Lord Lightning (16 page)

But she found nothing she didn’t already know in the almanac’s columns of tiny print. Long before she had let Lord Lightning draw her into his coach she had been well aware that this summer would be the time when the planet Saturn would return to the position in the sky it had occupied at the moment of her birth. This happened every twenty-nine years and was a time when astrologers expected to experience events that reflected the nature of stern malefic planet. Loneliness, poverty, fear, and harsh restraint were the tools Saturn used to teach its hard lessons—though Saturn might also give endurance and the ability to persist in the midst of difficulties. But it depended on the nature of the birth chart how severe the events of the Saturn return might be. If Saturn was well placed, the return might pass with only a shadow of difficulty.

Eliza put down the almanac. She did not need it
to tell her how afflicted her own Natal Saturn was. All astrologers liked to boast that their own charts were more afflicted than those of their peers, as if that conferred some sort of status on them. But her aunt’s astrologer friends had been silenced when Aunt Celestina had shown them just how afflicted Eliza’s Saturn was. It stood in the evil House of Self-Undoing and made the worst possible aspect—the square—to her optimistic Sagittarius Sun. That ugly square, her aunt had explained, was why her father had abandoned her. Saturn so often signified the Father on a chart.

It was because Eliza had known that her Saturn return was coming that she had not been surprised when her father had come back into her life this spring. That knowledge had helped her bear her father’s renewed betrayal. It was exactly what was to be expected when Saturn ruled the hour. But as painful as her father’s new betrayal had been, she had known her Saturn return would pass and she would survive, just as she had when her father had abandoned her the first time.

But now she wondered. Would she survive the return unscathed? For something had happened she hadn’t anticipated: Saturn, that hard taskmaster, had not been satisfied just to let her father rob her but had found her another unreliable man—one far more attractive than the pathetic wretch her father had become. And true to its placement in her House of Self-Undoing, Saturn would make her love this new man, too.

She would not do it. She would fight that self
undoing with her last breath. But to withstand it, she must face the truth. She was far too attracted by her new protector. She could not afford to allow herself anymore self-deception. She must leave Lord Lightning. She had no other choice.

She put her things back into the flowered satchel and crawled back into the uncomfortable bed. She would need to get some sleep now. Who knew where she might find herself tomorrow night? But even as she sank into a fevered half dream she found herself unable to escape dire Saturn’s sway, for as she slipped into the world where dreams took place she found Lord Hartwood waiting for her there, his brown eyes soft, his golden body pulsating. And in her treacherous dream his disturbing embrace continued and she welcomed it. When she awoke, she found herself in tears.

“I shall not be needing you today,” Edward announced airily, when he encountered Eliza in the breakfast room. He spoke with the tone of a master addressing a servant. He was proud of himself for engaging her in that tone and for resisting his immediate reaction upon first seeing her, which had been to greet her with the kind of kiss that a man gave to the woman who had kept him up half the night thinking about her charms.

But he had taken himself in hand. She must be put in her place. He would not be stern or forbidding, as there was no point in upsetting her, but he must make the situation clear. No matter how
adorable she was when she wrinkled her little freckled nose, Eliza must be taught she could not treat him like an equal. She was a hireling and nothing more. Once she was made to remember that—and more important, he thought wryly, once
he,
too, was made to remember it—they could go on without risking any more scenes like that of the previous night. He shuddered inwardly at the memory of the extent to which he had let himself lose control. It would not happen again.

But why, he wondered, had she taken it into her head to dress herself again in that dreadful gray gown? He cleared his throat and got down to business. “Since I won’t be needing you today, Eliza, you may take a maid and walk about the town—after you change out of that hideous gown.”

He reached into his pocket and brought forth a golden sovereign. “Here.” He tossed it to her. “Use this to buy yourself something pretty from the shops.” He turned on his heel, intent on making a speedy exit before she did anything to upset his resolve. It was time to make discreet inquiries among his male friends as to where this year’s most charming dollybirds could be found. The seaside air seemed to do unexpected things to a man’s need for a woman.

But as he took a step toward the door, Eliza called out his name, and before he could stop her, she hurried over and handed him back the coin.

“I cannot take this, Your Lordship,” she said. “After thinking over our conversation last night, I have come to the conclusion that continuing our
connection further would be a mistake. I must ask you to release me.”

He swung back to face her. He could barely believe what his ears had told him. She had decided to leave
him?
Was that why she had put on her Quaker gown again? His detachment vanished within the instant. “So, that’s it, is it? You, too, have decided to abandon me? Merely because of the way that I twisted a few words? It wasn’t even a decent lie, Eliza!”

She turned away, unable to look him in the eye. With his angry words he had shown her the way to extricate herself from the trap she had made for herself. She nodded and murmured that, yes, his deception had been the problem, knowing, as she spoke the words, that the lie she was telling was far graver than the one she had chided him for.

What was the alternative? To humiliate herself further? To tell him she was falling in love with him despite his warnings? To see the scorn that must fill his handsome features when he realized just how foolish she had been? She had no choice, but still, she felt ashamed that she, too, had lied. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but remained standing with her back turned, looking out the window at the hazy morning sunshine, pretending the scene outside the window held some intense fascination for her.

Lord Hartwood made no reply. She heard his boots striking the hard surface of the floor, one sharp staccato tap after another as he paced back and forth behind her. His silence weighed heavily
on her. Was it just delaying the explosion, or was he relieved to see her go?

Cornered, she turned back to face him and was shocked by the look of raw anguish she saw displayed on his face in the brief moment before he realized she could see him. It disoriented her, and she found herself unable to do anything but gabble, “I will give you back your money, Your Lordship. Though I must ask you for a couple pounds to live on until I can find some way of maintaining myself. You may trust me for the loan. I will give you my
Tetrabiblos
to secure it. I have no other valuables.”

