The Problem with Seduction (13 page)

She’d leapt at the first chance to return to London after Oliver’s birth. Nicholas had been her excuse then. Now it was Con. In truth, London was just as much a lure as either man. As her carriage approached the city walls now, she knew with absolute certainty that she would never be happy secluding herself away from the bustle of Town. Not permanently.

When the carriage pulled up before her rented townhouse, Lord Constantine alighted as soon as the steps were lowered. He turned and helped her from the vehicle then went up the stone steps ahead of her. The knocker clacked against the door in three sure
raps.

Elizabeth went to the second carriage to see to Oliver. She had to step around Lord Constantine’s horse, tied to the rear of her carriage, to do so. The way his saddlebag was tucked askew amongst her trunks and his nag was tethered to her coach, it was as if he’d become a part of them overnight.

By the time she looked back, the door stood open and Con was no longer in sight.

She entered some moments later with her retinue. Con stood in the foyer with Rand. Her butler nodded several times at whatever Con was saying, then replied, “Aye, my lord,” and nodded some more.

Elizabeth didn’t like it one bit. She shifted Oliver into a more comfortable position and approached the men. “What’s going on?”

Rand traded a speaking glance with Lord Constantine. Her suspicion grew. Had they become friendly in the few seconds she’d been out of sight?

Her man waited for Con to give his assent, causing no small amount of annoyance in her. Then Rand spoke. “Lord Constantine is advising me on what I should do in the event Captain Finn attempts to gain entry. He wanted me to know he is but a runner away.”

“With any luck, it won’t be necessary to call for me or the constabulary.” Con placed a hand at the small of her back. Despite her irritation with him for usurping her command, she could feel each fingertip through the many layers of clothing covering her skin. Her nipples tightened. But none of that foolishness compared to the flip-flop her heart executed when he looked at her and Oliver then. Goodness, the man should tread the boards. His painted-on expression was the image of husbandly pride.

Oh, no. She was
not
going to let that Look affect her.

He rubbed her back gently, as if to offer comfort. “I simply want to be sure you’re safe even when I’m not available to show Finn the bottom of my boot. Rand has orders to send for me at the first sign of trouble.” His arm slid more firmly around her waist. He smelled like a man who’d been traveling for two days. Musky and heady and wonderful.

Oh,
no.

His fingers smoothed idly at her waist. “I’ve also let him know we’ve formed an attachment again. That should ensure he also allows
me
entrance, whenever the mood strikes me.” He grinned at her, perhaps enjoying the exasperated look she cast him. “I shall try to come often.”

Those words should
not
have sent a quiver through her belly. Oh, goodness, but she couldn’t deny they did, especially when coupled with his rakish smile. She couldn’t be falling for him already. They
weren’t
going to consummate this, even if his last words had been brimming with innuendo. His show was all for the benefit of her butler, and any other staff who happened to be eavesdropping.

But when Con leaned over and trailed a fingertip across Oliver’s cheek, then pulled a face that made her baby chortle, her heart melted into a puddle of want.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Con’s blue eyes caught hers. “Please don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” she replied, a bit breathless. If only he knew she was unlikely to sleep ever again.

“Oliver, my boy,” he touched his fingertip to the baby’s nose, “take care of your mother.” Then he bowed gracefully to their small audience of attendants standing in the foyer. “It’s been a pleasure traveling with you. Until we meet again.” He swept his beaver hat onto his head and strode through the front door toward his horse, untethered and staged at the ready, leaving her staff agape.

Well.
If that wasn’t one of the most charming men she’d ever met. She should know better than to dally with rakes like him.

She
did
know better.

Her staff came out of their daze and burst into motion. An undercurrent of excitement threaded through the house. A tide so swift and strong, Elizabeth couldn’t ignore its pull. When Nicholas had been her protector, her apartments had always seemed suffocating. At any moment he might arrive and make demands, and there had been no way to anticipate him. He came only when the mood struck him and stayed only as long as it took to draw her into bed. This was an altogether different feeling. Her maids ran about dusting tabletops that already gleamed and airing rooms that smelled sweet—it would seem the current state of the house wasn’t good enough for dashing Lord Constantine. They whispered to each other, sly smiles pasted on their faces, and even Rand strutted as if he’d been knighted by the king himself.

