The Seduction n-1

by Nicole Jordan

  Vanessa watched as he retrieved his hat from the bench and bowed to the company. With a lingering look at Olivia, he turned away.

  When he was gone, Olivia gave a sob of outrage and turned on her brother. “You have no right to send him away!” she accused.

  Ignoring her tears, Damien summoned a footman who was stationed discreetly a short distance along the garden path. “Convey your mistress to the house.”

  Olivia glared at him. “If you drive Aubrey away, I will hate you forever.”

  Damien’s mouth tightened, but he made no reply. In a moment Olivia was wheeled from the garden, leaving him alone with Vanessa.

  The silence that remained was fraught with tension. Vanessa faced Damien defiantly, her emotions torn between anger at his heartlessness, guilt at betraying his trust, and the desperate wish to make him see reason. She had feared this confrontation would come from the moment her brother had shown his face at Rosewood.

  “I presume you mean to tell me,” Damien began in a low, tight voice, “why you allowed Rutherford to prey on my sister again.”

  Vanessa took a deep breath. At least he meant to give her the opportunity to explain. “Aubrey was never alone with her until this past week when we went to London,” she said firmly. “I made certain of that.”

  “Yet you conspired with them behind my back, encouraged their secret meetings.”

  “It was not a conspiracy. I simply afforded them the opportunity to discover how serious their feelings were for each other.”

  “Damnation, as Olivia’s companion you were responsible for her welfare!” The controlled savagery of Damien’s tone told her how close his temper was to shattering.

  “I understand quite well my responsibilities toward Olivia,” Vanessa returned evenly. “And I did what I thought was best for her.”

  “For her? You expect me to believe you weren’t scheming to improve your brother’s fortunes?”

  Vanessa stared into Damien’s blistering gray eyes. “I was not scheming, I assure you. Aubrey’s wishes scarcely entered into my thinking. Olivia’s happiness is what concerns me. She was clearly miserable without him. And she will be even more so if you refuse your consent for their marriage.”

  When he didn’t reply, Vanessa added with quiet intensity, “Olivia is capable of making this decision for herself, Damien, and she should have that right, just as my own sisters should have the right to choose whom they wed.”

  A muscle knotting in his jaw, Damien strode over to the linden tree. His hand rose, clenched, as if he might strike the trunk with his fist. “Your brother is nothing more than a fortune hunter, a wastrel. He ruined Olivia’s life. I refuse to entrust my sister to such a scoundrel.”

  “Perhaps Aubrey was all you say, but he’s changed greatly, for the better. He is truly ashamed of what he did, both for crippling Olivia and for tarnishing her reputation. He’s determined to reform… to make amends. He’s honestly offered her the protection of his name in marriage, and I think you would be gravely mistaken not to consider his suit.”

  When Damien refused to respond, Vanessa continued her argument. “It would actually be a good match for them both. If not for his terrible transgression against her, Aubrey would make her an eligible enough connection. His rank exceeds your own. He is educated and intelligent. And while he may have lost the remainder of his inheritance to you, he’s not without the hope of gainful employment. He has actually found work in the district as a social secretary to one of your neighbors. That is what finally convinced me of his sincerity. I’ve never seen him as single-minded and determined as he is now. I believe he’s truly fallen in love.” Vanessa paused. “What really matters, though, is that Olivia loves him.”

  Damien made a scoffing sound deep in his throat. “What does a green girl her age know about love?”

  “Undoubtedly more than you do.”

  His head swinging around, he fixed her with a dark glare.

  “Olivia claims to know her heart, Damien. If he is her choice, what right do you have to stand in her way?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes like silver fire. “As her brother, I not only have the right, I have a duty to protect her from unscrupulous rogues like your brother.”

  “You would be protecting her by allowing this match. Consider it. She will be a viscountess if she marries Aubrey. Unwed, she will always have the stigma of her recent scandal to live down.”

  “So you would have her wed her debaucher?”

