He shook his head. “You’re right. She’s better than any of these other hen-wits, but it would be hard to bed a girl who is more sister than anything else.”
Dev’s expression turned flinty, a glint of steel reflected in his normally placid eyes. “Damn you, Sin, she wouldn’t have you anyway.”
The rigid set of Dev’s back gave Simon the odd sensation he’d missed part of the conversation. Did he care? Not really. He eased away from the pillar. “I’m for a game of piquet.”
Dev cast one last, long glance at Genevieve. “I’ll join you.”
They strolled arm-in-arm toward the card room. “Are you going to Pelham’s for the hunt this weekend?” his friend asked idly.
Simon curled his lip. “I wasn’t. Pelham’s an idiot.”
“Come along, why don’t you? Do you good to get out of Town for a few days. You don’t actually have to talk to Pelham. I never do and the hunting is always excellent.”
Simon chuckled. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
The library door swung open. Victoria, reclining in one of the window seats, glanced up from her book expecting to see Julia ready to go for their usual afternoon walk.
“Damn you for a fool, Philip. Why the hell did you allow Pelham to talk you into getting on that mare of his? I told you she was unpredictable.”
Travis’s sardonic drawl pierced her ears like nails dragged down a slate. For a moment, she considered pulling the curtain around her or diving under the desk. Too late. Heat rushed to her face.
Travis stopped short at the sight of her.
Garforth, following right behind, collided with him, then pushed on past.
“Miss Yelverton,” Garforth said. “Didn’t know you were visiting.” His right arm in a sling, Philip, Lord Garforth took her hand awkwardly in his left.
Victoria’s heart had not yet returned from her throat to her chest. “Lady Julia invited me to visit.” She forced the words past a tongue inclined to stick to the roof of her mouth. Idiot. Of course Julia had invited her. She looked at his arm. “You are hurt?”
“Fell off a horse.” Garforth grinned. “Nothing but a strain, but it put paid to hunting.”
“I’m sorry,” she said unable to think of anything else to say. Besides, she was exceedingly sorry, because his return home had brought Travis with him. She steeled herself to meet the gaze of a man who had once been her whole world.
A cool smile curved his lips. He barely touched her fingers as he bowed. “Nice to see you again, Miss Yelverton.” He moved to another of the windows that lined one wall and stared out over the formal gardens.
“Miss Yelverton,” Lord Deveril said with a friendly smile and an elegant bow.
She blinked. She hadn’t even noticed him. She forced herself to smile as a horrid thought entered her mind. She snapped her book shut. Julia had arranged this. Victoria wanted to murder her. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, happy to discover her voice did not reflect the fury making her tremble inside. “I was on my way out.”
“Don’t leave on our account,” Travis said without turning around. “Indeed, having seen Garforth home, I believe I shall return to St. John’s Hall right away.”
“You can’t go,” Garforth said. “You just promised m’mother you’d dine. She will be most affronted if you cry off now.”
“I will go beg her pardon. I had forgotten a previous engagement.”. Something flashed in Travis’s eyes. Anger. As if he, too, suspected he’d been manipulated. His expression however remained shuttered. Aloof.
The tension in the air made breathing difficult. Her throat was dry. Her heart pounding too hard. Somehow, she managed a curtsey without falling down. “Please, excuse me, I must find Julia.” She left without actually running, but it was a very fast walk. Travis’s hard laugh followed upon her heels as she fled down the hallway.
How could Julia have invited both her and Travis? Victoria could not stay under the same roof with him. Why wasn’t he in Italy with the infamous Lady B?
After a brief search of the downstairs rooms, a footman directed her to an herb garden at the east end of the red brick, Tudor mansion. Wearing a huge straw hat tied with a big green bow under one ear, Julia was digging up a straggly looking plant.
Julia looked up at her approach. “See this, Victoria, it is meadow flower. It’s the best cure for a headache known to man.”
