The Seduction n-1

by Nicole Jordan

  Damien appeared to ignore her searching look. “I should like to depart on Friday, Olivia, unless you have any objections to my leaving you alone here?”

  “Not at all,” she answered lightly. “I’m sure I will fare well enough without you, since I won’t be alone. Vanessa will bear me excellent company.”

  “I have no reservations about leaving you in her capable hands,” he replied, finally meeting Vanessa’s gaze.

  His expression remained inscrutable, yet his cool detachment was significant in itself.

  With a sudden hollowness in the pit of her stomach, Vanessa stared at him. Numbly, she wondered if he was giving her fair warning that the intimacy between them was coming to an end. That what for her had been a rapturous interlude was concluding because he had more novel pleasures to seek out.

  She was sure of it later that night when, for the first time since beginning their torrid affair, Damien didn’t come to her room.

  Her heart contracting painfully, she lay there in the dark, alone, aching for his touch and the ecstasy she had known in his arms, unfulfilled longing taut within her.

  Chapter Ten

  The hungering ache hadn’t left her by morning, when Vanessa woke groggy and in low spirits. But at least in the cold light of day, a semblance of rational thought returned.

  She had been deluding herself, she realized. The enchantment of the past week wasn’t truly real. She was no different from Olivia in that regard: she’d fallen under the spell of a practiced rake like a veritable innocent. And now that Damien had attained his goal-her complete surrender- he had no further reason to pursue her.

  It was absurd to feel abandoned at his withdrawal, Vanessa scolded herself as she dressed. He’d been perfectly frank with her from the first. She was to be his mistress to satisfy her brother’s enormous gambling debt. Their entire relationship was based on vengeance. Truthfully, she should be pleased if Damien’s desire for her was cooling.

  She was glad, however, to learn that he had already breakfasted. Her spirits were raw enough without having to face him and risk revealing her hurt and confusion.

  She rode longer than usual and managed to work off some of her agitation in the beautiful summer morning, but her mood suffered another blow when she returned to find two callers at Rosewood, for she was again reminded of her tenuous position in the Sinclair household.

  Surprisingly, Olivia had received the callers in the morning parlor. Seated in her invalid chair, she looked grateful to see Vanessa and quickly made the introductions.

  “Lady Wyndham, may I present our nearest neighbors, Lady Foxmoor and her daughter Miss Emily Pryce? Emily and I attended school together.”

  “How do you do?” Vanessa murmured politely as she seated herself on the chintz chair. She nearly winced at the pair of cold blue eyes surveying her so haughtily. Her ancient riding habit was decidedly shabby, but not so unfashionable as to justify such a hostile reception.

  Lady Foxmoor’s greeting was as frosty as her look. “Ah, yes, the companion. I had heard you were hired to attend Miss Sinclair.” She might have said “lowly worm” for all the respect in her tone.

  Vanessa gritted her teeth and let the snub pass. Her status in society had fallen dramatically, since a lady’s companion was seen as little better than a paid servant.

  The visitor, however, seemed determined to establish her superiority. “Your reputation precedes you, Lady Wyndham.”

  “Oh?” Vanessa replied, raising an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Your late husband made quite a name for himself among the fast set in London, I believe.”

  “But then one cannot trust every tale one hears,” she returned coolly.

  “You will find we are not as free here in the country.”

  Olivia, who seemed taken aback by the derogatory tone of conversation, interjected quickly, “They have come to issue a personal invitation to their ball, Vanessa.”

  Just as quickly, Lady Foxmoor declared, “I am certain Lady Wyndham would not wish to attend our simple country gathering. It will be nothing compared to the grander London occasions she is accustomed to.”

  Vanessa grasped at once that she wasn’t welcome at the ball, yet it didn’t trouble her to be excluded. Before she could reply, however, Olivia warmly came to her defense. “I assure you, Vanessa is not high in the instep at all.”

