The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany Sefchick

  With a sigh, Nicholas tried again. "Izzy, I am not the man for you. I have done things. Terrible things." He did not feel like naming them all at the moment, however. "And even if you forgive me, I do not forgive myself. I purchased Stephen's commission. I am the reason he was able to leave. I am the reason you have suffered. It is why I have watched over you for so long." The confession was nearly wrenched out of him, as if being pulled from his very soul, but strangely, he felt better once he had spoken the words aloud.

  In response, Eliza dropped to her knees in front of him. Had she stripped naked before him, he would not have been more surprised. "Nicholas, I am not happy that you did any of those things. But I understand them. Especially after last night. All that was said opened my eyes to so very much. And I forgive you."

  He shook his head. "You cannot. You should not!" God knows, he could not forgive himself.

  "But I do." She closed her eyes and leaned forward, bringing her forehead to rest against his knees. "All of it. It is forgiven, if not forgotten. And I am ready to move on. With you."

  He did not deserve her. Or her forgiveness. But at his heart, Nicholas was a selfish man. And he craved her absolution as a dying man might crave water. After last evening, he had never thought to see Eliza again. But she was here. In his chambers. She had defied society and convention to come to him when she could have just as easily walked away. He had given her the perfect opportunity to do so last night. Why had she not taken it? Why was she here now, offering him her forgiveness?

  His heart clenched in hope of her answer, but he did not dare utter the words - those three, all-important little words - just yet. For if she did not return them, then he was thrice the fool. And he was tired, so very bloody tired of being a fool where the fairer sex was concerned. So he asked the only question that he was capable of and prayed that her answer was what he silently wished for.

  "Why?" That single word was all but torn from Nicholas' throat and, unable to stop himself, he slid off the bed and sank down beside Eliza. For once, he did not care if he was naked. All that mattered was her answer.

  "Because I love you, Nicholas Rosemont. I always have and I am afraid that I always will. Even if you are The Bloody Duke. For I find that I love that part of you as well. More fool me, perhaps, but I cannot help myself. I have loved you for so long that I cannot remember a day when I did not. And that, my love, is why I forgive you."

  Somewhere deep inside of himself, Nicholas felt the last of his resistance crack and fall away. He had long believed that if Ellie could not love him, then no woman could. For he had given Ellie the world on a platter. All that he had asked was that she wait for him. But she refused. She had been more interested in wealth and a title than the love Nicholas was offering. And she had thrown that love back in his face.

  Ellie had though to marry the marquess and then, when he died, she would be able to come to Nicholas with wealth, power and a title of her own. That Nicholas, a duke of little means, would be subservient to her. To her, love was a worthless emotion. Fortune and power were all that truly mattered to her.

  And so she had refused him.

  Worse, she said that she did not love him.

  In the process, she had broken his heart. Utterly. Completely. So badly that Nicholas thought he would never love again. That he did not deserve love.

  Because of that, he had become The Bloody Duke, a cold and ruthless shell of a man whom no one could ever get close to. Except for Eliza.

  For she had known Nicholas Rosemont in the years before he had offered his heart to Ellie and had experienced the pain of it being stomped on. She knew the man beneath The Bloody Duke. And she had never once been afraid.

  Now, she was here before him, kneeling at his feet and offering herself to him. All she asked in return was love. For the first time in his life, Nicholas thought he might be able to manage that. Because he did love Eliza. So very, very much.

  It was, he decided, time he surrendered. It was time to put the past behind him, just as she had. And move forward in whatever direction they chose. But it would be a direction they chose together. No longer alone.

  Gently, Nicholas reached up to cup Eliza's cheek with his hand. And from the adoring light in her eyes, he knew that she had meant every word she had just said. He never wanted that sparkle to dim. Ever. "You should not, you know. Love me, that is. I have been informed by many ladies that I am not exactly a lovable man."

