by Shayla Black
The pain in Kira’s face angered Darius. “His opinion is but one. Besides, as a preacher, he must do such things.”
“That is true.” Her downcast gaze seemed to cling to the rich floral carpet beneath her. “And when we wed, I shall have to learn to turn the other cheek as well, I suppose.”
“Likely, yes. But you expected more from Mr. Howland.”
She hesitated. “I did. It’s foolish, really. James contradicting that redheaded witch and her friends would have solved nothing. But I wanted him to say something in my defense.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t. I sound ungrateful.” She sighed. “James is willing to marry me to help repair Lord Vance’s damage to my reputation, at great risk to his professional stature. He’s never once asked me if I did share a bed with Vance. He merely assumed I didn’t because I’m a ‘good person,’ as he puts it. And here I am, questioning why he wouldn’t defend me to a group of gossips I should not have allowed to hurt me.” Kira slapped a hand across her eyes and began to cry silently.
With their mother in Persia and disinterested in her Christian children and their father traveling the globe—in Ceylon according to his last letter—Darius and Kira had only each other. He was determined to protect her. In truth, he wanted to save her, prove her innocence, if possible.
Darius rose and crossed the room, stopping at his sister’s feet to kneel. He took her hands in his, appalled to see that she trembled. “Everything will end well. You’ll see.”
Kira glanced up at him, blue eyes drenched in tears and confusion. Darius hurt for her all over again.
“Do you think that is even possible?”
He nodded. “I know it is. Try to sleep now. Matters will seem less dim tomorrow. They always do.”
“You’re right. Thank you.” She sent him a wobbly smile.
He kissed her forehead. “We shall talk more tomorrow, if you need.”
With that, he left, making his way to the equally elegant guest room he had been given. Closing the door behind him, Darius began to plan. He paced the blue and green carpet, glanced out into the night from his window, all the while devising a path for his sister’s happiness once again—and plotting Lord Vance’s downfall.
* * * *
“What is happening?” Aunt Caroline asked Gavin moments after they arrived home from the Baycliffe’s assembly. “Have you made any progress with that…woman? Tonight was nothing less than mortifying, and she seems as determined as ever to marry James, despite the fact she will drag his name through the mud with her. And why? She does not love James.”
His aunt sank to the parlor’s blue sofa and dissolved into noisy, sobbing tears. Gavin watched the golden-orange firelight play across her distraught, softly wrinkled features. Sighing, he rubbed his aching forehead with his palm.
Gavin had no illusions that the woman in question was Kira Melbourne, or that his aunt wanted to know why he had not yet succeeded in removing her from their lives.
He sat beside her and stared into the fire. “Miss Melbourne is very determined to marry James. I did my utmost to point out the harm that could befall him because of their union.”
But I could not take advantage of her moment of weakness tonight. Why?
Aunt Caroline rolled her eyes. “She would hardly care about that. She does not care about him!”
Gavin sighed, finding Aunt Caroline a bit theatrical. But he understood that emotion drove her, fear for her son, for the family, and the gossip that would soon swallow them whole if Kira Melbourne wasn’t somehow persuaded to end her engagement.
“I also offered her ten thousand pounds to leave,” he admitted.
Shock rushed across Caroline’s face. “Miss Melbourne did not take it?”
“She refused the money completely.”
And Gavin was forced to admit that fact still stunned him. Everyone wanted money; why should Miss Melbourne be different? And yet she was. She continued to shock him with that fact over and over.
“Likely she refused so that she could make a demand for more,” his aunt said bitterly.
“She said, in fact, that no amount of money would tempt her to leave James.”
“Truly?” Caroline blinked in surprise. “I suppose she believes that marriage to an upstanding man like my son will somehow redeem her grievously inappropriate behavior with Lord Vance. That can be the only reason she would turn down such an offer.”
Gavin nodded. Aunt Caroline’s theory made sense, but only if Miss Melbourne was naïve enough to believe that possible.
“And you spoke to James?” his aunt asked.
