The Rules of Seduction (5 page)

Christian appeared to accept that. “You have a ruthless side to you. In this we are too much alike. Controlling that requires some vigilance, as I am sure you know.”

“See to your own soul. I do not need your help with mine.”

“We all need help. However, if you say you have not indulged those inclinations, I will accept that Longworth’s ruin was of his own making.”

It had definitely been that, but in order to avoid bigger consequences than mere ruin, Hayden had been forced to walk the scoundrel through too many meetings and confessions and promises the last few days. No doubt one of the men listening to those promises had alluded to Hayden’s role last night at that club.

Christian rose to leave. “Pity about the sisters. I see them around town. The older one is stunning. If not for your friendship to the dead brother, I would be tempted to offer to keep her.”

“Taking advantage of her reversal in fortune, and ensuring a complete fall, would be highly dishonorable, don’t you think?”

Christian shrugged. “In England, yes. Well, as I said, vigilance is required.”

The salver glinted in the afternoon light coming through the window. The card on it surprised Hayden.

Miss Welbourne had called.

He slid his thumb over the card’s high-quality stock and engraving. He pictured her ordering it out of her meager income and deciding the card that bore her name should be a gentlewoman’s, no matter what the sacrifice.

“I will see her.”

Her visit pricked his conscience. Innocents had been hurt by his discoveries of Longworth’s theft.

Of course, Miss Welbourne had been hurt long before the discoveries. Among his deliberations while he did not read in the library this afternoon, there had been some regarding her. He needed to devise a strategy for restoring her funds to her without her learning the funds had been sold off by Longworth in the first place.

Just as well his word of honor prevented him from explaining to her what had happened. He doubted she would thank him for the truth, even if he could reveal it. It would destroy her connection to the only family she had. There was also the chance she would feel so betrayed that she would be the one to send Longworth to the gallows.

He opened the drawing-room doors and saw his guest and her companion. Miss Welbourne had brought her young cousin with her. Irene Longworth’s eyes were fixed on a bejeweled medieval reliquary that Christian had set on a table near one window.

The young girl’s gaze snapped to Hayden on his entry and stayed there during his greeting. He recognized her mute, awed expression. He had seen it on ingenues often enough.

He much preferred the mature, self-possessed gaze that Miss Welbourne leveled at him.

“Irene, why don’t you look at the paintings,” Miss Welbourne suggested. “She has an interest in art, Lord Hayden, and I thought to give her the chance to see part of Easterbrook’s collection today.”

With Hayden’s approval, the girl strolled along the wall, examining the works.

“It was kind of you to bring her, if she is curious about art,” he said. “I thought perhaps you had done so to remind me of what she has lost.”

“That was one reason, but the opportunity to see part of Easterbrook’s esteemed collection was another. Also, when she goes to Oxfordshire, it will make a difference if she can speak of having visited this house. Others with much more than she will possess will not have that connection.”

Miss Welbourne spoke with the frankness that had marked their conversations from the start. It occurred to him he would have been treated to the same manner if he had never ruined Longworth.

He liked that. Something about him made most women retreat into irritating frivolity. Her lack of fear and fluster was refreshing. It created charming little challenges. Her manner on the house tour had provoked him at several levels and charged the air between them with much more than mutual annoyance.

She had felt that, he was sure. She did not welcome it, however. Perhaps she did not even understand it.

“I also had to bring someone with me, didn’t I?” she said. “There are no maids now, nor even a footman. Since Irene had always dreamed of attending a ball here, a dream Roselyn and I tried to quash in the best of times, I thought she could at least see the art.”

The girl had obviously been told to make herself distant and scarce. She lingered over a Poussin at the other end of the room.

Hayden called for a footman. “Take Miss Irene Longworth to the housekeeper,” he instructed the man when he arrived. “Tell her to give the young lady a tour of the ballroom and the gallery.”

Barely containing her glee, Irene followed the servant out. Miss Welbourne watched her departure. “That was generous of you.”

