Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (9 page)

He raked his hand through his hair. “I thought you were a widow.”

“We have plenty of widows here, my lord.” Eugénie curled her lip in her best sneer. He would not touch her again. She would never allow it. “Most of them are too busy grieving for their husbands to play games with you.” She jerked her arm free. “But by all means, see how many of them want you.” Eugénie whirled on her heel to leave when he caught her by the waist, pulling her against him. “
Cochon!
Pig!”

“I know what a
cochon
is.” A hint of humor entered his voice as she struggled to free herself. “But thank you for the translation.”

“Let. Me. Go.” Where were all the servants? Surely someone could hear them and come to her rescue.

He lowered his tone to a caress. “I’ve not finished with you yet.”

Her heart crashed against her chest as the tip of his tongue lightly touched her ear, then one hand cupped her breast. She stifled her gasp. How dare he treat her like this? Cicely was right. He didn’t care who he harmed. Eugénie brought her foot down on the arch of his boot, turned, and slammed her knee into his groin.

Lord Wivenly doubled over, gasping in pain. “What the devil did you do that for?”

“You treat me like a whore. I treat you like a
canaille
.” She straightened her shoulders and started to walk away, then stopped. “You may let yourself out through the back gate. Only gentlemen are allowed in the house.”

Lord Wivenly’s roar reached her a moment before he did. She should have hit him harder.

“You little termagant.”

He really was stronger than he looked. Pain contorted his features as he captured her, forcing her back against a wall. His hands held hers over her head, and he trapped her legs with his body. Wivenly would not touch her again. She would not allow it! If only she could move her legs or had her dagger, she would hurt him so badly he could not get up. “What are you going to do, ravish me in my own house?”

“Don’t think the idea hasn’t occurred to me.” He leaned back a bit, and his gaze raked her body as if he could see through her clothing. Almost as if he was inspecting his goods. “Though even
I
would be a bit pushed to do that at the moment.”

Eugénie fought to pull her hands free. Oooh, she’d punch him if she got the chance. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream.”

“It won’t do you a bit of good.” His voice was as soft as a caress.

A shiver ran through her. He brought his head down and claimed her mouth. Eugénie pressed her lips together.
Non!
She would not respond. She did not want him.

Yet as he fluttered his lips over hers, they opened, wanting him. Her traitorous body responded to his touch as a thirsty man craves water. His tongue danced with hers as his hands possessively roamed her body, lighting sparks where his fingers touched. She was clay being molded by him.

“There now,” he whispered, as if trying to gentle some frightened animal, “that’s better.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes as his tongue traced her jaw.
Mon Dieu
, what had he done to her? Why was she acting like this with him? “You cannot do this. You’ll ruin me.”

“I’ve already ruined you. Now, I’m going to marry you. As soon as possible.”

Marry her?
“You cannot.”

“I can and I shall.”

“
Non
. You
cannot
!”

What the hell was she saying? Will leaned back and pierced her with a gaze meant to intimidate. He didn’t understand her at all. Most women would give their eye teeth to marry him, and Miss Villaret was refusing? No, she said he couldn’t, but what reason could she possibly have? “Why not?”

Her breasts heaving under the modestly cut gown was the only sign that she was still upset. “You need the consent of both my guardians.”

He shrugged lightly. “You’ll be twenty-one in the next week or so.” He tilted her face up, bringing his lips down on hers. “I can wait that long.”

“It is my youngest sister that has a birthday. I am already twenty-one.” Eugénie raised her chin and smiled sweetly. “That is not the age of majority here.”

Will jerked his head back, feeling as if he’d been slapped.
“What?”
She had to be wrong. “What do you mean?”

A smugness that made him want to shake Eugénie crept into her voice as she said, “It is five and twenty.”

“
Twenty-five?
What the deuce are the Danes thinking?”

Apparently it was her turn to shrug, and she did. “That one-and-twenty is too young.”

He glared down at her. “Who are your guardians?”

