Seduction Wears Sapphires

by Renee Bernard

  “I’m not trying to buy you, Miss Townsend. I’m trying to dress you so that you don’t look like a woman freshly escaped from a workhouse.”

  “You’re exaggerating!”

  “No, I’m being direct and frank. And since that approach seems to have the greatest advantage when it comes to your Colonial sensibilities, I’m determined to win the day.”

  And once again, it’s a contest between us. “If I submit to do you a favor, it’s a hollow victory, Mr. Blackwell.”

  “I’ll take victory on any terms when it comes to you.”

  Somehow it was a compliment when he spoke the words, and Caroline knew she’d already yielded to his wishes. “Very well.” She smiled. “You win.”

  “You are a unique woman, Miss Townsend.”

  “I hardly think so.”

  “You manage to be passionate about so many things, yet instead of being abrasive, you make it refreshing—as if arguing about the nature of a woman’s character is the very essence of charm.”

  “You’re not used to women offering you a lively debate now and then?”

  Ashe laughed. “Women of good breeding do not debate, and those that do aren’t of a certain class or station. . . . Well, let’s just say, I don’t think I’ve wasted time with any woman who wasn’t agreeable to my proposals.”

  Caroline felt some of her good humor fade. She stood from the table, preparing to retreat. Ah, all those agreeable women . . . He’s too handsome to gain an argument from any sporting woman and I doubt that’s what he would have paid them for anyway. As for the others, who could blame them? “How sad for you, Mr. Blackwell. Well, I think I’ll head upstairs and explore your library for a while before our carriage ride.”

  “Wait.” He took a step closer, his eyes darkening with regret. “I’ve done it again. The instant you start to let down your guard, I speak without thinking and ruin it.”

  “You ruin nothing.” She swallowed hard, hating the lump in her throat and the effect his sympathy had on her. “I’m glad I can provide you the free entertainment of a good argument now and then.”

  “You do more than that, Miss Townsend.”

  She sensed there was another meaning to his words but didn’t dare ask. The truce was forgotten, and Caroline turned and left him to head to the library, wishing that mud wrens would stop secretly hoping to transform into cardinals.

  The carriage ride through the park hadn’t been as painful as he’d expected. Not that he’d worried excessively about the ever “charming” American Quaker sitting across from him wearing that same wool coat and wretched straw bonnet she favored. She was the most eccentric creature he’d ever met. Instead it was his own skin he’d worried about most. It was an unseasonably pleasant day, and he’d forced her out to make the best of it. To be seen riding in Hyde Park was the most mundane but palatably public activity he could undertake and it had put him squarely in the sights of his peers as a man reformed and apparently returned to good society.

  They’d avoided the worst of the congestion on Rotten Row, but everyone seemed to be out to make sure that they could see who else was out. The polite stares and arch nods made him feel like a prize bull on the auction block, but Ashe distracted himself with Caroline’s refreshingly strange opinions on everything from liveries to political reforms. He deliberately allowed the conversation to flow away from the emotionally charged topic of their arrangement—and was rewarded with a more relaxed and animated companion for the afternoon.

  Like Colonel Stevenson, he’d been thrown off by how surprisingly self-possessed she was, and he’d forgotten to be shocked or affronted by her forward manner and unfashionable ways.

  You’re more of an entanglement than I ever envisioned, Caroline—and if I can survive having you as a chaperone, I think I can withstand almost anything.

  But as the carriage rolled slowly down the manicured drive, Ashe watched the passing pedestrians and riders with new eyes, wondering if the solution to his problems with the cumbersome Miss Townsend wasn’t in front of him the whole time.

  Lady Fitzgerald had assumed they were husband hunting, and there was no reason to deny it. But perhaps he had a reason to give the rumor more credence—or at least, appear to make an effort. After all, as her guardian, it was only right that he’d be on the lookout for potential husbands, so perhaps instead of warning his friends off, he should have looked at them as viable distractions for the terrier. Galen’s wife could even step in on occasion as a chaperone to augment their mission.

