The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany Sefchick

  Everyone also agreed that the eyes were uniquely Stephen's, that odd color that only the Deaver family seemed to possess. The man's hair was still not growing in very quickly, but what little there was appeared as if it might be blond. Whether it was the peculiar honey-wheat shade and of the proper thickness remained to be seen, but all indications were that that it might be.

  On the surface, this man appeared to be Stephen Deaver, Viscount Underhill. Yet Nicholas could not shake the feeling that it was not. His gaze was often too vacant and he still had difficultly being around Eliza on occasion. Then again, Nicholas was having the exact same difficulty these days. So perhaps that criteria was not a very good one to judge by. She was not a little girl any longer and a part of Nicholas was having difficulty reconciling the newly emerging goddess with the plain spinster she had been for so long. It would be no stretch to imagine that Stephen might be having the same difficulty.

  For she was different. And it, like so much else, was largely Nicholas' fault.

  Though he had not been truly alone with Eliza since the night of the Celestial Ball - and in truth had only seen her twice, both times in a mad crush of people - Nicholas could not shake the unsettled feeling she caused in him. Though she had resumed wearing her glasses and had not worn so scandalous a gown since that fateful night, there was simply something different about her. Perhaps it was because she was actually present at balls and other events, no longer hiding behind potted plants and skulking about so that she blended in with the wallpaper.

  Yes, that must be it, Nicholas decided as he listened to Frost ramble on about Stephen and how he noticed no unusual changes in the man now in society versus the man he had once known. For his own peace of mind, Nicholas pretended he was still paying attention to his friend and instead turned his thoughts back towards Eliza

  She was simply being seen. That had to be it. And that was cause enough to make him take note of her. It could not be because she had looked so very lovely the night of the ball or because she had felt so right in his arms. And it was certainly not because he was worried that she would deliver the tongue lashing of his life when he was finally alone with her again. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course. He did. And most likely a great deal more.

  However before Nicholas could let those ideas take firm root in his brain, he stood up and clapped a hand on Frost's shoulder, ready to cut the man's soliloquy short. "Good. Very good." Nicholas wanted to make certain to encourage the viscount to continue spying for him, however. Frost was a natural at it, just as most gossip-loving members of society were. "Keep it up."

  "Of course. Anything to make certain Lord Framingham and his family are not taken advantage of." Frost mopped at his brow with a towel. "I would hate to see a man like that lose everything. After all, he has been so careful up until now. Wouldn't do to have him bamboozled, would it?"

  It was on the tip of Nicholas' tongue to correct his friend and say that Eliza had been the one who had been careful. But he was able to keep silent. Instead, he gave Frost a good shake on his shoulder. "No, it would not do at all. But enough of that." Then, he easily slipped back into his role as Bloody Duke. "In the meantime, how do you feel about going a round or two with me? I still feel the need to work out a bit of frustration."

  "I'm more than game and it seems as if you need the release," Frost replied cheerily, seemingly oblivious. "Lady Eliza is leading you on a merry chase, I'd wager. And somehow I don't think she is the sort of female to be bedded before she is wedded. I have no doubt that's why you were at Lycosura last evening. A man has his needs after all." Then Frost shook his head. "I still don't see how the two of you suit, but then it's not really a love match, is it?"

  For a moment, Nicholas had to wonder about the sanity of a man who would agree to most likely being pummeled to within an inch of his life after making a such a crack about the lady his future sparring partner was currently courting. Then he quickly dismissed the thought. Frost was a good man. He simply believed that men were ruled by their baser instincts. Just as most of their friends did. It was nothing amongst their set for a man to take a wife and still keep a mistress. Or continue visiting brothels, even during the courtship. That was simply the way of things.

  There had been a time when Nicholas would have agreed with his friend. Before his night with Ellie, back when they were both still young and idealistic. Before events afterward had changed his view of the world, and made him something of a jaded, cynical rake. Before his heart had hardened and he had become The Bloody Duke.

  Now? Now Nicholas valued loyalty and honesty. He was seen as a man who lived only for pleasures of the flesh, who had lost his heart to a woman long ago and no longer had it to give away to another woman. Any marriage he contracted would be one of business and duty. Not love. The Bloody Duke was no longer capable of it. He was too ruthless. Too empty inside after the loss of Ellie - first to Berkshire and later to death. And for the most part, people viewing him thus did not bother Nicholas in the least. After all, it was mostly true.

  Except that now Eliza was a part of this equation as well, and the idea of him being viewed as so much of a rake that he would step out on the woman he was courting to visit a brothel did not sit well with him. It did not reflect well upon her either. It made her appear unworthy of his time and attention. As if he preferred the sexual pleasures of Lycosura to the company of the woman he might one day wed.

  It made her appear as if she was second best.

  And Eliza had endured enough of that from others during her lifetime. Nicholas did not want to add to her hurt any further in that regard. He wanted to be better than that. He owed her that much. And more. And it bothered him greatly that he felt so strongly about the issue. Eliza was, in theory anyway, nothing to him. She was simply Brat. A girl he had known since she was a pain in the arse child trying to tag along after her big brother, her body weak but her spirit willing.

