How to Handle a Scandal (9 page)

He looked at her intently, the color of his eyes indistinct in the semidarkness that would fortunately leave the color of her own eyes indiscernible to him, but the warm glow in his gaze made her light-headed.

“Do you feel shy, Victoria?”

She nodded slowly. It was true—she did feel shy and a little overwhelmed by him, but the feeling was exciting. And also surprising; she was hardly virginal—she’d kissed more than a few men, though none since Gerard had died, and she’d experienced the ultimate joining many times with her husband. But in each of those encounters, she’d been certain of her own power, of the upper hand she’d always held as the one pursued, the one allowing the attentions of an admirer.

For the first time ever, that wasn’t how she felt. She knew Tommy no longer admired her. He might find Victoria attractive, but Eliza Truehart’s beauty was nothing to him, and he certainly didn’t admire her as a person. She felt shy and off-kilter, a new sensation for her.

He smiled, managing to look both kind and wicked, and her heart did a somersault.

He placed a fingertip against her lips, right at the bow. Lightly, he pressed downward, and the moist, hidden skin at the seam met the warmth of his finger. His finger moved along the plumpness of her lower lip, bringing the hint of moisture he’d gathered and spreading it with wicked slowness, and she read the message he was sending: he knew about her body and what it could do.

He took his finger away and bent his head. When his lips met hers, she knew instantly that this was something that could have power over her—that
he
, if she weren’t careful, could have power over her…power she’d want to give him.

* * *

Something kept teasing at Tommy, a sense that there was something familiar about shy, blushing Victoria. She was funny and smart and sweet, and the parts he could see were achingly lovely. But there was more to her, some gauzy memory like that of a dream.

He didn’t want to pay attention to dreamy things, though, because she was here and real and luscious. Her breasts—tastefully, teasingly concealed compared to the other women there that night—had been drawing his eyes ungallantly downward from the moment she’d come closer, and he’d found himself aroused.

Despite her admission that she’d been with a man before, her kiss was unpolished and perfunctory, and he guessed whatever experience she’d had must have been brief and fumbling. The contours of her cheeks and faint lines curving at the edge of her mouth suggested she was perhaps twenty-five; she’d seen a bit of life. But for a woman who was thinking of selling her sensual charms, she had only the most rudimentary idea of how to kiss. Her lips had opened to his, but she was just sitting there as though waiting. She clearly had no idea what to do with her lusciousness.

It was like kissing a virgin, but without the guilt he would have felt for doing so, and his groin tightened further.

He stroked his tongue softly against hers and she quivered. But still she held herself back, not taking any initiative, and he felt challenged to arouse her further. He skimmed a palm over the front of her bodice, slowly circling his hand over the silky fabric until he felt the plumping of her nipple underneath. Her breath caught and he smiled against her mouth.

Her hand came to rest on the top of his shoulder, as though she was going to explore him, but she didn’t. She seemed to have no idea that she might have a part to play. “Tommy,” she whispered, and again he had the sensation that he knew her.

“Don’t you want to take off that mask?” he murmured.

“No!” she squeaked.

“Very well,” he said, teasing thoughts as to her identity fading, because really, how would he know her? Having been away for years, he knew hardly any women in England, and certainly no governesses. He kissed a trail down her neck and slid a fingertip under the edge of her bodice, nearly groaning at the satin fullness of her breast.

“Victoria,” he murmured, “you have many, many charms. But if I may offer an observation…”

He stopped to dip his head and kiss the upward swell of her breast, and he heard her quick intake of breath. Clearly his touches were having an effect on her.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“I wonder about the ultimate success of your endeavor if you don’t develop some contributions of your own.”

“Contributions?”

“If I may?” he said, his fingers pausing at the edge of her bodice.

She nodded.

He tugged and her breast popped free. He leaned forward and captured her nipple in his mouth, and she whimpered. This little scenario of the innocent prostitute and her mystery initiator was arousing him almost unbearably. The scent of her warm woman’s skin with its hints of floral soap seemed like the best thing he’d ever breathed in.

“It’s all about pleasure,” he said. “You would have to touch the man and seek to pleasure him, and in doing so bring pleasure to yourself. Or at least appear to be pleasured.”

“Oh,” she whispered, sounding genuinely surprised. Her breathing quickened as the hand on his shoulder began to move, tracing over him with little catches of hesitation that made him burn.

“Men like to be touched as much as women do,” he pointed out, nearly groaning as she shifted in his lap.

“I…didn’t know,” she said, sounding oddly remorseful.

She moved her hand to his neck and stroked him with what felt like affection, this woman who hardly knew him. She pulled his head down for a kiss that now had its own sensual agenda, because her tongue met his and stroked with a newfound eagerness.

