Seducing the Single Lady (3 page)

“
Damien. What a surprise.”

“That a man should call upon his betrothed?”

“A first, for you,” Susannah replied, forgetting her manners and forgetting her audience entirely.

Lord Sommerly moved aside, and
Damien took the man’s chair, which put him right next to Susannah. She was vaguely aware of the audience, silent and rapt, in her drawing room.

She was keenly that he was exceedingly handsome.
The intensity of his gaze warmed her.

“We’ve taken tea together b
efore, Miss Grey.”

“Upon that occasion I do recall yo
u smashing my tea set to bits,” she replied. “My lovely white china tea set, painted with the daintiest pink roses. It had been a gift from my mother on my sixth birthday.”

“I’ll try to restrain myself this time,” he remarked with a grin and her cursed guests tittered with amusement.

“Do
. Though now I am now in a position to afford a replacement, I’m rather fond of this set. Is it not lovely?”

Murmurs all around on the loveli
ness of her tea set, this one a pale buttercup yellow with gold leaf trim. Another gift from her mother, though one she had inherited upon the occasion of the lovely woman’s passing on. 

“
Lord Bedford, we are all eager to hear of your adventures, for adventures they must be!” Lord Sommerly declared, to the hearty assent of everyone.

“
It’s not everyday one returns from the dead.”

“
Last we heard, you were having more fun on your Grand Tour than anyone ought to, then we heard you had died, tragically, and now here you are.”

“
To our delight,” Lady Crowden added.

“Speak for yourself,” Susannah muttered.

“Do tell us what has transpired,” Lady Bellande cooed.

“
I had been enjoying my Grand Tour,” Damien began.

“A journey that
usually takes one year and which you had stretched into a remarkable nine-year endeavor,” Susannah clarified. Nine years in which he had avoided and abandoned her.

Damien
turned, locked his gaze with hers and said in a low, rough voice, “I like to be thorough in my pleasures and explorations.”

“Do go on,” she muttered, her cheeks warm and probably very pink.

“After stops in Paris, Florence, Venice and other great cities, I found myself in Greece where I amused myself with the local sights while becoming acquainted with the local inhabitants and avoiding the worst of the war.”

No one in the room
had any illusions as to what he meant by acquainted. His emphasis on the word left only one salacious conclusion to be drawn.

“After a particularly lively
evening, full of excellent wines, charming company, and high-stakes games of cards, I was persuaded that it was tragic that a collection of British officers stationed nearby were unable to participate in such revelry, as they served under a particularly strict commanding officer.”

An attentive silence reigned over the drawing room as
Damien told his story. Even Susannah caught herself leaning forward, captivated by his tale and his voice.

“
We got a tad carried away, as one does during that hour just before dawn,” Damien said and the men nodded knowingly while most of the women looked desperately curious. “Just before the sun rose we had concocted an inspired plan to switch places with the officers for one evening, when their commanding officer was required elsewhere. We’d don their uniforms and have a sober night in whilst they could don our civilian attire and amuse themselves in town.”

“What a risky endeavor! You might have been hurt!”

“Unfortunately, the officer impersonating me was gravely wounded. The enraged husband of a local woman with whom I’d enjoyed a particular friendship had decided that night to seek his revenge. He and I had never met, so he knew not to hold his fire until he found the right man, deserving his vengeance.”

The men’s expressions turned grim whilst the ladies gasped and shuddered.

“I had sought only to provide an evening of entertainment for the unfortunate soldier. Instead, I feel I have cost him his life for he will certainly never walk again.”

Damien seemed to have something in his eyes. As did Susannah. Others wept openly. She glanced at him, and there was no denying the damage that had been done to him. There was no doubting the intensity of his resolve to reform and live a good, honorable life. He had to, if he were to have a prayer of redeeming himself after this awful, awful accident.

“Our scheme was then discovered and all hell broke loose,” Damien continued. “I had the devil of a time explaining the situation. The commanding officer was livid, my companions were terrified and awash in guilt. In the midst of all this I had the impossible task of extricating myself from the local authorities, reclaiming my papers, making amends with the townspeople, regiment and others. Then my journey from Greece to England was a slow one, for I encountered a frustrating number of delays due to inclement weather, thievery and illness. I returned a few days ago only to discover that gossip twists the facts and travels much faster than a man and that rumors of my death preceded me.”

“How happy for you to be back home, and safe.”

“Though how terrible for you to learn that your father had passed.”

“Indeed.”
Damien’s tone turned grave. “I wished for him to see that I am a changed man, one determined to follow the noble and honorable course he’d set for my life. After some business in town, I intend to take up residence at Bedford Hills and see to ensuring the future prosperity of the estate.” 

There was no mistaking his meaning
as to his business in town. All eyes in the room shifted to her. Susannah smiled wanly and sipped her tea, which had gone cold.

Bedford Hills bordered her own estate, Highland Park but she was determined to spend her time in the grip of London’s glittering social whirl instead of
rusticating in the old stone house surrounded by acres of fields and forests and nothingness.

“If you all don’t mind, after so much time apart, I would love to catch up with my beautiful fiancé,” Damien said with a smile and gleam in his eyes. “Privately.”

With that, all her callers fled.

******

It was inevitable that
Damien would have to regale the ton with the story of his rumored death and subsequent resurrection and reformation. The crowd of callers had only just left and he would have wagered a fortune that they were now telling highly embellished versions in clubs and drawing rooms all over London. That is, if he were still a wagering man.

