Dangerous Beauty Page 8

  “Granted,” Seth agreed.

  “I took them on once, Seth, and I won…but by the skin of my teeth and Elisa’s past was a mere maiden’s blush compared to the past that dogs your heels.” He swirled the liquid in his glass.

  Seth saw the path ahead that Vaughn had just drawn. “The only way to have what I want is to take back my place as the son of the Earl of Innesford. To do that, I must clear my name of this past that dogs me, as you say. That means I must prove my innocence, not just to my mother but to Natasha and her family…to everyone.”

  Vaughn grinned. “Welcome home, Englishman.”

  * * * * *

  Natasha wanted nothing more than to return to the muffling warmth of her bed, where the world could be forgotten, but her mother would not hear of it.

  The change in her mother’s attitude was startling, for Caroline had spent the previous day hovering by her bedside, insisting she rest and recover from her terrible ordeal. Caroline had shooed away all the servants, too, and waited on her daughter herself.

  Now Natasha was required to attend a visitor. With her maid’s help, she had dressed and styled her hair and her astute maid also informed her of the visitor’s identity—her Aunt Susannah, a woman who thrived on gossip and the self-importance it gave her.

  Dressed in a gown that had gone out of style years ago, Aunt Susannah sat across the dining table from Natasha’s mother. Sisters only two years apart in age, they were more like twins, for their coloring and features were nearly identical. The only difference was their social status.

  Susannah had married for love to a continental baron who had died over a decade ago. His death had left her in debt and at the mercy of her wealthy sister, who did not let Susannah forget her generosity for a minute.

  As Natasha entered the dining room for morning tea, Aunt Susannah was occupied watching a young footman pour her tea. She was taking a rather keen interest in his backside.

  The young man’s face was as red as his hair and Natasha smiled inwardly. She’d heard whispers about her aunt’s appetite for younger men and while most of her friends thought it merely a scandalous fairy tale, Natasha knew, now, that it might well be true. She didn’t think she could be shocked by anything this world presented her, anymore.

  And with the indirect reminder of Seth, all her humor fled. She took the seat the butler held out for her.

  “He killed the man in cold blood, I hear,” Caroline said, slathering cream onto a scone.

  Natasha knew of whom her mother spoke. The hot wave of nausea swept through her again, making her temples prickle and her heart thud with a sickly booming.

  It had been this way since the ball, the reminder of Seth Harrow…Williams…and the kind of man he was made her physically ill.

  And she would return to the question that now haunted her—how could she have been so wrong about him?

  Aunt Susannah waited until the footman disappeared behind the kitchen door to respond.

  “Indeed, that is what I hear. An English soldier!” She shivered with delight.

  Natasha put down the spoon she had just picked up, deliberately letting it clatter on the saucer with an unmusical note. “You can not believe everything you hear, Aunt Susannah.”

  Susannah’s lips thinned. “My dear girl, he spent the past fifteen years in a prison colony in Australia. One of the worst in the entire world.” She reached for her tea and took a sip, no doubt for dramatic effect. Susannah had spent years honing her story telling to a fine art—the better to hold the attention of people who would otherwise dismiss her out of hand. “He is an animal. A man with no conscience. I am simply amazed they released him at all.” She held out her hand to Caroline. “And my dear…he sports an earring as well, I hear.”

  “I saw it on him at the ball. It was quite vulgar,” Caroline said with a shudder.

  It wasn’t anything of the sort, Natasha thought. It had been a simple, small gold ring—nothing like what pirates were supposed to wear. “It’s customary for sailors to wear an earring to mark their crossing of the equator,” she provided.

  Susannah put her cup down quickly, staring at Caroline, Natasha’s comment completely ignored. “You spoke with him? Directly? Oh, dear sister, do tell me everything! What did he look like? Was he simply vile to look upon?”

  “Oh, really!” Natasha exclaimed, disgusted with her aunt’s vicarious curiosity. “The law believes that once a man has been released from gaol, he has paid for his crimes, and is ready to return to society and take up a useful place.”

