Lord Savage (34 page)

He didn’t smile, and worse, he drew back from me, retying his robe. “Then perhaps
you’ll return as a mistress instead, ready to educate some callow youth as your own
Innocent. I’m sure Lady Carleigh will provide one for you.”

I gave my head a little shake of incomprehension. “Savage, you’re making no sense.”

I reached for him again, and he caught my wrists, gently pushing me away.

“I fear I’m making too much sense, Evelyn,” he said softly, “and more than you evidently
wish to hear. Tonight’s dinner is a farewell of sorts, you know.”

“A farewell?” I echoed. “What manner of farewell?”

“It’s how the Game always ends, Eve,” he said. “We all make our good-byes, and we
go our own ways, and what has happened here at Wrenton is never spoken of again, no
matter where or how we may meet in the future.”

I stared at him, incredulous, searching his face for a truth that must be different
from what he was saying. He was trying to be kind—kindness mixed with pity that I
neither understood nor wanted.

“Are you saying good-bye to me, Savage?” I asked, unable to keep the panic from my
voice. “Is that what you’re doing?”

Having heard our voices, Simpson opened the door behind us, and I nearly toppled backward.
Savage still held my arms, holding me fast.

“Oh, forgive me, Mrs. Hart,” the maid exclaimed with dismay. “I’d no notion you—”

“Never mind, Simpson.” My words tumbled over one another in desperate haste as I clutched
at Savage, shamelessly trying to draw him back. “We must talk, Savage. Come inside
with me, where we won’t be disturbed, and—”

“No, Evelyn.” He was already distancing himself from me; I could see that his eyes
weren’t even focused upon my face any longer. “You knew the rules from the first day.
I’m sure Lady Carleigh explained them all to you.”

“But we haven’t followed the rules all week, Savage,” I protested, flailing as he
held my wrists. “Why should that change now? I want to know. I want to hear you explain.
Why is this so different? Why do you suddenly care so much for
rules
?”

But he only shook his head, as if he’d already explained everything that needed explaining.
“I’ll come back for you in an hour, and we’ll go downstairs together.”

One by one, he raised my hands to his lips, turning them so that he could kiss my
palms. Then he bowed, and left me.

And just like that, he was gone.

FOURTEEN

“Come inside, ma’am, if you please,” Simpson said softly, taking my arm to guide me
into the room so that she could close the door. “No use in making a scene. These great
folk swear they won’t talk about what mischief they’ve done here, but they will speak
of you weeping and wailing in the hall, if you give them reason for it.”

I sank onto the sofa, bending in half with my arms wrapped tightly together. I felt
stunned, blindsided, overwhelmed by what Savage had just told me.

Most of all, I missed him, with my heart, my body, and my soul.

Why, why hadn’t I known it wouldn’t last? Why had I so willfully blinded myself? Why
had I forgotten that inconstancy was one of the stipulations of visiting at Wrenton,
and agreeing to play the Game? That was how Lady Carleigh gave her guests the freedom
to do what they pleased, by promising them an honor-bound discretion.

I had accepted that condition along with every other guest, and I’d enjoyed the same
freedom. It was entirely my own fault that I’d chosen to forget those rules.

Savage had never once made any promises to me that he’d now broken, and though he’d
trusted me with confidences, he’d always been careful not to speak once to me of love
or a shared future. I realized that now, thinking back. Not once. I was the one who’d
foolishly let myself care too much for him.

And now I’d be expected to put on the bravest of faces and go down to dinner. I’d
have to listen as he reviewed my accomplishments as an Innocent to the others, and
then smile and blithely say good-bye, as if he meant no more to me than any of the
other guests.

Or worse: as little as I must mean to him.

“Are you too poorly to go downstairs this evening, Mrs. Hart?” Simpson asked with
concern. “I have your bath ready, but if you’d rather lie down for a bit, then—”

“No, Simpson, I am fine.” With a shuddering sigh, I stood, determined to gather myself.
Blindly I felt for the pearls around my neck, the pearls Savage had given me, hoping
they’d give me some small comfort. They didn’t.

