Twice the Temptation

by Beverley Kendall

  Initially, Catherine was going to have Esther accompany her when she remembered that Jillian was already acquainted with Lucas and his brother. Jillian had eagerly accepted her request to join her.

  At Lucas’s townhouse, she had barely gained entry, when the butler saw Jillian and instructed her that the servant’s entrance was on the ground floor. Piqued, Catherine grasped her arm and pulled her close to her. Lucas had said that her aunt would be as welcome in their home as her mother would have. Well Jillian was practically family.

  “She is also an acquaintance of your master. He won’t be happy if he hears she has not been treated as such.”

  For a moment, Catherine thought the man was going to become indignant about it but he eventually stepped aside and permitted them to enter.

  “Do you think Mr. Templeton will remember me?” Jillian asked, examining the small foyer, her gaze lingering on a gilt-framed portrait of a lake and a pond hanging on the wall opposite the staircase to the third floor.

  “When is the last time you saw him?” Catherine asked.

  “Two or three years ago, I think,” she answered.

  Catherine could tell Jillian was taking pains not to make any mistakes with her speech. After a year in England, she’d even picked up a bit of an accent, the Queen’s English, as opposed to the cockney brogue many of the servants had.

  “You were just a girl back then,” Catherine commented.

  Jillian gave a sad smile. “I don’t think I ever considered myself a girl.”

  Catherine supposed she had not. Charlotte had told her some of the things the poor girl had had to endure when she fled the south with her mother and made their way to New York. Her mother had died three quarter way through the journey, leaving Jillian alone to fend for herself until her sister had found her.

  “He appears to be a nice man.” She couldn’t imagine he could be anything else given he was a relation to Lucas.

  “Yes he was. He was kind to me, I remember that much.”

  “Miss Rutherford, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Catherine jerked her head with a start, turning in the direction of the voice as its owner strode toward them from down the narrow hallway. Knowing he was Lucas’s brother, she viewed him through different eyes. Not that he was any less handsome than she’d first thought him. In that respect, he and Lucas were the same, although they were antithesis in looks. Where Lucas possessed dark hair and a darker complexion, his brother was blond and fairer—his skin a light gold in color, which set off his cerulean blue eyes. He more resembled their sister Caroline than his other siblings. More than likely, the two took after their mother.

  His gaze swung to Jillian. His stride faltered and his eyes widened.

  “Good God, this cannot be the same girl I met years ago?”

  Catherine wasn’t sure who looked more astonished, Mr. Templeton at seeing Jillian or Jillian that he remembered her.

  Jillian smiled shyly, taking her beauty from stunning to staggering. “Yes, it is Jillian, Mr. Templeton,” she said and bobbed a hasty curtsy as he came to a halt in front of them. Since he’d set eyes on her sister’s protégée, his gaze had yet to venture from her face.

  “My God you’ve grown—er, up,” he said, stumbling as if that was not what he’d intended to say. “How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “Eighteen on my last birthday,” she replied, her cheeks flushed a dull rose.

  Mr. Templeton nodded slowly, continuing to stare at her, his admiration evident. Jillian seemed equally transfixed by the attention of the handsome, young man. Catherine could not help feeling an overwhelming sense of impotency and sadness. She wished for a better life for Jillian; wished that such a match would be not denigrated and certain to bring alienation for a man like Patrick Templeton.

  Then as if suddenly remembering her presence, he directed his attention back to Catherine. “Miss Rutherford, this is an unexpected pleasure. Edwards said you were here to see me but I was certain you were looking for my brother.”

  “I was hoping to have a private word with you.”

  He glanced over at Jillian, his eyebrow raised in question.

  “Would it be alright if Jillian waited in the servants’ quarters?” Catherine asked, only now willing to adhere to protocol.

  “I believe it would be fine if Jillian waited in the study. My brother is not in at the moment,” Patrick stated.

  Catherine should not have been surprised. Jillian too often elicited such reactions from men from all walks of life be he the land surveyor, the footman, the butcher or the handsome young lord.

