The Sweetest Revenge

by Dawn Halliday

  “Remorse?” He pretended to ponder. “I admit, Mistress Jane, I don’t really think of remorse when I encounter a beautiful and willing lady in my bed.”

  She sighed. “Of course you don’t. You leave all these poor unwitting young creatures to their fates. Has that never struck you as cruel?”

  The way she said “cruel” made him almost certain she was speaking of her own fate and not just Belle’s. But if that were the case…

  No, it could not be her. Mistress Jane could not be that girl.

  “Rinse,” she commanded.

  He obediently closed his eyes and sank into the tub. Fighting growing excitement, he held steady as she sifted his hair through her fingers to coax the soap out.

  Improbable but not impossible…

  “I do think it would be cruel,” he said slowly, upon rising from the water once again.

  She did not move or speak. Christ. It had to be her. What was that girl’s name? He’d met her almost two years ago in Peterborough, where he’d stopped at Lord Jennings’s house party on his way home from a visit to Leothaid Castle.

  He’d been in a particularly dour mood at that house party. The castle was in disrepair, the village desperately poor. His factor was frantic, pressuring him to move there full time and turn the place around. Leo had only wanted to return to London as quickly as possible and drink and fuck himself into oblivion. He’d warned Jennings that he’d probably only be able to manage a few days at the house party before continuing south.

  She moved to his front again, soaping his chest through the neck of his shirt. Her movements were slower now, more controlled. He sensed tension behind her fingers and felt an answering tension in his own body. “So you believe that after you ruin a lady, the proper response is to treat her like a common trollop by simply leaving her to her fate?”

  Bloody. Damn. Hell. She had said too much, because that was exactly what he’d done to that poor young woman in Peterborough. She withdrew her hands from his chest, and he heard nothing for a few moments aside from water sloshing in the tub.

  He did not want her to know he’d used her words to confirm her identity, but as silence stretched between them, he couldn’t think of what to say. Lady M had told him that Mistress Jane had nearly frozen to death on the streets because of him.

  His empty stomach twisted and rolled.

  She had been passionate in bed, but during their one night together, he had learned enough about her to gather that she was innocent in the relations between men and women. If her father had discovered what they had done that night, and then rejected her… Well, it was a miracle she was here today.

  He finally found his tongue. “I do not make a habit of defiling virgins.” The words sounded tight as they emerged from his constricted throat. “If ever I did, I was sorry for it.”

  “Sorry? Sorry is inadequate, I should think.” She sniffed, and Leo tensed further. Good God, he thought in horror, was she weeping?

  “If it happened, it was a mistake. I was misled.” That was the truth. He’d met her when he’d first arrived at the party, learning that she was the daughter of one of the country squires who lived nearby. She’d brazenly flirted with him all throughout his first day. His second day, he’d gone grouse hunting with the other men and hadn’t seen her until dinner. Afterward, she’d brushed past him, whispering the location of her bedroom into his ear.

  Later that night, more than a little sotted, he’d gone to her. Few words were exchanged. She’d kissed him and touched him like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, and he had assumed that she was a woman of experience. Without speaking, they had removed each other’s clothing. Only when he laid her down, seen the flash of fear in her eyes, and then heard her cry out in pain, had he known what he had done, how very young she was.

  If Mistress Jane wept, she recovered from it quickly. Suddenly, her hands were on him once more, moving up his thighs, reminding him she was no longer innocent—far from it. She paused briefly at his ballocks, then washed them, the gentle touch of the washcloth making his cock stir, then tighten again. Blast his body! He didn’t want her, as alluring as he remembered her to be, as eager a bedmate.

  He wanted Belle.

  He twisted away from her, but her hands followed his movements. “Mistress Jane—”

  “Shhh.”

  “—don’t do this.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll leave you teetering on the edge again, Leo?” Her voice was as silky as her hands. “What if I promised you release this time?”

