“I didn’t see any point in distressing you,” he said. “I warned Miss Raleigh and have done my best to protect her.”
She drew herself up to her full height, dismay in her eyes. “You told her what was going on?”
“What else was I to do? I hoped to get her away to London with no harm done, but she…hadn’t finished her work in the archives and wished to stay a little longer.”
“How courageous of her. I had the whole sordid story from your father this morning. First his attempt to involve you in his abhorrent plot, and then, unbelievably, me as well. How dare he attempt to make me a witness against my own cousin! Luckily, I followed him and eavesdropped last night when he went looking for Mr. Tatlow. I assume it was you who put Mr. Tatlow out of commission before he could force himself upon Lettice.”
Hadrian nodded.
“To save his own nonexistent honor,” she raged, “your father was prepared to utterly destroy poor Lettice. Someone in a position of power—he won’t say who—threatened to expose his connection with a—a certain quite bizarre woman unless he invited Lettice to visit here whenever she wishes for as long as she likes, as long as she doesn’t misbehave. He says, of course, that he was protecting me, which is absurd. He just doesn’t want his own mortifying tastes exposed and held up to ridicule.”
Oh, hell, thought Hadrian. Did she mean what he thought she meant?
“Don’t look so perturbed, dearest,” she said. “I already knew about it—I even condoned it. I see you knew, too.”
“Yes, by way of Val.” This explained rather a lot. The marquis had done his best to conceal his peccadilloes, but he should have known better than to think he could hide them from England’s most accomplished spies. If Val knew, chances were the Master of the British Incubi did as well—and from there it was a short step to Lettice’s employer. “How very, er, understanding of you, Mama.”
“What choice did I have? Over the course of years and years of intimacy, I couldn’t help but become aware of the more unorthodox of your father’s desires, some of which I refused to satisfy. Good heavens, he wanted me to birch him! Can you imagine?”
“I’d rather not,” Hadrian said ruefully. “Poor Mama.”
She flapped a hand. “Pooh! That was nothing. It’s his current behavior that I cannot tolerate—for if someone else, such as Tatlow, spread horrid gossip about Lettice, it couldn’t be blamed on your father, and if whoever threatened him had asked me about it, I would have had to admit that she misbehaved whilst staying here.” She took an agitated turn around the room. “I’m not speaking to him anymore, but that’s not enough.” Her voice broke on a sob. “I fear I shall have to leave him.”
Hadrian stared aghast as a tear trickled down her cheek. He pulled her into his arms. “You love Father, don’t you?”
She sighed and laid her head on his chest. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way. Ours was an arranged marriage, you know; there was never any question of romantic love. Still, I came to care for him, and in spite of all his faults, and although I hated him for a while after he treated Val so harshly, I still do care. But I cannot condone his plan to discredit Lettice. If the only way I can bring it home to him that he has overstepped all the bounds of decency is to leave him, I shall do so.”
She broke from Hadrian’s embrace and resolutely wiped away her tears. “How is Lettice this morning? You needn’t look coy. I assume you spent the night in her bedchamber. You had no alternative—I quite understand.”
“Was I looking coy? Perhaps it’s because I’ve decided to marry her.”
Her eyes widened. She shook her head. “You needn’t feel obliged to marry her because of last night, dearest. No one will know about it. Your father will say nothing, and nor will I.”
“I want to marry her because I love her,” he said.
Worry creased her brow. “Are you sure it’s not just infatuation? She’s a very pretty woman.”
“I’m not susceptible to prettiness, as you well know.”
“Perhaps, but sometimes when a man goes to bed with an, er, experienced woman, he loses all sense of proportion, and–”
“As a matter of fact, Mama, I didn’t bed her. I merely protected her.”
She eyed him skeptically. “That sounds more like you, I must admit, but…”
“She’s the perfect woman for me, the very one I’ve been waiting for.” He paused. “She says you will not approve, but I hope your support will reassure her.”
“How considerate of her, but are you quite sure? Her reputation is dreadful, and although she does have a sweet temperament—I have never denied that—and may mean well, will she truly mend her ways?”
Hadrian controlled his automatic ire; his mother didn’t know what Lettice had been and why. “I’m entirely sure, Mother.”
“You needn’t get up on your high horse, Hadrian.” She sighed heavily. “You’ve always known your own mind, so I must assume you do now as well.”
“Thank you, Mama dear,” he said. “I intend to marry her as soon as I can manage it.”
“I only hope it will not end in disaster…” She caught his eye and clucked. “I can’t help but worry. Do you want me to tell your father?” Her mouth twitched into a tiny smile. “It would be worth breaking my vow not to speak to him just to see the look on his face.”
Hadrian laughed at that. “I’ll tell him myself when I’ve arranged it all, but I’ll make sure you’re there to watch.”
~ * ~
Shortly after breakfast, Lord Hadrian left on horseback without saying where he was going—at least not to Lettice, and she didn’t care to ask his mother. She could hardly bring herself to meet Lady Staves’ worried eyes. What had Hadrian told her? She rehearsed various responses, but not only did Lady Staves say nothing, she appeared completely preoccupied, which probably meant she was terribly upset but too kind-hearted to say so. If only Lettice could relieve her ladyship’s mind. If only she could just leave Staves. Now that Lord Hadrian had ridden away, she wouldn’t even have to say farewell, but she had to talk to Colwyn North first.
