The Seduction

Chapter Five

He was lounging before the fire in a brocade dressing robe of midnight blue. Still watching her, he raised a snifter to his lips.

“Would you care for a brandy, angel?”

He was no dream, she realized. His voice was soft and sensual as the moonlight, the expression on his handsome face just as beguiling.

Unsure whether to be alarmed, Vanessa fumbled for the silk wrapper draped across the foot of her bed. “What do you want, my lord?”

“Would you be surprised if I said companionship?” When she stared at him, he shrugged. “I find sleep eludes me at times, especially since my sister’s accident. I prefer not to deal with my demons alone. Will you not join me here by the fire?”

Not wanting to remain in such a vulnerable position, she drew on the wrapper over her nightdress and rose from the bed. When she had buttoned the garment to her neck, she approached him cautiously, moving to stand near the fire.

“How did you get in here? You must have used a key.”

“No, you possess the only key.”

“Then how?”

“Would you believe me if I said a secret passageway? A former Baron Sinclair had it built during Cromwell’s bloody reign to provide a swift means of escape. But my father made use of it to gain convenient access to his mistresses.” Damien gestured toward a corner of the room closest to the windows. “A panel in the wall moves aside.”

A surge of anger claimed Vanessa at his deception. “Why then did you make such a show of giving me the key to my bedchamber if you had entry all along?”

“Confess, did you not feel easier in your mind, believing yourself safe from me?”

“You said you wouldn’t come here until I invited you.”

“I said I wouldn’t demand to share your bed-and I won’t.”

She could think of no immediate reply, knowing he was right, yet his rationale only rekindled her resentment.

His gaze remained soft. “I meant what I said, Vanessa. You have nothing to fear from me.”

She stared at him, cursing her own foolhardiness. Damien Sinclair should have presented a menacing, sinister figure, wandering like a ghost in the night, intruding wherever he pleased, watching her sleep. But, strangely, she wasn’t afraid of him. She was merely angry. First he had forced her into this untenable situation. Then he’d failed to honor his word in spirit, if not in letter.

“I do not fear you,” she retorted, raising her chin.

“But you don’t trust me.” He smiled faintly. “Your eyes are eloquently expressive.”

“Most certainly I don’t trust you. I believe you’ve given me little reason to.”

“I shall have to convince you otherwise.”

She shifted uncomfortably on her bare feet, wondering if she had the right to demand he leave.

“Meanwhile…” His gaze surveyed her, lingering on the plaited braid of her hair. “Will you not join me?” he repeated. “I am not bent on seduction tonight, I promise you. All I am interested in coaxing from you is perhaps a little conversation.” When still she hesitated, he took a different tack. “I came to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?”

“I visited Olivia after dinner. She has agreed to see Dr. Underhill.”

Despite her anger, Vanessa was relieved to hear the news. “I am glad.”

“What did you say to persuade her?”

“Nothing much. I played on her sense of familial duty, I suppose. I made her aware of your remorse at not being able to help her. Perhaps she decided to make an effort for your sake, if not her own.”

Damien frowned. “I find that hard to credit. As you’ve no doubt deduced, we aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Olivia says she doesn’t blame you for her misfortune.”

“Perhaps not, but she blames me for neglecting her all these years. I’ve spent the past two months trying to improve our relationship, to little avail.” Damien shook his head. “You were able to draw her out in less than a day. I was exceedingly surprised to discover her reading Shakespeare. That is the first time since her accident, I believe.” He paused before adding reluctantly, “You have my gratitude.”

His praise sounded somewhat grudging, as if he meant to withhold judgment about her and her methods.

“It is only a first step,” Vanessa observed, her own tone just as grudging. “She still has a long, long way to go.”

“A long way indeed,” Damien murmured darkly, staring down at his brandy for a moment. “How did you know her taste in poetry?”

“My brother told me.”

Damien’s jaw hardened visibly, reminding Vanessa of her own deception regarding his sister. But he appeared determined to shrug off any somberness.

He gestured toward the chaise lounge. “Will you oblige me by joining me, Vanessa?”

Although extremely reluctant to be so near to him under such intimate circumstances, Vanessa clamped down on her resentment and capitulated. She chose the wing chair opposite him, however, recalling the last time she had found herself on a couch with the decadent Lord Sin. Trying to banish the memory of his erotic kisses and his even more erotic caressing of her breasts, she curled up in the chair and tucked her feet beneath her.

For the space of a dozen heartbeats, she waited for Lord Sinclair to say something, but he only sipped his brandy in silence while he stared into the flames.

