An Invitation to Sin (23 page)

"You're talking about a great deal of money, my lord."

Zachary smiled. "I have a great deal of money."

Both men turned to view Dimidius again as she happily nuzzled into a large bucket of oats, her calf beside her. She was fairly attractive as cows went, large and healthy looking, a mottled white and red with a complacent temperament.

"All right, Lord Zachary," Eades said, offering his hand. "You have a deal. But we expect to reap a percentage of any profits that result from our participation."

Zachary shook it. "You will. I promise you that. And Zachary is fine."

He shook Powell's hand, as well, and stepped back to encourage the two men to include Witfeld. Once everyone had agreed and shaken hands, Zachary pulled a bottle of whiskey and some glasses from inside a wagon bed where he'd hidden them. 'To seal our partnership," he said with a grin.

"You are a good lad, Zachary," Powell said, smiling. "When do we begin?"

Now came the hard part. "I have a few area farms to visit, to check on their stock, so I would say the animals will begin arriving within the next fortnight, and quite possibly sooner."

"Excellent."

Witfeld poured a generous amount of whiskey into each glass, then raised his. 'To Dimidius."

Zachary and his new partners lifted their glasses, as well. He, at least, felt like he needed a drink. 'To Dimidius."

"All right, you may look now."

Zachary blinked, looking up from the legal manual he'd borrowed from Frank Anderton. After all, if he was going to go through all of this, he wanted some assurance that one of his farmer assistants couldn't take a cow and sell all of their research without repercussion. "Beg pardon?"

Joanna put down her paintbrush and smoothed at her blue sprig muslin gown. "I said I've finished, and you may look at the portrait."

With a quickly hidden grimace, he stood. He'd forgotten that he was being painted yet again. "By the way, I neglected to ask how your evening with Mr. Thomas went."

"Oh, very well." She bounced on her toes. "He's taking me on a picnic tomorrow."

"Excellent. Then why are you painting
me
?"

"I'm not painting you. Not any longer."

Curious now, Zachary circled the makeshift easel to look at the painting. He blinked again, trying to clear his eyes. "That's a toga, is it not?"

"Yes. It began as you portraying the Greek god Apollo, but then when I drew John Thomas's name out of the basket I thought I should make him the subject."

"Of course. Good thinking." In truth, the head perched on the neckless toga-wearing figure with the horse-shaped legs could have been anyone from Prinny to the mad Emperor Nero, but from the size of the nose he was rather glad it wasn't supposed to be him. "Has Mr. Thomas seen it yet?"

"No. I thought I would present it to him at the picnic."

Wonderful
. "I think he will be very pleasantly surprised," Zachary said diplomatically. "I wager no one's ever troubled to paint him before."

"That was my thinking."

From Joanna's excited smile, he'd said the right thing. And at least she'd set her sights on someone aside from him.

"Ah, there you are," Caroline's sweet voice came, and his heart thudded.

"Good afternoon, Miss Witfeld," he said, facing the doorway.

"Good afternoon. I was just in Trowbridge, and ran into Mr. Anderton. He sent this along." She hefted a large, leather-bound legal volume. "He said it has more to do with racing carriages, but you might find some of it useful."

"In case we accidently breed racing cows?" he suggested, taking the book from her.

She snorted, covering her face with one hand. God, he adored when she did that.

"I think it had more to do with proprietary research and development. Would you like me to take a look?"

"Are you volunteering to assist me?" he asked, his fingers itching to brush a straying auburn hair from her face, to touch her soft skin.

"I have nearly a fortnight before I can expect to hear from Vienna," she returned. "I may as well attempt to repay you for your help by offering mine."

"I accept."

"If you two are finished trying to polite one another to death," Joanna said sarcastically, "come and look at my painting, Caro. It's John Thomas."

Caroline complied, the expression on her face absolutely still. "My goodness," she said after a moment, her voice, a little ragged at the edges, the only indication that Joanna's artwork amused her. "You've made a wonderful use of color. And your brush strokes are so delicate."

Joanna puffed up like a songbird. "You see? I could have been an artist too, if I'd chosen to do so."

"I don't doubt it."

"I'm going to go show Julia. She'll be terribly jealous, because she spilled punch on her gentleman, and I don't think he likes her."

