A Matter of Temptation

by Lorraine Heath

  Perhaps it was the direct contrast between her and her mother, who was standing on the other side of them with her father, speaking loudly, excitedly, as though their company’s presence somehow reflected on her, while Victoria Alexandria Hawthorne gave the impression that she was humbled by their attendance.

  She wasn’t arrogant, showy, boastful, or proud. She quite simply fascinated him.

  “Robert?”

  He’d been staring at her, and although she’d been speaking, not a single word had registered in his mind, so lost in his thoughts had he become. Her cheeks reddening with embarrassment, she tilted her head slightly toward the man standing in front of him.

  “Lord Ravenleigh wished to know if you’d heard from John.”

  Lord Ravenleigh. He recognized him now. Of course, the Earl of Ravenleigh. And beside him were his two sons. Twins. What were their names? He couldn’t remember. They were a dozen years younger than he was. He wondered if he should warn them of the treachery one might someday inflict on the other.

  “My brother sent his regards,” Robert forced out.

  “I daresay I find his adventures interesting reading. Do hope you’ll bring his next letter by the club and enthrall us all.”

  Robert cleared his throat. “Of course. I shall be delighted to share his letters should I receive any more.” But since John wasn’t free to write them, Robert doubted he would receive any.

  His wife touched his arm, a little differently than she had before, as though she were trying to impart some knowledge to him.

  “I hope you’ll forgive my husband if he’s not at the club for a while. We’re leaving immediately after the breakfast to go to Hawthorne House.”

  He supposed he would have discovered that bit of information eventually, but he was grateful to know it now. It removed a good deal of his tension. The breakfast was merely an inconvenience, to be endured a short while. Once finished, they would be on their way. Thank goodness they had no plans to stay in London. He needed to get away and contemplate his options.

  “Of course, of course,” Ravenleigh said. He winked at Robert. “When you’re back in London then.”

  The earl leaned toward Victoria, whispered something Robert couldn’t hear, but the flush in her cheeks deepened.

  Ravenleigh walked away, then his sons were offering their congratulations. Robert noted the burn scar beneath one of the young men’s chins. He remembered hearing that their father had marked the younger son when he was born so he’d forever be able to tell his twin sons apart. Robert found himself wishing his father had done the same thing. He wouldn’t have minded if his father had marked him as the elder—to have a few moments of pain he couldn’t remember in order to have been spared years of agony he’d never forget.

  The twins were the last to arrive, the last to walk away.

  Victoria’s mother approached, her face glowing as though she’d just been told she’d ascend to the throne. “You and Victoria shall lead our assemblage into the library where we’re serving breakfast.”

  The library. He had no earthly idea where it might be or if he should even know where it was located. “I would be honored to follow you.”

  She blinked. “But that’s not the way it’s done. The bride and groom lead the entourage.”

  “And if I’m distracted by your daughter’s beauty and lose my way…”

  “Victoria will see that you arrive safely.”

  So much for his awkward attempt to cover his ignorance regarding the layout of the house. Mrs. Lambert left him there, going off to issue orders to others as to how they should follow. He looked at Victoria, offered her his left arm. “Shall we?”

  “Do you really fear that you might lose your way?”

  “I must confess to being overwhelmed today. It’s a wonder I remember my name.”

  “But the difficult part is behind us.”

  No, my darling, I fear it still faces us, when you learn the truth. How can I spare you from the scandal that will erupt?

  “I am quite ready to be on our way to Hawthorne House,” he murmured.

  She blushed yet again, and he realized she might have mistaken the lowering of his voice because he’d not wanted to offend others as a sign he wished to have her alone, to be with her the way a husband longed to be with his wife. He couldn’t very well disabuse her of that notion. But when she placed her hand on his arm and whispered, “Simply stay in step with me,” he could do little more than be grateful and determined to worry about what he would do later.

  She guided him down a hallway, into the library. A table laden with food and adorned with flowers occupied the center of the room, and smaller tables were set along the far wall. Sunlight streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows. He thought he would forever appreciate the sight of glass in place of stone or wood.

  “I have to confess that my stomach is still too knotted to eat.”

  He peered at her. “You promised the worst was over.”

  “A true gentleman wouldn’t toss a lady’s words back at her.”

  She had a mischievous expression, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was flirting with him, if he’d perhaps inadvertently started it. He’d once been skilled at charming the ladies, but then he’d been skilled at a good many things. Lack of practice left him floundering, unable to render a suitable reply until finally…

  “Perhaps I am no gentleman.” The words spoken aloud didn’t come across nearly as witty as they had while rambling through his mind. He wished he’d left them there and not released them to dangle between them like dirty laundry.

  It took her a moment to react, but when she did, her words were hardly what he expected.

  “You are the truest gentleman I’ve ever known. I think it was that aspect about you that caught and held my attention. Your gentlemanly mannerisms. I was besotted the first moment we met.”

  Lovely. So John had become quite the charmer, had he? Not surprising. Before his captivity, Robert had exhibited an abundance of charm himself. Unfortunately, it appeared it hadn’t escaped from Pentonville with him, but had been left behind to languish.

