An Artful Seduction (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The following morning, Eliza woke exhausted. She’d finally fallen asleep on the couch by the bay window as the first light of dawn had touched the sky. She’d been afraid her father would return to bang on the front door and holler for her sisters.

She blinked in confusion as the bright morning sunlight streamed through the window. For an instant, she wondered if last night had been nothing more than a horrid nightmare.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and immediately noticed the
Times
article in the wastebasket where she’d thrown it the prior evening. She cringed. So much for it being just a bad dream.

Chloe and Amelia came downstairs smiling and carefree.

“Did you spend the entire night down here?” Amelia asked.

“I had to go over the ledgers,” Eliza said.

Amelia placed her hands on her hips. “Well you look a fright. You work too hard.” She came close and smoothed a frizzy curl on Eliza’s forehead. “You should go upstairs and put on one of your new dresses. I like the blue one with the Brussels lace.”

“It’s my favorite as well,” Chloe chimed in.

“Why bother? The shop will open in a few hours and one of my older dresses are sufficient,” Eliza pointed out.

“A lady doesn’t need a reason to look nice,” Amelia pointed out.

At Eliza’s quizzical look, Chloe chimed in. “We decided to go shopping today. Amelia needs supplies.”

Eliza was exhausted and shopping held little appeal. “You two go without me.”

Chloe nodded. “We’ll buy you a bonnet while we’re out.”

Eliza frowned. “A bonnet? Whatever for?” She had several serviceable bonnets and her sisters knew it.

“For fun. The shop has been doing well, remember?” Amelia said, glancing out the bay window. “Chloe will hail a hackney while I help you change upstairs.”

A moment of unease ran down Eliza’s spine. Her sisters were acting strangely. Why the sudden need for supplies? And why insist she wear a new dress?

Had they seen their father last night? Did he throw stones at their bedroom window and speak to them?

“What’s wrong with you two?” Eliza asked.

Two pairs of innocent eyes stared at her. If they had contact with their father, it didn’t show.

Eliza let out a held in breath and the tension inside her eased. “Very well. We are short on supplies.”

Eliza trudged upstairs to dress and Amelia made a valiant effort to fix her hair. Spending the night tossing and turning on the couch had left her ebony locks unruly and knotted.

By the time they made it downstairs, the hackney was waiting. “Doesn’t she look much better?” Amelia asked Chloe.

Chloe smiled. “Absolutely.”

He sisters donned their cloaks, anxious expressions on their faces as they looked at her as if she were a prize horse at a country fair. Eliza couldn’t shake the feeling that they were behaving oddly.

“We won’t be back until the afternoon,” Amelia said on her way out.

Eliza closed the door and sighed. She was glad to have a few hours peace. She rarely had time alone. At least not since she opened the shop and her sisters lived upstairs. She needed time to think and knew menial labor would help calm her restless energy and focus her mind.

She started to dust the shelves of bric-a-brac decorations just as the shop’s bells chimed and the door opened.

“Hello, Eliza.”

Eliza whirled at the familiar masculine voice as Grayson stepped inside. Her heart did a little jolt at the sight of him, and she dropped the dust cloth in her hand. His chiseled features drew her gaze and she wanted him so badly.

“I thought Amelia and Chloe were acting strange. Did they know you were coming?” she asked.

He smiled mischievously. “I sent them a note yesterday.”

“No wonder they were in such a rush to go shopping,” she said to herself as much as to him. A sudden fear made her stomach clench tight. Eliza looked out the bay window. “This is a bad idea.”

Was her father watching the shop? Did he know Grayson was inside? Could he see them now?

“I know you said you didn’t want to see me anymore, but you must hear me out,” he said.

“This really isn’t a good idea, my lord. We shouldn’t be seen together.”

“You needn’t worry. My carriage is down the street. Your reputation is secure.”

It wasn’t her reputation she was worried about but his, if her father had seen him arrive here.

