Tainted by Temptation (20 page)

“Your daughter is quite charming,” Miss Bowman said. “She was telling me all about your visit to King Arthur’s castle. Is the place near enough we could go see?”

“If you so desire, a visit will be arranged.” Lucian’s delivery was clipped.

Velvet jerked her head toward him. Was his impatience obvious to Miss Bowman?

“How kind,” she purred, and leaned her breast into Lucian’s arm.

Swallowing a stab of jealousy, Velvet stroked Iris’s hair. Iris didn’t stir. Leaning down, Velvet saw that the child had fallen fast asleep.

“I do believe I need to carry her,” said Lucian. “Mr. Anderson, would you be so good as to fill in for me at whist until I can return?”

Miss Bowman’s full lower lip jutted out, but Lucian didn’t seem to notice as he disengaged his arm and bent to scoop up Iris.

“If you would be so good as to get the door, Miss Campbell.”

As she held the drawing room door while Lucian passed through carrying Iris, she heard the murmurs begin behind her.

“I don’t know what her governess is thinking, allowing such a young child to stay up so late,” said Miss Bowman in a not so discreet undertone to her mother.

The words burned through Velvet.

“It seems he allows the governess a great deal of latitude,” said one of the Miss Ridleys.

Velvet didn’t turn to see which one.

“If you ask me, he pays far too much attention to her,” said Miss Bowman. “I don’t think it prudent to have a governess of uncommon looks.”

Miss Anderson spoke in her hesitant voice. “I’m sure he is just making sure all is going well. My mother says it has been an age since he made any attempt to entertain.”

Her ears burning, Velvet slid out of the room and shut the door behind her. She trailed up the stairs behind the pair.

Iris cradled against his chest, Lucian waited for Velvet in front of the door to the lady of the house’s room. “As soon as I lay her down, I will go with you to fetch her nightclothes and whatever you need. I have not informed any of the servants of the plan.”

Keeping the information from the servants would be impossible. Once the servants knew, the guests would learn, and the whispers would become even worse. And she wasn’t sure it was at all necessary. She leaned around him to open the door. “You should stay with her. She is frightened of her mother, but I am convinced it is not her mother who is tormenting her.”

“I am concerned about your safety as well. Iris will be safe enough with the doors locked, but it was not a ghost who destroyed your things this morning. I fear your liaison with me has made you a target.”

“What?” Her voice was shriller then she intended.

Iris moaned.

He grimaced and shook his head at Velvet as he carried Iris across the sitting room to lay her on the settee.

Velvet bit her lip, unwilling to wake Iris with an argument with her father. Iris was at risk, not her.

A fire blazed in the fireplace and a stack of linens sat on a chair. All the personal effects in the room had been cleared away. If none of the servants had been informed, he must have cleared the room and started the fire.

Lucian bent down. Slowly lifting and lowering each of Iris’s legs, he gently removed her shoes, carefully placing them on the floor without noise. He tossed an afghan over her. Then he strode across the floor and locked the passage door. He beckoned Velvet toward the connecting door to his room.

She hesitated.

“Come. If I am away for more than a hand or two, Miss Bowman will send out a search party.”

Velvet ducked her head and followed him. Miss Bowman would marry Lucian in a heartbeat and dismiss her the next.

Lucian stepped away from the door as she passed through, then turned and closed it. He inserted a key and locked the door.

He reached out a hand for her.

Velvet folded her arms and stepped back. Her heart began to pound. She couldn’t delay sharing the news he would likely welcome. “I’m not p-pregnant.”

In spite of her best intentions to sound calm and rational, her voice quivered. Her heart leaped to her throat, making her chest feel hollow.

Emotions flashed rapidly across his face. Had his dark eyes revealed pain? Her hopes spun dizzily.

But his expression settled into a glower. She was aware of every nuance of his face, from the muscle ticking under the puckered pink scar to the dark lashes rimming his narrowed eyes.

Her heart thudded painfully. She hadn’t expected anger.

“You are certain?” he asked on a low growl. “You are not using a ruse to keep me from you?”

Her face burning, she lowered her head. “This afternoon my courses started.” To discuss such personal details with him made her cringe.

Silence ticked between them.

He slowly let out a long sigh.

Her nose stung and she blinked rapidly. She hoped he’d ask her to marry him anyway, and she could convince him to attempt children again. She turned. It was done. Her foolishness had to end now.

“You must be relieved.” Velvet headed for the passage door and opened it. She had only to go abovestairs and fetch her things and then she could be alone.

