“Not always, although prices are more exorbitant there.”
“It must be wonderful to live in London.”
“I don’t much care for town, actually.”
“No? But there is so much to do, so much to see. Lending libraries and bookshops and museums, plays and opera performances…”
“Those are advantages, indeed, but I was thinking of the social whirl.”
“You mean balls and routs and supper parties?”
Vanessa nodded as she folded tissue paper around the lemon-colored bonnet Olivia had chosen. During the height of the Season, it was not unusual to receive a half-dozen invitations for a single evening. When she was Olivia’s age, the prospect of a ball had held excitement. But as she grew older, she’d become less enthralled with the gilded cage of London society-the emptiness, the relentless pretense, the stinging, vengeful gossip. And once her husband had begun his downward spiral into decadence and scandal, the evenings had become almost unbearable. Vanessa recalled standing stiff-faced for hours, a smile pasted on her lips, enduring the stares and darkling glances of those people who once professed to be her friends. Yet she didn’t want to encourage Olivia’s solitary leanings.
“A ball can be highly pleasurable,” she said lightly, “but after years of such affairs, they all seem to run together. Still, every young lady of means should experience a Season at least once. You should go and make up your own mind.”
Olivia looked away. “I don’t know that I ever will now.” There was a long silence while her lower lip trembled. “My former companion, Mrs. Jenkins, said I deserved what happened to me. That I was fortunate to survive as a cripple.”
“You deserved nothing of the kind!” Vanessa responded, speaking sharply to Olivia for the first time.
“I am not so certain. The fault was mine for being so foolish and wicked.”
“It isn’t foolish to fall in love. Your only mistake was in choosing the wrong man.”
“A dreadful mistake,” Olivia agreed in a whisper.
Putting down the bonnet, Vanessa moved to sit on the edge of the bed and take the girl’s hand.
Olivia looked up, tears in her blue eyes. “What did Damien tell you about my folly?”
“He said that you were a victim of a cruel wager, that you were persuaded by a scoundrel to elope.” She saw Olivia’s chin quiver but felt it was better for her to talk about her traumatic experience, to try to deal with the painful feelings of loss and betrayal, rather than to bottle them inside.
“Olivia, you are not the first young woman to be deceived by a handsome stranger,” Vanessa said gently.
“I was indeed deceived. I thought he wished to marry me. I wanted so badly to believe him when he said I was beautiful, when he said he loved me.” Her shimmering gaze grew distant. “He was so charming, so gentle, with such laughing eyes. He made me feel… special. And he loved poetry. It was so romantic… or so I thought. Until that horrible night.”
“What happened?” Vanessa prodded quietly. She had heard Aubrey’s version of events, and Damien had told her the story he’d pieced together after the accident from bystanders and servants and Olivia’s own reluctant confessions. But many of the details were still unclear.
“We had planned to travel to Gretna Green,” the girl murmured, identifying the small village across the Scottish border where eloping couples could take advantage of the permissive marriage laws, which required only a witness to make the vows legal. “I was frightfully nervous but excited all the same. I walked the entire way to the coaching inn at Alcester, not wanting to raise any alarm by taking a mount from our stables.”
“I knew something was wrong as soon as I arrived. Au… he didn’t look happy to see me. He had booked a private room, and two of his friends were there-two gentlemen I had met at a local assembly some months before. They were dreadfully foxed. I wanted to leave, but Aubrey wouldn’t come with me. He said he had changed his mind about the elopement. I remember his friends shouting with laughter, declaring that he’d fairly won the wager.”
Her cheeks colored with shame. “It was a large sum, a thousand pounds, yet I didn’t understand at first. I must have looked so stupid standing there with my bandboxes. Then his friends divulged that Aubrey had never intended to go through with the marriage, that it was all a lark. When one of them offered to take me under his protection, Aubrey got angry and demanded an apology, but I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I turned and ran out the door.
“I think when I reached the stairway I must have slipped on a riser or tripped over my bandboxes. I remember trying to catch myself… The next thing I knew, I was waking in my own room, unable to move. They said I had fallen down the stairs.”
The tears spilled over. “I never heard from him again.”
Vanessa felt tears fill her own eyes. She could have told the girl why Aubrey had apparently abandoned her after the tragic incident. Damien had seen to it that her seducer never set foot near his sister again. Yet Vanessa felt strongly that it was the wrong time to divulge her own connection to Aubrey. She was making progress with Olivia, coaxing her to give her life a chance, and another betrayal might very well put an end to their fledgling friendship.
Hearing the tale, though, Vanessa felt a fresh surge of anger. She was still horrified, still furious at her reckless, immature brother who had left this young girl a cripple, with her character in ruins. Olivia was like a delicate, untouched flower, sullied and trampled in the muck.
“So you see why,” Olivia whispered, “I can never show my face again in polite society.”
Vanessa squeezed the slender hand in sympathy. “I can see why you might think your world has ended, Olivia. But it hasn’t. You will get through it, just as I did my marriage. I was not much older than you are now when I wed and was forced to deal with scandal.”
