Tempting Sin

by Ann Lethbridge

  Ogden’s gaze searched her face, his expression full of concern. “Don’t be fooled by his charm.”

  Charm? He either issued autocratic commands or avoided her. Except when he kissed her. A wicked quiver deep in her belly taunted her with the memory of that mistake and warmth flooded her face. She straightened her spine against the insidious sensations.

  “If you knew how many innocents he’s ruined... He is not called Sin without reason.” He sighed. “I know it’s hard for a decent young lady to imagine, but even now he has another in his toils.”

  He meant Miss Eckford. “Please, say no more.”

  Deep furrows creased his high, pale forehead. “Do not trust him, Victoria. Put yourself in my care. I can’t offer you marriage or great wealth, but I can offer protection.”

  She gasped. Her face flamed. Did he really intend to offer her carte blanche? She felt soiled. “How dare you.” She rose to her feet.

  He leaped up and caught her elbow. “You mistake my meaning. It was not well expressed. You are like my own dear sister. I just want to help you leave Travis. I know to my cost what he’s like. A member of my own family...” He pressed his lips together, strain showing in the grooves around his mouth and his forehead.

  Cold fingers clutched at Victoria’s heart. “If you have firsthand knowledge, you must tell me.”

  Ogden rubbed at his chin, a disconsolate expression in his pale eyes. “To speak of it would harm an innocent. Please, trust me. Michael didn’t listen to me and look what happened.”

  Victoria didn’t know what to think. Ogden had been a true friend to Michael, whereas the Earl of Travis had taken everything he owned. Not true. Michael had taken his own life.

  Despite Travis’s autocratic commands and his icy exterior, she had never feared harm from him. And yet Ogden had been Michael’s friend and had warned him against Travis. Nothing made sense anymore.

  The drumming of approaching hoof-beats disturbed her whirling thoughts. She looked up to see a horseman approaching at the thundering pace. Man and beast in perfect harmony, dark and powerful and awesome. Rainbows splashed up around the beast’s great hooves. She had no trouble recognizing the rider as Travis.

  In spite of herself, relief washed over her. With Travis here, Ogden would leave.

  “The devil,” Ogden said. “He usually exercises that beast in Hyde Park. I would not have looked for you here had I known he would turn up.”

  Avoiding Travis was also the reason why she walked in Green Park. Cowardice.

  Ogden shot to his feet.

  Travis dismounted in a fluid motion, coming to stand in front of him with a murderous expression. “You will leave now, Ogden, if you value your dignity.”

  Ogden backed up a step.

  Victoria snatched up her parasol and stood. “You do not have authority over whom I may or may not speak.”

  “I do,” Travis said, his expression tight.

  Ogden curled his lip. “Don’t be a boor, Travis.”

  Travis drew off a gauntlet and ran it through his palm. He flicked a black eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

  “I’ll not brawl in front of a lady.” Ogden bowed to Victoria. “Don’t forget what I said, Miss Yelverton.” He nodded stiffly at Travis and headed towards his curricle waiting on the street.

  His expression dark, Travis watched his departure. “Another tryst, madam?”

  “Certainly not, my lord.” She nodded. “If you will excuse me, I should like to continue my walk.”

  He reached out and grasped her arm. “I specifically told you not to go abroad without Maria, and I find you meeting the cur alone, after I instructed you to have nothing to do with him.”

  This was second time this morning a man had questioned her morals. She lifted her chin. “Don’t lay your lack of attention to society’s rules on my head, my lord. I met Viscount Ogden quite by chance. And, if you will turn your eyes in that direction—” she waived her parasol at Elsie “—you will see my maid. Now, if you wouldn’t mind releasing my arm, I will go.”

  The word home stuck in her throat. She didn’t have one. “I will be on my way.”

  She set off at a brisk pace, leaving Elsie to follow.

  “Victoria, wait.”

