The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany Sefchick

  Francis laughed. "I dearly hope that you are not referring to me."

  "No." Eliza shook her head. "I know that I doubted you in the beginning and for that I am sorry. But I am ever so thankful that I have you now." She looked out across the garden to where the early morning mists were finally beginning to life. "You are a better brother, I think, than I had a right to ever hope for."

  "Thank you. And I do understand," Francis offered. "And knowing what I do now, I cannot say that in your position, I would not have done the same."

  With a sigh, Eliza closed her eyes and leaned back against the bench. "Do you know how many times over the last six years, I have longed for Stephen's return? I thought that if he could somehow miraculously come home, the world would be righted again. Mama and Papa would be joyful once more and that their sorrows would ease."

  "That has not happened, has it?" Francis leaned down to pick a peony that was growing next to the bench. Just as he had that first morning when they had truly spoken more than five or six words to each other. "I did not know them before, but from what I gather, they were both irrevocably broken the day they were told that I died. And they have never really recovered."

  Eliza accepted the flower from her brother and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply. "No, I do not believe they have. Nor do I think they ever will. Not now. It has been far too long." Then she reached for Francis' hand. "But they will go on. They have thus far. And now they have you back. I would like to think that, in time, that will help ease their pain a bit." She paused, biting her lip, uncertain how to approach the next topic but deciding there was no help for it but to jump right in. "And what about you?"

  "What about me?" Francis shifted his bad leg so the pressure was off of it, stretching it out in front of him.

  Eliza reached over and tapped the cane. "Do you not wonder how this happened? What sort of life you led as Lord Moxham? What sort of man you were before Brighton? Or why you were even there in the first place?"

  Francis cleared his throat. "There is a part of me that does. Certainly. I wonder about the people who raised me. Given that Stephen referred to me as Lord Moxham, I assume the people who were once my parents are no longer living. Or at least my father is not. I am uncertain about my mother. But someone back in Cornwall must have known them. They must have known me as well. And yes, I would like to know what sort of people they were. How they did not question when I was delivered to them. What they were like." He paused, and his gaze followed hers out over the misty garden where he searched for answers he could not find. Then, very quietly he added, "But what if I do not like the answers?"

  "Then we shall deal with them. Together." They had come so very far together in such a short time. Eliza would not abandon her brother now that she had found him again. "You will not be alone in this, Francis. Not now and not ever again."

  He was silent for a moment, staring out over the garden once more. "What if I never remember?" There was a wealth of pain in his question and Eliza wished she could ease it away. But she could not. All she could do was offer to be there for him.

  "Then you do not." Her voice was gentle, soothing. "It would be sad, yes, but not the end of the world. I am certain that in time, we will find someone who will remember you and know you as Lord Moxham. Perhaps that will spark a memory."

  "And if it does not?" He ran his hand over the handle of his cane in an unconscious gesture and Eliza wondered again how long it had been a part of him. For that gesture was one of memory. She had seen him do the very same thing the night he had arrived on their doorstep. So while his waking mind might not remember his past, there was some part of him that did.

  She shrugged. "Then it does not. We will build you new memories. Here. In London. And at Langton Abby, our country seat. But we will build them, Francis. I promise you that."

  Finally, he smiled and his face became so achingly familiar that Eliza wanted to weep. For it was the face of Stephen she saw as well. And while they might have found Francis, they had, in some small way, lost Stephen in the process. It remained to be seen whether or not he would ever return to them.

  "Thank you, Izzy. For everything. You are the best sister a man could ask for." He nodded. "And, in time, I will learn the rest of your story. For I wish to know it. All of it."

  Impulsively, she reached over and hugged him, even more surprised when he hugged her back. "I would like that," she whispered, swiping at the tears that sprang to her eyes. "I would like that very much."

  As they straightened up, she wasn't surprised to see Francis wipe at his eyes as well, though she would never mention such a thing. It would not be considered manly to be seen crying. Not even in front of one's sister.

