The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany Sefchick

  Clenching her hands at her sides, Eliza crossed her own arms over her chest and graced Nicholas with what she hoped was a haughty look of derision. He had no right to question her, after all. Or follow her into her favorite hiding place. The two of them were merely business partners. That sort-of-kiss had changed nothing between them.

  "I am thinking, Nicholas," she tossed back, almost daring him to contradict her. "There is much on my mind this morning. Your grace." She prayed she had made her contempt clear. Really, the man could be so infuriating!

  "Not that kiss, I hope." He tossed his head, his own anger seeming to simmer just below the surface. "That, my dear, was nothing. A mere trifle. And accident, if you will."

  Eliza knew Nicholas was watching her intently even though he did his best to appear as if he was not, all the while judging her reaction to see if she would turn into a hysterical, weeping woman at his words. Well, she would not. She would not give him the satisfaction. Yes, his words hurt, but they were not unexpected. She was not some foolish, simpering young girl. The kiss had been a moment out of time. A mistake, as he had so correctly termed it. And it had been barely a kiss. Eliza did not inspire lust in men. So therefore, there was no reason to delude herself into thinking the kiss had been anything more than a trick of the night.

  She was also well aware that she was speaking to The Bloody Duke. Not Nicholas. Most people could not tell the two apart, but she could. She always had.

  "I had assumed as much, Nicholas, so you needn't worry that overworked head of yours." Eliza strolled lazily towards her horse as if she didn't have a care in the world, just as she had witnessed him do so many times in the past. Yet this time, she kept sharp, her ears listening for what he did not say. In truth, she needed the practice in spying, but more over, she had come to the conclusion that Nicholas was merely playing another game with her. And she was not about to become swept up in it, only to be tossed aside when he had found his fun. That weak, simpering miss was not her. It never had been.

  Eliza reached Morning Glory and led the mare to the mounting block near the folly. "Honestly, Nicholas. You needn't fret so much. I am eight and twenty. Hardly in the first blush of youth and innocence. It will not happen again." She didn't mention that the kiss from him last night had been her first true kiss. The one from the vicar's son back at Langton Abby when they were both nine did not count, at least not in her mind. Then she gave Nicholas what she hoped was her best condescending look. "Besides, I know what you are about. And I know about Ellie."

  "Do. Not. Say. Her. Name." His words were short and sweet, ground out from between clenched teeth as if he was in pain. "She is not a part of this. You did not know her." He was clearly angry now but also trying hard not to allow the raw emotion to show.

  Eliza shrugged as she paused from mounting her mare. "I know she was the great love of your life. No other woman will ever compare. Therefore, you do not need to worry about me having designs upon you or trying to trap you into the parson's noose." Another shrug. "I know better."

  Nicholas was about to reply when, from a distance, he heard someone calling Eliza's name. The voice sounded young and he knew it was most likely someone from the Framingham town home looking for her. "We had best go. Someone is looking for you. Otherwise, if we are discovered, we will be forced into that trap you say you wish to avoid." Then, without waiting for her approval, Nicholas grabbed the reins of Morning Glory along with those of Apollo, his own chestnut stallion, and led them both quickly out from behind the small gap in the hedgerow. Eliza had no choice but to follow.

  By the time they reached the well-worn path, the voice was closer now. "That is Ezekiel, my family's tiger." Eliza supposed it could have been worse. It could have been Old Nelson, the head groom who would have reported upon her activities to her father immediately.

  Eliza quickly retired the strings of her cloak. This was not the first morning she had been out alone, certainly, and the staff of the house was accustomed to her early morning jaunts. Though she only went alone when the business she was conducting was of a delicate nature. And even then, she usually allowed a servant to follow at a discreet distance. She could count on one hand the occasions she had not been in anyone's company at all, including today.

  But never had she been in the company of The Bloody Duke. That would be much more difficult to explain.

