed through his blood, causing him more than a little pain. His hands dropped to cover his state. This insane fixation was the last thing he needed. Grinding his teeth, he tried to think of an escape, but truthfully, there was no way he could extract himself without being an ass.

  He turned to follow her into the room and was surprised to find Cicely seated on the floor, Charles in her lap. For all intents and purposes she seemed to have dismissed Douglas. Without another word, he again settled in one of the chairs positioned in front of the hearth and watched as she interacted with the toddler.

  For the past couple of years, he’d always thought Cicely as reserved.

  No, he amended, not reserved. Unhappy. Considering what her home life had been like before she had resided with Colleen and Sebastian, her despondency wasn’t so amazing. Cicely was shy with new acquaintances.

  She had a quick wit, but was a little too smart for the young bloods of the ton. It might have been the reason she never really “took” during the last few seasons. Of course, her immediate family didn’t make it any better. Even with them gone, their presence still hung over her. An overbearing, murderous mother and a father who spent more time in gaming hells than at home, her childhood had to have been lonely.

  Douglas was well acquainted with that feeling.

  Charles grabbed her nose and squeezed, hard. He could tell it hurt because she winced, but instead of disciplining the young boy, she laughed. Douglas smiled as the sound filled the room. He liked her laugh. He liked her. He found himself relaxed and comfortable, as he had not been in a long period of time, the pain all but forgotten. Cicely continued talking gibberish to the boy. He watched, listened, mesmerized by her voice. Resting his head on the back of the chair, he closed his eyes and allowed her soft, low voice to lull him into sleep.

  The last thought he had before completely drifting off was that she had the type of voice a man would like to hear in bed.

  A rather loud snuffle told Cicely that Douglas had fallen asleep. She looked up at him and stifled a sigh. The man didn’t have a decent bone in his body. He had been appalled by her suggestion, and that was understandable. She had thought about his reaction all night and more this morning as she’d dressed. Sitting in front of her mirror examining her features, she’d found herself seriously lacking. Douglas could have his pick of any woman in London…in England. But somehow, the fact that he had taken Lady Tremount up on her offer last night hurt worse than she thought it would. She hadn’t been sure he had gone back to his former paramour until his appearance alerted her to his activities the night before.

  He was impeccably dressed as always. But the dark circles under his eyes told another story, as did the pained expression that quickly crossed his handsome face when he first saw her. He’d made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in her, and she needed to remind herself of that.

  She counted herself lucky that she knew this now. A night she might have cherished forever would be much harder to deal with when he married.

  Fitzgerald appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with a glass with what could only be Cook’s concoction for hangovers. As he navigated into the room, he stopped, and the stunned expression on his face caused Cicely to smile. In all the years she had known Fitzgerald, she had never seen him nonplussed, even considering there was a good chance he had come across more than one nobleman sleeping off a night of drinking.

  “Fitzgerald.” She kept her voice low as not to disturb Douglas, even though there was a part of her that wanted to shout just to startle him.

  He really did deserve it.

  The butler jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t noticed her. It was something that happened all the time. She sighed as she gathered Charles up and stood. She smiled reassuringly as she approached Fitzgerald.

  “His Grace fell asleep. Why don’t you just leave that on the table beside him? He’ll wake sooner or later and need it.” She nodded in the direction of the side table. Fitzgerald, his eyes a bit dazed, his face ruddy from embarrassment, agreed. He set the glass on the table and walked out of the room.

  Charles fussed a bit, signaling that he might be in need of a nappy change. Taking one last look at Douglas, she smiled. In sleep, he appeared younger than his years. Or perhaps, she thought standing there studying him, he actually looked his age. That made her a little sad for him. Douglas may act the rake, but there was something else there, something that made him years older. It wasn’t his station exactly. It was a burden he wore without choice.

  He shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable, moving this way and that. When he settled, a smile
of satisfaction curved his lips. Her heart tripped a beat at the sight. She resisted the urge to wander closer and brush the lock of hair from his forehead. Biting her lip, she turned away from temptation. Even if he did want her, she would be hurt in the end. A liaison with Douglas would not be a smart thing.

