Treacherous Temptations

by Victoria Vane

  “I won’t know until I have undressed you,” he replied softly. A subtle smile broke over his face as fire infused hers. “Come now, my dear, you are no longer a blushing virgin. Surely, Blanchard taught you a few tricks before he parted, for I am informed that he spent at least one night in your bed. Still, your education remains incomplete…a matter that will soon be rectified.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Her instincts went on full alert. He looked to Barbara and Mary noted their exchange of sly smiles. Mary suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t quite comprehend what they intended with her, but knew she had to get away at the first opportunity. She had considered throwing herself from the carriage, but should she survive the fall without injury, she had no hope of outrunning the outriders that flanked the coach. Even the letter opener she had secreted from her desk was an ineffectual weapon against all three of them.

  The journey, however, was lengthy enough to require fresh horses. Or perhaps they would even take lodgings at a posting house along the way, for there seemed little point in exhausting themselves when there was no one in pursuit to rescue her. Jenny and James were the only ones who knew or cared, but the two servants would be impotent against such a force majeure as presently occupied the coach. Should they stop overnight, however, Mary resolved to employ any means necessary to escape—but she was not so fortunate.

  At the first coaching inn, the threesome never let her out of their sight. While the postillions changed horses, Lord Barnesley hired a saddle mount to ride ahead to Oldham. Sir Richard departed to purchase food and drink, leaving Lady Blanchard to keep her vigilant watch over Mary. As affixed to her as an additional and most unwanted appendage, she never left Mary’s side even to attend the necessary.

  They drove through the night to arrive at Oldham late the next afternoon. The coach came to a clattering halt under the cobblestoned portico of an expansive, yet somewhat derelict mansion. The final jolt stirred Sir Richard back to a snorting state of wakefulness. He rose with a grunt the moment the door opened. Lord Barnesley met them just as the footman lowered the step and handed each woman down, first the countess, and then Mary.

  “Guest chambers have been prepared,” he said. But Mary’s hopes for escape sunk when he added, “Two must suffice for the nonce for there was insufficient time to prepare a third room. You ladies will bed together tonight…” His predatory smile gave Mary chills. “But thenceforth, my lovely bride will bed with me.”

  When they dined, Mary only picked at her food and sipped at a tankard of bitter ale, while the countess, Sir Richard, and Lord Barnesley conversed and laughed, as if carrying out an abduction and a forced wedding were nothing out of the norm. Midway through the meal Mary was struck by a most unusual lethargy and then the room began to spin. Voices buzzed. Faces blurred.

  “Now we need not fear her slipping away in the night,” the countess declared.

  Mary realized all too late that she had been the only one to consume the bitter ale. The others had all drunken wine.

  “What did you use?” Barnesley asked.

  “Tincture of opium,” Barbara replied.

  “A most effective agent, I must say,” chimed Sir Richard.

  Mary’s eyes drooped and her body slumped while three unfocused faces floated above her with twisted smiles…and then her world faded to black.

  …

  Mary was besieged by a most bizarre and disturbing dream. She was in a darkened bedchamber, stripped naked and spread-eagle with wrists and ankles pinioned by leather straps to the four corners of a tester bed. Her head pounded fiercely, yet she ignored the pain to clear the fog and shake herself awake. She realized her eyes were already open.

  She tested her limbs to discover her bindings were terrifyingly real.

  Barnesley appeared in the periphery of her vision, a shadowy form in a red silk banyan. “How delightful to have you back with us again, my dear.” Lady Blanchard hovered behind him with a single lit taper, creating an eerily evil halo around him.

  “Where am I? Where are my clothes? Why am I bound?”

  Barnesley’s voice was velvety soft, almost soothing. “As I said earlier in the coach, my dear, your education is incomplete, and with our marriage imminent, I saw no need to delay your…training.”

  Training? Terror gripped her in its icy claws. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?”

  “Tsk. Tsk. It is not for you to ask the master. It is only for you to obey. But I suppose I will indulge you this once as proof of my charitable nature. Anything further, however, will require severe chastisement.”