  “I was equally besotted the instant I saw you,” he finally dared to reveal. Her gaiety was intoxicating, and he thought moments spent with her would ease a man’s worries far better than indulging in liquor.

  People were milling about the room, stopping briefly at the central table. Gentlemen placed food on platters, then handed the platters to their respective ladies. It all seemed incredibly civilized. As well as intimidating. It had been a long while since he’d engaged in the social graces. He spotted the decanters on the table. “Shall we have some champagne then?”

  She nodded, and he signaled to a servant, who brought over two glasses.

  “I suppose it would be improper to begin before a toast is made,” he said. “Let’s move to the side a bit.”

  To the side a bit when he would have preferred to wedge himself in a corner or slip out through the French doors at the other end of the room. More people filtered in, and Robert observed them, trying to learn what he’d forgotten. All the manners, customs, etiquette. “Your mother seems quite pleased,” he murmured.

  “Of course. Today she acquired what she’s always wanted.”

  “Which is?”

  “Prestige.”

  “And what have you always wanted?”

  She stared at him as though he’d asked her to remove her clothing, and he realized it was a question he should have known the answer to. He’d no doubt asked her before, and she’d responded. He was supposed to have courted her, for goodness’ sakes. He should know a good many details of her life.

  She touched his arm, her surprise shifting into worry. “Not prestige. I’m not my mother. Your being a duke isn’t the reason I married you. I married you because—”

  “You hold affection for me.”

  She nodded. “I know you must find the feelings I hold toward you odd when we’ve spent so little time together—”

 
How little?

  “—and we know so little about each other—”

  How little!

  “—but we seemed so well suited. You must feel the same or you wouldn’t have asked me to marry you. Surely it was more than my dowry that attracted you to me.”

  He had no idea what her dowry entailed. Was it substantial? Property? Money? Whatever it was, he knew one truth that he could speak with absolute certainty.

  “I assure you that even if you had no dowry, I would find myself attracted to you.”

  Her pleasure at his words was instantaneous, causing her cheeks to flush, and he wished he had kept his thoughts to himself. The conversation was only serving to worsen the situation.

  A tapping on glass drew their attention. An older, robust man was standing with wineglass lifted. Robert was rather sure it was the Duke of Kimburton. If he was making the toast, then he was the gentleman of highest rank.

  “A toast to the health and happiness of the Duke and Duchess of Killingsworth,” he said.

  As glasses were raised, Robert wondered if this nightmare would ever end. He took a sip of the champagne, savoring the taste. Today, tonight he’d wanted to experience all the things he’d been denied. Liquor was but one of many indulgences, but what he wanted most…

  He couldn’t have, because he had a wife, a wife he couldn’t touch. And in the not touching he was once again being denied.

  How could one brother take everything away from another for eight long years? Would John have ever given it back?

  Robert knew the answer before he’d finished asking the question. His brother had taken his place, and he’d intended it to be for eternity. John had no doubt covered his tracks well, but Robert would find the weakness; he would find a way to reclaim all that was his without keeping his brother locked away.

  Perhaps the woman was the key. Perhaps his brother would be grateful enough that Robert returned her to him untouched that he would accept that he was not the true duke. Perhaps Robert could send them to America, with a bit of money, so that they might find their happiness there. To Virginia, a plantation in Virginia. It seemed only fitting.

  Whatever he planned, he couldn’t allow an innocent to suffer. This battle was between him and his brother. They alone had to fight it.

  He realized with startling clarity that she was waiting for something from him, then it dawned on him what he needed to do. He tapped his glass against hers. “To your happiness, Victoria.”

  She smiled with such fondness that he wanted to charge out of the room, leave the charade behind, only he wasn’t the charade. His brother had been.

  He watched as she sipped the champagne, so delicately, her tongue darting out to capture the sparkling drops that lingered on her lips. He thought of gathering those drops himself, his lips pressed to hers, his tongue…

  Clearing his throat, he took a healthy swallow of his own champagne. He couldn’t afford to get lost in her beauty, her innocence, her femininity.

  “Now that we’re married, you’re not going to be formal with me, are you?” she asked.

  “Formal?”

  She laughed lightly and rolled her eyes. “Victoria?”

  Ah, dear Lord. His brother didn’t call her Victoria. What pet name would John have had for her?

  Victoria…Vickie? No, she didn’t look at all like a Vickie, however he thought a Vickie might look. Vic? Brown eyes? Sweetheart? My love? Beautiful?

  It could be any number of things. How could he work the question into a conversation without seeming like a dunce? He couldn’t, so he simply forced himself to smile. “Of course not, but I thought a toast to your happiness required a bit of formality.”

  Worry lines appeared between her brows. “You seem different today.”

  “As I explained earlier, it’s only the unfamiliarity with being a husband.”

  “Simply be yourself.”

  “I’m trying…desperately.”

  She smiled. “Don’t try so hard.”

  Aware of movement off to the side, he turned to watch as a young lady approached. He remembered her as one of the ladies who’d stood beside Victoria at the altar. He was more aware of a resemblance between them now and deduced that she must be a relation, a sister possibly. Another fact that he should know.

