A Summer Seduction (33 page)

“I assumed her reason for the trip had something to do with your disappearance,” Myles went on. “She told me she had sent a groom down to recover your horse and pay some debts.”

“Good. Did she get back the jewelry?”

“Is that what she was talking about? She was going on to the countess about paying moneylenders, and at first I thought it was Genevieve who had had to cover her debts; but then I realized she would never have mentioned that to your grandmother.”

“Well, she needn’t have mentioned my doing it, either,” Alec grumbled.

Myles took a drink and settled back in his chair, eyeing Rawdon. “I have done my best to be polite, but blast it, man, what the devil brought you and Mrs. Howard to Northumberland?”

Alec chuckled and began to recount the tale of their journey, beginning with his learning that Damaris had fled London. He carefully expurgated such details as their masquerading as husband and wife, but even so, Myles’s eyebrows soared higher with each new adventure.

“Is it the same men who abducted her in London?” Myles asked when Alec’s story finally brought them to Castle Cleyre.

“I believe so.”

“But why are they following her?”

“I’m not certain.” Alec shook his head.

“Perhaps I can clear that up for you.” Both men turned to see Lady Genevieve standing in the open doorway.

“Genevieve.” The two men rose to their feet, Myles moving to pull out a chair for her. Alec regarded his sister warily as they sat down. “What do you mean? What have you been up to?”

“Watching out for your interests,” Genevieve retorted. “Clearly someone had to, as you seem to have taken leave of your senses.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Pray do not give me that look. I have known you far too long to be intimidated.”

“Have you?” Myles asked with apparent interest. “I have known him since school days and that look still makes me quake in my boots.”

“Oh, don’t be buffoonish, Myles.” Genevieve shot him a withering glance before returning her attention to Alec. “You have clearly lost your head over Mrs. Howard. When you sent me that bizarre missive about highwaymen and leaving Erebos in some farmer’s barn—not to mention popping off to Northumberland on money secured by your tie pin, leaving me to retrieve all your things—well, it was obvious that I needed to do something.”

“Besides the matters to which I actually
asked
you to attend?”

“Yes, Alec, besides those peculiar tasks. Given your behavior, I thought it was wisest to do a little checking into Mrs. Howard’s background.”

“Genevieve!” Alec clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with
temper. “You went about asking questions about Damaris?”

“Yes, and you know what I discovered? Nothing. No one knew her. No one had ever heard of her or met her before that night when you invited her to our party. She appears to have sprung up from nowhere.”

“I told you, she is from Chesley. She was merely visiting London. Good Gad, Genevieve, she is a friend of the More-combes.”

“Pardon me if I do not find that the highest recommendation,” Genevieve replied drily. “Finally, someone recalled seeing Mrs. Howard talking to Lady Sedbury at our party. Apparently they had a rather charged conversation. So I went to call on Lady Sedbury.”

“Bloody hell!” Alec jumped to his feet. “What the devil did you think you were doing?”

“Looking after you!” Genevieve shot back, rising to face him. “Since you were clearly thinking with parts other than your head! Mrs. Howard is the by-blow of Lord Sedbury. Her mother was an actress. When Lord Sedbury died, he left her practically all of his fortune that was not entailed; it was a grievous insult to his family. She and her mother took off for the Continent, and when she was just barely out, she got married in a havey-cavey fashion. Lady Sedbury did not know the details, but there was some sort of scandal involved.”

A cold rage rushed through Alec. He could not remember ever having felt such anger toward his sister. “Damn it, Genevieve! How dare you go sticking your nose into my business? Gossiping with that old crow about Damaris’s life!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Genevieve’s face was ashen except for the two bright spots of color on her cheekbones, and her light blue eyes shone with a silvery fire very like her brother’s. “I could not stand idly by while some conniving woman sank her claws into you.”