  Once Jillian was taken off to await them in the study, Patrick escorted her to the drawing room. Her gaze went immediately to the sofa where she and Lucas had made love. She prayed she was not blushing but her face did feel hot. She hastily cleared the memory from her mind. She had not come here for that.

  Neither had a chance to sit before Catherine threw herself headfirst into her apology. “Mr. Templeton, I want to apologize personally for what took place at Lady Summerville’s ball. Lucas explained about the wager and I just wanted to…”

  He was regarding her as if she wasn’t making an iota of sense. “What have you to apologize for? It certainly was not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is I.”

  That’s when it dawned on her. Lucas must not have told him about her involvement. Or Miss Shipley’s. Oh dear, what was she to say? The last thing she wanted to do was make the situation worse.

  “No, you see, we knew you were going to be there. Miss Shipley was not escorted out to the terrace by happenstance but by design.”

  Slowly, comprehension dawned in his eyes. “You? You were in it with Landry?”

  “Lord Landry knew nothing about it.”

  He shook as head as if trying to clear his muddled mind. “Are you saying that you, Lady Meghan and Lady Olivia…?”

  “I’ve come to take responsibility and apologize for my part in it.” She pressed her reticule tight against the front of her dress.

  Her confession seemed to set him back on his heels. He folded his arms across his chest. “May I inquire as to why I was targeted?”

  Catherine looked down and said nothing. How could she without exposing Miss Shipley?

  After quietly observing her for a bit, he asked, “Then may I inquire into Miss Shipley’s role in this?”

  At her continued silence, he laughed softly. “You needn’t try and protect her. Things between us are not salvageable. I’ve pled my case twice already and she refuses to believe a word of it. I’ve concluded I am probably better off without her. If I truly loved her, I’d be more put out by the ease at which she’s willing to cast me aside, which is how I know she didn’t truly love me either.”

  “I shall go and speak with her,” Catherine offered, desperate to do something, anything to help fix things.

  “Please, Miss Rutherford, save your breath. At this point I do not want her back should she agree to have me. What happened was for the best.”

  Catherine had to concede that he didn’t appear like a man mourning over the loss of the love of his life. And the way he had stared at Jillian… Yes, perhaps things had worked out for the best in this instance. But things between her and Lucas were still not right.

  “My brother, however, is more than a little put out over the whole affair. I’ve never seen him more miserable in my life. It is almost as if he lost the love of his life.”

  Catherine’s face was instantly suffused with heat, her gaze snapping to his. She saw the knowledge in his eyes.

  “He refuses to talk to me. I have sent several messages but haven’t received a reply to any of them,” she whispered hoarsely. “I do not know what else to do.”

  Mr. Templeton tipped his chin down, his eyes sympathetic. “Would you like me to talk to him? As you’ve probably already discovered, my brother can be particularly stubborn and a bit of tyrant,” he said, his tone teasing.

  “A tyrant?” Catherine thought the characte
rization too harsh.

  Patrick Templeton laughed. “You have no idea.”

  “I would rather you not. I know I must fix this but at present I’m simply at a loss at how exactly I should go about it.” Apologizing to his brother had been the first big step. But if Lucas refused to see her or reply to any of her messages, she felt as if she was pushing a boulder uphill with her hands tied behind her back.

  “My brother can only stay mad for so long. He will come around. I’ve known him my whole life. I know he will,” Mr. Templeton soothingly assured her.

  Yes, but he was his brother. Lucas loved his siblings and would forgive them anything. She was a different matter altogether. She didn’t even know where his affections lay anymore. If she were to go by yesterday’s encounter, while he still physically desired her, he no longer trusted her. And as he’d said, without trust there was no love.

  “Miss Rutherford, if I can relieve the worry that has caused that crease in your brow. Over the years, I’ve seen my brother go through stages from infatuation to lust. Not until this past year have I seen him behave like a man hopelessly in love.”

