How To Seduce A Sinner

by Adrienne Basso

  “Did you love her?” Dorothea asked.

  The duke’s expression grew serious. “In a way. As a trusted friend and confidante. It was never a romantic relationship. I loved my wife, even though at the time we could barely be in the same room together without getting into some kind of ridiculous argument. I vowed to remain true to her, in the tradition of all Dukes of Hansborough.”

  “But you failed,” Carter croaked.

  The duke looked from him to Dorothea, then back again. “Once,” he insisted, his voice straining with emotion. “It only happened once. It started from an embrace, a gesture of comfort, but somehow…” The duke’s voice trailed off in confusion, as if he still did not understand how it had happened. “Emily’s guilt was nearly as strong as my own. She resigned her position at the Aldertons, which greatly annoyed them, and left the county by the end of the week.

  “I heard nothing of her until a year later, when a letter arrived. She told me that she had given birth to a child, our child. Her family had taken her in and she was being well treated, well cared for by them. She asked for a small stipend to be sent through my lawyer so she could be assured the child would have some financial security. I made arrangements for the funds to be deposited at once, providing considerably more than requested.

  “I wanted to do more for Emily, much more, but she would not allow it. In that letter, she begged me to let the matter drop, to leave her in peace, and as much as I wanted to protest, I felt I had no right to deny her wishes.”

  A chill swept Carter as he struggled to accept the truth of his father’s words. “Then Roddington is your son.”

  “No.” The duke shifted his eyes toward him. “He is not mine.”

  Fury flashed through Carter, burning away his shock. He understood how Roddington must have felt when he confronted the duke, wanting only to hear the truth. “How can you possibly deny it?”

  “Because Emily wrote that the child she gave birth to was a girl.”

  The silence in the room was all-consuming. Dorothea drew an audible breath as time slowed to a crawl. She wrapped her hand around Carter’s, trying to offer some degree of comfort, for she knew his heart must be filled with anguish and uncertainty.

  The silence of the room was finally broken by the sound of a door slamming, followed by an oath. There was a raised, angry voice and the sound of footsteps charging through the lower rooms of the house. Startled, they all turned to the door as a tall, muscular man crashed through it, dragging two young footmen with him.

  Dorothea screamed and Carter leapt protectively in front of her. The two servants tried to wrestle the intruder to the ground, with little success. One footman’s powdered white wig had been knocked askew, and there was a thin trickle of blood running down the nose of the other.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the duke snapped.

  No one answered. A third footman joined in the efforts, and they managed to contain the man’s forward momentum. They dragged him, kicking and bucking, to his feet and were attempting to hustle him from the room when Carter yelled. “Wait! I know this man. He’s Roddington’s servant.”

  “Julius Parker, my lord,” the man acknowledged, his eyes glittering with desperation. “I’m here about the major.”

  “Release him,” Carter commanded, and the three servants reluctantly let go.

  Parker tugged down his jacket and straightened his shoulders. “There’s been trouble and I’ve got nowhere else to turn. The major’s gone missing. I went to the pub looking for him earlier, and one of the barmaids told me there’d been a fight. A nasty group of blokes started brawling, and the major landed in the thick of it. Four men against one.”

  “Was Roddy the one?” Dorothea asked with dread.

  “Aye. But that’s not the worst of it. They dragged him out of the tavern after they knocked him out, and the barmaid said she heard them laughing about the money they would earn when they turned him over to the navy.”

  “Impressment?” Carter frowned. “That’s been outlawed for several years,”

  Parker’s nostrils flared. “When the need is there, laws mean nothing to some, even those in His Majesty’s Navy.”

  “Perhaps the woman was mistaken,” Dorothea suggested. “Perhaps the major has gone somewhere of his own accord.”

  Parker shook his head adamantly. “He’s never been gone this long without telling me. And anyway, if he had left Town of his own free will, he would have taken this with him.”

  The servant reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. It was worn and faded, the ink smudged. Since she was the nearest, Dorothea gingerly accepted the missive. Squinting hard, she read the salutation. “’Tis written to you, Your Grace.”

  With a snort of annoyance, the duke glanced down at the letter, but his eyes soon grew wide. “It’s penned in Emily’s hand.”

  No one stirred as the duke read the short note. When he finished, he lifted his head. Dorothea swore her heart skipped a beat, for the duke looked as if he had just taken a sharp blow to the gut.

  “She begs my understanding and forgiveness for her lie,” the duke whispered, despair on his face. “She thought it best to keep it from me, but as she neared her death, she reconsidered and wanted me to know the truth. The child she bore was not a girl, it was a boy.”

  “Roddy?” Dorothea choked out.

  “Yes. The major is my son.”

  The duke’s words hung in the air, and then the realization seemed to hit Carter full force. He sprang toward his father, his expression urgent. “We must help him.” Carter turned to Parker. “Do you have any idea where Roddington was taken?”

  “There’s only one naval ship in port. I tried to talk my way on board, but got nowhere. That’s why I’m here. I figured a man with a title would have a better chance.”

