Twice the Temptation (28 page)

L
ucas arrived at Gretchen Manor seven that evening. Catherine had arrived hours earlier, insisting she wanted to spend some time with her sister. He’d thought it more likely that she and Charlotte required time to map out their strategy for the dinner. He imagined them poring over thick, dusty books that advised on how to establish peace during wartime.

Charlotte was the first to greet him after he was escorted to the drawing room to await his hosts. 

“Dare I hope that your husband won’t be joining us,” he teased upon her entrance. 

Her lips pursed, feigning disapproval as a reluctant smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Now you must be on your best behavior. Alex is already annoyed with me. I’ll not have you give him cause to regret conceding to me regarding this.” 

Lucas had thought as much. As disagreeable as the man could be to him, it was obvious he adored his wife. Would do anything for her, as the dinner tonight would attest. 

“Unca Lucas!” 

The excited cry drew his attention to the open door. The sound of the childish voice had barely registered before, in a blur of blond curls and the speed only a child could achieve, small arms were circling his legs. 

Lucas gave a hearty shout of welcome as he bent and scooped Nicholas up and into his arms. 

Nicholas’s arms were now wrapped around his neck as he clung tightly to him. “Mama says you was coming.” His blue eyes shone with complete and utter joy. 

“Yes and here I am.” 

For four years, Nicholas had been as close to him as his own child. There hadn’t been anything he wouldn’t have done for him, which was the main reason he’d proposed marriage to his mother. A boy needed a father. 

“Nicholas, did I not instruct you not to leave the room?” 

And Nicholas had one. 

The marquess’s voice could have a sobering effect on elation. At least it had that effect on Lucas. The man entered the room seconds after his voice had. 

“But it’s Unca Lucas, Papa,” Nicholas exclaimed, twisting in Lucas’s arm to watch his father stride toward them. 

In his innocence, the boy was completely oblivious to his father’s feelings toward him and Lucas envied him that. He wished he too was equally oblivious. It would have made the evening more tolerable. 

When Lord Avondale smiled at his son Lucas had to stop himself from staring at him wide-eyed in astonishment. Not that he hadn’t seen the man smile before. Upon second thought, he hadn’t. And the smile transformed his face. Grudgingly, he could see why Charlotte would be attracted to him. When the man wasn’t scowling, he may even be considered attractive by some. 

“I know you’re excited to see—er, Mr. Beaumont—” he shot Lucas a veiled glance that indicated
he
didn’t understand the excitement “—but Jillian hadn’t finished dressing you.” 

Lucas looked down at the child in his arms. He wore a navy-blue jacket, a waistcoat, and a pair of knickerbockers but from his knees on down, his legs were bare, lightly tanned as though he’d spent the day playing outside in the sun. 

“Yes young man, you must listen to your father. Supper won’t be served for another hour. You’ll have time to see your Uncle Lucas after you’ve finish dressing. Now come with me,” his mother instructed 

Lucas reluctantly lowered Nicholas to the floor, praying to God that Charlotte wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave him alone with her husband. He soon learned that she could and would indeed be
that
cruel as he watched her take her son’s hand and lead him from the room. 

It was only after they’d disappeared from sight that Lucas finally turned his attention to the marquess. 

Where the hell was Catherine?
 

“He’s growing tall.” Lucas offered the olive branch in hopes the man would accept it, thereby making the coming hours less taxing than they would certainly be. 

“He’s a good boy.” There was a certain amount of pride in his voice at that. The man loved his son. 

“Yes he is.” 

“My wife tells me I owe some of that credit to you.” 

Lucas blinked and might have fallen over had his equilibrium not been as sound as it was. He was certain he hadn’t heard the marquess correctly. The acoustics in the room were probably not as it should be for he would swear what he’d heard was praise. 

“If Charlotte said that, she’s giving me too much credit. Nicholas is as he is because of the exemplary way she raised him.” 

The marquess didn’t immediately respond, but just stared at him. Lucas felt like he was under a microscope and the feeling was most disconcerting. Not that he hadn’t been under harsh scrutiny before. He had. No, it was that being on civil terms with the man was paramount to his future with Catherine. 

“I could not love Catherine more if she were my own sister,” Lord Avondale stated, breaking the silence. 

He stood against the backdrop of the double doors to the drawing room, his legs spread at a comfortable distance with his hands held loosely behind his back. If the man’s intention was to intimidate him, he failed. But he did inspire a grudging sort of respect. 

Lucas pushed his shoulders back, and stood up straight, meeting the marquess eye-to-eye. “Which is how I love Charlotte. And I love Catherine as you love your wife.” 

Lord Avondale didn’t blink but inclined his head in a nod. “If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your days.” 

The man’s statement would have read like fictional melodrama but it didn’t come out that way. It didn’t even sound like a threat but more a pledge a Brit would make to God, his country and his queen. 

“If I hurt her, the cause of my regret would not be because of anything you do to me.” 

The hardness of Lord Avondale’s expression eased, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Then I do not foresee us having any further difficulties, do you?” 

Lucas laughed outright at that. “No, I don’t suppose I do.” 

A fortnight ago, Lucas would never have believed the marquess would ever view him as anything other than a rival—the man who’d tried to steal his wife and son’s affections. Tonight it appeared his feelings on that had shifted and Lucas didn’t have to wonder what—or who—had caused his change of heart. 

