Taste of Temptation

by Cheryl Holt

  “I learned she was in a terrible spot—mere hours away from being tossed out on the street with her two sisters.”

  “How awful for them.”

  “I brought the three of them to live with us. Is it all right with you?”

  “Are the others as pretty as she is?”

  “Exact copies.”

  Michael grinned. “Then I’m delighted. We can always make room for some pretty girls.”

  At the cheeky comment, Tristan glowered. “You should also know that they’re a tad notorious.”

  “Notorious women? I’m more thrilled by the second.”

  “Others might not approve of our empathy or hospitality. There might be gossip.”

  Michael shrugged. “Why would I care?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. It seems their father was an infamous scapegrace, renowned for his peccadilloes. He was shot in a duel by the duke of Clarendon.”

  “Their father was Harry Hamilton?”

  “Yes. Did you know him?”

  “Of course. He used to chum around with Father on occasion. They got up to all sorts of mischief.”

  “That explains where Miss Hamilton comes by it.”

  “Comes by what?”

  “None of your business, but I will expect you to act with the utmost decorum at all times.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Amelia is only twelve—”

  “Too young for me.”

  “She’ll be Rose’s companion.”

  “Wonderful. Rose needs a friend. Maud has kept her too isolated; she’s lonely.”

  “My thoughts exactly. As to the other two—Miss Helen Hamilton and Miss Jane Hamilton—”

  “How old is Jane?”

  “Eighteen—the same age as you, which concerns me.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Ha! From where I’m sitting, I don’t worry nearly enough. You will behave yourself. I’ve allowed you regular visits to the whores, so that they can tend your masculine needs. There’s no reason for you to bother Helen or Jane Hamilton.”

  “I won’t. You have my word.”

  Even as he voiced the vow, he was awhirl with questions. Jane Hamilton was eighteen. Did she enjoy flirtation? Was she truly as fetching as her sister? It would certainly be intriguing if she was!

  “Good,” Tristan said. “Now get going on your ride with Miriam. The carriage has been out in the drive for the past hour. I’m sure she grows impatient.”

  Michael rolled his eyes. He often went to the park with Miriam, but it was ludicrous to say they rode together. Miriam was afraid of horses and of heights, so she trudged in a coach, a servant handling the reins, while Michael pranced along beside.

  Although she fancied him, the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. She was like an annoying sibling, and he could never be interested in a girl who was terrified of her own shadow.

  He strolled out and marched down the hall to the foyer, where he was irked to see Miriam hovering, watching for him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’s such a lovely day. I’m so glad you could make time for me.”

  “For you, Miriam, I can always make time.”

  In light of the designs she had on him, it was probably cruel to socialize with her. His amiability gave her the wrong impression, but what could he do?

  She and her mother had lived with them for more than a decade. They were part of the family. It wasn’t as if he could pretend she didn’t exist, and he would never hurt her by telling her the truth: They would never become betrothed, despite how fervidly she wished it.

  He’d extended his arm to escort her out to the carriage when footsteps sounded on the stairs. He stopped and glanced up to see a young lady, who had to be none other than Jane Hamilton, descending.

  Her cloak and bonnet were worn, providing evidence of her penury, but she was extremely pretty—even more winsome than her sister Helen.

  Their gazes locked, and it was the strangest thing, but his heart thudded with excitement. He felt as if he’d always known her, as if they were friends being reunited after a lengthy separation.

  He shook off the peculiar perception, and he smiled up at her.

  “Miss Hamilton, I presume?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Miriam stiffened with affront, and instantly he recognized that nothing in his home would ever be the same again.

  The weeks ahead would be filled with drama, manipulation, and scheming, but from the looks of Jane Hamilton, she’d be able to hold her own against his plain, fussy cousins.

  “Come down, come down,” he told her, gesturing, urging her on.

  She continued boldly, her stride not faltering, her gaze never leaving his. As she reached the bottom, she sauntered over, not evincing a hint of subservience or awe, which was shocking and refreshing.

  Women constantly fawned over him; Maud and Miriam were particularly exasperating, and he was weary of false flattery and admiration. He and Jane Hamilton would get on swimmingly.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling too.

  “Michael Seymour, at your service.” He bowed flamboyantly. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  “Humble?” she tartly responded. “I’ve already counted thirty-five rooms.”

  “Miss Hamilton!” Miriam hissed. “Where are your manners? You stand before the earl of Hastings! Show the proper respect!”

  “Would you like me to curtsy, Lord Hastings?”

  “No, but I would like you to call me Michael. Will you?”

  “Only if you’ll call me Jane.”

  “I will.”

  “Really, Michael,” Miriam scolded, “I hardly think it’s appropriate for one of her station to act so familiarly. Especially when she’s just met you.”

  “I don’t mind, Miriam, so you shouldn’t, either.” To his surprise, he didn’t want the encounter with Jane to end. “Were you going out, Jane?”

  “Yes. In the last few hours, so much has transpired that my head is spinning. I thought I’d take a walk to explore the neighborhood.”

