The Seduction n-1 Read online

  “Perhaps Charlotte could make a match,” Aubrey suggested in a low voice.

  “No! That is out of the question,” Vanessa said fiercely. Charlotte was only fifteen and Fanny thirteen. As long as she had a breath left in her body, her sisters would not be sold into marriage for wealth and position, as she had been.

  “Then what do you propose?”

  She rubbed her temples wearily. “Perhaps we can simply decline to vacate the premises. Lord Sinclair might find it distasteful having to call in the bailiffs.”

  Aubrey shook his head. “My obligation to Lord Sin is a debt of honor. It must be paid, even if we all starve as a consequence.”

  She stared at him as her anger rose again. “You’ve lost our home, our sole means of income, and all you can think about is your precious gentleman’s honor?”

  “If I cannot pay, I might as well put a bullet to my head.”

  “Aubrey, don’t speak that way!” she exclaimed sharply.

  He seemed not to hear. “Perhaps I deserve a bullet. When she fell-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “-I thought I had killed her.”

  His expression was tortured, distraught, and it frightened Vanessa. “Aubrey, I beg you-”

  Abruptly relenting, she rose and went to kneel before him, despite her expensive gown. She took his hands in her own, finding them chilled. “We cannot change the past. We can only strive to be better in the future.”

  After a long moment, he nodded. “Pray calm your fears, sweet sister. I don’t have the courage to end my life at my own hand. I haven’t your strength.”

  Her heart aching for him, she attempted to divert the direction of his dark thoughts. “What do the doctors say about Miss Sinclair’s condition?”

  He drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I was not allowed near her. I wish… I wish I could somehow make amends. That was my intent when I called on Lord Sinclair this week, the instant he returned to town. When he invited me to attend his club, I thought he might have forgiven me… What a fool I was.”

  Aubrey forced a twisted smile. “I suppose I am fortunate he chose that means of revenge rather than challenging me to a duel. I deserve his wrath, I know. Had someone treated my own sisters so appallingly, I would have wished to kill him.”

  Vanessa felt herself soften. Her brother was not a bad man, simply weak. And she loved him dearly. He was a scapegrace, true. But he had supported her through her difficult marriage; he had made her laugh at a time in her life when she found little cause for joy. And he seemed truly sorry for his abominable actions toward Lord Sinclair’s sister.

  “We will think of something, Aubrey, I promise you. I won’t allow our mother and sisters to be thrown out on the street to starve.”

  The pleading hope in his eyes was heartrending to see. “What can be done?”

  “I don’t know, but I haven’t yet given up trying to persuade Lord Sinclair to see reason.”

  “He wants vengeance.”

  “I know.” She shivered, remembering the storm-gray eyes that had seemed to penetrate her very soul. His compelling image rose in her mind’s eye: elegant, virile, dangerous. The wicked Lord Sin was a man to be reckoned with.

  “He is a heartless devil,” she murmured, “but I shan’t accept defeat just yet.”

  Chapter Two

  With trepidation Vanessa stepped down from the hired hackney carriage to stand before the magnificent Sinclair residence in fashionable Mayfair. Shivering, she tugged the hood of her pelisse around her face, less for protection against the gray morning drizzle than to conceal her identity. A lady did not call at the home of a gentleman, especially one of Lord Sin’s infamous reputation.

  Yet she was driven by desperation. Summoning all her willpower, Vanessa climbed the marble steps to the imposing front door. When a stately majordomo answered, she presented her card. Not even by a twitch of an eyebrow did the elderly servant display surprise at her presence.

  “I will inquire if his lordship is in, my lady,” he intoned. “Would you wish to wait in the blue salon?”

  She accepted the offer. Entering the salon, she drew back her hood but remained standing, barely noticing the elegance of her surroundings that bespoke wealth and taste. The gates of Hades would hold more appeal just now.

  She despised licentious noblemen. And Damien Sinclair, Lord Sin, was a profligate of the first order. He was known to be a leader of the notorious Hellfire League, a fraternity of depravity for wealthy lords, patterned after the club of a similar name made infamous a half-century before.

