Triana's Spring Seduction

by Tabetha Waite

  This is it. Triana thought anxiously as Alfred kissed the other woman’s hand and pleasantries were exchanged. When it came time for Eastbury to introduce her, Triana stepped forward with a bright smile. “How do you do, Miss Freewater?”

  “I’m well, my lady, thank you.” Her face was expressionless as she returned the polite greeting.

  Oh, dear. This doesn’t bode well. She tried again, hoping that she might win the woman over with kindness. “Please, call me Triana.”

  “Of course.” Constance murmured.

  Triana held her breath when the other woman turned to her escort. “Lord Huntington,” she smoothly interjected when there was a break in his conversation with the earl, “would you and Lord Eastbury be so kind as to fetch Triana and me some punch?”

  “Certainly,” Lord Huntington returned heartily. “What say you, Eastbury? How about we let the ladies catch up on their gossip while we do our best to quench their thirst?”

  The minute they were gone, Constance let out a weary sigh. “Now that we are alone, Lady Triana, how about you tell me what you want of me.”

  Triana’s smile slipped. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Come now.” The courtesan’s tone was almost sarcastic. “We’re both intelligent women. I daresay you know who I am and that you wouldn’t even be conversing with someone of my status unless there was a purpose behind it. So again, I ask, what do you want?” She raised a dainty brow expectantly and waited.

  Drat. Triana searched her mind for something to say, but her mind had turned blank. What could she say to convince this woman to confide such delicate information to her, if, in fact, she knew anything at all?

  “We don’t have much time…” Constance prompted, causing Triana to take a leap of faith. It was either that or admit that she’d horribly failed.

  She looked her adversary directly in the eye and stated truthfully, “I shall be frank, Miss Freewater. First, let me begin by saying I’m not here by any malicious intent, if that’s what you think. I’ve witnessed the interest in you this evening, and as one who is also targeted and left to rot by speculation, I find I detest most gossip.”

  To Triana’s relief, Madame Corressa’s taunt features actually began to soften. “An admirable speech, to be sure, although I can’t help but think you didn’t come here simply to befriend me over some idle talk.”

  Triana had to admire her bold retort. “I won’t pretend that was my only motivation. I do, in fact, need something from you. Information.” She hesitated. “I understand you used to be acquainted with the captain of the Evening Swan.”

  “Reginald?” Again that eyebrow shot upward before she gave a rather unladylike snort. “My advice would be not to waste your time on the man. If you’re looking for a protector, I can introduce you to much more appealing men to satisfy—”

  “No!” Triana quickly interrupted. “I don’t want a… a… lover.” Her face heated at the idea — until she thought of Gabriel fulfilling that particular role, and then other parts of her body became warm. “What I meant to say is that wasn’t the sort of information I had in mind.”

  “I see,” Constance murmured, and Triana hoped she had conveyed the silent message appropriately. The lady hesitated, but opened her reticule and took out a piece of paper and a pencil. Scribbling a few lines, she passed it to Triana. “I must say I appreciate honesty in a person, Lady Triana. I believe it’s a sign of good character. I only hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  As Huntington and Eastbury took that moment to return with their punch, Triana hastily tucked the note away in her bodice. After a brief conversation, she and Eastbury headed for his box, but she hastily excused herself, confessing a need to use the ladies’ necessary room.

  A surge of exhilaration rose up within her as she walked over to a secluded corner of the room and unfolded the slightly rumpled paper:

  Meet me this Sunday at Mivart’s Hotel. One o’clock. Room 208. I’ll tell you everything I know.

  ***

  Two days… two days… two days — it was like a continual chant in Triana’s head as she resumed her seat next to Eastbury and counted the hours she’d have to wait until the appointed rendezvous. If it were possible, the anticipation of what was to come made her more restless than this initial meeting had.