“Still, I—”

“Shh,” he said, placing a finger on her lips.

She stiffened at the brief touch. Excitement tingled in her veins, and despite everything, she desperately wanted him to kiss her.

“I have something to ask you. Something very important,” he said.

She glanced out the window. “Fine,” she said quickly. “Let’s go upstairs then.” If he wouldn’t leave, then she needed to be sure no one could see him inside the shop. Their living quarters didn’t have a window facing the street.

If Grayson was confused by her request, he didn’t show it. “Of course.”

He followed her upstairs, and she motioned for him to sit at the table. He held a chair for her, but refused to sit himself. Then he did the most shockingly unexpected thing.

He knelt on one knee before her and cradled her hand in his. “Eliza, I want you to marry me.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

His eyes swept over her face. “Make me the happiest man in London and marry me.”

Goodness.
Of all the things she’d expected him to say, a marriage proposal wasn’t one of them. She stared, dumbfounded, as myriad emotions flooded her.

Love. Happiness.

Despair.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve been a complete fool. Nothing matters but how we feel for each other. From the moment we first met, I’ve acted abominably by coercing you into helping me. I also gave you nothing but promises to pursue your parent for his bad deeds. Crimes that no longer matter. I swear to give up my pursuit of him.”

She swallowed. She wanted to toss caution aside and throw herself into his arms. She wanted so badly to accept what he was offering. “What of your title?” she asked. “You are an earl.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. You will be accepted as my wife.”

“But I’ve lied about my own past.”

“I’ll speak with Begley to ensure his silence. No one else will learn of it,” he swore.

“What about your sister, Sara?”

“She adores you and wholeheartedly approves.” He kissed the back of her hand, then held her gaze. “Will you have me?”

Love poured from her chest. Oh, how she wanted to say yes and confess her love. But her past had reared its ugliness in the form of her father. He’d returned and nothing could change the truth of her background. Not even Grayson’s devotion.

How could she marry this wonderful man and expose him to the same humiliation that he’d already suffered? He’d never forgive her. She’d never forgive herself.

They could never keep her true identity a secret. Her father would see to it. If they married, they would be at Jonathan Miller’s mercy. He would blackmail Grayson forever to prevent the truth from coming out.

And if Grayson refused to play her father’s game, society would learn everything. Grayson would be ostracized and his reputation damaged beyond repair. Jealous men like Viscount Pickens would be ruthless. Could she selfishly put the man she loved through such pain?

“I…I’m sorry, but I cannot marry you.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

He blinked. “You can’t? Or you won’t?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she pulled her hand from his. “You don’t understand.”

His eyes searched her face, reaching into her thoughts. “No. I don’t. Is there someone else?”

“Yes, in a way. Someone I cannot escape from.”

His brows drew downward. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. It’s best for both of us. We’re ill suited,” she said.

“Ill suited? I’ve never met a woman who was such a perfect match for me. I’m complete with you, happy for the first time in my life. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel the same.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Please! Don’t make this harder. Please go,” she said, a note of hysteria in her voice.

She was desperate. She needed him to leave before she threw herself into his arms and kissed him with all the pent up emotion that was whirling inside her. She knew she couldn’t reach out and touch him. His nearness in the small room was taking its toll on her restraint.

“The hell I will,” he growled.

He stood and pulled her into his arms. His mouth swooped down to capture hers. His fingers speared through her hair and held her captive as his tongue plundered her mouth. His kiss was raw and possessive, urging her to submit. Heat leaped between them, arousing a fiery need in her that begged to be quenched.

Any thought to resist him dissolved in a surge of desire. She was already fighting too many emotions—too many open wounds of her past—to battle this fierce lust as well. Her hands grasped his strong shoulders and she kissed him back in fierce abandon, desperate to know him one last time.

