Tainted by Temptation (18 page)

Oh God, she hadn’t even thought of that possibility. Her knees buckled and she caught herself.

“Sit down before you fall down.”

She moved to one of the Moroccan leather chairs flanking the fireplace. Staring into the lively flames, she considered that Lucian might have gotten her in the family way. Turn it as she might, the thought didn’t fill her with the alarm it was due.

“So explain to me how you could be found with your skirts around your waist and remain untouched?”

The memory of how they had coupled on the cliffs that morning made her face burn hotter.

She lowered her head. “Lord . . . the MP attacked me. He insisted I drink with him. I only remember taking a few sips, but I was insensible. Mrs. Langtree came upon us in the nick of time.”

She hadn’t even realized she was half naked until Mrs. Langtree hissed,
Cover yourself.

“I think he put something in my drink, it was very bitter.”

“And Mr. Langtree?” Lucian’s voice hardened.

She put her palms out. The package fell to her thighs. “I thought we were friends.” She had to acknowledge her role in the fiasco. “I allowed too much familiarity between us, and when he thought we should . . . I should.” She shook her head. “He assaulted me in my room when all the rest of the household was away. I tried to run away, which is how we ended in his wife’s bed.” Her voice quivered and she couldn’t stop it. “He said if I spread my legs for a fat old man, then I could bloody well spread them for him.”

But Lucian had been different. Even in that moment on the cliff he had given her a choice.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed.

Velvet swallowed. He didn’t believe her. Beyond her mortification at having to explain everything again, a deep rending pain seared through her chest. Lucian, who had more proof than any other of her purity, didn’t believe her. Former purity, she reminded herself.

He thumbed through the letter and then tossed it in her lap. “And the noises you were making?”

Velvet looked at the missive.
She was making the most shocking noises . . . Miss C— continued to screech like a cat in heat.
“When I ran, he caught me and threw me up against the wall.”

Her nightgown had been ripped open, and her struggles had been nothing against a determined man.

She’d tried to run down to the housekeeper’s room, but he’d caught her on the family floor. Her head had slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. “I hit my head and was dazed, and I might have been whimpering. My screams hadn’t been heard. I learned later he’d dismissed the servants for the evening.”

“And Mrs. Langtree rescued you again.”

“Yes, I thought she was my angel.” Until Mrs. Langtree threw her on the streets. “I know it sounds preposterous that two man tried to ra—” She couldn’t force the word out. Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper, and she cradled the package back to her chest. “—have their way with me in so short a space of time, but I had been a dozen years in employment and had never had a problem. I was unprepared and naive. I allowed Mr. Langtree to think I might be open to a deeper relationship. I did enjoy the intellectual stimulation of talking to an adult, and I let him know I had much pleasure in his company.”

A sob caught at the back of her throat, but she forced it down.

Lucian’s expression flickered, and he turned to kick a log in the fire. Sparks flared. Velvet jumped at each snap.

“Did you encourage him to think you would enjoy a physical affair?”

Velvet shook her head. “I never thought of him in that manner. He was married.”

“I have seen most of the cast of your little drama in London. Mr. and Mrs. Langtree—she is a remarkable beauty, is she not?—then there was your Steven,” Lucian’s voice turned softer.

How had he known it was Steven?

Velvet frowned and fished out the letter from where it was trapped against her chest. She turned to the last sheet. Mrs. Langtree hadn’t mentioned Steven by name or initial.

Before she framed the question, Lucian sneered. “Your face changes when you speak of him.”

Her shoulders dropped. Her expressions must reveal her betrayal by a young man she loved like a mother, and Lucian had cast it in a completely wrong light. Could she never rid herself of the slurs?

Her nose tingled and she fought to keep composed. She couldn’t look at Lucian.

“How old is this boy?”

“Did you not see him? He is nineteen.”

“A man, then. Certainly old enough to make his own decisions.”

“I applied to him for money. I had nothing to live on.” She curled her shoulders. “He mistook the request. I should have looked for humble work in an inn or shop. I had no intention of selling my . . . my . . .” She searched for a word. Body sounded too crass, virtue sounded too mealy-mouthed.

