The Problem with Seduction (10 page)

If he meant the slight-looking young woman in the corner whose face hadn’t recovered its color, he had a point. She looked ready to swoon. Elizabeth wasn’t faring much better. She collapsed into a chair and hugged her baby to her shoulder. “We won’t be moving on tonight.”

Con had a feeling his pound of flesh was in for far more than the devil’s bargain he’d initially signed. How the hell had he become embroiled in such a mess? “There you have it, then. We’ll take another room for the nurse and a place for the servants. Have the trunks been fetched from the carriages?”

The proprietor smiled, revealing empty spaces where teeth had once been. “We’ll be right on it, my lord, and a stall for your horse, too. I’ll start a bill.”

A mistress and her massive entourage required
money.
Of course.

He would worry about it later. After the proprietor and his wife left with pound notes dancing in their eyes, Con went to Elizabeth. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. Her gaze fell to the baby drooling onto her shoulder. “We’re fine.”

The nursemaid approached shyly. “Let me take him, madam. Else I fear you won’t have the strength to rise.”

Elizabeth appeared to consider resisting before giving into exhaustion. “He needs to be freshened up,” she said, holding him out. “I’m sorry.”

Con reflexively stepped back. The nursemaid’s eyes slid sideways at him, and she smiled puckishly. “Babies always do.”

Con supposed he must grow used to it, then.

When she, too, had gone, he dropped to his knees beside Elizabeth. She’d been towered over enough today. “How can I help?”

Her hands fidgeted in her lap. “It’s always so odd not to have him in my arms. Who would have thought I would take to being a mother this quickly?”

Con hesitated a fraction of a second before he took her delicate hands in his own. He honestly had no notion what to say to that, but it was clear she needed comfort. He ran his thumb soothingly over her bare knuckles. “You seem to be doing an admirable job of it. I’m not an authority by any means, but surely there are worse ways to parent a child.”

She cracked a smile. “You’re in danger of turning my head with your left-handed compliments, my lord.”

“Is that so? I’ll work on it.” His heart gave a kick when she smiled at that. “There’s plenty for us to talk about, but a good night’s rest should come first. Do you feel up to moving to your room? I’d be honored to play the gallant and escort you.”

She withdrew her hands and looked away. “I don’t see how I can sleep tonight.”

He stood but he didn’t back away. She craned her neck to see him and lifted her hand inches from her lap, almost as if to reach for him, but when she realized he wasn’t leaving her, it dropped suddenly. A pale blush brought some color into her face. “How did you find me?”

“That?” He chuckled softly as he recalled just how easy it had been to follow her here. “Two resplendent carriages trundling in the direction of Shropshire and then Ellesmere are enough to draw even the most oblivious villager’s attention, my dear. I don’t doubt that’s how Finn tracked you, too.”

She pressed her lips together as if silently berating herself. He didn’t see the point in dwelling on what she might have done differently, not when the threat was already passed. “I was going to kick my heels in the common room until I felt like sleeping,” he said, returning to his offer to take her upstairs. “Why don’t we both retire to my room instead? I’d enjoy the company.”

Her eyes met his levelly. Indignation lifted her chin a fraction. Despite her exhaustion, she’d found one last drop of strength. “I am very grateful for what you did just now, but I’m not interested in an—”

“Oh, no! I never meant
that.
”

Relief crossed her face so blatantly that an awkward silence stretched between them. She seemed
awfully
relieved to be free of his attentions. Was he so disagreeable to her, then?

He scrambled to fill the void before he actually asked her if she found him unattractive. It would have been wholly inappropriate given the scare she’d just been through, but evidently, he was a vain man. “You said you don’t see how you can sleep tonight. I’m happy to bore you into slumber, if you’d like to while away the hours with me. I think the proprietor must have a deck of cards or a chessboard to pass the time. Do you play?”

He sensed her wariness. To be alone with him? Or did she doubt his intentions? At last she nodded. He offered her his arm—he would get to play the gallant after all—and together, they made their way to the clerk’s counter.