If a protector was what she wanted, maybe she’d need look no further. He hadn’t had a woman since he’d left India, and there had been that incident at the bookshop when he’d found himself, to his deep annoyance, attracted to Lizzie.

Perhaps Victoria was just what he needed.

* * *

Now I know what lust is
, Eliza thought as she kissed Tommy with everything in her that wanted him. This was what the women downstairs had been talking about. She was intoxicated, hot, and breathless, and she didn’t care about the proper voice of her conscience that had been dictating to her for the last six years.

She tugged at the ties of his shirt until it fell open and slipped a hand inside. His chest was hard and warm, and his broad ribs tapered narrowly as she slid her hand lower over muscles honed to tautness.

He let out a sound that was half gasp, half laughter. “You seem to be catching on.”

“I’m a quick study.” She pulled his shirt out of his trousers, nearly dizzy with desire.

He responded by pulling her bodice down to bare both her breasts and feasting on them. She moaned and arched closer, not caring that she was being demanding. She began working the buttons on the front of his trousers, which was the first time she’d ever done such a thing because Gerard had always come to her in a nightshirt.

Had Gerard wanted her to do these things? Had she been selfish when she was married?

The thoughts niggled, but all she could think was that Gerard had never been like this—urgent and hot—and so she hadn’t either. How would she have known?

Tommy’s hand swept with slow arrogance up the inside of her thighs and made for the secret heart of her, the place that Gerard had always treated as though it was too pure to even speak of or really touch, a place that should only receive the most brief and functional attention.

Tommy Halifax felt no need for respect or distance; he intruded confidently among the curls between her legs and traced his fingers wherever he liked. Certainly he seemed to know what pleased her, drawing helpless moans from her as he made sensual circles over and over in one place that was turning out to be very special.

She wasn’t a virgin, but she felt new, as though she were waking up. Maybe it was better this way; she’d seen what men had in their trousers, and experienced it already—she wasn’t afraid of what would the joining would be like.

For the first time, she
wanted
it.

She pushed the front of his trousers aside and gasped at what she could see of him in the dim light. He was large, thick, and…absolutely not apologetic.

He gave a husky chuckle, but when she touched him, he groaned and pushed into her grip, hard as stone and pulsing with heat.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d pulled her to straddle him, the hem of her dress pushed indecently up over her thighs even as her breasts lay bare to his kissing. He took her nipple in his mouth and nipped her without so much as a by-your-leave, and she loved it. What they were doing was rough and probably coarse and certainly wicked, and she wanted more—she
needed
more.

She scooted closer to his chest, her feet moving onto the bed behind him, her legs spread over his cock, which was a word she’d heard around the docks of Malta years before but had banished from her mind as she steered herself toward uprightness. But now she said the word in her mind, enjoying its frankness. Still gripping him, she brazenly rubbed the tip against herself.

He sucked in a breath. “Victoria?” he said hoarsely.

“Yes,” she panted.

“You’ve caught on spectacularly. There should be some sort of prize,” he ground out.

She threw her head back, feeling every inch the wanton. He was at her entrance now.

“Yes?” he asked, and they both knew what he meant.

“Yes!” she cried.

He needed no further urging but plunged into her with one forceful stroke.

“Tommy,” she moaned, and it meant so much more to her than he could ever guess. She nearly wept from the pleasure as he filled her.

His breath grew ragged as he worked himself into her again and again, driving her pleasure higher with each thrust.

She felt herself aiming toward a blurry cliff at the edge of an unknown land, a place whose geography only Tommy knew. He tipped her backward, holding her securely as he stroked deeply inside her until finally—finally!—with what felt like fireworks exploding, she fell. Wonderfully and gratefully, she fell over a boundary that she’d never even known was there.

Through the veil of her own pleasure, she was aware of him still stroking inside her, grunting, his hands worshipping her body. He buried his face against her bosom, kissed wildly up her neck, rubbed his lightly whiskered cheeks against hers, and scrabbled his hands in her hair, until with a final plunge he sighed out his release.

His hands flew upward through her hair, taking the ribbons of the mask with them, and she just had time to see the pleasure lighting his eyes before he recognized her.

Tommy couldn’t believe his eyes. It wasn’t possible! It couldn’t be.

And yet it was. The well-pleasured woman looking back at him with dawning fright was Lizzie.

Victoria the innocent, awkward prostitute was
Lizzi
e
?

How the hell could this have happened? And
why
was she even here?

His blood came instantly to a boil. “What the devil is going on, Lizzie?” he demanded.

Any last vestiges of bliss fled from her face and she fumbled to get off him and stand up, pulling her dress over her shoulders as her skirts fell to cover those shapely legs that had so inflamed him. Guilt crimped her features.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re
sorry
?” he growled as he fastened his trousers with rough, quick motions. He stood, enjoying a bolt of angry satisfaction when she shrank back from him. He speared her with a furious glare.

