The Price of Pleasure

by Connie Mason

  The picture of Dubois kissing Fleur replayed over and over in his mind. He’d wanted to grab the Frenchman by the neck and pull him off Fleur. He wanted to do other things, too, like kill the bastard. How could Fleur let Dubois touch her?

  “Reed, do you mind if I join you?”

  Fleur? For a moment he thought his fondest dream had come true. His heart sank when he realized it was Violet standing in the doorway, the scrap of material she called a nightgown revealing more than it concealed.

  “What are you doing up?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I heard you come in and thought I’d join you.” She walked over to the sideboard and gestured to the crystal carafe of brandy. “May I?”

  “Help yourself.”

  She poured brandy into a snifter and sauntered toward Reed, stopping in front of him. The light from the dying fire behind her rendered her nightgown transparent. Every curve of her generous form was blatantly revealed to him. Though Reed stared, the sight did little to move him. How in bloody hell was he supposed to wed a woman who failed to arouse even the tiniest interest? How could he make an heir with a woman he didn’t want?

  “Do you see anything you like?” Violet purred.

  “Go to bed, Violet.”

  Violet tossed back her brandy neatly and set the empty glass on the mantel. “I know you desire me, Reed. I don’t mind if you want to anticipate our wedding.” She sent him a coy smile. “I’ve been dreaming about making love with you.”

  “You forget one thing, Violet. I haven’t proposed yet.”

  “Wedding me would please your grandmother. Would you deny the woman who saved your life that satisfaction?”

  Before Reed realized what she intended, Violet plopped down on his lap and wound her arms around his neck.

  “Do you realize you’ve never even kissed me?” She demanded.

  “Frankly, it never occurred to me.”

  “Then it’s about time you thought about it. Who knows, you might like it.”

  Why not? Reed thought. If Fleur didn’t want him, why not kiss Violet? Perhaps Violet could help him forget Fleur’s tempting mouth and lush body.

  Seizing her face between his hands, he closed his mouth over hers. Though her taste was unfamiliar and not especially to his liking, he sincerely tried to lose himself in the heat of the moment. It didn’t work. But when he tried to break off the kiss, Violet resisted. She grasped his hand and brought it to her ample breast. He felt her nipple swell against his palm and became faintly aroused.

  “You do want me, Reed,” Violet purred. “Take me to bed; I swear I will make you happy. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

  “Are you a virgin, Violet?” Reed asked. He already knew the answer. She was too knowledgeable to be innocent.

  Violet went still. “Does it matter?”

  “It matters not at all to me. It will, however, make a difference to the man you eventually marry.”

  He stood abruptly, spilling Violet to the floor. “Good night, Violet. I’m sure you can find your way to your bed.”

  He stepped over her and walked away, leaving an enraged Violet sprawled inelegantly on the floor.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reed paused before the window in his study, staring out at the rain. He had been working all afternoon on estate business and felt moody and out of sorts. Several days had passed since he’d dismissed Fleur from the investigation, and he hadn’t seen her once. He wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her. Without Fleur to spar with, to tease, to love, to share information about the traitor, Reed felt at loose ends. He had ordered her off the investigation for a good reason, however.

  There were too many suspects and not enough evidence to charge any one of them with treason against the Crown. Furthermore, several of the suspects had knowledge of the Black Widow’s activities in France. That did not bode well for Fleur, even though she no longer posed a threat to the French Government. Reed sincerely hoped Fleur had backed off and ceased her investigations as he had advised.

  Frustration gnawed at him. He was getting nowhere in his inquiries and neither was Porter. Nothing was falling into place for him, except for one thing. He had informed Helen and her sister that they were no longer welcome at Hunthurst. He was heartily sick of Helen’s machinations and Violet’s overt flirtation. They were both trying to arrange his life, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  Reed had given the women two weeks to pack up and leave. They could retire to the dower house in the country, move into their parents’ London abode or rent their own lodgings. It made no difference to him. Helen was financially well off, thanks to Jason’s will. She could set up her own household if she so wished. With the ladies gone, Gal-lard Duvall would have no reason to make himself at home at Hunthurst. Duvall fawned over Helen, and truthfully, Reed couldn’t see the attraction.