He was reformed. Except for that one last wager with Watson.

I’ll marry her within the week.

Had it only been yesterday that’d he been so confident of his reception? She had not thawed toward him at all. In fact, he was aware of a cold, furious glare from her deep blue eyes.

“Darling,” Damien murmured, placing his hand atop hers. His heart was pounding, for he was going to propose to Susannah. Again. He had come prepared this time, with a sapphire and diamond ring in his pocket. It was a Bedford family heirloom.

“Don’t darling me,” she said, snatching her hand away before standing and starting to pace, revealing her restless, nervous energy. “Whatever are you about with such tall tales?”

“The stor
y is true, Susannah,” he answered, standing as a gentleman must.

“And that ridiculous notion of being a changed man, eager to suddenly become the man your father wanted?”

“I had to grow up sometime,” he said plainly. “Already I am too late. There is blood on my hands because of my childish, idiotic notions of life and living that involved far too much wine and outrageously stupid behavior.”

“This is true. B
etter late than never, they say,” she replied plainly. “And I suppose it is preferable to being dead.”

“Indeed. Though I am not the only one who has changed,” he said, and he allowed his gaze to settle upon her, taking in her dark auburn hair with flame-colored highlights revealed by the midday sun glinting through the windows. Her figure was the stuff of sensual dreams and desperate fantasies—generous curves and a seemingly endless amount of pale skin. He was struck, too, by the fire in her eyes.

“Shall I take that as a compliment upon my appearance?”

“
Were you always this beautiful?”

“
No,” she said flatly. “You know very well I was a scrappy brat.”

Damien felt the same burn of shame and remorse he always experienced when he thought of those careless words. The regret had set in as soon as he uttered them. Especially to such a despicable specimen of humanity as Dudley. Damien wasn’t surprised to find them in the gossip columns the very next day. Nor was he surprised when his father roared at him and ordered an apology.

He sincerely regretted the words. What Damien realized now was that their childhood relationship had been typical. Of course he, an older boy, hadn’t wanted to be plagued with the nonsense of a younger girl
. Especially one whose curls were always tangled, whose dresses never quite fit, and who forever scowled at him.

He had not wanted to marry her. Not at eighteen, when there were lusty tavern maids and beautiful courtesans awaiting his pleasure.

He hadn’t wanted to marry Susannah even after he’d caught a glimpse of her that did not at all make him think scrappy brat or Christmas am.

H
e’d been too young. Too hotheaded. Too wild.

“I think you might have been
this beautiful,” he said truthfully. “Remember that day by the lake, Susie?”

The memory of her wet, shivering and cloaked in an utterly transparent white dress
was seared into his brain.

“
When you pushed me in, ruining my one nice gown? I do. And here you are ruining everything again.”

“
Ruining everything? Do you not want to marry?”

“
I do not. I hope I shall die unwed,” she said dramatically. After some consideration this morning he had decided that she would need some time to become accustomed to him again. He had not considered the possibility that she didn’t want to wed at all.

“
You do not? Never?”

“Why should I? For the first time in my life
, I am finally my own mistress. I have my inheritance, this lovely house, a circle of friends. I am free to do whatever I wish, with whomever I wish.”

“What of
companionship, affection? Or children?”

“Perhaps I will take a lover,” she replied with a maddeningly delicate shrug of her shoulders. A hot flare of anger coursed through him.
No, it was jealousy. No, it was a surge of possessiveness.

“Susannah…” he growled.

“Oh, now that you have decided you want to be a dutiful son, I am supposed to cast aside my wishes to serve yours?”

“It’s not like that,” he said. But it was. He hadn’t considered it.

“Have you wondered at all how the past nine years have been for me, Damien?” She advanced toward him. He swallowed hard as this beautiful woman approached with fury in her gaze. “My parents died, leaving me at the mercy of a succession of greedy relatives. I starved whilst they availed themselves to my fortune for their own stupid frivolities.  I was ignored, at best.”

“Oh, God, Susannah,”
Damien whispered. He hadn’t known. He recalled, faintly, one letter riddled with spelling and grammatical errors, which rendered it nearly impossible to read. Then a bottle of wine had spilled, ruining it completely. But he hadn’t heard from her otherwise and just assumed everything was fine.  He had attributed her silence to her dislike of him.

He had taken her for granted. Just assumed she would be wai
ting and willing.

“
Now I find that I would like to spend my money upon fripperies for myself. I would like to enjoy the delights of town. I would like to do whatever I wish. And I do not wish to marry you.”

“I would like to marry you, Susannah,” he said. There were other words to add: he wanted to make amends. And since he set eyes upon her the other night at the ball, he wanted to know her.

“Have you not heard a word I just said?
I don’t want to end up back at Highland Park or Bedford Hills, in turns ignored and plagued by you.”

“It wouldn’t be like that. We are not children any longer,” he said. Her figure made it impossible to even consider her thusly. “If you’d like we can spend time in town for the season as well.”

“It’s more than that, Damien,” she said impatiently. “I want to enjoy my freedom. I want to…roll out of bed in the morning and dress and go off and have adventures. Think of all the adventures you have had—drinking beer with your mates, chasing after girls, doing whatever you wanted, and never being confronted for it.”

She had summed up his past nine yea
rs so perfectly that she also summed up her own: bound by propriety, the wills of others, long bleak days of nothing.