  Still, she would have to quell her distaste if she cherished any hope of saving the Rutherford estates.

  In only a few moments, a young gentleman appeared in the salon. He bowed politely while surveying her curiously through his spectacles.

  “Lady Wyndham? I am his lordship’s secretary, George Haskell. He asked me to inquire how I may be of service.”

  “Is Lord Sinclair not at home?” she asked, unsurprised to be fobbed off on an employee.

  “He is preparing to go out. I would be happy to assist you if I may.”

  “I’m afraid that is not likely. I’ve come on a matter of some urgency, which only his lordship may deal with.” Her tremulous smile was apologetic but determined. “Will you tell him that I shall wait for him to come down?”

  Mr. Haskell bowed and withdrew. He was back shortly, wearing a troubled frown.

  “His lordship bade me inform you, my lady, that he will grant you a short interview… upstairs. If you will please follow me?”

  She expected to be shown to a drawing room, but when they had climbed the wide staircase, the secretary led her down a wide hallway to a private chamber. With another bow, Haskell left her, shaking his head in evident disapproval.

  The room was large, Vanessa saw as she entered, and was tastefully decorated in crimson and gold and rich mahogany furnishings. In the center of the vast chamber stood a huge bed, whose covers were still in a tangle.

  Vanessa felt her heartbeat quicken. This was Lord Sin’s bedchamber.

  “Do come in,” a lazy, sardonic voice drawled from the opposite side of the room.

  Vanessa took a single step and stopped short. The wicked nobleman was shirtless, dressed only in breeches and boots. The expanse of bare skin was stunning. With wide shoulders, a broad chest corded with lean muscle, a hard flat stomach, and narrow hips, he had the physique of a Greek god, his muscularity suggesting his devotion to athletic sport. Add to that the fact that he was treacherously handsome, and her pulse went wild.

  She had forgotten the dismaying impact this man had on her.

  He offered her an apologetic smile as he drew on a loose cambric shirt. “Forgive me for receiving a lady in such a state of undress, but you did insist.”

  Indeed she had. Even so, his receiving her here was a blatant attempt to intimidate her, she realized. If it was known she had visited his bedchamber-a den of iniquity, without doubt-she would be thoroughly compromised. Still, she was in no position to challenge him. To have any hope of persuading him, she would have to swallow both her dismay and her nervousness.

  “I can manage,” he said to the manservant attending him. He took the flowing stock and dismissed the valet, who bowed and obediently withdrew.

  Alone with the premiere rakehell of London, Vanessa made a futile attempt to quiet her rioting pulse.

  “You don’t mind if I continue dressing?” Sinclair moved to stand before the cheval glass, where he began tying his cravat with consummate skill. “I am pressed for time. I don’t wish to be late for an appointment with my tailor. My secretary would like me to take my place in the House of Lords, which requires my being suitably attired.”

  His dry tone suggested cynical amusement, but Vanessa could not believe he was overly concerned about his style of dress.

  He was a bold rogue, with a natural sense of arrogance bred into him, but he was no fop. And he had no need to rely on his tailor to present a favorable appearance. Men feared and respected h
im, while his looks and charm alone had seduced legions of females. Vanessa could not deny that her every feminine instinct came alive in his presence. Those stunning gray eyes of his, fringed with thick lashes, could only be called beautiful.

  Swallowing with effort, she found her voice. “Thank you for agreeing to speak to me,” she began on a conciliatory note.

  That swift masculine smile flashed in the mirror. “I had no choice but to yield gracefully, my lady. You are quite persistent… determined enough to camp on my doorstep, I suspect.”

  “Necessity compels me to be. But I wish only ten minutes of your so valuable time.”

  “You may have ten minutes, but I warn you, ten hours would not be adequate to change my mind regarding your brother. Pray be seated.”

  Vanessa glanced at the wing chairs before the hearth, and the chaise lounge beneath the far window. “Thank you, but I prefer to stand.”

