Wicked Seduction (8 page)

“It will work!” Rose said, leaping up from her chair. “I know it! I know he and I are destined to be together!”

Maddy looked at her cousin and friend. Yes, Rose was definitely being dramatic, but that didn’t change the girl’s passionate belief in what she said. She truly did believe she and Mr. Frazier were going to fall in love. It was ridiculous, of course. Mr. Frazier was unsuitable on so many levels, and Rose would eventually see it. But still, that didn’t change Rose’s romantic dream now.

“You are so very sure of everything,” Maddy said softly as she looked at her very young cousin. “It is one thing I so very much like about you. So passionate.”

“It’s easy to be sure when one is right,” Rose said primly.

“Yes, well, I suppose it is.” Someday, her cousin would have the pride knocked out of her. Someday, her passion would not be enough, her absolute belief in herself would fail. Someday would be a very sad time for Rose. And Maddy couldn’t help but wish that “someday” was very far away. Her cousin was alive in ways that Maddy had lost. When had Maddy last felt that delighted about anything? Not for very many years.

“It will not work, sweetheart.”

“Maddy!” Rose cried, climbing onto the bed to come nose-to-nose with her cousin. “You cannot mean to stop this before it even begins!”

Maddy held up her hands. “It is cruel to Mr. Frazier. This is the man you believe you love. Why would you want to hurt him?”

“Because he has to see that Lady Blackstone is not the woman for him! He has to mourn her before he can turn to me!”

“Sweeting—”

“And besides! He has already pronounced it a capital idea!”

Maddy had been pushing off the bed, trying to get some distance between herself and her cousin’s wild gestures. But at those words, her head whipped around to stare at her cousin. “What did you say?”

“He thought it a grand plan.”

“Never you say!”

“He absolutely did!” Rose shot back. “I told him my idea just this morning and he thought it was wonderful.”

“Mr. Frazier is awake?”

Rose blinked. “Well, yes. How else could he have told me that my idea was delightful?”

Maddy narrowed her eyes, searching her cousin’s face for signs of exaggeration or deception. She couldn’t find any. Of course, that didn’t mean much, as Rose always believed whatever nonsense she said.

“No, Rose, this won’t fadge. Why would Mr. Frazier agree to be put on display like that? Just for your benefit?”

Rose huffed as she climbed off the bed. “Because he loves me, silly. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Maddy threw up her hands. “Well, yes, of course there’s that. But if he doesn’t know it yet, it can’t possibly be his motivation. So again, Rose, why would he say yes?”

Rose wrinkled her nose in disgust, and her lips pursed into a delicate pout. “First you must promise to help with my tea.”

“I promise to do all in my power to assist you in finding the right and proper husband for you.”

“That will be at my tea!”

“Rose—”

“Because even if you don’t believe Mr. Frazier and I are meant for one another, you know that this tea will be an
event
.”

Maddy had no argument to that. “Yes, I suppose it would be.”

“Which means every eligible gentleman will come to it.”

“Gentlemen don’t often come to teas.”

“They will to this one. And even if they don’t, they’ll flock to me—to
us
—later just to hear the tale of what truly happened.”

That also was true. It had happened last night at the musical evening. Everyone in attendance had wandered by to speak with them. She couldn’t ask for a better opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen. But still . . .

“I cannot think Mr. Frazier would agree to this.”

“But he did!” Rose stomped her foot for emphasis.

Maddy sighed. “Very well then. Let me get dressed. I will discuss the details with Mr. Frazier himself.” She went to open the door, but Rose stopped her by gripping her wrist.

“You promise you’ll see that Lady Blackstone attends?”

Maddy grimaced. “No one can promise that but Lady Blackstone herself.”

“But you have a way of getting things done, Maddy. I know you can do it. Plus there is my bribe money . . .”

Maddy held up her hand to stop her cousin. “Let me see what Mr. Frazier says first.”

“But you promise you’ll help?”

Maddy sighed. “Yes, sweeting, you know I promise. I promised the day I came to this house.”

Rose dimpled prettily. “Yes, I know. But I still like to hear you say it.”

Maddy pulled open her door. “Go! Let me get dressed!”