“Yes.” His voice was tight and harsh. “Are you?”

“Of course,” she answered, and if her voice was a little higher than normal as she moved down the hall and Lucian followed, at least it did not quiver. She told herself it was for the best.

“When my guests have left, I will see about setting up apartments in Bath for you and—”

An involuntary sob burst from deep inside her. Her heart burned as if it had been cast into a fire. He meant to set her up as his mistress. There was no need to make her his wife, no need at all.

“Velvet?” His voice was hesitant.

She stopped her hurried stride toward the stairs but didn’t turn around.

He slid his hand across her shoulders, and her knees went weak.

“Are you disappointed?” His low vibrant voice curled around her, gentle, compassionate, concerned.

Shrugging she struggled to hold her tears at bay. The moment she’d realized her courses had begun to flow had been as if her every hope had been snatched away. She was crushed. He had no reason to marry her, and she had never had a reason to expect his love. Apartments in Bath smacked of a cold business arrangement.

Yet his hand on her shoulder made her want to abandon all dignity and throw herself into his arms and accept him on any terms. She’d already thrown herself at him once and destroyed her virtue. Now he knew he could have her as his mistress. She pulled away. “Don’t. You must get back to your guests.”

“You’re right. We’ll speak later.”

She shivered, dreading a continuation of what had gone before. She wanted everything, children, marriage, Lucian’s love, and for a brief moment she’d thought it might be possible. She’d thought she had seen that kind of adoration in his eyes, but no doubt it was just the foolish hopes of a ruined old maid. But her punishment for the sin of daring her brother to climb onto the ledge of the bell tower opening wouldn’t be complete unless she got an occasional glimpse of heaven before being cast down into the pits of hell to burn again.

U
nable to concentrate on the game, Lucian struggled with the hands of whist. His thoughts kept churning over Velvet’s news. He should be relieved she hadn’t conceived, but he wasn’t. He feared he had lost his advantage. He should have pressed her while she was uncertain of their future.

He discarded a suited high card on a trick that had already been trumped. Miss Bowman looked at him incredulously. His play was so poor, she probably thought him a complete dolt.

He was also worried about Velvet’s safety. The more he mulled over the attack on her possessions, the more it seemed she was in danger. If he planned a day away from the house to Tintagel Head, as he promised Miss Bowman, he left Velvet vulnerable. The idea made his stomach roil. As soon as the clock struck half past eleven and he could reasonably retire, he stood and claimed fatigue.

Edgar Bowman caught his arm before he left the room. “If I might have a word in private with you.”

Hating the delay, Lucian nodded, led the man to the library and poured them both a brandy.

“It seems Hale has withdrawn from our agreement.” Bowman wasted no time in getting to the point. “You won’t have enough influence in Parliament to get the legislative support we need without him.”

The railroad deal that Lucian had been trying to broker for nigh on five years was in danger of falling through because of one rash moment. His life, his plans, were once again spinning out of his control. Tugging on his cuffs, he tried to affect a manner of disinterest. “He insulted a woman under my protection.” Lucian winced. “In my employ.”

Bowman took a stiff belt of his drink. “Yes, well, my daughter rather fancies marriage to a rich, understanding man. I believe she’s taken a liking to you.”

“She’s a lovely young woman.” Lucian’s stomach churned. He had a sick feeling he knew how these two unrelated bits of information tied together.

“Of course she’s rather fond of the theatre and ballrooms. Not so fond of the sea. I expect she’d like to spend a great deal of the year in London.”

Lilith had always wanted to spend more time in London, but Lucian hated the city. Tension crept up the back of his neck. “You need not sell her so cheaply.”

Bowman laughed. “Cheaply, I think not. I can persuade Hale to return to the deal, and we all will profit.”

Lucian rubbed his forehead. Marriage to Miss Bowman to complete his shipping empire. A year ago he would have leaped at the opportunity. But his heart pounded and a cold sweat trickled down his spine. “I should have to think about it.”

Bowman narrowed his eyes as he watched Lucian. He took a sip from his brandy. “As for your employees, I can safely guarantee you might do as you like as long as you don’t attempt to keep a mistress in a house where my daughter lives. Although, I think we can say she won’t stay here unless her family is here too.”

Did he need to get Miss Bowman married in a hurry? Was she sullied like Lilith? Or had his reputation for ignoring Lilith’s peccadilloes tainted him? Lucian could no longer withhold his shock at the way Bowman bartered his own flesh and blood child. “What is wrong with your daughter?”