His hands worked at the buttons of her gown. She longed to feel her bare breasts against his hard chest. She gave a throaty moan of approval as the first few buttons came undone. His normally nimble fingers were impatient and the last remaining buttons popped and the silk tore. She didn’t care, not when his dark eyes devoured her with savage need. They shed their remaining clothes quickly.

His head lowered to kiss each of her breasts, and raw, sizzling sensations coursed through her. She clutched his shoulders for support. He picked her up and carried her to her bed.

His body covered hers and she felt the hot, hard flesh between her thighs. She arched forward until he slid in deep and moaned at the exquisite pleasure of the throbbing fullness of him. She watched him, as he began to move–all sleek muscle and sinew–and tried to burn the memory of him in her mind forever. He pumped inside her until the friction built to a fevered pitch. She threw back her head, crying out, as waves of exquisite pleasure rocked her. He shouted out hoarsely as he withdrew and spent on her belly.

They lay panting beside each other. His hands stroked her hair and back. He kissed the top of her head. “Do you still think we weren’t meant to be together?”

Her heart ached. She was not for him, and no matter how painful, she must end whatever feelings he had for her. “I’m sorry. My answer is still no. We shouldn’t have done this.”

She tried to rise, but his arms tightened about her. “Nothing about this was a mistake,” he said.

Now that the frenzied passion had passed, her unease returned. Lifting her head, she looked in his eyes. “Please. My sisters will return soon. We cannot let them find us here like this.”

He nodded and loosened his grip. She rose quickly to pick up her dress only to realize it had torn. She yanked open the doors of her wardrobe and pulled out one of her older gowns. She turned when she was finished dressing to see him pull up his trousers. Her heart beat as his muscles flexed and his broad shoulders gleamed from a shaft of sunlight from the overhead window. He was magnificently built and she’d need to remember him to survive the lonely years ahead.

They descended the stairs together, and she opened the front door. She tried to glance outside to see if anyone was lurking about, but Grayson’s broad shoulders blocked her view.

“I won’t give up, Eliza,” he said. “Not until you agree to be my wife.”

“I’m sorry, but my mind is set.”

Guilt stabbed her breast. Her misery was a steel weight as she looked up at him. How could she send away what she loved so much?

His expression was grim when he turned to leave. She closed the door behind him and sagged against the frame.

Only after she’d heard his carriage depart, did she cover her face with trembling hands and cry for the agony of her loss.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cradling a full glass of brandy, Grayson sat alone at a table in White’s club. He swirled the amber colored liquor in the glass. He’d been here for two hours and hadn’t drunk a drop. Acquaintances had passed by and nodded in greeting, but no one approached. Grayson’s expression was that of a man who wanted to be left alone.

Something wasn’t right in the world.

Eliza had refused him.

It wasn’t just her refusal that alerted him, but the way she’d done it. He’d expected surprise, shock, and even hesitation. After all, he hadn’t treated her with the respect she deserved by initially offering to make her his mistress, but he’d hoped that once he’d asked her to marry him and he swore to give up his search for her father, she’d realize how sincere he was…how hopelessly devoted.

He’d understood her hesitation, he’d even expected it. But not her rejection. Because at the last second—just before she’d turned away—he’d seen the longing in her eyes and the desperate yearning to say yes. Their passionate lovemaking had seared his heart and his body. She’d been desperate in her need, consuming in her passion, and he’d been so certain she’d accept him.

Something was wrong.

Devastatingly wrong.

Grayson set the full glass down and walked out of the club. It was a chilly evening and he pulled his coat collar up as he descended the club’s stairs. He rounded the corner to where his coach was parked when he heard his name.

“Lord Huntingdon.”

Grayson halted and spotted a man leaning against the side of the brick building. He stood in the shadows and could have easily been missed.

“A moment of your time, my lord,” the man said.

Grayson’s senses were alert. The club was located in a good part of town, but it wasn’t unheard of for a gentleman to run into a pickpocket or thief.

“Who are you?” Grayson asked.

“Someone you’ve been looking for.”

