A Matter of Sin

by Jess Michaels

  “I’m very glad we were able to come to an agreement,” she said as she moved toward the stairs.

  “And become friends,” he said softly.

  She glanced at him finally, taken in once more by the handsomeness of his countenance.

  “Yes,” she forced past a dry throat. “Good afternoon, my lord. I shall see you later tonight.”

  He nodded his acknowledgment as she slipped up the stairs, but as Isabel hurried away she stifled a groan. For all her statements about being friends with this man, one little touch from him had made her wet with need and shaking with desire.

  Oh yes, she had said she would be his friend. But that was a foolish statement. There was no doubt now that the only thing she wished to share with him was a bed. And that could never, ever happen.

  Chapter Seven

  “Ladies are often encouraged not to think of their happiness, nor their pleasure. But when one takes care of oneself, one can be more present for all those she must tend to.” —The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  Isabel watched in the mirror as her maid expertly adjusted her hair, smoothing loose strands and tucking little flyaways until her style was perfect. She couldn’t help but smile at the background of the image in her mirror. Occasionally Serena bobbed past, practicing her dancing as she watched Isabel being readied for the ball.

  “Thank you, Polly,” Isabel said as she got to her feet. “It is lovely.”

  As the maid murmured a reply and left them alone, Serena stopped dancing long enough to look at her. Her face lit up and she clapped her hands together.

  “Oh, goodness, you look beautiful, Issy.”

  Isabel smiled, though tears touched her eyes. Long ago, when her half-sister had only been a baby, she had started calling her Issy, a combination of Sissy and her name. Though Serena never called her that in public anymore, the times when she did so in private brought Isabel back to happier, lighter times.

  She dared another glance at herself in the full-length mirror. She did look nice. Her gown was one of her favorites, made in a dark hunter green silk that warmed her skin and brought out the rich auburn of her hair. The cut was flattering but not too young, so she looked like a responsible chaperone.

  She turned toward Serena, who had gone back to dancing. She smiled at the innocence of her sister, the sweetness of her youth. At nineteen, Serena had everything in the world ahead of her.

  “Are you well?” Serena asked as she stopped twirling. “Your gaze suddenly got very faraway.”

  Isabel shook off her thoughts. “Oh, I’m very well, thank you. I was just looking at you! That blue is wonderful on you.”

  “I told you it was the right color when the seamstress unfurled it,” Serena said with a sigh as she smoothed her hands over the fabric in question.

  “And you were correct,” Isabel said, reaching out to gently tweak one of curls that bobbed around her sister’s face. “You look beautiful, and any man in the room would be very lucky to be your dance partner. Are there any here who you especially like?”

  Serena shrugged as she checked her appearance one final time. “I don’t know. There are quite a few very friendly young men, and they all seem attentive enough.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” Isabel said with a frown.

  She wanted her sister to be settled, but also to be happy. Marjorie was so very content, it would be unfair if Serena were any less so.

  “Well, it’s hard to notice anyone else when the entire room is always talking about Lord Lyndham,” her sister said with a sudden grin.

  Isabel struggled not to react outwardly to her sister’s mention of the man she found herself thinking of far too often.

  “It is his party, of course,” she said, cautious in the hopes she would reveal nothing she needed to conceal. “People will talk about him.”

  “Oh, but it’s far more than that.” Serena laughed. “Surely you must see that.”

  Isabel swallowed. “How so?”

  Serena drew back in surprise. “As a chaperone, I would have thought you’d be fully aware. Everyone whispers constantly of how he is looking for a bride in earnest and compares notes on the best way to ‘catch’ him.”

  Isabel’s lips pursed before she ground out, “I see.”

  “And who can blame them?” Serena sighed. “He is probably the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.”

  “Yes, so you said earlier.”

  Serena blushed. “I know you scolded me before for focusing only on the man’s appearance, but I assure you, I haven’t. He has so many other good points to recommend him. He is said to be kind, intelligent, and of course he is rich.”

  Isabel nodded silently. There was no arguing those facts. Not to mention, Seth was a devastatingly good kisser, although she had no intention of revealing that fact to her sister.

  Serena continued, “You know that the Duchess of Quirkhill has her sights set on him for her youngest daughter.”

  Isabel folded her arms as she snorted. “Quirkhill’s daughter would never suit him. She can scarce string two words together. He would be bored in two minutes.”

  The moment the stinging assessment left her lips, Isabel longed to take it back, especially since her sister was staring at her as if she had sprung a second head. Finally, Serena laughed.

  “Oh, Isabel! I have never heard you speak of someone else in such a fashion!”

  “It was wrong of me,” Isabel insisted.

  Serena nodded, but then another giggle bubbled from her lips. “But true.”

  Isabel couldn’t help it, she laughed as she nodded. “Yes, true. But never repeat it. I’m sure she is a lovely girl.”

  Serena pulled a face like she had smelled something awful. “Oh no, she isn’t. She is sullen and rude to everyone she meets. But I won’t repeat what you said.”

  Her sister paused and Isabel found Serena staring at her intently, as if her sister was truly seeing her for the first time.

