To Seduce a Bride

by Nicole Jordan

  Lily frowned. She had greatly enjoyed meeting Marcus’s younger sister at Arabella’s wedding last month. Lively and beautiful, Lady Eleanor was a significant heiress who dressed in the height of fashion. But she was also a single gentlewoman with a reputation to protect.

  “Lady Eleanor?” Lily said skeptically. “She might not care to become involved with the fortunes of a lightskirt.”

  “She won’t mind,” Heath assured her. “Nell is no shrinking violet. I will ask her tomorrow morning when I see her.”

  “You will be calling on her tomorrow?” Lily asked, highly curious about his relationship with Lady Eleanor.

  “Yes. We are riding in the park together. I escort her on her daily rides with some regularity, particularly now that Marcus is spending so much of his time at Danvers Hall. She is an avid horsewoman, although perhaps not quite as zealous as you.”

  Lily found herself wishing that she could join them—but of course she could do no such thing if she wanted to keep her encounters with Heath to a minimum. Her inability to ride was no doubt the cause of the twinge of jealousy that rippled through her. She didn’t care that Heath seemed to be on excellent terms with Marcus’s sister. Nor did she care what he did in his free time when he wasn’t here courting her.

  Her only concern was what he could do for her courtesan friends—which reminded Lily of the subject at hand.

  “I would be grateful if you would ask Lady Eleanor then,” she told Heath, “although I hope it won’t be too much of an imposition on her.”

  “It won’t be. She is sure to admire your desire to help Peg. I will let you know what she says about a modiste. So is there anything else I may do for you?”

  Lily blinked, realizing he was eager to be gone. “No, but please let me thank you—”

  “I don’t want your thanks, Lily,” Heath said, his expression enigmatic.

  Then, with a brief bow, he turned away and exited the parlor, leaving Lily staring after him, torn between gratitude for his generosity and regret that he hadn’t wanted to remain in her company even a moment longer.

  “Most certainly I will help,” Lady Eleanor said as soon as Heath explained what he wanted. “And I have just the modiste in mind. The same one who created this riding costume for me.”

  He glanced critically at Eleanor, who rode beside him along the Row in Hyde Park. She was garbed in a stylish emerald green habit and jaunty military hat that set off her short raven curls and rosy complexion to perfection. “You look quite fetching,” he said approvingly.

  Marcus’s irrepressible younger sister dimpled. “Thank you for the pretty compliment, but Madame Gautier deserves the credit. Not only can she work wonders with her needle, she has a marvelous sense of fashion. And as it happens, she was remarking just last week how she despaired of finding skilled seamstresses. Madame will be in raptures if this Peg has an aptitude for designing as well as fine stitching. I will arrange an interview and notify you about the particulars.”

  Heath smiled his appreciation. “I knew I could count on you, love.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “My contribution will be of small moment compared to Miss Loring’s efforts. I think her compassion for those women is exceedingly admirable. I didn’t realize she was so involved in philanthropy, however, although I knew her friend, Miss Blanchard, advocates for several charities.”

  Heath had to admire Lily’s compassion as well. This was just the latest instance of her championing the helpless and the downtrodden, he reflected, remembering how her eyes had sparked when she spoke of the young women she had befriended.

  “Lily says the same thing about Miss Blanchard,” Heath commented.

  “Perhaps I will ask Miss Blanchard how I might aid her charities,” Eleanor said thoughtfully, before she sent Heath a curious glance. “So does this mean your courtship of Miss Loring is prospering?”

  Heath shrugged. “Well enough.”

  “Well enough?” The raven-haired beauty flashed a mock scowl. “Is that all you mean to tell me? You are too cruel, Heath! I am dying to know if I may soon wish you happy.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at her teasing. A lively minx, Eleanor was like the sister he had never had. He’d known her since she was born, and she had managed to wrap him around her finger from the time she was a toddler.

