Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (20 page)

“You haven’t.” She offered him another wobbly smile. “We
just needed an understanding before this matter became a problem. And now we
have. Please stay away from Lark.”

Astra stared out the window at the passing scenery that
had turned burnished with the fading afternoon. Suddenly, James wished for Mr.
Rudd’s imagined ambush so he could be Astra’s rescuer instead of just one more
threat she must guard against.

In a shadowed corner of the Bainbridges’s drawing room, Astra
perched on a Louis XV armchair’s heavily padded seat. Wesley rested his elbow
on a marbled-topped table beside her.  They remained out of the circle of
boisterous activity lighted by over a dozen candles in strategically placed
candelabras. James nestled next to Mr. Bainbridge’s eldest daughter on a narrow
settee and was illuminated as if by the noon day sun.  The youngest Bainbridge,
Cordelia, performed another round of charades.

If Astra did not feel like such an outsider, she might
find the openly affectionate family charming. Unfortunately, the moment
Rosemound’s latest residents had spilled from the stately front doors, Astra
knew the troubled afternoon had taken a disastrous turn.

Even before official greetings were exchanged, James
beamed at Mr. Bainbridge’s boots. Though James gushed over the style, the
craftsmanship, he never once mentioned that Astra had persuaded him to wear
white stockings and buckled shoes when he passionately argued for riding boots.
Nor did he toss her a smug glance when the Bainbridges graciously and
enthusiastically welcomed him into their grand, yet comfortable home. The dogs
roamed freely across Persian rugs, everyone spoke at once, and all gleefully
agreed to forgo formality, exchanging their Christian names as if they were at
boarding school. Astra would have felt less disturbed if the Bainbridges’s
general merriment did not appear appallingly sincere. Overt happiness had never
come easily to Astra, not even as a child. Games seemed a luxury for a girl
with a frivolous mother and uncertain future. Formality was her only shield.

“What next, shall they break out batons and juggle while
balancing on a chair? Or perhaps we shall soon be into the passing of the gin
bottle?” Wesley’s words were low, but Astra feared their intent unmistakable.
The Bainbridges pretended not to notice. James’s gaze darted in their
direction.

“Wesley, do not be so unkind. They are a lovely family.
And James seems to be enjoying himself. I think he feels like he’s stepped
across the ocean and is home again.” Astra’s whisper evaporated in a hoarse
squeak. Not that she worried about being overheard. James had dismissed them,
shouting over the Bainbridges to be the first to guess Cordelia’s pantomime.
But the truth in her words caused her the most unbearable slice of pain. How hard
this last month must have been on James, having every natural instinct
suppressed. Well, perhaps Astra did know a bit about that, but her forced
reserve had become a way of life that she no longer noticed. That was until she
met James.

“Yes, he does seem to fit in well doesn’t he?” Wesley
swirled the sherry in his glass but didn’t drink, setting it back down instead.
“James and Kerra make a striking couple.”

Astra glanced in their direction. Kerra whispered
something to James and Emily, the middle daughter, accused them of cheating.
“She’s a bit young for him, I think.”

“She must be at least in her early twenties.” Wesley
shrugged. “Long in the tooth by most standards. She’s got that healthy
country-grown look. Good breeding stock, I’d say.”

“And how does that reflect upon me? You must find me
ancient. I was already twenty-five when I married Lowell.” Astra glared at
Wesley not needing a reminder that she was older than both he and James, not to
mention her late husband.

“And a priceless relic you are.” Wesley laughed as if he
were teasing, but Astra could not deny that Kerra would make a fine pairing for
James even without her hefty dowry. Kerra was quite beautiful with her glossy
golden hair and bright blue eyes. Her unfashionably sun-kissed skin only added
to her appeal.

“James has assured me he is not in the market for a wife
to begin his dynasty.” Astra picked up her saucer and sipped her tea. She
should have requested something stronger but she had been behaving wickedly
enough as things were.

“Not yet anyway, but it’s only a matter of time.” Wesley
sighed. “You and I should run away together before we must witness the fall of
our beloved Eastlan. The weather is marvelous in Greece. You must really travel
abroad someday, Astra.”

Wesley’s wistful tone could be interpreted as merely
musing, except Astra knew him better than that. James’s approach stopped Astra
from having to comment on Wesley’s chilling assessment of their future.

