The Seduction n-1

by Nicole Jordan

“Because I don’t intend to marry again. My sole concern now is for my sisters and how to provide for them. I vowed they would never be sold into marriage as I was. If they marry, it will be for love.”

  When the corner of Damien’s mouth twisted sardonically, Vanessa arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you don’t believe in love?”

  “Oh, I believe in it. Particularly in its destructive powers. Love can too easily become obsession. My father was a prime example. My sister is another. Olivia fancied herself in love, and it nearly destroyed her life.”

  In the silence that followed his cynical observation, Damien averted his gaze and stared down at the brandy in his glass. He’d never known love, nor had he wanted to, not after the abominable example his father had set.

  Yet, for the first time, Damien became conscious of the risk he was taking with Vanessa. It alarmed him, the tenderness he was beginning to feel for her.

  He’d had mistresses who could arouse his passion before, but softer emotions such as admiration and friendship and affection never invaded his affairs.

  This warm, intimate sharing with a woman was new. And addictive. He found himself craving Vanessa’s company, devising excuses to be with her.

  If their acquaintance continued this way, Damien realized, he could run a grave risk of emulating his father.

  Damien had promised his sister a picnic on the first clear day, which had Olivia eagerly searching the skies the moment she arose each morning. The rain ended at last one Monday, leaving a pristine morning. Damien ordered an alfresco luncheon packed, and by noon, the three of them were seated in the landau, with only a coachman and one footman in attendance.

  When they stopped on a hilltop, Vanessa found herself enchanted by the picturesque view of the emerald-green, undulating countryside. The low hills seemed to roll on forever, forming an endless quilt of fields and pastures embroidered by hedgerows and patches of woodland. Damien handed her down from the carriage and then lifted his sister in his arms, as any burly footman might.

  He had forsworn his usual elegant, impeccable tailoring for this occasion in favor of leather breeches, top boots, and a plain waistcoat, and Vanessa thought he looked more like a country gentleman than a dissipated nobleman, as at ease in this domain as he would be at the gaming tables or the opera.

  They settled Olivia in the shade of a chestnut tree with a half-dozen pillows, and then enjoyed a delicious repast of cold chicken, cheese, fresh fruit, and wine, while the servants kept a respectful distance.

  By the time the last crumb had been devoured, the day had turned lazy and warm. Olivia lay back on her pillows with a sigh, watching the fleecy clouds float across the sky.

  “This,” she murmured, “is quite lovely. I wish every day could be this beautiful. Don’t you, Vanessa?”

  Vanessa couldn’t help but meet Damien’s eyes in a conspiratorial glance. Their efforts to cheer the girl, to banish her loneliness and melancholia, seemed to be having an effect at last.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Vanessa answered lightly. “If every day were just like this, then today would no longer be special. Which reminds me…” She asked Damien to pass her the painted tin box that had been packed with the lunch. “I took the liberty of having your cook make these,” she said to his sister.

  Olivia opened the tin and smiled to see the baked meringues in the shape of swans. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

  “I seem to remember your mentioning it a time or two.”

  “I can recall at least a dozen,” Damien interjected wryly.

  Olivia took a delicate bite of a swan and shut her eyes, savoring the sweetness. “I never can get Cook to make them for me. She says she doesn’t want to spoil me.”

  Vanessa smiled. “Everyone can do with a little spoiling now and then.”

  “You are so wise.”

  “I’m glad you think so. My sisters consider me an over-managing tyrant at times.”

  Olivia laughed, a happy, musical sound. “I’m sure you are not!”

  “Well, their complaints do usually come after I’ve refused them a new gown they’ve set their hearts on.”

  “I should like to meet Fanny and Charlotte someday.”

  At the innocent comment, Vanessa stole another swift glance at Damien. His face had hardened momentarily, while his gray eyes had turned cold.

  She had no doubt he was recalling the conflict between them. He wanted his sister to have nothing to do with any of Vanessa’s relations. She was here only because she was his mistress, Vanessa remembered.

