Lord of Sin (10 page)

The others chuckled. Ferrer, who was visibly inebriated, gestured with his glass toward Lady Meadows. “And that fat one. She is ridiculous. How any man could ever have wanted
her
…”

Sinjin didn’t even begin his intended rebuke. There was movement behind a potted shrubbery less than three yards away. Nuala suddenly emerged, her gray eyes smoldering. She lifted one hand. Her fingers fluttered. The baronet took another sip of his punch, gagged and spat the mouthful all over Waybury’s fine silk waistcoat.

There was some fuss afterward, and many curious and censorious faces turned their way as Ferrer cursed and Waybury berated him. Sinjin, never taking his eyes from Nuala, bent to pick up a piece of the broken glass. It smelled strongly of vinegar. While the others were still distracted, he strode to Nuala and stopped so close that she could not hope to get around him.

“What did you do?” he snapped. “What sort of magic turns punch into vinegar?”

She met his eyes without the slightest hesitation. “Perhaps you did not hear what your friends were saying.”

“Ferrer was drunk. He didn’t know what he was—”

“He knew very well. He obviously shares your contempt for my sex.”

“I said nothing!”

“That is precisely the point.” She stepped aside to pass him, and he blocked her way again with a sweep of his black cloak.

“You swore you wouldn’t use your magic.”

“I said nothing of the kind. I promised that I would not use it for the purposes of matchmaking.”

“And have you kept
that
promise?”

The music started up again, a Strauss waltz that soon had many couples on the floor. Sinjin bowed sharply to Nuala and, without waiting for her consent, half dragged her out to join them. Her face was red with anger, the color bringing out the dusting of freckles across her nose.

Sinjin had known she would not start a row in public, and she didn’t. He took her right hand with his left and clamped his other hand around her waist. He noted at once that her corset had not been tightly laced; she was breathing easily, and there was a suppleness to her movements not encumbered by a woman’s restrictive undergarments.

The thought of Nuala’s undergarments momentarily distracted Sinjin from his purpose. Though their gloves prevented their skin from touching, he could feel her warmth and the slender strength of her fingers. Her blush had reached nearly to her breasts, small but ripe under her bodice. Her breathing was rapid, the way a woman’s might be during the act of love.

She was lying beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her moans like music….

He missed a step, and Nuala nearly stumbled. He righted her again, losing his composure when he could least afford to do so. He squeezed her hand more tightly.

“How often have you used your magic since we last spoke?” he demanded as he guided her into a sweeping turn.

Her jaw was set, and she took her time about answering. “Tonight was the first time,” she said.

“And what else have you done tonight besides wreaking revenge on Ferrer and Waybury?”

“I have done nothing.”

The music came to a stop. Sinjin heard it as if from a great distance; all his attention was focused on the sea-mist-gray of Nuala’s eyes. Only the movement of others away from the floor prompted him to take Nuala to the chairs along the wall.

“Nothing?” he repeated, bowing automatically as he waited for her to be seated.

She remained standing. “What am I supposed to have done?” she asked.

With a hand at her elbow, he turned her to face the far corner of the room. Melbyrne and Lady Orwell were still engrossed in their conversation.

“This evening,” he said, “Melbyrne swore to me that he would have nothing further to do with Lady Orwell. Tonight I see him spending so much time with her that it is likely to cause a scandal if he does not propose. What have you to say to that?”

She smiled. “You are angry,” she said. “I was told that you guarded your disciples most assiduously.
Does it trouble your pride that Mr. Melbyrne has slipped the leash?”

He had not meant to reveal so much, but perhaps it had been inevitable. “He’s far too young to know what he’s doing,” he said. “I won’t have him caught in the snares of one of your ‘widows.’”

“You can’t bear the prospect of losing one of your pupils to love.”

“Love? The world would be a better place if the people in it gave up on the notion entirely.”

“You are wrong, Sinjin. You and I may be perfectly content without it, but we have no right to impose our choices on anyone else.”

“Impose
our
choices? Did you bring them together, Nuala? Did you work your spells to subvert young Melbyrne?”

Her breast heaved with outrage. “I did not. I did nothing to discourage Lady Orwell, but she and Melbyrne found each other without my assistance. Perhaps your judgment of your friends is not as accurate as you should wish.”