But if Savage could be distant, then so could I, at least on the outside. I came from
a long line of tough-minded New Yorkers: it should be in my blood to be strong. Later,
when I was back in London, there would be plenty of time to weep alone in private.
Tonight I’d do my best not to let anyone—least of all Savage himself—know how much
very much his summary little farewell had wounded me.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Simpson said, “but you don’t look very well.”

“I assure you, Simpson,” I said, taking a deep breath, “I am perfectly well.”

Slowly I lifted the necklace over my head, coiling it into my hand. I held it there
in my palm for a moment, the pearls pooled and warm with the heat of my body, and
perhaps still a bit of Savage’s as well. Then I resolutely handed the necklace to
the maid and went to the bathroom and my tub, dropping my dressing gown behind me
as I went.

I didn’t wait for Simpson’s assistance but began to wash myself as soon as I sank
into the warm, scented water. It wasn’t just that I wished to be ready; I was determined
to scrub away every trace of Savage on my body, as swiftly as he seemed to have been
rid of me. Yet, when Simpson began to wash my hair, I closed my eyes, and the fresh
memories of all we’d done and shared came rushing back, no matter how much I wished
to stop them. How much easier it was to clean my body than to scrub his memory from
my thoughts and my soul!

“Should I send back to his lordship’s rooms for your Innocent’s costume, ma’am?” Simpson
asked.

“No,” I said with finality. “I won’t be wearing that any longer. Lay out the red gown
instead, Simpson.”

Like all my evening gowns, the red one was new. But that was only part of the reason
why I hadn’t yet worn it. Quite simply, the dress was the most daringly brazen and
modern I’d ever owned, and I hadn’t had the courage to match it. Savage had not wanted
me to tempt any of the other male guests by wearing my Innocent costume again, but
I was sure to accomplish much the same effect in the red dress, and if I tormented
Savage, too—what was the harm in that?

A short time later, after my hair had been brushed and pinned up into a crown of soft
waves around my face, I stood before the mirror as Simpson dressed me. I had spent
the past week wearing next to no clothes, and it felt chillingly oppressive to be
covered once again in layer after layer of confining lace-trimmed fabric, chemise
and corset cover and drawers and petticoats and garters and stockings. I’d worn a
corset since I was a girl, yet now as Simpson began to tighten the strings I felt
as if I were being laced back into my old self, as if the last week with Savage had
never happened.

And I rebelled.

“Take all this—this off, Simpson,” I said, already tugging at my undergarments. “I’m
going to wear the dress without anything beneath.”

“Oh, ma’am,” Simpson said, full of doubt. “I don’t know if the dress will fit proper
without them.”

“Monsieur Poiret’s dresses aren’t boned like the old Worth ones,” I insisted. “I wish
to try it that way.”

Soon I was wearing nothing but my stockings. The instant Simpson slipped the dress
over my bare shoulders, I knew I’d done the right thing. Or perhaps the very wrong
thing, which was exactly what I wanted.

The dress wasn’t merely red, it was scarlet, and if sex and passion had a color, then
this would have been it. The silk was cut in the most modern style, draping over my
body like a shimmering liquid. Without any petticoats beneath, it clung to my body
and accentuated the swelling curves of my hips and breasts as well as the narrowness
of my waist. The jet beading swirled over the bodice and skirt in an oriental pattern
that served only to delineate my figure further, drawing the light with every movement.

But most shocking of all was the bodice, low and square and made entirely of black
lace. Even with a corset and chemise beneath, it would have been scandalously revealing.
But the way that I was wearing it now, my breasts were scarcely veiled by the lace
and my nipples were clearly visible, and yet the lace also made the entire effect
infinitely more seductive.

“Oh, my, ma’am,” Simpson said with admiration, looking over my shoulder to my reflection
in the mirror. “You’d stiffen the cock of a dead man in that dress. His lordship don’t
have a chance.”

“I’m not sure he deserves one, Simpson,” I said with a quick smile for my reflection.

“No, ma’am,” Simpson said, grinning. “Shall I fetch your jewels, ma’am? Those diamonds
you wore the first night would look splendid with all that black and red.”

I considered, then shook my head. “I think the dress will be sufficient without additional
ornament,” I said. “Except, of course, the rope of pearls I was wearing earlier. Bring
that, if you please.”

Quickly Simpson retrieved the necklace, and with something close to reverence she
draped it around my neck.

