The Skilled Seduction

by Tracy Goodwin

  * * *

  “What is taking them so bloody long?” Tristan asked, his sense of dread heightening with every second Victoria failed to join him.

  Had she changed her mind about announcing their union? Decided upon a divorce? Hell, had she fled the country? Tristan knew his imagination was running wild, knew for a fact that Victoria was still in her suite but, without warning, his imagination knew no bounds.

  This was uncharted territory for him. He was a barrister for Christ’s sake. Usually logical, his decisions were based upon law and reason. This newfound irrationality was completely unnerving.

  “Please sit, Tristan. You’re about to pace a hole through that expensive Persian rug beneath your feet,” Colin said with mock severity. “Besides, Victoria is with Eve. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Tristan grimaced. “My wife is with my former betrothed while a hundred members of polite society are currently arriving in the downstairs ballroom. Thank you, brother dear. You instill such confidence within me.”

  Wife. It sounded so official, so perfect that his heart swelled with pride every time Tristan referred to Victoria as his wife.

  “Care for a drink then?” Colin said as he poured whiskey into two tumblers then offered one to Tristan.

  After accepting his brother’s offering, Tristan raised it to his lips then paused, instead choosing to sniff the amber colored liquid.

  “What?” Colin asked. “Do you think I poisoned it?”

  Tristan shrugged. “The thought had crossed my mind. I did elope with Victoria after you forbade me from marrying her.”

  “Forbade is a strong word,” Colin noted as he swished the liquid in his glass. “Besides, it was always Victoria’s decision, not mine.”

  “Now you tell me,” Tristan muttered before taking a large gulp from his tumbler.

  “Oh, no, not you, too,” a shrill voice called from the doorway.

  Tristan recognized the reprimanding tone long before he turned to face his wife’s maid. “Good evening, Meg.”

  “A good evening this most certainly is not,” she announced, marching across the room.

  Colin shot Tristan a look that conveyed who is this raving lunatic?

  “Colin, this is Victoria’s maid, Meg,” Tristan said with a conspiratorial wink. “Meg, this is my brother, Colin.”

  Meg turned her attention from Tristan to Colin. “So you’re the other one! Do either of you know how difficult it has been to sober your wives?” She pointed to Colin, “Yours much more so than his but still, I have plied them each with enough coffee to keep them awake for days.”

  Colin’s furrowed brow and intense grimace made it obvious that he wasn’t impressed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “As well you should. Miss MacAlistair had a pair of shears – as if any inebriated female should ever carry a sharp object.”

  With a deep sigh, Meg placed her hand on her forehead and for one brief moment, Tristan expected her to swoon. The tough maid rallied, though. “I came to warn you both that at least one of your wives is still in her cups. Oh, and you …”

  Meg rounded on Tristan, her nostrils flaring as she pointed her index finger at his chest with every word she uttered. “You will keep Victoria where she can be seen at all times. You’ve taken great pains to salvage her reputation. Do not undermine that tonight. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tristan held his arms high in the air as a gesture of surrender.

  “If His Grace learns about this he’ll be furious – Miss Eve MacAlistair attempting to get Lady Victoria foxed at her wedding ball.” Meg paced back and forth. “This after the duke battled his sister’s husband via fisticuffs? Then there is the matter of the elopement—”

  “I think you’ve recounted enough Meg,” Tristan warned.

  Victoria’s maid didn’t seem to notice Tristan’s mounting frustration. “It is a good thing her ladyship isn’t alive to see this – her smart, beautiful girl guzzling champagne just days after she eloped with some barrister.”

  Meg emphasized her last word with such disdain that Tristan wondered if, in her opinion, his profession was considered much more scandalous than an elopement.

  “The Dowager Duchess would have shot you, you know,” she said, interrupting his silent analysis, a savage glint in her eye.

  Colin coughed.

  Meg advanced a few more steps, until she was less than a foot away from Tristan. “I can still shoot you. I know where His Grace keeps the key to the gun cabinet.”

