Something Reckless (9 page)

Which was fine, of course. She still wasn’t certain of this man’s motives. Even if she
were
looking for a new husband, which she wasn’t, Jeremy Vaughn was the last man she would ever consider.

“Your mother said as much?” he asked.

She nodded in response as she avoided his eyes. Just speaking to him, calmly, quietly, seemed to soothe her ragged nerves. It was strange that this man, of all men, could cause such a reaction.

“I do not mean to offend,” Jeremy said with a little chuckle. “But I would think your mother might say such a thing for her own motives.”

Penelope snapped her gaze up to his. Her blush deepened. “I suppose her mercenary desire for each of her daughters to marry powerful, rich men is no secret. Certainly, we must be mocked for her behavior in many circles.”

Jeremy didn’t respond, but motioned to the chair she had vacated earlier. “Come, sit down. Have a drink and we’ll share luncheon.”

She hesitated. Breaking bread with this man seemed so
civilized
, so
normal
after all the sinful things they had seen together. And despite how many erotic images he had shown her, sharing the meal also felt more intimate in some way.

“Please,” he urged, placing a hand on her back to gently guide her to the seat. “Clearly there is more going on here than a mere encounter with your mother. Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

Penelope sat down and stared at the starched linen tablecloth that decorated the round table before her. The lines of the fabric blurred as she considered her options.

She needed to talk to
someone
about the troubling encounter last night. Penelope didn’t want to remind Fiona of anything unpleasant in her past, and she certainly couldn’t speak to any of
her other friends about the mysterious man who had seduced her with words and aroused her with his dark, faceless touch.

“I need to know something,” she whispered. She looked up into Jeremy’s eyes, seeking the truth there. Looking for his intentions, his honor. “Are you toying with me?”

Jeremy jolted at the pointed question. From the focused, sensual expression in Penelope’s blue eyes, he initially feared she had determined the truth about her mystery lover’s true identity. But as he examined her expression, he realized that that was not the case. He had already surmised that Penelope wasn’t capable of hiding her emotions, no matter how hard she tried. She wore her pain, her fear, her happiness, and her desire on her face.

If she had guessed the truth, he would have known it from the first moment he stepped onto the terrace.

“Toy with you?” he repeated, letting the words create sensual images of last night in his mind. “What do you mean?”

She frowned, the expression causing little creases around her lips that he wanted to soothe away with a touch. Last night he hadn’t been able to see her face clearly once she stepped out of
the moonlight. How had she looked when he touched her? When pleasure rushed over her in a wave?

“Your miraculous transformation from a man of vice to a man of honor. Is that real, or are you playing a game?” she asked.

Jeremy drew back a fraction. Though he’d always known Penelope didn’t fully believe in his change, a fact he respected, he had not expected her to put her doubts on the line so plainly.

“You may trust in me.”

He looked at her evenly. Unlike Penelope, he had
always
been able to mask his true emotions. Never before had he felt guilty for that fact. Now he pushed that unwelcome reaction aside.

His deceptions were for the best. For his friends, of course, but also for the woman before him. If he managed this situation properly, he could stop her war against sin with blackmail, not exposure. Once she ceased her battle, Society would accept her fully again. Her life would be much easier, and certainly safer.

And yet guilt continued to plague him when her face relaxed a fraction. She believed him.

“I hope that is true,” she whispered. “For both our sakes.”

“Tell me what is going on, Penelope,” he said as he reached out to take her hand gently. “Please.”

She nodded, a jerking motion. “Do you recall that letter you teased me about after we returned from the Cyprian’s ball?”

He inclined his head. “Yes.”

“You implied it was a love letter,” she said with a hard swallow. “But it wasn’t. I have been receiving letters that are…
seductive
from an author who keeps his identity a secret.”

Jeremy arched a brow. This honesty, he had not expected. “Seductive. You mean they detail—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, her cheeks darkening beyond pink.

His cock swelled as he again wondered if her blush had been so dark last night. “I see.”

She turned away. “Last night, before the ball, I received another. This time the author wished to meet with me.”

“And did you?” he asked, leaning forward with anticipation. How far would Penelope go? Would she confide in him what she had done? What she felt when he touched her?

She nodded, her motions slow and jerky.

“And who was he?” Jeremy asked, leaning away like he was only half interested in the answer.

“I-I don’t know,” Penelope stammered. “He hid in the shadows. He kept his face a mystery.”

“Interesting,” he mused, observing her expression for every reaction. She was watching him from the corner of her eye, doing the same. “He must have some reason for his anonymity. Tell me, what did you discuss?”

