The Seduction

Chapter Eighteen

Vanessa stood at the window of her bedchamber, staring blindly down at the rose gardens. Had she made a terrible mistake, refusing Damien’s offer of marriage?

In the three days since his startling proposal, she’d asked herself that question a hundred times, going over and over every nuance of their conversation, every subtlety of emotion in his expression and tone of voice.

She hadn’t found what she’d longed to see. Not even a hint of love. And without love, a marriage between them would be doomed.

Damien would never be content to settle down with one woman, to give up his life as a rakehell. Love alone might have the power to change him, but he didn’t love her. That was the harsh, bitter truth.

Vanessa let out a deep sigh. Summer was almost at an end. Her term as his mistress was almost over. Then she would be free to go and take her own wounded heart with her. Free to start rebuilding her life. Free to begin the struggle of trying to forget Damien…

A rapid knock on her bedchamber door interrupted her melancholy thoughts. At her bidding, a footman entered, bearing a silver salver.

“Beg pardon, milady, but a carriage has come with this message for you from Lord Clune.”

Vanessa wondered why Clune would be writing to her, unless it involved Damien. Damien had driven to his friends’ hunting box early this morning for some dove shooting…

Curiously Vanessa broke the seal and read:

Lady Wyndham-Do not be alarmed, but I fear Sinclair has met with a minor accident. The doctor has been sent for, but Sin is calling for you. My carriage is at your disposal. I pray you will come shortly.

Panic seized her as she pictured Damien lying wounded, his lifeblood seeping from his body. Her hand went to her throat where her heart had lodged. She couldn’t bear the thought of his death. She couldn’t.

“I must go to him,” she breathed hoarsely.

She had the presence of mind at least to fetch a pelisse and to tell the footman she was going to join Lord Sinclair, before running down the stairs and out the front door to the waiting carriage.

They set a rapid pace, without stopping to change horses. Even so Vanessa deplored the delay. She couldn’t control her dread or the dark images assaulting her. She kept remembering her final view of her husband when they’d brought his body home the morning of the duel. The fatal bullet wound in his chest, the blood… Clune’s message said Damien’s accident was minor, but she couldn’t rest easy until she assured herself that he wasn’t dying.

It was nearly an hour before the carriage turned off the country lane onto a gravel drive flanked by thick woods. Finally they halted before a large manor house. Vanessa scarcely noted the secluded setting as she climbed down from the carriage without assistance.

She nearly ran up the steps to the front entrance, and was supremely grateful when the door swung open to reveal Lord Clune himself.

“Damien, how is he?” she demanded breathlessly.

The smile Clune gave her was reassuring as he drew her into the house. “Well enough, my lady. He is upstairs resting comfortably.”

“May I see him?”

“But, of course.”

He led her through the elegant foyer, up a wide flight of steps to a long hallway. They passed numerous rooms, to which Vanessa paid no mind. At the end of the hall, Clune opened a door and stood aside to let her enter.

Anxiously, she took three steps and came to an abrupt halt. The large bed that dominated the room was empty. Damien was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” she asked in confusion.

“He is still out with the hunting party, I would imagine.”

When she turned to give Clune a questioning look, his smile was apologetic. “I must beg your indulgence, Lady Wyndham. I hope you won’t object to being my guest for a short while.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“I plan to play a prank on my good friend Damien, and your presence is necessary.”

“A prank? Then… he hasn’t been wounded?”

“No, not at all. I’m afraid that was merely a ruse to bring you here.”

Relief flooded Vanessa, followed swiftly by anger and alarm. “I trust you mean to tell me why you require my presence?”

Clune flashed another smile, one full of disarming charm. “You needn’t fear me, I assure you. You won’t come to the least harm. I intend this to be a good-natured jest.”

When she made to leave the room, however, he remained in the doorway, blocking her path.

“You mean to keep me here against my will?”

Clune shrugged. “Only for a short while. Damien should be returning any moment now.”

“He won’t be happy to find me here.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the earl agreed easily. “But the opportunity is too priceless to resist. Sin is long overdue for a public humbling.” Clune surveyed her for a moment. “I suppose it is asking too much for you to play along with me?”

“It is indeed,” Vanessa replied, furious at his insensibility.

“You are angry,” he commented almost sadly.

“Surely that doesn’t surprise you. First you frighten me half to death by lying, allowing me to believe Sinclair wounded, perhaps mortally. Now you tell me I must remain as your prisoner.”

“I’m afraid so. But it is only in fun.”

