The Problem with Seduction (31 page)

Celeste, too, rose. She laughed at her husband. “At least I’m not the only one.” Then she crossed the room and reached for Elizabeth’s hands. “Dearest, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Elizabeth stepped back to see her friend better. “Marriage looks well on you.” She took in Celeste’s modest evening finery and artfully styled yet simple curls. It seemed Celeste had truly left behind her common origins. If they hadn’t been best friends for ages, she might have been wary of the beautiful lady before her. “How is country life?”

Celeste smiled demurely. “Perfectly bland.” She arched a lascivious eyebrow at her handsome husband. “Sometimes.”

Perhaps the courtesan wasn’t entirely suppressed.

Lord Trestin cleared his throat. “She means we’re busy from dawn until dusk, as she’s taken it into her head to redecorate every room in the house and I can’t seem to receive immunity from the list of tasks required to please her.”

“I exhaust him,” Celeste drawled. “That is what
he
means.” She looked sidelong at him as if expecting a certain reply.

He was
blushing
. Elizabeth almost chuckled aloud. But then he drew himself up and, with a great show of fortitude, drawled, “There is only
one
way to get an heir,” in a velvety voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Her heart melted at that. Where was Con? This was her version of Trestin. Proper, yes, but indulgent with his wife. Provincial to Elizabeth’s tastes, but a caring man who desired to please Celeste above all else.

In that moment, Elizabeth knew that she and Nicholas had been doomed from the start.

Watching Trestin gaze tenderly at Celeste also made Elizabeth’s burgeoning feelings for Con sticky-sweet. Celeste’s marriage seemed like a fairy-tale ending and something rather ordinary. Two friends who were joined in holy matrimony. Not a momentary flare of passion, but a trusting intimacy that would stand the test of time. Was such a thing possible for her?

Celeste moved to stand next to Trestin. A sinking feeling came into Elizabeth’s belly. The polite banter had, evidently, ended.

Where was Con?

“Do tell us,” Celeste asked, though she didn’t lose her sultry smile, “what has brought you back to Devon? I thought you were done with the doldrums we rustics appreciate so much.”

Trestin squeezed her side as though he agreed they were rustics inundated with doldrums…and it suited him very much.

“I like the cottage well enough,” Elizabeth replied, not wanting to miss an opportunity to point out that she would rather have stayed there, even if she did like seeing her friend so happy.

Celeste clasped her hands together. “I know you don’t give a fig about propriety, but I must. It’s perfectly normal to host an impromptu house party at Worston, but I’m sure you can infer the inappropriateness of closeting you two together at the cottage without the least bit of chaperonage.”

Elizabeth chose a Louis XVII chair and seated herself with as much grace as she could muster considering she was being called on the carpet. “I was counting on it.”

Celeste pressed her lips together briefly. She’d always tried to be Elizabeth’s conscience, perhaps because she was the older by almost eight years. It could be fatiguing at times. “Does he mean to marry you?”

Sometimes, it could be brutal.

Of course
he wasn’t going to marry her. She could almost shout it, for the pain it caused her. No man had ever wanted to marry her. No man had even looked at her with one tenth the fervency with which Trestin guarded Celeste.

That wasn’t entirely true. Constantine did look at her that way…when he thought no one was watching. That was the cruel truth: he didn’t want to want her.

He certainly wasn’t going to marry her.

She bit her lip before any of that could escape her. She’d never admit her loneliness, or her foolish hope. Especially not to the two people she least wanted to judge her.

“There is no plan to marry,” she replied breezily, as if it didn’t matter.

“He can’t afford a wife,” Lord Trestin said bluntly. He glanced at Celeste, perhaps remembering their mismatched fortunes, then looked at Elizabeth again. “But I don’t suppose money is an issue for you.”

Elizabeth smirked. She refused to let him know how deeply his dismissal of her cut. “I may not have had the best choice in men, but I’m more than average when it comes to turning a profit, my lord. You could say one has necessitated the other.”

Con chose that moment to enter the room. “I think I should be offended.”

Had he heard everything, or only just the last? Elizabeth’s face heated. And she
never
blushed.