  She heard the plea in his voice, like the one she had heard that night on the balcony. His boots scrunched on the gravel path behind her. He was following?

  “Miss Yelverton. Please wait.”

  Others strolling along the pathway were staring. She whirled around to face him. “Well?”

  He smiled. Warm, friendly and utterly charming. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I spoke in haste. I should have given you a chance to explain.”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

  He grinned, charmingly rueful, a boy with his hand found in the biscuit barrel, and not the least bit put out. “You are right. I am sorry.”

  She shook her head. What could she say faced with such sweetness? It was as if he wanted to make peace between them. The thought pleased her more than she expected. “Apology accepted.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded equally pleased.

  Her heart gave an odd little squeeze.

  The horse nudged him in the back. Victoria put out a hand as Travis lurched into her.

  “I beg your pardon,” he muttered. “Diablo, behave.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “Interesting name for your horse. Sin rides the devil.”

  His cheeky grin reappeared. “Ironic, no?”

  Far too charming when he wanted to be. She ignored the flutters of her pulse and fixed her attention on the horse. “He’s a beautiful animal.” She reached out to stroke Diablo’s nose.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned.

  She smiled at his astonishment as Diablo snuffled into her hand. “He and I are friends. I visit him some afternoons when Maria is napping. He has a sweet tooth.”

  “You like horses?”

  She evaded the question along with the sick empty feeling in her stomach. “My father used to breed some beauties.”

  He looked at her curiously. “Do you like to ride?”

  Of course he’d ask the inevitable question. Might as well get it over with. “No, I do not.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned. “You surprise me. I thought of you as fearless. Were you in an accident?”

  She nodded, blinking back blurring tears, refusing to embarrass herself. She pointed at Diablo. “He’s magnificent. You should breed him.”

  “I did,” he said. “This past year. He sired a fine colt, which will do well on the racetrack.” Joy filled his face, like sunrays bursting through thunderous clouds. For once he looked youthful and impossibly attractive. Her chest tightened against her swelling heart. She must not let him charm her again.

  She kept her voice light. “So, you breed horses.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Something you didn’t know about me, Miss Yelverton.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. She liked this gentler, teasing side of him. “I’m sure there is much I do not know, Lord Travis. Do you breed your horses for riding or racing?”

  “Racing mostly. I have a likely filly running at Newmarket next race day.” Pride flashed in his eyes, then he became serious. “But you know, you really should try riding again.”

  A shiver rolled down her spin. This was not a topic she liked to pursue. Get him talking about himself. It always worked with Michael and Papa. She continued strolling and sent him a questioning glance. “That sounds like the voice of experience speaking.”

  “I’ve had the odd tumble,” he admitted. For a moment, he fought with Diablo’s bridle as the horse snorted and tossed his head. “I’m sure I must have something gentle enough for you in my stables. If nothing there suits you, I’ll see what Tattersall’s has next week. I’d be delighted to tutor you.”

  “I, thank you, but no. I used to ride with my parents as
a child. I haven’t ridden for years and have no intention of doing so now.”

  “I would never let you fall.” His smile cajoled and sent her heart leaping wildly beneath her ribs. “There’s nothing like riding at speed for freeing the spirit.”

  She couldn’t think about it, let alone do it. She tried to speak around throat-choking tears at the vivid recollection of the day her life had changed forever. Burdened with guilt, Papa had sold every horse they owned for a pittance within a week of Mama’s funeral and disappeared inside a bottle. Michael had run wild, and Victoria had failed to take her mother’s place.

  She scrabbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose. She tried to smile at him. “My mother fell from her horse in a riding accident when I was twelve. I watched her die. I see it and I hear it every time I think about getting on a horse. The sound of bones breaking, the horse screaming, my father crying. I simply cannot do it.”

  Cold reserve turned his sun-lit eyes to glacier-blue. His expression turned stony. He stared off into the distance.

  Seconds felt like minutes.

