Sweetest Little Sin

by Christine Wells

Despite the hairs that pricked at her nape, she forced a light laugh. “Why, Mr. Radleigh. What nonsense you speak! We are betrothed. Why should I desire to escape you?”

  “I don’t know.” He tilted his head. “It’s a question, isn’t it?”

  Before she could think of a reply, he bowed over her hand, turned on his heel, and strode away.

  Louisa looked after him, watching sunlight glint on his fair hair. He jammed his hat on his head and cracked his crop against his top boot.

  Radleigh grew impatient. It was scarcely to be wondered at, but she hoped his impatience was for the alignment of their two houses and not for their wedding night.

  Until now, she’d managed to hold him off. His assumption about the coldness of her nature, her prudishness, had been one she’d wholeheartedly encouraged.

  But an engaged man was entitled to some liberties with his fiancée, wasn’t he? She didn’t know how much longer she could elude him.

  JARDINE rode in as Radleigh came trotting out of the stables on a raw-boned stallion.

  “Ah. Just the man.” Dismissing Ives, he wheeled his mount and accompanied his host. “Mind if I join you?”

  Radleigh could hardly refuse. He narrowed his eyes, giving Jardine a quick survey. “Why not?”

  They rode in silence for a way. Then Radleigh said, “I know who you are.” He spoke in a pleasant tone, but with an unmistakable edge. “I don’t know why you should be making up to my sister. . . .”

  “Don’t you?” Jardine’s mouth lifted at the corner. “Then you are not as acute as I’d imagined.”

  They cleared a high hedge, and Jardine leaned forward to pat his mare’s neck while he waited for Radleigh to catch up. “I hear that you have an interesting piece of merchandise for sale. I want it.”

  The time for groping in the dark was done. The matter lay open between them. Jardine was prepared to match any price to save his colleagues—and to secure the bait that would draw Smith into the open. What Smith could do with that list of agents . . .

  “Who do you work for?” Radleigh rapped out.

  Jardine curled his lip. “My dear fellow. I haven’t done a day’s work in my life.”

  Radleigh cracked a laugh. “You want me to sell you what I have? A lone individual? Jardine, I have nations vying for this, offering me untold wealth and power.”

  Slowly, Jardine shook his head in a pitying gesture. “They won’t keep their bargains. Think about it. Why should they leave you alive, once they have the list? Alive, you are an expense and a liability. Dead . . .” Jardine shrugged. “A problem solved.”

  Radleigh was silent. They rode on while he considered, weighed the pros and cons.

  “And don’t forget that I know what you’re up to, which means I can go to the powers that be and tell them their entire network of spies is compromised. They’ll take action to dismantle their operations, and your information will be worthless.”

  He let Radleigh digest this information. Eventually, the other man said, “Why do you want the list if you’re not working for them?”

  Jardine snorted. “You really think I’d tell you that? You might as well ask what’s the highest price I’m willing to pay.”>

  They circled one another now, their horses catching the mood, snorting and tossing their heads.

  Turning away from Radleigh, Jardine squinted up at the sun. “Some can give you money, true. But you are already an extraordinarily wealthy man. What I can give you is beyond any foreign ambassador’s power, for I have the ear of the Regent.”

  He caught the moment Radleigh’s eyes sharpened. “A knighthood?”

  “Perhaps. But . . . let us not be ungenerous. Every East India man and his boot boy has a knighthood these days.” Jardine smiled. “How does ‘Lord Radleigh’ sound?”

  The bastard couldn’t hide his shock.

  “Think of it,” purred Jardine. “I could turn you into a hero, Radleigh. Not the sniveling petty villain who somehow came by a sensitive piece of government information he managed to sell the highest bidder. But the great man who discovered such a plot and foiled it single-handedly.”

  He watched Radleigh absorbing the grandiose picture he’d painted. The man was far too cool a customer to show elation, but Jardine could tell the notion warmed the cockles of his corrupt, black heart.

  In every man, there is at least one weakness, and one deep-seated desire. Sometimes, the two are the same.