“Favors,” he supplied.

“He accepted my refusal. Although I suppose he thought I would eventually succumb to his charm or my pecuniary distress.”

“I’m sure you would have raised him better than to be so unmannerly as to force a woman.”

Her face burning, Velvet wanted out of the room. Her humiliation was complete. Any hope of kindness or caring was completely destroyed. Thrusting out the package, she stood. “I cannot accept this dressing gown. The cotton I will use to teach Iris to stitch samplers, but I cannot take so personal a gift.”

She hadn’t been certain if the yards of material was meant for her to fashion new undergarments, but she wouldn’t take anything for herself. It smacked too much of prostitution. She pushed the dressing robe at him.

Scowling, he took the package and tossed it onto the other chair. “I may have given you a bigger gift. Even now you could be carrying my child.”

“The chances are small. I am not young and . . .” Velvet stroked her arms, feeling cold. If she was reading the signs in her body right, she was due to begin her courses in the next day or two.

The fire’s heat didn’t seem to reach her. If Lucian took her in his arms, she would feel warmer, but he backed away.

“I hope to high heaven you are not carrying my child,” he said vehemently, and strode across the room.

Her chest felt as though a horse had kicked it. She gasped for breath.

The clink of the decanter against the rim was like a death knell.

“Would you like a brandy?” he asked.

Maintaining her composure in the face of his detached interrogation was growing harder. The back of her eyes burned, and she blinked rapidly. “I would like to retire.”

“We’re not done. Sit down.”

His voice brooked no disobedience. Velvet sank back into the chair. He regretted this morning on the cliff too. In all the ways she envisioned this talk going, this was the last thing she was prepared for. This coldhearted examination of her past and his rejection hurt.

He took a long drink and returned to stand in front of her. Bending down, he picked up the letter that had fallen to the floor and tossed it in the fireplace. The sheets curled and blackened like her hopes. Her past was not so easily shed by burning the letter.

“I think we should take precautions against your conceiving in the future.”

“I . . . I . . .” She gaped. Her eyes darted up trying to read his expression on his shadowed face, but she quickly lowered them. He was so beautiful it hurt. “I won’t continue to . . .” None of the usual euphemisms made sense, and she tried to collect herself to continue. “I was not myself, and I don’t think I could live with myself.”

He took another long drink. “My children have all been born dead or dying, and I shouldn’t like to put you through that.”

Had he not heard her? “I won’t continue as your mistress.”

“Was it so horrible?” he asked. The glass plunked on the mantel before he leaned over her.

Velvet looked right and left and settled for staring at his chest. Not horrible, but she’d been aware of a lingering disappointment all day long, as if she’d missed something, but she didn’t intend to explore it further. And barring another near death miss, she didn’t think she’d lose her sanity so completely.

“I can do better, you know.” He stroked a finger down the side of her face. “If I hadn’t been sure you were experienced, I would have spent more time waking your passions.”

Air seemed in short supply, and her body seemed to have a mind not connected to hers. A rush of warmth plowed through her. Tingles and shivers built to a rising crescendo within her. He could make it better? Her thoughts turned wicked.

But she was unprepared for his shift in tactics. She pushed at his chest. “Please don’t.”

But even that was a mistake. Her palms remembered the feel of his heated skin and the springy hair on his breast.

He pulled away and picked up his glass again. “You were a virgin. You could be with child. Of course I have to marry you.”

“No,” she whispered. His grudging declaration of obligation cut her deeper than she could imagine. He didn’t care about her, didn’t act as if he really wanted to lie with her again. He could pull back and walk away, drink his drink with nonchalance, while she was a quivering mess, incapable of a coherent thought.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“You don’t have to marry me,” she whispered. “It was one time. No one need ever know.”
Foolish, foolish, girl.
She wanted to be married, but not to a man who wouldn’t give her children. A marriage without affection should at least be entered to create a family. She searched for a way to keep him apart from her. “I want children.”

His hiss was low, and she wanted to draw the words back.

He spun and hurtled his glass into the fire. The flames reared in a bluish glow. And for the second time today she had made one of the most stupid mistakes of her life.

