Enchanted by Your Kisses (6 page)

No, not for him. Not ever. He meant to use her and then discard her, just as she would no doubt use him if given the chance.

Jerking angrily, he opened the compartment concealed in a panel of the carriage. A crystal decanter sat next to a matching crystal glass. He lifted the brandy out, poured himself a drink, then tossed it down. The liquor burned a path to his stomach. He welcomed it.

Wess
, I will not fail again. I promise you I will do whatever it takes to find you.

And that included befriending Lady Ariel
D'Archer
, daughter of the First Lord, and a man who refused to help him find his brother,
Wess
Trevain
—
Wess
, who'd been impressed off the deck of his American ship.
Wess
, who seemed to have disappeared without a trace. But there would be a record of him somewhere. And he knew Lord Bettencourt had that information. Bettencourt merely withheld it because of Nathan's past. Never mind that the war had been over these past six months. His lordship still held a grudge. But what his lordship didn't know was that Nathan
Trevain
, heir to the duke of
Davenport
, was also one of the American colonies' most famous spies: Helios. Nor did Bettencourt know that he went by the last name of Mills in the colonies as a safeguard to protect him against exactly that which had happened, being forced to fight with the British against his fellow colonists. No, only few knew of his connection to the duke, and it would stay that way.

Unless Lady
D'Archer
proved useless for helping him to infiltrate her father's house.

Then all would be revealed. It would be his turn to use a British woman to his advantage, as they had tried to use one to their advantage. Only he didn't plan on killing Lady
D'Archer
, as that British wench had planned to kill him. He rubbed the scar again. No, he would kidnap her, if need be, but he'd not kill her.

Yet somehow he must recover from today's debacle. He would need to gain Lady
D'Archer's
trust, then be given access to her house. His overwhelming goal was to find out what lay in the room he'd discovered when he'd broken into the house. The room had no windows; it had a door thicker than any he'd ever seen. What he sought
must
be in there. He knew it. And if he could get close enough to her to enlist her help. . .

The carriage came to a halt. One of his uncle's staff opened the door practically the moment the vehicle stopped. Nathan hardly noticed. Nor did he notice the front door being held open for him, despite the lateness of the hour. Nor the footman who stood waiting for his coat. He shrugged out of it, wanting only to retire to the study and think. He loosened his cravat along the way.

"The duke wishes to see you in the morning, sir."

A lifted hand was all he used to acknowledge the request, the ring her ladyship had commented upon sparking in the light. A serpentine, he'd told her, not the true name of the stone. And really, the gem could pass for a serpentine with its green background. Only a close observer would note the red flecks that made it a bloodstone. But the stone's true name would remain his secret, along with its hidden meaning.

A footman raced forward to open the study door. He walked right by the three-hundred-year-old vase that sat upon a pedestal to his right, nearly tipped over the two-hundred-year-old hunter-green armchair in his haste to pull it out. Next he rested his feet upon an Elizabethan footrest, slipping his buckled shoes off as he did so, putting his feet near the fire.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

He didn't even look up as he replied, "No."

"If we need anything, we shall ring."

Nathan sat up abruptly, his head turning toward the door.

"Yes, your grace," the servant responded.

He was in time to see the servant bow out of the room. His uncle stood there, a man who looked so much like Nathan's deceased father that he swallowed back a surge of bitterness. Miles
Trevain
, duke of
Davenport
, had gray hair even when not capped by a wig. But whereas Nathan's father had been lean and trim, his uncle had a paunch nearing King George's proportions. Still, the shape of the face was the same. Gray eyes, square jaw, high cheekbones that looked prominent despite the layer of fat and the deepness of his wrinkles.

"You're home early, I see."

Nathan nodded.

"No young ladies there to hold your interest?"

Nathan held back a sigh. Since his reunion with his uncle, the man had plagued him incessantly about settling down and producing an heir. He seemed not to notice that most young ladies were either repelled or frightened by his face. Nathan had, but it worked to his advantage, for he had no intention of ever settling down or even staying in
England
. No, if he needed to dally with a woman, there were those who were intrigued by his scar, those who would suffer his presence for a night, if only out of curiosity. A one-night affair would suit him well, especially if this ridiculous attraction he felt for her ladyship didn't wane.

"None?" the duke asked again, pulling a chair out to sit opposite him.

"Actually," Nathan offered. "I did meet someone tonight."

He saw the hopeful look in his uncle's eyes and for a brief moment felt guilty about his deceit, but then he reminded himself of all the man had put his father through. It was because of the duke that William
Trevain
had left
England
, forced to do so by his very own brother. Not a word of communication had ever been exchanged between the two since the break, not a single word, until Nathan had received a letter six months previously asking for a meeting. The duke hadn't even known his brother had died in the war or that his nephew was disfigured. And the reason for his wish to make amends? Two marriages and not a child from either of them. The duke needed an heir, disfigured or no, and Nathan was only too willing to play the part—for now.