Grayson’s gaze narrowed. Something about the man’s stance and voice were vaguely familiar. “Your name, sir?”

“I dare not say it aloud, but you know who I am.” The man stepped into the light of a nearby gas lamp and removed his cap.

Grayson froze, not believing his eyes. “Jonathan Miller. I’ll be damned.”

Miller put his hat back on and glanced from side to side before returning to look at Grayson. “I hear you’ve been searching for me, my lord.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed. What the hell was Miller doing here seeking him out? The blackguard was too smart to willingly hand himself over to the authorities. “Shall I summon the constable?”

“I see you haven’t forgotten the past.”

“Did you think I would? You produced more forgeries than any other artist in the history of London.”

“Am I that acclaimed?”

Grayson scoffed and stepped forward. “Let’s not mince words. You should already be in jail.”

Jonathan Miller took a quick step back and raised a hand. “Wait. I understand you’ve met my daughters.”

Grayson’s jaw clenched and he halted. He knew there was a reason behind Miller’s sudden appearance. So what was his game? “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

“Only Eliza, my eldest,” Miller said.

In a flash, Grayson grabbed him by the throat. He threw him against the brick wall in the alley. Trying to get air, Miller clawed at Grayson’s hand. For a split second Grayson imagined what it would be like to squeeze the life out of the bastard.

“What did you do to her?” Grayson snarled.

Miller’s eyes bulged in his reddening face. “Nothing,” he gasped. “I only asked her for what I need.”

Grayson dropped his hand as understanding struck him. “You asked Eliza for money, didn’t you?”

Miller nodded curtly and rubbed his throat.

“Things must be desperate for you to show your face to your daughter after you abandoned her and left her to care for her two younger sisters. No money, food, or shelter. Your forgery crimes pale in comparison.”

Icy contempt flashed in Miller’s eyes. “It’s true then. You have fallen for Eliza. Does it bother you to know she’s my daughter? That my blood runs in her veins? Or that she is just like me?”

“She’s nothing like you,” Grayson snapped. “She’s hardworking, caring, and loyal. She must take after her mother.”

Miller paled for an instant at the mention of his dead wife.

Grayson suddenly knew the truth. “You know she doesn’t have money so you asked her to get it from me, didn’t you? You asked her to use me and she refused, didn’t she?”

Things were starting to make perfect sense. The desperation he spotted in her gaze moments before she rejected him.

Her emotional words.
I don’t want to hurt you.

She was worried for him. Worried that her father would surface and the truth would come out that she was Jonathan Miller’s daughter. She feared that his reputation would be harmed once again. Eliza wanted to protect him.

Grayson glared at his long-time nemesis. He saw it all clearly now. “You blackmailed your own daughter for money. And I thought you were a bastard before,” Grayson hissed.

“I need to survive.”

“I’ll pay you,” Grayson said.

A glint of greed lit Jonathan Miller’s eyes.

“I’ll pay you, but not to keep it a secret that I’m going to marry your daughter. I don’t care if the world knows. Shout it from the rooftops if you want. I’ll not let you ruin her future or her happiness any longer than you’ve tormented her in the past,” Grayson said.

“You won’t summon the constable or pursue me?”

“No. Despite everything I don’t believe Eliza would want to see you hung. Amelia and Chloe, either. It would cause them pain, and I’d forgo revenge rather than see them suffer. So I’ll pay you to disappear for good. But trust me when I say that after you take my money, you are never to trouble them again.” His hand snaked out once again to wrap around Miller’s throat and squeeze.

Miller coughed and sputtered, gasping for air.

“Understand?” Grayson’s voice was edged with steel.

“Yes…yes.”

…

Loud banging on the shop door woke Eliza and her sisters. The trio scrambled down the stairs.

“Good heavens! Who could it be at this time of night?” Amelia asked as she threw on a wrapper.

