The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "Emperor," she tossed back at him and Nicholas froze in his seat. She had only called him that once before, on the night she had overheard him confessing to Stephen that he would still bed Ellie if the now-betrothed woman offered herself to him. Even after she wed Berkshire.

  Eliza had been little more than a child but she had looked at Nicholas with disdainful eyes. She had called him "emperor" and said that she would not attend his funeral when Berkshire called him out on the dueling field. She had said that a man in his position should know better than to think with his cock. At the time, he had been shocked that she would not only use such foul language but that she would know anything at all about the topic he and Stephen were discussing.

  Then again, that was his Izzy. Always knowing more than she should. Always seeing more than she should. Even as a child. An ill child who had often been left behind to observe. Was it little wonder that she was more adult than child, even at such a tender age? At the time, Nicholas had laughed off the comment, but it seemed that even back then, the little girl was far wiser than the adult man.

  "I asked what you were doing here." Nicholas was not about to allow her to distract him with that name. "This is not proper." His lips twisted. "It is not a good idea either."

  She shrugged seductively, and then sat down at the table without waiting for an invitation. Something squirmed in Nicholas' gut. This was not the Izzy he knew. This wasn't even the delicious minx from his bed the previous night. This was someone entirely new. A different facet of her that he had never seen. He supposed he was not the only one with more than one part to his personality. He simply wasn't sure that he liked it.

  "I believe, Emperor, that we have moved well beyond proper." It occurred to him that she was using the nickname so that she might not have to speak his actual one. Clever girl. More clever than most men, he would wager. "Last evening in fact. In your bed."

  She stared at him with those hot, unblinking eyes. It was then that he noticed they had been rimmed in kohl. Her face was heavily made up as well. In all the time he had known her, Nicholas had never once seen her apply a cosmetic of any sort. For a moment, he wondered where she had obtained them this evening. He also wanted to say that the look did nothing for her, but strangely, he found her even more desirable as this darkly made up, erotic woman of the night.

  "I do not know what you are doing, Izzy, but I would ask that you stop it. This is not you." Nicholas was beginning to sweat now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could also see that the two drunkards were taking a keen interest in the goings-on at his table. And in Izzy.

  She pushed her cape back farther, revealing a bodice that was so tight he could not imagine how she was poured into it. Nicholas worried that if she breathed wrong her breasts might come free and she would be on display for all of the men in the inn to ogle. He would not be able to protect her if that transpired. It would destroy him if anything happened to her. Not Izzy. God. Please. No.

  "And I have come to ask you to stop the investigation into Stephen." She licked her lips, which appeared to have been painted. They were not normally that red. Were they? She was scrambling his brain. It had to stop. Otherwise, they might both regret this night very much. "As of this afternoon, I am satisfied. He is my brother." Then she reached out and covered her hand with his. "And this is merely a different part of me. I have simply never allowed her free reign before."

  Lord, the woman would kill him where he sat if he allowed it! A part of her? Somehow, he seriously doubted that. Still, had he known this, Ellie would have long been forgotten. Then he frowned, realizing what she had just said about her brother. "But what of your instinct?" Then Nicholas looked at her breasts again and nearly forgot himself once more.

  Stick to the topic at hand, his mind whispered. And then get her the hell out of here!

  Eliza looked away for a moment, her bravado faltering. "I was wrong. I pulled you into this mess, Emperor. Asked you for a favor I should not have. For that, I apologize. So let us be done with it."

  This was not what Nicholas wanted to hear. While he too, believed that the man was Stephen, there was still a shred of doubt. And he did not like doubts. Not even small ones.

  But for Izzy? If agreeing to her request meant getting her out of this inn safely? Then he would be willing to let the matter go. It might eat away at him later, but he would do as she asked. As long as he could protect her. Then again, given the way she looked in that dress - and that they would now most likely have to spend the night together at Fairhaven - perhaps it was he who needed protection from her.

  "As you like," he agreed quickly. Anything so that they might be gone from this wretched place.

