The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany Sefchick

  Until this moment, Nicholas had never truly appreciated that particular part of his relationship with Eliza. That she was not impressed by his reputation and, moreover, she did not fear him in the least. Other than Julia, she was the only woman who did not wish to either bed him so that she might taste his legendary skills at bed port. Or attempt to trap him into marriage. No, Eliza - his Izzy - had known him far longer than anyone else of his acquaintance, save for his sister and her husband. He did not pretend with them. Why did he do so with Eliza? She had made it abundantly plain that he did not need to. He wasn't certain he had an answer for that.

  Nicholas heard the rustle of silk and knew Eliza was beginning to pace, as was her habit. A sliver of moonlight shone down upon her head from behind a cloud and he couldn't help but think her hair looked like spun gold. Even at the height of her beauty, Ellie had not possessed such magnificent hair. Then again, Ellie had not been the woman Nicholas had thought she was, either. Between the two women, he was a bit surprised to find that he would prefer this singular conversation with Eliza over a night filled with meaningless flirtation and even more meaningless coupling with Ellie.

  Stupid, stupid man. Thinking with his cock and not his head. That would only lead to trouble. Again.

  Disquieted, Nicholas pushed that thought aside and instead reached out to snag Eliza's arm. "Stop pacing, Brat. It does no one any good and dirties your slippers. People will question where you have been and then we will be in a real bind. Not to mention that it brings us no closer to our goal of discovering Stephen's true identity."

  "What if we never do? Or what if I am wrong?" Eliza hated to give voice to that fear, but all night, the niggling doubt that something was wrong with the entire situation continued to eat away at her.

  Nicholas harrumphed, some of his earlier anger returning, more out of frustration than anything else. "You are not. Not about this." He was never wrong either. At least not about matters such as this.

  "But we cannot prove anything." She was growing frustrated, too. That would never do. He needed her to be calm. Especially as she was the one living under the same roof as the possible imposter. And especially because if she was overwrought, he might stupidly wish to comfort her.

  "We will, Izzy," Nicholas reminded her gently, reigning in his own emotions and allowing himself to slip back into the role of Bloody Duke. "Now stop pacing for a moment and let us speak calmly about this. It is why you followed me out here, isn't it? To discuss the man who would be your brother?"

  "Well, it is certainly not for your considerable charms with the ladies, though I hear they are indeed legendary. Although not with me, apparently, as some times, being civil is a stretch for you. You run so hot and cold that I cannot keep up!" Eliza growled, but there was no anger in her words. Just more frustration. And he understood. Not to mention that it was difficult to play one role in public and another in private. Especially for one so inexperienced at the arts of spying and seduction as Eliza.

  When she finally stopped pacing however, Nicholas pulled her to face him again. He was quickly coming to the realization that he could not do this alone. If he was to prove Stephen a fraud, he needed her help. It was a humbling thought, but there it was. And if she was to help him, she needed to understand how to look for information. She also needed to keep her head and her wits about her. "Have you ever wondered why people believe that I am a spy?"

  "Because you are one?"

  He shook his head. "Well, yes, there is that. But moreover, it is because I am still. Often times, I appear lazy and indifferent, but make no mistake, I am ever on-guard. Yet I am so very, very still. And in the stillness, I listen. And I find the answers. I hear what people do not say, and often times, that speaks far louder than what they do. Sometimes, gaining power is all a matter of listening."

  Eliza considered that for a moment. "I believe I understand." She paused. "And as I have a different sort of access to Stephen, since you are making little progress, I need to be still and listen as well. To hear what he does not say."

  "That's my girl. I knew you were clever, Eliza. My Izzy."

  For some reason, that appeared to be the wrong thing to say however. Even in the darkness, he could see her frown deepen.

  "Stop it, Nick," she hissed, her ire clearly roused. "Enough. Don't say those things lest someone overhear you." How she had gone from pleased to angry so quickly he did not know. But then this was Eliza. She did not respond as other females did.

