Sin and Sensibility

by Suzanne Enoch

  How did he end up with unhappy fortune hunters, time after time? He knew the answer, though, even as he asked the question. They were familiar. He’d grown up with them. “Aunties,” his father had expected him to call them, as if an eight-year-old couldn’t recognize that the parade of women falling onto their backs in Corbett House weren’t his relations. They wanted to be—the more hopeful, ambitious ones had even called him son. That hadn’t fooled him for a moment, and his father for even less time than that.

  Every one of them had looked at the old Marquis of Deverill and thought to become the new marchioness. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d married the love of his life and would never recover, and he’d been a widower since Valentine was five. Alastair Corbett let them all think whatever they wanted, took them to bed, used them up, and then discarded them when they became too clinging or too dull or another, prettier, younger one caught his attention.

  Valentine had asked him once if he ever meant to remarry, and his father had laughed at him. “I already have an heir,” he had said. “Why should I fund what they give for free?” None of the ladies knew that, of course. Not at first, anyway.

  In the end, they had gotten their revenge. The fifty-two-year-old marquis who finally succumbed to madness and disease little resembled the tall, handsome wastrel they’d so wanted to marry. By then, they’d turned their greedy attention to his eighteen-year-old son. And so he took his own revenge, scorning the single, eligible ladies in favor of those who offered and wanted nothing but a little passion.

  None of that, though, explained his attraction to Eleanor Griffin. It would pass, he was certain, but at the moment every time he was in her company, he had the oddest desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. And more than that—he wanted to rip those revealing new gowns from her slender body and run his hands over her warm, smooth skin, and bury himself deep inside her.

  “Deverill.”

  He looked up from the whist table. “Melbourne.”

  “I need a word with you.”

  Of course he did. The duke wanted a report on Eleanor’s behavior—and Valentine had promised not to deliver one. “Give me a moment to take all of Everton’s money. I’ll meet you on the landing.”

  With a nod the duke left the gaming room. His concentration broken, Valentine lost the next hand and departed twenty quid lighter. He’d spent some time trying to decide how much he wanted to tell Sebastian, and how much he could tell without breaking his word to Eleanor. Nothing had seemed satisfactory, and now he’d run out of time.

  Sebastian had actually gone out to the adjoining balcony beyond the gaming room and was puffing on a cigar when Valentine joined him. “I hope you have another one of those,” he said, breathing in the heady scent of tobacco. American cigars. Melbourne had expensive tastes, but then so did he.

  The duke pulled one from his inner coat pocket and handed it over. After Valentine lit it on one of the balcony lanterns, the two men crossed to the railing that overlooked the garden. They smoked in silence for several minutes, while Valentine made another effort to figure out what to say, and Sebastian tried to give the impression that he already knew everything that was going on and merely wanted confirmation. Valentine had known of that tactic for sixteen years, however, and it had never worked on him before.

  “All right, what’s going on?” the duke finally said.

  “Nothing much. A few dances with a few gentlemen, and a ride in Hyde Park with Cobb-Harding.”

  “Has she shown favor to any other particular man? She did claim to be husband hunting, after all.”

  “Not that I’ve seen.” Valentine paused. He needed to give Melbourne something, or the duke would begin to suspect duplicity. “You did just grant her complete freedom. I doubt she’s in a hurry to settle into any damned marriage shackles.”

  Melbourne glanced down at the garden. “Since we’re discussing Nell, I’ll refrain from pointing out that your word choice implies a certain…cynicism.”

  “If you want my help, you also get my refreshing point of view.”

  “I suppose so. Now what were you discussing with Nell tonight? And don’t attempt to look innocent, because that is something you’ve never been.”

  “You wound me. Shay told you that she asked me for advice on debauchery, didn’t he?”

  The duke nodded. “And just what advice did you give her, pray tell?”

  “I haven’t given her any, yet. Do you think I have a clue what to say? I have no desire to be chased out of London and hunted down by the Griffin brethren. So instead I asked her to waltz with me.”