“My lord,” Celeste said, “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Celeste, Lady Trestin.”

He inclined his head, then took her hand and bowed over it. “Lord Constantine Alexander, at your service. I believe you’re great friends with my brother Montborne.”

Angry color heightened Celeste’s pale cheeks. Montborne had vehemently objected to Celeste’s pursuit of Lord Trestin and ultimately caused the demise of his friendship with her. To Elizabeth’s knowledge, there had been no apology made in the months since. Didn’t Con remember her telling him of their fallout?

Celeste returned to her seat on the couch. When she looked up again, her color had abated. “How is Roman? We don’t see him in Devon, and I fear we missed him in Town.”

Ever the consummate actress. But her pretending was lost on Con. He was evaluating the seating arrangement carefully. It was all very proper, with chairs and couches set apart so that no guest must be made to sit too close to another. Without a word, he dragged a second small Louis XVII chair from its position on the outskirts to within a few inches of Elizabeth’s.

Heat crept across her cheeks again. She glanced at her friends. Their wide-eyed expressions of incredulity wiped her blush away. Her face seemed to drain of blood, in fact, and her ears rang until she could barely hear what was happening around her.

She didn’t need them to say it aloud, for their expressions said it all.

It was possible.

He might be made to marry her.

“My brother?” Con eased into the narrow chair, evidently oblivious to the exchange taking place before him. “The last time I saw him, he was lecturing me on one thing or another. I wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise to ask him how he fares. But before that, he was blue-deviled most of the summer. So, there’s that.”

Trestin’s eyes narrowed. “Lecturing? Why?”

He was faster to ask that than Elizabeth was to inquire as to why Roman was blue-deviled. His was the better question, however. Roman hadn’t been the lecturing type until Celeste had set her sights on Trestin. Why was he hectoring Con now?

She blanched again. It was obvious. Because of her.

She blinked and looked at Celeste, this time frantically. If Roman had it in his head that she was trying to sink her claws into Con and not merely entertaining a dalliance, there was no telling how much of an obstacle he might become.

Con crossed his long legs at the ankles. “Because I’m not the best choice in men, nor average when it comes to turning a profit. Montborne feels I have room to grow.”

Her hopes were dashed.
Montborne must know about their bargain.
He’d been very, very close to heading off Celeste and Trestin’s marriage. What sort of threat did he pose to Elizabeth’s happiness?

“I’ve never been one for prolonging awkwardness,” Trestin said, “so I’ll have out with it. Lady Trestin and I are aware of your contract with Lady Elizabeth.” He paused when Con sat up straighter and simultaneously shot Elizabeth a look of horror. “I can’t say it’s my preference, but I was willing to do the same for her for much less in return. I can’t fault you.” He didn’t pause when Con obviously wanted to ask what he meant by that. “Now, while I had thought Montborne recovered from his sudden onset of scruples, if he’s hunting you down to give you a tongue-lashing, then I suspect he’s still suffering his pangs of conscience. Which brings me to my next question. What do you intend to do about it?”

Con opened his mouth. Then he clamped his jaw closed and settled back into his chair, all while giving Trestin a look that would have struck down a lesser man.

Trestin rose and moved to the sideboard. He returned with a decanter and two snifters. “Brandy has always been my preferred method of dealing with Montborne.” He handed a snifter to Lord Constantine, then filled it.

Surely Con couldn’t argue with that approach. Brothers they may be, Roman could be pure obstinacy when he made up his mind to disapprove.

Con tossed back his drink. “He used to be so forgiving,” he said with a touch of irony.

Trestin settled onto the couch beside Celeste. “If by that you mean he was oblivious to the world around him, then I have to agree.”

Elizabeth relaxed a fraction. At least these two men wouldn’t come to blows.

Lord Trestin continued, “The unfortunate fact is that I fear he might be right to be concerned.”

Con sat forward abruptly. “I can handle myself—”

“You’ve managed to bring it this far. You’ve done better than I had supposed. But the gossip hasn’t waned. In point of fact,
I
have heard it. These things usually have their time and then they die. Why hasn’t it?”

