Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (2 page)

Astra gathered her skirts and backed from the doorway, her
legs slowly regaining strength. Once her feet reached the thick Persian rug,
she ran on her tiptoes, her slippers barely skimming the floor. She didn’t slow
her pace until she rounded the corner leading to another arm of the estate.

The latest Lord Keane promised to live up to the
reputation of his cousin. Her thoughts raced, but the prominent one sobered
her: once again, her future lay in the hands of a careless reprobate destined
to destroy it.

***

James Keane added the numbers that lined the right side of
the ledger a second time. The dismal total evaporated any lingering pleasure
left from his short but sweet encounter with the chambermaid. Thus far, the
illicit interlude had been the only promising thing about his unexpected rise
in stature. That, and the mysterious woman in black.

“It’s growing rather late, my lord.” Wesley Hutton,
Eastlan’s estate manager and one of several relatives that James discovered he
now supported, suppressed a yawn. “Perhaps we should retire for the evening.
Are you sure you are more comfortable in the guest wing?”

“My apologies for displacing you, but I prefer my privacy.
If you’re tired, feel free to call it a night.”

Though James had been poring over Eastlan’s accounts since
early afternoon, he still didn’t have a solid plan to make the estate solvent.
Discovering he couldn’t just sell the place had been a disappointment.  Though
he inherited the land with the title, they weren’t his to dispose of as he
wished thanks to English law.

With that quick solution out of the picture, he needed to
concentrate, apply his intellect to the problems at hand. He definitely felt
the weight of his unexpected appointment as lord of Eastlan, but also an almost
attractive challenge. And a way to at last prove his own worth. Too late to
prove it to his father, but perhaps it would be enough to prove it himself.

Could he do it? The accounts were in shambles, but he
intended to try. Once again he stared at the figures in the ledger, convinced
there must be a solution hidden among the numbers.

A knock at the door provided a welcome distraction.

“Come in,” he called and took a healthy sip of brandy from
the cut crystal goblet. He eyed the hand-painted china plate that had held his
dinner of roasted pork and baked apples and wondered if it would be rude to ask
for seconds. Though his English relatives’ taste for the finer things had
obviously contributed to their downfall, James saw no benefit in allowing an
immediate surplus to spoil.

The pinched-faced butler stood at the door, appearing more
superior than subservient in his crisp gray suit and white wig. “Lady Keane is
here to see you as you requested, my lord.”

James rubbed his bleary eyes, regretting the interruption
after all. He no longer had the energy to face his predecessor’s widow,
especially considering the blow he must deliver. “I asked to see Lady Keane
hours ago. It’s late.”

“My apologies, Lord Keane.” A feminine voice followed by a
rustle of starched skirts warned him that the lady in question had already
stepped into the study. “My daughter takes up much of my day. She has become
understandably more dependent since her father’s passing. I had expected to
make your acquaintance at dinner, but you failed to join us.”

James studied the papers on the black lacquered, gold-trimmed
desk instead of Lady Astra Keane. His plans to stave off bankruptcy would be
easier in theory than practice, a realization that suddenly ruined his
appetite. And exactly the reason he’d chosen to take dinner at the large ornate
desk in his predecessor’s office. Besides that, he honestly didn’t think he
could face the inhabitants of Eastlan until he’d had time to think about all
his options.

“I am sorry for both your loss.” James stood and gestured
toward a chair in front of the desk. “I asked to see you because I thought
you’d be anxious to discuss the terms of your husband’s will as soon as
possible.”

“Thank you for your consideration.” He watched as Lady
Keane crossed the study with some hesitation, her head deeply bowed, then eased
herself into the embroidered seat in front of the desk.

When she finally tipped up her chin, recognition froze
James with a mixture of hot and cold. He’d thought the black dress a uniform,
but he could plainly see the woman who had raptly watched his encounter with the
maid was no servant, but rather his cousin’s widow. The mirror on the far wall
had reflected her from trim waist to lace-capped head and he’d been transfixed
by the perfect oval of her pretty face. She was indeed the same woman, though
then her wide hazel eyes had been sensuously hooded, her mouth red and wet
instead of pinched and pale as it was now.
Good God!
James struggled
with something appropriate to say while praying that his neck had not turned as
red as it felt.