“You’re going to be so much more than sorry by the time I’m done with you.” Even in the dim firelight he could see her blanch. He stepped closer and alarm rippled over the lovely face that had put him under a spell years ago and that had clearly worked its magic again on him tonight, no matter that he’d only seen part of it.

Apprehension pulled at the corners her beautiful mouth.

“I, um, I realize that me being Victoria is not a happy surprise for you,” she said in a voice that was little more than a croak. “But you must see that this wasn’t something I’d planned. It just happened.”

He crossed his arms, rage curling his fingers into his locked muscles. “
I
wasn’t the one wearing a mask. You
knew
who I was.” He narrowed his eyes. “Was this some kind of trap?”

She laughed, a bitter sound. “How could it have been a trap when I had no way of knowing you would be here? Or that you would come into this room?” She spoke with a defensiveness she had no right to. “And what possible reason could I have for trapping you?”

“I don’t know. What possible reason could you have for being here, in this house?” he asked with slow, dangerous menace. “
Why
is my brother’s ward pretending to be a prostitute?”

“I am twenty-four years old, Tommy Halifax, and nobody’s ward anymore. And though I behaved wrongly, you were a willing participant in what we did.”

He thought his head was going to explode. “I had a damned good reason for doing what I did. I thought you were a strumpet! What was
your
reason? Damn it, Lizzie, we just had relations. I would never have done what I just did if I’d known that was you.”

A spasm of what looked like hurt swept over those proud, perfect features, and for a moment he entertained the thought that this all had truly been some monumental mistake. But no, Lizzie was the Siren. He couldn’t allow himself to be tempted to trust her.

Her shoulders slumped. “There’s no excuse for what I did.”

“You’re damned right. You could have told me who you were at any moment since I came into this room and allowed me the choice. But instead you took the choice from me by trickery.”

“I have behaved appallingly. There is nothing I can say to excuse myself.”

He was startled by the remorse in her voice and the honesty of her words. Was it possible that she was sincere and truly humbled? But then he remembered how she’d apologized so earnestly at the bookshop and reminded himself that she was very good at manipulating people, and his jaw hardened.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, hearing the dangerous note in his voice and not caring. “Why are you here, and why are you pretending to be a prostitute?”

She inhaled, as if to gather herself. “Because I wanted to see for myself what a brothel was like. The girls we help at Truehart Manor—one of them has just abandoned everything we tried to do for her and taken work as a prostitute. Apparently, many of our girls think it’s a profession with wonderful advantages. I wanted to understand better what we’re fighting to keep them away from.”

His brows slammed together. “You want me to believe you came to a brothel dressed as a prostitute just so you could observe what it’s like to be a prostitute?”

Her spirits seemed to sag further. “Yes.”

The subject was serious, but a scornful laugh escaped him. “And you were going to do what—solve the problem of the world’s oldest profession? Convert all the brothels to convents?”

Her jaw tightened and her chin tipped up, which ought to have looked ridiculous considering she was wearing a rumpled, low-cut pink dress and heavily powdered hair, but he grudgingly admitted to himself that there was something a little majestic about her spirit.

“I don’t think there’s anything laughable about women being in dire straits and needing help.”

His lips thinned. “I don’t either. And there are plenty of women in bad situations, but this isn’t one of them. The women here know they will be treated well and compensated handsomely. But that doesn’t mean a woman like you should ever come to such a place, never mind pretend to be one of its denizens. What would Anna and Will think if they ever heard that you were here? What would
anyone
think?”

“I wasn’t going to be here very long. I was just going to gather the kind of information that would help us make sure our girls won’t be enticed by the lure of prostitution.”

He snorted. “You might tell yourself that’s why you came here, but I don’t believe it. You have everyone fooled, don’t you, Lizzie?”

“I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“You want everyone to think you’ve turned over a new leaf,” he sneered, “but underneath that veneer of propriety—underneath the muted clothes you’ve been wearing and those do-gooder’s plans—you’re still the same girl I knew. Hell, I’ll wager that ‘work’ you supposedly do at Truehart Manor is nothing but a way to make yourself look good. You’ve got my brother and Anna and everyone else fooled with your ruse of respectability, don’t you? But I know better.”

She recoiled, as though his words had actually wounded her. “I’ve tried to set my life on a respectable course,” she said in a shaky voice, “and I don’t care if you believe the worst of me, but our girls are decent, good children in need of help.”

Her words suggested someone who truly cared about those girls and poked at his idea of her, but he told himself this was just more of her trickery. He crossed his arms. “And what would you have done if it had been another man who’d come in here instead of me? Would you have seduced him as well?”