  Could she truly be holding the key her brother and Gabriel needed to bring down this smuggling operation? While she was doubtful it would be quite that easy, the desire to relay her success to Travell and Gabriel barely kept her sitting still. In the end, she decided that it was time to end the ruse of enjoying the entertainment.

  She turned to her escort. “I fear I’m getting a slight headache. Would you mind terribly if we left early?”

  Unfortunately, her ploy failed as he smiled thinly. “Drink your punch. It has all the healing benefits you require.”

  If healing requires brandy, Triana thought sourly. She’d already ascertained that her punch was laced quite liberally with it. No doubt Eastbury would love to take advantage of her should she become tipsy. Their sleeping dragon of a chaperone would certainly be of no assistance against his groping hands, for even now she was dangerously close to suffocating on that hideous plume every time she snored.

  Triana rose. “Then perhaps I shall just take some air.” And to hail down the first hackney I encounter, she silently added.

  She would have made an escape, but the earl’s arm darted out and prevented a retreat. Either the man didn’t sense her annoyance, or else he didn’t care, for he said, “Now, what sort of gentleman would I be if I let you leave unattended?” A sly grin appeared. “In fact, I know just the place where we can take a leisurely stroll… undisturbed, if that is your wish.”

  “I don’t believe that will be necessary, my lord,” she returned frostily. “I would much prefer to take the terrace alone.” Making a point to emphasize the singular, she was further aggrieved when he dared to move closer.

  His beady eyes dropped to her bosom and her face flooded with an angry rush of heat. “I have been aching for a taste of your lips. Surely you will deny me no longer now that we are betrothed? It’s so rare that we get a moment to ourselves.”

  It was all Triana could do not to grit her teeth at his arrogance. “As we are not yet wed,” she stated firmly, “I assume you can understand the impropriety of such a request.”

  “That didn’t stop you from allowing Chiltern to take certain liberties.” He smirked, practically licking his lips as he continued to stare at her chest. “In fact, I might even be able to overlook such a slight on your virtue if you were to reconsider…”

  “What I suggest,” she stated clearly, her hands clenched into tight fists as she was perilously close to losing her temper, “is that you let me leave.”

  He smiled in a tolerant manner, obviously unconcerned with what he considered an empty threat. “I see that you aren’t denying the rumors about you and Chiltern,” he murmured. “I’ve often wondered how intimate the two of you were, in light of his overbearing behavior and the way he looks at you.” His eyes held more than a hint of maliciousness as he sneered, “I would, however, remind your lover that it is I who shall soon be your husband and your nights will be spent warming my bed.”

  Triana attempted to free herself from his grasp, but he held her fast. “Let go of me. Now!”

  “I strongly suggest that you listen to the lady, Eastbury, if you ever wish to see the light of another day.” Gabriel materialized out of the shadows at the rear of the box. The menace in those shining, predatory eyes as he pinned the earl with a thunderous scowl causing a delicious shiver to crawl down Triana’s spine.

  Eastbury straightened his jacket and puffed up his chest, but he released Triana. “Are you trying to browbeat me, Your Grace?” With a haughty sniff, he continued, “I suppose I should let you enjoy playing the hero as it suits you, for before long, the law will be on my side.”

  “Indeed?” Gabriel raised a challenging brow. “Well I guess we�
�ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” He took Triana’s hand and led her out of the box, leaving Eastbury to stew alone.

  Once they were outside, Gabriel hailed down a hackney, and after helping Triana inside he murmured a few instructions to the driver. The carriage rocked slightly with his weight as he entered, before they set off with a light jolt.

  “Are you all right?” His deep voice was uncommonly husky.

  Triana nodded. “I’m fine. It shall take more than that sniveling weasel’s advances to overset me.”

  Gabriel’s next words were dark and ominous. “I’m relieved to hear that. However, if you wish it, I will gladly go back and pound the living—”

  She quickly put up a hand up to stop him. “Please,” she said wearily. “I’d rather just forget the entire episode, for it only reminds me of what I will have to endure in the very near future.” Silence fell after her statement, the only sound being the horses’ hooves as they struck the cobblestones. After a time, she said, “I didn’t know you were going to be at the opera tonight.”