  "Now," Francis began again, clearing his throat of any remaining emotion, "what about you, Izzy? I will likely stay in with Mama and Papa today and into this evening. They have had enough of a shock for the time being. But you... Do you not have a duke to see tonight at some entertainment or another?"

  Eliza laughed then, but there was no humor in the sound. "Surely you jest, Francis! You heard Nicholas last night! He no longer wishes to court me!"

  Francis merely stared at her, his eyes soft and steady. And knowing. "Nicholas, is it? So I take it that you are far more involved with the duke than most suspected? Including me?"

  "I...ah..." Eliza scrambled for the correct words. But what could she say? Nicholas did not want her. He had claimed to be unworthy of her but in her heart, she knew it was merely an excuse. "He does not want me, Francis. You heard the man." She bit her lips. "Besides, he had an affair with Lady Berkshire. And possibly a child!"

  "Does that truly bother you?" Francis seemed to be genuinely curious. "For the Eliza I have come to know would not allow anything that happened so long ago to stand in the way of something she truly wanted in the present." Her brother considered her for a moment. "I might not have known you long, Izzy, but I have never seen you back away when you desire something. Or believe in something. Including refusing to believe that I was truly your brother." He laughed then. It was the first time she had ever heard him do so. "I was terrified of you that night, you know. For in my heart, I knew that it was you I would need to convince if I was to have any hope of joining the family."

  For a long moment, Eliza remained still as a statue, mulling over what her brother had just said. Finally, she straightened her spine and looked at him. Once more, she appreciated the man that he was at his core and was thankful he had come into their lives.

  "I have long known of Nicholas' infatuation with Lady Berkshire. All of society has and it has never been a secret. Nor was the affair, however brief." In fact, Eliza could not recall a time when Nicholas had not been linked to the woman in some form.

  Eliza also made the decision to use Nicholas' Christian name. If she wanted an ally in Francis, she needed to be honest with him. "So that does not bother me, no. The idea of him siring a child with her does not precisely sit well with me, but then, that was long before I was a part of his life. So I cannot truly be angry with him for bad choices. He would not be the first man to do such a thing."

  "If the child even exists," Francis added. "And I gather no one is certain that he does." He stood, pushing himself up on his cane. Then he offered his free hand to Eliza so that he might help her to her feet as well. "So is that all? Do you think him unworthy of you and all that other nonsense?"

  She huffed indignantly. "You heard him. It might not matter to me, but it clearly does to him. Yow saw him yourself. He could not wait to get away from me quickly enough."

  Francis was quick to disagree. "No, Izzy. I saw a man in great pain, one who believed that he was losing the woman he loved. A man who would rather set her free because he loved her than allow her to be pulled under in social scandal with him."

  More than anything, Eliza wanted to believe her brother. "Do you truly believe so?" It was almost too much to hope.

  "I do." Then Francis gave her a little shove in the direction of the stables just
beyond the mews. "Now go. Claim your duke. Do not wait for tonight. I shall cover for you."

  "Francis?" Eliza was truly bewildered. Her brother was giving her leave to go and seduce The Bloody Duke? The world must surely be ending!

  Except that he stood there smiling at her. "I mean it, Izzy. Go. You have kept this family together for a very long time. I trust you to make a good decision. More than that, you deserve to be happy. And I do believe that the duke makes you happy." Then he frowned, but a twinkle still lit his eyes. "And I also trust that you will come home with a proposal of marriage. I will be highly disappointed with anything less."

  Joy bubbled up inside of Eliza and she laughed, hugging her brother once more before heading off in the direction of the stables. "I promise, Francis! And thank you!"

  Then, without another glance back, Eliza went in search of Morning Glory. And her old, battered cape. It was time to go seduce her duke.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The incessant knocking on the door caused Nicholas' foul mood to get even darker. "Go away, Drayton!" he bellowed. Then he paused for a moment before adding, "Or Randolph, if that is you. Deal with whatever problem has arisen yourself! I am in no bloody mood for it! Or your hysterics!"

