The Devil and the Heiress

by Harper St. George

  “Oh . . .” She really should not tell him about Teddy. “I thought I had, but apparently not. He wasn’t the man I thought he was.” Why couldn’t she control her tongue? Any hope of appearing the sophisticate with him was gone.

  “Indeed?” He raised a brow.

  “Our betrothal has ended.” It was simply too embarrassing to admit that her own father had paid Teddy to leave her alone, and he had accepted.

  “Ah, that explains it, then.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Ware.” He said the name as if that clarified everything.

  “Lord Ware? What about him?” The hair on the back of her neck stood up in warning.

  “I should not gossip. I have been told it leads to terrible consequences.”

  Before she knew it, she was in front of him, her hand on his forearm. His muscle flexed beneath her touch, again making her realize how much strength he held contained within his deceptively dispassionate exterior. Both of their gazes locked on the touch, prompting her to quickly retract her hand, drawing his gaze to hers. He seemed quite serious now as he searched her face, though she couldn’t have said what he was looking for.

  “Please. If it concerns me, then I want to know.”

  “He believes that he will marry you.” They were so close that his breath caressed her temple, and she caught a faint trace of scotch and the hint of tobacco.

  “That isn’t true. He hasn’t proposed or even asked my father.” Had he? Knowing her parents’ past behavior, she wouldn’t be shocked if he had and they hadn’t told her, but she would be deeply hurt. Her parents had the duke as an almost-son-in-law. They might want another nobleman in the family, but there was no pressing need to force another marriage. However, the dread in her belly warned her otherwise.

  Lord Leigh did not say anything. His penetrating gray eyes simply held hers. It was almost as if he knew more than he was saying. He would have no reason to lie about this. Why would he, knowing that he would have to answer to Rothschild if he did?

  “What did he tell you?” she asked.

  “That he intends to have you, and he can arrange it so that you have no choice in the matter.”

  Her blood turned to ice water, and she might have swayed on her feet. His hand moved to her rib cage to keep her balanced. He was warm and strong, and she imagined him touching her for a different reason. This was improper, and she should immediately step away, but she couldn’t.

  “There was also some mention of mineral rights,” he added.

  Oh God. With August’s marriage, Crenshaw Iron would be permitted to open a division in London. The necessary approvals were already winging their way through Parliament, pending her marriage to the duke. Papa would logically be seeking resources for that. But would he sell his own daughter for them? Violet knew the answer to that even if she didn’t want to believe it.

  “You didn’t know.”

  She shook her head, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t suspected. She simply hadn’t wanted to believe. She had thought that perhaps the duke had been a stroke of luck, that he had approached her parents and they had been beside themselves with joy. But it was so much worse than that. Her parents actually hoped to sell both of their daughters. Even if she was able to convince Papa that she would not marry one of her suitors, would Lord Ware take matters into his own hands? He could easily seek to have her alone, to have someone find them. Would she be strong enough to face the scandal and accompanying repercussions against her family if she continued to resist marriage after that?

  “I didn’t want to believe,” she said.

  His grip tightened slightly on her rib cage. The pressure caused a pleasant tingle to work its way over her skin. His hand felt so strong and sure that she wanted to lean into it.

  “What will you do?” he asked quietly.

  His irises were rimmed in a darker color, though the light was too low to tell if that color was blue or a darker gray. He seemed so earnest and concerned for her that she covered his hand with her own. That simple touch thickened the air, and heat swirled between them.

  “I’m not certain.” And she could hardly think with him so close. Her heart pounded a frantic beat as her body kept wanting to sway into him. The effect he had on her was an immature infatuation, but she wanted more of it.

  “If they disregard your feelings on the matter, then you only have two choices.”

  “Run away.” She sounded a bit breathless.

  “Yes.” Was it her overactive imagination, or did he sound breathless, too?

  When he didn’t say anything else, she prodded him. “Or?”

  “Marry someone of your own choosing.”

  Surely, he didn’t mean him? No, she was imagining the connotation. “I-I suppose that might work, only there is no one that I want to wed. As I mentioned, I believe that a couple should have a mutual fondness and respect for each other. I could hardly escape one doomed marriage to rush into another one. It wouldn’t be wise.”

  His lips thinned in what seemed to be disappointment. Had he really meant to propose to her? “Then it appears you have found your solution,” he said.

  Was he right? Had it already come to running away so fast?

  “Do you have a means of supporting yourself if you choose that option?”

  Would her parents truly cut her off? God, if she ran, she would certainly have to be prepared for the possibility. “Yes . . . I have a small stock portfolio that my brother controls for me. He would allow me to have access to it, I’m sure.”

  “How small?”

  “I get quarterly statements.” But the truth was she hardly examined them closely. “I believe around twenty thousand dollars.”

  “That’s rather significant,” he said, and his confidence gave her hope. Perhaps it would be enough. “But what if your brother sides with your parents? He could hold on to the stocks.”

  “He wouldn’t, but I also have a small home in Manhattan left to me by an aunt. It generates an income.”

  “Or you could sell,” he said.

