by Jenny Brown
“I doubt you have much choice about it,” Hartwood said succinctly. “I don’t believe it was the fifty pounds that motivated her to make you her offer—not entirely. And once a woman makes up her mind to have one of us, we males have little say in the matter.” He exchanged a meaningful glance with his wife, whose lips tightened into a stern expression even as the corners of her eyes turned up in mirth.
“I don’t know what has taken place already between the two of you,” Lord Hartwood continued, “but I don’t imagine a girl as bright as Temperance would have put herself in your power if you hadn’t given her reason to trust you.”
Trev sighed. He was not up to the challenge of describing what it was he’d given Temperance. He’d already embarrassed himself enough.
Lady Hartwood broke in, and said, “Captain, your mother consulted me in a professional capacity, I hope it isn’t an imposition to reveal that the information she gave me about your birth suggests that, like Temperance, you, too, were born when the Sun was in Scorpio.”
“I was,” he admitted. “Though even without my mother’s intelligence, you could have guessed it. You’ve seen enough to know that I embody the chief failing of my sign.”
“You refer, of course, to a lascivious nature,” Lady Hartwood replied in a schoolmistress’s tone. “But it is only the vulgar who attribute that failing to Scorpio alone. Each sign has its share of libertines, though each sign lusts for something different.”
She paused, observing how he reacted to what she’d already revealed. Then, with a professorial air strangely at odds with her personal charm, she explained, “Scorpio is a watery sign. The water signs live to experience emotion, so their lusts are emotional rather than carnal. Scorpios use physical urges to stir their partners to the depths of their being. They revel in the intensity of the feelings they arouse—and not only those conducive to happiness.”
He nodded. He could not deny she had that right. At this, she smiled, and added, “As you can imagine, their intensity can be disconcerting for others who don’t share their Scorpionic natures. But since Temperance was also born with planets placed in Scorpio, the two of you should do well together. You share the same tastes. My Aunt Celestina always advised that Scorpios do best when paired with others of their sign.”
“Surely, you aren’t going to allow Temperance to go off with me?” Trev didn’t try to hide his surprise.
“As my husband says, I don’t think either of us could stop her. And if we did, she would merely find another unsuitable connection with which to spite us. I should have liked to help her, but she won’t take counsel from me. She’s much too headstrong—which is exactly how she should be, given her Aquarius Ascendant. So I must hope she made a wise choice when she cast her lot with you. It’s possible. You’re older than she is, and the military has taught you discipline—something she badly needs. You may be strong enough to stand up to her and help her make the most of what she is.”
Trev cut her off. “I can’t pretend my interest in Temperance is as disinterested as your words suggest.”
“I shouldn’t believe you if you said it was. The Scorpio’s path to wisdom must involve the kinds of experiences we ladies are not supposed to discuss in mixed company. But Temperance’s nativity suggests to me that it is just that sort of encounter that will force her to live from the better parts of her nature. As for you, based on what I saw in yours, I believe you are an honorable man and will act honorably.”
To which Lord Hartwood added softly, “Or else.”
It was with mixed feelings that Trev made his way to the street to take possession of the mistress he had set out to claim with far more enthusiasm only an hour before. Once again, he’d fallen into the delusion that he would be her rescuer—and once again she’d tricked him. She hadn’t been living in a brothel, and all he appeared to have rescued her from was a chance for a new and better life at Her Ladyship’s Refuge.
Cat and mouse didn’t begin to describe the game he’d been drawn into. Tiger and rat was more like it—with him cast once more in the role of rat. And that wasn’t the worst of it, for he’d be damned if he knew what he’d bound himself to do in that final interview with Lord Hartwood and his lady. But he’d definitely bound himself to something. Flight, as tempting as it might have been, was out of the question.
A moment later, Temperance appeared in the alley behind Lord Hartwood’s home. She wore a pale gown under a thick pelisse—not the thick mourning gown she’d worn at their first meeting. She’d hidden her curls under a ladylike bonnet. The black, feathered hat was gone. And she was carrying a small sack.
