His Wicked Seduction (19 page)

The moment Avery, Lawrence and Linus entered the ballroom, Lawrence turned to his brothers, speaking so he could not be overheard.

“What do you say we try the shell game?”

“Who will be the main player?” Avery asked in a low whisper.

Lawrence spoke up. “I will. You both remember what to do?”

The shell game was something the three of them had done together many times. No matter the form the game took, each knew his role. Linus and Avery nodded and the three of them separated. Linus went straight towards their unsuspecting prey, while Avery and Lawrence broke off opposite directions.

Chapter Twenty

Horatia perched in a chair against the wall, listening to Lady Rochester’s performance on the pianoforte. Cedric attended her, turning the pages as he followed her progress on the sheet music. Audrey was dancing with Gregory Cavendish, the two of whom seemed to be making the most of the wide expanse of the ballroom. Avery and Lucinda were dancing near them and Lysandra was dancing with her youngest brother.

A smile tugged at Horatia’s lips. It warmed her to see Audrey so happily engaged. Her first season had been quite a disappointment after word of Cedric’s overbearing nature circulated among the young bucks of the
ton
. Audrey had wept for days when no flowers or cards had been delivered to her. There was nothing so cruel as to watch one’s sibling suffer. Marriage was all the poor girl wanted, and with Cedric’s watchful eyes she simply didn’t stand a chance.

Horatia spied Lucien across the room with Lawrence and their guests. He seemed much recovered, although still pale. There was a haunted look to his eyes that tugged at her heart. Lucien ran a hand through his hair, mussing the sleek red waves as he spoke to John and Marie. Sir John laughed loudly, his voice carrying over the music.

Lucien had it in him to be a great, warm and loving man with a rare and irresistible charm. Horatia’s eyes burned a little. She wanted to cry because he was hurt, and she wanted to weep with relief that he was healing from his injury.

She was so focused on Lucien she did not notice an entirely different Russell vying for her attention.

“Horatia?” Linus inquired, adding a polite cough.

He stood in front of her chair, peering down with an expression on his face that made her anxious. With him, schemes and pranks always followed that sort of look.

Horatia realized he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was asking you to dance. Would you like to?” Linus offered her his arm and a charming smile. It snapped Horatia out of her Lucien-watching daze.

“You wish to dance with me?” She hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous, but Linus had never showed the least bit interest in dancing with her before. It made her wonder what exactly this prankster was up to.

“Of course! You are an accomplished dancer, and I’ve been known to dance a quadrille or two when the occasion arises.”

He waggled his eyebrows, and she stifled a giggle. Linus was a devil, but a charming one.

“And a waltz?” Horatia asked as Lady Rochester’s tune changed to a sweeping, light-hearted melody. “How do you fare with them?” At a formal ball in Almack’s an unmarried lady would not be allowed to dance a waltz without the Patroness’s permission. However, Lady Rochester didn’t set such standards amongst friends. It was something she enjoyed about the Russell family and Rochester Hall. She was free from such plaguing social niceties.

“Waltzes are my specialty. You must let me prove it to you.” Linus winked at her as though he was confessing a secret.

“By all means then. Let us take our places.” Horatia took Linus’s offered arm. She still suspected that he was up to something, but couldn’t begin to guess what.

He ushered her onto the floor and spun her in a slow twirl before pulling her back into his arms. She shoved a palm against his chest, attempting to put some distance between their bodies.

“I don’t believe we have to dance quite so close,” she cautioned him.

“Nonsense. A man never backs down from an opportunity to hold a pretty lady close.”

“Pretty lady?” she echoed. “Really Linus, you are quite odd tonight. What game are you playing?” Her tone, while soft, warned him she knew he wasn’t sincere. There had never been a hint before now that he was interested in her romantically.

“Sometimes a man wakes up one day and realizes what he’s had in front of him all along.” His eyes strayed away from her for the briefest second, a betrayal of his true thoughts. She was not the woman he longed for, but for some strange reason, he was pretending she was.

As the waltz gathered speed, Horatia became almost dizzy from the constant turns. She’d barely gotten used to the rhythm with Linus when he deftly spun her away from him and a different man caught her on the dance floor.

