Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (8 page)

“Please, James.”

He tried not to become aroused by the mere fact she used
his given name.

She sighed. “You are entirely too honest. Though I’m glad
you told me the truth about the mirror,” she said with an authority he had not
expected. “I think we should both know where we stand with each other. And as
for the other, the kiss, well, I am only human as are you.”

He stared at her for a moment, his gaze on her pink lips
she had recently wet, and tried to stamp down his heated interest in favor of
cool practicality. “But as a gentleman, something we both know I haven’t quite
gotten the hang of yet, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation. I’ll
not do it again. I don’t want you to leave Eastlan.”

“Perhaps if we were at different times in our lives,
different positions, your actions would not be so inappropriate.” She gazed up
at him and parted her lips. His body instantly argued with his vow to not react
to her, touch her.

“If you were not a dependent in my household, nothing
would stop me from pursuing you—not time, nor position.” James realized he’d
gone too far when she dropped her brave gaze. “But I have asked you to help me
and to make personal sacrifices to do so. I won’t let my interest in you
interfere again.”

“James, I’m not helping you out of kindness. We both know
that. I have something to gain as well.”

“Your inheritance?” he said, suddenly back on solid ground
with her. He balled his fists and turned toward the door.

“The family name, though an obscenely large dowry for Lark
would serve better, we shall work with what we have.”

“Meaning me?” he said, straightening his shoulders. That
he couldn’t touch her, he understood, but that she was somehow above him made
him want to prove her wrong in the most primal way. He turned and met her gaze.

“I’m a widow with a child to raise. I can ill afford light
flirtations.” She quickly lowered her gaze at his hot stare.

“On reflection, I came to the same conclusion.” James
hardened his tone and tried to forget the mutual spark he thought had erupted
between them. “I won’t to do anything further to jeopardize our agreement.”

“Very well, then.” She straightened and squared her
shoulders. “Shall we go to dinner? We are keeping the others waiting.”

James bowed to keep from staring at the small white mounds
at her neckline and took her offered arm as if he were escorting his grandmother.
Though that didn’t stop him from stealing a tortuous glimpse at her forbidden
fruit. The sooner they completed their business of turning Eastlan around the
better. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be for him to keep his
word…and his hands off Astra.

Astra paused on the stone step and turned her bare face to
the sun. Two springs had passed since she’d walked through the village without
her black veil. She shielded her eyes from the unusually bright day to marvel
at the fat buds of the ash tree that shaded the church’s ancient slate roof.

The arched front door swung open and Astra teetered,
almost losing her balance on the granite step. Reverend Fitzgerald darted the
short distance to right her. Astra smiled at the young parish priest. “Thank
you, Reverend Fitzgerald. I was just admiring the trees. The flowers should be
in full bloom for Easter.”

A flash of deep purple caught Astra’s attention and she
spotted Ivy Templeton as she slipped past the weathered front door. Not that
Astra should be so taken aback. Despite her reputation, Ivy attended services
more faithfully than many parishioners, Astra included. Astra straightened and
met her old friend’s gaze. The hint of warm recognition that briefly softened
Ivy’s full mouth soon vanished. Ivy turned her face away from Astra as if she
had not been the one to stay up all night comforting her when Astra’s father
had passed away on her thirteenth birthday. Astra dropped her gaze to the
ancient church’s worn steps, unsure of how to delicately handle the
confrontation. Astra had turned away from Ivy in the village before but never
in such tight quarters.

“Lady Keane, what a pleasure to receive a visit from you
during the week.”

She glanced at Reverend Fitzgerald who brushed a thick chunk
of brown hair out of his eyes. He snuck a glance at Ivy before returning his
gaze to Astra. Reverend Fitzgerald could not have been but a few years younger
than Astra, but his sincere brown eyes always made Astra feel twice his age.

Ivy descended the steps, her shoulders high. Astra turned
toward the ash tree, studying it as before, but this time no longer finding the
joy in the hundreds of pink-tinged buds.

“Miss Templeton,” Reverend Fitzgerald said, foiling Ivy’s
escape, “thank you for stopping by. I realize you have no wish to reap earthly
reward for your good deeds, but you have done our parish a great service. I
will compose a letter to the artist you suggested without haste.”

