An Invitation to Sin (22 page)

It had been tempting to sneak off and kiss him again, because she could get very used to being with him. Thank goodness he'd insulted her with his worry over being discovered with her; she thought she'd made it perfectly clear that she didn't want a long-term companion. And she certainly didn't want to be his mistress. It was a perfect non-relationship, as long as they both remembered that that was exactly what it was.

He was easy to find as she entered the large ballroom. All she had to do was seek out the largest concentration of marriageable females and there he was in the middle of them.

"Oh, look at that Lydia Reynolds," Anne muttered, stopping beside her, "fluttering her eyes at Zachary. She looks like a barn owl."

"Anne, be charitable," Caroline returned. "It's not as though we aren't guilty of the same behavior."

" 'We'?" her sister repeated. "
Me
, perhaps, but not you." Anne tugged her closer. "May I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"We all drew names two nights ago to decide which gentleman we would approach. Mine was George Bennett."

"I like Mr. Bennett." The magistrate's son at least had a sense of humor, and he was quite pleasant on the eyes.

"Yes, but I'm turning my aim elsewhere."

Caroline frowned a little. "You aren't going to poach Martin Williams."

"Heavens, no. Susan can have him." Anne leaned closer still. "Since everyone's attention is going to be elsewhere, I'm going to approach Lord Zachary."

The muscles in Caroline's abdomen clenched. "I thought he'd made it clear that he is not going to marry a Witfeld girl," she said, surprised at the ugly, tight feeling.

Anne shrugged. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life in Wiltshire any more than you do."

"What does that mean?"

Pulling her arm free, Anne sketched a curtsy. "I don't know yet. We'll have to wait and see."

Oh, dear
. Caroline gazed after her sister as Anne strolled across the room to join the gaggle around Zachary. Caroline's first thought was that she needed to warn him: Anne only needed to compromise herself in his presence and propriety would demand a marriage. Caroline had come within a hair's breadth of having that very thing happen to her that afternoon herself.

"Caroline," her mother crowed, grabbing her daughter's arm, "isn't it wonderful? I've outdone myself. Everyone will be talking about the Witfeld soiree for the rest of the Season."

"I don't doubt it, Mama. You've done wonders."

"Mr. Henneker tried to give me orange lilies at the last moment, but I told him that would never do. It turned out he was trying to save the yellow ones for a soiree at Granston.
They
will be having the orange ones now, I imagine."

Caroline made herself smile, though most of her attention remained on Anne as her sister took Zachary's arm and said something that had him laughing. Blast it all, she didn't like it. And not simply because Anne's plan, whatever it was, seemed terribly underhanded.

Zachary meant not to marry, for one thing, and they all knew it. For another, he had just begun a new project, and though he'd apparently done this same thing before, Caroline very much wanted him to succeed this time. If Anne trapped him into marriage, he would probably run off to the army just to escape the dismay of his powerful family. Even worse, he might fall in love with Anne and stay in Wiltshire, so that whenever Caroline came to visit, she would have to see them together.

"Caroline? You look pale. Poor dear, you've been working so hard." Her mother patted her cheek.

"Yes, I'm a bit tired," Caroline improvised, "but I'll manage. So tell me, Mama, are you going to dance tonight?"

Sally Witfeld giggled. "Heavens, no. I won't stand up with a single gentleman when all of my daughters are seeking husbands."

"I'm not seeking a husband."

"Of course you aren't, dear. But if one should come along…"

Her mother left the sentence hanging as she minced over to welcome Lord and Lady Eades to the soiree. Caroline backed up against the wall so she could watch the guests enter. Martin Williams arrived with his mother on his arm, and Susan immediately approached, said something, then led them toward the refreshment table. So her greeting was either Zachary's number one or number three suggestion for conversation, since both of those had concerned food. And it apparently worked—or at least it didn't send Martin screaming into the night this time.

One by one her sisters found a single gentleman— undoubtedly the bachelor each had drawn by lot—and engaged him in conversation. Even Anne at least had a punch with George Bennett. It was so nice seeing them behaving like young ladies rather than a crazed mob of banshees. Zachary had performed a genuine miracle.

Despite her stated lack of interest in continuing her intimate contact with Zachary, Caroline couldn't keep her gaze from straying to him again. He wore dark gray with a gray-and-green-striped waistcoat, and a single onyx pin through his cravat. Warm desire twined its leisurely way down her spine. He'd promised her more than what they could do in twenty minutes, though she'd never felt as excited and aroused and fulfilled in her life. To think that that had only been a taste—the idea left her mouth dry and her heart pounding.