L
ucian couldn’t breathe. Velvet’s refusal to marry him sliced him to the core. The room turned red. “Bloody hell!”

He gripped the mantel, fearing if he let go he’d wrap his hands around Velvet’s throat. Her beautiful, swanlike neck. She wanted children. With three words she’d emasculated him. Not the three words he wanted to hear. Not the three words he had planned to utter next as a requisite part of a proposal, before her “No” cut him. He couldn’t do anything about his cursed seed.

Silence roared by.

He’d been trying to be calm and discuss things, not just sweep her into his arms and insist upon marriage. He’d wanted her to know he had thought about it and although it pretty quickly occurred to him that he had to marry her, he wanted to. He couldn’t believe she’d said no.

Who was she to demand anything? She’d been destitute before he hired her. He held onto the anger because to let it go would leave him in despair. He stared toward the decanter, wanting to dive into the oblivion of drink.

“You can’t be thinking,” he spat out when she didn’t make a sound. “I can give you anything you want.”
Except children.
“More than you’ll ever have as a governess.”

She winced. “I’ve only ever wanted a family.” Her voice was breathy and low.

“Velvet.” Saying her name hurt. On the cliff’s edge she’d for a brief moment made him feel whole, made him feel he had a purpose for living, made him feel as if he had a chance of finding happiness with her. “If I could give you healthy children, I would.”

An image of her holding a babe sliced through him. Velvet would undoubtedly cherish babies, not pawn them off on nursemaids. By God, he wanted children too, but it wasn’t to be. He sucked in a deep breath. How could she make him hope for such a cruel thing as another baby who would die?

“You don’t know what it is like.” The tightness in his chest threatened to cut off his words. She didn’t have the faintest inkling of what it was like. To watch as the life drained from little faces bearing his stamp. To wrap them and carry them to the churchyard. To stand by as cold dirt was shoveled on top of a tiny box containing a still infant. The thud, thud, thud of dirt on the baby’s coffin. He couldn’t bear to do it again. But he might have to. He might have impregnated her, and he had to make her see there was only one option. “You could be with child now.”

“You’re right. I’m tired. If I am with child, I’ll marry you. It would be the right thing to do.” Her voice sounded tinny and barely penetrated through the rush in his ears.

“I’ll announce our pending nuptials tomorrow at dinner.”

“I didn’t agree.” She sounded as calm as she ever did.

Although his stomach churned, he tried to sound as rational as she did. “An announcement isn’t final, but would allow us to marry with speed if it proves necessary.” Or she could break it off. Would she have the will to end a publicly declared engagement? He wished for his glass back. He could pour another brandy, but he suspected he would be tempted to throw it again.

“No announcement. You’ll upset your guests.”

“I imagine it will relieve a few of them.”

He turned, and she was curled into a ball in the chair with her arms around her legs. Her posture was so unlike her normal ladylike reserve, it stopped him cold.

Her eyes glittered as she stared steadfastly into the flames. Had her refusal been about more than his inability to father children?

“Just so you know. I wasn’t looking for potential brides.” He brushed at a wet spot where the brandy had splattered on his leg. “I asked my associates if they had young girls they could bring for a visit.” He may have mentioned he should get married again, but more than a day or two had separated the comments. “I meant girls Iris’s age.”

“Oh,” Velvet whispered. Her lower lip quivered until she sunk her teeth into it.

“I should have made myself clearer.”

Not that he could stand to marry one of the insipid girls in his “bride buffet.” He couldn’t picture any of them as a life partner, nor did he find their inability to look at him without seeing his scars tolerable. “In case you are with child, we shouldn’t wait.”

“It is not as if my reputation will suffer,” she mumbled.

His hands fisted. “No. Mine will.”

Velvet had always confronted him when she thought it necessary, but that didn’t mean she didn’t fear him. She’d nearly backed off a cliff to get away from him after he told her Myra had been murdered. Then she had thrown herself at him. Nothing made sense.

He touched his scar.

Her eyes tracked his hand and filmed with moisture before she shuttered them. She was not as unaffected as she would have him believe.