  He cleared his throat. “You’ve certainly had more than your fair share of tragedy.”

  The biting words delivered like an accusation, cut at her heart. She gasped.

  A muscled flickered in his jaw. “Excuse me, Miss Yelverton. I must return home. I will see you in my study at eleven, as arranged.”

  He leaped into the saddle, his riding coat swirling around him. The black brute stood quietly under his hand. He nodded stiffly, wheeled Diablo around and cantered away.

  Victoria stared after him, wishing she had not revealed her fear to a man with melted snow in his veins. He had obviously been disgusted by her lack of courage.

  Her heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest. Once more, Travis had brought home to her everything she’d lost. She really had to find a way to leave his house. Perhaps she should take Ogden up on his offer after all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Usually, Diablo’s speed gave Simon a sense of deep satisfaction, but not today. All his thoughts were focused on Victoria, her sadness, her pain. He’d been so unforgivably stupid.

  A shout broke his reverie and he jerked Diablo in tight to the curb, avoiding a carriage by inches.

  He glanced around. God. He’d never live it down if he ploughed into some dull matron driving sedately around Mayfair. He forced himself to calmness, relaxing his clenched hands, easing the urge to send Diablo flying to hell and gone. He maneuvered through the traffic, determined his inner turmoil would not gain the upper hand.

  At his stables, he tossed the reins at the waiting groom and glared as the man hesitated. If the fool couldn’t stable his damned cattle, he’d no business in his employ. He cursed when a footman impeded his progress at the side door. “What do you think you are? A door?”

  “May I take your hat and coat, sir?” the brawny young man asked.

  Simon peeled off his coat and shoved it into the footman’s hands. “Wilson, isn’t it? Tell Benton to bring brandy to my study. Now.” He shouldered his way past the servant.

  He thrust the study door open and pushed it shut with his heel, the force enough to rattle the porcelain ornaments in a glass fronted cabinet.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  He kicked a spindly Sheraton chair out of his way and paced the width of the room in front of his desk.

  What the bloody hell was the matter with him? She said she didn’t like riding. She changed the goddamn subject twice. He’d been too busy fantasizing about riding beside her, her black hair blowing long and free in the wind, her face flushed with fresh air and her lips parted in enjoyment. He’d missed every sign of the depth of her distress.

  Blast it all. He hadn’t been such an idiot with a woman since his misbegotten youth. He’d sworn never to let any woman get her claws in him again and here he was, almost thirty, for Christ’s sake, so wrapped up in his own pleasant dream, he’d been oblivious to her distress. She had him so tangled up, he could barely remember his own name, let alone how to play the game.

  He flung himself in the brown leather armchair, staring blindly at the desk’s polished mahogany surface. He’d lost his grip.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “What?”

  Benton eased through door. “Your brandy, my lord.”

  Simon jerked his head toward the desk.

  “Will there be anything else, my lord?” Benton asked, setting down a square crystal decanter and one balloon glass on a silver tray.

  Simon grimaced at the admonition in Benton’s tone. Having served Simon’s father and known Simon in short coats, the butler’s opinion carried weight. Embarrassment washed over him. He’d stormed into the house as if he truly was a devil. He abhorred rudeness to servants in others, and was now guilty of it himself.

  He shook his head. “No, thank you, Benton. Apologize to Wilson for me, would you? I was a bit short with him on the way in. No fault of his.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Benton bowed himself out.

  Simon took a deep breath. At least Benton seemed mollified. What the hell could he say to Miss Victoria Yelverton?

  He poured a brandy and stared into the depths of the glass. What must she have thought?

  Last night, he’d decided to convince her to marry Deveril, but in his anger at her disappearance this morning, his purpose slipped from his grasp.

  It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if he hadn’t found her with Ogden. She’d lied about not arranging the assignation. He’d seen it in the way her eyes refused to meet his. They were all the same, the ladies of the ton, liars and cheats. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Disgust for his odd feeling of disappointment in her gnawed at his gut.