  Faulkner had said that to him once, and Jardine had never forgotten. Let criminals and soldiers use force to achieve their aims. Jardine was a master at turning the key that unlocks a man’s brain, his heart, his soul.

  He opened them wide, turned them inside out. And then manipulated them until they yielded exactly the result he most desired.

  “Think about it,” he said with a hard smile. “I’ll expect your answer tomorrow morning, before I leave.”

  RADLEIGH stood in the small cabinet room next to Lady Louisa’s bedchamber with the hot satisfaction of the forbidden scintillating through his veins.

  The peephole was discreet and effective, and no one knew it was there. Except him.

  In retrospect, he was glad Louisa had been so very reluctant to allow him any premarital shenanigans. She was a lady, after all, with no pretensions to a sensual nature. He wondered if she even knew what her reproductive organs were for. He stifled a snort of laughter.

  Mustn’t let her hear . . .

  Her reluctance, her aloof, untouchable quality made it all the more fascinating to watch her undress. How shamed, how utterly violated she would feel if she knew.

  He would tell her, eventually, and enjoy her response.

  Radleigh bent to the peephole again, but she had finished dressing now and dismissed her maid. She crossed to the window, elegant and erect in her carriage even when alone. She sat in the window seat, looking strangely pensive.

  Radleigh sighed and straightened. The curtain was down on that show for the moment.

  Oh, but she was cold. He hadn’t sought sexual satisfaction from this union but nor had he expected this delicious, almost delicate anticipation.

  Her resistance, the flare of fear he’d glimpsed occasionally in her eyes excited him, but he was determined to keep himself under control, at least until their wedding night.

  He thought of the proposal Jardine had laid out that afternoon and knew he would take it. In view of Radleigh’s own imminent rise to nobility, to some men of limited vision, it might seem unnecessary to marry Lady Louisa.

  But he knew a little of the world which he hoped to enter. A title would open many doors, but for the very elite, a recent title would make him only marginally more acceptable than he already was. For assured entrée into the ton, he needed an insider to pave the way. He needed Louisa.

  And he found that he anticipated their union more and more.

  The door opened. Saunders walked in. “Mr. Radleigh.”

  Radleigh jerked his hand away from the peephole and quickly hung the miniature that covered it back in its place.

  The secretary’s brows lifted fractionally, but he didn’t comment on what he’d seen.

  Radleigh sighed. “She’s making me wait, Saunders. It is . . . difficult to wait.”

  He would not tell Saunders about Jardine’s proposals. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to bring the game to a close.

  “Why wait?” murmured the secretary. “Ladies like grand romantic gestures. Why not marry her out of hand? Do it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “You have the special license, have you not?”

  Radleigh nodded.

  Saunders spread his hands. “Well, then.”

  The notion exploded in Radleigh’s mind like a sunburst.

  He could do it. She would be reluctant, but he’d impress her with his masterfulness, sweep her off her feet.

  It would set the tone for their marriage, too. He’d show her he’d no intention of brooking disagreement or resistance once she was his wife. Desperate not to frig
hten her off, he’d been all compliance until now, but this pussyfooting about irked him. The sooner he made Lady Louisa aware of her place, the better.

  Beneath him.

  A pleasurable frisson stole through him at the double entendre. He smiled.

  “If you’ll pardon, sir. It would be beneficial if you could show that the strength of your feelings overcame you. Indeed, a show of passion tonight would not be inappropriate.”

  “Compromise her?” He liked the sound of that. His mind flew back to the image of her that he’d glimpsed through the peephole. Her spare, elegant body, the silvery blond hair. He imagined running his fingers through all that silken loveliness, cutting the small trophy at the end.

  But he knew himself, and he knew he’d go too far if he had her tonight.

  If that happened, she might run rather than wed him. Once the knot was tied, however, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  Saunders shook his head. “Compromise her? Oh no, Mr. Radleigh. That would never do. You don’t wish any scandal to attach to Lady Louisa’s name. I was thinking of a kiss, merely. An embrace. You don’t want to queer your pitch.”

