To Sin With A Scoundrel (9 page)

“And?”

Henry took a long swallow of his sherry. “Unfortunately, she was as delicate as some of the ancient manuscripts we loved to
study. Six months after we met, she died of consumption.”

Lucas felt a lump form in his throat. “I am very sorry.”

“Don’t be. Life is too short for regrets.”

“I should have… known,” he added lamely.

“You were just a boy at the time.” His uncle gave a nonchalant shrug. “As for now, it’s ancient history—not a subject that
ever appealed to your fancy.”

He forced himself to grin at the joke.

“You need not look so queasy, my dear boy. I’m quite content with my life,” finished Henry.

Rather than seize the chance to drop the subject, Lucas pressed on. “Did you never meet anyone else?”

“Never really cared to, I suppose,” replied Henry. “I had my books. And you.”

And what had he given Henry in return, save for more heartache?

For an instant, Lucas wished he had never returned from the country. He could be carousing with his friends and his fancy
whores. Laughter and lust—not a care in the world. Instead, he felt a cold weight settling on his shoulders.

Responsibility? Good God… Repressing a shiver, he downed the rest of his brandy. “Somehow I doubt that I was more fun than
a roll in the hay.”

“You had your moments,” replied Henry with a twinkle in his eye. “Besides, I get vicarious pleasure out of your exploits.”

Lucas set aside his glass. “Well, as I said, I hope to have more material gratification for you in the near future. I’ve a
meeting scheduled with Lady Sheffield on the morrow.”

“What makes you think you can change her mind now?”

“Because the lady is smart enough to realize that I may be the answer to her prayers.”

Henry snorted in amusement. “Kisses will get you only so far. I fear that the widow will require a more convincing argument.”

“We’ll see about that.”

C
iara drew in a deep breath, trying to slow the skittering beat of her heart. Lud, she hadn’t felt this nervous since the night
of her first ball.

Back then, she had been an innocent girl, fresh from the schoolroom and untutored in the ways of the world. Entering the Mayfair
mansions had been like stepping into an enchanting fairy tale. The titled gentlemen, resplendent in their finery, had all
appeared like Prince Charmings.

Her education regarding the true nature of men had come swiftly, though not swiftly enough. Sheffield had been no prince.
He had been a…

Prick
was the word Kate had used. When its meaning had been explained, Ciara had filed it away in her private vocabulary. Yes,
Sheffield had been a prick. Never again would she be so naive as to be fooled by a gentleman’s superficial charm.

So why was she experiencing butterflies in her stomach?

Fisting her hands, she sought to get a grip on her fears. A part of her could not believe she was voluntarily re-entering
that glittering world of glamour and gaiety. Of silken whispers. Of satin lies. And in the company of a devil-may-care rakehell,
a gentleman whose only interest was the pursuit of pleasure.

In both sense and sensibility they were complete opposites.

Opposites attract.

Ciara bit her lip on recalling one of the basic laws of physics. Just because she had, in a moment of weakness, allowed herself
to enjoy the intimacy of a physical touch, the sweetness of a kiss, didn’t mean that she was attracted to Lord Hadley. Not
in any meaningful way. It could have been anyone—

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Lord Hadley is here, milady.”

Ciara stiffened her spine. “Please show him in, McCabe.”

The lady looked so rigid and pale that she might have been carved out of marble.
Was she nervous?
Strangely enough, Lucas found that he was, too.

He entered the parlor and made a polite bow, hoping to dispel the awkwardness of the moment. Perhaps this time around, he
could get things off on a more civilized footing.

That hope, however, was quickly dispelled.

Clenching her arms across her chest, the widow moved brusquely toward the mullioned windows. “Let me begin the meeting with
a reminder that this is just a business arrangement, nothing more.”

Shadows wreathed her face as she turned to stare out at the garden. Her expression was unreadable, but contempt was written
plainly in her tone.

“It seems that my friends have it all worked out,” she went on. “You get the manuscript translated for your uncle, I get a
titled fiancé and some semblance of respectability in Society.”

“Tit for tat,” he replied with matching coolness. “In other words, we both get what we want.”

“Speak for yourself,” snapped Ciara. “I’m not at all convinced that your name will offer me much protection from the malicious
lies being spread by my late husband’s family. However, my friends insist that I have no choice but to agree to this absurd
proposition.”

Hell.
It wasn’t as if the arrangement suited him perfectly, either. Squiring her through the Season would require a number of sacrifices
on his part. Stung by her scorn, Lucas responded with deliberate sarcasm. “One always has a choice, Lady Sheffield. We are
all responsible for our own actions.”

“That is true,” she said softly. “But some of us are responsible for more than our own selfish wants or needs. I have a young
son, sir. And to keep him safe from the clutches of his father’s beastly family, I would do anything.”

It was evil to tease her, but Lucas couldn’t resist the temptation. “Even kiss me again?”

A flush rose to her cheeks. “I pray it won’t come to that.”

She looked even more lovely with her color up and her eyes sparking with fire.

“No need to appeal to the heavens for protection, Lady Sheffield. I am not in the habit of forcing my attentions on an unwilling
partner,” he drawled.

Her face flamed to a deeper shade of scarlet.

