Tempting Sin

by Ann Lethbridge

  “Would you like to stay and have a cup of tea and cake with me?”

  “Cake? Cor, yes, miss.”

  She smiled and held out her hand. It was not unusual for Ned to break his fast with her, for he often went hungry at home. She thought of another boy who had gone hungry, starved for affection and human warmth as well as food. At least she could help this one. The other did not want her around him.

  “Come along then, young man.”

  His grubby hand held in hers, they crossed the schoolyard to her cottage. Roses framed the door, chintz curtains stirred in the light breeze drifting through the open windows and the smell of baking wafted from the kitchen. Elsie loved to cook.

  Once Ned had drunk his tea and eaten his cake, she walked him out to the lane and kept an eye on him until he disappeared from view. Someone needed to watch out for the poor little fellow. If only there was more she could do for him. With a sigh, she went indoors and sat in her bright and airy drawing room.

  “Here you are, miss,” Elsie, a her once pale complexion now as nut-brown as any country lass. She gave Victoria an with apple cheeked grin. eks and a big smile, said. “The London paper and today’s mail. Fair exhausted you must be. Good thing it is summer, too, for you needs a break from them little horrors.”

  Victoria laughed. Elsie, who had asked to go with her when she’d packed up and left Travis Place, had become a formidable woman now that she ran Victoria’s small house in Crayford.

  Had it all happened only three months ago? Twelve weeks since Ogden had died at Simon’s hand and two long months since Simon St. John had arranged for her to have her wished-for independence. What she had said she wanted above all else.

  She rubbed her arms with her hands.

  “You cold, miss? Let me light the fire.”

  “A fire in July?” Victoria replied, scandalized by the extravagance. “It was an odd little shiver that was all.”

  “A ghost walking over your grave,” said the superstitious Elsie with relish. “Never you mind. Supper’ll be along shortly.”

  Victoria scanned the newspaper. She smiled at the notice of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Runcorn’s wedding with Lady Elizabeth Halsted in attendance. She silently wished the very best for Mr. Albert Runcorn and his new bride.

  She hesitated. She always said she would not, then she always did. She turned to the Society page.

  Travis. He’d been in the paper a lot lately. As one of London’s most eligible bachelors, he always attracted a good deal of attention. Occasionally, they coupled his name with one of the Season’s debutantes. He only had to stand up to dance with someone more than once and they announced an engagement was in the offing. She usually ignored that kind of gossip. Simon had no real interest in marrying anyone, as she well knew.

  Mostly his name was associated with a Lady B_____, a very merry widow, by all accounts. Victoria couldn’t remember a lady whose name began with B.

  The words drew her eye: The Earl of T____s danced twice with Lady Julia G____h at the Smythe’s ball on Saturday night. If this writer might be permitted an opinion, they make a very handsome couple. From the amusement on their faces, they seemed well entertained by each other. Lord T____s left the ball early with Lady B____ and was not seen until Tuesday.

  Victoria blinked at the burning sensation at the back of her throat and behind her eyes. Why should she hurt because of Julia or Lady B, whoever she was? Victoria should be glad for him. His life hadn’t changed one iota since she left him in Wales. And why should it?

  She had waited for weeks for his return to London after the duel. She had desperately wanted to talk to him after Deveril’s brief visit. He never came.

  “Will Simon be charged with murder?” she had asked Deveril in Travis’s drawing room in Grosvenor Square.

  “The witnesses all agree Ogden forced the duel and Simon had no choice. It was self-defense as you well know, Victoria.” Deveril’s expression had been grim.

  “He was so cold.” She had shuddered. “He felt nothing.”

  Sadness hollowed Deveril’s expression. He shook his head. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Simon’s life has been hell. The business with Miranda and the baby hurt him badly.”

  “He killed her child.” The pain of knowing that about him was almost too much to bear.

