Tempting Sin

by Ann Lethbridge

  Simon had never set eyes on his father again.

  He kept his voice matter-of-fact. “I went away to school, just like you, Ogden.”

  “But not everyone went to the sort of school you attended, did they, Travis?” Ogden taunted. “I heard they taught you well.”

  Simon never allowed thoughts of Blackhurst Academy to enter his mind. He raised an eyebrow. “What has that to do with the matter at hand?”

  Wild-eyed, his tongue flickering over dry lips, Ogden turned to Victoria. “His father sent him to a school in the north to learn discipline and self-control. Miranda told me all about it.” He swung around to Simon, his white-edged mouth twisted in a cruel smile. “She told me how you wrote, begging to be allowed to come home. But they never let you, did they? And when your father died, you had Miranda locked away so she couldn’t give evidence against you.”

  Simon shook his head. “Your sister is ill and you know it.”

  “Liar. You locked her away when she should be enjoying life, free to live and love again. All she wants is to come home to her family.”

  What did Ogden expect him to say in own his defense? Was he to reveal his stepmother’s madness? A danger to herself and those around her, she had to stay where she was. Simon had broken his father’s heart, but he wasn’t going to bury a decent man’s reputation by revealing the sordid truth about the woman he had loved in his old age or about the son who, in the end, he had hated.

  “Simon?” Victoria’s soft voice broke into his thoughts, her expression pleading with him to deny the charges.

  He shrugged. “She has the best care. I follow her doctors’ instructions.”

  Ogden balled his fists and took a step forward. “Or they follow yours.”

  Confusion reigned in Victoria’s expression. Her eyes, large in her pale face, turned in Simon’s direction, begging him to explain. Let her believe what she liked. He would never release Miranda.

  He dropped his gaze and flicked of a strand of long, black hair from his lapel. It drifted to the white marble tile, forming a fine, black question mark.

  Ogden took another step towards him and Simon straightened. A physical threat he could deal with. Take pleasure in.

  “Why don’t you tell Victoria the full story, Travis?” Ogden’s eyes blazed with triumph, just like Miranda’s had that awful day.

  Simon stiffened. Damn him to hell. Yes, there was more and worse. The real reason Miranda had turned his father against Simon until the day he died. But Ogden wouldn’t dare reveal that secret. And Simon would not oblige him. “I think it’s time you left. Unless you want to find yourself without a feather to fly with. I promise you, if you say one more word I will invoke the clause in my father’s will that cuts you off. Your family will know who to blame for their penury.”

  Ogden glared, but pressed his lips together.

  Victoria stood unmoving, staring from one to the other. The enormity of Ogden’s accusations seemed to have left her stunned and speechless. Simon prayed she would remain so.

  He pulled the bell. “You really should not have come here alone, Miss Yelverton. It’s not good ton. You will oblige me by returning immediately to London and Miss Allenby.”

  She put out a hand as if to protest, then it fell to her side.

  Surely she didn’t want to stay after all she had heard? Or did she think he’d let her go with Ogden? Not a chance. He’d kill Ogden first.

  The three of them stood in icy silence, until the butler answered the summons.

  “Bring the carriage around immediately,” Simon said. “Assign one of the maids to attend Miss Yelverton. Viscount Ogden is leaving.”

  The butler, his face bland and his gaze distant, turned to do his master’s bidding.

  Ogden cursed. “You really are a cold-hearted devil. You keep an innocent woman locked up while you—” He bit the words off.

  A short and bitter laugh escaped Simon’s lips. “Miranda was never innocent. A rather willing participant, I would say.”

  The sound of Victoria’s gasp of horror cleaved a hole in his chest. After his earlier behavior with her, how could she not believe Ogden? It was better this way. His lack of control today proved he could not trust himself with Victoria and clearly she was Ogden’s pawn. Hopefully now, she would keep her distance.

  Unable to bear the condemnation in her eyes, Simon gestured to the door. “Ogden, I suggest you crawl back to your cesspit.”

