She hesitated for so long that he wondered if she had actually heard his question, but then she sighed. Her gaze was far away as she murmured, “I could scarcely tell you anymore.”
He frowned. “Your tone speaks of regret.”
She darted her gaze to him, wild and unsteady. “Of course not, don’t be foolish. I do not live my life with regret—it is a waste of time.”
“Sadness, then, if you prefer the word.” He shrugged. “Deny it all you like, but I see it in your eyes. I would offer you comfort if you would take it.”
She stiffened and moved away. “No. I’m fine. Of course, I’m fine. I doubt you came to call on me with the purpose of analyzing my thoughts on men or regret.”
He paused. Actually, both those topics sounded like perfectly reasonable ones for them to dissect. At least they were personal. But he wouldn’t say so if he wished to stay.
“I have come because I’ve been thinking of our conversation from two days past about the Earl of Dersingham.”
Her chin jerked up at that and interest pushed away the warning in her eyes. “Have you?”
He nodded. “I believe I’ve come up with a way to destroy him, if that is still your desire.”
Her spine straightened and she moved toward him a few steps. “It is! What is your plan?”
He drew in a breath. “Well, my dear, I’m afraid my answer isn’t going to be as simple as all that.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What does that mean, Benedict?”
“If I’m going to help you, I’m afraid I must ask for something in return.” He folded his arms and looked at her evenly.
Her face, which had been lit up with excitement, slowly fell, went flat, emotionless. “It’s obvious you may have your way with me whenever you like—there is no need to bribe. Is there some deviant act you wish to perform or wish me to perform? Tell me, but don’t play foolish games beneath you.”
Inside, his heart hurt. That she had been bribed like this, for her body before, made him ache. That she lumped him in with those who had done so made him sick.
“What I want has nothing to do with your body,” he said, shrugging so his real thoughts wouldn’t be too clear. “I would hope you know me better than that. If I want you, I will tell you and respect what your answer is, whether it’s yes or no. I think I proved that by walking away all those years ago, didn’t I?”
Her lips parted and whatever skill she had at pretending her emotions away failed. He could see her shock that he would put things so plainly and her pain at the memory of their parting. So she had been hurt, too. Somehow that was a small comfort to him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should not have jumped to a foolish conclusion when I do know you better. You have never proven yourself to be so cold.”
“Thank you.”
She shifted with discomfort. “If it is not sensual, then what is it you wish to trade for your plan?”
He drew a deep breath. “I want to see your chambers.”
After a moment filled with only her confused expression, she shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. You’ve been to my chamber dozens of times, more than dozens. How would that be a boon for you?”
“Your real chambers, Vivien. The ones that have nothing to do with your role as mistress, as courtesan, as celebrated matchmaker to protectors everywhere.”
She swallowed hard and backed away a step. “And what makes you think I have chambers such as those you describe?”
He laughed. “Come, my dear, you just admitted you know me, and you must admit I know you too. Not as well as I would like, but more than your average lover has. That fact is part of why you sent me away all those years ago.”
She drew in a breath to speak, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“There is no use arguing the point when we both know it is true,” he said. “I only mean that I can see where you exist and where you don’t. You don’t exist in these chambers, in the bedroom where you take your lovers.”
“Of course I do,” she protested, throwing up her hands and walking away. It was a dramatic gesture, but one meant to keep him from seeing her face.
“No, you do not,” he insisted, maneuvering so that she had to look at him again. “I know you like books, that you like the kind of art you see in the British Museum. None of those pursuits are found here. These chambers only contain images and hints that are part of a mask you wear.”
Her gaze slipped to the floor and for a long time she was quiet. “Perhaps you are wrong about me. There may be nothing more to me than the mask you claim I wear and these chambers are an exact reflection of my true self.”
He had taken her aback with his accusations and he could see she was less equipped to battle him at present. Which was why this was the perfect time to strike, to invade her privacy.
“I know that isn’t true,” he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up to hold her stare. She shifted with discomfort beneath its scrutiny. “That is my request, Vivien. You show me a glimpse of what you hide from all others, and I will tell you my plan to destroy Dersingham.”
For a moment, he thought she would refuse. That her desire to hold herself away from anyone who might get close was stronger than her desire for some kind of justice for the Evil Earl, as he had begun to call Dersingham in his head. But then her shoulders slumped.
“Very well,” she sighed. “If seeing a handful of boring rooms is all the payment you require, then come with me and I will oblige your odd request.”
She pivoted on her heel and walked from the room at a swift clip he had to hurry to keep up with. She did not look back to mark his progress but simply moved up the stairs toward the bedroom he, and others before and since him, had seen for years. He pursed his lips as she hesitated in her movement at the door. She wasn’t about to pass off this place as her real chamber, was she?