Vanessa found herself watching him warily. The firelight played over his features, illuminating the stark beauty of his face, making her breath quicken.

She had been truthful about not fearing him, yet his presence here, in the moonlit darkness, still seemed a threat. The sensuality of the moment disturbed her greatly.

Even so, she had to remember the bargain she’d made. As much as she deplored his extortion, it was still better than the alternative-her family cast out of their home and living in penury. She had agreed to become his mistress. She, at least, would honor her word. She would provide him with conversation if he asked it of her.

“What shall we talk about?” she asked, the question more curt than welcoming.

He raised his gaze to her. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you choose to tell me. I wonder, for instance, why we never became acquainted before this. You must have spent time in London.”

“A fair amount. Until my father’s passing two years ago, my family removed to town every spring.”

“I don’t recall meeting you, and I think I would have remembered.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I doubt you paid any attention to schoolroom misses.” Vanessa eyed him curiously. “I could not help but notice you. During my first Season, you attended several of the same functions I did. I remember one ball in particular where you caused quite a stir. Something about a certain lady pursuing you into your club on St. James Street. The scandal provided the ton entertainment for at least a week.”

His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “I would prefer you not remind me.” He studied her. “You are no stranger to scandal yourself, I believe. I knew your husband, although not well. If memory serves, Sir Roger was embroiled in his fair share of scandal.”

It was her turn to grimace. “I try not to dwell on it.”

“Why did you wed him then, if you were so averse to his way of life?”

She looked away, gazing into the fire. “Why does any young lady wed? To oblige my family, of course. It was considered a highly advantageous match, and my father wished it. In truth, Papa was… in rather desperate financial straits. Roger was flush in the pockets, having just come into his inheritance.”

“Still, I would have thought you would have some say in the matter.”

Turning her head, Vanessa met his eyes directly. “You have a sister for whom you’re willing to go to great lengths. Is it so difficult to comprehend why I would wish to help my family?”

“Were there no choices other than Sir Roger?”

“He seemed the best. At the time, he hadn’t embarked on his… wild career.” She couldn’t repress a sigh. “I would rather not discuss my late husband, if it is all the same to you. That was an unpleasant time in my life, and I have endeavored to put it behind me.”

“Very well. I shall make a pact with you. You refrain from mentioning your brother in my hearing, and I will refrain from mentioning your late husband.”

There was a short silence while Damien sipped his brandy, his eyes heavy-lidded but watchful. “So after your marriage ended, you returned home?”

“Yes. It was then that I discovered the… true state of my finances.” Vanessa struggled with another painful memory; the shock of Roger’s death had scarcely passed before a swarm of creditors descended upon her. She’d been dazed to learn that he had managed to squander his vast fortune on gaming and expensive mistresses. “It seemed foolish to try to maintain a household of my own. And by that time my father was gone and my family needed me with them.”

“Your father suffered a riding accident, did he not?”

“Yes, he was thrown from a horse while hunting. How did you know?”

“After my sister’s calamity, I made it a point to investigate her seducer. Your mother has not been incapacitated for long, I think.”

“No. She took to her bed when my father died and never fully recovered from her period of mourning. Much of her suffering, I believe, is of the heart rather than physical in nature. She was very much in love with my father.”

Damien’s mouth curved cynically, but he let her observation pass and cast a casual glance around the chamber. “Are you comfortable here?”

“Yes… at least I was until a short while ago,” she added wryly.

His eyebrows rose. “Until a certain midnight visitor dropped in on you unexpectedly?”

“Precisely.”

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“Under these circumstances, there seems to be little point. I did warn you that I had no experience as a gentleman’s mistress. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not practiced in the arts of coyness and flirtation.”

His smile was amused. “You haven’t disappointed me, angel-eyes. On the contrary, I find candidness refreshing in a lady.”

“Oh? And are you acquainted with many ladies? I own I’m surprised.”

He chuckled. “I see I shall have to try to be a better host. In addition to giving you the opportunity to exercise your sharp wit on me, I will endeavor to find activities to entertain and occupy you. Do you like to read?”

Vanessa replied with all seriousness, “Very much.”

“You are welcome to use my library whenever you please.”

“Thank you. I shall take you up on your offer-whenever you are not availing yourself of it.”

“And you ride, I presume?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should choose a mount from my stables. Olivia’s horses badly need exercise.” He frowned. “One of her greatest pleasures was riding. She frequently was in the saddle from morning till night.”

Sensing his darkening mood, Vanessa offered a consoling thought. “Perhaps in time she will be so again.” When Damien made no reply, she made an effort to change the subject. “I am also surprised that you enjoy such mundane pleasures as reading and riding.”