  If he imagined it was Belle doing this to him…giving him pleasure, her fingers running up and down the length of his shaft, stroking the head of his cock with the pad of her thumb… He gritted his teeth against the temptation.

  “Belle…”

  The fingers slowed, then stopped. “Are you imagining your ‘Belle,’ Leo? Are you picturing her in your mind, her fingers stroking you, caressing you?”

  There was no reason to lie to her. He nodded, then leaned his head back against the edge of the tub.

  “Have you ever considered how Belle might have ached for her own release? When you were out carousing, corrupting the world with your seed, and she was alone in her cold bed? Can you imagine how lonely that must feel after having tasted pleasure?”

  She was as good as admitting Isabelle was Miss Juliette. “Belle is here,” he murmured through his clenched teeth. “Send her to me. Let me talk to her, let me explain.”

  “I did not say Belle was here.”

  Her hands left him entirely. She resoaped the washcloth and then slipped it under his shirt. The cloth abraded his stomach, ran roughly over his nipples. He winced.

  “It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding,” he said. “A disaster.”

  She pulled away. “Do you really believe that?”

  He did not know if she was speaking of his liaison with her or his liaison with Belle, but it was true for both.

  “Yes.”

  After he’d realized this girl was an innocent, he’d lain awake for hours in rising panic and finally disentangled himself from her naked limbs. Though it was still dark outside, he’d written a hasty note to Jennings, explaining that he had just recalled urgent business in London. Then he’d saddled his own horse and ridden away at a gallop.

  Once back home in London, he’d worried about the girl, that someone might have discovered their liaison. He knew he should do the gentlemanly thing and go back to her. Even propose marriage, though he didn’t expect any woman would want to marry a dissolute like him.

  After a few days, he came to his senses and decided to go back for her, resolved to set things right, if necessary.

  The day before he planned to return to Peterborough, Sutherland came by for a visit. Disgusted with himself, Leo had relayed the whole sordid tale of what had happened.

  Using calm logic, Sutherland had dissuaded him from going. “You can’t marry her,” he’d scoffed. “You aren’t cut out for leg shackles, old chap.”

  “But—”

  “It seems to me,” Sutherland interrupted, “that, inexperienced or not, all she was looking for was a single night of pleasure. It’s almost certain she never expected anything more from you.”

  Leo frowned.

  Sutherland clapped him on the back. “All she wanted from you was a way to rid herself of her pesky virginity.”

  After Leo had imbibed three snifters of brandy, Sutherland finally succeeded in dissuading him from returning to Peterborough.

  Instead, he had waited in anticipation—expecting to hear from her, or at the very least expecting to hear gossip about him and her. But there was nothing. He’d breathed a sigh of relief and had gone on with his life.

  Still, he’d known he’d made a mistake with her. A mistake he hadn’t repeated since.

  Mistress Jane drew him out of the tub and led him to the chaise. She toweled him off inadequately, for his shirt was still dripping when she pulled on his trousers. Then Hercules clamped Leo into the shackles
, and he found himself lying on the chaise, his wet shirt plastered to his freezing torso.

  After a protracted silence, she left him with a haunting remark. “Luncheon will be served soon. As you eat your bread and water, consider what it might be like if you are a girl ruined by a man’s lust, whose father turned his back on her. Consider what it might be like to live on similar fare for a year, desperate and alone in the world.”

  As she bolted the door shut behind her, he groaned, turning his face into the back of the chaise. He had remembered her name.

  Anna Newton.

  ***

  “You went to him.”

  A hot flush crept across Isabelle’s cheekbones. She studied the carpet, thinking how convenient it would be to be able to melt into it. She raised her eyes to meet Susan’s. Her voice was only a little above a whisper. “Aye.”

  “Why, Isabelle?”

  Goodness, she felt like a naughty child. She shouldn’t feel this way—after all, she had as much right to Leo as Susan and Anna. She shouldn’t feel ashamed in the least.

  “I don’t know, Susan. I felt…compelled. I don’t know why.”