Astra’s curiosity won out over common sense and she
glanced in Ivy’s direction. Ivy nodded a curt acknowledgement. “No thanks are
necessary. Art is its own reward. Good day, Reverend.” Not realizing Astra had
chosen that moment to stop ignoring Ivy, her gaze collided with Astra’s and
they made intimate eye contact. An unguarded flash of regret shone in Ivy’s
eyes. Astra had almost forgotten the unique emerald color, but more
importantly, she had forgotten the kindness that had always lurked there.

As if unable to give Astra the cut direct, something Ivy
had no doubt received many times since purchasing a house on the outskirts of
St. Keynes village, Ivy gave a tentative nod of greeting. She quickly turned
away, as if fully expecting Astra not to acknowledge her even while standing
less than two feet away.

“Miss Templeton,” Astra called as if it were no more than
natural. Her confrontations with James must have emboldened her. Ivy stopped
then slowly turned to face Astra. “You have always had a keen eye for art and I
must wonder what suggestions you have made for the church.” Astra glanced at
Reverend Fitzgerald for support, his pleasure at her words undisguised. Really,
he must learn to be sterner if he hoped to make bishop. “I gather you wished to
keep this good deed a secret, but since I seemed to have stumbled upon it, I
don’t think the benevolent nature of the act would be spoiled if told.”

“I am replacing the stained glass in the nave. Thank you
for your interest.” Ivy nodded, her face tight. The simple exchange seemed to
pain her.

“Miss Templeton wishes her gift to remain anonymous, but
I’m sure our parishioners would welcome the knowledge and be as grateful as I
for her generosity,” said Reverend Fitzgerald.

Astra met Ivy’s gaze once more and between them passed the
knowledge that their passionate reverend had entirely too much confidence in
the godliness of his congregation. In fact, Astra would not be surprised if
rumors already abounded about the relationship between the notorious beauty and
their unmarried young vicar.

“Perhaps it should be revealed in time, after the people
of St. Keynes have learned to love the addition. Change can be slow moving in
the West Country.” Astra smiled at Ivy.

“Very perceptive, Lady Keane. Good day.” Ivy nodded curtly
once again, but Astra caught a glimpse of a smile before she turned away.

Astra watched Ivy descend the steps and slip into her
waiting carriage.

The bundle of Lark’s outgrown dresses, Astra’s donation
for the poor and the reason for her outing, remained in her own carriage. She
thought the noble mission would be a good antidote for her wicked thoughts
about James. In light of Ivy’s anonymous contribution, it paled in comparison.
Of course, Astra had not been that wicked—yet.

“This is not the first thing she has done for this
community, Lady Keane,” Reverend Fitzgerald said beside her. “I don’t like
seeing Miss Templeton sit in the back of the church, shunned and forgotten
every Sunday.”

“At least the whispering and the complaints have stopped,”
Astra said, but the fire in Reverend Fitzgerald’s eyes told her that was hardly
enough. As a member of The Ladies of St. Keynes Servants of Our Blessed Lady of
the Holy Well, she had heard some of the matrons wish to ban Ivy from attending
services. Fortunately, one of the ladies had seen the unchristian like
character in such a request and persuaded the other women not to behave in such
a petty manner. Astra just wished she had been the one to speak up on Ivy’s
behalf. Would she end her days as one of those judgmental old crows, quick to
harshly judge others for fear her own shortcomings would be revealed?

“She does not deserve such treatment. No one does.”
Reverend Fitzgerald composed himself. “So what may I do for you today, Lady
Keane?”

Astra had to drag her attention away from Ivy’s carriage
that lingered at the bottom of the steps while her driver fiddled with one of
the horse’s harness. “I have some things to donate to the poor. I’ll have my
driver deliver them.”

Astra raced down the steps before Ivy’s man could climb
back into his seat. “Miss Templeton, would you care to join me for tea in the
village?”

Ivy leaned forward and poked her head out of the window.
She placed her gloved hand over the one that Astra had unconsciously rested on
the carriage. “Thank you, Astra. Your offer is too kind, but I do not wish to
sully your spotless reputation.”