  And Natasha was amazed at her own hypocrisy. For she had been as dismayed by Seth’s past as anyone else—perhaps more so. But this outright salivation over the details of his crime and his person, as if he were a specimen under a bell jar, irritated her. Why couldn’t they leave the man alone? He had not asked anything of them and they were turning him into the latest cause célèbre.

  Her mother gave her a gentle, concerned smile. “We know how he trifled with your affections, my dear. You are hardly in a position to call judgment upon him.”

  “He did not trifle with my affections!” Natasha cried. And the wild voice inside her crowed loudly, Liar! Liar!

  Again, her mother favored her with a patient, understanding smile. “He won your sympathy. He was intimate with you. How else would you know why he wears an earring?”

  “Because I read books, Mother. Perhaps you should try it?”

  “Oh dear…” Susannah said in a die-away voice, her hand at her throat.

  “She’s been through such an ordeal,” Caroline explained to her sister.

  Fury pricked her at her mother’s blindness.

  Unexpectedly, a memory of Seth’s eyes entered her thoughts. She saw again the deep hurt in them when his mother had snatched her hand from his. Would a hardened criminal feel any hurt at all over such a rejection? Would he have even bothered to seek his mother out? For plainly, that had been his only reason for attending the ball—to find his mother.

  Yet he had not declared himself her son. Why not? Because he had no intention of claiming back his heritage. He had been going back to Ireland. He had stopped in London to check on her and then remove himself from her life once more.

  While Natasha considered this new perspective on Seth’s actions the night of the ball, her mother leaned towards Susannah and dropped her voice.

  “He dared to give my daughter a rose. A rose!! The arrogance of the man!”

  Natasha was startled. How had her mother known about that rose? She had been nowhere near the dance floor at the time.

  Then she sighed. The gossips had been hard at work the last day or so.

  Aunt Susannah gasped, setting her tea down so it rattled on the saucer and turned to stare at Natasha with a horrified expression.

  Under her mother’s and aunt’s regard, Natasha felt her cheeks flush hot. She lifted her chin a fraction. “He did indeed give me a rose, but only as a gesture of kindness.”

  Her mother sniffed. “A man like him does not know the first thing about kindness. He made me uncomfortable from the moment I met him and I did not like how much attention he paid you, my dear.”

  Aunt Susannah sighed loudly. “Natasha, you have so much to learn when it comes to men.”

  “Mr. Harrow was nothing but a gentleman at all times,” Natasha said coolly.

  How horrified these women would be if they knew what really transpired between herself and Seth Harrow. Her cheeks burned remembering the intimate kiss they shared, the way he’d stroked her womanly folds with his tongue, the way her body had pulsed and throbbed…and how his thick erection had strained against the buttons of his pants. He could have taken her the night before last and she would not have stopped him.

  And then the thought struck her with all the force of an express coach.

  I still want him to take me.

  Natasha blinked and realized she was holding her teacup halfway to her lips, as she stared blindly at the velvet swags adorning the archway between the dini
ng room and the big formal front drawing room.

  She put the cup down carefully on its saucer, while she processed this new revelation. It was true—she burned for him…even after hearing the horrific news of his past. It didn’t matter a whit what they said about him, she still ached to feel his thick manhood slide into her and his soft, blurred brogue in her ear.

  She wanted him. She wanted to be in his arms. She didn’t care what his past had been. Not now. It had been a shock to hear it, but now she had absorbed the news. She realized she had two facts to support her decision. First, Seth had been kind, gentle, and empathetic. The look in his eyes when he’d begged her to make him leave—she knew with every fiber of her being that the fear in his eyes had been genuine.

  Secondly, whatever his crimes had been, he had paid for them. Aunt Susannah had summed it up perfectly: Fifteen years in the worst penal colony in the world.

  “A gentleman would never kill another man, my dear,” Aunt Susannah said, heaping three spoonfuls of sugar into her tea and thereby proving by at least two spoonfuls that she was not a lady, either. “And he is not Mr. Harrow. He lied to all of us, and you most of all.”