Con had an easy way about him that made others feel as if they mattered. She was disappointed in herself to know she was already pining for his return. It was too much like her old self, the one who’d become enamored of a man she didn’t truly know. She’d thought her defenses better built up than this.

Later that afternoon, her lady’s maid, Nelly, entered the nursery. She kept her voice low so as not to wake Oliver, but she sounded excited nonetheless. “Madam, Lord and Lady Trestin are here to see you. Mr. Rand put them in the drawing room. Do you want me to fetch Mrs. Dalton to see to Master Oliver?”

Elizabeth rose to her feet and went to the cradle. Oliver still slept. She made a shooing motion at her maid. “Run to the kitchens and ask Sally for a tea tray. And yes, please, wake Mrs. Dalton from her nap. Go on, now. Lady Trestin mustn’t be kept waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nelly bobbed before ducking into the hall.

Elizabeth tugged at the sleeves of her spencer and smoothed her hair from her face. She touched her bare fingers around her collar feeling for spittle and, finding none, went into the hallway. She needn’t be too neat for Lady Trestin. In spite of her fine new title, Lady Trestin was still the same woman who’d been Elizabeth’s best friend for years, Celeste Gray. An infamous former courtesan now married to a rather staid—and deliciously handsome—viscount.

Elizabeth paused just outside of the nursery door, as there was no sign of Mrs. Dalton yet. Her eagerness to see Celeste and Lord Trestin, the seemingly straitlaced man who’d stolen her friend away, overshadowed her unwanted response to Con that had plagued her all morning.

The effect was but momentary, however, as no sooner had she prided herself on
not
thinking about Con than he sprang into her thoughts again. She paced the carpet runner padding the hallway and tried not to think about her pledge made to Celeste just weeks earlier, when she’d dared to dream of one day being in this very situation.

…if I should meet a man who sets my belly fluttering while treating me as respectfully as your Lord Trestin does, I shall marry him without delay.

Surely no one had been more surprised by Trestin’s proposal of marriage to Celeste than Celeste herself. Their wedding had been the second happiest day of Elizabeth’s life, after the birth of her son. But she’d had to wonder, would a man like Lord Trestin ever want
her
?

Mrs. Dalton finally rounded the corner. The right side of her face was wrinkled from her pillow but she looked more rested than she’d appeared after overseeing the unpacking of the carriages. “Is he asleep?” she asked, pushing her hairpins into place.

Elizabeth walked toward her, in the direction of the main stair. She nodded, then called over her shoulder, “For another few minutes, at least.”

She smiled to herself as she went down to the first floor. Maybe there wouldn’t ever be a man who adored her. It seemed very likely that her father’s love would always be out of reach. But this was her life now, trading her son’s status with his nursemaid. Maybe this was
her
version of happily ever after.

As inconceivable as it had once seemed. Not so long ago, she’d sat for hours every afternoon while her hair was arranged, and refused to leave her apartments unless she was turned out more fashionably than any mere lady. Those were the days when she and Celeste had ruled London’s demimonde. She wouldn’t go back to that for all of the finery and flattery in the world.

She left the main stair and hurried to the drawing room. Celeste was speaking in low tones to her husband, a raven-haired man with a fine form and probing gaze. Celeste’s dove-gray walking dress trimmed in purple velvet set off her auburn hair and made her seem a proper lady, giving Elizabeth pause. Was it her red curls arranged artfully beneath a pretty poke bonnet, or her handsome husband beside her that made it hard to imagine Celeste had ever been a courtesan?

“Elizabeth! You’re looking lovely again. I’m so glad for it.” Celeste reached for Elizabeth’s hands. She smiled prettily, her green eyes glowing, and squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers.

“Much improved,” Trestin agreed, causing Elizabeth’s lips to turn up. His factual statement must be taken as truth, for he wasn’t the type to dole out generous compliments.

“Thank you, my lord,” Elizabeth replied cheekily, for she knew he loathed her addressing him as such. Celeste tapped her arm as if she’d been naughty and Elizabeth chuckled.

