by Stacy Reid
“Do you understand how dangerous it is for you to be here?” he asked as they entered.
“To my reputation?”
“Yes.”
“I doubt I am in danger of being recognized. I was very discreet.”
She held her breath at the look he leveled on her. He arched his brow insolently and glanced around the library, driving home how secluded they were and that she had deliberately snuck out to be at his club. Her cheeks flamed.
He rang a bell and a butler showed up as if he had been stationed at the door.
“Bring the carriage around for the lady. She will be leaving shortly.”
She waited until the butler closed the door. “I am not leaving,” she said firmly. “Not until you explain to me in full why you decided to end our friendship.”
“I was not aware we were friends.”
“You know what I mean, Lucan.” Constance moved and perched on the side of the sofa, her entire attention on him. “I deserve to know what happened. What you think warranted treating me with such disregard. I have been in a torment of doubt wondering why you decided to halt your courtship. I refuse to be that person where I do not ask for answers, but speculate in misery.”
“I was never courting you.”
She slowly stood from her perch. “I know you never declared to my family but—”
Her words tapered off as he walked over to her, and from the look on his face she knew she would not like what he was about to say.
“I only got close to you so I could use you against Calydon.”
She was sure she misheard. “I beg your pardon?”
“Calydon ruined my sister, and I thought it apt to ruin his in return. That was all, Constance.”
There was a loud buzzing in her head as she tried to comprehend. Lucan had only been using her? To hurt Sebastian? Her mind latched onto possibly the safest topic so she would not lose control. “You have a sister?”
“Had.”
Someone that I held dear was used, disgraced, and abandoned by someone who claimed to love her.
Constance stepped around him, her hands clasped together to prevent their shaking. She spun to see he had turned with her, watching her with an expression of indifference. “Your sister was the one you held dear to you…that died?”
She saw the answer in his eyes. Some raw and powerful emotion flashed in his silver gaze before the shutters came down.
She nodded weakly. “I see. And everything between us, our carriage rides, picnic, kisses and…”—she flushed—“you were just using me?” He had wanted to ruin her as Sebastian had ruined his sister. Good heavens! She pressed a fist to her stomach, suddenly unsure if she wanted the answer. “Tell me about your sister, please, Lucan. I know Sebastian would never hurt anyone intentionally.”
“No,” Lucan growled, anger leaping to his face. “My sister will never be up for discussion. You wanted answers as to why I am not interested in you. You have it.” He stalked over to Constance, and she took a wary step backward. Her back pressed against the bookcase, and she lifted her chin as he stopped so close she felt the heat of him.
“My interest in you was only to use you to hurt Calydon, nothing more. I had intended for you to be seen with me at Lady Beaumont’s ball in a compromising position.”
Her heart stopped beating.
He visibly gritted his teeth. “But I could not do it. I realized, albeit a little late, that Calydon’s sin was not yours to bear. But it seems I may still get my wish, for you are here, behaving with reckless disregard for your tenuous position in society!”
Lucan had planned on compromising her? She felt mortified. She had really believed he had been courting her, that he was falling in love with her. But it had all been about lowering her defenses, leading her to ruin. A cold chill washed over her. “You never intended to court me, to offer for me?” Constance asked in a suffocated voice.
“No,” he said softly. “I have no intention of marrying you or any other society miss.”
“Then why did you kiss me, touch me?”
“You made it appallingly easy to be seduced, Lady Constance.”
The pain clawing at Constance’s throat burned away under the rush of rage, and her hand flew as if by its own volition to slap him. With a quick reflex that startled her, he captured her hand in a gentle hold.
“Constance—”
“Don’t speak my name,” she breathed. “I suppose you think because you did not compromise me you were acting honorably? Well let me tell you, Your Grace, you are a coward,” she choked out. “I do not believe the passion and time we shared was all to ruin me. That could have been achieved without our rides and many outings. I know why you chose to pull away, but you are such a damn coward you prefer to hurt me for a vengeance you do not wish to explain. I see how you watch me, how you smile when I laugh. I feel your hunger for me, and I even know when you are aroused and trying to hide it. I hope your vengeance will keep you warm and satisfied for years to come. I will see myself out.”
