The Rules of Seduction (4 page)

“They may have been simple, but they were clear, as were the consequences. A week ago my cousins lived in style in London, and soon they will live in poverty in the country. Timothy is ruined, the partnership is sold, and he will have debts despite his fall. Is any of that incorrect, sir?”

He shook his head. “It is all correct.”

She could not believe his indifference. He could at least appear a little embarrassed. Instead, he acted as if this were normal.

“Shall we go above?” he asked.

She led him up the stairs and into the library. He took his time browsing the volumes on the shelves while she waited.

“Will you be going with them to Oxfordshire?” he asked.

“I would never allow myself to be a burden on this family now.”

His attention remained on the books. “What will you do?”

“I have my future well in hand. I have drawn up a plan and listed my expectations and opportunities.”

He replaced a book on its shelf, quickly surveyed the carpet and desk and sofas, then walked toward her. “What opportunities do you see?”

She led him through the other rooms on the floor. “My first choice is to be a governess in town. My second is to be a governess anywhere else.”

“Most sensible.”

“Well, when facing starvation it behooves one to be so, don’t you think?”

The third level was not as spaciously arranged as the public rooms. He cramped her in the corridor. She became too aware of the large, masculine presence by her side as she showed the bedrooms. It seemed very wrong for this stranger to be intruding up here.

“And if you do not find a position as a governess?” The casual query came some time after their last exchange.

“My next choice is to become a milliner.”

“A hatmaker?”

“I am very talented at it. Years hence, if you should see an impoverished woman wearing a magnificent hat artfully devised of nothing more than an old basket, sparrow feathers, and withered apples, that will be me.”

His curiosity raised her pique to a reckless pitch. It was unseemly for the man who caused this grief to want the details. She threw open the door of Irene’s bedroom. “My fourth choice is to become a soiled dove. There are those who say a woman should starve to death first, but I suspect they have not faced the choice in reality, as I might.”

She received a sharp glance for that. Beneath his annoyance at how she mocked his lack of guilt, she also saw bold, masculine consideration, as if he calculated her value at the occupation fourth on her list.

Her face warmed. That stupid liveliness woke her skin and sank right through to churn in her core, affecting her in a shocking way. It created an insidious, uncontrollable awareness of her body’s many details. The sensation appalled her even as she acknowledged its lush stimulation.

She had to step back, out of the chamber and out of his sight, to escape the way his proximity caused a rapid drumbeat in her pulse. In the few seconds before he joined her, she called up her anger to defeat the shocking burst of sensuality.

She continued her goads so he would know she did not care what he thought. She wanted this man to appreciate how his whims had created misery.

“My fifth choice is to become a thief. I debated which should come first, soiled dove or thief. I decided that while the former was harder work, it was a form of honest trade, while being a thief is just plain evil.” She paused, and could not resist adding, “No matter how it is done or even how legal it may be.”

He stopped and turned into her path, forcing her to stop walking too. “You speak very frankly.”

He hovered over her in the narrow corridor. His gaze demanded her total attention. A power flowed, one masculine and dominating and challenging. An intuitive caution shouted retreat. The liveliness purred low and deep. She ignored both reactions and stood her ground.

“You are the one who asked about my future, even though it does not matter to you what becomes of any of us.” Her anger had been building since leaving the reception hall. His cool self-possession on this tour had only added fuel to the fire.

She peered up at him. “These are decent, good people, and you have destroyed their lives. You did not have to remove all your business from Timothy’s bank. You deliberately ruined him, and I do not know how you can bear to live with yourself.”

His dark blue eyes turned black in the corridor’s dim lights. His jaw squared. He was angry. Well, good. So was she.

“I live with myself very well, thank you. Until you have more experience in financial matters, you can only view these developments from a position of ignorance. I am sincerely sorry for Miss Longworth and her sister, and for you, but I will not apologize for doing my duty as I saw fit.”

