Carnal Deceptions (3 page)

“Tallon, is everything all right?” Lady Stadwell asked.

“Everything is fine, Aunt.” He made a casual attempt at combing his hair back with his fingers. “That wood out by the stables, is that being used for anything?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Not that I know of. What would you need it for?”

“Oh, nothing really.” He picked up his wine goblet and took a few hearty swigs. “A little hole is all. Just needs a little reinforcement.”

“Heavens, Tallon, did that monster do something to my stables?”

“Nothing that can’t be remedied with a little wood and nails.” He finished off the wine in his glass. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, and your driving mare may be expecting a foal next spring.”

“Do you mean to tell me that beast got ahold of old Matty? My heavens, she must have been so traumatized.”

Tess blushed at the turn the conversation had taken.

“No.” His sly smile evolved into a devastating grin. “I don’t think
traumatized
would be the word.”

Tess giggled behind her hand, and he threw a conspiratorial wink her way.

Lady Stadwell emitted a snort of disgust. “All males, no matter the species, are darned predictable.”

“Do you think the same, Miss Calloway?” he asked.

Tess stopped and stared at him, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Y-Yes,” she answered truthfully. Though her experience with men was completely tame, her short London season had exposed her to some tiresome courting rituals. Boasting was a particularly annoying habit of her suitors. Lord Kempstone, her most ardent pursuer, had managed to steer every conversation to his hunting conquests.

She recalled with humor Kempstone proudly presenting her with a sack full of grouse in the middle of an elegant soiree. Her lips curled up in the full-on teeth-revealing smile that her father had found enchanting and likened to the impact of a room lit with a

thousand candles. “Tone everything down,” Beadle had warned her. “Think of yourself as wallpaper.”

Her fingers flew to cover her mouth. It was a ridiculous gesture she knew. This man wouldn’t show an interest in her even if she climbed atop the table and danced. She chanced a look at his eyes to test her theory and found his gaze riveted on her. She was inventing things. He only stared at her like that because she’d just pronounced men predictable animals.

He looked at her quizzically for a moment more, and then his attention drifted back to his meal. He sawed at his slice of beef. Tess was certain he was used to food that melted in his mouth. Mrs. Smith had taken to soaking cuts of meat in a wine concoction. But not even alcohol could help to tenderize this gristly meal.

He chewed it with consternation, furrowing his brow, the strong muscles in his jaw working hard. He was giving it a valiant try. “Hell’s fire, what sort of animal was this? Or is it tree bark? I ought to send you my cook.”

With difficulty, Tess swallowed back her laughter.

Lady Stadwell shooed away his offer with a flick of her hand. “Predictable as well, Nephew. How often have you suggested that? Five times, at least. And it’s that predictability that has given me an ingenious notion.”

Lord Marcliffe set down his knife and fork, sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “What notion?” he asked, skepticism in every syllable.

Lady Stadwell took a slow sip of her wine, obviously enjoying her nephew’s full attention. She set the glass down with a peculiar smile. “When you and Captain Gibbs went off to battle, where do you think your Cambridge classmate, Sloan, was? Safely ensconced in White’s placing bets on the war’s outcome, that’s where. He must have felt a true coward when you two returned as heroes. I’m convinced he wanted to injure your pride when he tried to woo that little bedmate of yours. Too bad for him that she is so devoted to you.”

Tess blushed at the reference to his mistress and averted her eyes, trying to focus on something else in the room. It suddenly did not feel the least bit appropriate that she be there.

“Who the devil told you all that?” Lord Marcliffe asked. “I am not at liberty to say.”

“Gibbs. What a bloody big mouth.” He held up his hand. “Pray, do not list anymore details of my life. Tell me, instead, what you are contemplating in that devious mind of yours.”

She responded to her nephew’s irritation with an innocent blink of her eyes. “Fine. I will discuss what I’ve gleaned about Sloan instead. Did you know his last mistress was privy to his schemes? And that she imparted the information to another man—a lover Sloan was apparently unaware of. Her disloyalty saved that lover his fortune. He was probably the only investor lucky enough to come out of that scheme with his hide intact. I suggest we let Sloan lure Miss Sparkes from you this time. And, because
he is a man
, he will predictably share confidences across the pillow. Then we can catch him before he strikes again.”