She wrenched away from him and stormed toward the door. She gasped as hands spanned her waist from behind and lifted her. He tumbled with her onto the sofa, twisting so that he took the brunt of their fall. She landed with an oomph on his chest and before she could protest, he pulled her to him and took her mouth in a carnal kiss. The sudden shift from anger to desire was a shock to her system. His tongue plunged past her lips, wicked and alluring. The lush eroticism of his actions made her tremble, and she became helpless against his kiss, a kiss that was ruthless in its demand. His lips stroked over hers, his tongue flickering deep inside.
A craving for him stormed through her defenses, and she fisted her hands in his hair and returned his kiss with all her pent up anger and desire. There was a rustle of silk as he slid her dress up, bunching her mass of petticoats around her thighs. She gasped into his mouth as his fingers unerringly found her slick entrance through the slit in her drawers. Without breaking their embrace, he inserted a finger inside of her, the stroke of his finger matching his tongue, deep and sensual. Constance felt as if fire itself lighted in her veins. Sensations raced across her skin, tightening pleasures low between her legs. She moaned and arched her hip as he inserted a second digit. Despite the burn, the stretch, and the ache, she wanted more. He stroked somewhere deep inside that shot a bolt of pleasure up to her breasts. They felt heavy, and she desperately wanted them free of the corset. He pulled his lips from hers, trailing kisses along her neck to the globes of her breast, but never letting up on the wicked caress between her legs. She let out a hoarse cry as a heavy tide of ecstasy swept over her, splintering her senses.
“So damn beautiful,” he muttered roughly.
He slid from the sofa so that he knelt in front of her and removed his spectacles, placing them beside her on the sofa. He pushed her dress farther up to her hips, and tugged off her drawers baring her to his gaze. A frisson of dangerous exhilaration gripped her, and acting on an instinct she had not known she possessed, she widened her thighs more for him. Emotions she was not able to name flared in the depth of his eyes as he watched her splayed before him so scandalously. Without saying anything, he dipped his head and kissed her in a place she never dreamed could be kissed.
“I don’t think this is proper, Lucan,” she protested, rather too weakly.
Instinctively Constance slid her hands through his thick hair, and she did not know if she wanted to push him away or pull his head more firmly against her. His tongue curled and dipped, before his teeth gently clamped over her knot of pleasure with scorching precision. Definitely hold his head more firmly, she reasoned hazily as delight pulsed through her. She shivered violently when the sensual glide of his tongue took her to the same edge his fingers had earlier. But it felt different, gentle and sweeter, but somehow more powerful. The sensations that roared through her had her back bowing off the sofa and uncontrolled cries spilling from her lips as her body surrendered.
Her body felt languid and unfamiliar as it cam
e down from the stunning pleasures. Lucan slowly lowered her dress and petticoats, resting his forehead against her quivering stomach. Minutes passed in silence, and he remained kneeled before her, head rested against her, not speaking or moving.
She knew without a doubt whatever he said next would determine the course of her future with him. She could feel him thinking, fighting with whatever demons were pushing him away from her. Her heart went calm and she simply waited until he was ready, hoping he would confide in her about his sister and whatever he thought Sebastian had done. The intimacy of the moment did not escape her, and it somehow felt more intimate than the pleasure he had just bestowed upon her. A log rolled in the fireplace, and his fingers tightened against her hips. He pressed the softest of kiss against her stomach and then lifted his head. Her heart slammed into her throat. His features were set in dark foreboding lines.
