Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 (14 page)

“So you see why,” Olivia whispered, “I can never show my face again in polite society.”

Vanessa squeezed the slender hand in sympathy. “I can see why you might think your world has ended, Olivia. But it hasn’t. You will get through it, just as I did my marriage. I was not much older than you are now when I wed and was forced to deal with scandal.”

Her own voice dropped to a murmur. “My husband

ran through his substantial fortune in less than a year and became mired in debt, yet that never stopped him from plunging into one reckless affair after another. I remember times I thought I would die of mortification. Even Roger’s end proved ignominious. He was killed in a duel over another woman. An actress.”

“How terrible for you.”

Vanessa tried to smile, but she couldn’t completely repress her bitterness. “I thought so at the time. But there was nothing for me to do but hold my head high. I learned to go on with my life, to ignore the tempests. Trust me, my dear, this scandal will pass. And the best way to deal with it is to meet it head-on. Cowering will avail you nothing.”

Olivia searched her face. “Like I have been doing here in my room?”

She nodded gently. “It is understandable that you would be reluctant to face the world, to expose yourself to savage gossip and slights, but if you shut yourself off from everyone who cares for you, you are the one who suffers.”

“Damien

says he cares for me.”

“I’m certain he does.”

“He told me he greatly regrets that he hasn’t been much of a brother to me. He asked me to give him another chance.”

“And will you?”

“Yes,” the girl replied tremulously. She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t really mean to take my resentment out on him. It’s just that I have felt so trapped here.”

“You needn’t be.”

“There are so many things I can no longer do. Until I fell, I was always quite self-sufficient, but now it takes at least two maids to help me dress, and a footman to carry me down the stairs. And I used to ride every single day, rain or shine.”

“You can still ride in a carriage, can you not? And you can certainly visit your horses. The stable master tells me they miss you greatly.”

Olivia bit her lip. “And I miss them. There are many things I have missed.”

“What else besides riding?”

“My music. I was considered rather accomplished at playing the pianoforte, but

I cannot operate the pedals now.”

“Not yet, but perhaps in time you can. And there is nothing wrong with your fingers, is there? You could keep in practice until the day comes when you can play. I know that if I do not play regularly, I get very rusty from disuse.”

Olivia nodded slowly. “I suppose I can still sing, as well.”

“Mrs. Nesbit tells me you have the voice of an angel.”

“Well, not an angel

” she returned modestly even while flushing with pleasure.

“I should love to hear you sing.”

This time when Vanessa squeezed her hand, Olivia squeezed back. “I am glad you have come,” she said with quiet fervor.

Vanessa smiled. “So am I,” she replied with complete honesty.

It was later that evening when Olivia made her first major effort to rejoin the world.

Vanessa and Damien were in the drawing room, preparing to go in to dinner, when the butler entered and cleared his throat.

“My lord, Miss Olivia has expressed a wish to join you and Lady Wyndham at table.”

Behind him Olivia appeared in the doorway, seated in her invalid chair, guided by a strapping footman. Damien rose abruptly to his feet, a look of surprise and concern on his features.

“I am quite all right,” Olivia reassured him quickly. “Vanessa tells me I should stop cowering under the covers. And since I must begin somewhere, I chose tonight. Oh dear, I fear I have shocked you again.”

Damien shot an eloquent glance at Vanessa before returning his attention to his sister. The slow smile that claimed his handsome features rivaled the sun for brilliance.

“You may shock me whenever you like, sweetheart.” He looked at the butler. “Croft, fetch a bottle of champagne, if you please. I believe this calls for a celebration.”

If Damien was surprised to have his sister join them for dinner, he was more surprised by the familial warmth that pervaded the atmosphere. When his parents had been alive, meals at Rosewood were trials of endurance—cold and formal, with icy silences punctuated occasionally by barbs and recriminations. Nothing like the cordiality that enveloped the three of them at the table that evening.

The friendly intimacy continued when they adjourned together to the music room, where they made use of the exquisite pianoforte Damien had given his sister for her sixteenth birthday—a gift he now lamented having left to his secretary to deliver.