  The gentle chiding note made Radleigh set his shoulders. Coldly, he said, “You forget yourself, Saunders.”

  The dark eyes gleamed. “Oh no, sir. I do not forget a thing.”

  Sixteen

  REFRESHMENTS had been laid out on the terrace and Beth was pouring tea for her guests. Louisa smiled and greeted them. How civilized and calm they all were. And how hungry she was.

  She hadn’t taken breakfast in her haste to get to the village. It was an effort to eat daintily and not gobble her Bakewell tart.

  Beth handed her a cup of tea and sat down beside her. “Honoria can do the rest,” she said carelessly.

  Louisa had noticed that about Beth. She liked the idea of playing hostess but soon grew bored of the manifold duties the role entailed. She would make some poor man a very inconsistent, indolent wife.

  Thank goodness there was no real danger of Jardine succumbing to the temptation of that lush figure.

  The pang Louisa usually suffered when she compared herself to a better endowed female was absent today. How petty such concerns seemed now.

  Jardine cared for her. Whatever his motives for that shocking and hurtful display when she’d visited his house, the tenderness of his kisses behind the village shops spoke the truth.

  The knowledge lifted a weight from her heart, made happiness sing through her body.

  How to get him to admit to his feelings was the next step. After he’d calmed down from his rage at finding her still here, of course.

  Or perhaps she might use his inflamed passions to ignite a passion of a different sort.

  She dabbed her lips with her napkin and looked up, to see Beth watching her expectantly. Clearly, she awaited an answer. Louisa had no idea what the girl had said.

  “Do forgive me,” she murmured. “I was lost in a brown study, I’m afraid. How terribly rude.”

  But she was destined not to hear Beth’s words repeated because at that moment, Jardine came striding toward them.

  His expression was a careful blank, but there was banked fury in his eyes. That he found her in company where he couldn’t speak his mind clearly made him even more livid than he already was.

  She smiled. It was, perhaps, the first genuine smile she’d given him since he arrived.

  “Ah, there you are, my lord!” Beth held out her hand to him, which he ignored. “Do sit down.”

  With his gaze fixed on Louisa, Jardine took the indicated chair. His eyes sizzled like caramel over a flame.

  She lifted her chin. I’m not afraid of you. You’ve already done your worst.

  There was liberation in that thought.

  Jardine transferred his attention to Beth, who’d been yapping at him like an excited puppy all this while, never noticing the dangerous undercurrent between her swain and the woman next to her.

  Unlike Louisa, however, he seemed to have kept track of the girl’s prattle, for he gave an easy, glib answer when she paused, a questioning tilt to her head.

  How could Jardine even pretend to be enamored of such a forward, excitable chit?

  The same way she could become engaged to a man like Radleigh, presumably.

  She hadn’t given Jardine the truth about her reason for accepting Radleigh’s proposal. She hadn’t become engaged to Radleigh to make Jardine jealous. She would scorn to behave in such a fashion.

  But she didn’t need Kate to tell her that jealousy might just be the key to unlock Jardine’s feelings. She knew now that she hadn’t been mistaken. He did care for her, perhaps even love her still.

  Why had he turned her away?

  “Penny for your thoughts, Lady Louisa,” said Beth, giggling. “Upon my honor, you looked excessively grim just now.”

  Louisa raised her brows. “Did I? Forgive me. I have a touch of the migraine, which often lays me low.”

  As an excuse, it was a lame one, but Beth wasn’t to know Louisa had the constitution of an ox.

  Jardine wasn’t similarly ignorant, however. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Oh, poor Lady Louisa,” said Beth. “How dreadful for you. Perhaps a touch of the sun?”

  Jardine interposed, “Ah, the infirmities of age.” In a soothing tone, he said, “Perhaps, my lady, you ought to go upstairs and rest.”

  “Yes, that sounds like just the ticket,” agreed Beth, jumping up. “I shall come and help you up the stairs. Should I have a tisane prepared, do you think? Our housekeeper makes excellent remedies.”