His tone startled her. Quiet but firm, it commanded that no further argument be given. She retreated, but not because of that. She was wasting her breath. This man did not care about other people. If he did, they would not be taking this tour.

She guided him toward the stairs rising to the higher chambers, but he stopped outside a door near the landing. “What is this room?”

“It is a small bedroom, undistinguished. It was once the dressing room to the chamber next door. Now, up above—”

He turned the latch and pushed the door open. He paced into the small space and noted every detail. The two books beside the bed, the small, sparsely populated wardrobe, the neat stack of letters on the writing table—all of it garnered his attention. He lifted a bonnet from a chair by the window.

“This is your room.”

It was, and his presence in it, his perusal of her private belongings, created an intimacy that made her uncomfortable. Him touching her belongings felt too much like him touching her. It created a physical connection that made the simmering liveliness more shocking and embarrassing.

“
For now
it is my room.”

He ignored the barb. He examined the bonnet, turning it this way and that. It was the one she had begun remaking in the garden three days ago. No one would recognize it now. She had reshaped the brim, covered it all in finely worked cream muslin, and trimmed it with azure ribbons. She still debated whether to add some small muslin puffing near the crown.

“You do have a talent at it.”

“As I said, being a milliner is only choice number three. If a lady works in such a shop, she can no longer claim to be a lady at all, can she?”

He set the hat down carefully. “No, she cannot. However, it is more respectable than being a soiled dove or thief, although far less lucrative. Your list is in the correct order if respectability is your goal.”

She still hated him by the time they were finished with the tour. She could not deny he was less a stranger, however. Entering the private rooms together, seeing the artifacts of the family’s everyday lives, being so close—
too
close—on the upper levels had created an unwelcome familiarity.

Her susceptibility to his presence had placed her at a disadvantage. She wanted to believe she was above such reactions, especially with this man, who probably thought it his due from all women. She resented the entire, irritating hour with him.

They returned to the reception hall, and he retrieved his hat. She broached the reason she had agreed to receive him at all. “Lord Hayden, Timothy is distracted. He is not conveying the details to his sisters. If I may be so bold—”

“You have been plenty bold without asking permission, Miss Welbourne. There is no need to stand on ceremony now.”

She
had
been bold and outspoken. She had allowed her vexation to get the better of her good sense. In truth, she had not been very practical in a situation where she badly needed that virtue.

“What is your question?”

“Have you told Timothy when the Longworths must vacate the house?”

“I have not said yet.” He leveled a disconcertingly frank gaze at her. “When do you think is reasonable?”

“Never.”

“That is not reasonable.”

“A fortnight. Please give them two weeks more.”

“A fortnight it is. The Longworths may remain until then.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “You, however…”

Oh, dear heavens. She had raised the devil with her free tongue. He was going to throw her out at once.

“My aunt has a passion for hats.”

She blinked. “Hats? Your aunt?”

“She loves them. She buys far too many, at exorbitant prices. As her trustee, I pay the bills, so I know.”

It was an odd topic to start on the way out the door. He sounded a little stupid.

“Well, they often are very expensive.”

“The ones she buys are also very ugly.”

She smiled and nodded and wished he would leave. She wanted to tell Roselyn about the fortnight’s reprieve.

“A governess, you said. Your first choice. Do you have the education to be a finishing governess?”

“I have been helping prepare my young cousin for her season. I have the requisite skills and abilities.”

“Music? Do you play?”

“I am well suited to be a governess for young ladies. My own education was superior. I was not always as you see me now.”

“That is clear. If you had always been as you are now, you would have never dared be as rude and outspoken with me as you have been today.”

Her face warmed furiously. Not because she had been rude and he knew it but because his attention started that foolish excitement again.

“Miss Welbourne, my aunt, Lady Wallingford, will be taking possession of this house because she is launching her daughter in society this season. My cousin Caroline will require a governess, and my aunt a companion. Aunt Henrietta is…well, a sobering influence in the household is advisable.”