“Are you leaving the rest of your things with Lady Hartwood?”
“I have no more things.”
He looked more closely at her sack, shocked at what it told him about her situation. Did she really mean to go out into the world, leaving behind the comfort of the noblewoman’s Refuge, with nothing more than that?
The knowledge made him feel the burden of what he’d taken on. But as the cold wind brought the color to her smooth white cheeks and made her stormy eyes sparkle, he couldn’t deny how eager he was to take it up, whatever the cost might be. As Hartwood had said, she did want him. And he was more than willing to give her what she wanted.
But it took only another moment for his usual caution to return and bring him back to earth. For his instincts warned him to take care. The girl he’d rescued from the shoemaker had not wished to join herself to him, no matter how much her body might have responded to his touch. The girl he’d met at the masquerade had come to get her locket, the keepsake that was all she had left to remind her of her dead beloved—a man so dear to her she’d been willing to kiss a hostile stranger if that was what it took to get his portrait back.
Her invitation to meet at a bordello had been a trick. She’d had no intention of giving herself to him last night. She’d only dangled that prospect before him to impel him to bring her the locket—but having got it at last, she’d merely tossed it onto Lady Hartwood’s desk with an expression that looked suspiciously like contempt. And offered herself to him as a mistress.
Go carefully, an inner voice warned. Things here are not what they seem.
What had happened to her devotion to her dead lover? Had it been a ruse? He couldn’t but wonder if she’d been sent to entangle him in some complex conspiracy. Such a thought came all too easily to a man who had spent as many years as he had in Sir Charles’s service.
But a quick review of the facts made him dismiss that idea. She’d had no way of knowing he’d snag her locket when she fled from him on the street. She’d had no way of knowing he would send a message to the crossing boy to set up another assignation. So it was unlikely she’d been sent out to draw him into some plot.
There must be a simpler explanation for her behavior. But what? He could come up with nothing that would explain it, but he was wise enough to know that something would, and he had better nose it out before he let their connection go any further.
Though he’d originally planned to take her back to the chamber he’d rented at the lodgings above the Phoenix Coffeehouse, he hesitated, despite the surge of blood that rushed to his nether part at the thought of what might transpire if he were to lead her to that small, anonymous chamber. When John Thomas took over, reason flew out the door. He must not allow himself to be alone with her until he had a better idea of what he’d got himself into. Once again, he must delay taking his pleasure with her.
Though he had to admit he took perverse pleasure in trying to work out what it was she was up to. The truth was, her deviousness was a big part of what attracted him to her, for engaging with her in these subtle games let him employ his own strength and cunning. But before he could go on with her, he must make sure it really was a game she was playing with him now and nothing more.
He was a stranger here in London, and Fanshawe had told him almost nothing about the errand on which he was sending him. Best to take care. So with a stern command to John Thom
as to stand down and await further orders, he offered her his hand. They would have a little talk before he took things further. Before he had her, he must force the truth out of her.
Temperance had expected the captain to take her somewhere where he could do what he’d been trying to do since he’d had her at his mercy in the alley. She’d hoped he would. Once they got that over with, she would stop responding to him so strongly. He’d lose the power he wielded over her now and she’d be safe again. But it was not over yet, and she was far from safe—not when just the sight of the graceful swell at his crotch, displayed to such advantage by the dress uniform he’d donned for evening wear, made her grow wet in her most secret part.
There no longer was any reason to fight the craving he aroused in her. No reason not to tease him and use what she’d been taught to make him lose control. Once again, she’d given in to another of those fatal urges Her Ladyship had warned her about. But it was too late for regret, so she must make the most of it. She’d satisfy the captain, rid herself of her desire for him, and when it was gone, she’d find that ship to take her to America.