The sadness in her words removed all hint of sarcasm,
though only Astra understood the irony. How easily she could have been the one
cast out from polite society.

“Then perhaps you would receive me in your home,” Astra
insisted. “Carter House is not far from here.”

Only a hint of surprise snuck past Ivy’s ever placid
demeanor. “I would be honored. Follow in your carriage. My staff is loyal and
discreet.”

Astra paused to watch Ivy’s polished carriage roll down
the winding lane, past fields of weathered gravestones littered with ancient
Celtic Crosses. No doubt Ivy expected Astra to change her mind. Even as a girl
she was timid and found it difficult to make friends during her short-lived
stay at a girls’ finishing school. Astra often listened to the headmistress
while the other girls participated in some mischief that would land them in
trouble. And perhaps Astra would have changed her mind if she didn’t have the
guise of a charitable hand reaching out to a fallen sister, encouraged by
Reverend Fitzgerald no less. Astra strolled to her carriage, not quite ready to
abandon the straight and narrow path, but part of her more than ever intrigued
to discover what delights she might have missed along the way.

***

Astra sat in Ivy’s lush garden sipping tea, only slightly
disappointed to find nothing more exotic than Ivy’s purple velvet gown and
plumed hat. On an arbor a riot of English roses snaked around her head,
creeping vines full of tight white buds. Rhododendron already in bloom grew in
a thicket around their feet, attracting fat bees that lazily sipped their
nectar. A classically designed three tiered fountain gurgled in the distance.
Astra was not sure what she had expected behind Ivy’s ornate iron gates,
perhaps a replica of the statue of David or frolicking Greek nymphs locked in
carnal poses.

“A shame the weather will not last. Surely we’ll have
another cold spell before spring actually arrives to stay.”

“Yes,” Astra agreed. They had been going this way, talking
of the weather, the church, for half an hour. “My daughter enjoys the out of
doors. She’ll not understand why I keep her in again.”

Astra met Ivy’s knowing gaze and blushed. Her former
friend had only ever seen Lark from a distance, but she had no doubt figured
out the truth long ago.

“Your child must be a comfort since your husband passed
away.”

Astra studied the rich china, gold rimmed and painted with
red and yellow roses in a typical English fashion. At the very least, Astra
would have expected Ivy’s China to have been brought over from the Continent.
“Lark is the joy of my life, though, I feel at a loss to raise her alone.
Lowell was so kind.”

“I recall that you two were childhood friends. Surely, he
provided well for you.” Ivy tilted her head and studied Astra with clear green
eyes.

Though things had been settled with James, the idea of her
future as a widow, even a wealthy one, still left Astra a bit queasy. “Your
home is lovely. Do you miss London?”

“My circumstances have recently changed. So no, I don’t
miss London at the present. I’m content here. Will you take a house in London?”
Ivy sipped her tea once again. The kinship in her open gaze closed once more by
Astra’s evasion regarding her late husband. Astra had longed for a confident,
but some secrets were too damaging to ever reveal. Though if anyone could be
sympathetic to Astra’s plight, it would be Ivy.  

Rumor had abounded that Ivy had parted company with her
most recent benefactor, a duke no less. Supposedly he intended to take a bride
and needed his notorious mistress tossed to the country. Astra would prefer it
if her mother didn’t spread such gossip, but she could not stop herself from
listening.

“I will be staying on at Eastlan for now. The new baron is
from America and needs assistance adjusting to his position.”

Ivy grinned wickedly, that same enticing half-smile that
no doubt landed her in trouble in the first place. “Oh, I’ve heard James Keane
is quite handsome. I’m anxious to catch a glimpse of him. Will you bring him to
church this Sunday?”

“He’s my deceased husband’s cousin.” Astra stiffened. The
thought of Ivy and James making an acquaintance evoked a sense of panic. “I
have not taken undue notice of his appearance.”

“I see.” Ivy laughed. “Well, I’m sure others will. I don’t
doubt you caught his notice.”

Astra’s pale features never competed with Ivy’s dramatic
looks when they were girls and little had changed, but Ivy was always kind and
complimentary.