His thoughts spun and landed on a hard truth. This morning she believed Iris was his. Velvet hadn’t known he couldn’t father viable children. His stomach burned.

She dropped her feet to the floor as if she had reached a new resolve. “I should like to wait to discuss this further until we know it is a necessity.”

Her words were like knives slicing him to ribbons.

“You’d make a good mother for Iris.” He winced. Using her affection for Iris was pathetic. But he would do anything to cement the deal. He could get her with child, but the thought shamed him. He couldn’t put another woman through that, let alone one he loved.

He stared at Velvet as the realization solidified in his mind. He loved her. When had that happened?

He wanted to hold her and kiss her, and all he had was a halfhearted conditional agreement to marry. He wanted to wake up with her beside him. He wanted her to be his wife. Her intelligence, her calm, her fortitude all drew him. He couldn’t think of one thing he didn’t admire about her. Except, she didn’t seem to return his feelings. How could he bare his heart to her when she could so easily dismiss his offer?

He’d thought he was content alone, but he loved Velvet. What could he use to convince her before she slipped away?

He bent and ran a finger down the side of her face. Her skin was so soft, and her lips parted. “Spend the rest of the night with me. Let me show you what you missed.”

Her head jerked up. Her eyes were glassy and she seemed to stare through him. “Iris has nightmares. I don’t want her to not be able to find me.”

Her ready excuse ripped at him. To look at her strained face made him bleed inside. “Go then.”

But when she reached the door, he wanted to call her back. She was taking his heart with her and leaving behind only the package containing the dressing gown. He almost pitched it in the fire too, but instead carried it to his office and tucked the present in a desk drawer.

He rubbed his face. How could he woo a woman who refused his gifts? She wanted the one thing he could not give any woman. And he feared she suspected him of murdering Myra and Lilith, but he couldn’t bear to ask if she trusted him. Even after her death, Lilith was still destroying his life.

In spite of her exhaustion, Velvet had a hard time getting to sleep. Several times she resisted the urge to go to Lucian’s room and at least apologize for hurting him, but there was no good reason to go in the middle of the night. The dark angst in his face when she’d mentioned children wouldn’t leave her. But nothing she could do would change her mind or his.

She tossed and turned. All her life her father had made one message clear. Congress between a man and a woman was designed for procreation. To debase the act by making it only about pleasure was a sin. Marrying and avoiding conception seemed like the greatest sin of all. She loved children. She’d never given up on the idea of having her own.

When she finally dropped off to sleep, a cry rent the night.

“No! No! No!”

Her heart pounding, Velvet threw back the covers and ran across the cold floor. She jerked open the schoolroom door. “I’m coming, Iris!” she called.

Another door clicked. Had Iris woken someone else with her cries?

With her arms outstretched to avoid bumping into anything, Velvet scuttled across the schoolroom.

Once inside Iris’s room the glow of the ever-burning fire in the child’s room lit the way.

Iris knelt on the foot of her bed and tears tracked down her face.

Velvet heaved a deep sigh seeing the girl safe and unharmed.

“My mama came and said it was time for me to go, because Papa is getting a new wife.”

“Hush,” soothed Velvet. Sitting on the bed, she smoothed Iris’s hair away from her face. “It was just a bad dream.”

Velvet concentrated on slowing her racing heart.

Iris plowed into Velvet’s arms, holding tight.

Cradling the small form, Velvet soothed the child. Iris was unsettled. Her routines had been interrupted, and like any child uncertain of her place, she found the break in routines distressing. She’d probably heard the servants speculating on the number of eligible young ladies present and feared even more disruption to her life.

“She was here. St-Standing in my door. She s-said I had to go with her.” Iris sobbed.

“No, sweetheart. It was just a dream. She wasn’t here.” Velvet stroked the young girl’s back. “Let me tuck you back into bed.”

“Don’t go. I’m scared.”

Velvet disengaged from the girl. “I’m right here. I’m just getting you a handkerchief to blow your nose.” She crossed the room and opened a dresser drawer.

“Sh-Sh-She’ll come back,” Iris continued. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Iris, you are too big for me to stay every night with you. You must remember to pray and say, ‘Satan get behind me.’ An apparition will not linger when you pray to God to protect you.”