  Eliza shrugged, causing the bodice of her gown to dip low, low enough that he could see the tops of her perfectly delectable breasts. "I prefer to make my own judgments on those sorts of matters." She ran her finger down over his chest, making him hiss with need. "I would rather see for myself." She was well aware that her actions were a far cry from those of the shy spinster she had been when she had first entered Nicholas' bedchamber so long ago. She also found that she did not really care. If Nicholas could have many facets to his personality, so could she. It seemed only fitting.

  Slowly, Nicholas brought his lips to Eliza's. But this kiss was different than all of the others that had come before. It was softer and gentler, filled with all of the emotions he had never dared to express. It was also sweeter somehow, as if all of the hate and anger that had fed The Bloody Duke was now draining away. That part of him would always exist, he was certain. However it would no longer define him. He would not allow it. He would be a better man. He wanted to be better. For Eliza. And for the life they would share.

  "I want you, Izzy," he whispered against her cheek. "So much. You can't know. Let me make love you to. Please." He peppered her skin with soft, feather-light kisses. It wasn't much of an apology for all that he had done wrong in his life, but she didn't seem to mind.

  "Yes, please, Nicholas." Eliza knew that proper ladies did not beg. Then again, proper ladies did not go marching into rakish gentleman's bedchambers either. At least not unless they were planning to be ravished. Which she most certainly was. "I want you. More than that, I need you." Those were the same words he had spoken to her not so long ago. And she meant each of them. She did need him. She saw that now.

  With nimble fingers, he undid the buttons on her gown with ease until there was nothing between them so they were free to kiss and caress each other with abandon. When he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing before he placed her almost reverently on his bed, Eliza felt her heart come undone, the love she had for Nicholas swelling in her chest.

  "I love you, Nicholas Rosemont," she said again. "I cannot imagine a time when I won't. Or that I won't need you." She was naked on his bed now, but she did not care. There was no shame in her words or her actions. This was where she belonged. With Nicholas. And when she opened her arms to him he came to her, clasping her tightly to him.

  "And I love you, Eliza Deaver." For the first time that she could remember, Nicholas' smile reached his eyes. It was real and true, not the cold, empty grimace that terrified the ladies of the ton. This was Nicholas. The boy she remembered. The Bloody Duke so many had feared. And finally, for once and for always, he was hers. All of him. Even the parts of himself that he did not like. "I did not realize I could."

  Then he was kissing her again, his mouth so hot as it moved over her body that she thought she might die of sheer pleasure. With each touch and each caress, Eliza felt herself spiraling higher and higher until she wasn't certain where she ended and he began. Instead, there was just one body, one heart. No beginning. No end. Just them. Nicholas and Eliza. One soul.

  "Nick, please," she begged. "Now. I need you now." She needed him to ease the ache inside of her, the one that only he could quench.

  "Very well," he said, grinning down at her from where he arched above her, his weight balanced on both of his arms. "Whatever my lady wishes."

  He kissed her deeply as he entered her in one long, smooth stroke, their mouths and their bodies mating frantically. She cried out and he swallowed her scream of pleasure, drawing her breath into his own body as she arched up to meet him. Wh
en she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper inside of herself, Nicholas wanted to alternately weep and bellow from the rooftops. This magnificent creature was his. He loved her. And he was not about to let her go.

  As the pace of their coupling quickened, Eliza's head began to spin. Higher and higher Nicholas drove her until she was at the precipice of pleasure, ready to dive over the side and into the magical waters of release. But not without him. For she loved him. And where she went, so did he.

  "Come for me, my love," she whispered in his ear. "I need you. So very much."

  That was all it took. The moment Eliza felt Nicholas begin to spill himself inside of her, she let go as well, riding the crest of her pleasure higher until she too, tumbled over the top.

  She wasn't certain if a lady could die of pleasure, but if one could, Eliza was fairly certain that was the way she would like to go. As long as she was with Nicholas. Forever.

  Epilogue

  Late July 1820

  Seldon Park

  Sussex

  "Did you see those friends of mine? Acting like bloody, besotted fools." It was still early yet, the summer sun streaming through the windows at Seldon Park, but Nicholas had been awake since long before dawn, making love to his magnificent wife. She might already be with child, but he still could not get enough of her. He doubted that he ever would.