“I enjoy many pleasures, sweeting.”

“So I understand. Your enjoyments are legion. The tales one hears of you are enough to set even the most jaded tongues wagging.”

“What exactly have you heard?”

“That you founded the latest order of the Hellfire League, for instance.”

“Co-founded. I and some half-dozen of my colleagues.”

“Its reputation is rather unsavory. Rumor has it that you regularly indulge in orgies and perversions.”

“You give us too much credit. We are a pale imitation of the Hellfire Club that was active during our grandfathers’ time.”

“But it is still a fraternity for depraved libertines, I imagine.”

“Depraved libertines? Is that not a redundancy?”

“Not in your case, I expect, my lord.”

He gave a mock wince. “I thought you agreed to call me Damien.”

Vanessa ignored his personal remark. “Is it true the price of membership is ten thousand pounds?”

“Yes.”

She started to demand why he had invited her brother to join, but she knew the answer to that; he was intent on bankrupting Aubrey. Besides, she had made a pact to refrain from mentioning her brother.

“I trust the price is worth it,” she said instead. “Do you allow women to become members?”

His brow arched. “Not at the moment, but I imagine we could make an exception. Are you wrangling for an invitation?”

“Certainly not,” she responded with amusement. “In the first place, I could not afford the subscription fee. And in the second, I have never much cared for the company of rakes.”

“You’ve made me well aware of your opinion on that score. But have you never considered that perhaps I’m not as debauched as you think?”

“No,” she answered truthfully.

“Sweeting, you still have a great deal to learn about me. I expect to enjoy teaching you.”

She suspected that he was baiting her, but she answered in kind even so. “Perhaps you will, but you flatter yourself if you expect me to enjoy it. Not every woman is eager to fall under the spell of the wicked Lord Sin.”

A silver gleam entered his eyes. “I am devastated.”

“I doubt it. Were you devastated, you would not be so glib with your rejoinders.”

The suggestion in his hedonist’s smile made her pulse quicken. The smile reached his eyes, and Vanessa found herself captivated. It was a mistake to allow herself to be drawn into banter with him, no matter how much she might enjoy it. She was far too vulnerable to the sensual charm of this legendary rake.

To her surprise, he rose slowly to his feet. “You are too clever by half, vixen. I can see I will have my hands full, dealing with you.”

She tensed as he moved toward her, but he merely stood gazing down at her. “I could continue trading barbs with you, but I should go and leave you to sleep. Unless you would consider inviting me to stay the night…?” Her pointed silence gave him his answer. “Very well. It has been a pleasure, sweeting.”

She was surprised that she could honestly agree.

“I hope you will permit me to return here occasionally when I am too restless to sleep and share your company for an hour or two.”

“I suppose you mean to tell me I have a choice?”

“Most certainly. But you might find yourself enjoying the companionship. Rosewood can be a lonely place.”

He spoke from experience, she suspected, hearing the oddly wistful note in his quiet voice.

She held her breath as he reached out to her, but he only touched her cheek in farewell, brushing his thumb lightly over her skin. Then he withdrew his hand and turned away.

Without speaking, he approached the side of the room. She watched as he pushed aside the panel and disappeared into the secret passageway like a silent phantom. The panel slid closed behind him with a soft click, leaving her alone in the moonlit chamber.

After a moment, Vanessa rose and went to inspect the panel. She could find no mechanism that allowed entry. Wondering at Damien Sinclair’s sorcery, she turned and leaned back against the wall. There had been a dreamlike quality to his remarkable visit, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.

Bewildered, she shook her head. She had wanted to despise the profligate nobleman, but instead found herself intrigued by their game of wits. Her common sense had deserted her, along with the need to protect herself.

The growing intimacy between them was a worse threat. She didn’t like feeling sympathy for him, yet she sensed in him a loneliness as great as her own.

When her eye caught the dark splash of red on the white linen of her pillow, she remembered the rose he had brought her. Slowly Vanessa crossed the room to lift the velvet bloom to her nose, taking care to avoid the thorns.

More troubled than she cared to admit, she drank in the sweet scent. If only a few days ago someone had predicted she would willingly entertain the notorious Lord Sin in her bedchamber, or that she would walk away unscathed, she would never have believed it. He was still the heartless devil who had bargained for her soul. Thus far, however, he had made no demands on her. He hadn’t touched her, if one discounted the gentle, spellbinding stroking of her cheek when he’d said good night.