Bowman narrowed his eyes and then watched Lucian as he finished his drink. “Aren’t too many men in England she considers rich enough for her. With ten daughters and three sons to see settled, I can’t have her holding up things. Two of her sisters are already engaged, but they await the marriage of the eldest. If a wealthy husband is what my girl wants, I hope to comply.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast.

Lucian bowed.

“You need my support too,” said Bowman with sly look.

Swallowing hard against the rage building in his breast, Lucian needed to escape the room. He needed to throw something. He very carefully set his brandy on a table and moved away from anything he could launch. Throwing things was a less than desirable behavior he’d acquired from too many years with Lilith.

“You do know whom you are dealing with?” asked Lucian through clenched teeth. If the deal went through, he would become one of the most powerful men in England.

“A man with murder allegations hanging over him,” said Bowman mildly. “Not many people are willing to ally their family and business with the devil. You need us worse than we need you.”

Lucian’s head felt like it might explode. He could no longer breathe. If only Velvet had allowed him to announce an engagement, he would not be in this position. “I will think about your offer.”

What kind of man married his daughter to a suspected murderer? He would never allow Iris to enter into such a crass bargain, but then he’d just been informed that his wife would not live alone with him. The marriage would be a business deal and a sham for which he’d pay dearly. “I bid you good-night.”

Lucian didn’t wait for Bowman to respond, but took the stairs to his room two at a time.

Evans was waiting for him.

“You can go. I plan to read awhile.” Lucian moved to the fire. The key to the connecting door burned in his pocket. Velvet was on the other side of the door. He could not go in angry or he would throttle her.

Evans nodded. His expressionless pale eyes flicked toward the locked interior door. “Would you like your dressing gown, sir?”

His man would have expected to remove his jacket and waistcoat before reading. Lucian stripped off his necktie. His nightshirt and dressing gown were laid out on the bed. “I can manage by myself.”

“Very good, sir,” said Evans with a bow.

As soon as his man left, Lucian locked the door behind him. No doubt Evans had his own ideas about what the clicking lock meant.

What he needed was a physical expenditure of energy until he was too exhausted to think. A swim at this late hour was out of the question, but his mind turned to the only other solace he had ever found. He needed Velvet to soothe him.

The knock on the door made Velvet jerk her head toward the bed to be sure Iris hadn’t woken.

“Velvet, open the door.”

She set aside the sewing and crossed the room.

She heard the scrape of a key in the lock just before she reached it. “I’m coming,” she said as she cracked the door.

Lucian pushed the door open all the way. His brow was furrowed and his look dark. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course, we’re fine. Iris is sleeping,” Velvet stepped to the side of the opening.

His stride was tightly leashed, as if he restrained a black energy. He walked all the way through the archway to the bed and gazed down at Iris. His hands fisted at his sides, then he stretched his fingers out as if willing away his anger.

Clearly he was upset. What had happened to rattle him so?

Hesitating to move, she remained by the door. Pivoting sharply, his gaze took in the pantalets she’d been stitching, the coverlet thrown around her shoulders, and the pile of books untouched on the side table. “Were you waiting on me?”

Unease slid down her neck and tightened her throat. She had been waiting for him. She couldn’t unbutton the tiny buttons in the center of her back, but with the energy radiating off him, she hesitated to ask for his help. “I was sewing.”

He paced to the corridor door and turned the handle. The locked door didn’t budge. “I expected to find you in bed.”

Velvet glanced toward the bed, fearing his harsh tones would wake Iris. Heat stole into her cheeks. “I was trying to finish, before retiring.”

“Are you done?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then finish.” He turned toward the fireplace and picked up a poker.

The idea of unfolding the half-stitched undergarment in front of him made heat rise in her face. She really needed the new pantalets she’d reluctantly cut from the plain white cotton he’d sent. “What is wrong?” she asked.

A shower of sparks flew up from the wood, as he prodded the fire and added a new log.

Done with the fire, he brushed off his hands and paced across the room. “You should have agreed to marry me when you had the chance.”

Her breath snagged on the back of her throat and her insides fell. She had known what she risked when she told him she wasn’t with child, and she’d desperately wished God had allowed her to get pregnant. Then Lucian wouldn’t have a choice but to marry her.

But what did she offer compared to the young and wealthy daughters of tradesmen? How could she even have thought he might willingly choose a life with her? Her eyes burned with tears that threatened to spill. Desperately, she sought to hide her anguish.

He made a triangular circuit of the room. His long legs chewed off the space so quickly, the room shrunk.