  “Isabel, are you…happy?” her sister asked suddenly.

  Isabel found herself sinking back into the dressing table chair at Serena’s unexpected and pointed question.

  “Well, that is a sharp change of subject from handsome men and awful girls to me. Whatever could you mean by that question?” Isabel asked.

  She was surprised to find her hands shaking, so she shoved them into her lap to cover the reaction.

  Serena swallowed. “It is only that since I came out last year it has been nothing but gay parties and pretty dresses and handsome young men who dance with me so closely.”

  “Your debut last year was a success and the start of this year seems to be equally so. I’m very proud of your comportment. But I don’t know what that has to do with me,” Isabel said with a shake of her head.

  Serena shifted, almost as if she were as uncomfortable with this subject as Isabel. “But you didn’t get any of those things.”

  Isabel started. In her darkest moments of melancholy, she sometimes had that same thought.

  Her sister continued, “When I think about all you gave up and I wonder about everything you must have wished for when you were my age…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It makes me wonder if you are happy. You smile, but sometimes your eyes are sad.”

  Isabel turned her face, once again hoping Serena wouldn’t see how much her words affected her. She hadn’t realized that her restlessness had been so apparent that even her sweet yet flighty younger sister had been aware of it.

  “You know, my dear,” she began, “my life was merely very different from yours. No, I may not have had the debut you did because I was already betrothed and therefore had no reason to attract young men. And yes, I may have missed some of the fun you are now experiencing. But I also received a great many other benefits. Hartley was a good man.”

  Serena nodded, and her voice had thickened slightly when she whispered, “He was indeed.”

  “And our life together was happy. Being with him afforded me the ability to take ca
re of you and Marjorie when our father and your mother were taken from us.” Isabel hesitated. “I do not think I would change a moment of the past, even if I could.”

  Serena’s expression brightened slightly. “Truly?”

  Isabel nodded slowly. “Not a moment. And as for now, you needn’t worry about me, dearest. I am quite content.”

  But even as she said it, she realized it was a lie. She had been content, but somehow, some way, everything had changed. Now she longed for inappropriate things, she dreamed of men out of her reach and she felt an odd emptiness in her chest.

  Serena tilted her head. “But—but content isn’t the same thing as happy.”

  Isabel couldn’t help her smile as she got to her feet and crossed the short distance to her younger sister. Putting her arms around her, she tightly held the girl who she had all but raised as her own daughter.

  “You are a smart girl, my dearest Serena. And a sweet one for worrying about me.” She drew back and looked down into her sister’s earnest face. “But if you want to make me happy, then there is one thing that will bring me the most happiness in the world.”

  Serena smiled. “What is that?”

  “Find your own happiness. To see you settled would bring me nothing but joy. So set your mind to that task and everything else will fall into place.”

  Serena hesitated, but then she nodded. “I will.”

  Isabel slipped her arm around her and began to lead her to the door. “Now we will go down to the ball and you will laugh and dance and forget about your chaperone…within reason.”

  Her sister giggled as she opened the door. “Always within reason.”

  But even as Isabel laughed while she followed Serena to the main staircase, inside she was a jumble. Queries about her happiness, her contentment, only tangled her up even more. And made her question, on every level, if she would ever find her place in this world again.

  Seth stood to the side of the dance floor for the first time since the night had begun hours before. As host—and as a man searching for a wife—he had been forced to make the rounds, dancing with what seemed like every lady and her chaperone.

  Except one. He had not yet danced with Isabel.

  With a scowl, he looked across the room and found her as easily as he had all night. It was hard not to notice her, with her auburn hair and a beautiful gown that seemed to brighten her eyes, not to mention accentuate the curves of her body.

  She was standing at the punch table with Seth’s neighbor in the shire, Sir Gregory Foxfire. The rich squire leaned toward her with every word they exchanged, his interest blatantly obvious, though Seth couldn’t call it lewd.

  Seth fisted his fingers at his side as his mind slipped treacherously to Isabel’s words earlier in the day. She had said she wished to take a lover. It was a slip she obviously hadn’t meant to make, but every time he thought of it, his body grew hard and heavy, ready to claim. Her words, her breathy voice when she said those words, tormented him.

  And annoyed him, for he didn’t like the idea of Isabel shopping around for a lover, perhaps under his very roof. Especially if she was going to choose a man like Foxfire, who was far too old for her. What a waste that would be.

  “You could ask the lady for a dance,” Jason said as he slipped up beside Seth and held out a drink.

  With a scowl for his friend, Seth snatched the cup. He was already in an ill humor—the last thing he wanted was Jason’s nonsense.

  “Who?” he snapped.

  “You know very well who,” Jason said with a chuckle. “Lady Avenbury.”

  Seth looked at her again. Foxfire was still talking to her and now the situation was even worse. The Earl of Monthaven had joined the pair. Widowed, he had come to the party as chaperone to his eldest daughter, who was probably not even ten years younger than Isabel herself.

  “She is otherwise occupied,” Seth growled through clenched and grinding teeth.

