Carnal Deceptions (13 page)

He leaned over her. “Hortensia.” She didn’t rouse. “Tess,” he amended.

Her thick lashes fluttered open, and she reached up and stroked his face. She was getting accustomed to him. The thought made his heart jump. Wild tendrils of her copper-colored hair framed her face. She smiled at him, a wicked variation on the shy, seductive smile captured in the miniature portrait.

“So,
Tess Starling
, would you like to tell me why you lied to me, again?”

The smile vanished as she sat bolt upright, knocking her head against his chin.

She rubbed her head. “Who told you my name was Tess?” She pouted her bottom lip and he had the urge to bite it.

“Turns out Beadle was right. Your coloring does attract unwanted attention.” He could not resist picking up a long strand of her hair and wrapping it around his finger. “You’d become quite the favorite while you were in London.”

She scooted away from him. “I do not understand how my true identity is any of your business. It really doesn’t change a thing.”

“Hell yes, it does. It changes every damned thing. I will be arranging a wedding in the morning. I have enough black marks against my name, I do not need to add another.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Seducing a viscount’s daughter, that’s a new low for me.”

“You have clearly lost all reason, Lord Marcliffe. I have no intention of marrying you.”

He shrugged, but he did not feel indifference to her words. The muscles in his jaw jumped. “Your intentions be damned. You will become my wife.”

“I want Sloan—I mean I want to hurt him—to destroy him. He ruined my father, as he did your uncle.”

“I am sure your father would not have you sacrifice your own future.”

“Don’t you see? I am the reason my father lost everything. He wanted to give me a chance. He wanted to find me someone suitable to marry.”

Her amazing green eyes regarded him cautiously. She looked beautiful and vulnerable, and he had to suppress the urge to scoop her into his arms. “By suitable, you mean wealthy?”

“You cannot fault him. He wanted an easier life for me.” “Well, his wish will be fulfilled when you marry me.”

“You must forgive me, my lord, for being a little dubious about your suddenly
honorable
attitude. After all, you’ve kept me naked and vulnerable for the past few days. I would ask you not to decide my life for me.”

His gaze moved meaningfully to the bed. “And the time we spent together?”

Suddenly, she was looking at him with huge, glossy eyes. “This week has been a complete lie. You were never intending to go along with your aunt’s plans.”

“Did you really think I would procure you for that bastard?” “What of the women you interviewed?”

“I was putting on a show for my aunt. I figured she would come to her senses once she had women who made their living fucking traipsing through her house. Unfortunately, she is as stubborn as you are.”

She winced at the vulgarity of his language. “But you arranged for a house in town.

You paid for a wardrobe—” she touched her fingers to her neck “—and jewels.”

“I wanted you.” The words came out before he could stop himself. “Only now I’m prepared to make you my wife instead of my mistress.”

“I’m not yours for the asking, Lord Marcliffe.”

“But you
are
Sloan’s for the asking.” He reached out and pinched her chin between his fingers. He lifted her face so she was forced to look him in the eye. “You are quite the little bitch. You should do well in your new profession.”

She slapped his hand away.

He could feel himself clenching his jaw with anger and a more foreign feeling of jealousy. “My aunt will be returning on Friday. I will let her decide what to do. I am through with you and your deceptions.”

She tore off the necklace and hurled it at his retreating back.

He turned hard on his heels. “Keep it. Think of it as payment for allowing me between your legs.”

After her refusal of his proposal, Tess took to her room. On Friday, after days of sneaking around the house trying to avoid Lord Marcliffe, she woke to find her wardrobe doors ajar. The closet held three beautiful new garments. Voices below brought Tess to the window. Lady Stadwell had returned.

Tess walked over to the washstand and tipped water from the ewer into the basin. The cold water and the fresh scent of the soap helped to wake her. Without the aid of a mirror, she ran a brush through her dampened curls and fashioned her hair into a chignon. From the closet, she snatched a morning dress. Wearing it was a necessary evil. She had two choices: either remain naked or wear a dress he’d purchased for her. On her way to the door, she stepped over the discarded necklace. The diamonds seemed to wink up at her. Tess swiveled on her heels, plucked the glittering strand from the floor then headed downstairs to wait for Lady Stadwell’s verdict.

