Misadventures in Seduction

by Robyn DeHart

  When he’d first begun the conversation, she’d foolishly thought he was trying to propose. That sentimentality had failed him, but that he had been trying to offer for her hand. Yet when his proposal finally breached his lips, it had not been what she’d anticipated.

  Harrison was pragmatic, she knew that about him. He couldn’t marry a spinster—he was a duke. Not only that but his life was his work, and he had little room for anything else. She supposed she should feel complimented that he’d never before considered having a mistress until her. Yet she didn’t feel complimented at all. She felt degraded and belittled.

  And she felt so utterly alone. She missed Jefferson’s brooding and the constant noise of her sisters’ bickering. She certainly missed sweet Matilda’s little arms wrapping about her neck in a hug so tight, Prudence wondered at times if her sister would ever let her go.

  Mostly, though, she missed Johnston. They’d been the closest in age. When he had gone away to school, he’d sent her letters weekly, letters only for her. He’d done the same during his time in London.

  He’d come home to Staffordshire regularly to see them, but in the last several months before his death, his visits had become sparse. She’d known he’d been working on something of great importance because it was quite obviously absorbing his thoughts and time. Still he’d sent letters until one day, they’d stopped.

  She spied the box that Harrison had given her upon arriving at his townhome. She’d gone through it before, finding that note about the ball, but she hadn’t searched through everything. Tonight she needed to feel close to him. Needed to feel close to someone she knew had loved her.

  She carried the box to the bed and sat. Immediately she saw the pocket watch that Johnston had worn since the day their father had died. She ran her fingers reverently across the smooth bronze. She grew bolder, knowing that the more she handled his belongings, the deeper the grief would swallow her. But crying over her brother’s death was infinitely preferable to shedding tears because Harrison had given her the wrong proposal.

  One by one, she removed the items from the box and spread the contents across the bed. Two handkerchiefs, neatly folded, were the last things she found. She brought them to her nose, inhaled the remnants of her brother’s scent. Tears pricked her eyes and she gave herself over to them.

  Then a book caught her attention, a copy of Galland’s One Thousand and One Nights. It had been their favorite as children. They’d taken turns reading it to one another. She flipped open the familiar pages and found them worn, well loved. She smiled amidst her tears. He had loved adventure even then, and she supposed it should have come as no surprise where he’d ended up in life. He’d been an honorable man.

  She was about to set the book down when something caught her attention, a piece of parchment protruding slightly above the rest. Perhaps a torn page. She flipped to it and found a letter, a few letters actually, all penned to her. Her fingers shook, but she pulled the folded parchment from the book. Thankfully, Johnston had dated each one, so she was able to put them in order. She began reading the first one, but his words made little sense. Instead they rambled about weather and the like. She read more, and the rest of the letters were much of the same. Then recognition slid over her, skimming chills over her skin.

  When they’d been children, they’d written letters to one another in a simple code. Johnston had done the same with these. He’d left her coded messages. Perhaps he’d intended to send them or merely left them as a record of his investigation. Regardless, she wished to know his intended message. She took the letters to the small writing desk in the corner of the room and withdrew a quill and piece of blank parchment. Then she started with the first letter and followed the code to uncover his message.

  I know the enemy is close. It is all about money and France.

  Someone I know, I cannot trust. I know not who I can trust. The Seven is compromised.

  I have hidden the truth. You will know where to look when you think of all we loved.

  So this was why he’d been killed. He’d discovered months ago what Harrison and the rest of the Seven were only now uncovering. And it had cost him his life. He hadn’t known precisely who in the Seven to trust, but she’d seen enough these past few days to know that Harrison was being framed for these crimes against the Crown. She stood and gathered the notes she’d made, along with Johnston’s letters, and went to find Harrison.

  Chapter Five

  Harrison lay on the uncomfortable settee, willing himself to sleep. He should rise and go to his bedchamber; a bed would relieve his fatigue. But he intended only to rest briefly so that he could wake if an idea came to him. He also wanted to be near the front door in case someone found them.

  Thankfully, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had learned that whoever was behind the traitorous activities was using his identity. But he’d nearly gotten himself arrested, and Prudence had wielded a weapon with alarming alacrity.

  He’d been so enchanted by her and simultaneously afraid for her safety that he’d finally confessed his attraction to her. Yet she’d been offended. What had he said that was so terrible? She knew he wasn’t intoxicated, yet she’d insisted he must be. He’d offered her a solution that would assist her family. Certainly she must know that he desired her.

  And he knew she wasn’t a complete innocent. If she wanted a marriage proposal, she wouldn’t get it from him. Being his wife would put her in danger all the time. He wouldn’t do that to her. It was different for Remy since Emma was trained just as the rest of the Seven were. She could keep herself safe. And Alistair’s wife…well, he worked alone, for the most part, deciphering codes and rarely putting himself in danger, so it seemed understandable that she would be safe as well.

  Not only that, but he didn’t think he had the necessary skills to run such a large family. He’d been on his own for way too long, having lost both of his parents more than a decade before.