Thank goodness he would be leaving soon. His aunt still needed to travel to Bath, and he'd posed for her portrait as he'd promised. If he was serious about Dimidius and a cattle-breeding project, he and her father could correspond to their hearts' content. But staying in Wiltshire—she couldn't imagine him doing so for two minutes longer than he had to. And neither, of course, would she.

"Miss Witfeld."

She curtsied at the nasal drawl. "Lady Eades. Lord Eades."

"Your mother says you finished your portrait project," the countess continued. "I presume you decided to use Lord Zachary for your submission?"

"I did. Thank you for your interest."

"Yes, well, I hope you don't think we are willing to wait indefinitely for you to accept the generous position we've offered you," the earl put in. "When will you receive an answer?"

"It may be a fortnight or more. They will inform me of the schedule once they receive my application." She also wanted to inform them that she had no intention of accepting their offer, but even if she left Wiltshire her family would remain behind. There was no sense in angering the local aristocracy just because the thought of being a governess horrified her. "I do appreciate your patience," she continued, curtsying. "If you'll excuse me?"

As she turned around, she slammed into a broad gray-and-green-clothed chest. Reflexively she grabbed Zachary's lapels, while his arms slid easily around her hips.

"Beg pardon," he said, grinning.

Flushing, she pulled out of his grip. "I should have been looking."

"I
was
looking," he returned more quietly. "You take my breath away."

"That's because I ran into you," she said, giving in to a grin. "You'll recover."

Zachary chuckled. "Very clever. I don't suppose you left me a spot on your dance card?"

Her dance card was completely blank. "Don't you think you should dance with our guests?"

"I'm a guest. And I want to dance with you. You already agreed, remember? Give over your card." He held out his hand.

With a sigh she gave it to him, a shiver running down her spine as their fingers brushed. Heavens, was it going to be like this with him from now on? Half of her hoped so.
Delicious
.

Gazing down at the card, he glanced up at her from beneath his dark lashes. "I want them all," he whispered.

Warm heat started between her legs, and her bodice began to feel too tight. "You would cause a riot."

With a slow breath he scribbled his name on one of the lines. "It occurs to me that tonight should be in your honor," he said. "You've accomplished so much."

"I haven't accomplished anything yet."

Zachary handed the card back. "You've done everything you can. We'll send the portrait off tomorrow, and then the next step is up to Monsieur Tannberg. And you should be proud of yourself, Caroline. Aside from the fact that the portrait is stunning, you found a dream and have taken the road to realizing it."

Because she didn't quite think she could meet his dark gaze any longer, she looked down at her card. "The last waltz?"

A slow, sensuous smile curved his mouth. "Anticipation," he murmured and, with a slight bow, vanished back into the crowd.

She'd done it. She'd gotten an invitation to a studio, had accepted the entrance criteria, had fulfilled them, and was about to send in the best work she'd ever done. The rest was up to the hopefully professional eye of Monsieur Tannberg.

"Another dance that long, and I shall be dead," Frank Anderton said breathlessly, leading her back to her busy mother.

"The musicians likely feel the same way," Caroline answered the solicitor, grinning.

The next dance after the orchestra rested would be the evening's last waltz, and her smile had been appearing with increasing frequency for the last hour. Very well, she could admit it. She was excited. She did anticipate being in Zachary's arms again, even if it was fully clothed and in front of a hundred guests.

At the moment, though, he didn't seem to be feeling any of the same yearning she did. Rather, he stood talking with Anne and George Bennett. From their expressions, she couldn't tell which gentleman found her sister more charming. She knew quite well which man Anne favored.

"I'm going for a breath of air," she said abruptly, tugging on her mother's sleeve.

"Don't be long, dear," Sally said absently, barely pausing in her chat with Mrs. Williams and Harriet Caldwell.

Although guests wandered about everywhere, the hallway and music room were at least a little cooler than the ballroom. Caroline paced to the library and back. She was not jealous of Anne. It was only that Zachary seemed to be making a genuine effort to change his life, and it wasn't fair for Anne to even contemplate ruining that for him. Of course Anne probably wasn't thinking about Zachary or his future as much as she was planning her own.

"I have no idea," she heard a female voice say from around the corner in front of her. "Perhaps it was a family pet."

A nasal male chuckle followed. "Or perhaps they wanted to honor the creature before making him into a rooster stew."

"Look over here," a third voice drawled, "she's painted the family dog."

Caroline froze. She recognized two of the voices—Lord and Lady Eades. The third voice sounded like Vincent Powell, another of the local gentry.

"Are those her sisters? They look like six daughters of King Lear."