*

As expected, her audience was not with Lady Stadwell alone. Lord Marcliffe clearly thought his aunt needed protection from her devious lady’s companion. He lounged in a chair, his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey which was propped atop his thigh. She walked over to him and dropped the sparkling gems into his liquor.

“Thank you, but I prefer my drinks without ice,” he said as he set his glass aside.

With some urgency, Lady Stadwell motioned her over. “Is it true, my dear? You are the daughter of Lord Starling?”

“Yes, but—”

“I thought you said your father was a farmer.”

“Most of his tenants had moved on. He tried to tend the land himself, but he was not terribly successful.”

Tess found it hard to ignore Lord Marcliffe’s presence. He’d gotten up and now loomed over his aunt’s chair, a dark, forbidding figure. As black as his reputation was, he had not shied away from what he felt was his duty. An earl, no less, and far richer than her father’s wildest expectations. But she didn’t want to be anyone’s duty. Particularly not his.

“Does the girl remain untested, Nephew?”

“She does.” The look he gave her was accusatory, as though she’d denied him.

Satisfied by her nephew’s answer, Lady Stadwell relaxed back in her chair. “I understand your father wished to see you settled properly.”

“What father wouldn’t want that for his daughter?” Tess replied.

Lady Stadwell lifted her hand in a silencing motion. “Then that is what we will accomplish.” It came as a shock to find that Lady Stadwell was willing to put her need for revenge aside and refused to sacrifice a girl raised in a genteel household to her plan.

“I’ve had a week to think things through. With a little help from my
conscience
.” Lady Stadwell gave her nephew a teasing look. “The scheme was fanciful. It would never have worked. And we certainly aren’t going to use a well-born young lady as a lure.”

“So the only reason now that you are against the plan is because I’m a viscount’s daughter.” Society’s ridiculous rules, Tess thought. Only minutes before he knew her true identity she would have been perfectly suited as a mistress to Lord Marcliffe and now because of her parentage she was marriageable material.

“It is an arrogant way of looking at the world, but old traditions are hard to break,” Lady Stadwell said.

Tess had just been exposed to a world of eroticism that she’d had no notion even existed. And she had never felt less a viscount’s daughter. She’d left herself unguarded both physically and emotionally to prepare herself for what was ahead. And she’d done it all for nothing.

Lady Stadwell pursed her lips and Tess wanted to laugh. Here she’d been the architect of this unseemly plan and now she was playing the proper matron.

“I feel as if I’ve been betrayed and used badly here,” Tess said and looked pointedly at Lord Marcliffe.

“I’ve made it clear that I never approved of this plan,” he said.

Certainly, his rough behavior at the beginning of the week had been meant to scare her off. “I know I was stubborn, and you tried to dissuade me…in your own unique way. Yet, you are not completely blameless.”

Lady Stadwell shot him a knowing look. “My nephew is rarely completely blameless. But all of this has no bearing anymore. I’m taking it upon myself to find you a suitable match. Allow me to right the wrong I’ve done,” Lady Stadwell said. “Besides the modiste is working on the rest of your new wardrobe. It would be a shame to waste it in the country. Though I don’t know what you will do with those rather revealing nightrails Lydia designed for you.”

“Wear them for my new husband,” Tess suggested with a shrug. Tess felt a relief that she shouldn’t have. She blamed herself for that weakening of resolve.

“Or you could donate them to the nearest brothel,” Lord Marcliffe said with a chillingly clipped tone.

Tess dared a glance at him. He looked hard and distant. Fascinated, she watched as his long, beautiful fingers plucked a thin, dark cheroot from the cigar box on the table. Biting her lip to suppress a moan, she thought about those fingers pushing deep inside her. He brought the cheroot to his lips, and her gaze followed. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. She would never find out now. Last night, fired with the sudden, startling realization that she’d fallen in love with him, she’d lashed out. And after her spiteful refusal, she had sealed her fate. He would not be renewing his proposal. Now she would be put on the marriage mart. Lady Stadwell’s charm and persistence would almost assure Tess a mate. And she would spend the rest of her life wanting Lord Marcliffe.

