A Seduction at Christmas

by Cathy Maxwell

  Holburn shrugged. “You asked who stood to gain. She receives an inheritance upon my death.”

  “But to attempt to murder one’s own child?” Fiona shook her head. “No woman is that depraved.”

  “I like to think not,” he agreed. “Then again, Mother enjoys the privileges of being a duchess, even a dowager one. She needs me for that. My uncles would ship her to Australia if they could.”

  “So, she isn’t a good suspect.”

  “A not likely one,” he conceded.

  That was a relief. “Although it was kind of you to see to her welfare. Most men don’t seem to concern themselves with the care of their family members upon their death.”

  Holburn gave her a sharp glance and she knew he’d heard the deeper meaning in her words.

  “My father,” she said, feeling as if she should explain or defend him in some way. “His death left mother and me ruined.”

  She said no more. She couldn’t.

  Holburn set his knife and fork down and leaned toward her. “I want you to trust me.”

  Fiona didn’t look at him as she folded her own napkin. “I do.”

  “No, you don’t,” he answered without heat. “But someday you will.”

  She turned to him, conscious of Aunt Agatha’s presence. “Why should you care?” There it was…she was opening herself up to her doubts, her fears. “You know nothing about me,” she explained. “I could be some—” Her voice broke off. Some things were best left unsaid.

  “Rebel?” he suggested.

  “You and Grace had a conversation.” She was not pleased. She wasn’t angry. Uncomfortable was the better description.

  “She didn’t betray any confidences.”

  Fiona didn’t know that. She crossed her arms.

  Holburn turned so that his back was to his aunt. “Don’t be unhappy with your friend. While you slept I asked my man of business to make discreet inquiries as to your father. That was my doing, not Grace McEachin’s.”

  “And what did you discover?” Fiona asked, a knot tightening in her chest. This was her fault. She shouldn’t have mentioned her father or criticized him. Her brother Gordon had warned her.

  To his credit, Holburn didn’t evade the question. “I learned that your brother Gordon Lachlan has a price on his head. That your father, a Scottish magistrate, died in disgrace speaking out against the king’s law.”

  “He didn’t die in disgrace,” Fiona answered. “He died because he spoke for those who couldn’t speak for themselves. He made the gentry feel guilty, and that’s really why he died. One doesn’t turn on one’s own class.”

  “He’s considered a hero to many,” Holburn informed her.

  That was something. “How did you find out?”

  “I used the power of a duke.”

  She nodded. It was unfortunate her family hadn’t had that power years ago. “I don’t know why you asked those questions.”

  “Because I want you to feel safe. And that brings us back to the question of trust,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “Fee, I don’t want you to hide from me. I want you to trust me.”

  She laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “I don’t know how to trust.”

  “Then let me teach you.”

  His gaze held hers. She was aware of the sounds of the servants in the butler’s pantry and the hallway, of the ticking of a clock, of Tad’s nails on the wooden floor where he lay.

  And she was aware of every nuance, every muscle, every lash, every pore of Holburn.

  “You can’t teach me that,” she whispered, her throat tight. “It’s something I’d have to give to you…and I don’t know if I can. Not just to you, but to anyone.”

  To her surprise, her admission didn’t warn him away. So, she added, “I’m not ashamed of my family. I won’t ever be. I’m proud of them.”

  “As you should be,” he answered. “But you shouldn’t hide either.”

  Good Lord, she was crying. One tear had escaped and she swiped at it angrily. Aunt Agatha had realized something was wrong. Fiona caught her curious glance before the woman lowered her head and pretended to fall asleep.

  It didn’t matter. She was tired of running from the past. Of pretending.

  “I wasn’t hiding,” she informed Holburn. “It’s just that the people my parents trusted didn’t want anything to do with me after my father’s death. They turned me over to the soldiers, Your Grace. Those men wanted my brother Gordon and they would do anything to bring him out.”

