Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (12 page)

“Answer me.”

She looked up into his hard gaze and wondered why she had ever thought her plan would work. Mr. Smith had all but told her she was a naïve fool; she should have believed him. “You have to promise to never tell anyone.”

He released a wry laugh, those white teeth flashing. For a brief moment he actually looked debonair and charming. “I promise nothing.”

Really, he was quite like Henry. Dare she threaten to put him to bed without dinner? “What if I make you a promise then?”

He narrowed his eyes, but he was listening and that was all she could ask for at the moment. Truly, it was humiliating to have to bend to his will. Even more humiliating knowing how much power the man truly held over her, in the bedroom and out.

“What if I promise to get you far, far away from Lady Lavender? What if I promise you all the money in the world so you will never be at her mercy again?”

Neither of them moved. His sudden stillness worried her, made her feel as if she’d stepped over a boundary she shouldn’t have crossed. For one long moment they didn’t speak. Lazy clouds drifted away from the sun and the light was suddenly too bright, the birds that fluttered through the garden too loud, the world too brash. Had she gone too far too soon?

He stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his feet at the ankles. “I’m listening,” he finally murmured.

She didn’t trust him in the least but still sighed in relief. “Lord Ashton and I were married, tis true. But Henry and Cally are not my children.”

For one long moment he didn’t respond. Cold fear pierced her body, warning bells clamoring through her mind. Only Mr. Smith knew the truth and now…now Gideon. The difference was that she could trust Mr. Smith. Had she made a grave mistake?

“Obviously.”

Right, so she supposed he had uncovered the truth last night when he’d taken her virginity. She sighed, pacing in front of him. She was making a muddled mess of her entire history. “They are my niece and nephew.”

Gideon was quiet for some time, and she wondered frantically what he was thinking. With no alternative, she had trusted him and blurted out a truth that very few people in this world had known. A truth that could get her tossed from her home or worse.
If he realized how much power he now held over her…she shuddered to think about the possible outcome.

“My sister had a brief affair with Mr. Ashton while working as a maid in his London townhome,” she whispered. “I’d started working as a chambermaid at fifteen years of age and hadn’t seen her much. She died in childbirth. When she died, Mr. Ashton offered me a proposition: marry him and pretend the children were my own, make Henry legitimate so he would get the title and estates. And we would all be taken care of.”

He didn’t respond.

“You see, he knew he would never remarry and he had no children of his own, yet wanted a heir desperately.” A breeze whispered through the garden, sending a lock of his dark hair across his forehead. It softened his look, however briefly. “Of course we knew our marriage would be quite scandalous and the
ton
would never accept me into polite circles, but at least we would be legal and Henry would inherit.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you married a man for money.”

She stiffened, sensing the contempt in his tone. At this point she should have expected his biting reply. The man seemed to thrive on hurting others. How could she have been intimate with him? Even worse, craved his touch? Yes, she couldn’t deny that his mocking gaze hurt. “I married a man to take care of the children.”

His lips lifted into a smirk. “However you put it, you’re no better than I.”

Her eyes narrowed, anger and humiliation bubbling within. “The difference is I didn’t sleep with him.”

“No, you merely slept with me, a man you don’t know.”

Her fingers curled as she resisted the urge to slap him. Never had a person so thoroughly angered her, and she’d lived in the slums of London, for God’s sake. Had he no soul? No conscience whatsoever?

“Do we or do we not have a deal?”

He remained quiet, prolonging the moment on purpose, she knew, just to torment her. A yellow butterfly fluttered to the pink rosebush near the bench where he sat. He glanced at it briefly, but the beautiful insect held no interest for a man like him. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have crushed it beneath his boot merely for fun. The urge to take back every secret she’d shared with him overwhelmed her. But it was too late. The words were spoken. He held their future in his large hands.

“I’ll think upon it,” he finally said.

She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or annoyed. He hadn’t declined, but of course he was going to drag it out and make her suffer. Blasted man. “And while you’re thinking upon it, I expect you to keep quiet.”

Those gray eyes flashed, and instantly she regretted demanding anything of him. “Is that a threat?” he said softly. Too softly.