“All right. And I’ll go tell Mr. Frazier that you want a word with him.” Then she dashed out of the room.

“What? No! There’s no need!” The words were out, but it was too late. Rose had already disappeared down the hall.

Chapter 6

“That’s what Mr. Smithson said, but Maddy thought it was funny. . . .”

Kit turned his face to the door of the dining room. Someone was coming down the stairs, and only one person had a tread that steady and yet light. Finally, his angel with the beautiful voice was coming downstairs.

“Maddy’s country ways makes her more tolerant than most,” continued Rose. “She seems to find the most terrible things amusing . . .”

Rose continued to prattle on, seemingly unaware that only Alex listened to what she said. They were all at the breakfast table, except for Maddy. While Rose chattered, her father read the racing pages, Alex toyed with his food, and Kit waited, his belly taut, for that first glimpse of Maddy. After she left the kitchen last night, he had lingered in his bath, fantasizing about her. And then in his bedroom, he had been tormented by dreams of her. The torment was real, of course, as his visions were nightmares. Last night, he saw Maddy beaten, whipped, and worse. Now he needed to see her again just to convince himself she was unharmed.

“Anyway, she tells me that everything shall go smoothly, if only we apply ourselves. That is Maddy, more efficient than any servant and no burden at all to us, right, Papa?”

Frank Pershing, the Earl of Millsford, grunted rather than answer. He didn’t even look up.

“See? She’s wonderful, and I am ever so thrilled to have a sister. Do you know, her first months here, she even did the cooking! Said our cook was terrible and robbing us blind!”

Where was she? Kit wondered. Everyone else was here, lingering over breakfast. Kit had finished his much earlier, but he had waited, anxious to see her. And then Rose had appeared, her hair all askew and her eyes wide with excitement. She’d been surprised that Maddy hadn’t risen yet, which only increased his alarm, illogical though it was. She was likely sleeping in after her long night of it. But still, where was she?

Then Rose appeared a second time with the urgent news that his angel expressly wished to speak with him. Heat had speared through him at the words, but he quickly quashed his hunger. It was daylight, and he would be a man, damn it, not a beast. But then she still did not come down! Instead, it was the earl who had wandered in, farting as he walked.

And now, hallelujah, Maddy appeared! Not from the stairs, as he expected, but from the servant’s entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing another god-awful white gown that only emphasized how sallow her skin was. His eyes went immediately to her neck, where he knew she sported bruises. Bruises that
he
had caused. But a fichu and some paste covered the evidence. And thankfully, she moved easily enough, so perhaps he had not done her permanent harm. She was carrying a plate of eggs while the cook trailed beside her holding a fresh pot of tea.

“So there was nothing amiss this morning?” she asked, her brows narrowed in confusion.

“Not a lick. Why would there be?”

“No reason. I just thought . . .” Her eyes shifted to Kit’s and he smiled benignly. Obviously she thought he would leave the debris of his bath for others to clean up. Years ago, Kit would have. But the last seven years had changed him, and in some ways for the better. Meanwhile, she turned back to the cook. “I just thought I heard something last night. Must have been dreaming.”

“Well, it’s no wonder what with strangers in the house and all,” the cook responded while shooting him a dire look. Kit raised his eyes in surprise. The cook obviously treated his angel with a motherly kind of affection and was warning him off. He liked that, and he gave the servant a nod of respect. To his amusement, the woman grew flustered and retreated quickly to the kitchen. Which finally gave him time to focus all his attention on her.

“Good morning, Miss Wilson. How are you faring today?”

She lifted her gaze and smiled brightly, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. What he saw instead was worry as her gaze slid from him to Rose. The girl picked up on the attention immediately, launching into yet more meaningless prattle.

“That was an excellent choice of gown, Maddy. I do think that’s my favorite of my old dresses.”

Maddy gave her a pained smile. “Thank you, Rose. And thank you for detaining Mr. Frazier long enough for me to have a word with him.”

“I’ve been talking to him about the tea and he believes it’s a capital idea.”

Maddy raised her eyebrows in surprise, and he could not suppress his surge of heat when her gaze returned to him. “Indeed, sir? I had not thought you would agree.”