  “Evidently not,” the lady said with a sniff, “if she has taken up the role of lady’s companion. But I’m sure she would not wish to advertise how far she has come down in society.”

  “She has not come down at all!” Olivia objected heatedly. “Indeed, she is more a sister to me than a companion.”

  Determinedly hiding her anger, Vanessa replied sweetly to the snub. “You are mistaken, Lady Foxmoor. I believe I would find the prospect of a simple country gathering entertaining. I should be pleased to attend your ball.”

  The lady’s mouth grew pinched with vexation at having been foiled. Looking extremely uncomfortable, Miss Pryce lowered her eyes and left it to her mother to carry the battle, while Olivia quietly fumed.

  The two callers remained several more awkward minutes before finally taking their leave. The moment they were shown to the door by the butler, Olivia bristled.

  “The nerve of her! Excluding you from her invitation because you are keeping me company. You are still a guest in this house.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Vanessa soothed. “I have no desire to attend their ball. I only said I would out of annoyance.”

  “Even so, she had no right to disparage you or treat you like a servant.”

  “I appreciate you championing me, Olivia, but I don’t intend to let her slights discomfit me, and neither should you. Besides, we’ve forgotten the entire point of their visit. They came here personally to invite you to their ball.”

  The girl shook her head, frowning. “I am amazed they did, considering the scandal of my near elopement. I thought my name would be anathema, especially since Emily and I have never been great friends.”

  “They must not be as shocked as you feared.”

  “Oh, I have no illusions that they’ve forgiven me my sins,” came her tart reply. “It is my brother they are after. They hope Damien will escort me to their ball. Lady Foxmoor has been trying for years to nab him for one of her daughters. He is a prime catch, and Emily is her last hope.”

  Absurdly Vanessa felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of Damien wedding anyone. Yet the pale, wide-eyed Miss Pryce did not strike her as the type of female to attract a rake of Lord Sin’s stamp.

  “Lady Foxmoor must be green with envy, finding you here as a member of this household,” Olivia observed. “No doubt she sees you as a rival for my brother’s affection and can’t bear the thought that you have unfair advantage.”

  For a moment Vanessa was at a loss to reply. If her true relationship with Damien were known, she would be shunned by his genteel neighbors as a wanton. While polite society might accept a widowed lady’s discreet affair with a wealthy nobleman, Lord Sin was not just any nobleman.

  “I assure you, I have never sought your brother’s affections,” she prevaricated.

  “Perhaps not, but you have affected him all the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s different somehow.” Olivia contemplated Vanessa thoughtfully. “Certainly he’s never spent this much time at Rosewood.”

  “He has remained here for your sake, Olivia.”

  “No. I thought so at first, but there’s more to it. He used to hate being here, but he doesn’t seem to mind it any longer. He’s not as restless, and his temper no longer has so sharp an edge. I think it’s because of you, Vanessa. He enjoys your company, certainly. You might not see it, because you don’t know him well, but I’ve noticed how he looks at you. The light in his eyes is softer…”

  Hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground, Vanessa feigned a smile. “I believe you are deliberately trying to avoid discussing Lady Foxmoor’s invitati
on.”

  Olivia gave a sheepish look. “Perhaps I am.”

  “I’m surprised you received them at all, if you don’t desire the acquaintance.”

  The girl sighed. “In truth, I didn’t wish to. But I decided I must make a start somewhere.”

  “Would you like to attend their ball, then? You could make just a brief appearance. If so, I would be happy to keep you company.”

  “No, I don’t want to go. I realize I cannot hide forever from polite society, but I am not ready yet for so large a step.”

  Vanessa thought the matter closed, but Olivia was still angry enough about the visit to complain to her brother that evening at dinner.

  At first Vanessa paid little attention to the conversation. She was too busy struggling to hide her feelings and pretending a casual nonchalance. Damien still had given her no reason for failing to come to her room last night. In fact, he had scarcely spoken two words to her this evening. Yet she refused to let him know how much his coolness toward her hurt.

