Carnal Pleasures (21 page)

“Dulcie, last night someone dosed you—
and
me—with a powerful love potion.”

“A love potion?” she squeaked, her chocolate eyes as big as saucers. “Oh, for goodness sake! Was that why…”

“Yes,” Griff interrupted. “I’m unsure how it was slipped into our wine, but whoever did it, gave it to me in a lesser degree, or I could have hurt you more than I did. I almost lost control, just like you did.”

Well, at least I haven’t told her a total falsehood. The truth is I planned to seduce her, and not simply because of her stunning change in appearance. I was truly growing fond of her. Too much so.

“When it happened, I don’t know,” he went on, now clasping his hands between his knees. “But I couldn’t have stopped even if I wanted to—well, what I meant to say, is stop kissing you. I enjoyed kissing you.”

She blushed to her hair roots. “I liked kissing you, too.”

Her candor was refreshing, but he dare not say how much he had wanted to make love to her again after leaving her asleep in his bed.

“I suggest that you take back the ring from me, Dulcie, and slip it on. Tell your stepmother you changed your mind and agreed to marry me.”

“Oh no!” she jumped in. “I thought you said I was better off if I
didn’t
marry—you or anyone.”

“She’s going to scrape up someone new for you. You can count on it.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Trust me, I know. You simply have to…well, make believe we’re going ahead with it. Otherwise, I’ll be asked to leave, and you’ll be left here without a friend to watch over you.”

He arched his golden, eyebrows, seeking her compliance.

“But why would she send you away?”

Now he faced the other dilemma. Lie or tell her the truth. Or, at least, tell her part of the truth.

“Dulcie, I am not your stepmother’s nephew. She and I aren’t related at all.”

“Oh?” She blinked several times. “Well, then,” she said, a tiny smile reaching her lips. “I’m glad of that part!”

He laughed, a little embarrassed. “You mean you don’t give a damn that I lied?”

“I’m not glad you told me a bouncer. But she lied, too. And I am happy you aren’t related to
her.
I never…well, I never was able to stomach the countess. Or she me, either, if you must know. I never understood why my father married her. There must have been a reason, but I haven’t been able to fathom it.” She smiled again, tentatively.

“All right then, we’ll think of an excuse to delay the wedding. Perhaps, if I can’t come up with one, maybe you can. Meanwhile, we must behave as if we are going ahead with it. And we must look as if we are happy about it.”

His grin was charming.

“How long do you suppose we need to carry on this farce?”

“Until I can come up with a better idea to get us out of this blasted tangle.”

She puckered her brow slightly.

“I’ve got to put my own life back into some semblance of order, too, Dulcie,” Griff stated. “You see I’ve…well, never mind that now. We’ll discuss it another time.”

”Yes,” she said, watching his eyes. “Well, I suppose I understand. The countess placed you in a bit of a bind, too, but I’m still not sure why you accepted.”

He saw the questions behind her lashes. How much more should he explain?

“I am not…deep in the pockets, Dulcie. Not in debt, but to be frank, I am without an income of any sort at the moment. Your stepmother dangled your dowry in front of me, and…”

“You did say we were friends, didn’t you, Griff?” Dulcie interposed, cutting off his excuses. “And friends help one another. Isn’t that so?”

He clamped his mouth shut and nodded.

“Complications…or even solutions…shouldn’t be one-sided, should they?”

He nodded again.

“Then I will agree to our false engagement, Griff,” she said with a tiny smile.

* * * *

Griff had detailed his suspicions concerning the countess’s use of a love potion to Dulcie, and why it had overwhelmed their normal behavior last eve. She believed every word he told her. At least she had something to hang on to now. She wasn’t a willful wanton with a bent toward nymphomania. Well, not really, although she experienced repercussions rolling inside her after what Griff did to her while in the throes of a powerful concoction.

She had gazed into what appeared to be his honest eyes when he was seated across from her. An awakening of consciousness stirred. Still, he
had
lied. And he
had
seduced her. He did it to gain use of her dowry and her inheritance, just as he said. She should despise him, not forgive him.

She tried to do just that but couldn’t forget what had happened last night when she lay in his arms. Earlier at the meeting with Griff and her stepmother, she might have agreed, had him as her real-life husband. But she had refused. She was convinced even then that Griff didn’t want to marry her. He certainly didn’t love her. He simply needed her wealth. Almost every truth he told her when they met, until now, was based upon falsehoods.