“Three times, Simpson,” I said. “I want the pearls to fall over my breasts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Simpson said, making the adjustment. “Forgive me for saying so, ma’am,
but you must’ve been mighty pleasing to his lordship for him to give you pearls like
them, especially after all the suffering he gave you, too.”

“That’s enough, Simpson,” I said, but mildly. I couldn’t fault the maid for thinking
the pearls were a kind of payment for services rendered. For the women like Simpson
who’d been Innocents, that’s what an extravagant gift from a Protector surely would
be.

From Savage, however, I wanted to think it meant a bit more, my thoughts drifting
back to the morning in the gallery. Though perhaps it didn’t. I had thought we’d grown
close in these last days, and believed that there was a rare understanding between
us, but the reality had turned out to be something altogether different.

I shoved aside the thought, and the first sting of tears in my eyes, too. The last
thing I wished was to appear before the others—before
him
—with swollen eyes and a red nose. I took a deep breath, holding up my skirts while
Simpson slipped on my beaded evening shoes.

I walked away from the mirror, then turned and walked slowly back toward it. The heeled
shoes gave a sway to my walk, and the scarlet silk slipped and slid seductively over
my body. The glittering black beads seemed to draw special attention to the tantalizing
juncture of my thighs, even hinting at my most private parts. Savage’s pearls did
the same for my breasts, swinging gently over my lace-covered nipples with each step.

I thought back to the first night here at Wrenton, how I’d felt so seductive in the
heavy cream-colored gown, when I’d really known nothing at all about sex, let alone
seduction. Because of Savage, I’d become not only seductive but sensual as well, and
my only regret was—

But no. I’d have no regrets, no regrets about anything. I smiled one last time at
my reflection, took my black-lace fan from Simpson, and turned toward the door.

“Will you be expecting his lordship to take you down to dinner, ma’am?” Simpson asked,
following me.

“No, Simpson, I am not,” I said, waiting for the maid to open the door. “That is,
he will likely be coming here for me, but I will not be waiting for him. I am going
downstairs myself.”

I left quickly, before I could waver and change my mind, and before Savage could appear
and change my mind in an entirely different way. The way my heart was racing, I realized
I almost hoped he would.

When I reached the library, I swiftly glanced about the room to see if he was there.
To my relief, he wasn’t, and neither was Lord Blackledge, but most of the other guests
already were. At once Lady Carleigh appeared, seizing me by the arm to kiss her cheek
in welcome.

“My dear Mrs. Hart, how absolutely ravishing—and ravishable—you are tonight!” she
exclaimed, looking me up and down. “That must be a Poiret, is it not?”

“Thank you, it is,” I murmured, languidly opening my fan as I pretended to ignore
the attention that my dress was drawing from every male in the room. Even the footmen
were staring at me. “Monsieur Poiret has such a rare genius, doesn’t he?”

“He does when the lady possesses a figure like yours,” Lady Carleigh said. “You have
made every man in this room forget all else besides his cock.”

I smiled. “Which is, of course, not the case if I’d been clad entirely in whipped
cream and strawberries.”

Lady Carleigh laughed. “Touché, my dear! Quite true, yes, quite true. But then I did
not have a bulldog like Savage to protect my, ah, virtue, either. Where is he? What
have you done with him?”

“I expect he should join us soon.” I forced myself to smile. “We’ve already said our
good-byes.”

The viscountess raised a single painted brow with surprise. “I cannot believe he would
part with you an instant before he had to, considering how possessive he has been
before this.”

“I assure you, my lady, I am quite free.” I shrugged, hoping I conveyed exactly the
right degree of nonchalance, and not even a hint of the unhappiness Savage’s cursory
parting had brought me. I glanced around the room, forcing myself to survey the other
gentlemen with a fresh eye.

“But you’re not quite free yet, my dear,” Lady Carleigh cautioned. “It’s true that
you can indicate a choice for a future week this evening, if someone in particular
has caught your eye, but you may not act upon it quite yet.”

Her perpetual hostess’s smile faded, and she rested her hand lightly on my forearm.
“Forgive me if your master has not been all he should this week, my dear. When I brought
you and Savage together, I had no notion he’d act towards you as he has. It’s inexplicable,
and unforgivable, and I am very sorry you suffered from his unconscionable behavior.”