Wicked Seduction

by Jade Lee

“Exactly!” he crowed. “See, I knew you were smart. So you are just the person, I think, to do a daring experiment. Though I must warn you,” he added, lowering his voice. “It might be a bit scandalous.”

  Rose tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with interest. There was nothing she liked more than a bit of daring, and that was a dangerous thing.

  “Mr. Frazier,” Maddy said repressively, “I find I like my dresses quite well enough, thank you.” It was a lie. She hated her dresses, which he no doubt knew. But there was no money to pay for new ones, so stirring up Rose was to no point. Her uncle would not free up money to pay for new gowns.

  “Well, of course you do,” he said sweetly. “They were a gift from your generous cousin, and you must appreciate them and her because of it.”

  Maddy sighed. “She has given me her dresses to wear, her home to live in, and her food to eat. I would not dream of asking for anything else.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t, Maddy,” cried Rose, clearly getting into the spirit of whatever Kit intended. “Having grown up in the country, you are most grateful for everything .”

  She made it sound like Maddy had been raised in a cave. “My home was quite lovely—”

  “Tell me more of this bold experiment, Mr. Frazier,” Rose interrupted.

  Kit grinned. “Well, you know how you have been working to hide Miss Wilson’s age? Dressing her young like you?”

  “Yes. I thought it was the wisest choice.”

  “It was the only choice, Mr. Frazier,” Maddy put in darkly. It had no effect whatsoever.

  “What if we dressed her differently?” he asked Rose. “What if we boldly accented her fatal flaw, so to speak.”

  Rose wrinkled her nose. “Accent her age?” she asked dubiously. “But whatever for?”

  “Well, what would you think if Baron Halperin suddenly stopped trying to comb his hair over his bald spot? What if he simply cut his hair and showed the world his bald pate?”

  “I would think it most sensible of him,” Rose returned logically. “After all, he wasn’t fooling anyone.”

  “Exactly!” Kit crowed. “And so we shall dress Maddy in mature styles to fit her age. And not just her age, you know. The dresses must emphasize her other flaws—her height and her full bosom.”

  “Mr. Frazier!” Maddy snapped, her face flaming.

  “Come, come,” he returned. “We are making a bold experiment here. If you were to emphasize your flaws, then perhaps . . .” He glanced at Rose.

  “They would fade away as if nothing! Just like the baron’s bald head! Oh, Mr. Frazier, I think it is a capital idea! After all, we are fooling no one. They all know she is old and tall and poor.”

  Maddy’s eyes burned with tears. They were itemizing every aspect of her person that she had spent years trying to hide. “Shall I also draw red circles around my spots so that everyone can notice them too?”

  “But you don’t have spots,” said Rose.

  Well, at least they hadn’t noticed them as she covered them carefully with her makeup pot. Though, thankfully, she didn’t have to do it often.

  “What do you think, Rose?” inserted Kit. “Are you brave enough to embark on a great experiment with me?”

  “Oh yes!” cried Rose. “I think it a marvelous idea.”

  Of course she did, thought Maddy sourly. Rose also thought that the Irish had fairies called brownies who cleaned their homes. The girl had heard it from the cook and had expressly asked Maddy to acquire an Irish fairy instead of a new maid.

  Maddy sniffed. “It’s all well and good for you two to talk of experimenting, but I am not a doll for you to dress.”

  “Oh, Maddy, don’t be like that,” wheedled Rose.

  “I cannot pay for new gowns,” she hissed, furious that she had to blink back her tears. Damn him for bringing up her dreams like this, even getting Rose to crow about it like it was possible. “Do you not think I would like new clothes?” she snapped, glaring at Kit. “Don’t you know that I wish to be beautiful like everyone else? Well, I am not, and I never will be!” She twisted then to stare out the window, mortification making her back prickle. How dare they do this to her?

  Rose’s voice, soft and very young, pierced her misery. “But you are not ugly, Maddy. How could you think that?”

  “It is because she had been dressing wrong, Lady Rose,” answered Kit when Maddy could not force herself to turn around. “Trying to hide things that everyone knows anyway.”