  "And you are no different, my love," Eliza sighed as she rolled over, the slight, small swell of her belly the only indication that a new life grew within her. She would likely not begin to show much for several months yet. Yet she could not wait. She wanted all of the world to know that she was carrying The Bloody Duke's heir. She also rather thought Nicholas could not wait to see the shocked expressions on the society matron's faces when they discovered the couple's happy news. It would be something of a shock. And he did still love to shock society when he could.

  Just as it had been a shock when a scant week after that fateful night of the Framingham Ball, Eliza Deaver had walked down the isle at St. James in an elaborate, extravagant, completely over-the-top ceremony as she wed The Bloody Duke of Candlewood. Much to the surprise of the entire ton. And her brother Stephen. But his reaction was a story for another time and Eliza did not want to think such gloomy thoughts on such a splendidly beautiful morning.

  With a grin, Nicholas pulled Eliza to him and snuggled up against her, his big body nearly engulfing her much smaller one. "No I suppose not." Then he gently cupped her stomach as if he was afraid of injuring the babe. "Do you think it is a boy?"

  "Possibly." Eliza stroked her husband's arm gently. "Will it matter if it is?" She already knew the answer, but her emotions were wild creatures these days and on occasion, she needed reassurance.

  "Not in the least." Nicholas kissed the back of her neck and nuzzled the warm flesh there. "Do not fret, Izzy. This child, boy or girl, will be loved in its own right. As the product of our love. He or she will not be a replacement for Thomas. No child could ever be."

  Thomas Reynolds Hewson, the child Ellie had borne in secret while married to Berkshire, had, in fact, died a few months after his birth. And he had most likely been Nicholas' son, though there was still a bit of room for doubt on that issue. But in his heart, Nicholas had known the truth. Thomas had been his child.

  Using information gathered from Madame Philotes, Nicholas and his newly formed group of top secret investigators had managed to track down the couple in Hampstead who had adopted the child. A local baron and his wife, they had thought they were purchasing a child of the workhouse, willing to provide him a better life as their son than he would have had in the dark, depressing institution where he might likely have perished.

  When Nicholas, in his final act of spying for the Crown, had admitted to the elderly couple that he was, in fact, most likely Thomas's natural father, the four of them - for Eliza had been present as well - had wept for the loss of the boy his new parents had named Jacob Fulton, who would one day become Baron Evanwood. Had he lived.

  Standing beside the grave of the son he had never known, Nicholas had felt the yawing blackness of The Bloody Duke threaten to swallow him again. But it was Eliza's strong hand in his that had pulled him back from the brink. He prayed that would always be the case. He needed her. He would be lost without her.

  "That is what I needed to hear," she informed him. "I am sorry you never had a chance to know him."

  "Ellie would have never allowed it." Nicholas knew that was true. The woman who had shared his bed for only one night loved money and power more than anything else. She had used Nicholas only for his seed, hoping to get with child so that she could present her husband with the heir that no other woman had been able to bless him with. Nicholas had admitted all of that and more to Eliza in the nights after they were wed. He did not want there to be any more secrets between them.

  Nicholas also admitted his fear that, had Thomas lived, Ellie would have used him as a pawn in her game to accumulate more power, demanding funds and favors in return for information on the child. Nicholas also had no doubt that, in time, when Berkshire finally died, Ellie would have come crawling back to him. And she would have attempted to take Thomas from the Fultons. And he likely would not have been able - or willing - to stop her.

  Nicholas had been a different man then. But that was before Eliza. Before the woman who didn't need him, but still wanted him. It was because of her love that he had changed.

  Lying on her back, Eliza gazed at the ceiling, the warm summer air drifting over her body and making her nipples pucker. God, Nicholas adored her when she was like this. Especially now as her breasts were already swelling in order to nurse their child, her nipples always peaked and at the ready for his mouth.