Her own voice dropped to a murmur. “My husband… ran through his substantial fortune in less than a year and became mired in debt, yet that never stopped him from plunging into one reckless affair after another. I remember times I thought I would die of mortification. Even Roger’s end proved ignominious. He was killed in a duel over another woman. An actress.”
“How terrible for you.”
Vanessa tried to smile, but she couldn’t completely repress her bitterness. “I thought so at the time. But there was nothing for me to do but hold my head high. I learned to go on with my life, to ignore the tempests. Trust me, my dear, this scandal will pass. And the best way to deal with it is to meet it head-on. Cowering will avail you nothing.”
Olivia searched her face. “Like I have been doing here in my room?”
She nodded gently. “It is understandable that you would be reluctant to face the world, to expose yourself to savage gossip and slights, but if you shut yourself off from everyone who cares for you, you are the one who suffers.”
“Damien… says he cares for me.”
“I’m certain he does.”
“He told me he greatly regrets that he hasn’t been much of a brother to me. He asked me to give him another chance.”
“And will you?”
“Yes,” the girl replied tremulously. She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t really mean to take my resentment out on him. It’s just that I have felt so trapped here.”
“You needn’t be.”
“There are so many things I can no longer do. Until I fell, I was always quite self-sufficient, but now it takes at least two maids to help me dress, and a footman to carry me down the stairs. And I used to ride every single day, rain or shine.”
“You can still ride in a carriage, can you not? And you can certainly visit your horses. The stable master tells me they miss you greatly.”
Olivia bit her lip. “And I miss them. There are many things I have missed.”
“What else besides riding?”
“My music. I was considered rather accomplished at playing the pianoforte, but… I cannot operate the pedals now.”
“Not yet, but perhaps in
time you can. And there is nothing wrong with your fingers, is there? You could keep in practice until the day comes when you can play. I know that if I do not play regularly, I get very rusty from disuse.”
Olivia nodded slowly. “I suppose I can still sing, as well.”
“Mrs. Nesbit tells me you have the voice of an angel.”
“Well, not an angel…” she returned modestly even while flushing with pleasure.
“I should love to hear you sing.”
This time when Vanessa squeezed her hand, Olivia squeezed back. “I am glad you have come,” she said with quiet fervor.
Vanessa smiled. “So am I,” she replied with complete honesty.
It was later that evening when Olivia made her first major effort to rejoin the world.
Vanessa and Damien were in the drawing room, preparing to go in to dinner, when the butler entered and cleared his throat.
“My lord, Miss Olivia has expressed a wish to join you and Lady Wyndham at table.”
Behind him Olivia appeared in the doorway, seated in her invalid chair, guided by a strapping footman. Damien rose abruptly to his feet, a look of surprise and concern on his features.
“I am quite all right,” Olivia reassured him quickly. “Vanessa tells me I should stop cowering under the covers. And since I must begin somewhere, I chose tonight. Oh dear, I fear I have shocked you again.”
Damien shot an eloquent glance at Vanessa before returning his attention to his sister. The slow smile that claimed his handsome features rivaled the sun for brilliance.
“You may shock me whenever you like, sweetheart.” He looked at the butler. “Croft, fetch a bottle of champagne, if you please. I believe this calls for a celebration.”
If Damien was surprised to have his sister join them for dinner, he was more surprised by the familial warmth that pervaded the atmosphere. When his parents had been alive, meals at Rosewood were trials of endurance-cold and formal, with icy silences punctuated occasionally by barbs and recriminations. Nothing like the cordiality that enveloped the three of them at the table that evening.
The friendly intimacy continued when they adjourned together to the music room, where they made use of the exquisite pianoforte Damien had given his sister for her sixteenth birthday-a gift he now lamented having left to his secretary to deliver.
Vanessa played while Olivia sang, and Damien watched with fondness and growing pleasure.
He hadn’t expected such remarkable progress with his sister. It seemed a stroke of genius now to have brought Vanessa here. Her breeding and education qualified her as a suitable companion, certainly, but he could have searched for years and not found anyone who could have made such an impact so quickly. In a few weeks she had persuaded Olivia to take a renewed interest in life, a task at which he had failed for months.
He was supremely grateful for her efforts, and for the warmth she had brought to his home. This evening was one of the most enjoyable times he could remember at Rosewood-and it was not yet over.
At his urging, Olivia retired early so she wouldn’t become overly fatigued by her first venture into company. Damien himself carried her upstairs and then returned to the music room to find Vanessa seated on the settee, sipping her wine.
A rare tenderness filled him as he regarded her. She looked relaxed and content, her eyes soft, dreamy, her defenses lowered.
A warning voice whispered in his head that his judgment was becoming sadly impaired and entangled in emotion, but Damien purposely ignored it, just as he pushed aside any twinges of conscience at what he was about to do. The time had finally come to attempt to penetrate her weakened armor.
Yet the possessive urges sweeping through him were more than simple carnal hunger, he knew. He felt a fierce need to hold Vanessa in his arms and teach her about desire, about passion. To unlock the unfulfilled secrets of her body and strip her of her shocking innocence. For all her familiarity with scandal, she was appallingly inexperienced in carnal matters.