“Maman.”

“That’s easy enough.” He smirked, and watched as her eyes spit fire. “I already have her consent.”

“You arrogant, perfidious brute.” She began struggling against him again. “I cannot believe you spoke with my mother before saying anything to me.”

“It is the way this type of thing is usually done.” He held her fast as she bucked against him, trying to escape. Damn, she’d be a challenge. Not like any of the English girls his mother would likely pick for him. “Who is the other one?”

“Your father,” she spat.

Will didn’t believe her. “How is that possible? He’s your trustee.”

Her lips curved into a tight smile. “The court here approved Papa’s will. He left it like that.”

“Damn
.
”
The curse was out before Will could stop it. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that with you present.”

“On the docks, I have heard much worse.” Her chin went up a notch. “Besides, we have already established you are not a gentleman. I am not sure I want to marry you. I wish for a husband who will treat me with kindness. Not like a blood—”

“That’s enough,” he barked. Good God. What was it about her that had him acting like a barbarian? “Hasn’t anyone ever told you, ladies don’t use certain words?”

Neither did gentlemen for that matter, but he might make an exception in her case.

One well-shaped brow lifted. “I have no need to use them with anyone else.”

He was going to kill her. Eugénie had to be the most difficult, temperamental woman he’d ever met. “Well, they don’t.”

God, he sounded like a prig.

“I am perfectly ladylike when I’m treated as such.” Her eyes flashed. “Which you do not.”

Even if it only lasted a few weeks, this was going to be a long betrothal. He wanted her in his bed now, before he could murder her. “We should go up immediately and tell your mother you’ve agreed to marry me.”

She shook her head.
“Non
.
”

What the hell was she up to? “What do you mean, no?”

“You ask a great many unnecessary questions, my lord. I already told you I wish to marry someone who treats me properly.” She glanced up at her hands.

Will hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by letting them go. Still, he couldn’t very well keep her pinned against the wall until the wedding. He released her wrists. “Very well.”

She rubbed her reddened flesh. He had no doubt she’d make him pay for each bruise.

“I shall have marks, then everyone will know you abuse me.”

If he strangled her now, he’d be doing them both a favor. “I let you go, what more do you want?”

“A proper proposal.” She raised her chin again. At this rate, she’d be staring at the ceiling. “The kind a gentleman would make.”

Maybe he’d just slit
his
wrists, and let someone else deal with her. “I suppose you want me to go down on one knee.”

“As a matter of fact”—a small smile tilted her lips—“yes, that would do nicely.”

Will stifled a groan, glad none of his friends were around to see this. Kneeling before her, he reached for one of her hands, but she whipped them behind her. “Miss Villaret de Joyeuse, Eugénie—”

“A gentleman would not use my name until I’d given him permission.”

He bit the inside of his lip. An English miss might have been a better choice; at least they respected his rank. “Miss Villaret de Joyeuse, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She pulled her full lower lip between her teeth. “I must think about it.”

Murder was too good for her. “You let me make a fool of myself, only to reject me?”

“Just because I did not throw myself on you does not mean I refused you.” She scowled. “I said I would think about it. I will give you an answer later. After all, this is very sudden.”

He curled his hands into fists; otherwise they’d wrap themselves around her beautiful neck. “There is nothing hasty about this.”

Eugénie opened her eyes wide. “Oh, but there is. Before, you only wanted me as your mistress.”

“How the dev . . . Why would you think that?”

“We women know these things.”

Eugénie stepped away from him and walked quickly away. This time he let her go. If he caught her again, only God knew what he’d do, and he needed to figure out how the devil they were to marry. He’d be damned if he’d wait for a letter from his father. He sank back down to the floor, his groin still throbbing painfully. It was probably too much to hope the hotel had ice.