And worst of all, she almost fell top over heels in love with him.

But, of course, she had grown stronger since that meeting today—and wouldn’t allow herself to consider such a stupid move.

* * * *

Griff left Dulcie’s room and strolled along the hall to knock on the countess’s door. It took a while, but her lady’s maid finally opened it, a surly look on her face. “Yes, Mr. Spencer?”

“I need to speak with the countess.”

“She’s resting. May I give her a message?”

“Dammit, woman! Let me in. Now.”

”Trent? Is that Griff?”

“Yes, milady.”

“Tell him to come in.”

He had heard the countess’s voice. Scowling darkly at the countess’s lover, Griff strode to where Agina reclined on a chaise lounge.

“Well?” she asked, curtly, smoothing a ringed hand over the gaping front of a silk, lounging robe. She had removed her day-wear. Dare he imagine that the unlikely pair of females had been naked and panting on the chaise, or rolling around on the bed while enjoying lurid sex together? Ack! Wiggling worms crawled up his spine. He had come only to declare Dulcie’s and his firm intention to wed, then get out of this room. Any other notion would give him indigestion.

“I’ve convinced your stepdaughter,” Griff spat out brusquely, gazing down at the countess where she reclined. “But she says she won’t rush into marriage. No special license, no hurry-up wedding. I’m to court her first.”

“Was that the best you could do?”

“On short notice, yes.”

“I don’t want any slip-ups, Griff,” Agina warned fiercely. “Then you had better court her daily. Make love to her daily if you can. There are enough hidden nooks in this house for trysting. Get her pregnant if you can. Then she will surely rush to face a preacher.”

“I’ll see what I can do, countess,” he agreed. “In the meantime, I need more of an advance.”

“What did you do with the draft I wrote you?”

“I banked it, but I need an equal sum to conclude a business transaction.”

“You’ll not get another penny from me,
nephew
, until you’ve finished what we agreed upon.”

Well, it was worth a try,
Griff thought, drawing his eyebrows into a frown. “Fine, then, and don’t expect me for supper, Countess. I’ve already told Dulcie that I will not see her until tomorrow.”

“I see. But I shall send a notice to the London newspapers tomorrow. I want it spread about the
ton
that you and Dulcina are engaged and will soon be wed.”

“All right. She may want to take the air since she’s staying, get away from the house to which you have tied her. A carriage drive along the Serpentine tomorrow may be appropriate.”

“Perhaps. We shall see. Now leave me. I have a headache.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Griff met Randy Titus for a bachelor’s supper at his town house. Afterwards, they drove together to the Burlington’s ball, arriving a little before eleven o’clock. They joined the queue of guests moving slowly through the receiving line, heard music coming from the ballroom while they waited to be presented. Rand was stretching his neck to get a glimpse of his possible intended.

“Desdemona is still at the beginning of the receiving line,” he said, grabbing Griff’s arm, “standing between her mother and father. See there? Isn’t she beautiful?”

Griff looked over and around the heads of six or seven couples lined up in front of him. He had little interest in the debutante even if she was his cousin. He was concerned only in her parents. “Umm, yes, she’s quite lovely, Rand,” he agreed, complimenting the pretty girl in the over-fussy gown. His sharp gray eyes took in a more intense appraisal of his mother’s younger sister, Phoebe, and her wealthy husband, John Burlington. Would they recognize him? Greet him and pass him along the line with the rest of the guests? Or have him thrown out?

Randy moved ahead to make Griff’s initial introductions to his estranged family.

“Ah,” John Burlington smiled and stretched a hand out to Rand. “Glad you could come, Lord Titus. My daughter was wondering if you were going to miss the festivities.”

“Miss Desdemona’s ball? I should think not, sir. I’m here with bells on.”

“Good, good.” Burlington turned to Griff. “Now who is this gentleman with you?”

“A former school chum of mine, Mr. Burlington. May I present Griffith Spencer?”

“Spencer, you say, hmm? My wife’s sister was married to a Spencer.” He looked up at Griff at the same time he unknowingly extended a hand to shake his nephew’s hand.