  “I appreciate the warning,” Tristan quipped, unable to suppress the wide grin that swept across his face as he added, “Thank you for your service, Meg. Surely no bridal celebration is complete without the Lady’s maid threatening bodily harm to her husband.”

  There it was again. That fluttering feeling every time Tristan referenced Victoria as his wife. He doubted that he’d ever tire of it.

  “I have done all I can,” Meg raised her hands to the heavens as if seeking divine intervention before storming from the room in a flourish of rustling skirts, slamming the door behind her.

  “I take it that she is residing with you and Victoria now that you’re wed?” Colin asked, wearing a broad smirk.

  “Gloat all you want. Need I remind you that it was your wife who provoked that mad woman’s ire by threatening her with a pair of shears?”

  Colin sniggered then quickly cleared his throat, as if thinking better of such a response. “That isn’t funny.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Tristan arched his brow.

  “No, it is not.” Colin paused, managing to keep a straight face for several seconds before a hearty laugh escaped him.

  “What is so amusing?” Eve asked as she entered the room, carrying a champagne flute.

  “Darling,” Colin said, reaching for her glass as she came close to him, “I hear you’ve been threatening the staff with a pair of shears.”

  Eve stumbled for a moment before regaining her composure. “That woman is a dictator! I was simply improving Victoria’s wardrobe.”

  “Where is my wife?” Tristan asked, rising from his chaise.

  Eve turned, narrowing her eyes, “Your wife?”

  “Victoria, your stunning auburn haired sister-in-law,” Tristan prompted before raising his hand in the air. “About this tall with piercing blue eyes?”

  “Oh, yes,” she smiled, as if recollection had just dawned on her. “You are an arse.”

  Tristan studied his sister-in-law. “And you are inebriated but thank you all the same, Eve,” he managed with a sly grin.

  “You are, Tristan,” Eve continued, bridging the distance between Tristan and herself. “You care for Victoria, I know you do. You wouldn’t have married her otherwise.”

  Deciding it was past time for him to excuse himself and escape the current topic of conversation, Tristan ignored Eve’s comment, instead addressing his brother. “I must find my wife.”

  “Not yet, you don’t,” Eve stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you care for her. You need to show everyone downstairs just how much. Those people can be ruthless for heaven’s cake – I mean sake.”

  In spite of her obvious intoxication, Tristan found himself expelling a deep, calming breath in an attempt to hide his mounting frustration. “Eve, you’re not the most ideal person to lecture me. In fact, you are the last person who should do so.”

  “This is not the evening to feign propriety.” Eve’s tone was dire. “Many of those witches downstairs are waiting to dissect your wife like she is a laboratory experiment. We all know it, as does Victoria. She needs for them to see how much you care for her. I know it isn’t easy for you to show such emotion but Tori is the one woman who is worth the risk and deep down you know I’m correct.”

  Eve took a step backwards before adjusting Tristan’s lapel. “Victoria is upstairs speaking with your swister … your twister. Oh, she’s speaking with Gwen.”

  Tristan remained silent, glancing from Eve to Colin then back to
Eve again. The scene was quite comical really. He’d never seen Eve foxed and, by the dumbfounded expression on Colin’s face, neither had he.

  “All right, then,” Tristan said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Nice talking to you, Eve, and thanks for the unsolicited advice. Colin,” he acknowledged his brother with a nod.

  As Tristan headed towards the door, he could hear Colin mutter to his wife, “That went splendidly, darling. You were quite diplomatic.”

  Eve’s laughter reverberated through the room.

  Tristan hoped that his wife was far less inebriated than his sister-in-law otherwise this was shaping up to be a very long night.

  * * *

  Upon stepping into the main hall, Tristan caught a glimpse of his sister standing atop the main staircase issuing instructions to a footman. He swallowed hard against the lump of emotion that lodged in his throat at the mere sight of Gwen performing ordinary tasks.

  Tristan had been so close to losing her, she had been so close to death, that Tristan doubted that he’d ever cease feeling grateful for Gwen’s presence in his life.

