Tempting a Devil (3 page)

“Then you are quite, quite wrong, my dear.” Roger had stopped moving so they were a little closer to each other, but he was clearly still wary. “Dumphrees knows the first rule of sexual misadventures in society, which is that the man is never to blame.”

Harry had no need to hide her bitterness. “That, dear dumb Roger, is the first rule of life.” She sat down on the edge of the fountain, the water falling noisily behind her. Roger came nearer, fooled into believing her pursuit was at an end.

“You are far too young to be so cynical, Harry,” Roger told her. “That is a privilege reserved for those of who have earned cynicism through poor choices and unexpected betrayal.”

If only you knew
, she thought, but she kept her face blank. “My apologies, oh great philosopher. I shall leave the cynicism to you.” She adjusted her glove, shoving it in between her fingers with more force than necessary. “What poor choices and unexpected betrayals lurk in your past? You were always such a sunny boy, so full of laughter.” How she’d needed that laughter when he was no longer around.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Old news.” He came over and sat down on the edge of the fountain with her. “What you need is someone discreet,” he said, regarding her seriously. “Someone whose activities do not concern society and who will keep your affair quiet.”

Harry arched her brow. “Oh, really? I was thinking I wanted someone young and handsome and virile to show me what I missed during my marriage. Foolish me.”

Roger frowned. “Thank you for the compliment, but none of that talk now. I’m trying to help you without actually thinking too much about what exactly an affair will
entail.”

She couldn’t contain her burst of surprised laughter. “When did your sensibilities become so delicate? Considering what we were doing a few moments ago, why is it so hard to imagine me with a lover?”

He winced painfully. “Don’t remind me. I’m going to have nightmares about what almost happened between us. I’ve known you since you were a child, Harry. I’m having a bit of a problem equating this”—his hand flailed in her direction—“with the little girl who used to run wild after me through the woods.”

“Oh,” Harry said, genuinely surprised. “I hadn’t imagined that. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” That was a development that could be troublesome. Perhaps she should let Roger help her find someone else, after all. “All right, then. Do you have any suggestions for my lover?”

“Can we please call it something else?” He shifted, his expression troubled.

“Fine,” Harry said impatiently. “Do you have any suggestions for a discreet gentleman who can satisfy my desire for companionship? Is that better?”

“Not really,” Roger said. “And I’m not comfortable recommending any of my friends. They’re all as awful as me. Except for Sharp, but he just got married.”

“Then Sharp is out,” Harry said firmly. “I’ve no wish to come between a man and his wife.”

“Well, I daresay you couldn’t with Sharp and his little Juliet. Still in the first flush of marriage and they can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“How romantic,” she drawled sarcastically, “for Mrs. Sharp.”

“Sorry,” Roger said. “Forgot you said it wasn’t like that with your late husband.”

“Could we focus on my present problem?” Harry asked briskly. Really, this evening was bringing up all sorts of tawdry emotions from her past. It was very unsettling.

“Why don’t you name some of the men you were considering, and I’ll tell you if they’re a good idea or not?” Roger seemed very pleased with his suggestion.

“Roger,” she said impatiently, “I don’t know anyone in London yet. I’ve only just arrived. This is my first time in town.”

“You’ve never been to London?” Roger frowned. “How is that possible?” He looked her up and down. “I can see your pockets aren’t to let, so you must have married well. And since you were invited here this evening, you must have some connections.”

“My late husband despised London. He refused to bring me. His sister, Lady Lockerby, however, has been helpful with introductions since my arrival.” Harry refused to discuss the subject further. “So you must guide me in my choice, Roger, or you must be my first lover. Which, really, makes perfect sense.”

“No, it does not. Why are you so eager to take me as a lover?” Roger asked, his earlier suspicion rearing its head. “We haven’t seen each other for years. You’d all but forgotten my existence until a few moments ago. I agree I have a certain charm, but hardly enough to warrant this dramatic seduction scene.”

“I haven’t perfected my performance yet,” she said as she stood. Clasping her hands behind her back, she began to pace in front of him, apparently giving up her pursuit of him for the moment. Roger was glad. He’d felt a little foolish playing a grown-up game of here-we-go-around-the-bramble-bush as she’d stalked him around the clearing. “Truly, Roger, I’ve only just arrived in London. I don’t really know many people here.
I’d never met Dumphrees until this evening.” She stopped and met his gaze. “I am desperate for a lover, Roger. Surely it wouldn’t be too awful for you?”