Kit frowned, searching his memory. “Er, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I was daydreaming.”

“My tea!” cried Rose with a laugh. “You love the idea!”

Of tea? What was there to object to in tea?

“Yes,” inserted Maddy softly. “A tea party where Lady Blackstone would be invited.”

Scheherazade. Of course.
That
tea. For the first time since Maddy had entered the room, he allowed his eyes to drop. His mind quickly ran through the reasons for and against the party. The list wasn’t long. He needed to see Scheherazade—once in private, once in public. It was the way things were done in London. He also understood why Lady Rose wanted to host the event since it would make her cause célèbre for a couple weeks at least.

He pasted on a smile, but he could not quite meet his angel’s eyes. So he shifted to the easier of the two women. “You have been most gracious in offering your home to us while we get our bearings,” he said to Lady Rose. “It would be churlish to refuse any event you planned.”

Rose dimpled prettily even as she flashed a look of triumph at her cousin. “You see! He understands completely. We shall have it next week!” She hopped up from her chair. “I shall begin compiling the guest list immediately. Oh and, Papa, never fear, I shan’t require you to attend.” Then with an impish giggle, she spun on her toes and left.

Meanwhile, her father at last closed up the betting pages. He looked hard at first Alex then Kit, his gaze narrowing in threat. Alex bristled immediately, but Kit knew better than to make an outward show of his anger. Instead, he remained still, a placid expression on his face.

“You can stay through the tea, but no longer,” the earl half growled. “And you’ll pay me for it. But the women are mine.”

“Uncle Frank!” Maddy exclaimed, but none of the men so much as blinked in her direction.

“Yours?” asked Kit with a slow curl to his lip. “Then you have branded them with a hot iron? You have cut them or bought them—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” the earl snapped.

“I don’t believe I am. The daughter is yours by law. The mistress is not your mistress yet and therefore—”

“You will shut your filthy mouth!” the earl bellowed as he slammed his palms flat on the table. To the side, Alex shot to his feet, but Kit gestured him back with a flick of his wrist.

“Gentlemen please!” Maddy squeaked, but Kit could not break his gaze with the earl to give her a reassuring look. Instead, he leaned back in his chair to stare cold and steady at the earl.

“Do you know what I learned as a pirate slave, my lord? How to whip a man within an inch of his life. How to wield a knife to castrate or to kill. I
have
branded men, women, and children with hot iron. Do you seriously think slamming your palms onto a wood table will intimidate me?”

He watched the message sink into the earl’s small brain. Kit was a savage, and he did not take threats well. But then neither did the earl.

“I want you out of my house within the hour,” the man growled.

“And disappoint your charming daughter? I am to attend her tea, remember?”

“Rose be damned! You will leave my home!”

Kit waited a long time. He held the earl’s gaze long enough to make the man sweat. But in the end, he conceded. With a slight tilt of his head, he agreed. “Within the hour.” He glanced at Alex. “Would you please pack your bag?”

With a huff, the earl spun on his heel and stomped out, leaving a thundering silence in his wake. Alex gave him a shaky nod before disappearing. And still, Kit did not move. He would not leave his angel before the very last second. So he sat, his expression carefully blanked while she stared first after her uncle then at him. Finally, she shook her head and reached with a shaking hand for her tea.

“Why would you goad him like that?” she asked, her voice not quite under control.

“He is the one who claimed to own you.”

She brushed the comment off with a wave of her hand. “He’s an earl. He feels he owns the very air we breathe. What difference does it make to you?”

His eyes shifted to hers. Did she really not understand? “I
have
been owned. For three hellish years, I was the property of a corsair named Venboer. I sweated and bled for him. And I made sure others did the same. Ownership is a serious business, Miss Wilson. He should not make claims he cannot support.”

Her expression shifted then. Frustration gave way to surprise and then a gentle sympathy. But she had no words for him. He could see her struggle to find something to say, but for the first time, he did not want to hear her voice. He didn’t want empty platitudes or inadequate words. So he stopped her with a touch on her arm.

“He does not own you, Miss Wilson. Do not allow him to pretend that he does. All too soon it becomes fact whether you wish it or not.”