  He inclined his head to signify his indifference and made a delicate loop of the cravat. “Does your brother know you are here?”

  “No, and I have no intention of telling him. He would be scandalized to know I even called upon you, let alone that you received me in your bedchamber.”

  “Notorious despoiler of feminine virtue that I am?” Sinclair asked ironically. “I do hate to disillusion you, but I don’t lie in wait for helpless females to ravish.” His eyes met hers in the cheval glass. “Although in your case, I confess I might be tempted.”

  She took a deep breath. “You were correct, my lord. I did come here to discuss my brother’s debt of honor.”

  “How clever of me to have guessed.”

  “Perhaps,” Vanessa continued, striving for a reasonable tone, “you don’t comprehend the hardship that fulfilling the debt would place on his family.”

  He gave a sigh of resignation. “I gather you mean to tell me.”

  “My mother and sisters will be destitute, with no place to live.”

  “Your brother can always apply to the cent-per-centers to redeem his vowels.”

  “No moneylender would advance such a sum without the Rutherford estates as collateral. Even were he able to pay his debt of honor to you, once in the clutches of the moneylenders, the result would be the same. Aubrey would lose his estates and be thrown into debtor’s prison and his family driven from their home.”

  “I still fail to see how that concerns me.”

  Vanessa fought down an angry reply. It would do no good to antagonize Lord Sinclair. “You have every right to wish revenge on my brother, but must you make his family suffer as well?”

  “That is an unfortunate consequence of his actions.”

  “Not only of his actions. You are a practiced gamester, my lord. You lured him into deep play, you admitted as much last night.”

  “Indeed, I had every intention of ruining him.”

  “Fleecing green boys should be outlawed,” Vanessa murmured bitterly.

  “So should destroying the lives of innocent young girls,” he retorted. When she simply stared at him, he added with impatience, “Did you come here to play the disapproving paragon, Lady Wyndham?”

  “No, I came here to persuade you to see reason.”

  He ignored her comment.

  “Aubrey has threatened to shoot himself if he cannot find a way out of this difficulty.”

  “I confess that would not break my heart.”

  “It would mine.”

  His eyes searched hers, as if to judge her sincerity. Then he shook his head, while his jaw hardened. “Your brother must pay a price for his reckless cruelty. But I will grant you one concession. If and when he is man enough to come to me himself, I shall discuss terms of payment.”

  Her heart lifted a measure at his offer, but it was not enough. “What good are terms when he cannot manage to pay his tailor’s bill, let alone a wager the size of the one he owes you?”

  “You are singularly interested in his financial affairs, are you not?”

  “I have good reason to be. I manage the Rutherford estates for Aubrey, since he has little head for accounts.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And you have?”

  “Enough to recognize when he is in dire straits. And I must say he is not wholly to blame for his dwindling resources. The chief difficulty has always been persuading our family to economize. I fear we are spendthrifts.” When she received no reply, she pressed on. “Is there no way you would consider reducing the debt?”

  “What do you have to offer in exchange, my lady?”

  She bit her lip, and Damien felt his gaze drawn to her lush mouth. It required a herculean effort to harden his heart against her pleadings. Lady Wyndham was a celebrated beauty, and he had always been partial to beautiful women. Those dark eyes of hers were luminous enough to drown in, while her hair was a lustrous sherry color, shimmering with the gold and russets of autumn.

  But she was calculating enough to have wed for title and property, and during her marriage she had run with a wild set. She could be cut from the same cloth as her wastrel brother and her late husband. Sir Roger was known to have squandered his inheritance while blazing a trail of scandal and debauchery, before meeting an untimely end. If rumor could be believed, his friends had been more than eager to console his grieving widow. Vanessa Wyndham did not seem as superficial and fatuous as other ladies of the ton, Damien admitted, yet she could be playing a role for his benefit.

  While her striking eyes were wary, there was awareness in her gaze, a sexual awareness that told him clearly she felt the attraction between them.