  A few moments passed, though, before Olivia’s remarks sank in.

  “It makes me so cross to have Vanessa treated so shabbily. Lady Foxmoor was deliberately rude. You should have heard her, Damien. She practically ordered Vanessa to keep away from her ball, simply because she is acting as my companion.”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw, but he remained silent.

  “She was eager to have you attend, though. Twice she bade me tell you how pleased she would be to see you. I think you should escort Vanessa to her ball, just to spite her. That would make it crystal clear she is a guest here and no servant.”

  His expressive brows arched. “When is the ball to be held?”

  “Wednesday week,” Olivia answered. “You said you planned to return home by then.”

  Sipping his wine, he nodded. “I should have concluded my business, yes.” He shot Vanessa an impassive look. “I would be honored if you would permit me to serve as your escort.”

  Olivia let out a cry of delight. “Oh, famous! That will tweak the old trout’s nose! She won’t dare snub Vanessa in your presence.”

  “There is no need to put yourself out on my account,” Vanessa objected.

  “But it is necessary to uphold the Sinclair honor,” Damien said with a cool smile.

  “Yes, indeed,” Olivia agreed. “And Vanessa must have a new gown for the occasion. You must,” she insisted when Vanessa started to protest. “Turnabout is fair play. If I could endure being fitted for all those gowns you thrust on me, you can suffer just one. I will even help you choose the fabric. I have excellent taste, you know. And you have been pressing me to visit the shops in the village.”

  Vanessa wanted to refuse the offer. She could not be comfortable having Damien buy her clothing, indebting her even more. But if accepting a new ball gown would serve to get Olivia out of the house, then she would go along, however reluctantly.

  The next few days passed slowly for Vanessa. Damien did indeed seem intent on avoiding her, while she pretended an indifference she didn’t feel and tried to come to terms with cold reality.

  She had to remember her position. She was Damien’s mistress, only that.

  Despite the tenderness he’d shown her in recent weeks, he considered her simply a carnal object. It was foolish to regard his incredible sensuality as anything more than a man’s physical indulgence. Almost any warm female body would have sufficed. Damien Sinclair was still a wicked rakehell, a libertine with vast sexual appetites, one whose sinful charm made strong women weak. She would not be the first one he had casually seduced and then forgotten.

  What she had taken as a desire for camaraderie was merely a means to keep his restlessness at bay. She would miss the charming companionship of their late-night discussions, for she’d come to value what had seemed to her a burgeoning friendship. Yet she should never have harbored any higher expectations for their relationship, or allowed herself to become so vulnerable.

  She had best get her foolish feelings for him under control, before she opened herself to even greater hurt.

  On Thursday, the day before Damien was to leave on his trip, Vanessa and Olivia went shopping in the village. They left the footmen to wait with the carriage and entered the dressmaker’s establishment alone. Olivia didn’t want any servants hovering over her, calling undue attention to her disability.

  Vanessa had to admit the girl had exquisite taste in clothing. In less than an hour, they were both satisfied, having agreed upon a bronzed lutestring gown with an overskirt of gold tissue for Vanessa to wear to the ball. The price was one-tenth what she would have paid in London at a fashionable modiste’s.

  Upon leaving the shop, Vanessa turned Olivia’s invalid chair toward the village green where the carriage awaited, but then paused to arrange a blanket over her lap. She was bending over the chair when the girl suddenly gasped.

  “What is it?” Vanessa asked in concern.

  “That man…”

  She followed Olivia’s gaze to see a horseman in the distance, riding a bay hack toward them at a slow jog. Vanessa drew a sharp breath as she recognized the familiar form of her brother, Aubrey.

  Olivia had made a similar recognition, evidently; the girl had blanched, turning as white as paper.

  For the space of several heartbeats, Vanessa stood frozen, unable to think what to do. By the time she realized she ought to remove Olivia from his presence, Aubrey had drawn close enough to notice the invalid chair.

  Giving a start, he drew his horse to an abrupt halt.

