Star Crossed Seduction (8 page)

“You’d end up in the jug yourself, if you did that.”

“Do you think I care?”

“No, not now. But you’ll get over it. The bastard isn’t worth killing yourself for. We all learned that about him, every one of us girls in the gang. He was a flash man like the rest of ’em. He just had a better line of patter. He had us all thinking we were special to him—at first. That’s how they work. But you, being gently raised, you wouldn’t have known that.”

Her expression softened. “Chin up, duck. You’ll get over it. You’re a game one, and you’re well shot of him. And don’t worry about the others knowing. I’ll keep my trap shut. You can trust me for that.”

“I’ll never trust anyone again.”

She stamped out of the room, slamming the door when she reached her own chamber. But as she tore off the fatal boy’s costume, she knew it was worse than that. It wasn’t others she would never trust again. It was herself.

Chapter 7

W
hen Temperance awoke the morning after the masquerade, the sight of the mourning gown that had absorbed so many of her tears, lying where she had folded it before donning her costume, brought back the whole humiliating business. She considered ripping it up and stuffing it into the fire, but to do so would only excite comment.

She must give no hint that anything had changed. It would be too mortifying for anyone to know how badly she’d been taken in. She’d feed it to a bonfire when she left for America, which she would do, as soon as she could figure out how. Liberty beckoned her there, as it always had, but now there was something else. Once she got herself to those promised shores, she’d hunt that bastard down and show him he hadn’t got away with it.

But, of course, he had. He’d played on her desire to believe in him and given her just enough encouragement to keep her from looking at what was right under her eyes. Becky had been trying to protect her when she pretended the others didn’t know how he’d taken her in. But they must have—just like they knew that Monty, the one-legged beggar, had a sound leg tucked inside his enormous breeches.

Now she knew what lay behind the odd looks the other girls in the crew had given her over the years. She’d dismissed them as being due to envy because she was Randall’s favorite. But it wasn’t just the other girls’ looks she’d made herself ignore, but all the other things that didn’t add up. The pressure he put on the girls to bring in money. The way that money always disappeared. The way everyone accepted that Randall must have better food than they did because the “work” he did was so important. She’d turned a blind eye to it all because the alternative would have been to admit she’d been a fool to run off with him to London, no matter what her father had said or done. She hadn’t had the guts to face the truth.

The humiliation choked her. How could she ever again walk the London streets where everyone had known her as Randall’s flash mort—and his gull. She had no choice now but to go to America. It wasn’t a distant dream any longer but one she would have to make real in a hurry. It would cost a lot to buy passage—but she’d find the money somehow. She’d have to. If she stayed in London much longer, she
would
end up in the river, and not at the hands of the Weaver’s henchmen, but from sheer mortification.

T
rev spent the morning after the masquerade debating what to do about the assignation he had set up with the bewitching pickpocket. Now that Fanshawe had given him something else to occupy his energies, there was no need to continue with the game of cat and mouse he’d let Temperance draw him into. In the cold light of morning, his obsession with her seemed hard to justify.

Still, he owed it to her to return her precious keepsake. And if he couldn’t resist the bait she’d dangled before him, well, he’d taken no vow of chastity. If she were working for a madam, where was the harm in taking what she offered? If he didn’t, someone else would.

He would give her more pleasure than she’d find in a brothel for the little time left before he must marry. And when he must leave her behind, he’d do something for her. She’d end up better off than she’d been before he met her though the mercenary nature of the transaction took much of the pleasure out of the idea of consorting with her.

Where to keep her for the few weeks he might spend with her posed a problem since he was living under his mother’s roof. His knowledge of London was not thorough enough to give him an answer. So, after breakfast, he strolled over to visit the major and ask his advice.

“You can keep her here, Trev. Nothing easier,” the major replied, raising one bushy eyebrow.

“With you? Not on your life! One look at your handsome mug, and she’d have no more time for me.”

The major chuckled and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I didn’t mean in my chambers, my boy. I didn’t think your tastes would run to a threesome. But there are other rooms to let in this lodging house. The price is quite reasonable, and it might not be such a bad idea to have a friend at hand should you find yourself in need of one.”