  “I fear I have little to offer you. My husband’s death left me in rather straitened circumstances,” she acknowledged quietly. “Our home was so heavily mortgaged that there was nothing left when it went to pay his debts.”

  “You had best seek a rich husband then.”

  He saw her grimace of distaste. “Even were I inclined to wed again-which I am not-there isn’t time for me to find a husband.”

  “You do have a dilemma, it seems. But a beautiful woman like yourself can always take a lover. Or perhaps you already have one?” His tone was leading, curious.

  Vanessa set her teeth. “I have no lover, Lord Sinclair.”

  “Yet you are not above using your feminine charms to gain your ends. I expect the revealing gown you wore last evening was for my benefit?”

  Vanessa flushed, but she held fast to her temper.

  His gray eyes raked her from head to toe. “It should not be difficult for you to find yourself a protector. You have abundant charms with which to bargain. Use that lovely body of yours to advantage.”

  “I am not a lightskirt, my lord.” She said it through clenched teeth, so fiercely that he had to believe her sincere.

  Her indignation gave Damien pause. He was accustomed to women throwing themselves at his feet. To her credit, the lovely Vanessa had not tried to ply him with tears or devious tales. She wasn’t attempting to wheedle a favor from him. She was simply pleading honestly with him to let them keep their home.

  He had to confess he admired her forthrightness, as well as her courage. He even admired her determined defense of her brother, however misguided it might be.

  But it was unwise to allow himself to soften toward her. Vanessa Wyndham was clever, with spirit enough to be intriguing, and beautiful enough even for a man with his jaded, discriminating tastes. Under ordinary circumstances, he might enjoy pitting wits with her, perhaps even engaging in a game of seduction. But these were far from ordinary circumstances. Her brother had shattered his innocent sister’s life and would have to pay.

  “Have you never done anything that you regret?” she was saying. “Aubrey was raised with no concept of responsibility. Our father was a poor role model for him.”

  “An edifying tale.”

  “My lord, my brother is merely a boy.”

  His gray eyes hardened. “And my sister is merely a girl, whose life Rutherford callously ruined.”

  “I am not excusing his behavior,” Vanes
sa managed more civilly. “But I should think you would wish to devote your energies to aiding your sister rather than seeking vengeance.”

  “I have been devoting my energies toward that end.”

  “Indeed? Did you not leave her alone in the country while you returned to London to your life of leisure?”

  It was Damien’s turn to set his jaw. “I fail to see how it concerns you, Lady Wyndham, but I am in town to seek a companion for her, if you must know. My chief reason for coming was to investigate employment agencies and interview prospective candidates.”

  And to visit your tailor. It was all Vanessa could do to hide her disdain. The mighty baron evidently didn’t wish to be bothered with his invalid sister, not if he planned to shirk his responsibility and palm the girl off on an employee. “Is that not rather coldhearted, to fob her off on a stranger?”

  “Is it not rather unwise to antagonize me, Lady Wyndham?” he replied in a silken voice edged with steel.

  Vanessa hesitated as she surveyed the storm gathering in his eyes. She had angered him, which was indeed foolish. Lord Sinclair was a dangerous man because of his implacable will. When he moved toward her slowly, it was all she could do to stand her ground. She was too aware of his body, the size and strength of it, of his raw masculinity.

  He stopped before her, gazing at her hard. The heat and intensity in his eyes were unnerving. Then his tone dropped to a low murmur. “You are here alone, in a notorious rake’s bedchamber. I could have my wicked way with you, and no one would gainsay me.”

  It was a threat, but somehow he made it sound like a sensual promise. Even more unnerving was the way his scrutiny shifted to her bosom. She could feel his gaze like a tangible caress, could feel her breasts tighten as if he had actually touched her.

  She stood frozen when his hand rose to her throat. Her breath caught as his elegant finger trailed a featherlight path downward to the vulnerable hollow. “Do I fluster you, Lady Wyndham?” he taunted softly.

  “No… of course not.”

  “So why is your breathing so shallow, your lovely skin so delicately flushed?”