  Perhaps money was the key, Reed considered. Jason had left Helen a wealthy widow, and Duvall appeared to have no income. Oh, well, it didn’t matter whom Helen favored as long as they left him out of the mix.

  Reed turned away from the dismal scene outside the window and returned to his desk. Drumming his fingers against the fine-grained mahogany top, he wondered what Fleur was doing. Perhaps he should call on her, find out what she had been up to. He worried that she was probing where she shouldn’t, or getting entangled in a situation from which she couldn’t extract herself. Knowing Fleur, she had probably ignored his order to back off.

  What was he going to do about her? Reed wondered, thrusting his fingers through his hair as he probed his mind for an answer. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to keep her with him forever and never let her go. He wanted to go to bed with her at night and wake up with her in the morning.

  He wanted . . .

  Fleur.

  Rain battered against the windowpane. Thunder rolled in the distance. A strange restlessness seized Reed. That sense of being trapped and helpless began to stir. If he didn’t do something, he would descend again into that dark and unbearable pit where madness dwelt. He didn’t want to go there. A discreet knock on the door dragged him from the edge of a yawning abyss.

  “My lord, a message has arrived for you.”

  “Come in,” Reed called, glad for the distraction.

  Hughes entered, bearing a silver salver containing a folded sheet of vellum. “Is the messenger waiting for an answer?” Reed asked.

  “No, my lord. I sent him to the kitchen to dry off before returning. The message is from the dowager countess.”

  Reed stared at the vellum without opening it. “It must be important if Grandmamma sent a man out in this weather. I hope she isn’t ill.”

  Since he hadn’t been dismissed, Hughes waited while Reed read the dowager’s note. Grandmamma wasn’t ill, thank God. She did want to see him, however. Immediately. Reed glanced out the window and sighed. The rain was still drumming against the windowpane.

  “Have the carriage brought around, Hughes.” The butler bowed and retreated.

  Fifteen minutes later, armed with an umbrella that did little to keep him from being drenched by the wind-driven rain, Reed dashed out to the carriage. Why had Grandmamma summoned him today of all days? He shook his head. No matter, he didn’t dare disobey her summons. When she said immediately, she meant immediately.

  It took longer than usual to reach Grandmamma’s townhouse, due to the rain and heavy traffic. When the carriage rattled to a stop, Reed opened his umbrella and made a dash to the front door. It opened immediately; he stepped inside and handed his dripping umbrella to a footman.

  “Her ladyship is waiting for you in her private sitting room,” the butler informed him. “She said to send you right up.”

  Reed ascended the stairs, shaking water off his coat as he climbed. He knocked on Grandmamma’s door and entered. The dear old lady was lying on a chaise longue before a roaring fire, sipping tea, her knees covered with a fur lap robe.

  “There you are, dear boy. Do come in and si
t down. I get a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

  Reed pulled a stool up to the chaise and sat down.

  “You’re wet,” Grandmamma observed.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining. Quite heavily, in fact. Are you well? What can I do for you? You know I wouldn’t venture out in vile weather like this for anyone but you.”

  Grandmamma gave a little shudder. “It is rather nasty out. I can’t seem to keep warm on days like this. Take off your coat and hang it over a chair to dry. I don’t want you to catch your death.”

  Grandmamma should have thought of that before summoning him on today of all days, Reed thought grumpily.

  “Now, then,” Grandmamma said as she poured tea into a cup and handed it to Reed, “tell me what you’ve been up to. You haven’t called on me in ages.”

  Reed took a sip of tea, wishing he had a nip of something stronger in his cup. “I’m sure you didn’t drag me out in inclement weather to ask me what I’ve been up to. What is this really about, Grandmamma?”