“One that would keep her from buying too many ugly hats?”

“Exactly. Since the situation matches your first choice in opportunities, would you be interested in it? If you are so honest with me, I think that you would also tell my aunt when a hat is ridiculous.”

He was asking her to stay in this house where she had lived as a family member, only now she would continue as a servant. He was asking her to serve the man who had ruined the Longworths and destroyed her tenuous hold on security. He was asking her to help give his young cousin the season that Irene would now be denied.

Of course, Lord Hayden did not see any of that. She was merely a convenient solution to staffing his aunt’s household. She provided a unique combination of skills that were perfect for the position. Even if he saw the insult, this man would not care.

She wanted to refuse outright. She itched to say something far more outspoken and rude than she had ventured thus far.

She bit her tongue. She could not afford insulted pride these days.

“I will consider your offer, sir.”

CHAPTER
THREE

I
heard a rumor about you last night at White’s.”

The unexpected statement carried through the cavernous hall. It caused Hayden to miss the ball flying back at him.

“You are the marker, Suttonly. You are not supposed to help Chalgrove win by distracting me.”

“Being marker is very boring. If I distract you, you will lose and then I can play.”

The Viscount Suttonly’s selfishness had been a characteristic of his nature since he and Hayden became friends at university. There was more to him, however, and Hayden took the bad with the good. The same slender, foppish man who languidly stood at center court, interfering with serves and play, could display great generosity if it suited him.

Chalgrove walked forward to take the serve position. “You knew there was no fourth today and we would have to take turns.”

“You mean Rothwell and I would take turns. You always win, so you always go forward.” Suttonly tipped up his long, fine-featured face and tried in vain to look down his nose at Chalgrove, who was a head taller. Suttonly’s golden hair had suffered the torture of hot irons this morning. The perfectly careless curls would not survive his match when it came.

“He is the one with permission to use this court,” Hayden said.

If not for Chalgrove’s passion for tennis, and if not for a fortuitous win at the tables against the king three years ago, they would not be here. For payment of that gambling debt, Chalgrove had asked only to be allowed to use the ancient tennis building at Hampton Court when he chose. Since the game was no longer fashionable and no one else wanted to be here, the king had been delighted to extend the royal favor.

They left Suttonly to express his boredom on the sidelines. Chalgrove went on the offensive. Hayden knew he would lose soon.

The Earl of Chalgrove was all rugged and dark, compared to Suttonly’s lithe golden appearance. His muscular body displayed more grace at this game than one would expect. A natural athlete, his powerful serves matched his ability to send the leather ball careening into the penthouses and other chase points.

Hayden watched the ball ricochet above his head and drop in front of the net.

“Off the court, Rothwell.” Suttonly marched forward, patting his teardrop-shaped racket on his head.

Hayden took his place as marker. While a fraction of his mind kept track of the points and chases, the rest of it turned to the business with Timothy Longworth. His family would be leaving London soon, but no letter had come from Miss Welbourne regarding the situation he had offered her. He did not like picturing the price of her pride. She would end up in some sorry apartment on some rough street, eking out a miserable existence.

Her lack of practicality now meant he had to find another governess and companion. Aunt Henrietta would be arriving in London in a few days. He could not wait on Miss Welbourne any longer.

It took Chalgrove even less time to dispatch Suttonly. Afterward they retired to the club rooms above the court. Chalgrove had brought servants and refreshments. While they ate, Suttonly broached the subject of town gossip again.

“It is said—”

“I am not interested,” Hayden said.

“I am,” Chalgrove said. “It is rare to hear good gossip about you, Rothwell. Normally it is about how much money you made in this or that investment. Speaking of which, is there anything you want to tell two old school friends? Or are you waiting out the storm before launching the next ship?”

Suttonly never liked having the attention turned from himself.
“It is said,”
he repeated firmly, “that you ruined Timothy Longworth.”