She needed to tread lightly with Gideon, much like she acted around the spoiled children she’d worked for when she’d been a mere chambermaid. She could only pray he had enough conscience left, or enough interest in the money she offered, to keep her secret.

“Although I did not give birth to them, they are still my children, and a mother will do whatever it takes to protect her young.”

“That’s the thing about a man like me, my dear…I have nothing to lose; therefore, threats are worthless.” With that said, the bastard actually stood, smoothed down his waistcoat, and started toward the estate as if he already owned the place.

Sadly, if everything went as planned, someday soon he would.

“If there is anything else you need, my lord, don’t hesitate to ring for me.” The chambermaid, who had been cleaning the hearth, gave him a hearty wink and sashayed from the marble fireplace toward the door. She was buxom and beautiful, with golden hair and a French accent that only added to her appeal. Why the hell didn’t she stir his blood?

Because he wasn’t so easily seduced. At least he hadn’t been until he’d met Elizabeth. He frowned, his mood turning sour. He could still picture her in that bloody garden where he’d left her standing alone. Surrounded by roses, that auburn hair sparkling in the sun, she looked like a fairy maiden come to claim his soul. The jest was on her; he had no soul.

The maid paused, resting her hand on the door. “I’ll send up tea and sandwiches.” Her heated blue gaze slid slowly down his form. “A body like yours needs nourishment.”

Gideon watched her leave, unsure if he should be amused or annoyed. What an odd assortment of characters Elizabeth had working at the estate. It was quite unlike anything he had seen before, and he’d seen some very strange things indeed. They spoke their opinions loudly and offered little respect for their betters. Hell, there hadn’t even been a butler to greet them upon their arrival. But he could admit the house seemed well kept and there was a jovial sense of family that hung in the air.

Although his childhood home could have fit into his bedchamber, Elizabeth’s estate and his former cottage had something in common…a sense of belonging. As a lad the feeling might have put him at ease, now it only made him anxious to escape. Aye, the welcoming house offered him no comfort, only made him uneasy.

With a sigh of frustration, he tore the waistcoat from his shoulders and tossed the wrinkled garment to the large, four-poster bed. Above, a demonically giddy cherubic fresco smiled down at him. The room was as richly furnished as his room at Lady Lavender’s, although the air was not peppered with sin.

He paced to the large walnut wardrobe and opened the doors. The piece was filled with fine clothing, just as the maid had said. He drew his hands down the garments. They looked as if they’d never been worn, which was odd, almost as if she’d been expecting him. Or maybe she’d written ahead to have the ready-made garments purchased. Her thoughtfulness annoyed him greatly. It didn’t matter what he wore, or if she placed him in the finest of bedchambers, he didn’t belong in polite society. He never would. So why was he still here?

She’d admitted that she’d hired him to divest her of her virginity. Which he had done and in a none-too-gentle fashion, not that he would allow himself to feel guilty again. He hadn’t known, after all, until it had been too late. But she could have hired him to get rid of her innocence and dropped him off at the nearest coach, headed back to Lady Lavender’s. She acted as if she actually
wanted him to stay. Nothing made sense, and he had a feeling she wasn’t telling him everything.

According to her, all he had to do was keep his mouth shut and she’d pay him enough to make it to America. Too bloody good to be true. He pulled out a pressed shirt. Something wasn’t adding up. Perhaps if he’d been charming, like Alex and James, he might have gotten the truth from her lips. But he’d never been one for sweet smiles and flowery poetry. Besides, there was something about Elizabeth that made him want to shake the blasted woman, not write sonnets.

He sighed and paced to the windows that overlooked that rose garden. The area was empty now, but the cheery view still mocked him. It was a family home, most likely an estate that had been passed down through generations. Although it was old, signs of modernity were placed around the halls, from the large glass conservatory he’d seen attached to the side of the house to the gas lamps on the main floor.

It was a place where children would grow with fond memories. A place where loved ones would gather for holidays and dinners. A place where he didn’t belong. Leave or stay?

