by Lavinia Kent
Bound by Bliss is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept eBook Original
Copyright © 2015 by Lavinia Kent
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.
eBook ISBN 9780553394177
Cover photograph: © OLJ Studio/Shutterstock
www.readloveswept.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
By Lavinia Kent
About the Author
The Editor’s Corner
Prologue
“There’s a lady to see you, Madame,” Mr. Simms, the porter, said after a brief tap on the parlor door.
“A lady?” Ruby, Madame Rouge, lifted her head from the sealed letter she’d been examining and stared at the door, not really seeing anything as she cleared her thoughts. “A lady?” she repeated.
“Yes, Madame, very definitely a lady,” Simms answered, his tone low and confidential.
The last lady, Lady Brookingston, to call upon Ruby had led to adventure and matrimony—for the lady, not Ruby. She was not at all sure that she wished to have another such visit. Ladies did not come to call upon Ruby very often and she rather thought she liked it that way. A brothel was not the place for ladies. Their visits were always messy and normally involved odd and difficult requests that she had no wish to fulfill. It was true that sometimes ladies of particular needs made use of some of the more unusual upstairs rooms along with their desired partners, but they rarely called upon her first. The matters were handled strictly as business.
“Please tell her that I am not receiving visitors.”
Simms paled a little, but retreated.
Ruby bent her head back to the missive from Manchester. She really should open it. There must be a reason that he was writing her after all these months. Even without ever having seen his writing, she knew it was from him. Her index finger traced the sealing wax and then dropped again to the table. Something so simple should not be so difficult. It was only a letter, a letter from a man she’d known barely a day.
A tap. Simms reappeared. “The lady said to tell you that Lady Perse is calling and she will not be turned away.”
It was Ruby’s turn to pale. Hand shaking slightly, she focused on the cup of tea, which sat unfinished upon her desk. Picking up the rapidly cooling beverage, she took a large sip.
Lady Perse, a woman known for matchmaking and her iron fist. Lady Perse, a woman she had never met and yet was still far too connected to. Why would the society matron be visiting her?
Madame took another gulp of the tea.
It had been strange enough when Louisa Brookingston—now Lady Swanston, the widow of one of her clients—had sought her out. Having Lady Perse visit was beyond any dream—or nightmare—she had ever imagined.
“Give me a moment and then send her in.” There was clearly no way to get rid of the lady other than meeting with her if half of what she’d heard was true. “And have a fresh pot of tea and another cup brought in—and cherry tarts.”
She’d hardly finished the words before Lady Perse stalked into the room. Or, at least, she assumed it was Lady Perse. It was hard to tell beneath the heavy veiling. Lady Brookingston had also come veiled, but her light covering in no way compared to the heavy pile of black draping that confronted her now.
“You know who I am?” The lady spoke without bothering with introduction.
“Lady Perse, I presume.”
“Good.” Without another word, the woman pulled off her veils and dropped them on the settee, revealing a very narrow figure beneath the most amazing head of hair Ruby had ever seen. It was as if someone had set a very large puff of swan’s down upon her head.
What did one say to that? “May I offer you some refreshment?” she said, gesturing to a comfortable chair.
Lady Perse stared at the chair a moment, her nose wrinkling slightly, and then sat on the very edge. “Tea. You do have tea? I am not quite sure what to expect in such a place.”
Ruby straightened in her chair, imitating Lady Perse’s straight posture. “Yes, I have tea. It will be here in a moment.”
Lady Perse pulled a fan from her reticule and vigorously waved it in the air. “Those veils are quite stifling. I will have to be sure my dear Lord Perse lives a long life. I could not bear to wear them daily.”
Ruby merely nodded. It was important to find out why Lady Perse was calling. “And how may I help you? I assume there is a reason for your call.” There were times when it was best to be direct.
Lady Perse removed her gloves. “I need to talk to you about my nephew.”
“Your nephew? I was not aware you had a nephew.” And Ruby knew all about Lady Perse’s relations.
“By marriage. My husband’s sister’s son, Stephan Perth, Lord Duldon.”
Duldon. That explained much. Her mind flashed to the tall stiff man with the startling eyes, dark gold curls, and a face that rarely smiled, but when it did…Yes, Ruby could understand why there might be questions in regard to Lord Duldon. He had been a frequent visitor over the years, a visitor of very particular tastes. “I rarely speak of patrons—assuming he even is one of my guests. What exactly would you like to know?” she asked.
Lady Perse shut her lips tight for a moment. It was clear she did not wish to say the words she knew she must. She glanced down at her hands for a moment and then raised her eyes to Ruby. “I have heard certain rumors about the boy. Rumors that he has rather unusual tastes. Rumors I would expect you to know the truth of.”
