Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  One day.

  All it had taken him was one single day.

  A slow smile spread across those sensuous lips of hers before she responded, “Just so long as it doesn’t involve either of us getting killed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Guilty of Innocence

  “Margaret Claire Dorrill! Open the door this instant!”

  Claire winced and burrowed deeper beneath the covers. How had she thought this might be a good idea when Ben suggested it last night? Hearing the thunderous pounding and booming voice of her brother coming from the other side of her door, she suddenly wished she’d given thought to the full ramifications more thoroughly before agreeing.

  “Are you ready?” his voice nudged her out of her cocoon. Far too cheerful for what they faced today.

  When she opened her eyes, it was to gaze into the early morning face of Mr. Benjamin Peabody. His dear, poor face. The skin around those brilliant blue eyes had, indeed, turned a violent shade of purple. The flesh was swollen, as well, and all of that ought to have detracted from his appeal.

  Instead, he merely appeared more roguishly handsome than ever.

  “Damn it, Claire! Don’t make me break this door down!”

  Claire swallowed hard.

  Was she being rash?

  Yes.

  Insane?

  Perhaps.

  But she considered herself to be in love.

  Of course, neither of them had verbally defined this powerful attraction between the two of them, but she’d seen it in his eyes. If she’d been thinking with a level head, she might have pressed him to profess his undying love. She might have insisted he express himself more eloquently.

  But when he’d explained his idea to her. Well, his motivation couldn’t have been any clearer.

  He wanted to marry her.

  Since she’d been amenable to such a notion, it would have been foolish for her to play demure. They both knew their respective brothers would never endorse such an alliance. They needed to do something drastic. So, Ben had explained how they could easily make the issue of their feuding families a moot one.

  In between a long series of tantalizing kisses, she’d had no thoughts of doing anything but agree.

  It was as good as any proposal she’d ever heard of.

  So now she lay in bed, with a man in her room, her brother threatening to break the door down, while Benjamin casually removed his shirt and climbed under the covers beside her.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she whispered.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Ben ruffled the bedclothes and blanket. Pounded a dent into the pillow, and then climbed back out of the bed. He partially unfastened his breeches and sauntered toward the locked door.

  Barefoot.

  She’d never noticed a 0man’s feet before. His were slim but appeared strong as he padded across the floor.

  “Be careful!” she whispered. “And duck this time.”

  Turning his head, he cocked that eyebrow she remembered from their first meeting. She thrilled at the steely determination in his eyes. Had they really only met yesterday? Even with purple swelling encircling his eyes, his appeal tugged at her insides.

  “I’m not foolish enough to relish the thought of meeting your brother’s fist again.” He appeared casual, but like a panther or a tiger, she sensed his readiness. He quickly unlatched the lock on the door.

  When the door came flying inward, Ben jumped back and moved at the perfect moment to avoid Ethan’s deadly fist.

  “You bastard. You bloody stinking bastard!” Her brother charged Ben. Claire had thought he looked angry last night. Today, his face contorted in absolute rage. She wished she’d not had to resort to this. Oh, how she hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

  Ethan took another swing at Ben, but again caught only air.

  “Stop, Ethan! Stop it!”

  Of course, he ignored her. She winced when a third punch grazed the side of Ben’s face. Ben wouldn’t fight back, she knew this. He’d explained to her how all of this worked.

  Which, nonetheless, didn’t make it any easier to watch.

  “What in tarnation?” Claire breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of Mr. Fairchild and Amy, and ah, yes, Mrs. Fairchild, hovering in the doorway.

  “Ethan.” Mr. Fairchild stepped forward and caught her irate brother’s arm just before he could swing his fist a fourth time. “God damn it, Peabody. What the hell are you playing at?” Their host pinned his gaze on Benjamin, who looked, for all the world, like a man who’d spent the night making love to her.

  That piece of hair stood on end again, and anyone could see that he’d barely had time enough to don his breeches properly.

