Tainted by Temptation (15 page)

Iris rolled her eyes. She was too excited to practice dreary letters. Her papa was home!

After changing, Iris returned to the schoolroom and sat back on her stool. She waited and waited.

Finally, Nellie came and said, “I’m to bring you down to your papa before bringing you a tray for dinner.”

Iris hopped off the stool. “Where is Miss Campbell?”

Nellie sniffed. “Never you mind. Your papa is in the library.”

Iris sighed. Finally, Papa sent for her. Her heart danced merrily in her chest. She would make him proud, curtsying the way Miss Campbell taught her. Her heart might dance, but she would glide across the floor like a lady.

Nellie held out her hand, but Iris ignored it. She wasn’t a baby to be left in the nursery all night. She was turning into a young lady.

She darted toward the stairs and then recalled it wouldn’t do to be seen running through the house like a child. “Will Miss Campbell be there?”

“She’s in the kitchen.” Nellie’s voice was stiff, like she disapproved. Or perhaps she was mad because of her hand being ignored.

Iris sucked in a deep breath. She desperately wanted to make Papa proud, but she wished Miss Campbell would be there. Her governess had a way of looking at her that allowed a course correction. Papa’s hopes seemed to have risen too. Miss Campbell made him believe she could succeed where everyone else failed, but that worried Iris more than anything. She hadn’t been here long enough to learn of the inevitable failures to come.

“Are they very grand ladies?” she asked.

“The
guests
are very grand.” Nellie clunked on the wooden stairs. “Hurry along, I shouldn’t like your father to be kept waiting.”

Iris followed after Nellie, skipping to keep up with the tall woman. Nellie ate miles with each of her steps. Following her, Iris couldn’t glide like a lady. “Are their dresses pretty? Are any of them as pretty as my mama?”

Nellie grunted. Iris kept asking questions, hoping she might get an answer, but Nellie was in one of her grouchy moods.

Nellie opened the library door and pushed a breathless Iris forward. The door clicked shut.

Papa turned in front of the blazing fire. “Iris.”

Forgetting all her plans to be a perfectly mannered miss, Iris hopped forward, her bracelet jangling on her wrist.

His eyes narrowed.

Too late, she pulled her hands behind her back. “Did you have a good trip?”

His mouth stretched thin. “What do you have?”

“Nellie says I am to meet the guests.” Iris tried to smile but her face refused to comply. Instead her tummy felt filled with rocks.

“Show me your wrist,” Papa commanded.

Iris could see no way out of showing him she wore her mother’s jingly bracelet. She thrust out her hand.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her into the light. He lifted up a charm and scanned it.

“Miss Campbell said I could wear it so I could tell my right hand—”

“How dare you wear this?” he growled.

Iris tried to snatch her hand back before he snapped it off like a rabid dog. “You said I would have my mama’s things.”

He yanked. The locket scraped her wrist as the bracelet wrenched free of her hand. “I said when you are grown and gone you’ll have your mama’s things. Not now.”

“Ow!” Iris circled her wounded wrist with her other hand.

He flipped the catch on the locket. His face turned white and then red. As if he could smash it like paper, he squeezed the locket in his hand. Then he hurtled the thick chain with its charms into the fire.

“Go,” he thundered.

“Papa,” she pleaded.

“I don’t want to see you.” He spun and leaned against the fireplace shelf. “Go.”

A sob caught in her throat and she backed away. He hated her. She twisted the doorknob and fled through the house. Her shoes clicked on the hall floor, echoing. Even with a house full of guests, she was more alone then ever.

W
iping moisture from her brow, Velvet hurried through the gallery. The drawing room doors were thrown wide. The fire blazed and several lamps burned on the tables. She’d never seen the room so well lit. As she hovered in the dark hall, Lucian paced into view. Her breath caught.

He tugged at his snowy white shirt cuffs. She paused, taking in his sartorial elegance. He pulled back his black frock coat, exposing a burgundy and black satin vest with a shawl collar instead of his usual plain black vest. After removing his watch, he flipped it open and frowned at the face.