  Eliza glanced at Nicholas, uncertain as to whether or not he would wish to remain with her. After all, anyone happening upon them together would think they had stumbled upon a lover's secret seduction and believe the worst. However he wasn't making any attempt to mount Apollo and instead retained his grip on both sets of reins.

  "Allow me?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow and Eliza found that she could only nod. This had never happened before and in truth, she had no idea what to say. What could she say?

  "We are here, Ezekiel," Nicholas called out softly, well aware that there were others who might be in the park to overhear him. "Just to your right and down a bit."

  Within a moment or two, a familiar dark head peered around the hedgerow. "Please, my lady! Come quick!" There was a panic about him that Eliza did not like. From the expression on Nicholas' face, he didn't much care for it either.

  "What is wrong, lad?" Nicholas asked, quickly taking over much as he always did. This time, Eliza did not object.

  The boy waved his hands. "It is Lady Framingham! She fell!"

  "Mama!" Eliza grabbed for Morning Glory's reins, but it was Nicholas' steady hand that helped her easily back up into the saddle.

  Without asking for approval, the duke then scooped up the boy and placed the lad in front of him on the saddle. Once they were settled, Nicholas clicked his tongue and both well-trained horses set off at a frantic pace out of the park. They stuck to the back paths as best they could, well aware that with the growing dawn, they were likely to be spotted racing back towards Mayfair. When it was feasible, Nicholas led them through the mews in back of several stately town homes, especially along Grovesnor Square, as if he had tread them before.

  He most likely had, Eliza decided as she spurred her horse on to keep up with Apollo. But then that thought slipped away as they approached the low stone wall that bordered the back of the Framingham property. How Nicholas knew his way around the back streets of London was of no consequence to her. It only mattered that he did.

  Once they arrived, Eliza was thankful to see that the grooms were waiting for her, as if they had anticipated Ezekiel locating her quickly. And finding her with someone, as she did not even have to request another groom be brought to attend to Apollo.

  As soon as her feet hit the ground after dismounting, Nicholas grabbed Eliza's hand and together they raced for the servants' door, which would allow them not only quicker entrance but help them avoid being seen by anyone who might happen to be wandering by on the street. On the other side of the home, Eliza could already hear the clatter of wagon wheels mixed with the high, faint screech of a racing phaeton. Yes, society was up and about early today, much to her chagrin.

  Inside the home, Eliza found Theresa waiting for her, and silently the maid led both Eliza and Nicholas directly to the ivory drawing room. When the doors swung open, Eliza was relieved to see her mother sitting up upon the settee, a cold compress on her head.

  "Mama! What happened?" Without thinking of the proprieties, Eliza immediately rushed to her mother's side, dimly aware that Nicholas was still trailing behind her. Then she whirled around, her eyes finally alighting on the butler. "Wilson! Send someone to fetch Dr. Hastings right away!"

  "As you wish, miss." Then he was gone in search of a houseboy to send on the important errand.

  "Mama?" Eliza asked again, almost fearful now. "Are you hurt?"

  With a wave of her hand, Lady Framingham sent the servants away without a word, giving Nicholas some idea of how commanding a presence she must have been once, for they all scurried away quickly. All but Theresa who seemed to know her place, standing guard beside the now
-closed door. The maid's eyes strayed briefly to Nicholas, but she did not question his presence in her drawing room at such an early hour. Or that Lady Framingham allowed him to stay.

  Eliza's mother waved a hand in the air. "There was a caller." She paused, chewing her lower lip for a moment. "A woman, I think. It was early. The staff looked for you, dear, but you could not be found." She frowned at Eliza. "I did not know you were up so early each day, yet they inform me that it is a common occurrence."

  "I do not sleep well, Mama." It was the first lie that came to Eliza's lips. Though last night, that hadn't been a lie. "This morning, I rose and took a ride on Morning Glory. Jacob the groom was with me." Another lie. "I was just about to turn back when I encountered Lord Candlewood." Then Eliza made a mental note to speak to the groom so that he might keep her secret.

  If Clara doubted her daughter, she said nothing. Merely nodded in acceptance. Then she said nothing more, and Eliza looked to Nicholas for help.