  He traced her exposed nipple with his forefinger and smiled in satisfaction when it hardened to his touch. “I long ago discovered that fear is the ultimate aphrodisiac, intensifying all of the senses to a zenith. And while many sing the merits of pleasure, I find they are a far second to the sublimity of pain.”

  The countess stepped forward, licking her lips. “You will take her now, Freddie?”

  “Not yet, my pet,” he replied. “I refuse to plant my seed until I am assured she does not carry Blanchard’s spawn. I won’t countenance giving my name to another man’s bastard.”

  “And if she does?” Barbara asked.

  “You will devise a way to get rid of it,” he replied icily.

  While Mary had never even considered the possibility, Lord Barnesley’s statement brought her to a startling realization. Her flux was already late…by over a sennight.

  “For the nonce,” he continued, “I must gratify myself with play. Have you ever experimented with hot wax, Barbara? No?” he answered the shake of her head. “It is one of many simple delights, and is so readily available. Shall I demonstrate for you the proper technique?”

  He dipped his head and licked Mary’s breast, pulling her nipple into his mouth and biting down. Mary pulled against her restraints with a cry. He released it with a pop. “That was only a test, my pet, to verify that your senses have fully awakened. Barbara?” he inclined his head to the countess. “The candle, if you will.”

  Barbara gazed on them with prurient delight as he took it from her hand. He lowered the taper to within inches of Mary’s breast, allowing the heat of the flickering flame to blaze across her skin.

  Mary watched in horror as the hot wax pooled at the taper’s end. She squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself for the pain but jerked against her bindings with a whimper as the beads of melted wax splattered and seared her flesh.

  “The wetness prevents a true burn,” he explained, “although it does little to mute the sensation.” His mouth was already on the other breast in repetition of his prior actions.

  Mary braced herself. “Please stop this!”

  Barnesley withdrew with a scowl and handed the candle back to Barbara. “I instructed you to be silent. You disobeyed. Perhaps you need a reminder of who is the master here.” He took a step toward her head and Mary recoiled as far as her bindings would allow, only to note the menacing implement lying on the bedside table.

  His gaze followed hers. “I call it Medusa.” He took up the flogger with a smile. “Barbara, I seem to recall your stated affection for the cat. Remove your dressing gown.”

  “Me? You wish me to disrobe?”

  “Yes. Although I had intended to fuck you as you flogged Mary, you have set a poor example with your hesitation, not to mention the added impertinence of your question. Thus, I must now flog you instead. Remove your dressing gown,” he repeated. “And present your back.”

  Mary watched in shock as Barbara untied the sash and shrugged out of the garment to let it puddle on the floor. Without further protest or any sign of alarm, Barbara then presented her back to him.

  “Hug the post and spread your legs,” he ordered. When Barbara glanced over her shoulder, the whip came down with a wicked snap.

  Mary recoiled.

  Barbara only chuckled. “Is that the best you can do, Freddie?”

  “Oh no, my dear,” he licked his lips. “I assure you that you and Medusa are to
become intimately acquainted. For it seems, our Mary is not the one in most need of chastisement.” He raised the flogger again only to be stalled by rapid footfalls and a frantic voice.

  “Where the devil is she!” An enraged baritone echoed through the halls, followed by the slamming of doors. A pounding sounded immediately outside. The handle to the bedchamber rattled, and the door shook with violence, but refused to give. “Open now, Barnesley, or I’ll blow a hole through the fucking door and then do the same to you!”

  “You trespass, Blanchard,” Barnesley replied tranquilly. “Leave now, or I’ll see you hanged.”

  An explosive blast sounded, followed by the splintering of wood. The door crashed from its hinges. Hadley entered with the smoking blunderbuss in hand.

  “How very melodramatic,” Barnesley drawled.

  “You have taken something of mine and I am here to retrieve it.”

  Hadley’s eyes shot to Barbara, stark naked and still hugging the bedpost and then to Mary, sprawled open to everyone’s gaze. “Good God!” He handed the second pistol to James who guarded his flank. “Keep both of them in your sights.”