  Pity, but Cicely was after all a very practical woman. Falling in love with a man like Douglas could be her breaking point. Considering her life the last few years, that told her a lot about the situation. Her wits were all she had left. And those same wits told her that Douglas was not for her.

  The one they called Raven sat by the window in his library. Sunlight brought out his sunken cheeks, his pasty complexion. His hair, once full and as dark as the bird for which he was named, was now thinned and white. It was a shock to the group assembled around him to see just how sick he was.

  “Quit standing there hovering. I’m not dead…yet.” His raspy voice flowed over the gathering, startling them out of their daze.

  Jupiter knew each one of them feared why they may have been called. It was a significant risk, this meeting. The gravity of that alone weighed heavily on all in attendance. As he sat in a chair facing the two young heirs of their former members, he decided to be blunt.

  “There seems to have been a breach.”

  Raven shifted, then coughed into an embroidered kerchief. “What kind of breach?”

  “It seems that someone was keeping a diary of our activities during the Terror.”

  The room descended into silence as each man contemplated the implications of what had just been said.

  Noir’s heir spoke up first. “Who?”

  “He was known at the time as Scarlet, but you would have known him as Baron Chambers. He died, with no heirs, as did the barony of the estate.”

  Silence again, but it was quickly broken by Apollo’s heir. “I understand why you two,” he said, nodding to Jupiter and Raven, “would be worried. But what does this have to do with us?”

  Noir’s heir shook his head in disgust. Apparently he knew the implications, knew what it could mean to them. He just might be useful.

  Jupiter shifted his attention back to Apollo’s heir. “Because, my dear boy, if word ever got out that your father was a traitor, your whole life would be ruined. You might be stripped of your title, certainly your wealth. And since you seem to have an affinity for both actresses and gaming hells, I would think you would want to hold on to both.”

  As expected, the young man paled as the full comprehension of his predicament materialized in his slow mind. Slow just as his father was, Jupiter thought.

  “Why are you worried about it? Does it name our fathers’ names specifically? Does it name anyone specifically?” Noir’s heir asked.

  Restless, Jupiter stood and walked around the room. “No, the names are not mentioned, but to date, I have no idea how many clues to our identity could be in there. A smart person might be able to decipher who we are. I found out about it through a rumor at The Historical Society.”

  “The Historical Society?” Raven queried.

  Jupiter ignored him. If the man had been the leader they had needed at the time, their plan would have succeeded and worry about being discovered, moot. The fact Raven was dying a slow, painful death was the only balm to Jupiter’s outrage. Instead, he stopped his pacing and turned his gaze to the two young men he planned to use.

  “Yes. There seems to be a buzz about a Lady Cicely Ware. She found a diary of a traitor, who plotted with others to overthrow the King of England.”

  “And what do you need from us?” asked Noir’s heir.

  Jupiter smiled as he witnessed the same cold calculation in the young man’s eyes that Jupiter felt in his bones. This one could be useful.

  He could be groomed.

  “I want you to get that diary by any means possible. I don’t care how, or who gets hurt. We must destroy it before it destroys us.”

  Chapter Four

  In which Lady Cicely’s secret is discovered.

  Two days later, Cicely found herself regretting her impulsive request asking Anna for help in a self-inflicted makeover. She studied the exuberant younger woman as they traveled by coach to Madame Genevieve’s shop. They bounced and jounced in the carriage, all the while Anna did not stop talking even for breath. She chattered on and on about everything. While she spoke, Cicely thought of their childhood and the few times they had been in each other’s company. They had always gotten along, although there were times that Anna overwhelmed Cicely’s quiet existence.

  Anna had always intimidated Cicely. Her beauty, kindness and her ability to talk to almost anyone was a constant reminder to Cicely on just how badly she was lacking. Not that she would ever tell her cousin. Anna would be horrified if she knew how her older cousin felt. Besides that, Anna should never feel ashamed of her boisterous personality. Some people were simply more outgoing than others.

  Everyone had different talents. Fashion was not one of Cicely’s strong suits. She knew she required help. She understood little of what was in style, cared even less about it. But, truth be known, she needed something more than her sparkling personality to entice a man. Though she did not agree with the idea, clothing or lack thereof did indeed seem to attract men or at least caught their roving gaze. And that was what she needed. A few good gowns would help. Hers were serviceable. She needed stunning. Perhaps a daring neckline or two to showcase her assets. Let men know what she had to offer. Deflowering her was probably not at the top of every bounder’s list. Douglas had proven that the other night. For her plan to succeed, a change in appearance was called for. Her six and twenty years had taught her if something did not work, one changed one’s approach.

