His Wicked Seduction

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Horatia pressed two slim fingers to her temples as the bouncing form of her younger sister flitted past, distracting her from her latest book. It was not the way a young lady ought to behave, but trying to stop Audrey was like trying to command a storm. Horatia attempted to concentrate on the words, but between Audrey’s chaotic squirming and memories of this morning’s incident, she couldn’t. The remnants of her fear tasted bitter in her mouth. She despised herself for being so weak as to let such anxieties rule her. One minute she’d been enjoying a walk, and the next there were horses screaming, curricle wheels spinning and icy cold water soaking her to the bone as she hit the pavement.

It was like her childhood all over again. Death had struck out at her without warning, and like last time, she’d been spared. But the event had awakened old fears. As before, Lucien had saved her life. He would never know how alive she’d felt when he’d knocked her back into the snow in the alley or how her heart had thrashed like a wild bird against her ribcage. His hard body above hers, pressing down onto her—he’d been so close she’d glimpsed shards of green embedded in the brown of his eyes like a dark forest beckoning her. Any fear she might have had at being trampled was swept away by the confusing wave of heat she’d felt when Lucien shifted above her, their hips and chests pressed together. Surely she’d nearly been compromised. If someone of note had seen Lucien on top of her it would have been scandalous.

She would never forget Lucien’s face or his fierce, protective response. But that protectiveness was no match for her brother’s, who’d rushed upstairs to check on her as soon as he’d heard. He had shown them a letter containing a vague threat about carriage accidents. Cedric was ready to pack the pair off to France and change their names to protect them. It had taken every ounce of diplomacy she possessed to convince him that she and Audrey were safer here.

“Oh Horatia, cheer up! Cedric said we will have a dinner party tonight with the League!” Her cinnamon eyes were intent upon her older sister’s face. Audrey mistook Horatia’s brooding for unhappiness and not the concern that it was.

“Audrey—cease that infernal bouncing.” Horatia’s tone was sharper than she intended. She bowed her head, fingers pressing deeper into her temples as her frayed nerves sparked with pain. She looked up to see the smile on Audrey’s face drop. “And stop calling them the League. You sound like that dreadful Lady Society in the Quizzing Glass.”

“I’m sorry, Horatia, I just …” Audrey stammered, a pinprick of a tear in the corner of her eye. “With all that’s happened today, I just wanted to cheer you up.” She turned and slipped from the room, her energetic bounce gone.

Horatia started to go after her. “Audrey, wait—” Horatia stopped and sank back onto her chaise, her head still aching.

A moment later her lady’s maid, Ursula, strode in. “What’s all this now? That poor girl looked ready to weep for a week.” Ursula was in her early forties, a plump but attractive woman with a threading of gray in her blond hair. She’d been with the Sheridan family for ten years and was the closest thing to a motherly figure Horatia had.

“She was acting like a child, so I snapped at her. I tried to apologize.” Horatia only partially defended herself. She was at fault here, not Audrey. Her temper should never cause harm to others.

“And what put you in such an indelicate mood I wonder? I know the accident must have frightened you, but Lord Rochester was there and you’re no worse for wear, are you?” Ursula went to the tall armoire and started searching for a gown to dress Horatia in this evening.

It was one of the many things about Ursula that Horatia admired—her ability to treat situations and problems with a cool rational mind, rather than an emotional one. Now that she’d determined Horatia had mistreated Audrey out of her own bad temper, she would no doubt discern what had upset Horatia, then decide upon a course of advice to give.

“No, you’re right. I’m fine. A bit rattled, but it could have been worse,” Horatia said.

In truth she was panicked about Lucien coming to dinner tonight. When she’d encountered the Marquess of Rochester this morning, well…it had been explosive. His touch, his gaze, his warm breath on her cheeks, all of it had lit a fire in the pit of her belly that refused to go out. If only they could have remained so close…

She couldn’t help but dream about where it might have led. Would he have dared to kiss her? Of course he would, her inner voice replied, he’s a rake. Had they been alone, he might have taken advantage of the situation and by God she would have let him.

It was a blessing he normally seemed determined to avoid her. Yet she couldn’t help wanting to see him now, to catch his scent when he stood close to her, or the brush of their hands at breakfast when they both reached for the eggs.

As irrational as it was, she even craved the hungry way he looked at her with those smoldering eyes, lust simmering just below their hazel surface. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her palms slickened with sweat.

Ursula pulled out a violet colored gown with dark Parma slippers for Horatia to wear. “Your new Christmas gown was ruined after all, I’m afraid. No woman could be in a good mood after that sort of tragedy.” Ursula’s tone was half teasing. The other half was sarcastic.