“You still don’t trust her, do you?” Trev observed.

“Do you?” the major shot back.

“Not a bit.” Trev grinned and headed downstairs to see what he could work out with the landlord.

T
emperance was choking down breakfast when a maid informed her that Lady Hartwood awaited her in her office. Her benefactor must have cast her real chart. Now she would have to listen to a lecture on her many character flaws. That was all she needed. But she had no choice except to get through it.

Lady Hartwood greeted her with an annoying smile that lit up her frank and open countenance in a way that made Temperance yearn to slap her. No one had a right to be that cheerful, especially not when she herself felt so bad.

Her Ladyship set aside her cup of tea, and said, “I’ve been thinking over our discussion a few days ago and feeling that perhaps I let my own nature make me too harsh. You can’t help being what you are. And since you
are
a Scorpio, I shouldn’t have expected you to be frank. Especially not when the ruler of your Scorpio planets is placed in Cancer. That would make you even more self-protective than the average Scorpio. But with so many strong Scorpio influences on your nativity, your self-protection may all too easily turn into self-destruction.”

She stopped to take a sip. “So I was wrong to threaten you with expulsion the way I did. It was just what an untutored Scorpio nature would have wished me to do, for it allows you to blame me for the self-destructive step you would be taking if you left the Refuge. I apologize. Your situation is difficult, and I fear I may have made it worse with my thoughtlessness.”

That was big of her, but the last thing Temperance needed now was to dwell on her many imperfections. “I can take care of myself,” she snapped.

“Perhaps. But the scorpion may sting itself to death with the poison it uses to defend itself. That’s why I worry about you, even though there is little I can do to help you. The ferocity with which you defend yourself makes you too difficult to counsel.”

“Then you have no advice for me?”

“You wouldn’t take advice from me. Would you?”

“Probably not.” Temperance shrugged. “Still, if you’ve put all that work into casting my chart, it seems a waste not to hear you out. Does your chart tell you anything about me that isn’t bad?”

“Of course. I cast charts to look for people’s strengths, not their weaknesses. And you are very strong.”

“Oh, I’m strong all right,” she said bitterly. “Tough as nails our Temmy is.”

“That isn’t real strength. That’s just your Aquarius Ascendant’s way of keeping people at a distance. But that aloofness prevents you from finding your true strength. Jupiter, the planet that shows where you will find good fortune, is placed in your Seventh House of Marriage. You won’t unlock your real power until you join yourself with a worthy partner.”

“So you would marry me off? I think I should prefer Clary’s piano lessons.”

Lady Hartwood laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to find you a match. Your Aquarius Ascendant makes you far too independent to tolerate such interference. You’ll have to find your partner yourself.”

Her benefactor’s expression again became serious. “Your Jupiter is not only in the House of Marriage but it is placed in Virgo—the sign of discrimination. You will experience good fortune only after you use your powers of discrimination to choose a partner who brings out the best in you. For with your Sun and Moon conjoined in Scorpio in the Eighth House, you cannot help but merge with those you love and take on their characteristics, good or bad.”

Temperance let her gaze drop to the nimble fingers she had trained to serve Randall. Perhaps this astrology wasn’t entirely a hum.

Her Ladyship continued, “You must take care to choose a partner who is worthy of your loyalty. You must fight against your impulsivity and carefully examine who you let into your life. For the planets in your Seventh House makes it very clear: Your partner may become the lover who brings out the best in you—or he may be the enemy who destroys you. The choice is up to you.”

Temperance should have kept her trap shut. Though Her Ladyship had raised her hopes by seeming to see what others didn’t, her advice wasn’t any better than her father’s had been. Be good. Avoid sin. Don’t let the evil in her take over. She’d tried all that already, and much good it had done her. She couldn’t be good enough. It was better not to try than to try again and fail.

Her verdict delivered, Lady Hartwood regarded her with a look that suggested she was awaiting Temperance’s promise that from this moment forth she would strain every nerve to put Her Ladyship’s advice into practice and become a better person. But she couldn’t. She was as good a person as she could be, already, and, as usual, it wasn’t good enough.