“What are you two whispering about over here?” James gave
them a reproachful look that shamed Astra.

“I’m not much good at games.” Astra found it hard to meet
James’s gaze and hid it with a shrug. She certainly couldn’t admit that she was
jealous. She didn’t have a right to be. “I have not had the opportunity to
socialize much these last few years and I suppose I’m out of practice.” Not
that she ever was in practice, Astra realized. When had she become so solemn?
The answer came in a burst of clarity: when her father died and she was left
with a remaining parent who knew nothing
but
playing games. Astra hated
her morose thought and tried to wipe it from her face before James noticed.

“Come join us. Cordelia shares Lark’s interest in fairies
and is quite well versed on the subject.” James shoved his hand in his pockets
and held her gaze with entirely too much intensity. He ground his jaw, causing
a telling muscle to jump. To her surprise, Astra guessed he desperately wanted
to touch her with the same ferocity she wished to lay some sort of claim to
him. The lie they were living wasn’t completely without difficulty for him
either.

Astra glanced past him to find the dark-haired and dark-eyed
Cordelia watching them. The girl smiled nervously at the eye contact. Astra
surprised herself by winking in return. “Oh, I must discover what she knows and
report it to Lark or she’ll never forgive me.”

“If there are any fairies in all of England they would be
here, would they not, Da?” Cordelia gushed a little too cheerfully.

Astra stood, regretting she had let her troubled thoughts
make her standoffish and cause the Bainbridges discomfort in their own home.
She joined the group and took a butter cookie from the silver tray Mrs.
Bainbridge had brought in after dinner. Though they seemed to have  plenty of
servants, they hardly used them, preferring to serve their guests themselves.
Something else they had in common with James.

Astra nibbled on the cookie. “This is delicious,” and it
was. Though not elaborate, the simple pastry was flaky and irresistibly
buttery. “Your cook must give me the recipe to take home to Lady Phillina. She
has a sweet tooth.”

“I’d be glad to send some cookies home to the dear lady.
I’m sorry she has been ill for so long.” Mrs. Bainbridge smiled slyly and sat a
little taller. “But if you’d like the recipe, ask Kerra. She made them. My
daughters might have the finest things now, but they will not forget their
roots. Hmm, girls?”

“It’s just a bit of flour and butter, but I’d be happy to
share the recipe with your cook.”

Kerra glanced at Astra then glanced away. Instantly, Astra
knew Kerra also realized they had a mutual interest in James Keane. Good Lord,
was Astra that obvious?

“You must, Kerra,” James said with real enthusiasm. The
only person at Eastlan who had a more demanding appetite for sweets than the
elder Keane was James himself. “You can give it to her yourself at the ball. You
all will be attending, won’t you?”

“That would be an honor, would it not, Mr. Bainbridge?” Mrs.
Bainbridge tossed her husband a triumphant look.

Mr. Bainbridge cleared his throat. “That indeed would be
very kind.”

“Oh, we would love to have you,” Astra said. “Lady
Phillina insists on addressing the invitations in her own hand and is horribly
behind. I will send one round immediately.” Astra should have invited the
Bainbridges in the first place since their ball was to introduce James to the
locals more so than the aristocrats who were mostly still in London. However,
Astra’s mother would be horrified. She had curtly refused the Bainbridges’s
invitation for dinner tonight, shocked that James would agree to it. She had
railed at Astra for her failing to convince James it was beneath him.

“Are there gardens?” asked Cordelia, the youngest.

“Yes, but not as nice as yours, I’m afraid.” Astra smiled
at the girl and noticed she too blushed. Perhaps Astra overreacted about
Kerra’s interest in James. Cordelia was barely thirteen if she were a day, and
Emily only a few years older. Apparently Mr. Bainbridge had all his hopes set
on the earthly sensual Kerra. Mr. Bainbridge was indeed a shrewd man.

James caught Astra’s eye with a lascivious gleam, as if
her unhappy thoughts showed on her face. “Ah, but we have a lovely gazebo
overlooking a pond. I’ll have to attempt to sail upon it this summer with a
small skiff.”

His mention of the gazebo where they had sealed their
agreement gave Astra a pleasurable shiver. The Bainbridges might have designs
on James, but he subtly managed to let Astra know he had no intention of
breaking their bargain.