  Except that deep inside, Nicholas knew she was more. And it was that knowledge that had made him push away the women at Lycosura last night. Eliza was the woman whose life he had inadvertently destroyed. The woman who was now an unwed spinster because of Nicholas' own poor choices. He could have stopped Stephen from leaving. In fact, if not for Nicholas' actions, Stephen would never have left England at all. He never would have been aboard the Echo when it sank, plunging Lord Framingham and his wife into so deep of a depression that they stopped living and ignored everything. Including their only remaining child. Ignoring Eliza.

  So she was more than just a friend's sister. She was a woman Nicholas had wronged. And he owed her more than being viewed as a second place consolation prize in his life.

  Except that to treat her as truly important would be to admit secrets that might make him weak and vulnerable again. And Nicholas wasn't about to do that either. But starting now, he could begin to correct at least some of his mistakes. Or so his conscience insisted.

  So instead, he smiled again, that dark, wicked and full-of-sin grin that he knew his friends expected of The Bloody Duke. Then he leaned back against a wall for good measure, wanting to be certain he displayed the proper amount of ennui.

  "Love?" Nicholas drawled, as he sighed deeply. Almost as if he was the most put-upon man in all of London. "No, love has nothing to do with the matter. I made a promise long ago and, as a gentleman of honor, I intend to keep it." Then he shrugged casually. "And I do need to beget an heir soon, especially given my age. Or so I am told repeatedly by my forever-interfering sister. So why not the Deaver chit? She's passable and not likely to give me too much grief." He almost winced at that lie. Eliza would likely give him more grief than he could handle should they ever be so foolish enough to actually wed. Despite her meek appearance to most of society, Nicholas knew the truth of her all too well. And that included a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind.

  That made Frost laugh and Nicholas relaxed, his words having their intended effect. "You have the right of it, Candlewood. No, you'll not have much trouble fro
m that one. I doubt she'd even kick up a fuss about a mistress, should you decide to take one. As I'm certain you will, once you get a child on the chit. And I know Miss Vienetti would be amenable to accepting such a position in your bed."

  As Frost nattered on about the wondrous attributes of the lovely Italian soprano, Nicholas guided the other man out of the back room and into the sporting area. For suddenly, he was feeling the need to pummel something. Hard. And fast. Until he could no longer think or feel. Especially about how this mad scheme of his could potentially hurt Eliza and her reputation when it was over. Or about how she would most likely kill him if she ever discovered what he had just said.

  He also knew that he owed Eliza a very, very big apology. And extraordinarily better behavior.

  Chapter Nine

  Eliza felt the stares from just about every pair of eyes in the room as she descended the steps into the Earl of Northwick's grand ballroom. She could tell simply by the guilty expressions on their faces that they were whispering about her. And her brother. The gossip about Stephen was to be expected, but about her? She had been less than pleased to discover that her faux betrothed was traipsing about town day and night, being seen at nearly every gaming hell and brothel he could find over the last few days. And for those who had been living under a rock, The Town Tattler had made certain to report every detail, no matter how small, with nearly breathless abandon.

  Last night Nicholas had been spotted leaving Lycosura, his clothing askew and looking as if he had just given some whore a quick tumble in the sheets. He most likely had. Lord only knew where he would be seen tonight when he left her side. Not that Eliza particularly cared. Or at least she tried not to care. She had known - at least to some degree - what she was opening herself up for when she had gone to Nicholas for help with Stephen. What she had not expected was this sort of public humiliation. It only served to reaffirm that most men were untrustworthy idiots. She had thought Nicholas was different. Or rather she had hoped he was. Apparently, she had been wrong.

  Then again, Eliza had no intention of ever marrying, so she didn't need to worry overly much about her reputation she supposed. Other than that she might be judged a fool, as long as she did not make a misstep, when this was over, she would be able to fade back into relative obscurity. Though it had only been a few days, she longed to be able to hide behind her potted plants and fade into the background again. Or at least she thought she did. Over the last few days, she had become so confused that she was no longer certain what she wanted. Other than to possibly give Nicholas a tongue lashing for making her out to be some sort of frigid, stupid spinster. The frigid spinster label she didn't mind so much. The stupid part she most certainly did.

  And to take him to task for toying with her heart. Except that she couldn't because he had never promised her anything other than a fake courtship. Which was precisely what they had. Any deeper meaning into this little farce was entirely her fault. Though she wished there was some way she could blame him. Just because.

  Tonight, Eliza hadn't been overly excited about accepting the invitation Nicholas had issued but her parents had practically forced the issue. After all, the earl and his wife had four daughters, two of them exceedingly beautiful. And eligible. And with large dowries. And extremely blue bloodlines. Enough so that they would be considered excellent matches for Stephen.

  Stephen.

  After several days under the Framingham roof, Eliza was no closer to discovering the truth of the man than she had been the night he had arrived. In fact, in many ways, he was more of an enigma than ever before. Though that, in part, was because she had seen so very little of him.