Trestin didn’t smile outright, for he was a starchy sort of gentleman, but his light, almost golden eyes looked on her with a soft sort of fondness. He’d been protective of her when she’d last seen him in Devon, after Nicholas had taken her baby and she’d fled London. Trestin had cared for her as gently as if she were one of his younger sisters, and she’d always be indebted to him for it.

Celeste tugged Elizabeth to the sofa and pulled her down to sit. Then she folded her hands in her lap regarded Elizabeth with unabashed interest. “You were successful? Captain Finn has restored Oliver to you?”

Elizabeth almost cackled with delight to be able to say, “Yes! The plan worked marvelously. Finn turned him over with hardly a peep of protest.” She didn’t add that Nicholas had then gone on to realize he’d been duped and was now stalking her, or that her father was issuing threats of a civil suit. She’d almost lost her friendship with Celeste over her desperation to have Oliver back in her arms. She deserved a moment of vindication.

“I’m so glad, dearest,” Celeste said at last. “Will you be returning to Brixcombe, then?”

Elizabeth should have expected the question. Instead, she hadn’t considered doing so even for a moment, and so had no polite refusal prepared. “My home is in London.” She waved one hand as if to indicate the city looming beyond the four walls of the drawing room. “I shouldn’t mind coming to visit you, when Oliver is older.”

Celeste’s brows drew together. She seemed to be considering her words carefully. “I’d hoped you’d come back with us.”

She
would
have wanted that. She’d never trusted Elizabeth to be a good mother. But surely she must realize by now that Elizabeth was both capable of caring for her own child and absolutely determined to do so. “I’m set up very well here, though I do thank you for thinking of us,” Elizabeth replied sweetly. Then she added, “I think even you would approve of Oliver’s arrangements.”

Celeste winced, as if she highly doubted that would be the case. Then she smiled demurely. “Of course.”

Elizabeth wasn’t fooled. Celeste was regrouping. If anyone else were gifting Elizabeth a beatific smile while simultaneously thinking up the best way to undermine her argument, she would have cut them to the quick. Since it was Celeste, she feigned nonchalance by gifting Lord Trestin a bright smile and patting at the arrangement of her skirts.

Celeste had a tendency to act like Elizabeth’s older sister, rather than her friend. It was sweet, in an exasperating sort of way.

“It would seem,” Celeste said, her soft smile faltering, “that you’ve benefitted from your own resilience once again.” Before Elizabeth could do more than raise her eyebrow at this left-handed compliment, her friend continued, “We caught wind of the scandal all the way in Devon. I suppose that’s not surprising, given Lord Constantine’s family seat is there.”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a question or another jab. “I
intended
for it to catch fire.” She chose her next words carefully, because a fight with Celeste wasn’t at all what she wanted. She wanted Celeste to see that she’d matured. She had it all in hand, and she didn’t need any nursemaid save Mrs. Dalton. “Lord Constantine and I worked through the details together, though I think he deserves much of the credit. He can be very convincing when he chooses to be. ” Her face warmed as she recalled just how convincing he’d been today. Even she could almost believe they’d once been lovers.

Oh, but Celeste mustn’t see her blush. Quickly, Elizabeth added, “I ought to have known a brother of Roman’s would prove himself an outrageous actor,” for bringing up the subject of Roman was sure to distract Celeste from her interest in Elizabeth.

“
I
would have done it for you,” Trestin said so firmly, both women’s attention instantly went to him. He still stood rigidly just inside the doorway. A muscle twitched at his jaw. “There was no need to involve anyone else.”

Of course, Elizabeth could never have become so detached from her morals that she’d convince all of London that her best friend’s paramour had sired her bastard. There was no question of his involvement, once she’d realized Celeste was in love with him. “Lord Constantine isn’t odious, my lord. I find him very pleasant.”

A slight frown marred Celeste’s pale brow. “I’m very happy for you to have Oliver back, dearest. I simply worry that you’ve gone from one extreme to the other. Lord Constantine? After everything Roman did to me? Theirs is a family of fickle-hearted rakes. How can you trust him with a so great a secret?”

Elizabeth went rigid against the couch. Not because her faith in Lord Constantine was shaken—and it was, just a bit. Celeste’s opinion mattered more than anyone’s. She was more of a sister to Elizabeth than even her own sisters, for Celeste had never turned her back on her as Sarah and Ellen had.