  The fact that Gwen had forgiven him for events that transpired with Victoria meant the world to him. They were back to their usual sibling banter, as if nothing had ever separated them.

  He had been fortunate, almost too much so, and Tristan found himself waiting with dread for the tide to turn. The exception was the time he spent with his wife and, with each step he took, his pulse quickened at the thought of spending the evening with Victoria.

  “There he is,” Gwen’s sweet voice reverberated through the carpeted hall as she took several steps backwards, allowing Tristan his first view of Victoria that evening.

  The sight robbed him of all reason.

  Victoria was clad in a scarlet gown of silk and lace that hugged all of her voluptuous curves, accentuating them to perfection in spite of the fact that the gown was in all actuality, tasteful and elegant. The high collar dipped in a V-shape, revealing just a hint of the creamy flesh above her bodice, that same silken flesh that Tristan was intimately acquainted with, the mere memory making him warm with desire. His eyes roved lower, noting the arrangement of silk roses and red feathers that accentuated her voluptuous waist.

  Who knew feathers could be tasteful?

  “Good evening, Husband,” Victoria drawled with a seductive tone.

  Tristan remained silent, his gaze fixed on Victoria, noting that her shiny auburn curls were tied into a lose bun at the nape of her neck with a single red rose tucked into her curls. His wife was the embodiment of an exotic temptress and the fact that she belonged to him filled his heart.

  “Has your brother become mute?” Victoria asked of her sister-in-law.

  Tristan suspected that Victoria was trying to play coy. Dressed like such a seductress, it was a useless attempt if ever he saw one.

  “You look utterly bewitching, Victoria,” Tristan was suddenly aware that his voice had taken on a dazed quality.

  “All right, you two,” Gwen grabbed Tristan by the arm. “I shall allow you both a moment to compose yourselves.”

  “I am perfectly fine, I assure you,” Victoria declared as Gwen linked arms with her, ushering both she and Tristan across the hall to a study that was currently unoccupied.

  “Yes, of course you are,” Gwen opened the door, whispering in Tristan’s ear, “Your wife is openly flirting with you and you are spellbound by her very presence. You have five minutes to compose yourselves. Then I come back. Do you understand?”

  Tristan nodded. “I understand completely.”

  “Thank you, Gwen. That’s terribly sweet of you!” Victoria leaned against the large mahogany desk at the far side of the room, accidentally knocking over a pewter picture frame with her hand.

  As if slighted by the ensuing thud, Victoria glanced at the offensive object then pressed her index finger against her lips. “Shush.”

  Gwen sighed audibly, surveying Victoria for several long seconds as the young woman fumbled

  to right the frame.

  “Let’s make that fifteen minutes, shall we?” Gwen asserted before turning to face Tristan. “I will have Winston bring more coffee. That will sober her. No one will notice, right?”

  “There is no need to worry, Gwen. I’m not inebriated,” Victoria insisted, still leaning against the desk.

  Tristan barely registered her words. Would any of their guests notice if he snuck his wife out through the servant’s entrance and back to Ainsley? As if reading his improper thoughts, Gwen pinched his arm.

  “Ouch!” Tristan rubbed the point of impact, noting that her strength had returned.

  “Tristan!”

  His sister had reached the point of exasperation, he noted. Not willing to upset her in any way, Tristan took the only course of action available to him – reassurance.

  “It will be fine, Gwen,” he assured his sister as he patted her arm. “Victoria is blissfully happy, nothing that attending her own wedding ball wouldn’t easily explain.”

  Gwen shot Tristan a look of pure disbelief.

  “Have you seen Eve?” Tristan arched his brow. When Gwen shook her head, he explained, “Compared to Eve, Victoria is the picture of sobriety.”

  “Oh, good God in heaven,” Gwen muttered.

  Her gaze returned to Victoria, who was now admiring a marble paperweight, rolling it between her palms.

  “Besides, they’ll be too busy admiring my wife’s gown,” Tristan added.

  Gwen pinched her brother for a second time that evening. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, Tristan corrected his twin, “You said fifteen.”