“I do feel something fierce for you, and I would be more than a coward to not admit it. I want to be with you when you are not here. I look for your smiles in the simplest of actions. Am I falling in love? I do not know… I only know there are times I hunger for your presence if only to converse. I desire you more each time I see you. But your brother is my enemy, and that will never change. He ruined my sister, hurt her unimaginably, and then abandoned her. I cannot see you again, Lady Constance, nor will you be admitted to Decadence again for you make me doubt my path, and it is a path I will not be swayed from.”
Pain sliced through her, but she was careful not to show her emotions. The man that touched her with such passion, introduced her to pleasure, was a man that wanted her, needed her even, and she would concentrate on those feelings. She shifted onto the sofa, shimmying lower so she slid against his chest until she kneeled with him. Leaning back and tilting her head, she held his gaze, and surprise flared through his at her actions.
“Tell me that you can bear the thought of never speaking with me or kissing me again, and I will walk away and leave you with your vengeance.”
His throat convulsed, but he did not speak. Her pulse fluttered wildly when he dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. He shifted, kissed her hair, and Constance smiled. He could not say it. She understood, for he was firmly rooted in her heart and the thought of not exploring the growing need between them was unbearable.
“I can see you are not ready to tell me of your sister. I hope one day I will have your trust and you will unburden to me, Lucan,” she whispered. He stiffened, but she continued. “I know Sebastian would never harm anyone. I—”
“No,” the raw force of Lucan’s denial halted her. He continued his voice icy. “I will not hear of Calydon’s innocence from you, when I know his guilt. It is time for you to leave, Constance.”
Lucan rose to his feet with fluid grace and held out his hand helping her to stand. He rang the bell and instantly the door opened and the butler entered.
“You will be escorted to the side entrance so you are not seen. Be careful not to speak with anyone,” he murmured, expression shuttered.
“Until I see you again, Lucan.” She walked away, refusing to look back. He could not deny his passion for her, and she would wait for him to come to her. Certainly not forever, but she would give him enough time to realize the feelings he had for her would not simply vanish.
“Constance.” Her name was just a whisper of sound but she heard it. She spun toward the door, and probed for Lucan in the soft shadows of the library.
“Marissa Alicia Wynwood.”
Marissa. Constance hesitated, unsure if she should thank him for trusting her with this much. She knew it was his sister’s name. But Constance did not know if she should feel glad that he shared a little more of himself, or fear that him revealing her name was part of some plan. Without speaking, she swept from the hall with hurried steps, very aware of the tender ache between her legs. Charlotte waited at the end of the hall looking a bit flushed and rumpled with Marcus Stone by her side, and Constance smiled in reassurance at Charlotte’s worried frown. The hope in Constance’s heart was heavy for she knew Lucan yearned for her with a similar intensity.
Now she only needed him to realize the love burgeoning between them was more worthy than vengeance.
Chapter Thirteen
The scandal that swept through town was the most exciting and satisfying society had ever heard, or at least it seemed that way to Constance. The Beautiful Bastard had been seen kissing the Lord of Sin, and at the club Decadence itself. It had been two days since the rumor, or better, the truth exploded. But a very strange truth for she knew no one could have possibly seen them enclosed in Lucan’s office. Everyone in society was curious, for the Duke of Mondvale had not responded to the rumors, and there was certainly no news of an engagement published.
She had been puzzled when Charlotte handed over the paper she had been reading, her face white. Constance had scanned it quickly and right underneath the arts section in The Spectator, was a tattle on her. She had almost fainted. She could easily imagine the glee the hypocrites of the haute monde had expressed, sitting over their breakfast and reading of her latest sinful escapade. Constance could hardly credit it that someone had seen them. She had been in a mask and a wig and all kisses had been in private.
She had ridden out with her mother the morning after Charlotte had shared the scandal sheet. Constance had then understood the depth of her foolishness and what complete ruination meant. Several ladies that normally waved to her mother had given them both the cut direct. She had then been forced to reveal to her mother what had been published for all of London to see. Lady Radcliffe had swayed. Her mother had demanded to read the damming article herself.