She clenched her fists against the tablecloth. “Nothing. I had every intention of telling him to stop writing to me, but instead…instead he-he…”

Jeremy leaned forward with a practiced look of concern. “Did he hurt you? Force you to do something you didn’t want?”

She shook her head instantly, and he felt a strange sense of relief that she wouldn’t accuse him of forcing her.

“No, I-I liked it when he touched me.” She covered her face. “Everything spiraled out of control, I don’t know what happened. It terrified me how quickly I let go of my manners, my morals. It was only in a brief moment of clarity, when I realized I would let
him do anything,
everything
to me, that I pulled away. I told him I wanted him to leave me alone, and I ran.”

Jeremy swallowed. It was taking a lion’s share of his control to keep from flipping the table out of the way and hauling Penelope into his arms. Hearing from her lips all of her emotions and reactions was almost as erotic as touching her.

“And do you,” he asked, his voice a little hoarse, “wish for him to abandon his pursuit?”

She jerked her head up and looked at him strangely. Then she shook her head. “No,” she admitted on a sob. “I don’t want him to leave me alone.”

Jeremy stared at her. Her face was so sad, so lost.
He
had done that to her by drawing out the wanton she hid inside, the woman of fiery desire that Penelope insisted on tamping down out of some misguided fear.

“I didn’t know who else to confide in,” she admitted as she composed herself. “I don’t think anyone else could ever understand. But I thought…oh, you must think me the worst fraud after everything I said to you about the evils of desire and sin.”

Jeremy shook his head. “No, Penelope, I don’t think you are a fraud. And I’m pleased you are putting your trust in me.”

The fact that he was sworn to betray that trust was something he tried to ignore, even though it ate at his belly.

“What should I do?” she asked. “You are trying to change, yes? How do I ignore these feelings? These things I have never felt before, never understood.”

Again, he drew back a fraction. Penelope had been married. Yet she acted as though desire was a foreign concept to her. She
had implied before that her marriage was unhappy, now Jeremy wondered just how broken it had been.

“Not long ago, we spoke of your past,” he said, his voice gentle, soft to soothe her like he would an untamed mare. “And I was under the impression that someone…perhaps your husband…had caused you pain.”

Penelope jerked, her hand slipping from the table into her lap as her wild eyes met his. She was so pale he reached for her on instinct, steadying her by touching her forearm.

“What happened?” he asked.

She stared at the hand that rested on her arm and again her stare was heated. Jeremy felt his body react to the look, hardening, growing heavy. Thank God for the protection of the tabletop over his lap, lest the intentions Penelope was forever trying to read would be more than clear, and all would be lost.

“Did you know my father?” she asked, her voice soft and shaking.

He nodded. “A little.”

“Then perhaps you knew a little about his…” She hesitated and her mouth hardened a fraction. “His lack of control?”

Jeremy frowned. He
had
seen Thomas Albright in the gambling hells a few times, many years before, when he had been little more than a green boy, himself.

“If you didn’t know, you weren’t the only one,” she whispered. “Very few were privy to the extent of his problems. Even our own family was quite in the dark until his death. It was only when my sister Miranda took over the household finances that we realized how deeply in debt he was. ‘Gentlemen’ came out of the woodwork, demanding payment.”

She shivered. “Some wanted their repayment in very disgusting terms. But Miranda refused them all. I thought her so strong. But we knew one of us, at least, would have to marry far above our station, however we had no funds to finance such a thing. But suddenly, two summers ago, Ethan Hamon, who was our neighbor, offered us money for a Season for me, as well as Seasons for my sisters, later. He claimed he had owed my father a debt, and this was his way of repaying it.”

Jeremy frowned. He might not recall much about Thomas Albright, but Ethan Hamon was another story. The Earl of Rothschild had once been notorious for his vices, his wicked way with women, his sexual prowess. He had not been known, however, for his charitable works. The idea that he would offer Seasons for the daughters of a neighbor didn’t ring true.

“Why did he do that? Was he close to your family?”

She barked out a laugh that was anything but pleasant. It was harsh and hard, just like her expression. “I did not think so. But it turned out…” She hesitated, and her gaze snagged his. “My sister had made a bargain with him. He promised to pay for our Seasons, and she-she…”

Jeremy’s eyes went wide. So Miranda Albright
had
sold her body to protect her sisters. There had been discreet whispers about the Rothschilds’ relationship prior to their marriage, but Jeremy had dismissed them as idle chatter. Miranda seemed so very proper, and she had certainly tamed Rothschild in the short time they’d been wed.