I
n the event Lord Wivenly decided to watch her depart, Eugénie held her head high and shoulders straight as she marched up the stairs. Conceited, insufferable pig. If he thought she would fall at his feet, he would soon learn she was made of sterner stuff. He was stupid besides. If she hadn’t been a gently born virgin, he would have been happy to make her his mistress. How much clearer could he have been? Rushing down to propose once he discovered her identity. Rot, as Papa would have said. Had no one ever denied the man anything?

If her mother only knew what Lord Wivenly had done . . . But no, Maman would expect her to be betrothed, and she’d wonder where Lord Wivenly was. Drat the man.

Eugénie stopped. She was almost at the main level of the house, where her mother was. Yet if she went back down the stairs to her rooms, Wivenly might see her. Perhaps she could go through the front and flee to Cicely’s house. Eugénie stepped softly through the door into the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible. Everything would be fine if she could escape detection until she had a plausible story. Unfortunately, she was a very bad liar.

“Eugénie, my love.”

God was punishing her for going against her mother’s wishes. “Yes, Maman.”

“Where is Will?”

“Who?” Had another man been here?

“Lord Wivenly, of course.”

The brute hadn’t even told her his name. “He had to return to his hotel.”

Her mother had a confused look on her face. “I thought he would take his leave of me. That
is
how things are done.”

Now what to say? That he would have trouble walking? She didn’t truly know he’d left. He could enter at any moment. “He asked me to offer his apologies. There was an emergency.”

“Strange,” her mother said, smoothing her skirts. “He did not mention it to me, but”—she smiled—“he was so determined to see you and propose.”

Not knowing what falsehoods the scoundrel had told her mother, Eugénie asked, “What did he say, exactly?”

Maman’s eyes grew misty. “Only that he’d fallen in love with you at first sight when he saw you at the Whitecliffs’.” Her brows drew together. “My dear, why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

Oooh, he was going to pay for putting her in this position. Though Eugénie had to admit it was a very good lie. His lordship had probably had a great deal of practice. “He wanted to tell you himself.” Clasping her hands demurely in front of her, Eugénie gave her mother the most innocent expression she possessed. “I could not dishonor his wishes.”

“It makes me so happy you are betrothed and your future is resolved.”

Eugénie turned her choke into a cough. She really was going to make Lord Wivenly more miserable than he’d ever been in his misspent life.

Bates knocked on the open door. “A Mr. Shipley here to see you, ma’am.”

Maman drew her brows together and gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name. Why should he come here?”

“Shall I tell him to leave?” Bates asked.

“No, show him in. Eugénie, please remain with me.”

“Certainly.” She was just as bemused as her mother. “Who could he be?”

A large man with a pot-belly and florid face came into the parlor ahead of Bates. “Mrs. Wivenly?” Her mother inclined her head, and he turned to Eugénie. “Ah, this must be Miss Villaret. A pleasure to meet you both.” He paused for a moment, but when Maman didn’t offer him a seat, continued. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Howden about your circumstance. It is my greatest desire to relieve you of your concerns. I am prepared to offer you a fair price for Wivenly Imports and settle one thousand pounds on Miss Villaret if she will agree to marry me.”

The room spun, and Eugénie grabbed the back of the chair next to her to steady herself. Was the man mad? He acted as if she and the company were for sale to the highest bidder.

“Mr. Shipley,” Maman said in a cool tone, “we have no plans to sell the company, and if we did, the proper person to apply to is the Earl of Watford. He is the trustee until my son is of age.” Her lips curled into a tight smile. “As for my daughter, she is betrothed to Viscount Wivenly, my late husband’s great-nephew.”

All the color leached from the man’s face and for a moment Eugénie expected him to fall over dead. After a few moments when he appeared to struggle with himself, he bowed.

“Well then, it seems I was misinformed.” He placed his hat on his head. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wivenly. Miss Villaret, I wish you happy.”

Once she heard the front door shut, Eugénie turned to her mother. “I wonder what that was about? How strange to receive an offer of marriage in such a manner.” Not to mention two in one day. Maman dropped her head into her hands. Eugénie couldn’t stand her mother being so miserable all the time. “I’ll have Bates bring you a sherry. Our lives will be better now, you’ll see.”