  Claire clutched the blankets below her neck and twisted her face into an expression that she hoped resembled guilt.

  What did a woman look like after a night of passionate lovemaking? Claire touched her lips and wondered if anyone could see the traces of Ben’s kisses. When she recalled how he’d buried his face into her shoulder and neck and then traveled his lips down her chest… Heat rushed into her cheeks.

  “What in the hell were you thinking, Claire? Did he drug you? Did you have too much to drink?” Ethan finally addressed her. And then, “How could you do this to me?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to meet her brother’s stare. Oh, God. She’d hurt him. All he’d expected from her was her loyalty and love, and she’d thrown everything he’d ever done for her back into his face.

  “Benjamin Peabody. I never would have expected something like this from you,” disappointment laced Mr. Fairchild’s voice. “And Miss Dorrill. Do you realize how your behavior might affect Amy’s prospects? Carrying on like this! We’ve all been striving to achieve a certain level of respectability, and then the two of you…”

  “Like cats in heat,” Ethan snarled.

  “None of this will matter once we’ve married.”

  Claire had been expecting Ben’s announcement, but even so, all the breath swooshed out of her lungs when he finally made it. Surprisingly, she suffered equal amounts of relief and regret at the same time.

  “It’ll be a cold day in hell before you marry my sister.”

  “Ethan! Now you’re simply being foolish!” she chastised him. He needed to lay to rest this endless notion that she would marry into the aristocracy.

  Ethan’s fiery gaze nearly sent her scurrying beneath the covers. “If there’s one thing that Clemson Peabody and I will ever be in agreement on, it’s that a wedding between the two of you will never happen.”

  “I beg to differ,” Benjamin’s voice broke through, confident and sure.

  Amy rushed inside, wearing a dressing gown over her night rail. Her mother continued to peer inside from behind the door. “I think this matter needs to be settled elsewhere. Poor Claire! Now, all of you shoo, shoo! Out of here so that Claire can dress and gather her thoughts.”

  Claire could have kissed her friend in that moment. Although, she doubted she’d ever gather her thoughts again. Ever since meeting Benjamin Peabody, she seemed to have left her normal levelheadedness behind.

  Perhaps she’d left it sitting on the log at the edge of the road along with their broken-down carriage.

  “Please,” she added her voice to Amy’s. The tears welling up in her eyes were not feigned.

  Benjamin was shoving his arms into his shirt but took a moment to look at her searchingly. She nodded in response to his unspoken question.

  Yes. She was all right.

  Yes. She still wanted to marry him.

  Yes. I love you.

  She added that last part on her own. But sometime in the near future, she fully expected to hear the sentiment returned. If for some reason she didn’t, she’d bury her own fist between his eyes, by God.

  Once the door finally closed behind the three bristling men and Mrs. Fairchild, Amy squealed and jumped onto the bed beside Claire. “I can’t believe it, Claire!” Only her exclamation was not made out of disgust or
disappointment. Amy spoke in awe. “And with Benjamin Peabody, no less. Tell me everything. Was he terribly romantic? Did you hate it? Did it hurt? Do you recommend it?”

  Claire loved that Amy didn’t suffer from any of the reticence of so many of her other friends.

  Normally.

  But as she remembered the look in Ben’s eyes when he’d proposed all of this… And the wonder of his mouth—hot, spicy…hungry—she suddenly wanted to share some of it. All of this felt so unreal.

  “I believe he might love me,” she dared to speak the words out loud.

  “Might?” Amy bit her lip.

  “It’s complicated.”

  Amy looked even more confused now. “I thought the two of you only just met yesterday.”

  “We did. It’s just… There is something between us.” Claire didn’t know how to describe it. “It’s…” She searched for a word that might come close to describing how she felt about Benjamin Peabody. “Magic.”

  This announcement left Amy speechless.

  “It’s as though we’ve known one another our entire lives. As though meeting one another was preordained. Fate led us to this moment.” Claire could hardly believe such romantic notions were pouring from her mouth. She’d believed in love before, but nothing like this. Nothing so fanciful...and she never could have imagined how overwhelming it felt.