“As you said, he is quite stubborn in the matter.”
His aunt seemed to collapse, her eyes clouding over with tears again. “Did you tell him why we find her so poor a choice?”
“I did my utmost to convince him that she was unsuitable for his position, his temper, his station in life. He was unmoved.”
“Did you remind him that she is an ill-bred strumpet?”
Gavin cleared his throat, certain his aunt could not appreciate why James would have found such an assertion insulting. Of course the question he had instead asked James had been no less disparaging, and had proven every bit as effective in rousing James’s occasional stubborn streak.
“I…asked him how he was going to feel when he found his wife abed with another man someday. Naturally, he refused to believe that Miss Melbourne would act with so few morals and so little discretion.”
“She will crush him!” Aunt Caroline began sobbing again. “She will destroy his tender heart and make him the laughingstock of Tunbridge Wells and the church. James believes the best of her. She is bound to deliver only the worst. Why can we not make him see that?”
Tears made wet tracks down her tired face. Gavin saw that Aunt Caroline had done far too much that day.
“They are not yet married. I will find some way to put a stop to their vows.” He did his best to reassure her. “But tonight, we can do nothing more. Go to bed and let me think on this.”
Caroline sighed, and her shoulders sank. “You’ve been a dear boy to try to end this engagement for me. I hope we are able to think of something soon. Time is running out.”
Nodding, Gavin helped his aunt to her feet. When she reached up to wrap her arms around him, he followed suit and held her. Her small frame only reminded him of her frailty. She needed protecting. Since she had sheltered and raised him as a boy, particularly through the thick of his father’s scandal, he owed her no less.
If she wanted Kira Melbourne out of James’s life, it was his duty to see her wish come true.
“Good night,” she murmured, then slipped out the door.
Alone, Gavin poured himself a brandy and stared into the fire. Yes, he had every reason to grant Aunt Caroline’s wish, but lacked the means to do it.
Neither guilt nor money had moved Kira. Logic had been similarly ineffective with James. Could some other means be more persuasive in splitting them apart?
If James could see Kira’s birthmark, perhaps he would believe her a woman of loose morals… No, he already thought Lord Vance had paid her lady’s maid for that knowledge, rather than acquiring it while tupping her.
Bloody hell. Gavin sighed and paced toward the fire. Somehow, he had to prove to James that Kira Melbourne was unworthy. The woman’s tears might have convinced his cousin of her innocence; Gavin saw only that she regretted too late her decision to cavort with Vance. But he doubted such remorse would change her natural penchant to inappropriate behavior.
The question was, how to make James believe that? Gavin doubted that his cousin could be swayed without seeing Miss Melbourne severely compromised with his own two eyes.
Gavin paused, stunned. His mind raced as an idea took form. Tossing the brandy against the back of this throat, he considered the notion again. It still seemed perfect.
He would make certain James actually saw Miss Melbourne in a compromising position. Gavin’s mind raced with possib
ilities. Yes. In fact, he would seduce her himself. And then he would arrange a time and place where James might see clearly what kind of woman his fiancée truly was. A kiss might be just the thing, or perhaps a bit of undress to go with it…
Seduction was the perfect solution.
But how? Miss Melbourne disliked him thoroughly and distrusted him even more. Gavin could not dispute that she was a bright woman who would question his motives if he suddenly indicated a desire to touch her after treating her with the contempt she likely deserved. Besides, she’d proven her tenacity, and even a pleasing measure of loyalty, in wanting to marry James by turning down a fortune. She wasn’t likely to risk her engagement for a torrid tryst. Also if, in agreeing to marry a clergyman, she intended to turn over a new leaf, she would be cautious—at least until after the vows. And no woman, unless being paid for her services, which Kira was not, would lay with a man she loathed. So what was he to do?
He sighed, mulling over his dilemma. Somehow, he would have to convince her to like him, coax her trust. Once he did, then he would see the real Kira’s morals—or rather, he would demonstrate for James.
Turning for the door, Gavin was determined to find Aunt Caroline and tell her of his brilliant idea. Then he paused.