Vanessa played while Olivia sang, and Damien watched with fondness and growing pleasure.

He hadn’t expected such remarkable progress with his sister. It seemed a stroke of genius now to have brought Vanessa here. Her breeding and education qualified her as a suitable companion, certainly, but he could have searched for years and not found anyone who could have made such an impact so quickly. In a few weeks she had persuaded Olivia to take a renewed interest in life, a task at which he had failed for months.

He was supremely grateful for her efforts, and for the warmth she had brought to his home. This evening was one of the most enjoyable times he could remember at Rosewood—and it was not yet over.

At his urging, Olivia retired early so she wouldn’t become overly fatigued by her first venture into company. Damien himself carried her upstairs and then returned to the music room to find Vanessa seated on the settee, sipping her wine.

A rare tenderness filled him as he regarded her. She looked relaxed and content, her eyes soft, dreamy, her defenses lowered.

A warning voice whispered in his head that his judgment was becoming sadly impaired and entangled in emotion, but Damien purposely ignored it, just as he pushed aside any twinges of conscience at what he was about to do. The time had finally come to attempt to penetrate her weakened armor.

Yet the possessive urges sweeping through him were more than simple carnal hunger, he knew. He felt a fierce need to hold Vanessa in his arms and teach her about desire, about passion. To unlock the unfulfilled secrets of her body and strip her of her shocking innocence. For all her familiarity with scandal, she was appallingly inexperienced in carnal matters.

How very wrong he’d been about her in that regard. It struck him, suddenly, the sacrifice she’d made for her family’s sake. It had taken considerable courage for her to agree to become his mistress when she was so averse to physical intimacy. A courage he had to admire.

Her disdain of men and sex, Damien had no doubt, stemmed from her unsavory relationship with her former husband, and he very much wanted to remedy her woeful ignorance—for her own benefit as well as his own. He wanted to free her of her fear.

“I am more grateful than you know,” he murmured, coming into the room, “for your kindness to my sister.”

Vanessa looked up with a smile. “She is deserving of kindness and easy to love.”

“You seem to enjoy her company.”

“I do, very much.”

“Then your stay here has not been so very onerous?”

She hesitated. “No, not at all.”

He read the implication in her pause: not onerousyet . Not as long as their bargain remained unfulfilled.

“Will you accompany me to the gardens?” he asked. “There is something I would like to show you.”

Her sudden wariness was reminiscent of her previous nervousness around him. “At this time of night?”

Damien kept his tone light. “Pray, don’t look as if you expect me to assault you, sweeting. I have nothing so ominous in mind, I assure you. The bath for Olivia is almost finished. I thought you might care to see it, without all the workmen present.”

Vanessa glanced at the window, whose curtains had been drawn against the darkness, and then down at her silk dinner gown. The square neckline and short, puffed sleeves would expose a wide expanse of flesh to the evening air.

“Perhaps I should fetch a wrap,” she said uncertainly.

“I think you’ll be comfortable enough without one. The conservatory is quite warm.”

“Very well

”

His eyes smiled at her as he took her arm and escorted her through the doors into the garden. The night air was cool on her bare flesh. The moon was nearly full and quite brilliant, while the stars shone like diamonds on black velvet.

She must be mad to venture into a serene, moonlit garden with such a man, Vanessa reflected, and yet a reckless pleasure filled her, a keen sense of anticipation. Perhaps she had partaken of too much wine

“You are suddenly quiet,” Damien observed into the silence.

“I am questioning the wisdom of being here with you.”

“Would you rather inspect the conservatory on your own? I will leave you to go on alone, if you wish.”

“No, I don’t wish to go alone.”

“Come now, sweeting, I won’t have you afraid of me. If I haven’t pressed myself on you in all my visits to your bedchamber where we enjoy absolute privacy, I’m unlikely to do so here where we might be spied upon.”

“Even so, you will forgive me if I am wary of your hedonistic tendencies.”

He shook his head slowly. “It saddens me that you have such a poor opinion of my character. And to think I’ve attempted to apply my most charming manner of address with you.”