  “I hope this means you have decided to take the dowry Sebastian settled on you seriously.”

  Her aunt’s patient voice broke through her musings and Anna’s chatter. Cicely focused on Victoria, thinking, not for the first time, that she’d been lucky in relations—if one ignored her deceased parents. From the moment Sebastian had become earl, Victoria had made certain Cicely was included in everything, even after her mother’s actions had been revealed. For that, Cicely would be forever grateful.

  When she didn’t say anything in response, Victoria offered her a secret smile—one Sebastian claimed was a sure sign his mother was planning something. Something dangerous.

  “Cicely, you know that you don’t have to be frugal when it comes to your needs. Sebastian would never hesitate to pay your bills.”

  Embarrassment sent a rush of heat to her face. She knew a soft pink stained her cheeks. Perhaps daring necklines were not the wisest choice.

  Oh, how she hated being the poor relation. It seemed that for most of her life she’d been standing on the outside looking in, even when she was accepted.

  “Of course Sebastian would. It isn’t that at all.” She could no longer stand the pity in Victoria’s eyes, so Cicely stared out the carriage window. “It is that most of this is of little to no use to me and I hate to waste the money. One season and then discarded. I’ve always thought it rather silly and frivolous.”

  “But now you have had a change of heart,” Anna said, her voice bubbling over in excitement. “Once Mother and I are done with you, you will be an Original.”

  Feeling once more in control of her mortification, Cicely turned her gaze to her cousin and tried not to frown. Anna had voiced this misconception several times since she agreed to help. There was no way for Cicely to dispel her of the notion. Her reasons for asking for a wardrobe now would shock her cousin and alarm her aunt. Cicely had no doubt at all that both of them would go to Sebastian about it. She hated lying to them, but it was the only way.

  Forcing a smile and a lighter tone, Cicely said, “Really, Anna, I think I will hardly be that but I appreciate both of you trying.”

  As the carriage slowed, Anna offered her a blinding smile. “We shall see.”

  The door opened and the liveried footman offered his hand, helping all three ladies d
own. People brushed past them on the busy city street.

  A familiar throb of panic beat at the pit of her stomach, fluttering about like a trapped butterfly. She followed closely behind Anna and Victoria.

  Cicely hated situations like this, hated fittings. She was proportionately hard to fit, and her mother had made sure she understood what an embarrassment it was.

  As she stepped into the shop, from walkway to tightly threaded carpet, her heart tripped and she felt the blood drain from her head. It was ridiculous really, but the humiliation she’d suffered years earlier always reared its ugly head whenever she was faced with shopping for dresses.

  “Ahh, Lady Victoria, Lady Anna. I am so pleased to have you here today.” A slender woman somewhere in her mid-thirties rushed forward, her arms outstretched. To grab or to herd, Cicely was uncertain. “I received some wonderful new fabrics for you to consider. I think they will be stunning.”

  Stunning? Cicely almost brightened.

  Victoria smiled. “That’s wonderful, Madame Genevieve. But our main goal today is to have my niece, Lady Cicely, fitted for a new wardrobe.”

  Madame Genevieve turned her attention to Cicely, her sculpted eyebrows rising slightly. Heat infused Cicely’s face but she refused to look away. She knew she was no beauty. It was something she had faced early in life—thanks to a brutally tactless mother.

  There was just a beat of silence before the dress-shop owner’s lips curved into a dazzling smile. “We have just the thing.”

  “I thought that something in a darker shade would be better,” Anna offered. “It would bring out her colors. The dark of her eyes. The light of her hair.”

  She glanced at her younger cousin. “I’ve always worn pastels. They are in fashion, especially this year.”

  “You will wear what I tell you to wear.” This came from Madame Genevieve. She had stepped closer to Cicely, her narrowed gaze traveling down her body, pausing at her chest then continuing on the path. “Pale colors make you appear sallow. Your cousin is correct in suggesting a darker wardrobe.”