She didn’t sound desperate. She sounded as if she was asking for a lamb shank at the butcher.

“What are you up to, Harry?” he asked again, realizing he knew as little about her now as she knew about him. “And why do you need a lover so desperately you’d proposition two different men in one night?”

Harry scoffed unconvincingly. “You’re being overly suspicious, Roger. I’ve told you what I want. A lover. You.”

“When it comes to you, Harry, I have my reasons for being overly suspicious.” He was more amused than angry now, which was good. “The last time I let you trick me, I ended up concussed and missed my first term of school. You turned so cold and uninviting over there by the tree”—he pointed—“that I thought you could be a marble statue. So I don’t believe uncontrollable desire has you begging me to be your lover. Come on, spill. Are you in trouble?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Roger just waited, saying nothing. Finally she shrugged. “My immediate surrender would hardly have intrigued you. I’m sure there have been many women who leapt into your bed at the slightest show of interest on your part. I seem to recall that was the case when we were younger, as well. Rebecca Tidwell would have committed any number of cardinal sins to earn merely a smile.”

Roger smiled at the memory of the oldest daughter of Mr. Tidwell, the local vicar in his youth. “We committed several sins together,” he confessed. “Although none of them cardinal, I don’t believe. Purely pleasurable.”

Harry snorted. “Precisely. Why should Rebecca Tidwell receive that which I am denied? Weren’t we friends, Roger?” She’d begun to sashay back to where he was sitting and he jumped up, pacing around the fountain again and keeping the distance between them.

“Friends? Not exactly. You followed me around like an irksome puppy, and I was constantly getting you out of one scrape or another. And when you are young, an age difference of five years eliminates the possibility of friendship.” He cocked his head to the side as he regarded her curiously. “You are still reckless and foolhardy, Harry. You don’t know anything about me now. Perhaps you won’t like me anymore,” Roger argued logically. “Perhaps I am a rogue in sheep’s clothing, and guileless widows such as yourself should stay far, far away.”

“Impossible,” she said, dismissing his argument. “I’ve heard no rumors that you have become a murderer, a molester of women, or a cardsharp. Barring those, I can think of nothing that would make me dislike you.”

“I am one of the Saint’s Devils,” he said simply.

“What on earth does that mean?” she demanded crossly. “Is that some sort of London code for men who wear sheepskin?”

“Not quite,” he said, highly amused by her inadvertent double entendre, “but close.” He huffed out a frustrated laugh as he ran his hand through his hair, still trying to cool his libido after their brief encounter before he had realized who she was. All this talk of lovers was sheer torture. “It’s just a silly nickname given to me and my friends back when we were in school. It means I am a notorious rake,” he explained patiently. “I seduce women and let myself be seduced as frequently as possible. I drink to excess, I
gamble, and I pursue pleasure with single-minded intent.” There, that ought to discourage her. “In honor of our past acquaintance, I will not make you yet another conquest for my diary.”

Harry crossed her arms and let out an audible, “Ha.” Roger openly laughed at her. “That’s not fair,” she said, sounding like a barrister. “If you’ll bed everyone else in Christendom, why not me?” She pointed at herself for emphasis, drawing his eyes to her obvious womanly charms. She really was walking sin. “And a rake is exactly what I need. I need you.” She ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “One, I know you; quite well in fact. Two, I find you very attractive, and I know you find me equally attractive. Three, you are a rake. That means that you are well versed in the bedroom arts, and really, I must confess, I know next to nothing. So you shall teach me.”

“No, I shall not,” Roger said firmly. “And nothing you can do will change my mind, Harry.”

Chapter Three

“Everywhere I go, there she is,” Roger complained as he reclined indolently in a chair in his friend Alasdair Sharp’s office. He was draped across the chair, one leg thrown carelessly over the arm as he repeatedly tossed a Murano glass paperweight into the air and caught it. “I feel like the fox at a hunt. If I were a smart man, I’d go to ground.”