  The dowager set down her cup and cleared her throat. “Very well, I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it. I’m disappointed in you, dear boy.”

  Reed cocked an elegant, dark brow. “How so?”

  “You aren’t doing your duty to the earldom.”

  It finally dawned on Reed what Grandmamma was talking about. “When did Helen and Violet call on you? They certainly didn’t waste any time.”

  “Now, now, dear boy, don’t get testy. It just so happens they did call on me. Helen was quite distraught. She said you turned her out of her own home.”

  “It’s my home now, Grandmamma,” Reed reminded her. “I allowed Helen and her sister to live at Hunthurst for Jason’s sake, but they have outlived their welcome. Violet is becoming increasingly aggressive in her pursuit of me, and Helen is abetting her.”

  “You could do worse than Violet, Reed. She is perfect for you. Why can’t you see it?”

  “I don’t love Violet, Grandmamma.”

  “Love? Are you saying you’ll only marry for love?”

  “Tell me, Grandmamma, did you love Grandfather? Was yours a love match?”

  A dreamy expression crossed the dowager’s face, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “Believe it or not—for it wasn’t the thing in those days—ours was indeed a love match. I fell in love with your grandfather the moment I laid eyes on him. He was so handsome, so dashing.”

  “Then you understand why I want no less for myself. I can never love Violet. She should find someone who will appreciate her. That man isn’t me.”

  Grandmamma tapped her fingertips against her pursed lips. “Have you found a woman you could love?”

  Reed stared off into space. He loved Fleur—he did, no matter how hard he tried to ignore his feelings. He didn’t care about an heir. Besides, the fault might not be Fleur’s. Perhaps her husband’s seed was defective.

  Reed was through lying to himself and especially to Grandmamma. Somehow he had to convince the two most important women in his life that Fleur was the only one he would wed, the only one he wanted.

  “Reed, what are you thinking? You seem so far away. You weren’t reliving that awful time in France, were you?”

  “Not this time, Grandmamma. To answer your question, I have found a woman to love.”

  The dowager immediately perked up. “You have? Why have you kept this joyous news to yourself? Tell me the fortunate girl’s name so I can welcome her into the family.”

  “She hasn’t agreed to become my wife yet,” Reed said.

  “I cannot imagine any woman refusing you,” Grandmamma exclaimed, properly affronted. “Who has the nerve to refuse an earl of the realm? Do I know her?”

  “You do know her, Grandmamma. She is Countess Fleur Fontaine.”

  “But . . . but,” Grandmamma sputtered. “The woman is barren. She cannot give you an heir.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “By her own admission she was married five years without giving her husband a child.”

  Reed knelt before his grandmother and took her chilled hands in his. “Both you and Fleur have failed to consider that her husband might have been the one at fault. His seed could have been defective. Fleur feels as you do and refused to become my wife. Somehow I’m going to convince her to change her mind. I love her, Grandmamma. She’s the only woman I want, the only woman I will wed.”

  “What if you marry her and she proves barren?”

  A dimple appeared in Reed’s cheek. “I’ll adopt. London is full of orphans in need of a family.”

  Aghast, the dowager threw up her hands. “I cannot imagine an heir who does not have Hunthurst blood flowing through his veins.”

  “Fear not, Grandmamma, I haven’t given up hope that Fleur will provide an heir for the earldom.”

  Grandmamma sighed. “Your mind is made up, then?”

  “I’m afraid so. No one can take Fleur’s place in my heart.”

  The dowager heaved a resigned sigh. “How can I deny you your heart’s desire, dear boy?” She stroked his cheek. “You are all I have left in this world. I do want you to be happy, and if Fleur makes you happy, then you have my blessing. Your optimism is inspiring. I find myself believing in you, believing that your countess will provide the earldom with sufficient heirs to fulfill an old lady’s dreams.”

