Beyond Seduction (44 page)

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Lavinia didn't let herself think as she climbed the curving stairs. She couldn't let herself think. If she

did, she knew her nerve would desert her.

Alfhorp had lost everything. The match he'd counted on to raise his son's political stock was now a liability. To make matters worse, Ernest had defied him. She should have exulted to see her enemy brought low, but she knew how angry he would be, more than angry enough to lash out at her.

Her hand clenched against the pit of her stomach, sweaty, shaking, her tension a mix of fear and determination. When Althorp heard his son had been here, that he'd offered to save Merry, he would

ruin her. He wouldn't care what he himself might pay by bringing the truth to light; he would simply

want revenge.

Her arms still bore the bruises of their latest meeting, held before he—and everyone else— discovered what Merry had been up to with Mr. Craven. His anger had terrified her, for it seemed to have no limits. "This is your final chance!" he had roared, though the carriage in which they rode rolled through a public street.

"How can you do this?" she'd pleaded in desperation. "You yourself know the sting of society's censure. What did my daughter and I ever do to you that you would want us to suffer that same pain?"

His fury abruptly faded to cool amusement. "You left me, didn't you?"

"We were married, both of us. Besides, you cannot pretend you truly loved me."

She had never seen eyes so cold and dead. One gloved finger moved to stroke her cheek. "How skilled you are at lying to yourself. What you and I shared was nothing so mundane as love. But I see you've forgotten how you trembled with excitement when I made you crawl to me on your knees, how you moaned when I took you so forcefully you'd be tender inside for days. I could have refined you,

Lavinia, could have taken you to heights your blockish husband cannot imagine. What's more, deep in your heart, you know it. You were made for me, though you haven't the courage to admit it." His voice sank to a growl that rasped her nerves. "Even now, if I touched you, I know I'd find you wet."

She gasped, unable to speak or move. It wasn't true. She would not let it be. He was sick and depraved and she was nothing like him!

He smiled as he read the panic in her eyes. "Yes, tell yourself I'm a madman. Then you can deny everything I say. It does not matter anymore. You are useful, Lavinia, weak and useful. You can

help my son to the future he deserves."

"Ernest wouldn't thank you," she dared to say, "if he knew what you'd done on his behalf."

Althorp's brows rose. Though he lounged against the squabs, Lavinia suddenly felt as if she were choking. "Is that a threat?" he said, his tone deceptively soft and casual. "If it is, I warn you, I'll crush you like a grape. Betray me to my son and these past few months will seem like child's play."

"N-no," she stammered. "Never. I wouldn't—"

He silenced her by drawing his hand down the front of her throat. The seat springs creaked as his

shadow loomed closer, his mouth, his breath. She had frozen like a mouse before a snake. He nipped her lower lip, then her upper, the sensitive flesh left stinging in his wake. Yes, thought something inside her too primal to control. She whimpered as he kissed her roughly, crudely, and again as he tore away.

The kiss had not lasted more than seconds but her skin pulsed wildly from scalp to toe.

It's fear, she told herself. It's only fear.

"Fail me again," he said hoarsely, "and you'll wish you'd never been born."

But she wished that already. She couldn't live with this constant dread: couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Her clothes, her pride and joy, hung on her like sacks. Her hands were constantly atremble. Worse than the fear, though, was the shame. Look what I've done, she thought. Look what I've done in the name of protecting my position.

She stopped in the upper hall, overcome by a revulsion that nearly made her ill.

She had betrayed a woman's most sacred charge: to love and protect her children. She could see now how wrong she'd been to try to force Merry and Ernest together. Merry's new dignity proved it.

Her daughter had come back from Venice changed. As stubborn as ever, but changed. Inside herself she was quiet, certain of her moorings, as if no matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew that she could face them, that she would be true to her personal sense of right and wrong.

Now Lavinia had to do the same. It was her only hope in all the world. She doubted it could save her reputation or her marriage, but perhaps it could save her soul.

Drawing a breath for courage, she knocked on the door to her husband's study and waited for him to

call her in.

When she entered, he sat behind the broad oak desk with the shining red porphyry top. His smile, weary but welcoming, pierced her guilty heart. She'd forgotten how pleased she'd been to win him, not merely because he was a duke, but because he'd been so much a man. No beauty like Merry's painter, her husband's looks had been good and plain—a foil to her own, she'd thought, never dreaming how ugly

she could become.

"Lavinia," he said, and pushed a stack of papers to the side: estate business, she imagined, or perhaps even business for the government. Geoffrey had always been good at cultivating alliances, not a subtle man, but respected. If he hadn't been, she doubted Althorp would have wanted their daughter for his

son.

I should have gone to him at the start, she thought, newly horrified by her stupidity. He might have

hated me, but he had the power to protect us all.

Now he tilted his head in inquiry at her silence.

"I must speak with you," she said.

"Yes?"

She swallowed. "Ernest offered for Merry again. Against his father's wishes."

Geoffrey's face tightened in what might have been disapproval. Whether it was directed at her she

didn't know. "From your tone, I assume she refused."