  She tilted her head. "Very well. We are agreed then. This ends tonight."

  "But not the seduction," he offered silkily. "That we continue until Season's end. We did agree, after all." Two could play at this game and when he got her to the safety of Fairhaven, play they would. Who would have ever guessed that this luscious temptress lurked beneath the spinsterish Lady Eliza? His Brat? Not him, certainly.

  "Agreed." He could see excitement in her gaze and he found himself growing hard. He wanted her. Now. "Let us depart this place," she whispered, just low enough for his ears alone.

  Relief flooded Nicholas and he rose, offering her his hand in the process. The sooner they could depart, the better. Lest someone mistake her for a whore and ask her price. It had been a very long time since he had killed someone and he had only brought two pistols. Then again, he had not expected Eliza to follow him. But perhaps he should have. He had come here without her. He had known she would be displeased.

  When Nicholas reached out to grasp her hand, Eliza did not pull away. Perhaps she was not nearly as sure of herself as she seemed. In some small way, that was a relief. It let him know that his Eliza was still there. Somewhere. And despite how this costume made his blood race, that was the version of her that he preferred. The version he had come to care for in a very short amount of time.

  However they had not taken more than three steps when the drunkards rose from their corner and moved to the center of the room far quicker than Nicholas would have thought possible. He flexed his fingers, wanting to reach for his pistol but holding off. They might yet talk their way out of this. It might not be necessary to resort to violence just yet.

  Then he saw the bigger man look at Eliza's breasts and decided that perhaps violence was a good plan after all.

  "Gentlemen," Nicholas said in as bored of a tone as he could muster, "I would ask that you let us pass. My lady and I have business to attend to." He made certain to put just the right emphasis on the word "business." If these men realized Eliza was a lady, things would get much worse very quickly. If they thought she could be bought however, they might allow the two of them to pass, thinking they might be lucky enough to purchase her favors later.

  "Not so fast, me lord," the other one sneered. "You're that bastard they call The Bloody Duke."

  Nicholas gave a short bow of acknowledgement. "I am." Then he glanced between the two men, thankful that for once, Eliza was keeping silent. Unlike her, but she was clearly smart enough to know the danger they both now faced. "I take it you good men know of me."

  "All of bleein' England knows of ya," the shorter, much drunker man snarled. Then he smiled, showing a row of rotten teeth. Well, rotten where the others had not already fallen out, that was. "And all of England will know of us when we knock you on your arse and take yer lady."

  Lovely. These two buffoons thought to make names for themselves by defeating The Bloody Duke. As if Eliza did not have him on edge enough as it was.

  Discreetly shoving her behind him further, Nicholas widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. The motion was nothing more than a display of puffery for now, but he could become violent later, if he so chose. "Really, gentlemen? Do either of you honestly think this necessary?" He prayed that Eliza would be silent after he voiced his next comment. And that she would not kill him for it
later. "I am weary after a long day of travel on official business for the Crown. I arranged for a bit of fun for the evening, a whore so that I might slake my needs. You are working men. You know how it is." He raised an eyebrow. "We all need to tumble the wenches every now and then, eh?"

  "I 'eard you asking after Underhill," the shorter man slurred. Of the two, he was the far more talkative. "He was through here just over a 'ortnight ago." The man was dropping vowels and consonants all over the place, but Nicholas was able to get the gist of the meaning. "That one, he 'ouldn't 'member a bleein' thing. Said he was knocked in 'er noggin. It's why he what got no 'air. But 'omeone told him what who he was and 'ee were on his way to London."

  The other drunk snorted. "Man not know who 'ee is? That right 'ere a cryin' shame, it is. If not for those people in Brighto', 'ee might n'er 'ave known. But he was 'appy that night, telling all 'ere about how 'ee was goin' home."

  Immediately, Nicholas' mind leapt to whom he might know in Brighton that could help him track down Stephen's movements there. Then he remembered his promise to Eliza. No more investigation. No more digging into Stephen's past.