Zachary watched Joanna and her painting out the door, then turned to Caroline. Mindful of the maid darning socks in the corner, Zachary surreptitiously reached over to run his finger across the back of Caroline's hand. "Thank you again for volunteering."

"I need to do something to keep from going mad while I wait to hear from Vienna."

He grinned. "Glad to be of service."

"Speaking of service," she returned, "how many more portraits are you posing for?"

He thought she'd been about to suggest they find somewhere private and resume their acquaintance. Trying to focus his thoughts again while ignoring the sudden discomfort to his nether regions was supremely difficult. "It began as four, but since the ball, most of them seem to have lost interest."

"That's good, isn't it?"

She spoke smoothly enough, but a thrill ran down his spine nevertheless.
She wasn't jealous, was she
? He didn't dare ask her aloud. Not when the best he could hope for was that she would want another anatomy lesson. "Not to show favoritism," he said, "but I have to say your work did most resemble me."

Caroline chuckled. 'Thank you, I think. Have you heard yet from your brother about whether he means to support the breeding program?"

"Not yet. He occasionally takes his time to make up his mind, but he'd be foolish not to be interested in this. And Melbourne is not a fool."

Flipping open the book on racing carriages, Caroline sank back in her chair. "What am I looking for?"

"Any precedents you can find on protecting research, I would think."

"Or on racing cows, of course."

Zachary smiled at her, gazing into her twinkling green eyes. He could become very used to this, he realized, just sitting at a table across from her and chatting. The thought made him uneasy, and he looked down again. "Definitely look into that, if you find it."

The Duke of Melbourne glanced from the disheveled stack of bills and letters to his younger brother. "I'm in the middle of something," he said, shoving the mess off his ledger book.

Shay continued reading his own letter. "I just wanted to know if Aunt mentioned cows, or if that was just Zach being… well, Zach."

With an annoyed frown, Sebastian found the missive in question and slit open the wax seal. "Far be it from me to stifle your curiosity," he returned and tossed it at his brother's head. "Read it to me."

Setting aside his own letter, Charlemagne unfolded their aunt's. He cleared his throat. "'Dear Melbourne,'" he read, doing a fair imitation of Aunt Tremaine's honeyed voice, " 'I'm pleased to tell you that the weather here in Wiltshire has been a delight. Caroline—the eldest Miss Witfeld, as I mentioned before—finished Zachary's portrait and has posted it to Charlemagne. Hopefully that rapscallion has sent it on to Vienna.' Well, that's very nice, isn't it? Of course I sent it on to Vienna."

"Continue," Sebastian ordered, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Fine. 'I believe Zachary has informed you of his new obsession—cows.'" Shay looked up at his brother. "There are so many things I'd like to say in response to that, Seb."

"Don't."

"You're an old stick, Melbourne."

Sebastian held out his hand. "Give me the damned letter."

"I'm reading, I'm reading. 'He's convinced six of the local farmers to participate, and tomorrow he's going north to Heddington to purchase two dozen or so cows in an attempt to repeat Edmund's initial results.'"

Shay continued reading a litany of which farmers Zachary had talked into assisting, but Sebastian missed most of it. Rather, he was absorbed with the idea that Zach might actually be serious. His youngest brother was famously persuasive, but he generally limited that skill to wagering or to convincing pretty young ladies to join him in his bed. When it came to projects—and lovers— Zachary preferred them short-term and simple.

This was different. He'd apparently gone out of his way to recruit assistance, and he'd done so without approval from his own bloody family.

"… burne? Sebastian?"

He shook himself. "What?"

"I think I'm getting to the good part. I didn't want you to miss it." Shay folded the letter against the crease to straighten it.

"I'm glad to hear there is a good part," Sebastian returned. He cared for his aunt, but for God's sake she could ramble. "Go on."

" 'I have decided to forgo Bath altogether and will remain here in Wiltshire indefinitely. Zachary has agreed to stay as well, at least until Caroline hears from the art studio in Vienna. You should commission a portrait from her, Melbourne. She is stunningly talented, and quite intelligent. Your brother has pressed her into service, as well, and she seems quite useful as an assistant.