  Catherine so wanted to believe him.

  “I hope you will not give up on him,” he said gently. “My brother is slow to anger but unfortunately that means he is sometimes too slow to forgive. But he always does, take my word on it.”

  “I fear this time I’ve tested him once too often,” she sniffed, peering up at him, her gloved finger absently running over the metal clasp of her reticule.

  “If he truly loves you as I believe he does, he will forgive you. Believe it or not, Miss Rutherford, you and he are more alike than either of you know.”

  Catherine had never expected her apology to be met with such kindness and encouragement. Patrick Templeton was indeed a good man.

  “Thank you, Mr. Templeton, you have been kinder to me than I deserved.”

  He smiled faintly and replied ruefully, “I’m sure it wasn’t you who sought Miss Shipley out.”

  “Well I have trespassed on your time enough this evening. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell your brother I was by. I think it best if I gave him a few more days to calm down.”

  “Have faith, Miss Rutherford.”

  Catherine smiled wanly. She needed that—and a little divine intervention would not hurt a bit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  When Edwards informed Lucas that his mother and her guest had called, Lucas instructed him to put them in the drawing room to wait for him. He hadn’t bothered to ask the identity of his mother’s guest as he knew the man would be some variation of the ones he’d met with in the past.

  Therefore, when he entered the drawing room not a quarter hour later, he was surprised to see a woman sitting beside his mother on the sofa. Recognition of the woman did not come instantly. It took several seconds before her face registered in his mind and then the past came flooding back in a rush of memories he would rather forget.

  Miss Susanna Glenross.

  Patrick’s first love.

  Miss Glenross had changed much in the past six years. More than she ought for a woman of only twenty-eight, which was not an advanced age. There was now a hardness to her once youthful, features and pretty face. Her hair was a darker blonde and her figure fuller. Nothing close to plump but she’d been a slight thing when she’d caught his brother’s eye.

  And with Miss Glenross’s presence, it was clear what his mother was about. Some may admire Mrs. Fairchild’s Machiavellian approach to life in general, however Lucas despised it. Such cunning, such deviousness should never be employed with so great a frequency and so little subtlety. But today she would not find him in mind to barter or open to coercion or blackmail.

  “My darling son, do not fear that you’ve kept us waiting. Why we have all day, do we not, Susanna?” Her voice was all sugared sweetness as she patted Miss Glenross’s hands.

  His mother was most fashionably attired in a pale-blue dress, embellishments abounding in the flowing skirts. She had the look of a woman who only tolerated the finest things in life and whose upkeep could set a man back a pretty penny. Contrarily, Miss Glenross was simply dressed—and one may say that was being generous. Her dress was threadbare in spots and the hem appeared as if it had been sewn back on more than two or three times. She held a pair of slightly discolored gloves in her hand and what he glimpsed of her footwear, they had seen better days years ago. But for all their outward differences, the two were very much alike in all the ways that mattered.

  “Mother. Miss Glenross, it has been years,” he said, inclining his head in barely a nod. “I hope you won’t mind if I don’t sit.” He moved to the side table, where he picked up a glass and poured himself a spot of whiskey. Drinking hours had officially commenced.

  “Truly, Lucas, so early?” his mother tittered, undoubtedly happy in the thought she had the power to drive him to drink at only three in the afternoon.

  Lucas turned back to them, glass firmly in hand and said, “I am quite certain you haven’t gone to all the trouble of bringing Miss Glenross in the pretense of a social call. I’d rather you hurry and state your business so we can all get on with our lives.” Such that his was at the moment. Three days without Catherine had been excruciating. It would have been infinitely more bearable had he severed a limb.

  “For the life of me, I cannot believe that you are my child,” his mother snapped, her mask slipping. It never took long for her true colors to come out.

  Lucas held out his glass to her in a toast. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

  His mother’s gaze narrowed as ire brought twin flags of red to her cheeks. Miss Glenross watched their interaction, her eyes expressing surprise and keen interest. No doubt his mother hadn’t told her how poor their relations were.