  “You must come with us, instead,” he insisted. “We’re off to the park.”

  “Michael,” Miriam fumed through clenched teeth, “could I speak with you privately for a moment?”

  “No.”

  “There’s something I must tell you.” She leveled a glare at Jane that could have melted lead.

  Jane was no fool, and she graciously offered, “If Miss Seymour would rather I didn’t join you, I’m happy to decline.”

  “My cousin wasn’t about to say any such thing.” He scowled at Miriam, daring her to contradict him, but she never would. “Since you’ll be staying with us, we must begin introducing you to our acquaintances. Today is as good a time as any.”

  Miriam couldn’t bear it, and she muttered, “Michael, I won’t be seen out in public with her. She is a servant!”

  “No, she isn’t,” he sternly replied. “She and her sisters are my guests. They are here at my specific invitation.”

  He told the lie in order to thwart any nonsense from her and her mother. Miriam appeared as if she might explode, and Jane was unsettled, too. It was clear she understood that Miriam would be an enemy, and that she would need to tread cautiously.

  “Were you aware, Jane,” he asked, “that I knew your father?”

  “Oh.”

  Emotion flared in her expression, dismay or despair, and he rushed to quell it.

  “He was a jolly fellow. I liked him very much.”

  “Oh!” She brightened, and there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you for saying so. I loved him very much, and I never hear anything civil about him.”

  He patted her hand, giving comfort and support.

  “Let’s go, shall we?”

  “Let’s do,” Jane said, while Miriam was too peeved to comment.

  He escorted them both out, ignoring Miriam’s pique, pretending that she wasn’t having a tantrum.

  Outside, the carriage and
his horse awaited them. When a footman moved to help Miriam climb in, Michael stepped forward and did a bit of penance by assisting her himself.

  When he turned to assist Jane, she was over by his horse, stroking its neck, whispering in its ear.

  “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “Bandit.”

  “He’s a beauty. I love horses. We had several when we lived in the country. Mine was named Dolly.”

  “You don’t still have her?”

  “No, they took her when we lost Father’s property.”

  “Who took her?”

  “Why ... the duke’s men. After the ... ah ... duel, he bought Father’s debts, and he foreclosed. They trotted off with my horse while I watched out the window. I’d had her since I was a child.”

  There was an awkward silence, as a vivid scene entered his mind, of her standing in an empty parlor, while strangers out in her driveway made off with her most precious possession. He almost felt as if he’d been standing there with her, and he suffered no small amount of outrage on her behalf.

  Suddenly, he was very, very glad that Tristan had brought her to their home.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know that had happened to you. I knew about your father’s bad end, but I wasn’t apprised of the other consequences.”

  She chuckled miserably. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m still a little raw over all that’s occurred.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?”

  “Michael,” Miriam snapped, interrupting their tête-àtête, “are you ready?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.” He smiled at Jane. “May I help you in?”

  But even as he voiced the question, a brilliant notion dawned on him. “Or would you rather ride with me?”

  “Ride ... with you?”

  “Yes. We have numerous mounts that would be acceptable for a lady.”

  “I would love to ride. It’s been an eternity since I have!”

  “Then ride you shall, and you may do so whenever you’re in the mood. Simply send a servant out to inform the lads in the stable. They’ll deliver an animal to the front door.”

  “I am so grateful. You’ve given me a wonderful gift.”

  He gestured to a footman, who hurried to the stable to have another horse saddled, but when Michael looked back at her, she was crying.

  His heart made that odd thudding motion again and, at viewing her woe, he was stricken.

  “What is it?” He stepped nearer, being assailed by her heat, her scent. He took hold of her hand. “Don’t you truly want to ride? You don’t have to.”

  “No, no, it’s not that.”

  “What then?”

  “You and Captain Odell have been so kind to me, at a time when kindness has been in short supply.”

  For a brief moment, the rest of the world fell away. There was no house, no carriage with Miriam seething inside, no servants hovering. There was just him and her, and the feel of her slender hand clasped in his own.

  He swiped a thumb across her cheeks to dry her tears.

  “Everything will be all right now,” he murmured.

  “Yes, it will.”

  “Michael,” Miriam complained, “I hate to pester you, but what’s the delay? Mother wants me home by four, so I really need to get going.”

  Michael glanced over at her. “I’ve learned that Jane loves horses. She’s decided to ride with me—instead of in the carriage. We’re having a mount saddled for her.”

  “She loves horses?” Miriam was aghast.

  “Isn’t it marvelous?” he said. “She and I have so much in common.”

  Panic flashed in Miriam’s eyes.

  “LET’S count all the ways we’re alike.”

  “I’m betting it’s a lot.”

  Rose Seymour gazed at Amelia, desperate to please her. She didn’t have any friends, because Maud never allowed it. Maud was supposed to have acted in Rose’s best interests, but she hadn’t taken her role seriously.

  Rose never went visiting; other girls were never invited over. She spent all her time in the nursery, and since she was too old for a nanny and hadn’t had a governess in ages, she was always alone.