  Deveril held her gaze. “The baby drowned, swept away in the river in a carriage accident. The two adults present watched Simon dive into a torrent and then pair of them blamed Simon for his failure. Simon was a boy, Victoria, little more than a child himself.” Deveril ran a hand through his hair. “The loss of that child, his brother haunts him. It was not his fault.”

  The horrendous picture he conjured up suddenly made sense. Her heart ached. She should have known better. He had never been anything but kind to her and if she was honest, Cassandra Eckford had encouraged him in his rakish ways. The girl had done exactly as instructed by her a mother who had known exactly what she was asking of her daughter.

  “Why did he admit to such an awful thing when he was innocent?”

  “Ogden promised to leave you alone if he admitted to murder.”

  Victoria felt sick as she remembered how she had recoiled from Simon when he’d reached out to her in the forest. Tears filled her throat. She swallowed, unable to speak.

  Deveril patted her hand. “Miranda was... Well, she lied to Simon’s father out of spite and his father believed her. She also planted the seeds of doubt in Simon’s mind because he had envied the love his father showed his little brother.”

  “How could I have known? He never spoke of it.”

  “You cwouldn’t. He’s not the sort to complain. The worst, though, was when his father sent him to Blackhurst as a punishment. It all but destroyed him.”

  The expression of pain on his face made her stomach clench. “He did say he didn’t like it much.”

  “That place is worse than anything you can imagine.” He looked down at the carpet then back up, his face solemn. “He must never know I told you. He was in his cups when he talked about it and I’m not sure he remembers. He would never forgive me for telling you.”

  “I won’t mention it. I promise.”

  He lowered his voice. “He was publicly flogged if he spoke to another boy. They called him unnatural, but never explained what it meant or gave him a chance to answer the charge. The other boys were told he was...” He hesitated. “Blast. I don’t know if I should say this or not. A catamite. They were told he lusted after males, because of the lies Miranda told about him to protect herself.”

  Victoria gasped as she realized how reviled Simon would have been by his schoolmates.

  “It was brutal. And his father gave them carte blanche to make him as miserable as possible.”

  Victoria shook her head. “No one would be that cruel to their child.”

  Deveril held her gaze, his hazel eyes demanding she listen and believe. “They would and they were. He was publicly humiliated every day of his stay there. Once, they made him stand outside all night, naked, in the dead of winter with a sign around his neck declaring he was sin personified. He began to believe them.”

  He ran a hand through his hair as if he could scarcely understand it himself. “They didn’t take his pride, Victoria. What they did was make him deny he has a heart. Since Miranda and Blackhurst I believe you and I are the only people for whom he has any kind of affection. He is now denying he feels anything for you at all.”

  Reeling from what she had heard and scarcely able to comprehend what Simon must have suffered, she clenched her hands in her lap. “I had no idea.” She recalled his expression of raw suffering when she rejected his proffered hand. “What must I do?”

  The big man heaved a sigh. “I should have made sure you were gone from there. I knew he would kill Ogden. But he did it for you. To save your life.”

  “He looked so unfeeling. He frightened me.”

  “It’s an inner strength he used to get through Blackhurst. It is almost as if he has no
soul when he’s like that.”

  Soulless. The word described what she had seen when their eyes had met across the clearing. She shivered.

  “But it is more than that,” Deveril said, almost pleading with her to understand. “It is as if he goes deep inside himself to ward against hurt.” He took a deep breath. “It is the only way I know how to describe it. He is not a bad man. He saved my life once and this time he saved yours the only way he knew how.”

  She frowned. It was as if Simon had completely disappeared and left a stranger in his place. “What must I do?”

  “Give him some time.”

  From that day to this, she had never seen Simon again. He’d avoided her.

  First, he was recovering from his injuries in Hampshire according to Maria. He had pressing business at his estate, she’d written later. All Victoria’s subsequent letters were returned unopened and her requests to see him denied.

  He didn’t want to see her again. Perhaps he thought she would keep him to his rash promise of marriage. Or perhaps it was her rejection in that moment in the woods that kept him away. A feeling of loss was a hollow ache in her chest.