  In some ways she reminded him greatly of Lily, for they shared many of the same qualities; both young ladies were charming and endearing, forthright, independent, and generous in nature. At twenty, Eleanor was actually a year younger than Lily, but she had far more experience with the courting game, having been on the Marriage Mart for two Seasons. And since her comeout, Nell had been betrothed twice. Both times she’d broken off the engagement, much to the dismay of her aunt, Lady Beldon.

  “As soon as I have anything of consequence about my courtship to report,” Heath offered, “you will be among the first to know.”

  “That doesn’t sound very promising. Are you certain you don’t need my help in wooing Miss Loring? I was able to advise Drew on how to romance Roslyn.”

  “For someone who has jilted two suitors, Nell, you make a odd matchmaker.”

  Eleanor smiled impishly. “Indeed. But merely because I have resolved to remain single, doesn’t mean I cannot aid the course of true love.”

  “Ah, yes. You are a hopeless romantic.”

  “So I am. Which is precisely why I ended my betrothals—because neither of my fiancés could love me the way I wished to be loved. But miraculously, Marcus and Drew found love, so I still hold out hope for myself, and for you as well.”

  Heath had no ready reply for her. He’d never lost his heart, but the notion that Lily could inspire that particular malady had a definite appeal. If anyone could tempt him to fall in love, it would be Lily. He wondered if he could tempt her to love him in return….

  “Perhaps,” he drawled in response to Nell’s observation, “you should concentrate on your own affairs of the heart and not worry so much about mine.”

  Eleanor made a face at him. “I expected you to say that. But I still am rather stunned that you are considering donning marriage shackles.”

  He was a little stunned as well, Heath reflected. He’d never wanted to be tied down to just one woman. Until recently he had been a dedicated bachelor, devoted to a life of freedom and adventure, resolutely determined never to be locked in a tedious, insipid, passionless union merely for the sake of carrying on his illustrious title. But since his courtship of Lily, he had come to the realization that he could be content with the chains of matrimony if she were his jailor.

  “But I can comprehend,” Eleanor continued, overriding his thoughts, “why you would be attracted to Miss Loring. And from what I know of her, I think she might make an ideal match for you. The two of you seem highly compatible.”

  That was certainly true, Heath agreed. He’d never expected to find a wife who could be such a perfect match for him, as Lily would.

  His own parents had been poorly matched, nearly opposites in character and outlooks on life. His mother had been gay and charming and full of laughter; his father staid and proper and dull to the point of grimness. A grimness that only compounded after Lady Claybourne’s death as the marquess retreated further into himself.

  As a child, Heath had cherished his mother’s joie de vivre, although admittedly she had been concerned with her own pleasure above all else. Unlike Lily, who was concerned for everyone but herself.

  Whether or not he could have a love match with Lily, however, he wanted her for his wife. Not just to bear him heirs, as he’d first planned. Not merely to alleviate his boredom or to grace his bed, either, although those were excellent reasons to wed her.

  No, he wanted Lily for herself. Her liveliness, her intensity, her passion for life called to him. As did her fierceness, since it was tempered by warmth and softness and compassion. Lily stirred him like no other woman ever had.

  Yet it would be unwise, he warned himself, to let his feelings for her gr
ow any stronger when she had closed off her heart to any possibility of love. For the first time in his life he had met a woman whose defenses might be insurmountable.

  Which frustrated the devil out of him, since he wanted his union with Lily to be much more than the cold marriage of convenience his parents had known.

  He wanted more from his courtship of Lily, as well. He wanted to be able to venture out in public together, to ride with her in the park as he did with Eleanor, to attend plays and garden parties and enjoy all the other small intimacies that normal suitors were permitted. Most of all, he wanted to claim Lily for his own.

  Yet that moment seemed a long way off.

  Hell, perhaps his decision to stop overtly wooing Lily was a mistake. He had visibly slowed his pursuit of her to allow time for her feelings toward him to soften, reasoning that he could lower her resistance if she felt less pressured by his courtship. But his strategy might be having no effect at all.