  “I suppose.” Though she wouldn’t want to. Aunt Hortense had been her father’s eldest sister. Unmarried, she had held a particular fondness for Violet, an affection Violet had returned. Many happy hours had been spent in her home. “But all that will come later. I have a small amount of cash to get me by in the short term should I leave.”

  “I could help you.” His eyes were resolute but also tender with understanding.

  “Thank you, but I don’t think such an extreme measure is necessary just yet. I’ll need to have a conversation with my parents to clarify things.”

  His hand fell slowly from her waist. Despite herself, she felt at a loss when he did so. Instead of letting him go, she followed, covering his hand with hers when it came to rest on the back of the sofa. He stared down at their gloved hands, and she smiled, folding her fingers around his and giving them a squeeze.

  “I appreciate your concern.”

  Still watching where her hand rested on his, he said, “I do not know your parents well, but I do not believe they will be swayed away from their purpose.”

  She could not seem to look away from the contact, either. As she watched, the pad of his thumb brushed gently across the base of hers in a slow back-and-forth motion that could be clearly felt through their gloves. A delicious shiver ran the length of her spine while heat pooled in her belly. She stared for so long that it seemed indecent, so she looked up into his eyes. He caught her, like a spider catches a fly in its web. Only she had no wish to get away. She liked being the object of his focus.

  What if he asked for her hand instead of Ware? Would she be so quick to refuse him, or would she entertain the idea and allow him to court her? She knew the answer when excitement swirled within her. Perhaps if they kissed once—a chaste brushing of lips—then she could put it down as research for her poor
Miss Hamilton. Neither she nor Violet had ever kissed a rogue. Teddy certainly didn’t count in that regard.

  Without making a conscious decision, she leaned forward, swaying toward him. He stayed where he was, but his swift intake of breath made her pulse quicken. Before she could stop herself, she raised up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. They were surprisingly soft and warm. She didn’t particularly like scotch, but tasting it from his mouth would surely be divine. His heart pounded beneath where her hand had come to rest on his chest, indicating he was as affected as she was. A surge of exhilaration rushed through her veins, making her bold. The very tip of her tongue touched his bottom lip, drawing a sound from deep in his chest. His lips moved, parting beneath hers as his hand came back to her waist to hold her steady.

  The sound of heels rushing against the carpet in the next room had her pulling back and turning in time to see Lady Helena March hurry through the door adjoining the salons. “Violet!” Her blue eyes were widened with concern when she saw them. “There you are.”

  Violet had no idea how badly the scene appeared. It was very likely the woman knew exactly what they had been up to. Still, Violet couldn’t resist turning back to gauge his expression. The wanton desire she saw reflected in his eyes made the coil of pleasure in her belly clench tighter. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but the imprint of his hand still warmed her.

  “Lady Helena.” Violet smiled, trying to appear nonchalant but knowing she probably failed. “Lord Leigh was showing me the . . .” She cast about for something, anything to focus on. “The Titian,” she said, referring to a painting on the wall near them.

  “Good evening, Lord Leigh,” said Lady Helena, her eyes narrowing in censure.

  “Lady Helena.” To his credit, he inclined his head as if nothing untoward had happened. “If you both will excuse me.” He offered no other explanation as he turned and left the room.

  Lady Helena waited until the door closed behind him before she said, “Dear, I feel I must warn you about—”

  Violet held up her hand. “There is no need. Believe me, I understand how foolish it was to be alone with him.” And yet, a tiny but reckless part of her didn’t care. If Lord Ware had planned to compromise her, then why shouldn’t she kiss whomever she wanted? Perhaps finding her compromised by someone else would make him leave her alone.

  Lady Helena smiled in understanding, her eyes shining with kindness and a hint of amusement, which reminded Violet why she and August had befriended the young widow not long after arriving in London. She had taken them both under her wing, helping them navigate the often intricate and hazy rules of Society.

  “I didn’t mean for it happen,” Violet elaborated, though she had.

  “No one ever does when it comes to rogues.”

  Violet laughed. “He told me some disturbing things about Lord Ware.”

  “Tell me.” Lady Helena laced her arm with Violet’s, and they slowly walked back to the ball as Violet explained.

  “It seems your parents are determined to make a match?” Lady Helena asked when she was finished.

  “Yes, so I’ll have to speak with them. I do not wish to marry now.”

  Lady Helena nodded. “In the meantime, please do look out for yourself. You cannot be alone with a man. I have never known Lord Leigh to be in search of a wife, but stranger things have happened, particularly when fortunes are involved.”

  “You don’t trust him, then?” Violet had not been able to find out very much about him, because he seemed to be someone no one spoke about in polite company. It appeared to her that he hovered along the edges of Society, attending social events, but notably absent in some of the more respectable drawing rooms.

  “Well . . .” Lady Helena’s brow furrowed. “He has a reputation . . .” She smiled at someone walking past and lowered her voice. “He is known for eschewing polite company in favor of that gaming hell and less acceptable companionship. I cannot speak to his thoughts, but if he set out with marriage in mind, he wouldn’t go about it in the conventional method.”

