Star Crossed Seduction (9 page)

“I ask your indulgence for a moment, Captain Trevelyan,” Lady Hartwood said. “Will you tell me exactly what it was that led you to mistake my Refuge for a bordello? It’s a mistake I should not like to see repeated.”

The captain caught Temperance’s eye. The snap as their gazes connected was as intense as a collision. Then he turned to address Lady Hartwood, “You have my abject apologies. I won’t even try to defend my inexcusable behavior. It matters not why I made a wholly inaccurate assumption about one of your charges.”

“It matters greatly to me. If Temperance really did suggest to you that the Refuge was a brothel, I have no choice but to ask her to leave. Our rules here are few, but the girls know they must do nothing to give the enemies of the Refuge an excuse to destroy it.”

Captain Trevelyan favored Temperance with a long, considering look before turning back to her benefactor. “I don’t wish to be the cause of her losing your patronage. It wouldn’t be fair. It was my own damnable confusion that led to this contretemps. I beg you to accept my apologies.”

He reached into a pocket and withdrew something from it—the accursed locket. “I came into possession of an object of value to her and used it to gain an unfair advantage over her. It wasn’t the act of a gentleman, and I’m ashamed now that I acted in so unworthy a manner.” He walked over to Temperance and handed her the locket, which he had furnished with a new chain that was considerably thicker than the cheap one Randall had put on it.

“Accept my apologies. I’m sorry to have caused you such distress.”

She jammed the trinket into her pocket. He turned back to Lady Hartwood and said, “Let me assure you, only the four of us in this room know about my confounded mistake. I’ve said nothing to anyone that would cause the slightest breath of scandal to be associated with your Refuge.”

Then he turned to face Temperance. His face showed the satisfaction he felt at having done the right thing—and hinted, too, at what doing it had cost him. Pride radiated out of every inch of him. It couldn’t have been easy for him to accuse himself of ungentlemanly behavior before strangers, and noble strangers at that. Yet he had done exactly that and taken the blame for his embarrassing mistake even though he knew full well she’d led him into making it on purpose.

What could have made him defend her? She hated to think it was what it looked like, simple decency, but if there was some ignoble explanation for his gallantry, she couldn’t find it. Once again, he’d stepped in to save her from suffering the consequences of her own ill-considered action, and this time he’d paid a steeper price than the notes he’d casually thrown the shoemaker, for to save her this time, he’d been forced to admit in public to having the character of a scoundrel.

Why? He was acting as if he cared about her. A trickle of healing warmth leaked into her heart, bruised and sore as it was from the previous evening’s revelation. He’d sacrificed his pride for her. Despite the fact she’d done nothing to deserve it but steal, and flirt, and mislead him.

Having spoken his piece, the captain turned toward the door. The curlicues of braid that decorated the back of his tunic uniform outlined the narrow waist that made such a contrast to his broad shoulders. In another moment, he’d be out of her life for good.

She couldn’t bear it.

Forced by some power beyond her control, the words rushed out. “Don’t leave!” she cried.

She twisted to face Lady Hartwood. “What he said isn’t true. He’s trying to spare me punishment. But he’s blameless. It was all my fault. I made him think this was a bawdy ken and invited him here to meet me, to embarrass him.”

Lady Hartwood fixed Temperance with a hard look. “How well do you know this Captain Trevelyan?”

“Hardly at all,” the captain protested.

“Well enough,” Temperance said.

“How did you come to know him?”

“I seduced him.”

His lips tightened. “No. I assaulted her.”

Lady Hartwood swiveled about to face Temperance. “Is he a lover or an enemy?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“You must decide”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Lady Hartwood turned to the captain. “What did you really want from Temperance? Tell me the truth.”

“Nothing I should be comfortable mentioning in the presence of a lady.”

“Nothing I didn’t offer him.”

“I’m baffled by your behavior, Temperance,” Lady Hartwood said. “You know I must expel anyone who acts in a way that damages the reputation of the Refuge. Yet you persist in asserting that you did just that, despite the captain’s gallant attempts to save you. Why?”

Sheer perversity? What else could it be?

But then it struck her. The captain’s gallantry gave her a way out of this quagmire. He had offered to pay well for her services. Why not take him up on it? There was no reason not to. His offer would let her escape from Becky’s pity and Lady Hartwood’s determination to change her. The money he’d give her would buy her passage to America, and it wouldn’t be a sacrifice to earn it. Far from it.

There was no reason left for her to fight against the attraction that had possessed her since the first time he had embraced her out on the street. Randall was alive in Boston with that bitch Sally, not dead at the hands of a dragoon. She need feel no guilt in satisfying the urges the captain had aroused in her. Perhaps if she gave herself to him, she could drive out the rotting stench of Randall, which poisoned her memories.

