The Art of Sinning (18 page)

“But we're not finished with your story! I still don't know how you ended up at art school after your wife's death or why you're at odds with your mother.”

“There was no reason to stay after my wife and child died,” he said blandly, “and definitely no reason to run Father's mills. He realized that and agreed to let me leave, so I did. And I'm not at odds with my mother.”

“Liar.”

A shutter came down over his features. “Don't read more into it than there is.”

“But Jeremy—”

“Enough.” He urged Yvette to sit on the bed, then sat beside her. “Tell me about Lieutenant Ruston.”

A pox upon it. “You'll think me a peagoose.”

He smiled faintly. “I doubt that.”

“
You
were not the one who fell for the blandishments of a practiced scoundrel. I assume that your late wife didn't set out to seduce you to gain your hand in marriage?”

“No, she did not. If anything, I seduced her. Why do you think I proposed marriage? I knew I was at fault. And we're not talking about me, anyway.”

She sighed. He wasn't going to let it go, was he? She should never have brought it up. This was what came of sharing confidences—all of one's flaws were unveiled. “It was long ago. I've practically forgotten it.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said with some sarcasm. “Here, I'll make it easier for you. I know that the man proposed marriage when you were twenty, and I know that he was found afterward to be a fortune hunter. I also know he left Stoke Towers with his tail between his legs. I assume that your father or Blakeborough discovered his mercenary aims and had him packed off.”

“My, my, your spy Damber is quite the chatterbox, isn't he?”

“Yvette—”

“Oh, all right.” She steadied her shoulders. “It wasn't Papa
or
Edwin who sent the lieutenant away. It was Samuel. He was the one who saved me.” She lifted her gaze to Jeremy. “Why do you think I want so desperately to find his child? Because it's the least I owe him for thwarting Lieutenant Ruston's attempt to blackmail me.”

Eighteen

A roaring filled Jeremy's ears. “Blackmail! That ass
blackmailed
you? How? Why
?
” He frowned. “Never mind that—I know why. To force you into marriage.”

She bobbed her head. “You think
you
were naïve at eighteen? I was a veritable idiot at twenty, I assure you.”

“I don't believe that.” He seized her hands. “Some men are bastards who take advantage of everyone they meet, even clever young women.”

And the thought of some fellow trying to force her into marriage for his own mercenary purposes made Jeremy want to hit something. Or someone, preferably the lieutenant.

He fed that rage to keep from dwelling on the fact that he'd revealed so much of his past to her. Not all of it, though. Never all of it. If she knew how truly selfish he'd been, she would never speak to him again. And as wise as that might be, he couldn't bear it.

So he focused on her association with Ruston instead. “But how did the man blackmail you, exactly?”

Her cheeks blushed a bright crimson. “This is so embarrassing.”

Fear of what she might say seized him by the throat. “He didn't hurt you, did he? Because if that ass harmed anything but your pride, I swear I will hunt him down and lop off his ‘horn' myself.” When she looked startled by his vehemence, he added hastily, “I mean, just so I could make sure he never used it against any other innocent female.”

She looked skeptical of that reasoning, but murmured, “Well, he didn't even use it against me, so you've no need to worry on that score.” Even as relief coursed through Jeremy, she added, “But he taught me to doubt myself. My instincts.” She squeezed Jeremy's hands. “For that, I can never forgive him.”

“Understandably.” He gazed at her lovely face and wondered how any man could want her just for her money. “So, what exactly did he do? How did he even end up here at Stoke Towers?”

She blinked, then said tartly, “What? Your spy couldn't unearth that?”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Apparently not. All he said was that the man visited here for a few weeks one holiday.”

Pulling her hands free, she nodded. “He came here with Samuel, who was his shipmate. They were given leave for Christmastide, and the lieutenant was an orphan with no family, so my brother invited him home.”

Jeremy choked down the impulse to point out that the brother she credited with saving her had also brought the snake into Eden in the first place. “Did your father agree to the invitation?”

“Papa didn't know or care. He was off in London as usual, doing whatever he always did there. After Mother died, we almost never saw him. Edwin had already reached his majority years before, so Papa left him in charge since Edwin, who never really liked society, was content to run things.”

“So Blakeborough was the man of the house while Ruston was here paying court to you.” And still just as oblivious to how deeply his sister felt.