As schemes went, this was an ugly one. The less she knew the better. Of course, he’d have to be discreet; he wanted no scandal erupting from his…dealings with James’s fiancée. In fact, he might be better served to send his aunt on to London, ostensibly to stem the tide of gossip there.
Gavin sat on the sofa, turning his mind to develop the plan more fully. It worked on every level—except one. As he considered seducing Kira Melbourne, his heart raced. Hell, even his palms sweated. The predicament with this plan slapped him in the face: in order to seduce her, he would have to spend time with her, earn her trust, and expose himself to her smiles, her sharp mind. And he must touch her.
Fire raced to his groin at the thought of seeing Kira Melbourne naked again, at giving his hands free access over her body. Though it would not be necessary to convince James of his fiancée’s bad behavior, Gavin could not deny an urge to possess her completely. Even the thought made him unbearably hard.
The plan was dangerous, indeed. But necessary, damn it. He would simply have to restrain the taint of the Daggett blood creeping through his veins and keep his lust under firm control.
But he had never known a sultry force stronger than Kira Melbourne, and he silently acknowledged the fact he was playing with fire.
Chapter Six
The following morning, Gavin waited to enter the breakfast room until Miss Melbourne had settled down to eat. Because James rarely rose before ten and Aunt Caroline was already packing for London, Gavin felt certain he and Kira would be quite alone.
Day one of his plan was about to begin.
First, he would change his role from Kira’s enemy to affable friend, coupled with a hint of ardent admirer. That would persuade her to lower her guard so he could woo her trust, learn her weaknesses. And once he discovered them, he could use those vulnerabilities to his advantage and seduce her. Given her history, he doubted it would be very difficult. Then James would be forced to realize that his bride did not deserve his good name.
At the entrance to the breakfast room, Gavin paused to spy on his target. Sunlight streamed in, lighting Kira’s dark hair with an ebony sheen. She appeared collected this morning, nothing like the weeping woman in the garden last night. The shimmering gray silk morning dress highlighted her placid profile, while the delicate embroidered muslin half-dress pelerine draping her shoulders lent her the appearance of total femininity. She ate a scone in silence, a cup of tea nearby. Seeing her eat and absently stir her tea made her seem… much like any other woman.
But he did not react to her like any other woman, and Gavin did not understand. Nothing in Kira’s appearance today made her look the part of a temptress, despite the fact he knew she had lain with Lord Vance. Yet she still drew him more than ever, to his frustration. The vital parts south of his waist all but begged him to lay her down on the table and undress her.
Worse, he felt strangely reluctant about this plan. Miss Melbourne had been genuinely hurt last night, and while he took no pleasure in injuring her further, he could not allow Aunt Caroline to continue suffering. Nor could he allow James to ruin his life.
Discrediting Kira, seducing her, was his last chance to prevent disaster.
Gavin entered the room, doffing his hat in a gentlemanly gesture and taking care to wear his best smile. “Good morning, Miss Melbourne.”
At the salutation, Kira lifted her gaze to find Cropthorne standing near her, looking very well in buff-colored breeches, a fitted, knee-length coat in deep blue, and a crisp silk cravat. The clothing accentuated his natural good looks. But his smile kept her gaze upon him.
Kira paused as confusion set in. Cropthorne had greeted her and smiled? Even behaved pleasantly?
She eyed him warily. “Good morning. I am nearly finished here, so you may have the room to yourself.”
“No need to rush out.” He set his hat on the table.
Cropthorne did not want her gone immediately or sooner?
He helped himself to a scone and some jam from the sideboard, smile still in place. “I hope last night’s events did not prevent you from sleeping well. Lady Becker is a close friend of Mrs. Baycliffe’s. Two more unpleasant ladies I have rarely had the misfortune to meet.”