  Nicholas felt Eliza's fingers dig into his hips and he knew she had to be clutching the back of his jacket. It was the first indication she had given him that she was truly frightened. He couldn't blame her. While he was not worried for himself, he was worried for her. The Bloody Duke would weather this situation just fine, possible bloodshed aside. But would she?

  Drawing himself up straighter, Nicholas frowned, hoping that it would translate into false anger. Though given how terrified he was for Eliza, it might not. "Lord Underhill and I are old friends. He is the one who recommended that I rest here for a bit, should I ever require shelter while in this area." Of course, Lord Enwright had also called this inn one of the most despicable places on Earth, so there was that as well.

  "Er, any friend of Lord Underhill's a friend of ours. Right, John? Jus' leave the whore and we're good." The bigger drunk looked at the smaller one, whose eyes were drifting shut. He looked about ready to pass out. Thankfully.

  The other man burped. "Right." Except that it sounded more like "aye" and then the man slumped to the floor, dragging his friend partially down with him.

  Nicholas seized the opportunity to try and make his escape with Eliza. Except the larger man was still sober enough to object to losing his sought-after prize for the night and lunged for Nicholas, fists swinging. And the drunk somehow, miraculously, connected with the duke's midsection, causing him to double over as he grunted in pain.

  And finally, Eliza could stand no more. She was not about to stand meekly by while Nicholas was beaten by a drunkard to defend her honor. Even if he was The Bloody Duke. And she was a lady.

  Reaching behind her, Eliza grabbed a chair. She had no idea what she would do with the thing, but she thought that tossing it at the drunkard might be a good start. She was a gently bred woman, after all. She knew absolutely nothing about bar fights.

  Beside her, Nicholas grabbed on to a table to steady himself as he tried to catch his breath, seemingly in greater pain that she would have imagined from a single punch. The drunk man continued to advance on Nicholas, his steps wobbly enough that Eliza thought she might have a chance of knocking him off his feet. So she swung the chair as hard as she could, horrified when it did not quite go as far across the room as she had hoped. But one leg did catch the man in the shoulder and he howled in pain as if he had been stabbed directly in the heart.

  Eliza sniffed in derision and then looked for something else that she might throw, her gaze landing on Nicholas' abandoned tankard of ale. She quickly snatched it from the nearby table and launched the tankard as hard as she could across the room. The heavy pewter mug smacked the drunkard in the side of his head and he howled again. But it was enough time to allow Nicholas to recover a bit. The only problem was, Eliza had now drawn all of the man's attention to her and, drunk or not, it was unlikely that she would be able to fight him off.

  The idea of the man placing his disgustingly dirty, meaty hands on her as Nicholas had done the night before was enough to make Eliza ill. So she did the only thing she could. She screamed. And that brought the innkeeper running in a way that the fight - and thrown furniture - had not.

  "What's this about?" the innkeeper bellowed, his gaze darting back and forth between the three standing patrons and the one now dozing in an alcoholic stupor on the floor. "I run a respectable establishment and I'll not tolerate this sort of behavior." His gaze landed on Eliza and he stalked towards her, grabbing her wrist before she could react. "You're a whore. If the man can pay, then get on your back and spread your legs! It's not as if the duke here is going to marry you! Now get out and never darken my door again."

  "Why, I never!" Eliza was indignant. And furious. And just where was Nicholas, anyway? But she didn't dare look away. Not while the still functioning drunkard was looking at her as if he'd just won a prize.

  "Your lot always do," the innkeeper growled. "Every night. So don't act so high and mighty. You're a doxy. Not a lady. Best be remembering that."

  Eliza was about to protest when the cock of a pistol brought immediate silence to the entire room. There, looking as menacing as she had ever seen him, was Nicholas. Except that this wasn't any version of Nicholas - or The Bloody Duke - that she had ever seen. This man standing before her was lethal. He would kill a man and not think twice about it. She could see it from the stance of his legs to the furious look on his face. This man would injure for sport.

