Tempting Bella (Entangled Scandalous)

by Diana Quincy

  The candlelight cast the shadowed profile of Bella’s body against the large piece of foolscap attached to the wall. Surveying the scene, his glance ran over Bella and bounced right back, all reason deserting him.

  She wore a flesh-colored gown that, at first glance, gave the illusion of sheerness, clinging adoringly to every curve, creating an image of feminine perfection he’d thought only an artist could conjure. The delicate fabric whispered over plump, upturned breasts, stroking over the soft inward turn of her belly and around full hips. Riveted by the vision of womanly bounty, all thought cascaded downward, centering on his rapidly swelling vitals. Then he realized how close Orford stood to his wife. His desire ebbed. Just behind her by the wall, Orford traced the outline of her shadow on the foolscap, standing so close his arm casually brushed against her as he worked. Sebastian tensed when Orford drew the outline of his wife’s breasts, greatly exaggerating their size.

  Covering her mouth, she laughed and shoved Orford with her elbow. “You rogue, that is not how I appear.” She exuded vitality and playfulness. How relaxed she was with these people. Would she ever be like that with him?

  Orford continued working. “As an artist, I must draw my subject as I see her. Besides, I must do something to compete with Tabby if I am to win.”

  The tall man leaning up against the wall cast a warm look at the pleasant-faced woman holding the candle. “Tabby is a true artist. You could not compete with her.”

  The woman they called Tabby blushed. “I had a good subject.”

  Bella planted her fists on her hips. “Are you suggesting I am not a good subject?”

  Tabby shook her head. “Of course not. You are incredibly beautiful.” She had a lovely. lilting voice and exuded a natural sweetness. Tabby cast a shy look in the tall man’s direction. “It’s just that Monty’s physique makes him an excellent subject for a silhouette.”

  The French woman noticed Sebastian first. “Monsieur,” she said, calling everyone’s attention to his presence. “How delightful you have joined us.”

  He closed the door behind him. “A pleasure to see you again, Madame —” He paused, not knowing her last name.

  “Laroux. But surely we should not stand on formality. Just Josette, if you please.”

  He turned to Bella. “I did not know you were entertaining, my dear.”

  “It’s an informal gathering,” she said coolly. “My dearest friends have come to keep me company.”

  “Still, had I known, I would have gladly stayed to greet them. After all, your friends are mine as well.” He ignored the way Bella’s skeptical brow arched in response. Looking to the young woman they’d called Tabby and the tall man, he said, “Won’t you introduce us?”

  “Monty and Lady Tabitha Quartermain, Tabby.”

  Monty nodded in greeting while Tabby gave a timid smile. “Forgive us for intruding upon your home, sir.”

  He bowed, taking an instant liking to the young woman. She was not a beauty. Her face was thin with delicate brows and expressive hazel eyes, yet she had a pleasing way about her that spoke of serenity. “It is no intrusion. My wife’s friends are most welcome here.”

  Bella gestured toward Orford. “And Orford of course.”

  “Orford.”

  “Stanhope. Care to join us?”

  Breaking her pose, Bella shook the stiffness out of her shoulders. “I’m certain Sebastian finds Silhouettes to be a silly game.”

  Her subtle movements prompted Bella’s soft mounds to quiver. Good Lord, the impact of that gown hit him again. He tore his eyes away from his wife’s assets to settle a hard stare on Orford. “I hardly need to be invited to partake in entertainment in my own home.”

  Orford shrugged his lanky shoulders. “Your home. Of course, beg pardon.” He gestured toward his drawing. “What do you think of my rendition of Bella?”

  It was indecent and the bastard knew it. “I think you need to be taught some manners.”

  Orford’s fine brows shot up in amusement. “By you, I presume.” He laughed. “That’s rich.”

  Monty coughed and stepped forward, putting a hand on the oaf’s arm. “Orford, perhaps we should take our leave.”

  Keeping his stare level with Sebastian’s, Orford shook off Monty’s arm. “Nonsense. Stanhope here feels someone needs to learn a lesson. And I quite agree.”

  Tension throbbed between the two men. Orford’s cheeks were flushed and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Sebastian kept his expression even, revealing no outward sign of his inner agitation. He would teach the buffoon a lesson to be sure, one Orford would never forget.

  Bella stepped between them. “That is enough.” Her brows knit. “Sebastian, Orford is our guest. They all are. I’ve invited them to spend the little season with us.”

  The thought of spending the next several weeks with this questionable group under his roof made his head throb. “I see.”

  Tabby hurried forward, her eyes wide with alarm. “Perhaps it is a bad idea. We should remove ourselves.”

  Bella uttered a sound of protest, but Sebastian interrupted her. “Nonsense, Lady Tabitha, you and your friends are most welcome here.” He forced relaxation into his stance. “I’m merely suggesting a friendly bout of boxing. What say you, Orford, are you up to it?”

  All eyes swung in Orford’s direction.

  “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

  “Shall we say Gentleman Jack’s on the morrow?”

  “It will have to be in a sennight, I’m afraid. I’m to Kent on the morrow to visit my mother.”