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. Her belly turned leaden. Trestin was right. The rumors ought to have stopped by now. She’d been counting on it.
Was her father aware?
If even Trestin knew what was being said…

But what more could she do?

The longer Con remained silent, the more her fear magnified. She caught Celeste’s eye. What she saw there made her feel like a helpless child.
Pity.
For poor Elizabeth had once again dug herself a hole impossible to escape.

They were all saved by the call to dinner. They filed into a massive dining room dominated by heavy oil paintings and dark blue walls. They were seated together at one end, with Trestin at the head and Lord Constantine to Celeste’s left. Elizabeth took her chair beside Trestin and folded her hands in her lap. Then she glanced about the room as if lightning were about to strike her. This was the first time she’d sat at a respectable table as a grown woman. She’d been barely out of the schoolroom when she’d fled her parents’ house with Captain Moore, and lived as an outcast after that. Even now she was nothing more than Con’s mistress, welcome only because Trestin had laughed in the face of propriety by marrying his.

She felt the strangeness of formal dining as if she were in someone else’s skin. Coupled with her fear of her father and Celeste’s sympathetic stare, she almost felt like a little girl again.

“So Montborne is suspicious,” Trestin said after they’d all been served the first course, “but I doubt that’s what’s sent you scurrying into the country. Your clan has done a fair job of avoiding Devon.” He shot Elizabeth a pointed look. “And don’t tell me it’s because you were homesick for the cottage. I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

She
would
mention again how much she really had wanted to retreat to the obscurity of the cottage, but she wasn’t in the mood to tease. A glance at Con told her he wasn’t about to explain their reason for coming, either. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

Was he reconsidering all that he’d tangled himself up in? The way he stared at the candelabra in the center of the table twisted her belly.

“Elizabeth,” Trestin said in a warning tone. “There is always trouble afoot when a Londoner comes to Devon. Or haven’t I told you my theory?”

Roman ran to Devon every time scandal broke around him. She’d come when Nicholas had yanked her world from under her. And today, they
were
here for a reason. Two, actually.

“Have you heard of the Grand Canal?” she asked when Trestin seemed ready to demand an answer, and Con was frowning so furiously into his soup that she expected it to steam at any moment. “I believe it isn’t far from here.”

Trestin set his spoon down. “Are you a shareholder?”

“Not I,” Elizabeth said. “Lord Constantine has a sum tied up in it.”

Trestin turned to Con, who had lifted his head at the sound of his name. Good. Maybe she’d distracted him from rehearsing the speech she knew must be coming.
Elizabeth, while this seemed in my favor at the start, now I can no longer support it in good faith…

“As do I,” Trestin said, much to Elizabeth’s surprise. “As it happens, neither of my sisters required their dowries. When I heard there was to be a renewed attempt to complete the canal, I had my man of business look into it. A canal linking Exeter and the Channel can only be beneficial to everyone.” He smiled in a rare flash of humor. “The fact that it is to go through your family’s land and not mine held its own appeal.”

Con’s relief was evident. “You believe it will pay out?”

“I certainly hope so. It was an easy decision, especially now that it’s so close to completion. There
was
a flood a few days ago, trouble with the new lock or some such, but it seems to be under control now. Not like several years ago, when few investors had the sense to bail out before they were ruined.”

Con’s bark of laughter startled Elizabeth. “They didn’t bother to tell us the direness of it until it was too late. Engineers are like politicians that way.”

“Is that why you’re here, then? To see it with your own eyes?”

Con cast Elizabeth guilty look. He’d dragged his feet coming here, but clearly he wasn’t about to admit as much to Trestin. “If it’s as far along as they say,” Con answered, “I’ll invest more money. If it looks to be a sham, I’ll pull out. But I won’t be taken for a fool again. I’m getting too old for that.”

Trestin leaned back as the footmen began clearing bowls. “I’ll ride with you to the site tomorrow and show you around. While I can’t claim to be an expert in canal-building, I’ve done a bit of ditch-digging. This looks to be a very fine ditch.”

Chapter Seventeen