“You and your weeds,” Victoria said staring at the leggy plant.
“Herbs, Victoria. Healing plants.”
“Never mind them, Travis is here with your brother and Deveril.”
Julia paled. “Deveril, here?”
Victoria stared at her. “Oh, Julia, not you, too? Yes, he is here. Were they expected?”
Julia’s laugh held little joy. “Me, too? Whatever can you mean? And no, I promise you, I had no idea. Philip wasn’t supposed to be back until the end of the month. I had planned to leave before then.”
“I have to leave now.”
Julia clipped a bunch of ragged leaves, inspected them thenand dropped them in her basket. “Why?”
“Because I can’t face Travis. He was appalled to find me here. I’m his past, Julia. No one likes their past thrust under their nose.”
“Then he will have to leave. Where is your bonnet? You will get freckles out here in the sun.”
“I don’t get freckles and I am leaving.”
Julia sighed. “If you must, go tomorrow morning. Father will send you home in our carriage. It is too late in the day to travel now. It will be dark soon. And there is no moon.”
Julia was right. It was too late to get very far before sunset, and besides, it would be very rude to her hostess to leave so abruptly. Perhaps Travis would do them both a favor and take himself off. He only had a few miles to travel.
“What is this plant?” she asked pointing to another of Julia’s weeds.
“Chickweed. Excellent for skin irritation.”
Victoria let her mind wander to Travis, while Julia rattled off the medicinal properties of every plant in sight.
Later, when the guests gathered in the drawing room before dinner, Victoria discovered Travis had changed his mind about leaving. Already in the drawing room when Victoria and Julia entered, his scorching, ironic gaze drifted from her modest gown and traveled up her face to her hair. She colored. What did he expect? She was a schoolteacher. Her severe style of dress suited her new life.
Victoria joined Deveril and Julia’s mother, a tall thin lady with faded red curls, while Julia crossed the room to speak with Travis and her brother. It was strange how Julia avoided Deveril’s company after her earlier attraction. She never mentioned him now and Victoria did not like to pry.
“Dinner is served, milady,” announced the butler.
“Oh dear, yes, yes.” Lady Garforth seemed rather flustered by her unexpected house full of guests. “Now, Philip, you take my arm. Julia, you go with the marquess and perhaps, Travis, you wouldn’t mind escorting Miss Yelverton?”
“My pleasure.” Travis bowed. A wicked glint lit his bright blue eyes at her gasp.
He had a nerve, laughing at her. She pulled herself together. She was no schoolroom miss being tormented by some horrid boy. She could do this. She smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”
It went without saying that she was also seated beside Simon at dinner. There was no choice but make the best of it and behave like a civilized being. The footmen served the first course: Mock turtle soup.
“You are looking well, Miss Yelverton,” Travis said his tone lazy to the point of indifference.
Good. That was as it should be. And if his lack of interest hurt, that was her own foolishness. “Thank you, my lord. As are you.” He wasn’t. He looked thinner and paler than she recalled. His face seemed more granite-like than ever.
He flicked a sardonic look her way. “You are too kind.”
He’d guessed her thoughts. She felt her face go red. She concentrated on her food.
“How are you enjoying Kent?�
� he asked.
He obviously wasn’t going to stop tormenting her. “I love it. My school is doing well. I have ten pupils. I think the local people are becoming accustomed to me.” She glanced sideways at him. Instead of eating, he was leaning back in his chair, holding his glass of wine and watching her from beneath lowered lashes. A gaze of blue ice that should have frozen her heart but instead, made it beat all the faster.
He curled his lip. “I hear you have some local squire in your clutches.” Boredom filled his voice.
Victoria almost dropped her spoon. She glanced around the table to see if anyone was listening. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying them any attention. “You mean, Sir David Enterly?”
Twisting the stem of the glass, he watched the liquid swirl. “Do I? I am sure you have it right. Has he made you an offer?”