When her mother raised her head, tears sparkled in her eyes. “Thank God, Will got here first. Papa would be pleased to see you so well settled. I hope Will will be as good to you as your papa was to me. Love in a marriage is important.”

Her mother never discussed her marriage to Eugénie’s father, but she knew it had been an arranged match. She blinked back the hot tears that threatened. Once the sherry came, she called for her ten-year-old sister, Valérie, and convinced her mother to rest on the chaise.

When Maman was settled, Eugénie said to her sister, “Read to Maman. I will return shortly.”

“What is wrong?”

“I’ll explain later,
ma petite
. I have some correspondence I must attend to, after which I will return.”

When Eugénie entered her parlor, which was on a level that she shared with her brother, two floors beneath the main part of the house, a note with Cicely’s seal was propped up on her desk. Eugénie opened it and sat with a plop. Her friend’s betrothal would be announced tomorrow at the soirée. Cicely was so lucky to have found the man she wished to marry. Mr. Grayson would make her a fine husband. At least one of them would wed for love. Eugénie would marry because she’d been stupid enough to allow the devil to kiss her. The thought made her stomach tighten, and she felt ill.

Tears flooded her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. What kind of life would she have with a rogue who didn’t truly care for her? He would go on with his life, bedding women and then leaving them. Well, what was sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose. If he was unfaithful to her, Eugénie had no reason not to do the same. She would find love. She deserved that much, even if it was not with Lord Wivenly. She pulled out a piece of paper from her secretaire and sat down, considering the wording carefully as she wrote to her betrothed. It would be a
mariage de raison
. A point she would make clear to him.

Will made his way gingerly along the streets to the hotel and his chamber. He poured a glass of brandy—rum wasn’t quite up to this. “Tidwell, a small bag of ice if you can manage it, please. I’ll bathe later.”

“Yes, my lord.”

By the time Will changed into the light linen dressing gown and repaired to the parlor, his valet had returned. “Where shall I put it, my lord?”

He held out his hand. “I’ll take care of it. I need some time alone.”

“Yes, my lord.” Tidwell bowed. “Mr. Grayson said I should wish you happy.”

Of course. He’d known who Eugénie was before he’d sent Will to her house. That’s the reason his friend had been so angry. Andrew should have warned him. Maybe then Will would have taken a different tack. “The lady has not accepted yet.”

Tidwell stepped out of the room then returned, handing Will a folded paper with a seal. His name was written in a neat feminine hand. “This came while you were out.”

He must have stayed in the wash house longer than he’d thought. “Thank you.”

Once Tidwell left, Will placed the cloth bag of ice on his nether parts—they might never be the same again—and opened the letter.

On equal terms? What the devil did the little vixen mean by that? Will tossed back the fine French cognac, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the burn of the liquid traveling down his throat. He’d figure it out later. This had to have been one of the most trying days of his life, and right now he wanted a nap. Perhaps he should have given in and married one of the scheming young ladies in England. At least now he wouldn’t be sitting here almost emasculated.

The ice and brandy were doing the trick, when a loud laugh interrupted his state of lethargy.

Andrew.
His so-called friend sauntered into the parlor, grinning as he took in the bag of ice. The cur. “I am pleased I can be a source of amusement for you.”

Andrew poured brandy in a glass and sat in the chair on the other side of the small table. “What did you do to cause the lady to damage your bawbels?”

Will tried to move and winced. This was taking longer than he’d expected. Who knew such a small female, in skirts no less, could deliver such a wallop. He hoped he’d be able to attend the entertainment tomorrow evening. “I asked her to marry me.”

Andrew took a sip of his drink. “Did she hit you before or after the proposal?”

“It’s all a bit fuzzy now”—especially after the brandy—“though I believe it was before.”

“Ergo”—his friend lounged back in the chair—“my question. What did you do?”