Sinjin fumed. He could not bring himself to call her a liar. That she was capable of some sort of magic was no longer in any doubt. How she used it…

Could she bring a man dreams? Could she make him loathe and desire her at the same moment, burn him alive in the ravenous flames of her own dark creation?

Someone cleared his throat behind Sinjin. “I beg your pardon,” the young man said, “but I believe I have the honor of this dance, Lady Charles.”

Nuala smiled brightly at Mr. Keaton, took his hand
and swept past Sinjin. Sinjin was not so far gone as to try to stop her. He shook himself, taking a firmer grip on his senses. He was a rational man. A dream was a dream, no more. She had no control over
him
.

But she was still quite capable of making considerable mischief. She was determined to cause trouble, and he couldn’t be sure of the extent of her resources. He must bring his own to bear as forcefully as he might lest she begin to believe she had the right to meddle further.

Pasting a bland smile on his face, he found one of the prettiest girls in the room and asked her to dance. She was like a bit of flotsam in his arms, weightless in both body and mind. He took her back to her chaperon and watched as Lady Charles walked out onto the floor with another partner. She was grace itself, almost as if she had worked a spell meant to keep her feet from ever touching the ground.

His cock grew hard. He willed it to subside, but it refused to cooperate, and he was obliged to sit out the next dance.

Damn the woman. Damn her to hell.

D
EBORAH WATCHED
N
UALA
and Lord Donnington as they conversed at the side of the ballroom. It was the first time she’d noticed the earl’s presence; he was dashing in his highwayman’s costume, complete with black domino, but she would have recognized him anywhere.

Melbyrne, claiming his second dance, spun her about the floor. She was glad of the diversion. For the past fortnight her mind had been disturbed by thoughts of a man she’d scarcely met. Mr. Melbyrne drove all such inappropriate distractions from her mind.

Almost.

“I notice,” she said to Felix as he led her in another neat turn, “that Lady Charles and Lord Donnington have been spending some time together.”

Felix, who had been gazing into her eyes, glanced around the room until he found the couple in question. “I say,” he said. “That
is
amusing.”

“How is it amusing?” Deborah asked casually.

“Because Donnington keeps claiming to dislike her.”

“Isn’t it often true that dislike conceals quite the opposite emotions?”

“Such a possibility had occurred to me. Still, Donnington…” He shook his head.

Indeed. If Deborah hadn’t been fully convinced by Julia Summerhayes’s feelings on the matter, she would still be doubting that Lord Donnington was capable of really appreciating a woman of Nuala’s intelligence and somewhat reserved nature.

“I can’t think of two people more ill-suited,” Felix continued. “Sinjin mistrusts your friends, you know. He believes they are all intent on catching new husbands. In fact, he has told me—” He broke off, flushing deeply. “I beg your pardon, Lady Orwell. I spoke out of turn.”

“Not at all. We have been frank with one another on many subjects, have we not?”

Relief washed the tension from his face. “It is very odd that Donnington would spend so much time with Lady Charles, who certainly does not appear to be the sort—” He broke off again, stammering in consternation.

Deborah was not particularly embarrassed by Felix’s gaffes. There was something rather endearing about his tendency to forget that there were some subjects one must never broach with a proper young lady.

But what he’d said was correct. Society might interpret any show of partiality between Nuala and Lord Donnington in one of two ways: they could focus on the earl’s dubious reputation and assume
that he was testing the waters with the young widow, or they could speculate that he had given up his vow to avoid marriage for as long as possible.

Nuala must be just as aware of the danger as Lord Donnington. In the past few days, Deborah had heard rumors that the two had been seen going off together at Lady Vardon’s garden party. Certainly Nuala had seemed somewhat agitated after she and Deborah had left the party. But it did not appear to Deborah that Nuala had made a concerted effort to escape Donnington’s company.

Deborah had known that she herself ran the same risk of provoking gossip by spending so much time with Melbyrne. However, since the onus would be on him should Society expect an impending union between them, he must be the one to place limits on their friendship. And
he
obviously had no concerns about giving the wrong impression.

He was just what she needed now. She had even toyed with the possibility that she was falling in love with him. It seemed highly unlikely, but she was not prepared to cast the notion aside just yet. She was increasingly certain that Nuala would like nothing better than to see her and Mr. Melbyrne together on a more permanent basis.

But is that what
I
want?

The very fact that she was considering it was proof that she had changed greatly in only a few weeks. Perhaps the change was due to her getting to know Felix Melbyrne so well.

