The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "Yes. Yes. Of course." His angry grimace faded into more of a frown. "Pretending. That was all."

  "What else would it be?" she huffed indignantly as he began to lead her off of the dance floor. "You cannot seriously imagine that I would actually be in love with you."

  For some reason, her words made Nicholas angry again, though she could not fathom why. "No. No, that would not do at all." Then he drew in a deep breath and, as if by magic, appeared to transform right before her eyes, wrapping himself in the indifferent mask of The Bloody Duke once more. "I simply had no idea you were so fine an actress, Eliza. Truly, a talent like that belongs on the stage."

  Eliza was about to offer a sharp retort when a dark shadow fell across the floor in front of them. "Stephen." She had to admit that she was surprised to see him standing before her. From the moment the family had arrived at the ball, he had been surrounded by lovely young women clamoring for his undivided attention. She had no idea how he had managed to elude all of them for even the briefest of moments.

  "Candlewood." Stephen's eyes - those marvelous turquoise eyes so very like her own - flashed in bitter anger. "Were you not courting my sister, I would call you out." He glanced at Eliza. "There were times you looked as if you might happily strangle her out there. It makes me question whether or not you actually love her." He drew himself up to his full height, which did not come nearly anywhere close to Nicholas' imposing stature. Especially as Stephen continued to lean heavily on his cane. "I know you doubt my claims, but I will prove to all of London that I am, in fact, Stephen Deaver. But until I can do so, I refuse to sit idly by and allow you to dishonor my sister. She deserves better than you."

  For a moment, Eliza was terrified. She knew Nicholas did in fact have a temper. A rather nasty one. He was rarely violent, having long ago learned the fine art of control, but he was capable of it. Moreover, Stephen did not know this courtship was all an act. What if Stephen said something that truly provoked Nicholas and it ended in a brawl? Or worse, a duel? She had the feeling that if such an event occurred, Stephen would be accepted as the true Framingham heir without question. And that would be very bad indeed.

  Nicholas must have realized it as well, for he gave Stephen a lackadaisical smile. "Ah, Underhill." It was not lost on Eliza that Nicholas used Stephen's title, making the other man sweat. Just a bit. "One thing you will soon learn is that your sister is an independent thing, a female that no man can tame. Truly. And I am a man who enjoys being correct in all things. After all," he smiled almost evilly, "I am The Bloody Duke. I am accustomed to getting my way. Always." Then he shrugged, and Eliza's head whirled at Nicholas' changing moods. He was moving so fast, she could not keep up. "I find her a challenge. I like that in a woman. More than you know." Then he raised an eyebrow, as if daring Stephen to correct him.

  Instead, her brother merely glared. "Well, you will not embarrass my sister in such a manner again this evening! Come, Eliza! I believe that Mama wishes to depart for the night. She is rather tired, as you might imagine."

  Stephen held out his arm to Eliza and she took it with shaking hands. Though she did manage to sneak a glance back at Nicholas and witness his almost imperceptible nod of approval before she did so. This was uncertain territory for her and she did not want this plan to fall apart before it even truly began. That said, she planned on having a very long chat with Nicholas at the first opportunity that presented itself.

  As she and Stephen walked away, Eliza could feel the weight of Nicholas' stare almost burning the bare flesh of her back. And once more, she wanted to strangle him. Though at the moment, she could not say precisely why.

  Chapter Seven

  Two nights later, Eliza still wanted to strangle Nicholas. Not that she had seen much of his sorry self. After his fit of pique at the Celestial Ball, the duke had made himself scarce, not even appearing at her door during calling hours as would have been proper. Instead, he sent missives by way of messenger, requesting her presence at various events and always accompanied by an invitation for Stephen and her parents to join him.