“The sooner I can get you to Bath, the better.”

She pressed her lips together and looked away. His words and the implication that she would accept being his mistress cut through her, and a sharp pain seared through her heart. Her nose burned. She wasn’t going to Bath. At least not under his protection. Moving to open the door connecting to his room, she said, “Please leave before you wake Iris.”

He caught her shoulder and spun her toward him. “Don’t you dare cry. Don’t act like you wanted to marry me.”

Velvet’s thoughts spun. She did want to marry him. She wanted to love him and be loved by him, but what came out was, “I wanted to be a mother.”

He flinched. His hands tightened painfully on her shoulders. Her heart thudded hard, each jolt coursing a new ache through her. She wanted to call the words back. Hurting him gained her nothing.

Even so, she was aware of the flicker of a muscle under his scar, the rise and fall of his chest. Flashes of his kisses and touches on the edge of the cliff pounded in her brain. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

Then he was kissing her. Her reason left with a whimper.

His mouth ignited her. Molten fire rushed through her veins and burned in her core. There was nothing gentle in his kiss. Instead the raw energy he battled to restrain poured into her. She wanted it all. His anguish, his desperation, and his love. He touched a place deep inside her and made her feel alive, made her believe she could heal him.

They thumped into the wall and he pushed against her. His member throbbed against her belly. Reaching up, she pulled his head down to her. Brushing her fingers over his face, she relished the beginnings of roughness of his beard. Her fingers encountered the ridges of his scar, and she traced over it.

Jerking his head back, he recoiled. He stared at her and his dark gaze searched hers. Her breasts rose and fell, pressing into his hard chest. Her nipples tightened, wanting his attention. Her body was a riot of want. Yet, he stared down into her eyes, and she was lost in their dark depths. She couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. The shift to gentleness weakened her knees and gave her a glimpse of sanity. Iris was sleeping just a few feet from them, and she was incapacitated by her monthly. She put her hand to his chest and pushed. “We can’t do this now.”

“We could,” he said simply.

Her face flooded with heat. The idea sickened her and drew her at the same time. She shook her head and twisted to struggle free.

He chuckled. “You needn’t be so shocked.”

“It’s wrong,” she hissed. She pushed her shoulder into his chest. A multitude of sins followed fornication for pleasure alone. Her father had preached again and again that the lure of gratification led to one’s demise. Congress between a man and a woman was for procreation, and Lucian would know that if he attended church on a regular basis.

And he must have forgotten she was in the midst of her courses. “I . . . I am—”

“Shhhh. Just let me hold you,” he whispered.

His breath brushed across her ear, and his hold was firm. He was far stronger than she. If he refused to release her, she could do little short of screaming and waking Iris. But she didn’t feel in any danger from him. His hold was different than Harold Langtree’s had been. As her heart and breathing slowed to a normal rhythm, he relaxed his grip.

He tucked her head against his shoulder and rested his head over hers.

Kissing him was wrong, but her resistance evaporated the minute he’d looked deep into her eyes. Why was she so weak around him? Why was the path of sin so tempting? She’d never felt a strong urge to become intimate with any man but him.

The threat didn’t lie in him, but in her own treacherous response to him. But whether it was to just be his lover or be his wife, he would not give her children. Not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t believe God would grant them children who would live.

As she searched for answers, she knew it was just a matter of time before she succumbed to the feelings and desires only he managed to stir. But she wanted marriage and children, not just stolen passion and sin. “Please leave,” she whispered.

Lucian went to his own room cursing himself. She wanted children. He dreaded burying another baby. He knew no solution that would satisfy them both.

He could get her with child. He could go through the months of waiting with the fears, the hopes, and the inevitable death of an innocent child because of his cursed seed. He knew how to make it through each day when there was no reason to go on living, but he couldn’t imagine how he could live with himself allowing Velvet to go through the horror of watching a baby die. Velvet had no idea what she was asking for.

He sank down on his bed and ran his hands through his hair. He could choose the pain of losing her, rather than see her destroyed by watching either her dreams or her children die.

He needed Velvet. Like no one else, she calmed him. She made him feel whole. But she wanted the one thing in life he could not give her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want family, he did. The row of graves at the cemetery told him he couldn’t. If he got her with child, he would bury another baby.

Shedding his jacket, he contemplated marriage to Miss Bowman. She was pretty and young and would no doubt do her duty as a wife, and he could complete his plans to have an all-encompassing shipping empire. Maybe she wouldn’t mind not having children. Hell, maybe she would prefer he didn’t touch her.