She stood and took a step toward him. “Do you still wish to take me into keeping?”

As her whispered words dissolved into the air, his indigo eyes widened in surprise. “Of course not.”

“You do. But you won’t admit it. If it’s because you want them to think well of me”—she gestured at Lady Hartwood—“it’s no use. I’ve no wish to be reformed, and besides, she’s made it clear my astrological nature isn’t one that could profit from her system.”

She turned toward Lord Hartwood, who had been lounging against the wall taking in the unfolding scene with a look that suggested he found it mildly amusing. “Your Lordship, how much did Captain Trevelyan offer for my services?”

“Edward!” Lady Hartwood’s voice held a tone of warning. Responding with nothing more than a slight lift of one brow, her husband took it in and wisely said nothing.

Temperance addressed him again, more forcefully. “If you don’t tell me what his offer was, Your Lordship, he may fleece me. Would you wish me to be gulled? How much
was
he willing to pay?”

Lady Hartwood’s lips were set in a firm line, but an odd look passed between her and her spouse before the impulse to give in to mirth swept over them both. It took a moment for them to repress it. When he had got control of his features again, Lord Hartwood said, “Put that way, I must answer you. He offered me fifty pounds for a week of your companionship.”

She turned once again to Captain Trevelyan. “I’ll take your offer on those terms.” Fifty pounds would be more than enough to pay for passage to America and leave her something to live on when she got there.

A bloom of color rushed into the dragoon’s sunburnt face, making the white line of his scar stand out more sharply. She’d embarrassed him further with her outrageous offer. Perhaps it had been a mistake to make it here, in front of the nobleman who was his superior. But she had felt, oddly, the need to do it in the presence of her would-be benefactors.

It was the only way to ensure she wouldn’t become cowardly at the last moment and retreat to the deceptive security of the Refuge. Now they would have no choice but to expel her. But, of course, the captain did have an alternative. He could stride out of her life immediately, and if he were a prudent man, he would do so. Why should he stay, when she’d tricked and abused him?

She wished she had treated him better. She would be sad to see the last of him. He had been a worthy opponent in their ongoing battle of wills. But she’d given him no reason but lust to want her, and after what she’d just subjected him to, lust would not be enough to make him put himself into her power again. She steeled herself to accept what she could not change, but to her surprise, as the moments ticked by, the captain did not stride away. He did not dismiss her outrageous offer with words of curt dismissal. He didn’t do anything but stand there like a statue, pondering what to do next.

To distract herself from the tension, which was growing intolerable, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the locket. She opened it and glanced for the last time at the portrait of the unworthy man she’d made the center of her world. Then she tossed it on Lady Hartwood’s desk. “This is all I have with which to repay you for your hospitality and astrological counsel.”

Captain Trevelyan protested, “But your locket—you value it so highly—”

She silenced him. “If I didn’t, it would be a poor way to repay my debt.” She shook herself and smoothed her skirt. “I’m going now to pack up my gear. With or without you, I’m leaving. If you wish to take me up on my offer, I’ll meet you outside in half an hour.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked, favoring her again with that look that told her he needed to understand her answer.

She let her eyes meet his. The shock as they connected made her gasp.

He would be there to meet her. She could not doubt it. But she let him supply his own answer to the question and swept regally out of the room.

Chapter 8

H
er exit had been worthy of a duchess. Who was this girl and how had she come to have such strength of character? Trev had never seen the like of it. She possessed no resource except her will, yet that alone gave her the ability to stand up to her superiors and leave them marveling, openmouthed, at her behavior.

After she’d left, Lord Hartwood had been the first to break the silence. “I can’t stop her. She’s above the age of consent, and I have no grounds upon which to exercise authority over her. But if you mistreat her, Captain, you’ll have to answer to me.”

The man was known to be a fearsome duelist, but Trev was no mean shot himself, and it was not fear that made him protest, “Surely you don’t think I would take advantage of her now?”

“You don’t fancy the wench?” Lord Hartwood asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I fancy her all too much, but it would be a mistake to give in to that fancy.”

“I doubt you have much choice about it,” Hartwood said succinctly. “I don’t believe it was the fifty pounds that motivated her to make you her offer—not entirely. And once a woman makes up her mind to have one of us, we males have little say in the matter.” He exchanged a meaningful glance with his wife, whose lips tightened into a stern expression even as the corners of her eyes turned up in mirth.

“I don’t know what has taken place already between the two of you,” Lord Hartwood continued, “but I don’t imagine a girl as bright as Temperance would have put herself in your power if you hadn’t given her reason to trust you.”

Trev sighed. He was not up to the challenge of describing what it was he’d given Temperance. He’d already embarrassed himself enough.