  Ogden raked him with a pale scathing glance. “One of these days, Satan, you will receive your just deserts.”

  Simon allowed himself a small cynical smile. “If that day ever comes, Ogden, I’m quite certain you will be the first to know.” Except he’d received his punishment over and over, and, if today was anything to go by, he would continue to do so for the rest of his life.

  Uttering an oath, Ogden flung the front door open and strode to his waiting curricle.

  Simon raised an eyebrow. “His manners really don’t improve.”

  “The carriage is ready, my lord,” the butler announced.

  Simon nodded. “And the maid?”

  “Waiting inside it, my lord.”

  “ Good.” Simon held his arm out to Victoria. “Allow me to escort you out, Miss Yelverton.”

  For one sickening moment, Simon thought she might refuse to touch him, then she inclined her head and laid her small hand on his sleeve.

  She was stiff-backed and silent. Her fingers trembled against his arm as she allowed him to assist her out to the waiting coach. She hesitated, one foot on the step. Despair he could ill-afford washed over him at her questioning glance.

  “Simon—”

  “Good day, Miss Yelverton.” He bowed.

  A leaden weight pressed on his chest at her pained expression. He forced himself to breathe.

  She lowered her head and climbed inside, the faint click of the closing door a stern reminder. She was forbidden fruit.

  Eleven. The soft knock came right on time. Simon steeled himself to preserve his outward calm.

  Having followed Victoria to Town specifically for this purpose, there was no sense in putting it off. He squared his shoulders, strolled to the door and opened it. “Come in, Miss Yelverton.”

  Her manner subdued, Victoria avoided looking at him as she sat in a chair before his desk. He really had destroyed any sort of accord between them. If there really had been anything of the sort. Likely it had been only his wishful thinking.

  He retired behind his desk and took in her pale face and the dark circles shadowing her eyes. If she weren’t careful she would suffer a decline in health. More blame to lay at his door. Not that he cared.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me this morning,” he said. “I wish to inform you of my plans for your future.”

  She looked startled, then hopeful. “Have you heard from my aunt?”

  Her aunt. He winced and glanced at the pile of letters on his desk. He’d heard from the old witch, all right. “Yes, actually, I have.”

  “So I am to go to her, then?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your aunt, it seems, is unable to be of assistance to you at this time.”

  She frowned. “What did she say?” She reached out a hand. “May I see the letter?”

  Simon stiffened at her lack of trust. Bitter as the thought tasted, he couldn’t blame her. Yesterday he’d been a selfish cur, putting his own desires before her welfare, but no more. He certainly wouldn’t inflict the woman’s sanctimonious outpourings on his worst enemy, let alone upon Victoria. “The letter is addressed to me.”

  “She is my aunt. I think I ought to know exactly what she said.”

  Simon picked up the single sheet of paper and unfolded it. “Permit me to read the pertinent parts. ‘Dear Lord Travis, Thank you for your missive of last week. I regret to inform you—’” Simon skipped the next few lines. They were far too insulting to Victoria, her father and her brother “‘—that no woman who has spent a night under the
roof of such an amoral, licentious libertine—’” Simon looked up. “She means me, I believe.”

  Vivid, red spots of color appeared on Victoria’s cheeks. She straightened in her chair.

  He continued, “‘—is welcome in my home.’ Then there is more regarding the nature of my moral turpitude. She goes on. ‘Even if I were disposed to open my door to my niece, I do not have the financial wherewithal to undertake such an unwanted expense.’” He threw the letter on the desk. “I won’t bore you with the rest.”

  Mortification rampant on her lovely face, she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. “I apologize, my lord, for my aunt’s rudeness.”

  “Indeed, Miss Yelverton, you need feel no embarrassment on my account. I can assure you. My feelings are untouched.”

  The blush deepened. Now what had he said? Then he recalled his words of yesterday, almost the same words, under very different circumstances. He sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  She raised her eyes and met his gaze square on. “I really cannot stay here any longer.”