  “What, pray, is the alternative? Perhaps she could find a more eligible suitor than my brother, but would her heart be engaged? There is nothing worse than being trapped in a loveless marriage-believe me, I know. She could choose not to wed at all, to remain a spinster, but that is a lonely life for a woman, without husband or children. Olivia has been alone more than enough, in my opinion.” Vanessa eyed him coolly. “Of course, she could seek companionship outside of marriage. But I doubt you would wish your sister to take the course I’ve elected, to become some wealthy gentleman’s mistress.”

  His glance collided with hers, and Vanessa could see she had struck a nerve.

  “The circumstances are quite different,” he said tightly.

  “Indeed they are. As an heiress, Olivia has choices I never had. If you will allow her to make them.”

  “You seem intent on making me out to be the villain in this piece.”

  “No, I’m merely intent on persuading you to keep an open mind.”

  His lip curled. “Two months ago Rutherford was a gamester and a reprobate. How can you be certain this miraculous transformation of his will last?”

  “I cannot. I only know that Aubrey is a good man at heart. And I believe he would do his utmost never to hurt Olivia again.”

  Damien set his jaw. “That is a risk I am not willing to take.”

  Vanessa stamped her foot in frustration and despair, while her voice rose in anger. “Doesn’t your condemnation of him strike you as the least bit hypocritical? How can you possibly be an adequate judge of anyone’s character, a man of your lurid past and wicked reputation?”

  When she received no reply, a hard smile touched her own lips. “Tell me, Lord Sin, how is my brother any more depraved or dissolute than you are? You might not wish or deserve the chance to prove you can love and be loved, but there are men who truly want redemption.”

  She waited, but he remained silent. Finally her shoulders slumped. “If you will please excuse me, I intend to go comfort Olivia. I expect she could use a sympathetic shoulder just now.”

  With that she turned on her heels and walked away.

  Eyes fiercely narrowed at her back, Damien leaned against the tree trunk. He still wanted to hit something. Yet Vanessa’s earnestness had given him pause.

  It wasn’t surprising to hear her plead her brother’s case so passionately. He’d expected nothing less, although, strangely enough, he believed her claim that she hadn’t conspired with Rutherford to prey again on Olivia.

  The parting shot Vanessa had made about his own character, however, had cut too close to the bone. How can you possibly be an adequate judge of anyone’s character, a man of your lurid past and wicked reputation?

  Damien gazed out over the vast gardens, scarcely aware of the fragrant scent of roses surrounding him. What had she said about him that wasn’t true?

  If he looked at himself through her eyes, what would he see? A jaded nobleman driven by an unquenchable restlessness, engaged in the reckless pursuit of pleasure and indulgence. He’d always done his damnedest to live up to his name of Lord Sin, filling his world with sophisticated games and sensual depravity. To Vanessa, her brother would seem a veritable innocent in comparison.

  Even so, his own conduct had no bearing in this instance. The only one whose character was at issue was Rutherford, whether he was worthy of Olivia’s hand in marriage.

  And the answer was an emphatic no.

  Damien clenched his jaw as he renewed his resolve. Despite Vanessa’s staunch defense of her b
rother, he wasn’t about to turn over his cherished innocent sister to such a man. Olivia would simply have to learn to get over her infatuation.

  It could be done; he had proven that with Vanessa. Even the deepest bonds could be torn apart with fierce perseverance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rosewood was like an armed camp, the anger in the house palpable. Even the servants felt it. The dissension between the lord and his sister, Vanessa learned from the housekeeper, was reminiscent of the previous baron’s strife with his wife.

  Vanessa did her best to ease the tension, but with Olivia locking herself in her room, and Damien disappearing on horseback for long periods at a time, she was at a loss to mend matters. Especially when she had unequivocally taken sides.

  She did manage to question Olivia about her true feelings for Aubrey, which only made the girl bristle.

  “I only want to be certain you are sure of your heart,” Vanessa said soothingly.