  She stopped before them and smiled a smile very similar to his wife’s. A sister. He was sure of it. But how many did she have? And did she have any brothers? Surely they would have approached by now.

  “Do I have to call Torie ‘Your Grace’ now, Your Grace?” she asked, a bit of mischief in her expression, as though she were daring him.

  But deciphering her game was of no interest to him. Rather a mystery had been solved.

  Torie? Victoria. His wife’s preferred name. It suited her, and he wondered why he hadn’t realized it sooner, hadn’t figured it out on his own.

  “A bit more informality exists among family members,” he assured her sister, finally returning his attention to her inquiry.

  “May I call you Robert, then?”

  “I think you’re being a bit too informal here, Diana,” Victoria—Torie—said.

  “Only if the duke thinks so.” Diana looked at him, challenging him.

  “What was John’s relationship with the sister; what would she expect of the duke standing before her now? “Perhaps when we return from our wedding trip we can discuss informalities,” he offered, delaying the decision.

  “Oh, all right. I say, I do wish John had been able to come. I would so like to meet him. His stories fascinate me. Being captured by Indians, then becoming best friends with the tribal chief. Most younger brothers would be content with an allowance and laziness, but yours has made something of himself. He’s quite remarkable.”

  “Indeed he is,” Robert murmured. What fanciful tales John had woven to cover the truth of what he’d done.

  “Actually, Mama sent me over to see if you’re ready to change into your traveling clothes,” Diana said to Torie.

  Torie darted a glance at him before looking at her sister. “Yes, I’m most anxious to leave.”

  “That’s the beauty of a stand-up breakfast. Only one toast and you need not wait until all the courses have been served—since they’re served all at once,” Diana said.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Torie said, touching his arm lightly, gazing into his eyes. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take whatever time you need.”

  He watched the sisters walk away, wondering what Torie saw when she looked at him as intensely as she did. An impostor? No, the true impostor was the man to whom she’d been betrothed. He wondered how she’d react to the news, if he could confess to her…

  Just as suddenly he acknowledged that he could confess to no one, not until he discerned whom he could trust and whom he couldn’t. He was now in the world, surrounded by people—yet still as alone as he’d been in prison.

  Chapter 6

  “I see what you mean.”

  “What are you talking about?” Torie asked as she stood before the mirror, waiting patiently while her maid buttoned the last of the buttons on her traveling suit.

  “Your duke. The way that he stares. I’d never noticed before. But he begins to get this look on his face as though he’s popped over to France or somewhere equally boring.”

  “I thought you liked France.”

  “I like the way Frenchmen kiss.”

  “When did you ever kiss a Frenchman?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Torie captured her sister’s challenging gaze reflected in the mirror.

  “If you’ve kissed a Frenchman then I’m not a virgin.”

  “Won’t your husband be surprised when he discovers that?”

  Her maid, Charity, cleared her throat.

  “You’re teasing me,” Torie stated.

  “Am I?”

  “If you’ve truly kissed a Frenchman then tell me what I don’t know about kisses.”

  “Why must you always call m
y bluff?”

  “Because you always bluff,” Torie said, again looking in the mirror, watching as Charity worked to arrange her hair so her hat would sit perfectly at an angle. “I think he’s missing his brother.”

  “Who?”

  Torie rolled her eyes. “The duke. That’s who we were talking about. Honestly, sometimes I think there’s something amiss with you, the way you speed through conversations.”

  “I’m just always so frightfully bored. I want to get onto the next thing. So you think he misses his brother?”

  Diana also had a habit of jumping back and forth between conversations. Torie had to stay on her toes sometimes to keep up with her.

  “Yes, I think that’s the reason he seems not quite himself today. We were discussing his brother on the drive over. A special bond exists between twins. I think that makes it all the harder when they’re separated. Don’t you think?”

  “I think I shall miss you desperately when you’re no longer here. And we’re not twins.”

  “Thank God. You have a funny nose,” Torie said, striving to keep the mood light when she knew it was in danger of becoming filled with the sadness of parting. She’d never been away from home without her family before.

  “Better a funny nose than a hole in my cheek,” Diana retorted.

  “It’s called a dimple.”

  “The duke stares at it as though he’s never seen one.”

  “You spent an awful lot of time watching my duke.”

  “Oh, so now he’s your duke.” Diana crossed her arms over her chest. “The doubts seemed to have left you.”

  No, they were still there, but it was far too late for them. As Charity moved aside, Torie turned and spread her arms wide. “I shall miss you desperately as well.”

  Diana moved into her embrace and hugged her tightly. “Send for me when you can.”

  “As soon as we’ve settled into marriage.” Torie stepped back, took her sister’s hands, and squeezed. “Be kind to Mother while I’m gone.”

  “You want to take away all my fun.”

  Leaning forward, she kissed her sister’s cheek. “And watch out for Frenchmen. I hear they use their tongues when they kiss.”

  Diana gave her an impish smile. “Indeed, they do.”