  After what she now knew, it came as no surprise. At least, Ogden’s interruption had prevented a worse disaster. Eventually she would have learned the truth and Simon had discovered he couldn’t stand the thought of her knowing.

  Damn it all. It didn’t matter what she thought of him; he had a duty to perform. He swept her arguments aside with a dismissive gesture. “I do not agree. We will continue as planned. You will make every effort to find a suitor and marry well before the end of the Season.”

  Like a pebble dropped in a still pool at dusk, her dark eyes reflected ripples of emotion at his harsh words. “And if I refuse?”

  Cursed to spend his life hurting those he cared for, he distanced himself, retreated behind his safe wall of ice until blessed numbness held him in thrall.

  He placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You have no choice in the matter. A dowry of two thousand pounds a year is more than enough for the most fastidious of men. Bachelors will flock to your door, Miss Yelverton, and you will accept one of them.”

  “A dowry? I don’t want your money. What will people think?”

  “They will think I am your kind benefactor, providing you with a means to make your way in life. What else should they think?” It didn’t matter if people thought she was his mistress. Money solved anything. A lot of money did.

  His stomach clenched at the flush of shame staining her cheeks. His shame. But her formidable pride stiffened her graceful shoulders. The arrogant tilt of her head pressed home the dagger she had thrust into his heart in Hampshire. “I will not accept it.”

  Stubborn to a fault. He held his gaze steady and quirked an insolent eyebrow. “You will. And in return you will do something to oblige me.”

  “There is nothing I would do to oblige you.”

  “I think there is. You will promise not to repeat anything you heard yesterday.”

  Shock crossed her face. “You think you have to buy my silence, the same way you buy Viscount Ogden’s?”

  Her fury lashed him. He curved his mouth in a self-mocking smile. “Nevertheless, you will accept the funds. Maria will make sure your changed financial circumstances are known. On your death, the funds will go to any children from your marriage.”

  Children. Yearning ripped his guts apart. What beautiful children she would have. Dark-haired, spirited, maybe with blue eyes. But they would not be his.

  “And if I do not marry?”

  Knowing her, he’d expected the question. “Then the money will be yours to do with as you wish. There will be more than enough to set up your own establishment. My lawyer will be your trustee. You will never need to see me again.”

  A bleak future stretched before him. It was the right thing to do. Best for her. His needs did not count.

  She hesitated, then rose slowly to her feet. “I thank you for your generous offer, but I refuse to accept it.”

  He’d wondered what he would do if she said no. It was a great deal of money. A small fortune. He just hadn’t believed she’d turn it down. No woman he had ever met would refuse such a sum.

  He leaned back in his chair. “The money is there, whether you want it or no, provided you say nothing, and provided you do not marry Ogden.” She would get nothing if she went anywhere near the bastard.

  She tossed her head. So, he’d made her angry. Better than making her cry.

  “If I marry, it will be to a man of my choosing.”

  He threw out his last card. “Ogden will not marry you without the money.”

  “What do I have to say to make you understand I don’t want anything from you? Not your money. Nothing.”

  She really meant she did not want him. He denied the pain around his heart and strove to remain unmoved. “It is settled. I signed the documents this morning. Nothing you can do will stop it. What you do with it is your concern. Give it away for all I care.”

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  He wanted this over. Now. If she didn’t leave soon, he’d forget all his principles and try to seduce her into running away with him. Persuade her to go somewhere where Ogden and the rest of the Du Plessys wouldn’t find them. Somewhere he could make love to her all day long and never see another damned person as long as he lived.

  Why torment himself with useless dreams? She would never agree. Not willingly, though he had no doubt after yesterday that he could seduce her into forgetting her precious principles. Her passionate nature would foil her good intentions. But he would not do it. She deserved so much more than him. She deserved a good man, a man who did not awake each and every day loathing himself.

  “Miss Yelverton, I will not discuss this any further. I am leaving Town this afternoon and you will be gone from this house by the time I return at the end of the summer. Married or not. Maria has my instructions. She will accept any reasonable proposal on my behalf.”