They'd asked her to make them look Shakespearean
. Letting them dress up in their great-grandmother's old clothes had been the only way she'd been able to convince them to pose together for her.

"Did you hear that she's applied to a portrait studio?"

More laughter. "Hopefully they'll have dogs and roosters as clients."

Oh, that wasn't fair. She sketched and painted everything that she could. It was her father who'd decided to hang some of her work in the hallway.

"Poor girl. She's not a great talent, though she does try hard. We offered her a position teaching Theodore and our other children, but she seems to think she'll actually be going to Vienna."

"Pardon me," another low voice came, and Caroline's breath caught.
Zachary
.

"My lord. We were just admiring some of Miss Witfeld's artwork. Very quaint, don't you think?"

"Not so much quaint," he returned without pause, "as showing incredible talent." She heard him step forward. "Do you realize she painted that rooster when she was fourteen?"

"But it's a rooster."

"Charles Collins once painted a lobster, and John Wootton frequently painted dogs. And not nearly as well as Miss Witfeld does."

"You're an expert in art, then?"

"I spent six months in Paris, studying under a master. I don't have the natural talent, though, that Miss Witfeld obviously does."

"She painted a portrait of my wife and me as Egyptian pharaohs," Lord Eades said begrudgingly in his nasal voice.

"She did a portrait of me with my prize bull," Mr. Powell seconded in a more courteous tone of his own.

"I'd keep them safe," Zachary said coolly. "They may be worth a small fortune some day. But speaking of prize bulls, Mr. Powell, what do you know about Edmund Witfeld's cattle breeding program?"

She could feel the hesitation in the air. They wanted to make fun of her father but didn't dare do so in Zachary's presence.
Good
,

"Ah, not a great deal. He has a cow he's always bragging about."

"A cow that could be the beginning of something very large. Would you and Lord Eades care to meet with us tomorrow morning? If money's to be made, I would prefer that Wiltshire benefit from it before I go farther afield."

She listened while they practically fell over one another to agree to the meeting. Then, realizing they might round the corner at any moment, she abruptly turned around and hurried back down the hall. So that was what the local gentry thought of her—she was as eccentric as her father, someone to be humored to her face and ridiculed when her back was turned.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Caroline."

Flinching, she nearly ran into the wall. "Oh, Zachary. I was just taking a breath of—"

Zachary put a hand over her mouth. "You heard those idiots, didn't you?" he whispered.

She pulled his hand down. "I don't know what you're—"

"No,
they
didn't know what they were talking about. I doubt any of them have ever been to a museum or gallery, much less studied art. Don't let their ignorance upset you."

"I'm not upset," she lied.

He continued gazing at her, their hands still entwined.

"It's just that I know how they make fun of my father sometimes," she blurted, not certain why she felt the need to confide in him, or the trust to do so. "It… hurt, a little, to realize that they say the same things about me."

"Hm. As far as I'm concerned, they can keep saying them, because you'll be in Vienna laughing at their sorry little lives."

A smile touched Caroline's mouth. "You're nicer than I gave you credit for."

"Me?" Both eyebrows lifting, he put his free hand to his chest. "I'm a hardened rake or some such thing."

"I've been thinking about that, too. You aren't a rake at all."

His brows lowered. "I'm not?"

"No. I don't think you set out to seduce women. I think you're just so pleasant and charming and considerate that they all fall at your feet without your even realizing it."

He drew her a little closer. "Have you fallen at my feet, then, Caroline?"

Oh, dear
. "I was referring to my sisters."

"I thought so." Zachary leaned down and kissed her, slow and soft and warm.

For a moment she closed her eyes, drinking in the sensation. The orchestra began playing again, though, and reality and logic returned with a bump. "Stop that," she hissed, shoving at his chest. "You wouldn't want someone to catch us."

"Neither would you. Come dance with me." He caught her hand again, this time placing it over his dark gray sleeve.

"How did you come to be in the hallway, anyway?" she asked as they returned to the ballroom.

"I was looking for you."

Accompanied by the same lifting sensation she felt when they kissed, Caroline was swept into the waltz. For a horrifying moment she wondered whether everyone could see in her expression how much she liked dancing with him, and whether they would realize that the waltz wasn't the only thing she'd done in his arms. As she glanced about the room, though, it swiftly became clear that no one was even looking at her. No, all eyes—especially the female ones—were trained on her dance partner.

"You never said you studied art for six months in Paris," she ventured after a moment.

"I didn't study at all in Paris. Not formally. Lying about my background seemed the least combative way to make them see my point."

"Did you know I was listening?"