Her frowned deepened. Did Cropthorne actually condemn the redheaded gossip from Mrs. Baycliffe’s party? Kira eyed him again, searching for any sign of sarcasm. She found none. How odd. Perhaps the duke was still asleep. No, his gaze looked far too sharp. Or he was unwell—that made sense…except he looked exceedingly robust, magnificent even, too much so to be struggling under the burden of illness.
Why, then, did he not only speak to her, but behave as if she didn’t annoy him to the ends of the earth?
“I found them to be quite unpleasant,” she murmured, at a loss to say anything else.
“Do not feel as if you’re alone.”
Cropthorne pulled out a chair—not his usual at the head of the table, but the one directly beside her. He smiled again. His grin dazzled, charmed. It made her most suspicious.
More than likely his grace had concocted another ploy to shove her from James’s life, and while she had no notion how a smile could accomplish this feat, she thought it best to leave before he demonstrated.
Kira set her napkin aside and rose. “Thank you for setting me straight about Lady Becker. Enjoy your breakfast.”
She no more turned away and took a single step before he called out to her. “Wait!”
With a glance over her shoulder, Kira saw that Cropthorne had risen to his feet. He stood tall and wide-shouldered, looking both tense and hesitant. Definitely odd behavior after his smiles.
“Yes?”
“Sit, please. I…”—he stumbled, hesitated—“I should like to say something to you.”
She raised a sharp brow, both questioning and challenging him. Apparently, he understood.
The duke grimaced, his expression surprisingly contrite. “What I must say will be pleasant, I vow.”
Pleasant? From him? That sounded dubious. Kira did not trust him, but he did intrigue her—regularly. This moment was a prime example. For some odd reason, she wanted to hear his “pleasant” conversation, even as she doubted his ability to engage in it.
Still, she sat as he requested. “I’m listening.”
He remained standing. “Certainly you’ve noted the fact I am protective of my family.”
Irony laced her smile. “Indeed.”
“James is fully eight years my junior and does not always have the experience to make sound decisions.”
Did he mean to imply that asking for her hand had been a rash and immature choice? Kira glared at the duke.
“Do not misunderstand me. The fault lies with me. I am so accustomed to looking after James, and eve
n questioning his decisions, that I sometimes forget his choices might be perfectly agreeable.”
Did Cropthorne mean he now approved? If so, Kira did not believe the implication or him.
“You’ve never found me agreeable,” she pointed out.
He nodded, looking somewhat sheepish. “I confess, however, that last night proved my error to me.” The duke met her gaze, eyes like the darkest velvet, delving into hers. “Tears that honest demonstrated to me that Lady Becker and her friends’ words hurt you. Had their lies been true, I daresay a guilty woman would have behaved much differently.”
How…observant of him. Kira regarded her nemesis in surprise, watching as he picked up his hat in what appeared to be a nervous gesture.
“Indeed?” She watched him warily, hope scratching at her.
“Coupled with the manner in which you assisted my aunt last week, I begin to think I’ve drawn some horribly unfair conclusions about you based on nothing more than party gossip.”
The duke bent the rim of his tall hat, which seemed most unlike him. Kira watched, stunned. Did he mean what he said? A glance into the manly angles of his face showed nothing but sincerity. Even the cast of his full mouth looked regretful.
“I—well… Thank you.”
“No, thank you for speaking to me.” He grimaced. “I’ve behaved terribly—worse than terribly, in fact. I can only ask that you allow me to make it up to you.”
Why would he want to? Why would such a thing matter? His family? Yes, that reason fit. Still…
“It’s of no import now,” she said.
“Oh, I disagree, my dear lady.” Cropthorne leaned in, and Kira caught a hint of his scent, something of the wind and the earth, spiced with the essence of man. It was a heady smell that awakened her senses and curled warmth in her belly.
Disturbed by her quickening heartbeat, Kira leaned away. “Disagree?”
“I’ve been too hasty in my judgment,” he said. “I gave myself no time to know you before I assessed you…and found you foolishly wanting. Forgive me.”
The haughty duke had asked her for forgiveness? Maybe she ought to reconsider the illness theory. Perhaps he could be unwell and still look that wonderful.