  Yet suddenly, like a gift from heaven, Amelia had appeared. The minute Rose had the chance she would run downstairs and hug Tristan so hard that he wouldn’t be able to breathe for a week!

  From the instant he’d arrived, Rose had known he would be kind. That first day, he’d asked what she needed, but she’d been too embarrassed to tell him she was lonely and simply wanted some children with whom to play.

  How had he guessed her deepest desire? She would be grateful forever!

  “My father is dead,” Rose stated.

  “So is mine.”

  “My mother died when I was born.”

  “Mine too!” Amelia said.

  “I have two brothers—Michael and Tristan.”

  “And I have two sisters—Helen and Jane.”

  They giggled.

  “It’s like we’ve been living parallel lives, without even knowing.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you think it was fated that we be together?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Rose tugged Amelia to her feet.

  They were in her bedchamber, and they walked over and stood in front of the mirror. They were the same height and had the same bodily shape, the only difference being that Amelia had auburn hair and green eyes, while Rose had blond hair and blue eyes.

  Their hair was long, and they both had it tied with a ribbon.

  “Look! We could be twins!” Amelia gushed.

  “Let’s pretend that we are. It will be our secret.”

  “We were separated at birth. You were raised here by your rich father, while I was sent away to poor relatives, and no one knew where I’d gone.”

  “You’ve been distressed and penniless, but my dashing brother Tristan found you for me.”

  “I like that ending very much.”

  They giggled again.

  Rose leaned in, peering intently, taking in all the details.

  Prior to Rose being introduced to Amelia, Tristan had told her that, recently, Amelia had had a very rough time of it, that she and her sisters needed some understanding and support.

  He’d asked Rose to help him make Amelia feel at home, and Rose had been glad to assist.

  She studied Amelia’s dress, which was faded and excessively mended. It was too short, too, as if Amelia had grown taller, but there had been no money to purchase a new garment.

  At the thought of it—of her dear companion in dire straits—Rose was furious. How could such a lovely person be forced to endure such hardship? Why was the world such a cruel place?

  “Let me show you something,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “My cloakroom is full of dresses that I never wear. I want to give them to you.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” Amelia protested.

  “If you would take them, Amelia, I would be very happy.”

  Rose smiled, and Amelia smiled, too.

  “CAPTAIN, you know I hate to make a fuss, but for once, I really must say what’s on my mind.”

  Maud struggled for calm, anxious to appear pleasant and cordial, but she didn’t imagine she was succeeding.

  “Your comment implies that you’ve been overly reticent in the past.”

  “I’ve gone out of my way to be amenable.”

  “Have you?”

  It had been utter hell dealing with him for the previous few months, and she’d tried to be gracious, to politely accede to his edicts and whims, but it was becoming ever more difficult to be civil, to be silent.

  She’d spent an entire decade ingratiating herself to Charles, Michael’s father, so it had come as an enormous shock when his will had been read and she’d learned that Tristan Odell had been entrusted with everything, while Maud had been left with nothing at all.

  It had taken six weeks for Odell to be notified of his guardianship
, for him to travel to London and assume his duties. Once he’d arrived, he’d jumped in with a vengeance. Her allowance had been stopped, her access to the bank accounts rescinded, and her authority over Rose and Michael revoked.

  It was galling and maddening, and with his giving a job to Helen Hamilton in the middle of the night, Maud had reached the end of her rope.

  She and Miriam resided in the mansion, too, and they couldn’t have their status damaged by an association with the Hamiltons. Nor could Maud bear that she wouldn’t be directing Helen Hamilton in her role as part of the staff.

  Enough was enough!

  “Is there a problem?” Odell asked, exhibiting the implacable composure that drove her up the wall.

  They were in the library, with him sitting behind the massive desk, which had been hers. Now, he’d claimed the desk and room as his own, and she stood across from him like a supplicant.

  She pulled up a chair and sat without being invited.

  “You’ve gone a tad too far this time.”

  “In what area?”

  “With bringing the Hamilton sisters into the house.”

  “Why is that?”

  “What will people say?”

  “Who cares what they say?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, fighting to retain her poise so she wouldn’t shout at him.

  “I realize you’re a seafaring man, Captain, and from another country to boot—”

  “I’m from Scotland, Maud. My father paid for schooling in Edinburgh. You talk as if I was raised on the moon.”

  “I’m not criticizing your antecedents, Captain.”

  “It certainly sounded like it.”

  The conversation wasn’t proceeding as she’d hoped. He was in a surly mood, displaying his typical contrariness, and she wondered if she’d ever grow accustomed to it.

  She had big plans for Tristan Odell. He had control over all the Seymour money, so he was the perfect choice to be her next husband. Yet if she could ever manage to coax a marriage proposal out of him, how would she abide that arrogant attitude?

  Her first husband had been timid and easily manipulated, and she’d loathed him for his compliant nature, but she’d relished it, too. She’d never had to argue or cajole to get her way. With Odell, they’d battle constantly.

  “You must admit,” she said, “that you’re not familiar with London’s social rules.”