The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  It certainly wasn't Eliza, despite his odd thoughts about her that afternoon. She was a woman he had wronged, but nothing more. And he would repay her. Once the truth of Stephen's linage was determined - and it should not be long now as the man's hair was growing out at an alarmingly rapid rate - then they could part ways. He would take the blame, of course. He had yet to figure out precisely how Eliza would leave him or why, but he was certain he could make it believable. After all, he was The Bloody Duke and no one expected him to be faithful to any woman that was not Ellie.

  And Eliza was not Ellie. Even if she was a far better person at her very soul than the deceased Lady Berkshire would have ever been.

  Then, as if the seas parted, Nicholas looked up onto the staircase that led down to the ballroom floor and there was the lady in question on the arm of her brother. Just like last night, Eliza was resplendent in jewel tones, this time her gown a deep, ruby red that brought out the pretty blush in her cheeks. She wore a single strand of rubies around her neck, also a gift from him, purchased in secret from Haverton and Morton, two of London's more renowned jewelers of the moment.

  Tonight, Eliza looked...well, breathtaking Nicholas supposed. There was truly no other word to appropriately describe her.

  Especially as she had once more left those dratted glasses at home.

  Still, he chalked up his initial reaction to the vision Eliza made upon her entrance to the gown itself. It truly was in the first stare of fashion, a daring silk creation that benefited from the entire "less is more" school of thought. And at the moment, Nicholas decided it was worth every penny he had paid Madame LaVallier to create it. Especially when he saw how nearly every male head in the room turned to look at Eliza - and knew they could not claim her, much to their chagrin.

  Nicholas had made certain that the renowned modiste continued to make new gowns for Eliza throughout the week, having them delivered and fitted in secret. After all, it would not do for him to be seen purchasing gowns for his "intended." It would tarnish her reputation. But new gowns purchased by her family as she was finally being properly courted? Those, certainly, would be allowed. And even expected.

  And that was precisely the myth Nicholas wished to perpetuate, even if the bills from the highly sought-after dressmaker came to him and not the Framingham family.

  In truth, it felt good to be able to purchase the gowns for Eliza. A few scant years ago, Nicholas had not even been able to purchase new gowns for his sister Julia. The Candlewood family coffers not being as full as they had once been after years of his father's disinterest and mismanagement of estate affairs. That had shamed Nicholas, especially when he had to borrow funds from his best friend Radcliffe in order to provide Julia with a proper Season. The entire situation had also made Nicholas appear weak and vulnerable - two things he had vowed he would never be again.

  Then, the Prince Regent had caught wind of Nicholas' "information gathering activities" as he had termed them and in less than a fortnight, the family fortune was restored and then some. By quite a lot, in fact. Seldon Park had been repaired in a trice, years of neglect undone by a fleet of workers that had simply appeared one day bearing a letter sealed by Prinny's own hand, along with a set of instructions as to what was expected of Nicholas in exchange for the gift of repairs to his family's estate - and repairs to the town home in London, as well as the other entailed estates. Oh, and more funds. Far more. And power. So much power that Nicholas would be feared above all other men in England and beyond.

  All of Nicholas' dreams, right there for the taking. All he had to do was become a spy for the Crown. To be available at Prinny's beck and call.

  In truth, it hadn't seemed like such a bad trade off. Especially if it brought Nicholas that much closer to his own goals. So he had accepted the offer. As if he had ever been in a position to refuse in the first place.

  And thus, The Bloody Duke had been born.

  Now, there were times when Nicholas questioned whether or not he had done the correct thing in accepting the offer - not that he truly had a choice in the matter. Still, he was no closer to reaching his own goal, even though he had reached plenty of Prinny's goals in the process. Then again, without The Bloody Duke, Nicholas would have had neither the power nor the funds to assist Eliza. And his debt to her was one that would most likely never be repaid. So yes, he decided, in the end, all he had done in his life was most likely worth it.