  All eyes turned to the duke.

  He shook himself visibly out of his stupor. “Have the coach brought around immediately,” he commanded, motioning for Carter to follow. “We’re going to the docks.”

  Curses and shouts followed in the wake of the duke’s carriage as it was driven through the London streets at a reckless speed. Pedestrians and vehicles alike scrambled to avoid getting run down, for it was obvious the large black coach would give no quarter. The three male passengers inside careened from side to side, yet miraculously kept their seats.

  The duke periodically thrust his head out of the window, demanding that the coachman drive faster, agreeing to a safer pace only when the pungent, briny odor of the sea assaulted their nostrils.

  If the circumstances had not been so grave, Carter might have broken into a grin. His father was in prime ducal form as he led the charge up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship, eyes blazing. The young sailor standing watch flushed a molten, blotchy red as he tried in vain to stop them.

  The officer who was called to assist was soon reduced to a similar state, visibly wilting under the duke’s verbal assault. It began with a threat to have him stripped of his rank and dismissed in disgrace from His Majesty’s Navy and ended with a promise to have the poor fellow transported to a penal colony. Clapped in irons.

  Roddy appeared on deck two minutes later.

  Carter’s stomach rolled with concern when he first saw him. The major’s left eye was swollen and his bottom lip split, but he was able to stand on his own and walk without any visible effects.

  Roddington’s face registered surprise when he saw who had secured his release. For an instant he looked as if he might reject the help, but the alternative was obviously unthinkable.

  “My coach is waiting,” the duke announced.

  If not for the presence of his servant, Carter doubted that Roddington would have gotten into the coach. Whatever Parker said tipped the scales, and as the servant climbed up on top of the box next to the driver, the major placed himself on the seat beside Carter. The duke was already regally situated on the opposite seat.

  Roddington said nothing on the ride back. But he listene
d.

  Dorothea had practically worn a path down the center of the drawing room carpet by the time she heard the front door open. Forgoing any attempt at dignity, she fairly flew down the staircase just in time to catch the sight of the duke and another man disappearing into his private study.

  “Carter?”

  The marquess turned and smiled at his wife, his face weary, yet pleased. “Everything is fine, my love.”

  “Was that Roddy? Did you find him?”

  “Yes, thank God. I vow the duke would have torn the ship apart plank by plank if they had not produced him when they did.”

  “And now?”

  Carter shrugged. “It wasn’t easy, but the duke persuaded Roddington to come here.”

  “Is he staying?” Dorothea asked hopefully.

  Before Carter could voice his opinion, the study door opened and the major strode out. He halted in mid-step when he saw them, his eyes lowering a fraction.

  “I believe I owe you both an apology,” the major said sheepishly. “I was far from honest when we first met, and that I truly regret.”

  “No matter,” Carter replied. “We understand the circumstances were difficult for you.”

  Dorothea moved forward and hugged him. “Will you stay for a while? As you may have noticed, we have plenty of room. I vow there are more bedchambers in this house than I can count.”

  The major slowly shook his head. “I can’t. But I thank you for the offer.”

  Dorothea gave him another hug, wishing there was something she could do or say to change his mind. It seemed so very sad to be losing him now that they knew the truth.

  Carter extended his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Roddy took it. Dorothea’s eyes welled with tears. How very different both their lives would have been if Emily had not lied. Carter would have had the brother he always craved and Roddy the family he needed.

  “Do you have any idea where you are headed?” Dorothea questioned as they walked to the front door.

  “None at all.”

  Roddy smiled, and she could see that a weight had been lifted, a burden destroyed. For that at least, she was grateful.

  “Will you at least write to us?” Carter asked.

  “I’ll try.”

  And with that, Roddy turned and walked away.

  “We’ll be arriving at Ravenswood shortly, my dear. Turn around so I can fasten the back of your gown properly.”

  Dorothea shifted her head lazily and glanced at her husband. He sat beside her in the coach, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in sight, every button neatly and properly fastened while she was sprawled next to him, her garments in complete disarray.

  How did he manage it?

  Not ten minutes earlier they had been locked in a carnal embrace, with Dorothea’s skirts bunched up around her waist and Carter’s coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt tossed on the floor. They had been greedy for each other, straining and quivering, a tangle of devouring kisses, sensual caresses, and exploding passions.

  Their bodies had swayed with the movement of the carriage, heightening the intensity of their lovemaking, but it had been the tender words of love Carter whispered in her ear that made the experience truly remarkable for Dorothea.

  “If I had known that being ravaged inside a moving coach was so incredibly satisfying, I would have insisted that we do this the first time we journeyed to Ravenswood,” she said, trailing her finger over the sculpted planes of her husband’s cheek and jaw. Goodness, he was a handsome man.

  “That was my fault,” Carter replied with an easy grin. “I misjudged you, something I vow to never do again.”

  She smiled, a deep sense of happiness rippling through her. She presented Carter her back and he deftly buttoned her gown. The carriage slowed, turned, and bounced over a rut. The movement brought Dorothea’s attention to the window.