" 'Please thank Shay for the book of poetry he sent along with Zachary, and inquire whether he minds if I pass it along to dear Caroline. I'm certain she, more than the rest of her sisters, will appreciate its merits. It's in fair condition except for the cover, which Harold ripped off. All my love to Peep, GT.'" Charlemagne handed the letter back. "Let her know she can do whatever she pleases with the book. Eloisa Harding presented me with another copy of it, anyway." He grinned. "And under some very romantic circumstances, I might add."

"Spare me the tales of your exploits, Shay," Melbourne said shortly, perusing the letter again. "Damnation."

"What's wrong? It's only a book. I'm just surprised he hasn't lost the dog yet."

Charlemagne might have a remarkable head for business, but he could be amazingly obtuse in other areas. "See what you can do to clear your calendar for the next fortnight or so," Sebastian returned, standing. "I want us to be in Wiltshire by the end of the week."

"Wiltshire? Why the devil are we going to Wiltshire?You don't think Zachary's serious about the blasted cows, do you?"

"It's not the cows I'm worried about. It's…" He flipped the letter over again. "It's 'stunningly talented, and quite intelligent' Caroline Witfeld. Damned Aunt Tremaine is matchmaking."

"But I thought you told Zachary to show some responsibility. It seems as though—"

Sebastian stopped halfway to the door. "I told him to get a dog," he snapped, and headed for the stairs.

From his aunt's frequent letters he knew quite well that the Witfelds had seven daughters with reputations for man-hungry silliness. In the face of that, combined with Aunt Tremaine's meddling, it made sense that Zachary's sudden and uncharacteristic interest in cattle breeding had been prompted by a female. Whether Zach was aware of the Witfeld chit's machinations or not, it had suddenly become very likely that in the process of meandering around the countryside looking at cows, he would find himself trapped into a disadvantageous marriage, and that romantically minded Aunt Tremaine might be hoping for that very thing.

Obviously she had counted on the distance between London and Wiltshire to provide her a safe cushion in which she could work her mischief between his brother and a gentleman farmer's daughter. Well, she'd miscalculated.

"You don't need me to go with you," Caroline said over her shoulder as she ascended the staircase toward the conservatory.

"I could certainly use a second opinion," Zachary returned, following close on her heels.

It was supposed to have been easy, she reflected. An afternoon of intimacy to gain a knowledge of male anatomy and to indulge a private fantasy she meant never to give in to again. Why, then, did her breathing constrict every time she was in the same room with Zachary Griffin, and why did her heart pound when he spoke to her in his low, quiet drawl? And why had she dreamed for four nights in a row that he'd shared her bed again, and that she had not only enjoyed it but also encouraged it?

"My father is your second opinion."

He caught her arm as she headed into the room. "Very well I want your company," he murmured, turning her to face him. "I would like to spend a day with you where I'm not frozen with one foot on a pillar."

"We spent two hours together in the library yesterday."

"Yes, we did. With a table and a stack of books and papers between us." Zachary let her go, but he walked to the bow windows rather than leaving again.
Damnation
. She made a show of going through some of her sketches. She would need to organize them next week to decide which ones she wanted to take with her to Vienna.

"I need to know something," he said after a moment.

Her muscles froze for the briefest of moments. "What is it you need to know?"

"First, look at me."

Caroline faced him, nonchalantly sweeping her arms behind her back so he wouldn't see that his intimate tone made her hands tremble. "Yes?"

His dark gray eyes were serious, and rather than approach her, he sank down on the padded window seat. "I'm going to be here for another few weeks," he said after a moment. "Are we going to spend that entire time across the room from one another?"

Her heart thudded. "Across the room? I hardly think—"

"You know what I mean, Caroline." Glancing toward the door, he lowered his voice still further. "I want you again. Do you want me?"

"Heavens," she said, grateful she could attribute the shake in her voice to shock rather than lust. Perhaps she could fool him, anyway. She certainly wasn't fooling herself. "I only asked you for an anatomy lesson."

With a low growl he pushed to his feet. Before she could move, he'd reached her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he pulled her forward and kissed her. It wasn't a tender or a flirtatious kiss this time. Rough, hard, and deep, it told her very clearly what he wanted, and how much he wanted it.

Her legs felt boneless, and she leaned into his hard body. Self-control, good intentions, logic—none of it mattered. She couldn't even remember why she'd decided that being with him only once was the wisest decision she could make. "Zachary," she breathed, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Zachary, are you ready?"