Her plan should succeed. Giving herself to Randall had rid her of whatever girlish desire her body had felt for him. But had she felt this kind of hunger for Randall when she’d waited for him that night behind her father’s stables? She could barely remember, but she doubted it. She’d been a naïve virgin, unable to separate the confusing sensations he’d awakened in her body from the fantasy she’d had that he was a hero, risking all to fight against tyranny. She had wanted to absorb his courage, to make herself what he was.
What I thought he was, she reminded herself brutally.
But whatever she had longed for, he’d taught her that first night that a woman was meant to give pleasure, not to take it. So she must not expect anything more from Captain Trevelyan than the power she would wield over him while she had him under her spell. She prepared herself to make the most of it.
But she was not given the opportunity, for, to her surprise, once they found themselves alone, Captain Trevelyan didn’t treat her to one of those kisses of his that lit up her entire being; nor did he press himself hungrily against her body. Instead, he strode down the street ahead of her, bowling along at a pace that was hard to match even with her long legs, until they reached a coffeehouse on New Street—where he conducted her not to one of the rooms upstairs where affairs like theirs could be consummated, but to the public room, where he seated her at an isolated table and ordered some potted eels for the two of them.
Only after he’d sampled a few bites did he put down his fork and ask, “Why, Temperance? Why this sudden change of heart? You eluded me so cleverly until now.”
The determination in his voice was unmistakable. He wouldn’t tolerate any more of her tricks, and without his saying it, she knew if she gave him anything but an honest answer, this would be the last she saw of him.
But how could she tell him what lay behind her change of heart? It would be too humiliating to reveal how cruelly she’d been betrayed. It was her strength and cleverness he admired. If he knew the truth, she’d lose her appeal. Until now, he’d respected her as the worthy adversary who’d held her own with him when they matched wits. All that would be over if he learned she was really only another stupid Jill. His respect would turn into contempt.
She didn’t dare let him know how stupid she’d been. Better to let him think she was playing a deep game still rather than risk losing whatever power she might have over him. Though even as she misled him, as she must, she would try to be as truthful with him as she could. She would have to. He was too canny to fall for an outright lie.
She toyed with an errant tendril of hair that had come loose, working out what to say. At length she replied, “The money you offer is enough to buy my passage to America. I’ve had enough of England.”
“Lady Hartwood would have given you that, wouldn’t she, if passage to America was really what you wanted? She seemed sincere.”
“She is sincere, but she wanted too much in return. As I told you, I’ve no wish to be reformed. I prefer what you offer. It’s simpler, and it will be no sacrifice for me to give you what you want.”
“I don’t believe you. Until now, you’ve been so proud of not selling yourself. You didn’t give that up just to get my fifty pounds. Tell me the truth. Why did you change your mind?”
She met his fierce gaze. “Because I want you. You’re a handsome devil, and you kiss like a cove who knows what he’s doing.”
“My kisses aren’t enough to explain it, either. We kissed in the alleyway, but you bolted. We kissed at the masquerade, and you sent me on a fool’s errand. If you want me, it’s not just for my kisses—as pleasant as they may have been. You want something else—but what?”
“Your kindness.” she said softly. “You kept me out of the jug. And then again, today, you tried to keep Her Ladyship from casting me out of the Refuge. I’ve met with little kindness from men until now.”
“I was foxed when I saved you from the jug and came close to ravishing you afterward. So much for my kindness.”
“If you came near to ravishing me, it was not against my will. I could barely tear myself away.”
“But you did.” His mouth tightened, making his scar go white. “And when I tempted you to meet me at the masquerade, was it kind of me to use the memento of your dead lover to gain what I wanted? Come on. Don’t try to play me for a fool. You heard Lord Hartwood. I tried to buy you from him. I was willing to make a whore of you. Was that a kindness, too?”
She recoiled, sinking back into her chair. He wouldn’t accept any of the easy answers she gave him. She would have to be even more honest. She took a forkful of eel and chewed it before replying. “Whatever your intention might have been, you didn’t force me into whoring. I offered myself to you because I wanted to.”