  "So I can see. My lord."

  The last two words were dripping with condescension. And could only have been uttered by one person.

  "Go away, Eliza," Nicholas mumbled from beneath the arm flung over his face. He should probably care a bit more that he was completely naked in his bed, but then, she was in his bedchamber. So really, if she was ruined after this, whose fault was it?

  Then again, if she was ruined, he would have to marry her. And then... He abruptly ceased to allow his thoughts to move in that direction. It was not something he wished to think about. Not again.

  "No." He heard the swish of her skirts and knew that she had entered the room, but he refused to look at her. Instead he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, like a child might. Juvenile, but then he was in a bit of a mood

  The stiff brushing noise of a man's pants indicated that someone else had entered with her. Given the scent of bergamot, it was most likely Drayton. "He has been like this since he returned last night, Miss Deaver." The valet sniffed in indignation. "It is really not well done of him. Then again, what can you expect? Ever since he became The Bloody Duke, he has only ever become more and more stodgy as time has gone on." The infernal man sighed. "Really. One would expect better from a man rumored to be so feared and ruthless. A pity, really."

  "You do realize I can hear you, correct? Both of you?" Still, Nicholas would not look at them.

  Drayton huffed. "I would imagine you can, your grace, as you are not deaf, at least to my knowledge. Merely foolish." Nicholas heard the man turn, his shoes making a soft scraping noise along the carpet. "He is all yours, though I doubt you can do anything with him. He is being something of a bloody nasty bastard since last night. You have my sympathies, my lady, so I shall leave you to try your best."

  "Again. I can still hear you," Nicholas snapped, though there was no anger in his tone. Well, maybe a little. They were standing there discussing him as if he was a piece of furniture or some draperies.

  Nicholas heard the soft slide of fabric against skin and that was almost enough to make him want to open his eyes. Almost. What was she doing? Taking off her gloves? That had better be all of the clothing that she was removing, however. He would not tolerate her stripping in front of Drayton. The poor old man's heart would be unlikely to take such a shock! And Nicholas would hate to lose his best - not to mention only - valet. But for no other reason than that, of course.

  "Yes, well, last night was something of a muddle," she said breezily, as if she hadn't a care in the world. "As I am certain you have already heard. Or perhaps read."

  He could almost see Drayton nodding in that infuriatingly knowing way that he had. "Yes, the gossip sheets were delivered quite early this morning. Seems your family's ball was something of fodder for it. If you don't mind me saying so."

  "No. No. That's quite alright. You are merely being honest, Drayton. I appreciate that." Another swish of fabric. Was she wearing a spencer? Or perhaps that moth-eaten old cape? Surely she would not be disrobing in front of his valet. Would she? "But I have sorted out matters with my family. So that leaves only one issue left to resolve." He heard her shift and he could imagine her pointing imperiously to the bed where he still lay buried beneath the sheets.

  "Ah, yes. The matter of his lordship's courting of you." Again, Nicholas could almost see Drayton nodding sagely. "Well, for what it is worth, the staff here are rooting for you, my lady." There was a pause. "Normally, we would not countenance such a thing, you understand, as a young unwed lady being in the master's bedchamber alone with him. No, we are not that sort of household at all." Another pause. "However, it is you. And, frankly, if I may be so bold, we all believe you are good for him. He is far less irritable when you are around. Even the cooks have remarked upon it."

  That was the final straw. Nicholas sat bolt upright in bed, heedless of the fact that he was completely and utterly naked. "I am not irritable!" He practically shouted the words.

  "Yes. Yes, I can see that." There, in the middle of his bedchamber, was Eliza and she was wearing that damnable plum-colored gown. The very first one he had purchased for her from Madame LaVallier's. And instantly, Nicholas went hard. And the infernal chit merely smiled at him. Then she turned back to Drayton and nodded sagely. "His disposition is so sunny and bright this morning that I would have surely mistaken him for the bluebird of happiness, if I did not know his face so well."