  At least he’d be rid of the smug whoreson for a few days. “Then we are agreed. We’ll meet at Jack’s upon your return.”

  “You should know Orford is something of a pugilist,” said Bella.

  His own wife was wagering against him. “Then I shall endeavor to acquit myself favorably in the face of Orford’s considerable skills.”

  Josette came to her feet. “Well, now that that is settled, I, for one, am ready to retire.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded all around. They exchanged good nights and Bella saw to her guests as they headed up the stairs; the sounds of closing chamber doors soon resonated down the stairway. Trailing behind them into the front hallway, Sebastian dismissed the butler and footman with a glance.

  As the servants slipped away, Bella started to follow her friends up the stairs. “Well, I’m for bed.”

  “Is that one of your new gowns?”

  Pausing on the stairs, she turned to face him. “As it happens, yes, it is.” The movement pulled the delicate fabric across the soft mounds of her breasts, their shadowed peaks straining. “It’s one of my favorites. What do you think?”

  Sebastian’s mouth went dry. “I think it leaves little to the imagination.”

  “It’s quite the thing in Paris.”

  “I can see why.”

  “I trust you don’t object.”

  Damn right he objected. Perhaps it wasn’t outwardly indecent, but something about the sensuousness of the cut made it appear so. However, to admit it would likely provoke her into wearing something even more indecorous the next time. He raked his eyes over her form in a slow and intimate perusal. “Why would I object? I’m enjoying the view. You have such a lovely…form.”

  She inhaled sharply, a furious blush raced across her cheeks. “That is disgusting.” She clamped her arms over her chest. “Stop regarding me in that manner.”

  “What manner is that?”

  “Like I am a tasty morsel you want to consume.”

  He gave her a dark smile. “Why? Those are the kinds of thoughts that gown provokes.” He moved up the stairs toward her and brushed a kiss on her forehead, desire flaring in his loins. “It entices a man to want to claim his marital rights.”

  She stepped back, teetering on the stair, shock and alarm stamping her face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He gripped her elbow to steady her, glad for the chance to relish the soft warmth of her skin. “A man can only re
sist so much temptation. And in that gown—”

  She turned away from him and took a step upward. “That is quite enough. I am going to bed.”

  He followed, keeping pace one step below her as they progressed up the stairs, which gave him a perfect view of the intimate swing of her lush hips. “An excellent idea.”

  “Alone,” she said archly over her shoulder.

  “I am crestfallen, but I suppose it is just as well. I should save my strength for my bout with Orford.”

  She paused at the top of the stairs and faced him. “You were wrong to challenge him. He is very good with his fists.”

  “Is that concern I hear in your voice?”

  She put her nose in the air as though she’d sniffed something unpleasant. “Not at all. It is an observation.”

  He leaned close. “Will you favor me with a boon if I best him?” His lips brushed her ear. “A kiss perhaps?”

  “Why ever not.” She gave a bored shrug. “Given Orford’s skill, it won’t come to that.” He might have believed her show of indifference, but for the tide of color sweeping her cheeks.

  His lips moved from that delectable little slice of skin at her earlobe and feathered across her heated cheek, tantalizingly close to her plump mouth. Her scent entangled him, the deep richness of cloves this time instead of orange blossom, jasmine, or lavender. Intoxicating.

  The pull between them deepened, lengthened, the air pulsated with it. Her breath caught and her eyes fluttered shut as his lips teased near hers. Sensual anticipation pounded through his body, every pore overflowed with it. He could take her now, fill his hands with her breasts and satiate his senses with her softness. He could make love to her after too many years of doing without. No woman would do other than this provoking female, who was both within his grasp and just beyond it.

  She’d gone still, her eyes dazed, her bountiful form leaning slightly toward him, as if she were waiting.

  He forced himself to break the spell. Stiffening, he planted a swift kiss on her silken cheek. “Your faith in me is touching.”

  Her eyes flew open as he stepped past, her startled disappointment obvious. His breath shaky, he strode down the hall. It seemed he could still call upon the self-control years of restraint had honed.

  Pausing on the threshold to his bedchamber, he turned to look at her. He met her gaze, noting the angry gleam that supplanted the look of surprise on her lovely visage. “I shall earn that kiss before I take it. Granted, pummeling Orford is its own reward, but it is nowhere near as sweet as the boon I plan to demand from you.”

  …

  Early the following morning, Bella and Orford slipped into Sebastian’s solicitor’s office through a side entrance.

  “This is most irregular,” the clerk said, poking his shiny pate out the door, looking both ways down the narrow alley to make certain they hadn’t been spotted.

  It had taken a good deal of coin to persuade the man to give them access to Sebastian’s financial and business documents. Yet the way he jumped at every sound, along with his glistening upper lip, suggested the clerk wasn’t entirely comfortable with the deception.

  “We’ll make it worth your effort,” Orford said in an imperious voice. “Do you have what the lady seeks?”

  Appearing resigned, the older man nodded, the significant girth of his belly leading the way as he ushered them into a small, tidy chamber. “I have examined Mr. Stanhope’s assets. Last year, he had an income of almost thirty-three thousand pounds.”