  “And you do not believe he would make a suitable husband?” That much was obvious from Lady Helena’s tone. Violet couldn’t figure out why it mattered, but it did. Her breath lodged in her throat waiting for her conclusion to be confirmed.

  Lady Helena smiled, but there was a strange sort of sadness in her eyes. “Who is to say what makes a good husband? I think the bigger issue here is that most people in this room would say he is unsuitable, and that would have a profound impact on the social life of his bride. Why?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with speculation. “Are you considering him?”

  Violet smiled and shook her head. By this time, they had reached the edge of the ballroom, and she found herself searching the crowd for him, but he wasn’t there. She didn’t think that he had meant to compromise her himself, but why had he told her about Lord Ware? What were his intentions?

  “Ah, there you are, darling!”

  Violet had to force herself not to cringe at her mother’s voice. She needed some time to distance herself from her thoughts of Lord Leigh before coming back to reality. The moment went from bad to worse when she turned to see her mother approaching on the arm of Lord Ware. He appeared sulky and unhappy with a frown that was almost accusatory.

  “I told you she was around here somewhere.” Mother gave the man a playful swat on his arm, but her eyes belied her good humor. They reflected notable relief and perhaps even a tinge of disapproval. “Violet, darling, we were half convinced you had set sail for Greece or some other exotic locale,” she teased. “But here you are speaking with the lovely Lady Helena. It’s so nice to see you again, my dear.”

  “And you as well, Mrs. Crenshaw. Please do not be alarmed. I simply needed a moment to catch my breath, and Miss Crenshaw was kind enough to walk with me.”

  As the women continued their conversation, Lord Ware moved closer to her and said, “Come take a turn around the ballroom with me, Miss Crenshaw.”

  She meant to refuse but couldn’t come up with a suitable reason to reject him. As she was thinking, Mother said, “Of course she will. You two go and have a lovely time. Leave us older ladies here to hold up the wall.” Lady Helena might have been in her late twenties at most, hardly old, but Violet had no chance to protest as Mother all but pushed them together.

  Digging in her heels as he took her arm, Violet finally managed to find her tongue. “But, Mother, I shouldn’t monopolize Lord Ware, and there are many dances I have promised to others.”

  “They will quite understand.” Lord Ware gave her a stiff smile.

  “You see, dear,” said Mother. “Listen to Lord Ware. He knows better about these things than we do.”

  To refuse further would have been in bad form, but also, Violet was left reeling a bit from her mother’s quick dismissal. As if she were perfectly happy to take his side in things. With a lump of dread in the pit of her stomach, she allowed him to lead her away.

  Chapter 5

  Their meeting had been like a single firework—bright and brilliant, leaving a dearth of sound that amplified the silence.

  V. Lennox, An American and the London Season

  Violet’s unease stayed with her the rest of the night, overshadowing any thoughts of her kiss with Lord Leigh. Her apprehension only increased on the carriage ride home. As usual, her parents were oblivious to her feelings. They were both in good spirits and said their good nights in the entryway before she hurried up to her bedroom.

  Ellen, her maid, greeted her when she walked in. “Good evening, miss.”

  “Good evening, Ellen.” Violet inclined her head as she tugged off her gloves. The maid had only been employed in the Crenshaw household since August had taken their shared lady’s maid home with her to New York. Though Violet liked her fine, she still thought of her as a stranger. After such a harrowing night, she simply needed to be alone with her thoughts. />
  Ellen hurried over and began working on the line of hidden fastenings down the back of Violet’s gown. After gently pulling it off over her head, Ellen set it aside before loosening the laces of Violet’s corset. When she could take a deep breath, Violet said, “That will be all for tonight, Ellen.”

  “But the gown—” She indicated where it lay draped over the chair.

  “You can see to it tomorrow. Leave it there.”

  “I could at least unpin your hair, miss.”

  “Thank you, but you can go on up to bed.” Violet had already turned toward the mirror and begun pulling the pins out herself.

  Ellen nodded but paused in her path toward the door. “Are you quite all right, miss?” A crease appeared between her brows. “You seem a bit pale.”

  Violet shook her head, having worn her calm facade for as long as she was able. “I-I’m only tired, I think.”

  “Did you eat something that disagreed with you? I could fix you a tonic. In my village, my aunt was known for making over a hundred different ones, all guaranteed to cure a different ailment.”

  Violet gave her head another shake. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat more than a couple of bites at the late supper served at the ball. “Thank you, Ellen, but I think rest is all I need.”

  The girl nodded again and bid her good night before hurrying out the door.

  Violet finished her hair and quickly changed into her nightdress and dressing gown. Her brain was moving too fast to even consider sleep, so she ended up pacing around her bed. She wished August was here, while at the same time feeling annoyed with herself for wanting her sister. August had been the one to try to save her a few weeks ago when this marriage talk had started, while Violet had assumed that her supposed engagement to Teddy would solve her problem. She would be twenty soon. It was time she started taking responsibility for her problems.