“You’re a sailor, aren’t you?” Mr. Bainbridge asked,
sitting forward in the green brocade high-backed chair that had almost seemed
to swallow him.

“How exciting! I want to travel on a ship someday, but
Mother is afraid of the water. Do you have a ship of your own?” Emily stood and
came around to sit beside James.

“You can take to the sea when I’m dead and buried, Em, but
not before,” said Mrs. Bainbridge in a huff. “I grew up on the tip of the
peninsula. Too many shipwrecks to count there.”

“My ship’s anchored in Plymouth, as a matter of fact.” James
glanced at Astra. He had failed to mention that fact and she had never thought
to ask. No wonder he mapped the tides with his ship so near at hand.

“I enjoy the sea as much as Em,” Kerra said belatedly.
“I’ve always dreamed of traveling to the new world.”

“The sea makes me ill,” said Wesley, who had all but faded
into the brocade chair across the room. Astra knew Wesley’s comment was for
her. As children, she could not row across Eastlan’s pond without becoming
overly anxious to get to the other side.

“I fear it does me as well, Mr. Hutton.” Mr. Bainbridge
shook his head in commiseration, either not picking up on, or ignoring the edge
in Wesley’s comment. Astra guessed the latter. “Still, against Mrs.
Bainbridge’s wishes, I find I must look into the shipping trade. On the advice
of my highly respected solicitor, I need to diversify my investments. One of
the reasons I bought Rosemound. And since Cornwall is my home, the only other
industry is the sea.”

James sat up, his interest piqued. “Well, you will not go
wrong with investing in the shipping trade. Are you planning on purchasing a
ship or perhaps looking to invest in a voyage or two?”

“Investing might be a nice place to start since I don’t
know much about the trade. ‘Course I didn’t know anything about tin before I
started with that and it’s served me well.”

“I would be glad to be of help in that area,” James said,
not hiding the eagerness in his voice.

“And I would very much appreciate your input. I’d like to
leave something solid to my daughters.  With mining, you never know when a claim
will tap out. The wind never runs out.”

“My thoughts exactly. Might I suggest you start with a
small investment.” James stopped short of asking Mr. Bainbridge to invest in
his own ship, but it rattled around the room like a lost puppy.

“As a matter of fact, James, I was hoping you would do a
little more than make a mere suggestion or two.” Mr. Bainbridge glanced around
the room. “But we are boring the others. Perhaps we can talk more in private.
Maybe you would be so kind as to show me your ship?”

“I would be honored. I’m planning a trip to Plymouth
within the week.”

“Excellent. I would love to accompany you. I have a friend
in wool manufacturing who might be of some use to you,” Bainbridge said
offhandedly, but no doubt knew exactly what his wealthy connections could offer
James.

James glanced at Astra, his gaze brilliant, his face
flushed. She forced herself to smile in return though she felt anything but
jubilant. Astra’s warning to James about developing a friendship with her
daughter returned in a most unpleasant way. Clearly James’s future was not a
“we” but a singular pronoun. Either James would sail away on the ship he
apparently had at the ready, or worse, he would take Mr. Bainbridge up on his
offer. Or offers, she should say. And would not that absolve their initial
agreement? With Mr. Bainbridge’s assistance, James could afford her inheritance
and she could live out her life in comfortable splendor. 

Perhaps she had mistaken everything. And worse yet, she
was not sure she could hold James back from what was in his best interest. No
longer could she deny that she had most definitely and desperately fallen in
love with James Keane. The gnawing in her stomach at a mere glance at him
across the room refused to be ignored.

***

Back at Eastlan, James sat on the marble steps that led to
the garden and sucked on the cigar Bainbridge had given him to take home and
marveled at his good fortune. The smoke wafting around his head instantly
brought him back to his life at sea where the scent typically mingled with the
smells of exotic foreign cargo and, best of all, freedom. A moonless night left
Eastlan’s grounds in a blanket of darkness. Gray clouds blocked out all but a
few valiant stars. A chorus of frogs called from the distant pond. He’d not
expected to like the English countryside so much. Still, knowing that this leg
of his journey was only temporary, another port in many, didn’t give him the
rush it usually did.