  “I no longer want to punish him by tying him to a cripple, if that’s what concerns you,” Olivia retorted. “I once felt that way, I know, but I was hurt and angry then. And there is a greater likelihood now that my infirmity isn’t permanent.” Olivia hesitated. “Are you saying you think my wedding your brother would be a mistake?”

  “No, not at all. I just believe that remaining single is preferable to an ill-advised marriage.” Vanessa gave a rueful smile. “Perhaps I’m not the best person to advise you in matters of the heart, considering how unsuccessful my own marriage was. But while I am no expert, I would think that if you truly loved him-”

  “I do! I have always loved him. And he loves me.”

  “Still, there are practical matters to consider. Our family, though well connected, has never been rich. Aubrey is often only a short jump ahead of his creditors. You’ve never had to endure financial difficulties, Olivia. If your brother does withhold your fortune because you defy his wishes, you may find it a rude shock. It won’t be easy to give up all this.” She gestured around the bedchamber.

  “I don’t care,” Olivia said adamantly. “I’ve had this all my life, and I won’t miss it. I know better than most that wealth cannot buy happiness, or love, or a warm family, or a real home. Aubrey has told me about Fanny and Charlotte, and I want to have sisters like them, like you. I want to be part of your family. I want to be Aubrey’s wife, Vanessa.”

  “Well, then,” Vanessa said with complete sincerity, “you shall.”

  Satisfied the girl truly was in love, Vanessa refrained from voicing her other concerns. Damien could prevent the marriage simply by putting a bullet through Aubrey.

  Even if he refrained from physical violence, he still possessed a powerful financial leverage. Olivia didn’t know the whole story about Aubrey’s utter indebtedness to her brother, Vanessa reflected, or about the bargain Damien had made with herself to redeem those debts in exchange for her becoming his mistress. The Rutherford estates might still be forfeit. If Damien wished, he could renege on his bargain and carry out his planned vengeance, claiming all of Aubrey’s possessions, including his family seat. Then Olivia would have no home at all.

  Vanessa pressed her lips together as she tried to convince herself that her worry was groundless. Damien might be a wicked rake, but she didn’t believe he was dishonorable. As long as she performed satisfactorily as his mistress, then he was obliged to uphold their agreement.

  It was almost a relief to learn Damien expected a party of friends the following evening, and that Cook had been given orders to prepare a sumptuous dinner. Perhaps, Vanessa hoped, the company might help to alleviate the dark mood. And if Damien was occupied with entertaining, he would have less opportunity to do her brother bodily harm.

  Rising early the next morning, she found Damien at the breakfast table before he rode out for the day. When she questioned him about the identity of his guests, he responded with evident reluctance.

  “They are fellow members of the Hellfire League. Regrettably, I couldn’t avoid the obligation. They’re on their way to a hunting box near here and mean to stop overnight. It’s just as well that Olivia is indisposed.”

  He meant, Vanessa supposed, that he didn’t want his rakish friends near his innocent young sister.

  “Do you wish me to attend dinner?” she asked.

  “Only if you care to.”

  “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

  He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I doubt you will find my dissolute friends to your taste.”

  She responded in the same cool tone. “Possibly, but this could be an opportunity to test my progress under your excellent tutelage. And the acquaintance might prove beneficial to my new career. Your friends are precisely the sort of patrons I need to attract, are they not?”

  Damien stared at her a long moment. Then he shrugged. “You must do as you wish. After dinner we will likely break out the cards, and we always play for high stakes. As you say, the experience could prove useful.”

  Despite his feigned indifference, Damien intensely rued his friends’ intended visit. Ordinarily he greatly enjoyed the entertainment and camaraderie his Hellfire companions offered. In years past he’d been ripe for any diversion, no matter how outrageous or wild. Perhaps his idea of diversion had changed, but the amusements that had once held his interest now seemed shallow and tasteless.

  His change of heart was due partly to a newfound sense of responsibility, which had emerged after Olivia’s accident. Naturally he didn’t want his young sister exposed to the likes of Lord Clune or the other rakehells who made up the association. Yet it was Vanessa, rather than Olivia, he felt the greater need to protect. Clune had already made several probing remarks regarding Vanessa’s availability. Introducing her to a gathering of libertines would only make her fair game for their propositions and advances.