  "Izzy, you tread on thin ground," Nicholas growled at her. Except that The Bloody Duke's old anger would not come. Instead, he simply felt tired. Weary. And most of all, old. "You too, old man," he grumbled at Drayton.

  In response, the valet merely raised an eyebrow.

  Damn it. Nicholas wondered if he was truly losing his touch.

  "So good of you to come out from hiding, Nick," Eliza said as she stepped over a puddle of brown fabric on the floor and he could see that it was indeed the worn cape she used to move about London without being noticed in the early morning hours. Before she left here today, he would burn the wretched thing. Now that her brother had officially returned, there would be no more need for her to sneak out and risk both neck and reputation to save her family's fortunes. "I believe we have much to discuss."

  When she sent Drayton a look, the valet nodded and bowed. As if she was the lady in charge of this household! "Very good, my lady," he said. "Very good. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ring." Then he glanced at Nicholas. "Especially if he becomes unruly. We will all come running, post haste." Then he was gone, disappearing back into the hallway and leaving Eliza and Nicholas alone.

  For several long moments, neither one spoke, their gazes locked. Nicholas assumed that Eliza would be the first to look away but in the end, he could not bear to see the censure - either real or imagined - in her eyes. And he broke eye contact first.

  "What do you want, Brat?" he asked as he shifted in bed so that his feet could touch the floor, careful to keep his already erect cock from her sight. She had never truly seen him in the light and he didn't wish to shock her. Though that was also a convenient excuse. For if he was naked before her, he might not be able to control himself. Worse, he might beg for her forgiveness. And The Bloody Duke did not beg.

  Then he paused, studying Eliza for a moment as the mid-morning sun cast her in a golden light, illuminating her hair and making her eyes appear to sparkle. Very well. Nicholas might beg. But not the duke.

  Slowly, she approached the bed. "What I want is for large parts of last evening to never have happened." She shrugged. "But we all cannot have what we want. So I suppose I will have to settle for what I deserve."

  Nicholas eyed her suspiciously. "Which is what, precisely?"

  Eliza shrugged. "You. Preferably as my husband, but I am willing to take what I can get f
rom you. Even if it is not exactly what I deserve."

  "What you deserve is a better man than me," he snapped. "I said as much last night. Or were you not listening? I slept with another woman! Who was married! All so she could have a child to keep her marriage intact, even if I was so bloody stupid that I was unaware of it at the time! Or that I was foolish enough to believe that I was the only man she was bedding! Yes, that is precisely the sort of man you deserve, Izzy! One who is a great, ruddy fool!" Nicholas did not wish to be cruel, but Eliza did not seem willing to accept the reality of things.

  "Yes, I heard all of that." She took another step, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Last night as a matter of fact. In rather vivid detail. It did not bother me then. It does not bother me now."

  Nicholas growled, ready to pounce upon her, but somehow, he remained where he was. "It should. God, Brat! I could have had a child with another woman!"

  Eliza crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her finger on her upper arm. "Do you?" She was trying to be casual, but her heart leapt into her throat all the same.

  "I...I do not know." He sobered quickly. "I do not believe that is the case, but until my men can investigate more thoroughly, I cannot be certain."

  Well, that was not exactly the answer Eliza had been hoping for, but it did not change anything. If Nicholas had a nearly grown son, they would manage. Together. Not apart. She was tired of being alone, tired of fractured families. Enough was enough. The time to heal was upon them. Starting now.

  So, in what Eliza knew Nicholas would take as a show of defiance, she took another step towards him. As expected, his eyes widened. And she noticed that the sheet covering his lap twitched. Excellent. She was affecting him, at least a little. Just as she had hoped.

  "Even if you do have a son by Ellie, it changes nothing." She drew in a deep breath. "Arrangements can be made and even if much of society knows the truth, if handled correctly, they will not say anything or question. Nor slight the boy in any way." She smiled then. "At least not if they want to risk the wrath of The Bloody Duke."