  Damn it. Deveril was right. The more he said against the viscount, the tighter she clung to the cur. Because she doesn’t trust you.

  He’d done his best to win her over, burying his anger at her treachery, engaging her in pleasant conversation as they walked through the park. Seeing the smile dawn on her face and lighten her eyes from mysterious dusk to the color of sky just before dawn had rattled his composure. With success in his grasp, he’d badgered her to let him teach her to ride for no good reason at all. The hurt in her eyes and the tremble of her mouth when he’d forced her to admit the reason for her fear had twisted his gut and left him speechless.

  Somehow, her anguish had pierced his carefully guarded defenses. Made him feel her pain. He remembered nothing of what he had said after that. Something idiotic from the expression on her face.

  And then there was Ogden and his involvement with her brother.

  None of Simon’s inquiries had provided more than vague hints of how the young nobleman had gone from carefree to desperate in the months after his father’s death, the months when the notoriously cash-strapped Ogden had become his closest friend. Without proof of any wrongful intent on Ogden’s part, Victoria would always hold Simon to blame for what happened.

  Ogden was clearly playing some deep game, having first thrust Victoria into Simon’s arms then proceeding to meet with her in secret. One thing was sure, Ogden did not have marital intentions. His father, the Marquess of Northdown, would insist on Ogden marrying a girl who could bring wealth into the depleted family coffers and Ogden would never cross his father. Whatever he intended with regard to Victoria Yelverton, Simon doubted it would benefit anyone but Ogden.

  Damn. Simon never should have brought her to his house. Why on earth had he let Ogden prick his ego? Icy fingers fisted in his gut. Ogden had nothing to do with Simon’s actions. It was that first impression of Victoria that had remained seared into his mind. Her vulnerability and the need to see her to safety.

  It was hard to believe that at this stage of his life he could still make a fool of himself over a pretty face and a well-turned ankle. Ridiculous. He was simply doing what was right.

  He got up and prowled the room, touching the Meissen china figures that adorned every available surface, calming himself with their intricate,
cold beauty—so unlike the delicious warmth of the lady at the center of his thoughts.

  Yet, like a piece of fine china, Victoria’s exquisite beauty tempted him. The way her expression changed with each new mood, the way her luminous eyes revealed her feelings, so openly and honestly. Or so he had thought.

  Did he not know better? Were not all women the same? Liars. Betrayers. He needed rid of her, the sooner the better.

  He glanced at his reflection in the gilt pier mirror between the windows. His hair showed signs of his raking fingers. He’d pulled his cravat askew. He took a deep swallow of the fiery liquid in his glass with a wry grin. If he didn’t watch his step, he’d be keeping Dev company in the worst possible way.

  He summoned Benton.

  “When Miss Yelverton returns from her walk, if she has not done so already, ask to wait for me in my study, would you please?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He hurried upstairs to change and on making his way into the library, he was gratified to find Victoria reading by the window.

  Enchantingly, her lips moved slightly as her eyes skimmed the page. Her jet hair drifted in a cluster of luxuriant curls to her shoulder and rested on the gray silk of her morning dress. He paused, savoring the sight.

  She must have sensed his presence for she glanced up. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of him, no doubt from anger at his earlier rudeness. He eyed her coldly. He would not allow her to throw him off balance again.

  “Miss Yelverton,” he said with a deliberately cool smile. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping into my study.”

  She rose gracefully and passed gracefully by him in the doorway, her skirts caressing his legs, her jasmine perfume drifting around him as he followed her down the corridor and into his domain.

  She perched on the delicate Sheraton chair in front of his desk. He’d never liked that chair before today. Her glance wandered the room, her violet eyes widening at the sight of the porcelain ornaments filling every available surface: the console beneath the mirror, the shelves behind him, the mantle. Only his desk remained unadorned, apart from his inkwell, quills and the tray of brandy.