How very wrong he’d been about her in that regard. It struck him, suddenly, the sacrifice she’d made for her family’s sake. It had taken considerable courage for her to agree to become his mistress when she was so averse to physical intimacy. A courage he had to admire.
Her disdain of men and sex, Damien had no doubt, stemmed from her unsavory relationship with her former husband, and he very much wanted to remedy her woeful ignorance-for her own benefit as well as his own. He wanted to free her of her fear.
“I am more grateful than you know,” he murmured, coming into the room, “for your kindness to my sister.”
Vanessa looked up with a smile. “She is deserving of kindness and easy to love.”
“You seem to enjoy her company.”
“I do, very much.”
“Then your stay here has not been so very onerous?”
She hesitated. “No, not at all.”
He read the implication in her pause: not onerous yet. Not as long as their bargain remained unfulfilled.
“Will you accompany me to the gardens?” he asked. “There is something I would like to show you.”
Her sudden wariness was reminiscent of her previous nervousness around him. “At this time of night?”
Damien kept his tone light. “Pray, don’t look as if you expect me to assault you, sweeting. I have nothing so ominous in mind, I assure you. The bath for Olivia is almost finished. I thought you might care to see it, without all the workmen present.”
Vanessa glanced at the window, whose curtains had been drawn against the darkness, and then down at her silk dinner gown. The square neckline and short, puffed sleeves would expose a wide expanse of flesh to the evening air.
“Perhaps I should fetch a wrap,” she said uncertainly.
“I think you’ll be comfortable enough without one. The conservatory is quite warm.”
“Very well…”
His eyes smiled at her as he took her arm and escorted her through the doors into the garden. The night air was cool on her bare flesh. The moon was nearly full and quite brilliant, while the stars shone like diamonds on black velvet.
She must be mad to venture into a serene, moonlit garden with such a man, Vanessa reflected, and yet a reckless pleasure filled her, a keen sense of anticipation. Perhaps she had partaken of too much wine…
“You are suddenly quiet,” Damien observed into the silence.
“I am questioning the wisdom of being here with you.”
“Would you rather inspect the conservatory on your own? I will leave you to go on alone, if you wish.”
“No, I don’t wish to go alone.”
“Come now, sweeting, I won’t have you afraid of me. If I haven’t pressed myself on you in all my visits to your bedchamber where we enjoy absolute privacy, I’m unlikely to do so here where we might be spied upon.”
“Even so, you will forgive me if I am wary of your hedonistic tendencies.”
He shook his head slowly. “It saddens me that you have such a poor opinion of my character. And to think I’ve attempted to apply my most charming manner of address with you.”
Vanessa bit back a smile, determined not to succumb to his sensual appeal, yet she had to admit she enjoyed their verbal sparring and the challenge of keeping pace with him in their game of wits. “I imagine I shall manage to resist your charm. You would do better to practice it on a more willing lady.”
“Alas, there are no others available at present. I fear you will have to suffice.”
“I doubt a single female would be able to satisfy a man of your vast appetites.”
“I think you underrate yourself.”
“And I think you overrate yourself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a set-down? Come, darling, I might become insulted.”
“Would it be possible to insult you sufficiently to make you give up your pursuit of me?”
The long, vaguely amused look he gave her made her heartbeat quicken. How could she allow herself to be so affected by the wic
ked charm in those arresting eyes?
Vanessa shivered with awareness. Whenever she was near him, she fought temptation. And there was so much of it.
“Here we are,” he murmured after a moment as they came to the end of the terraced garden.
They had reached the conservatory. When Damien held the door open for her, Vanessa hesitated to enter the dark, cavernous hothouse.
“Wait a moment, and I shall light a lamp.” He entered, and a moment later she heard the flare of a lucifer being struck.
“There… does that dispel your anxiety?”
She couldn’t say that it did. If anything her anxiety increased, for the lamp’s glow only highlighted the chiseled beauty of his face.
Her wariness increased more when she saw Damien latch the door behind them. He must have seen her response, for he said casually, “I prefer not to be disturbed, but if it will ease your mind I shall help you arm yourself.”
He moved over to a shelf where gardening tools were kept. After searching a moment, he handed her a two-foot length of pipe.
“This will make a substantial weapon. You may beat me off with it if I make untoward advances.”
His warm eyes touched by lazy sensuality, he smiled down at her, obviously not worried that he was in any immediate danger from her. Vanessa accepted the pipe with skepticism, suspecting that it, like the key to her bedchamber, was designed to engender a false sense of security.
He led her into the vast interior of the conservatory, along aisles of potted roses and exotic orchids, toward an array of lemon and lime and orange trees. The air was much warmer here, moist and fragrant with the scents of blossoms and damp earth.
Eventually they reached a pair of exquisite Chinese silk screens that had been erected for privacy. Beyond was a tiled pool, partially sunk into the ground, filled with gently swirling water.
“An existing boiler heats the water,” Damien explained, “but new pipes had to be routed.”
The pool was obviously designed for an invalid, Vanessa saw. The near end was equipped with a wide ledge approximately thigh high, while inside the pool a narrow ramp sloped downward, so that the patient could be eased into the water.
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