  Damien clenched his teeth. He had agreed to teach Vanessa how to attract a rich patron, but he was damned if he would support her scheme any longer.

  His dark mood hadn’t improved by that afternoon when his friends arrived. Clune was in high spirits, however, laughing over a practical joke he’d played on Lord Lambton, who owned the hunting box that was their eventual destination.

  “Lambton will be detained, I’m afraid,” Clune told Damien. “It seems he woke up naked in Hyde Park this morning after an evening of carousing. Somehow he was mysteriously transported there during the night, bed and all. Regrettably he caught a chill walking home with only a bedsheet to cover him. But I intend to act as host in his place.”

  Of the eleven gentleman who accompanied Clune, all were well known to Damien except for one newcomer, an American cousin of the Earl of Wycliff. Nicholas Sabine reportedly ran a shipping empire in Virginia and was visiting England to finalize several lucrative trade agreements. Because of his noble familial connections, he’d been extended an invitation to join the Hellfire League.

  “It’s generous of you to allow a stranger to impose on your hospitality, Lord Sinclair,” Sabine said when they were introduced.

  “It is no imposition,” Damien returned easily. “And you can’t be considered a stranger if Jeremy vouches for you.”

  “I do indeed vouch for him,” Clune drawled. “The chap’s a good enough sort, even if he is a Yank and in trade. His latest shipment of Jamaican rum is prime stock, I assure you.”

  Sabine took no offense at the good-natured laughter that followed and, in fact, seemed to fit in well with the company. Tall, athletic, and fair-haired, he had the look of an adventurer, with the bronzed complexion of a seafarer and a dark-eyed gaze that suggested a keen intelligence.

  He kept the lazy fire in those dark eyes banked throughout the early evening when the gentlemen gathered in the drawing room before dinner. But then the talk turned to the impressment of American sailors by the British Navy. From his pithy comments, it was clear the subject had struck a nerve in their American guest.

  Damien was about to shift the discussion to less dangerous waters the very moment Vanessa chos
e to join them.

  The conversation came to an abrupt halt as the gentlemen rose eagerly to their feet.

  She wore a gown of ice-blue lutestring that Damien had purchased for her on their recent visit to London, one that showed her superb figure to advantage and accented her dark beauty. When he introduced Lady Wyndham around, he was acutely aware of the male glances of admiration and speculation she received.

  Clime’s covetous looks in particular roused his ire, and it was all Damien could do to keep his expression impassive and his fists at his side.

  The tension inside him remained high when they went into dinner. From the far end of the table he watched as Vanessa charmed the company. Apparently she was acquainted with several of the gentlemen from the days of her marriage, and she seemed to have no difficulty upholding her end of a lively conversation.

  She showed a remarked interest in what the American Nicholas Sabine had to say-whether it was America or Sabine himself she found fascinating, Damien couldn’t tell. He recognized his own jealousy, however, and did his best to keep it under control.

  Unfortunately his best proved sorely lacking. Each time Vanessa’s musical laughter drifted down to his end of the table, Damien felt his teeth clench. And each time she favored one of his guests with a soft, sensual smile, he cursed.

  Bloody hell and damnation, that alluring smile was a feminine weapon he had taught her, and she was wielding it with deadly accuracy.

  With effort Damien clamped down on the overwhelming urge to spirit her away, out of sight of his lustful friends, but the irony of the situation didn’t escape him. In grooming Vanessa to be the perfect mistress, he had succeeded beyond even his wildest expectations, and his success made him furious.

  At the conclusion of dinner, when Lady Wyndham left the gentlemen to their port, they subtly quizzed Damien about her. Yet, contrarily, he refused to satisfy their curiosity about her situation, only repeating that she was acting as his sister’s companion. His guests didn’t linger long but joined her shortly in the drawing room. When Clune pressed for cards, the company made up two tables, one of piquet and one of whist.