“Of course not.” Her brows drew together in a deep wrinkle. “Things here are not as I had thought they would be. The women here seem almost content with their lot.”

“Some of the women here fare better than the wives of the men who come here. And they earn enough that, if they wanted to leave, they would have enough to take care of themselves.”

“It’s still a choice no woman should be forced to make. There are consequences.”

“Exactly,” he ground out. “Like a
baby
. You could be carrying my child this very moment.”

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s not possible. My husband and I had normal marital activities for years with no result. He had a baby with his first wife. Our doctor agreed the problem lay with me.”

How the hell had this happened? He never had intercourse without French letters, and in India, there were savvy, beautiful courtesans very happy to share his bed. With no eye to marrying for a long, long time, he never consorted with English women. If he was ever tempted by a woman who would expect an engagement, he needed only to look around him at all the disastrous marriages among his friends to lose interest. The marriage of his closest friend in India, Oliver Thorpe, had been a prime example, and now Tommy couldn’t think of the poor devil without all kinds of conflicted feelings he didn’t want.

“A doctor isn’t God,” he said. “A doctor can’t see into the future. He could have been wrong. And now you’ve dragged me into your little game.”

* * *

Eliza was shaking. Clearly she was not only wicked but also insane to have done what she’d just done—and with Tommy of all men. She’d somehow given herself permission to abandon years of walking the upright path she’d chosen and given into temptation. Although what she’d done had been wrong, it had felt so intensely right at the time because she’d been so attracted to him since his return, even though in truth she didn’t really know him anymore. But she’d been weak, and she’d indulged herself at his expense.

He seemed to think that her presence there that night and her work at Truehart Manor were all just a way of gaining attention for herself. How shallow and worthless a person he thought her.

But she’d wronged him tonight, quite seriously. She’d given herself permission to do something reprehensible because she thought she could manage it without anyone being affected, and she certainly owed him an explanation.

“This wasn’t a game,” she said. “I came here for the reason I told you—to better understand this thing that entices our girls. But some of the men thought I really was a prostitute, and I had to escape them before the choosing, only I couldn’t get down the corridor, which is how I ended up hiding in this room.”

He muttered a curse. “Did anyone touch you?”

“No!” Putting aside the moral implications of the way she’d behaved, how had she ever thought what she’d done tonight with Tommy could be accomplished with no consequences? “It was just a bizarre coincidence that I was in here at the same time you were. You came in, and you didn’t know it was me, and”—she took a deep breath, hoping the awkward truth would resolve this disastrous situation—“and you were being so kind and fun that I couldn’t resist what started to happen between us. It was like old times.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously and she rushed to finish.

“I mean, obviously we never did anything like this before, but still, we used to be so close.”

His face darkened; clearly she’d said the wrong thing. “Funny you would bring up old times. They’re exactly what have made me not want to spend a single extra minute in your company. Nothing ever really touched you, did it? It was all flirting and games with no consequences for you back then, and it still is. And now you’ve ensured that I might never be able to get away from you.”

His words cut horribly. He didn’t understand that she’d tried to make amends over the last years and become a better person. Still, she more than deserved his scorn.

“I understand your anger. But as to any consequences for you, I assure you that there will be none. I’m not some fragile poor virgin whose life has just been ruined. I’m a wealthy, established woman who makes her own choices. I understand that you may have no wish to accept my apology, but I see no reason for us to discuss this further.”

She reached toward the bed and snatched up her mask. “Of course I won’t say a word of this to anyone. No one will ever know. It seems inevitable that we’ll meet at family events while you’re in England, and I assure you that I will behave with nothing but politeness toward you.”

When he made no reply, she tied the mask over her face and turned to go, but he caught her roughly by the arm.

“You will send me word if there is anything I need to be told.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded once.

“I will see you home.”

“No,” she said. “You can’t. Someone might see us together and perhaps recognize me. No one expects to see me here, so if I’m glimpsed alone, I will attract little notice.”

She could tell from the way his mouth hardened that he didn’t like what she’d said but that he acknowledged the wisdom of it. “How do you plan to get home then?”

“I have a carriage—the driver was to keep an eye out for me in the mews. I’ll go out the back door.”

Tommy nodded tersely. “Wait here while I see if anyone is about.”

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, which seemed quiet. He was gone for a few moments and she supposed he was checking the stairs. When he returned, he held the door for her.

“Go. You’ll be able to escape notice just now.”

She slipped past him and down the stairs. From the quiet in the drawing room it seemed most of the couples had already disappeared into chambers together. Nobody was about as she found her way to the back door and the mews, where her carriage appeared almost immediately and she was whisked to safety, all but weeping with relief.