  Of late she’d been too eager to deny that bald truth. In recent days Damien had treated her as much like a member of the family as a lover, showing her warmth and affection as well as passion-almost as if he were coming to care for her. Clearly she’d allowed herself to be seduced by wishful thinking.

  “Someday perhaps you shall meet them,” Vanessa prevaricated, hiding the sudden, sharp pang of regret she felt. “Now what shall we read?” she asked, determinedly changing the subject.

  They had brought several of Olivia’s poetry books, and after a brief discussion, Vanessa began to recite aloud from Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, her voice quiet and low.

  Damien sipped his wine and listened, fighting his own darkening mood. The reminder of her family members had banished the intimate, convivial atmosphere and made him recall the circumstances that had led to Vanessa’s presence at Rosewood.

  It was good for him to remember, though, for it forced him to contemplate the dilemma he now faced: what to do about his growing need for her. Disturbingly, Vanessa was beginning to affect his judgment.

  He could not regret bringing her here. He was consummately grateful to see her patiently coaxing his sister out of her wounded shell. Olivia had changed in the few short weeks since Vanessa’s arrival. Her spirits had slowly begun to rebound, due in large part to Vanessa’s warmth and wit and infinite patience.

  His sister was not the only one who had succumbed to her subtle influence, however. The household staff willingly looked to her guidance, as if she were lady of the manor, and she had charmed the groundskeepers and undergardners so that they vied to show her the latest blooms and to provide her with the most beautiful bouquets for her rooms.

  She had charmed him as well-and intrigued him more than he’d thought possible. He’d never known a woman with her tantalizing combination of innocence and sophistication, of warmth and intelligence, of vulnerability and strength. Certainly he’d never known a beauty with so little notion of her own power.

  She was the reason his time here had passed so rapidly. The challenge of pursuing Vanessa had prevented him from experiencing his usual restlessness.

  It had not been an easy task, overcoming her vulnerability, but she was no longer cool and guarded in his presence. Instead, she responded to him with a passion that still startled him.

  “ “In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,”” her musical voice intoned softly.

  Damien’s brows drew together as he watched her. The blood and the heart, indeed. He’d gotten more than he had bargained for when he demanded she become his mistress to satisfy her brother’s debt. He had intended for her to assuage his physical needs, of course, but he’d never expected her to arouse such fiery hunger in him… or such inexplicable feelings of tenderness.

  Damien frowned darkly. No courtesan, however skilled or beautiful, had succeeded in holding his interest as long as Vanessa had, certainly not with such intensity. She was sensual enough to enflame his senses, yet spirited and clever enough to prove a match for him outside the bedroom. Remarkably, he wanted her more each time he was with her.

  A dangerous sentiment, he warned himself. If he didn’t take care, he could become ensnared by passion, just like his father before him.

  It would be madness, Damien knew, to allow one woman to dominate his life, to become so important to him that he allowed his heart to rule his head. He had vowed he would never
succumb to that fatal affliction- yet he feared that’s what was happening with Vanessa.

  He was becoming too deeply involved. His attraction for her had grown much too forceful for his peace of mind, while their closeness was getting out of hand.

  His gaze traveled over her elegant figure as she read. The graceful curve of her neck beckoned him to draw her against him and sample a taste of her…

  Devil take it, man, get your lust under control. His jaw clenched. He badly needed to put some distance between them, Damien reflected. She was too great a temptation while she was so near.

  He couldn’t send her away, of course. Not when she was doing his sister so much good. He would have to be the one to leave, then. There was to be a gathering of his Hellfire colleagues at week’s end in Berkshire. Clune was holding a house party for gentlemen only, the sort of raucous affair that often degenerated into wild orgies. Damien had already sent his regrets, yet, if he attended, it might help to take his mind off a certain temptress who was occupying his thoughts far more than was comfortable, or prudent.