Insolent and dark, he seemed more devastatingly handsome than ever, or had she just forgotten? Heat rose in her face again. “If it’s any of your business, yes, he has.”
Travis sipped at his wine before giving her a mocking smile. “And will you invite me to dance at your wedding?”
What a question. “No, of course not. You see, I’m—”
“No need to explain, Miss Yelverton. I’m wounded, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He turned to Lady Garforth on his left before she could compose a reply.
Victoria struggled to swallow some of the food on her plate. How could he have known about Sir David? Perhaps it was better if Simon thought she was to be married. At least he wouldn’t think she still longed for a man who cared nothing for her.
A roast of beef removed the first course, supplemented by a suet pudding and assorted vegetables. Feeling as if she was surrounded by Travis’s dark presence and pervasive chill, Victoria could barely taste a mouthful. Fearing what her expression might reveal to one as astute as he, she kept her gaze fixed on her plate.
“Allow me to help you to some green beans,” Travis said. “You need to keep up your strength for your bridegroom.”
Victoria jumped at his deep voice close to her ear. He’d leaned close so no one else could hear his words. Close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her shoulder. She fought the urge to lean in to him.
“No, thank you,” she said not looking at him in case she did something she would regret, like reveal how badly she had missed him.
“No?” He gestured at her plate. “You must eat, Miss Yelverton. It wouldn’t do for your looks to fade. What would your country swain say?”
She couldn’t stand any more. “You are intolerable, sir,” she whispered and started to rise.
“Sit down, Victoria,” he muttered. “Don’t make a scene.”
He blamed her? “You are the one making a scene, with your innuendoes,” she replied, keeping her voice low. She let him hear her anger. “I would not have come here, had I known you were also invited.”
She heard his light exhale of breath. “I won’t tease you anymore, Victoria. I promise. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
He turned to Lady Garforth and Victoria smiled shakily at Philip, who, having assuaged his hunger, was now ready to talk to her about his favorite hunter.
Travis studiously avoided speaking to her for the rest of the meal and Victoria declined tea in the drawing room after dinner, citing a headache, which was the truth.
She waived off Julia’s proffered remedy of herbal tea and withdrew to her chamber.
In front of her dressing table, she stared into the mirror at her pale reflection. Regret filled her. She had been so nervous in Travis’s presence, felt so threatened by her own emotions, her brain and her manners had gone begging. At the very least, she should have acknowledged his kindness to her these past many months. She ought to have taken the opportunity to thank him for the house and the school, since the lawyer had refused to deliver any messages on her behalf. Not doing so was unforgivably rude.
She would make a point of speaking to him in the morning, before he left. She would ask him to meet her in private. It would be easier that way. Resolved to do her duty, she rose and looked out of the window into the dark.
What if she missed him in the morning? Or he refused her request? Likely, she would never have another chance for privacy since she would never again risk another visit to Julia. He lived too close by and the families were friends.
Seeing him hurt her too much.
No. Now was when she should thank him. Before she lost what little remained of her courage. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and sped downstairs.
A footman passed her carrying a large tray of dirty dishes from the dining room. The gentlemen must have finished their port. “Have you seen Lord Travis?” she asked.
“Outside, miss,” he said pointing to the dining room.
Victoria passed swiftly through the room, avoiding the servants clearing the table and stepped through the French doors onto a balcony overlooking the formal gardens at the back of the house.
Dark and deserted. He wasn’t here. Disappointed, she turned to leave.
The aromatic smell of smoke drifted on the air and she saw a glow at the far end of the balcony.
“Travis?” she said softly.
Clearly startled, he coughed on an indrawn breath “What in hell’s name are you doing here?” He sounded far from pleased.
She moved closer, keeping her voice low. “I came to thank you.”
“For what?”
She frowned. The civilized conversation she had imagined had not sounded like this. She pressed on. “For the house and the money and...” It sounded awful. Like a paid- off mistress. Perhaps that was how he thought of her? The idea had never occurred to her that he would see her that way. Prickles of embarrassment ran down her back.
