Authors: Cheryl Holt

Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction

Taste of Temptation (31 page)

BOOK: Taste of Temptation

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She went to her desk and opened her strongbox, extracted the cash, and handed it over. Lydia stuck it into her cleavage.

“Write me a note that I can take to the seamstress in the village,” Lydia pressed.

“About what?”

“About the dresses. Beg pardon, Mrs. Seymour, but I won’t have you claiming you don’t owe them to men.”

Maud gnawed on her lip, wondering if she shouldn’t fire the cheeky girl, but in the end, she dipped her quill in the ink pot and penned the voucher for Lydia’s clothes.

“I can read, Mrs. Seymour,” Lydia mentioned, “so don’t try any funny business. I’ll know if you’ve allowed the sewing or not.”

Maud seethed again. She’d planned to scribble a few sentences of gibberish. How was it that Lydia understood her so completely? They were possessed of the same penchant for deceit, so perhaps Lydia recognized treachery when she stumbled on it.

Maud finished the letter, waiting impatiently as Lydia read every word. Satisfied, Lydia tucked it into her cleavage, too.

“What is it?” Maud said. “I’m all ears.”

“It’s about Jane Hamilton. Where would you like me to start?”

HELEN walked into Maud Seymour’s sitting room, struggling not to appear nervous, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never previously been invited to Seymour’s private quarters, and the summons boded ill.

The furniture had been oddly situated, with Seymour seated in a large, comfortable chair, but another chair—a hard, straight-backed one—had been set across from it. Apparently, an interrogation was about to commence, with Helen the person who would be questioned.

What was her crime? She couldn’t imagine.

Thank heavens Tristan hadn’t yet left for Scotland. She was amazed that—whatever her transgression—Mrs. Seymour hadn’t delayed until he was gone so that Helen would be unprotected.

“Yes, Mrs. Seymour?” Helen smiled, hoping she looked amiable. “You asked to see me?”

The woman gestured to the empty chair, and Helen sat.

“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush,” Seymour began, “so I won’t hesitate to reveal that I never wanted you in this house.”

At the vicious remark, Helen was taken aback. She was silent, grappling with how to respond.

Courtesy won out.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Helen evenly stated, “for I’ve been happy in my position.”

“I’ll bet you have. It’s easy to be content when you’ve glommed on to your betters like a leech on a thigh. Do you enjoy being a charity case? With your antecedents, it must come naturally.”

Helen inhaled a deep breath, counted to ten, then let it out. She stood.

“If you have a specific complaint, I suggest you discuss it with Captain Odell.”

“I intend to.” Seymour’s tone threatened enormous trouble. “In the meantime, we’re not finished. Sit down.”

“I’d rather not”

She turned to go, when Seymour bellowed, “Sit down, Miss Hamilton!”

Helen was so furious, she was trembling, but she complied, positive that Seymour wouldn’t desist until she said what she was dying to say.

“I don’t answer to you, Mrs. Seymour, despite how you wish it were otherwise. Captain Odell has been very clear that I should only take orders from him, but I try to be agreeable. I will listen to you, but I will not be in-sulked.”

“The captain may be your employer,” Seymour retorted, “but if you think you can stay here without my approval, you should think again. Tell me about your sister’s relationship with the earl.”

The query was so unexpected that, initially, Helen had no idea to whom she referred.

“My sister Jane,” she asked, “and Lord Hastings?”

“Yes.”

“They’re cordial. They’re friends. They ride horses every day. They’ve danced at some of the parties. Why?”

“Is she pregnant?”

Helen came halfway to her feet. “What?”

“Is she? Don’t lie to me. The truth will emerge—sooner rather than later.”

“You have some gall, making unfounded accusations.”

Seymour scoffed. “Was pregnancy your game all along? I’ve been curious about your motive in being here. Maybe I’ve finally exposed it. After all, a bastard baby would bring good fortune to a trio of homeless, disowned females.”

“You believe that we ... that I... that she ...”

Helen was so enraged that she couldn’t complete a thought. The allegation left her dazed. Her legs gave out and she sank into the chair.

“Are you planning to demand a stipend?” Seymour continued. “A trust fund? A house for the little bugger? All at Michael’s expense, of course.”

Seymour’s cruel character—which she typically sought to conceal—was fully unmasked. Helen’s loathing was unleashed, too, and for the first time in her life, she worried that she might attack another person. Her fists were actually itching to land a few blows.

“How dare you slander us!”

“Slander? Last I heard, truth was a defense.”

Helen rose and stormed out, but before she made it to the hall, Seymour called, “You haven’t answered me, Miss Hamilton. Is she pregnant or not?”

Helen whipped around. “If she was, I would never discuss it with you.”

“I wonder what the captain will have to say,” Seymour pretended to muse. “I can’t wait to find out”

Seymour was very relaxed, looking every inch the rich, privileged matron she was. She was too calm, too sure of herself, and her certainty alarmed Helen.

What had Jane done?

Helen had been so busy with Amelia and Rose, with Tristan, that she’d had scant opportunity to fret about Jane, but Jane was older and possessed of a strong moral constitution. She was aware of the strictures by which she was to conduct herself, and she knew better than to become involved with Lord Hastings.