“But why? It wasn’t for that fifty pounds.”
“No. It wasn’t. Though I shall be glad to have them when you are gone.”
“Would you give yourself to me without them? Would you become my lover for the mere joy of it?” He was serious.
A quiver ran through her secret parts. “Yes.”
His deep-set eyes glowed from beneath the dark slash of his brow. “I confess myself baffled. Why?”
“Because I need you.”
“Needs can be complex. Is it my kindness or my cruelty you respond to?” His eyes drilled into hers.
“Both,” she whispered. “You are kind, but you are not too kind.”
That was the truth. She responded to his ruthlessness as much as to his kindness. Was Lady Hartwood right, that she would sting herself to death out of sheer perversity?
His face took on a wary look. “You’ve taken pleasure in humiliating me. You did it when you left me in the alley with my pants down around my knees and when you forced me to embrace you dressed as a boy before a crowd of spectators. Is that what gives you pleasure? Or did you treat me that way to let me know that it would please you if I retaliated in kind?”
His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you wish us to retire into a private room so I could chastise you. Do you crave the rod, Temperance? Restraint? The lash? Is that what you want from me?”
Her gut clenched. “Oh no, not that!”
“I see,” he said, but he did not sound convinced.
“You made me stop stealing.” Her words came rushing out. “You’re as strong as I am. Few men are, and those that are—well, they aren’t kind. Not even the way you are. You know what I am, but you don’t despise me. My strength doesn’t frighten you, for you’re fierce, too. But fierce as you are, you have discipline. You stay in control. I like that. Though I can’t make you believe a word I’ve said, I’ve told you the truth, Captain.”
Though, of course, not all of it.
“My friends call me Trev,” he said, not smiling, just as he’d said it that first night in the alley. “I’d like you to do so, too. But though I might like to be kind, I have little to offer
you. My time is not at my disposal. In truth, I have little to offer you. Affairs of business call me away, and I can afford you only a few weeks of pleasure before I must leave you behind.”
“That would suit me. I don’t wish to fall in love with you.”
“Because of your beloved ghost?”
She dropped her gaze, unwilling to let him see the pain his words invoked. Carefully, she said, “My love for him has made me wish to avoid ever falling in love again.”
It was not quite a lie, but his honesty made her regret that she had to twist her words. Most men lied with every breath they took. But this man did not. He didn’t pretend to be a saint. He could be as ruthless as she was, and, like herself, he had strong urges. His kisses left no question about that. But, still, he aspired to be an honorable man.
He reached toward her with one sunburnt hand and gently stroked her cheek, sending waves of sensation through her entire body. “So be it,” he said. “I’m not a saint. You’ve worked your magic on me. If you don’t stop me now, I’ll take what you offer. But I must do so in an honorable way.”
He had heard her unspoken thoughts. What else had he heard?
He reached into his breast pocket and carefully extracted something from its depths. Banknotes. He brought them out and looked at them with an expression verging on amusement.
“Here is your fifty pounds. It is yours. It isn’t charity, for I regret that I put you into an untenable situation at the Refuge, and it will soothe my conscience to have you take them.” He pushed away from the table. “But I’ve decided not to buy your services as my mistress.”
Her heart sank. She could no longer pretend she’d offered herself to him to earn her passage to America and escape.
“You don’t want me?”
“I want you too much. But I’m not comfortable with the rash way you left the safety of the Refuge. It would take all the joy out of our connection if I thought you came to me because you had no choice.”
He stood. “I’ve reserved a chamber for you upstairs. I’ll escort you there now and leave you alone. It’s yours. The rent is paid through the end of the week. That should be enough time for you to arrange passage to America if that’s what you really want. It’s not such a bad idea. You could start over there. With your energy and intelligence, you might craft a better life than is possible for you here.” He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a key, which he handed to her.