With the scarred side of his face turned away, he appeared every inch a wealthy handsome gentleman. She suited the role of impoverished upper servant. Never had their differences in station been so clear.

She must have made a sound because he tilted his head toward the hallway.

“Vel— Miss Campbell?”

She stepped forward into the circle of light spilling from the room.

“My guests will be down soon.” He strode forward and pulled her into the room. “I will need you to serve as hostess. I have business I must conclude, so I will be occupied with the gentlemen most of the evening.”

From the amount of food being prepared, a score of guests were here. She’d never presided over so large a gathering. And she hadn’t acted as a hostess since her father died. She sucked in a deep breath. He’d warned her, but she’d expected a small gathering of his business associates, not a huge fashionable party.

“When I asked them to bring their families, I had hoped . . .” His voice trailed off. “Most of my guests brought their wives and oldest daughters.” His eyes dropped down her front, and his nose flared. His fingers tightened on her arm.

His gaze lingered so long on her chest, she looked to see if a bit of food was clinging to her bodice.

His upper lip curled before he twisted away. He probably found her simple gown distasteful in contrast to his dressing for dinner. What did he expect? She was a governess. Her lace fichu she could have used to dress up her plain gown had been sold to the secondhand man.

After the second it took him to compose his features, his gaze returned to her face. “You’re flushed.”

“I’ve been helping in the kitchen. I promised Cook and anyone who stayed a ride home in the carriage.”

“Fine, fine.” He hardly seemed to listen as his eyes searched her face.

Voices and footfalls descending the stairs drifted to her ears. He started as if he’d heard too.

His voice lowered to a caress. “You will need to bring the ladies back here for tea after dinner. I will signal you when it is time to leave the table.”

“Iris is looking—”

“We need to discuss Iris later.” His whisper turned cold.

“Ah, Lady John and Sir John, come in.” Lucian dropped her arm and stepped forward. “This is Miss Campbell, she’ll serve as my hostess tonight.”

A woman of a certain age entered, and her husband followed behind her. Gold taffeta rustled as she moved forward. Her nod of acknowledgment barely moved her dangling ear bobs.

Next to enter the room were the Ridleys. Velvet was summarily introduced.

Mrs. Ridley sparkled with jewels. “May I present my daughters, Mr. Pendar? This is my eldest, Evangeline, and next, Amelia.”

Two sable-haired girls of an age to make their debut stepped forward. Both were dressed in white, with elaborate ruching and ruffles betraying the deceptive simplicity of their gowns. Evangeline gasped and Amelia went stiff. For a long second they stared at Lucian’s scar.

His eyes narrowed as he bowed. Without acknowledging their stares, he said, “Miss Ridley, Miss Amelia.”

He turned ever so slightly, presenting the unscarred side of his face to them as he introduced Velvet.

The process was repeated as the Bowmans and their adult daughter entered. Miss Bowman gave Lucian a simpering smile and then lowered her doelike eyes. The sausage curls around her face bobbed.

A dapper little man named Mr. Anderson followed with his wife, who stooped as if trying to hide the six inches she had on her husband. A young woman who had inherited her mother’s height was with them.

Shortly after, a stout man with thick muttonchop whiskers was introduced as Captain Darling. His familial contribution included a pleasantly plump daughter with an engaging smile that faltered at the sight of Lucian’s scar.

“Perhaps you would like to take a seat by the fire?” Velvet held out her arm toward the far side of the room. “Although, Mr. Pendar would warn you, it is too warm there.”

“Yes, thank you,” answered Miss Darling on a gush of air, as if moving as far away from Lucian offered her a welcome relief.

Lucian’s lips tightened wryly.

Obviously, the fear of the female guests bothered him. Velvet leaned toward him, wanting . . . wanting to ease the turbulence. He just didn’t seem the kind of man who could have murdered his wife. Unless it had been some kind of horrible accident. Velvet shook off the thought.

“Good evening, Pendar,” said the next man to enter the room.

“May I introduce Miss Campbell? Mr. Hale.”

