The Seduction n-1

by Nicole Jordan

  For the space of a dozen heartbeats, she waited for Lord Sinclair to say something, but he only sipped his brandy in silence while he stared into the flames.

  Vanessa found herself watching him warily. The firelight played over his features, illuminating the stark beauty of his face, making her breath quicken.

  She had been truthful about not fearing him, yet his presence here, in the moonlit darkness, still seemed a threat. The sensuality of the moment disturbed her greatly.

  Even so, she had to remember the bargain she’d made. As much as she deplored his extortion, it was still better than the alternative-her family cast out of their home and living in penury. She had agreed to become his mistress. She, at least, would honor her word. She would provide him with conversation if he asked it of her.

  “What shall we talk about?” she asked, the question more curt than welcoming.

  He raised his gaze to her. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you choose to tell me. I wonder, for instance, why we never became acquainted before this. You must have spent time in London.”

  “A fair amount. Until my father’s passing two years ago, my family removed to town every spring.”

  “I don’t recall meeting you, and I think I would have remembered.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I doubt you paid any attention to schoolroom misses.” Vanessa eyed him curiously. “I could not help but notice you. During my first Season, you attended several of the same functions I did. I remember one ball in particular where you caused quite a stir. Something about a certain lady pursuing you into your club on St. James Street. The scandal provided the ton entertainment for at least a week.”

  His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “I would prefer you not remind me.” He studied her. “You are no stranger to scandal yourself, I believe. I knew your husband, although not well. If memory serves, Sir Roger was embroiled in his fair share of scandal.”

  It was her turn to grimace. “I try not to dwell on it.”

  “Why did you wed him then, if you were so averse to his way of life?”

  She looked away, gazing into the fire. “Why does any young lady wed? To oblige my family, of course. It was considered a highly advantageous match, and my father wished it. In truth, Papa was… in rather desperate financial straits. Roger was flush in the pockets, having just come into his inheritance.”

  “Still, I would have thought you would have some say in the matter.”

  Turning her head, Vanessa met his eyes directly. “You have a sister for whom you’re willing to go to great lengths. Is it so difficult to comprehend why I would wish to help my family?”

  “Were there no choices other than Sir Roger?”

  “He seemed the best. At the time, he hadn’t embarked on his… wild career.” She couldn’t repress a sigh. “I would rather not discuss my late husband, if it is all the same to you. That was an unpleasant time in my life, and I have endeavored to put it behind me.”

  “Very well. I shall make a pact with you. You refrain from mentioning your brother in my hearing, and I will refrain from mentioning your late husband.”

  There was a short silence while Damien sipped his brandy, his eyes heavy-lidded but watchful. “So after your marriage ended, you returned home?”

  “Yes. It was then that I discovered the… true state of my finances.” Vanessa struggled with another painful memory; the shock of Roger’s death had scarcely passed before a swarm of creditors descended upon her. She’d been dazed to learn that he had managed to squander his vast fortune on gaming and expensive mistresses. “It seemed foolish to try to maintain a household of my own. And by that time my father was gone and my family needed me with them.”

  “Your father suffered a riding accident, did he not?”

  “Yes, he was thrown from a horse while hunting. How did you know?”

  “After my sister’s calamity, I made it a point to investigate her seducer. Your mother has not been incapacitated for long, I think.”

  “No. She took to her bed when my father died and never fully recovered from her period of mourning. Much of her suffering, I believe, is of the heart rather than physical in nature. She was very much in love with my father.”

  Damien’s mouth curved cynically, but he let her observation pass and cast a casual glance around the chamber. “Are you comfortable here?”

  “Yes… at least I was until a short while ago,” she added wryly.

  His eyebrows rose. “Until a certain midnight visitor dropped in on you unexpectedly?”

  “Precisely.”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “Under these circumstances, there seems to be little point. I did warn you that I had no experience as a gentleman’s mistress. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not practiced in the arts of coyness and flirtation.”