Lady Keane returned her gaze on the hands she rested in
her lap. James slowly lowered himself to his chair and tried in vain to find a
glimpse of the smoldering seductress he had imagined her to be as she’d
hungrily watched him with the chambermaid, something that had made his encounter
that much more enjoyable.

He noticed she had lost the lace cap sometime during the
day, her sand-colored hair now severely restrained with an elaborate rigging of
braids. Her pale face appeared small against the black high-necked dress,
reminding him that she was still in mourning.

He had done quite a lot of vivid speculating on their next
meeting, hoping it might be one similar to his tryst with the red-headed maid,
but this particular situation had not once come to mind. Up until this moment,
he would have sworn that his mystery woman had been as fully aroused as he by
their voyeuristic exchange. The woman before him could not possibly be the same
woman he’d been fantasizing about.

And then it occurred to him she must have no idea he’d
seen her in the mirror watching him. At his extended scrutiny, she flushed and
glanced to Wesley.

Wesley Hutton jumped to his feet, probably sensing the
widow’s distress. “You two have not been formerly introduced. Forgive me.”

“Please, Wesley, we shouldn’t expect Lord Keane to know
our customs. His forwardness is quite appropriate considering the
circumstances,” she said, obviously dismissing some major blunder on James’s
part. There was so much to learn about this country and how its people acted,
and what was expected of him. For an instant he wondered if he was truly up to
the challenge. He took a deep breath, hoping for inspiration and perseverance.
Perhaps his father left his mercantile business to his sisters, with his
brother-in-law to run it, instead of James, for a good reason.  

“Be that as it may,” Wesley cleared his throat. “Lord
Keane, may I present the lovely Lady Astra Seabrook Keane. Like her name
implies, Astra is the shining star at Eastlan Manor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Keane.” He extended his hand
across the desk and she gently took it. In contrast to her prudish demeanor the
warmth of her soft skin made James imagine her as an additional challenge, one
that could be sweet or impossible. Though her identity was no longer a
question, he had a feeling this woman had plenty of mysteries about her.

“We are cousins by marriage, after all,” she said with
what he perceived as a somewhat false injection of warmth. “Perhaps we can
dispense with the strictest formality.”

“Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“Welcome to Eastlan. Again, forgive me for not doing so
earlier, but you seemed to be indisposed for most of the day.” He was happy to
see her blush at that. At least he was not the only one aware of the extreme
awkwardness of the situation. “If I may be of assistance in making your
transition as Eastlan’s new master more agreeable, it would be my honor.”

“I am sure you’re aware there will be changes in your
situation,” James said a little too abruptly. Her sudden hospitality seemed
worse than feeling like the crude American who’d soiled her pristine life with
his vulgar ways. Better that she found him a little distasteful.

“Indeed, Cousin. How soon would you like us to vacate your
home?” She glared at him with a surprising amount of anger that colored her cheeks
and brought out the green in her eyes.

He searched for the right mix of denial and encouragement,
but wasn’t quick enough. His heavy pause gave him away. The fact that he found
her desirable as hell would not benefit either of them. Better for her to leave
sooner than later. Better for both of them.

“Eastlan would fall into chaos if not for Astra.” Wesley
turned toward Astra. “Our new lord is sure to be taken aback by the magnitude
of orchestrating such a grand estate. I’m certain he will be in need of your
counsel on the intricacies of directing the household staff.”

“Thank you, Wesley, but I am quite capable of speaking for
myself.” James directed a warning stare at the steward. Wesley’s assumption
that James was completely incompetent was beginning to seriously annoy him.
After all, Wesley was the one who had personally directed the maid in question
to show James to a room where he could change out of his traveling clothes, and
that particular member of the staff had needed no instruction whatsoever. In
fact, James had learned a thing or two.