  Unable to stop himself now, Nicholas strode briskly across the room, making certain that he wore his very best and angriest scowl. After all, he was still The Bloody Duke and had something of a reputation to uphold after all. He also wanted to make certain that no gentleman in attendance got the idea that they might be able to steal Eliza away from him. She belonged to him. And only him. Fictionally, of course, but still...

  This time he only made it half way across the ballroom before a gentle hand on his arm waylaid him. He huffed in impatience and looked down to see the famed soprano Gianna Vienetti with her decidedly delicate hand on his arm. She was brazen. He would give the chit that. And at any other time, he might not have minded. In fact, a few days ago, he would have welcomed her attention. But not tonight. Not when Eliza was looking like a ripe, luscious grape and the men in this room all too eager to puck her from his grasp.

  "May I help you, Miss Vienetti?" Nicholas asked with all of the chill of an Arctic wind. "My soon-to-be betrothed has just arrived and I am rather anxious to see her." He gave Gianna a rather suggestive look. "As I am certain a woman like you can well understand." He didn't mean to be cruel or crass, but he needed this woman to simply be gone. Not to mention that he had seen her flirting with Frost mere moments ago, clearly not choosy about whom her newest protector was, so long as he was wealthy and titled.

  He wasn't surprised when the woman batted her long lashes at him and he wondered just how many cosmetics she applied to make them appear so full. At one time, he might have thought her pretty with her overly made up appearance. Now? Up close, she looked a little sad. And worn about the edges. Time had not been kind to this woman. Pity that, he thought to himself.

  "Ah, yes. Miss Deaver. She is a fine lady, your grace, but an innocent. Non?" He also noticed that her Italian accent slipped on occasion, especially when she was trying to be coy - as she was now.

  He glared down at her, fairly certain she was missing all of the warning signs that he was giving off. The crowd starting to gather around him, however, was not. "She is a lady with a spotless and impeccable reputation, if that is what you are asking," he snapped.

  "Far too good for the likes of a rogue such as you." It was a statement and not a question, which raised Nicholas ire even more.

  "Be careful, Madame," Nicholas warned, his voice sickly sweet. "You come close to a line you do not wish to cross. Or do you forget who I am?"

  "Non. I do not forget." Gianna was nearly purring now, leaning so close to him that she was practically draped over his arm. "In fact, I know very well who and what you are, your grace. That is why I know that a meek little mouse like her - and a bluestocking no less - will never satisfy a hungry and virile man like you. Not in the way I can."

  Gently, Nicholas tried to peel the woman away from him, annoyed when she did not take the subtle hint and depart. "Miss Vienetti, I believe you are mistaken about me. I am courting a lady now with an eye to marriage. I am not in the market for a mistress. Should I wed, I would be faithful to my wife."

  "I have heard otherwise." The witch would not give up and something dark and dangerous ignited deep inside of Nicholas. The very same anger than had flared to life the day he discovered his beloved Ellie had betrayed him.

  "Then you are misinformed, I am afraid." He was giving Gianna one last chance to back away gracefully. This time when he removed her hand from his arm, he did not do so gently.

  Gianna returned her hand to Nicholas' arm once more, and he allowed his gaze to rest there - olive skin against a black evening jacket - for a moment. In Warning. Before he remo
ved her hand again, which he did so as quickly as manners allowed. When she reached for him another time, he moved away slightly, just out of her grasp. He needed to make it clear to all and sundry that he did not approve of this woman or her actions. Even if he had been looking to take a new mistress, after this sort of public display, it would not be her.

  Frustrated, Gianna flexed her fingers, her long evening gloves unable to hide the pointed nails beneath. Nails that promised to score a man's flesh in the throes of passion. There was a time that Nicholas had wondered what she would feel like, her long arms wrapped around him as he thrust inside of her. No longer.

  "Please, your grace." Gianna shifted and thrust her breasts forward, her dress cut so low that they almost spilled out of the thin layer of silk keeping the twin globes in check. "I believe that I can change your mind. In fact, I am certain that I can." Nicholas was also aware that all sound in the ballroom had ceased, all eyes now upon them. Including Eliza's.