  His smile was amused. “You haven’t disappointed me, angel-eyes. On the contrary, I find candidness refreshing in a lady.”

  “Oh? And are you acquainted with many ladies? I own I’m surprised.”

  He chuckled. “I see I shall have to try to be a better host. In addition to giving you the opportunity to exercise your sharp wit on me, I will endeavor to find activities to entertain and occupy you. Do you like to read?”

  Vanessa replied with all seriousness, “Very much.”

  “You are welcome to use my library whenever you please.”

  “Thank you. I shall take you up on your offer-whenever you are not availing yourself of it.”

  “And you ride, I presume?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should choose a mount from my stables. Olivia’s horses badly need exercise.” He frowned. “One of her greatest pleasures was riding. She frequently was in the saddle from morning till night.”

  Sensing his darkening mood, Vanessa offered a consoling thought. “Perhaps in time she will be so again.” When Damien made no reply, she made an effort to change the subject. “I am also surprised that you enjoy such mundane pleasures as reading and riding.”

  “I enjoy many pleasures, sweeting.”

  “So I understand. Your enjoyments are legion. The tales one hears of you are enough to set even the most jaded tongues wagging.”

  “What exactly have you heard?”

  “That you founded the latest order of the Hellfire League, for instance.”

  “Co-founded. I and some half-dozen of my colleagues.”

  “Its reputation is rather unsavory. Rumor has it that you regularly indulge in orgies and perversions.”

  “You give us too much credit. We are a pale imitation of the Hellfire Club that was active during our grandfathers’ time.”

  “But it is still a fraternity for depraved libertines, I imagine.”

  “Depraved libertines? Is that not a redundancy?”

  “Not in your case, I expect, my lord.”

  He gave a mock wince. “I thought you agreed to call me Damien.”

  Vanessa ignored his personal remark. “Is it true the price of membership is ten thousand pounds?”

  “Yes.”

  She started to demand why he had invited her brother to join, but she knew the answer to that; he was intent on bankrupting Aubrey. Besides, she had made a pact to refrain from mentioning her brother.

  “I trust the price is worth it,” she said instead. “Do you allow women to become members?”

  His brow arched. “Not at the moment, but I imagine we could make an exception. Are you wrangling for an invitation?”

  “Certainly not,” she responded with amusement. “In the first place, I could not afford the subscription fee. And in the second, I have never much cared for the company of rakes.”

  “You’ve made me well aware of your opinion on that score. But have you never considered that perhaps I’m not as debauched as you think?”

  “No,” she answered truthfully.

  “Sweeting, yo
u still have a great deal to learn about me. I expect to enjoy teaching you.”

  She suspected that he was baiting her, but she answered in kind even so. “Perhaps you will, but you flatter yourself if you expect me to enjoy it. Not every woman is eager to fall under the spell of the wicked Lord Sin.”

  A silver gleam entered his eyes. “I am devastated.”

  “I doubt it. Were you devastated, you would not be so glib with your rejoinders.”

  The suggestion in his hedonist’s smile made her pulse quicken. The smile reached his eyes, and Vanessa found herself captivated. It was a mistake to allow herself to be drawn into banter with him, no matter how much she might enjoy it. She was far too vulnerable to the sensual charm of this legendary rake.

  To her surprise, he rose slowly to his feet. “You are too clever by half, vixen. I can see I will have my hands full, dealing with you.”

  She tensed as he moved toward her, but he merely stood gazing down at her. “I could continue trading barbs with you, but I should go and leave you to sleep. Unless you would consider inviting me to stay the night…?” Her pointed silence gave him his answer. “Very well. It has been a pleasure, sweeting.”

  She was surprised that she could honestly agree.

  “I hope you will permit me to return here occasionally when I am too restless to sleep and share your company for an hour or two.”

  “I suppose you mean to tell me I have a choice?”

