Twice the Temptation

by Beverley Kendall

  “It’s what I feared,” she said hoarsely, looking across the center table at Olivia, who sat beside Meghan on the sofa. This simply could not be happening again. Fate couldn’t be this cruel or so singularly focused.

  It is what you deserve.

  For this to happen with both Lucas’s sister and brother could not be considered a coincidence, this was punishment. And Catherine couldn’t simply dismiss the internal voice that was her conscience intent on not letting her forget. She knew it spoke the truth. Her sister and Alex may have forgiven her for what she did to them but she hadn’t deserved their ready forgiveness. What was happening to her now, attested to that fact.

  “Rhys indicated he does indeed have a brother named Patrick Templeton,” Olivia stated.

  “I mean, he did mention a half-brother, but he never mentioned his surname. And I assumed the gentleman you were testing was British.” Which is why one should never assume a thing. Lord, it pained her to think just what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into. “My instincts told me that we should not take on this one,” Catherine said, again bemoaning that she hadn’t followed those obviously superior instincts.

  “But he has no idea we conspired with Miss Shipley. No one does. Mr. Beaumont will not hold you responsible if that is your fear,” Meghan assured her.

  “I shall know,” she said more sharply than she intended. Her current predicament wasn’t her friends’ fault.

  Well, perhaps a little, a tiny voice argued.

  No, another voice countered. She should not have allowed her friends to override her protests and concerns. She must take complete responsibility for her role in this.

  Emitting a heavy sigh, Meghan rose to her feet, rounded the table, and planted herself beside Catherine on the settee.

  “You did nothing wrong,” her friend said, stilling Catherine’s restless hands, pressing them into her lap.

  “If I did nothing wrong, why do I feel as I do?” she whispered, lifting her eyes to Meghan’s.

  “My dear, Catherine, you are bound to be unhappy with the outcome. Only someone lacking a heart and basic human emotions would not. But things will be fine when all is said and done. Miss Shipley will find a gentleman who is worthy of her.”

  For the first time since they started on their path to righteously mislead gentlemen, Meghan’s reassurance failed to do just that. “I am to see Lucas in two hours, what am I to do?”

  “You shall act normal. Do not give him cause to suspect a thing.”

  “I feel I should tell him.” Catherine remembered their most recent conversation. He’d requested honesty between them. She would be failing in her commitment to him if she did not tell him.

  Meghan looked surprised and appalled. “Feel like you should tell? Confess our activities to him?” she asked, sucking in an aggrieved breath. “I sincerely think not. The things that we’ve done are the sorts of things that one takes with them to their graves. My word, should word get out, it would be scandalous. We should surely be shunned.”

  “You don’t understand. This is the man I am going to marry.” God willing. That is if no man or particular event—like that of a broken betrothal—should tear them asunder before they are able to take their vows. “After what happened over Easter, I promised to be honest with him.”

  “Yes, and you honestly had nothing to do with his brother making improper advances toward me,” Meghan argued. “Mr. Templeton is a man. He is old enough to go off to war and do all other sorts of things. Well surely that makes him old enough to accept the consequences of his actions.”

  All true statements, Catherine conceded. And another time, in fact just a sennight ago, she would have heartily agreed with her. In fact, a sennight ago they would not be having this discussion. One reaped what they sowed and all that. She herself was a prime example of that. Was she not a twenty-five-year old single lady, partially on the shelf? Had she not been so selfish, she might be a wife and mother by now.

  But then, you would never have met Lucas.

  Argh! The conscience could be a very inconvenient thing but it served its purpose admirably.

  “I must do what I feel is right and I cannot risk what I have with Lucas by keeping this from him,” Catherine said, resolved that in the end she’d chosen the right path this time.

  Silence met her pronouncement and lingered long after. Finally, Meghan said softly, “My dear, you must do what you must.”

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Lucas said, holding his hat on his knee.

  “Mr. Beaumont, if you’ve come on your brother’s behalf, I’m sad to say that you’re wasting your time,” Miss Shipley said, her tone apologetic but firm. Only the faint circles under her eyes hinted at any distress she may have recently suffered.

  They were seated in the parlor of the townhouse where she resided with her parents. Her father had reluctantly permitted the meeting, his feelings toward Patrick the opposite of what they once were. Apparently, her parents were privy to what had taken place and whatever occurred had painted his brother in a very unfavorable light.

  “I’m trying to understand what went wrong,” Lucas replied honestly.

  “Your brother did not tell you?” she asked as if surprised by that. Then her lips firmed. “I guess I should not be surprised.”

  “I was hoping to get the truth from you.”

  “Your brother turned out not to be the man I thought he was. I heard him making improper advances toward a lady at the ball. She refused him but that is not what’s important, is it?”

  Lucas could honestly say the news stunned him. He knew his brother was capable of many things but not this. Not given how much he loved and adored Miss Shipley.

  “I’m having a hard time believing my brother would do something like that. He loves you.”

  Tears filled her eyes and her calm façade seemed to crumble before his eyes. “I thought the same thing too but it’s obvious I was mistaken.”