  “Keep looking at my sister-in-law like that, wife or not, and I’ll be back in five.”

  Tristan shrugged his shoulders, feigning indignation. “What?”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of,” she said, her gaze heated.

  Tristan placed his right hand over his heart. “You have my word.”

  “I will return,” Gwen assured him as she exited the room, closing the door behind her. He sensed his sister’s statement was meant to be more a threat than a promise. But it failed to daunt him. Instead, he continued to admire his wife in silence.

  Victoria looked enticing to say the least. The gown was spectacular, hugging her curvaceous form in all the right places but it was more than that. More than a pretty package, Victoria was radiant. She was also smart, sensual and witty. Only a fool would fail to see her many attributes. He had been just that, a fool for far too long, but no longer.

  “You are staring at me,” Victoria said as she studied the paperweight between her palms.

  How did she know, without even a single glance in his direction? Victoria knew him all too well, he was reminded.

  “Forgive me, but I’ve never seen anyone more seductive. Why wouldn’t I stare?”

  Victoria met his intense gaze at last. Her eyes, a smoldering azure, pierced through to his core. “Do you approve of my gown?” she asked him, her tone nonchalant.

  “I approve of you more.”

  “You are on your best behavior tonight,” she smiled, returning the paperweight to its proper position.

  Bridging the distance between them in three long strides, Tristan splayed his hands upon his wife’s waist. “You look captivating, Victoria.”

  “My gown matches my first betrothal ring, but I chose to wear my second instead. I prefer this ring infinitely more,” she placed her hand over her heart. In doing so, Victoria steered his attention to the delicate bluebell shaped ring he had designed for her as well as the creamy flesh above her bodice.

  He took her hand in his, taking great care that his fingers caressed her silken flesh, much like a soft kiss. “You’re always beautiful. You don’t need a garment or jewels to make me notice you.”

  “Now you tell me,” she sighed.

  Victoria must have discerned his confusion, for she clarified. “I was a wreck ear
lier, trying to dress the part of your wife to perfection. I’ve been fearful that our guests will take one look at me and conclude that the only reason you married me is because you felt obligated to do so.”

  It was such a painfully honest statement that Tristan’s heart ached for her. “You have nothing to be concerned about, sweetheart. You could be wearing the dowdiest frock imaginable and you would make it look like the latest Paris fashion. Trust me. Everyone in attendance will wonder what you’re doing with me.”

  Of that he had no doubt.

  “I have a confession,” Victoria placed her free hand on his shoulder. “I’m really not inebriated. I was hoping Gwen would allow us some time alone together and, as far as Meg is concerned, she was so frenzied about Eve that it provided a distraction from the daunting evening ahead. I’m shameful, am I not, sending my maid into a near swoon for my own amusement?”

  “Firstly, I’m relieved to hear your admission. After all, I can’t keep you intoxicated forever.” Tristan slid his arms around her waist. “Secondly, seeing as how your maid threatened to shoot me tonight, I can’t say I regret your ruse.”

  “Meg threatened to shoot you?” Victoria’s hands trailed to the nape of his neck, where her fingers threaded through his hair. “That is dire.”

  Tristan arched his brow. “I can take her, I assure you.”

  “Well, you may not be fearful but I am … about what awaits us downstairs,” Victoria’s auburn brow furrowed. “Silly, isn’t it? I care not about convention yet, no matter how much I detest the ton, I am nervous about how they will receive me tonight.”

  “I will protect you,” he vowed. “Always.”

  Victoria leaned into him, causing his every nerve ending to crackle in response. “I believe you. I can tell when you’re being candid with me now. I see it in your eyes, feel it in your touch. I just wish you would allow me access to your inner self more often.”

  “You don’t want to see into my soul,” he caressed her rosy cheek with his thumb.

  Her piercing gaze was fixed on his. “Yes, I do and I wouldn’t use it against you.”

  His heart swelled with her sincerity. Holding on to her tighter, so she wouldn’t slip from his grasp, he admitted, “I am terrified that I’ll lose you once you discover the truth about me.”