"Yes. But that's not why I'm here." Though her hands were icy, runnels of sweat dripped down her rigid back. She bit her hp, then let the words out in a rush. "Ernest's father is blackmailing me. I—I had an affair with him. Years ago. He threatened to tell you if I didn't make certain Ernest succeeded in his suit. He thought if Merry wed Ernest, you'd throw your influence behind his son's career."

"But I already support his career. He's my secretary, for God's sake. I've given him loads of responsibility. As much as he can handle."

"Althorp wanted more than for Ernest to be someone's right hand. He thinks his son should be prime minister."

The expressions that crossed her husband's face were genuinely strange. Whatever his emotions were, outrage was not among them. He stood slowly, coming around the desk to lean against its front. If

Lavinia hadn't known him so well, she'd have said he was stalling.

"Well." He rubbed the length of his bearded jaw. "There's an ambition—though if he expects to chivvy Ernest into it, he doesn't know his son as well as he thinks. May I ask why you decided to tell me now? Or is it because if you don't, you believe Althorp will?"

Lavinia fought the urge to drop her eyes. "Yes," she admitted, "partly. But it's also because I can't live like this anymore. I hurt her, Geoffrey. My own daughter. I spread rumors about her. Made sure everyone knew how difficult she was. I scared off her other suitors to ensure she'd have no one to

choose from but Ernest." Her chin trembled at her husband's jerk of shock. "I know it was wrong

of me. I can't tell you how dreadfully ashamed I am."

For a long moment, Geoffrey simply stared at her. Then he sighed. "Ah, Lavi, what a pair of fools

we've been."

"What do you mean?"

He paused again, his eyes for some reason not just sad but bitterly amused. "I knew about you and Althorp."

Lavinia felt as if the floor had dropped a foot. "You knew?"

"I can even tell you when. It was the year I headed that committee to push funding for the underground through the House of Lords. I thought those tunnels would shape London's future, make her the strongest, fastest city in the world. Looking back, in my obsession to see the legislation pass, I neglected everything else. I took you for granted, love. I simply assumed you'd wait."

"Good Lord," she said, scarcely able to take it in. He'd known. All this time he'd known.

"Yes." He reached to smooth her hair. "When I saw what was happening, I realized I'd misjudged.

I don't know what I'd planned to say to you, but you must have broken off the affair almost as soon

as I stopped spending that time away. I decided it would be easier if I didn't confront you." He laughed without sound. "I told myself I was doing it to spare your feelings. To be honest, though, my pride

didn't want to admit you preferred another man."

"Never!" Lavinia said, catching his hands in hers. She hadn't preferred Althorp. Couldn't. "I was stupid, and perhaps a little lonely, but I never preferred him to you. He wasn't even kind except at first. As soon as he had what he wanted, he let his true nature show."

Her husband squeezed her hands. "I'm sorry, love. You shouldn't have had to go through that alone.

In truth, I'd begun to think, lately, the affair might have started up again. I confess I'm relieved to hear

it was only blackmail."

Lavinia shuddered. Only blackmail! "I'm afraid he may make good on his threats. Now that Ernest has stood against him, he may decide he has nothing left to lose. He could tell everyone what we did."

"Oh, Lavi, I'm sure he was only bluffing. Say what you like about Althorp, his sense of self-preservation is finely honed."

"But you didn't see how angry he was!"

Geoffrey cupped her face. "He wouldn't want Ernest to know. Me, yes. I think he's always resented the privileges people like us enjoy. But he wouldn't tell the world. He loves that boy. No doubt he's angry Ernest isn't avoiding Merry, but the thought of his son hating him would destroy him."

"I don't know." Lavinia shook her head, remembering Althorp's choler, remembering—despite every desire to forget—his brutal kiss. "Oh, I wish I'd never met him! Most of all, I wish I could undo what

I've done to our daughter. If I hadn't pushed her so hard, she might not have run away."

"Hush." Geoffrey moved his fingers to her lips. "Merry made her own choices, but none of that matters now. If she's turned Ernest down, she's truly on her own. She needs us to be strong for her, not to waste energy on 'what if.'"

His gentleness overcame her and she hid her face against his chest. His body was solid, his arms more comforting than any arms she'd known. Whatever twisted feelings she did or did not have for Althorp, when Geoffrey's hold closed around her, she knew she loved the man she'd married with a strength

that was almost pain.

"We have to tell Merry," he said, "in case Althorp is as irrational as you say. It wouldn't be fair to let her hear it from someone else. Besides, she deserves to know what you did to run off her suitors. If there's any chance of her finding someone else, she'll need some confidence in her charms."

Lavinia closed her eyes and held tight to the back of his coat, unable to suppress a surge of resentment. She'd said she was sorry. Was it really necessary that she abase herself so completely? It wasn't as if

her daughter had been drowning in suitors to begin with. And what if she told her brothers? They'd all

feel sorry for Merry then, and they all would hate Lavinia.

"I'm not certain I can face her," she said. "She's going to be very angry."

"I'll help you," he said with a tenderness that shamed her. 'Together we'll get through this."