“There is no need for that,” he replied, “I trust you, Eliza. Though I don’t know why I should since it took so little to change your opinion of me. Was it not but a few short days ago you told me you believed me to be a man with a heart? You saw good in me and braved the scorn of others because you believed in it. But it took only a few hours in my presence, a few unwary words in which I revealed myself to you, for you to become so disgusted with me that you can only think of flight.” He shrugged, fully in control of himself again. “I thought you had more resolve. Well, so be it. I warned you what I was.”

His voice was cold, as cold as it had been when he had walked in upon Violet disparaging his character in the theater dressing room. But Eliza knew him better now than she had then. She knew that the hardness she heard in his voice was not cold unconcern, far from it.

She had lied to him about why she was leaving and to save herself, she should lie again. She should tell him he had indeed disgusted her. She should stick to her story and make her escape. But despite the coldness in his voice, the eyes he had turned upon her in that one moment when he thought she could not see him were the eyes of an abandoned child. With a shock she realized he cared what she thought of him. It mattered that she had seen good in him where no one else could find it. How could she let him believe she had changed her mind about that, when it meant so much to him?

“You are what I always believed you to be,” she said quietly. “A glorious, loyal, and playful man with an immense need for love. The blame does not lie with you but with me. It has nothing to do with your deception about the will. That was not the problem.”

“Then what is?” His voice was urgent, his burning eyes haloed by his curling golden hair.

“I am unable to maintain the role you have assigned me,” Eliza whispered. “I find it too disturbing to pretend to be your mistress. The scheme was a foolish one. You need a real mistress, not a woman like myself.”

So that was the problem! He was overcome by a burst of inexpressible relief. It was only that he’d frightened her with his passion. Well, that was no surprise. He’d damn near thrust his tongue down her throat in the hallway, treating her like
a whore, consumed by the pain roused by his interview with his mother. It had been too much for her, even with the help of Lady Teazle. She was still, after all, a country-bred virgin.

But that thought gave him hope. She hadn’t lost her fundamental belief in his goodness—as mistaken as it might be. So perhaps he could convince her to stay for another few days. Then, if he was careful and treated her with more delicacy, if he led her step by step, respecting her innocence, perhaps she could be persuaded to—to what? The thought struck him like a slap. What really
did
he want of her? What earthly reason was there to keep her here? He’d made his point with his mother the previous night. Word of the affront he’d offered her would be all around town by this morning. There was no further need to keep a mistress with him, particularly not a mistress who was not a mistress, a virgin who left him burning alone in his bed, yearning for something he would not find in the arms of another, more willing, woman.

What
did
he want of her? He couldn’t answer that question. He knew only he could not let her go, not yet. The thought of her leaving was intolerable. He couldn’t face it and by God, he would not. He felt his resolve strengthen. He would do whatever it took to make her stay. It wouldn’t be that difficult. Who knew better than a practiced rake how to ensnare a woman and bend her to his will? Seduction came naturally to him and women always yielded to his seductive tricks. It
was merely a matter of finding the right bait. True, Eliza was not like other women, he’d already learned that, but this would not be like other seductions. It wasn’t her body he was after—he’d drawn the line there and he would stick to it. Instead he would use his practiced skills to capture that more elusive part of her, her soul. For just a little while. To make her stay until he tired of her, as inevitably he must. Then he would send her on her way, at some time of his choosing. But not right now. Not yet.

“Come,” he said. “We’ll find some place where we can speak in private. I ask but a moment more of your time, then I will let you go.”

He favored her with his most charming smile. Then he turned and strode out of the breakfast room as if he didn’t care a whit whether she followed him or not, though he was relieved to hear her footsteps following behind him. At least he hadn’t completely lost his edge. Eliza had responded as he’d hoped. He’d never yet met a woman who could resist that particular smile. He opened the door to the library. Once she had made her way in, he closed the door with a sigh of relief. Now they could speak freely without fear of being overheard.

He gave no sign of the anxiety he felt as he pondered his next step but made her wait as he idly picked up a book that lay open on the round Chippendale table that stood near the heavy leather chair that had been his father’s. A book of sermons
most likely, and indeed inspection proved it to be just such a book. His mother’s tastes hadn’t changed. He busied himself for a moment leafing through it, casting about for the best way to begin his new campaign of chaste seduction. He must not lie. Not after last night. Eliza must be won with the truth, so he would tell her the truth. But very carefully. It only took a moment more until he began to see exactly how the business could be done.

He put down the book and favored Eliza with another smile, cousin to the first and equally effective, then began. “You have played your part brilliantly,” he said. “But I let myself be carried away last night. It was wrong and you are right to be upset. Even a real mistress would have slapped my face had I forced her to be put on display like the one I forced you into. I must ask your forgiveness for the way I used you then, though I don’t deserve it.”

He put on a humble face as he watched the conflicting emotions flicker over Eliza’s face. So far, so good. Women always loved apologies.

Then, still playing for time, he removed his snuffbox from its pocket and busied himself taking a pinch. He inhaled, savoring the sensation, his mind working quickly. At last he spoke. “Last night you accused me of taking nothing seriously and turning everything into a game.”

“I am afraid I taxed you with quite a lot last night.”

“But you were right in all you said to me. It’s just that I’m not used to being spoken to with such candor.”

“Well, that’s no wonder if, as you told me last night, you threaten to call out any man who tries to tell you something you don’t wish to hear.”

“Touché, Eliza!” He winced. “It has been a long time since anyone has had the courage to speak to me with such honesty as yours. My reputation has made most people fearful of me, so they tell me only what they think I want to hear. For that reason I find your candor, though unexpected, most refreshing.”