Yet he was still incredibly dangerous. Quite apart from his sensual charm and heartbreaker handsomeness, Damien Sinclair possessed a potent quality that beckoned and lured, a compelling vitality that called to everything deeply feminine within her. Despite her hard-won experience with notorious rakes, she was so very vulnerable to him.

Heaven help her, she had only her wits with which to protect herself, a pitiful weapon indeed. He’d made no secret of his aim. He had vowed to seduce her-and to make her enjoy her seduction. And if she were not careful, he would succeed.

She slept well and dreamlessly and awakened later than usual, to bright sunshine flooding the chamber. With an unusual sense of anticipation, Vanessa rose and dressed and went downstairs to breakfast.

She was unsurprised to discover the sideboard groaning with hearty fare including broiled kidneys, ham, eggs, scones, and jam tarts. A footman stood ready to assist her, but there was no sign of Damien, much to her relief.

Barely was she seated when the butler, Croft, made an appearance. When Vanessa casually asked where Lord Sinclair might be, she was told he had breakfasted early and was closeted with his steward.

“His lordship has placed his stables at your disposal, if you care to ride this morning, my lady,” Croft informed her.

“Thank you, I might. I think I should visit his sister first to discover her wishes.”

When she finished eating, Vanessa made her way back upstairs to Olivia’s room. She found the girl lying in bed, still in her nightclothes, but at least the curtains were open a crack and the room wasn’t in total darkness.

From the way Olivia’s expression brightened, Vanessa concluded that her presence was welcome.

“I thought I might investigate your beautiful rose gardens this morning,” she began cheerfully, “but I could use a guide. Since your brother is occupied with his steward, I hoped you might be willing to show them to me.”

“You want me to show you the gardens?” Olivia asked warily.

“I’m told you are very fond of roses.” Vanessa nodded toward the wheeled invalid chair standing in the corner. “We could have a footman carry you downstairs, and I think I could push your chair along the paths.”

Olivia made a face. “I despise using that chair. I feel so helpless in it. But I suppose that is a childish sentiment.”

“No indeed. But it can offer you a measure of freedom you couldn’t have otherwise.”

“I suppose so.” The girl raised her chin gamely. “Very well. I will show you the gardens if you like.”

“You will need a bonnet to protect your lovely complexion. The sun is quite bright, even for the first day of June.”

“Is it June?” Olivia asked, startled. “I hadn’t realized.” Her voice turned wistful. “I’ve been lying abed for so long, all the days run together.”

She rang for her abigail, who, along with two other maids, helped her dress in a white Swiss muslin gown and red velvet spencer as well as a heavy shawl to ward off the last of the morning chill.

Her eagerness was heartbreaking. When the footman carried her out into the garden, Olivia blinked at the golden brightness. But the instant she was settled in her invalid chair, she raised her face to the warmth of the life-giving sunlight and gave a sigh of pleasure.

“I have missed coming here,” she murmured as Vanessa moved behind her to guide the wheeled chair.

“There is no reason you cannot come every day, is there?”

Olivia’s mouth curved in a wry half-smile, and when she glanced up, Vanessa caught the hint of amusement in her blue eyes. “You will not need a guide every day.”

“No, but I will need a companion.”

“You are indeed persistent, Lady Wyndham.”

She smiled. “I did give you fair warning. And, please, call me Vanessa.”

They wandered the paths slowly, admiring the flowers and discussing the variety of roses in the vast gardens. Olivia was quite knowledgeable about the subject, and could even quote details about individual bushes.

They were not alone. Gardeners moved among the beds with hoes and shovels and pruning shears, and several strangers dressed as scholars occupied the paths, pens and notebooks in hand. In a corner near the house, an artist had set up an easel and was thoughtfully painting in watercolor.

Vanessa took care to avoid the others and stopped frequently for Olivia to rest. There were benches scattered here and there, arranged artfully beneath ornamental shade trees, and several times she guided the girl’s chair to get her out of the sun.

“I never realized,” Vanessa said during one of those intervals, “how complex the breeding of roses could be.”

“Indeed. Damien deserves credit for reestablishing the cultivation program. He made Rosewood famous for its collection. Even Napoleon has heard of us,” Olivia added with pride. “Several years ago, when Empress Josephine acquired a sample of every living rose for her gardens, her nurserymen began the search here. The Prince Regent issued special passes for them to work here. And despite our naval blockade of France, the Admiralty ruled that if her plants were ever intercepted at sea, they should be forwarded to her at once.”

Nearly an hour had passed when Olivia’s head began to droop wearily, even though they hadn’t seen half the acreage or gone near the conservatories.