  He was also confused. And getting a bit angry again as well. The tug of emotions and scattered thoughts was wearying and he would be glad when this mess was over. "Overhear what? A man talking to the woman he is courting and hopes to wed?"

  She shook her head. "Enough of the games, Nick. I told you that you do not have to pretend with me. Not when we are alone. I know where I stand with you, how you view me. So let us leave it at that, shall we?"

  Despite his better sense, Nicholas was intrigued. And feeling a little challenged at the moment. There was no possible way Eliza could possibly know how he viewed her. Mostly because he did not know himself. So, as always, he would listen and hear what she did not say. Just because he liked a challenge. And he liked to win. And suddenly, he was feeling a bit more like his old self again.

  "And how do I view you, Brat?" His arms were crossed over his chest once more and his stance wide. He was attempting to appear intimidating but feared that - with Eliza anyway - he was failing miserably. "Do tell. This is an excellent chance to show me your fledgling spying skills. Such as they are."

  She hit his chest again, harder this time, "You arrogant, boorish man! You view me just as you always have. I am Stephen's little sister. A plain, annoying sort of child to merely be tolerated!" She hit him again, this time with her fists and he had to shift his weight to stay upright.

  "Where is this coming from, Brat?" Nicholas asked, clearly confused. "We are friends, are we not? You came to me for help and I am giving it. I am sorry if you do not like the game, but there is nothing to be done for it. I cannot have the access to your family that I require any other way. You know this."

  "The courtship can go hang! You are making a fool of me! That is what I care about, Nick! I do still have a reputation to uphold! One that I will need to fall back on once this farce is at an end!" Another hit and that one made him wince. "In public your fawning over me is one thing, as it is part of the plan. But I will not tolerate it in private. That is simply you being cruel! Taunting me with what I will never truly have!"

  He frowned, Eliza's thought pattern dizzying in its complexity. " How am I taunting you, Brat? I am not certain I understand." And for once, he really didn't.

  She growled, a low sound that was more sensual than angry. "I accept that I am not pretty or desirable. I accept that I am a spinster who will never wed. And I accept that in public, you must act as if I am your world. That you must pay attention to me and say pretty words that you do not mean. But it is cruel of you do so in private. To treat me as if you care and call me your Izzy. As if I am more to you than a mere friend, as if I am the woman you truly desire, when we both know that I am not! That is cruel, Nicholas, and though you may be ruthless, I do not think you are needlessly cruel. At least not to women!" Another hit, this time with her reticule and he reached up to rub his shoulder. What was she carrying in there? Rocks?

  He also knew she was right. At least in part. And she did deserve an apology. He had planned on offering one earlier until he had arrived and spotted her with her brother. "Eliza, I am sorry. I meant that when I said it earlier. This is my plan, not yours, and all I have done is cause you undue harm. You are the subject of gossip and that is my fault as well. I did nothing to help matters over the last few days, either. And sometimes, I forget myself. That is not like me and from this point forward, it shall stop. It rather makes me a bad spy. And more than that, a bad friend."

  Eliza moved to hit him again and he easily caught her wrist. Thankfully it was the wrist with her reticule. T
hat last blow of hers had rather hurt. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Izzy. I never would. And for that, I apologize. For despite what you think, we are friends. Of a sort." And for once, Nicholas meant every word he had just said.

  God the chit turned him upside down. But he rather liked that about her.

  "You...apologize?" Now it was Eliza's turn to frown.

  Nicholas nodded. "Yes. Sometimes, I forget that I'm not truly The Bloody Duke. Sometimes, I forget that with you, I'm just Nicholas. And that not everything is a game to be won. And that I don't have to pretend all of the time."

  "Oh. Well. Thank you." She blinked a few times and it was clear she was now just as confused as he was. Perfect. "I appreciate that. Truly. Nick."