  Maddy let her forehead drop against the cold glass of the window. It was ninety minutes to Lady Blackstone’s home, and they had barely gone twenty of it. “I am quite content with my wardrobe,” she said miserably, though now even Rose knew she lied. “Can we please discuss something else?”

  “No,” said Rose stubbornly. “No, we cannot. I won’t have you thinking you are ugly! You are just not quite the thing.”

  “But if we attempted this bold experiment,” inserted Kit, “then perhaps that will change. Perhaps she will become just the thing. And you, Lady Rose, will be the leader! You will begin to dictate what is fashionable and what is not. Imagine it!”

  Maddy fell back in her seat with a groan. She did not have to see Rose’s face to know the girl was imagining just that: Lady Rose as the fashionable leader of the ton. But, of course, it would be Maddy standing there in all her old, tall, and poor proportions.

  “There is no money, Rose,” she said clearly. “I have no money.”

  “But your uncle does,” inserted Mr. Frazier. “Rose, does your father perhaps pay your milliners bill? Does he ever question you about it?”

  Rose shook her head. “Never. But Maddy doesn’t go to Madame Celeste. She’s much too expensive.”

  “But what if Maddy did?” inserted Kit. “What if you told your father that you needed a few more gowns.”

  “Oh! But I have already told him that. My ball gown isn’t quite right—”

  “Excellent. What if, instead of a gown for yourself, you commissioned new gowns for your cousin instead? Your father would pay the bill without even knowing it.”

  Maddy folded her arms across her apparently massive bosom. “He would notice it if I suddenly appeared in new clothing.”

  “Ah, but you can merely say that you have been saving up from the household accounts.”

  “Then he will cut the household accounts!”

  Kit pursed his lips. “Really? Is he truly that stingy that he will not pay for meals on the table? A valet to care for his clothes, a maid to dress your hair?”

  “Oh, Papa doesn’t care about those things,” inserted Rose blithely. “And he said I could buy whatever gowns I need for my Season.”

  “Perfect!” exclaimed Kit. “So buy your cousin new gowns instead! You shall become a great fashion leader within a few days!”

  Maddy sighed. “The earl pays closer attention than you think, Rose. He will notice.”

  “But by then the deed will be done,” returned Kit.

  “That is not the way to act, Mr. Frazier.” Why didn’t he understand? Rose was already too prone to act without thinking, to blithely believe that the ends justified the means. By encouraging this one flight, who knew what Rose was likely to do in the future? Maddy shot a stern look at her cousin. “Besides, I believe your father said you could buy one new ball gown. Only one.”

  Rose flushed and looked down at her hands. “Oh. Well, yes. Perhaps I overstated a bit. But truly, my father is the most generous of men.”

  “One elaborate ball gown could buy two or three new gowns of the kind I think would suit Miss Wilson,” said Kit encouragingly.

  “But then Rose would have to give up her new ball gown.” Maddy looked hard at Rose, seeing that the girl indeed had not realized that Kit’s idea meant that she would have to forego her treat. “Rose has been looking at fashion plates for weeks, drawing them on every piece of paper she can find. She has dreamed of this new gown. I couldn’t take it from her.” After all, it was Rose’s money. Maddy was only there as charity
.

  “Oh my, that is hard,” Kit said, his expression filled with sympathy. “But you know, nothing worthwhile has ever been accomplished without great sacrifice. Losing your ball gown must cut deeply. I understand your hesitation. But recall that we are engaged in a bold experiment. You might become the fashion leader of the ton.” Then he sighed dramatically. “No, no, you are right. One gown is too much to ask you to give up.”

  Maddy sighed as she looked at her cousin. She understood the irony lacing Kit’s tone. He clearly meant that one gown was nothing to sacrifice. Especially given that he had spent the last seven years nearly naked. But Rose had not been swept up in a pirate raid. It was not in the girl to sacrifice anything. It simply wasn’t.

  “I’ll do it!” Rose abruptly cried. “I will. Maddy, I want you to be beautiful. I want you to catch a husband. And I want to be the one to get you a husband!”

