Too Scandalous to Wed (10 page)

S
ebastian set the light aside before he placed Henrietta on the bed. In the sultry shadows she looked a wanton sight. Hair rumpled. Eyes moist. Lips plump, still swollen after a sinfully delightful kiss.

His body throbbed with impotent lust. He ached to touch her; to finish what they’d started in the library. But he fisted his palms instead. He couldn’t ruin the chit. He’d have to marry her then. And he damn well wasn’t going to do that!

He bent down to buss her brow. “Good night, Henry.”

She cupped his face in her soft palms and squeezed. “You don’t have to go, Sebastian.”

He was tempted. So very tempted by her seductive offer.

It baffled him, the intensity of his desire for her. He was a jaded wastrel. How could an innocent flower bewitch him so? There was something about Henrietta that inflamed the darkest recess of his
soul. Her innocent beauty, her goodness, engaged him. Made the rogue within him stand up and take notice.

Sebastian settled on the bed beside her. He stroked the long and silky strands of her auburn hair scattered across the bedspread. In the candlelight, the russet locks glowed like the fiery streaks of a sunset. Her eyes, too, blazed in the smoldering light, perusing him with heady passion.

“You’re so beautiful, Henry.”

She lifted her lips to his. “So are you.” And kissed him softly.

Sebastian closed his eyes with a faint groan. He slipped his hand beneath her head to support her, fingers curled in her rich mane, giving her freedom to ravish his mouth. She tasted so sweet, a lemon-scented, soapy perfume. He breathed in the citrus fragrance, let it tease and enchant his senses.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against her lips. “So good.”

She opened her mouth for him. He slipped his wicked tongue between her teeth, stroking her. And when she moaned, a deep, feral moan, blood rushed through his veins, pulsed in his head, and pounded in his groin.

“Oh, Sebastian.”

He deepened the kiss. He wasn’t going to bed the girl. Really, he wasn’t. He’d bring the kiss to surcease. Soon. He just wanted to taste her a little longer; to feel the warmth of her body. It both soothed
his soul and rankled his lust, to have her pressed beneath him, writhing in sensual pleasure.

“Touch me,” she bade.

Sebastian groaned again. Did she have to sound so sexy, his little despot? How was he supposed to wrest himself away from her if she beckoned—ordered—him to touch her? He damn well couldn’t resist such a sultry invitation. And he was beginning to think she knew it.

Enchanted by the bewitching minx in his arms, Sebastian stroked her waist, rubbed her plump hip.

Henrietta cupped his hand and pushed it down. “Touch me lower, Sebastian.”

The look of lust in her eyes made the blood pound in his cock. He was shaking, deuce it! Shaking like a virginal mooncalf. Henrietta was just so warm and sweet and so full of passion. He could stay in her arms forever. It was true bliss…It was a frightening thought.

Sebastian fixed his eyes on Henrietta’s flushed features. He didn’t dare look down, as she raked the train of her night rail over her knees. He’d lose every last ounce of resistance, he was sure. Instead he let her guide his hand to the moist crevice between her thighs; let her steer his fingers over the folds of her feminine flesh in any way that she wanted.

Sebastian dropped his brow to hers, pressed his lips to hers, breathing in the wanton sounds of her desire. He was sweating and trembling. He wanted nothing more than to tear the blasted shirt off his
back, unfasten the buttons of his trousers, and slip between Henrietta’s warm and creamy thighs.

“Henry, you vixen.”

He kissed her hard, stroked the petal-soft skin between her legs at her behest.

The sweat dripped off his brow. He ached to bury himself deep inside her. It burned within him, the need to bed her.

In the passionate tussle, Sebastian’s hand moved under her pillow—and knocked something hard.

He fingered the peculiar item. “What is this?”

Breathless with desire, but still curious, he yanked the heavy object from its hiding spot.

A book.

Henrietta reached for it. “No, Sebastian!”

In the struggle, the tome landed on the bedside rug—and opened.

Sebastian bristled.

There, under flickering candlelight, was an image of fornication.

Dazed, Sebastian sat up. Lust still raged in his groin, but the bewildering picture spread out at his feet captivated him.

He picked up the book and moved away from the bed. Taking in deep and steady breaths to soothe the desire in his belly, he leafed through the tome.

But erotic picture after erotic picture flipped before his eyes—and inflamed his passions even more.

“Where did you get this, Henry?”

She sat up, hair and wrapper rumpled, eyes wide.
She curled her legs under her chin, and pulled the blanket up to her knees. “Well, I…um…”

“Tell me!”

She flinched.

He quickly regretted his clipped tone. But devil take it, he was stunned.
What
was the girl doing with such a wanton tome?

“It was a gift,” she said, breathless.

The lust still thrumming through his veins ebbed away, a simmering rage coursing through him instead.