“I tried to pray! She just laughed at me and said prayers couldn’t help me.”

As Velvet turned back, she noticed the door to the corridor was ever so slightly cracked. A chill shuddered down her spine.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” She held the handkerchief to Iris’s nose and urged her to calm down. “I am here, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ll stay until morning.”

A bad dream didn’t have the power to open doors. And couldn’t ghosts walk through walls? Was this an apparition or something worse?

“Are you ever going to wake up?” asked Iris.

Velvet’s shoulder was pushed back. Refracted light danced across the plaster ceiling. The sun had risen high enough to be shining on the water.

Alarm jolting her all the way awake, she jerked up.

“Papa told Nellie you were to be allowed to sleep in, but you’ve never slept this late.”

Velvet pushed her braid behind her back. She was refreshed in the way only a good sleep could do. “How did he know I was still asleep?”

“He came up to take me down to breakfast with him.” Iris turned the bracelet on her wrist. “He gave me this yesterday. He says it is a family heirloom, but I don’t know what an heirloom is. I think it must mean jewelry someone stole a long time ago. Papa said our family used to be like pirates.”

“No. An heirloom is possession that has been in the family for a long time. It looks very old and valuable.”

“Pretty too,” said Iris.

With a smile, Velvet pushed back the covers on Iris’s bed. “I must get dressed.”

“Papa showed me all the old paintings it’s in.” Iris folded her arms behind her back and looked down at the carpet.

Velvet hesitated. “I’m glad.”

When she least expected it, he surprised her. Beyond giving Iris a gift that meant something, he was spending more time with her. Plus he had heard her concerns about Iris’s need for friends her own age and made an effort to address the issue.

“He’s being very nice to me because he doesn’t want me to be upset he threw Mama’s bracelet in the fire.”

“That and he loves you,” said Velvet. For an inexplicable reason she felt in great charity with the world. Perhaps it was the excessive rest she’d received. Or in the bright morning light, she just couldn’t see Lucian as a sinister figure capable of intentionally harming anyone.

“No. He just doesn’t want me mad.”

“Iris, if he doesn’t love you, why would he care if you’re angry with him? He doesn’t have to spend time with you if he doesn’t want to. Some papas only see their children once a week.” She ruffled Iris’s hair.

The girl ducked away from her. “You are not usually so happy.”

Velvet didn’t understand it. She should be worried or angry, but instead she felt alive.

Hurrying through the schoolroom, Velvet knew she shouldn’t relish being indulged and allowed to sleep late. She turned and looked at Iris. “Did you tell your papa about last night?”

Iris tucked her hands behind her back and shook her head. “He looked at me funny and asked if I had a bad dream. I didn’t want him to think I was a baby.” She rocked back and forth.

Great. Velvet smiled wryly. Now Lucian would think she was avoiding him by sleeping in his daughter’s bedroom. “You shouldn’t lie, Iris.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t have a bad dream,” she insisted.

Velvet reached for her door. The blast of cold air was hardly a surprise, but the shreds of material and paper swirling through her room were. For a second she couldn’t comprehend the raveling strips of green, black, and white. But her thoughts slowly congealed on a hard truth. Her clothes had been shredded. The flurry of shifting material revealed upended books on the floor. “Oh no.”

Her father’s books were destroyed. Her last link to her papa. The books were the only thing she had resembling an heirloom. Dazed, she entered the room and found even her undergarments in rags. Everything she owned was ruined. Torn to bits.

“Papa, Miss Campbell said she’d like her package now.” Iris tugged on Lucian’s sleeve. He pushed away from the billiard table.

“This is your daughter?” asked Sir John.

Lucian leaned his cue stick against the wall. “Yes.” He hesitated briefly before he added, “This is my daughter, Iris.” The words came out rusty. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever spoken them, but he didn’t think the men noticed. Lucian put his hand on her shoulder as he introduced her around.

Iris dipped curtsies and piped, “Pleased to meet you,” to each of the men. But a tiny quiver in her voice alerted Lucian that all was not well.