Lady Hartwood broke in, and said, “Captain, your mother consulted me in a professional capacity, I hope it isn’t an imposition to reveal that the information she gave me about your birth suggests that, like Temperance, you, too, were born when the Sun was in Scorpio.”

“I was,” he admitted. “Though even without my mother’s intelligence, you could have guessed it. You’ve seen enough to know that I embody the chief failing of my sign.”

“You refer, of course, to a lascivious nature,” Lady Hartwood replied in a schoolmistress’s tone. “But it is only the vulgar who attribute that failing to Scorpio alone. Each sign has its share of libertines, though each sign lusts for something different.”

She paused, observing how he reacted to what she’d already revealed. Then, with a professorial air strangely at odds with her personal charm, she explained, “Scorpio is a watery sign. The water signs live to experience emotion, so their lusts are emotional rather than carnal. Scorpios use physical urges to stir their partners to the depths of their being. They revel in the intensity of the feelings they arouse—and not only those conducive to happiness.”

He nodded. He could not deny she had that right. At this, she smiled, and added, “As you can imagine, their intensity can be disconcerting for others who don’t share their Scorpionic natures. But since Temperance was also born with planets placed in Scorpio, the two of you should do well together. You share the same tastes. My Aunt Celestina always advised that Scorpios do best when paired with others of their sign.”

“Surely, you aren’t going to allow Temperance to go off with me?” Trev didn’t try to hide his surprise.

“As my husband says, I don’t think either of us could stop her. And if we did, she would merely find another unsuitable connection with which to spite us. I should have liked to help her, but she won’t take counsel from me. She’s much too headstrong—which is exactly how she should be, given her Aquarius Ascendant. So I must hope she made a wise choice when she cast her lot with you. It’s possible. You’re older than she is, and the military has taught you discipline—something she badly needs. You may be strong enough to stand up to her and help her make the most of what she is.”

Trev cut her off. “I can’t pretend my interest in Temperance is as disinterested as your words suggest.”

“I shouldn’t believe you if you said it was. The Scorpio’s path to wisdom must involve the kinds of experiences we ladies are not supposed to discuss in mixed company. But Temperance’s nativity suggests to me that it is just that sort of encounter that will force her to live from the better parts of her nature. As for you, based on what I saw in yours, I believe you are an honorable man and will act honorably.”

To which Lord Hartwood added softly, “Or else.”

I
t was with mixed feelings that Trev made his way to the street to take possession of the mistress he had set out to claim with far more enthusiasm only an hour before. Once again, he’d fallen into the delusion that he would be her rescuer—and once again she’d tricked him. She hadn’t been living in a brothel, and all he appeared to have rescued her from was a chance for a new and better life at Her Ladyship’s Refuge.

Cat and mouse didn’t begin to describe the game he’d been drawn into. Tiger and rat was more like it—with him cast once more in the role of rat. And that wasn’t the worst of it, for he’d be damned if he knew what he’d bound himself to do in that final interview with Lord Hartwood and his lady. But he’d definitely bound himself to something. Flight, as tempting as it might have been, was out of the question.

A moment later, Temperance appeared in the alley behind Lord Hartwood’s home. She wore a pale gown under a thick pelisse—not the thick mourning gown she’d worn at their first meeting. She’d hidden her curls under a ladylike bonnet. The black, feathered hat was gone. And she was carrying a small sack.

“Are you leaving the rest of your things with Lady Hartwood?”

“I have no more things.”

He looked more closely at her sack, shocked at what it told him about her situation. Did she really mean to go out into the world, leaving behind the comfort of the noblewoman’s Refuge, with nothing more than that?

The knowledge made him feel the burden of what he’d taken on. But as the cold wind brought the color to her smooth white cheeks and made her stormy eyes sparkle, he couldn’t deny how eager he was to take it up, whatever the cost might be. As Hartwood had said, she
did
want him. And he was more than willing to give her what she wanted.

But it took only another moment for his usual caution to return and bring him back to earth. For his instincts warned him to take care. The girl he’d rescued from the shoemaker had
not
wished to join herself to him, no matter how much her body might have responded to his touch. The girl he’d met at the masquerade had come to get her locket, the keepsake that was all she had left to remind her of her dead beloved—a man so dear to her she’d been willing to kiss a hostile stranger if that was what it took to get his portrait back.

Her invitation to meet at a bordello had been a trick. She’d had no intention of giving herself to him last night. She’d only dangled that prospect before him to impel him to bring her the locket—but having got it at last, she’d merely tossed it onto Lady Hartwood’s desk with an expression that looked suspiciously like contempt. And offered herself to him as a mistress.

Go carefully,
an inner voice warned.
Things here are not what they seem.

What had happened to her devotion to her dead lover? Had it been a ruse? He couldn’t but wonder if she’d been sent to entangle him in some complex conspiracy. Such a thought came all too easily to a man who had spent as many years as he had in Sir Charles’s service.