  “Did my brother say anything about a wager?” Lucas knew somehow there was a connection between that and the split.

  Miss Shipley responded by cutting her eyes in a dismissive manner. “Your brother tried to convince me that the whole thing was part of a wager. He swore he would never have gone through with it had the lady accepted.”

  “I take it you didn’t believe him.”

  Her response was pursed lips and a barely discernible shake of her head.

  Lucas, on the other hand, did believe him. It was just the sort of thing his brother would do. He possessed a recklessness and bravado that came with youth, but Lucas had never known him to be dishonest.

  “May I ask the name of the lady to whom my brother made these improper advances?” He sensed something extremely amiss here. Could it be a simple matter of coincidence that had his brother making improper advances on a woman and subsequently losing fifty pounds that was tied to the woman’s response? Lucas didn’t believe in coincidences like that.

  Miss Shipley’s chin went up and her gaze sharpened as if the question itself was an affront. “The identity of the lady isn’t of consequence here, Mr. Beaumont. Your brother’s reprehensible behavior is,” she stated with a coolness of tone that took him by surprise. She’d always been so agreeable. He hadn’t thought she had it in her to conduct herself any other way even in anger and despondency.

  But he would not attempt to browbeat the woman’s name from her. It would do him little good in any case. Her mind appeared to be firmly set on this. But now more than ever, he was determined to get to the bottom of this whole affair. Anything he could do he would to set things right between his brother and Miss Shipley.

  Nodding, he took his hat in hand and came to his feet. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you again, Miss Shipley, for speaking with me. I can only offer my sincerest apologies for any injuries you have suffered because of my brother.” He bowed and took his leave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  He should be there in a moment.

  Just the though
t started Catherine’s heart thundering. Moments later, the doorbell sounded.

  To say she was nervous would be like saying it was sometimes gray and rainy in London. She hurried into the drawing room, scooped her silk fan up from the side table, and fluttered it madly in a futile attempt to cool the fiery heat of her face. She was being a ninny. She had nothing to fear.

  But the truth.

  She cursed that deuced voice.

  When the butler entered the room, Catherine looked past him but the only sight that greeted her was that of an empty doorway. Smith advanced toward her with an envelope in his hand. Catherine swiftly set down her fan and met him halfway, a combination of nerves and anticipation leading her.

  Smith possessed stoicism enough to make the Royal Guards blush. Today he regarded her blankly while managing to do so with all due deference. “This message was just delivered for you.”

  Catherine all but snatched it from his hand. She recognized Lucas’s handwriting instantly and was forced to restrain herself from tearing it open like a child with their presents at Christmastide.

  “Thank you, Smith,” she said in dismissal. The envelope was peeled opened, the letter extracted and unfolded by the time he crossed the threshold of the room into the hall.

  Lucas’s message indicated he would be late in calling on her and cited family matters as the reason. His closing, Yours Always, Lucas had her bracing herself against the back of the armchair, a wave of heat coursing all through her. Squeezing the letter in her hand, she placed that hand against her chest and closed her eyes. She could not bear to lose him and desperately wanted the promise in his letter. She wanted him to be hers always. When he arrived tonight, she would lay herself bare to him and pray to God she’d be awarded for her honesty and the deep abiding love she had for him.

  Lord Granville was proving to be an effective ally. He knew everyone and at times knew precisely where they would be at set hours of the day.

  “There he is, by the betting table on the far right closest to the stairs,” the earl said, tipping his chin in that direction. “He’s the fair chap sitting on the right.”

  Lucas spotted him instantly and summed him up in seconds. He possessed sharp patrician features and had that aristocratic softness about him many acquired having never done an honest day of work in their lives. In ten years, twenty if he were lucky, his boyish features would bloat with complacency and his belly would round with overindulgence.

  Lucas nodded to Granville, acknowledging he had found him. They stood next to their table by the front, the picture of two men carrying on an amiable conversation.

  “Do you have any idea if he’s much of a gambler?” Lucas asked, while keeping the man in the corner of his eye.

  The earl barked a laugh. “That is like asking if our queen is English or if the Pope is Catholic.”

  “Then I will take that as a yes.”

  “There isn’t a bet he won’t enter or a pot too large for his money the way he gambles. Invariably, however, mistress of luck often abandons him. Last I heard his father cut his quarterly allowance clean in half. Nearly felled the poor chap. When he marries, it will be restored.”

  “Have you known him to cheat?” Lucas asked mildly.

  The earl sent him a sharp look, his eyes narrowed. “What is this all about? Why exactly are you so interested in Landry?”

  Lucas told him all he knew of the bet and the unidentified lady he believed was somehow involved in bilking his brother of the fifty pounds. When he finished Granville’s expression changed very little.

  “I’ve never known him to cheat but there is always a first time for everything. He always struck me as a straight up sort of chap. Has a weakness for beautiful women but what man doesn’t,” he said, a faint smile on his face.

  Not exactly the answer Lucas had thought to receive. “May I beg an introduction?”

  The earl gave him a look as if that had not been in question. “But of course. This way.”

  For propriety’s sake, Granville introduced him to all the men at the table. There were six in all, Landry was saved for last.