  "Lady Framingham," the duke began gently, coming to kneel in front of her, "what did this woman want? Or what did she look like?" When the older woman still didn't reply, he tried again. "Did she request something of you? Threaten you?" He scowled darkly. "Did she push you?"

  That, finally, seemed to penetrate whatever fog the society matron was in, for she looked up, blinking a few times, her gray-green eyes so different than those of her daughter but no less striking in their own right. "She didn't push me. But she might have touched me?" It was a question, indicating that the woman clearly didn't remember much.

  "She was blonde, your grace." That came from Theresa who was still standing in front of the drawing room door. "I wasn't there, but I heard the shout so I came running." She looked to one of windows that overlooked the street below. "The hood of the woman's cape. It flew back. Her hair was dark blonde. Not golden. The cape was scarlet, though. I remember that, too." It was then that Nicholas noticed that the poor maid was trembling, clearly fearful of him. Something inside of him softened just a bit. He really was a brute, he decided, if his mere presence in a drawing room could make a woman tremble so in fear.

  "So you did not recognize her, then?" Nicholas hated to ask the question, especially as it appeared the woman was on the verge of swooning, but he had to know.

  Theresa shook her head, her hands clasped tightly around the doorknob behind her for strength. "No, your grace. I did not. But Wilson might have." Then she cast her eyes downward, obviously too frightened to say anything more.

  Nicholas nodded in resignation. "Thank you, Theresa. I will speak to the rest of the staff shortly. You may go." With a clear look of relief, the maid quickly let herself out the door, her knees still shaking.

  As he turned back the settee, Nicholas was struck for a moment by the scene before him. Eliza was ministering gently to her mother, murmuring soothing words and holding her hands gently. She dabbed at the small cut on her mother's forehead, her gloves long since yanked off, all propriety gone. There was a tenderness and caring to Eliza's actions that Nicholas had not associated with her before.

  In her forest green riding habit, Eliza looked the part of the very role she had long ago assumed as lady of the manor. The green wool of her jacket fitted her body closely, outlining the delicate swells of her breasts. Even her infernal glasses seemed more matched for this outfit than her silk and satin evening gowns. They lent an air of sophistication that she did not otherwise normally have. And suddenly, Nicholas felt very old and weary, indeed.

  Even though he knew better, Nicholas still tended to think of Eliza as Stephen's little sister and he himself just back from Eton, teasing her mercilessly. She had still been a bit weak then, the young girl who needed to be cared for rather than the person who did the caring. She had still been a child then, the little girl Nicholas had first nicknamed Izzy. Even though he allowed her family - and Eliza herself - to believe that Stephen had come up with the name. After all, it wasn't a manly sort of thing to do. His friends would have laughed themselves stupid if Nicholas had revealed that he had given a little girl a sweet nickname.

  And back then, Nicholas had been desperate to appear manly. Desperate to be manly enough so that Eleanor Reynolds' family might grant them leave to wed before he came of age. And to the dukedom.

  For a moment, he wondered if Ellie would have been as tender and gentle to her mother as Eliza was being to hers. Somehow, he doubted it.

  And Eliza was gentle. Far gentler than some of the nurses, doctors and nannies had been with her when she had been young and ill. It was clear that Eliza had learned a lesson or two rather well in her younger years. It also made him wonder what else she had learned over the years.

  Eliza truly was a woman now and no longer a child.

  And in that moment, the kiss last night no longer seemed like a mistake. A mistake Nicholas had regretted long into the deepest part of the night, worrying that Eliza might read more into the moment than he had meant. He had only meant to silence her and ease the unrest she stirred up inside of him. For surely once he kissed her, even a brief peck, that would be more than enough to prove that they did not suit.

  Except that all that chaste kiss had done was make Nicholas desire her further. It had made the world stop - something that no other woman's kiss had ever done. And at half three in the morning, he was still so obsessed with the idea of Eliza and the kiss, he had risen and begun riding about London in the dark, trying to erase her and the kiss from his mind. To somehow right his world and remember that he had a job to perform.