  Then again, she might have imagined all of it.

  “Father will insist upon a declaration from Ben,” Amy pointed out.

  Claire nodded. “He expects it.”

  Understanding finally lit Amy’s eyes. “Otherwise he never would have been allowed to court you. A bit drastic though, don’t you think?”

  “It was. It is.” Doubts assaulted Claire when she recalled the violence her brother had directed at Benjamin only minutes ago. “But it all seemed rather logical last night.”

  “But to welcome him into your bed!” Amy covered her cheeks with both her hands. “I don’t think I could have done it. And now you are ruined! What if Ethan refuses? What if Ethan sends you off to a convent for the rest of your life? Of course, there’s no chance of you ever being accepted into society now. Even the largest of dowries won’t erase the stigma…”

  “Stop, Amy! I’m terrified enough without your horrifying suggestions.” Oh, Lord. What had she done? What if…? Ethan must concede. Mr. Fairchild would insist. “Help me dress.”

  Another squeal from her friend. “What shall you wear? I’m certain you’ll be summoned for an official proposal from Benjamin.”

  Claire examined herself in the looking glass while Amy rummaged through the wardrobe. The skin on her neck flared slightly red. Touching the sensitive areas in amazement, she couldn’t help remembering the texture of Ben’s whiskers. And those had only been kisses. What would it be like after they married?

  What had she done?

  Chapter Nine

  Brothers!

  The Peabodys had always been something of an impulsive lot. But this… Ruining Claire in the eyes of society… Well, that had just been reckless. Standing between Fairchild and Dorrill now, in Fairchild’s study, Ben hoped he wouldn’t live to regret the rash suggestion he’d made last night.

  The notion of never seeing her again, though. Of being cut off from her enchanted light, the heightened awareness of life while in her presence. He’d experienced an acute and immediate loss at the prospect.

  He’d realized that the only way he could prevent that disaster was to force her brother’s hand. Take the choice away from him.

  Away from his own brother, as well.

  Clemson might never speak to him again.

  Only, knowing Clem, he’d likely twist the entire situation to their advantage somehow.

  “Over my dead body,” Dorrill persisted in refusing to grant Ben permission to ask for Claire’s hand in marriage.

  “That can be arranged,” Ben suggested, annoyed at Ethan Dorrill’s stubborn arrogance.

  “Now, now.” Fairchild, ever the arbiter, took a seat behind his desk. “Sit. Both of you. The fact of the matter, Dorrill, is that your sister has been thoroughly compromised. If you don’t allow her to marry Peabody here, well then, you’ll want her out of sight. Going forward, she’d become more of a liability. The way I see it, Ben here is willing to step up. Wash your hands of her if you must, but don’t hurt your own prospects in the process.”

  Ethan and Ben both spoke at the same time.

  “You’ll do well to remember that’s my sister you’re speaking—”

  “I’ll be damned if she’s simply sent—”

  Ben couldn’t keep a smirk from appearing on his face. Apparently, he and Ethan Dorrill agreed on one thing. They both cared for Claire Dorrill.

  “It would never work.” Claire’s brother dropped into a vacant leather chair, leaving Ben the only man standing. But as Dorrill brushed a hand through his unruly head of hair, Ben understood.

  The man believed he’d have to cut her from his life completely if she married Ben. Just as Ben had grown up with mostly only Clem for support, Ethan Dorrill loved his sister. What with the feud between their two families, Dorrill might even find it necessary to disown her.

  And God damn it, some truth existed in the notion.

  Ben needed to speak with Clem. This war between their competing companies had gone too far. If he could bring Clem here to Elysium Fields, perhaps some sort of truce could be negotiated.