“Would you like to return to the house?” Vanessa asked. “I don’t want to tire you.”

Olivia nodded, then gave a sigh of frustration. “How absurd that I cannot even sit in this horrid chair without becoming exhausted.”

“Your brother tells me you’ve agreed to see the doctor. Perhaps he can suggest some ways to alleviate your weariness.”

The girl grimaced. “I doubt it. But I decided the sooner I gave in to Damien, the sooner he would leave me in peace. You cannot believe how vexing he has become, always pressing me to stir myself from my bed, as if I weren’t really a cripple. I wish he would just return to London.”

“I’m certain he’s only thinking of your welfare.”

“No,” the girl disagreed. “I am merely a burdensome duty to him, and he wants to be done with it as soon as possible.”

When they turned back toward the house, they saw the tall, lithe figure of Lord Sinclair striding toward them.

“Speak of the devil,” Olivia murmured with evident bitterness.

Upon reaching them, Damien came to a standstill and stood searching his sister’s face intently.

“I seem to have shocked you speechless,” she observed dryly.

“A pleasant shock, my dear.” He bent to kiss her forehead. “It is good to see you up and about.”

When he straightened, he met Vanessa’s gaze for a moment. She could read the gratitude in his eyes before he returned his attention to his sister. “Dr. Underhill should arrive this afternoon, if you are up to seeing him.”

“Very well, but there is no need for such haste. He will not be able to cure me today… if ever.”

“I didn’t want to risk your changing your mind. And the sooner he can advise us on a regimen for therapy, the sooner your healing can begin.”

Damien took over pushing the chair, and he himself carried Olivia upstairs to her bedchamber, where he left her to rest. But the tension between them was obviously distressing to them both.

Observing their brittle interaction, Vanessa suspected it might be easier to find a cure for Olivia’s health than to heal the rift between brother and sister.

“I don’t believe her infirmity is necessarily permanent, my lord,” the radical-minded Dr. Underhill announced as he exited Olivia’s room several hours later.

Vanessa, who had been present for the examination, followed him into the hall to listen to his explanation to Lord Sinclair.

“I could find no evidence of fractures,” the doctor continued, “but the bruising of the spine suggests severe trauma. I have seen this same sort of injury twice before. In both cases the patients recovered at least partial use of their limbs.”

Damien kept his expression inscrutable, Vanessa noted, while his tone suggested carefully controlled emotion when he said, “So you think it possible she can walk again?”

“With therapeutic activity and enough determination, yes, it is possible.”

Damien shut his eyes and expelled an uneven breath. He looked like a man who had been given a reprieve from death, Vanessa thought.

“What sort of therapeutic activity, Doctor?” he asked in a voice that was not quite steady.

“Gentle yet consistent physical exertion. The worst thing she can do is remain abed.” He glanced at Vanessa. “Forgive my plain speaking, but too many ladies fancy themselves invalids. Their physicians prescribe endless bed rest, when what they truly need is fresh air and exercise to cure what ails them. They lie about till they are limp as sacks of meal, and then wonder why they haven’t the energy God gave a fish.”

Vanessa couldn’t help but smile, which the doctor returned cheerfully.

“As I said, gentle physical exertion is crucial, but other activities may be highly beneficial. Heat, warm baths, massage-anything to stimulate the nerves and muscles and keep the rest of her form from weakening beyond repair until she heals.”

“How long do you think healing will take?” Damien inquired.

“Perhaps in a few months she might begin to regain sensation in her limbs. If so, then we will know we are on the right course.”

“And if not?”

The doctor’s craggy brows drew together. “Then I might have to admit failure. But a few months may not be adequate to judge. It could take a year, perhaps even two for the spine to recuperate fully. It would help her recovery if she had an attendant who could assist her with mild exercise and perform massage on her limbs.”

“I know of a nurse-midwife who attends my mother sometimes,” Vanessa broke in. “She is said to have healing hands.”

“That would be ideal,” the doctor proclaimed, nodding briskly with approval. “I should like to examine Miss Olivia again in three weeks, my lord, and there are some medications I would like to prescribe, if you will direct me to a pen and paper.”

“Certainly. I would very much like to discuss this further with you, sir. But will you first give me a moment with my sister?”

“But of course, my lord.”

Entering Olivia’s room, Damien went to the bed where she was lying. From her position in the hallway, Vanessa saw him reach down and clasp the girl’s hand.

“You heard?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” Her pale face was shining with hope.

An ache rising to her throat, Vanessa prayed with all her heart that the unconventional doctor was right.