  She’d not go into details. She couldn’t.

  “I also assumed that I would do better for myself in London—” For a moment, she hesitated, wondering how far she dared go, and then decided she had nothing to lose.

  “Gordon wanted me to leave with him. He’d come to fetch the woman he loved. Her name was Constance Cameron and she had gone to a ball to meet you.”

  “I barely remember her,” he said. “We weren’t promised to each other.”

  “No,” she said and then confessed, “I saw you at that ball and in that moment, I knew I needed to stay in London. I felt…” She let her voice trail off, at a loss of the right word.

  He supplied it. “A connection?”

  She nodded, dazed that he understood. She had expected him to laugh or make some comment on her naiveté.

  Instead he leaned closer to her until it was as if there were only the two of them in the room. “I remember catching a glimpse of you at that ball. But I thought my mind had played a trick on me.”

  She had her arms crossed and tight against her stomach. He pulled one hand away, running the pad of his thumb along her index finger before saying, “Fee, I don’t know how to explain this without sounding as if I’m ready for Bedlam, but I had a vision of you almost ten years ago. I was at the ruins of Delphi. Ramigio had stolen my ring and I was furious. There was an old woman there who appeared to be twice the age it seemed of Aunt Agatha. She changed before my eyes. She grew younger, beautiful…vibrant. Fee, she changed into you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  There, Nick had confessed all. He’d played all his cards and now waited for Fee’s reaction. He’d not told one soul that story. Not ever.

  Her brows came together in concern. He was certain she really did question his sanity. Either that, or she was waiting for him to laugh and confess it was all a joke.

  But it wasn’t. The vision in Delphi was as real to him as her sitting here.

  “Wasn’t the priestess at Delphi the one who would have visions about the future?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Did I tell you anything?”

  Nick drew back. It was one thing to have heard what the Oracle had said, another to share it.

  He swept an imaginary crumb off the table linen. Fee covered his hand with hers, holding him in place.

  “Trust me,” she told him.

  Nick had to smile at being persuaded with his own words. Still, he felt a bit ridiculous in saying, “She said, beware innocence.”

  Fee wrinkled her nose. “Beware innocence? What an odd prophecy.”

  “I know it sounds outrageous,” Nick said, “but, Fee, my life changed after that meeting.” He glanced over at Aunt Agatha. Her eyes were closed, her chin on her chest. Tad was also asleep, his large body taking up a good section of floor.

  Nick drew Fee closer. “Before I went to Delphi, I had atrocious luck at the gaming tables. I rarely won. My father was also known for being a poor, albeit devoted gambler. After that vision, I rarely lose at cards.”

  “You win all the time?”

  “No not all, but after an evening’s work, I’m always ahead.”

  She tilted her head, her disbelief clear in her eyes. “And you attribute this to the vision.”

  “I know how it sounds. I feel silly, but it is the only explanation I have for why my luck had changed.”

  “Perhaps because you changed,” she suggested. “You were upset over losing the ring. Perhaps it led to some sort of new maturity. Or
it could be just a simple change of luck.”

  “Fee, I’ve tried to lose. It’s unnatural how it works. It’s almost as if I’ve been cursed. I’m fortunate in games of chance but on other investments, I fail. I’ve bought into two ships, both lost at sea. I have invested in numerous schemes that have all lost every shilling.”

  She brought her head close to his. “Your Grace, those schemes probably carry risks. Many men have lost fortunes investing as you have. As to winning at cards, it must be a pleasant curse.”

  “But what if it all ends, Fee? What if this is the end? Whatever the Oracle predicted that day seems to be happening. I can’t describe it but I sense something started back then is nearing its finish.”

  “Because I look like the Vision?”

  He almost hated to admit, “Yes…and because of the mention of Andres and mad Irishmen attempting to murder me. I asked the Oracle that day for my ring. I don’t believe it was destroyed and I think I will see it soon.”

  “Beware innocence,” Fee said thoughtfully. “Whose innocence?”