He gave a hoarse, sarcastic bark of a laugh. “You cannot be serious.”

“Perfectly serious. I will see him in prison before I die. Tallon, I do believe you are being terribly selfish. You should gladly share that girl of yours for this noble purpose.”

Tess busied herself with the jerky-like meat on her plate and pretended not to be listening, but she was absorbing every word about Sloan. When the room went suddenly quiet, she glanced up to find Lord Marcliffe watching her.

“I wonder, Aunt, if we should continue this discussion after we eat.”

“I am perfectly comfortable letting Hortensia hear about my plans. Now what of it?

Will you help snare Sloan?”

He gave Tess another assessing look before responding to his aunt. “Did you think I’d intended to let this slide? I’ve had men tracking Sloan for months now. So far he has been the perfect citizen, but that won’t last. A man who traffics in lies and bribes will not lay low for long. And when he shows his hand, I will be there.”

“All well and good, but we will apply both measures to destroying him. If you don’t feel like sharing your mistress, we will go about hiring one of her sort.”

“I wonder that those he has swindled have not exposed him,” Tess interjected.

There was a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes again. Clearly, her connection to Beadle made him mistrustful. He hesitated a moment before replying. “He wisely swindles those worried enough about social position, those who would never admit to touching anything smacking of trade or profit. It ensures their silence. I’ve heard that a couple of the men he’d duped resorted to taking their own lives rather than face the humiliation of it all.”

His last sentence caused her to nearly choke on her food. The need for revenge flowed fresh and hot, flooding Tess’s heart, making it burst with hatred. If only she could be the woman who would bring Sloan to his knees.

“Are you not well, Miss Calloway? You look a bit shaken.” The man was positively hawk-eyed. “I’m fine,” she said.

“It will work,” Lady Stadwell said, picking up on the unfinished argument. “You are just too stubborn to credit me with a workable plan.”

“And what am I to do? Haunt the local brothels until I find the perfect woman?

Actually that is not an unappealing idea.”

“Don’t be coarse, Nephew. I am serious.” She made a sweet attempt at being forceful by hitting her frail fist on the table. “We can advertise. Discreetly, of course.”

“And what should the advertisement read? Needing to hire a beautiful, duplicitous woman to spy?”

“Subtlety was never your strongest attribute. Do not be so narrow in your thinking, Tallon. Sometimes unconventional means have more success.”

*

When Mrs. Smith suggested that Tess take the breakfast tray to Lord Marcliffe, she was only too willing to comply.

Tess wanted to know whether the earl was actually considering his aunt’s plan of revenge. But, in truth, that motive did not come close to explaining her eagerness to see the man, especially since she’d resolved to avoid him. Nor did it explain why she had lain awake until the early morning listening for his distinctive step. The one heavy footfall followed soon after by a more lingering chafing sound.

All night, she’d tortured herself with questions of his whereabouts. Was he exploring the brothels of London? Or had he bedded his mistress, the one his aunt so callously suggested he share with Sloan? At one point, she tried to imagine what it would be like to be his lover. Lying stark naked on a bed of satin, submitting to all of his erotic demands. She had found herself so dizzy from the mere thought of having him touch her bare skin, she’d had to splash her face with cold water. Even now, as she opened his door, she had to slow her erratic breathing.

Tess should have feared entering his lair. Instead, she relished the notion of waking him. She shut the door with a bang.

The room was heavy with darkness and the thick scent of liquor. Flinging back the drapes, she was disappointed by the thin light the gray day let in. She set the tray by his bed with a clatter. She clinked the spoon against the empty china cup. With satisfaction, she saw his dark eyelashes flutter, and then with a grunt, he opened one lazy lid and squinted at her. He raised himself onto his elbows and with some considerable effort, he managed a seated position. He shoved a tangle of black hair out of his face and scowled at her.

