Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1)

by Howe, Cheryl

  Ivy gestured with the cup. “Hot chocolate?”

  “No, thank you. I had breakfast.” Astra found a padded chair at the end of the room, a polite distance away from Ivy’s unmade bed.

  “A staunchly English ration of kippers and eggs, I imagine.” Ivy patted her bed before Astra could arrange her skirts to sit down. “Not there. Here.

  Astra hesitantly moved to the bed. She noticed the tea service that sat on a tray atop the richly embroidered bedcovering. Tiger’s and peacocks danced in exotic colors of Moroccan red and Madras yellow across the pot that held Ivy’s cocoa. The pattern echoed on the gold-rimmed tea cup from which Ivy sipped.

  “Most mornings I forgo the kippers in favor of broiled tomatoes.” Astra crawled onto Ivy’s large bed and leaned against a bank of pillows on the opposite side.

  “Astra, you were foolish to invite me to your soiree and even more foolish to come here again.” Ivy set her cup in its saucer.

  “Lady Phillina sent me to discover why you declined the invitation. She was very disappointed. She was quite close to your mother, you know.”

  “The only blessing about my mother’s untimely death was that she did not live to see what I have become. “The distance Astra had noted in Ivy’s stare earlier returned, but she quickly shook it off and smiled pleasantly. “Let us spare the elder Lady Keane as well.”

  “I don’t think she suspects…” Astra struggled for the right words for such a delicate situation.

  The sharp look Ivy tossed Astra encouraged her silence. “There will be talk. Whispers. There always are. I am not welcome in polite society. Nor will I ever be again.” Ivy brought her teacup to her lips and sipped loudly. She directed her fierce green gaze beneath her eyelashes. “Which works to my favor since I enjoy lying abed all day and chocolate to kippers.”

  The Ivy Astra witnessed now was not the same woman who dutifully went to church every Sunday, nor the sedate lady with whom she had shared tea with a few weeks ago. This Ivy lounged like a lazy house cat with a bedroom that put one’s mind to the wicked.

  “Perhaps there will be whispers, but I promise you Lady Phillina would not hear them even if they were spoken directly into her ear. And there were whispers at church and you bolstered through that. Reverend Fitzgerald will be in attendance and he will support you. I think you will be surprised by your welcome.”

  “Will Darien be attending?”

  Astra could not tell by Ivy’s question if her ex-fiancé’s attendance would sway her or absolutely guarantee her refusal. “Lord Blackmore will of course be invited, but he and James had a misunderstanding early on when James called on him unannounced, and it is unlikely he will attend.” She didn’t bother adding that Lord Blackmore rarely appeared at social gatherings, which Ivy no doubt knew being the cause of his celebrated reclusiveness.

  Ivy cocked her head and studied her. “Why is my attending your party so important to you? Guilty conscience?”

  Astra studied her hands, knowing perhaps that was part of her initial reasoning. Why should Ivy be ostracized for her past when Astra was presently doing the very thing that landed Ivy a pariah? But that was not the only reason, though her motives were just as selfish.

  Astra glanced up and met Ivy’s cynical gaze. “I need a friend.”

  Ivy’s face fell and for a moment, Astra thought Ivy’s eyes had dampened. She suddenly reached her hand across the bed to Astra. “You have become James Keane’s lover, have you not?”

  Astra took Ivy’s offered hand and squeezed. “You were right. I have made a dreadful mistake. I care far too much for him. But heaven help me, Ivy, I can’t find it in myself to end it, or even regret it.”

  “End it?” Color suffused Ivy’s cheeks. “What has he done? I am not without friends in London who would gladly assist me in any number of unsavory matters. Shall I have him beaten?”

  “No!” Astra withdrew her hand from her friend’s, realizing she was serious. “He’s done nothing to warrant that.” Ivy continued to unblinkingly scrutinize Astra. “The problem is that I’m in love with him.”

  Ivy relaxed a bit. “I warned you. Does he know?”