  The terrier deserved a bit of fun, didn’t she? And if it meant he could abstain from a few bone-dry outings, Ashe was all for it. He doubted she would protest, but then, he hardly needed her permission. And if all went as he envisioned it, she would simply see all of the introductions and activity as part of a London Season.

  Truth be told, he really had had a revelation after almost kissing her last night. He’d initiated the game to demonstrate his mastery and power over her, only to end up putting himself through hell. It was one thing to have her teasing him as she wandered in her sleep, but he had no such excuse for putting himself in the fire wide awake and in control of his faculties. He’d angered her, but at no small personal cost. He’d ended up putting himself through long punishing hours of sexual frustration that had forced him to fist his own randy flesh to release no less than three times before dawn.

  Ashe had finally concluded that there was too much at stake to allow for any more nonsense. My desire for the lady is beginning to cloud my judgment and it’s time to get control of the situation.

  He’d made his amends this morning, and no matter how the terrier squeaked, he was going to see her dressed as befitted her station and his plans for her. Warring with her was winning him no ground, and he’d decided in a state of grueling exhaustion that it was time to apply more subtle tactics.

  He didn’t want to present any real suitors since he didn’t know how his grandfather would stand on the matter—and he certainly didn’t want Miss Caroline Townsend permanently part of his world. Not if I cannot have her. . . . She was unsettling enough in passing without thinking of running into the unlikely siren at every single turn of the seasonal wheel. Instead, the idea of tasking someone he could trust with an innocent attempt to draw her off and keep her better entertained was far more comforting.

  Darius.

  Darius was the candidate that came immediately to mind. He seemed to love his books more than other men loved wine and women—and he would be perfect for her. He was a practical scholar who could while away endless hours in happy debate and gift Ashe with a few hours of peace.

  And he would keep his hands to himself if I asked him to. And why I’m going to ask is something I’m not going to dwell on. It’s not as if I’m in any position to make a claim—but the thought of any other man touching her, enjoying what I can’t, is impossible.

  Impossible!

  From the moment I agreed to this Season, I should have known that nothing would be easy.

  He couldn’t say what she was or was not. Terrier, eccentric heiress, siren—Caroline Townsend was a formidable obstacle and there would be no ignoring her. But Ashe was determined not to make the mistake of underestimating her.

  Chapter

  7

  “It’s too late at night for a game of chess, so if you’ve summoned me for one of your escapades”—Darius held up his hands defensively as he came into the first-floor study—“then I’ll save you the trouble and let you know that I’m not interested.”

  “No escapades, my friend. I have decided to abstain from immoral excursions for a while and see how the world looks from your eyes.” Ashe moved over to the sideboard and poured them both a glass of port.

  Darius shook his head. “I’m no paragon of virtue, so whatever game you’re playing, I’ll go ahead and yield.”

  “You’re too quick to capitulate. Though I do have a favor to ask, so it’s encouraging to know you’re in such a winnable mood.” Ashe held out one of the gla
sses as if it were a small peace offering. “Nothing shocking or dishonorable, Darius, you have my word.”

  “You are many things, Ashe, but you were never dishonorable.” Darius accepted the glass, his forest green eyes reflecting the simple sentiment. They’d been best friends since their imprisonment in India, and while opposites in many ways, theirs was an unbreakable bond.

  “Thank you, Darius.” He squared his shoulders. “You see, it seems I’m to make a civilized appearance in society this year. I have vowed to avoid all traces of scandal and attend every boring function and party a man can stomach.”

  “And what does Michael think of your new vow?”

  “Rutherford would prefer if we all moved to remote parts of Scotland and kept to ourselves until the next century, just to be safe. We need to find the man a new hobby, Darius.”