Eliza lit a lamp and handed it to Chloe. Her heart thumped madly in her chest like a drum. Had their father returned? She hurried down the stairs with Amelia and Chloe close behind her.

Eliza cracked the door. “Grayson! What in the world are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Please pardon the late hour,” he said as he stepped inside the shop. He glanced at Chloe and Eliza. “If you two don’t mind, I need a moment of Eliza’s time in private upstairs. I promise she’ll be safe.”

When both Chloe and Amelia nodded, Eliza protested.

“Come with me,” he said. It was a demand, not a request.

“But I’m not dressed and I told you—”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Your father paid me a visit this evening.”

Her eyes widened and she felt the blood drain from her face. She was highly conscious of her sisters standing a few feet away. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Come with me,” he urged.

He took her hand and led her toward the stairs leading up to their living quarters. She didn’t protest. Her thoughts were a jumble of confusion and fear. She couldn’t believe her father had contacted Grayson. She’d never believed he would be so reckless.

Grayson must be furious. Rightfully so.

She glanced at him as they went up the stairs. His profile was strong and proud and his hand was warm as it enveloped hers.

He pulled out a chair at their small kitchen table. “Sit.”

Her pulse beat erratically, and she finally found her voice. “I’m so sorry my father approached you.” She was ashamed and scared. Had he asked Grayson for money? Had he tried to blackmail him?

“No,” Grayson said, lifting her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “Never apologize for him again. You have been wronged by him more than I have, more than any of his prior victims.”

She sat stunned. “But he wanted me to get money from you! To use you.”

“Shh. I don’t care. None of it matters. I still want you as my wife.”

She stared at him in shock. He wanted to marry her after all that had happened? “But he will ruin you. What if my true identity is revealed? What then? What of your reputation as an art critic? What about Sara?”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks. It’s been years and my reputation as a critic is proven and secure. Besides it’s more likely my fellow critics will be green with envy when they learn you are my wife. As for Sara, she will be thrilled to have you as a sister and mother figure. Her dowry will more than make up for any gossip.”

She bit her lip. “What if he returns?”

“I don’t believe Jonathan Miller will return and the truth is that I don’t care if he does. In fact, I just may announce it at the next Academy Exhibition. The Earl of Huntingdon has married the daughter of the forger of the
ton.”

Her mouth gaped. “Are you crazed?”

“Only for you. My life would be hopelessly empty without you.”

“What about justice. Now that Miller has returned, don’t you want to see him held accountable for all his crimes? Even more so now that he tried to blackmail you?”

“I no longer care.”

“What? Why?”

“As long as he cannot harm you, I don’t care if he is never arrested and I no longer wish him ill-will. Let all the others who purchased his forgeries seek his arrest. I suspect he’ll be on the run forever and die a lonely, hunted man. But the more important question is will
you
miss him?”

She met Grayson’s gaze. His brow was furrowed and she reached out and smoothed the lines. “No. I will not. I’m now certain that our lives are better without him.”

“And what of your sisters? What will you tell them?”

She bit her bottom lip. “I had initially thought to keep father’s return from them, but now that I’ve had time to think, I believe Amelia and Chloe should know the truth. No more secrets.”

Grayson smiled. “You’re the most courageous woman I know. I love you. Completely and utterly.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Grayson.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a box and opened it to reveal a large emerald surrounded by diamonds nestled in black velvet. He knelt on a knee and took her hand in his. “This belonged to my mother, and I want to do this properly. Eliza Miller Somerton, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She stared at the magnificent ring, then met his gaze. Her heart swelled. “Oh, Grayson. I’ve loved you for so long now. But I never dared hope of a future together.”

“Please say yes, Eliza. I’ll be a happy man with you by my side. Will you be mine forever?”

“Yes, my love. Yes.” She dropped to her knees and threw her arms around him.

She had what she wanted as he drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. Only an hour before she thought the future held nothing but loneliness and uncertainty. But now, the future looked very promising indeed.