  Astra shrugged. “I have not said as much, but last night we argued. Over another woman. I was jealous, perhaps unfairly so.”

  “An unforgivable sin in a mistress. And how did he react?”

  “He wasn’t exactly angry.” Astra dropped her gaze, her cheeks flooded with heat. Though James’s ardent response had been confusing, it was far from any sort of declaration of tender emotion. In fact, there was little emotion involved at all. “And though he claims he has no interest in becoming betrothed, he is still young. He vowed to let me know the moment circumstances change.”

  “How thoughtful. But in the meantime the bastard is already interviewing other women to share his bed? You should tell him that sort of callousness belongs in London, not on the grounds of his own household.”

  “I fear he’s sizing up a wife. Not intentionally, mind you, but offers are being dangled before him. Offers that I’m not sure he should refuse.”

  “You knew that would happen eventually.” All the bluster left Ivy and she returned to her calm, detached self. She picked up her cup and sipped loudly. “It always does. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you must stop being his mistress.”

  “I would hate him if he even suggested it,” she said too vehemently. Not that she suspected James would keep a mistress when he had a wife, though it was done all the time. She had no doubt James Keane would be a loving, devoted husband. A doting father. The thought brought so much pain, that Astra was forced to bow her head to hide the surge of agony she experienced.

  Ivy took her hand again. “And the woman in question will be at the ball?”

  Astra nodded. “She is beautiful and young…and fresh. Everything that I am not. But the worst of it is that she is kind, and her father is very, very rich.”

  “Oh, yes, the worst kind of threat. I hate the nice ones.” Ivy tapped her full lips. “What do you propose to do?”

  “Nothing. What can I do?”

  “If you love him…” Ivy sat up on her knees. Her hair hung around her shoulders in dark hunks, making her appear a mischievous girl again, and the purple smudges under her tired eyes grew instantly fainter. “Well then, you must do something.”

  “Though he seems to be quite fond of me, he’s given no indication that he feels anything deeper. And even if he did return my affection, it would be a youthful folly, not sound judgment. I am older than he, past my prime for bearing children and I have no family connections.” Astra forced her gaze to meet Ivy’s. It was a relief to finally have a confidante. “Honestly, I cannot offer him what the young Miss Bainbridge can.”

  “Perhaps I will attend this ball to surmise the situation for myself. But on one condition.” Ivy moved the tea service.

  Astra cheered, willing to agree to anything. For some reason, she felt the social gathering to introduce James to his peers would turn the tide of things. Change everything and Astra dearly wanted Ivy there. Perhaps she needed a friend, or perhaps she just wanted someone near who knew the truth. Someone to share some tears and some hot chocolate with when James was forever out of her life.

  “Go on. I did not come here to be denied.” Astra squared her shoulders.

  “You will take a few lessons from me for this ball. Now, what are you wearing?”

  “Well, it’s just a country dance and I am recently out of mourning. I have a nice lavender gown that might be appropriate.” Astra had not considered her gown. Attracting attention to herself had been something she’d avoided for so long, she was not sure how to be anything other than sedate.

  “Follow me.” Ivy leaped off the bed. “I’ve a dozen smashing gowns I’ve yet to remove from their wrappings. We shall find you something breathtaking to wear to your ball. My seamstress from London is scheduled to pay me a visit. If we don’t find something that suits you from my wardrobe, Jenny can conjure a miracle in less time than it
takes other seamstresses to sew a hem.”

  Astra stood. “Ivy, please don’t go to so much trouble on my behalf. My funds are not yet settled and I fear I can’t afford the expense. In any case, it will not alter the course of the inevitable outcome. I must learn to live without James. He has his future and I fear I’ve already had mine. Please, just be my friend.”

  Ivy turned. “That, I already am. But you will be the envy of every woman and man at that party. I promise you, it will be a night James Keane will not forget for a very long time.” She headed for her wardrobe, than glanced over her shoulder, a mischievous grin making her beautiful face glow. “And the expense will be my pleasure. Occasionally, we fallen women do deserve our petty revenges.”