  The manor house came into view and she felt a jolt of excitement. By the time the carriage rumbled to a halt at the front door she was nearly bouncing in her seat.

  “We’re home,” she announced.

  Carter descended from the carriage first, then turned and lifted her out. Dorothea took a deep breath and savored it all. The warmth of the sun, the welcome in the servants’ smiles, the joyful barks of her darling puppy—oh, my, he had grown.

  But what she cherished most of all was the love in Carter’s eyes.

  Epilogue

  A year later

  The celebration for the Duke of Hansborough’s sixtieth birthday started the London social Season with a bang. It was by far the most sought-after invitation in anyone’s recent memory. Favors were called in, alliances forged, and begging of proportions heretofore unheard of were employed as people jockeyed to have their names included among the guests. Those lucky enough to receive one of the exclusive invitations crowed about it for weeks, knowing they had secured their position as one of the ton’s elite.

  A dinner party hosted by the duke’s son and daughter-in-law, in their new London townhome, preceded the dazzling ball. Only family and close friends were included, and many of those excluded expressed true regret at being denied the opportunity to view the interior of the house, which was reported to be the most tastefully decorated home in London.

  When it was confirmed that Major Gregory Roddington was indeed among those guests, the rumor mill began turning with an almost unstoppable force. Most declared the major’s return to England and his appearance at the dinner was tantamount to proof that he was in truth the duke’s natural son.

  In the opinion of many, the fact that none of the duke’s family would either confirm or deny those rumors lent further credence to its truth, making it an even juicier tidbit for the gossip-loving matrons.

  “How ironic that Roddy chose to make a lengthy sea voyage after you saved him from being impressed into the navy,” Dorothea joked to Carter when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room once they had finished with their port and cigars.

  Carter laughed. “I can assure you, it was a far more pleasant adventure for him to travel in the comfort of a well-appointed cabin than swabbing the deck of a ship.”

  “I’m just so happy that he is back. He seems content, more settled,” Dorothea observed. “We spoke at length the other day about the shipping business he plans to start.”

  “Father and I have both encouraged him to pursue the venture, though he will accept no financial support,” Carter said in a frustrated tone.

  Dorothea shrugged. “Then you must offer to be his partner.”

  The marquess lowered his chin and raised his eyebrow. “A nobleman in trade? Shocking.”

  “You could be a silent partner.”

  “I could manage it. However, my father would find the arrangement impossible. The duke silent? Highly unlikely.”

  Dorothea giggled, knowing her husband was right. Though he had softened some of his harsher edges, it was impossible for the duke to keep his opinions to himself, especially when it came to his family. She was just so very pleased that the duke considered her, and now Roddy, a member of that family.

  “I think Roddy is at last becoming comfortable with this relationship,” Dorothea observed. “Though he again said he does not want the duke to publicly acknowledge him.”

  “I know, and it frustrates the hell out of Father.”

  The couple exchanged a look, each knowing the other believed the major was doing this to purposely thwart the duke.

  “Turnabout is fair play, is it not?” Dorothea said with a smile.

  Eyes twinkling in agreement, the marquess took his wife’s hand. They made their way to a cluster of guests seated comfortably before the drawing room windows and joined the lively conversation.

  Gwen sat on an elegantly upholstered chair, with Jason lounging on the arm. The twins were sleeping soundly upstairs, two happy, healthy cherubs, loved and spoiled by all. Emma was standing by a cluster of guests, the traces of paint beneath her fingernails only slightly visible. She waved them energetically as
she spoke with Lord and Lady Dardington. Every few moments, Viscount Benton would interrupt, adding a comment, and the volume of laughter increased.

  “Benton seems in fine form tonight,” Dorothea remarked to her husband.

  “Yes, and speaking of Benton, I don’t like how much attention he is paying to Emma,” Carter grumbled as he put his hand on her shoulder.

  Dorothea looked at him in surprise. “She is painting his portrait. Naturally they are together often.”

  “But is she always properly chaperoned?”

  Dorothea hesitated. “I’m at most of the sessions.”

  “Most, but not all.” Carter surveyed her levelly. “And I caught you napping at the last one. You can hardly be an effective chaperone if you are asleep.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. Dorothea dipped her head. “I cannot help my sudden tiredness.”

  “I know.” His gaze drifted down to the slight swell of her belly before possessively settling his hand over her burgeoning womb. “This child will put gray in my hair long before it arrives,” he declared, tempering his words with a loving smile.

  Dorothea sighed happily, basking in Carter’s love and affection. “I think you shall look very distinguished with silver at your temples.”

  “Hmm. Between the baby and Emma, my hair will be stark white within the year.”

  “Oh, stop being so vain.” Dorothea’s mouth quirked. “Our child will be a perfect angel, the envy of every parent in England. And Emma has no serious interest in Benton, beyond putting his likeness on canvas. She told me that his classic looks combined with his brooding charm are an irresistible lure to her creative muse. She is striving to capture the essence and energy of his masculinity in a way that no other artist had ever attempted.”