Instead, she turned to him. “What you have sought has always been closer than you imagined,” she said, lifting her chin as if this confession would be used against her. “The chamber here that you have seen is connected to my real bedchamber, though the door in the dressing room. It locks automatically behind me so that my lovers have no access without the key, which is hidden. I will not tell you where.”
Benedict lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Why have your chambers so close?”
She laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Do you think I wish to stream half-naked through the whole house to return to my bed after I spend the night with a man? I do try not to shock the servants too regularly. It isn’t fair to them.”
Benedict nodded and followed her a short way down the hall to the next door. There she produced a key from a hidden pocket in her gown and opened the door. As she stepped back to motion him in, he took a breath.
The chamber she made public was dominated by a bed and nothing more. It was created for sin and sin was all that occurred there. But this room was something far different. It was a true place where a woman would sleep, dress, live, dream. And it was so very Vivien to its core.
The walls were done in a soft, pretty green paint and covered with white wainscoting. The bed was comfortable by its looks, but not the massive feat of sensual bliss that was just two rooms away. Still, it would fit two quite nicely.
A dressing table was set across from the bed, covered in rosewaters and a hairbrush and a few other items that were private to Vivien. He moved toward the bed to see the book on her end table. As he picked it up, a piece of paper beneath it fluttered to the ground.
He stooped to pick it up, but Vivien rushed over and snatched it away before he could touch it or read anything more than the term “Loose Ends” in its title. He stared as she snatched the sheet against her chest.
“That is private,” she snapped.
He wrinkled his brow. “Loose ends?”
Her face paled and she shook her head. “Just a few items I need to take care of before I—before the Season ends.”
He shifted at her sudden attitude. Perhaps it was because they were in her real chamber and that fact made her vulnerable and uncomfortable, but there was fear in her stare now. Anxiety he couldn’t place the cause of.
She turned away and shoved the paper in a drawer of her dressing table, then pivoted back to face him. “Now I have done as you asked. You have seen my chambers, though I do not understand your purpose for wishing to do so. I would like to hear the plan you have formulated for our dear friend Dersingham.”
He stepped back in order to give her space in her obvious discomfort. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, for some of the high color left her cheeks.
“Our dear friend Dersingham,” he chuckled as he took a place on a settee before her fire.
She shifted as he made himself comfortable in her chamber, but did not protest. He took that as the most encouragement he was likely to receive and plowed on.
“Did you know he is almost bankrupt?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “No!”
He nodded.
“But how have I not heard this?” she asked, pacing toward him with fingers clenched at her sides. “I do not wish to sound like a braggart, but the fact is that when a man is destitute, I do hear of that fact. My network of spies is enormous!”
Benedict shrugged one shoulder. “I imagine that is true, but you see, Dersingham has hidden the facts very well. He lies to one creditor to pay another, he continues to live at the same level as he always has. Even his wife does not know of their dire situation.”
She pursed her lips. “I would think his wife does not know very much at all if she would put up with the depravity of his actions. At least, I would hope she did not.”
Benedict nodded, though in his heart he had to think that Lady Dersingham might not know about the money, but she surely knew about the servants. Whether she cared about their plight or contributed to it was another story.
“But if the facts of his despair are not well-known, how have you come across them?” she asked.
He smiled. “You are not the only one with a network of spies.”
She tilted her head in disbelief. “And why would you need spies?”
“A gentleman of my position must know as much as a lady of yours,” he admitted. “For investment purposes, so I wouldn’t be taken advantage of, that sort of thing. I have a financial interest that is shared by Dersingham and when I spoke to a third party involved, they shared a piece of information. Once I started to follow that lead, more and more people began to share their own tiny bits of knowledge. The complete picture is…” He drew a long breath. “Very harsh. Dersingham would be ruined if the truth came out about his debts.”
“Good,” Vivien said softly.
There was no mistaking the dark pleasure she felt in Dersingham’s misfortunes. A dark pleasure that went beyond justice for a few servants she had never met. It made him wonder, once again, what she had endured herself that made her want to hurt the Earl so much.
“But how could his financial misfortunes benefit us?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
“Dersingham has a son about my age, you know. He has arranged a union for him that could sturdy the family coffers. The young lady in question is an American named Felicity Beecher.”
Vivien could not contain her surprise. “Why, even I’ve heard of her! Her father has more money than God and has been bent on matching her with a title since he first visited London last year.”
Benedict nodded. “Beecher does value the title—he’s quite uncouth about his drives in that arena. But he is also a bit of a prig when it comes to propriety and his little angel of a daughter. I believe if he had a whiff of any kind of scandal surrounding Dersingham, such as his financial woes, his sexual conquests or even perhaps a rumor about the son…”
Vivien’s grin widened. “It would ruin everything!”
“If the marriage falls through, then within the year, Dersingham would not be able to afford a servant, let alone abuse one,” Benedict said with a nod.