  ***

  Astra returned to Eastlan just in time to meet James in the garden as his note had requested. The formal missive had been delivered by an almost smiling Mr. Rudd. Inside, a strong, surprisingly legible script requested that she meet James in the garden at two o’clock to discuss the improvements she wished to make to the garden before the ball. Though the note was detached and formal, the fact that she had not mentioned changes to the grounds warned that James had something else in mind for the subject of their meeting.

  The day had turned unseasonably warm and the sun burned away all but a few wispy clouds that lingered in long streaks across the painfully blue sky. Astra tugged at the brim of her hat and maneuvered the steps, heading toward the over-sized statue of Euterpe, the muse of music, that dominated the garden. James strode toward her from the direction of the pond, a grin that rivaled the grandeur of the cloudless day lighting his face. Astra let out the breath she had been holding since this morning’s note. She feared he might end their affair after last night. Thankfully, he had not appeared to stumble upon good judgment any more than she.

  “I am glad you could find the time to meet with me on such short notice.” He paused a respectful distance from her and bowed a formal greeting. The tension to touch was palatable. Last night’s shadowy carnal mating had not cooled his lust any more than it had Astra’s. His gaze glowed with banked need.

  “I can always find time for your requests, my lord. And how kind of you to consider my suggestion for improvements to the grounds.”

  “I fear I have started without you.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  Astra rested her palm on his sleeve, and let him politely guide her toward the pond and away from the house. “How long are you going to keep me in suspense?” she said under her breath. “I can tell by that naughty grin this has nothing to do with gardening.”

  “I never said it had anything to do with gardening. I believe there is a certain gazebo that you are partial to.”

  She suddenly noted that he was freshly washed and his hair was not quite combed. He smelled of lime soap. Usually James was dressed and out of the house before she had risen. “You did not clean out the gazebo yourself this morning?”

  “I had help. I hope you’re hungry. I can’t recall if we’ve ever discussed the merit of picnics, but I suspect that they are as popular in England as America.”

  “I adore picnics.” Not that Astra could remember the last time she had been on one.

  James smiled down at her and he no doubt heard the choke of emotion in her answer. As they neared the shaded turn that led to the gazebo, she increased the pressure on the arm and drew him closer.

  The white of the gazebo peeked through overhanging vines, still shrouded by a tangled jungle of thorny bushes. If anything, the fine weather had left the once pristine gazebo appearing more ramshackle than ever.

  “If you have brought food in there, I doubt there will be any left. But, I’m sure Eastlan’s rodents are well pleased.”

  James laughed, stepped on a vine and lifted the curtain of green for her to enter. “Let’s find out. You first.”

  Instead of shadows, something glowed from the inside as if a shaft of sunlight had pierced the canopy overhead. She spared one more glance for his overly smug grin and crawled inside.

  The soft glow of over a dozen candles lit the green-tinged space. A thick blanket was spread across the clean-swept marble floor topped with cushions and a large tray containing wine glasses and an open bottle. The pond shimmered green as sunlight conspired to compete with the illuminated gazebo. Astra had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

  “You did all this?” Astra turned back to James not bothering to hide the tears that coated her eyes or the emotion that flooded her voice. “Today?”

  “We started at dawn.” He remained leaning against a column near the entrance, arms folded in front of him. “Mr. Rudd helped me.”

  “Why?” She had to ask, though the answer was obvious.

  He pushed off the column and walked toward her. “To see that look of pure wonder on your face.”

  “No one has ever gone to so much trouble to please me.” He gathered her in his arms and more than ever, she wanted to tell him that she loved him. In that moment, she didn’t care if he loved her back or not. “Thank you. I love it.”

  “Then smile.” He wiped the tears from below her eyes with his thumb. “Since I have sisters, I am going to assume those are tears of joy.”

  A bubble of laughter swept away her unwanted melancholy. “I think this might be one of the best moments of my life.”