“I may have been a bit angry”—this was not, after all, completely his fault—“but she’s a shrew. She called me a pig and a blackguard, and accused me of deceiving her.” He picked up the missive and tossed it to Andrew. “Then she sent me that.”

Andrew perused the note and started to laugh so hard he had to wipe his eyes.

“I fail to see what is so funny.” Will glowered. His friend wouldn’t think it humorous if it had happened to him. “I can’t even figure out what the deuce she means by it. Equal marriage indeed. All that French thinking about liberty, equality, and fraternity must have gone to her head.”

Andrew stared at Will for several moments before saying, “What terms did you think of when you decided to marry her?”

That was easy. This wasn’t a love match, after all. “She’d remain in the country most of the year. I’d trot her out during the Season, unless she was breeding, and I’d, in general, go on with my life.”

“Your injuries must have damaged your brain as well,” his friend said in a wintry tone. “From what my betrothed, Miss Whitecliff, told me, Miss Villaret is an innocent, or she was until you got your hands on her, but she is not at all stupid. Do you think she doesn’t know what you have in mind?”

Visions of Eugénie’s pliable body pressed against another man raced through his brain. If she thought he’d stand by while he became a cuckold, she could think again. She was his and would remain so. His jaw clenched. “I won’t allow it.”

“I suspect you’ve met your match.” Andrew put his glass down and stood. “Have a good time feeling sorry for yourself. I trust you’ll be better tomorrow for the party. Remember, we’ve been invited to dinner as well.”

Will poured another glass of brandy. He would not allow Eugénie to lead him a dance. Love was all very well, and he would have enjoyed it except for the fact that every man who fell in love was a slave to his wife. Living under the cat’s paw would never happen to him. He’d calmly explain to her how their married life would work. She really had no choice in the matter.

He thought of the way Eugénie had kissed him. Not as innocent as her friend and Andrew thought. Will would make her tell him who taught her how to kiss, then find and beat the man to a bloody pulp. He rose, pleased his groin was no long as painful. Fate was with him again.

Will spent the next day at the office and warehouse of Wivenly Imports, ensconced once more with Smithwick. Around the middle of the morning Andrew finally appeared, though other than explaining a few matters concerning the business to Will, he may as well not have been there. Andrew’s mind was clearly on Miss Whitecliff and their marriage settlements. Will thought he should probably discuss that issue with Eugénie and her mother. He groaned.
Not the ladies. Damn.
His father was trustee. What a devil of a mess this was.

“My lord?” Griff said, interrupting Will.

The devil, now he’d have to re-add the whole column again. “What?”

His groom rubbed his eyes and blinked. It was much dimmer in here than outside. “You’re lookin’ a mite peaked.”

“If I want a medical opinion,” Will growled, “I’ll go to the doctor. What did you find out about Shipley?”

“Did a runner.”

Howden must have alerted the man. “When?”

“Early this morning on a ship to America. Took everything he owned which, from what the landlady said, weren’t that much.”

Will pulled out the papers Andrew had left earlier concerning his research into Shipley’s business, and swiftly read the information. The man was a fraud. No money, no property, as far as Andrew could tell. Shipley even left an unpaid bill at the tailor’s. He put that page down and looked at the next one. A number of deposits from an unknown source had been put in Shipley’s bank account.
Bloody hell
, he was a straw man. The question was, for whom and why involve Eugénie?

He flipped open Howden’s journal to the last entry.

It was always possible that Shipley had seen her from afar and fallen in love with her, but considering the rest of the information it seemed highly unlikely. Which begged the question: Who was really after Eugénie, why did they want her, and what was the best way to protect her?

He ran a hand over his face. Of one thing he was certain. No man, other than him, would ever touch her.

Hervé Villaret de Joyeuse sat in the shade of a room open to the breeze, a wet cloth clinging to the back of his neck. Soon he’d be able to transport his niece onto the ship waiting for him in the port and depart for Martinique. The captain was already nervous of the weather and wanted to leave immediately.