Tempting Sin

by Ann Lethbridge

  “Egad,” Garforth exclaimed. “The man’s a bloody marvel.”

  “Are you sure of this?” Dev asked.

  “Yes, my lord.” Wilson met Dev’s stern gaze head on. “Mr. Benton insists we observe everyone who comes in and out of the house. We have to know who they are the minute they step inside. It’s important to address them properly.”

  “My agents could use such training.” A pained expression crossed Deveril’s face and he put his cup on the table. He didn’t have those men under his command anymore. His forced resignation still cut at his pride. “Who wants you dead, Simon?”

  Wilson’s jaw dropped.

  Simon considered the question carefully. No one specific came to mind. Clearly someone too cowardly to confront Simon directly, damn him. And now the enemy had injured Victoria and Maria. Once more crimson rage surged behind Simon’s eyes. He forced a calmness he didn’t feel into his voice. “Have you seen this man before, Wilson?”

  Wilson shook his head. “No, my lord. But I’d recognize him in a flash if I saw him again.”

  Dev got up and strode to the fireplace. He stared into the embers as if seeking answers in their glowing depths. “Very well,” he said after a moment or two. “You can go Wilson. But...”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “If you ever see this man again, you must tell either the earl or myself immediately. Do not approach him, simply find one of us at once. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lord.” The man rose, bowed and closed the door behind him.

  “What do you think, Dev?” Simon asked.

  “I think, my friend, you have one deadly enemy. All we have to go on is this description of Wilson’s, confirmed by your coachman.”

  “What do we do?” Garforth asked.

  Simon grimaced. Garforth looked for all the world like a man faced with some exciting challenge. While his intellect might not be of the sharpest, he was a good man to have around in a fight. His talent in the boxing ring came close to matching Simon’s. Only they had no one on whom to lay the blame or their fists.

  One arm along the mantel, Dev picked up a fire-iron and poked at the dying embers. They blazed and hissed and the reflection of red flames danced on his serious features. “Now, I talk to one or two of my lower-class friends. Perhaps one of them knows who our scar-faced man is. If we can find him, we can find out who sent him.”

  Exasperated, Simon let out a sharp sigh. He wanted to get his hands on whoever did this now. Tonight. To hell with waiting for someone else to find him.

  He stifled his impatience. Deveril had a great many contacts in all walks of life. Some of them had worked with him in Europe, some here in London on counter-espionage during the war. He knew what he was doing.

  Simon nodded reluctantly. “Agreed. But don’t do anything without talking to me first.” He wanted to know exactly what was going on before anyone took action. There were things in his past better left hidden.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Afternoon sunlight, slanting through the narrow window, warmed the drawing room. At a gentle snore Victoria lifted her gaze from her book to look at her companion. Maria’s turbaned head nodded to the rhythm of her even breathing while her abandoned embroidery hoop lay in her lap. A purple bruise embellished one cheek and a bandage adorned her forehead.

  A knock on the drawing room door didn’t disturb her, nor did Benton’s arrival with the tea tray. Victoria shook her head when Benton cast her a questioning look. “Leave her to sleep,” she whispered.

  In silence, Benton set his burden on the oval mahogany table. He pointed to a pink note resting on the silver tray.

  “Came by hand, miss,” he murmured.

  Unfolding the paper, Victoria scanned the neatly penned lines.

  I am invited to visit his lordship’s estate in Hampshire. His carriage will be waiting outside my house at the end of our evening at Vauxhall tomorrow.

  Dear Miss Yelverton, you were kind enough to offer me your friendship. If you have any influence on Lord T____, I beg you to use it on my behalf. I cannot gainsay my mother in this.

  Your obedient servant and friend,

  Miss Cassandra Eckford

  An awful sinking sensation in Victoria’s stomach left her feeling sick. Travis’s charming friendliness at the theater and his solicitude, both last night and this morning, meant nothing.

  He’d almost fooled her into believing he wasn’t as black as he was painted. One thing she knew for certain, Travis had made no plans for a marriage with Miss Eckford.