As you knew better with Tristan?
a niggling voice pestered, but she shoved it away. Her situation with Tristan was nothing like an affair between Jane and Lord Hastings. Hastings was bound by rules and restrictions that would never apply to Tristan. Would Jane have crossed such a forbidden line?

Her sister had always been enamored of Michael Seymour. Even when they’d been destitute, with not a bite of food in the cupboard or a penny in their pockets, she’d been fascinated.

Had her girlish attraction metamorphosed into a dangerous liaison?

Helen spun away and raced for the stairs, heading directly to Jane’s bedchamber.

She knocked once and turned the knob, but the door was locked, so she knocked again, louder. When there was no reply, she knocked a third time and a fourth.

Ultimately, Jane asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Helen, Jane. Let me in.”

After much foot dragging and delay, Jane opened the door, and though she hurriedly whirled away, Helen saw that she’d been crying.

Her back to Helen, she went to the window and peered outside.

“What’s the matter?” Helen inquired.

“I’m just feeling a bit low.” Jane had a kerchief clutched in her hand, and she furtively swiped at her eyes.

Helen grabbed two chairs and set them facing each other. She plopped down in one.

“Jane, come,” she gently coaxed. “We need to talk.”

“Can’t we put it off till I’m in a better mood?”

“No, we can’t.”

Jane sighed, but she trudged over and sat. She stared at the floor.

“What is it?” Jane queried.

“I have to ask you a question, and you must tell me the truth.”

“I’m always honest with you. Why would you even say such a thing?”

Helen studied Jane, assessing her slumped shoulders, her mottled cheeks. Her morose condition provided damning evidence, and Helen hated to pry, but she had to hear the facts from Jane’s own mouth.

“I won’t be angry,” Helen pressed, “but you can’t lie to me.”

“I won’t!”

“I don’t know how to delve into this with any aplomb, so here it is: Are you having an affair with Lord Hastings?”

Jane drew in a sharp breath and started to weep. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Someone told me, Jane—someone who was very sure—so you can’t deny it”

Jane kept staring at the floor, pulling the kerchief through her fingers. Finally, she whispered, “Yes.”

Helen sagged with defeat. “How long has it been going on?”

“Since we moved into his London house.”

“Did he... force himself on you?”

“No, no. I wanted it to happen.”

“Oh, Jane...”

They were silent, downcast and despondent.

“Are you pregnant?”

“I’m not certain how I’d know.”

“You miss your monthly courses.”

There was a lengthy, pained pause, then Jane shuddered and admitted, “I might be. I’m a tad late.”

“How late?”

“Two weeks?”

Helen calculated the days, the months. Would it be an April baby? A May one?

“Look at me, Jane,” she said.

Jane glanced up, her woe plainly visible.

“Why are you crying?” Helen inquired.

“Because ... because ...”—she choked down a sob—“I love him and I’ve been expecting him to propose, but he hasn’t yet, and I’m beginning to fear that he never will.”

Helen fumed, her temper boiling, and she leaned forward and patted Jane’s hand. “We’ll see about that.”

“What can you do?”

“You’re not some scullery maid he seduced in the kitchen. You’re Jane Hamilton. Your grandfather was a man of great repute. Lord Hastings can’t have ruined you without there being consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“He has to marry you. He has no choice.”

“How will you make him?”

“The captain is his guardian. I’ll speak to him; I’ll demand lit.”

“Will he listen to you?”

“Yes, he will. He and I are friends, and he’s extremely honorable. He’ll order Lord Hastings to wed you.”

Jane gazed at her lap, the kerchief being tugged with a renewed vengeance.

“I hope you’re correct.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that Mrs. Seymour has been fanatical about letting us know how we don’t belong.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Helen scoffed. “I’ll talk to the captain immediately. We’ll have it all arranged before supper.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes.” Helen’s mind was spinning with plans. “We’ll apply for a Special License, and we should be able to hold the wedding in a few days.”

Jane’s relief was palpable. “I’m so glad; I’ve been so afraid.”

“Don’t be.” Helen started out.

“Where are you going?” Jane asked.

“I have to find Captain Odell. You stay here till I return. I’ll be back with good news. I promise.”

Helen opened the door to slip out, when Jane said, “Helen?”

Helen peered over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

“A bit of a one, but we’ll have it fixed in a trice.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just... just...”

She appeared so young and so lost, and Helen’s heart melted.

“You’re not the first girl who was charmed by a handsome boy. It happens all the time.”

“I never thought it would happen to
me
, though. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you about it, but I didn’t know how.”

“It’s all right, Jane. You both should have behaved better, but I blame Lord Hastings for the entire debacle.”

“It wasn’t his fault”

Helen could have argued the point, could have condemned the philandering rogue. From her initial meeting with Hastings, his flirtatious nature had been clear, and she had no doubt that he’d meticulously plotted Jane’s fall from grace.

But Jane was too besotted, and she wouldn’t heed any criticism, so it would be a waste of breath. Helen would save her fury for the conversation she was about to have with Tristan.

“It doesn’t matter how it occurred,” Helen insisted. “Captain Odell will give you the resolution you’re due.”

Chapter 18