“A gift?” A profound need to snap the impudent man’s throat overwhelmed him. “From who? Tell me, Henry. Are you having an affair?”

“No!”

“Is he trying to seduce you? Give me his name. I’ll kill him.”

“There is no one, Sebastian. I swear.”

He was breathing hard, ragged. “Then
who
gave you the book?”

“Madam Jacqueline.”

She whispered the name. A woman’s name.

Sebastian’s mind raced. He had heard that name before. But where? And then it came to him. “The courtesan?”

Henrietta nodded.

“But why did you accept a gift from a prostitute?”

“You don’t understand. I went to see Madam Jacqueline. I needed her help.”

“For
what
?”

Silence.

“Out with it, Henry. Are you enceinte? Is that why you went to see the prostitute? To get rid of the babe?”

Her fists pounded on the bed. She hissed, “How dare you, you stubborn blackguard! You know there isn’t anyone in the world I want, but you!”

It was a blow to the gut, the revelation. Sebastian looked back at the book; to a picture of a woman straddling a man, dominating him…seducing him.

Nonplussed, Sebastian lifted his gaze to Henrietta. She had studied the book. It was evident in her very manner. She had looked at the pictures, over and over again, dreaming up ways to bewitch him.

But still, she had refined her sexual allure in a short period of time. Even looking at sinful pictures was not enough to shape her seductive ways so quickly. She’d had a teacher.

His nostrils flared. “Tell me why you went to see Madam Jacqueline.”

“Sebastian,” she said more softly, “I needed her to teach me how to…”

“Say it, Henry!”

She huffed. “How to seduce you.”

There it was, the dreaded truth.

“You tricked me,” he breathed, even more bewildered. He had abandoned his home, drifted across the mainland for five months, all in the hope of breaking his bond with Henrietta. And
she
had plot
ted and schemed to seduce him the entire time he was away.

“No, Sebastian.” She tossed the blanket aside and clambered to her knees. “I wanted to be with you. I just didn’t know how else to get you to notice me.”

He growled, “You mean you didn’t know how else to trap me into marriage?”

A rush of memories flooded his head. It was all a ruse: her shapely hips and artful looks and whispered words. A bloody sham to enchant him. And she had risked her reputation, the fool girl, to learn the art of seduction. To leg-shackle him!

He slammed the book closed. “All that rubbish about friendship.”

“But I did mean it, Sebastian. I
do
want to be your friend…and your lover.”

He shuddered to hear her say the word “lover.” She was a charming mess, her hair mussed, her wrapper askew. He could see the round curves of her breasts, her hips beneath the flimsy night rail. Such a titillating sight, designed to entice him. To trap him—the poor, wicked viscount—into matrimony with the one thing he couldn’t resist: sex.

Disbelief roiled in his belly. Wretched grief, too. Henrietta had betrayed him. He’d believed her the last good soul on earth. What tripe! He should have known there was no such thing as an innocent heart. After all, he spent much of his time cloistered amid the dregs of humanity. He understood the fickle hu
man heart, the wily will. And Henrietta was as devious as any other charlatan.

“You’re just like all the other scheming flirts of the
ton
,” he said.

“Sebastian, please.” She crawled off the bed and limped to the bedpost, clutching it for support. “I did this for you.”

He sneered, “For me?”

“Dash it, we belong together!”

“No, Henry, we do
not
belong together. We will
never
belong together.”

She huffed. “Sebastian, I know you’re angry, but listen to me.”

He threw the book across the room. It collided with the fainting couch, the thud muffled.

“I’ve heard enough.” He was fighting hard to keep his temper in check. One roaring word and he’d have the household at the door. Then he’d
have
to marry the conniving chit. “I’m leaving, Miss Ashby.”

“Sebastian, wait!”

He thundered toward the door, opened it, then hastened into the corridor. It was late, so the passageway was deserted.

He headed for his room, his mind a whirl. He was such a bloody ass! How had he let the sly little chit beguile him like that? She had so wholly bewitched him, he’d kissed her after an eight-year hiatus. Slathered his lips over her, groped her, shoved his fingers in her…

Sebastian paused. He slumped against the cold wall and took in a sharp breath. He was a disgusting wretch. The girl might be a scheming flirt, but she was still an innocent. He had fingered the tightness of her sheath…and cupped the dewy folds of flesh at her apex, the moist curls.

He shuddered at the erotic memory, and pushed away from the wall. He should not have tainted the girl with his vile touch. He should not have put his hands or his filthy mouth on her. And he definitely shouldn’t have enjoyed the encounter so much.

Sebastian raked a shaky hand through his tousled hair. He had to leave the house. Pack his bags and never look back. He would go to his club. Relieve himself there of the burdensome lust Henrietta had provoked. He was a fool for having touched the girl. But he was an even bigger fool for letting the scheming flirt charm him so.