  Hadley flew to Mary, stripping off his coat to cover her before pulling the dagger from his boot to hack away her restraints.

  “H-Hadley! How did you find me? I thought never to see you again.”

  “Shh, my love,” he soothed. “I came to return the money I had borrowed against your dowry and discovered you gone. Are you harmed, Mary? I will surely kill him if you are.”

  “Not truly, but the things they intended—” she sobbed, quivering in shock.

  He took her into his arms. “Hush now. I’m taking you away from this depraved hell.”

  “The girl stays.” Sir Richard stood in the doorway, baldheaded and in his nightshirt, with a pistol trained on Hadley. “I warned you to leave, Blanchard. Though you eluded me for a time, I will now see you pay the price as the treasonous dog you are.”

  Barnesley chuckled, his gazed flickering between Hadley and Sir Richard. “This continues to grow more fascinating by the minute! Damn me if I can remember when I’ve been so diverted.”

  “Out Barnesley! Now!” Hadley barked. “Take Barbara with you.”

  Barnesley handed Barbara the discarded dressing gown. “As much as I hate to disappoint any of my playmates, it appears our games are finished.” He extended his arm with a smirk. “Come my dear, our presence is now very much de trop.” The baron sketched Hadley and Mary a mocking bow while Barbara hissed in passing like some vindictive viper.

  “Lock them up in another room until I can figure out what to do with them,” Hadley ordered James.

  “But what of him?” the valet inclined his head warily toward Sir Richard.

  “I have the matter in hand,” Hadley replied. James departed with a shrug, leaving only Hadley, Mary, and Sir Richard. “Drop the pistol, Sir Richard,” Hadley said. “The games are indeed over and you have lost.”

  “On that we are distinctly at odds, for I could easily claim victory by blowing your head off.”

  “That would be a huge mistake under the circumstances.”

  Sir Richard raised a bushy brow. “What circumstances?”

  “I’ve found the missing ledgers.”

  Richard blanched. “You lie!”

  “I do not. It was quite by happenstance that I discovered them. It seems Edwardes had them all this time, locked away with these dueling pistols. It is ironic, don’t you think, that their location might have remained a mystery had you not taken Mary.”

  Mary was incredulous. “My father had them? Do you mean he was involved in the fraud?”

  “I’m sorry, my dear, but it appears so.”

  Sir Richard’s gaze narrowed. “If she was unaware of them, surely no one else knows of their existence, which places the situation in an entirely new light. Although I had much more elaborate plans where you are concerned, Blanchard—hanging, drawing, and quartering come vividly to mind, I see no good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

  Sir Richard cocked the hammer. Mary clutched Hadley’s arm.

  “Come now, Sir Richard,” Hadley smirked. “Do you think me so stupid as to just leave them there? If Mary and I do not return to Welham Grove by the day after tomorrow, the ledgers will be delivered to William Pulteney at The Craftsman.”

  He blinked. “Pulteney?”

  “Yes, Sir Richard, to the man whose greatest desire is to obliterate the ministry of corruption that you have fostered. Imagine how much your many political foes will delight when such information falls into their hands.”

  “What do you want, Blanchard?” Sir Richard lowered the pistol, defeated.

  Hadley snatched it from his hand. “You will do three things. First, you will clear my father’s name and then restore my title.”

  “Impossible!”

  “Not at all. It only requires the King’s pardon. You have a fortnight to obtain it. Should you fail, I shall take necessary measures to clear it myself, but I daresay it won’t be pretty if I must resurrect the greatest scandal that has ever plagued this nation to do it.”

  “And the third?”

  “You will consent to our marriage and free her full inheritance.” He met Mary’s gaze. “If she will have me.”

  Silence hung heavy, cloaking him in uncertainty.

  “How can you ask such a thing?” Mary finally asked.

  “You heard the girl.” Sir Richard sneered. “She still won’t have you!”