  Still, he wanted Prudence. He simply couldn’t offer her what she wanted. She wasn’t the sort of woman you offered passion and nothing else, yet he’d done that very thing.

  “Harrison, are you still awake?” Prudence asked as she entered the room.

  Harrison came to his feet. He turned up one of the lamps; the flame grew, spreading a bloom of light. “Prudence. I’m not sleeping and I’m glad you’re awake as well.” He shook his head. “I was an idiot. I am an idiot.”

  “True, but I don’t believe there is much we can do about that right now.”

  “Let me apologize,” he said.

  “We don’t have time.” She waved some parchment. “I have discovered something.”

  She placed the parchment down on the table. Harrison retrieved a second lamp and turned up the flame, then joined her.

  “Johnston left me messages.”

  “Yes, I saw that he’d written you letters. I didn’t read them, figured they were private, family things.”

  “No, not those. Those were family letters, but these were hidden. It’s too much to explain. Suffice it to say we used to write letters to each other in secret code, and it would seem that before my brother died, he left me similar messages.”

  Harrison picked up the parchment she’d written on. “And this is what he actually said?”

  “Yes.”

  He read over the words. “Do you know this place that he mentions?”

  “I believe I do. It’s a tomb in Westminster.”

  “Shall we go see if we can find whatever it is he left for you?”

  “Absolutely,” Prudence said. She stood, but he grabbed her by the wrist.

  “I sincerely apologize.” Harrison wanted to say more, but he feared once he started talking about how he felt, he’d tell her everything. Tell her about the night she’d seduced him, thinking he was another man. Tell her about how being with her now made him want to offer her more. Not merely that she be his mistress, but that she stay with him. But he could offer her no future. And he couldn’t tell her the tru
th about the night she’d come to his bed. She trusted him now, and he couldn’t risk losing that. “So where are we going in Westminster?”

  “Johnston and I were both fans of Chaucer, me in particular. I spent many afternoons walking through Westminster, but I always ended up at Chaucer’s tomb.”

  …

  Two hours later, they were back at the townhouse. They’d both read through all the papers that Johnston had managed to steal and hide at Chaucer’s tomb. Investment papers, mostly. There were no names from the Seven included on any of them. Harrison was beyond frustrated. Prudence watched him pace the small room. She wished there was something she could do, something to assist him with this whole mess. She’d come to him for help, but the truth was, Harrison had more than enough to manage without her.

  “We’re not making any damn headway,” Harrison said.

  “No, not true.” She stepped closer to him but didn’t dare touch him. After the kiss they’d shared, she knew it wouldn’t take much and she’d be back in his arms. Saying yes to his every request. “We now have proof that the property investments Prince George has been making are fraudulent and funding Napoleon’s cause.”

  “Yes, but my name is the one associated with all of this.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “And they suspect I’m the one trying to murder the prince.”

  Prudence flipped through the parchment her brother had hidden. “But your name is nowhere on this paperwork.” She risked the temptation and put her hand on his forearm. “We’ll figure all of this out.”

  He glanced at her pale fingers gripping his arm, and she quickly removed her hand.

  “We need an audience with His Majesty,” Harrison said absently.

  He wasn’t focused, that much she could tell. He was overwhelmed by the information and his limited resources. He was accustomed to running this organization with the full support of his fellow spies and the backing of the government. Now everyone had turned against him, and those who hadn’t couldn’t openly assist him. He was left with nothing. Nothing but her.

  “Wouldn’t the prince have an advisor who would assist him in making such financial decisions?” Prudence asked.

  “Of course he would, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I’m not certain why I didn’t think of that.” Harrison grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to him for a quick kiss. “You are a genius, my dear.”

  It wasn’t a kiss full of passion, rather one of companionship. Still the remnants left Prudence feeling off balance. They did make a good partnership, the two of them. But as soon as this was resolved, she’d go back to being Prudence, sister to the Hixsby brood. There would be no more middle of the night trips into Westminster or masked balls at Carlton House. She would not be Harrison’s mistress, despite her temptation to accept. That would not be setting a good example for her sisters, and she couldn’t afford that to appease some personal desire. Constance would most assuredly disapprove, though Astrid would find it terribly romantic. Oh, how she missed them all right now. But this investigation was nearing the end. They need only identify the lead traitor, and the rest would fall into place.

  An hour later, they found themselves waiting in the outer offices of the Chancellor of the Exchequer after Harrison had given the servant Remy’s calling card. Prudence had been surprised when he’d not even suggested she stay behind at the safe house and wait for him. By his side was where she felt safest, and she was glad he recognized that.

  An older gentleman entered the room and introduced himself as Lord Morehead.

  “Lord and Lady Westbridge, what is it that I can do for you?” he asked.

  “I need to know about these investment properties that the Regent has put money into,” Harrison said, holding out the paperwork. “As you most assuredly know, we are investigating the recent attacks on the prince.”