A hint of some flowery soap wafted up from her crown of dark hair. She must have heavy tresses to form braids that thick. What would her hair look like taken down? Would it curl around her shoulders? Around her…

He shook himself. Never, in all the ways he’d imagined their agreement working, had he thought he’d take more from her than ten thousand pounds. Rescuing her tonight had been the last thing he’d expected when he’d drawn his horse up behind her unmistakable carriages. He’d thought only of asking her if she’d meant to abandon him in England without even giving him a fare-thee-well. Now he was protecting her, in a way, and he wasn’t even sure how that had come about, or how it was to go on.

That she’d needed him at all struck him as improbable. There was a self-possession about her that made it hard to think she’d ever been any man’s plaything. One thing he did realize as they collected his key and a deck of cards and made their way back down the hall toward the stairs: not enough people needed him. It was a disquieting realization to have, though not surprising, now that he’d given it some thought. It would be interesting to see what became of it. He’d had so little useful to do in his life, that the hope he might now have a purpose put an extra spring in his step.

She relaxed her grip on his coat sleeve as they walked arm in arm past a bank of rooms. On the other side of a wall, he heard the lilt of a lullaby being sung. Before he could stop her from leaving his side she released him entirely and hurried ahead to the room’s door. She tapped lightly on it, then opened it when a muffled voice said, “Come in.”

“I’ll just be in Lord Constantine’s room,” Elizabeth said, poking her head through the narrow opening. Then she turned back to Con. “I’ve forgotten the number.”

“Five.” He glanced down the hallway. It must be the one at the end. It suddenly seemed very secluded.

Elizabeth leaned into Mrs. Dalton’s room again. She lowered her voice so that he couldn’t hear her exchange with the nursemaid. Then, apparently satisfied, Elizabeth closed the door. She turned toward him and patted her coiffure self-consciously. “I’m ready.”

He indicated the last door at the end of the hallway. Wordlessly, they continued on. The easiness of their previous company changed over the last few steps. She became increasingly wary of him. When he turned his key in the lock, she jumped at the sound of the tumbler catching. He waved for her to precede him, and she hesitated.

“I’m not going to bite you.” Blast it, his voice was suddenly too deep to be reassuring.

“I wouldn’t let you.” She gripped her skirt with one hand and entered. He wasn’t so much of a gentleman that he didn’t appreciate the sway of her backside as she attempted to show him she wasn’t afraid.

She turned, surveying the place. It had all the usual accommodations: washstand in the corner, window overlooking a busy yard, a narrow table on which to place his things, and a spindly chair. The lamp had already been lit and a fire burned in the grate. Surely it was as good a place as any to chase nightmares away.

“Would you like the chair?” he asked, closing the door behind him. The sun would cast light through the one window for a few more hours. Then what? One lamp and a dying fire would feel like utter darkness.

She quirked a smile. “The alternative is your bed.”

He was a man. When she looked up at him from beneath long, dark lashes and said anything that put him in mind of a soft mattress, tangled sheets and
her,
he couldn’t help reacting. While he wasn’t a lust-crazed beast, he readily admitted she was one thoroughly desirable woman. What the hell had he been thinking to invite her in here?

He needed to do something before he began to think too hard on his intentions. He took up the chair in one hand and nudged the table with his boot until he had both beside the bed. Her skirts swished as she seated herself in the chair. There still seemed to be something missing. Thinking quickly, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll just be a moment,” and left the room. He took the stairs quickly and went to the clerk’s counter again. He requested a bottle of wine and two wineglasses from a skinny scrap of a girl who must be the innkeeper’s daughter. That accomplished, he returned to Elizabeth and squeezed himself between the table and the bed to perch on the edge of the mattress.

“Refreshments will be here in a trice. Now, what is your game, my dear?” He began to shuffle the deck of cards.

She didn’t hesitate. “Speculation.”

“Oh? But we have no fish.”

She pursed her lips. Then a mercenary gleam came into her eye. “We have no need of counters. I’m not likely to forget what’s owed me.”