  She said his name. His real name. She had said it before, certainly, but this time, it was different somehow. It touched something inside of him. There were days when it was difficult to tell where The Bloody Duke ended and Nicholas Rosemont began. If there was even a difference any longer. Some days, he didn't think there was.

  But Eliza could tell the difference. Because she knew him. She knew him from before he had become The Bloody Duke. And it seemed important that she understand how much it meant to him that she could see the real man beneath the monster. Because Nicholas' heart was long dead. But the cold ashes of it stirred to life in that moment. And he needed her to know she was the reason.

  Slowly, Nicholas pulled Eliza closer to him until their bodies were pressed against each other. "Thank you," he whispered. He should have pushed her away after that. That would have been the logical thing to do. But once more, Nicholas and the Duke became entangled inside of him and he wanted to feel her against him. Just this once. Because he desired her and he had long ago stopped denying himself the things that he wanted - particularly women. And she deserved some small sliver of happiness as well - especially after what he had done to her.

  "For what?" Eliza blinked at him, her eyes luminous in the moonlight. She really was pretty. And she also had no real idea what he thought of her. Perhaps it was time to change that. Because deep inside, maybe he was more The Bloody Duke than he wanted to admit.

  "For saying my name. My real name. There are times when I forget who I am." Eliza was soft and warm and for a moment, Nicholas decided to give in to what he wanted. He might burn in Hell for it later, but at the moment, he didn't care. "And I also need to beg your apology again, Izzy."

  "Why?" Her voice was soft and breathy, as if she could feel the tension building between them. As if she wasn't quite as innocent as she pretended to be. Maybe she wasn't.

  "For this." And then Nicholas brought his lips to hers and for the first time in his life, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

  Chapter Ten

  Ride harder. Ride faster.

  Those two phrases echoed through Eliza's mind the following morning as she raced Morning Glory, her prized mare, through the nearly empty streets of London and towards Hyde Park. The sun had not yet even been in the sky when Eliza had slipped quietly out of bed and gone directly to the stables, asking for her horse to be saddled. Not that she had slept much anyway.

  How could she after that kiss?

  It had been so...so...so confusing. And wonderful. And arousing. And so maddeningly brief. Just a soft brush of lips - his against hers - and then Nicholas had been gone, disappearing into the night and leaving her alone in the Earl of Northwick's ornate, Oriental gardens. Alone and very, very confused.

  In theory, Eliza should have been angry with Nicholas. After all, it was more of the same - him toying with her, teasing and tempting her with what she could never truly have. Except that this time was not at all like his previous flirtations. There had been something different about that kiss last evening. As if he had wanted to kiss her.

  Which did not make any sense at all from her point of view. For she was dowdy, on-the-shelf bluestocking Lady Eliza Deaver. And he? Well, he was The Bloody Duke and that should have been more than enough explanation for anyone.

  Yet in her mind, Eliza kept hearing Nicholas ask for her forgiveness. And she could see the darkness of his eyes and the single emotion that had flared in them just before he had kissed her. Was it lust? It could be, she supposed. After all, Nicholas was reputed to not go more than two days without a lover in his bed, and his visit to Lycosura aside, it had certainly been more than two days since he had been with a woman.

  So was she merely the woman who happened to be handy? Probably so. There could be no other reason. It wasn't as if she was the sort of woman who inspired men to carnal acts. It certainly wasn't because he desired her. Not in the way she was coming to desire him.

  Yet there was a little voice in the back of Eliza's mind that whispered "why not" her? After all, she was one of the few people who knew the true Nicholas Rosemont. Then she remembered why not. Ellie Reynolds. The only woman Nicholas had ever and would ever love. That was why not.

  But that didn't change the way Eliza's body had heated at the gentle brush of Nicholas' lips against hers. Nor did it change the wicked dreams she had endured once she returned home to a fitful sleep in her bed. And that was precisely why she was awake at such an early hour, riding alone through the streets of London in a vain attempt to clear her head.