That impressed even Chalgrove. “Did you, now? I was not aware he was ruined, let alone that you did it.”

“If you ever came to town, you would be aware of what is happening in the world,” Suttonly scolded with lazy superiority. “What happened with Longworth, Rothwell? He is selling everything so fast that the bloods joke he would take a cheap offer on his sisters. You were a good friend to his brother. He must have angered you very much for you to ruin him.”

“I did not ruin him. The man’s change in fortune is his private business. As for my own plans, there is a syndicate being formed regarding a venture in South America. It is very risky, but I will send you both the documents. I assume you will guarantee the usual discretion.”

“I am in,” Suttonly said. He speared a slice of ham from the cold platter. “Have the papers drawn up and let me know when they are ready to be signed.”

“The Americas? This would not be like that McGregor scheme several years ago, now, would it?” Chalgrove teased. “You won’t be issuing any bonds for a country that doesn’t even exist, like he did, will you?”

“If he did, he’d probably find a way to pay them off with no one the wiser,” Suttonly said. “My dead father and unborn son thank me, Rothwell, that I had the foresight to befriend you when we were in school.”

“McGregor’s scheme was doomed to fail. One cannot forever bring in more money to pay off the victims defrauded earlier. Eventually the pile of cards will tumble,” Hayden said. He wished the world—Suttonly, in particular—would learn to be skeptical of investments. If Hayden had been McGregor, Suttonly would have signed over his fortune to buy those bonds from the fictional nation of Poyais in the Americas. Like all the others, he would not have even bothered consulting a map to find the country’s location first.

“I suspect that swindle is at the heart of the current crisis,” Chalgrove said.

His frown made Hayden concerned. Chalgrove did not come up to town anymore, because last year he had inherited an estate in desperate need of attention.

“Have you lost big?”

“Not big, but enough. I had some minor dealings with a county bank that was a correspondent to Pole, Thornton, and Company in London. When they failed in December, so did our local establishment.” He shrugged, but not with indifference. “Many good, solid tradesmen are in bankruptcy as a result. There will be a lot of misery before this panic ends.”

Suttonly sighed deeply. “There is naught we can do about that, is there? Let us not mourn what we cannot change. For all the worry, the town is still busy and fun, and the season approaches. Chalgrove, promise you will stay in town this year. I was a little bored last season and hope to avoid that this time around. You can look for a rich bride to solve your problems. If she is pretty, you may even fall in love.”

“Chalgrove is not a romantic fool like you,” Hayden said. “You were bored because you are getting older and are less likely to be a romantic fool yourself now.”

“You are bored too easily in any case,” Chalgrove said. “Your life would be more satisfying if you practiced some constancy in your interests.”

“You mean study mathematics as he does? Muck in the dirt of my estate as you do? I pray that I am never that old. As for being a romantic fool, I intend never to cease. Falling in love makes life exciting for the few months it lasts.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “You have me for one more match, Chalgrove. I will serve first this time.”

“I heard a rumor about you last night at my club.”

Hayden looked up from the book he was reading the next afternoon. Very few pages of the tome had been turned. His mind had been preoccupied by other things. Now his brother Christian’s unexpected arrival in the library distracted him further.

Christian rarely spent the afternoon in the library. His quiet comment as he settled into an upholstered chair near Hayden explained why this afternoon was different. It was annoying to have two rumors reported in less than two days. Hayden possessed the sort of regular habits and dispassionate character that rarely interested the gossips.

“I am not pursuing Mrs. Jameson, despite what she is telling her friends,” Hayden said.

“It was not that rumor, which never interested me. Should you ever marry, it will not be to a woman like that.”

The “should,” spoken so knowingly, suggested that his brother had confidently laid odds one way or the other on the likelihood of Hayden ever marrying. The “woman like that” did not contain a criticism of the widow in question. Rather, it implied Christian possessed a precise understanding of Hayden’s tastes, an understanding that exceeded Hayden’s own.