  At the same time he could look at some nearby property his man of business had recommended buying. And he could use the occasion to travel farther north, to investigate a factory he had won at the gaming tables this past winter. The press of business would provide a valid excuse to be gone for a time…

  He had no desire to spoil the idyllic summer’s day, however, or depress his sister’s rare happiness. He would wait until this evening to break the news to her. And to Vanessa as well.

  Damien took a long swallow of his wine and forced himself to look away from her.

  Meanwhile he would have to rein in his fierce craving before it threatened to become a full-fledged obsession.

  Olivia seemed reluctant for the magical afternoon to end, but when she visibly began to tire, Damien insisted on taking her home.

  “I promise there will be more picnics in the future,” he assured her.

  As he carried her into the house, she recalled leaving her favorite shawl in the conservatory when she’d visited the bath that morning. Vanessa volunteered to fetch it, and found the shawl draped over the bench beside the pool.

  She had just turned to retrace her steps through the conservatory when a hushed voice called her name. She looked up in startlement.

  A man blocked her path, attired in a slouch hat and frayed frock coat, with a short growth of beard darkening his jaw.

  She had grown accustomed to seeing strangers at Rosewood, since scholars and scientists and botanists regularly came to study the roses in the summer. But none had ever approached her or followed her. This man could be anything from a university student to a ruffian.

  Her wariness seemed to amuse him, for his mouth curved in a slow grin as he drew off his hat to reveal a familiar and beloved face. “What, Van, can you not give your only brother a greeting of welcome?”

  “Aubrey? What on earth…”

  He came forward and embraced her, then stepped back to eye her fondly. “I didn’t mean to shock you, my dear.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Whatever possessed you to grow a beard? I would never have recognized you if you hadn’t spoken.”

  His mobile mouth twisted wryly. “That is precisely the idea, love. Sinclair would probably shoot me if he knew I had breached his premises.”

  “Oh, my word…” Vanessa exclaimed, recalling the enmity between the two men. “Are you mad? He will see you-”

  “With luck he will never know I’m here. My disguise was effective enough to fool you, wasn’t it? I bought this coat from a student at Oxford for a guinea.”

  “Yes, but…” She lowered her voice and, with a quick glance around, drew him farther into the conservatory, behind the Chinese screen. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see how you fared.”

  “I’m well enough.”

  Aubrey’s brow furrowed as he studied her intently. “Sinclair hasn’t mistreated you?”

  Vanessa looked away from her brother’s penetrating gaze. “No, not at all. You shouldn’t be here,” she added.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” he replied obliquely. “What of Olivia? I have no right to ask, perhaps, but I need to know. I saw her being carried out of the carriage a moment ago, but she was laughing. She looked… She didn’t seem to be suffering terribly.” His tone sounded hopeful. “At least not as much as I feared.”

  Vanessa turned cool. “She hasn’t regained the use of her limbs, if that is what you are asking. She is still a cripple, and her physical state is wholly uncertain… although emotionally she has begun to recover a small measure.”

  “I wish I could speak to her, just for a moment.”

  “That is out of the question, Aubrey. It would only upset her to see you.”

  “Does she hate me so very much, then?”

  “What do you think?” Vanessa asked bluntly.

  Aubrey winced, then looked away. “I want to tell her how deeply sorry I am.”

  “I’m sure that would salve your conscience, but I cannot see how it would benefit her.”

  “Will you at least take a letter to her for me? I cannot write to her. All my letters are returned.”

  Vanessa shook her head. “No, Aubrey, I can’t. It would only remind her of how you ruined her life.”

  His gaze grew bleak. “I can’t bear to think of what I’ve done.”

  “Well, you will simply have to live with it,” Vanessa returned, giving him no quarter. “She has had to.”

  To her surprise, she saw tears start to shimmer in her brother’s dark eyes. “Will you tell her of my regret?”

  “I don’t dare, Aubrey,” Vanessa said more softly. “Olivia trusts me because she doesn’t know of my connection to you. It was bad enough that I had to deceive her, but if I were to reveal the truth after all this time, she would certainly feel as if I had betrayed her.”