  “What does ‘beware’ mean?” he countered. “Trust me, I have racked my brain for years trying to understand.”

  Fee sat back in her chair, her expression somber. “My father was a scholar of the Greek myths. I remember him talking about how the Oracle’s message was always very obscure so it could mean anything. For example, once a king asked the Oracle if he should go to war. She said, ‘If you go to war, a great civilization will be destroyed.’ He thought that meant he would win so he went to battle. Instead he lost and the civilization he destroyed was his own.”

  She shook her head. “Your Grace, your message is the same. It could mean anything. Or nothing.”

  What was it about women that they could see the logic with blunt clarity? Nick didn’t know if he should be pleased or disappointed.

  “You don’t think I’m a fool?” he asked.

  Her face softened into a smile. “I’m the one who has harbored affections for a man I laid eyes on only once.”

  Nick raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers. “I won’t believe in happenstance, not when it has the power to bring you to me.”

  Fee thought she would melt from the heat in his gaze. All the hardships she had suffered had been worth this one look—

  The sound of Master Rockford’s barking could be heard out in the hall. It was followed with the swish of skirts and the click of heels on the tile floor.

  Nick stood, knowing his mother was about to arrive.

  She came to the doorway looking as if she hadn’t slept all night. Heavy circles were under her eyes and her skin was pale. In contrast, her hair had been styled and her clothes were as immaculate as usual.

  He’d seen her like this before. Recently. It meant that she’d played for heavy stakes and lost.

  Nick didn’t want the conversation he knew would be forthcoming.

  Keeping his voice pleasant, he said, “Mother, what are you doing up this early?”

  She raised a distracted hand to rub her temple. “I had trouble sleeping. I knew you were leaving and thought to say good-bye.” She frowned. “Is that your Aunt Agatha?”

  “She heard from Brandt that I was leaving for Huntleigh today and sent a note asking if she could ride with me.”

  His mother’s turned cynical. “What? Is she going to be your chaperone while you are with your ‘ward?’”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  His mother smirked. “She’s half deaf and almost blind. Good choice, Dominic. She’d not provide any difficulties there for you.”

  “Mother,” he said, warning her to mind her manners.

  Master Rockford had noticed Tad and began yipping and squirming to have a go at him. For his part, Tad wisely went around to the other side of Aunt Agatha’s chair and sat with his back to the dachshund.

  His mother walked toward the sideboard, her anxious dog in her arms. “Where are the footmen?”

  “Preparing for the trip,” Nick answered. “I’m taking them with me. As a matter of fact, it is time for us to leave,” he said as congenially as he could. He stood and offered a hand to Aunt Agatha, thinking he would escape without a confrontation when his mother’s voice stopped him.

  “Dominic, I need to speak to you.”

  “My plans are to leave now. Perhaps we can talk at Huntleigh—”

  “Please,” she interrupted him. Tears filled her eyes. “We must talk.”

  Nick hated it when she cried. She knew it, too. He did not want this confrontation.

  She noted his hesitation. “You are unwilling to give your mother a moment of your time?” she demanded, her voice rising.

  Damn it all, she was going to make a scene. It was as he suspected. Nick felt trapped. To his left, Fee frowned, but considering her concern as she watched his mother, he didn’t think it was directed at him. Aunt Agatha’s hearing had improved in the last few seconds. She was awake and alert, and he envisioned fodder for months of family gossip.

  Knowing he had no choice but to indulge his mother, Nick rose and offered Fee his hand. “Would you take Aunt Agatha to the drawing room?”

  “Of course,” Fee said.

  His aunt wasn’t as accommodating. “I don’t know why I should leave. Can’t she say what she has to say in front of me? We’re family.”

  “And have you dine for a week on what is said between my son and me?” his mother said. “Absolutely not.”

  “I’ll find out anyway,” Aunt Agatha said serenely.