  In the days after the Celestial Ball, Stephen had been whisked away from the house each morning as early as propriety allowed - usually accompanied by not one but both of her parents. The trappings of society, such as correspondence and calling hours had been allowed to slide over the last few days as well, though Eliza doubted that anyone in society blamed Lord and Lady Framingham one bit for the impropriety. Among other things, Stephen required a new wardrobe, and all manner of lessons in what was now considered proper in society. After all, he had been gone a very long time.

  When he was not out with her parents, Stephen could be found at Gentleman Jackson's salon practicing his boxing skills or in the company of some of the young men of the ton who had invited him to join their clubs. He had gained entrance to both White's and Brook's, as well as obtained his voucher for Almack's almost as soon as news of his return broke. In fact, there was almost no door closed to him and he appeared to be enjoying himself greatly. After all, he was currently the toast of the ton.

  Yet there was still something off about his manner and his words. It was as if he knew the role he was supposed to be inhabiting yet did not completely wish to embrace it. As if something was holding him back. And it was that something that Eliza wished to discover.

  If she could spend more than five minutes with any member of her family, that was. Other than the carriage rides to and from events. Which did not count of course, since all anyone could talk about was Stephen and what sort of match he might make since the season was still relatively young. Even though he was not.

  Eliza rather thought Stephen was enjoying both his role as the Framingham heir and all of the female attention he was receiving. If he truly was her brother, she would be happy for him. But he was not. Despite the fact that his hair was beginning to grow in and it did seem to have something of a blond hue to it. This man was still not Stephen. Only she had no idea how to prove it.

  "I saw Candlewood at Gentleman Jackson's today," Stephen said, breaking the silence that had hung between them since they had exited the carriage, their parents trailing silently behind. "He was sparring with Frost." He cleared his throat. "I also heard rumors that he is intending to take another mistress soon."

  That news was like a physical strike to Eliza's stomach. Gaming hells. Bets at White's. Lycosura. Those things she could manage and put on a good show of not caring one whit about, especially in her role as Nicholas' possible future bride. But a new mistress? That was beyond the pale, even for Nicholas. Especially now. Still, she drew herself up a little straighter.

  "What he does privately is really none of my concern. We are not involved in a traditional sort of relationship. We have not made a secret of it, either. Merely kept our relationship, such as it is, quiet for many reasons. This is not a potential love match. " Still, Eliza had expected a little bit better behavior from Nicholas. After all, he had a sister he had gone to great lengths to protect from gossip and the harsh realties of life over the years. He also had a reputation for being a consummate gentleman. Not with her, though, apparently. That stung. More than Eliza cared to admit.

  She wanted to speak with Nicholas about it immediately. No. That was putting it too prettily. She wanted to berate him for his behavior this very instant. But she did not have the right. Nor had they ever discussed how they would behave once the "secret" was out. Eliza had no right to expect loyalty and fidelity from him. After all, the courtship wasn't real.

  Though she had hoped he would be more circumspect in his actions. Perhaps that had been asking too much. She didn't know. She really wasn't skilled at any sort of deception. Or in the arts of love and seduction. And after all, this was his plan. Not hers. And if he hadn't behaved like a jealous, lovestruck fool at the Celestial Ball, the point would be moot anyway. It was his march across the Chillton's ballroom that had caused a scene. Him. Not her. Once more, she laid the blame for this debacle squarely at his feet.

  A dark look passed over Stephen's face and suddenly, something almost like...well...brotherly indignation Eliza supposed she would term it, flared in his eyes. "Still, Izzy. You deserve better."

  His use of her nickname struck a chord inside of her and she wasn't quite certain how to react. Only those closest to her called her Izzy. Nicholas, of course, often called her Brat. But even her parents referred to her as Eliza. Never Izzy. She wasn't even cer
tain how he had known that name. She supposed he could have overheard Theresa. Or even Nicholas. He had called her Izzy the other morning in the garden. But those were the only two who had uttered that nickname in his presence, she was certain.

  A nickname that Stephen had given her so very long ago.

  Keep up with us, Izzy! I know you can!

  Even now, Eliza could hear the echo of Stephen's voice as he called back to her over the lush, green fields of Langton Abby in the full bloom of summer. He and Nicholas had been racing ahead, her parents off to God knows where and she left in the care of a nanny who would just as soon make calf eyes - and likely more - at one of the stable hands than watch over an ill little girl who couldn't walk.

  And suddenly, a part of Eliza wanted to give this man beside her the benefit of the doubt. Her parents hadn't understood that while they had lost a son, she had lost a brother and best friend as well. She hurt too. Not just them. She still did. Yet she had pushed on with life while they could not.

  Moreover, she missed Stephen, the place he had occupied in her life vast and empty. She had long believed that no one would ever fill it again. Had she been wrong? She felt a part of herself weakening and she knew she had to be strong. This man was not Stephen. She felt that in her very soul. But...what if she was wrong?

  Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Stephen pulled her aside. "I know you still don't believe that I am your brother. And in truth, I haven't given you much of a chance to get to know me. To prove what I claimed in the garden the other morning. But believe me when I say that you are a good woman, Eliza. A proper lady. And you deserve better than the arse of a suitor Lord Candlewood is turning out to be. I might not remember much, but I know that at least."