  “Oh, Lady Rose!” gushed Kit. “You are the most generous of souls! I count myself most fortunate to be here in your presence.” He grabbed her hand and pressed lush kisses into her palm.

  Not surprisingly, Rose blushed a most becoming shade. She was beautiful, Maddy thought, a most fortunate face with a good heart. Sadly, the moment of generosity couldn’t last.

  “It won’t work,” she inserted softly. “Her father will notice and then we will both suffer.”

  Kit rounded on her then. He had been acting so civilized, so proper, that she had forgotten he had a darker side. So she was shocked speechless when his anger lashed out at her.

  “You will not take this from her,” he snapped. “She is having good, honest impulses. She wants to see you married. She is horrified that you believe yourself ugly. You will not take that from her!” He looked down at Rose who appeared equally stunned by Kit’s change. “And your father will not punish either of you. I will see to it.”

  Rose nodded slowly. What else could she do with Kit looking so fierce? But Maddy was made of sterner stuff.

  “I am not a doll for you to use and discard however you will,” she whispered.

  She saw his eyes widen and remorse flash through his expression. He knew she was not speaking just of new gowns, but of what they had done last night. Of how he had treated her even before that in the playhouse. Perhaps he was trying to do a kind thing, manipulating Rose such that Maddy got new gowns. But she could not shake the feeling that he was still doing what he willed for her, without the least consideration as to what she wanted.

  “You are not my doll, angel,” he said softly. “And new gowns can only aid you in finding a husband.”

  And there he’d said the one thing that could change her mind. Of all things, she needed a husband this Season or she would be forced into very uncomfortable choices. Anything that aided her quest was perforce necessary. Even if it meant lying to Uncle Frank and taking new gowns from her cousin.

  “Are you sure, Rose?” she finally said.

  The girl nodded with clear resolve. “Absolutely! It shall be the best experiment ever!”

  Maddy smiled at her earnest cousin. “Then I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

  Rose flushed even prettier, but it was Kit who drew Maddy’s gaze. He nodded to her in his own acknowledgment, as if thanking her for giving in. “You will make a most stunning bride,” he said softly. “I do hope you will invite me to your wedding.”

  “Of course . . .” Maddy said without thinking. And then the truth of it hit her broadside. If he needed to be invited to the wedding, then she would naturally not be marrying him. Of course she knew all that. She knew he was not in a state to wed anyone just yet. His affairs were still in disarray. Good heavens, his mind was still in disarray.

  But after what they had done last night, after all that she had experienced, a certain part of her had clearly hoped. Despite her resolve to be proper, she had spent last night dreaming of doing more with him as husband and wife. But he was not going to offer for her. If she had any doubt, here he was stating it clearly: I hope you will invite me to your wedding. Her vision swam with tears, and she turned her gaze to the window. Perhaps she could make some bland remark on the scenery that she couldn’t even see.

  No need. Kit noticed where she was looking and began a rolling discussion on the English countryside. No, she reminded herself, his name was Mr. Frazier. She had no business using his Christian name, even in her thoughts. Especially in her thoughts. And in that stern frame of mind, Maddy suffered through an eternity of prattle until they arrived at the home of Lord and Lady Blackstone.

  Chapter 14

  They had arrived. Kit threw a panicked look at Maddy but she was still determined to avoid him. He didn’t blame her. If he were a gentleman, he would have already offered her marriage. But he wasn’t a gentleman and he hadn’t been one for a very long time. He would not saddle any woman with his fits.

  She did not know the nightmares he faced whenever he closed his eyes or that he slept with a knife clutched to his chest. She did not know how close his rage was to the surface, and that he struggled to keep it hidden away. She didn’t know who he was inside, and so she naturally expected that he would offer for her.

  But he had made his position clear now, much to her obvious pain, but he could not help that. She would be better in the long run with a good, solid Englishman as her husband. While he, on the other hand, now had to face the most urgent of his demons: Scheherazade, the woman he had once loved above all others.

  They stepped out of the carriage to view a rather dull home. Compared to the huge edifices built as monuments to titled ego, Viscount Blackstone’s home was downright modest. Two floors, perhaps some depth to the building, and a modestly decorated lawn. Wherever would all the servants sleep? But, of course, he realized, Scher was used to doing for herself. She would not want a bunch of footmen underfoot.