  Because she could not allow her head to run away from her. Especially not over Nicholas - a man that she could not have and one would never desire her. Not to mention that discovering the truth about Stephen's true identity was the only reason they were pretending to court in the first place. And that should be her primary concern. It should not be whether or not The Bloody Duke could ever desire her.

  By the time she reached the park, Eliza's mind was whirling and she urged Morning Glory on to even greater speeds. While this town park was a far cry from the wide, open fields of Langton Abby, it was as close as either she or the horse was likely to come to freedom before the end of the Season. Together, horse and rider moved as one down the now-empty Rotten Row, and flew over small shrubs and along the uneven banks of the Serpentine. Hoof beats matched heartbeats and Eliza allowed her mind to go blissfully blank for the briefest of moments. Deeper and deeper into the park she and Morning Glory flew until finally, they reached a thin spot in a hedgerow and made a sharp left, entering a small gap in the foliage that one would not see unless one knew to look for it.

  Finally on the other side and away from any prying eyes, Eliza gradually slowed her mount and eventually brought Morning Glory into an easy walk, her breath coming in great gasps from the exertion of the ride. There was a silence here that she had found no place else in town and she relished the opportunity to clear her mind.

  Eliza was also unlikely to be spotted out and about without a chaperone, which was another concern. When she had left the Framingham town home that morning, she had refused the company of one of the younger stable hands. And Theresa didn't ride, the maid refusing to learn and saying that horses were fit only to plow fields and pull carriages. It had been a rash decision to go out on her own, Eliza knew, but at the time, it had also seemed like the correct one.

  Now, she slipped from her sidesaddle and led Morning Glory to a small pond that had once marked the northern border of the Serpentine. This part of the park had been abandoned long ago, the banks far too steep for most ladies of good breeding to navigate, with one or more of them ending up in the muddy water on any given day. This section was also well outside of the fashionable areas near Rotten Row, which also meant there was less chance of being observed by polite society. Good for secret assignations, she supposed, but bad for those wishing to become the subject of gossip.

  In fact Eliza herself would not have known of the hidden area's existence if she had not overheard Lady Amy Cheltenham - now Lady Ardenton, after her slightly scandalous marriage to a former physician and son of a disgraced viscount - speaking about the area with her sister-in-law, Lady Caroline Breckenright. Eliza had been hiding in an alcove at a dinner party and had overheard the two women speaking about the hidden garden,
as it had been a favorite spot of Lady Ardenton's when she had been sneaking off to meet the man who was now her husband.

  At first, it had taken Eliza a bit to find the secluded entrance in the hedgerow, but once she had, the little area had become a favorite of hers, especially because near the old folly, there was a mounting block so that she could easily remount Morning Glory after spending some time near the water's edge. Eliza did not come here often, but when she could manage to sneak away in the early mornings, she found the seclusion was good for her mind and soul. It provided her time to think, and over the last several years since Stephen death, time to ponder anything had been something of a luxury.

  Now, with the faint golden rays of dawn beginning to streak the sky, Eliza drew in a deep breath. While the air here was not as sweet or clean as it was in the country, it was still far better in this section of Hyde Park than elsewhere in London. Closing her eyes, she tugged back the hood of her cloak and lifted her face to the sun, adoring the way the heat seemed to seep into her very bones, warming her from the inside out. It had been a very long time since she had felt this at peace.

  "What are you about, Brat?"

  And, it seemed, that peace was destined to be shattered.

  Opening her eyes, Eliza wasn't at all surprised to see Nicholas leaning back against the folly, his arms crossed over his massive chest and his booted feet crossed at the ankles. Appearing as if he didn't have a care in the world. His hair seemed longer today, though that was impossible as she had just seen him last night. Still, a thick, dark lock fell over one eye and she stupidly wished to brush it back, running her fingers through his thick hair in the process.