She no doubt meant it as a joke, but the promise turned his stomach. While he enjoyed a harmless game of chance between friends, he detested formal gambling. He was careful not to let on how he felt about bookmaking, however, lest she probe him about it. “I’ll deal, then, and you may pretend to ante up.” He swiftly dealt three cards facedown to each of them. Then he indicated for Elizabeth to turn the trump card.

Jack of diamonds.

“Do you bid for it?” he asked.

“No.” She turned her top card faceup. Nine.

He was still winning, then. “You should have offered me a fish,” he teased.

She glanced at the empty place where her counters should have been. “I think not.” Then she turned up a king of spades. A quirk of her lips gave away her satisfaction.

His turn. He flipped his top card. Two. He wouldn’t get very far with that. He turned the next. King of diamonds. Much better. “I’ll buy your card,” he angled, feigning exaggerated indifference.

“You can’t afford it.” That gleam in her eye turned downright ruthless. “Ten counters.”

“You’re right. I can’t afford that.” He rested his hand on the bed and leaned onto it, then indicated for her to show her last card.

A four. She frowned.

He came forward again and grinned at her as he mimed scooping his imaginary winnings across the table. “Another round?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, please.” But he had a feeling it was no longer just a silly game to her. Her competitive streak had been pricked.

He won three straight rounds, because he wasn’t one to lose out of sympathy. Though, even if he did like to think he owed his success to a bit of skill, he could admit he had an advantage. She was distracted tonight. He was not.

“You’ve played this before,” she mused as he dealt another six cards. The more rounds they played, the more cards were revealed. It was almost too easy to win now.

He wore a smug smile anyway. He liked the sport of card playing, even if he usually avoided gaming hells. “Most in England have, I think.”

“Not like you. I’d swear you’re counting cards, my lord.” Her hand rested languidly atop her card stack. She looked up at him with a slanted eyebrow.

He grinned. He liked that she thought him capable of card counting, even if he didn’t approve of such a skill. “Are you accusing me?”

A small smile crept across her lips. “I can’t think a man with your reputation for debt is any good at counting cards.”

His lips tightened. Now here was a subject he didn’t find at all amusing. “The rumors are exaggerated.”

Her eyebrow rose again. “You seemed willing enough to accept my money to pay it down. I assume the debt was real.”

“Yes, but not because
I’m
a gambler.” He instantly regretted his sharp elucidation, but she didn’t so much as blink.

They played another hand. She murmured when she bid, and he grunted in reply. The easiness was gone.

She broke the silence first. “I think I’ve touched a nerve.” She played the last card in the deck.

He collected their discards and shuffled them. After his flare-up, he owed her at least a partial explanation. As much as he didn’t want to talk about it, was there any harm in sharing what every person who traveled in her circles must know? “Deep play costs far more than just your ten thousand pounds. I know, because my father was a gamester. It killed him. I haven’t the stomach for it since.”

Her finger paused, poised over a card. “Then where does your money go, if not to gaming debts?”

He laughed darkly. “I
have
no money. Father gambled it all away and Montborne is barely able to rub two pennies together without one of them vanishing. My brothers and I try to help, but…” He shrugged. “Some of us help better than others.”

Her attention was on him fully now. Con shifted against the sagging mattress. Perhaps there
was
harm in telling her. Now she’d pity him.

“Does Lord Darius
help
?” she asked, causing him to flinch. “Surely the rumors aren’t exaggerated there, too.”

Con struggled to maintain his jovialness while being scrutinized by a woman he barely knew. Not to mention how protective he felt of his twin, who, it was true, hadn’t escaped the family vice. Con didn’t like sounding defensive of Dare, given how much he detested his brother’s scourge. But he wouldn’t let her judge Darius, either. “He’s never got in so deep that the rest of us couldn’t pull him out.”

Her eyes turned to her card stack. “Is that where my money went?”

A quick scan of the window told him it was going to be a long night. “It’s more embarrassing than that.”

Her lips parted. “Oh?” Her eyes flicked to him, then to his card bared on the table. “Now you have my attention. What could possibly be embarrassing for a man of your class? Is it an intimate sort of addiction?” She slid him a sidelong glance. “The privileged may indulge in whatever fantasies they like.”