“You will not speak ill of Damaris in my presence,” Alec warned her, his face as cold as if she were a stranger to him. “Do you understand me? Nor will I stand for your gossiping about her with anyone, let alone Lady Sedbury, who has been in no way kind to Damaris. It is none of Lady Sedbury’s business, and certainly none of yours, what Lord Sedbury chose to do with his own money. There is no shame in his having loved his daughter. As for ‘protecting’ me, I am a fully grown man, and I don’t need you trying to order my life as you please.”

“Oh, no, you have done such a stellar job of keeping it in order in the past!”

Alec stiffened, and Myles murmured, “Genevieve.”

“Damaris is not Jocelyn,” Alec told his sister in a glacial voice. “And I am not naïve enough to mistake a pretense for love again.”

“I am sorry.” Genevieve looked abashed. “I should not have brought up the past. I did not mean to hurt you.”

“Then what
did
you mean to do by carrying tales to me about Damaris? What happiness could you have thought you would bring me?”

“I did not want you taken in by—” She stopped as he raised a brow in warning.

“Then you should be pleased to know that I have not been
taken in by Mrs. Howard. She has already told me all of this. I know who her father was and what he did. I know that her husband was a scoundrel who maneuvered her into marriage in the hopes of getting his hands on her fortune. I know that her grandmother treats her with disdain. Did your new friend Lady Sedbury also happen to mention that she had set four ruffians with guns upon Mrs. Howard and me?”

“Lady Sedbury hired your attackers?” Myles asked in astonishment.

“I don’t know,” Alec admitted. “But I have no other candidates for the villainy.” He swung his fierce gaze back to Genevieve. “And I must say that I find it rather disconcerting to learn that my own sister is in league with the people who hired men to hunt us down.”

“Really, Alec, I am not ‘in league’ with anyone!” Genevieve retorted hotly. “You just said that you did not know whether or not Lady Sedbury hired your attackers; it seems most unlikely to me.”

“Oh, well, that no doubt makes it perfectly all right for you to go about spreading rumors about Damaris and me.”

“I did not spread any rumors!”

“Genevieve. Alec.” Myles stepped between them and turned in appeal to Rawdon. “Genevieve does not know Mrs. Howard as well as you and I do, Alec. I am sure that once she gets to know her better, she will realize her mistake. She was trying to protect you, which—”

Myles was rewarded by receiving furious glares from both the combatants.

“I don’t need you to defend me, Myles,” Genevieve said pointedly.

“I don’t need protecting,” Alec declared at the same time.

Myles turned up his hands. “I should know better than to try to reason with either one of you. Heads like iron.”

Genevieve turned to her brother, saying stiffly, “Pray accept my apologies, Alec. Perhaps it was wrong of me to pry, even though I did so only out of concern for you. I assure you that I said nothing concerning you or your interest in Mrs. Howard to Lady Sedbury or anyone else.”

Alec nodded. “I know that is your only interest in the matter. I am not angry, really.” That, of course, was a blatant lie. A cold, hard fury still coursed through him, seeking outlet. But he knew that it was not reasonable; he could trust Genevieve to find out information without revealing anything about him or his situation.

His sister offered him a faint smile in reconciliation. “And now, of course, that I know you are aware of Mrs. Howard’s past, I shall not worry about your doing something foolish. One expects men to take mistresses, after all.” She blinked, somewhat taken aback by the sudden flare of fire in her brother’s eyes. “Alec? What is the matter?”

“Damaris is not my mistress,” he said tightly. But, of course, that, too, was a lie. What else would one call her, when he slept every night in her bed? It was just that it jabbed him like a hot poker to hear someone label her so. His fingers curled into fists at his side. He found that he wanted very much to hit something. “I will not allow you to treat her with contempt.”

Genevieve’s eyes widened a little. “I have no intention of being
rude
, Alec. Do you think I am unable to play the game? That I cannot pretend that nothing is going on even though everyone kno—”

“There
is
nothing going on!” Alec jammed his hands into his pockets and took a step back. He felt strangely cornered. “Mrs. Howard is—she is a lady who is eminently worthy of your respect.”