  "I suppose you are right," she finally admitted. "Just as you were right about so many things. Including your friends Rayne and Frost. And Francis." Then she sighed and a little sadness crept into the sound. "And Stephen."

  "He is not a lost cause, sweeting," Nicholas assured her, kissing her in hopes that she might forget her worries. He doubted that it was good for the child. "I have hope for your brother yet." He shrugged. "And for Hathaway as well, though God only knows how many more lives he will screw up before he comes to his senses."

  Languidly, Eliza stroked Nicholas arm as he in turn stroked the curve of her stomach, her desire for her husband beginning to heat her blood once more. "At least Diana and Lachlan have returned," she sighed contentedly. "Sophia needs her friends right now."

  Nicholas moved his hand higher, all the way up to Eliza's breasts where he toyed with them gently. "Remind me why they are here again?" He palmed one breast, squeezing lightly until she hissed in pleasure. "Not that I care, really. Hallstone is a good sort."

  "Because you are, or rather were, The Bloody Duke." She smiled. "And you did a rather good job at interfering in their lives."

  "I prefer intervening." Nicholas laughed, pulling Eliza so close now that he could lift her to sit astride him. "Really, sweeting, you know I only have the best of intentions." Then he smiled that same wolfish smile, which was proof that The Bloody Duke was not completely vanished. Nor would she want him to be.

  Playfully, Eliza smacked at him. "You did not have the best of intentions last night when you smiled at Lady Westfield! I thought she might swoon in the middle of dinner!"

  Nicholas barked out a laugh. "I am rather terrifying, am I not?"

  Actually, he still rather was. After all, The Bloody Duke was legendary and his temper feared far and wide. In fact, Eliza had received just as many condolences as she had congratulations after her marriage.

  No, her dragon had not been de-fanged, as it were. Not that she cared. After all, being the wife of The Bloody Duke opened many doors for her. No one was likely to refuse him when he asked for something. Which was how they had managed to schedule St. James on such short notice. The vicar had taken one look at Nicholas with his hulking, brooding visage and nearly run directly out the back of the church! He had also inquir
ed as to whether or not Eliza was being coerced into the marriage, for it was clear that he did not believe any woman would be fool enough to tie her life to Nicholas Rosemont's. Even if he was a duke.

  No, Eliza liked her husband precisely the way he was. Sexy. Seductive. And just a little bit dangerous. She wouldn't change a thing about him. And as he slid inside of her, given the adoring look in his eyes, she was certain that Nicholas felt exactly the same way about her.

  And that was just about perfect. For both of them.

  Coming Soon

  Consummate rake, Lord Robert Bexley, the current Viscount Chillton - also known as Frost - is bored out of his mind and the Season is not yet at an end. His best friend Lord Candlewood is newly wed and therefore unavailable to drink, gamble and whore his way through the gaming hells of London. In fact, nearly all of his friends are wed - much to his shock and dismay. So what is a gentlemen of fine title and few morals to do? Find a woman of just as loose morals to dally with, of course! After all, this is 1820s London and members of the demimonde abound. One just has to know where to look. And the newly opened Lycosura seems like the perfect place to start. Along with the luscious Ianthe, a golden goddess who will do anything. For a price.

  Miss Lavinia Tremont, otherwise known as Ianthe to the good customers of Lycosura, is living her version of hell on earth. The granddaughter of a duke, she lost her place in society thanks to her gambler of a father and drunkard of a mother who ran off with one of the family's footmen to live on the outskirts of London with her infant daughter. Forced onto the streets, Lavinia is new to the game of prostitution. So new that she has only serviced one customer since she has been living within the gilded halls of Lycosura. But that man, a marquess of noted wealth and power, paid Desponia, the owner of the brothel, very handsomely to reserve Lavinia's favors just for him. But now the marquess is gone and Lavinia must begin to service new clients. As many as request her services. Her first attempt with The Bloody Duke ended in disaster. So she has one more chance before she is tossed out on her ear. She must so enchant the Viscount Chillton that he will be willing to pay the exclusive price to retain her favors - both in and out of the bedchamber.