“If seeing this drawing room will be of help in Oxfordshire, describing the ballroom can only improve her stature more.” He settled into a chair angled so he could see Miss Welbourne’s face directly. “Since you had to bring someone, that means the purpose of this call is really yours, however, and not hers.”

A subtle fire entered her eyes. This woman did not like him much, that was clear enough.

A lavender bow on her hat enhanced the color of those eyes. It was a simple hat, but it looked very expensive with its celestial silk brim and crown and full roses clustered around the bow. Perhaps she had made it herself. Like the calling card, it declared her station even as that station slipped from her grasp.

“I have considered the offer you made at my cousin’s residence when last you were there,” she said. “I would like to talk about that and see if we can reach an agreement.”

It had been twelve days since he made that offer. With a move from that house imminent, it appeared she had finally chosen to be practical.

He decided to make it easier on her pride by being brief. “The wages would be the normal ones for the situation, and—”

She raised her pointing finger, stopping him. His tutor used to do that when he was a boy.

“I accept the normal wages. However, since I will be filling two roles, those of governess and companion, I think I should receive both wages, especially since you will be spared the keep of a second person. Also, I would like the wages to be paid monthly. I will be wanting to send some to Rose and Irene. I do not want them to have to wait for the normal term to end in order to have some relief.”

She was two days from being homeless, but she was boldly haggling as if she could provide the best references in England instead of none at all. From her repeated mention of the Longworths’ predicament, she expected his guilt to give her an advantage in her negotiations.

Fascinated, he set his elbow on his chair’s arm and rested his chin on his fist. “I expect the monthly payment can be arranged. As to the wages, you will not spend all your time on each role. That is impossible, so full payment for each is not warranted.”

“One and a half, then. You must admit that is fair.”

He almost laughed. “Fair enough for
you
. Fine, one and a half.”

She made a little smoothing gesture over her skirt’s fine pomona wool. It was a nervous movement that revealed she was not nearly as composed as she appeared. The dress was far nicer than what he had seen her wear before. Very elegant, it displayed a broad panel of blue embroidery around the bottom, and her midnight-blue pelisse sported a thin edging of fur. He guessed these were not her own garments. Miss Longworth had probably lent them for this call at the home of the Marquess of Easterbrook.

“Regarding my relationship to your aunt and cousin,” she continued. “I have lived in that house as a family member, and it will be difficult for me to think of myself as a…well, otherwise. I should prefer if my primary position is understood to be that of a companion to your aunt, and my governess duties be secondary. I would educate your cousin the same either way.”

Her tone, her manner, the way she kept dropping reminders of her changed circumstances, which she assumed he had caused, should anger him. None of it did.

She had come here dressed as the lady she was born to be, but she would leave a servant. She knew that even if she choked on the word. She was not yet a woman who did not know her place, however. She was just a woman fighting to retain a few shreds of her dignity when she walked out the door a different person than when she had entered.

He would feel sorry for her, but that would be an insult to a woman like this.

“My aunt has a good heart, Miss Welbourne. The danger is not that you will be treated as a servant, but rather that she will be too quick to treat you as a sister. However, I will explain the subtle shift in how you want the position considered. I am sure she will be agreeable. Now, if that is all settled—”

The finger lifted again.

“There is more, Miss Welbourne?”

“A small matter.”

“I cannot imagine what it would be.”

Her lips pursed at his sardonic tone. Nice lips. Rather full. Her nose turned up just a bit, which drew attention to her mouth.

Mouth like a rose.
Not a rosebud, however. Not small and bowed, even when that little purse narrowed it. Rather, it was a rose in full bloom, promising the nectar Ben had described.

“As we both know, my situation will be much changed even if I still dwell in the same house,” she said.

Her voice barely penetrated a wandering speculation about that nectar and its taste. The path aimed toward the kind of ruthless calculations that Christian had just warned about.