  Victoria smiled bitterly. How could he be so open, so witty, so seductively attractive one minute and so depraved the next? Attractive? She could never be attracted to a libertine. She was no silly gudgeon like Cassandra Eckford and she had far more to offer than serving as a rake’s plaything. She threw the note down. Travis and Miss Eckford were none of her business.

  In which case, why did she have such a hollow feeling in her heart?

  “Will there be a reply, my lady? The servant is waiting.,”

  What to do? Poor Mr. Runcorn and his sad eyes floated into her mind. Cassandra’s chance for true happiness would be ruined if Victoria sat back and let Travis have his way. He would spoil two lives to assuage his own fleeting need for pleasure. Perhaps she should talk to him about it. The thought chilled her to the bone.

  Victoria nodded. “I will write a reply in the library. Please, ask the servant to wait.”

  She poured a cup of tea, carried it with her to the library and set it on the rosewood escritoire beside the window. A drawer held writing materials, and after sharpening the quill, she set to work on two letters.

  “My lady?” Benton said from the doorway some several minutes later.

  Victoria sprinkled the paper with sand. “I’ve almost finished, Benton.”

  “It’s not that, my lady. It is Lady Julia Garforth. She insists on seeing you, and his lordship said no callers today.”

  Benton was a treasure and the only member of the household who did not stand in utter trepidation of the earl. The only other member, she corrected herself.

  In his apparent anxiety about her health, Travis had left strict instructions for her care. To her annoyance, he had sent a note to Julia cancelling their planned outing. She touched a hand to the painful lump on her temple and had to admit he was probably right.

  “It’s all right, Benton. I’ll come right away. A visit with Lady Julia will do me a world of good. Here is the reply to go back with the messenger.” She tucked her other letter, the one to Mr. Runcorn, in her reticule.

  The sight of her redheaded friend standing in the paneled hall, riding crop in hand, drove all thoughts of Miss Eckford from her mind. “Julia.” Victoria reached out her hands. “How good of you to call.”

  “Oh, Victoria. I had to come.” Julia pulled her into a hug. “I received Travis’s note this morning and then Philip told me about Michael. I was so shocked. You must have thought me the most heartless creature imaginable, but I had no idea when we met yesterday. Truly.”

  The sympathy in Julia's voice brought a lump to Victoria's throat. “It’s all right. I did write, but my letter must have missed you.”

  “I had to come right away and tell you how deeply sorry I am. If there is anything I can do, you must not fail to tell me. How I wish I had been here.”

  “Me, too,” Victoria said, remembering how alone she had felt. “It was very hard at the time, but I have grown somewhat accustomed .... ” A sudden rush of emotion stung the back of her eyes.

  Julia embraced her. “You poor dear.”

  The tenderness in Julia’s expression eased Victoria’s sorrow. She managed a watery smile. “Oh, Julia, it’s so good to see you. I do need your help. Can you stay a while?”

  “A few minutes only. My horse is being walked by my groom.”

  Victoria glanced around. Where could they talk alone? Maria would be sure to wake up if they went into the drawing room; Travis might interrupt them in the library. “Come up to
my room.”

  Julia’s green eyes flashed curiosity. She nodded and followed Victoria up to her second-floor bedroom. She glanced around and raised an eyebrow. “How very...pink.”

  Victoria smiled. Julia hated pink. She perched on the bed and Julia bounced down next to her.

  “This is just like school,” Julia said with a grin.

  The recollection made Victoria chuckle. “Lord, how we used to look forward to those bedroom feasts after the teachers retired for the night.”

  Julia laughed. “My word, yes. Remember the cake my mother sent with fruit soaked in brandy?”

  “We got into so much trouble.”

  Julia jumped up and struck a pose, her arms akimbo “If that there cook has put arsenic in the soup and bouillon in the rat trap again, I’ll have her guts for garters, so I will.” Even after all this time, Julia mimicked their old school mistress to perfection.

  Victoria laughed and shook her head. “Poor Matron. She thought we’d been poisoned, while we were so sick after eating the cake all in one go.”

  Julia’s expression turned serious. She leaned against one of the bedposts. “But Victoria, what happened to poor Michael, and how did you end up living here?”