  “Miss Glenross and I are prepared to keep your secret from your brother for the sum of seven thousand pounds. Five for me and two for her. A fair amount, I daresay, to keep our silence.”

  Lucas took a drink of the whiskey and welcomed the burn down his throat and the heat that suffused his belly thereafter. “Miss Glenross, am I to assume you’ve exhausted the two thousand pounds?”

  “I should’ve demanded a helluva lot more than that,” she said cynically. “But I was young and didn’t realize I could’ve gotten more outta you.”

  Lucas smiled thinly. “Yes, indeed. You may well have beggared me back then. How very fortunate for me.”

  For a moment, her expression of bravado slipped. By now, she’d probably assumed he’d be quivering in his boots, prepared to go to his bank in London to arrange a bank draft in the amount requested. More fool she.

  “I think it’s only fair. Had I married your brother, I’d be well cared for. Money wouldn’t be a worry,” she said, jutting her chin out.

  “Currently, my brother draws an allowance from me. Did my mother not fail to tell you she has already exhausted the money his father left? If you had married my brother, you would be wholly dependent upon me.”

  Mrs. Fairchild’s mouth tightened, her lips pinched and thin. Miss Glenross cast an alarmed look at her, which his mother blithely ignored or failed to register, her anger toward him palpable.

  “None of that matters now,” his mother intervened testily. “The point is your brother doesn’t know just how much you had to do with Susanna’s departure. He thinks your disapproval drove her away and for that, he did not speak to you for a year. I can only imagine how he’ll react should he discover the truth.”

  His mother’s threat seemed to put everything in proper order in Miss Glenross’s mind for the recent apprehension left her face. She smiled, confident the upper hand she’d thought they had, had been properly restored.

  Lucas heaved a sigh, placed the now empty glass back on the side table, and folded his arms across his chest. “Here is what I’m offering. Mother, as much as it grieves me to be forced to claim that relation with you, I shall continue to give you your monthly allowance of two hundred pounds. I
f you choose to marry, that is up to you, but if you do, my sisters will reside with me. Miss Glenross, you will receive exactly what you came here with, nothing.”

  His mother stood abruptly, her back rigid, her entire person fairly vibrating in indignation. Miss Glenross’s face flushed red as she squeezed her gloves tighter in her hand. Lucas found their reactions gratifying.

  “I shall tell your brother,” Miss Glenross threatened. “Your mother has informed me he is still unmarried. I’m sure he’d be happy to renew our acquaintance.” She smiled as if she possessed the winning card in a high-stakes card game.

  That threat might have worked two months ago but he was done with that. He had long grown tired of acting the role of the gatekeeper, the financier, the brother and son who managed everything.

  After a preemptory knock, the drawing room door opened, interrupting them.

  Lucas looked over to see Patrick standing in the doorway.

  “Luke, we need to talk—” His brother broke off as he surveyed the scene in stunned silence. His gaze eventually settled on Miss Glenross. “What the devil is going on?” Patrick asked, clearly perplexed. “Susanna, what are you doing here?”

  Miss Glenross came gracefully to her feet, all evidence of treachery hidden beneath a smile bright enough to keep Trafalgar Square illuminated for months. “Patrick, ’ow is that you’ve managed to grow more ’andsome than when I last saw you.”

  “Yes, Patrick,” Lucas said wryly, “do tell us how you manage it.”

  Miss Glenross shot him a seething look she tried to cloak in amused exasperation, as if tolerating a precocious child.

  His brother stepped into the room and closed the door behind him but ventured no further inside. Not toward his ex-lover and first love. “Mother?” he asked, shifting his attention to her. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  In turn Mrs. Fairchild turned her attention to Lucas, her smile holding the smugness of a Cheshire after consuming a large bowl of cream or having skinned a live fish. “I believe that depends on your brother,” she said with a questioning lift of her brow.