Mr. Hale jerked. Then he took her hand, a gesture none of the others had felt necessary. His sandy moustache twitched as he looked her over.

Feeling inspected and found inferior, Velvet tugged to remove her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And you are?” he asked.

“Miss Pendar’s governess,” Velvet answered at the same time Lucian said, “My hostess.”

Mr. Hale’s blue eyes flickered. For a second there was something familiar about the arch of his eyebrow, but Velvet was sure she’d never met him before.

“Robert, how are you?” said Sir John heartily. He stepped forward to clap Hale on the shoulder. Finally freed, Velvet melted back.

The company segregated, with the women gathering in front of the fireplace and the men standing near the door.

Velvet stepped back, allowing the men their boisterous interchange. She took a step toward the fire, but two of the women shifted so their backs were toward her. The ladies were bedecked with glittering necklaces on their bared necks. She was clearly out of place.

She touched the button of her high-necked gown and thought of the gold cross she’d had to sell. As a servant, she had no reason to expect to be included. Besides, they all knew each other, while the names of the different people clashed in her mind.

Velvet sought a dark corner of the room where she could fade into the background and observe. Slipping behind the curtain of the farthest window seat, she sat down. She wished she could leave and take a tray in the schoolroom, but as Lucian’s hostess, she needed to be available to the guests.

The Miss Ridleys and their mother strolled the perimeter of the room arm in arm. Their exercise brought them near Velvet’s hidey-hole.

Evangeline said in a low undertone, “I wouldn’t have him if he offered. You can have a go at him if you wish, Amelia.”

“Stop. He’s a perfectly acceptable man, and wealthier than any other possible suitor for you,” sternly whispered Mrs. Ridley.

Velvet shrunk back. Was Lucian’s bachelor status the reason they came?

They stopped their stroll mere feet from her. They were perhaps as interested in the privacy as she, and they might not have realized she was tucked in the dark recess.

“I couldn’t possibly consider him, Mama,” said Amelia. “He is so old and . . . and . . . that scar.”

“They say he killed his wife,” said Evangeline.

Resisting the urge to protest, Velvet pressed her lips together. How dare they accept Lucian’s hospitality and speak so disparagingly of him?

“Hush.” Mrs. Ridley yanked her daughters closer. “There was an inquest. The servants reported he did not leave the house. Your father has done business with him these many years, and he would not have suggested you two come if he did not find Mr. Pendar suitable in every regard.”

“Servants lie,” Evangeline said in an undertone.

Lucian moved around the room doing a fair imitation of a congenial host. Velvet couldn’t help but notice his every move. He smiled at Miss Bowman, who managed to make her blond curls clustered on either side of her face bob. The young woman was stylish, pretty, and obviously of the proper class to make him a wife.

Why were so many ladies of a marriageable age present? They were of his station and young, with rich fathers. Her eyes stung. Swallowing hard, Velvet lowered her head. She was solidly on the shelf and dressed like the servant she was. The comparison could only show her lack of worthiness.

“If he asked us to attend en famille, then why did Papa insist all the younger ones stay home?” asked Amelia.

“There was no need to have all the little children underfoot. If Mr. Pendar had not intimated he was considering marriage, I would not have come, and we certainly should not have brought you two.”

Velvet’s heart knocked hard in her chest, as if it had been stilled with the plunge of a knife. Clearly a slew of young women of marriageable age were present, and only two bachelors beside Lucian. She couldn’t catch her breath and the room spun. Grasping the curtain, she tried to regain her equilibrium.

Resuming her stroll, Mrs. Ridley continued, “Now doesn’t he have a lovely home, and the scenery is spectacular. Any wife of his is sure to be indulged.”

“The furniture is old,” muttered Evangeline.

“And ratty,” added Amelia. “The only modern piece is that chaise longue, and it is stained.”

Velvet winced, knowing she had made the stain. From across the room Lucian watched her with narrowed eyes.

“Is your given name Satin or Chenille or some such?” asked Mr. Hale, seating himself next to her on the narrow window seat. He surely didn’t know of her. Campbell was not such an original name, and Lucian had not given her forename.