  Of all the things she had done, she wished she could change that one moment.

  When his lawyer had come to see her with the deed to this house and school, she’d been shocked, and quite honestly delighted by the offer, until it had occurred to her that she had once told Simon exactly how to be rid of her. It seemed he had not forgotten. It had left her feeling sad.

  Less than a month after the lawyer’s visit, she’d moved here. Welcomed by the neighbors as an eccentric woman of means, she’d taken over from the retiring schoolteacher for no other reason than because it pleased her.

  The only contact she’d had with Travis since then was through his lawyer. Everything arranged and ordered just as she had said she wanted. She was her own mistress, making her own decisions. She was happy. In a way. She just hadn’t expected never to see him again.

  The words on the page of the newspaper blurred.s

  Dash it. Surely she wasn’t still crying? Months had passed since that day in the woods. She blew her nose and continued reading.

  Lord T___s, it is rumored, is expected to leave for Italy at the end of the Season.

  Probably with bloody Lady B.

  Victoria threw down the paper. Never again would she read the stupid thing. She turned her attention to sorting her letters and bills.

  She wiped her eyes and smiled at Julia’s familiar handwriting. They’d kept up a steady correspondence since Victoria had left London. Julia had recently come into a considerable fortune of her own and planned to travel. On several occasions, she had tried to persuade Victoria to go, too, as a companion. Victoria always said no, that she was content. In her heart, she knew it was because she could not bear to be so far away from Simon. She had an unsettling sense of something unfinished between them.

  Still, she looked forward to Julia’s letters, always full of droll tales and humorous descriptions of the doings of the ton, even if she never mentioned Travis or Deveril, for that matter.

  Victoria would have liked Julia’s impression of the earl’s activities, his health, his happiness. Pride prevented her from asking.

  This letter invited her to spend two weeks with Julia at her parents’ country home in Hampshire. It would be their last chance because after that Julia was determined to set out on a voyage.

  Why not? School was finished for the summer. Victoria was her own mistress.

  She went to her desk and pulled out her writing case.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Simon leaned against one side of a pillar overlooking the dance floor. Lady Corby’s ballroom, for some reason unknown to rational man, was on this occasion, draped in pink and blue muslin like an eastern potentate’s harem. He swallowed another mouthful of brandy, but even that didn’t make it look any better. The last ball of the Season and the year’s crop of debutantes hadn’t improved in Victoria’s absence.

  He ran a bleak, assessing glance over the group of young ladies waiting to be asked to dance. Not one of them commanded his interest. No female had since Victoria’s departure. He stifled a yawn as one girl caught his gaze and batted her eyelashes. Simon raised a haughty eyebrow. The bold chit blushed and turned away.

  “Sin.” Dev, leaning on the other side of the same pillar, sent him a sly grin. “Leave the poor things alone if you’re not going to ask them to dance. You’re giving them palpitations.”

  “I doubt it,” Simon replied, returning the glance of another saucy miss peering over her fan at him. “I’m the one who is terrified.” This one held his look boldly. She might well do for a bride. She looked jaded enough to marry a man who had nothing to offer but a fortune and a title. Because he did have to marry, whether he liked it or not. But that was all a wife would ever have of him—money, a title and his offspring in her belly. If he could get that part of it done without going insane. Hopefully he’d produce a son on the first go and be done with it.

  What had once remained of his battered heart now lay buried in Wales, shattered by the expression of horror in Victoria Yelverton’s eyes.

  Barely a year ago, he would have taken this bold wench up on her ill-disguised interest and provided her with a lesson that would send her fleeing back to her mama. He was no longer interested in those sorts of games.

  Not so surprising after he’d known real fulfillment with Victoria. The shallow game of amour no longer held any luster. These days he might as well be a monk. And yet here he was in London for the end of the season looking for a bride. Restless in the country, his stables no longer absorbing him, and bored witless in Town. If Dev hadn’t pushed him to go through the motions of living, he’d likely have turned into a recluse and gone slowly mad.