  The man put on a pair of spectacles and read over the papers. “Ah, yes, I know these. I believe I am the one who mentioned them to the prince based on my meeting regarding the investment.” He glanced at them from above his spectacles. “My contact was Harrison Carlisle, the Duke of Sutcliffe.”

  Glass shattered, and there was a sickening groan as a bullet hit the chancellor in the neck. He fell to the ground, and Harrison grabbed Prudence and pulled her behind two chairs.

  “I need to get you out of here,” Harrison said.

  “Where did the shot come from?” she asked. Her heart slammed in her chest, thundering blood through her veins.

  “Through the window.” Harrison inched his head up to look around. Another shot fired and he ducked quickly. “It’ll take him a minute to reload. Run. Now.”

  They ran through the corridors of Parliament. Fear chilled through Prudence, a freezing stream of terror. Someone was trying to kill them.

  Harrison pulled her into a darkened alcove. “The shooter, whoever he is, won’t stay to find us, not in the middle of the day where he could be seen carrying a pistol outside the Parliament building.”

  “Did he intend to kill the chancellor or was he aiming at us?”

  “I suspect both.” They waited for several more minutes, standing close together, their breaths matched.

  “It should be clear now to find a carriage back to the house,” Harrison finally said. “I am the worst sort of man to continue to put you in frightening situations.”

  She was frightened. But the most alarming realization about that was she wasn’t concerned for herself, but was terrified of Harrison getting hurt. Or worse.

  Chapter Six

  They’d been back at the safe house for more than an hour, and Harrison had gone to the front room to gather his notes and once again try to piece everything together. They had gotten close today, too close, and the killer had nearly claimed her and Harrison as victims.

  Soon she’d be back with her siblings, and her short-lived adventure would be over. She had to admit that the danger, though frightening, was also intoxicating. Perhaps that was all it was, the lure of adventure mixed with fear that made her want to toss all of her good breeding and sensibilities to the side. She couldn’t, in good conscience, accept Harrison’s offer to become his mistress, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t spend one night in his bed.

  Harrison had made it quite clear when he’d propositioned her that he was interested in having a sexual relationship with her. How many nights had she lain in bed and remembered that night at the Grants’ estate and imagined it had been Harrison she’d seduced.

  She’d been offered the real thing, and she need not rely on her imagination any longer. She needed a new memory to replace the old. Harrison could provide that for her. It was now or never.

  She slipped her dressing gown over her naked body and stepped into the darkened corridor. The lamps in the room where Harrison worked had dimmed. Perhaps he had already gone to bed. She turned toward his bedchamber. The fabric of her dressing gown caressed her skin as she moved, and her breath hitched with desire.

  She lightly tapped on his door with the tip of her nail, but there was no response. So she turned the knob and crept inside. She stood still a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. A low fire burned in the corner, but the room was so large that it didn’t do much to illuminate anything but the sitting area right in front of the fireplace. It did the job of heating the room, though. Her bare feet found warmth in the carpet. The bed, a massive four-poster, sat on the wall to her left. She could barely make out Harrison’s form beneath the coverlet. She padded over to the bed, then slipped the dressing gown off her shoulders and onto the floor before crawling beneath the covers.

  “Prudence?” Harrison said, his voice edged with weariness.

  “Yes, I thought that perhaps, that is—”

  But he pulled her to him and kissed her, and there was no reason for words after that. His kiss was hungry and gentle at the same time. His hand slid down to grab her waist and pull her to him. He, too, wore no clothes, and she could feel the warmth of his muscular body as she mov
ed closer to him. The hair on his legs and arms tickled her flesh.

  He nibbled at her neck and the tops of her shoulders. His hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples immediately hardened at his touch and pressed against his palms. He caressed her breasts while he feathered hot kisses across her neck. Her breaths came faster until she exhaled in a soft gasp.

  She leaned toward him and kissed him again. Raw desire mingled with curiosity as she deepened the kiss. She only hoped that he needed her tonight as much as she needed him.

  He reached over and lit the lantern on the bedside table.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, reaching for the coverlet to cover herself.

  “I want to see you, want you to see me.”

  And she allowed her eyes to drink in the sight of him. His muscular chest left her mouth dry. His physique was perfectly sculpted, each muscle defined, his darker complexion offering an exotic contrast to her own fair skin.

  “You have no notion how long I’ve wanted to see you just as you are right now,” he said. “With one exception.” He reached over and tugged the coverlet out of her hand, leaving her breasts exposed.

  He’d wanted to see her, naked in his bed? He probably said that to all the women he bedded.

  “So perfect,” he said as he grazed her right breast with his thumb. He cupped her, and she closed her eyes against the sensation. He leaned over, pressed kisses to her breast. His tongue flicked against her nipple, then he suckled it into his mouth.

  “Oh, Harrison,” she said. Her fingers knotted in his hair.

  His eyes met hers. “Do you want me, Prudence?”

  She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, very much.” Had always wanted him, but had never dared to hope he felt the same. She was so plain compared to him.