"Who is she, then? Someone I know?"

Nathan almost smiled. "Oh, I'll wager you've heard of her."

The hopeful look increased. "Her name?"

"Lady Ariel
D'Archer
."

The duke's expression turned into one of horror. "The gypsy witch?"

Nathan lifted a brow. "I take it you don't approve of my choice."

An emphatic shake of the head confirmed the duke's next words. "She is unsuitable. Best you settle upon someone else. I assure you, despite your face, there are many women who will have you."

Nathan took a nonchalant sip of his drink to cover his temper. So his uncle had noticed women's reactions. It was a moment before he said, "But I like this woman, uncle. She would make an excellent breeder. Wide hips. Large breasts."

That the man didn't even flinch at his sarcasm disgusted Nathan no end. Were the British so shallow that they actually considered such things when selecting a future bride?

Apparently so. Disgusting lot.

"Nathan, I know you've been in
England
only a short time, but trust me, my boy, you'll want to pick someone else."

"Why?"

His uncle looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Have you not heard the story?"

"No." And he hadn't. His sources had only told him that she'd been ruined. He hadn't needed to know more than that.

"Then let me tell you." The duke got up, poured himself a drink, then sat down again. He waited a few moments, like a great storyteller about to embark on a favorite tale. "Most people seem to think the girl's problems began with her mother. She was a gypsy, rumored to have seduced the young earl into marriage."

Now that he
had
heard. His contacts had also told him that the usually cold and emotionless earl had been desperately in love with his gypsy wife, so much so that when she'd died in childbirth, he'd refused to wed again. Thus Ariel was an only child.

"The dowager countess was vehemently against the marriage. She told the earl if he married the girl, she would disown him."

His uncle waited for him to comment, and when he didn't, continued with, "Two years after their marriage the new countess produced a daughter, Lady Ariel. Unfortunately, she died three days after giving birth.

"Most speculate 'twas the lack of a mother which made the girl grow up reckless. I suspect it has more to do with the father giving her free run of the estate. Rumor has it he barely gave the girl the time of day once his wife died. Lady
D'Archer
grew up wild and reckless. No one was surprised when she was found at an inn with Lord Archibald Worth. Rumor has it Archie told the girl he intended to marry her, but everyone knew that he meant to marry someone else. That he didn't come up to scratch surprised no one. What did surprise people was that the earl didn't force the marriage or at the very least arrange for some other man to wed her ladyship. Chances are he tried but failed to marry her off."

"So she's an outcast?"

The duke nodded. "Indeed she is. Truth be told, I'd forgotten about the girl's existence. She's been living in the country."

"Where she should have stayed?"

If his uncle heard the edge to Nathan's voice, he didn't reveal it. "Aye. Society has many freedoms, but it has rules, too. A ruined young lady remains an outcast. Forever. I'm surprised she would dare to venture out again. It just proves that blood tells."

Nathan didn't say a thing. He was too concerned that he might have ruined his chance of befriending her because of their kiss. Damnation, but he was a fool. A fool swayed by a pretty face and enticing eyes.

But it wasn't until the next morning that he realized he needn't have worried. A note was delivered, one so brief as to make no sense to anyone but him.

If the offer is still upon the table, meet me at the
Ranelagh
rotunda, today, three o'clock.

Nathan felt a smile tug at his face.

So the little bird wanted to disturb the coop? Good. Very good.

With any luck, he would have what he needed by month's end.

Ariel felt as nervous as a worm in a hen house when she arrived at the
Ranelagh
pleasure gardens. Wiping her hands on her peach-colored dress, she then made sure the tan hat she wore sat securely upon her head. She'd worn the wide-brimmed confection more as a way to shield her face from prying eyes than for the sake of fashion, although with its large black bow it did look rather stylish. Then again, why she worried about fashion when she was about to confront a man who'd had the audacity to kiss her was beyond her. As she descended from her hired hack, she wondered what the devil she was doing here.

Confronting a man you thought about all night,
answered a voice.

No, no, that was not it, she reassured herself. What drove her to meet him was that despite her vow, she'd found herself near tears after recalling the way people had treated her last eve. That was the reason why she was here. Even though she knew it would be a dangerous undertaking, she wanted to get back some of her own.

Call her petty. Call her immoral. She wanted to reclaim her place in society. That such a thing had never been done before worried her not at all. She refused to let society banish her. Ever again.

And so she'd sent for Mr.
Trevain
, telling herself that no harm would come of at least listening to the man's plans.

If he had a plan.

And that thought brought another surge of uncertainty, for what if indeed his attentions to her were of the nefarious kind? Would he want to seduce her for her money? Or was she letting Archie's betrayal affect her judgment of other men? Could Mr.
Trevain's
interest truly be innocent? If so, why did he kiss her? Was it truly to prove a point?