Ruby would never have referred to Duldon as a boy. The man was well over six foot and could out-glare the best of them. “I really cannot speak of such things.” And that was true. What a patron did was always held in the highest of confidences. And she certainly could not imagine discussing Duldon’s preferences with Lady Perse.
Lady Perse’s lips grew thin. “I think that is all the answer I need. You do not deny that you have ever met the man or know who he is?”
Ruby said nothing. It was too late to pretend ignorance, not that it would have been believable if she had.
“I was afraid that was the case. The rumors I’ve heard must be true. The boy is over thirty and needs a wife. This makes the business most difficult. My expertise is not great in such matters.”
“Even if
Lord Duldon were…to be a man of certain tastes, these matters usually do not influence marriage. I believe that most men, most lords, know how to separate entertainment from duty.”
“Duldon does not seem to. It’s far past the time he should have taken care of an heir. He’s the last of the line and—”
“I am sure that—”
“Well, I am not,” Lady Perse cut her off. “And besides I do want the boy to be happy. I don’t want him to have to separate his life into pieces. If he likes certain things surely he would be happier if his wife could provide them. I do not like to think of men straying after their vows are said.”
Now that was an unusual view. “You mean men like my father.” Ruby raised her eyes and stared straight at Lady Perse.
Lady Perse met the stare and did not blink. “Yes, my brother would have been far better off had he married for something other than land and lineage. Duldon has spoken of marrying some chit—Bliss Danser, if rumor is correct—for land as well. I will not have it. I will do all I can to prevent such a match. The girl may be perfectly acceptable, but I want something more for him, someone who stirs his passions, not some sweet innocent.”
Ruby tried hard to concentrate on the continuing words, distracted by the fact that Lady Perse had subtly agreed that Ruby’s father and Lady Perse’s brother were one and the same. She shook her head, feeling her heavy red wig shift upon her scalp, forcing herself to the matter at hand. “So what do you want me to do? If he wishes to marry her he must find her pleasing,” she said, trying to remember all she had heard of Lady Bliss. Hadn’t she even seen the girl once? She’d been involved in the adventures of Swanston and Lady Brookingston. She was Swanston’s sister, but hadn’t she been in the company of the Countess Ormande? If that was true then…The Countess had been a woman of very particular and not particularly nice tastes herself. Ruby had needed to bar her from the house when she’d begun to play with unwilling partners—and that was before Swanston had forced her to exile in Scotland with her dour husband. If Lady Bliss had been often in the Countess’s company it was unlikely she was as innocent as Lady Perse believed. Ruby could look into that, find out what the truth about the girl was.
Lady Perse lifted her head and locked glances with Ruby. “I want you to help me find Duldon a wife. I want you to decide which young lady will suit his tastes—and needs. I want him to have a wife who will suit his every need, whatever those needs may be.”
Chapter One
Lady Bliss Danser, second daughter of the Duke of Mirth, stared across the ballroom, her eyes fixed on the smiling blonde. The girl bounced up on her tiptoes, curls bobbing and the sunset ruffles of her skirt dancing. Her whole being radiated joy and happiness.
Bliss bit down on her lower lip. Hard. Her sharp incisors cut into the delicate skin, the pain holding her in the moment as it always did, keeping her firmly in the present. It was wrong to be miserable at another’s jubilation, but it was impossible to feel pleasure as the stones filling her belly multiplied. If Miss Amy Samson had received an invitation that meant there was one less to go around, one less chance at salvation.
Not that the invitation offered salvation exactly. More likely it led to a lesser ring of hell.
“Do you have yours yet? Do you have yours yet?” The soft, breathy voice floated over Bliss’s shoulder, disrupting her thoughts.
Pulling in a deep puff of air, Bliss forced the corners of her mouth up and relaxed the tension in her brow. “My what?” She turned to face her dearest friend, Angela. It was important that not even Angela realized the extent of her inner turmoil.
“Oh, don’t you pretend with me, Miss Danser. You know exactly what I mean.” Angela tried to sound cross, but her smile could not be kept down. Her dark pink cheeks glistened under her crown of ebony locks, her black eyes flashing.
Bliss pushed her own cheeks higher, hoping the strain did not show. “Lady Perse’s tea invitation? But why would I be wanting one of those? You know I’ve no interest in marriage.” Oh, if only that were true. If only the events of the past month had not forced her hand.
“You don’t fool me, Bliss. I saw you watching Miss Samson. There was no mistaking the look of desire upon your face. The more you smile, the more I see your disappointment.”
Blast. Angela knew her far too well. “I was just amazed at how happy she looked. She’s never still, but I’ve never before seen her quivering with emotion. I am surprised all the crystal within ten feet of her didn’t shatter.”
“You’re the only one I know who can accomplish that feat.” Angela wrinkled her nose.