  Jason examined her across the room. “She is a popular widow indeed. And from her charming smile, I can see why they circle her. However, you have been staring daggers at every man who has dared dance, speak or even pass too closely by her all night.”

  Seth turned on his friend with outrage he had to force, since he knew Jason was absolutely correct in that assessment. “I have not.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and ignored the denial. “I fear the consequences for all the gentlemen here if you do not get her…and it out of your mind.”

  Seth glared at him. “It?”

  “Your interest in her,” Jason explained with a matter-of-fact shrug. “It is written all over your face, and soon enough others will notice. I don’t think that is what you would desire.”

  Although Seth hated to admit his friend was right in anything he did or said, Jason wasn’t off the mark this time. The last thing he wished for was to hurt his chances on the marriage mart. He couldn’t afford that.

  “You are an idiot,” he managed to choked out as he folded his arms and looked toward Isabel once more.

  The two men were still fawning all over her and she was smiling. Not an uncomfortable smile, but a friendly one. An open one. An inviting one. Blast it.

  “Of course I am,” Jason said with a smug expression. “Now the music is about to change, so off you go.”

  Seth clenched his fists, but had no choice but to start across the room toward Isabel. One dance couldn’t hurt. It didn’t even violate their agreement to be friends. And if he could subtly discourage her from choosing some old decrepit fool as her lover, then wouldn’t he be doing her a service?

  As a friend?

  Having convinced himself, at least on some level, that he was doing the right thing, Seth stepped up to the refreshment table with a broad smile that was entirely forced. He subtly wedged himself between Isabel and Lord Monthaven. He could have sworn the older man glowered at him briefly, which Seth ignored as he gave a smile to the group.

  “Good evening to you all,” he said with false brightness. “Is everyone having a good time?”

  To his surprise, instead of smiling, Isabel looked at him with annoyance in her stare before she wiped the expression away.

  “Good evening, my lord,” she said, her tone chilly.

  “A very entertaining party,” Sir Gregory said with a boisterous laugh that grated along Seth’s spine. “You have a lovely array of ladies here, my lord.”

  Seth kept his stare on Isabel, and he could have sworn her jaw tightened.

  “Indeed,” he said. “In fact, I was just coming over to ask Lady Avenbury if she would dance with me.”

  Isabel’s gaze jerked to his face. “I-I should probably check on my sister. I’m here as a chaperone, you know.”

  It was Lord Monthaven who responded before Seth could. “A fact that staggers me, my lady. You are as fresh as any Diamond of the First Water.”

  To Seth’s never-ending annoyance, Isabel blushed and smiled at the other gentleman. “You are too kind, sir.”

  “He only speaks the truth,” Foxfire inserted swiftly. “Any man would be lucky to take the dance floor with you. Perhaps I could add my own name to your dance card.”

  Seth moved forward and took Isabel’s arm. “Very good, but I believe the lady owes me the next. Good evening, gentlemen.”

  He moved off, guiding Isabel with him, but to his surprise, the moment they were out of earshot, she extracted herself from his grip with another dark glare.

  “My lord, you must be mistaken. I never agreed to dance with you,” she hissed beneath her breath so that no one else would hear the exchange.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You asked me to dance, but I never said yes. In fact, I said I needed to check on my sister. Now if you will excuse me, Lord Lyndham.”

  With that, she turned her back on him and walked away. Seth watched her go in stunned silence. He didn’t think a woman had ever refused him before. Certainly not one whom he had kissed not even twenty-four hours before.

  Isabel made her w
ay through the crowd, but to Seth’s surprise she did not make a turn toward her sister. Instead, she left the room and headed down the hallway and out of sight.

  Jason’s voice rang in his head as Seth stood there. Get her out of your mind. Well, there was only one way to do that.

  Follow her.

  Chapter Eight

  “A man’s hands are telling instruments.”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  Isabel stumbled into the first parlor she came to and finally allowed herself to stop moving. Her heart raced and she clutched her hands over it, ringing them together as she struggled to calm down. Her emotions were out of control and she had behaved quite foolishly because of that. She blushed when she thought of what she had said and done and worse…felt.

  Even after their frank discussion earlier that day, she had been unable to control her jealousy as she observed Seth at the ball. Watching him chat with other women, dance with them, smile at them, court them… It brought out a strange possessiveness in her.

  Strange and foolish, since he in no way was bound to her. In fact, they had agreed that any attraction they felt for each other was one they had to ignore. He could do that. Quite easily.

  But it turned out she couldn’t. That desire taunted her and followed her and made itself known in the worst and ugliest ways. So she found herself angry and out of sorts.

  Denying Seth his request for a dance was the only childish way she could express those unwarranted feelings. Even if it didn’t reflect well upon her to be so peevish.

  She smoothed her hands over the silky fabric of her gown as she drew in deep breaths. A few more moments to collect herself and she would return to the ballroom and carry on as if nothing had happened. Later, perhaps, she would apologize to her host and that would be the end of it.

  She heard the door behind her close and spun toward it with a gasp of surprise. One she repeated when she saw that the person who had intruded upon her moment of self-reflection was Seth.