“Yes.” She rose to walk over to the fire. “I'd met Lieutenant Ruston a few times before, when Samuel was on leave. Samuel had mentioned him in letters often, and the lieutenant would send me words for my dictionary through my brother. I had come to consider him a friend.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jeremy saw the stiffness of her back, heard the unsteadiness of her voice. Her sense of betrayal was evident in every line of her body. “But he was not.”

“He seemed to be, at first.” She turned halfway toward Jeremy, putting her in profile. “He was gentlemanly and courteous and said lovely things that made my heart go pitter-patter.” A chill froze her voice. “I was so stupid.”

He wanted to jump up and go hold her. Out of sheer self-preservation, he stayed seated. “It isn't stupid to take someone at their word. Scoundrels are convincing liars.”

He waited for her to make one of her usual observations about how he ought to know, being a scoundrel himself. When she didn't, it tightened his chest the same way her words had earlier.

But you
have
a heart!

God, he hoped she was wrong. Hearts got trampled on. He'd been through enough pain without the crushing agony of a broken heart. Yet he didn't want her thinking him a scoundrel, either. As usual, he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

Exactly like Samuel and the lieutenant. He winced. “Besides, your brother vouched for him. And you probably trusted your brother.”

“At that point, I was still naïve enough that I did. Though truthfully, I don't think he realized Lieutenant Ruston's real motives.”

Jeremy kept his doubts about that to himself.

“Nor can I blame my brother for my weakness for handsome men.” She shot Jeremy a rueful glance. “In his navy uniform, Lieutenant Ruston fairly blinded a silly young girl like me.”

“I can't imagine that you were any more a silly girl then than you are now.”

A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Oh, but I clearly was, or I'd have known better than to believe his flatteries. I should have been on my guard from the moment he called me ‘a delicate flower.' I haven't been delicate from the day I was born.”

Out of nowhere, he remembered what she'd said the day Knightford had shown up:
God forbid I look like anything but a delicate flower for my portrait.

Like Shakespeare's famous heroine, the lady clearly protested too much. Ruston had succeeded with her because he'd found her weakness—her secret desire to be considered as dainty and delicate as other English ladies. That was why she'd initially chosen such boring clothes for her portrait, why
she'd melted when she thought Jeremy had made her look pretty in his first sketch.

She might be fierce and bold, but even Yvette desperately wanted to be seen as feminine. Unfortunately, in her society the feminine ideal was dainty and delicate. It made him want to shake her, then kiss her until she was left in no doubt about her femininity.

He chose his words carefully. “You aren't re­­motely delicate, that's true.” When her gaze shot to him, vulnerable, uncertain, he added softly, “Because delicate things break. They don't withstand the blows of life. You are made of stronger stuff, made to persevere, and thank God for it. The world needs more women like you.”

Hannah had been delicately made. Perhaps that was one reason he'd always found it so difficult to be close to her. Even though she possessed ample strength of character and conviction, he'd always been afraid he might hurt her physically somehow.

Odd how he never feared hurting Yvette physically. What he feared was that he wouldn't get enough of her. That he wouldn't assuage his need hard enough, fast enough, deeply enough—

Oh, God, don't think of her like that, or you'll soon be doing more than just sitting on this bed.

He cleared his throat and bent forward, hoping to mask his wayward prick. “And just because the lieutenant proved to be a devil in the end doesn't mean that what he said about your charms was a lie.”

A snort was her only answer.

“So,” he said, to prod her on, “he pretended to be your friend.”

“And more.” She played with the ties of her wrapper. “He persuaded me to go with him unchaperoned on long walks through the woods. He persuaded me to let him steal a kiss here and there.”

Jeremy's arousal vanished, replaced by a jealous anger that he dared not show—that he didn't even approve of, for God's sake. “More than one kiss, then,” he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

“Yes. Toward the end of his stay, he mentioned marriage. I told him I'd be honored to marry him, and I would wait for him to ask permission of my father in London.” With her head bent, her hair veiled her face, but he could hear the consternation in her voice. “That's when he became . . . a bit strange.”

“Strange?”

“He said that given his lack of connections, he knew my father would never approve a marriage. So it was best that we take matters into our own hands and elope.”

“And you told him to jump off the nearest cliff, I hope,” Jeremy growled.

She shot him an exasperated look. “Have you forgotten that I fancied myself in love? At that point I was incapable of cold-blooded logic. When I was with him, his proposal seemed perfectly acceptable. The problem was, when I was away from him—”

“You came to your senses.”