“It was only once and you know very well it was because I’d tried to sew coins onto my dress so I’d look like a gypsy dancer. I never imagined that they’d all go flying off when I twirled. Can I help it if I like to twirl—and that I am a lousy seamstress?”
“Don’t try to distract me. I saw you watching Miss Samson and it wasn’t merely interest that I saw cross your face. It was envy.”
Bliss tried again. She was not yet ready to admit to her own desires. “Maybe I simply wanted her dress.”
“Bliss, I understand you too well, and besides, her dress is the color of tangerine and has more ruffles than a bird has feathers. Even you”—Angela’s eyes swept over Bliss’s pink creation—“would not wear that shade.”
“Fine. Yes, I was watching her and yes, it upset me to see that she’d received an invitation. And I don’t see what is wrong with her dress.” The color really was quite cheerful.
“I don’t see why it should bother you to admit that you want an invitation. Every unmarried woman here dreams of receiving an invitation to one of Lady Perse’s teas. We all want a love match and nobody manages those as well as Lady Perse. And I will not comment again on Miss Samson’s dress.”
Bliss pulled in a long, deep breath and released it slowly. “But I’ve never wanted to marry. You know that.” She might want many things, things she did not understand, but marriage was not one of them. Marriage led to heartache and loss. And a love match only more so. She already knew the pain that love could bring.
It was Angela’s turn to sigh. “I know you’ve always said that, but you were a girl then. You are woman now.”
“And what difference should that make? Are you rolling your eyes at me?”
“Yes, I am, my dear Miss Danser. It is a woman’s job to marry. You know that as well as I. And we all want love. It is in our nature.”
Bliss hated that sentiment. Why should it be a woman’s lot to marry? A man wasn’t expected to—well, unless he was the heir to a title, then that was altogether different. Plus, even if he was expected to marry, marriage didn’t necessarily change anything in his life. Men seemed to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. “Want.” Why did it always come back to that one word? She had wants, wants that seemed unlikely to ever be met. She wanted to travel the globe. She wanted to race a horse to Richmond and back. She wanted to attend a salon and drink champagne and discuss risqué art in scandalous company. She wanted to kiss and feel and…Blast, she couldn’t even think those thoughts in her own mind, they were so improper, so…It was so unfair being born a woman and even more so to be raised a lady. A lady was not supposed to want.
She bit down on her lip again, relishing the pain. It helped her to set aside all the things she would never be allowed to do, allowed to want—all the things she could never admit even to Angela.
“Don’t you glare at me like that, Bliss,” Angela added. “I didn’t make the rules and it’s not my fault if I actually like them. I’ve always wanted to marry and have children. From the time we were small I’ve wanted to be a mother.”
That was true. Angela had never been content with one doll or even two. She’d had half a dozen and even then she’d pretended all the kittens in the scullery were babies as well.
“I know. I don’t blame you. I’ve simply never felt the same. I don’t even like babies.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true. She rather did like cuddling a ne
wborn and there was nothing to compare with the feeling of soft baby fuzz beneath her chin, but that was only true if the baby in question belonged to someone else. She was much happier on her own.
“Then why are you here and why do you look so upset at the thought of not getting an invitation?” Angela pressed, having no intention of letting the matter drop.
Bliss lowered her eyes and stared down at her delicate green slippers. They were new and she adored everything about them, from the delicate pearls sewn about the toes in a floral pattern to the silver embroidery that formed the leaves beneath the flowers. And the heels. They had the sweetest little heels with a small stripe of silver just above the floor. They were the most wondrous shoes she’d ever had. It was far better to think about slippers than anything else in her life.
“Do you like my slippers?” She held out a toe. “I am thinking about asking father to get me a pair in blue.”
Angela glanced down. “They are lovely, and compliment the rose silk of your gown wonderfully. They bring out the lavender undertones of the silk and…Bliss, you will not distract me. You will not. Why do you want an invitation if you still don’t want a husband?”
Bliss closed her eyes and stared at the backs of her own eyelids. She did not wish to think about this. Thinking of anything else was far better. “I don’t want to get married. I need to get married.”
“What do you mean?” Angela lowered her voice and stepped closer, her breath brushing against Bliss’s cheek.
“My brother plans to marry me off to Lord Duldon.” She closed her eyes again as she said his name, pretending she was not imagining stark blue eyes staring at her from across a room. “Swanston believes it would be a good match for me.” Lifting her head, she stared at her friend. The words hurt as they slipped through her lips, each one cutting like a sheet of paper slicing one’s thumb. Against her will that forbidden image of Duldon formed, tall and brooding, his dark blond hair shining in the sunlight, and those clear eyes staring at her, watching her, always watching her. A small shiver eased through her as she pictured him. Even in her mind he saw right through her, his blue eyes glinting at her as if he knew all her secrets, all her forbidden thoughts.