  “And Cobb-Harding? I’m not going to have to call that fortune hunter brother-in-law, am I?”

  “No. From my observations, on closer acquaintance she finds him less than appealing.”

  “Good.” Melbourne tamped out his cigar. “I’d hate to have to make her a widow if she were to elope or make some other foolish mistake.”

  “I don’t think you give her enough credit, Seb. She might be angry with you, but she’s still a Griffin.”

  “I thought that was part of what she disliked about her life.”

  Valentine started to reply, then realized that he shouldn’t know the answer. As far as Sebastian knew, he was the same disinterested Deverill, only involved because of a rare matter of honor. He didn’t care why Eleanor did anything—only that she didn’t do anything scandalous. Which would include kissing him, but he wasn’t about to discuss that. Whether Melbourne suspected something or whether it was an honest query, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t falling for it. “You would know that better than I. I’m only to keep her out of trouble, not decipher her motivations.”

  “I just thought she might have let something of her plans slip. You do have a way of getting people to chat.”

  “I’m naturally charming.” Valentine took one last puff and ground out his own cigar. “And just how long am I to be your lackey, anyway?”

  With a short grin, Melbourne walked back through the balcony doors. “Until I decide your debt to me is repaid, or until Eleanor ends this nonsense—whichever comes first.”

  “That’s encouraging.” Considering that he could have ended the nonsense a week ago with one word to Melbourne, Valentine decided that he had only himself to blame. And surprisingly, the task of providing guardianship to Eleanor had become more appealing than he would ever have expected. With one rescue, and one kiss, his life had turned upside down. And at the moment, he rather liked it that way.

  After their last break of the evening for refreshment, the orchestra would play the waltz. Once Stephen Cobb-Harding had vanished, nothing else at the soiree mattered as much to Eleanor as that one waltz; not the heat of the room, not Francis Henning stepping on her foot four times during the country dance, not the silly, overabundant compliments from her sudden glut of suitors or the lack of appealing single gentlemen. She had to admit, in some instances her brothers had done her a favor. The fortune hunters were crawling out of the woodwork.

  “Nell, I’ve barely seen you this evening,” Barbara said, detaching herself from Mr. Robert Melpin to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Yes, I seem to be quite popular,” she returned, hiding her grin as a previous partner walked by, favoring her with a deep, reverent bow.

  “I thought you and Mr. Cobb-Harding would be causing a stir this evening. I saw him chatting with you earlier, but you haven’t danced with him once, have you? Your brothers didn’t drag him out behind the stable and shoot him, I hope.”

  Eleanor forced a laugh. “I’m afraid Mr. Cobb-Harding and I weren’t entirely compatible. He has the silliest ideas about females and marriage.”

  “What a shame. He’s so handsome. But I suppose your brothers would have made life miserable for both of you if you’d decided you wanted to marry him.”

  “No doubt.” She cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject. Thankfully Robert Melpin still lurked in the background, favoring Barbara with a lost-puppy gaze. “I
believe you and Mr. Melpin have danced twice this evening,” she commented, relieved as Barbara blushed. The Cobb-Harding conversation had just been forgotten.

  “He’s very determined,” her friend admitted. “And Papa seems to like him.”

  “But what about you, Barbara? Do you like him?”

  “I think so, but I would hate to commit to him and then realize that there’s some other man out there that I like even more.”

  “Then don’t agree to anything, for heaven’s sake.”

  Barbara smiled. “I won’t yet, but I don’t have your limitless resources or your family’s patience on my side. I’m expected to agree to a suit by the end of the Season. You know that.”

  Eleanor had known that, and in the confusion and chaos of her own ill-managed life, she’d forgotten. “I wouldn’t so much call my family patient as I would skeptical and overbearing, but who else is on your list?”