At the sound of her father's voice on the landing, she pushed away from Zachary, nearly sending him through the window, and her stumbling into a stack of paintings. Swiftly she turned around, putting her back to the door. If her father saw her face now, he would know everything. And if he knew, she'd never make it to Vienna. She would be forced to become Lady Caroline Griffin, and she'd have to hold tea parties and embroider her husband's initials in his handkerchiefs. With all his important Society acquaintances, she'd probably never have time to pick up a brush again even for her own amusement. As if it were amusement rather than sanity.

"I'll be right down," Zachary returned in a carrying voice. "Come, Caroline."

"I don't think so."

Zachary moved up behind her again. "Come spend the day with your father and me. The fresh air will do both of us good."

"The fresh air might be beneficial, but spending time with you couldn't possibly lead to anything good."

His hands slid along her shoulders. "I promise to be as discreet as you. And aside from that, you have some insight into the local gentry that I don't."

"My father—"

"Your father wants this project to succeed as much as I do. Help me."

She had no idea how he could so easily turn from a passionate kiss to his theories on cattle breeding. As for her, she still couldn't breathe.
Men
. "Oh, very well. But keep your distance."

He grinned as she moved past him to the doorway. "No promises."

Edmund Witfeld was waiting outside by the four-seater curricle as they left the house. Caroline hurried forward, intending to have her father rather than Zachary hand her into the carriage. Obviously the less physical contact she had with Zachary, the better for her peace of mind. It was only for another few days, she reminded herself. After that, he could wander about Wiltshire flirting to his heart's content, because she would be on the Continent.

Halfway across the drive she slowed. Anne strolled around the far side of the carriage. She'd worn a pretty green bonnet and her green-and-yellow sprig muslin and obviously planned on going somewhere. As her sister smiled and curtsied at Zachary, Caroline abruptly realized just where it was Anne intended to venture this morning.

"Anne?" she said anyway, furrowing her brow in a frown that felt very real.

"Lord Zachary mentioned that you were going on a trip to visit some of our neighbors," Anne commented, holding out a hand for Zachary to help her into the open carriage, "and I invited myself. He was too polite to refuse."

"Nonsense," Zachary said warmly. "The more the merrier, I always say."

Oh, really
? A moment ago he had been practically tearing off her clothes, and now he was happily adding members to their party. His feelings toward and about her didn't matter, though, as long as he remained steadfast about the cattle. And over the past days her doubts about his resolve had grown smaller and smaller.

"Miss Witfeld?" he asked, offering his hand.

She shook herself, taking his hand before she remembered that she'd decided not to. He followed her into the curricle, taking the seat beside Anne and leaving Papa to sit beside her.

Zachary had said over and over that he wasn't in Wiltshire to find a wife. If Anne had something nefarious in mind, then, that was awful. If he'd been lying and he
did
want a bride, why hadn't he asked
her
? She would have said no, of course, but he'd never even intimated that he would consider her for marriage. There was one worse scenario: Zachary had fooled all of them, her most of all, and Anne was the next sister on his list to seduce.

Caroline studied his face as he and Anne chatted and laughed. She noticed the thoughtful expression in his eyes before he answered a question, the easy laugh, and the way he deferred to her father for questions about Dimidius and her calf.

No. He wasn't some Lothario out to have his wicked way with every Witfeld female in the county. If he had been, six of them would have been no challenge at all, and the seventh had already succumbed to… something that had compelled her to trust him.

That put any blame for any new seductions squarely on Anne's shoulders. Caroline turned her attention to her sister as they reached the first property just south of Heddington and left the carriage to follow the suddenly eager landowner out to his pasture.

Anne had always been the most decisive of the Witfeld girls, with the possible exception of herself, but whereas Caroline had her painting to distract her from the isolation of Wiltshire and to guide her to a more vibrant life, Anne had only her wits.

"Oh, dear," Caroline muttered as her sister made a show of petting some cow or other. That sudden bovine affection was no doubt planned to demonstrate Anne's interest in the project and thereby warm Zachary's heart toward her.

"Oh, dear, what?" Zachary murmured from directly behind her.

Heavens
. She hadn't even been aware he was that close. "Nothing," she said, turning around.