  “Are you going to offer for any of them?” Dev asked. Simon knew his friend was trying to get a reaction, even if it was only anger. Simon couldn’t feel anything. He simply did not care.

  Before he’d met Victoria, he had always intended to find a bride—one day. It was his duty to ensure the continuance of his line. Some days he really thought he was up to the task. Mostly, he wondered why it mattered if the St. John name died with him. It wasn’t as if it stood for anything important. “There are a couple of them who might suit,” he drawled, knowing Dev would accept nothing less than a sign he was getting on with his life.

  He focused his quizzing glass on Hawkfield and his new fille de joie on the dance floor.

  “But,” Dev prodded. The man was far too astute.

  “But,” Simon said, unable to contain a sigh, “I think I’ll wait until next year and see if anything better comes along.”

  “Hmm,” Deveril murmured in a way that indicated he was no longer paying attention.

  Simon followed the direction of his friend’s abstracted glance. Genevieve Longbourne swirled by with a flash of diamonds and a flurry cream satin in the arms of the Duke of Rockingham.

  “You’re a fine one to talk,” Simon said. “Stop gazing at her like a moon-calf before the duke calls you out. Surely, now the wedding day has been announced, even a stubborn fool like you can see it’s hopeless.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  Simon raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Dev’s stubborn clinging to hopes Genevieve would see sense was not a topic either of them would discuss without heat.

  Lady Julia Garforth floated by on Colonel Monteith’s arm. Tonight, he was dressed in full military regalia. A clever move for a man on the hunt for a wife. The ladies couldn’t resist a uniform. Simon frowned. “I thought Monteith left for India months ago. Do you think he’s going to offer for Lady Ju?”

  Dev straightened. He glared at the soldier. “She’s far too good for him.”

  “Why would you care?” Simon, recalled Monteith’s offer for Victoria’s hand last season. He should have convinced her to agree. Then she never would have learned the truth about him. Not that it would have made a difference. She had desp
ised him long before his admission of guilt.

  Thank God he hadn’t foisted a child on her in his careless passion. He’d waited for Maria to report things were safe on that front before finally moving on. It should have come as a relief, for them both. Victoria would not have appreciated being forced to marry him for the sake of a child.

  The thought of Victoria large with his child tore open the gaping wound in his chest all over again. Bloody hell, would the acid of regret never cease to eat away at his vitals?

  She ought to marry. A woman as lovely as Victoria should not be alone and perhaps he’d finally be free of her if she did. He grimaced, hating the idea of her in the arms of another man.

  According to his lawyer, she had attracted a persistent and highly eligible suitor residing close by. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let the pain of jealousy show on his face. She deserved to be happy.

  “For Christ’s sake, Simon, stop glaring. I swear the blonde one is going to swoon.”

  Simon hadn’t realized he was glaring. Damn. If he didn’t watch out, he’d have a steely-eyed mother dragging one of them over here to dance.

  He resumed his perusal of Lady Ju. “I could offer for Julia, I suppose. She’s sensible and we get along all right. We always have.”

  “I thought you were a friend of hers.”

  Simon frowned. “I am.”

  “Pretty poor friendship, marrying her when you love someone else.”

  Simon stared down his nose at the smirking Dev, resenting his knowledge of something he wanted to treasure all to himself. “You have nothing to crow about.”

  “I’m not offering to marry anyone else.”

  Smug bastard. “Well, you should. And since when do you care so much about my intentions with regard to Lady Julia, anyway?”

  Dev glanced in her direction. He shrugged. “She’s a great girl, that’s all. Don’t ruin her life the way you...”

  The way I ruined Victoria’s, Simon finished in his mind. He regretted the outcome bitterly, but for all that, he would not have missed those nights in her arms for anything in the world. The memories of those few, short, joy-filled moments were all he had left. The best part of a rotten life.