  Shaking off his frustration, Heath returned his attention to his charming companion. As close as he was to Eleanor, however, he didn’t want to discuss his relationship with Lily any longer.

  “You stun me also, Nell,” he said to change the subject. “Since when would you rather amble along at this snail’s pace, chattering about matrimony instead of enjoying a good gallop?”

  “You make an excellent point,” Eleanor replied, gathering her reins.

  “Shall we race to the end of the lake?” he challenged.

  “You are on!” Eleanor exclaimed, digging her heel into her horse’s side, leaving an amused Heath to eat her dust and make yet another comparison with his spirited Lily.

  He called on Lily that afternoon to report on Eleanor’s progress: A meeting had been arranged for Peg with Madame Gautier the following morning. When summoned to the parlor to hear the news, Peg was overjoyed at the prospect of finding respectable employment at the modiste’s shop, and she thanked Heath profusely.

  Betty’s response, however, was altogether different at first. The girl appeared nervous and intimidated when Heath questioned her about her wishes for her future, stammering out her replies. Yes, milord, a husband might be welcome at some point, and yes, she would be very happy to return to the country. But for now she only wanted safety for herself and the chance to bear her baby without fear of finding herself on the streets again. When Heath offered her sanctuary at his family estate under the aegis of his housekeeper, Betty stared at him for a long moment and then burst into tears.

  Lily immediately wrapped her arm around the girl in an effort to ease her distress, but startlingly, Betty eschewed the proffered comfort and got down on her knees to Heath instead.

  “Oh, milord!” she sobbed, taking his hand to kiss it fervently. “You are a saint, just like Miss Loring. You won’t regret taking me in, I swear it. And I will repay you somehow, every penny.”

  Disconcerted by her abject display of gratitude, Heath gently drew the girl to her feet, assuring her that he didn’t want recompense, that serving his housekeeper well would be payment enough.

  When Betty could at last be pried away from him and had left the parlor, still sniffling with joy, Lily stood there gazing at him, her expression soft.

  “I cannot thank you enough, Heath,” she murmured in a voice rife with gratitude.

  Heath stilled as he became lost in those melting dark eyes of hers. Struggling against the urge to take Lily in his arms, he merely shrugged. “Don’t refine on it.”

  “Of course I will refine on it. You may possibly have saved her life, and you undoubtedly saved her baby’s life.” Lily hesitated. “Such generosity is rare, especially coming from a nobleman.”

  His mouth twisted at her unconscious disparagement of his class. “You may make a philanthropist out of me yet,” he said lightly.

  Lily cocked her head as she studied him thoughtfully. “I imagine that would be a very good thing. Just think, Heath, you could put your enormous wealth to noble purpose. There are so many people who could benefit…not to mention the immense satisfaction of doing a kindness for others.”

  It was even more satisfying to win her regard, Heath reflected. When Lily looked at him that way, he was willing to give away his entire fortune.

  Heath shook his head mentally at the image of him doling out alms to the poor and oppressed, yet the thought of sharing Lily’s cause held surprising appeal. She had accused him of wanting to play hero, and it was true; he wanted to be a hero in her eyes. And he wanted the right to slay her dragons.

  “Will you stay for tea?” she asked in that same soft voice.

  He hadn’t meant to remain, but he found himself agreeing. And as Lily led the way upstairs to Fleur’s sitting room, her words about putting his wealth to noble purpose echoed in his mind.

  The possibility hadn’t seriously occurred to him before now. No doubt because he’d been wrapped up in his own pursuits.

  Perhaps, however, it was time to take stock of his life. Seeing Lily’s concern for the less fortunate, Heath couldn’t help but question his own goals and desires.

  He had been born to vast privilege and wealth, receiving too much, too easily, with too few responsibilities to keep him grounded. His doting mother had spoiled him as a child, and like her, he’d been more concerned with his own selfish gratification.

  And after losing his mother when he was ten, he’d taken refuge from his anguish in anger, rebelling against his father’s dictates at every opportunity, sometimes on sheer principle, recklessly pushing the boundaries of civilized behavior to the point of physical danger.