Lucien entertained his guests, enjoying the playful banter of the elder Cavendishes. Sir John had been a good friend of Lucien’s father and hearing Sir John’s stories of their reckless youth always filled him with a deep warmth. He very much missed his father and still mourned him despite the years that had passed.

“Your father would be proud of how well all of his children have turned out,” Sir John nodded seriously at Lucien. “He loved each of you so much and must be smiling wherever he is.”

Marie’s eyes grew watery and she leaned against her husband. “Oh John, dear, you’re making me very sad. You mustn’t speak so, not on tonight of all nights.” She curled her hand through the crook of Sir John’s arm and glanced apologetically at Lucien.

“Are you excited to bring Lysandra to London next year for the season? I believe she will win many suitors.”

Lady Rochester chortled. “She might win interest initially, but I doubt any gentlemen will interest Lysandra.”

When Marie and Sir John’s faces scrunched up with confusion Lucien laughed.

“She’s a bit of a blue stocking. More interested in books. I think she’d rather conduct experiments on a suitor than dance with him.”

Lawrence joined their group. “You’re talking about Lysa?” He shook his head. “Woefully true, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear.” Marie laughed softly. “But I suppose when the right gentleman comes along she will be as befuddled as the rest of us are when we fall in love.”

The group dissolved into other discussions and Lawrence diverted Lucien’s attention with an unexpected comment.

“Horatia’s looking quite well tonight.”

Lucien fixed his brother with doubting eyes. “Quite well? She looks spectacular, as always.”

Lawrence’s expression became unreadable. “Of course, you’re quite right. That reminds me, Linus would like a private word with you. He’s in your study.”

“A private word? What does he want?”

His brother shrugged. “I believe he wishes to ask you to court Horatia. He knows she had feelings for you in the past, but he wishes to make certain you have none in return, so that he may pursue her.”

“Like hell he will,” Lucien snarled and stomped off to find his brother. Horatia was still dancing with Avery and would be safe enough from his youngest brother for now.

“Avery?” Horatia stammered in surprise at the new dance partner holding her. The middle Russell grinned back at her.

“And how are you faring, lovely Horatia?” The devil dared to charm her. He alone looked the least like his siblings who all favored their mother. Avery favored his father in looks and therefore always seemed one step removed from the rest of the Russell brood.

“I am well enough, and you?” She tried to keep her focus on the conversation, but her mind was on other matters.

“Perfect now that I have you in my arms.”

Horatia gawked at him before she recovered herself. “Wha—what?” First Linus, now Avery? This was all very strange.

The waltz’s tempo changed, and Horatia found Avery’s hand delicately stroking her waist in soft but sensual sweeps that startled her into a deep flush.

“I believe my brother has been a fool. You have pined for him too long, my dear. Why not give another of us a chance to woo you?”

“Honestly, this is quite—” She couldn’t finish because he cut her off.

“I see, you still care too much for him. Well, I suspected that might be the case. He is waiting for you in the hall. Do you care to meet him?”

She gave a little furtive glance over her shoulder and saw that indeed, Lucien had left the room.

“He really wishes to see me?” It was too much to hope that it was true.

“Of course. We convinced him that he shouldn’t deny what was in his heart.”

“Very well, then I should like that.”

Avery drew them both near the ballroom’s door, which was ajar and he twirled her through the darkened doorway. Horatia would have stumbled but a pair of arms caught her, clasping her to a hard, warm body. In the dim light of the hall she looked up at the man who held her scandalously close.

“Lucien?” she whispered.

The man who held her glided gently down the darkened hall with steps that still held the echoes of a dance to them. The servants hadn’t lit the lamps—or someone had blown them out. A shiver of apprehension settled over her.

“Lucien, we shouldn’t leave.” She jerked at his hand, her slippers digging into the carpet as she tried to slow him down.

“Come now, Horatia. Lucien and I are not so alike, are we?” Lawrence’s amused laugh froze her dead in her tracks. He tugged again on her arm, and she nearly stumbled.

“Lawrence, let me go. We ought to return to the ballroom. This isn’t—where are you taking me?” Her pulse leapt as Lawrence chose a door halfway down the corridor and opened it, taking her inside. Horatia tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet and fell against the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be a bed. Lawrence had brought her into a bedroom…alone.