*

“I’ve no doubt this dinner party will bear fruit, Tess, dear. I know of at least three very suitable single men who will be in attendance.”

Tess hid a smile as she adjusted the seams on her gloves. Lady Stadwell had suggested the very same rosy scenario on three different occasions that week alone. So far all the single men had been more suited in age for Lady Stadwell.

The courtyard was alight with torches. The parade of guests stepped cautiously over the slick cobblestones still wet from the afternoon rain shower. Tess sighed heavily, dreading the night which was sure to be a repeat of the past soirees. Another night of

dreary conversation. Another night of dull card games and overcooked food. Another night without Lord Marcliffe. Tess glanced back at his glistening black carriage and her shoulders drooped. She missed him dreadfully.

They’d barely stepped foot in the ballroom when Lady Stadwell was whisked away by one of her matronly acquaintances and Tess, finding herself alone, scouted out a dim corner and tucked herself there. Maybe if she were lucky no one would even notice her and she might be able to skip dinner altogether.

“Miss Starling, is that you?” The question boomed over the laughter and enthusiastic chattering of the small crowd.

Tess winced at being singled out in such a manner. With little regard for those in his path, the man barreled toward her. The candlelight reflected off his spectacle lenses making it difficult to see his eyes, but she recognized the pointed nose and pronounced chin. The eyeglasses were the only thing bookish about the man. Her brief London Season was coming back to her now. Lord Kempstone on her heels like a hound dog and cornering her at every function. She hoped he’d spare her the details of his latest hunting expedition.

Lord Kempstone sniffed and pushed up his spectacles with his forefinger. “Yours is the last face I’d expected to see here. It was as if you’d vanished. I’d contacted your father’s man of business, a Mr. Beadle, concerning your whereabouts and he had no information to give me.”

“I left London rather unexpectedly,” she said.

His thin, pitying smile told her that he was well aware of her father’s demise. “I, myself, have only just returned from a romp in the lake country. An abundance of water fowl in those parts. Ducks, geese. The sky is nearly dark with them. A hunter’s paradise. And as you know, I consider myself quite the bird man. A mere three days in the field and I had bagged two dozen of the fattest.”

Tess nodded weakly. She tried her best to show her interest, but her gaze kept wandering across the room to a stylishly dressed man with thick blond hair and a disarming smile. His presence seemed to have caused somewhat of a stir, and he conversed with everyone with charming familiarity. Over the heads of two giggling women, he caught Tess looking at him. He started to cross the room toward her. She shyly dropped her gaze.

“Kempstone, I understand your wife’s looking for you in the next room.” And then the blond man turned his dazzling grin on Tess, who showed her gratitude with a return smile.

Lord Kempstone cleared his throat and nodded politely at Tess before going off.

So Lord Kempstone had found a woman to appreciate his monotonous narratives, Tess thought. She was relieved he was no longer in search of a mate.

“You looked like you needed rescuing.” The man’s tousled, pomaded curls reminded her of a finely carved bust, and his side-whiskers were precisely trimmed. Her heart ached for Lord Marcliffe’s midday stubble and shaggy hair.

With the bold stranger standing only inches from her, Tess’s niche no longer felt so safe. “Yes, thank you, I’m very grateful.” Before he could introduce himself, she sidled past and went in search of Lady Stadwell.

“There you are, child. Pray, don’t leave my side again tonight.” Lady Stadwell flicked her fan wildly. “Such a dreadful evening we have before us. You will never guess who has been invited to dine.” Her gaze darted around the room. Leaning toward Tess, she used her fan to shield their conversation. “The villain himself. Sloan.”

Lady Stadwell fluttered the fan again, and Tess seized her wrist to stop the movement. “I’ve never met him. Which one is he?” She glanced from one small group to the next.

“You’re not still thinking, dear, that you will somehow get involved with him? Lord Marcliffe will never forgive me if I allow such a thing.”

“Lord Marcliffe is not my keeper.” At that moment she realized her hatred for Sloan was still keen. She’d come this far, why not continue with the plan and avenge her father’s nightmarish death?

“If it were not for my nephew’s generosity I’m afraid your circumstances would be very different.”