  And suddenly, Eliza remembered the story of Nicholas' behavior on the dueling field the morning Lord Radcliffe had faced off with Lord Landover over Lady Julia. Rumor had it that he had been lethal and calm, directing the perfect shot at Landover's feet, precise enough to make the man soil himself. Frigid. Icy. Dangerous. Murderous. And probably precisely how Nicholas looked at that moment.

  "You will apologize to the lady," Nicholas said, his voice so silky smooth that it was deadly. "Or you shall deal with me. Both of you." From beneath his jacket he produced a second pistol. "Now take your pick." Then he smiled and the expression was one of pure evil.

  It made Eliza shiver. But it also made her heart swell for no reason that she could understand. All she knew was that in that precise moment, she would do anything he asked of her. Anything at all. Even give him up, if that was what he wanted.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Together they raced through the night, the impending storm crackling above them, lightning illuminating their path more than the dim lanterns they held ever could. Nicholas on Apollo and Eliza on Morning Glory. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked, and all Eliza wanted was to make it to the safety of Fairhaven before the heavens unleashed their fury on her. And before she came to her senses and realized what a daft fool thing she had just done.

  She could have gotten herself killed. Or worse. Nicholas too. And for what? All because she was angry that he had gone off without her? Because she wanted the investigation into Stephen to cease? She could have easily informed Nicholas of that when they next saw each other.

  But no. She had to go racing off into the night, acting as if she was pretend spying in a ballroom. Except that The Stuck Pig was no ballroom. And there were no friends to be had within its halls, save for Nicholas. Eliza was no longer among her own kind. And in that moment, she did not wish to think further upon what could have happened. Had Nicholas been someone other than The Bloody Duke. For once, she was grateful for that darker side of him that few ever truly had the opportunity to see for themselves. Now she knew why that was.

  Eliza could tell from the way he rode, as if the very hounds of hell were chasing him, that Nicholas was furious with her. And he had every right to be.

  Eliza also now knew she should not have tossed that chair. It had only made an extremely volatile situation even worse. In truth, she should not have come at all. No lady of breeding would have dared such a thing. At this precise moment, she should be back in her bedchamber
with Theresa, undressing after a lovely evening at the Earl of Waverly's dinner table. She should not be pushing her horse forward in hopes that she could make it to the Duke of Enwright's spring home before she was seen by someone, thus sealing her ruination. And most likely her family's as well.

  Mama. Papa. Stephen. Eliza hadn't thought about any of them when she had decided to take off after Nicholas. She was only angry that he had gone without telling her. All she had thought about was stopping Nicholas before he uncovered information she did not wish to be known. And, were she being completely honest - about seducing him. About playing a role she knew he could not resist - the one of whore.

  For despite the promise he had elicited from her earlier, she still was not certain that he would not tire of her very quickly. Eliza was - or had been until last night - an innocent. Unskilled. Untested. Untried. Nicholas preferred women who knew their way around a bedchamber. Widows. Mistresses. Paid whores. Women like Gianna Vienetti or those to be found at Lycosura. In fact, he seemed to prefer them. And she was afraid that at The Stuck Pig, he would be presented with temptation. And that he would take it.

  That he would realize what he was missing, playing suitor to an aging spinster rather than bedding a lush young thing who already knew instinctively how to please him.

  And she had been jealous. Extremely jealous.

  Eliza could admit that now, even though it burned inside of her like acid.

  She had been jealous that Nicholas might prefer a whore to her. That no proper lady, save for the late and not-so-lamented - at least in Eliza's opinion anyway - Lady Berkshire could ever both capture and hold Nicholas' attention for more than a night or two.

  Why?

  Because she loved him. Stupid, foolish, bluestocking spinster Eliza Deaver was in love with The Bloody Duke of Candlewood. She was in love with Nicholas Rosemont. The one man who had no heart left to give a woman.