She made her way up to the muniment room, and shortly thereafter Lord Staves brought the supposed Mr. Pilgrim upstairs. He boasted about the archives for several boring minutes and then left, but any moment he might send a servant to spy on them, so now was her only chance.
“The answer is no,” he said, before she could open her mouth to ask. “You may not leave until you have bedded Lord Hadrian.”
“Did he speak to you about it?” How dare he? “What did he tell you?”
Colwyn rolled his eyes. “Nothing at all, love, but when you’ve done it, I’ll know.”
She glared. “How?”
“You won’t be so damned tense,” he said. “I’ll wager that’s why I’m here—to tell you to get it over with. I know, I know—you saved yourself for your husband, et cetera, et cetera. A valid enough ambition under ordinary circumstances, but since you’re never going to marry, what are you saving yourself for?”
Her heart sank even lower, if that were possible. All at once she knew the truth–that this outcome was what the Mistress of the Succubi had intended all along. It was nothing to do with regaining her reputation and the possibility of marriage at some point in the hazy future, but a means to dispense with her virginity. To show her what she was missing—which, Lettice supposed, the mistress meant as a kindness.
She couldn’t have known that Lettice would lose her heart as well.
Lettice controlled the urge to snap at Colwyn and retreated unhappily to her desk, but she couldn’t concentrate on herbal remedies. She had to make a decision—a reasonable one. Yes, she had sworn long ago to give herself only to her husband, but since she would never marry, she should do the next best thing—surrender her virtue to the man she loved. She might make a fool of herself, might humiliate herself unbearably, but she would regret it even more if she didn’t try.
Once she returned to London, Hadrian would forget her. She must indeed screw her
courage to the sticking point and get on with it, for tonight was her one and only chance.
She returned downstairs in time to see Mr. Tatlow bundled into a carriage and driven away, the official excuse being illness. She brought her embroidery to the drawing room, where she sat and fretted and stitched until her brain, her fingers and her bottom were all sore.
Lord Hadrian finally returned shortly before dinner, looking magnificent—flushed from the day’s exercise and oh, so manly and strong. Her heart sang at the sight of him. How could she not have realized earlier that she was falling in love?
She didn’t regret it. She couldn’t. One day and night of love was better than nothing.
He hastened upstairs to change out of his riding clothes. When he came down again, he received a scold from his father for making everyone wait. He endured it with a smile, winked at Lettice, and sidled up to her. “Sorry to be gone so long. I had to go to London,” he whispered.
“You rode to London and back?”
He nodded, an unholy twinkle in his eyes, but then they had to go in to dinner. She hadn’t the slightest chance of a tête-a-tête with him until bedtime, so she tried not to wonder what he was so pleased about.
Dinner took forever, what with Lady Staves covertly watching Hadrian, Lettice valiantly trying to make conversation, Colwyn looking amused behind his spectacles and beard, and Hadrian sending Lettice glances both mischievous and amorous. Lord Staves was unusually silent. Only Lord Gentry, Miss Devoe, and the chaplain were their usual tedious selves.
When the ladies left the dining room, Lady Staves ambushed Lettice in the corridor. She took her by the arm, guided her into one of the smaller drawing rooms, and shut the door.
“Do you wish to discuss Hadrian’s offer with me?” Lady Staves asked. “He tells me you are uneasy about marrying him.”
“It’s most unexpected, you see,” Lettice said. “Due to my ruined reputation, I thought I would never marry.” She wished she could explain that the engagement was a sham, but if she did that, she wouldn’t even get one night of love.
“I didn’t think you would either,” Lady Staves said. There was a silence, during which Lettice knew they both contemplated her unworthiness of the honor of marrying an Oakenhurst. “Hadrian is a dear boy, so patient with everyone, including his intolerable father.”
Lettice stared; Lady Staves never said a word against her husband, but now she sounded quite riled.
“Hadrian is a wonderful man,” Lettice said. “Surely he can find someone more suitable to marry.” Perhaps that would allay her ladyship’s concerns.
“He has had plenty of time and has not done so,” Lady Staves said. “One must assume he knows his own mind. I shall support the marriage.” Her gaze turned stern. “On one condition.”
Again, Lettice wished she could simply reassure the marchioness that the marriage would never happen. “Yes, my lady?”
“Ask yourself whether you love him,” said Lady Staves.
Tears pricked behind Lettice’s eyes. She already knew the answer, but far better not to dwell on it.
“If you do not, you must refuse him.” Lady Staves gave a defeated sort of sigh. “And if you do love him, you must marry him, for better or for worse. It is as simple as that.”
Which made it entirely clear that although Lady Staves was trying to be just and kind, she hoped against hope that Lettice would get her claws out of Hadrian. A few more days, Lettice told herself, and she would be able to do so.