“I will never forgive you for this, Henry.”

“M
adam Jacqueline, I’ve ruined everything!”

Henrietta slumped against the cushioned divan, too distraught to even notice the courtesan was wearing her night rail and was still tucked away in bed.

Tears gathered in Henrietta’s eyes. Sickness roiled in her belly. She’d not nabbed a wink of sleep, so troubled by last night’s stormy row. The fury in Sebastian’s eyes haunted her still. The hurt, too.

She had to set things right. She had to make Ravenswood understand she was not just another fawning young miss, looking for a brilliant match. She loved him, the blackguard! So much so, her heart ached at the thought of losing him.

“Good morning, Miss Ashby,” said the courtesan. It was a drab morning, so like the gloominess in Henrietta’s heart. She looked up to say so, when she noticed the decor in the boudoir, all scarlet red in
hue. Drapery…rugs…silk wallpapered walls. All red. And then there was the bed. A bright red satin bedspread with flowing chiffon curtains framing the four walnut posters. It was a big bed. And a small Madam Jacqueline was cozy under the covers, sitting up and reading a newspaper.

“I’m sorry,” said Henrietta. “I didn’t think you were still in bed. The footman assured me I could come right up to speak with you.”

Madam folded the newspaper in her lap and put it aside. “You are welcome, Miss Ashby. Now tell me, what seems to be the trouble?”

Henrietta groaned, “Where to start?”

Madam Jacqueline patted the bed. “Come and sit by me.”

Henrietta obeyed. She sat down at the foot of the bed, facing the courtesan.

Madam was draped in an elegant white night rail with rich embroidery. Her hair was hidden beneath a regal white turban, a brilliant diamond wedged snug in the center. The pale apparel only highlighted her eerie mist green eyes, which captivated Henrietta the moment she settled next to the woman.

“What’s happened, Miss Ashby?”

“It’s Sebastian,” she sobbed. “He hates me.”

It was a crushing blow to the breast, to say the words aloud.

Madam Jacqueline eyed her shrewdly. “Why do you think he hates you?”

Henrietta took in a shaky breath before she recited the entire wretched tale.

“If only he’d never found the naughty book of pictures,” she said in closure, wiping the tears from her eyes.

The courtesan tsked. “I warned you not to be too zealous, Miss Ashby.”

“I know,” she said quietly. Ardent emotions frightened a man into retreat. So to find such a book in
her
room, to hear such a scandalous confession from
her
lips, that she had tried to seduce him, must have bowled Sebastian over. “How do I set things right, Madam Jacqueline?”

“Tell me, did Sebastian suspect you were seducing him before he found the book?”

“No, he looked so surprised when I told him.”

“Then he is also very angry.”

“Livid,” said Henrietta, last night’s row popping back into her head. She shivered at the morbid memory, so cold. Sebastian had never treated her so icily in all their years together. It was a terrible feeling, being cast aside like that. “I tried to apologize. I tried to make him see I wasn’t out to snag his title, his fortune.”

“But he doesn’t believe you?”

“No.” Henrietta bowed her head. “He thinks I’m just another scheming flirt out to trap him into matrimony.”

“I’m afraid he’s going to stay angry with you for
a very long time, Miss Ashby. He feels duped—by a woman. Most men find that humiliating.”

Not the comforting words Henrietta was hoping to hear. “So I’ve lost him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Then there’s hope?”

“You’re going to have to apologize again.”

“Oh, I’ll say anything!” cried Henrietta. “Just tell me the right words to say.”

The courtesan shook her head. “You can’t tell him in person. He will slam the door in your face, I’m afraid.”

Henrietta slumped her shoulders forward. “So how will I tell him?”

“In a letter.” Madam Jacqueline pointed to the desk. “Go to the vanity and collect a sheet of paper and quill.”

Henrietta scrambled off the bed and hurried over to the cherrywood furniture. She plopped down on the quilted stool, snatched a quill from the inkwell, and readied her hand.

“You must feel guilty,” said Madam Jacqueline.

“Oh, I do,” Henrietta vowed.

The courtesan waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It does not matter if you
really
feel guilty, Miss Ashby. You just have to sound like you do. You must also sound remorseful.”

Henrietta nodded sagely.

“And you must inspire Sebastian to want to re
turn to you; remind him of the night the two of you shared.”

Yes, that’s exactly what Henrietta wanted to do!

“Now I want you to write down every word I say,” said Madam Jacqueline. “You will then deliver the letter to Sebastian and let
him
come to you when the time is right.”

Henrietta hurried through the house, looking for Sebastian. The letter clutched tight in her hand, a snippet of hope bloomed in her breast at the thought that all was not lost after all.