  Over her head, Fee shot Nick a sympathetic gaze. Even Tad was happy to abandon him. He quickly followed his mistress.

  After the door was shut, his mother set Master Rockford on the floor. The small dog strutted around the table, proud that he had run the big dog out of the room.

  Nick returned to his chair. His mother didn’t move from the side board. She ran a finger along the edge as if tracing the wood grain before saying what he already knew, “I overplayed last night. I lost.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Nick answered.

  “I need you to cover the debt,” she informed him.

  “How much?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes, breathed deeply. “Four thousand pounds.”

  He almost fell out of his chair. He’d played deep before but then he had been certain he would win. “What were you doing playing so deep? Especially after our last conversation?”

  “I don’t believe it kind of you to question me,” his mother replied, still meeting his eye.

  “What sort of response is that? Three weeks ago I helped you out with a loss that was a quarter of that amount,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Then last week, you lost another two thousand. I told you then, that I would not come to your rescue a third time.”

  She turned to him then. “You must.”

  “I can’t, Mother. I have estates to run. There are bills that come before gaming debts.”

  “Oh, yes, like the money you’ll throw at your ‘ward.’”

  “I have not thrown over six thousand pounds at her,” he countered.

  The blue in her eyes flashed with defiance, and he knew he wasn’t going to escape the inevitable. “I need the money, Dominic. It’s a matter of honor.”

  “You used that argument for the last two losses. I warned you, Mother, and now I’m honor-bound to stand by my word. Sell your jewelry if it is so important to you, but don’t look to me when you’ve gone aground for these amounts.”

  Her lips curled into a sneer. “When did you turn into such a paragon? Your father would be shamed to hear you now. He would have covered me.”

  From forgotten pieces of his childhood memories, Nick recalled fights between his parents, times when his mother reacted just such the way as she was preparing to do now. “I stand by what I said,” he said, and braced himself for the worst. He was wise to do so.

  With a squeal of frustration, his mother swept the dishes off the sideboard. Plates, sausages,
kippers and everything else went flying to crash against the wall. Master Rockford’s little legs started pedaling after a sausage rolling across the floor. He snatched it up and went running to hide under a chair to chew on his bounty.

  Nick sat calmly, refusing to give into her tantrum this time.

  “I want the money,” she demanded. “I’ll be refused play if I don’t pay.”

  “Then perhaps that will be best.”

  She stared at him as if not believing her ears, and then pushed away from the sideboard. Her shoulders slumped. “You can’t mean that, Dominic. I’m a duchess. I can’t be refused. How will it look?”

  “Sell your jewelry,” he repeated.

  She screamed her rage and threw a chair on the ground with such force it splintered the wood.

  “You are ruining me,” she said, her face a mask of misery.

  “You are ruining yourself, Mother—”

  “Don’t you call me that. A son takes care of his mother.” She shook her head. “You are turning into your father, always telling me no.”

  “Actually I haven’t said it enough, Mother.”

  “I am not happy, Dominic. Not happy at all. I’ve been so good to you, running your household and all. Now that I am enjoying a bit of pleasure, you want to ruin me.” She didn’t wait for his response but marched to the door. She flung it open before Aunt Agatha, who had obviously been eavesdropping, could move out of the way. Fee stood on the other side of the hall with Tad sitting on his haunches next to her. They both appeared embarrassed.

  His mother glared at the two of them and then stormed down the hall. Master Rockford chose to remain where he was, under the chair gnawing on a sausage.

  “Well,” his aunt said, drawing out the word and raising her eyebrows to her hairline.

  Nick nailed her with a look. “You will not say anything about this to anyone.”

  Aunt Agatha sniffed. “You are too protective of her,” she said. “I told your father blood would out. I warned him not to marry her. She used to carry on this way all the time. Of course, she was younger and still had her looks. A man will put up with anything when a woman has those.” His aunt’s words confirmed those childhood memories of his parents battling behind closed doors.