  Hadley’s eyes went as dull as a snuffed candle before reigniting with rage. “Leave us, damn you!”

  The baronet departed with a snicker.

  Hadley grabbed Mary by the shoulders. “Why? What more must I do to prove myself?”

  “You mistake my meaning,” she said.

  “Then tell me what I misunderstand!”

  “You asked me if I will have you, but how can you not know the answer?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was wrong about you, Hadley. I accused you of falsehoods, betrayal, and greed, when you were in fact the least guilty of any of those surrounding me—including my own father!

  “I summarily condemned you for your past with Barbara, without understanding the power she must have wielded. But how could I understand anything so incomprehensibly vile until I became a victim of it myself? I know now that there is nothing more between you and she, just as I know you never intended me harm.”

  “But I did deceive you, Mary,” he said. “I allowed you to believe that I could be indifferent to you, that our marriage would only be as real as you wanted it to be, but I never considered it anything less than real. I was just too cowardly to confess how I really feel…to chance your rejection. Yet, it was all for naught when you spurned me anyway,” he finished on a bitter note.

  “How you feel?” She searched his face with burgeoning hope. “Tell me now, Hadley. Please. I need to understand. What is this thing between us?”

  “What is this? I once thought it so bloody complicated and tortured myself denying it, but truth cannot and will not be denied. And the truth, pure and simple is that I love you, Mary. You are the palliative for my restless ache. You sate my inner craving for something good and honest, a craving I didn’t even know I had…until I met you.”

  She gazed up at him, her heart surfeit with emotion. “But we are so different you and I. How could you ever be happy with the dull domesticity that I love? That is me.”

  “I am finally free from my bondage to lies, treachery, and deceit, free to live as I please and you worry that I could not be content with mundane rusticity? Believe me, my dearest heart when I say a life of dull domesticity is what I long for above all things and I want to live it with you. So I ask you once more, will you be mine, Mary?”

  Her eyes blurred with tears. “There is a certain irony, don’t you think, in asking the mother of your unborn child if she will be your wife?”

  Hadley shook his head in a double take. “Wh-what did you say?”

  “I belie
ve I am carrying your child, Hadley.” She watched incredulity wash over him with bated breath.

  “We will be wed at once! Here. Now. In Barnesley’s chapel.”

  “No,” she said. “I refuse to begin our life together in this wicked and corrupt place. Take me away from here, Hadley. Please, take me home.”

  “But I have yet to receive my answer.”

  “Yes, Hadley. I will be your wife. Unequivocally. Irrevocably.”

  His brows furrowed. “I’ve heard that before. How can I know you really mean it this time?”

  She entwined her arms about his neck, murmuring into her kiss. “I guess you will just have to trust me.”

  Epilogue

  A fortnight later, all of London was abuzz with the astounding news of the posthumous pardon of Henry, Fourth Earl of Blanchard, and that the restored earldom had been conferred upon his long-exiled heir.

  Almost immediately thereafter, the London broadsheets published wishes of felicitations to the newly wed Lord and Lady Blanchard, who had exchanged their vows at the small estate of Welham Grove, reportedly amidst thousands of late blooming primroses.

  Victoria’s Titillating Tidbits

  The inspiration for the story:

  Treacherous Temptations was very much inspired by the literary works of the 18 century, such as Samuel Richardson’s two novels Pamela and Clarissa Harlowe, and Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Choderlos de Laclos. In all of these works, virtue versus vice, and evil versus innocent were predominant themes, with the seduction of a virgin as the primary trope.

  The South Sea scandal:

  The South Sea Company of the 18 century began as a legitimate means of paying off national debt, became little more than a great government-sponsored Ponzi scheme, rife with bribery and fraudulent stock trading, much as it is described in this novel. The company directors artificially inflated the stocks by spreading rumors of the riches to be gained, which caused a wild speculation frenzy. When the bubble burst in 1720, the effect was much like the Wall Street crash of 1929—rruining thousands of people who had lost their heads. A number of prominent people committed suicide or left to live abroad due to ruined finances and reputations.