  Louisa gripped the arms of her chair. “Thank you, but I believe I might manage to totter my way to my room without assistance.”

  She rose to leave, her eyes snapping at Jardine.

  Wait till I get my hands on you.

  It was a prospect she looked forward to with some relish.

  WHAT a bloody interminable evening. Jardine took a deep pull of Burgundy and rolled its richness around his mouth. You could say this for Radleigh: he had good taste in wine.

  Women, too, he supposed. Jardine scowled. Louisa had capitalized on the excuse of a migraine to avoid coming down to dinner. Clever of her. He’d have feigned a little mal à la tête himself if he’d thought that would get him out of one of the most tedious evenings of his career.

  What was she doing up there? Searching the house, probably. He’d made it his business to keep watch on Radleigh tonight, but that didn’t mean she was safe. There were always servants to inform on her.

  Stubborn little fool! He ought to have known she wouldn’t meekly do his bidding. If he wasn’t so furious at her, he’d smile to think how utterly she’d rolled him up back there at the village.

  He ought to have deposited her in that carriage and driven her back to London himself.

  The gentlemen of the party had sat drinking and exchanging war stories in Radleigh’s library until the early hours. Jardine wished they’d all go to bed. He was determined to keep an eye on Radleigh, though, so he was obliged to remain until the bitter end. He’d give the man no chance to importune Louisa tonight.

  Ah. Finally, Radleigh made a move. After a few moments, Jardine rose to follow.

  When he arrived in the corridor, he caught a glimpse of Radleigh heading toward the central staircase.

  Jardine followed, trusting Louisa could talk herself out of trouble if she were found doing whatever she’d stayed away from dinner to do, ready to act if she could not.

  Jardine’s hands clenched into fists as Radleigh made a beeline for Louisa’s bedchamber.

  Quietly, Radleigh knocked on the door.

  No answer came to his knock. Louisa either wasn’t there or she was feigning sleep. Either way, Radleigh surely wouldn’t persist.

  He knocked again but didn’t wait too long for an answer. He turned the door handle and Jardine took a reflexive step forward.

  The door was locked.

  Good girl.

  Relief swept
through Jardine. By God, he must put an end to this charade of hers. If he lost her now . . .

  Radleigh gave a small shrug and paused. Then he let himself into the room next to Louisa’s and closed the door behind him.

  What was he up to?

  That room was a curiosity cabinet, wasn’t it? Perhaps Radleigh had gone in there to retrieve something he meant to show his guests.

  But in minutes, he came out, empty-handed. Jardine ducked into an empty doorway and watched him walk past.

  The second he was clear, Jardine moved swiftly. He found the curiosity cabinet as he’d remembered it from earlier reconnaissance. A small branch of candles on a table illuminated all kinds of interesting objects—foreign, exotic, priceless.

  What had Radleigh been doing in here? Had he listened at the wall? Jardine pressed his own ear to the space but heard nothing.

  The room was called a cabinet for the very reason that it was so small, about the size of a dressing room, purpose-built to hold all a man’s treasures from his Grand Tour. The wall that backed onto Louisa’s room was lined with two sets of shelves, with a small space in the middle for a couple of framed miniatures.

  Jardine’s skin prickled with unease. He chose the miniature at eye level and moved it aside.

  A noise made Louisa glance over her shoulder as she searched the sitting room next to Radleigh’s bedchamber. God help her if he caught her in here. She’d searched every other likely place and concluded that if Radleigh owned a safe, as Faulkner suggested, it must be in his private apartments.

  Though it was after dinner, Radleigh would not retire for several hours yet. There was no reason for his valet to be there, but she listened at the door for some time before she opened it.

  Radleigh’s private rooms were opulent, all gilt furnishings and heavy brocade. She scanned the anteroom, but the delicate, spindle-legged furniture could hold no surprises. There was not a desk nor any similar receptacle in the place.

  Perhaps a safe lurked behind one of those oils on the wall. Quietly, she checked behind each painting and found nothing. Two of the paintings were so large, she didn’t dare move them in case she made too much noise.