“I don’t find your idea of fun humorous in the least, my lord.” She took a deep breath. “If you allow me to return home, I will say nothing of this to anyone, least of all Damien.”

“Alas, that would destroy my well-laid plan.”

“Just precisely what is your plan?”

“To compel Sin to show his hand. More precisely, to test the depth of his attachment to you.”

“His attachment?”

“All these years he’s vowed he would never give his heart. As recently as this week he denied being smitten. But I believe that the mighty Lord Sin has fallen, and I mean to prove it. I intend to make him admit his feelings for you before the Hellfire League.”

“You are either a fool, or you are mad!”

Clune brandished that sensual smile again. “Perhaps a bit of both. But I should think you of all people would be keenly interested in the outcome. Don’t you wish to know if you’ve managed to capture his heart?”

“No! Certainly not in this manner.”

“I know of no other way to bring him to the sticking point. And, truly, I am acting for his own sake. If Sin is deceiving himself, he is better off realizing it. I have a simple scenario in mind that should shock him into revealing his true feelings.”

Vanessa eyed Clune warily. “So I am to be the bait in your trap?”

“Precisely. At gatherings such as these, the entertainment is usually of a carnal nature. I will simply intimate to Sin that you are to be the prime attraction for the evening and see how he reacts. I doubt that he will be able to conceal his jealousy.”

“He is apt to be more enraged by your trick than jealous.”

Clune gave her a tolerant smile. “Sin and I have been friends forever. The worst he will do is plant me a facer, but I’m willing to risk it.”

She’d heard enough boxing cant from her brother to understand his meaning, but she wondered if Damien would be content with only throwing a punch.

“Naturally I have no intention of actually putting you on display,” Clune added, “but merely giving the suggestion of it. I’m afraid, however, that I must lock you in here for a short while to prevent your attempting escape.”

She stared at him.

“I hope you will make yourself comfortable, my lady. I will send a maid up with some tea-or wine, if you prefer.”

“How generous of you,” Vanessa said, her tone scathing.

Without replying, he withdrew and closed the door softly behind him. Vanessa flinched when she heard the key turn in the lock.

Still somewhat dazed by her abrupt change in circumstances, she moved across the room to the window, only to discover it locked also. Even if she broke the glass, it was rather a long jump to the gravel below. She was likely to break an ankle, or worse.

Vanessa took a steadying breath to calm her nerves. It wasn’t as if she were truly captive. The footman at Rosewood knew where she had gone.

Even so, she hadn’t divulged a word about Damien’s alleged accident for fear of alarming the entire household. They would think she was with him and wouldn’t worry if she didn’t return home before this evening…

She turned away to pace the room. She would not allow herself to panic. Damien wasn’t hurt, that was the important thing. She could bear the embarrassment of Clune’s outrageous prank if she had to. And it looked as if she might have no choice but to go along.

Her anger swelling anew, Vanessa grimaced in disgust. She was getting a taste of the disreputable life she had chosen, and, frankly, it repulsed her. Even so…

She didn’t know whether Clune was acting for his own amusement or out of spite, but in either event, she might be wiser to play his game. If Damien saw her outrage, it would only fuel his own. If this farce, however, could avoid being turned into a public spectacle, perhaps then she could manage to salvage some shred of reputation.

The hunting party returned in a jovial mood and settled in the gun room with glasses of ale all around, exchanging tall tales of past shooting exploits under the benign surveillance of the stags’ heads mounted on the walls.

Damien was silent, his thoughts miles away rather than with his Hellfire colleagues. He’d found it nearly impossible to keep up the pretense of enjoyment. The endless pursuit of pleasure had palled entirely-

A burst of laughter interrupted his seditious reflections. Awareness returning, Damien realized that Clune was scrutinizing him thoughtfully.

“Is something on your mind?” Damien asked.

“Indeed there is. I’ve arranged a surprise for you.” The earl flashed a secretive smile that Damien didn’t much care for, and then turned to their American guest. “Sabine, you haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing our initiation ritual into the Hellfire League. You have a real treat in store.”

Several voices seconded the observation as glasses were raised.

“Oh?” Sabine murmured noncommittally. “What might that be?”

“You have to satisfy a court of maidens,” Lord Thornhill replied.

“A court?”

“A dozen beauties plus a queen.”

“ “Tis little more than an orgy,” someone else remarked amicably.

“You have it wrong,” Pendergast disagreed. “It’s a test of how long you can stay aroused without spending.”

“You must prove,” Clune explained, “that you possess the stamina to service the entire court before dawn. They then pass judgment on your performance and score how well you bring them to pleasure.”