Or perhaps it had been engendered by something—some
one
—else entirely.

She beamed at Mr. Melbyrne and laughed brightly. “Let Lord Donnington look after himself,” she said. “We have better things to do!”

N
UALA COULD FEEL
Sinjin as if he were part of her.

She felt him as he danced with the pretty young debutante who gazed into his face with blind adoration. She felt him when he took another young lady to the refreshment table and plied her with punch, as gallant as a knight out of Sir Walter Scott. She felt him as he spoke in leisurely tones to his fellow Forties…excluding the awful man who had spoken so ill of the Widows.
He
had retreated to repair the damage to his clothing, as had Lord Waybury.

Nuala felt no regret about what she’d done, though she was well aware what her success portended. First there had been the event in Whitechapel, and now this. When she had called up the spell, she’d had no idea that it would work. When it had, no one could have been more surprised than she.

Still, it was much too soon to assume that her abilities were actually returning, not in any reliable fashion. It
was
a matter of concern that once again the magic had come because of her anger, always a dangerous motivation in the use of a witch’s power, even though she had used it in response to some offense to her friends.

Sinjin had been quick to assume that she had
broken her word to him and had used her abilities to bring Deborah and Melbyrne together. But that accusation was not what had disturbed her most. In confronting her with such a claim, he had reconfirmed her belief that he was deliberately trying to keep the two young people apart.

Only half aware of her current partner’s dull conversation, she watched as Sinjin led another unmarried girl to the floor. It was almost as if he were mocking both them
and
her, knowing full well he would never give any of these children a second glance. Yet the young women continued to melt in his arms, as if each one believed that she alone would win his love and fidelity.

Nuala smiled, nodded at her escort’s compliments and was about to summon up a suitable reply when Mr. Erskine arrived. He nodded to Mr. Roaman, bowed to Nuala and begged her hand.

Nothing would have given Nuala more pleasure. She felt the warmth of Mr. Erskine’s hand lightly resting on her back. His company, unlike Sinjin’s, was entirely comfortable.

The orchestra struck up a polka. They began the dance without speaking; it was vigorous enough to silence most of the dancers, save for the occasional brief comment. But it wasn’t long before Erskine overcame the breathless pace and addressed her.

“Did you enjoy your dance with Donnington?” he asked.

The question startled her. It was an odd thing for Mr. Erskine to ask, though his tone suggested indifference.

“He is an excellent dancer,” she said, “though I understand he seldom attends such entertainments.”

“That’s quite true,” Erskine said after a pause for breath. “What makes his attendance tonight so peculiar is that his behavior for the past fortnight has been very odd. He’s often in a temper, irritable with his friends and acquaintances.”

“I beg your pardon, but I have not been much impressed with his temper in general,” she said bluntly. “I wonder that his friends and acquaintances put up with it.”

Mr. Erskine’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “I assure you, Lady Charles…whatever you may think of him, he is ordinarily a gentleman in every respect.”

“
Every
respect, Mr. Erskine?”

He squeezed her hand. “I would be greatly honored if you would call me Leo.”

It was a rather forward request, given the brevity of their acquaintance, but Nuala liked him too much to refuse.

“Leo,” she said. “You may call me Nuala.”

“Excellent.” He smiled and rubbed the slightly dented bridge of his nose. “And in answer to your previous question…until recently, I have never seen him behave discourteously towards a woman.”

“Oh, I promise you…” She broke off, realizing what she was about to reveal. “I must take your word for that, Mr. Erskine. You know him far better than I.”

“Yet he sought you out to dance,” Erskine mused.

Nuala pretended not to be distressed by his open
speculation, decidedly wrong as it was. She took the opportunity to gather her thoughts as the dance spiraled toward its triumphant climax.

Mr. Erskine had not forgotten the trend of his conversation. “You said you had first met Donnington in Hyde Park several weeks ago,” he said as he led her away from the floor. “Yet I cannot help but wonder…”

“We are not friends, I assure you,” she said. “If you will forgive me, I find Lord Donnington’s habits and preferences a tedious subject. If he is irritable, perhaps it is because he has not practiced his favorite hobby frequently enough of late.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back, but Leo didn’t seem overly disturbed by her allusion. “It’s true,” he murmured, as if to himself. “I don’t believe he has seen much of Adele lately.”

Now that the delicate subject had been broached, Nuala couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Adele is his…current companion?”