  Darius laughed. “True. And while the life of an eccentric hermit might suit some of us more than others, I don’t think the Jaded will be retreating any time soon.” His smile faded as the topic brought back painful memories. “There was talk at White’s about the Company’s eagerness to top their gift of the Kohinoor to the queen. The prestige and wealth of it has given them a taste for more and fired up more than one man’s imagination in a direction that is making Michael unhappy.”

  The Kohinoor was the world’s largest diamond and was “acquired” by the East India Company and given as a gift to Her Majesty several years before. It was the size of a man’s fist before it had been recut to become part of the crown jewels.

  The lore behind the stones of India was the stuff of fairy tales and myth, but it did make Ashe think about his own cache hidden away beneath the floorboards under his mother’s pianoforte.

  God, wouldn’t those star sapphires suit the terrier?

  He’d never given even a fleeting thought to bringing them out for anyone else, but the idea of it coalesced into an unbidden sexual fantasy about shocking the prim American right out of her clothes and into a necklace dripping with sapphires to stretch her out across his bed. Then a hundred erotic images followed, each more taboo than the last. . . .

  Unaware, Darius continued, “The Company does like to recover ‘lost treasure’ whenever they can. And now it seems Galen’s old nemesis, Rand Bascombe, actually intends to personally mount an expedition to India.”

  Ashe cleared his throat and forced himself back to the topic at hand. “He’ll faint after a week in the heat and humidity, get some fever, and limp home proclaiming himself a hero,” Ashe said, dismissing the dangers. “To hell with Bascombe! If he’s on the other side of the globe at the bidding of his cronies in the East India Company, then he’s not here. What could be more perfect?”

  “All right, enough of Bascombe! Tell me more about this favor. Does it have anything to do with your recent reforms?”

  Oh, yes. The favor—let’s try the direct approach.

  “I’ve taken on a ward, at my grandfather’s request, and I was hoping you could lend a hand. The role of guardian is new to me, but I was thinking that the girl deserves a cheerful Season, and you’re a man I could trust to entertain her without any difficulties.”

  Darius’s look of shock was priceless. “A ward? And you wish me to entertain her?”

  “Just attend a few of the same functions and act as a friendly face in the crowd.” Ashe finished his port. “I’m not asking you to court the creature.”

  “The creature?” Darius expression became more grim. “Ashe, as much as I owe you, I don’t think—”

  “Her name is Caroline Townsend and she’s charming! She’s American and she has an intellect that will keep even you racing to keep up! And she’s”—Ashe took a deep breath—“very pretty once you get past her propensity to wear clothes that make my housekeeper look like a dancing girl in comparison.”

  Darius shook his head slowly. “She sounds delightful, but wouldn’t Josiah be a better choice? He has that mournful artistic disposition that ladies seem to swoon over.”

  “No. Caroline is far too cerebral to be bothered with a man who sighs too much. You’re the smartest man I know, Darius, and not uneasy on a woman’s eyes. Surely you can keep her occupied with endless banter about the structure of ancient religions and their correlation to architecture and whatnot.”

  “I’m flattered,” Darius said, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t. “However, I’m not sure. This feels . . . deceptive, somehow.”

  “Nonsense! There’s nothing more straightforward than introducing a friend to my current charge.”

  Darius smiled, openly skeptical. “If it were a straightforward situation, you’d have simply invited me to something and made a casual introduction. Instead, you’ve summoned me late at night to ask me a ‘favor’ and requested that I ‘entertain’ this girl—obviously to achieve some unspoken goal of your own.”

  Ashe realized he may have underestimated his friend’s perceptive powers. “I thought it would be wiser to speak to you ahead of time, rather than surprise you with the situation in public and risk a misunderstanding. I’m not trying to make a match! I just want to create an innocent diversion.”

  “A diversion from what?”

  “Damn it, Darius! Are you going to help me or not?”

  Darius sighed. “I will, but I’m not going to dishonor myself and cavort around like an idiot. If you’re asking me to play with this young woman’s affections, then I’ll excuse myself and wait for the next requested favor to prove my loyalty.”