  “Most certainly. But you might find yourself enjoying the companionship. Rosewood can be a lonely place.”

  He spoke from experience, she suspected, hearing the oddly wistful note in his quiet voice.

  She held her breath as he reached out to her, but he only touched her cheek in farewell, brushing his thumb lightly over her skin. Then he withdrew his hand and turned away.

  Without speaking, he approached the side of the room. She watched as he pushed aside the panel and disappeared into the secret passageway like a silent phantom. The panel slid closed behind him with a soft click, leaving her alone in the moonlit chamber.

  After a moment, Vanessa rose and went to inspect the panel. She could find no mechanism that allowed entry. Wondering at Damien Sinclair’s sorcery, she turned and leaned back against the wall. There had been a dreamlike quality to his remarkable visit, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.

  Bewildered, she shook her head. She had wanted to despise the profligate nobleman, but instead found herself intrigued by their game of wits. Her common sense had deserted her, along with the need to protect herself.

  The growing intimacy between them was a worse threat. She didn’t like feeling sympathy for him, yet she sensed in him a loneliness as great as her own.

  When her eye caught the dark splash of red on the white linen of her pillow, she remembered the rose he had brought her. Slowly Vanessa crossed the room to lift the velvet bloom to her nose, taking care to avoid the thorns.

  More troubled than she cared to admit, she drank in the sweet scent. If only a few days ago someone had predicted she would willingly entertain the notorious Lord Sin in her bedchamber, or that she would walk away unscathed, she would never have believed it. He was still the heartless devil who had bargained for her soul. Thus far, however, he had made no demands on her. He hadn’t touched her, if one discounted the gentle, spellbinding stroking of her cheek when he’d said good night.

  Yet he was still incredibly dangerous. Quite apart from his sensual charm and heartbreaker handsomeness, Damien Sinclair possessed a potent quality that beckoned and lured, a compelling vitality that called to everything deeply feminine within her. Despite her hard-won experience with notorious rakes, she was so very vulnerable to him.

  Heaven help her, she had only her wits with which to protect herself, a pitiful weapon indeed. He’d made no secret of his aim. He had vowed to seduce her-and to make her enjoy her seduction. And if she were not careful, he would succeed.

  She slept well and dreamlessly and awakened later than usual, to bright sunshine flooding the chamber. With an unusual sense of anticipation, Vanessa rose and dressed and went downstairs to breakfast.

  She was unsurprised to discover the sideboard groaning with hearty fare including broiled kidneys, ham, eggs, scones, and jam tarts. A footman stood ready to assist her, but there was no sign of Damien, much to her relief.

  Barely was she seated when the butler, Croft, made an appearance. When Vanessa casually asked where Lord Sinclair might be, she was told he had breakfasted early and was closeted with his steward.

  “His lordship has placed his stables at your disposal, if you care to ride this morning, my lady,” Croft informed her.

  “Thank you, I might. I think I should visit his sister first to discover her wishes.”

  When she finished eating, Vanessa made her way back upstairs to Olivia’s room. She found the girl lying in bed, still in her nightclothes, but at least the curtains were open a crack and the room wasn’t in total darkness.

  From the way Olivia’s expression brightened, Vanessa concluded that her presence was welcome.

  “I thought I might investigate your beautiful rose gardens this morning,” she began cheerfully, “but I could use a guide. Since your brother is occupied with his steward, I hoped you might be willing to show them to me.”

  “You want me to show you the gardens?” Olivia asked warily.

  “I’m told you are very fond of roses.” Vanessa nodded toward the wheeled invalid chair standing in the corner. “We could have a footman carry you downstairs, and I think I could push your chair along the paths.”

  Olivia made a face. “I despise using that chair. I feel so helpless in it. But I suppose that is a childish sentiment.”

  “No indeed. But it can offer you a measure of freedom you couldn’t have otherwise.”