“I mean, I’m grateful for your generosity.” Worse. She shouldn’t have come. “Anyway, thank you.” She turned to leave.
“You are very welcome.”
He spoke the words so softly, she almost didn’t hear them. She stopped.
“Run away, Victoria,” he said, his voice louder. “I can’t promise to behave if you stay. I might gobble you up like a big bad wolf.”
She faced him. “Simon?”
“Go. Now. Off to your Kentish knight or he will have even more blame to lay at my door.”
Blame? Her heart stopped. He was talking about what they had done... “Oh, that.”
“Yes. That.”
“You misunderstand. I’m not going to be married.”
“What?” He turned to look at her, his gaze a blaze of fury. “The bastard. If he insults you with something less—”
Victoria held up a hand. “Nothing like that. He asked me to marry him, Simon. I said no.”
“Why?” He laughed, a harsh bitter sound in the dark. “I suppose you think it’s wrong to offer a man used goods. He won’t care if he loves you.”
Blunt and angry. So like her Simon. But...he wasn’t hers. He never had been. Not really. Because he had never let her in. Never trusted her enough.
Her own temper sparked. “What do you know about love?”
“Nothing.” He tossed his cigar into the garden, its tip a brief, red shooting star. “Nothing at all.”
She heard his pain and knew her words had slashed at a man who had never known love. Indeed, he deliberately pushed all who would love him away. An ache hollowed her chest.
He was right. He did know nothing of love. How could he? He’d known nothing but scorn and hatred growing up. She recalled those few days they’d had in Wales. He’d been heartbreakingly sweet and loving. That he hadn’t said the words didn’t mean he hadn’t loved her; it meant she hadn’t earned his trust. And he’d been right. When he’d needed her most, she had turned her back.
If she didn’t say something now, there would never be another opportunity, and she would, she knew with a soul deep certainty, regret the omission all the days of her life.
“I can’t marry Sir David, Simon. My heart belongs to s
omeone else.”
He stilled, a motionless figure, staring out into the dark, a black shadow against the jewel-pricked sky. “It does?” He sounded hopeful, yet uncertain.
The vulnerability of that uncertainty tugged at her heart. She moved closer. “Yes.”
“Anyone I know?” The words were clipped. All hope expunged. He would not, could not, believe he was loved.
“You know him,” she whispered.
He bowed elegantly, his teeth flashing white as he smiled. “I wish you both happy.”
Was she wrong? Was it her hope and not his that was driving her to imagine he cared?
A dawning realization pierced her heart. Yet again he was desperately trying push her away, as he had pushed away everyone else. Because he’d been hurt too many times to take the risk of being rejected. She forced herself to go on. “He refuses admit to loving me, I’m afraid.”
He muttered a curse. “Does his name begin with S by any chance?”
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning against his rigid arm.
“You don’t mean it, Victoria. You can’t.” His voice caught as he tried to say more. His fist struck the balcony. “Don’t do this.”
She felt the heat of his body inches from hers, smelled his familiar sandalwood cologne. “Simon, why did you ask me to marry you, then send me away?”
The light spilling from the dining room window cast his beloved, sternly chiseled features into hard planes and deep shadowed hollows. His fractured gaze bored into her. “I was wrong to ask for your hand. You deserve a whole man, not an empty shell with nothing but blood on his soul.” He laughed, rough and low, and turned to the rail. “You’d better leave before the devil takes your soul.”
“I’ll leave, Simon, if you’ll tell me you don’t love me.”
He’d never mentioned love. Never told her he loved her. But she knew him better now. He feared to love. No one with a past as dreadful as his would ever dare trust. Not without proving themselves worthy. So she would work hard to earn his trust, if he would allow.
Making her own way in life wasn’t such a wonderful thing when she had no one to share it. She needed him so much.
Tempting Sin Page 29