Gideon tossed the clean shirt to the blue satin bedspread and paced the large confines of his bedchamber. He wasn’t used to idleness. At Lady Lavender’s, when he wasn’t seducing women, he was fencing, boxing…
something
. She liked to keep her men in the best of physical shape. She knew what women wanted, and it wasn’t a gent round in the gut with gout. No, that was what their husbands were for. Damn it all, here he only had time to think. Think about the past, about the uncertain future. He didn’t want to dwell.

He paused at the marble fireplace, leaning his palms upon the mantel. He sure as hell didn’t want to think about the woman who had brought him here. A woman who stirred his interest like no other woman had in years. Who was Elizabeth? Merely a chambermaid? He thought not. A chambermaid didn’t speak
and act like a lady. A chambermaid wouldn’t offer him a world of possibilities.

“What if I promise to get you far, far away from Lady Lavender? What if I promise you all the money in the world so you will never be at her mercy again?”

Leave Lady Lavender. Dare he? How many times had he and Alex discussed the possibility? If he escaped to Australia or the Americas…he just might…could possibly be free. Who the hell would come after him there? Tempting, very tempting. But he didn’t trust Elizabeth. Why was she so eager to help him? Why had she told him her secrets? His instincts said something wasn’t right.

He reached for his shirt, intending to get out of his damp, wrinkled clothing, when he noticed the flutter of a curtain, an ever-so-slight movement. The windows were open, a soft breeze coming in from the east, but this window was facing south and only one curtain had moved. He froze, his heart hammering. There it was again. Anger and curiosity combined into a heated inferno. Had she sent people to spy on him? He wouldn’t put it past her.

“What the hell?” he muttered, stalking toward the window.

Gripping the dark blue velvet curtains, he threw them wide. The little girl, Cally, sat curled upon the window seat, her wide green eyes watching him warily, her little legs tucked under a frilly, blue gown of ribbons and ruffles. He wouldn’t have been more surprised if Saint Nicolas had jumped out.

“Hullo,” she said softly, as if
she
feared frightening Gideon. As if it was perfectly natural for her to be hiding in his bedchamber.

“Come out,” Gideon demanded, annoyed. Was he to have no peace? He raked his hands through his hair and paced toward the fireplace. Elizabeth probably sent the child to play at his conscience. What she didn’t realize was that he had none. He turned toward the lass. Christ, but her green eyes matched her aunt’s. Even the way she stared at him with a mixture of hope and defiance made him think of Elizabeth.

“What are you doing in here?” he snapped out.

Cally seemed startled by his anger and once again, for a moment, he felt guilty. He forced the disgusting feeling aside as she scrambled from the window seat and stood before him, looking very much like a soldier preparing for war.

For one long moment she merely peeked up at him, and he was so confused by the troubling notion that he wanted to protect this child from himself that he remained frozen in place. A dark curl fell directly in front of her left eye, and the blue bow atop her head was crooked. She looked ridiculous, and damn it all, she reminded him of his sister, the memory too bloody painful to dwell upon.

“People call me Mouse,” she whispered.

He wanted her out, out of his room, out of his life, and most importantly out of his memories. “What are you doing in here?”

She lifted her left shoulder and released a puff of air, blowing the curl back into place. “Hiding.”

“From?”

“Henry.”

“Why?” Why the hell had he asked? Why did he care?

She twisted her mouth into a wry smile, a smile that showed off dimples much like Elizabeth’s. “Well.” She scratched her head, and rocked back and forth on the balls of her shiny black boots, attempting to avoid his question. “I might have done something…but it wasn’t my fault.”

Suddenly, Gideon was a child again and his own sister was pulling at his shirttails, begging him to let her play.
“Come on, Gid, just this once.”

Gideon would sigh, knowing that it was never just once.
“All right, come along.”

And they would disappear into the city, gone for hours, searching for scraps, getting into fights. It didn’t matter their lack of money, their low station in life, they’d found a way to survive and had enjoyed their adventurous world. Damn it all, he didn’t
want to reminisce, but there was something about this place that made him think of home. Ridiculous, considering he’d grown up in a shack.