Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 (37 page)

By all reports the shopping excursion to London was a grand success. Olivia’s letters were almost effervescent in their joy. The Little Season had begun, and with Aubrey escorting her to an occasional ball or evening party, she was finding her introduction to society far more agreeable than anticipated, possibly, she admitted, because she was very much in love with the most wonderful man in the world.

Each time Olivia made mention of her brother, though, Vanessa felt her heart wrench. She could not fathom the change that apparently had come over Damien. He no longer even seemed the same man she knew, an aimless rakehell whose only goal in life was the search for pleasure. Olivia’s last letter from London held the biggest surprise of all.

Aubrey accompanied me the past few mornings to Oxford Street and the bazaar at Exeter Change, for Damien was occupied much of the time—you will never believe where. Whitehall, of all places! He’s accepted a post advising the Chancellor of the Exchequer on governmental financial affairs, which, considering Damien’s Midas touch, should prove extremely advantageous to the national Treasury.

Moreover, he plans to assume his seat in the House of Lords when Parliament convenes in January. He and Mr. Haskell (his secretary) have spent several evenings debating and discussing potential speeches. It is all politics, which I find a bit confusing (and rather dull, I confess), but there are several issues that arouse Damien’s interest. In fact, he intends to stay in London when Aubrey and I return to Warwickshire tomorrow. Damien says he is a natural Whig, which Aubrey tells me is the party of reformists and rabble-rousers. But since Aubrey is a Tory, then, as his wife, I will be a Tory as well.

His wife. Those are quite the most beautiful words in the English language! You must faithfully promise to attend the wedding as my bridesmaid, Vanessa

Vanessa viewed that last request with trepidation. She had mixed feelings about returning to Rosewood. On the one hand, she couldn’t imagine missing her only brother’s wedding. On the other, she wasn’t certain she could bear to see Damien again, to endure his nearness and be reminded so painfully of what she could never have.

Two days later she received another letter that puzzled more than surprised her. It was from George Haskell, Damien’s private secretary.

Dear Madam:

I am writing you on behalf of Baron Sinclair to request an interview with you a fortnight hence. Lord Sinclair’s solicitor, Mr. Naysmith, will travel to Kent the first week in October and will call upon you at your convenience. If you find this acceptable, would you be so kind as to designate a particular date and time?

Your obedient servant,

George Haskell.

She couldn’t imagine why Damien would send his solicitor to see her, but she responded politely to Mr. Haskell’s letter, agreeing to ten o’clock on October third for an appointment.

When the day came, Vanessa made certain her sisters were out riding and her mother was resting comfortably in her rooms. Then she settled with a book in the study, where she planned to receive Mr. Naysmith.

The solicitor was prompt to the minute, and courteous almost to a fault. As soon as he was seated, he quickly came to the point of his visit.

“I wish to make you aware of certain arrangements I have executed on your behalf, Lady Wyndham. Lord Sinclair has deeded a substantial fortune to you, along with a large manor house in Kent, close to London. The house is situated on a prime piece of property and is fully staffed, with a park that is quite agreeable.”

Vanessa stared at him, wondering if Damien had dared charge his solicitor with setting her up permanently as his mistress. “I

am afraid I don’t understand,” she managed to say evenly, despite her welling ire.

“His lordship thought you might wish to have your own household once your brother’s bride becomes mistress of his estates, but that you might prefer to be near your family. Thus the location in Kent. As I mentioned, it is in close proximity to London as well. The stables are not yet stocked, but he was of the opinion you would prefer to choose your own mounts and carriage horses—”

“Mr. Naysmith,” Vanessa interrupted with impatience, “I have not yet considered where I wish to live once Miss Sinclair becomes mistress here, but that is hardly any of Lord Sinclair’s concern. And it certainly fails to explain the reason for his

generosity.”

The solicitor nodded solemnly. “To put the matter delicately, my lady, he wished you to be financially independent so that you might be free to choose your own future—particularly whether or not to wed again.”

Vanessa’s shocked silence lasted a full minute.