But a quick review of the facts made him dismiss that idea. She’d had no way of knowing he’d snag her locket when she fled from him on the street. She’d had no way of knowing he would send a message to the crossing boy to set up another assignation. So it was unlikely she’d been sent out to draw him into some plot.

There must be a simpler explanation for her behavior. But what? He could come up with nothing that would explain it, but he was wise enough to know that
something
would, and he had better nose it out before he let their connection go any further.

Though he’d originally planned to take her back to the chamber he’d rented at the lodgings above the Phoenix Coffeehouse, he hesitated, despite the surge of blood that rushed to his nether part at the thought of what might transpire if he were to lead her to that small, anonymous chamber. When John Thomas took over, reason flew out the door. He must not allow himself to be alone with her until he had a better idea of what he’d got himself into. Once again, he must delay taking his pleasure with her.

Though he had to admit he took perverse pleasure in trying to work out what it was she was up to. The truth was, her deviousness was a big part of what attracted him to her, for engaging with her in these subtle games let him employ his own strength and cunning. But before he could go on with her, he must make sure it really
was
a game she was playing with him now and nothing more.

He was a stranger here in London, and Fanshawe had told him almost nothing about the errand on which he was sending him. Best to take care. So with a stern command to John Thomas to stand down and await further orders, he offered her his hand. They would have a little talk before he took things further. Before he had her, he must force the truth out of her.

T
emperance had expected the captain to take her somewhere where he could do what he’d been trying to do since he’d had her at his mercy in the alley. She’d hoped he would. Once they got that over with, she would stop responding to him so strongly. He’d lose the power he wielded over her now and she’d be safe again. But it was not over yet, and she was far from safe—not when just the sight of the graceful swell at his crotch, displayed to such advantage by the dress uniform he’d donned for evening wear, made her grow wet in her most secret part.

There no longer was any reason to fight the craving he aroused in her. No reason not to tease him and use what she’d been taught to make him lose control. Once again, she’d given in to another of those fatal urges Her Ladyship had warned her about. But it was too late for regret, so she must make the most of it. She’d satisfy the captain, rid herself of her desire for him, and when it was gone, she’d find that ship to take her to America.

Her plan should succeed. Giving herself to Randall had rid her of whatever girlish desire her body had felt for him. But had she felt this kind of hunger for Randall when she’d waited for him that night behind her father’s stables? She could barely remember, but she doubted it. She’d been a naïve virgin, unable to separate the confusing sensations he’d awakened in her body from the fantasy she’d had that he was a hero, risking all to fight against tyranny. She had wanted to absorb his courage, to make herself what he was.

What I
thought he was,
she reminded herself brutally.

But whatever she had longed for, he’d taught her that first night that a woman was meant to give pleasure, not to take it. So she must not expect anything more from Captain Trevelyan than the power she would wield over him while she had him under her spell. She prepared herself to make the most of it.

But she was not given the opportunity, for, to her surprise, once they found themselves alone, Captain Trevelyan didn’t treat her to one of those kisses of his that lit up her entire being; nor did he press himself hungrily against her body. Instead, he strode down the street ahead of her, bowling along at a pace that was hard to match even with her long legs, until they reached a coffeehouse on New Street—where he conducted her not to one of the rooms upstairs where affairs like theirs could be consummated, but to the public room, where he seated her at an isolated table and ordered some potted eels for the two of them.

Only after he’d sampled a few bites did he put down his fork and ask, “Why, Temperance? Why this sudden change of heart? You eluded me so cleverly until now.”

The determination in his voice was unmistakable. He wouldn’t tolerate any more of her tricks, and without his saying it, she knew if she gave him anything but an honest answer, this would be the last she saw of him.

But how could she tell him what lay behind her change of heart? It would be too humiliating to reveal how cruelly she’d been betrayed. It was her strength and cleverness he admired. If he knew the truth, she’d lose her appeal. Until now, he’d respected her as the worthy adversary who’d held her own with him when they matched wits. All that would be over if he learned she was really only another stupid Jill. His respect would turn into contempt.

She didn’t dare let him know how stupid she’d been. Better to let him think she was playing a deep game still rather than risk losing whatever power she might have over him. Though even as she misled him, as she must, she would try to be as truthful with him as she could. She would have to. He was too canny to fall for an outright lie.

She toyed with an errant tendril of hair that had come loose, working out what to say. At length she replied, “The money you offer is enough to buy my passage to America. I’ve had enough of England.”

“Lady Hartwood would have given you that, wouldn’t she, if passage to America was really what you wanted? She seemed sincere.”

“She is sincere, but she wanted too much in return. As I told you, I’ve no wish to be reformed. I prefer what you offer. It’s simpler, and it will be no sacrifice for me to give you what you want.”