They got along well enough for Hayden to remain a resident in Easterbrook’s house on Grosvenor Square. However, Christian’s assumptions that he saw his younger brothers more clearly than they saw themselves, and Hayden’s suspicions that perhaps Christian really did, were damned irritating.

“It had to do with money, this rumor. Also with our relationship to the bank of Darfield and Longworth.”

Hayden set aside his book. “Do you object to my decision to leave our accounts there?”

Christian’s interference violated an understanding they had made when Christian returned to Britain after two years of traveling God knew where. Although just out of university, Hayden had dealt with the family finances during that time out of necessity. Christian could have taken over on his return but instead had asked Hayden to continue.

“I do not object to the decision to leave the money there. I am curious if you are truly confident that the bank will not fail, however.”

“If it does, I will replace any funds lost by you or the others with my own. If necessary, I will return to the tables to raise it.”

Christian’s dark eyes glinted with cold lights. The aura of authority that he could exude suddenly poured off him. It was a presence that derived from more than his title and his status as older brother. Something had happened during those two years abroad. That was the source of this layered, restrained power.

Christian had never said much about his time away and the adventures he had seen. Hayden had sensed at once how the experiences changed him, however. His older brother had left England a dutiful, well-trained, newly invested marquess. He had returned too experienced, too seasoned, and a little
outré
.

“I do not expect you to wager your own fortune against your decisions. I only want to know if you made this particular decision with your normal financial brilliance or if you were ruled by sentiment.”

“I would have never left the accounts there if I thought the bank would not survive.” Hayden considered the conversation finished and picked up his book again.

“It was not the fact you left the accounts there,” Christian said after a long silence. “That was not the rumor.”

“Then what rumor did you hear?”

“That you had somehow ruined Longworth and forced him to sell his share in the bank. Manipulated things so he fell.”

“Since you have checked whether I removed our deposits and learned I did not, you already know that this rumor is not true.”

“No one told me you had ruined him by removing the money. It was said that you
manipulated things so Longworth would fall,
which can be something else entirely. I find it hard to fathom why. The Longworths are an old family from our county. You also made them wealthy in the first place and were Benjamin’s friend.”

Hayden instinctively rested a hand against his chest. He could not feel the scar beneath his garments, but thinking of Ben always made him remember the pain that produced it. Whatever hand up he had given Benjamin Longworth had been more than repaid in Greece. That meant the balance had been skewed again, the other way, the night that Ben died.

He had failed a friend that night on the ship, by not forcing Ben to come below when he was so obviously drunk. Worse, it had been a friend to whom he owed his life.

“Are you concerned about my honor, big brother?”

“Should I be?”

Hayden glared at him.

Christian gazed back placidly, patiently. They looked much alike, but anyone entering the library might not notice that at first. Christian’s dark hair was long, even for the current fashion. Its waves hit the shoulders of the black silk robe he had donned on rising today. Not a normal robe either. It flaunted an exotic, almost oriental pattern and cut and had much less structure than the ones normally made for men. Christian’s typical lack of formality in the house meant he wore no shirt under it either, and the gap at the top showed no neckpiece but only skin.

Hayden thought about how stiff and proper his older brother had looked while their father was alive. He had been so damned
good
all those years. Then, within months of assuming the title, he had disappeared, only to return with this disconcerting worldliness.

“Men fail in business all the time. It is like a joust. A man enters the tournament knowing he might forfeit his horse. Ruin is always a danger.”

“Not for you. Not with the mind and instincts you bring to the lists. If young Longworth had been another knight and not a mere squire, your analogy might hold. However—”

“Since you choose not to enter the competition at all, stay the hell out of my way.” Hayden swallowed his building rancor. It was not really aimed at Christian but instead at his brother’s irritating tendency to scrape the raw side of one’s soul. “Longworth’s ruin was due solely to his own lack of judgment. My honor is intact.”