  For a long moment, he and Olivia stared at each other, unspeaking.

  Vanessa’s grip tightened on the blanket. She didn’t believe her brother had purposefully orchestrated the meeting, but she was furious at him all the same for letting himself be seen. She stared daggers at him, but he only had eyes for Olivia.

  Both women flinched when he began to dismount.

  “Vanessa, will you kindly take me home?” the girl asked hoarsely.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “No, wait… please,” Aubrey said. “Please, hear me out for one moment.” Drawing off his tall beaver hat, he moved to stand before them, blocking the path of the wheeled chair. “Miss Sinclair… Olivia…”

  “You have no right to address me, sir,” she said through clenched teeth. She was visibly trembling.

  “Perhaps not.” Aubrey dropped to one knee, so that he was at eye level with her. “I understand if you can’t bear the sight of me. I don’t blame you.”

  Vanessa heard the remorse in his tone, saw it in his expression, and gritted her teeth. The damage was done; Aubrey had made himself known to Olivia. He might as well be allowed to deliver his apology.

  “I realize,” Aubrey said quietly, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I wanted you to know how sorry I am. How ashamed I am for what I did to you.” He glanced down at the invalid chair that held her prisoner. “If I could take your place I would.”

  Her gaze remained anguished, but there was a hint of steel in her voice when she replied rigidly, “Your concern comes rather late, doesn’t it? It has been months since I last was foolish enough to believe your tender professions.”

  His faint smile was bleak. “I tried to see you, to write, but your brother banned me from the premises and ordered all my letters returned.”

  “I wish I had been half as wise when you first began to woo me.” Her mouth trembled. “How pleased you must have been when you won your wager so effortlessly.”

  Aubrey shook his head. “No, I was never pleased. My pursuit of you began as a wager, true, but it turned into something more, without my even knowing it. You see… I fell in love.”

  Vanessa could remain silent no longer. “Aubrey, stop this!” she demanded, taking a furious step toward him.

  Olivia turned even whiter if that were possible, while her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “How can you be so cruel? Haven’t you done enough? Must you make me the object of your malicious sport once again?”

 
; “This is no sport, I swear it on my life. I haven’t been able to forget you, Olivia.” Tears shimmered in his eyes. “I know I’ve ruined any chance for a future with you, but I couldn’t go on letting you think I didn’t care. At least believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you.”

  Olivia glanced wildly up at Vanessa. She looked desperate, as fragile as crystal. “Please,” she pleaded, “take me to the carriage.”

  Slowly Aubrey rose from his kneeling position. “You may set your mind at ease, Miss Sinclair. I won’t contaminate you with my presence any longer. I shall take myself out of your sight.”

  He turned and mounted his horse, then glanced sadly down at his sister. “Vanessa, please… take good care of her.”

  He kicked his horse into a canter, leaving the two women to stare after him. They were both shaking.

  Vanessa recovered first. Haphazardly arranging the blanket on Olivia’s lap, she began pushing the chair toward the carriage, her thoughts in turmoil. How could Aubrey have been so cruel? Should she have intervened sooner? Could she have somehow spared Olivia the pain of seeing the man who had devastated her life? What could she say to Olivia now?

  Yet the girl was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she was blind to her surroundings. It was long moments later, after they were both settled in the carriage and on their way home, that Olivia raised eyes full of pain.

  “He wasn’t a stranger to you.” The declaration was more bewildered than accusatory.

  “No,” Vanessa replied quietly. “Aubrey is my brother.”

  Olivia drew a sharp breath. She looked crushed at the betrayal.

  For a long moment she said nothing as she searched Vanessa’s face. “Why did you never tell me?”

  “I was afraid to. I feared you wouldn’t accept me as your companion if you realized my connection to him.”

  “Does Damien know?”

  “Yes. We… agreed from the first it would be better not to tell you.” She regarded Olivia solemnly, her heart aching. “I never wanted to deceive you. If you wish me to leave Rosewood now, I will.”