“I was sleeping,” he said, his voice a scratchy remnant of its usual deep timbre. “Your aunt requested that I bring you your breakfast. It is, after all, past noon.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Christ,” he grumbled and threw off the sheets. He walked fully naked across the room. Tess stepped backward, caught her foot on the carpet and tottered for a moment before steadying herself on the bedpost.

She stared at the Persian rug, too embarrassed to look at him.

“Sweeting, when a woman enters a man’s bedroom uninvited, he can only assume she’s quite comfortable with what she might find behind a closed door.”

The man obviously had no scruples when it came to women. “L-Lord Marcliffe, I believe you take pleasure in shocking. Do you do this to every unsuspecting maid fool enough to enter your room?”

“Actually, you seem to be the
only
female fool enough to enter when I am clearly asleep. I’ve had a long night.”

“Yes, you have,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s that you say?” He could not possibly have heard her, yet he now walked decidedly toward her. Tess was too petrified to move. He stopped directly in front of her. Heat radiated from his skin.

“Would you like to know what I was doing all night, Miss Calloway?” His voice was rough and suggestive. He was a cold-hearted devil who obviously gave no thought to a woman’s feelings.

Emboldened by his rudeness, she lifted her gaze. Amazingly, he looked even bigger unclothed. He seemed to fill the enormous room, to take up all its air. Tess felt as though she were suffocating. She wondered if the women he bedded found him as formidable a

figure as she did. “I have about as much interest in your nightly exploits as I have in a tomcat’s. I am sorry that I woke you, but I was doing your aunt’s bidding.”

“From now on, it would behoove you to do mine. I take my coffee black.”

Pretending to be the obedient servant, Tess returned to the tray and discreetly dropped a couple of lumps of sugar in his coffee. From behind her, she heard the lid of his cheroot box being lifted. In moments, the rich scent of tobacco competed with the pervasive odor of alcohol. She swiveled on her heels hoping to make a quick exit before he had the chance to humiliate her again.

Her eyes betrayed her, straying to his naked form. He was staring at her, the cheroot clamped between his smirking lips. Her hand flew to her mouth, but not before the gasp had escaped it. She quickly averted her eyes.

“You could give a man doubts.” He’d seen where she’d been looking or at least the direction her gaze had wandered.

Her reaction had not been an assessment of his manhood…or to be precise not only of his manhood. The man was powerfully proportioned everywhere, it seemed. However, it was the ugly arcing scar that seamed his thigh that truly shocked her.

“That was from a saber?” she asked. It looked more to her like the work of a vicious shark. It was jagged and puckered. She wondered if the war had damaged him on the inside as well as the outside. Perhaps that was why he lived outside the moral boundaries of society. Of course, there was always the chance he’d been born defiant. There were always individuals who felt rules did not apply to them.

“Not a saber.” He crossed the room toward her, and she stared down at the rug. She heard the bed creak. “You needn’t hide your eyes any longer, Miss Calloway. I’m covered.”

She risked a glance. The bedclothes were draped haphazardly over his lap, his eyes were narrowed against the spiral of smoke wending toward the plaster cherubs gracing the ceiling. She noticed that his shoulder had been similarly scored with a blade.

“The Frenchman I was lucky enough to meet had no use for such sophisticated weaponry. He carried an implement more suited to butchery.”

“Lady Stadwell was right. Mr. Sloan was clever to have stayed away from the war.” “Curious that you mention him. You find criminals interesting, do you?” The sneer

that slanted his lips unnerved her.

“How could I not be curious? There are days Lady Stadwell speaks of little else,” she answered as she hurried to escape.

“And was it curiosity that brought you into my bedroom uninvited?” His laughter chased her down the hall.

Lady Stadwell stopped at the large window and stared out at the drive before sitting for breakfast. Flanked on each side by a big dog, she appeared to suppress a smile as she lowered herself onto the chair.

The flattened nap of the rug showed Lady Stadwell’s well-trodden path to the window. A week had passed since the earl’s departure, and every day Tess prayed he wouldn’t return, and every night alone in bed she chided herself for a liar. One thing to be grateful for, she found that her sudden clumsiness had faded with his absence. For the time being, Lady Stadwell’s porcelain was safe.