  Gabriel’s lips twitched. “That’s because I didn’t tell you.”

  Triana hesitated, as if unsure how to proceed. “Lady Worthington was there. I daresay she didn’t look very pleased to have Lord Vanderbree as her escort.”

  Material rustled as he switched position. “No, I imagine she wasn’t.” His words were clipped and dismissive, so Triana reluctantly let the matter drop.

  Even after everything she and Gabriel had been through, she still burned to know what his intentions were toward the lovely widow. It was obvious, by his tone, that it wasn’t something he wished to discuss, but was it because he felt nothing for Cordelia? Or was he resentful of the fact he hadn’t been able to escort her that evening?

  With a frown, she recalled the note tucked away in her bodice. While it had given her such elation earlier, she fished it out and handed it to him without the slightest bit of excitement now. “It turns out my brother was right about Madame Corressa. She was most accommodating.”

  After perusing the short missive, Gabriel handed it back to her. “Well done, but then, there was never any doubt in my mind that you would be a success.”

  As she carefully tucked the paper back away, she said ruefully, “I wish I had your confidence.”

  He suddenly reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. The intensity in his gaze enough to stop her heart. “Where does this low regard for yourself come from?” he asked softly. “Because I don’t see anything but a beautiful woman in front of me. With eyes as blue as a cloudless sky—” He moved closer, the warmth of his breath lightly fanning the hair at her temples, causing her to shiver in response. “—skin as soft as the finest silk—” He ran his fingers along the length of her exposed collarbone. “—and a mouth as close to heaven there is.”

  She closed her eyes in abandon; wanting — no, needing, his kiss.

  Her lips trembled helplessly as he finally gave her what she most desperately craved.

  It was gentle at first, but he quickly deepened the embrace, the kiss completely devouring them in its greedy hunger. Mouths fused, and desire soon flamed and burned out of control. Hands caressed and tongues mingled, until they were both yearning for more.

  Gabriel was the one who finally pulled away, breathing heavily. He reached out and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “God, what you do to me,” he whispered.

  Triana stared at him in utter bewilderment. What she did to him? As far as she knew, she hadn’t done a thing. The problem was — what he did to her!

  You still have time to change the rules…

  That haunting voice came back to taunt her as she looked into those silver eyes. But what about when it’s time to say goodbye? she argued silently.

  Isn’t it worth it to have a few precious stolen moments in Gabriel’s arms? That voice demanded harshly. Can you turn your back on your heart’s desire forever, or will you grasp joy when it’s offered — however fleeting it may be?

  It was true. She’d waited long enough.

  Somehow, she would find a way to seduce the Duke of Chiltern.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lady Cordelia Worthington yanked off her white gloves and threw them down on her dresser in disgust. She’d just returned home from the opera after bidding a rather eager Lord Vanderbree, a firm, good evening, and she felt a bit out of sorts. Now that she was away from the prying eyes of the ton, she could vent her irritation at will, while fury boiled in her veins like a disease.

  Without calling for her maid to assist her, she kicked off her shoes and began tugging at her dress; her movements jerky and agitated as she twisted and turned to remove it, feeling as if it were choking her. Hearing a sudden, distinct rip, Cordelia uttered a foul curse before stepping out of the expensive, emerald satin gown. It had cost her a fortune to have it made, though she had been happy to pay the price, knowing the color would set off her honey hair and creamy skin to perfection. But without the appreciative eyes of a handsome, wealthy duke to see her in it — well, then it just became ordinary material and thread.

  She tossed the crumpled heap in a corner of her bedroom, quickly adding the layers of undergarments and stockings to the pile, until she was standing in the middle of the room without a stitch of clothing on, save her diamond jewelry. The impersonal cold feeling of the jewels seemed to fit her mood, not to mention that she just liked the heavy weight of them. It gave her a sense of confidence — and power.