Vanessa bit back a smile, determined not to succumb to his sensual appeal, yet she had to admit she enjoyed their verbal sparring and the challenge of keeping pace with him in their game of wits. “I imagine I shall manage to resist your charm. You would do better to practice it on a more willing lady.”

“Alas, there are no others available at present. I fear you will have to suffice.”

“I doubt a single female would be able to satisfy a man of your vast appetites.”

“I think you underrate yourself.”

“And I think youoverrate yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a set-down? Come, darling, I might become insulted.”

“Would it be possible to insult you sufficiently to make you give up your pursuit of me?”

The long, vaguely amused look he gave her made her heartbeat quicken. How could she allow herself to be so affected by the wicked charm in those arresting eyes?

Vanessa shivered with awareness. Whenever she was near him, she fought temptation. And there was so much of it.

“Here we are,” he murmured after a moment as they came to the end of the terraced garden.

They had reached the conservatory. When Damien held the door open for her, Vanessa hesitated to enter the dark, cavernous hothouse.

“Wait a moment, and I shall light a lamp.” He entered, and a moment later she heard the flare of a lucifer being struck.

“There

does that dispel your anxiety?”

She couldn’t say that it did. If anything her anxiety increased, for the lamp’s glow only highlighted the chiseled beauty of his face.

Her wariness increased more when she saw Damien latch the door behind them. He must have seen her response, for he said casually, “I prefer not to be disturbed, but if it will ease your mind I shall help you arm yourself.”

He moved over to a shelf where gardening tools were kept. After searching a moment, he handed her a two-foot length of pipe.

“This will make a substantial weapon. You may beat me off with it if I make untoward advances.”

His warm eyes touched by lazy sensuality, he smiled down at her, obviously not worried that he was in any immediate danger from her. Vanessa accepted the pipe with skepticism, suspecting that it, like the key to her bedchamber, was designed to engender a false sense of security.

He led her into the vast interior of the conservatory, along aisles of potted roses and exotic orchids, toward an array of lemon and lime and orange trees. The air was much warmer here, moist and fragrant with the scents of blossoms and damp earth.

Eventually they reached a pair of exquisite Chinese silk screens that had been erected for privacy. Beyond was a tiled pool, partially sunk into the ground, filled with gently swirling water.

“An existing boiler heats the water,” Damien explained, “but new pipes had to be routed.”

The pool was obviously designed for an invalid, Vanessa saw. The near end was equipped with a wide ledge approximately thigh high, while inside the pool a narrow ramp sloped downward, so that the patient could be eased into the water.

“So what think you, sweeting? Does it meet your expectations?”

She nodded honestly. “I find it quite impressive. Indeed, I am astonished.”

“Astonished that I could be creative? I do possess a few modest talents. Depraved libertines are allowed them, you know.”

“Your ability doesn’t surprise me. Just that you would put your mind and talents to such good use. Most noblemen of means have a decided lack of interest in productive accomplishments.”

He smiled gently. “Then I hope I may prove to be different from the noblemen of your acquaintance.”

He showed her an oak cabinet that held towels and blankets and dressing gowns. Then he set the lamp on a bench.

“Would you care to test the water? It is warm and quite pleasant.”

“Now?”

He gave her one of his soul-stopping smiles. “Now is an ideal time. And if you enjoy the waters, you will be in a better position to persuade my sister to make use of them.”

She couldn’t look away from his heated gaze. He was bold, shameless, compelling—and she was falling hopelessly under his spell.

Damien sat on the bench to remove his shoes and stockings and rolled up the hems of his evening breeches above the knee. When he stood, Vanessa’s eyes widened.

“Never fear, I am not undressing entirely.” His tone was light, enchantingly playful; his eyes beguiled.

Moving to the bath, he sat on the ledge and swung his legs around to immerse them in the pool, before sighing with pleasure. “Will you come and join me?”

When she hesitated, he lowered his voice to a husky murmur, as seductive as sin itself. “Take off your slippers and stockings, Vanessa. Dare to live dangerously. It is not so very wicked to go barefoot, after all.”