  “I suppose so.” The girl raised her chin gamely. “Very well. I will show you the gardens if you like.”

  “You will need a bonnet to protect your lovely complexion. The sun is quite bright, even for the first day of June.”

  “Is it June?” Olivia asked, startled. “I hadn’t realized.” Her voice turned wistful. “I’ve been lying abed for so long, all the days run together.”

  She rang for her abigail, who, along with two other maids, helped her dress in a white Swiss muslin gown and red velvet spencer as well as a heavy shawl to ward off the last of the morning chill.

  Her eagerness was heartbreaking. When the footman carried her out into the garden, Olivia blinked at the golden brightness. But the instant she was settled in her invalid chair, she raised her face to the warmth of the life-giving sunlight and gave a sigh of pleasure.

  “I have missed coming here,” she murmured as Vanessa moved behind her to guide the wheeled chair.

  “There is no reason you cannot come every day, is there?”

  Olivia’s mouth curved in a wry half-smile, and when she glanced up, Vanessa caught the hint of amusement in her blue eyes. “You will not need a guide every day.”

  “No, but I will need a companion.”

  “You are indeed persistent, Lady Wyndham.”

  She smiled. “I did give you fair warning. And, please, call me Vanessa.”

  They wandered the paths slowly, admiring the flowers and discussing the variety of roses in the vast gardens. Olivia was quite knowledgeable about the subject, and could even quote details about individual bushes.

  They were not alone. Gardeners moved among the beds with hoes and shovels and pruning shears, and several strangers dressed as scholars occupied the paths, pens and notebooks in hand. In a corner near the house, an artist had set up an easel and was thoughtfully painting in watercolor.

  Vanessa took care to avoid the others and stopped frequently for Olivia to rest. There were benches scattered here and there, arranged artfully beneath ornamental shade trees, and several times she guided the girl’s chair to get her out of the sun.

  “I never realized,” Vanessa said during one of those intervals, “ho
w complex the breeding of roses could be.”

  “Indeed. Damien deserves credit for reestablishing the cultivation program. He made Rosewood famous for its collection. Even Napoleon has heard of us,” Olivia added with pride. “Several years ago, when Empress Josephine acquired a sample of every living rose for her gardens, her nurserymen began the search here. The Prince Regent issued special passes for them to work here. And despite our naval blockade of France, the Admiralty ruled that if her plants were ever intercepted at sea, they should be forwarded to her at once.”

  Nearly an hour had passed when Olivia’s head began to droop wearily, even though they hadn’t seen half the acreage or gone near the conservatories.

  “Would you like to return to the house?” Vanessa asked. “I don’t want to tire you.”

  Olivia nodded, then gave a sigh of frustration. “How absurd that I cannot even sit in this horrid chair without becoming exhausted.”

  “Your brother tells me you’ve agreed to see the doctor. Perhaps he can suggest some ways to alleviate your weariness.”

  The girl grimaced. “I doubt it. But I decided the sooner I gave in to Damien, the sooner he would leave me in peace. You cannot believe how vexing he has become, always pressing me to stir myself from my bed, as if I weren’t really a cripple. I wish he would just return to London.”

  “I’m certain he’s only thinking of your welfare.”

  “No,” the girl disagreed. “I am merely a burdensome duty to him, and he wants to be done with it as soon as possible.”

  When they turned back toward the house, they saw the tall, lithe figure of Lord Sinclair striding toward them.

  “Speak of the devil,” Olivia murmured with evident bitterness.

  Upon reaching them, Damien came to a standstill and stood searching his sister’s face intently.

  “I seem to have shocked you speechless,” she observed dryly.

  “A pleasant shock, my dear.” He bent to kiss her forehead. “It is good to see you up and about.”

  When he straightened, he met Vanessa’s gaze for a moment. She could read the gratitude in his eyes before he returned his attention to his sister. “Dr. Underhill should arrive this afternoon, if you are up to seeing him.”