"No."

His gaze held hers, warm and sincere. He'd become so much more than she'd realized; or rather, she'd discovered so much more about him than she had expected. "So you weren't trying to gain my gratitude."

Zachary chuckled. "My love," he whispered, tilting his forehead against hers as they danced, "I've already been inside you. I don't need your gratitude."

She swallowed, her mouth dry.

"What I want is your respect, Caroline. Because I have a great deal of respect for you."

Unexpectedly she had to stifle the sudden desire to kiss him again. She bit her lower lip, trying to shake herself out of that very troubling thought. "I do respect you," she finally said.

"Not if everything I do still surprises you."

Zachary Griffin was definitely more astute than she'd originally given him credit for. Perhaps he was right; she did feel grateful, since after all she wouldn't have a very good chance at a position in Vienna if not for him. But respect? A few days ago she'd told him he was a waste of air. If he'd wanted to punish her for that, though, there were myriad ways he could have done so before this moment.

"It surprises me less and less," she conceded."

"That's something, I suppose." He didn't sound offended—though he didn't sound overjoyed, either.

"Now that you've fulfilled your promise to me, I suppose you'll be leaving for Bath," she said, mostly to change the subject. The sooner he left, the better for her equilibrium. She'd wanted to be with him, but she certainly hadn't expected to continue to desire him afterwards. It was a complication she didn't need.

"Actually, Aunt Tremaine and I are going to stay for another week or two," he returned smoothly. She had a suspicion that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and that troubled her immensely.

"You are? Why?"

"Are you in a hurry to be rid of us?"

"No. Of course not. It's just… why would you want to stay in Wiltshire if you're not obligated to do so?"

"Several reasons," he said. "One of which is Dimidius."

"Yes, I heard you recruiting Lord Eades and Mr. Powell. You were serious, then?"

"Extremely serious. And the more I read of your father's notes about how he came to breed Dimidius, the more interested I am. I think that by luck he may have stumbled onto something that farmers and breeders have been attempting to do for decades."

"But he just bred a Guernsey cow with a South Devon bull."

"The cow wasn't pure Guernsey. It's more complicated than that. And so, unless you ask me to leave, I would like to stay and figure this out, and maybe begin an expanded breeding program to see if I can reproduce your father's results." Zachary gazed at her for a long moment. "Unless you ask me to leave," he repeated.

He was leaving it up to her. And with every ounce of her being she wanted to ask him to go away and allow her to simplify what was becoming a very complicated life. "If you're serious about your interest in the cattle, then I think you should stay," she heard herself say.

"I'm serious about my interest," he returned, that slow smile of his appearing again and making her heart flip-flop. "Very serious."

'Twice the milk, Witfeld? You can't be serious." Vincent Powell kicked the toe of his boot against the paddock fencing.

"I measured the average amount of milk given by six of my milk cows against that of Dimidius. Twice is a solid figure." The Witfeld patriarch spoke calmly enough, but after what Zachary had overheard last night he had a fairly good idea how the neighbors viewed Edmund's inventions, and how aware Witfeld was of that fact. That made this morning's conversation very interesting for more than one reason. "And it's a rich quality, too. Ideal for butter and cream on the best tables in Bath and London."

"I hardly—"

Zachary stepped forward. "I've seen his research," he interrupted. "It looks valid. I'm willing to risk my pocket-book on it, in fact. I'm not asking you to do that. All I need is your cooperation and some of your time."

"For what, pray tell?" Lord Eades asked, reluctance written in the stiff line of his back and the arms folded across his chest.

"I propose to supply you with animals, to be fed and bred as per my and Edmund's instructions. Before I do so, I need your word that these animals won't be sold to market, or slaughtered, or used for anything but the stated purpose of perfecting a new breed of dairy cows."

"And how long are we supposed to go along with this?"

Zachary took a breath. He'd only had time for some very preliminary calculations and figures, but of course the local farmers expected him to have answers. If he didn't, or if he said something blatantly wrong, the entire plan would fold before it ever began. "It can't be a short-term program," he said slowly, making every effort to demonstrate the famous Griffin confidence. "In order to maintain control over the progress of the breeding, I am willing to provide one hundred percent monetary support for the next five years. At that time we should have enough of a breeding population to assess whether it will be profitable to continue or not."

"Five years," Powell repeated, glancing at Eades.

"I mean to bring in at least four more local farmers to supplement the program and to prevent inbreeding," Zachary continued. "But I spoke with Edmund, and he wanted your support first, because the community will follow as the two of you lead." He had no idea if that was true or not, but it sounded good.