  Her parents. For even now, she still had difficulty of thinking of them as their parents. Even though Eliza knew that if nothing changed in a fortnight or less, this man would be permanently wedged in the Deaver family and it would be extremely difficult to dislodge him. She doubted that it could be done even now. It would take nothing less than a miracle. Or proof that he was not who he claimed to be, though she no idea what form that proof might take. Still, she held out hope.

  What she did not hold out much hope for was Nicholas' asinine plan with this false courtship. Especially when he spent his days gallivanting around London as if he was still a rakehell of the highest order. Though they had never discussed specifics about how either of them was to behave, she had assumed that he would show her some devotion, even though it was becoming common knowledge that this courtship was really only to see if they would suit well enough so that she might bear his heir and spare. There was, of course, no illusion that it was a love match. Nor would there ever be.

  Still, Eliza had expected Nicholas to curb some of his wild ways - at least to a degree. However, if anything, he had simply become worse. In fact, she had no doubt that when he had left her side after the Tarhill's dinner party earlier in the night, he was most likely on his way to some gaming hell or brothel. She simply prayed that he would be a bit more circumspect this time. Though she sincerely doubted he would be so considerate.

  Not to mention that when Eliza did see Nicholas, he acted as if she was his moon and sun, the very person he wished to build his future around. It was becoming rather annoying. True, he was playing his role to perfection, but in the process, he was inadvertently hurting her heart. That was her fault, Eliza knew. Nicholas had been very clear about their goals. And his role within her life. Still, after that moment at the Celestial Ball when he had crossed the room to sweep her into his arms, Eliza had to admit that a small part of her had wanted to believe the entire thing was real.

  The courtship. The anger. The jealousy.

  Her head might want it to be a fallacy, but her heart was quickly developing other ideas. And all that did was make her even more upset than she already was.

  Her annoyance with the entire situation must have shown on her face, for when Theresa entered Eliza's room to help her undress for the night, the maid made a tutting noise as she began to pull the pins out of her mistress' thick, heavy hair.

  "How did I not know you were being courted by a man like The Bloody Duke?" Theresa asked as she took a brush to Eliza's hair, gently undoing the knots the upswept hairstyle had created. "After all, I know everything about you. Or so I thought."

  "Theresa. Stop. Please." Eliza was not in the mood to be badgered tonight. Especially not by her maid. Even though normally, the two were typically the best of friends. "You know that I have seen Nicholas off and on the last several years at various parties and balls. He was Stephen's friend. And he is somewhat mine as well. At the very least, we are friendly and have been for some time. And we are both growing older."

  At that, the maid put the brush down on the dressing table with a thump. "That may be true, but Izzy, he is not the right man for you. Everyone knows of his great love affair with Lady Berkshire."

  "She is gone," Eliza replied wearily, resisting the urge to rub her eyes. The last person she wanted to discuss tonight - with anyone - was Ellie Berkshire. "And as I have said, Nicholas and I are not in love. I doubt we will ever be. But I am old and unwed, yet still hopefully young enough to give him an heir. And now Stephen has returned." The last thing Eliza wanted was to admit her doubts about her newfound brother - or anything else for that matter - to anyone on the staff. Even Theresa. "I need to find myself a husband."

  Theresa snorted. "You have never been concerned with such matters before. A husband is the last thing you need. Especially one who treats you like a fool." Then, in a snit, the maid flounced out of the room.

  Eliza knew she should call her bac
k and reprimand her, but she didn't have the heart. What would be the point? Theresa was correct, after all. Eliza did deserve better. But she wasn't about to get what she deserved. At least not from Nicholas. And besides, this was all a ruse so that Nicholas could remain close to the family and gather information about her brother. There was nothing more to it. Even if no one else was privy to that information.

  With a sigh, Eliza picked up the brush and began combing out the rest of her hair, attacking it with a vengeance. And even long after it was tangle free and plaited in a thick braid for the night, she continued to sit in front of her dressing table mirror, staring at her reflection.