  “There are several. But I don’t think this is the place to dis—”

  “Of course not. I have a luncheon with my Aunt Tremaine tomorrow, and I have boat races in the morning, but I happen to be free all day on Sunday.”

  From Barbara’s relieved expression, Eleanor had not been fulfilling her duties to her friend. “Might we go riding in the park in the morning, then?” Lady Barbara asked.

  “That would be wonderful. I haven’t ridden in ages. Shall I come by for you at ten o’clock?”

  Barbara kissed her on the cheek again. “I’ve been wanting to chat with you, but you’ve been so busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for you, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Are you too busy for me?” Valentine’s low voice came.

  She was going to have to ask him how he snuck up on people so effectively. At the sound of his voice, low shivers ran down her arms. He might have been teasing her earlier about how much he wanted to seduce her, but part of her wondered whether that had been a tease, at all. “Not if you’re here for the waltz,” she said breezily.

  The orchestra began to play. With a lifted eyebrow Deverill glanced over his shoulder at the musicians. “That was timely, wasn’t it? And yes, as it happens, that is why I’m here. If you’ll excuse us, Lady Barbara?”

  Barbara sketched a curtsy. “Of course, my lord.”

  He offered his hand, and Eleanor slipped her fingers into his. She wished she wasn’t wearing gloves, and in the same moment decided that was foolish. With Cobb-Harding’s threats she certainly had enough to concern her without adding a doomed flirtation with a hardened rake into the mix.

  Valentine led her to the dance floor, where he slid a hand around her waist and stepped with her into the waltz. She’d seen him dance before, though rarely, and knew he was quite skilled. Being in his arms, though, was another experience altogether. This was a man who knew what he was doing, and what he wanted. And he was dancing with her.

  Across the room, Melbourne conversed with the Duke of Monmouth and remained apparently oblivious to what she was doing and whom she was with. Eleanor furrowed her brow. “Has my brother asked you anything about why we went driving yesterday?”

  “Which brother?”

  “Melbourne, of course.”

  She thought he hesitated, but at the sight of his crooked smile and what it did to her pulse, she couldn’t be certain. “He wanted to know if you were up to anything.”

  “And you said what?”

  “I said I wasn’t aware of anything in particular, but that I would teach you how to cheat at vingt-et-un if you asked me to.”

  Eleanor chuckled. “Perhaps next week. Thank you. I know from experience that Sebastian isn’t easy to lie to.”

  “Ah, but I’m an expert in matters of deception. Half the time I don’t even trust myself.”

  “That’s not completely reassuring.”

  He smiled down at her, those deceptively sleepy eyes saying things she had no idea how to interpret. “It’s not meant to be. Are we following the rules, or not?”

  Oh, his way of behavior was so tempting—and it would be so bad for her. “I don’t know yet,” she whispered. As she looked up at him, a thought occurred to her. “If I were some simpering miss who happened to be Melbourne’s sister, would you still be assisting me?”

  “No,” he answered promptly. I’m helping you because I like you. Not because of your bloodline.”

  “That’s the truth, isn’t it? And it sets you a step above most of the other men I’ve danced with tonight.”

  “You’re wrong about that. My reasons for being here don’t make me a hero, and they don’t mean I’ll do right by you. Best keep that in mind, Lady Eleanor.”

  They waltzed in silence for a moment. Melbourne might be pretending ignorance, but she couldn’t help noticing Shay eyeing the pair of them from the game room doorway. And he wasn’t the only one. Proper girls didn’t dance with Deverill; if he hadn’t been her brother’s closest friend, waltzing with him might have been enough to void her declaration.

  “Why do you keep warning me?”

  “For the same reason I kissed you, I suppose.”

  She swallowed, hoping her cheeks didn’t look as warm as they felt. “And why was that?” she whispered.

  His lips curved into a smile. “Because I wanted to.”

  Oh, my. “You’ve never wanted to before.”

  “Warn you, or kiss you?”