At the end of the passageway was a set of steps—at the top of the landing was Peter.

Henrietta darted up the stairs, while Peter bounded down to her. The two met in the middle.

“Henry, I’ve been looking for you.”

“I can’t talk now, Peter.” She brushed him aside. “I must find Ravenswood.”

He gripped her arm, preventing her flight. “Henry, he’s gone.”

Her heart shuddered. “Gone where?”

“Back to London, I think. He left this morning in great haste.”

She groaned, “Oh no.”

“What happened, Henry?”

There was no sense in keeping the secret from Peter. He was her ally, after all. She might as well confess the horrible happening to him.

“I made a terrible blunder last night,” she said.

He offered her a handkerchief, his voice gentle. “What blunder?”

She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “I tried to seduce him, Peter, but I failed.”

He balked. “My dear, that was a rather bold move.”

She sniffed again. “But I’ve been practicing for months.”

This time he really looked ashen. “Good heavens, Henry, how?”

The story about Madam Jacqueline poured forth: about Henrietta’s transformation from fumbling novice to skilled seductress—well, perhaps not
that
skilled.

“Really?” Peter furrowed his brow. “But I never noticed a change in you.”

“That’s because I wanted to charm Sebastian, not you. You weren’t supposed to notice anything different about me.”

Peter took in a deep breath. “Well, we must find a way to right this matter.”

Henrietta had already found such a way: the letter. But now she had to find Sebastian so she could deliver it to him.

With newfound determination, Henrietta gripped her skirts and mounted the steps again. There was a heart to mend. No sense whimpering when there was work to be done.

Peter fell in step behind her. “Where are you going, Henry?”

“To London.”

“Oh no.” He followed her back to her room. “It’s too dangerous.”

But Henrietta dismissed his concern and set about gathering her things: a few toiletries to accommodate her on the short journey to London. She wasn’t going to stay in Town for very long. She was going to deliver the letter, and then head back to the country. She wasn’t even going to meet with Sebastian. That was a definite faux pas, according to Madam Jacqueline. Henrietta was to slip the letter under Sebastian’s door or deliver it to him via a third party. And then wait. Wait for Sebastian to read the letter. Wait for his temper to cool. Wait for him to come to her. That was the plan.

“I’ll take my maid with me,” she said to reassure her alarmed brother-in-law.

“Your maid will not protect you from highwaymen, Henry.”

Henrietta dropped a small trunk on the bed, and then dumped the toiletries inside. “Fine. I’ll take you with me to London instead.”

“No, Henry,
I’ll
go to London,” he said in a firm voice. “Alone. You stay here where it’s safe.”

She paused to glare at him. “I thought you wanted me to be with your brother?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you trying to keep us apart?”

“I’m not, Henry.” He moved to the other side of the bed. “It’s dangerous on the road. It’s better if I go and talk with Seb.”

Henrietta mulled that over. Perhaps she should ask Peter to deliver the letter instead? After all, Sebastian was very angry with her. It might be better if she steered clear of the city altogether.

But what if Peter lost the letter on the road? Or what if he forgot to give it to Sebastian once he reached London?

No, it was better if she delivered the letter. At least then she wouldn’t wonder about the missive, and if Sebastian ever got it.

Henrietta shook her head. “I have to go to London, Peter. I have to set things right.”

“But you’ll never find him once you reach London.”

“Rot.” She stuffed a fur-trimmed hat into the trunk. “I know where he lives.”

“He won’t be home, Henry. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh?” A pair of boots next. “And where will he be?”

Peter raked a hand through his sooty black hair. “There’s this place on the Thames near Marlow, an abbey.”

Henrietta cringed. “Oh no, Sebastian’s going to become a monk! I never thought my seducing him would upset him
that
much.” She tossed a dress into
the trunk without a thought to the potential wrinkles. “I have to hurry!”

Peter lifted his hands. “No, Henry, he’s not going to become a monk.”

A fluttery sigh of relief. “Then what’s he doing at the abbey?”

“Seb sometimes visits the abbey. It’s…Oh, never mind. The point is, the friars are very strict. They will
not
permit a lady inside.”

Henrietta snorted. She would just slip inside then. She’d been doing that a lot of late, sneaking in and out of houses to visit Madam Jacqueline. An abbey would be no different. She could slip the letter under Sebastian’s cell door, then quickly skirt away. That would work just as well.

“Henry, stop.” Peter reach over the bed and took her by the wrist. “You cannot go after Sebastian. Let me deal with my brother.”

Henrietta was about to argue, but the stubborn gleam in Peter’s eye reminded her so much of Sebastian.

After a lengthy pause, she huffed, “Oh, all right.”

“Promise me, Henry, you will
not
chase after Sebastian.”

She crossed her fingers behind her back. “I promise.”