  “I wish… there were some way for me to make amends.”

  “I know, but the best way for you to make amends is to go home and not show yourself here again.”

  He clenched his teeth, and Vanessa recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. “I cannot leave just yet. There may be something I can do for her.”

  “Are you certain it isn’t a cockfight or a boxing match that has drawn you here, and not your conscience?”

  He glanced at her sadly. “I’m certain. I’m here out of concern for her… and for you.” His hurt seemed genuine. Evidently he had convinced himself that his motives were selfless.

  Vanessa sighed. “Perhaps so, Aubrey. But you will only make matters worse by staying.”

  Gazing into her eyes, he took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Vanessa… I want you to know how much I appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made for me. You should never have had to pay such a price for my sins. But I promise you it won’t be in vain.” His expression was as solemn as Vanessa had ever seen it. “I owe you more than I can say. You made me take a hard look at my life, made me realize how low I had sunk. And I swear I mean to change, to turn my life around. To become a different man.”

  Vanessa searched her brother’s face. If Aubrey sincerely felt a measure of guilt, of remorse, perhaps he was beginning to grow up at least a little.

  “It isn’t so bad, truly,” she replied quietly. “There are times when I quite enjoy myself. And I believe I am doing Olivia some good.”

  “I… wondered. Your letters home are cheerful enough, but I know there’s much you leave out, for the sake of our sisters.”

  The rest of the family still believed she was here as companion to Miss Sinclair rather than as Lord Sin’s mistress. Only Aubrey knew her true role.

  “How are Charlotte and Fanny?” Vanessa asked.

  “Well enough. Everyone misses you, Mama especially. You will never credit it, but the girls have been making a sincere attempt to cut down on expenses. Fanny has purchased only a single bonnet the entire time you’ve been gone.”

  Vanessa felt herself smile.
“Tell her I appreciate her efforts at economy.”

  “You’ll have to tell her yourself, in a letter. I’m not returning home just yet. I’ve taken an attic room in the village. Penance for my sins, and all that,” he added wryly at her shocked look.

  “Aubrey, you can’t stay. You can’t hurt Olivia Sinclair again…” she implored, but he held a finger to her lips to hush her.

  “Please try to understand, Vanessa. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. I’ll keep away from her for now, but I can’t leave just yet. I can’t ignore what I did to her. I’ve tried everything in my power to forget it, believe me, but it hasn’t worked. I can’t leave her. I just can’t.”

  After her brother’s unsettling visit, dinner was an unnerving event for Vanessa. As much as she wanted to believe Aubrey’s sincerity, she feared he was here for his own selfish reasons, that he was thinking only of himself, trying to ease his conscience. Haunted by feelings of remorse and guilt, he had convinced himself that apologizing to Olivia would make his pain go away. He didn’t seem to care that the girl would be shattered to have to face him again.

  Vanessa also feared the consequences of having her connection to Aubrey become known. Olivia would, perhaps, hate her if the truth about her deception came out.

  Damien, too, would likely be outraged to learn Aubrey was within a hundred miles of his cherished sister.

  Uncertainly, Vanessa watched Damien during dinner. He seemed withdrawn, preoccupied, his eyes cool, with none of the sensual heat he’d shown her recently whenever he merely looked at her. Compared to the intimacy of the past week, his manner was almost frosty.

  Vanessa wondered if she had done something to anger him. He could not have known about her brother’s visit… And yet, she sensed something was wrong between them.

  It came as a surprise when, midway through the fish course, Damien casually mentioned his intention to travel at week’s end to settle some business matters in the north.

  But his further revelation that he planned to attend this weekend’s gathering at the Earl of Chine’s frankly startled Vanessa.

  Her gaze flew to Damien’s. Lord Clune was one of the infamous leaders of the Hellfire League, and his entertainments were notorious for their debauchery.