  Nicholas smiled, allowing the very tips of his slightly over-long canine teeth to show, giving him a feral and dangerous appearance. Gianna had picked her location to ambush him well, knowing that she would attract a very large crowd as she attempted to embarrass Eliza in the process of claiming a spot in his bed. It would never happen. He would not allow it.

  "I am so sorry, my dear." His voice was as thick and sweet as syrup. "Did I give you," he looked brazenly around the room, meeting the curious gazes of all who were watching the spectacle unfold, "or anyone else for that matter, the idea that I was looking for a tawdry whore to grace my bed? Terribly sorry if I did so. It must have been a misunderstanding, for that's hardly the done thing, now is it?" Then his smiled widened and turned what could only be described as downright evil. "And besides, if I was truly searching for a whore as a mistress, I need only call at The Golden Temple. Those women, at least, have breeding."

  It was a cut of the highest order, essentially calling Gianna a prostitute in front of a good number of influential members of the ton. But he had warned her. Repeatedly. And she had ignored him. To her own peril. What had just transpired was her fault. Not his.

  Then, while he still had the element of surprise, Nicholas strode across the rest of the ballroom while the assembled guests looked on and came to a stop directly in front of Eliza and Stephen. He must have still looked extremely angry for after a curtsey from Eliza and a bow from Stephen, the other man did not utter a word of protest when Nicholas offered Eliza his arm. Instead, he stepped back, urging his sister forward.

  Once Nicholas was satisfied that Eliza was firmly beside him, he swept her back out onto the dance floor, just as he had that first night. It seemed like months ago, but in truth it was only a few days. A week at most.

  His blood pounded in his veins, and a red haze lingered at the edge of his vision. He was truly furious! No woman would use and embarrass him again! Not ever again! He felt the need to move now, afraid that if he stood in one place for too long, he might give in to his anger and do something truly foolish. The Bloody Duke was ever in control. Except for now. When he felt on the very ragged edge of losing his mind. That would not do.

  So he turned and barked out an order to the orchestra, not giving a damn if this was his ball or not. Which it wasn't. "Maestro! A waltz, if you please!"

  Unsurprisingly, the conductor tapped his baton and the musicians shuffled some sheet music. And within a moment or two, the first strains of the waltz began.

  Looking down at Eliza, Nicholas nodded slightly. "Forgive me." The two words were little more than a whisper lost to the night as he pulled her far closer than was proper and began to dance, swirling her around the floor until he was lost in the music, his anger only just beginning to abate.

  Even now he could not be certain what had just happened - other than that The Bloody Duke had made an appearance. And a rather angry one at that. Except that this time, it had been completely unplanned. Nicholas hadn't meant to react so harshly to Gianna Vienetti's offer. Except that she had insulted Eliza. And the entire debacle had just sort of...well...happened.

  Because it was Eliza. And he wanted to protect her. More over, he wanted to claim her as his - but just for a night. For he would never be so cruel as to shackle her to his side for the rest of their lives. Yes, he needed a bride. Yes, he was growing older. But not Eliza. She deserved better. She deserved the best sort of husband he could purchase for her - and he was certain it could be done. He had more than enough coin, after all. In the end, Nicholas was still in Eliza's debt, even if she did not know it.

  But he also wanted her. That kiss, brief as it had been the previous evening, had done something inexplicable to him. It had awakened a part of him that remembered a different life. A life before The Bloody Duke. A life before he was a duke at all. When he had just been a young boy coaxing a shy, sickly little girl into joining him and her brother on grand adventures over flower-dotted, summer fields and under warm, sunny blue skies.

  A time before she had grown up and into a woman he wished to bed. But not wed. Before she had become a lush, desirable woman who made him forget himself. And forget how easily a woman could betray.