  “I believe you met my brother recently,” Lucas said casually.

  “Indeed?” Landry said, raising a brow. “And who might he be?”

  “Are there truly that many Americans about the place?”

  Landry stilled, his gaze intent on Lucas as if searching for a resemblance he would not find.

  “I have met a chap named Templeton but then your name is—Beaumont, didn’t you say?”

  “Yes, he’s my half-brother,” Lucas replied smoothly, watching keenly as something that looked like caution flared in Landry’s eyes. He appeared vaguely unsettled by the revelation.

  A clearing of the throat ensued. “Ah, indeed. He’s a decent chap.”

  Lucas noted he didn’t say a word about the money he owed him. “I’ve come to settle his accounts.”

  It was as if the phrase had magical pull—as it should—making the man perk up, a pleased smile spreading across his face.

  “I knew he’d be good for it,” he stated triumphantly, scraping his chair back as he rose to his feet. “You’ll excuse me gentlemen while I collect my winnings.” Then added when they looked askance at him, “Go ahead. Play this hand without me but I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Granville, why don’t you sit down and wager some of the coin you’ve got stashed away in the Bank of London,” one of the men called out with a hearty guffaw.

  “Blakely, you know I don’t gamble, which is precisely why I’ve still got the blunt and you do not.”

  The earl’s remark silenced Blakely mid-laugh but it started the other men at the table snickering at their friend’s expense.

  “I prefer to settle this somewhere more private,” Lucas remarked as they made their way from the gaming area as Granville returned to the table they’d been sharing.

  Landry gave him a curious look and then shrugged. “Come this way. There are private tables on this side.”

  Once they were seated, Landry stared expectantly at him. “He told you the bet was in pound notes, correct. I’m not accepting any American blunt.”

  Lucas chuckled quietly. “Before I settle my brother’s debt, I just have a few questions?”

  Landry’s mouth pulled tight, suspicion clouding his eyes. “About what?”

  Placing his elbows on the table, Lucas steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Why are you so certain you won the bet?”

  Landry grunted a laugh. “Oh no, he daren’t deny it. I saw the whole thing with my own two eyes.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Come now, Beaumont, I saw them all go out to the terrace. And by the look on your brother’s face, I knew exactly how the whole thing played out,” he stated smugly.

  Just as he’d thought, the man might as well have admitted to cheating his brother. “I’ve no doubt you did.”

  Landry stilled and stared, his gaze hard and searching. “Hell, you think I was part of the scheme?” he asked in dawning comprehension.

  It wasn’t so much the question but his expression and the incredulous tone of his voice that brought Lucas up. The first niggling of misgivings squirmed its way into the part of his brain that had already rendered a decision on the matter.

  “At least you concede it was indeed a scheme,” he replied in a cold voice.

  “But it wasn’t mine,” he denied, shaking his head in protest.

  “You are the one whose pockets will be fifty pounds heavier when it’s all said and done, is that not right, my lord.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Landry stated matter-of-factly, “I made your brother that bet on a hunch.”

  “How terribly fortunate for you.”

  “I knew precisely what was going to happen when I saw Lady Meghan making eyes at him.”

  “Lady who?” Lucas asked sharply. Catherine’s friend? It couldn’t be.

  “Lady Meghan Townsend,” Landry affirmed. “If you haven’t been introduced,
you’re missing one of society’s great beauties. And when she’s about, more than likely Miss Rutherford and Lady Olivia can’t be too far away. The three are thick as thieves but you have to watch yourself around them. They’re not that beautiful for nothing.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  He listened as Landry told him exactly why. After the man was finished, Lucas gave him his winnings, which was worth every bit of the fifty pounds he’d been forced to part with. Then he took himself off to call on Catherine Rutherford. He wondered how happy she would be to see him when she discovered why he’d come.

  Lucas arrived at Laurel House just before seven that evening. Catherine greeted him in the foyer, relieving Smith of his duty of announcing him and escorting him to the drawing room. The moment Smith disappeared down the hall, she silently led him to her brother’s study where it was more intimate, and the door had a lock. After she preceded him inside, he closed and locked the door but did not venture farther in.

  Save their greeting in the front—which she’d considered very cordial—they had yet to exchange another word. But looking at him now, his expression appeared to have undergone a dramatic change. His eyes had cooled by several dozen degrees and his jaw was firmly set, his smile gone like a mirage in the desert.

  His brother must have informed him about his situation with Miss Shipley and naturally this was the cause of his current less than cheery demeanor. But that did not stop her breathing from constricting or her anxiety from returning twenty-fold.

  “Lucas, what has happened? What is the matter? You look…” Now completely anxiety-ridden, she let her voice trail off.

  He continued to regard her and at length announced, “The young lady my brother was to marry has broken off the engagement. As you might imagine, Patrick is understandably distressed as am I.”

  Of course he was. But why was he standing so far away? Why had he not touched or kissed her? God, had he discovered her role in it before she’d had a chance to confess it to him herself? She prayed he had not. “I am very sorry to hear that. That is actually what I wanted to speak with—”