  But how could he pull off such a meeting? He’d never get Clem to come knowing Ethan Dorrill would be in attendance. Perhaps with the assistance of Fairchild…a man whose company both of them depended upon…

  “Let’s not be rash,” Ben suggested. “Speak with your sister. I’m quite certain she has an opinion in all of this.” More than certain, he wanted to chuckle. Claire Dorrill wasn’t one to sit meekly by when it came to deciding her future. “Meanwhile, I’ll make a quick journey back to London to speak with my brother. I’m certain we can work something out.” Ben also felt it necessary to add, “But I will be marrying Miss Dorrill.”

  Ethan Dorrill’s nostrils flared at Ben’s last declaration, but, at least, he seemed to consider the rest of Ben’s words. Fairchild nodded enthusiastically.

  “Three days,” Ben added. He could easily make it to London and back in that timeframe—and if all went according to his plan, he would return with Clem.

  After what felt like an eternity, Ethan Dorrill dropped his chin in a nearly imperceptible nod. “I’ll give you three days, but don’t expect my opinion to change. I’ll inform her of your journey, but mark my word, when I leave, Claire will leave with me.”

  Ben merely raised his brows.

  “Take your time, Peabody.” Ethan sent him a scathing glance as he rose. “Won’t change a thing.”

  When the door closed behind him, Ben met his host’s stare and shrugged. “My apologies for the upheaval.” But Ben would not apologize for taking necessary steps to ensure he wouldn’t find himself estranged from Claire Dorrill.

  James Fairchild shook his head and chuckled. “Impudent pup. Reminds me of myself at your age. But good God in heaven. Taking on your brother’s biggest rival. Yours now, I imagine.”

  Ben rubbed his jaw. “Not necessarily.”

  “I’d like to hear your reasoning on this.”

  “This…rivalry. It’s gotten out of hand. I’m thinking that perhaps with your assistance, you and I might negotiate something of a truce between Dorrill and my brother. If you’d be willing to exert some of your influence, refuse to play them against one another…they might realize they both stand to gain by setting some of their differences aside.”

  The older gentleman tapped a pencil on his desk as he considered Ben’s suggestion.

  “They undercut one another continuously,” Ben continued. “If a truce could be negotiated, both companies stand to profit. But I need your help in getting them to accept the wisdom of this.”

  Fairchild nodded and then seemed to come to a decision. “Tell me wh
at you need.”

  After having Dolores work wonders with her hair and donning the prettiest gown she owned, Claire anxiously awaited a summons to Mr. Fairchild’s study.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  When a knock finally sounded at her door, she thought she’d surely come completely unraveled.

  Only it wasn’t the summons she expected.

  Ethan stood in the foyer looking pained, but also slightly devious.

  “How quickly can Dolores have you packed and ready to leave?”

  His words didn’t register immediately.

  Had Ben decided to take her to Gretna Green? He’d not mentioned anything of the sort. And wouldn’t he come to her himself? He wouldn’t send her brother with such an important decision, surely!

  “What are you talking about?” She would not leave with Ethan before speaking with Ben. She had a betrothal to agree to…and eventually, she’d have a wedding to plan.

  “Your most ardent suitor”—Ethan jerked his thumb in the direction of the staircase—“departed the estate less than twenty minutes ago.”

  He wouldn’t!

  No—no—no!

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. Ask Miss Fairchild if you don’t believe me. Of course, I refused him an opportunity to ask for your hand. But he didn’t fight. I didn’t even order him to leave. In fact, the very idea was his.” Ethan sent her a piercing stare. “Left in quite the hurry, too.”

  Claire shook her head in disbelief. “But…that’s impossible. He said… He promised…”

  Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Why would you be so foolish as to believe a promise from one of the Peabodys? When will you learn to listen to me?”

  None of this made sense.

  Benjamin Peabody loved her. Oh, God, but he’d never admitted to so much.

  A cold, empty feeling washed through her and settled into her heart.

  He’d been the one to suggest the plan. He’d been the one to come to her chamber. He’d even been willing to face Ethan’s wrath.

  When she’d been willing to lie with him—with embarrassing enthusiasm, no less—he’d told her he wanted to wait.