“Lawrence, what’s going on? Why did you bring me here?” She struggled to get up, hearing her gown rip at the hem as she tried to push away from the bed.

Lawrence ignored her questions. “This will do very well, I think. We don’t have much time to do this and it must be done correctly.”

Horatia righted herself and turned to face him. Her heart stuttered as he smiled and made a show of leaving the door open a few inches. There was no light in the room save for a pair of candles above the fireplace. Shadows fell across Lawrence’s face as he stripped his overcoat off and dropped it over the back of the nearest chair. Horatia took two slow steps towards the door, but he mirrored her movements with an amused expression.

“Going somewhere?” he teased.

“Lawrence,” she said softly, a new sense of uneasiness filling her. She was cornered and a little bit frightened. At that moment she did not trust him at all. “Let me leave.” Horatia hoped he would listen to reason. “Surely you must see that this isn’t at all proper, even for your family.”

He leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes raked over her body. “My family is improper even at the best of times, and my dear sweet Miss Sheridan, you’ve become the newest toy for my brothers and me to fight over. Congratulations! Lucien is a fool not to want you, but I am no fool.”

“You wouldn’t…You couldn’t!” Horatia watched in almost dazed shock as Lawrence removed his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt.

This couldn’t be happening. He was a friend, someone she’d trusted and respected.

“You won’t touch me. You won’t.” His widening smile made her shudder. “Come any closer and I’ll scream…” Truth be told she’d do a lot more than that, but her instincts warned her to keep that intention to herself. No sense in warning the man what she was capable of.

He watched her with an expression so primitive that Horatia scrambled to get away as he pushed himself from the door and advanced upon her. She wished to God her hands would stop shaking. She knew his reputation was just as bad as Lucien’s. She also remembered him in the Midnight Garden, and how he’d been seducing the woman he’d chosen that night. She would not be his next conquest. She could not!

Part of her was still stunned that it was Lawrence who would treat her this way. He’d always been so protective, almost as much as Cedric. What had changed in him that would bring about an attempt at forced seduction such as this?

As if reading her mind, Lawrence said, “I know it was you that night at the Midnight Garden. You were the beautiful woman on my brother’s lap. I can still see that vivid blush beneath your silver mask when I shut my eyes. I’ve been haunted by dreams of your supple body beneath mine… It quickens your blood, does it not? The idea of that struggle for exquisite pleasure?”

Lawrence seemed to voice exactly what was happening in her body, but she was envisioning a different surrender to another man entirely.

Horatia was terrified now, and tried to do the sanest thing possible, which was scream at the top of her lungs. But the sound was strangled on her lips as Lawrence advanced on her. He grappled with her, curling one hand around her mouth, and she reacted.

Horatia bit down.

He yelled in surprise and stepped back. “Christ, woman! I’m not going to hurt you!” His look of genuine shock startled her, as though he hadn’t really intended to touch her and even more stunned that she’d been frightened enough to bite like a cornered polecat.

“Horatia…” he said, as though trying to calm a startled horse. “Listen to me. He’s coming. We need to pretend to kiss—” He lunged, catching her and pinning her against the wall.

She couldn’t shake him off. Panic blurred her vision. He’s coming? Was Avery or Linus going to join in this madness? She was trapped and helpless! He made no move to undress her, but his warm breath came out in soft pants.

“Just let me kiss you for one bloody second, woman! It’s for your own good!” He ducked his head in towards hers.

Horatia slammed her head forward, her forehead colliding with his.

Lawrence staggered back a few steps, holding a hand to his forehead. “Holy hell! If you’d only let me explain…”

Horatia didn’t fare much better from the blow, stumbling backward in surprising pain.

Just then Lucien burst into the room with a dark scowl the likes of which Horatia had never seen on him before.

“You bloody bastard!” Lucien’s voice became a snarl as he lunged at his brother.

The two collided and smacked against the wall. Lucien had murder in his eyes, but Lawrence looked as though he’d been expecting Lucien to come into the room and throttle him.

Horatia shouted, “Lucien! Stop! Please! Just take me to my room…please.”

Only the last word seemed to reach him. He released his brother, muttering a filthy string of insults. Lawrence straightened his clothes as Horatia walked up to him. Her palm itched to slap him, but not before she said what she needed to say.