  Susan released a long-suffering sigh. “Do sit down.”

  Isabelle chose one of the silk-upholstered chairs matching the burgundy silk damask wall coverings of Susan’s sitting room. She gazed at the marble fireplace, its edges carved in a repetitive Greek flower motif, still bright and unstained by coal smoke. Flanking it on either side hung portraits of a cherub-faced lad—Susan’s son Harry, she assumed. A painting of grapevines crossed the ceiling, meeting at the center with a plaster sculpture of a side-by-side Venus and Cupid. Susan had told her the house was only a few years old. Creating this architectural haven had been Lord DeLinn’s pet project before his death. He must have loved Susan very much, thought Isabelle, to have created such a splendid room for her. It was one of the most beautiful in the house.

  “So what did you say to him?” Susan asked.

  “I…I asked him why he hurt us.”

  Susan nodded but gazed at her expectantly from her chair across the room, a matching piece also upholstered in red silk. “And what was his answer?”

  “He said he didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  “Hm,” Susan mused. “Did he know it was you?”

  “Aye, though I did not encourage that knowledge. However, it seems pointless to deny my presence here.”

  “What else did he say?”

  Isabelle traced a finger over the vine pattern on the chair’s arm. “He attempted to persuade me to come closer, to release his blindfold. He said he wished to see me. I did not move, of course. I only…” Her voice trailed off. She must be honest with Susan. She could not lie to her friend, not if she wished to retain her trust.

  “What did you do?”

  “I kissed him.” Isabelle’s face burned. “I could not help it. I kissed him, and then I ran away.”

  Susan stared at a point on the wall beyond Isabelle, her elbow on the arm of the chaise, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

  “I know I am a fool,” Isabelle whispered.

  Susan stayed silent for a long moment while Isabelle agonized, trying and failing to read the expression in her friend’s calm eyes. Then Susan’s gaze shifted to Isabelle’s face. “Do you still love him, Isabelle? After all these years?”

  “Nay.” Isabelle shrugged helplessly. “I mean…oh, you must understand it. He is all I knew. It is so difficult, having him here. The memories… For so long, I had nothing to cling to besides my few moments of happiness with him. I know I shouldn’t love him. I can’t love him! He ruined my life, gave me a taste of happiness, then left me in disgrace.” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nay. I don’t love him. It is an animal attraction. That’s all.”

  If only her heart would agree.

  Susan rose and came to Isabelle and knelt before her. “I understand, dearest. I understand.”

  She held out her hands. Isabelle reached out, and for a long moment, they simply held on to each other. Then Susan said, “Isabelle, dear, you must find a lover.”

  Isabelle groaned.

  Susan squeezed her hands tighter. “No. Listen to me. You should not marry. True passion is rare to find in marriage—and I believe such a life would suffocate you. No, you must find a lover, one who will satisfy you in bed and keep you comfortable in life.”

  Isabelle shook her head helplessly. “Susan, I am cut from a different cloth than you and Anna. I couldn’t do such a thing.”

  “Why not?”

  Because I don’t want anyone but Leo.

  “It’s…wrong.”

  “Isabelle, is a life of misery a life worth living? My dear, you cannot suffer forever over something that happened over a span of a summer seven years ago! You are a woman, intelligent and lovely and passionate. I would hate to see you waste away.”

  “But a lover? I wouldn’t have the first idea how…”

  “It would be easy enough.” Susan’s eyes glinted. “You are already halfway there.”

  Not Mr. Sutherland! She shuddered.

  “I saw the curiosity in your eyes when his gift arrived. I saw you walk out of the theater with him last night. What happened?”

  “I told him I could not accept gifts from him, but I would accept him as a friend. Nothing more.”

  “Yet it is a step toward something more.”

  Isabelle stared at Susan, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean it to be a step of any kind.”

  Susan gave her a probing look. “Didn’t you?”

  “Nay, of course not.”