“I am sure Lord Keane will have no trouble familiarizing
himself with the staff.” Astra Keane lifted her chin with a show of haughty
superiority. Was she also thinking of the chambermaid?

“If there is something you’d like to say, Lady Keane,
please feel free to speak your mind.” There was something in her defiance that
made her even more appealing. He met her direct gaze, and to his surprise, she
didn’t flinch, just directed more of her hot anger his way. Why was she so
damned mad? Yes, his behavior had been questionable, but she’d walked into a
situation where she hadn’t been invited. He hadn’t ravished the maid, rather it
was the other way around. Before he’d barely walked into the room she had him
backed against a bureau and he’d found it impossible not to indulge in what she
so generously offered. And perhaps that was the problem. Had the sweet little
maid provided the same services for Astra’s late husband? James studied her,
looking for a clue.

He watched as Wesley glanced between them. By the
wide-eyed look on his face the man was obviously feeling a little panicked.

“Lady Keane is of gentle breeding, my lord,” Wesley
sputtered. “She is unaccustomed to unschooled manners. Please have a care for
her delicate nature.”

Instead of correcting Wesley, she lowered her gaze and
pressed her fingertips to her mouth. Apparently not everyone had been privy to
the living, breathing woman under her touch-me-not exterior, but James had, and
he was tired of pretending not to know otherwise.

“Would you mind excusing us, Mr. Hutton? I think it would
be best if I speak to Lady Keane alone. I’ll do my best to rein in my
uncivilized nature.”

Astra Keane jerked her gaze to his, but pressed her lips
together, silencing the alarm James glimpsed in her eyes.

“I did not intend to imply such.” Wesley stood. “Forgive
me, Lord Keane.” He bowed then strode toward the door. With his hand on the
knob he paused and said, “All will be well, Astra. I promise.” He cast a
half-guilty, half-apologetic glance at James, then silently slipped from the
room.

Interesting. One overly friendly housemaid. One covetous
steward. One under-sexed and voyeuristic mistress he longed to know more about,
even though he knew he shouldn’t go down that path considering the
circumstances.

James tried to ignore the tightening in his groin at that
last thought. He glanced up at Astra, keenly aware that they were now alone.
The sordid implication proved better than the bawdy novels he’d read the last
time he’d been detained in England. Now he had an inkling where Defoe and
Fielding got their inspiration.

“I’m sure Wesley didn’t intend to offend you, my lord” she
said. “He is only trying to protect me. My husband’s illness has made these
last few years difficult.” She had bowed her head, speaking the words to her
once again clasped hands, then suddenly lifted her chin as if mustering her
courage. “My daughter has not adjusted well to the loss of her father. She has
nightmares and—”

As if realizing she was speaking with the enemy instead of
her compatriot Wesley, she squared her shoulders. “Of course, this is none of
your concern. I appreciate your directness and shall face whatever changes must
be undertaken. I am quite ready to be settled.”

“Again, I am sorry for both your loss.” James plunged ahead
to stop himself from contemplating the shadows under her eyes. If she’d been
awakened at night with a crying child, well, that would certainly explain it.
He really was the villain here, he reminded himself, not Astra. Pushing aside
any other distracting thoughts, he also reminded himself he had a task at hand
to complete.

“In his will, your husband spoke of you both with great
affection.”

Her shoulders slumped in obvious relief, her reaction raising
James’s suspicions once again. Even so, it would be unfair to let her become
too relaxed, even though it might work to his advantage. No, he needed and
wanted to be fair. It was the kind of lord he imagined he could be once he got
the hang of things. But now, now he had an obligation to just tell her the
truth she deserved.

“However,” he began, “he failed to purchase the bonds for
the generous income he wished for you.” James picked up the paper that outlined
the legal ramblings and held it out to her hoping to soften the blow. The naked
truth about her situation was not his invention or doing.

She stared at the offering before slowly reaching for the
document. A slice of grief tightened her pretty features. Instead of
discovering the details of her fortune, she carefully folded the pages, her
left hand resting gently atop them on her lap.