When she made no reply, the solicitor explained in more detail. “The legal arrangements are slightly unusual, but not unheard of. Without dwelling overly much on the particulars, let me assure you that the sum in question is tied up so that any future husband of yours cannot control it, as is standard under English law. The majority of the principal, some two hundred thousand pounds, will remain in trust for any heirs—children—you might have, with a substantial quarterly interest paid directly to you. In short, my lady, you are a wealthy woman.”

Withdrawing a sheaf of papers from his case, he handed it to a stunned Vanessa. “I anticipated that you might wish some time to digest this news and perhaps read these documents, my lady, and so I planned to remain in the district at least until the morrow. I shall be happy to return at a later time to discuss the arrangements further, if you like.”

“No

” Vanessa said absently. Under normal circumstances, any self-respecting woman would be insulted by such a blatant offer of money. But she was certain Damien hadn’t meant to insult her. Quite the contrary. “Thank you, but I don’t believe that will be necessary. Your explanations have been thorough enough.”

She did wish for privacy, however, and was glad when the solicitor shortly took his leave. She needed time to reflect on the bewildering turn of events.

If she understood correctly, she was now independently wealthy, completely free to make her own decisions about her future. Her fate was entirely hers to decide, unlike when Damien had obliged her to become his mistress, or when she had married a reckless rogue to satisfy her father’s debts.

Independence was Damien’s gift to her.

What did he mean by such generosity? Did he truly expect nothing in return? Did he know how much his gesture meant to her? Of course he did. He knew how vital independence was to her.

Absurdly Vanessa felt tears burn her eyes. She had to see him, to discover why he had given her such a precious gift. Was it due to guilt? Or because of some deeper, more profound reason, something closer to the heart?

Her sisters chose that moment to walk into the study, although she hadn’t even heard them come home.

When Fanny saw her, the girl stopped her chatter in midstream. “What has happened, Vanessa? Did that solicitor bring bad news?”

“No

”

“Then why ever are you crying?”

Swiftly Vanessa wiped away her tears. “I don’t know exactly. I suppose it’s because I am happy.” She stood up, clutching the sheaf of papers. “I must go to London at once.”

“Now? But Cook promised a chilled custard pudding for luncheon.”

Vanessa forced a smile. “You may have my portion, Fanny. I don’t believe I could eat a bite.”

Once again Vanessa found herself ascending the front steps of Lord Sin’s London mansion, completely disregarding the impropriety of calling alone at a gentleman’s residence. Yet after all that had happened between them, a touch more scandalous conduct would hardly register on the scales.

She wondered if she would find Damien at home. It was nearly six o’clock, too early for him to have gone out for the evening. If he had not yet returned, she was resolved to wait for him forever, if necessary.

She was greeted by the same stately majordomo as before and informed that, yes, his lordship was indeed in. Her heart beating erratically, she stepped inside and was unexpectedly surrounded by the fragrant scent of roses. Vanessa stared in puzzlement, certain the large pots of white and crimson blooms ornamenting the entryway hadn’t been there on her first visit. Had Damien sent for them from his conservatories at Rosewood? She’d thought he wouldn’t want to be reminded of his life there.

Assailed by bittersweet memories, she followed the servant to a salon, whose lamps had been lit against the deepening autumn twilight. The beautiful room boasted a gilded ceiling and a cheerily burning fire. Gratefully Vanessa moved to stand before the hearth, holding out her chilled hands to the flames. She wasn’t surprised to find herself trembling—a condition that only grew worse as the interminable moments drew out.

She sensed his presence before he spoke her name.

“Vanessa

” The low murmur made her heart leap.

She turned around slowly, scarcely daring to breathe. Damien stood just inside the room, watching her, completely still, as if he, too, feared risking a breath.

Her heart jolting in her chest, she drank in the sight of his beautiful face. It was their first meeting since the duel, and although she searched, she could see little outward indication of his injury—except that he looked thinner and a shade paler, and perhaps he held his left arm a bit stiffly. His eyes, however, were wary, intense.

“Why?” she said simply.

He gave a shrug of his elegant shoulders. “I wanted to give you the choices you said you never had.”

A frown darkened her brow. “The freedom to wed anyone I choose, your solicitor said. You realize I could choose someone other than yourself? You are willing for me to wed elsewhere?”