  “I don’t want you to toy with her, Darius. Just meet her and present yourself as an ally. I’m not . . .” Ashe wasn’t sure how to phrase the strange dilemma he was in. Caroline was far more than a thorn in his side—she was becoming an eminent threat to his sanity. If Darius could distract her and mute their conflict, it was worth any price. “I am not in a position to be her friend.”

  “Don’t misinterpret what I’m about to say, Ashe, but this diversion . . . Do you have designs on the girl?”

  “God, no!” Ashe blurted out, surprised at the intensity of his own tone fueled by the lingering fantasy of those pert breasts divided by a gold rope of sapphires while he spent himself against her silky ass. I’m losing my mind! He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath and then tried again. “It’s simple, really. I’m honor-bound to behave, Darius, and frankly, without going into details, trespassing with Miss Townsend would be tantamount to the worst kind of self-sabotage.”

  “I see,” Darius nodded slowly.

  “Not to mention that she dislikes me and I’m in no rush to remedy the situation.”

  “Really? A woman who dislikes you?”

  “Oh, stop!” Ashe stretched out his legs. “She’s as proper a thing as you are, if not more so, and you remember what extreme circumstances it took to cement our friendship.”

  “A year or two in a dungeon.” Darius smiled. “But you’re right, I don’t think I’d recommend it to the lady.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Ashe sat up in his chair. “We’re attending a ball at Worthley’s in four days and I’ll see that you have your invitation in time.”

  Darius squared his shoulders, a man facing his execution. “I hate balls.”

  “Perfect! Because although I haven’t asked the girl, if my luck holds, she shares your sentiment,” Ashe said, holding out his hand to his friend, ultimately sealing their bargain. “I’d bet a thousand pounds she can’t dance, Darius, so you’ve nothing to fear.”

  Darius took it slowly, accepting his fate. “I’ll count the hours.”

  As will I, dear man. As will I.

  An hour or so after they’d parted, Ashe considered his friend’s sense of honor and felt a twinge of remorse. He was in this tangle for all the wrong reasons and it had been too long since his own sense of honor had stirred him to action. For all the good that it had done me. The memories were too painful to sustain, and Ashe wasn’t going to allow them to overpower him. God, he was aching for release, a mindless surge of pleasure that would wipe out the gh
osts of the past, if only for a moment. Ashe pondered a discreet trip to a bordello, weighing the risks against the potential benefit of possibly achieving a good night’s sleep afterward.

  One thing was inescapable. He’d played at the part of the rogue before India, but after, there’d been no more pretending. Ashe knew he’d deliberately tried to drown himself in pleasures of the flesh—if only to distance himself from truly feeling anything at all.

  I’ve made my own prison, and I’m still self-aware enough to know it. So does that make me a wiser man or more of a fool?

  He glanced back down at the invitations on his desk, vaguely aware of the door opening behind him. He spoke without looking up, “Nothing else tonight, Godwin. Just make sure Mrs. Clark has things in hand for—”

  “I had the strangest dream.”

  Ashe groaned before turning around to take in the sight of her in his doorway. Her hair and skin were damp from an evening bath, though he couldn’t imagine her asking to have one drawn at this hour. Even so, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the delectable sight of her.

  I should say something immediately about how you’ll catch a chill, dear Caroline. But instead, I don’t think I’m going to be able to say anything at all for a moment or two. God help me, but I’m going to ask Godwin to start locking your bedroom door.

  She presented an erotic offering that ricocheted fire through his frame. Her thin cotton nightgown clung to her body, the white fabric even more sheer to show off the dusky pink tips of her breasts and the irresistible dark blonde curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  “What did you dream about?”

  “I dreamt I wasn’t myself.” She reached up to touch one damp tendril, tracing it with her fingertips.

  “No one is themselves when they dream, Miss Townsend. But you—somehow I suspect for you it is even more pronounced.” Ashe smiled. Her nightly transformations were nothing short of miraculous.