“Well, now,” Burlington said, his bristling, gray brows lifting. “Have we met, Mr. Spencer? If so, I don’t believe we have. It’s been sometime…”

“…since my name was on anyone’s lips?” Griff interposed. “I realize that, sir. “Nevertheless, I’m part of my mother’s family, sir,” Griff replied, grabbing the man’s fingers in a firm grip. “I’m looking forward to reconnecting with…with you and yours.”

Griff met the sharp, cool stare of the wealthy financier. “I’ve been away from England for several years. But I hope…well…perhaps you’d allow me to meet with you elsewhere to explain.”

“Er…well…harumph…this is neither the time nor place. But you had best move along now, Mr. Spencer.” And he urged Griff forward.

Rand had moved ahead and was standing with Desdemona and her mother. “Miss Desdemona, may I present my good friend, Griffith Spencer?” Rand said with a charming, boyish smile.

Griff took the girl’s gloved hand and raised it to his lips. “How do you do, Miss Burlington? I’m very happy to meet you,” he said, gazing down into his cousin’s blue eyes. “Perhaps, you will be good enough to save me a dance later on?”

Griff spoke to her softly. She looked quickly over at Rand for approval rather than to her mother who was speaking to someone else.

The viscount nodded.

“It will be my pleasure,” Desdemona replied smoothly. “I shall keep a spot for you on my dance card.”

Rand managed a sly wink at Desdemona and moved along to introduce Griff to Desdemona’s mother.

Phoebe Burlington’s brows arched then pinched into a frown as she heard the name.

“Griffith S-Spencer? M-my sister, Eloise’s, son?” she stuttered in surprise at the same time Griff bowed over her gloved hand.

“Yes, aunt, one and the same.”

“But-but…I thought…”

“You thought I was dead? Raised from the grave?”

“Mother?” Desdemona piped up from her mother’s side, overhearing the unusual words. “What in the world is going on?”

She looked back up at Griff. “I don’t understand.”

“Never mind, Dessie,” her mother said, cutting her off. Phoebe’s cordial expression had frozen where she normally pasted on a smile while standing in the receiving line. Her blue eyes turned icy when she was startled by her nephew’s sudden appearance out-of-nowhere. “I’ll explain later, dear.”

Glancing up at Griff, Phoebe said, “Mr. Spencer, we need to speak at some other time and place. Not here.” She managed to send a tiny smile toward Randolph Titus.

“I am at your utter disposal, ma’am,” Griff replied. Bowing to both perplexed females, Griff followed Rand down the short, carpeted staircase into the glittering ballroom where they mingled with several hundred invited guests.

* * * *

Rand was able to jot his initials next to two slots on Desdemona’s dance card, including the supper dance. Griff signed for a set of country reels.

While Rand took Desdemona into supper, Griff was free to wander on his own. Griff noticed John Burlington speaking to his wife and then walking toward Griff who was standing near the raised dais where the musicians sat. The small orchestra had stopped playing, the ballroom was almost empty, and the lavish, standing buffet was underway.

“Mr. Spencer,” Burlington said, approaching Griff. Puzzlement had settled upon his expression. “My wife asked me to have you escorted from our premises, but I decided to speak with you first. What do you want with us, young man?”

Griff carried a half full glass of champagne in his hand, but he relinquished it to a passing servant. “Only to make my apologies to my mother’s family, sir.” He added, “And hope I can convince you both that I am a changed man—explain what occurred to me during the past years to change me so that I can again become a part of the family.”

“Harumph! My wife tells me you were as rotten as any apple in the barrel—the same as your father was. Drinking. Gambling. Whoring.” Burlington ticked the accusations off on his fingers. “I daresay both of you broke my sister-in-law’s heart. Of course, Phoebe didn’t bring up the worst part. But never mind; I know what transpired. As part of several gossipy, financial circles, I know what happened to Eloise’s dowry and the family estate left to her when she married your father. The estate was declared in ruins.”

“I’m sure all of that is quite true, sir, but it is no longer true now. My mother taught me more than affection and simple manners. She also instilled in me an acceptance of honor and discipline. When she died…well, I must confess I fell away from her teachings and dove into the opposite direction. I embraced my father’s gross, disreputable leanings in the underworld of greed and wicked morals.”