“Yes, it is a pity about the gown.”

The gown was a loss, but she could live with it. It was the sort of everyday drama one was prepared for. What she hadn’t been prepared for was Lucien. Horatia had dug her fingers into his chest and stared up at him, oblivious to the cold of the ground. His gaze had been wild. It terrified her, to see the sudden change in his demeanor. It was a side of him she’d never seen.

She’d been forced to face the truth that there were things about him she didn’t know. Secrets and passions ruled him. Is that why the men in the League were so close? Did they share something she couldn’t understand? Was that why Lucien kept his distance? Maybe he wasn’t in control of his passions. Maybe that’s why he avoided her.

But I’m not the sort of woman who would test a man’s control. Her inner voice chided her for being so foolish as to think she’d present a temptation for Lucien. She was no seductress. All he needed to do was crook one long finger and she’d come running. Pathetic, but true. It was a mercy she didn’t seem to be worth the effort to seduce.

She let Ursula dress her. When she had finished, Horatia walked out of her room and towards the stairs. A black and white cat strolled into view, its yellow eyes wide and a dead mouse hanging limp between its teeth.

“Muff! You know better than to bring your presents inside!”

She darted after the cat. Muff ran down the stairs and past the main door into an unused parlor. The cat slipped between the marble fireplace and the fire grate, vanishing from sight, along with its prize.

“Oh honestly,” Horatia growled as she pulled back the grate.

Muff had disappeared up into the fireplace, possibly even the chimney. The dinner guests would be here soon and she couldn’t risk getting covered in soot. Luckily no servants would light the fire in this room tonight. Hopefully the cat would have enough sense to vacate the chimney before morning.

Muff was one of a pair of cats residing at the Sheridan townhouse on Curzon Street. The other cat, Mittens, was a black female. Cedric had bought them for Audrey as a Christmas present when she’d been a child. She’d also been given a pair of mittens and a muff, and had naturally named her cats the same. But that was the sort of thing Audrey would do back then.

The felines were quite ancient now. Horatia dreaded the day she’d find one or both of them passed away. They were her faithful companions, guardians of the library, defenders of the kitchen.

Horatia was more reserved and subdued than Audrey. She had few friends and often spent her days reading or riding. The cats would join her in a window seat or a chair and curl their tails around their bodies, purring with unconditional love. Being around them she forgot her troubles, forgot that she desired a man who was nothing but cold to her.

The front door knocker rapped. Audrey flew past the open study door, her face beaming with excitement. It seemed her sister had recovered from her scolding. Horatia hesitated before joining her in the hall. She knew Lucien would be there, and as always, she was torn between wanting to see him and dreading his callous disregard of her. Taking a deep breath, she went out to meet her guests.

Her eyes always found Lucien first. Among the group of handsome men standing in the hall, he alone enraptured her. With dark red hair just long enough to curl above his collar and burning hazel eyes, he was temptation personified. Horatia would happily fall at his feet and offer her body, heart and soul to him as tribute. But he’d reject her, just as he always did.

Lucien’s gaze fixed on her while the rest of the crowd headed towards the drawing room. He remained still, tracking her every breath, every move. The gleam in his eyes startled her as a flash of heat went from her breasts down between her legs. Her face flushed. Lucien answered with a cold smile, as though he knew exactly what he’d done to her.

Lucien offered her his arm, and she hesitated only a moment before crossing the hall and dropping her fingers onto his sleeve. He tucked her arm more firmly in his, the warmth of his fingers burning her skin. She glanced about, wondering if anyone would notice, but no eyes looked her way. Unable to resist, she leaned into him, settling her arm in the crook of his, relishing the warmth where their bodies touched.

“Shall we?” Lucien’s voice was soft and dark. A tone more suited for the bedroom than the hall.

Her throat went dry, but she managed a shaky nod.

After dinner Lucien and the other men opted to play whist, but he couldn’t focus on the cards. The ladies in the far corner of the room had his attention. Ursula, one of the Sheridan girls’ lady’s maid sat in a chair, reading from a thick tome, oblivious to her young charges. Horatia and Audrey sat on either side of Emily, the young Duchess of Essex. Emily and Horatia were clad in shimmering gowns, while Audrey’s was a light pink muslin. Their heads bent close as they whispered, making him think of three fairies who escaped from the court of Queen Mab in Romeo and Juliet. Occasionally one shot a glance at the men before returning to their secretive conversation.

Lucien would have paid anything to be a fly nestled on the wall close to them—to better see Horatia’s lips part and form each word, just as much as he’d love to have those lips wrapped around his aching shaft, sucking him to sweet oblivion.

Christ. Lucien forced his gaze away from her.