  Eliza was still angry with the irresponsible duke, mostly for making her look a fool. She was also furious with him for pretending to be jealous at the Celestial Ball, when it was now abundantly clear that it had been all an act. Even if her stupid heart refused to believe. If his anger over her dress had been real, he would not have bolted from her side earlier in the evening. Though her dress tonight hadn't been that revealing, it had been low cut enough so that Baron Rockville - who was still attempting to snare a wealthy wife - had been caught staring at her breasts at least twice.

  And Nicholas hadn't batted an eye.

  That was more than enough proof that he truly didn't care - which was exactly as it should be. Nicholas was only at her side to gather information on Stephen - which also didn't seem to be going exactly according to plan.

  Still, as Eliza slowly climbed into bed, she couldn't help but remember how right it had felt to be in Nicholas' arms and the security and warmth she had found there. Not to mention the burning anger she had seen flare in his eyes when he had witnessed other men ogling her in that slightly scandalous dress. He had accused her of being an actress worthy of the stage. It seemed he was just as talented in that regard as well.

  Eliza's last thought as she fell asleep was of Nicholas. She wondered what he was doing right at that exact moment. And then decided that it was probably better if she did not know.

  "Is there something you desire, my lord? Some sort of pleasure I can provide for you? You know I am more than willing to do whatever you ask. You need only voice your wishes."

  Nicholas gazed down the length of the bed, the naked woman sprawled on the scarlet satin sheets looking up at him invitingly through thickly lashed eyes. She was delightfully curvy, with large, heavy breasts meant to be feasted upon for hours upon end. Yet he felt nothing other than mild arousal when he looked at her, those cat-green eyes of hers showing an eagerness and a near-desperation to please, mixed with a slight hesitation that he did not particularly care for.

  Ianthe was among Madame Desponia's most coveted girls - if one had enough coin to pay her asking price and few did - and she was indeed a tender young thing whose brief time at the brothel had not yet hardened her to the harsh way of life she had chosen. She was skilled, or so he believed. After all, the feeling of her sweet, tender mouth wrapped around the silken steel of his cock the previous week was not something he would soon forget. At the moment, however, he could not rid himself of the image of the brief flare of hurt in Eliza's turquoise eyes as he departed the Tarhill's dinner party as quickly as he could. As if he did not wish to be in her company a single moment longer.

  Reaching down to stroke his cock, Nicholas tilted his head in invitation. "Come up here, pet. I am certain we can both think of something I would enjoy."

  Like the experienced seductress she was, Ianthe slithered up the bed, her golden limbs indicating that she sunbathed nude on the brothel's roof as often as was possible. No other woman of his acquaintance possessed such bronzed skin. And for a moment, Nicholas wondered about the woman behind the name, for she did not quite seem to fit the role of hardened seductress who spread her legs upon command. Who was this woman? Really? What was her real name? Certainly it wasn't Ianthe. That name belonged to a Greek water nymph of legend.

  This woman spoke in cultured, educated tones. Was she a lady of breeding? If so, why was she here? Did she choose this life or was she forced into it by some cruelty of fate? Would this have been Eliza's fate had she not been clever enough to manage the marquisate's affairs after Stephen had been lost at sea?

  Damn his reckless thoughts that kept straying back to Eliza, Nicholas grumbled to himself darkly. This was her fault, his inability to enjoy himself in a place where he had sought refuge so many times before. If she had not worn that infernal, revealing gown... If Baron Rockville had not noticed and begun hanging around her every chance he got... If. If. If.

  Then, Ianthe's luscious lips were around his cock again and Nicholas momentarily forgot Eliza and just about everything else. But only for a moment. Then, the enormity of everything - including Eliza's implicit trust in him - came rushing back and he felt the pressure begin to build again.

  Pressure to solve her problem. Pressure to actually be the sort of suitor that she deserved - and that he most decidedly was not. Even if the false role was only temporary. Pressure to appear at social functions and behave himself, rather than sweeping in and causing a stir before departing again just as rapidly. Well, perhaps he had succeeded at that last part, given the scene he had caused at the Celestial Ball, sweeping Eliza away from her friend and onto the dance floor for a scandalous waltz.