Suddenly sorry for upsetting her, Lucas stopped smiling. “But speaking of force, do you really think that Sheffield’s family
is seriously seeking to take custody of your son? I understand that they said some nasty things during the inquest, but—”

“It was more than mere words, Lord Hadley. Someone tried to bribe the chemist from whom I purchase my supplies to say that
I had bought some highly toxic poisons right before my husband’s death. Thank God, he was a man of integrity and informed
my solicitor, so the trick could not be tried at another shop.”

Ciara took a moment to steady her breathing. “And before you ask why, I will tell you that the answer is simple—money. Arthur
Battersham has gambled himself into debt, and his mother, my late husband’s sister, knows that if I am declared an unfit mother,
the current legal guardianship can be changed. Whoever is appointed to take charge of my son will control the purse strings
of his considerable fortune.” Another pause. “So be assured that I am not imagining the threat.”

“It would not seem so,” replied Lucas as he watched her wet her lips…

Forget about her lips,
he warned himself. Forget about the tiny tremor of her mouth when she spoke about her son. Forget about the shade of fear
that darkened her eyes when Society was mentioned.

And most of all, forget about the inexplicable desire that came over him when she was near—the desire not only to kiss her
witless, but to pick up a sword and slay her dragons.

“Have you other questions, sir?”

“Not at the moment.” Reminding himself that he was a rakehell libertine, not a high-minded hero, he shoved aside such strange
thoughts. “Shall we move on to the business at hand?”

She nodded curtly.

“For this to work, we are going to have to be a convincing couple. That means we shall have to begin appearing in Society.”

“When?” she whispered.

“As soon as possible.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket. “I’ve made a list of the influential hostesses and the parties
where I think we should make an appearance. I suggest we make our debut at the Countess of Saybrook’s soirée. She’s one of
the leading arbiters of style in London, and word will spread like wildfire. After a week or so of us being seen together,
the betrothal announcement can be sent to the newspapers.”

Ciara grimaced. “I can’t imagine how anyone will really believe we have a
tendre
for each other.”

Lucas smiled. “In my experience, when it comes to telling a bouncer, one should always stick as close to the truth as possible.
We shall say that we met through my uncle, whose scholarly interests are well known. I was smitten by your charms…”

She made a strange sound in her throat. “Or we could announce that I bewitched you by slipping a potent love potion in your
drink, a powerful drug that addled your judgment.”

“My judgment has never been considered very steady to begin with,” he replied. “No one will blame you for its demise.”

“Ah, well, one less crime I am guilty of.” For an instant her eyes flared with an odd light, somewhere between anger and longing.
And then her mask of composure was back in place, her gaze unflinching as it met his. It could not be easy facing the smug
censure and prurient gossip, yet she had retained a dignity and grace that did her proud.

Lucas was aware of how sublimely stupid his antics must appear to her.
Another indolent aristocrat, wasting away his days with drinking, gambling, and womanizing.

He smoothed a wrinkle from his sleeve. To hell with what Lady Sheffield thought of him. He didn’t give a damn for Society’s
opinion, so why should hers matter? There was, he reminded himself, nothing personal about this arrangement. It was simply
an exchange of services.

“Lady Sheffield, it’s obvious you think I am a wastrel and a fool. But much as it might shock you, my brain has grasped the
fact that you are not at all pleased with the proposed arrangement,” he said. “I understand that you are sacrificing your
scruples. Well, so am I. The ballrooms of Mayfair bore me to perdition, yet I’m willing to dance in circles—not for any personal
pleasure but for the sake of my uncle.”

Ciara looked down at her hands.

“So unless you have changed your mind about protecting your son—”

“Never!” she exclaimed.

“Then it seems we are fated to be in each other’s company quite frequently over the next several months. And to be frank,
I’d rather not be subjected to your constant scorn and sarcasm. Why don’t we try to make the best of it? Who knows, you might
even enjoy the experience.”

“And pigs might fly,” muttered Ciara.

“My understanding of biology may not be as advanced as yours, but that seems anatomically improbable. The legs are too stubby,
and the ratio of weight to length is a decided drawback. Not to speak of a curly tail, which offers little directional stability.”

Her lips twitched.

“I thought that perhaps Lady Ariel was exaggerating…” Lucas paused. “But thank God, you
do
have a sense of humor.”

“I am going to need more than a sense of humor to survive the Season,” she murmured.

“Right. You are going to need
me
.” Lucas moved to the hearth and leaned an elbow on the mantel. “So, do we have a deal?”

Her answer was almost lost in a sigh. “Yes.”

He smiled.

“But…”

“But what?”

Ciara looked away for a moment, unwilling to allow the sensual spread of his lips to distract her. “Now that we have agreed
in principle to the arrangement, let’s get down to details, Lord Hadley,” she said through clenched teeth. “As I said, I am
willing to go through with this charade, but only if you agree to certain conditions.”

“Which are?” he asked.

“No overt whoring, no drunken debaucheries, no outrageous stunts for the duration of the Season.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Ah. So I must be boring?”

Ciara averted her eyes. Damn the man for being so devastatingly handsome when he made that face. “No doubt it will seem so
to you.”