  He kissed her gently on the lips, almost chastely, then abruptly pulled away. “Then let’s have some wine to celebrate.”

  He sat on the blanket and poured a light colored wine, not the burgundy that she knew he preferred and held a glass out to her. She lowered herself, maneuvering her skirt to prop herself on a cushion and took the glass. She sipped the slightly chilled amber colored madeira and sighed. “Perfect.”

  He reached in a basket and brought out a cloth covered plate of assorted cheese and apples, another of cold beef thinly sliced. The finale was a loaf of fresh baked bread, its aroma wafting through the gazebo.

  “How did you explain this feast to the cook?”

  “I didn’t. In case you haven’t noticed, I am a hardy eater and Cook’s most ardent admirer. Apparently there has not been a Lord Keane with my appetite in some years. She whips up a mid-day meal for me on a regular basis. Securing her position, I suspect.”

  “Thank you for sharing your feast.” Astra stared out at the pond and listened to the call of birds overhead.

  James shrugged out of his coat, then loosened his neck cloth. “Mr. Rudd is guarding the perimeter so feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

  Astra paused in nibbling her cheese. “What did you tell him?”

  “He’s a military man, Astra. He doesn’t ask questions.” He crawled over to her. “You don’t look comfortable.” Astra pulled off her hat and allowed James to remove her shoes. He winked. “I’d like for you to remove everything, but I have promised myself I will behave.”

  “Oh, and I thought this was going to be a perfect afternoon.” Astra giggled, a strange sound even to her ears. The wine was already making her light-headed.

  “If I have any say in it, and I do,” James winked, “this will be the perfect afternoon.” He stretched out beside her. “You are queen of all you survey and I am your humble servant.”

  “Then perhaps you should take off your clothes.” She leered at him and her body hummed in response. Oh she would love to see him naked, attending to her every whim in broad daylight. Less than a month ago, such thoughts would not have entered her head, much less seem eminently plausible.

  “Any ill effects from last night?” He gathered her foot in his hand and rubbed her instep with his thumb. His hand drifted up her skirt and he massaged her calf through her stocking.

  “I’m feeling rather fit today.” She leaned back on her elbows and enjoyed his attentions. He ignored her request that he disrobe and she wondered if she should repeat it. All of a sudden he had become entirely too serious.

  “After you left last night, I thought about our conversation.” He didn’t m
eet her gaze but focused on rubbing her feet and calves. “I don’t like being the cause of your distress.”

  “I should not have said anything. It’s not my place.”

  He glanced up at her. “I should not have put you in that place. Not exactly noble, am I?”

  Astra tensed even though his actions today were not that of a man intent on breaking things off.

  “I plan to make it clear to Bainbridge that I’m not in the market for a wife before we discuss any further business dealings.” His hands stilled, but he held her as if he had no intention of letting go.

  “You can’t do that.” Obviously, she had been lax in the other part of their agreement. Securing Eastlan’s future at all costs. She tried to sit up, but he would not release her leg.

  “It’s the truth and something I’m sure he will appreciate hearing.”

  She gripped his hand. “Thank you, but I think it’s unwise. Mr. Bainbridge knows it will take some courting to persuade you to marry one of his daughters. It’s too soon for either of you to show your hand.” Besides, now that she had faced the inevitable, as horrible as it was, at least it brought her back to reality. She glanced at the candles, the canopy of vines above her head, and realized how easy it would be to forget that again. “As long as I don’t suddenly read of your engagement in the Times, you must proceed as you are. Such a declaration to Mr. Bainbridge would not serve you or us. Mr. Bainbridge is a sharp man and might consider there is someone else in your life if you become so adamant in your refusal to even consider another.”

  “Are you always so sensible?” he asked, studying her with a cocked head.

  “I am afraid so.”

  “I hope to change that.” James reached for the bottle of wine. “At least for the rest of the afternoon. Today you will think of nothing but your own enjoyment.”

  “I always do when I’m with you.” He refilled her glass almost to the rim and she had to take a large slurp to keep from spilling it on her dress.