Mrs. X has it on the highest authority that The Beautiful Bastard, Lady Constance, was seen kissing the Lord of Sin, Duke of Mondvale, at his club, Decadence. Most alarming to be sure, but not so unexpected. Mrs. X confirms that the Duke Mondvale has been seen with Lady Constance at Covent Garden and Hyde Park and wondered if a courtship had been going on.
Her mother had gone white.
“Is this true, Connie?” had been the only question her mother had asked, and Constance’s silence had been telling.
Her mother had walked away and the disappointment in her posture had pierced Constance. She had waited in dread and hope for Lucan to make an appearance at their town house, but his absence was very revealing. He really had no intention of calling on her despite the fact they had been seen.
Had he really decided his vengeance was more important? Tears burned behind her lids. How she wished he’d confided in her. She had spent the past couple of nights restless, wondering what had happened between his sister and Sebastian. How had she been driven to her death? Whatever occurred had been tragic enough where Lucan had planned to compromise Constance deliberately to hurt her brother. Though now it seems Lucan may be granted his wish, whether he had changed his mind or not. For if before she had been accorded any civility by the haute monde it would all be gone now. She was soiled, a wanton harlot the mammas would be protecting their daughters and sons from.
She laid her violin down on its stand as she heard the commotion from the hallway. She took a few calming breaths shoring up her courage. Her family had arrived. Sebastian and Jocelyn, Anthony and Phillipa. Her mother had summoned them to town and Constance had waited with a sick sense of fright for them to arrive.
She heard her parents’ soft greeting and strained to hear her brothers’ reply. Constance heard nothing. The door was swung open and Jocelyn barreled in, dressed in a dark yellow carriage dress, with her dark hair coiffed in an elegant chignon. She moved with energy despite her pregnant state and rushed over to Constance.
“Oh, Connie, I traveled up as soon as I heard. That wretched man,” Jocelyn burst out, hugging her. Constance returned her embrace, her eyes prickling with tears. She looked over Jocelyn’s head at the closed expression of both her brothers’ faces. Phillipa was attired very casually in a purple walking dress with a hat perched jauntily on her head. She gave
Constance an encouraging smile and walked over to her.
“Forgive me for being a watering pot.” Jocelyn released her with a sniff. “I fear I have become somewhat emotional since the baby.”
Constance hugged Phillipa briefly and everyone sat gathered in the parlor while her mother rang for tea. Mild pleasantries were exchanged but the air itself was fraught with tension. Constance did not fail to notice that her brothers had yet to say anything. She could feel their anger, even though they did nothing overt to show it. Their wives led the entire conversation and it was all about the mundane, though both Phillipa and Jocelyn wore the look of happily married women—certainly a rarity among the haute monde.
Mrs. Pritchard announced luncheon a few minutes later. With great reluctance, Constance entered the dining room. Her mother dismissed the footmen after they had been served. Constance waited with her stomach in knots. She knew they only gathered for one thing—to discuss the implications of her actions.
Her father wasted no time. “You know why we are all here, Connie. It is unpleasant business, but it must be dealt with. Your mother and I spoke at length and the decision we have made is that you must marry right away. Lord Litchfield will be calling on you tomorrow. I trust you will know what to do with his offer.”
Constance took a few sips of her wine, her mind churning for a solution. It was as she feared. She shot Sebastian and Anthony a pleading look. She knew Sebastian would not fight with her father over his decision, but he was her guardian by law, not her mother’s husband.
“The man who compromised her will be doing the marrying, Radcliffe,” Sebastian interposed softly, but she could hear the implacable steel in his voice.
“I am marrying no one.” The words slipped from Constance’s lips before she even knew she would speak. “I was not compromised.”
Cobalt blue eyes met hers, and she forced herself not to shrink away from Sebastian’s ruthless will. She saw Jocelyn fleetingly touched his arm. He relaxed slightly as he laced his hands with hers beneath the table.