  Reed kissed his grandmother’s cheek and rose to his feet. “You’re amazing, Grandmamma. I’m sure you will live to see several heirs enter this complicated world of ours.”

  “Must you leave so soon? It’s growing late. Will you take an early supper with me?”

  “Not today, Grandmamma, but I’ll return soon and bring Fleur with me. I’m off to see her now. She has yet to agree to become my wife and I’m eager to change her mind now that I have your blessing.”

  “Go then. I remember what it’s like to be young and in love. Tell Fleur I won’t stand in her way. I’ll even help her plan the wedding.”

  Reed took his leave, his mood considerably lighter after his conversation with his grandmother. It was still raining heavily as he ducked into his carriage. During the short ride to the townhouse, Reed rehearsed what he would say to Fleur to convince her to marry him. He hoped receiving Grandmamma’s blessing would encourage her to accept him.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. Reed didn’t wait for the coachman to pull down the steps as he jumped to the ground. He didn’t even bother with the umbrella.

  “Go around to the back, dry off and have something warm to eat and drink,” Reed told the coachman. “I don’t know how long I will be. I will send for you when I’m ready to leave.”

  Updike opened the door before Reed reached it. “Come in out of the rain, my lord. ’Tis a day fit for neither man nor beast.”

  Reed stepped into the foyer, shaking the water from his shoulders like a shaggy dog. “Is Lady Fleur in?”

  “The mistress and Madame Lisette are in the study. They prefer the cozy warmth of the study to the more formal rooms on dreary days like this. Shall I announce you?”

  “No, I’ll announce myself.” He strode toward the study, stopped and turned to address Updike. “Please ask Mrs. Peabody to set another place for dinner and make sure John Coachman is taken care of in the kitchen.”

  A corner of Updike’s mouth twitched. “Shouldn’t you wait for Lady Fontaine to invite you?”

  Reed flashed him a confident smile. “Don’t be impertinent, Updike.” So saying, he opened the door to the study and stepped inside.

  Reed took in the homey scene with a single glance. Fleur was curled up on a sofa before the hearth, reading a book. Lisette sat beside her, bent over an embroidery hoop while she placed neat stitches on a piece of cloth. Fleur looked up, saw Reed standing inside the door and dropped her book.

  “Reed! I didn’t hear Updike announce you.”

  “He didn’t,” Reed said. “I’m announcing myself.”

  “Was there something important you wanted? I can�
��t imagine anyone venturing out on a day like this unless there was some urgency for the visit.”

  Lisette must have taken that for a signal to leave for she rose, gathered up her embroidery and said, “Please excuse me. I need to confer with Mortimer about . . . something.”

  “Mortimer?” Reed asked once the door closed behind Lisette.

  “Updike. Did you not know his given name is Mortimer?”

  “Though he’s been with me more years than I care to count, he never volunteered his given name.”

  “Sit by the fire and dry yourself,” Fleur invited.

  Reed lowered himself beside Fleur on the sofa and stretched his hands out to the fire.

  Fleur knew Reed had come for a reason, but she was in no hurry to question him. She wasn’t sure she would like what he had to say. She was already angry with him for the underhanded way he had tried to boot her off the investigation.

  She studied Reed from beneath lowered lids, admiring everything about him except his misplaced protectiveness. She hadn’t taken his advice, of course. She had received both Dubois and Barbeau since Reed’s edict and accepted an invitation to go riding in the park with Henry Dempsey when weather permitted.

  Reed shifted his position and stretched out his legs. Fleur thought he had amazing legs. Long and lean with ropy muscles running down each thigh. A jolt of pleasure shot through her when Reed reached out, grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. Surely he wouldn’t try to seduce her after she had turned down his marriage proposal, would he? She thought she had made herself clear; she wouldn’t condemn him to a childless marriage when he needed an heir.

  She tried to pull her hand free, but he wouldn’t allow it. “What are you doing here, Reed?”

  “I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “Does it concern the investigation?”