  But even as he grew older, he hadn’t used his talents or resources very wisely. He’d treated life as a game, with the quest for pleasure and excitement his primary aim. He’d been adamant that he wouldn’t become like his sire, mired in a grim, joyless, passionless existence.

  But Heath could see now that he’d gone overboard trying to repudiate his father’s influence. And he realized he ought to make more of his life.

  Indeed, Lily was the first thing he’d ever had to work for, to strive to win—and the challenge had opened his eyes. Thanks to her inspiration, he wanted to contribute something productive to society, to a cause greater than himself. She made him want to do better, to be better, to prove himself worthy of her.

  Perhaps when he returned home, he would pen a message to Tess Blanchard and ask how he could aid her charities—

  Heath’s ruminations were interrupted just then when they reached the sitting room. Surprisingly, Fanny was there with Fleur and Chantel. The women had been speaking in low tones, but all conversation stopped when Heath entered behind Lily.

  And when Fanny turned her face toward them, Lily went rigid with shock.

  The Cyprian’s lower lip was split and bloody, Heath saw, while bruises in the shape of fingerprints disfigured the creamy skin covering her jaw.

  “Good God, Fanny—whatever happened?” Lily exclaimed in tones of anger and dismay.

  Obviously embarrassed, Fanny ducked her head. “It is nothing, Lily, truly.”

  “What do you mean, nothing? Someone struck you!”

  “It wasn’t like that…. Mick just didn’t realize his own strength.”

  Lily took a step forward, her fists curled in rage, and Heath knew she was moments away from exploding.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I have no intention of wedding him, but I confess that the notion of becoming his mistress has a certain appeal.

  —Lily to Tess Blanchard

  “Mick O’Rourke?” Lily demanded, clearly appalled and furious. “He did that to you, Fanny?”

  Heath saw Fanny wince. “Yes,” the Cyprian replied, “but I doubt he meant to hurt me. When I refused his patronage again, Mick became angry and tried to kiss me.”

  “Of course he meant to hurt you!” Lily retorted. “That brute hurt Fleur when she ordered him from the house last week—”

  “Because she called him an ill-bred oaf. It incenses Mick when he thinks someone is insulting h
is origins.”

  “It incenses me when I see a man assaulting a much weaker woman!”

  “I know, Lily,” Fanny said soothingly. “But he doesn’t know any better. He was raised in the London stews and always had to fight for whatever he wanted, so he has different notions of civilized behavior than we do.”

  Heath felt his jaw tighten at that unpersuasive justification, while Lily stared at Fanny in disbelief. “Are you actually making excuses for that lout? I cannot credit it!”

  “No,” Fanny said a trifle defensively. “I only thought to explain his point of view.”

  “I don’t give a fig for his point of view! He has no right to brutalize you.”

  Fanny’s smile was pained. “Mick doesn’t see it quite that way. He believes I am spurning him because his money isn’t good enough for me, which is not the case at all. It is his possessiveness that I dislike. But truly, I am not concerned for myself. I am worried for Fleur and Chantel. Mick says he will make good his threat to put them in debtors’ prison. I went to his club to ask him for another fortnight to repay the funds, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “Well, he will listen to me!” Lily declared, turning abruptly toward the door. “I will make him listen.”

  Not liking her implication, Heath stepped into her path, blocking her exit. “Just what do you intend, Lily?”

  “To go down to that brute’s gaming club this instant and confront him—give him a piece of my mind at the very least.”

  “You will do no such thing.”

  “What the devil do you mean?” she demanded, her fists clenching.

  Lily was practically breathing fire, she was so angry, but she obviously was not thinking clearly. “I mean that you will allow me to handle O’Rourke. He will take me far more seriously.”

  She looked as if she would dispute him, but then she hesitated, as if knowing he was right.

  Taking advantage of her fuming silence, Heath pressed harder. “You can sheathe your sword for now, angel. I promise to deal with him.”