  Natasha set her fork down on her untouched plate. Something Vaughn had said to her once slipped back into her mind, along with his melodious tenor voice. “This society is too quick to condemn and too lazy to question. If someone had just asked Elisa to explain herself, she would have been saved eight years of misery, and her son, too.”

  Natasha touched her napkins to her lips. “Perhaps Mr. Harrow had cause for what he did.”

  Her mother’s disgusted sigh filled the high-ceilinged room. “For the love of God, Natasha, what cause would any person have to kill another?” Both her aunt and mother stared at her as though she had grown another head. “And it’s Mr. Williams, too,” Susannah added piously.

  Natasha addressed her mother first. “I am not excusing the act. I just wonder what actually happened. Perhaps there is more to the story than we know. Has anyone bothered asking Mr. Harrow what happened?”

  Her mother’s eyes widened.

  Natasha turned to her aunt. “And I will continue to call him Mr. Harrow, until he gives me leave to call him otherwise. You failed to note, amongst all your sensational tidbits, Aunt Susannah, that Mr. Harrow did not come waltzing back into London to reclaim his heritage and commit a rash of crimes and scandals. Send a message to the harbormaster and ask him to confirm his listed departures. I think you will find that Mr. Harrow intended to leave yesterday for Ireland. He was in London merely to ensure his mother fared well and that was all. It was my father who quite rudely and without consent revealed Mr. Harrow’s former name at the top of his voice.”

  Both women were staring at her now, their mouths open. And indeed they might. Natasha had never spoken to either of them in this fashion before this day. She was swiftly adding a long list of novel behaviors to her tally.

  Her aunt was the first to recover from her shock. She shook her head. “The man spent fifteen years of his life in prison, Natasha. You cannot gainsay that fact.”

  “And why did he deny who he was? He is an evil man, plain and simple. Even his own mother could not hide her shame at the ball,” Caroline added.

  “Oh, the poor dear,” Aunt Susannah said, cutting her ham into bite-size pieces. “As if it is not enough that her husband has taken ill. Now she has the return of her murderous son to contend with. We really must visit her soon, Caroline.”

  Natasha bit the inside of her lip. How badly she wanted to defend Seth. But how could she, when she did not know the truth for herself? And once again, memories of the way his soft lips had felt against her own, his long-fingered hands on her…and in her and the way he had pleasured her with his mouth. The blood heated her veins, swooping low into her belly, causing a throbbing ache between her thighs.

  “No doubt he has returned because his father is near death,” her mother said, taking a bite of her scone. “He stands to inherit all that wealth, as well as his father’s titles.”

  Aunt Susannah lifted a painted brow. “Indeed, he is an only child.” Had they heard nothing of what she had said?

  Fury touched her. To be so ignored was humiliating. Neither of the older women believed she held a single useful thought in her head. They were talking to each other as if she were not there and anything she said was discounted immediately as the verbal meandering of a child.

  She gripped her napkin under the table, wringing it in both hands and heard the hemstitches tear.

  Jenkins, the butler, entered which effectively halted the conversation.

  Jenkins carried the silver door tray, with a single cream-colored calling card sitting precisely in the middle. He held the tray out to Caroline, who read it and glanced at her sister.

  “Oh dear. It’s that Elisa woman. The new Marquess of Fairleigh’s wife,” she said, as though she and Elisa had not been friends when the younger woman had moved north and lived at Fairleigh Hall, the land adjoining Natasha’s parents’ home.

  “Wardell’s son?” Susannah asked, her curiosity pricked. “Didn’t she…” Then she glanced sideways at Natasha, suddenly remembering her presence. “Well, er…” She reached for her teacup.

  Caroline handed the card back to Jenkins. “Tell her I would be delighted to receive her, Jenkins.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” He strode away, not giving a hint of reaction to what he had just heard.

  Caroline placed her hand against the teapot. “We’ll need a fresh pot.” She rose and pulled the velvet bell pull, just as the dining room door opened again.