“Somewhat.” She shook her head. “The funny thing is that Papa probably wouldn't have stood in the way if Lieutenant Ruston had gone the usual route to marriage. By that point he'd begun to realize that I wouldn't easily find a husband. I'm sure he
would have considered a naval lieutenant to be perfectly acceptable.”

Jeremy mused on that. “Perhaps your father would have. But I'm sure Blakeborough would have had a say in it, and
he
would have put his foot down. He would have had the man's prospects investigated, and when he found what the lieutenant was apparently trying to hide, your brother would have put a quick end to that courtship.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked wistfully.

“I do. And apparently so did the lieutenant, which is why he pressed the elopement.”

“I suppose.” She fell into a long silence, clearly musing over this new way of looking at things.

“In any case, you obviously didn't elope.”
That
would have gotten out somehow. Elopements were hard to keep secret.

“No, but not for any lack of his trying.” She let out an enormous sigh. “When I expressed concern over the idea of running away together, the lieutenant became more, shall we say, aggressive physically.”

Jeremy rose, his blood roaring in his ears once more. “What does that mean, exactly?”

His temper must have showed in his voice, for she cast him a startled look. “Not what you're clearly thinking, and nothing even as devilish as what you did. I always squelched his attempts to . . . er . . . caress me.” She added archly, “He wasn't as sly at it as you are. Or as good.”

Out of habit, he said flippantly, “No one is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don't play the rogue with me, Jeremy. I know you better now.”

So she did. “You still haven't told me how he managed to blackmail you.”

“Oh yes. The truly embarrassing part.” A blush rose up her neck to her cheeks. “Remember, I truly believed he respected me and would never do anything beyond kissing.”

His heart began to pound. “But he did.”

“Sort of. But it was my fault. On his last full day with us, I didn't protest as I should have when he pulled the door of the music room nearly closed and sat down beside me to kiss me.”

“It was
not
your fault. He knew what he planned. You did not.”

She rubbed her arms. “But I was also desperate to be alone with him. I knew I wouldn't see him again for some time. And he'd already told me he intended to consult with Edwin about our marriage after dinner, and then go on to London to speak to Papa.”

“In other words, he said whatever it took to put your guard down so he could attempt to compromise you.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way, yes.”

“That is
not
the act of an honorable man. At least I warned you what I wanted from you, and gave you the chance to refuse before I even touched you.”

A softness touched her face. “You did, indeed.”

“So what exactly did Ruston do?”

“He . . . slid his hands up my calves beneath my skirts . . . and I let him.” Her gaze turned steely. “When he got to my garters and I protested his actions, he untied one and slipped it into his pocket, saying that surely I wouldn't mind if he kept a token of my affection for all his lonely nights without me.
I was still sitting there with his hand on my stocking, wavering on whether to ask for my garter back, when we were discovered.”

“By Edwin.”

“Actually, no. Although I later learned that the lieutenant
had
arranged for Edwin to meet us in the music room, my brother had been delayed by some estate business. So we were discovered by the footman who came to inform him of Edwin's delay.”

“That was a stroke of luck.”

She smiled wanly. “Not exactly. The footman was newly hired. I couldn't count on him to keep silent, though I asked him to. His arrival spooked me so that I fled, thus thwarting the lieutenant's scheme to have Edwin find us together doing something naughty. Only later did I remember that the lieutenant still had my garter.”

Her voice hardened. “And my noble swain used it to his advantage. Before dinner, he drew me aside and said that if I didn't meet him secretly that very night and elope, he would go to Edwin with the garter, demand that my brother call forth the footman to corroborate his story, and then force Edwin and Papa to accept the match by implying that the lieutenant and I . . . that we . . .”

Jeremy bit back a vile oath. He
would
hunt Ruston down, by God, and he
would
lop off the bastard's horn. Damned devious whoreson.

She shuddered. “It was an excellent plan. If a gentleman has had access to a woman's garter, people assume he's had access to . . . well, you know. It put me in the most dreadful quandary. Neither Papa nor Edwin would have called his bluff, knowing that the lieuten
ant could destroy my reputation. Either way, the lieutenant would gain my hand in marriage.”

Her voice caught. “But in the latter case, my family would believe the worst of me.”

The thickness in Jeremy's throat threatened to choke him. “So what did you do?”

“I begged him to show himself the gentleman I thought him to be and just ask Papa for my hand as he'd originally intended. I was still clinging to the hope that he really did love me. If he had gone through everything properly even then, I probably would have married him.”