“I understand,” he said, holding up his hand. He wanted to hear how this story affected Penelope, and saying out loud what her sister had done was obviously difficult for her.

“Miranda and I had always been close,” she continued. “But she never confessed this wicked little arrangement to me. Instead, I uncovered it myself, when I stumbled upon them in an…an
embrace
during a ball to launch my Season.”

Jeremy jerked his head up to stare at her. An embrace? No, he thought it was much more than that. Penelope had been an innocent, and she clearly loved her sister deeply. To see Miranda in the height of passion with a man like Rothschild, of all people…he could see how that might alter her.

“Later, Miranda confessed to me that she not only made the bargain of her own volition, but she
liked
it. She had turned down the proposals of very suitable men simply because she wanted that kind of passion.” Penelope frowned. “I was so…angry.”

“Angry?” Jeremy repeated, genuinely confused.

She nodded. “Our family was in dire straights, our very lives were at stake, and my sister was willing to barter her innocence for some-some fantasy she built in her head. I vowed that night that I would make the sacrifice she had not. I would marry the first man of title and wealth who offered for me, no matter who he was. If only to prevent Miranda from making more mistakes. If only to protect my younger sisters from the consequences of her selfish actions.”

Jeremy looked at her. She was sitting so stiffly that he feared if he touched her, she would shatter.

“And that is when you met Viscount Norman,” Jeremy encouraged softly when Penelope had been lost in thought a few moments too long.

She jerked out a nod. “He was in attendance at the party that night. When I stumbled back into the ballroom after my confron
tation with Miranda, I threw myself into what I saw as my duty. I felt nothing toward any of the men who surrounded me. And I
never
felt anything for George. But he had a title and he had funds and he promised me that he would assist my family. So when he made an offer for my hand, I accepted.”

“But ultimately, Rothschild and your sister married,” Jeremy said with a shake of his head. “And the Earl has holdings and influence that outstripped Norman’s wealth by far. From all appearances, he would catch the moon if your sister asked for it, so why did you not break the engagement when it was clear Rothschild intended to do the honorable thing?”

Penelope caught her breath, and it was clear from her expression that the marriage between Miranda and Ethan was a source of much confusion and even jealousy. Yes, that was jealousy Jeremy saw flickering in her clear blue eyes. Interesting.

“My sister and I had shared such harsh words. After what he had done, I didn’t think I could truly trust Ethan. I certainly didn’t want to pin my future on his honor, nor did I wish to live under his roof.” She gritted her teeth. “And I admit, I was stubborn. I thought my life with George would be no worse, so I went forward with the wedding. But it was—” She caught her breath. “It was a terrible mistake.”

Jeremy saw the tears beginning to gather in the corners of her eyes, and his chest tightened at the sight. Hesitant, he lay a hand over hers. “Why?”

She shook her head. “I was a trophy for him. A way to prove his prowess, despite his advanced age. But he cared no more for me than I did for him. The prowess he was trying to prove, it was failing. When he couldn’t become aroused, he blamed me. He
said,” she faltered. “He said unimaginable things to me. Words that will ring in my ears until the day I draw my last breath.”

Jeremy’s lips pursed. He could well imagine the kinds of things Norman would have said. He’d never liked the bastard. Now he liked him even less.

“When he
could
perform,” she continued, and now one of those tears fell, silent. “He thought nothing of my pleasure. My only comfort was that those nights were few and far between, and his attentions were short in duration.”

Now Jeremy’s anger doubled. The idea that any man would have such a goddess in his bed and not worship her body rightly was a disgusting tragedy. That he would hurt her was an unforgiveable offense.

“I saw my sister, who had sacrificed everything for her own pleasure, settled into a happy marriage,” Penelope whispered, her voice harsh. “And here I was, sacrificing myself for everyone else, and I lived in a hell. It seemed so desperately unfair. The rift between us grew wider, I became more and more alone. And when George died, I was left with a large inheritance, a respected title, and an empty life. And now I don’t even have that life anymore. These past few weeks have changed me, Jeremy.” She shook her head. “I don’t know who I am or what I want or what I should do. This mysterious man is offering me pleasure and I find I want to take it, despite how wrong it is. Despite how I have spoken out on this very topic time and again.”

Jeremy nodded, pretending to consider how to respond. In truth, he was thrilled that Penelope wanted him, especially after the torment of her marriage. It made him all the more driven to bring her pleasure unlike anything she’d ever imagined. To
seduce her and make her see that the sensuality she fought against wasn’t only exploitive and cruel.

But it also made the fact that everything she thought was happening was in truth a manipulation all the more bitter. She had already been caused so much pain, and he was bound to bring her even more.