A fetching form that hints at hidden glories.
He saw her again in the boring dress she had worn while she conducted the house tour. Its ivory color had yellowed from age and it had been stripped of decorations, probably to adorn other garments. The styles had changed a lot in the last few years, and its high waist announced her poor fortune. It had fit her breasts snugly, however, and revealed a lushness in shape and curves.

His mind latched on to the memory of her standing close to him in the upper corridor in that ivory dress. The sparks of anger in her eyes as she upbraided him jumped into his blood again and began a slow burn. His imagination began peeling that dress off to see what lay beneath—

“Are you agreeable, sir?”

Her question jolted him out of his erotic fantasy.

“Do you accept this last term?” she asked.

Hell if he knew whether he did or not. He had no idea what the term had been.

He fell back to the position he took in investment negotiations when something unexpected was proposed. “I want to think about this for a while before agreeing.”

Her eyebrows rose just enough to communicate what she thought of
that
. “I do not see why it requires long contemplation.”

“I am a very deliberate man.”

“How admirable. Do you expect your deliberations to last long? Will they be completed in two days, so I know whether to stay in the house?”

She used the careful, kind voice one might employ with an old uncle who was addle-brained. He was not accustomed to anyone—let alone a woman—implying he was stupid. “Why don’t you explain this request in more detail, and I can deliberate while you do.”

“I cannot think of any other way to explain it. It is simplicity itself. What part did you not understand?”

Did she guess where his mind had been? See it in his eyes? Was she letting him twist in the wind as punishment?

How bad could it be? She had hardly requested that she be allowed to sell all the household silver. “I think my aunt can be convinced to accommodate this, yes.”

“Then I would say we have reached an agreement.” Immensely satisfied with their conversation, suspiciously so, she slid the handle of her reticule over her arm. “I will take my leave now. I will be in the house when Lady Wallingford and your cousin arrive, to greet them.”

He escorted her in search of the girl. They found Irene in the gallery with the housekeeper. Christian was there too, pointing something out in the painting they faced. He had dressed for the day, finally, and aside from his primitive-looking long hair was turned out like a proper British lord.

“Christian, this is Miss Welbourne. This is my brother Christian, Marquess of Easterbrook.”

“I was explaining to your cousin that this is not an original Correggio but a copy of a painting in Parma, Miss Welbourne,” Christian said.

Miss Welbourne peered at the painting. It depicted a softly curved and sensually painted Io being borne aloft by Jupiter, who had transformed himself into a cloud. Since Io was nude, it was probably not a painting that Christian should have encouraged young Irene to study.

“It is lovely, even if it is a copy,” Miss Welbourne said, too self-possessed to reveal embarrassment at the subject.

Hayden thought it lovely too. Io’s body looked quite a bit like he had just imagined Miss Welbourne’s, now that he noticed it. Vaguely plump in the best way. Curves and softness waited.

Hayden sent the women off with the housekeeper. Irene began peppering Miss Welbourne with questions immediately, oblivious to the way her whispers carried through the gallery.

“Are you taking the situation?”

“Yes.”

“He accepted all your terms?”

“Yes. Now hush.”

“
All
of them? Even the free day and use of the carriage?”

Hayden wondered if he had heard correctly.

“Situation?” a low voice at his shoulder said.

He glanced over to see Christian also watching the two women retreat.

“She will be Aunt Henrietta’s companion and Caroline’s finishing governess.”

“Ah, I misunderstood. The only women who negotiate terms with me are my mistresses. Hence my confusion. She has lovely eyes. Unusual color.”

Hayden watched her hat’s ribbons bob and her hem sway and her slender ankles move. “She wanted to be sure she understood what was required of her in the household. Our conversation concerned the normal sorts of things.”

“Such as a free day and use of the carriage, you mean.”

Hayden ignored the goad. Miss Welbourne turned to whisper something in Irene’s ear. Her profile showed beyond the edge of the hat. A violet eye and a little upturned nose and an expressive full mouth formed a colored silhouette against the housekeeper’s brown dress.