“We’ve all been through it,” Thornhill commented, “with varying degrees of success.”

Cheatham laughed. “Devil a bit. The year Penny was inducted he nearly expired, the queen drained him so dry.”

“By Jove, so did I. I’ve never fucked so hard in my life.”

Ribald laughter was followed by several admiring remarks about Sin holding the record for most accolades of any court. Damien modestly acknowledged their praise by lifting his glass.

“If your cock passes inspection,” Penny added, “you become a full-fledged member in the Hellfire League-pun intended.”

Nicholas Sabine smiled wryly at the strained humor.

Another lewd joke or two ensued before Chine regained control of the conversation. “Since Lambton couldn’t be here, and I am acting as host, I’ve begun arrangements for an induction ceremony later in the week. I’m pleased to report, gentlemen, that I’ve found the perfect queen to reign over the proceedings. But I should like Sin’s approval before I make the final decision.” He glanced at Damien. “Will you accompany me upstairs to inspect my choice?”

“You have her here?” someone asked.

Clune nodded. “Yes. And you will be hard-pressed to imagine a lovelier queen. But as Sin is the noted expert, his blessing is warranted.”

“By all means show him this beauty you promised us,” Cheatham said.

A chorus of male voices indicated agreement with the suggestion.

Something in Clune’s tone made Damien suddenly wary, but he reluctantly acceded to the plan. Rising, he accompanied the earl up the stairs and along the hall.

Clune rapped gently on the door and unlocked it. Then, with a grin at Damien like a cream-fed cat, he swung open the door.

A woman stood at the window, her back to them, yet her silhouette was heart familiar. When she turned slowly to face him, Damien went rigid.

Vanessa returned his gaze levelly, her lustrous midnight eyes cool and unwavering.

His gaze shot to Clune, who maintained an owl-eyed look of innocence. “What the devil is the meaning of this? What is she doing here?”

“She will make a perfect queen, don’t you think?” Clune queried in a silken tone.

Damien clenched his fists at the thought of Vanessa being the prime attraction of an orgiastic ritual. “You intend her to rule the ceremony?” His eyes narrowed with disbelief. “And you agreed?” he demanded of Vanessa.

Clune replied for her. “She hasn’t yet consented to be our queen, though I tried to persuade her.” He cast Damien a probing glance. “Truthfully, Sin, I brought her here merely to see your reaction.”

“My reaction?” Staring at him, Damien recalled the locked door and Clune’s speculative glances earlier. Vanessa wasn’t here willingly then. A quiet, poisonous rage surged through him.

“You bastard…” Lunging unexpectedly, he grabbed Clune’s cravat and pushed him from the room, forcing him against the hall’s far wall with a resounding thud. “Is this reactive enough for you?”

The earl gave a triumphant laugh, despite his friend’s ferocity. “Quite. I never expected you to permit anyone to touch her.”

“By the blazes,” Damien gritted out through clenched teeth.

Chine bared his own teeth in a taunting grin. “I thought you claimed indifference, Sin. If you aren’t besotted, then why does the prospect of her becoming our queen upset you so?”

Tight-lipped with fury, Damien increased the vise of his hand. “She is under my protection, damn you!”

Clune had difficulty speaking with the grip on his throat. “You… are still… deluding yourself, my friend.”

Damien’s fist tightened further in the silk. When Clune made a choking sound, Vanessa protested behind him, “Damien, stop… you’re hurting him!”

Just then almost a dozen Hellfire League members appeared at the far end of the hall, apparently alerted by the commotion.

“What the devil is going on?” Thornhill exclaimed.

“Damien, stop… please…” Vanessa implored anxiously, but he refused to loosen his grip.

When Clune’s strained face turned crimson from lack of air, several gentlemen voiced protests of concern and alarm. Finally one of them physically intervened.

Nicholas Sabine stepped forward to put a restraining hand on Damien’s arm. “You don’t wish to kill him, do you?”

“Don’t I?” Damien retorted savagely.

Releasing his hold, though, he made a visible effort at controlling his violent urges and stepped back, his blazing gaze fixed on Clune. “You will give me satisfaction. The choice of weapons is yours.”

He heard Vanessa gasp at his challenge. “Damien, you cannot-”

“I advise you to name your seconds,” he told Clune tersely, the hushed vehemence of his tone deadly serious. “I trust Thornhill and Matthews will act as mine.”

Ignoring the astonished gazes of his colleagues then, Damien took Vanessa by the arm and ushered her along the hall, away from the spectacle.