The butler appeared, tray in hand, followed by two footmen similarly burdened. Alec seized on the opportunity to escape. “Excuse me. Clearly I am in no humor to be among friends. I will leave the two of you to your supper.” Ignoring Myles’s and Genevieve’s astonished expressions, Alec turned on his heel and left the room.

Well, he thought as he strode rapidly away, he had certainly handled that like a novice. His clumsy protestations had no doubt thoroughly convinced his friend and sister that he and Damaris were lovers. One would think that he had never engaged in an affair before.

Like Genevieve, he knew how these games were played. It was simple: if one kept a lower-class mistress, she did not mix with polite society, and if one was engaged in an affair with a woman of one’s class—a married woman or widow, say—one pretended to all and sundry that nothing was transpiring between the two of you, then slipped secretly down the hallway or knocked quietly on her back door. Everyone knew exactly what was going on and pretended not to notice—as long as one did not flaunt the affair.

Damaris was a lady, of course. He scowled at the thought that anyone might label her otherwise. She was not the sort to whom one would offer a carte blanche. She was a woman of breeding and refinement, no matter her parents’ lack of wedding lines. He would not dream of setting her up as his mistress. But, he wondered suddenly, what did he plan to do with Damaris?

He stopped and glanced around, finding somewhat to his surprise that he had wandered onto the back terrace. He walked over to the stone balustrade and stared out at the moon-washed garden. The truth was, he
had
no plans concerning Damaris, nothing but a tumult of desires and joys and aching needs, a desperate wish to be with her every moment, to look at her, talk to her, hold her close, to go to sleep with her in his arms each night and wake up the same way every morning.

That was madness, of course. No matter how sweet it had been on the trip to wake up with Damaris warm and willing in his bed, that sort of thing was impossible outside of marriage. And he could not marry Damaris. Not that she was beneath him—Damaris was a finer lady than most noblewomen he had met. But Alec was done with romantic notions. Any marriage he made would be for duty only, the sort of alliance a Stafford should make. He had done enough harm to his family by following his heart with Jocelyn; he would not do so again. Damaris herself would be better off not married to him; she, like his sister and grandmother, would bear the brunt of the scandal much more than he. The men at his
club would not turn away, but Damaris would be ostracized by most of the women of the
ton
. She would feel every snub, every cut. No, marriage would be a misstep all around.

But his sister’s words had stung. Her easy assumption that Damaris was his mistress was like acid to his soul. And, perversely, the fact that making Damaris his mistress was what he was doing only made him resent Genevieve’s words all the more. He hated the thought that his sister would look down on Damaris, that she assumed Damaris was a woman of easy virtue.

Alec set his jaw and turned around, leaning back against the half wall and crossing his arms, his head sunk in thought. If Genevieve saw him clandestinely going to Damaris’s room or leaving it in the morning, that was exactly what she would think. He had to be careful not to dishonor Damaris, not to damage her reputation. However little he liked it, it was clear that now he must be more circumspect in his behavior. He thought of Damaris’s room, which lay on the opposite side of his sister’s. He would have to be bloody careful if he wanted to keep Genevieve from knowing he was staying there at night.

Indeed, he had to be more than careful, particularly tonight, with Genevieve having just arrived. He would think of some way for him and Damaris to be together soon, but he could not go to her tonight. Tonight he would have to play the gentleman. With a sigh, he resigned himself to a long and lonely night.

D
amaris awakened late the next
morning. She lay for a long time gazing up at the ornate tester above her bed. It was no wonder she had slept so late, she thought. For long hours last night, she had lain awake, her ears alert for the gentle tap of Alec’s hand on her door. Even after it had sunk in on her that he was not coming to her bed, she had waited, hoping against all logic that she was wrong. Miserably, she had buried her head in her pillow, fighting her tears.