  He rose. “If you will take my advice, you will marry the Marquess of Deveril. He is a fine man with many good qualities.” Ian would protect her.

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, followed so swiftly by anger, he convinced himself he hadn’t seen it. Her top teeth worried her bottom lip for a moment. “You want me to marry your friend?”

  No. He wanted her safe and cared for. “You could do a lot worse.”

  Her lip curled. “Worse than a drunkard? The only man worse would be you.”

  The truth hurt. He had no defenses where she was concerned. The one person he cared for thought him despicable. Life had a way of turning the tables on him every bloody time. He flicked an eyebrow with practiced insouciance. “It was a suggestion, nothing more.”

  “A suggestion I do not intend to follow.”

  “As you wish.” He bowed, signaling their discussion was at an end.

  He watched her stalk towards the door, her slight frame diminutive against the heavy oak panels. A grieving sense of loss flooded his heart.

  She stopped at the door and turned to face him. She gazed at him for one long moment. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was low and husky. “Was it true? What the viscount said?”

  He froze. “Was what true?”

  “You said Miranda was your stepmother, but you did not admit to Ogden’s charge.”

  Shrewd Miss Yelverton. But his guilt, or lack of it, didn’t matter. He couldn’t care what she thought. More important, his father’s memory must not be sullied by Ogden and his lying bitch of a sister. “What did you expect, Miss Yelverton? That I would beg forgiveness? Plead my case?”

  He’d done that all those years ago. Knelt at Miranda’s feet, tears running down his child’s face, clutching at her skirts, begging her to intercede with his father, begging her to tell the truth. The woman he thought he had loved had given him a small cold smile and stepped over him. His father had believed her accusations.

  Self-revulsion tasted like bile in his mouth. He would never beg for affection or help from a woman again. He did not need l
ove. A transient emotion, its withdrawal hurt far too much.

  She regarded him steadily. “I expected you to tell your side of the story.”

  “It really is not your business, Miss Yelverton.”

  She flinched. Her wounded expression flayed his taut nerves. He had a brief, wild compulsion to deny his guilt, explain it was not his fault. He buried it. He’d be lying to himself and to her. He’d earned his father’s eternal hatred with good cause. And now he paid the price. Eternal loneliness.

  Sneering at his own weak will, he notched one sure arrow in his bow and flashed her a mocking smile. “By the way, Miss Yelverton, you will be pleased to learn I have found an exceedingly willing and very lovely replacement for Miss Eckford. We leave for Italy this afternoon.”

  Shock widened her beautiful eyes. She wrenched open the door and fled. He heard her footsteps as she ran up the stairs and the echo of her chamber door slamming. It was done.

  He walked to the console and traced the green-jacketed, porcelain elf. It would always remind him of her. The way she’d run her fingertips over it in a brief caress. He’d made her angry on that occasion, too. She’d almost thrown it at him. He smiled wryly and picked it up, weighing it in his hand.

  China. Cold like him. He tossed it in the fireplace. The sound of splintering porcelain faintly echoed the shattering of his soul.

  Victoria threw herself face down on her bed and punched the bolster, wishing it was Travis’s sneering face beneath her fist. Oh, how she wanted to punish him for his sardonic smile of amusement at the shock his words had produced. He’d made her feel sordid when only hours ago she had felt so wonderfully alive in his arms. She swallowed hard. She would not let him do this to her, make her weak, make her cry. It was not who she was.

  She turned onto her back and stared mistily up at the rose-pink canopy. What had she expected from their discussion? In truth, despite his refusal to do so yesterday, she’d been sure he would deny Ogden’s horrid accusation. Instead, Simon had callously announced he’d found a new paramour. Ogden’s interruption had been timely indeed. How foolish to give her heart to such a cynical, cold-eyed devil. Had she learned nothing about men after living with her father and brother? Didn’t she know how little they were to be relied upon?