  And those thoughts terrified Nicholas. He had never once been so out of control that he forgot himself. Never. Not even when Ellie had humiliated him. Yet one single slight against Eliza and he had lost all good sense of reason. That was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. And he knew that it was just about time to end the charade - one way or the other. It was time for them both to make a choice.

  In the ladies' retiring room, Eliza once more felt the weight of the other women's stares. For a woman who was accustomed to hiding behind potted plants and blending into wallpaper, it was something of an unnerving occurrence. And yet, this was the second time it had happened in as many nights. It had to stop.

  Did you see him? Did you hear what he said? Is he really in love? With her? No! It's not possible. The Bloody Duke would never settle for a chit like her! A wallflower! A frigid spinster, no less! Honestly, I think it was all an act so he can take that whore into his bed and live with himself afterwards. No? Do you really think so? Well, he is The Bloody Duke, after all. What is to stop him?

  The words of other debutantes and society dragons continued to echo through Eliza's mind. She had heard all of that and worse since Nicholas had caused yet another scene in her presence. She should have known, of course. Causing scenes was what he did. He had for years. It was simply what made him who he was. The insults and blows delivered with velvet gloves. Each word specifically designed to cut and hurt, to make the recipient feel the maximum amount of pain and embarrassment. Even if no physical blood was ever drawn.

  But that was The Bloody Duke. Not Nicholas. Except that now, Eliza wasn't certain there was much of a difference any longer.

  In truth, she wanted to end this charade. Now. She wanted to simply accept Stephen as her brother and let the matter rest. Each day, his hair continued to grow in, impossibly thick and wiry. Just like hers.

  Same eyes. Same hair.

  Despite her reservations, there was no one else it could be. Which meant that she was wrong. This man was her brother. He had to be, for there was no other explanation.

  Eliza needed to protect her family, just as she always had. Especially after the attack on Mama that morning. For after interrogating the household staff, Nicholas was convinced that if it was not an outright attack, the unknown woman in question had at least touched Lady Framingham in some manner. Dr. Hastings had been unable to confirm that, however. All he would say was that Mama was fine. For now. But that she also needed to rest for a few days.

  Eliza's mother needed protection as well, especially if the stranger returned.

  It was up to Eliza - and Nicholas to some extent - to see to that protection. After all, her father was more concerned with Stephen, his heir, than anything else.

  And if she could somehow obtain that protection - not to mention keep strange people away from their door - by publicly acce
pting this stranger as her brother, then Eliza would do just that. After all, her parents were still vulnerable. She could tell by the way they spoke and by their actions. They continued to fawn over Stephen, doing any number of subtle things that announced to all of society that they believed he was their long-presumed-dead son. Even if they didn't use those exact words. And that left them all vulnerable to those who might seek to use Stephen against the family in some way. Eliza did not know how it could happen, precisely, but there was a part of her that whispered that all she had to do was accept this man, and everything bad in their lives would simply go away.

  She hoped it would anyway. She loved her parents and did not wish to see them come to harm. Or Stephen for that matter, for she was growing rather fond of him, as well, much to her surprise.

  Even if her parents continued to ignore her in favor of him.

  After the first flurry of activity when it was announced that Nicholas was courting her, Eliza's life at the town home had more or less returned to normal. Oddly, it was Stephen who sought her out, spoke with her and engaged with her in various activities. Not her parents. And Eliza had come to the realization that they likely never would again.

  For her parents, Stephen was their entire world. And he always would be. Now and forever. There had been little room for her in their lives when Stephen had been alive the first time. Now that he was returned from the dead, Eliza knew she should not expect anything different.

  It was difficult to realize that, but a part of her had long known the truth of the situation anyway. In some ways, her parents were like children. They always had been. Even when Eliza was young, she was the one pressing to do more, begging to be let out of the sickroom. As she grew, she took on the responsibilities around the estates that her parents could not. Especially her mother. Now, it was as if the roles were fully and completely reversed. Eliza was the parent and her parents the children. She was the one willing to trade the title of Framingham for protection and security, so long as her parents remained unscathed. Just as an adult would.