  “Kiss me. You’ve warned me before, though mostly about the dangers of excessive drink and the eating of tomatoes.”

  He drew a breath, his gaze lowering to her mouth. “You’ve lately caught my attention. Which is why you should keep in mind the only thing I’ve said which is in your best interest: Find another tutor.”

  “No, thank you. I’m quite satisfied with the one I’ve selected.”

  What would he say, she wondered, if she confessed that he’d always had her attention? More than likely she would find herself in another private room with her skirt pushed above her waist. And with no one to come to her rescue, this time.

  Except that she wasn’t certain she would wish to be rescued. That sort of freedom would definitely go to her head, and it would just as instantly ruin her. She’d heard enough rumors about women he’d bedded and forgotten to know that one night of sin would be all she would have from him.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked in an intimate murmur.

  “Freedom,” she answered.

  She’d surprised him; she could see it in his eyes. Even so, all he did was deepen his smile. “That’s not quite the response I’d anticipated. You are determined, aren’t you?”

  “I am extremely determined. But at the moment, you hold the future of my quest in your hands.” The waltz ended, but she held on to his hand when he would have released her. “I need another moment.”

  With a glance about them, he indicated the door leading into the hallway. “Go to the library and look for an atlas.”

  “An atlas? What am I trying to find?”

  “I don’t give a damn. Some river in the Americas I wagered you over.” Valentine turned around, strolling toward the refreshment table.

  Her heart pounding, Eleanor made her way through the crowd of guests. With single men accosting her at nearly every step of the way, it took her several minutes to make it to the hallway. Valentine was notoriously impatient, and she was half certain she would be stuck looking through an atlas when she finally reached the library.

  As she stepped through the door, it swung closed behind her. “We’ve only got a minute before your brothers pretend they’re not coming to look for you,” Valentine said in a low voice, leaning against the bookcases, “so what did you want to tell me?”

  She stood there for a moment. Insisting that he tell her what he thought they could do to deter Cobb-Harding would probably only make him annoyed enough that he would decline to do anything. Aside from that, it abruptly occurred to her that this was the most private she’d ever been with Valentine Corbett—she couldn’t count when she’d been in his coach, sin
ce she’d been half drugged and frightened out of her mind. “Will you kiss me again?” she asked instead.

  “Bold, aren’t you?”

  “I—”

  Valentine pushed upright, taking her arm and drawing her up against him. In the same motion he leaned down, covering her mouth with his.

  Time stopped. The rest of her body felt as if it were floating on air, not numb, but not precisely part of her, either. Rather, every part of her being focused on the soft, expert ply of his mouth against hers; the warmth of his breath; the deep, needful yearning spearing straight through her heart.

  She moaned helplessly, dragging her fingers through his hair. In response his kiss deepened—and then abruptly broke off. Dazed, Eleanor opened her eyes. “What…”

  “You asked for a kiss,” he murmured, drawing her hands from around his neck. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Oh, yes. A country dance began dimly in the background, and she started. Good Lord. He’d warned her that they only had a moment; they could absolutely be caught at any second. Think, Eleanor. “My adventure.”

  His brow furrowed. “‘Your adventure,’” he repeated, releasing her captured fingers. “Of course. As for that, can you hand me any clues which might point me in the right direction?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” She hadn’t decided much of anything, and with Cobb-Harding still sniffing about for something, time seemed to be flying around her.

  “You’d best give it some thought, since despite your momentary weakness you don’t seem to want to make sin a way of life. And that does narrow your scope of possibilities.”

  “I know.” She drew a hard breath. “For the moment, I’ve decided to join Lord Michael Fitzroy and his friends at the boat races tomorrow.”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Hm. As a participant or a spectator?”

  She grinned. Only he would think her participation might be possible. “I’ve never rowed a scull in my life.” Eleanor chuckled, imagining the sight she would make. “I suppose, though, that I could always just say I’m going, and let Melbourne come to his own conclusions.”