  He had just turned around to assist Lady Rose from disembarking when the front door opened with a bang. Kit tensed, his entire body tightening from the sound. Consciously, he knew he was far away from a battle, but his skin still prickled with his own mixture of terror and excitement.

  “Stop! Oy, blimey, Christopher, stop!”

  A small dark form shot past. Within a moment, Kit had the child in hand and held up by his starched collar. It was a boy of perhaps five years old, his legs pumping and kicking despite being held aloft. And in his hand was the last of an apple tart, which quickly disappeared into his mouth.

  Kit felt his lips curve into a smile. He remembered doing the exact same thing as a child. And again as a slave whenever food had come his way.

  “Don’t let him touch me!” gasped Lady Rose. “He’s covered in tart!”

  “Really, Rose,” Maddy admonished. “I think Mr. Frazier has him well restrained.”

  “You never know when a child like that can squirm away!” Rose returned haughtily.

  “Especially little Christopher,” came a voice from the front step. It was Scheherazade. Kit would recognize her voice anywhere, and the sound seemed to shudder into his skin, making him tremble in reaction. His hand went weak and he lowered the child to the ground. The boy was wily though and managed to twist away. In the background, he heard Rose squeak with alarm, but it was Scheherazade he listened for as she sighed heavily before calling out to her child.

  “You will not escape, young man, just because we have callers. There will be a reckoning, I promise you!”

  Her tone was bracing, obviously meant for her son, but Kit took it into his heart and used it to steady himself. He was a man, damn it, and he would face her. So thinking, he forced his body around to see Scheherazade and a governess standing in the doorway. But he couldn’t quite face his lost love, so he focused on the servant. She was a rough-looking woman of middle years and thinning iron gray hair. In her arms, she held another squirming child—a girl of about two years—who was obviously struggling to run after her brother.

  “I’ll get him, m’lady,” she said as she watched the boy take off around the house. />
  “Good luck catching that speed demon,” returned Scheherazade, looking plump in her overly large dress. “Here, give me Suzanne.”

  The girl transferred happily to her mother’s arms, settling heavily on the woman’s belly. Scheherazade was certainly increasing. About six months along, he estimated, and more beautiful than he remembered. Her face had a healthy glow and was no longer gaunt with fatigue. Her strength seemed to have increased too, as she easily maneuvered the little girl, despite her pregnancy girth. But most of all, he noticed her eyes as they settled on him. Green, steady, and blinking against a sheen of tears. “Kit,” she whispered.

  She didn’t speak the word loud enough for him to hear, but he saw the shape of her mouth and knew she breathed his name. He started forward, intent on taking her and her child into his arms. But at that moment, Brandon also appeared. He was tall, dark, and his size easily filled the doorway.

  Scheherazade turned from Kit to her husband. She said something Kit could not hear, then Brandon smiled at his daughter and lifted the babbling girl from her mother’s arms. But even as Brandon blew kisses at his daughter, he kept Kit within his line of sight.

  Was there worry in the man’s eyes? Did he wonder if Scheherazade loved her husband? She did. He could see that as clearly as he saw the clouds in the sky. But it didn’t stop him from stepping forward.

  “Hello, Scher.”

  “Oh, Kit . . .” she said, and with those words, he closed the distance between them and swept her up in his arms. She was so much larger than he remembered, her body softer and infinitely more womanly. And even more disconcerting was the way she held him so tight. She clutched him to her without the reserve he remembered so clearly.

  He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. She’d always smelled of ale and grease paint, but not today. Today her scent was of rose water and apple tarts. His Scheherazade had never smelled so . . . so sweet. Like a mother or a cook. But when he pulled back, he saw her eyes and remembered the woman he once loved.

  There was pain in her gaze and a longing that echoed through his entire soul. Memories assaulted him. Not real ones, but the pretend ones, imagined fantasies that he had held tight to his heart all those years as a slave. He gasped and leaned forward, struggling beneath the weight of what he’d once felt. His brain didn’t even register the movement until he was already leaning forward to kiss her.