God forgive her, but she lied. “Jane.”

Feeling sick at her stomach, Velvet stood. Mr. Hale followed suit and stood so close her elbow brushed his midsection.

“Not Velvet?” asked Mr. Hale. His blue eyes were bold as his gaze raked over her.

“What kind of a name is Velvet?” she asked.
The only thing she had from the mother she’d never known
, screamed the answer in her head.

Understanding her only possible role was as his whore and hostess until he married, Velvet turned her back on Lucian. She couldn’t let him see how much his flaunting of her demand for marriage hurt.

Lucian dove into the waves and swam. The icy water stung his skin like a thousand needles, but did little to settle the turmoil within him.

Last night Velvet had been gracious and modest playing the role of hostess to perfection in spite of his guests’ inclination to ignore her. Everything had gone smoother than he had a right to expect. Except for Iris. He’d overreacted, and he needed to make amends.

The dinner had gone off with several courses and removes, and Velvet kept everything moving forward. He hadn’t known his staff was capable of producing such a well-orchestrated meal.

This morning just before dawn he went to Velvet’s room and found her bed empty. Disappointment and jealousy fermented within him, until he knew of no cure but the biting cold of an ocean swim. But the rhythm of his strokes was doing little to soothe his passions. Damn her! She was like a cancer in his mind.

Hale had paid her particular attention at dinner. Had she already chosen him to be her lover? Or was she sneaking off to meet the vicar? Nellie had informed him that Velvet made a point of speaking to the man every Sunday.

He wanted to believe Velvet was the moral woman she seemed, that she wasn’t breeding. Except several things pointed to the contrary.

He’d almost begun to believe he’d been mistaken about her condition, but in the short time he’d been away, her bosom had filled out. Another of the early symptoms of pregnancy. Feeling faint, fatigue, nausea, and displaying swelling breasts and luminosity, she was exhibiting all the signs.

He’d witnessed all the changes in Velvet just as he’d witnessed them four times in Lilith. It had been almost a decade, but he hadn’t forgotten.

Lucian stopped swimming and checked the shoreline. The riptides could be deadly, which was why he usually had Bigsby follow him in the boat. But he’d told Bigsby he wouldn’t be swimming while his guests were here. He should have realized he couldn’t be around Velvet without being twisted in knots.

Reluctantly, he turned his strokes back toward the shore. He wouldn’t risk getting pulled out to sea over another loose woman.

Velvet woke in the early dawn. Blinking at her surroundings, she was momentarily confused. The carpeted and papered room was much more lavishly furnished than her stark room. She slid off of the covers, careful not to disturb her sleeping bed partner. She took a minute to rearrange the blankets over Iris’s curled form.

When Velvet had finally returned upstairs near midnight, she’d found Iris sobbing in the darkened schoolroom. The girl was dressed in one of her best dresses, with a big ribbon in her hair. The bow was skewed, indicating she’d tied it herself.

Velvet tried to reassure Iris that her father had not banished the girl from his sight forever. But Iris had been past consoling. Instead, Velvet put the girl to bed and stayed with her until they both fell asleep.

Now she needed to confront him. Furious with Lucian’s reaction to Iris, she headed downstairs intent on catching him before he left for his swim. No matter how important his business was, he had to take time for his daughter. She was the only family he had left.

When she knocked on his door, Mr. Evans opened it and told her Lucian was gone and so was his bathing suit and robe.

Not to be deterred, Velvet stormed outside. He’d gone too far this time, and she meant to let him know in no uncertain terms.

Her gown was wrinkled and the strong ocean winds whipped her hair, yanking it from its moorings. She should have taken the time to change and made herself presentable, but she was determined to have it out with Lucian now.

She avoided looking at the cliffs or the drop to the ocean, but her heart pounded nonetheless. The land jutted out as if pointing a finger toward the cove where Lucian regularly swam. Across the thin expanse of land were steps carved into the rocky cliffs. Velvet froze, dreading the descent.