  A cold shower of reality wiped out the happy memories. “Oh, Ju. Michael lost all his money to Travis.”

  “I heard Ogden ruined him.”

  Victoria stiffened. Julia had never liked Ogden. “The viscount was Michael’s friend.”

  Curiosity filled Julia’s lively face. “I’m sorry. I’ve only heard the gossip. What did happen?”

  “Michael called Travis out.”

  Julia’s voice dropped to a shocked whisper. “Travis killed him? Philip said it was an accident.”

  As a rule, she and Julia never kept secrets from each other. This secret was just too awful. Victoria stared mutely at her friend.

  “Victoria Yelverton, don’t you dare poker up on me with that prissy look on your face.”

  Torn between her friendship to Julia and her loyalty to Michael, Victoria debated how much she dared say. “It’s the most terrible thing. You must swear never to tell a soul.”

  “I swear.”

  “He lost everything at cards, called Travis out, and when he failed to kill him, he....” She couldn’t say it. She still couldn’t put into words what Michael had done. She bunched the counterpane in her hand, staring, unseeing, remembering Michael’s last moments and willing herself not to cry.

  “Victoria.” Julia’s voice expressed pity and concern. “Don’t tell me he took his own life?”

  Victoria nodded. She couldn’t utter a word for the choking lump in her throat.

  Julia sat beside her and placed her arms around Victoria’s shoulders. “How simply horrid for you.”

  The warm comfort of her friend’s arm reminded her of their youth and school, when the worst thing in their lives was a scolding from Matron about lost stockings. Life had changed drastically. She drew a steadying breath. “He’d lost everything and Travis offered me a place to stay. I suppose he felt guilty about what happened.” She raised her head and gazed into troubled emerald eyes. “None of that matters now. I need your help.”

  “All you need to do is ask.”

  “I need a governess position.”

  Julia’s arched eyebrows drew together and she gave Victoria a sharp glance. “I don’t understand.”

  Victoria got up and paced across the room. She stared blindly at the silver brushes on the rosewood dressing table. Surely Julia would understand why she could not to continue to live on Travis’s charity. Worse yet was, to have him parade her on the marriage mart when she had no intention of marrying anyone. She swung around.

  “Travis insists I marry by the end of the Season. You know that is not for me. I want to be independent and make my own decisions.”

  “The life of a governess doesn’t strike me as anything terribly pleasant. You’d have a lot more freedom as a wife.”

  Julia’s expression of disbelief caught Victoria on the raw. She grimaced. They’d had this conversation before. “Not when one is considered to be the chattel of one’s husband. Required to obey his wishes and forced to follow his decisions, no matter how bad, when I am quite capable of deciding how to live my life.”

  “You know I’d do anything for you,” Julia said, the light from the window glinting in her auburn hair. “I simply cannot agree with you.”

  Victoria glowered at her.

  “All right,” Julia said with a shrug. “I will help as best I can.”

  Victoria prowled around the four- poster bed. “It is what I want.” She hesitated. “I do have one more favor to ask.”

  Julia looked askance. “My word, Miss Yelverton. In all these years you’ve never asked me for anything and now you want two things in one day?”

  Victoria batted at Julia’s shoulder on her way past. “Be nice.”

  “All right. What else?”

  Victoria handed her the note to Runcorn. “Please mail this for me?”

  “Mr. Albert Runcorn,” Julia read. She turned up her nose. “Runcorn? You’re exchanging the Earl of Travis for a Mr. Runcorn?”

  Her heart tripped and faltered and she stopped mid-stride, staring at her friend. What could she mean? Travis disliked her just as much as she despised him. He avoided her most of the time and couldn'’t wait to be rid of her.

  Until last night. Last night he had been quite different, not cold at all, and endearing with his gentle teasing. No matter how she tried to deny his allure, his ready wit and charming smile drew her in. And when she’d regained consciousness in his arms, she could have sworn there was more in his gaze than simple concern. He’d looked devastated. The memory of his shattered gaze squeezed at her chest.