Vivien clasped her hands together, her eyes lit up like diamonds as she let that statement sink in. He could only stare at how beautiful she looked, how happy he had made her with this information. How he wished it did not take plots of revenge to do so.
“What do you think?” he dared to ask, though he knew the question would break some of the magic of this moment.
She nodded. “I think it is brilliant. But I do worry about the women currently in his employ. He could become worse in his abuse if the noose is tightening around his neck. The kind of attacks he commits are more about power than pleasure and I could only assist a few at most if that happens. I’ve used up the bulk of my connections.”
Benedict blinked at her concern. He hadn’t really thought about the servants she had planned to help with this arrangement and she was correct to worry for them. But that was one place where he knew he could assist.
“I have connections of my own, you know,” he said. “My own household could hire some. My family is always on the lookout for good housemaids and there are friends who roam in far different circles than the ones we have shared. As soon as the damage is done to Dersingham, I could arrange to have the staff wooed away at once.” He shrugged. “An exodus of servants timed properly with a public humiliation can only make his situation all the worse.”
Vivien nodded. “Indeed, and those who have suffered at his hand would have to appreciate that little irony.”
He got to his feet and moved toward her for the first time since he had begun to recite his plan. He saw her tense with caution, but there was also invitation and pleasure in her stare. She wanted him, despite her need to keep him at arm’s length.
“You know, if you like you could be the one to nail his coffin,” he said, tone seductive.
She hesitated before she responded. “How?”
“I am invited to a fete where Mr. Beecher and Miss Felicity will be in attendance. In fact, I have heard they intend to announce the betrothal at this very party. If you accompanied me, you could plant the seed with Beecher that will destroy all of Dersingham’s hopes.”
He expected the joy that had been on her face to double at this last suggestion, but instead her smile fell and she backed away with a hurried step.
“Go with you to a Society party?” She paled three shades. “No, no, it would be highly improper.”
He looked at her in true wonder. Vivien was a host of contradictions, at once so certain and yet so tentative.
“But oh-so entertaining,” he responded, his voice calm in order to sooth her.
“I wouldn’t belong there,” she insisted.
“Men take their mistresses to Society gatherings from time to time, surely you have been taken to them before. But if you are suddenly frightened—”
She caught her breath. “I am not afraid of anything!” she snapped, rising to his bait perfectly.
He arched a brow. “You are afraid of any feeling deeper than desire.”
He hadn’t meant to say such a volatile thing, to tweak her about that subject, especially not when they had just reached a new level of comfort between them.
Just as he expected, Vivien turned her face with a sigh. “Benedict—” she began, her voice soft and tired.
He shook his head and reached for her to keep her from walking away from him.
“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” he pressed gently. “We are sharing passion, not anything more. So I ask you for your body if you won’t give anything deeper.”
Her gaze lifted with a wickedness that jolted to his very core, hardened his cock and made him achy with desire.
“That is one thing you don’t have to ask for,” she teased, moving closer so that her breath brushed his lips. “We can retire to the other bedchamber right now and—”
“No, I’m afraid that will not do,” he interrupted. “Here. I want to make love to you here.”
Chapter Eleven
Vivien was reeling, though she felt she wa
s doing a reasonable job of keeping that fact to herself. From Benedict’s demands to see this very private place, to her strange desire to give him what he asked for, to his detailed plan on how to destroy an Earl, to his declaration that she feared emotion…
None of it made her feel safe or settled. All of it left her confused and trapped in the corner by his boldness.
“Make love here?” she asked, and her voice shook against her will.
He did not respond with words, but merely nodded his head slowly.
She freed her arm from his gentle hold and backed away. “But this is my chamber.”
He smiled. “We’ve made love in your chambers before.”
She pursed her lips, for he was purposefully mistaking her meaning. Forcing her to say out loud words that were best kept unspoken.
“Not in this chamber,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his with the dignity she kept no matter what her station or situation. Sometimes that dignity had been all she had.
“And why not?” he asked, equally quiet.
She shook her head, partly in frustration and partly in continued refusal.
“Here I am different. Here I’m…” She struggled for a way to explain herself, but could only manage the truth. “Here I’m me.”
He seemed surprised by her candor, but then his expression softened. “Don’t you know that you is who I want to make love to, Vivien? Unfettered by whatever masks you wear for others, uncontrolled by the rules you make for yourself. I wish to make love to you.”
She could scarcely breathe as she swallowed past a suddenly thick throat. He was asking her for more than she had ever given anyone. From his expression, he recognized that fact, saw the seriousness of his request as he patiently waited for her to stop fighting this private war inside her and give him an answer to his appeal.
And the worst part was that deep inside, she wanted to say yes to this request. She wanted to give herself to him in a way she had never done before. To tell him the secrets he wanted to hear, the ones that could destroy her, because he would keep them safe.
But it wasn’t fair to either of them to do that.
Her Perfect Match: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 3 Page 9