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” Charles asked him.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one dying of curiosity.

“God, I wish I knew,” he admitted truthfully, just as Audrey broke into a fit of giggles.

Charles waggled his fingers at Audrey and blew her a kiss. Audrey blushed and quickly turned her back on them.

“You ought not to encourage her, Charles. She’s young and impressionable.” Lucien remembered all too well the perils of having a lovesick child follow him about.

“What is there to encourage? The little sprite hasn’t the least bit of interest in me.” Charles smiled wryly. He leaned back in his chair in a picture of relaxed ease.

“What? Are you sure? I always thought maybe she…” Lucien trailed off when he noticed Audrey’s head turn in a very definite direction, and it wasn’t towards Charles.

“Oh dear,” Lucien kept his voice low. Audrey clearly had eyes for Godric’s half-brother, Jonathan.

“Oh dear, indeed. We best watch out for fireworks. Cedric will rip Jonathan to pieces.” The smug look on Charles’s face nearly made Lucien laugh.

“You want him to get caught, don’t you?”

Charles yawned. “This month has been a dead bore as you well know. After Tisdale gave his notice I just haven’t been out as much unless it’s with you. Watching Cedric chase Jonathan about town over Audrey’s honor would certainly entertain me.”

Lucien’s humor fizzled. If Cedric ever found out that he wanted Horatia—in ways that would bring a blush to a courtesan’s cheeks—Lucien was a dead man.

When the men finished their game of whist and downed the last of the brandy, they decided the evening was at last over.

“That’s enough for me.” Godric turned towards the ladies. “Come along, Em. Time to depart.”

Emily didn’t spare her husband a glance. She had one hand on Horatia’s shoulder and another on Audrey’s while she spoke to the pair of them in a huddle. None of the men really bothered trying to figure out what women whispered about. Lucien guessed it would always remain one of life’s mysteries, like why a woman needed countless bonnets when they were such ugly and useless things. It was a damned nuisance trying to untie yards of unnecessary ribbons in order to touch a woman’s hair while he was kissing her.

“That’s an unholy alliance if I ever saw one,” Cedric noted.

The Sheridan sisters were trouble enough, but adding Emily was like a lit match near a very large powder keg.

“I’d best collect my wife before she causes trouble,” Godric replied.

Lucien didn’t miss Godric’s pleased tone as he had said ‘wife.’

Godric stood, then walked quietly over and plucked her away from the group, scooping her up into his arms.

“Godric!” Emily kicked her feet in outrage. “Put me down at once!”

“I don’t think so, my dear. It’s time I put you to bed.” Godric bent his head low so his face was inches from hers.

“Oh if you must.” She tried to sound reluctant, but there was a breathless quality to her voice that fooled no one. For a moment, Lucien was struck with a sharp sense of envy. If Horatia weren’t related to his friend, he would have been carrying her out the door in the same fashion, to find the nearest bed.

“Good night, everyone!” Godric called over his shoulder as he and Emily left the drawing room.

Cedric shook his head, but his eyes glinted with merriment. “By the way they act I swear you’d never know they were married.”

“They are indeed fortunate,” Ashton said. “To be so in love that marriage is a blessing rather than a burden.”

“Perhaps we ought to leave as well?” Jonathan cast a nervous glance in Audrey’s direction, who stared right at him mischievously. He had been staying at Ashton’s townhouse to give the newlyweds some time to themselves before he moved in with them. Godric had settled an unentailed estate upon Jonathan, but had put it in trust until his brother was ready to settle down and run the property himself. Until that time, Jonathan would live with Godric and his new wife.

“After you, Jonathan.” Ashton inclined his head to Lucien, Charles and Cedric, and bid the Sheridan ladies good night before departing with Jonathan.

Cedric looked hopefully at his remaining companions.

“You are both welcome to stay the night.”

Charles agreed at once. “I’ll send word to my valet.”

Lucien, however, was reluctant.

Cedric’s eager smile faltered. “I’ll understand if you wish to decline, Lucien, but I do hope you will stay. After receiving that letter about coach accidents, it would be good to have a few of us keeping watch.”

His friend looked so earnest that Lucien didn’t have the heart to desert him. “Very well, then.”

“Excellent,” Charles and Cedric chimed in unison.

Lucien felt as though he’d made a grave error in judgment and would soon pay dearly for it. Still he would rather be here protecting Horatia. She was safer with her brother, himself and Charles keeping watch. Then again, she wasn’t protected from every threat. Lucien felt the desire to slip into her bedroom tonight and crawl into her bed, pinning her beneath him and…

Damnation. Being in the same house with Horatia for an entire night was both his greatest temptation and his worst nightmare.