Sharp looked up from the papers he was packing at his desk. “Yes, I heard about her pursuit of you from Hil.” His grin was positively evil. “I wish we weren’t going to Italy just yet. I’d love to watch when she finally catches you.”

Roger caught the paperweight and pointed at Sharp as he regarded him with narrowed eyes. “You are a devil to wish such a fate upon me. I see how miserable you are since you’ve been caught.”

Sharp had the gall to laugh at him. “Yes, positively despondent. I don’t know how I shall be able to stand three months gallivanting around the Italian peninsula with my shrew of wife.”

“I heard that,” his maligned wife called through the open door between Sharp’s study and the drawing room. “It is I who shall suffer the most.” She wandered into the office and pouted theatrically. “I daresay we’ll be tossed out of every cathedral in Italy when they see my devil of a husband.”

“I’ve already visited most of the cathedrals in Italy without heavenly retribution,” Sharp commented mildly, reading over one of his papers.

His wife, Julianna, yanked the paper down with one finger and stuck her tongue
out at him. It was rather amusing to watch the little brown-haired minx square off with his tall, blond friend. Not for the first time he felt a little foolish over his first impression of the new Mrs. Sharp. He’d thought her plain and dull, no match for Sharp’s looks or tastes. Sharp, however, had seen the beauty in her from the moment they met. Both he and Hil had chided Roger for his thick-headedness. He’d changed since then and wasn’t fooled by false impressions anymore.

“He will be a horrid tourist,” Julianna commented. She turned to Roger. “I heard you found a girl. That’s nice.”

“Yes, Mother, I did,” Roger said sarcastically. Julianna stuck her tongue out at him, too, and he laughed. In the next instant she was distracted by the books on Sharp’s desk.

“Juli, we don’t have enough room in the luggage for books,” Sharp said in exasperation. “And they weigh down the trunks too much.”

“But I need something to read in Italy!” she exclaimed. “I don’t read Italian.”

“I’m sure they have books in English,” Sharp told her.

“If not, think of it as an opportunity to learn something new,” Roger suggested. “Think of the havoc you could wreak in Italy if you actually spoke the language.”

“
Vous êtes très amusant
, Monsieur Templeton,” Julianna said.

“That’s French, not Italian,” Roger explained. “You do know they are different countries, correct?”

Julianna picked up a little figurine and threw it at him. Sharp moved quickly and caught the figurine in midflight. “I like that one,” he said calmly as he set it back down. “You know, Roger, you have an uncanny ability to make good women go bad.”

“And don’t think I don’t use it to my advantage,” Roger replied with a wink.

“Oh, I am going to miss watching Lady Mercenary in her hunt for the elusive Templeton,” Julianna said with a sigh. “Do the Italians really need to see the Stewart Pearl? After all, they have some famous jewels of their own. They don’t need my pearl.”

“Your pearl?” Sharp asked, raising his eyebrows. “I thought it was my pearl.”

“Oh, please,” Julianna drawled, “haven’t we settled that already? You gave it to me. Twice.” After she’d stolen it first, Roger thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. Sharp didn’t like to be reminded of that.

“I must have been out of my head,” Sharp muttered. He walked around his desk and grabbed her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. “You’re just getting homesick already. You’ll love Italy. Won’t she, Roger?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered absently. He sat forward in the chair now, a frown on his face as he rolled Julianna’s comments around in his head. “Lady what?” he asked. “What did you call Harry?”

“Harry?” Julianna looked confused for a moment. Her face cleared and she grinned. “Oh, you mean Lady Mercer. How sweet, you already have a love name for her.”

“Not a love name,” Roger assured her quickly. “A childhood name. I’ve known her since she was in swaddling clothes.”

“I’m sorry,” Julianna apologized immediately. “I didn’t mean to disparage your friend with that awful nickname. It’s not fair she bears the brunt of her family’s shame.”

Roger shook his head trying to clear it. “What are you talking about?”

Julianna looked as if she wished she hadn’t mentioned anything. “Just that it’s
common knowledge they married her to old Mercer for his money. A beauty like her married to a decrepit old man?” She shuddered. “It must have been awful for her. And he kept her locked up in the country, like a villain. I’m glad she’s found you, Roger.”