At last the time came to go to bed. She let the maid undress her, donned her nightclothes, and steeled herself to welcome Lord Hadrian. She mustn’t let him realize that she loved him. She should play the role of a confident seductress who had overcome her reluctance and intended to bed him for no reason but simple lust.
He tapped on her door and entered her bedchamber with a folded paper in his hand. He was smiling, but the smile faded, and he set the paper on the mantelpiece. “What’s wrong, my love?”
How did he know? “Nothing’s wrong. Why should it be?”
“That’s what I’m asking you,” he said. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. If you’re having second thoughts, just say so.”
“I’m not having second thoughts. I’m having third and seventh and thousandth thoughts. I’ve been thinking all day.”
His brows drew together. “Would you rather we waited?”
Waited for what? It was now or never. She shook her head.
His gazed bored into her. At last he said, “You’re still frightened.”
“Maybe,” she said. “I’m not quite sure.”
He took both her hands in his. “I beg your pardon; I’m an idiot. You’re the most courageous woman I’ve even known, but believe me, it’s entirely normal to have cold feet.”
She didn’t feel the least bit courageous just now, nor would she call it cold feet, but his words gave her heart strength. She loved him so very much. “I know it sounds absurd, but I’m a little frightened of making love.”
His face darkened. “Damn it, did one of those dastards harm you?” She shook her head, but judging by his expression, he didn’t believe her. “Sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. Surely you know that.”
“Yes, I do know, but…” She tore her hands away, clasping them tightly together. He would find it even more difficult to believe the truth.
“Surely you must have had at least one gentle lover,” he said.
She shook her head.
“By God, what happened to you?” A memory occurred. “North told me no one had ever succeeded in raping you. The ones you bedded, then—were they so very bad?”
She shook her head again. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t anticipated this particular hurdle. Her lack of experience would become entirely clear once they were in bed. Besides, she wanted him to know. “Hadrian, I cannot go any further until we have the truth between us. I must tell you the truth.”
“What truth?” He blew out an exasperated breath. “Then do so, dash it all. Get it over with.”
Her words came out as a moan. “You won’t believe me.”
Again? “I will believe you, Lettice. I swear to God.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “I didn’t bed any of them.”
~ * ~
Transfixed by astonishment, he couldn’t utter a word. Her eyes were tightly shut; her entire body shook with tension. She expected an explosion of anger, followed by repudiation, and no wonder.
Ah, God. He’d come home in such euphoria, full of plans for the future, and now this. It made no sense at all, but why would she lie to him?
He gathered himself and strove for a calm, rational voice. “You’re a virgin?” When she nodded, he said, “I see.” He didn’t, not at all, but he had promised to believe her.
She opened her eyes, wary now, like a doe poised to flee.
So that was what North had meant when he’d called her an innocent. The devious bastard’s idea of a hint, Hadrian supposed. He couldn’t mention it now, or she would think he believed her because of what North had told him. But he would seem a fool—a liar, even–to accept what she’d said without an explanation.
“Excuse me for asking—I’m not saying I don’t believe you, because I do—but how is that possible?”
She slumped, and he drew her tightly to him, enveloping her with his arms, with his whole being. “Darling, let’s go sit down, and you can tell me all about it.” He swept her off her feet and deposited her on the sofa. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”
He fetched wood and kindling from one of the other spare bedchambers. How typical of his father to have the servants stint on the means of making a fire in Lettice’s bedchamber.
When he returned, Lettice was on the sofa exactly where he’d left her, hugging herself. He got a fire going, returned to the sofa, and pulled Lettice onto his lap.
She laid her head on his chest with a long, weary sigh. “When they recruited me and told me what was expected of me, I refused. They told me I
had no choice, that England needed my abilities. They expected me to give my virginity—which I had been taught was a precious gift only for my husband—to a traitor or a spy.” She shuddered. “It made me so ill that I couldn’t eat for days. I was only seventeen and such an innocent…”
Anger took hold, but he tried to keep the worst of it out of his voice. “How dare they demand that of you?”
“There aren’t many succubi about,” she said. “They needed every one of us during the war. If I’d been older, I might have understood and accepted my duty. As it was, I threatened to kill myself.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Thank God you didn’t.”
“They realized I was serious, so they permitted a compromise. In fact, the Mistress of the Succubi said I might be a useful variation on the theme.”
“Cold-blooded bitch,” Hadrian said. “Who the devil is she?”
“I have no idea. She always wears a mask.”
“Val says the same of the Master of the Incubi. What an unpleasant pair.”
“The master sounds horridly ruthless, but the mistress isn’t so bad,” Lettice said. “She was extraordinarily patient with me. She had me trained in how to pleasure men by every other method, and how to excite them and then stave off their advances, and how to defend myself if necessary.”
For a while Lettice said nothing, but her heavy sighs made him ask, “What are you thinking, my love?”
“I was imagining the mistress telling me that it is now my duty to conquer my fears and bed you, because that is her wish.”
He kissed her. “You’re not going to bed me because the mistress says so. You’re going to do it because you love me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lettice dropped her eyes, unable to confess in so many words that she did indeed love him, but also unable to lie and deny it. “But I’m still afraid. I spent so many years loathing sexual contact that I feel…soiled, even though I’m truly not.”
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