“Yes.” His voice was the husk of a whisper. “If that is what you truly want.” His mouth twisted in a joyless smile. “Of course, I would far rather it be me.”

“And in return for your generosity

what do you want from me, Damien?”

His troubled gaze was as gray as an ocean and just as fathomless. “Salvation. Merely that.” Again that painful, fleeting smile. “I know it is a great deal to ask.”

He moved farther into the room, halting a few steps from her. “I have countless regrets about my life, Vanessa, and the greatest by far is my treatment of you. But I profoundly believe I’ve learned from my mistakes. A man can reform, given sufficient reason. Your brother taught me that. I’ve never before had a reason to change, until you.”

Vanessa felt her throat constrict. “Aubrey said much the same thing about Olivia.”

“He and I have more in common than I like to admit.”

A long tormenting moment of irresolution passed.

“I’ve vowed to try, Vanessa. You couldn’t love the man I was, so I intend to become a different man, someone worthy of you.”

“You have always been worthy, Damien.”

His shadowed gaze was skeptical. “No. The things I’ve done, the empty life I’ve led

I’m determined to change all that.”

“But why, Damien?” she whispered.

“Because I love you.”

When she stood transfixed, Damien took a step closer, gazing down at her. Vanessa didn’t pull away.

With a jagged breath, he drew her into his embrace. He winced at the strain on his healing wound, but ignored the pain and her resultant murmur of dismay and wrapped his arms about her. He wanted to hold her, simply hold her, until the emptiness waned.

He felt the faint tremors of her body as she pressed against him. “Do you know that I dream of you at night?”

“That doesn’t mean,” her reply came muffled against his good shoulder, “that you love me. How can you be certain it is truly love?”

“I feel joy just being with you. I feel pleasure at the sound of your voice. Even the smallest moments have meaning when you’re there to share them with me. Is that not love?” When she remained silent, he went on in a hushed voice. “I never knew joy until you, Vanessa. I never knew what true pleasure was.” He could feel the trembling doubt and hope pulse through her body. “I do love you

so much I hurt.”

Vanessa stood mutely in his embrace. She wanted to believe him so badly that the depth of her longing terrified her. She heard Damien’s voice against her ear, low and pleading.

“I spent far too long trying to escape the truth. I tried desperately to deny what I felt for you. You frightened me. I feared I would lose my soul to an obsession. I did lose it, but I found something far more precious

”

He drew back, tilting her face up to his. She was crying, he realized. His heart wrenching, he reached up to rest his hand against her tearstained cheek, gazing into her eyes, her beautiful, soft, doe eyes.

“I do love you,” Damien whispered. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”

She caught her breath, pinned by the raw emotion in his eyes. Her heart aching, she touched her fingertips to his lips. “Damien, you don’t have to offer marriage. I will continue to be your mistress if you wish.”

“No, sweeting, that wouldn’t be enough. If you come to me, it will be as my wife. I want to marry you, Vanessa. I want to spend the rest of my life proving my love for you. Will you give me that chance?”

She searched the lean, high-cheekboned beauty of his features. The naked vulnerability she saw there struck her like a physical blow. “Damien

”

When she hesitated, wanting to ease his hurt, he shut his eyes in desperation. “Vanessa, don’t torment me. If you don’t want me

if you can’t bring yourself to love me, then tell me so.”

“I do want you,” she whispered. “I love you, Damien. I love the man you are. I always will.”

Focusing on her, he stared into her eyes as if in a mirror, seeing reflected there all his own turbulent emotions

wonder, fear, love. His heart seemed to stop beating.

“Then

if I renewed my declarations, could I dare hope for a different answer?”

She smiled at him, her eyes misty. “Yes.”

That lovely smile trapped his breath in his chest. Hope flaring inside him, Damien swallowed thickly. “I discovered a proposal in a volume of Olivia’s poetry, which I memorized in the event I ever had the incredible fortune to ask you again.” He kept his gaze riveted on her face, his voice low. “Will you have me, though I come to you corrupt? My armor tarnished with sin and decadence?”