  He needed to find the truth about Stephen. Not seduce Eliza into his bed.

  And the plan was working - or he had thought that it was - until he had seen her disappear through the hedgerow in Hyde Park. And once more, he was intrigued with this woman who did not behave at all the way she should.

  Now, watching Eliza minister to her mother, Nicholas felt something shift inside of him, and he came to the realization that it was respect. He respected her, and that was truly saying something. For Nicholas believed that most members of society, particularly those of his own class, were fools. They did not see the world as it truly was and had no idea of the dangers that lurked just beyond their gilded, protected walls. They had no idea what people were capable of in order to obtain what they wanted. Or how disappointing the world, as a whole, could be.

  But Eliza knew. She knew because she had endured having her world yanked out from beneath her. And she had not crumpled to the ground weeping, as many of her sex would have done. No, she stood up, dusted herself off and continued on. She had learned and grown from the experience as well.

  And for that, Nicholas respected her. And for The Bloody Duke - and Nicholas Rosemont as well - that made Eliza Deaver by far the most dangerous woman he had ever encountered.

  He also wasn't quite certain how he would continue to resist her. Because he still wanted her. Now more than ever. And he wasn't certain he would be satisfied until he possessed her - body and soul. Even just once.

  And damn the consequences.

  Chapter Eleven

  That night, Nicholas had moved from confused to annoyed over the issue of Eliza, and he found that he could not keep still as he waited for her and her family to make an appearance at the Evanston ball. Unlike some of the other entertainments he had attended thus far this Season, the Evanston ball was a relatively new event celebrating the fact that both of the family's children had wed the previous season. And wed extremely well at that. Given that many members of the ton had given Lord Evanston's son, Marcus, the current Viscount Breckenright, up for dead many years ago, the fact that he had returned to society at all - let alone made such a brilliant match - was something to be celebrated.

  And Lady Evanston had certainly done it up fine with the decorations, refreshments, and guest list, making even Almack's seem like a step-down from this glamorous and glittering Mayfair town home. The house was a veritable crush and certainly the sort of soirée that The Bloody Duke would attend - if only to seek ou
t other, more delectable entertainment for the evening.

  After all, there were plenty of feminine charms on display, including the delightful Widow Worsley, a rather tasty piece who had just come out of mourning for her husband and was precisely the sort of company he would have enjoyed in the past - both in bed and out. And perhaps still might, once this business with Stephen was at an end. There was also Mrs. Sempill whose husband was currently at sea on a vessel from his vast fleet of merchant ships - and had been for the previous three years. The lady - for Mrs. Sempill was a baron's daughter who had married a bit beneath her station - had made her interest in Nicholas clear over the last several months, and she was almost delightful enough to make him break his rule about married women. Almost. But not quite.

  In fact, there were so many tasty treats available to him that, were he a less honorable man, Nicholas might very well sneak off with one of the lovelies and have his way with her before his supposed intended even arrived. For the gossip sheets this morning had made it clear that they felt his attentions toward Eliza were genuine and that it was only a matter of time before an official betrothal was announced. But they also implied that one could not completely tame The Bloody Duke and all fully expected him to select a mistress as soon as Eliza was with child.

  However, Nicholas was an honorable man and he would not disgrace Eliza in that manner - even though they were not officially anything to each other at the moment. Well, other than friends, of course.

  Not to mention that the fervor over his visit to Lycosura and the gaming hells a few days earlier had finally died down. Nicholas wished to keep it that way. When he was investigating other matters for the Crown, he could be the high-flying Bloody Duke who bedded a different chit each night. But for the moment, he needed to be more circumspect, no matter what his cock wished. And it was time he remembered that. He had always been so good at embracing whatever role was assigned to him before - including those he assigned to himself. Nicholas had no idea why this time was any different. Probably because of his guilt, he decided as he watched the crush of people mix and mingle in the Evanston's enormous grand ballroom. There could be no other logical reason.