In a moment, Her Ladyship would ask her if she was willing to do what she’d must to remain at the Refuge. Temperance had already worked her answer out in advance, but even so, she foresaw a battle. Lady Hartwood wasn’t likely to take no for an answer. A week or two more in the Refuge was probably all she could count on. After that, it would be back to the streets again.

“E
liza,” a rich male voice called out. “A slight complexity has arisen involving one of your charges. I fear I must interrupt you.”

The door opened, and a tall, handsome man strode in, his face haloed by a cloud of curling golden hair that contrasted sharply with his startlingly dark brown eyes.

“Edward, do come in.” said Lady Hartwood. “This is Miss Temperance Smith, one of the guests at my Refuge.”

This must be her husband, the man who had once been the notorious rake they’d nicknamed Lord Lightning. Temperance had heard whispers about him from the servants, but this was the first time she’d met him. How unfair it was that a flat like Lady Hartwood should have drawn such a prize. He was a stunner, and the love that filled his gaze as he looked upon his wife was indecent.

“Whatever is the matter?” Lady Hartwood asked him.

“I wouldn’t have interrupted you, but a gentleman just arrived who appears to believe you’re running a brothel. You aren’t, my dear, are you?”

“Most definitely not! Whatever gave him that idea?”

“Apparently, one of your charges, who invited him here for a tryst. I played along with his belief I was a whoremaster long enough to elicit the information that he hoped to take her into keeping. He was willing to pay generously for her services.”

“Oh dear,” Lady Hartwood said, turning to Temperance. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why the gentleman was laboring under this misapprehension?”

Her husband answered, “I would very much suppose that she does, as the gentleman said it was Temperance who had directed him here.” Lord Hartwood’s lip quirked up in an ironic smile. “But with a name like Temperance, the poor child probably had no choice but to behave badly. Why will parents give children such names? They guarantee rebellion. If we have a daughter, we must name her Impropriety in the hope that she will rebel her way into acceptable behavior.”

“Edward, this is no joking matter. Did you disabuse her caller of his confusion?”

“I did, though I’ve brought him with me to offer you his apologies. He turned toward the doorway and motioned to someone to come in. “May I introduce Captain Trevelyan of His Majesty’s Eighth Dragoons.”

Temperance took a deep breath. It looked like she’d be leaving the Refuge even sooner than she’d expected.

Her officer entered the room. His tall form filled the doorway. He wore the impassive mask of a man on duty, his chiseled features giving no hint of emotion, neither the dark humor she’d seen animate them the night before nor the anger he must feel toward her now that he knew she’d played another trick on him.

His sleek blue tunic betrayed not a wrinkle. His trousers, with the paired red stripes running down their outside seams, emphasized the muscularity of his long, lithe legs. He gleamed as the light struck the heavy epaulets on his shoulders. A pang of sheer physical lust shot through her, and she cursed herself again for desiring this man dressed in the hated uniform of the men who had killed Randall.

Except that no one had killed Randall.

Would she ever get used to this painful new knowledge? She could love all the dragoons she wanted. There was nothing to stop her now.

“Captain Trevelyan,” Lady Hartwood said. “Am I right that you are the son of Mrs. Catherine Trevelyan?”

“I am, Your Ladyship.” The officer’s face reddened under his tan. “Though under the circumstances, I must regret that you are acquainted with my mother.”

“I have met her only in a professional capacity,” she said stiffly.

Lord Hartwood continued, “Whatever brings him here, Captain Trevelyan’s mother can take pride in her son. Though I’ve only just met him, I’ve long known of his reputation. He’s been mentioned several times in dispatches, and most recently distinguished himself in a battle near Poona by risking his life to save some of his men, who’d got cut off behind enemy lines.”

So her lustful captain was a real hero. How ironic, when Randall, so long her hero, had turned out—but she must not let herself keep thinking of him. Not when her officer was standing here, looking at her with those piercing eyes the color of the sky at twilight. Given how furious he must be with her for the way she’d tricked him into such a shameful situation, she must display no weakness he could use against her.