  Imbecile. Tomorrow he planned to leave for Hampshire with Cassandra Eckford. “You are mistaken. Travis wants nothing to do with me.” She resumed her slow pacing.

  Julia leaned back against the pillows, her eyes following Victoria’s progress around the room. A saucy smile curved her lips. “Not true. He likes you. He never drives ladies in his curricle. It’s unheard of.”

  An honor indeed then, and one that accounted for all the sly stares in Hyde Park. Julia mistook the circumstances. All Travis cared about was palming Victoria off on a husband. Travis had another woman on his mind, an extraordinarily beautiful one. A hollow ache filled her heart.

  She tossed her head. “You have no idea what you are talking about. He barely speaks to me and when he does it is to issue orders. He is the most domineering, aggravating man I have ever met.”

  Julia laughed and caught her arm as she stormed by. “Sit down. You’re making me dizzy. I’ll deliver the note. Does that satisfy you?”

  “Yes.” Victoria plunked onto the bed.

  “Too bad,” Julia said with a naughty twinkle. “Just think, if you married Travis, we would be neighbors in Hampshire.”

  Marry Travis? When Miss Eckford occupied his mind? The lurch in her chest aggravated Victoria more than her whirling thoughts. She laughed and hoped it did not sound as false to her friend as it did in her own ears. “Julia, be serious for once.”

  Julia shrugged. “Never. Did I tell you about my most recent conquest?”

  “Deveril?”

  Julia’s smile disappeared. “The marquess?”

  At last, a chance for Victoria to get her own back. She grinned. “I saw the way he looked at you yesterday.”

  “Not very likely,” said Julia with a shake of her head.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Everyone knows he’s besotted with Genevieve Longbourne.”

  “Really? She’s engaged.”

  Julia nodded and pressed her lips together. “Ever since she got betrothed, Deveril has been drinking himself into an early grave. According to Philip, Travis has pulled him out of more scrapes than enough. He’s such an idiot.”

  “Who? Travis?”

  “No, of course not. Nothing wrong with Travis, if yo
u can get past his cynical exterior. No, Deveril. Anyone could have told him about Genevieve. They call her the winter queen. Nothing to do with her blonde beauty—it refers to the melted snow in her veins.”

  Julia slid off the bed, sauntered to the window and stared out. “Deveril came to London on a brief furlough the year Genevieve and I came out. He wasn’t the heir then. He joined her court. All the eligible bachelors did. She was de rigeur. He had eyes for no one else, I suppose he went back to war clinging to her memory and never moved on. At least, that is what Philip says.”

  “Poor man,” Victoria said. “He was certainly in his cups last night at the theater. He left early. Travis said he wasn’t well, but Genevieve Longbourne was in the box opposite ours.”

  “That would do it.” Julia stared at the floor, then looked up, laughter brimming in her eyes. “But, Victoria, you must hear about my conquest.”

  Leaning against the pillows, Victoria smiled in anticipation. Julia had a flair for the dramatic. “I’m listening.”

  Julia perched beside her. “On the way back from my sister’s lying-in, Philip insisted we stay nearby the Quorn so he could see if he could pick up a hound pup or two. I didn’t mind. I was glad to get away from everyone cooing over the newest addition to the Garforth family. Ghastly, red-faced, screaming brat. He looks just like one of those monkeys they displayed in at the Tower of London last year.” She shuddered.

  Victoria couldn’t help but laugh at her expression of disgust.

  “Anyway,” Julia continued, “One evening we were invited to supper by the local squire, a member of the local hunt, and a retired sailor.” Julia lowered her voice imitating a Yorkshire accent. “He decided he liked the cut of my jib.” She got up to stride about the room. “Well, Lady Julia, it’s cram on full sails for me. I’ll fire a shot across your bow and you’ll be in irons before you can reach port.”

  Victoria giggled. “No one talks like that.”

  “He does I assure you. And he’s as wide in the beam as a Newcastle coal barge.”

  Dropping back into her part, Julia strode around the room with a rolling seaman’s gait, thumbs in her imaginary waistcoat pockets. “Shiver my timbers, matey, splice the main brace.”