  Elisa stepped into the room, looking beautiful in a soft yellow gown that complimented her wheat-shaded curls. Two bright spots of color touched her high cheekbones, and she started a little when she saw Susannah on the other side of the table.

  She turned to Caroline. “My apologies, Lady Munroe. I would not have dreamed of interrupting had I known you were entertaining company.”

  “Not at all,” Natasha’s mother answered politely. “You know my sister, Susannah, Baroness Beaufort, of course?”

  “Baroness,” Elisa said, with a tiny nod of her head. Married to a Marquess, Elisa now outranked both women in the room. But she seemed nervous and Natasha knew that Elisa was finding her return to society a trial. Vaughn may have won her respectability back, but even though society had nominally accepted her, there were dozens of ways of putting her back in her place and her mother and Susannah knew all of them.

  Caroline had never forgiven Elisa for taking Vaughn from his destined place beside her daughter. Elisa had a right to be wary.

  “Indeed, my dear,” Susannah added, “Your arrival is well-timed. We were just exchanging the latest delicious gossip.”

  “Oh…” Elisa said, clearly startled. It had been gossip that had destroyed her life in the first place—vicious rumors that had circulated unchecked and unchallenged, all behind her back. She bit her lip.

  Caroline motioned for the footman to pull out a chair for their guest, which forced Elisa to sit down.

  The footman poured her a cup of tea and once he stepped back, Elisa straightened her back, and lifted her chin. “Unfortunately, Lady Munroe, I cannot linger to hear what I’m sure is absolutely divine scandal. I have an appointment with my seamstress within the hour and she is in such high demand, I dare not miss the appointment, or I will not have my gown for the Harvest Ball next month.”

  Caroline lifted her brow. “Oh, and who would your seamstress be?”

  “Madame de Torville, of Saville Row.”

  Susannah’s cup hit her saucer and clattered, until she put both hands out to save it and lifted it upright again. “Madamee de Torville accepts your appointments?” she asked, her voice rising.

  Natasha hid her grin. Madame Solange de Torville was the most highly sought seamstress and designer in all of London. Accordingly, she picked her clientele with a sharp eye for the most influential of the ton…and up-and-coming. To have Madame de Torville accept you
r appointment was an indication that you were a personage of importance in the London set. Anyone could visit Paris and have a Worth dress made, but only the very elite wore a gown designed by Madame de Torville.

  Elisa bit her lip. “I’m sorry…did I distress you? It was most unintentional.”

  Caroline looked as startled as Susannah, but she smoothed her hair back and cleared her throat. “Not at all. Well, we must not keep you from your vital appointment…”

  “You are most kind, and I will keep you from your affairs no longer.” Elisa rose to her feet. “I merely dropped by to ask Natasha if she would care to call on Vaughn and me this afternoon, for tea.” And she smiled at Natasha.

  Natasha smiled back, relieved and touched by the invitation. “Why, thank you—”

  “She will not consider it,” Caroline said firmly.

  “Mother!” Outraged, Natasha bounced to her feet. The chair behind her tumbled onto its back with a muffled thud.

  Elisa’s eyes widened and her face turned pale.

  Caroline gave her a stiff smile. “It’s quite inappropriate for my daughter to call upon a man to whom she was once engaged.”

  “Vaughn and Elisa are my friends, Mother!”

  Caroline glanced at her, then back at Elisa.

  “You must forgive my daughter’s hysterical outburst, Lady Wardell. She has had a most distressing time lately— subjected to unwanted attention from a murderous criminal.”

  Natasha stomped her foot. She was wearing day boots and the heels were quite sturdy. The boot rapped against the floorboards beneath her feet with a satisfying bang that jarred all the way to her hip. Everyone looked at her.

  “Elisa, I would ask you to leave before my mother extends you any more rudeness disguised as good sense. I will call upon you later.”

  Elisa looked from mother to daughter and back. “Perhaps I should,” she murmured, pulling on her gloves. “Thank you for tea, Lady Munroe, Baroness Beaufort.” She gave them both a nod and sailed from the room, her chin square and her shoulders straight. She didn’t look back as she stepped out the door.