“I sense the hand of your wife in this,” Lucas said, amused but not entirely surprised that Charlotte could get a man like the marquess to bend in this matter. 

Lord Avondale emitted a low chuckle and there was a scratchiness to it that suggested it was reluctantly given. “In no uncertain terms, I was informed that should I do anything else to jeopardize her sister’s happiness with you,
I
would regret it for the rest of
my
days.” 

Lucas joined him in his laughter. 

A woman’s threat was not to be taken lightly. 

T
he sound of male laughter reached her ears just before her eyes witnessed a scene she’d never thought to see in her entire life.

Lucas and Alex were laughing, smiling at one another as if sharing a private jest. Hesitant to break the stalemate, as she didn’t know how long it would last and more importantly, what had brought it about, she didn’t show herself immediately. No, she remained unobserved at the threshold to savor the wonder of it—peace and hope—and reacquaint her eyes with the masculine beauty that was Lucas Beaumont. 

Tonight she found him more appealing, she didn’t know why nor had she thought it possible. His face hadn’t changed; not his square jaw that was shadowed by midday or his talented lips and tongue that must have been designed to give a woman infinite pleasure. His physique was the same as she’d last seen it. His broad shoulders, narrow hips and muscled arms and thighs elevated his bespoke garments to a work of art. 

Dear Lord, it was all she could do not to drag him to her room and ravish him six days to Sunday. What fun they would have and the peaks they would achieve. She could practically feel his hands on her and hers on him. 

Catherine shook her head clear of the lurid thoughts that threatened to inflame her already overheated senses and entered the room. She would say nothing about the men’s sudden cordiality. In its infancy, it may be too fragile for any overt comment or speculation. But it was difficult to behave as though nothing had changed. 

Immediately Lucas turned to her and pinned her with a heated stare. Her breath got caught somewhere in the vicinity of her chest unable to make it up to her throat. For an unguarded moment, lust burned in his eyes. And then as if realizing they weren’t alone, he schooled his features so that no one could accuse him of lascivious intent if one were to solely base it on the way he watched her. 

“Hello, Lucas.” Her face heated knowing the lasciviousness of his intent no matter how well he was able to hide it. 

“Catherine,” he replied, his voice rough around the edges. 

Good heavens, she’d never blushed so much in her entire life. When Lucas was about, she began acting like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. It was embarrassing. It was exhilarating. She truly needed to stop and pull herself together. 

He advanced swiftly toward her and she did the same, gapping the distance between them in seconds. Up close, she caught and inhaled the familiar woodsy scent of his cologne. He took her bare hand in his and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss. 

The pleasure of his touch—that mouth, those lips—emanated from her insides. Her skin prickled with heat. All too aware that her brother-in-law silently watched their greeting, she desperately endeavored to stem her physical response for she could not hide it completely. 

“You look lovely,” Lucas murmured, lifting his head and lowering her hand. He took his time finally releasing it. 

“I—” Catherine cleared her throat and swallowed before attempting to speak again. “As do you—that is I mean you look quite dashing.” What on earth was the matter with her beyond the simple fact, she wasn’t acting herself? 

A slow, wicked smile spread across his countenance. He knew precisely what he did to her. 

But it was high time she reverted back to the Catherine she knew and was most comfortable with. She turned to Alex. “Charlotte is not here yet?” 

“She’s tending to Nicholas. He couldn’t wait to see Mr. Beaumont and escaped Jillian only three-quarters dressed.” 

Catherine tittered. 

“But we are here now,” her sister announced from the doorway, her hand clutching her son’s. 

A
n hour later, Jillian came and took Nicholas to bed and the small dinner party repaired to the dining room.

Supper consisted of four courses, which kept them at the table for the next two hours. Catherine wouldn’t say that Lucas and her brother-in-law conversed easily throughout. No both were too guarded for that. But they got on well enough, discussing things like the war in America and the escalating price of steel and precious metals. She wondered at the sudden change in Alex. Later, she would have to ask her sister what she had done to bring it about. 

That opportunity came after the dinner dishes had been cleared away. The men went off to the drawing room to partake in a glass of port. Her sister hustled her off to the morning room, closed the door, and then turned to her, a triumphant smile on her face. 

“Pray, what did you say to Alex?” Catherine asked, before her sister could say a word. 

“I told him that he was to be civil to Lucas.” 

It couldn’t have been that easy. “That well went far beyond civility. I daresay his manners bordered on amicable. I don’t believe I saw him scowl once.” 

Her sister chuckled and strode over to her. “Very well, it may have been a bit more than that.” 

This she wanted to hear. 

Looping her arm through Catherine’s, Charlotte crossed the wood floors to the sofa and pulled her down beside her. 

“My husband is—was dreadfully resentful of Lucas.” 

“That is an understatement,” Catherine said wryly. 

Her sister smiled ruefully. “Yes, I suppose it is. You remember what it was like when I returned. Alex was so angry, so bitter. I would have done anything to prove my love for him, which is why I asked Lucas to leave.” 

Catherine stilled and stared at her twin. “You asked him to leave where?” she asked, not fully comprehending what her sister meant.