  She slipped into a red lace dressing gown and sat down at her vanity to stare at her reflection, absently fingering the costly adornments around her neck and debating her next course of action. Gabriel’s inattentiveness was starting to become highly frustrating. It was bad enough that he had stopped calling, but then, after sending him countless letters, he refused to answer them. She’d barely seen him out among any of the ton’s events for the past week, but she knew where he’d been.

  It seemed that Abernathy twit had finally devised a way to sneak her clutches into him. Apparently, not even a forced engagement had stopped her from stringing along her lover right beneath Eastbury’s nose. If this continued, there was no telling how besotted Gabriel might end up being with the chit, thus making it nearly impossible to control him when Cordelia lured him back. And she would do so. After all, she wasn’t the most sought after widow simply because of her wealth. She knew how to please a man.

  While it was irritating that she should have to waste so much time with Gabriel when she had been pursued by more male members of the beau monde than she could recall, it was the allure of being a duchess that was just too tempting to resist. Not only that, but she wasn’t one to concede defeat lightly. She would do whatever it took to gain her that title, even if she had to resort to rather unsavory means to obtain it.

  It was not as if it would be the first time she’d had to shove aside her principles to get what she wanted.

  A sudden clink! interrupted her musings. With a disgruntled sigh, Cordelia walked over to the solitary window in her chamber. She glanced down at the alley two-stories below and noticed a man standing in the shadows, another pebble at the ready, should his first not have been heard. Although his features were partially hidden from view, she had no doubt who it was, and her lips curved upward in a pleased reply.

  Cordelia sailed silently down the stairs, not wishing to awaken any of the servants as she greeted this unexpected guest. She slipped open the lock on the front door, and after giving her guest a coy glance, she gestured for him to follow her upstairs. As usual, he trailed after her without a single word — the anticipation of what would soon transpire starting to heat her blood.

  The moment she shut her bedroom door, Cordelia’s eyes lit on him expectantly. “I assume that since you’re here at this untimely hour that you have something to report.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I might have.” His smug expression went along with his actions as he sat on the bed and began to take off his boots, his gaze hungrily holding h
ers.

  Normally, Cordelia wouldn’t allow such impertinence in an informant, but since he was one of her more experienced lovers, she let the matter of his manners slide — at least, for the moment. “Care to tell me what it is?” she asked a bit breathlessly as he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing a rippled chest.

  He didn’t bother with an answer as he unbuttoned his trousers and his swollen manhood sprang free. “I thought our business transactions were based upon prior payment.”

  Cordelia fought with the baser instincts beginning to flare inside her. Perhaps a slight delay wouldn’t be amiss, she thought. After all, it had been a couple days since she’d had a man in her bed. She allowed a seductive grin to spread across her lips, and then opened her robe, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of lace.

  He stared at her naked form for only a moment...nostrils flaring amid the blatant lust blazing in his eyes...and then he grabbed her and bent her over the side of the bed. He grabbed hold of her unbound hair with one hand and positioned himself with the other as he took what he wanted. Rough and ready. Cordelia bit her lip in instant arousal. Such a wanton display of manly aggressiveness, she knew it was his way — although she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t hers too.

  ***

  Less than thirty minutes later, they lay side by side, sexually replete in her four poster bed, the fire of their passions having died down to a dull simmer.

  Cordelia ran a fingernail down his naked thigh, her voice a mere purr, “Surely such payment is worth any information.”

  He smiled tolerantly. While she undoubtedly thought it was due to the reminder of their lovemaking, he was simply thinking about his own plans, and how he would soon have no more need to be her little errand boy. “Do you?” He lifted a mocking brow. “Well, as it turns out, I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll tell you what you want to know. Your duke left the opera tonight — with Lady Triana.” He hesitated on the last, knowing it would get a rise out of her.