She looked at where his hand rested on his arm. He didn’t know what that meant to her, but he saw his dark, slave’s tan against her white flesh. He saw the scars on his skin against her pristine softness. And he felt her gentle tremble through her skin.

“I won’t,” she finally said. Then she looked at his face. “But now you have to leave.”

“Would that pain you?”

She bit her lip and didn’t answer. He could see the confusion in her eyes and knew that he had discomforted her. Likely she had never met a man as wild or bizarre as him in her entire life. That thought soured his mood, so he covered by reaching beneath the table to pull out his satchel. She blinked in surprise when he drew it out. Clearly she’d had no idea he’d kept it with him. But he’d be damned if he abandoned this bag to the maid—or the earl’s—prying eyes. It took him less than a second to draw out a Spanish gold coin and set it on the table before her.

“I have wealth,” he said softly. “Just no English money.”

“Put that away!” she hissed. “The staff is honest, but they’re not exactly trustworthy when gold is flashed.”

He pushed it toward her. “It’s for you. Take it to a bank and exchange it for English sterling. A few coppers to the household account, and the rest for a new dress. As my thanks for helping me last night.”

Her lips pressed tight as she looked at the coin. Then her body shrank away from it as if it were poison, and when she lifted her eyes to his, they were burning with fury.

“You called me a mistress,” she said, her cultured voice in no way covering for her anger. “And now you seek to pay me with gold. I helped you out of Christian charity, Mr. Frazier.”

“Christians cannot be paid? I assure you, the missionaries in Barbados certainly were.”

“Well, I am not in Barbados. And I am certainly
not
any man’s mistress. So you will take your gold and you will be gone from this house as you promised. I begin to think you are much more savage than your clothes would suggest.”

He arched a brow. “You have seen my scars, Miss Wilson. And you are only
now
thinking that?”

She released her breath with a huff, but it in no way lessened the animosity in her eyes. “You are a puzzle, Mr. Frazier. One I do not care to solve.”

His chin dipped in acknowledgment as he pushed his chair away from the table. “Then I will be off.” He picked up the coin off the table. “You should have a dress to replace the one I ruined last night. I will visit a bank today for English money, then make sure you are recompensed—”

Her eyes flashed and he immediately adjusted his statement.

“That the earl is recompensed for my night’s care.”

She inclined her head. No queen could appear more regal. “I would be grateful for that, sir.”

He caught her chin before she could pull back. Her skin was soft, but the bones were firm. Her lips parted on a gasp, and he found himself staring at the hot, wet center of her mouth.

“Gratitude,” he murmured, “is not what I want.”

Then he took a kiss. He couldn’t stop himself. But he did manage to keep from ravishing her mouth. He pressed his lips to hers and felt the heat of her breath as it invaded him. He touched his tongue to the seam of her mouth, wet the exquisite expanse of her lips in a single, long stroke, and then he forced himself to withdraw.

Her eyes were wide, her body frozen in shock. But her lips were red and glistening from his kiss. And she did not scream. He counted that a windfall.

“Good day, Miss Wilson,” he said. And then he turned and fled before her shock had a chance to fade.

Maddy made a point of yawning behind her fan, shooting Rose a look to see if the girl was watching. Rose grimaced back but acknowledged the silent request with a dip of her head. Rose never liked leaving a party early, especially when she was the center of attention, but Maddy needed to get home. She needed to pretend to go to sleep so she could escape the house and get on to her real errand.

Meanwhile, Rose continued chatting. Everyone wanted to know about Mr. Frazier and his terribly violent companion. Rose kept it coy, of course, neither giving out too much information nor too little. It was easy for her to keep the audience entertained, especially since she fabricated most of her information. No one bothered to ask Maddy her opinion. Rose was much more entertaining, and Maddy preferred not to speculate anyway.

Unfortunately, that’s all she’d been doing all day: speculating. What exactly had Mr. Frazier meant when he had kissed her like that? Did he truly see her as a mistress? As
his
mistress, perhaps? She didn’t believe so. One kiss was absolutely not an invitation to carte blanche. Perhaps, he meant to be honorable by her. As much as she might wish it, she didn’t believe so. He didn’t seem like a man looking for a wife. And even if he were about to propose marriage, would she accept?