  Orford let out a low whistle. “He doesn’t do anything by halves, does he?”

  Bella sucked in a breath. That was a fortune. From what she’d been able to glean from her study of the estate books, Traherne’s annual income was about forty-five thousand pounds a year, but the current balance in the Traherne bank accounts didn’t reflect that level of abundance. The money was definitely coming into the ducal bank accounts, but it wasn’t staying there. “Where do Mr. Stanhope’s funds come from?”

  “From what I am able to gather, he has a number of business concerns.” The clerk mopped his upper lip with a kerchief. “He invests in shipping and cotton mills that utilize the new mechanized power looms.”

  “I guess we don’t have to ask where he gets the income to invest in those concerns,” Orford said archly.

  “Actually,” said the clerk, paging through some documents on his desk, “he gets a good part of that income from three profitable properties that he owns outright.”

  “Sebastian owns three properties?” Bella frowned. “He never mentioned it.”

  “Ah, here it is.” The clerk pulled a document out of the pile. “What is interesting is that he acquired the properties from Traherne.”

  Bella chest tightened. “Surely, they are entailed.”

  “No, these particular properties were not part of the entail. Mr. Stanhope owns them outright.”

  “How did he acquire them?” Orford asked.

  “He paid for them and has the documentation to prove it,” the clerk answered, rifling through the papers again and handing a document to Orford, who automatically passed it along to Bella’s waiting hands.

  She scoured the bill of sale, looking past the signatures of both her father and Sebastian, noting the figure Sebastian had paid. “Surely the properties were worth more than this.”

  “Yes, it does appear the amount he paid was well below their perceived value.”

  Disappointment stabbed at her belly. Sebastian appeared to be taking full advantage of her father’s perpetual state of drunkenness. His Grace was likely signing away ducal assets without comprehending the long-term significance of his actions.

  “There is one more thing.” The clerk shuffled through the papers again. “Each month, a thousand pounds are removed from Traherne’s main account.”

  Her stomach plummeted to her toes. “By whom?”

  “It is an automatic transfer, authorized by Mr. Stanhope. It goes into a numbered account at Barclay’s bank on Lombard Street.”

  Orford perked up. “Is that a different establishment from where the majority of Traherne funds are kept?”

  The clerk nodded. “It is.”

  “You’re saying it is a numbered account in a separate bank. I take it that means there is no name attached to it.”

  “Yes, just a number,” the clerk said. “You’ll have to visit the bank to determine who the signatory on the account is.”

  “Yes, thank you. You can be sure I will do that.”

  …

  Several mornings later, Sebastian ushered Bella into his curricle for a drive well before the fashionable hour to be seen in the park.

  “Was it really necessary to depart so early?”

  “I thought it best to decamp while your friends were still abed.”

  He wanted her alone, away from her blasted friends so he could court her as she deserved. It was likely the only way to win his way back into her affections. The constant presence of her friends in the house made it difficult to progress with Bella. Enduring them the entire little season would require all the patience he could muster. They were always around, at every meal, in the evenings playing Whist or Silhouettes or listening to Josette play the pianoforte. How was he to reconcile with his wife—and work his way into her bed—with a crowd of people constantly underfoot? She seemed particularly edgy today. Perhaps she was angry over the way he’d toyed with her on the stairwell.

  She clutched the side of the curricle as he made a turn, but that didn’t keep her soft thigh from pressing hard against his, making him acutely aware of her feminine heat. “We hardly needed to leave so early since they rarely wake before noon.”

  He kept his eyes ahead. “Have you traveled with them for long?”

  She stiffened, obviously sensing his disapproval. “We have been together for the past two years.”

  “How did your jolly group come together?”

  “Josette, I met in France just after the war. Orford is a distant cousin whom I have known s
ince I was in apron strings. Our mothers were very close. He chanced upon us in Spain.”

  “How fortuitous.” He doubted that blackguard did anything by chance. “He decided to stay?”

  “I believe he remained with us because he is sweet on Josette. He was also out of funds.”

  Sweet on Josette? Could she really be that blind? Orford only had eyes for Bella. “So you fund this merry band of travelers?”

  “It was my portion to do with as I pleased.”

  “Don’t you ever care to strive for more?”

  “There are some who believe there is no higher to climb than duchess for a mere female.”

  He found it hard to believe she had no compelling interests beyond cavorting with her friends and buying indecent gowns. “Has it never occurred to you to use your fortune and sharp mind for the betterment of yourself and others?”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you could put your keen mind to better use than flitting about from one shop to another and donning one scandalous gown after another.”

  She exhaled a short, contemptuous breath. “So this is about my taste in gowns.”

  “You demean yourself by wearing them. Such behavior is beneath you. You are not the flighty, mindless girl you pretend.”

  He felt her tense beside him. “You should not presume to know me. We are practically strangers.”

  “Fair enough.” He pulled on the reins, slowing to allow a cart to pass in front of them. “Tell me then about your other friends. Monty, for instance.”

  She seemed reluctant at first to continue any conversation with him, but finally she said, “We also encountered Monty in Spain where he was studying Moorish architecture.”