“Hmm.” Erskine seemed to remember that she had asked him a question and hesitated, searching her eyes. “You would not know her. She does not generally run in the best circles. But she has been with Donnington for some time.”

Nuala’s skin grew a little warm.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“I was given to understand that Lord Donnington is disinclined to be faithful to anyone.”

“Oh, it is not entirely an exclusive arrangement….” He paused again. “I should not wish to offend you, Nuala.”

“You have not.”

“Mrs. Chaplin is well compensated for her tolerance of his other interests.”

In other words, he couldn’t even be satisfied with the woman he paid for his physical ease. Nuala shivered, remembering the possessive pressure of his hand at her waist. She had thought it might burn through bodice and corset and chemise, leaving her gasping and naked on the dance floor.

Erskine smiled. “I find it very refreshing to speak to a woman free of the missish qualities so prevalent in our society. A woman who recognizes the world as it is.”

Nuala thought it better not to speak, but Leo wasn’t finished. “You weren’t really just a nurse to Lord Charles, were you? Or a vicar’s daughter, as the rumors claim.”

“I have been many things, Leo. I have lived in many places. Coming to Lord Charles was the end of my long journey. I was happy to be his wife for the short time we were together.”

“Ah. I suspected as much.”

“What did you suspect?”

“That you were not quite of this world. In the best possible sense.”

“You aren’t troubled by the possibility that I may not entirely belong to the realm of good Society?”

“Why should I be? I find your company most stimulating.”

Nuala parsed his words for a deeper meaning and decided that he was not indicating a desire for
anything more than friendship. She smiled warmly and glanced around the ballroom, looking for Deborah and Melbyrne.

She couldn’t see them. But she did see Sinjin, who was staring at her and Erskine with such an evil look that, had he been a witch prone to black magic, would have struck the subject of his attention dead on the spot.

“I think I should like more punch,” Nuala said.

Erskine glanced the way she had been looking. “May I escort you, Nuala?”

She took his offered arm with a deliberation meant to defy Sinjin’s glare. When Erskine returned her to her chair, Sinjin had vanished.

Her disappointment made no sense at all. She was
glad
to see him gone. When she looked for Deborah, she found the young woman standing at the landing, gazing down at the cavernous entrance hall.

“Where is Mr. Melbyrne?” Nuala asked.

Deborah glanced up, her usually open expression unreadable. “He has left,” she said, “along with Lord Donnington.”

“Did the earl compel Mr. Melbyrne to leave?”

“He…he respects Lord Donnington a great deal.”

In other words, yes.
Nuala could picture the scene all too clearly. She closed her eyes and silenced her almost violent thoughts. “Was he in any way discourteous to you?”

“No. Not to me.”

Of course not. He was a “gentleman,” at least where some women were concerned. He would have
been coldly but quite properly polite as he wrenched the two young lovers apart. “I am sorry, Deborah. I could see that you were enjoying your time together.”

When Lady Orwell didn’t answer, Nuala opened her eyes and searched the young, guileless face. “You will see him again,” she said, placing a comforting hand on Deborah’s arm. “The earl will not always be present to…inhibit your conversations with Mr. Melbyrne.”

“Oh, but I…You must not think…” Deborah’s cheeks flamed, and she appeared genuinely distressed.

“You need not hide your feelings from me, whatever they may be,” Nuala said.

Deborah’s pretty mouth opened, but she thought better of whatever she had been about to say. “It is nearly time for supper,” she said at last, “but I am not hungry. Mightn’t we leave early?”

“I should be glad to,” Deborah said, accepting the change of subject. She asked a footman to summon their carriage. She and Deborah took their leave of Lady Oxenham, with thanks for the lovely evening, and then set out for home.

They were both too preoccupied to talk when they arrived. Deborah went up to her room. Nuala followed more slowly, considering everything she had observed that evening.

There was no doubt that Donnington was a formidable opponent, but Deborah was a girl of considerable spirit despite her reticence. Had she been more conventional, she would never have insisted on accompanying Nuala and Frances to Whitechapel. And she would not have spent so much time talking with
Melbyrne in a public venue. Surely she was capable of ignoring Lord Donnington’s disapproval where her heart was engaged.

But she could not do it alone.

Unable to quell her speculation, Nuala allowed Booth to undress her. But as she stood half-naked in her stays and drawers, her imagination was at pains to prevent any consideration of sleep.