  Nicholas also felt the far more delightful pressure beginning to build at the base of his spine from Ianthe's tender ministrations. And suddenly, he knew he could not allow her to continue. How would he have felt if he had discovered that Radcliffe had been stepping out on Julia while they had been courting? Nicholas was certain he would have been furious. And most likely enraged enough to want to kill his best friend.

  While Eliza was not Julia - nor was he actually courting her in truth - Izzy was still someone's sister. Or had been. Perhaps still was.

  And despite Nicholas' need for release, he could not do this to Eliza. It would not be fair. And damned if the idea of her in pain of any sort - especially pain that he had caused - killed any remaining amorous feelings that he had for the young woman sprawled naked over his lap.

  Nicholas also could not help but think that seeing Eliza naked - what with her particularly luscious looking breasts - might stimulate him far more than Ianthe was capable of at the moment. And that thought made his cock stir - far more than it should have. He hadn't been pretending about that part the other night. Eliza's breasts had looked particularly delectable in that scandalous gown.

  Nicholas knew he could not and should not desire Eliza. She was a pain in the arse. More specifically, in his arse. And he wasn't even certain he did in fact desire her. But he did feel something for her, something more than just annoyance and that bothered him greatly. This was how it had begun with Ellie. The tingle of attention somewhere in the depths of his mind. His inability to stop thinking of her. And then what? Another disaster?

  Eliza wasn't Ellie, but she was female. And a very dangerous female at that. Or she could be. If he allowed her to be. If he allowed this desire - for he had no intention of lying to himself about the issue any longer - to spiral out of control.

  Still, one look from her, one simple suggestion from Eliza that she wished for something physical, and Nicholas would oblige her. Gladly. He did not do love, but he did most certainly fuck. And he was fairly certain that a woman of Eliza's age could handle a brief affair without any crying or wailing at the end. Except that she had to want such a thing, and thus far, she had given him no indication that she would be amenable to such an arrangement.

  Ianthe must have noticed something was wrong, and that his attention to her was wandering, for almost immediately she ceased her ministrations and popped her head up from between his thighs, a frown on her pretty face. He did note that she never stopped caressing his ballsac. Most likely just in case he wanted to continue.

  "Am I displeasing you, your grace?" She had a worried look on her face, one that tugged at something inside of Nicholas. Something he had long thought dead.

  Nicholas sho
ok his head, making certain to keep his voice silkily seductive, so as not to arouse her suspicions. "Not at all, pet. I am merely distracted this evening. State business, you know."

  "I know how to change that." Then she rose onto her knees and offered him both of her breasts in the palms of her hands. An offering of delectable flesh that she knew he would be hard pressed to ignore. Any man with a pulse would be.

  He smiled easily, though he had already begun to shift away from her. He would not bed the wench tonight. In good conscience, he could not. Not when there was Eliza. Even if their relationship was a farce, he did still wish to be her. If she agreed. And he would not bed a whore when he was thinking of a lady. He did have some morals after all. "I'm sorry, pet. Not tonight." He also knew Ianthe was waiting for him to use a more tender endearment, something that would indicate that he favored her and would be returning in the future.

  While Nicholas might return, there would be no such endearment. He did not use pretty words during bedsport. He had once. It had ended badly. Never again.

  When he reached for his pants and it became clear that the evening was at an end, Ianthe reached for her robe with a sigh. "But another night, perhaps?" She was ever the seductress and once more, Nicholas had to wonder about her. Something did not quite add up. Was her innocence an act or was it genuine? A part of him hoped it was merely an act. He hated the idea of one as innocent as she becoming jaded over time, hardened to life with each man's cock that she took into her body as he sought his pleasure only and not hers.