  “Mr. Sutherland is quite handsome.”

  “He is…but… What do you know about him, Susan? I don’t know the first thing about him.”

  “I do not know much about him either. He is quite rich—I believe his family invested quite successfully in the East India Company. He runs in the same circles as Leo, he is a Tory, and, like Leo, he is a member of White’s Gentlemen’s Club. Beyond that, I do not know.”

  “You said before that he is a rake.”

  Susan released a breath through pursed lips. “Aren’t they all?”

  Isabelle shook her head, trying to clear it of rampaging thoughts. How could she begin to pursue someone like Mr. Sutherland? Did she even want to? He was a handsome man, yes, but she didn’t feel in any way the same with him as she did when she was with Leo. There was no lust. No animal attraction.

  And yet…she had to admit she liked him, his appearance, his kindness. She liked the way he looked at her.

  The door swung open, and Anna burst in. She shut it behind her, leant against it, and grinned widely. “He is cured.”

  Susan rose composedly, clasping her hands before her. “Good morning to you, Anna. I heard you came in early.”

  “I did indeed, Susie. And it is a good morning, thank you. I came from Thomas’s house, washed and changed, and went directly to Leo.”

  “So I’d guessed,” Susan said.

  “And as I said, he is cured.”

  “Well, Leo can wait, I should think.” Susan went to the chaise and patted the seat beside her. “First you must tell us what happened last night.”

  Anna fairly danced across the room. “Oh, Susie. Do you really want me to tell you? I do believe it was too romantic for your ears. You will cringe.”

  Isabelle couldn’t suppress her smile. “Nothing is too romantic for me, Anna. I promise not to cringe.”

  Anna clasped her hands together. “Oh good. Then I shall tell all. Susie, you must cover your ears if it becomes too unbearable.”

  Susan leaned back on the chaise and swept a motherly look over Anna. “I will try to endure it, whatever it is, despite the physical pain it is bound to cause my person.”

  “Well, Thomas asked me in the most gentlemanly fashion if I would care to go for a ride. The performance being such an abomination, I readily agreed.”

  “And I thank you for warning us of your departure,” Susan said.

&nb
sp; “I do apologize for that, Susie. I did not expect that we would be out all night, you know.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Susan shook her head. Sighed. “It is so easy to get carried away in matters of the heart.”

  “Yes…well, we went in his carriage. And the night was so cool, we sat very close—”

  “Despite the warmth provided by the mantle he gave you?”

  “It was very cool indeed. I would have suffered greatly had it not been for his gift, I think. In any case, we sat quite close due to the chill.”

  Isabelle leaned forward, forcing herself to paste a neutral expression on her face. So this was what womanly gossip was like! She felt like she was living vicariously through Anna, and it gave her a strange sense of joy to hang on her friend’s every word.

  She gave an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

  “We were sitting so close, and it had been so long since I felt a man’s thigh pressing against my own in such a fashion…”

  Isabelle’s breath caught. The other two women glanced at her. Yes, a year was a long time for Anna not to have touched a man. Isabelle hadn’t touched a man for seven times as long. No wonder she was behaving so impulsively, so strangely. By the expressions on the other women’s faces, she knew they understood.

  “I’m sorry, Iz. It’s been much longer for you, I know.”

  Isabelle felt a warm flush inside at the new nickname.

  “But you see,” Anna continued, “a year for me is an awfully long time. I could not contain myself. I thanked him for the beautiful gift. Then I kissed him.”

  Isabelle let out her breath in a long sigh.

  Susan cocked an eyebrow at Anna. “Quite forward of you.”

  “Of course.” Anna shrugged. “It was once my duty to be forward, remember? And I am forward by nature. Anyhow, we drove directly to his town house after that, and it went by rather quickly, because our lips were locked together the entire way.” She laughed. “By the time we arrived at his home, he had my gown stripped down to my waist. It was rather a challenge climbing the steps without exposing my naked form to the servants!”